YALE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY THE HARLEIAN MISCELLANY C. WHITHNGHAM, Prmtlr, Goswell Street. THE HARLEIAN MISCELLANY: A COLLECTION OF SCARCE, CURIOUS, AND ENTERTAINING PAMPHLETS AND TRACTS, AS WELL IN MANUSCRIPT AS IN PRINT. SELECTED ntOM THE LIBRARY OF EDWARD HARLEY, SECOND EARL OF OXFORD. INTIItSPE»SED WIT* HISTORICAL, POLITICAL, AND CRITICAL ANNOTATIONS, BY THE LATE WILLIAM OLDYS, ESSi ADO SOME ADDITIONAL NOTES, THOMAS PARK, F. S. A. VOL. I. LONDON : PRINTED TOR JOHN WHITE, AND JOHN MURRAY, FLEET-STREETJ AND JOHN HARDING, ST. JAMEsV-STREET. 1808. ADVERTISEMENT. X HE high reputation of the Harleian Miscellany as a political, historical, and antiquarian record, and the great difficulty experienced in procuring perfect copies, constitute the leading inducement for re-pub)ishing tfyis extensive assem blage of rare and curious tracts, Yet other considerations have combined to produce a reprint of this Miscellany, which the Editor is called upon to state, as well as to specify the mode in which the present edition has been thus far executed, and agreeably to which the succeeding volumes are proposed to be conducted. From the usual ravages of time and accident, upon the productions of pamphleteers, the Harleian Collection has^, in numerous instances, become the only existing chronicle of many important particulars recorded on its pages. Hence, the aggregate value of the different tracts that compose this Miscellany, has made it rank as an indispensable auxiliar in the illustration of British History. Not only, however, in a na tional point of view does the present undertaking recommend itself to public attention: since the theologist,— the philoso pher,- — #ie antiquary, — the phrlologer, — the man of science, — the man of letters,-T-rmay all, in this Collection, meet with documents calculated to facilitate the objects of their Tespec- tive pursuits. The well-established credit of the principal Compiler of this work, together with the honourable testimony borne by Doctor advertisement. Johnson to its merits, have been deemed of sufficient force to prevent all interference with the primary plan or execution. In order, however, to render this edition more worthy of acceptance, it may be proper to mention, that the Editor has examined a considerable number of the pieces which compose the Collection; whence he has in various passages been enabled to correct the antiquated text, whilst he has not neg lected generally to amend the obsolete punctuation. By him also have been inserted those additional notes which are dis tinguished by brackets, and which lapse of time or change of circumstance sometimes rendered essential. The former edition of this work was comprised in eight volumes: these will be accurately reprinted on the plan above- mentioned, and twO supplemental volumes will be subjoined, the contents of which are designed to be taken from the Har- leian Manuscripts reposited in the British Museum, or to be reprinted from such pamphlets as were contained in the library of Lord Oxford, and are to be traced in Osborne's classed Catalogue of that magnificent Collection. Several of these were forcibly pointed out by Mr* Oldys, in his Catalogue Raisonnt, although they were not inserted in the former edition of this Miscellany, most probably for want of room. One volume is intended to appear every three months; and in the tenth (or last) will be given Mr. 01dys' select analytical Catalogue of the Harleian Pamphlets, together with a copious general Index to the entire Work. June 10 1808. T. PARK. CONTENTS OF THE HARLEIAN MISCELLANY. VOLUME I. frAGB INTRODUCTION .- .- .... xm Reasons for creating Robert Harley, Esq. a Peer of Great Britain '.. I The Original and Design of Magistracy : Or, a modest Vindication of the late Proceedings in England % Vox Regis : Or, the Difference between a King ruling by Law, and a Tyrant by his own Will ; with a Declaration of the English Laws, Rights, and Privileges, by King James the First .'> ....i 10 A Plea for limited Monarchy, as it was established in this Nation, before "the late War; in an humble Address to his Excellency General Monk, by a Zealot for the good old Laws of his Country, before any •Faction or Caprice ; with Additions, Quarto, printed in the Year 1660 j 1 + A Letter written by the Emperor to the late King James, setting forth the true Occasion ni his Fall, and the Treachery and Cruelty of the French .; ..»-.. i. ........ IS The Speech of his Highness the Lord Protector, made to both Houses of Parliament at their first Meeting, on Thursday, the 27th of January, 1658. And 20 His Jate Highness's Letter to the Parliament of England ; shewing his Willingness to submit to this present Government: Attested under his own Hand, and read in the House on Wednesday, the 23th of May, 1659 22 The Plots of Jesuits (viz. of Adam Contzen, a Moguntine; Thomas Campanella, a Spaniard; and Robert Parsons, an Englishman, &c.) how to bring England to the Roman Religion, without Tumult, 1658.i..i. 23 The Protestants' Doom in Popish Times > 29 The present Case 'of England, and the Protestant Interest >....-. v. .....v.,,. 32 The Pve-eminence and Pedigree of Parliament. By James Howell, Esq. 1677 » ¦. 35 The Mischiefs and Unreasonableness of endeavouring lo deprive his Majesty of the Affections of his Sub jects, by misrepresenting him and his Ministers, 1681 '. i 38 A Word Without-Doors, concerning the Bill for Succession....- ; '. 42 Robin. Conscience ; or Conscionable Robin : His Progress through Court, City, and Country; with his bad Entertainment at each several Place, &c. 1683 t , -. 48 Afl Address agreed upon at the Committee for the French War, and read in the House of Commons, April the 19th, 1669... v 54 Machiavel's Vindication of Himself and his Writings, against the Imputation of Impiety, Atheism, and other high Crimes ; extracted from his Letter to his Friend Zenobius'. l.t.. 57 The History of the most unfortunate Prince, King Edward the Second; with choice Political Observations on him and his unhappy Favourites, Gaveston and Spence/: Containing several rare Passages of those Times, not found in. other Historians; found among the Papers of, and (supposed to be) writ by the Right Honourable Henry Viscount Faulkland, sometime Lord Deputy of Ireland 67 A Letter to Mr. Serjant, a Romish Priest, containing the Impossibility of the publick Establi&hment of Popery here in England ;.. ••» , 95 CONTENTS. PAGE The apparent Danger of an Invasion, briefly represented in a Letter to a Minister of State. By a Kentish Gentleman, 1701 ;.. 97 A brefe Comedy or Enterlude of Iohan Baptystes preachynge in the Wyldernesse, openynge the craftye Assaultesof the Hypocrytes, with the gloryouse Baptyme of the Lorde Jesus Christ." -Compyled by Johan Bayle, 1538 101 Orders set down by the Duke of Medina, Lord General of the King's Fleet, to be observed in the Voyage towards England. Translated out of Spanish into English, by T. P. 1588 1 15 A Discourse concerning the Spanish Fleet invading England in the Year 1588, and overthrown by her Majesty's Navy, under the Conduct of the Right Hon. the Lord Charles Howard, High- Admiral of En gland ; written in Italian, by Petruccio Ubaldino, Citizen of Florence, 1590 119 Certain Advertisements out of Ireland, concerning the Losses and Distresses happened to the Spanish Navy, upon the West Coasts of Ireland, in their Voyage intended from the Northern Isles beyond Scotland, toward Spain, 1588.. ......< ...1 132 The Copy of a LetteVsent out of England, to Don Bernard in Mendoza, Arnb&ssado'r in France for the King of Spain, declaring the State of England, contrary to the Opinion of Don Bernardin, and of all his Par tisans, Spaniards and others ; found in the Chamber of one R. Leigh, a Seminary Priest, who was lately executed for High Treason; with an Appendix, 1588......... 142 An Exhortation to stir up the Minds of all her Majesty's faithful Subjects to defend their Country, in this dangerous Time, from the Invasion of Enemies. Faithfully and eealously compiled, by Anthony Marten, Sewer of her Majesty's most honourable Chamber, 1588 164 The Royal Gamesters ; or, the Old Cards new shuffled-, for a Conquering Game... 177 The Peunyless Parliament of Thread-bare Poets : Or, all Mirth and witty Conceits, 1608 18 John Reynard's Deliverance from the Captivity of the Turks, and his Setting free of 266 Christians that were Galley Slaves , , 187 The present State of Europe briefly examined, and found languishing; occasioned by the Greatness of the Frehch Monarchy: For Cure Whereof a Rehiedy (From former Examples) is humbly proposed. Wrote upon Occasion of the House of Gammons' Vote to raise 800,000 Pounds to equip a Fleet for the Year 1671, moved thereunto by the pretended Match of the French Army, towards the Marine Parts of Flanders. By Thomas Manley, Esq. 1639....... ..r. ...»....» 194 The Rights of the House of Austria to the Spanish Succession. Published by Order of his Imperial Majesty, Leopold, and translated from the Original, printed at Vienna, 1701i....».. 202' A Trip to Dunkirk : Or, A Hue and Cry after the pretended Prince of Wales. Being a Panegyrick on the Descent. Said to be written by Dr. Swift, 1708 s...... ........ 210 Memoirs of Queen Mary's Days ; wherein the Church of England and all the Inhabitants may plainly see (if God hath not suffered them to be infatuated) as in a Glass, the sad Effects which- follow a Popish Sue- cessor enjoying the Crown of England, Humbly tendered to the Consideration of> &c. 1681........ 212 The Life and Death of the illustrious Robert, Earl of Essex, &c. Containing, at large, the Wars he ma naged, and the Commands he had in Holland, the Palatinate, and in England :• Together with some won derful Observations of himself, and his Predecessors, and many most remarkablePassages, from his In fancy unto the Day of his Death. By Robert Codrington, Master of Arts, 1646»....it.... 216 Antient Customs of England, 1641 k.i. ........ i 230 The present State of Christendom, and the Interest of England, with a Regard to France. In a Letter to a Friend, 1677 ,_ 248 A true Relation, without all Exception, of strange and admirable Accidents, which lately happened in the Kingdom of the great Magor, or Mogul, who is the greatest Monarch of the East Indies. As also with a true Report of the Manners of the Country ; of the Commodities there found, with the like of sundry other Countries and Islands, in the East Indies. Written and certified by Persons of good Import who were Eye-witnesses of what is here reported, 1622 , ' A Paradox: Proving the Inhabitants of the Island, called Madagascar, or St. Lawrence, (in Thines tem poral) to be the happiest People in the World ¦. ........1....... ..... A most learned and eloquent Speech, spoken or delivered in the Honourable House of Commons at West minster, by the most learned Lawyer, Miles Corbet, Esq. Recorder of Great Yarmouth, and Burgess of the same, on the 31st of July, 1647, taken in Short-hand by Nocky and Tom Dunn, his Clerks and re vised by John Taylor..... ., t ' ' Awake, O England : Or, The People's Invitation to King Charles. Being a Recital of the Ruins over' running the People and their Trades; with an opportune Advice to return to Obedience to their Kinnt ' under whom they -ever flourished. 1660 ^u,os» . J • • 275 The Copy of an Order agreed uf>bn in the House of Commons, upon Friday, the Eighteenth of June wherein every Man is rated according to his Estate, for the King's Use, 1641.'... „.,. * 258 263 CONTENTS. PAGE The History of the Life and Death of Oliver Cromwell, the late Usurper, and pretended Protector of En gland, &c. truly collected and published, for a Warning to all Tyrants and Usurpers. By J. H. Gent. 1663 279 ' The World's Mistake in Oliver Cromwell : Or, A short political Discourse, shewing, that Cromwell's Male-administration (during his four Years and nine Months pretended Protectorship) laid the Founda' tion of our present Condition, in the Decay of Trade, 1668 287 The Wars and Causes of them, between England and France, from William I. to William III. with a Trea tise of the Sal ique Law. By D.J. and revised by R. C. Esq. 1697 297 The old French Way of managing Treaties 329 A true and strange Discourse of the Travels of two English Pilgrims : What admirable Accidents befel them in their Journey towards Jerusalem, Gaza, Grand Cairo, Alexandria, and other Places. Also,. what rare Antiquities, . Monuments, and notable Memoirs (according with the ancient Remembrances in the Holy Scriptures) they saw in Terra Sancta, or the Holy Land ; with a perfect Description of the Old and New Jerusalem, and Situation of the Countries about them. A Discourse of no less Admiration,- than well worth the regarding. Written by Henry Timberlake 337 A Letter written by an unknown Hand, whereof many Copies were dispersed among the Commanders of the English Fleet ^ , ;.... 353 Honour's Invitation : Or, a Call to the Camp. Wherein the Triumphant Genius of Great Britain, by a Poetical Alarum, awakens the Youth of the Three Nations, to generous Attempts, for the Glory of their Country. Written by a young Gentleman of Quality now in the Service, 1673 355 Europe a Slave, when the Empire is in Chains : Shewing the deplorable State of Germany, from the Inva sion of the French, and the fatal Consequence of it to us and all Europe, 1713 357 The Character of a disbanded Courtier, 1681 , 366 A Letter from his Holiness thePope of Rome, to his Highness the Prince of Orange: Containing several Proposals, and Overtures of Agreement, betwixt the Church of England, and the Church of Rome 368 The Case of Clandestine. Marriages stated. Wherein are shewn the Causes from whence this Corruption ariseth, and the true Methods whereby it may be remedied. In a Letter to a Person of Honour, 169 1.... 37 1 A Quaker's Letter outof the Country to Friend John in.Town •¦ 376 The Golden Speech of Queen Elizabeth to her last Parliament, Nov. 30, Anno Dom. 1601 377 A Narrative of the Proceedings of a great Council of Jews, assembled in the Plain of Ageda in Hungary, about thirty leagues distant from Buda, to examine the Scriptures concerning Christ, on the 12th of October, 1650. By Samuel Brett, there present. Also, a Relation of some other Observations of his. Travels beyond the Seas; and particularly in Egypt, Macedonia, Dalmatia, Calabria, Apuleia, Sicily, "Assyria, Sclavonia, France, Spain, and Portugal; the Islands of Cyprus, Candia, Patmos, and Delphos; the Cities of Carthage, Corinth, Troy, Constantinople, Venice, Naples, Leghorn, Florence, Milan, Rome, Bottonia, Mantua, Genoa, Paris, &x. 1655 i 379' The Art of good Husbandry ,, or the Improvement of Time ;, Being a sure Way to get and keep Money.. Ina Letter to Mr. R. A. by R. T. with Permission, August 7, 1675. Roger L'Estrange,. 1675 386 Proposals, for carrying on an effectual War in America, . against the French and Spaniards. Humbly offered to the Consideration of the-King's Most Excellent Majesty, the Right Honourable the Lords Spiritual and Temporal, and the Honourable the House of Commons, 1702 ,. 389 An Account of the Arraignments- and Trials of Colonel Richard Kirkb5% Captain John Constable, Captain Cooper Wade, Captain Samuel Vincent, and Captain Christopher Fogg, on a Complaint exhibited by the Judge- Advocate on Behalf of her Majesty, at a Court-Martial, held on board the Ship Bredah, in Port- Royal Harbour, in Jamaica in America, the Eighth, Ninth, Tenth, and Twelfth Days of October, 1702, for Cowardice, Neglect of Duty, Breach of Orders, and other Crimes, committed by them in a Fight at Sea, commenced the Nineteenth of August, 1702, off of St; Martha, in the Latitude of Ten Degrees North, near the main Land of America, between the Honourable John Benbow, Esq. and Admiral Du Casse,, with four French Ships of War; for which Colonel Kirkby and Captain Wade were sentenced to be shot to Death. Transmitted from two eminent Merchants at Port Royal in Jamaica, to a Person of Quality-in the City of London, 1703 • 396 The Instrument by which Queen Jane was proclaimed Queen of England, &c, setting forth the Reasons of her Claim, and.her Right to the Crown ....402 King William's Ghost, 1711 • 408 An Account of St. Sebastian's, in relation to its Situation, Fortifications, Government, Customs, and Trade. By one lately come from thence, 1700 •••••'• ¦•• 409 Elynour Rummin, the famous Ale-Wife of England. Written by Mr. Skeltoh, Poet-Laureat to King Henry . the Eighth, 1624 — • • 4»5 Discourses upon the Modern Affairs of Europe, tending to prove that the illustrious French Monarchy may be reduced to Terms of greater Moderation, 1680 •> 423 A Speech made by Queen Elizabeth (of famous Memory) in Parliament, Anno 1593 ; and in the Thirty- fifth Year of her Reign, concerning the Spanish Invasion , 436 YOL..I, ' b_ CONTENTS. - • ... PAGE A List of the Monasteries, Nunneries, and Colleges, belonging to the English Papists, in several Popish Countries beyond Sea ; published to inform the People of -England of the Measures taken by the Popish Party for the re-establishing of Popery in these Nations. In a Letter to a Member of Parliament, 1700 437 A Question of the Cock, and whether his Crowing affrights the Lion ? Being one of those Questions handled in the Weekly Conferences of Monsieur Renaudot's Bureau d'Addresses, at Paris ; translated into English, 1640 ,-. 439 An Enquiry into the Measures of Submission to the Supreme Authority ; and of the Grounds upon which it may be lawful or necessary for Subjects to defend their Religion, Lives, and Liberties,- 1688 442 The Expedition of his Highness the Prince of Orange for England. Giving an Account of the most re markable Passages thereof, from the Day of his setting Sail from Holland, to the first Day of this Instant December, 1688. In a Letter to a Person of Quality, 1668 449 The Act of Parliament of the Twenty-seventh of Queen Elizabeth, to preserve the Queen's Person, the Pro testant Religion, and Governmeitt, from the Attempts' of the Papists, then big with Hopes of a Popish Successor : With the Association the Protestants then entered into, to the Ends aforesaid, till the Parlia- « ment coutd meet, and provide for their necessary Preservations. . Together with some sober and season able Queries-upon the same. By a sincere Protestant, and true Friend to bis Country, 1679 454 A brief History of the Succession to the Crown of England, &c. collected out of the Records, and the most authentick Historians; written for the Satisfaction of the Nation, -1688-9 461 Advice to a Soldier, in two Letters, written to an Officer in the English Army, proper to be exposed at the present Time, while the Peace of Christendom (if not the Liberty of it) seems to be very short lived, 1680 477 A Letter from a Minister to his Friend, concerning the Game of Chess, 1(580 484 A Dialogue between the Cities of London and Paris, in relation to the present Posture of Affairs, rendered into Verse, and made applicable to the Disturbances which now seem to threaten the Peace of Europe : Written by a Person who has no Moriey to pay Taxes in Case of a War, 1701.....; 486. The Curates' Conference : Or, a Discourse betwixt two Scholars ; both of them relating their hard Con dition, and consulting which Way to mend it, 1641 495 Proposals for the Reformation of Schools and Universities, in order to the better Education of Youth. Hum bly offered to the Consideration of the High Court of Parliament, 1704 500 tlaifaia @fu«p,S»y,' the Triumph of Learning over Ignorance; and of Truth over Falsehood; being an An swer to four Queries : Whether there be any need of Universities ? Who is to be accounted an Heretick ? Whetherit be lawful to use Conventicles? Whether a Lay-man may preach ? Which were lately proposed by a Zealot, in the Parish Church of Swacy, near Cambridge after the second Sermon, October 3, 1652 : Since that, enlarged by the Answerer, R. B. u. d. and Fellow of Tri nity College,.Cambridge, 1653 , ( .„ An Essay on Writing, and the Art and Mystery of Printing. A Translation outof the Anthology, 1696... 526 The Natural History of Coffee, Thee, Chocolate, and Tobacco, in four several Sections • with a Tract of Elder and Jumper Berries, shewing how useful they may be in our Coffee-Houses : And, also, the Wav of making Mum, with some Remarks upon that Liquor. Collected from the Writings of the best Phv sicians, and modern Travellers, 1682 .". ¦ •> _ •"•••'•..••••»•»••••••«•¦»«•.»•••••¦•••,, ............... 528 Contemplations upon Life and Death,' with serious Reflections on the Miseries that attend human Life in every Stat.on, Degree, and Change thereof Written by a Person of Quality, in his Confinement^ little before his Death; shewing the Vanity of the Desire of long Life, and the Fear of Death ; with a true 5^,2 558 The Manner of creating the Knights of the antient and honourable Order of tbe Bath, according to the Custom used in England, in Time of Peace ; with a List of those honourable Persons »l1. V u created Knights of the Bath at his Majesty's Coronation, the 23d of ? April!] 661 l.-.Z™..™!!?.™.. . An Inquiry into the Causes of our Naval Miscarriages: With some Thoughts on the Inter«t nf th;* at V G^tBrSn^ L Description of the famous Kingdom of Macaria ; shewing its excellent Government, wherein the 'inhabi / tante live in great Prospenty, Health, and Happiness; the King obeyed, the Nobles honoured and all V good Men respected; Vjce punished, and Virtue rewarded. An Example to other NatLnV. t ™ logue between a Scholar and a Traveller, 1641 example to other JNations: In a Dia- t ••¦••••••¦•¦*•••••¦•. ••( ••••••••»,.,,,,,,,,, •••»¦.,, 5 80 A Philosophical and Medicinal Essay on the Waters of Tunhridge. Written to a Pp™™ „f h u" Pat. Madan, M.D. 1687 S written to a Person of Honour; by ' ' ' 585 CONTENTS. PAGE A Descent from France: Or, the French Invasion of England, considered and discoursed, 1692 596 The Danger of Mercenary Parliaments, 1690 599 A new Looking-Glass for the Kingdom : Wherein those, that admire the late Governments, may have a true Prospect of Liberty and Slavery, and take their Choice, 1690 607 A modest Account of the wicked Life of that grand Impostor, Lodowick Muggleton ; wherein are related all the remarkable Actions he did, and all the strange Accidents that have befallen him ever since his first coming to London, to this 25th of January, 1676. Also, a Particular of those Reasons which first drew him to these damnable Principles. With several pleasant Stories concerning him, proving his .Com mission to be but counterfeit, and himself a Cheat, from divers Expressions which have fallen from' his own Mouth. Licensed according to Order, 1676 610 An Epitaph, or, rather, a short Discourse made upon the Life and Death of Dr. Bonner, sometime unworthy Bishop of London, whiche dyed the 5th of September, in the Marshalsie, 1569 , 614 THE INTRODUCTION1 nr^HOUGH the scheme of the following Miscellany is so obvious, that the Title alone -*¦ is sufficient to explain it; and though several Collections have been formerly at tempted upon plans, as to the method, very little, but as to the capacity and execution, very different frorri ours; we, being possessed of the greatest variety for such a work, hope for a more general reception than those confined schemes had the fortune to meet with; and, therefore, think it not wholly unnecessary to explain our intentions, to dis-. play the treasure of materials, out of which this Miscellany is to be compiled, and to exhibit a general idea of the pieces which we intend to insert in it. . There is, perhaps, no nation, in which it is so necessary, as in our own, to assemble, from time to time, the small tracts and fugitive pieces, which are occasionally pub lished: for, .besides the general subjects of enquiry, which are cultivated by us, in common with every other learned nation, our constitution in church and state naturally gives birth to a multitude of performances, which would either not have been written, or could not have been made publick in any other place. The form of our government, which gives every man, that has leisure, or, curiosity, or vanity, the right of enquiring into the propriety of publick measures ; and, by consequence, obliges those, who are intrusted with the administration of national affairs, to give an account of their Conduct, to almost every man, who demands it, may. be reasonably imagined to have occasioned innumerable pamphlets, which would never have appeared under arbitrary governments, where every man lulls himself in indolence under calamities of which he cannot promote the redress, or thinks it pru dent to conceal the uneasiness of which he cannot complain without danger. 1 {Mr. Boswell has admitted this into the chronological catalogue of Dr. Johnson's prose works, as his acknowledged production.] XIV INTRODUCTION. , 1 The multiplicity of religious sects tolerated among us, of which'evlry one has found opponents and vindicators, is another source" of unexhaustible publication, almost peculiar to ourselves ; for, controversies cannot be long continued, nor frequently re vived, -where an inquisitor has a right to shut up the disputants in dungeons, or where silence can be imposed on either party, by the refusal of a licence. • Not that it should be inferred from hence, that political or religious controversies are the only products of the liberty of the British press; the mind once let loose to enquiry, and suffered to operate without restraint, necessarily deviates into peculiar opinions, and wanders in new tracks, where she is indeed sometimes lost in a labyrinth, from which though she cannot return, and scarce knows how to proceed ; yet, some- ? times, makes useful discoveries, or finds out nearer paths to knowledge. The boundless liberty, with which ^very man may write his own thoughts, and the Opportunity of conveying new sentiments to the publick, without danger of suffering either ridicule or censure, which' every man may enjoy, whose vanity does nOt incite him too hastily to own his performances, naturally invites those, who employ them selves in speculation, to try how their notions will be received by a nation, which exempts caution from fear, and modesty from shame; and it is no wonder, that where reputation may be gained, but needs not be lost, multitudes are willing to try their fortune, and thrust their opinions into the light, sometimes with unsuccessful haste, and sometimes with happy temerity, It is observed, that, among the natives of England, is to be found a greater variety of humour, than in any other country; and, doubtless, where every man has a full liberty to propagate his conceptions, variety of humour jnust produce' variety of writers ; and, where the number of authors is so great, there cannot but be some worthy of distinction. All these and many other causes, too tedious to be enumerated, have contributed to- make pamphlets and small tracts a very important part of an English library ; nor are there any pieces, upon which those, who aspire to the reputation of judicious collectors of books, bestow more attention, or greater expence; because many advantages may be expected from the perusal of these small productions, which are scarcely to be found in that of larger works. , If we regard History, it is well known, that most political treatises have for along time appeared in this form, and that the first relations of transactions, while they are yet the subject ,of conversation, divide the opinions, and employ the conjectures ©f mankind, are delivered by these petty writers, who have opportunities of collecting the different sentiments of disputants, of enquiring the truth from living witnesses, and of copying their representations from the life ; and, therefore, they preserve a mul- INTRODUCTION, XV titude of particular incidents, which are forgotten in a, short time, of omitted in formal relations, and which are yet to be considered as sparks of truth, which, when united, may afford light in some of the darkest scenes of state, as, we doubt hot, will be sufficiently proved in the course of this Miscellany ; and which it is, therefore, the in terest of the publick to preserve unextinguished. The same observation may be extended to subjects of yet more importance. In con troversies that relate to the truths of religion, the first essays Of reformation are gene rally timorous ; and, those, who have opinions to offer, which they expect to be opposed, produce their sentiments by degrees; and for the most part in small tracts; by degrees, that they may not shock their readers with too many novelties at once ; and in small tracts, ,that they may be easily dispersed, or privately printed ; almost every contro versy, therefore, has been, for a time, carried on in pamphlets, nor has swelled into larger volumes, till the first ardour of the disputants has subsided, and they have recollected their notions with coolness enough to digest them into order, consolidate them into systems, and fortify them with authorities. From pamphlets, consequently, are to be learned, the progress of every debate; the various state, to which the questions have been changed; the artifices and fallacies, which have been used; and the subterfuges, by which reason has been eluded. In such writings may be seen how the mind has been opened by degrees, how one truth has led to another, how error has been disentangled, and hints improved to demon stration. Which pleasure, and many others, are lost by him, that only reads the larger writers, by whom these scattered sentiments are collected, who will see none of the changes of fortune, which every opinion has passed through, will have no opportunity of remarking the transient advantages, which error may sometimes obtain, by the arti fices of its patron, or the successful rallies, by which truth regains the day, after a re pulse; but will be to him, who traces the dispute through, into particular gradations, as he that hears of a victory, to him that sees the battle. Since the advantages of preserving these small tracts are so numerous ; our attempt to unite them in volumes cannot be thought either useless or unseasonable ; for there is.no other method of securing them from accidents ; and they have already been so long neglected, that this design cannot be delayed, without hazarding the loss of many pieces, which deserve to be transmitted to another age. The practice of publishing pamphlets, on the most important subjects, has now pre vailed more than two centuries among us; and, therefore, it cannot be doubted^, but that, as no large collections have been yet made, many curious- tracts must have per rished ; but it is too late to lament that loss ; nor ought we to reflect upon it, with any other view, than that of quickening our endeavours, for the preservation of those that XVI INTRODUCTION. yet remain, of which we have now a greater number, than was, perhaps, ever amassed by, any one person. The first appearance of pamphlets among us, is generally thought to be at the new opposition raised against the errors and corruptions of the Church of Rome. Those, who were first convinced of the reasonableness of the new . learning, as it was then called, propagated their opinions in small pieces, which were cheaply printed ; and, what was then of great importance, easily concealed. These treatises were generally printed in foreign countries, and are not, therefore, always very correct.. There was not then that opportunity of printing in private, for, the number of printers were small, and the presses were easily overlooked by the clergy, who spared no labour or vigilance for the suppression of heresy. There is, however, reason to suspect, that some attempts were made to carry on the propagation of truth by a secret press ; for one of the first treatises, in favour of the Reformation, is said, at the end, to be printed .' at Greenwich, by the permission of the Lord of Hosts.' In the time of King Edward the Sixth, the presses were employed in favour of the reformed religion, and small tracts were dispersed over the nation, to reconcile them to the new forms of worship. In this reign, likewise, political pamphlets maybe said to have' been begun, by the address of the rebels of Devonshire; all which means of pro pagating the sentiments of the people so disturbed the court, that no sooner was Queen Mary resolved to reduce her subjects to the Romish superstition ; but she artfully, by a charter2 granted to certain freemen of London, in whose fidelity, no doubt, she con fided, entirely prohibited all presses, but what should be licensed by them; which charter is that by which the corporation of Stationers, in London, is at this time in corporated. Under the reign of Queen Elizabeth, when liberty again began to flourish, the prac tice ofwriting pamphlets became more general; presses were multiplied, and books more dispersed ; and, I believe, it may properly be said, that the trade of writing began at this time, and that it has ever since gradually increased in the number, though perhaps, not in the style of those that followed it. In this reign, was erected the first secret press against the Church as now established, of which I have found any certain account. It was employed by the Puritans, and conveyed from one part of the nation to another, by them, as they found themselves in danger of discovery. From this press issued most of the pamphlets against Whitgift, and his associates, in the ecclesiastical government ; and, when it was at last seized at Manchester, it was employed upon a pamphlet, called, « More Work for a Cooper." ' Which begins thus: • Know ye, that We considering, andmanifestly perceiving, that several seditious and heretical books or tracts against the faith and sound Catholick doctrine of our holy mother, the Church,' &e. INTRODUCTION. XVII In the peaceable reign of King James, those minds, which might, perhaps^ with less disturbance Of the world, have been engrossed by war, were employed in controversy ; and' writings of all kinds were multiplied among us. The press, however, was not wholly engaged in polemical performances, for more innocent subjects were sometimes treated ; and it deserves to be remarked, because it is not generally known, that the treatises of Husbandry and Agriculture, which were published about that time, are so numerous, that it can scarcely be imagined by whom they were written, or to whom they were sold. The next reign is too well known to have been a time of confusion, and disturbance, and disputes of every kind ; and the writings, which were produced, bear a natural proportion to the number of the questions that were discussed at that time ; each party had its authors and its presses, and nO endeavours were omitted to gain proselytes to every opinion. I know not whether this may not properly be called, " The Age of Pamphlets;" for, though they, perhaps, may not arise to such multitudes as Mr. Rawlinson imagined, they were, undoubtedly, more numerous than can be conceived by any who have not had an opportunity of examining them. After the Restoration, the same differences, in religious opinions, are well known to have subsisted, and the same political struggles to have been frequently renewed ; and, therefore, a great number of pens were employed on different occasions, till, at length, all other disputes were absorbed in the Popish controversy. From the pamphlets which these different periods of time produced, it is proposed, that this Miscellany shall be compiled; for which it cannot be supposed that materials will be wanting, and, therefore, the only difficulty will be in what manner to dispose them. Those who have gone before us, in undertakings of this kind, have ranged the pamphlets, which chance threw into their hands, without any regard either to the sub ject on which they treated, or the time in which they were written ; a practice, in no wise to be imitated by us, who want for no materials ; of which we shall choose those we think best for the particular circumstances of times and things, and most instructing and entertaining to the reader. Of the different methods which present themselves, upon the first view of the great heaps of pamphlets, which the Harleian Library exhibits, the two which merit most attention, are to distribute the treatises according to their subjects or their dates; but neither of these ways can be conveniently followed. By ranging our collection in order of time, we must necessarily publish those pieces first, which least engage the curiosity of the bulk of mankind, and our design must fall to the ground for want of encourage ment, before it can be so far advanced as to obtain general regard : by confining ourselves for any long time to any single subject, we shall reduce our readers to one class,' and, as VOL. i. c XVIII INTRODUCTION. we shall lose all the grace of .variety, shall disgust all those who read chiefly to.be di verted. There is likewise one objection of equal force, against both these methods, that we shall preclude ourselves from the advantage of any future discoveries, and we cannot hope to assemble at Once all the pamphlets which have been written in any age or on any subject. It may be added, in vindication of our intended practiqe, that it is the same with that of Photius, whose collections are no less miscellaneous than ours, and who declares, that he leaves it to his reader, to reduce his extracts under their proper heads. Most of the pieces, which shall be offered in this Collection to the publick, will be introduced by short prefaces* in which will he given some account of the reasons for which they are inserted ; notes will be sometimes adjoined for the explanation of obscure passages, or obsolete expressions ; and care will be taken to mingle use and pleasure through the whole Collection. Notwithstanding every subject may not be relished by every reader; yet the buyer may be assured that each number will repay his generous subscription. 1744. THE HARLEIAN MISCELLANY. The Reasons which induced her Majesty to create the Right Honourable Robert Harley, Esq. a Peer of Great Britain, in the Year 17H1. [Quarto, Two Pages.] There can be no objection against the prefixing the Reasons for creating the Right Honour able Robert Harley, Esq. a peer of Great Britain, and Earl of Oxford ; especially, as' the valuable collection, intended to be published in this form, tvas made by the greatness of his knowledge in all branches of learning, and at the vast expense of that noble family. He, that noble peer, who always encouraged learning, and was the Mecanas of learned men in his time ; whose patent of creation extols him, and ennobles him ivith the title of the University of Oxford on that particular account; and whose chief est delight, in his leisure from the care he took of the good of the nation in general, was to be constantly among his books: by which familiarity, he is said to have acquired so particular a know ledge of them all, as to be able, voithout a catalogue, to go immediately to the least of them, upon hearing of it named, though his library consisted of more (han 100,000 dif ferent authors. He, I say, cannot be denied the first place in this Miscellany, which esteems it an honour to bear his name, that, when alive, gave life to learning ; and, by this monument of learning, shall live for ever, in the real esteem of learned men. WHATEVER favour may be merited from a just prince, by a man born of an illus trious and very ancient family, fitted by nature for great things, and by all sorts of learning qualified for greater ; constantly employed in the study of State affairs, and with the greatest praise, and no small danger, exercising variety of offices in the government : so much does our well-beloved and very faithful counsellor Robert Harley deserve at our hands; he who, in three successive parliaments, was unanimously chosen Speaker; and, at the same time that he filled the chair, was our principal Secretary of State : in no wise unequal to either province. Places, so seemingly disagreeing, were easily reconciled by one, who knew how 1 [The penning of this preamble has been imputed to Dr. Swift : but having been first printed in Latin as the production of Dr. Freind, it is probable that the English translation only is imputable to the Dean of St, Patrick. See Nichols's Supplement to Swift's Works, vol. i.] VOL, I. . B _2 The Reasons, §c. with equal weight and address to moderate and govern the minds of men5 : one who could preserve the rights of the people, without infringing the prerogative of the crown : and who thoroughly understood how well government could consist with liberty. This double task being performed, after some short respite, be bore the weight of our Exchequer as Chancellor, and thereby prevented the further plundering 3 the nation, and also provided for the settling a new trade to the South Seas, and (by rescuing public credit4) so oppor tunely relieved the languishing condition of the treasury, as to deserve thanks from the parliament, blessings from the citizens, and from us (who never separate our own interests from the public) no small approbation. Therefore, we decree to the man that has so emi nently deserved of us, and of all our subjects, those honours which were long since due to him and his family, being induced thereto by our own good pleasure and the suffrage of all Great Britain. For we take it as an admonition, that he should not in vain be preserved, whom the states of our realm have testified to be obnoxious to the hatred of wicked men, upon account of his most faithful services to us, and whom they have congratulated upon his escape from the rage of a flagitious parricide5. We gladly indulge their wishes, that he who is himself learned, and a patron of learning, should happily take his title from that city, where letters do so gloriously flourish. Now knoio ye, &c. 2 His prudence kept quiet, and brought to temper, the heats and passions of parties ; and suffered not the two sides of Whig and Tory to meet together in a storm; but caused them to ebb gently, and to lose themselves insensibly in the great ocean of moderation. His conduct rescued the Church from danger; protected the dissenters in their toleration-liberty ; preserved the Union from the infractions of Jacobites and the Pretender ; and quieted the minds of the people in matters of religion and the Hanover succession. See the Spectator's Address, pages 10, 11. 3 His wisdom overthrew a management, that, under the pretence of keeping up credit, concealed the cir cumstances of the nation, till it ran seven millions in debt, and knew nothing of the matter. Id. p. 9. 4 At that time the creditors of the government gave twenty-two pa' cent, discount for money on the govern ment's bills. Id. ib. s The Marquis de Guiscard, who was a French refugee, in consideration of his noble birth and misfortunes, was at that time supported with a pension of 400?. per arm. from the crown of England; but held secret cor respondence with the French ministry; which being detected by Mr. Harley, this Guiscard was seized by the Queen's messengers, in St. James's Park, on the 8th of March, 1711, and brought before the committee of cabinet council at the Cock-pit; where, the fact being clearly, proved by Mr. Harley, the villain stooped down, and saying, " J'en veux done a toy: Then have at thee;" stabbed ^he honourable Mr. Harley. Redoubling the stroke, the penknife broke, which he was not sensible of; but rushing on towards Mr. St. John, overthrew the clerk's table that stood between. Mr. St. John, seeing Mr. Harley fall, cried out, " The villain has killed Mr. Harley." Then Mr. St. John gave him a wound, as did th"e Duke of Ormond and the Duke of Newcastle. But Mr. Harley getting up and walking about, they left the villain's execution to them to whom it more pro perly belonged; hoping that Mr. Harley was slightly hurt. But when Bussier, the surgeon, searched the wound, the penknife was found struck a-slant, and buried in the wound. Had it been an inch lower it had touched the diaphragma, and then all the world could not have saved his life ; and, if it had pierced a nail's breadth deeper, it must have reached his heart. Mr. Harley took the broken blade out himself, and, having wiped it, called for the handle, and said, " They belong to me." And then, being dressed, ordered the surgeon to take care of Monsieur de Guiscard. See this more at large, in the true narrative of this fact, published by John Morphew, 171 1. [On the recovery of Mr. Harley, he received an addressof congratulation from thje House of Commons, and a tribute of respect, perhaps equally gratifying, from the poetical pen of Prior He was soon after raised to the Upper House of parliament, as Earl of Oxford and Mortimer; titles round which the verse of Pope has diffused a lustre that eclipses all the blazonry of the College of Arms.] An Essay upon the Original and Design of Magistracy : or, a modest Vindication of the late Proceedings - in England. [Quarto, Sixteen Pages.] As to the author of this excellent trad, we can say no more than that he was equally a hater of rebellion and tyranny; an impartial and judicious writer; that he had the public peace and prosperity more at -heart than any private view lo serve himself ; and, if it may be allowed to guess, by his expression in several places, he seems to have been a North Briton. As to the design of it; it ivas to prove the just rights of the prince and people; to expose ty ranny and rebellion; to explode the doctrine of absolute non-resistance; lo clear the Prince of Orange, and the English nation that adhered to him in the Revolution, from all impu tation of rebellion, «c..to prove that King James the Second was a tyrant; and the necessity of preserving the succession to the crown of Great Britain in the Protestant line. Allzvhich is done with that conciseness and perspicuity, and so free from passion and faction, that, I presume, will recommend it to every true lover of our present happy constitution. AS the right knowledge of the supreme magistrate is the basis and foundation of our submissions, and the cause of all the blessings which flow from a_ well -tempered go vernment; so the misapprehensions and false notions that many people, either through ignorance or the prejudice of education, frame to themselves of his power, are no less remarkable for their contrary effects. We , all into two extremes equally dangerous; if either we give the people so much liberty, that tlu magistrate cannot go about these great ends for which he was designed, but, like a weathercock, is turned about at the pleasure of the mobile ; or such a boundless power to the magistrate, as makes the property of the subject altogether precarious, depending upon the caprice of an insatiable monarch. To keep a just balance, we must consider magistracy as it was first instituted by God Almighty, before it was depraved by the ambition, pride, and avarice of those who were invested in it. So that, in its original, it may be defined a power delegated from God, for maintaining order, rewarding the virtues, and punishing the crimes of mankind; the appli cation of which power is left free to any independent people or nation. It cannot be doubted but that God, as Creator of all things, might, in his own person, have exercised a sovereign power over all his creatures ; which since he was not pleased to do; he thought fit, in his infinite wisdom, to appoint his lieutenants here on earth, to whom he communicates some rays of his Divine Majesty, both to beget a greater reverence for their persons, and proeure a cheerful obedience from those that were to be subject ;N so that the profound deference, and blind submission, which millions of men pay to a mortal ; perhaps, subject to as many infirmities as the most part of those he rules over; can be ascribed to nothing else but the firm persuasion of a divine institution. But, that we may ' Concerning King James II*. in the year 1688. [This seems to have been written soon after James had withdrawn himself from the throne of England, and had taken refuge in France, as he declared, for the safety of bis person, and to be "'within call," whenever the nation's eyes should be opened, so as to see how they ha: I been imposed- upon by the specious pretences of religion and property.] 3 2 4 The Original and Design of Magistracy. the more admire the goodness of God in ordaining magistracy, he hath no less proposed man's happiness than his own glory, that we might find it our interest, as well as duty, in obeying. • For though man was born free, and, consequently, by nature, desirous of liberty ; yet, an unbounded freedom could have done him very little service in a natural state, when innocency was no protection from the "oppression of the stronger; but rapines, violence, and murder, were the chief ways of acquiring right in this universal' chaos, where homo was homini lupus, nothing was thought unlawful that ambition, malice, or cruelty could propose; so that the weaker were driven to a necessity of uniting their forces against the stronger. Then began they to erect societies, and make laws for regulating them ; the executing of which laws was committed to one or more persons, as the major part of the society thought fit to trust, who had the name of Captain, General, or King. It was he who led them out to battle, who disposed of prizes, and punished malefactors; his commands were easily obeyed, because but few; and all just, honest, and profitable. These had not learned the arcana imperii, or secret ways to enslave their people; but their eminent virtue and singular valour both procured their dignity, and maintained them in it; and having no sycophant flatterers about them, to abuse their easy credulity, they had not forgot that the people's liberty was resigned for no other end, but for obtaining a greater happiness under their protection, than what they could have proposed if every individual had retained it in his own person. There is no other original of magistracy to be learned from sacred or profane history ; for though the patriarchs had the government of their own families, (which, by reason of their long age, were very numerous) yet that right, was derived from the law of nature, and not from any civil obligation. They had for the most part no fixed habitation, but lived as strangers and sojourners, by the favour of other princes, and were never modelled into a commonwealth. When dominions were enlarged, and empires began to be erected, different forms of go vernment were established, according to the various inclinations of the people : when the conqueror gave laws to the conquered, it was called despotic ; but when a free people did enter into a contract, and gave up their liberty on certain conditions, it was called a limited government, and these conditions the fundamental laws. This sovereignty was either entailed upon a particular family for considerable services done to the commonwealth, or it was only to be held during life, whence succession and election. There is a majesty in every free state, which is nothing else but an independent power upon earth, tied to no laws, buc these of God ; these of nature and nations, and the fundamental laws of a kingdom. This majesty is either real or personal ; real is that independency, which every free state hath in relation to one another ; personal, that right, when it is lodged in a par ticular person ; which, though it be inseparable from the sovereign power, for the greater splendor, yet it may be violate, when the real remains intire, otherwise the freedom and independency of a nation would be extinct, by the death or captivity of the prince. To majesty orsovereign power are annexed the regalia or regal right, which are, more or less, according to the measure of liberty given from, or reserved to the people, or their re presentatives at the first constitution : for instance, a king may have power to make war and peace, andyet cannot raise money; the legislative power may be aJso divided, as it is in England, betwixt king and parliament, and generally in all mixed governments ; for that maxim, that jura majestalis sunt indivisa, does only take place in an absolute'mo- narchy. That power, which the people reserveth from the sovereign, is called liberty, and it is either tacite or express : tacite liberty is the exemption of such things as cannot'fall under the cognizance of the supreme power, which may be reduced to three. 1st, Religion or the empire over the conscience, which belongs onlv to God Almighty. 2dly The power of hfe and death, till we forefault them by the divine law or municipal laws of a kingdom Sdly, Our goods and heritages, which cannot be taken, from us without a judicial process The Original and Design of Magistracy. 5. or when the good of the commonwealth we live in requires a share of them. These three privileges were ever reserved in the most ample resignation of liberty ; the first we cannot give away, because not ours; we have right to the second, as men, who are to be go verned by reason ; to the third, as members of a society or commonwealth. Express liberty is a stipulation, whereby some things are by express paction eximed from the power of the sovereign by the people or their representatives ; which reservations are called privileges, and are either thus established by contract and agreement at the first constitution, or are afterwards granted by princes, when they would either oblige or gra tify their people; as was the Magna (iharta in England, and the Edict of Nantes in France: or when they desire any favour from them, as was the Golden-Bull, wherein the Emperor, Charles the Fourth, granted considerable immunities to the electors, to engage them to choose the stupid Vensiaslus, his son, successor in the empire. This property of the subject hath ever been the eyesore of monarchs, though he has as just a claim to it as these have to their crowns; and whoever goes about to subvert it, dissolves the constitution, and forefaults his own title ; since the same laws that be stowed this, at the same time secured that ; and maintaining the one was made an inse parable condition of possessing the other. ' Neither can a rape, committed on our liberty be excused, upon pretence that authority is derived from Heaven : for, the great Sove reign of the universe ordained magistracy for the preservation, not the destruction of mankind ; and he never sent down any person or family from Heaven with a commission to enslave a people or nation to whom the application of the civil power was left absolutely free : so that they might bestow it on whom and after what manner they pleased ; for, though. God loves order, yet he never approved of tyranny and oppression ; and he, who is all justice and mercy, can never be supposed to authorize what is contrary to both. So that whosoever acts beyond his commission, and destroys the flock, instead of protecting it, is so far from being God's vicegerent, that he is to be looked on as the common enemy of mankind. . The violation of the subject's property is called tyranny: a name which, at first, did only signify the regal power; but, when liberty began to be oppressed, through the am bition, wickedness, or evil management of the governors, it was made use of to denote the excess of power. There are two sorts of tyrants ; those in title, and those in administration of the go vernment. The first sort is he who usurps the crown without any title or justf pretence ; as did Oliver Cromwel in England : of the other, one who hath a just right to the crown ; but, postponing the public good, acts arbitrarily, and contrary to law : such a tyrant was Philip the Second of Spain. The want of a title, or a bad one, may be supplied by prescription, or the subsequent consent of the people ; to which, perhaps, the most part of princes must at last recur, unless they would derive their pedigree from one of the sons of Noah, and instruct an un interrupted succession ever since. Tyranny is the most miserable condition a commonwealth can be in ; it dissolves the union betwixt king and subject, and exposes both to all the miseries that attend a civil war and to the hazard of falling under a foreign power. Yea; even though a tyrant should be successful in his attempt, yet is he as far from his happiness as ever; for, besides the inward remorses that incessantly gnaw his conscience, he suspects all men, fears every thing and is most justly hated by all : so that they did not represent a tyrant ill, who drew him sitting under a canopy of state, feasting in great riot, with a naked sword hanging over his head. ., , , i u- What remedy is there then against so great an evil? Are we tamely, to subject our necks to a yoke so insupportable to the more refined sort of men ? Or are we to resist the supreme magistrate, and reclaim him by arms when other means prove ineffectual? Ihe difficulty is great, and each opinion hath had its champions, who writ volumes in defence of their cause. 6 The Original and Design of Magistracy. The horrid parricide of King Charles I. in the middle of this age1, was with great heat and zeal defended by Milton2, and impugned by the learned Salmasius, who, being a stranger to our constitution and the transactions of our country, (I speak it with reverence to so great a man) did but weakly defend so good a cause, in endeavouring to prove that tyranny was not to be resisted, whereas he should have evinced (as easily he might) that Charles I. was a good prince, and no tyrant. The present revolution3 in England revives the dispute, and engages me, contrary to my humour, to impart my thoughts to the public, with no other design than to contribute my mean endeavours for vindicating the nation's honour from the heavy imputations of treason and rebellion; and, if I can make out that resistance in some case is lawful, I doubt not but I shall be easily able to demonstrate that the present taking up arms by the nobility and gentry of "England, in defence of their religion, laws, and liberties, is both just and necessary. There are three degrees of resistance. The first is the taking up arms against the civil magistrate: the second, is the deposing him, and shaking off our allegiance: the third proceeds to the inflicting of capital punishment. Which last seems inhuman ; because God has placed a certain sacredness in the person of princes, so that none can touch the Lord's anointed, and be guiltless: and the depriving them of their crowns is a great enough punishment ; and our injuries are sufficiently repaired when we are out of the hazard of being any more obnoxious to them. The other two may be allowed of, provided the remedies be applied by fit persons, after a due manner, and with such caution as a matter of so great importance does require. First, By fit persons, as the nobility, gentry, and other representatives of the nation, who, as they are most concerned in the laws, are supposed to understand them, and, con sequently, are the best judges of liberty. And they are persons of so much honour^ that it were a piece of ill breeding to suspect them of partiality. Secondly, The tyranny must be evident and manifest ; some few tyrannical acts do not constitute tyranny ; private injuries must be suffered, rather than hazard the public peace • there must be a wilful subversion of the laws, not those of lesser moment, but such as shake the very foundations of government. David's murder and adultery were very arbi trary and tyrannical, and yet did not make him a tyrant ; for, human frailty is still to be indulged, seeing, on this side of time, -perfection is not to be expected. Thirdly, This is a violent remedy, and, consequently, should be the last : it ought to be gone about with the greatest deliberation and circumspection imaginable; when addresses petitions, supplications, and such gentle methods prove ineffectual. ' Fourthly, The commonwealth must be in such danger, that the whole fabric would other wise be dissolved and overturned. Lastly, The effectuating of the design must be certain; otherwise, we fall into a worse evil than what we seek to shun; for confusion and anarchy are worse than tyranny • and a wounded head is better than none at all. y y ' What is objected against this opinion, from the Old and New Testament, is very iudi ciously refuted by the author of the « Inquiry into the Measures of Submission " J ' The second argument is taken from the oath of allegiance which subjects swear to their prince whereby they engage never to rise in arms against him. To which itls answered That this oath 1S accessory to the contract agreed on betwixt the king and peonk TIZ Nn must follow the nature of ,ts principle. The nature of all contracts is obligSy on bo h parties; so that, rf one of the parties fail in the performing his part, the othef is WH f his obhgation. As.it is in this case, the people devolve thePpower on the ^ pHnce ,f certain conditions, expressly specified ; the accepting of a crown on such term? b'nd/tne r Anno 1648, in the seventeenth century. EkoSdK ^ aUth°r °f Par3diSe L°8t' *- £1" his «"»«« »efensio pro populo Ang.icano a«d 3 King James II.'s misrule, flight, and abdication of the crown in 1688. The Original and Design of Magistracy. 7 prince to perform.1 the conditions; if he does not perform them, he, in effect, renounces his right, and tacitly consents that it return to those who bestowed it. Lawyers say, that contracts can only oblige equals; and therefore no paction betwixt king and subject can be binding. There is no force in this argument, if we advert that, when this stipulation was made, the prince and subjects were equal, and were only distin guished after the power was conferred. Thirdly, They instance, that this does not bind the successor. To which it is answered, That the prince engages for himself and successors ; who, if they would reap the advantage from their predecessors, must have also the disadvantage of being tied to the same rules they were adstricted to. But, for the further security, none is admitted to the government, till they take the coronation oath. Fourthly, They upbraid us with the example of the primitive Christians, who suffered the persecution of heathen emperors with tbe greatest moderation and patience. 1 do admire, as well as they, the constancy, patience, and other virtues, which these holy men were en dued with ; but their case and ours is quite different ; Paganism, at that time, was established by law, and Christianity condemned ; the professors wliereof suffered- as the disturbers of the public peace; but, blessed be God, the law is now. on our side; and our religion is become a great part of our property ; and the peace of our country does very much depend on the preservation of it. Besides, if the Christian religion had been propagated by arms, its worth had been diminished, and the reputation of the first founders of Christianity had very much suffered ; whereas the morality and justice of all its precepts, the holiness and purity of its doctrine, were of sufficient efficacy to recommend it; and the constancy and resolution with which the first Christians suffered martyrdom, were strong motives to con vince the Pagan world of the truth of it. But in our Christian commonwealth, where there are no more heathens to convert, as the robbing us of our religion would be the highest act of injustice, so the parting with it, tamely, would argue the greatest stupidity and inconcern- edness that men can be capable of. The only difficulty that remains is, Who shall be judge of the prince's actions, to know when he is a tyrant, and when not ? If it were allowed to the prince himself, he would be too partial: if we should constitute a right in the people, they would be too apt to miscon strue the prince's actions (which should ever receive the most, benign interpretation that the subject can admit). So that, to shun both inconveniences, the controversy must be decided by the laws of the kingdom. There is just such a plea betwixt the Church of Rome and the Protestants, concerning a judge of controversies : they contend for the Pope, as Christ's vicar; and reject the Scriptures, which we believe are the only rule of faith ; and that, iu them all things which relate to salvation are clearly set down, so that those of the meanest capacities may easily understand them. In a politic state, the supreme magistrate is sworn to rule according to the fundamental laws of the kingdom, which we must suppose are known both to king and people; because they are a rule to direct the government of the one, and a measure of the obedience of the other, and were fairly enacted at the first constitution. It is true, indeed, that if a law, made by the civil power, contains any obscurity, the sole power of interpreting that law belongs to the lawgivers ; but we must imagine the fundamental laws full of perspicuity, and except there be a notorious violation of them, resistance can never be lawful. What has been said on this general head will not answer the design of this paper, if it can not be applied to the present state of affairs in England; for it is of no purpose to prove, That tyranny is to be resisted by arms, unless we make it appear, That tbe English govern ment had altogether degenerated into tyranny; and that the taking up of arms under the auspicious conduct of his Highness the Prince of Orange, was no rash act, but done after mature deliberation, and with all the circumspection that an affair of so great importance 1 The great and earnest endeavours, to have the bill of exclusion passed4, did sufficiently < In Kin- Charles the Second's time, against the Duke of York, a Papist, (afterwards King James the Second) whose principles were destructive of our religion and ecclesiastical state, and all the laws by winch our Church was established. 8 The Original and Design of Magistracy . evince, what fears and jealousies the parliament had of the danger to which their religion and liberties would necessarily be exposed under a Popish successor. His Majesty s behaviour, since he came to the crown, has clearly demonstrated that these fears were not ground ess ; for, not being content to introduce the Popish religion, so much contrary to law, he hath endeavoured to alter the whole frame of the constitution, and swallow up all our liberties and privileges, in an arbitrary and despotic power 6. First, The, first step was made against the freedom of parliaments (which makes up a great part of the government, by their having a share of the legislative power lodged in them) by their issuing out Quo warrantos against all the burghs and corporations in England. The most part of them, either through fear or force, did surrender their charters to the King, who placed such magistrates in them as he was most assured of, and; by this means, did altogether invert the freedom of election. Secondly, Nothing could be more contrary to law than the erecting of seminaries of priests and Jesuits in all the capital cities of his dominions; yea, such confidence hath he reposed in that order, that he hath committed the direction of his conscience to 7 one of its fathers, and was not ashamed to own himself a son of their society. Thirdly, His pretence to a dispensing power was no mean breach of his coronation oath ; for, by it, he usurped the whole legislative power; and would have imposed on the people, (in procuring the vptes of the twelve mercenary judges) if they had not wisely foreseen the dangerous consequences, and feared that his Majesty would further oblige his Roman Catholic subjects, by repealing all the laws that were enacted in favour of the Protestant religion. It was by virtue of this dispensing power that the ecclesiastic commission was established ; the Bishop of London suspended; the Fellows of Magdalen College turned out : and, because the Bishops of England would not so far justify his illegal pretences as to cause their clergy to read the declaration for liberty of conscience 8 from their pulpits, they quickly saw all the fair promises made them evanish, and the loyal Church of England was first branded with the infamous character of trumpeters of rebellion, and afterwards treated as the worst of criminals ; a very bad recompense for that great zeal with which they had ever preached up the impracticable doctrine of non-resistance. Fourthly, In prosecution of the blessed design of reducing heretics to the see of Rome, all ways were taken to discourage Protestants, who were not only debarred from offices and em ployments of any trust, unless upon such conditions as the court pleased to impose, but were even turned out of those that had been heritable to their families ; and a great part of the militia was intrusted to Roman Catholics, of purpose to over-awe the parliaments, in case the next assembly should have proved stubborn. Fifthly, Though by many laws the holding correspondence, any way, with Rome, be declared high-treason, yet hath his Majesty had his resident there, and received his nuncio here, to the great scandal of all good Protestants and true-hearted Englishmen: for it is in effect a subjecting the kingdom to a slavery, from which our ancestors had most gloriously delivered us. These things were acted in the face of the sun 9, and none can deny them without renouncing the most comfortable of all his senses ; yea, the King himself did sufficiently acknowledge them, by his sudden restoring the City Charters, Magdalen College, and some other of the grosser sort of abuses, upon the first information he got of the Prince's 10 declaration. The King's old age, and the fair prospect of a Protestant successor, made us suffer these things patiently, because we hoped to be very shortly delivered from them; but, to despair us, and cut off all our hopes, and to punish the Prince and Princess of Orange for refusing to comply with the King's will, there is a sudden rumour spread of the Queen's being with s King James the Second. " See his commission for erecting an ecclesiastic commission court, 7 Father Peters, a Jesuit, and one of his privy council. * Calculated to introduce Popery, against all the laws in force against that superstition. » As shall be more particularly shown in the course of this miscellany. i° Of Orange. The Original and Design of Magistracy . 9 child, which as it did alarm the whole kingdom, so it made these, who were most concern ed, be at some pains to be assured of the truth of it ; and yet, after their most exact in quiry, their doubts were increased. The court was not ignorant of all this, and- yet would not give themselves the least trouble to satisfy them, though they had the greatest interest in the world to do it. The place of the Queen's lying-in was so uncertain, and the management of the birth so mysterious; the sending away the Princess of Denmark11, the imprisoning the bishops in the Tower, gave more than probable grounds to suspect an imposture ; and though these be but presumptions, and have hot the strength of a full probation, yet they transfer a necessity of eliding them by clearer evidences. Thus, our religion, liberties, and laws being ready to sink, when gentle methods had proved ineffectual, when addresses and supplications, even from the most loyal part of the nation, were counted so many acts of treason, it was high time to recur to that remedy which nature seems to dictate to every individual in its own defence. That zeal, with which his Highness the Prince of Orange had ever espoused the Pro testant interest against all its adversaries, made the nobility and gentry of England unani mously pitch on him as the fittest person to be their deliverer ; and, both he.and his Princess being so nearly interested in the succession, no rational man can blame him for appearing in arms, and demanding satisfaction that way which hitherto had been refused him. If the remedy had been delayed, it is more than probable, the greater part of the nation had fallen a sacrifice to Popery and arbitrary government. I shall conclude all vvith a short reflection upon his Majesty's leaving the kingdom, and going for France, which action alone hath done him more hurt,, than all the rest together ; for, by depriving us of that protection, which we might expect from his government, he looses his subjects from that allegiance they swore unto, upon no other condition, than so long as they should enjoy so great a benefit. Neither can any, who knows his Majesty's temper, impute his flight to fear or cowardice, but rather of his being conscious of a certain guilt, which did banish him from one of the greatest stations in the world, and robbed him of that bravery and resolution that he is naturally attended with ; and which though he had wanted, yet innocency had supported him, and made him but-brave all the malicious calumnies of his enemies, with such an heroic constancy of mind, as seldom or never fails to come off victorious. > The Prince n had also acquainted him in his declaration, that he had no other design in coming to England, than to refer all the grievances of the nation, and his own pretences, to a free parliament. Neither the King, nor any man else, could ever accuse this Prince with the least breach of promise : and, though he had been wanting in that reverence that is due to the character of an uncle and father-in-law, yet the Prince's own interest had secured the King from any harsh treatment ; for, if any thing had been attempted against his person, the nation's eyes had been opened, and would have seen clearly that these specious pretences Of liberty and property were but so many delusions; and such a treatment certainly had deserved the greatest resentment. But if the King must needs go, can he find no place for shelter but France, where so much Protestant blood hath been so. lately shed 13, with the greatest cruelty and barbarity that ever was heard ? He cannot be ignorant that his subjects have a natural aversion for that nation, and that his close and constant correspondence with its Monarch gave them just jealousies 14 to apprehend that there was more than an ordinary friendship betwixt them, which was every day increased, by his copying so near the methods that had been used in that nation for suppressing the Protestant religion, and establishing arbitrary govern- " Afterwards Queen Anne, who was married to Prince George of Denmark. " Of Orange. 13 Against the faith of solemn treaties and national laws. 14 Of which jealousies we can have no better idea than what is strongly conveyed to posterity by an ingenious author, who wrote soon after, in these words: • Though I was never much surprised and alarmed with popular or artificial fears and jealousies (which will VOL. I. C. ^0 Vox Regis, ment. And, if the King 1S have any hopes to reduce his subjects by invading them on the- head of a French army, he will find them but ill-grounded ; for, instead of reconciling them to him, so dangerous and improper a method would even alienate the hearts of his best friends, and Britain would shew itself as forward to fight against Popery and tyranny, as it was averse from giving proofs of its courage, when it must needs have been fatal to liberty and the Protestant religion. VOX REGIS. [Quarto, Seven Pages.] As an Appendix to zvhat hath been said, zve shall presume to annex part of King James the First's speeches to the parliaments in 1603 and 1609, zvho was grandfather to King James the Second : as also his advice lo his son in his Basilicon Doron ; which appen dix is entitled, Vox Regis,- or the difference betwixt a king ruling by lata, and a tyrant , by his ozvn will ; and, at the same time, declaring his royal opinion of the excellency of. the English laws, rights, and privileges, viz. In his Speech to the Parliament 1603, he expresseth himself in these words, viz. « T DO acknowledge, that the special and greatest point of difference that is betwixt a X rightful king and an usurping tyrant is in this : That whereas the proud and ambitious tyrant doth think his kingdom and people are only ordained for satisfaction of his desires and unreasonable appetites, the righteous and just king doth, by the contrary, acknowledge himself to be ordained for the procuring of the wealth and prosperity of his people ; and that his great and principal worldly felicity must consist in their prosperity. If you be rich, I cannot be poor; if yon be happy, I cannot" but be fortunate; and, I protest, that your wel fare shall ever be my greatest care and contentment. And, that I am a servant, it is most true ; that, as I am head and governor of all the people in my dominion, who are my natural vassals and subjects, considering them in numbers and distinct ranks ; so if we will take in the whole people as one body and mass, then as the head is ordained for the body, and not the perhaps make a noise, even in the most promising seasons, as long as the world endures) yet, when matter of fact is notoriously plain and evident; when tyrannical, base, and undermining principles are seconded with power. revenge, and successful issues ; it is a weak piece of bravery merely to defy danger, and rank folly and stupidity not to be nationally concerned. *• .' The politics of France are now fairly legible in speeches and bravadoes, in actions and menaces, and many self-evident tokens of a designed usurpation ; and we are not only to expect the same burning effects from the same damning cause; but have also too just and apparent reason to fear, that we shall be graduated up through all the decent forms of ingenious cruelty, and the several stages of torture, to a more solemn and ceremonious death, if ever Popery lift. up its head in.England. /' Perhaps, the more dull and half-witted priests may content themselves with a short fiery trial ; with the plain and old-fashioned way of sacrificing heretics to the Roman idol ; and I have charity to believe, there are rnanv kind and good-natured Romanists amongst us, who are so much our friends, as to shrink and tremble even at the thoughts of such barbarities as these : but all their good wishes must prove but vain and plausible nothing when the insolent Jesuit has once got the ascendant, and is roaring up and down with racks, wheels and dam nation in his mouth, and all the terrors of the ten persecutions. And -what will a not swearing or who wnnlrf have thought it, signify, when our gates are set open to that Royal Thunderer, who has been so far influenced bv his beloved oracles, and tn£ omnipotent charms of canonical executioners, as to give no rest either to the worl 1 himself; and whose magnified conduct bears a near resemblance to that awful sort of majesty which Mr T) °F presents us with, in his notable description of a bull after this manner : * ' n While, monarch-like, he rang'd the listed field, Some toss'd, some gor'd, some trampling down he kill'd.' ¦ *' James II. ¦ Vox Regis. 1 1 body for the bead, so must a righteous king know himself to be ordained for his people, and not his people for him. ' Wherefore, I will never be ashamed to confess it my principal honour, to be the great servant of the commonwealth, and ever think the prosperity thereof to be my greatest felicity, &c.' In his Speech to the Parliament, March 21, 1609, he expresseth himself as followeth : c TN these our times, we are to distinguish betwixt the state of kings in their first original, A and between the state of settled kings and monarchs, that do at this time govern in civil kingdoms : for even as God, during the time of the Old Testament, spake by oracles, and wrought by miracles; yet, how soon it pleased him to settle a Church (which was bought and redeemed by the blood of his only Son Christ) then was there a cessation of both: he ever after governing his people and Church within the limits of his revealed will. So in the first original of kings, whereof some had their beginning by conquest, and some by election of the people, their wills at that time served for a law ; yet, how soon kingdoms began to be settled in civility and policy, then did kings set down their minds by laws, which are properly made by the king only; but, at the rogation of the people, the king's grant being obtained thereunto ; and so the king came to be lex loquens, fa speaking lazu ;J after a sort, binding himself, by a double oath, to the observation of the fundamental laws of his kingdom : tacitly, as by being a king, and so bound to protect as well the. people, as the laws of his kingdom ; and expressly, by his oath at his coronation. So as every just king, in a settled kingdom, is bound to observe that paction made to his people by hislaws> in framing his government agreeable thereunto, according to that paction which God made with Noah after the deluge : " Hereafter, seed-time and harvest, summer and winter, cold and heat, day and night shall not cease, so long as the earth remains." And therefore a king, governing in a settled kingdom, leaves to be a king, and degenerates into a tyrant, as soon as he leaves off to rule according to his laws. In which case, the king's conscience may speak unto him, as the poor widow said to Philip of Macedon, Either govern according to, your law, aid ne rex sisi for cease to be king : J and, though no Christian man ought to allow any rebellion of people against their prince, yet doth God never leave kings unpunished, when they transgress these limits \ For in that same psalm, where God saith to kings, Vos dii eslis, Ye are gods ; he immediately thereafter concludes, but ye shall die like men. The higher we are placed, the greater shall our. fall be ; ut casus, sic dolor, fas the fall, s& the grief ; J the taller the trees be, the more in danger of the wind; and the tempest beats sorest upon the highest mountains. Therefore, all kings that are not tyrants, or perjured, will be glad to bound themselves within the limits of their laws ; and they that persuade them the contrary, are vipers and pests, both against them and the commonwealth. For it is a great difference betwixt a king's government in a settled estate, and what kings in their original power might do in individuo vago. As for my part, I thank God, I have ever given good proof that I never had intention to the contrary : and I am sure to go to my grave with that reputation arid comfort, that never king was, in all his time, more careful to have his laws duly observed, and himself to govern thereafter, than I. ' Just kings will ever be willing to declare what they will do, if they will not incur the curse of God. I will not be content that my power be disputed upon ; but I shall ever be willing to make the reason appear of all my doings, and rule my actions according to the laws.' And, afterwards, speaking of the common lazv of England, which some conceived he con-, temned, saith to this purpose: < That, as a king, he had least cause of any man to dislike _fhe common law ; for no law can be more favourable and advantageous for a king, and extendeth further his prerogative, than it doth; and for a king of England to despise * See this verified in-the; persons of King Charlesthe First and King^ James the Se,cond/his son and grandson. 12 ' Vox Regis. the common law, it is to neglect his own crown It is true, that no kingdom in i the world but every one of them hath their own municipal laws, agreeable to their ^oms, as this kingdom hath the common law. Nay, I am so far from disallowing thejommo" law a I protest, that, if it were in my hand to chuse a new law for this k1"/^-1^11^"^0^ ^ fer it before any other national law, but even before the very judicial law of Moses for con- veniency to thi/kingdom at this time, though, in another respect, I 7"^^™ J? and all other laws else are very inferior to that judicial law of God ; for n^QO^Haw is perfect nor free from corruption, except only the book and law of God. ^ ^r^ore, 1 could wish that some corruptions might be purged and cleared m ^^Z^J^t always by the advice of parliaments ; for the king with his parliament, here , are absolute in making or forming of any sort of laws. , , « First, I could wish that it were written in our vulgar language3; for now it is an old mixed Corrupt language, only understood by lawyers ; whereas every subject ought to under stand the law under which he lives; for, since it is our plea against the Papists that tbe language in God's service ought not to be in an unknown tongue according to the rule in the law of Moses, that the law should be written in the fringes of the Pnest s garment, and should be publicly read in the ears of all the people ; so, methinks, ought our law to be made as plain as can be to the people, that the excuse of ignorance may be taken from them for conforming themselves thereunto. < Next, Our common law hath not a settled text, being chiefly grounded upon old customs, which you call responsa prudentum. I could wish that some more certain were set down in this case by parliament : for since the Reports themselves are not always so binding, but that divers times judges do disclaim them, and recede from the judgment of their pre decessors; it were good that upon a mature deliberation the exposition of the law were set down by act of parliament, and such reports therein confirmed as were thought fit to serve for law in all times hereafter, and so the people should not depend upon the bare opinions of judges and uncertain reports. , . ' And lastly, There be in the law contrary reports and precedents ; and this corruption doth likewise concern the statutes and acts of parliament, in respect there are divers cross and cuffing statutes, and some so penned as they may be taken in divers, yea contrary senses. And, therefore, would I wish both those statutes and reports, as well in the parliament as common law, to be once materially reviewed and reconciled. s 'And that not only contrarieties should be scraped out of our books, but that even such penal statutes, as were made but for the use of the time (for breach whereof no man can be free) which do not now agree with the condition of this our time, might likewise be left out of our books, which under a tyrannous and avaricious king could not be endured. *An'¦ My Lords and Gentlemen, I BELIEVE there are scarce any of you here, who expected some months since to have seen this great assembly at this time, in this place, in peace; considering the great and unexpected change, which it hath pleased the all-disposing hand of God to make in the midst of us. I can assure you, that if things had been according to our own fears, and the hopes of our enemies, it had not been thus with us : and, therefore, it will become both you and me, in the first place, as to reverence and adore the great God, possessor of heaven and earth, in whose hands our breath is, and whose are all our ways, be cause of his judgments; so to acknowledge him in his goodness to these lands, in that he hath not added sorrow to sorrow, and made the period of his late Highness ' his life and that of the nation's peace, to have been in one day. Peace was one of the blessings of my father's government ; a mercy after so long a civil war, and in the midst of so great division which that war bred, is not usually afforded by God unto a people in so great a measure. The cause of God, and these nations, which he was engaged in, met in all the parts of it, as you well know, with many enemies and great opposition; the archers, privily and openly, sorely grieved him, and shot at him, yet his bow abode in strength, and the arms of his hands were made strong by the hands of the mighty God of Jacob. As to himself, he died full of days, spent in great and sore travail; yet his eyes were not waxed dim, neither was his natural strength abated, as it was said of Moses he was serviceable even to the last. As to these nations, he left them in great honour abroad, and in full peace at home • all England, Scotland, and Ireland dwelling safely, every man under his vine, anil under his fig-tree, from Dan even to Beersheba2. * Oliver Cromwell. ' This panegyric must be remembered to be made by his son; for, though it is confessed, that Oliver was a great man, in the common acceptation of the word, I intend to present the public with a short political discourse shewing that his administration laid the foundation of the decay of trade in this nation. Poutlcal discourse. The Speech of Richard Cromwell, Lord Protector. 21 He is gone to rest, and we are entered into his labours3; and if the Lord hath still a blessing for these lands (as I trust he hath) as our peace hath been lengthened out to this day, so shall we go on to reap the fruit, and gather the harvest of what his late Highness has sown, and laid the foundation of. For my own part, being by the providence of God, and the disposition of , the law, my father's successor, and bearing that place in the government that I do, I thought it for the public good to call a parliament of the three nations, now united, and conjoined together into one commonwealth, under one government. It is agreeable not only to my trust, but to my principles, to govern these nations by the advice of my two Houses of Parliament. I find it asserted in the humble petition and advice (which is the corner-stone of this building, and that which I shall adhere to) " that parliaments are the great council of the chief magistrate, in whose advice both he and these nations may be most safe and happy." I can assure you I have that esteem of them : and as I have made it the first act of my government to call you together, so I shall fur ther let you see the value I have of you, by the answers that I shall return to the advice that shall be given me by you, for the good of these nations. You are come up from your several countries, as the heads of your tribes, and with hearts (I persuade myself) to consult together their good. I can say I meet you with the same desires, having nothing in my design, but the maintenance of the peace, laws, liber ties, both civil and Christian, of these nations; which I shall always make the measure and rule of my government, and be ready to spend my life for 4. We have summoned you up at this time to let you know the sjtate of our affairs, and to have your advice in them ; and, I believe, a parliament was never summoned upon a more important occasion. it is true, as I have told you, we are, through the goodness of God, at this time in peace ; but it is not thus with us, because we have no enemies. There are enough, both within us and without us, who would soon put an end to our peace5, were it in their powers, or should it, at any time, come into their powers. It will be becoming your wisdoms to consider of the securing of our peace against those who, we all know, are, and ever will'be, our implacable enemies 6 ; what the means of doing this are, I shall refer unto you. This I can assure you, that the armies of England, Scotland, and Ireland, are true and faithful to the peace and good interest of these nations, and it will be found so, and that they are a consisting body, and useful for any good ends; and, if they were not the best army in the world, you would have heard of inconveniences, by reason of the great ar- rear of pay which is now due unto them, whereby some of them are reduced to great necessities. But you shall have a particular account of their arrears, and I doubt not but consideration will be had thereupon, in some speedy and effectual way: and, this being matter of money, I recommend it particularly to the House of Commons. You have, you know, a war with Spain, carried on by the advice of parliament ; he is an old enemy, and a potent one, and therefore it will be necessary, both for the honour and safety of these nations, that that war be vigorously prosecuted. Furthermore, the constitution of affairs in all our neighbour countries, and round about us (as well friends as enemies) are very considerable, and calls upon us to be upon our guard both at land and sea, and to be in a posture able to maintain and conserve our own state and interest. Great and powerful fleets are preparing to be set forth into these seas, and considerable armies of several nations, and kings are now disputing for the mastery of the Sound, with 8 The Protectorship 4 See his following Letter to the Parliament. 5 Meaning the Royalists, who would re-instate the Royal family on the throne. ' Because of the usurpation then renewed in the person of Richard. 22 A Letter from Richard Cromwell, Lord Protector, Sfe. the adjacent islands and countries ; among which is the Roman 7 Emperor, with other Po pish states ; I need not tell you of what consequence these things are to this state. We have already interposed in these affairs, in such manner as we found it necessary for the interest of England; and matters are yet in such a condition in those parts, that this state may, with the assistance of God, provide that their differences may not prejudice us. The other things that are to be said I shall refer to my Lord-Keeper Fiennes, and close up what I have to say with only adding two or three particulars to what I have already said. And, first, I recommend to your care the people of God in these nations, with their concernments : the more they are divided among themselves, the greater prudence should be used to c?ment them. Secondly, The good and necessary work of reformation, both in manners and in the ad ministration of justice; that, profaneness may be discountenanced and suppressed, and that righteousness and justice may be executed in the land. Thirdly, I recommend unto you the Protestant cause abroad, which seems, at this time* to be in some danger, having great and powerful enemies, and very few friends ; and I hope and believe, that the old English zeal to that cause is still among us. Lastly, My Lords, and you Gentlemen of the House of Commons, that you will in all your debates maintain and conserve love and unity among yourselves, that therein you may be the pattern of the nation, who have sent you up in peace, and with their prayers, that the spirit of wisdom and peace may be among you ; and this shall also be my prayer for you; and to this let us all add our utmost endeavours for the making this an happy parliament 8. 7 Or German. * As it proved by restoring monarchical government. His late Highness's Letter to the Parliament of England ; shew ing his willingness to submit to this present Government ! : Attested under his own Hand, and read in the House on Wednesday the 25th of May, 1659. [Quarto, Two Pages.] I HAVE perused the resolve and declaration which you were pleased to deliver to me the other night; and for your information, touching what is mentioned in the said resolve I have caused a true state of my debts to be transcribed, and annexed to this paper which will shew what they are, and how they were contracted 2. ' As to that part of the resolve whereby the Committee are to inform themselves how far I do acquiesce in the government of this commonwealth, as it is declared bv this narl a ment ; I trust my past carnage hitherto hath manifested my acquiescence in the will and disposition of God and that I love and value the commonwealth much above mv own concernments; and I desire, that by this a measure of my future deportment may be" ¦ Intended monarchical government under King Charles II. then to be recalled by the states of the nation ' [Whitlocke says that his debts amounted to =£29,640: for pavment of whirh *aa tj • t_ , "' contented themselves with assigning £20,000, and required hin/to remove from WhithSTsix LIT TlT the restoration he went to France, and continued some years in obscurity at Paris ¦ h„t „™ I ,1 y ltr war between France and England, he removed to Geneva. During tL lffttime of ChX IT ^ rUm°Ur °/ * England, and died at Cheshunt, Herts, in 1712.] ° e 0t Cha' les IL he returned to The Plots of Jesuits. 23 taken, which, through the assistance of God, shall be such as shall bear the same wit ness, having, I hope, in some degree, learned rather to reverence and submit to the hand of God, than to be unquiet under it. And (as to the late providences that have fallen out among us) however in respect of the particular engagements that lay upon me, I could not be active in making a change in the government of these nations; yet, through the goodness of God, I can freely acquiesce in its being made, and do hold myself obliged, as (with other men) I expect protection from the present government, so to demean my self, with all peaceableness under it, and to procure to the uttermost of my power, that all, in whom I have any interest, do the same. RICHARD CROMWELL. The Plots of Jesuits, (viz. of Adam Contzen, a Moguntine; Thomas Campanella, a Spaniard; and Robert Parsons, an Englishman; &c) how to bring England to the Roman Re ligion, without Tumult. [Quarto, Twelve Pages.] These Jesuitical politics, zvhich are taken out of the above-mentioned authors, were publish ed by Michael Spark, bookseller, in the year \653, zvhen there zvas not that public pros pect of Popery, as there is now in this nation; and, therefore, it is, I presume, far from being unseasonable to be reprinted together zoith the Protestant's doom in Popish times, when the zvhole nation is alarmed zvith the apprehensions of a Popish invasion, and the constant endeavours of the French and Spaniards, to deprive us of our religion and liberty, by attempting to set a Popish governor over a Protestant people : and hozo far these politics zvere copied by King James II. and his counsel, I refer my reader to the history of those times. The first of these tracts, zvhich immediately follozvs, contains the directions of Robert Par sons the Jesuit, that noted traitor to Queen Elizabeth ; and employed by the enemies of our Church and nation, to foment division, to illegilimize and dethrone, as far as in his pozver, her sacred Majesty, and to reduce the English state under the Papal jurisdic* tion : as also the subtile intriguing means of the Jesuit Adam Contzen, and Thomas Campanella, a Dominical Friar, to engage the Popish states to concur in the attempt to reinstate Popery in this land. The other tract is a most scarce and ingenious piece ; and, as it is supported in every sen tence by the best authorities, properly referred to, I need not enter any further into Us commendation ; only I must do that justice to the memory of the Right Reverend Dr. Bull, to acquaint, the reader, that it zvas wrote by his learned and zealous pen, to de ter Protestants from admitting, or so much as desiring, a Popish king to rule over them. Contzen's Plot, to Cheat a Church of the Religion established therein, and to bring in Popery, without Noise or Tumult ; taken out of the Second Book of his Politics, Chap„ 18, 19. Page 103, 104, &c. IT is difficult to find out truth, but it is more hard to persuade him that erreth: yet, it is the duty of a prince, even in this to bestir himself earnestly, that wicked opinions be taken away. 24 The Plots of Jesuits. The first means. What musicians observe in tuning their instruments gently setting up the strings, by little and little; and, what in curing diseases physicians practise, abat ing noxious humours, by degrees and pauses ; the same must be done in a commonwealth, labouring under the malady of errors. Although I approve not lingering bootless pro ceedings, since they often beget a desisting from the design : whatever means can be used, my counsel is, that they be attempted ; but in a soft and sure pace, for fear of a preci pice. Here mild commands and admonitions do very much further the work. The second this. It is no hard matter, for any prince in Europe, to call back men's minds to the ancient rites of their predecessors, if he list. A matter heretofore held im possible to be effected ; but, now men begin again to love the old religion. Nor can they be so held in, by their ministers, but that many do every year turn to the Catholic Unity ; what they once most greedily desired, they now cast aside with disdain. This levity of the vulgar to admire new things, and contemn old, is fatal. Many provinces in Ger many have endured many religions, now retain none, being intent on the will of their go vernors. One cause of this is, as I said but now, levity and ignorance of the truth: an other, the impossibility of holding people long ignorant of the lewdness of heresies; and that they find heretics to shift their opinions every year. It is as if yau set a company of blind men' to run a race; sooner will all miss than one get to the mark. Thirdly, Arch-heretics are to be banished the commonwealth : at once, if it may safely be done ; if not, then by degrees. Boisterous winds being sent packing, the sea will be come calm; and error, which wanteth a protector, will soon be ruined. In alterations, I have observed these twelve things following, for the most part out of the " History of the Change of Religion in the Palatinate, the Acts of Marpurg, and the Edict of Brandenburg." I. They concealed their purpose of altering religion, and root ing out Lutheranism ; not so that the wiser sort could not perceive it, but that the com mon people might not see it, and raise tumults. 2. By the art of the Zuinglians1 some were suborned, who should crave the exercise of the reformed religion, and that with many sugared humble words; that the prince might not be thought to be, of his own accord, inclined to odious novelty, but only graciously indulgent to liberty of conscience, and tb love and cherish that. Facility in a prince is commonly extolled; even when he yield- eth to those things, which are fitter to be denied. 3. One church or so (and not above) was petitioned for: that this suit might not seem harsh to the multitude, who in the" meantime were to have many more, and were not very solicitous of any. 4. Not withstanding, the jealousy of the Lutherans did here oppose itself, seeing that with the church the maintenance would be withdrawn; therefore,' they think of a conference and pacification. They assemble in the court, the matter is debated before the Prince's coun cil ; a notary and witnesses are denied them. [But this course, is by no means to be ap proved, for each part ought to have liberty. Otherwise, if men be borne down with the power of the stronger side, the victors shall ever be esteemed to have had the worst cause. This was the case of Arminians in Holland : whereas, they who had the advantage of the Prince's favour, if they had indeed believed the goodness of their cause, ought to have entered the lists, upon equal terms.] 5. An edict was published, that none should cast aspersions upon another; but, by all means cherish peace and concord. This proved an effectual engine to further the mutation: for hereby, none durst contradict the Calvinists no, not so much as name them ; and the Prince was not traduced as a patron of heresies but applauded as a lover of peace. 6. A disputation was appointed in the university. 7. All this while, there was no open shew of making Zuinglianism heir to Lutheranism • but, only this, that peace might be settled : for nothing was desired, but that the Luthe rans (retaining all their dignities and revenues) would vouchsafe to sit in consistory with the rest, and consult as brethren ; which when they refused, they were accused as proud and disobedient to authority, and seemed to deserve a dismission. Hitherto things were ' [A sect founded by Zuinglius, the Protestant reformer of Switzerland, as Luther was of Germany.] The Plots of Jesuits. l25 thus carried, that trial might be made what the people would bear : for if any tumult had arose, a fair excuse might have been made for all things hitherto. 8. When the people of Heidelberg petitioned for the continuance of their Lutheran preachers, the mat ter was passed over in silence, without answer ; and care taken, that those men who were petitioned for, should be traduced, as too furious and heady: and the people were fed so long with hope, till at length they laid aside all care of Lutheranism and hope together. 9. When all things now seemed ripe, the Lutherans were commanded to depart from their parochial charge, and all the churches bestowed upon the Calvinists. Nor durst they complain, for if they did, they were banished: but now betaking themselves to do mestic care, they only sued for a pension, immunity from taxes, and the like : the Calvinists, in the mean while, laughing, to see a matter of such height and consequence, brought so low as to make such humble and abject petitions. 10. Whereas the young scholars of the University were Lutherans, upon them also they practised with divers arts. Stipendiaries, (such as were maintained at the Elector's charge) were put to their choice ; whether they would be Calvinists, or be expelled : and thus an exceeding great alteration oame on a sud den, without any tumult ; for the country preachers followed the motion of the superior wheels. 11. When the Lutherans (professors in the University, and country preachers) re fused to yield up their dignities, the Prince told them, he wondered at them, seeing he had never taken them into his protection, nor given them any new possession of their places. (For, in that country, all places and offices become void, upon the death of the prince, and the power of bestowing them is in the successor.) 12. In Hassia, they went on very slowly, and by little and little. Nor was Calvinism offered them at once, but onely a small part of it. And the people come on much more willingly, if at the same time they be whistled another way, as to Arminianism, or some other sect, which may seem more odious. Lastly, both sides fell to writing ; but that party, which was most favoured at court, quickly prevailed : and the wickedness of the Lutherans (which upon all occasions was made known) did much advance the cause of their adversaries. The fourth means, which I have seen put in execution heretofore, and still kept on foot, is this : viz. that such, as are adverse to the Roman-Catholic religion, be put by their honours, dignities, and public offices. Nor is this unequal, that he, who hindereth the welfare of the commonwealth, should be kept from the honours and commodities of it. Men guilty of great crimes are thrust from their dignities; why then should blasphe mers and contemners of truth be admitted thereto ? A fifth means. Let those particular tenents2, which hear ill among the vulgar, and at first sight seem absurd, be culled out, and load laid upon them. A sixth. Make profit of the quarrels of erring men. •A seventh. Let all secret conventicles and public meetings be strictly forbidden. Eighthly. By the severity of laws and punishments, compel the obstinate to duty ; but let the rigour of laws be slowly drawn out, unless where there is danger of a contagion. Let those which be most dangerous be taken away, the rest by the authority of the prince will soon be brought into order. Within these few late years, a hundred thousand have been converted to the Roman religion in France; in Germany more. Not one of the German princes, that hath assayed to draw his subjects on to the Catholic religion, hath ever met with any power, resisting his decrees in that behalf, made and executed. Only the Netherlanders broke out into rebellion : but the cause thereof was not religion alone, nor was that pretended; but their privileges and liberty. The dominion of a foreign na tion over them (a thing abhorred by ingenuous men) and the exaction of tenths stirred up that people-to sedition. It is, I confess, the opinion of some politicians, that men are not to be compelled. But those which so advise are in an error, and give counsel not against the safety of reli gion only, but even of the commonwealth ; for, by a wholesome law, men may be over ruled, that they shall not do evil : and a good law will soon reduce those, who, being of 2 [Sometimes so written instead of tenets.] VOL. I. E 26 The Plots of Jesuits. tender years, are either not at all, or very little tainted with heresy. And so, if a com pulsory reformation should not do good upon old men, it may make the younger Catho lic : and I know many children have been a means of converting their parents. There are many examples of this in Bavaria, Stiria, Carinthia, and the Low Countries. Ninthly. Care is to be taken for' integrity of manners, and purity of life. For the filthy lives of Roman clergymen have made, augmented, and still do uphold heresies. And oftentimes, in my disputes with heretics, I have observed, that after very weak ar guments they fall to accusing the ill lives of our clergymen, and speak of things which can neither be denied nor defended. If the bishops be not able to amend this, God will send an avenger, who will take away the wicked men and their wickedness both together. Thus have the Turks got possession of Asia, iEgypt, Greece, &c. and reli gion will be rooted out of Europe, unless the manners of men be answerable to the sanctity of their doctrine. Other helps there be, which wisdom may suggest, according to the variety of time and place. The Chineses are taken with the mathematics; the Japonians with ethicks; the Americans with ceremonies and music : all ways are to be tried. And first, music. Paulus Samosatenus turned certafn ecclesiastical hymns into obscene and enticing rimes. Thus the Arians and Pelagians destroyed the faith and discipline of the Church. Why then should not an orthodox prince make use of that for curing, which impostors have found out to fae a means of destroying ? „ Secondly, Before the banes of matrimony be publicly asked, let both the man and woman be ordered, and compelled to yield an account of their faith. Upon this occasion they may be instructed in the true [Roman] religion : and so while they promise to continue in the church, and ever to hold fast the ancient faith, they are by degrees fastened to the truth, and cannot but love it. Thirdly, To this of marriage, other things are to be adjoined. Let no ceremonies, but those of the Catholic church, approach the font. Let none have the honour to be god-fa thers, unless they have given good testimony of their sincerity in the faith. Let no man have the honour of Christian burial, unless he hath been a partaker of the sacraments of the Church. Fourthly. If it fall out, that wandering souls must be leisurely reclaimed, and by art ; and that the propagators of perverse opinions cannot be put from the places they once enjoyed; then, let an orthodox magistrate so bring it about, that the instituting, present ing, confirming, and examining of such men be committed to him ; for so he may chace away every one that is apt to do mischief. Some wrangling fellows that regard not con troversies between Roman Catholics and Protestants, and study only to enrich themselves or to comply with the prince, he may (safely, now and then) set over those churches : so shall he be able to abate the rage of heresy, and yet not be troubled to remove the un learned ; for, by that means^ error will grow into contempt. And, because unskilful men are wont to err often, all constancy in errors will be taken away by this means. Fifthly, Likewise, let Him nourish the differences of preachers which are in error • and let him so work, that they may often confer and wrangle. For by this means, when all shall understand that there is nothing settled and certain among them, they will ioin in truth. J J Sixthly, Many other means there be, which prudent care will dictate to a prince of its own accord. All those things, which draw love and. honourable esteem to the prince are of use to fetch over the people easily to embrace his opinion in matters of religion ' Of this sort are his easing them of taxes, excise, speedy supplies to any part of the countrv spoiled by fire, provision of victuals, and other necessaries. Hereby it will come to na« that whatever they esteem distasteful to the prince, they will hold in detestation If a prince make use of these means, he may in a short time root out the Protestant religion although in the beginning it seem too strong for his laws or him. ^igiuii, The Plots of Jesuits. 27 Campanula's Plot. CAMPANELLA in his book de Monarchic Hispaniea, (printed in the reign of Queen Elizabeth) shewing the King of Spain how to bring England under his own subjection, and to the Roman religion, hath these words, c. 22. Instiget primores comitiorum aid parliamenti ut Angliam in formam reipublicee reducant ; that is, let the King of Spain in stigate the leading men of the (English) parliament, to bring England to the form of a commonwealth '. And, omnino id agat ut Anglorum vires infringat, ad quod efficiendum naves Hollandia Sf Frisice sufficerent ; si nimirum classi Angliae opponerentur ; ut infra palam fiet, S(c. that is, by all means let him make it his business to break the strength of England, To effect which, the ships of Holland and Frisia will be enough, if they be set against the English. His twenty fifth chapter beginneth thus, Quamvis Anglus, &c. Although the English doth of all nations seem least to affect an universal monarchy, yet they do much hinder Spain's attaining it: Queen Elizabeth hath given us examples; for she hath cherished cor rupted humours, and helped Protestants with advice and supplies in the Low Countries against the Catholic king; and in France, against the most Christian prince: for she is Queen of an island which aboundeth with ships and soldiers, and maketh a prey of all that Spain hath in the north ; and they ramble even to America, where, though they cannot erect a new kingdom, yet they do the Spaniard very much harm ; for Drake, the English man, hath gone round the world more than once, though Magajanes did it before. him. And it may come to pass, that all the kingdom of Baccalaos2 (which is nearer the En glish, and more commodious to them, by reason of the temperature of the air) may some time or other be put into their possession. Certain it is, and evident enough, that, if the King of Spain could conquer but England and the Low Countries, he would quickly become the monarch of all Europe, and of the greatest part of the new-found world. Campanella goes on, advising the Spaniard to erect some new schools or colleges in Flanders, and to- usher a new religion into England ; first, with a new philosophy (him self hath furnished us with one) Anglorum religio facile restingui non potest, nisi aperian- tur schola in Flandria ; interventuque illarum spargantur semina schismalum in scientiis naturalibus, Stoicis videlicet, Peripateticis, 8f Telesianis ; i. e. The religion of the English cannot be easily brought to nothing, unless schools be opened in Flanders ; and, by help of them, the seeds of schisms in natural sciences, and Stoick, Peripatetic, and Telesian philosophy, be scattered abroad 3. The last page of this twenty-fifth chapter is as followeth : Cum Insula htec reducetur in formam reipublica, qua perpetuas inimicitias cum Scotia gerat, actionesque suas non nisi lente perficiet, 6Xc. When this Island shall become a republic, it will be at perpetual enmity with Scotland, and move very slowly, and so do the less harm to Spain ; whereup on, the King of Spain, as soon as the throne is empty, may step in, pretending to help the English. But let him be sure to keep correspondency with some English noblemen, who have power' over the adjacent Islands ; and let every one of them have full and ab solute dominion in his several place, as we read it was in the days of old. Then let him tamper with the nobility of Ireland, that, when the Queen is dead, that nation may be formed either into a commonwealth, or (at least) into a kingdom distinct by itself; then 1 The same ad-vice that Cardinal de Richelieu gave the £ing of France, a little befpre his death. 2 Newfoundland. 3 There is more to the same purpose in the tenth chapter, which he beginneth thus : ," Omnes Magnates Mo- narchiam, &c. All great men, when they have gone about to set up a monarchy, have altered the sciences, and sometimes religion itself, that they might be admired." In the same chapter his seventh direction is, "to shu up all schools wherein the Greek and Hebrew are taught, because they are (says he) the causes of heresies, au so destroy government." E 2 28 The Plots of Jesuits. ¦ let him promise supplies to each of those noblemen a-part ; and so much the more, be cause in that kingdom, or island, Catholics (especially monks of the order of St. Francis) are very much beloved. Now the Irish agree better with the Spaniards than with the English, either because their manners or climates are alike, or because their countries are near one another : and there are in Ireland many vagabond persons who cannot endure to be in sub jection, and yet they are good Catholics, and. able to do the King of Spain excellent service in the matter which we now speak of. These and the like things may easily be prepared, that, when Queen Elizabeth is dead, they may be put in execution ; for every one knoweth what bloody civil wars, what altera tions and changes have been oftentimes in England. So that what I have propounded will not seem strange or impossible. To conclude : The same Campanella, in his eighth chapter of the same book, lays down this rule or maxim, that the way to keep up, or increase the King of Spain's monarchy, is, " to keep his own subjects in peace, and his neighbours in contention." Thomas Campanella having thus given the King of Spain directions how to get and keep the English nation: Parsons's Plot. ROBERT Parsons goes a step further, and will help him to a title to the crown of England : for, in the year 1593, he published a book under the name of R. Doleman, intituled, "A Conference about the next Succession to the Crown of England, divided into two Parts V the first part was for chastising of kings, and proceeding against them, &c. And was late ly reprinted by Robert Ibbitson2 in Smithfield, and called, "Several Speeches made at a Conference." The second part was to prove, that the Infanta of Spain was the legal heir to the crown of England ; the penning whereof did much indear him to the King of Spain, the Pope and Cardinals, as Roman priests relate. Not to repeat any thing of Parsons's Memorial ; wherein he adviseth 3 " to destroy the common law of England, &c. and to have no preachers but itinerary": I shall only trans cribe a few lines, which you may read in an ordinary book, intitled, "A Reply to Father Parsons's Libel," written by William Clark, a Roman priest, where* are these words : " such as have read [Parsons's Memorial for Reformation] being priests and men of credit, unto some of whom father Parsons himself shewed the said book (as secretly as now it is' kept) do report, that his directions are, that the municipal laws of our country [England] shall be so altered, that the civil laws must bear the sway." And a little after, " for our clergy also they say, that all men should be put to pensions in the beginning; and the colleges both in Oxford and Cambridge, in the same sort, deprived of their lands and revenues and become pensioners." All religious orders (except only one, i. e. Jesuits) he excludeth out 1 [The materials for this book are believed to have been furnished by Cardinal Allen Sir Thomas WUfipM &c. and licked into shapeliness by Parsons Dr. Barlow reported that Doleman was an honest seculafS' who hated traitorous doctrines; whence father Parsons hated him, and to make him odious, used Doleman's name in the title page of his own libellous book. Vide Athenee Oxon.] -"oieman s WhVeveXUh^^ quartered) se.ea book intitled •; -Hi. Majesty's ksJage AaceTp. ^^ZSlTytSL^Z' *£ see Mr. Prynne's speech in the House of Commons, Dec. 4, 1648, v. 100 where Mr k™3 !u /, ?r he himself, and others, complained of this book, but that nothing wL7r»ffiicS"e &£' 5? gross.mputat.on; and it may be. looked upon as one great means of corruptb^he nation £wTf±! its allegiance to the crown, and bringing the king's head to the block " UMlm> routing it irom of;h^rrx^damore wisheda Roman cathoiic to erP%an7d2.then (and not m then> a **»*¦ The Protestants' Doom in Popish Times. 29 of England (as they affirm) for the first seveh years and more ; that master Jesuits, in the mean time, may have the sway of all, and enter into the houses,' livings, and possessions, of other religious orders, &c. The Protestants' Doom in Popish Times. [Quarto, Eight Pages.] A Prince putting himself, and his dominions, under the authority of the Pope, and ad mitting (as he must unavoidably) the laws and decrees of the Romish Church, all his Protestant subjects being by the judgment and sentence of that Church, heretics, do forth with lie under the penalty which those laws and constitutions will have inflicted upon heretics ; heresy being the highest degree of high treason ; called, therefore, by them, lasa crimen majestatis divina : So the English Protestant must be a traitor, and the worst of traitors, and exposed to the penalties of high treason. The Lazvs and Decrees of the Romish Church against Heretics. Heresy is denounced infamous, and the heretic must be dealt with as such ; which are many penalties in one. First, Whereby they are deprived of all nobility, jurisdiction, and dignity, and debarred from all offices, and public councils, parliaments as others ; being made uncapable of choos ing, and being chosen: so that it reacheth all sorts of clergy, laity, noble and ignoble; which is extended to their children also. For, they say, " The issue of traitors, civil and spiritual, lose their nobility :" and all, that owe any duty to such infamous persons, are dis charged and exempted therefrom ; as subjects from their prince, servants from their masters, children from their parents ; whom they also may lawfully kill. Whereby we may see a little, to what condition the admission of a Papal authority would reduce us, expelling both nature and humanity, and making the dearest relatives unnatural and barbarous to one another. It would leave no Protestant either dignity or authority, either safety or liberty ; nobles are sentenced to peasants, and peasants to slaves. Secondly, another penalty, to which heretics are condemned by their laws, is confiscation of goods and estate; and this they incur ipso jure, M ipso facto ; that is immediately, as soon as they shew themselves heretics, before any legal sentence have passed : for which there is an express decree in the canon law, bona hareticorum ipso jure discernemus con- fiscata ; we decree the goods of heretics to be confiscated by sentence of law. The effect of this confiscation, wherein they all agree, makes the severity of the law apparent, viz. First, All the profits made of the estate, from the first day of their guilt, is to be refunded. Secondly, All alienations by gift, sale, or otherwise, before sentence, are null and void ; and all contracts, for that purpose, rescinded. Thirdly, Children, heirs of heretics, are deprived of their portions ; yea, though they be Papists. Whereby it appears, that, as soon as the Papacy is admitted, all title and property is lost and extinct among us : and, therefore, we must not think that Pope acted extravagantly, who declared, " That all his majesty's territories were his own, as forfeited to the holy see for the heresy of prince and people," Not only abby-lands are in danger, whoever possess them, but all estates are forfeited to his exchequer, and legally confiscated. All is his own, . which Protestants, in these three nations, have, or ever had, if he can but meet with a prince so wise, as to help him to catch it ; whose process follows them beyond their grave, and ruins their c. ^en, and children's children after them. And when they have stripped the heretic of his ah, T'ey provide that no other shall relieve him, viz. " That none shall receive him into their housesT" upr afford him any help, nor shew him any favour, nor give him any SO The Protestants' Doom in Popish Times. counsel." We are here, in England, zealous for property; and all the reason in the world we should so be: but we must bid adieu to this, when we once come under the Popes au thority ; for, as soon as this is admitted, all the Protestants in these nations are beggars by ' law, viz. by the laws of that Church ; which will then of necessity be ours, divesting us of all property and title to whatever we count our ©wn. . . Thirdly, Another penalty, which their law inflicts on heretics, is death, which is the sen tence of the canon law ; and which is so absolute, that no secular judge can remit ; and which is the judgment of all the doctors, iia decent omnes doctor es : and from which penal ties, neither emperors nor kings themselves are to be freed or exempt : and the death they inflict is burning alive. No death more tolerable, or of less exquisite torture, will satisfy the mercy of- that Church. The canon saith thus: decernimus ut vivi in conspectu hominum comburantur; we decree, that they shall be burnt alive, in the sight of the world. So our last popish successor, Queen Mary, practised upon near three hundred persons, without regard either to age, sex, or quality. The scripture, they urge for it, is John xv. 6. « If any one abide not in me, men gather them, and cast them into the fire,- and they are burnt." So that, as soon as the Papal authority is admitted among us, all the Protestants in these nations are dead men in law; being under a law, that hath sentenced us to be burnt alive; and under a power that hath declared it necessary, that no one of us escape with life. Fourthly, Where legal penalties cannot take place, by reason of opposite strength, they hold war necessary, and lawful, to chastise heretics : for which we might give you divers authorities ; but let Cardinal Allen, our country-man, suffice ; who asserts, it is not only lawful, but necessary. His words are these ; " It is clear, (saith he) what people or per sons soever be declared to be opposite to God's Church, with what obligation soever, either of kindred, friendship, loyalty, or subjection, I be bound unto them ; I may, or rather must, take up arms against them : and then must we take them for heretics, When our lawful Popes adjudge them so to be. And which (saith Cardinal Pool) is a war more holy, than that against the Turks." Fifthly, To destroy them, by massacres, is sometimes held more advisable, than to run the hazard of war ; and which, they say, is both lawful and meritorious, for the rooting out a pestilent heresy, and the promoting the Romish interest. This set a-foot the Irish mas sacre, that inhuman, bloody butchery, not so much from the savageness and cruelty of their natures, as the doctrines and principles which directed and encouraged it : as also that of .Paris ; than which nothing was more grateful and acceptable to their Popes, as their bulls make manifest, and the picturing it in the Pope's chamber ; and for which, as a most glo rious action, triumphs were made, and public thanksgivings were returned to God. So in Savoy, and elsewhere, both in "Former and later times. And this was that which the late conspirators aimed at so fully, intending a massacre. " Those that escaped a massacre, saith Dugdale1, must be cut off by the army." And Coleman tells the internuncio, in his letter2, "That their design prospered so well, that he doubted not, in a little time, their business would be managed^to the utter ruin of the Protestant party : the effecting of where of was so desirable and meritorious, that if he had a sea of blood, and an hundred lives, he would lose them all, to carry on the design. And if, to effect this, it were necessary to des troy an hundred heretical kings, he would do it." Singleton, the priest, affirmed3, "That -he would make no more to stab forty parliament-men, than to eat his dinner." Gerard and Kelly, to encourage Prance to kill Sir Edmundbury Godfrey, told him, " It was no murder, nor sin ; and that to kill twenty of them was nothing in that case ; which was both a charitable and meritorious act." And Grant, one of the massacring gunpowder traitors, said, upon his execution, to one that urged him to repent of that wicked enterprise, " That he was so far from counting it a sin, that, on the contrary, he was confident, that .that noble design had so much of merit in it, as would be abundantly enough to make satisfaction for all the sins of his whole life." Sir Everard Digby, speaking to the same purpose also. Thp provincial, Garnet, did teach the conspirators the same Catholic doctrine, viz. " That tY ; king, nobility] ' Five Jesuit's trial, p. 28. • Coleman's Letter to the Pope's Nuncio. 3 See ?rance's Narrative, p. 4. The Protestants' Doom in Popish Times. 31 clergy, and whole community of the realm of England, (Papists excepted) were heretics ; and, that all heretics were accursed and excommunicated; and, that no heretic could be a king; but that it was lawful and meritorious to kill him, and all other heretics, within this realm of England, for the advancement and inlargement of the authority and jurisdiction of the Pope, and for the restoring of the Romish religion." This was that Garnet, whom the Papists here honoured as a pope, and kissed his feet, and reverenced his judgment as an oracle ; and, since his death, have given him the honour of saintship and martyrdom. Dug- dale deposed *, « That, after they had dispatched the king, a massacre was to follow." • But surely, it may be supposed, thai the temper of such a prince, or his interest, would oblige him to forbid or restrain such violent executions in England. I, but what if his tem per be to comply with such courses ? Or, if his temper be better, What if it be over-ruled ? What if he be persuaded as all other Catholics are, that he must in conscience proceed thus ? What if he cannot do otherwise, without hazard of his crown and life ? For he is not to hold the reins of government alone ; he will not be allowed to be much more than the Pope's pos tilion; and must look to be dismounted, if he act not according to order. The law5 tells us, "that it is not in the power of any civil magistrate, to remit the penalty, or abate the rigour of the law." Nay, if the prince should plight his faith by oath, that he would not suffer their bloody laws to be executed upon his dissenting subjects, this would signify no thing; for they would soon tell him, " that contracts made against the canon-law are invalid, though confirmed by oath ; and, that he is not bound to stand to his promise, though he had sworn to it : and, that faith is no more to be kept with heretics, than the council of Con stance would have it." So that Protestants are to be burnt, as John Huss and Jerom of Prague were by that council, though the Emperor had given them his safe conduct in that solemn manner, which could secure them only (as they said) from the civil, but not Church process, which was the greatest. For it is their general rule, " that faith is either not to be given, or not to be kept with heretics." Therefore, saith Simanca, " that faith engaged to heretics, though confirmed by oath, is in no wise to be performed : for," saith he, " if faith is not to be kept- with tyrants and pirates, and others who kill the body, much less with heretics who kill the souls ;" and that the oath, in favour of them, is but vinculum iniquitatis, a bond of iniquity. Though Popish princes the better to promote their interests, and to in- snare their Protestant subjects, to get. advantage upon them, to their ruin, have made large promises, and plighted their faiths to them, when they did not intend to keep it; as the Emperor to John Huss and Jerom ; Charles the Ninth of France to his Protestant subjects, before the massacre ; the Duke of Savoy to his Protestant subjects, before their designed ruin ; and Queen Mary, before her burning of them. But if there were neither law nor conscience to hinder, yet in point of interest he must not shew favour to heretics, without apparent hazard, both of crown and life, for he forfeits both if he doth. The Pope every year doth not only curse heretics, but every favourer of them, from which none but himself can absolve. Becanus very elegantly tells us, " If a prince be a dull cur, and fly not upon heretics, he is to be beaten out, and a keener dog must be got in his stead." Henry the Third, and Henry the Fourth 6, were both assassinated upon this account, and because they were suspected to favour heretics : and are we not told by the discoverers of the Popish plot7, that, after they had dispatched the king, they would depose his brother also', that was to succeed him, if he did not answer their expectations, for rooting out the Protestant religion. But may not parliament secure us by laws and provisions, restraining the power which en dangers us ? Not possible, if once they secure and settle the throne for Popery : for, First, They can avoid parliaments as long as they please, and a government, that is more arbitrary and violent, is more agreeable to their designs and principles: it being apparent, that "the English Papists have lost the spirit of their ancestors, who so well asserted the Eng lish liberties, being so generally now fixed for the Pope's universal monarchy, sacrificing all < See the Trial of the five Jesuits, p. 25. 5 Viz. The law of the Romish Church, which begins Caput qfficium. ' Kings of France. ' See Oates's Nar. p. 4, &c. 32 The Case of England and the Protestant Interest. to that Roman Moloch ; being much more his subjects than the king's ; and, though natives by birth, yet are foreigners as to government, principle, interest, affection, and design; and therefore no friends to parliaments, as our experience hath told us. But, Secondly, If their necessity should require a parliament, there is no question but they may get such a one as will serve their turns. For so have every of our former princes in all the changes of religion, that have been amongst us. as Henry VIII, when he was both for and against Popery ; Edward VI, when he was wholly Protestant ; Queen Mary, when she was for burning alive ; and Queen Elizabeth, when she ran so counter to her sister. And the reason is clear, that he, who has the making of public officers and the keys of pre ferment and profit, influenceth and swayeth elections and votes as he pleaseth. And, by how much the throne comes to be fixed in Popery, the Protestants must expect to be ex cluded from both houses, as they have excluded the Papists : for, as heretics and traitors, they, as ignominious persons, &c. you have heard forfeit- all right, either to chuse or be chosen in any public councils ; and then all laws, which have been made for the Protestants,- and against the Popish religion, will be null and void, as being enacted by an incompetent au thority, as being the acts of heretics, kings, lords, and commons, who had forfeited all their rights and privileges. But, Thirdly; Suppose our laws were valid, as enacted by competent authority, and such good and wholesome provisions, as were those statutes made by our Popish ancestors, in those statutes of provisoes in Edward the First's and Edward the Third's time ; and that of pre- munire in Richard the Second's and Henry the Fourth's, for relief against Papal incroach- ments and oppressions ; yet being against the laws and canons of holy Church, the sovereign authority, they will be all superseded ; for so they determine, " That when the canon and the civil laws clash, one requiring what the other allows not, the Church law must have the observance, and that of the state neglected : and constitutions (say they) made against the canons and decrees of the Roman bishops, are of no moment. Their best authors are posi tive in it." And our own experience and histories testify the truth thereof; for how were those good laws before-mentioned defeated by the Pope's authority, so that there was no effectual execution thereof till Henry the Eighth's time, as Dr. Burnet tells us ? And how have the good laws, to suppress and prevent Popery, been very much obstructed in their execution, by Popish influence8? The Present Case of England and the Protestant Interest. [Quarto, Six Pages.] OINCE the present condition of the kingdom1, and the whole Protestant interest by the O conjunction of France arid Spain abroad, and a more horrid combination of several at home, must needs affect with the most melancholy reflexions all true English hearts all such as have any real love or zeal for their religion, or their native country; I cannot think it amiss to present a short and impartial view to such as have not considered the same In the beginning of the last2 age, the Protestant interest, in Europe, was more than a match for the Roman Cathohc ; the kingdom of Bohemia was almo/all Protectant near half the subjects of Hungaria, of Austria, and Moravia, were Protestant (and chd many imes defend themselves, by fee, against the Emperor himself, when oppressed bydnm Z the sake of their religion:) that in Germany, the houses of Newburgh were Protectant the Palatinates for the most part of them Protestant, of the strictest sort, the Saxon Entirely Protestant, and, being hearty, unanimous, and seated in the midst of Germany, were a buf ' In the reign of King Charles II, who was too often influenced by his Popish brother. [ In the year 1690. ¦ Or Sixteenth. The Case of England and the Protestant Interest. 33 wark and defence to the Protestants of many Other lesser states, as often as they were op pressed for their religion, by their own or their neighbouring princes : that many of the sub jects of Bavaria Bamburgh, Cologn, Wurtzburgh, and Worms, were Protestants. Besides these that the, Protestants of France were so powerful, as to maintain eight or nine civil wars in defence of their religion, and always came off with advantage. The Vaudois in Italy were all of them Protestant, and great numbers of the inhabitants of the Spanish Low Countries3 were of the Reformed Religion. Besides England and Holland, and the northern kingdoms of Denmark and Sweden, and the Duchy of Brandenburgh, were entirely Pro testant. But now, instead of this, is not the Protestant power destroyed almost over Europe ? The whole kingdom of Bohemia entirely Popish ? Are not the Protestants of Poland, Austria, Moravia, utterly destroyed ? Is not their destruction now carrying on, and almost finished in Hungary ? In Germany the Newburghers of Protestants are become fierce enemies of the Protestant religion. The Protestants of Bavaria, Bamburgh, Cologn, Wurtzburgh, and Worms are all destroyed. In France, the Spanish Low Countries, Savoy, and Vaudois, after long and mighty struggles, the religion is utterly extinguished. Against the poor Palatines the persecution is now carrying on with its usual barbarity ; and their neighbours, the Saxons, are so far from being able to help them; that they are under the fear ful apprehension of suffering the like from their own prince4, (lately turned Roman Catholic to obtain the kingdom of Poland) so soon as his wars with Sweden, and other troubles, created him by his Polish and Lithuanian subjects, will give him leave. Besides this, two northern princes have given great cause to suspect their conversion to the Romish religion : that Sweden, by its separation from the rest of Europe by the Baltic, is unable to give assistance to the Protestants in any part of Europe, without the consent of the German princes bordering on the Baltic, which will never be granted by Papists in favour of the Protestants. Thus the Protestant religion, which had spread itself over almost all Europe, which had gained the entire possessions of some countries, the greater part of others, and mighty in terest in most ; has, through the restless malice and endeavours of its enemies, been subvert ed and destroyed in country after country, till it is at last reduced to a little corner of what it once5 possessed (England and Holland),. And do we think our enemies will not accom plish (what they have thus prosperously carried on so far) our utter destruction ? Is it not high time then to think ourselves in danger, to look about us, to inquire what it is hath thus weakened us, brought us so near our ruin ; what measures will certainly accomplish it, and what we must take for the prevention of it. The Romish methods of converting the Protestants have been in all countries the same, viz. confiscation of their estates, gaols and imprisonments, fire and sword, dragooning and. massacring, and inflicting the most inhuman torments that rage and fury could invent upon- such, whose resolution and zeal for their religion could not be moved by the former means 6. If this be the true case of England and the Protestant religion, then what is wanting to give the finishing stroke to our destruction ; but only an ability in the King of France to break the powers of England and Holland ? And when we consider, how, in the year 1672, the King of France marched his army through the midst of Flanders, fell directly upon Hol land then unprovided, entered their strongest towns like open villages, some without de fence or almost denial, most of them without any blows at all, and all of them with very- few, and made himself master of three parts of Holland in two months time ; for which Sir William Temple, King Charles the Second's ambassador (then in Holland) tells us the reason was, "That the Dutch, then not suspecting such a thing, had no field army sufficient to en counter their enemies, or succour any town ; that walled towns will not defend the men within, unless the hearts of the men will defend their walls; that no garrison will make any resolute defence, without the prospect or hopes at least of relief," It is true, that the French ' Now divided between France and the house of Austria. 4 Father to Frederick Augustus II. Elector of Saxony and King of Poland. s In the reign of Queen Elizabeth. ' See this particularly described on page 29, &c, VOL. I. F 34 The Case of England and the Protestant Interest. king, having then all Flanders on his back, garrisoned with Spanish troops (tnen his im placable enemies), a powerful army of the German princes marching upon him down the Rhine, Spain and England (alarmed by his successes) preparing to attack him on all quar ters, was glad to vomit up all again, and return home with as much precipitancy as he na out of their minority, or from being pages 1 any more, though, thereby, he brought the poor peasants to be worse than lacquies. With the fall, or, at least, the discountenance of that usual parliamentary assembly of the three states, the liberty of the French nation utterly fell ; the poor roturier and vine yard-man, with the rest of the yeomanry, being reduced ever since to such an abject asinine condition, that they serve but as sponges for the king to squeeze when he list. Neverthe less, as that king hath an advantage hereby one way, to monarchise more absolutely, and never to want money, but to ballast his purse when he will ; so there is another mighty in convenience ariseth to him and his whole kingdom another way ; for this illegal peeling of the poor peasant hath so dejected him, and cowed his native courage so much, by the sense of poverty (which brings along with it a narrowness of soul), that he is'little useful for the war : which puts the French King to make other nations mercenary to him, to fill up his infantry ; insomuch, that the kingdom of France may be not unfitly compared to a body that hath all his blood drawn up into the arms, breast^ and back, and scarce any left from the girdle downwards, to cherish and bear up the lower parts, and keep them from starving. All this seriously considered, there cannot be a more proper and pregnant example, than this of our next neighbours, to prove how infinitely necessary the parliament is, to assert, to prop up, and preserve the public liberty and national rights of the people, with the in- columity and welfare of a country. Nor doth the subject only reap benefit thus by parliament, but the prince (if it be well considered) hath an equal advantage thereby; it rendereth him a king of free and able men, which is far more glorious than to be a king of slaves, beggars, and bankrupts ; men, that by their freedom, and competency of wealth, are kept still in heart to do him service against any foreign force. And it is a true maxim in all states, that it is less danger and dishonour for the prince to be poor, than his people : rich subjects can make, their king rich when they please ; if he gain their hearts, he will quickly get their purses. Parliament increaseth love and good intelligence betwixt him and his people; it acquaints him with the reality of things, and with the true state and diseases of his kingdom ; it brings him to the knowledge of his better sort of subjects, and of their abilities, which he may employ accordingly upon all occasions ; it provides for his royal issue, pays his debts, finds means to fill his coffers : and it is no ill observation, the parliamentary-monies (the great aid) have prospered best with the kings of England; it exceedingly raiseth his repute abroad, and enableth him to keep his foes in fear, his subjects in awe, his neighbours and confederates in security; the 7 Minors. , 38 The Mischiefs and Unreasonableness, fyc. three main things which go to aggrandise a prince, and render him glorious. In sum, it is the parliament that supports and bears up the honour of his crown, and settles his throne in safety, which is the chief end of all their consultations : for whosoever is entrusted to be a member of this high court, carrieth with him a double capacity ; he sits there as a patriot, and as a subject : as he is the one, the country is his object, his duty being to vindicate the public liberty, to make wholesome laws, to put his hand to the pump, and stop the leaks of the great vessel of the state ; to pry into, and punish corruption and oppression ; to improve and advance trade ; to have the grievances of the place he serves for redressed, and cast about how to find something that may tend to the advantage of it. But he must not forget, that he sits there also as a subject, and according to that capacity, he must apply himself to do his sovereign's business ; to provide not only for his public, but his personal wants ; to bear up the lustre and glory of his court ; to consider what occasions of extraordinary expences he may have, by increase of royal issue, or maintenance of any of them abroad; to enable him to vindicate any affront or indignity, that might be offered to his person, crown, or dignity, by any foreign state or kingdom ; to consult what may enlarge his honour, contentment, and pleasure. And as the French Tacitus (Comines) hath it, the English nation was used to be more forward and zealous in this particular than any other; according to that ancient eloquent speech of a great lawyer, domus regis vigilia defendit omnium ; otium illius labor omnium, delicia illius industria omnium, vacatio illius occupatio omnium, salus illius periculum omnium, honor illius objectum omnium, i.e. 'Every one should stand sentinel, to defend the king's houses ; his safety should be the danger of all, his pleasures the industry of all, his ease should be the labour of all, his honour the object of all.' Out of these premisses this conclusion may be easilyd educed, that the principal fountain' whence the king derives his happiness and safety is his parliament : it is that great conduit- pipe which conveys unto him his people's bounty and gratitude ; the truest looking-glass, wherein he discerns their loves; now the subjects' love hath been always accounted the prime citadel of a prince. In his parliament he appears as the sun in the meridian, in the altitude of his glory, in his highest state royal, as the Jaw tells us. Therefore whosoever is averse or disaffected to this sovereign law-making court, cannot have his heart well planted within him : he can be neither good subject, nor good patriot • and therefore unworthy to breathe English air, or have any benefit, advantage, or pro tection from the laws. e- mis- The Mischiefs and Unreasonableness of endeavouring to d prive his Majesty of the Affections of his Subjects, by mi representing him and his Ministers. 1681. [Quarto. Eight Pages.] Cum hominum animi vanis timoribus & suspicionibus implentur, calumniae &. maledicta in principes sine ullo veri falsive discrimine avide accipiuntur, avide communicantur. Fam. Strada de bello Belg. This loyal tract, containing the true sense of every good subject, was originally published to deter the subjects of Great Britain and Ireland from fomenting that discontent against kingly government which brought these nations into that horrid rebellion that began in the year 1641, and deserves to be recorded so long as monarchy sways these kingdoms ; and The Mischiefs and Unreasonableness, §c. 39 alzvaystjiecessary to be read, so long as that best of governments is struck at by designing men ; or ignoranlly traversed in the conversation of the causelessly discontented subject. I have only taken the liberty to strike out some expressions that zvere temporary, in order to render it the more general and useful at all limes. IT is the common unhappiness of all states, that some persons every where are proud of being thought wise at suspecting, and of an extraordinary reach in foreseeing evils which, perhaps, never come to pass. The vanity of appearing more acute and sagacious than their neighbours does so possess them, that they make it their business and employment to discover or to invent approaching mischiefs. And if we look into those histories \Yhich give us an account of the grand transactions and revolutions of kingdoms, which do not barely tell things as tales, and say, only such and such things happened, but do search into the real causes of, and acquaint us what occasioned them ; we shall find that this humour has frequently been of greatest consequence, and that none have contributed more to the unhappiness and destruction of a nation, than the over-politic and notable men ; who by shew of concern for the public, and great insight into intrigues and cabals, have la boured to bring the government into suspicion, and to alienate the hearts of the people from their prince. But we need not appeal to foreign , occurrences, or elder times. The miseries which these three kingdoms for several years groaned under do sufficiently attest it ; and they who understand any thing of England's troubles1 in the grand rebellion, are not ignorant that the grave men of fears and jealousies, who discovered what no man could ever find out since ; and the seditious preachers, who endeavoured to gain the people's hearts by aspersing their King, and shewing them dangers and enemies round about them, where none meant to hurt them ; who with Scripture phrases, and sacred railing, and pro fane abuse of God's word to base and malicious purposes, demonstrated their governors to be the designers of their ruin, were not the least promoters of all our shameful con fusions. But either we are so unwilling to reflect upon what then followed, or so inclinable to gratify our own little humour that way, that we too generally tread in the steps of the fomenters of those disturbances, without the least misgivings of what it may end in. We are as politic, and as sharp-sighted, and as disingenuous as they were in 1641. We do, indeed, enjoy Our liberties and properties, and the free exercise of our religion, peace, and plenty, justice equally distributed to all, are governed by known laws, and no man is op pressed, and yet we have grievances to complain of; dangers we foresee do threaten us; we groan, and sigh, and cry out at the badness of the times, are apprehensive of strange designs on foot, and cannot afford our governors one good word. Indeed, they among us who have a great reach, and would be thought politicians of the first rate, do give only notable hints, emphatical nods, intimate somewhat of our fears, but darkly; speak du biously of what may happen, wish the King better advised, whisper somewhat about evil counsellors, and the like. But the vulgar part of us are more rash, and blunder it out more plainly, and prophesy of arbitrary government; cry out that we are sold and betrayed, and not far from being enslaved. Some men have so strange fond conceits of themselves, that they are too ready to fancy their own petty interests and absurd desires so twisted and interwoven with the public hap piness of the nation, that, from any little disappointment of their ill-laid projects, they will take occasion to predict some signal mischiefs, if not ruin to the commonwealth. For they look on themselves as persons no less in favour with God, nor less wise in their designs than others ; and how can public mischiefs be brought on us, but by the ill administration of those who are concerned in the government ? And when this prophetical foundation is once laid, then every accident which happens shall minister some jealousies and suspicions, every suspicion shall beget another; and can a man think much, and say nothing of such matters ? ' Vid. The View of the late Troubles in England, p. 96, If alibi. 40 The Mischiefs and Unreasonableness, $c. Besides, some men strangely affect the favour and good word of the commqn people ; and what readier way to obtain it, than by persuading them that they are not so well governed as they ought to be ? Some things will happen amiss, let men do what they can; and the common people, who see the immediate and obvious effects of some incon- veniencies to which all sorts of governments are subject, have not the judgment to discern the secret lets and difficulties which in public proceedings are innumerable and ine vitable. And does not the reproving the supposed disorders of state shew the persons who do so to be principal friends to the common interest, and honest men of singular freedom of mind ? And what can be more popular and plausible ? Once more. When every private and ordinary person turns statesman, and with a judi cious gravity canvasses and determines the particular interests and designs of kings and princes ; when he, perhaps, who has hardly wit enough to govern his own little family, takes upon him to settle the affairs of Christendom, and fancies himself able to give this or the other prince advice how to govern his subjects, and enlarge his dominions ; in fine, when men spend that time they should employ in their several callings to gain their livelihood, in running about after news, and make themselves poor by idleness and negligence; what can we expect among these people but perverse censures and silly conclusions, seditious repinings and discontents ? But, certainly, no wise man can think the worse of any government, because unthinking people speak ill of it ; nor will he, who is but a little above the multitude, think himself in danger, and bound to vex and to be discontented, because they are not pleased! Indeed, we have been so long used to concern ourselves in matters that do not belong to us, to arraign, and at our pleasure to condemn the government; that either our go vernors must publish to the world all their designs and consultations, and inform the people of all their motives to such or such resolutions (which would-be the most absurd thing in the world, and the greatest contradiction to all the uses and ends of government) or else they must expect to have evil censures passed on them for all they do, to be com plained of as enemies to their country, and betrayers of their trust : a humour fit for the senseless rabble, but below any one of parts and ingenuity. But now let us think a little what will be the end of all these things ? The most expe rienced and ablest disturbers have always first struck at the reputation of the government, and frequently with great success. For can there be obedience, where there is not so much as respect? Will their knees bow, whilst their hearts insult; and their actions submit, whilst their apprehensions and tongues do rebel? And when the people are thus prepared with jealousies and discontents, and some acci dents happen which offer an opportunity, then out steps some bold hypocritical. rebel, and heads the discontented party, puts forth remonstrances of grievances, and misdemeanors in the government, and engages to remedy them ; and the devil (who is never wanting to men that are set upon mischief) sets forward the work, till it improve into an open and detestable civil war. All histories are full of examples, and we are not so happy as not to know, and to be one. • Away, therefore, with our murmuring and querulousness ; we do but assist evil men, and vex and trouble ourselves by them. Let us do our duty, every one in. his place ; and leave the great business of all to God, and to the King, whom he has given us. Let not our curiosity, or what is worse, make us over-careful and solicitous about many things which belong not to us, but rather take the advice given us in Scripture, " Study to be quiet, and do our own business, and wait with patience and modesty." The reports which we hear concerning our governors' determinations are very uncertain, and often false ¦ and set about by seditious and unquiet men, who, perhaps, underhand, work for that design which they seem to the world to be most violently set against. And as to those which are true, we, who know not the circumstances of them, must be very arrogant and presump tuous, if we take upon us to judge of the conveniency or inconveniency. But this we may be assured of, that all our malicious and seditious discourses will very little promote the safety of ourselves, or of our governors ; and that there are those who have better The Mischiefs and Unreasonableness, fyc. 41 information, and greater abilities than we, who will be as much concerned for their lives, their liberties, and their religion, as any of us can pretend to be. Let us assist them with our prayers and the reformation of our lives, which are the most effectual means to secure our other interests. To enforce this yet further. It is by God that kings reign, and from Him alone can they receive their authority ; and since he has sufficiently declared that he would have us be submissive and respectful, patient and obedient ; if we murmur against them, we murmur at God's management of the world ; we arraign Providence, and shew, that, let us talk as much as we will of it, we are not for it, but when it is for us. Let us question, as a good man among the Jews did : " Whose ox has our King taken, or whose ass has he taken!' or whom has he defrauded? Whom has he oppressed ? or of whose hands has he received any bribes, to blind his eyes therewith?" We talk of arbitrary government: What man has lost his life or estate under this go vernment, but by due form and procedure of law ? We talk of tyranny : Can any man charge this Prince with the least act of cruelty? Did he ever shew any thing of a bloody revengeful spirit ? Or can we read of a more merciful, and condescending, and obliging king, that ever ruled in Europe? And all the returns that we make to so much justice, and sweetness, and goodness, are unkind, and rude, and undutiful reflections. We most Ungratefully endeavour to render him as odious in the eyes of the world as we can ; and not only so, but settle a way of putting a most invidious interpretation on all his future actions. But should we endeavour to ruin the reputation of one of the meanest of our neighbours, would it not be a great sin in the eyes of God, and a great injury and wrong to him ; and would not we esteem it so, in our own case, if we were so dealt with by others ; and do we not think it a sin of much greater magnitude, to speak evil of dignities, to revile God's vicegerent, and to lay his honour in the dust ? Certainly we must be very partial to ourselves, if we judge otherwise. And, indeed, this is a crime of so extensive a bad influence, and so much mischief, that they who consider the injury the public receives by.it, admire that no severer punishments are appointed by the laws for those who are guilty of it ; and they who consider the heinousness of the sin, do not less wonder that our divines do not more frequently lay open the guilt of it to the people. To make an end. Could all our complaints and unquietness take away the pretended occasions of them; could our fancying ourselves in an ill condition deliver us out of it; .could our persuading ourselves that our liberty and religion are in danger make both secure; and our wilful fears and jealous surmises prevent real evils: it were unkind to dissuade you from murmuring, and he would prove your enemy who would make you so yourselves. Could groundless fears and imaginary dangers establish peace on a lasting foundation; could false alarms and mutinous discourses contribute any thing to the plenty and quiet of the kingdom; could our suspecting our governors render our fellow sub jects more obedient, and our aspersing those who are concerned in the management of highest affairs, strengthen your hands, and inspire their resolutions; then we could have some pretence for our restlessness and clamorousness. But since it stands upon record in the histories of all ages, since we have had late and dismal effects of such practices, and have too frequently found that jealousies and suspicions, outcries and complaints, vain fears and imaginary grievances, have produced real mischief, and brought on us those misfortunes which they seemed only to foretel : since they are the most effectual encouragements to seditious persons, and aspiring disturbers need no greater than to have their pretences abetted by sober grave men, and their cause voted up by the common cry of the whole people ; it cannot be thought indiscreet, or useless, or prag matical in any one, to intreat you to live at ease, and to enjoy yourselves the blessed sere nity of an undisturbed mind; to banish out of your hearts and mouths such. hurtful follies, and to persuade you to let peace and prosperity continue among you, whilst they seem to court you, and to beg only your consent. Dubxin, May 24, 1681. VOL. I. G 42 A Word Without-Doors, concerning the Bill for Succession. [Quarto. Twelve Pages.] The occasion of zvriting this pamphlet, zvas the great dispute concerning the exclusion of the Duke of York from the throne of these kingdoms, upon the death of King Charles II. his brother, on account of his religion, having professed himself a Papist, and openly declared himself a zealous protector of all such as were so affected. The argument is founded upon the divine institution and proper end of government ; the laws of the land ; the reasons that may zvarrant such an exclusion; examples of the like proceedings; and the impossibility that a Popish king can ever prove a true Defender of the Protestant Christian faith ; all which equally serves to justify the Revolution in .1688, and the Protestant establishment of the crozvn in the Protestant House of Han over, and the necessity of preserving the said establishment, so as to perpetuate a memorial of that noble stand against Popery, and the utmost effort of that parliament here men tioned to secure our religion and lazvs ; even at the hazard of their otvn dissolution, zvhich the Duke was able to obtain. SIR, « I AM very sensible of the great honour you were pleased to do me in your last, which I received immediately after our late unhappy dissolution ; but could have wished you would have laid your commands on some more able person, to have given you satisfaction in the matter you there propose relating to the Duke 1, who, you seem to insinuate, was like (if the parliament had continued) to have received hard measure2. I must ingenuously confess to you, I was not long since perfectly of your opinion, and thought it the highest injustice imaginable, for any prince to be debarred of his native right of succession upon any pretence whatsoever. But, upon a more mature deliberation and inquiry, I found my error proceeded principally from the false notions I had took up of government itself; and from my ignorance of the practices .of all communities of men in all ages, whenever self- preservation, and the necessity of their affairs, obliged them to declare their opinion in cases of the like nature : to the knowledge of all which, the following accident, I shall relate to you, did very much contribute. My occasions obliging me one day to attend the coming of a friend in a coffee-house near Charing-cross, there happened to sit at the same table with me two ingenious gentlemen, who, according to the frankness of conversation now used in the town, began a discourse on the same subject3 you desire to b*e more particularly informed in; and having extolled the late House of Commons, as the best number of men that had ever sat within those walls4; and that no House had ever more vigorously maintained and asserted English liberr ty and Protestant religion than they had done, as far as the nature of the things that came before them, and the circumstances of time would admit ; (to all which I very readily and heartily assented :) they then added, that the great wisdom and zeal of that House had ap peared in nothing more, than in ordering a bill to be brought in for debarring the Duke of York from inheriting the crown : a law they affirmed to be the most just and reasonable in 1 Of York, afterwards King James II. ' i.e. To have been excluded from succeeding to the crown of England, upon the demise of his brother., King Charles II, who said that he had no lawful issue. 3 Of the succession to the crown. 4 Because they, without respect to persons, would have excluded the enemies of our holy religion from th« ihrone, and established a true Protestant succession, under which only it is possible for us to Le happy. ? A Word Without-Doors, concerning the Bill for Succession. 43 the world, and the only proper remedy to establish this nation on a true and solid interest, both in relation to the present and future times5. To which I could not but reply, "that I begged their pardon, if I differed from them in opinion; and did believe, that, how honestly soever the House of Commons might intend in that matter, yet that the point of succession was so sacred a thing, and of so high a nature, that it was not subjected to their cognizance : that monarchy was of divine right : that princes succeeded by nature and generation only, and not by authority, admission, or approbation of the people; and consequently, that neither the merit or demerit oi their persons, nor the different influences from thence upon the people, were to be respected or had in consideration; but the commonwealth ought to obey and submit to the next heir, without any further inquisition; and, if he proved a worthy, virtuous, and just Prince, it was a great happiness ; if unjust, barbarous, and tyrannical, there was no other remedy, but prayer, patience, and an entire submission to so difficult a dispensation of God's providence." I had no sooner ended my discourse, but one of the gentlemen (that was the most seri ous in the company) seeing me a young man, gravely replied, " that he could not but be ex tremely concerned to hear that such pernicious notions against all lawful government had been taught in the world : that he believed, they were in me purely the effects of an uni versity education; and that it had been my misfortune to have had a very high Churchman* for my tutor, who had endeavoured (as it was their constant practice to all young gentle men under their care) to debauch me with such principles as would enslave my mind to their hierarchy and the monarchical part of the government, without any regard at all to the aristocrat ical and popular ; and that fat parsonages, prebendships, deaneries, and epis copal sees, were the certain and constant rewards of such services7; that the place we were in was a little too public for discourses of this nature ; but, if I would accept of a bottle of wine at the next tavem, he would undertake to give me juster measures; adding, it was pity so hopeful a gentleman should be tainted with bad principles."" My friend, coming in at the same time, proved to be one of their particular acquaintance ; and both he and I readily complied with so generous a motion. We had no sooner drank a glass round, but the old gentleman was pleased to renew his discourse, and said, " It was undoubtedly true, that the inclination of mankind to live in company (from whence come towns, cities, and commonwealths) did proceed of nature, and consequently' of God, the author of nature : so likewise government, and the juris diction of magistrates in general (which does necessarily flow from the living together in society) is also of nature, and ordained by God for the common good of mankind; but that the particular species and forms of this or that government, in this or that manner, to have many, few, or one governor ; or that they should have this or that authority, more or less, for a longer or a shorter time ; or whether ordinarily by succession or by election, all these things (he said) are ordained and diversified by the particular laws of every country, and are not established either by law natural or divine, but left by God unto every nation and country, to pitch upon what form of government they shall think most proper to promote the common good of the whole, and best adapted to the natures, constitutions, and other Circumstances of the people; which accordingly, for the same reasons, may be altered or amended in any of its parts, by the mutual consent of the governors and governed, whenever they shall see reasonable cause so to do ; all which appears plainly, both from the diversity of governments extant in the world, and by the same nations living sometimes under one sort of government, and sometimes under another. So we see God himself permitted his peculiar people, the Jews, to live under divers forms of government; as, first, under patri- s As it has been long since manifested, both in King James II. 's mal-administration, and the happiness we now enjoy under a Protestant King. * Which, in those days, .signified one that was ready to turn Papist as soon as the Prince sliould countenance that superstition. , 7 This describes the way to preferment in the Church, when the Duke ofYoik influenced his brother's coun sels, and disposed of his places in Church and State. 44 A Word Without-Doors, concerning the Bill for Succession. archs; then under captains; then under judges; then under high-priests; next un der kings ; and then under captains and high-priests again, until they were conquered by the Romans; who themselves also first lived under kings, and then consuls, whose authority they afterwards limited by a senate, by adding tribunes of the people ; and, in extraordinary emergencies of the commonwealth, they were governed by dictators, and last of all by emperors. So that it is plain, no magistrate has his particular government, or an interest of succession in it, by any institution of nature, but only by the particular constitution of the commonwealth within itself. And as the kinds of government are different, so also are measures of power and authority in the same kind, in different countries. " I shall begin (said he) with that of the Roman empire, which, though it be the first in dignity among Christian princes, yet it is so restrained and limited by the particular laws of the empire, that he can do much less in his state, than other kings in theirs. He can neither make war, nor exact any contribution of men or money, but by the consent of all the states of the German diet: and as for his children and relations, they have no interest or pretence to succeed, but only by election, if they shall be thought worthy. Nay, the chiefest article the emperor swears to keep, at his admission to that honour, is, that he shall never endeavour to make the dignity of the empire hereditary to his family. " In Spain and in France the privileges of kings are much more eminent, both in power .and succession ; their authority is more absolute ; every order of theirs having the validity of a law, and their next of blood does ordinarily inherit, though in a different manner. In Spain the next heir cannot succeed, but by the approbation of the nobility, bishops, and states of the realm. In France the women are not admitted to succeed, let them be never so lineally descended. In England our kings are much more limited and confined in their power, than either of the two former; for here no law can be made, but by consent and authority of parliament ; and as to the point of succession, the next of kin is admitted, unless in extraordinary cases, and when important reasons of state require an alteration : and then the parliaments of England (according to the antient laws and statutes of the realm) have frequently directed and appointed the succession of the crown in other manner than in course it would have gone ; of which I shall give you some examples in order. " But first let us look abroad, and see how things have been carried, as to this point, in" other countries. "Amongst the Jews, the laws of succession did ordinarily hold ; and accordingly Reho- boam, the lawful son and heir of Solomon, after his father's decease, went to Sichem, to be crowned and admitted b}' the people ; and the whole body of the people of Israel, being • there , gathered together, did (before they would admit him their lawful King) make unto him certain propositions for taking away some heavy taxes that had been imposed on them by his father Solomon; which he refusing to gratify them in, and following the advice of young men, ten of the twelve tribes immediately chose Jeroboam, a servant of Rehoboam's, a mere stranger, and of mean parentage, and made him their King ; and God approved thereof, as the Scriptures in*express words do testify. For, when Rehoboam had raised an army of one hundred and four score thousand men, intending by force of arms to have justi fied his claim, God appeared unto Semajah, and commanded him to go to Rehoboam, and to the house of Judah and Benjamin, saying, " Return every man to his house, for this thing is of me, saith the Lord." So that, since God did permit and allow this in his own commonwealth, which was to be the pattern for all others, no doubt he will approve the same in other kingdoms, whenever his service and glory, or the happiness of the weal-? public shall require it. " The next instance, I shall give you, shall be in Spain, where Don Alonso de la Cerda, having been admitted Prince of Spain, in his father's life-time (according to the custom of that realm) married Blancha, daughter of Lewis the First, King of France, and had by her two sons, named Alonso and Hernando de la Cerda ; but their father (who was only Prince, dying before Alonzo the Ninth, then King, he recommended them to the realm as lawful heirs apparent to the crown; but Don Sancho, their father's younger brother, who A Word Without -Doors, concerning the Bill for Succession. 45 was a great warrior, and sirnamed El Bravo8, was admitted Prince, and they put by, in their grandfather's life-time, by his and the states consent; and this was done at a parlia ment,9, held at Segovia, in the year 1276; and in the year 1284 (Alonso the Ninth being dead) Don Sancho was acknowledged King, and the two Princes imprisoned; but at the mediation of Philip the Third, King of France, their uncle, they were set free, and endowed with considerable revenues in land ; and from them do descend the Dukes de Medina Celt at this day ; and the present King of Spain that is in possession 10 descended from Don Sancho. " In France, Lewis the Fourth had two sons, Lotharin, who succeeded him, and Charles, whom he made Duke of Lorrain. Lotharin dying n, left, an only son, named Lewis, who dying without issue, after he had reigned two years, the crown was to have descended on his uncle Charles, Duke of Lorrain. But, the states of France did exclude him, and chose Hugo Capetus12, Earl of Paris, for their King; and, in an oration made by their ambassador to Charles of Lorrain, did give an account of their reasons for so doing, as it is related by Belforest, a French historian, in these very words : " ' Every man knoweth (Lord Charles) that the succession of the crown and kingdom of France, according to the ordinary rights and laws of the same, belongeth unto you, and not unto Hugh Capet now our King. But yet the same laws, which do give unto you such right of succession, do judge you also unworthy of the same ; for that you have not en deavoured, hitherto, to frame your life according to the prescript of those laws, nor ac cording to the use and custom of the kingdom of France ; but rather have allied your selves with the Germans, our old enemies, and have accustomed yourself to their vile and base manners. Wherefore, since you have abandoned and forsaken the antient virtue, amity, and sweetness of your country, your country has abandoned and forsaken you; for we have chosen Hugh Capet for our King, and have put you by, and this without any scruple in our consciences at all ; esteeming it far better, and more just, to live under Hugh Capet, the possessor of the crown, with enjoying the antient use of .our laws, cus toms, privileges, and liberties ; than under you, the next heir, by blood, in oppression, strange customs, and cruelty. For as they, who are to make a voyage in a ship on a dangerous sea, do not so much respect, whether the pilot claims title to the ship, or no, but rather whether he be skilful, valiant, and like to bring them in safety to their way's end ; even so our principal care is to have a good prince to lead and guide us happily in this way of civil and politic life ; which is the end for which princes are appointed'." And with this message ended his succession and life, he dying not long after in prison. " And now! shall come home, and give you an instance or two in England since the conquest, and so conclude. " William Rufus, second son of William the Conqueror, by the assistance of Lanfrank, Archbishop of Canterbury, who had a great opinion of Iris virtue and probity, was ad mitted King by the consent of the realm ; his elder brother Robert, Duke of Normandy, being then in the war at Jerusalem. William dying, his younger brother Henry, by his ingenuity and fair carriage, and by the assistance of Henry Earl of Warwick, who had greatest interest in the nobility, and Maurice Bishop of London, a leading man amongst the clergy, obtained also the crown : and Robert Duke of Normandy was a se cond time excluded. And though this King Henry could pretend no other title to .the crown, than the election and admission of the realm ; yet he defended it so well, and God * The Valiant. ' Or Cortes, i. e. The general meeting of the states, " Anno 1678. " [Anno 985.] " [Hugh Capet having been advanced to the throne by the assistance of the chief personages in France, was, in order to secure his possession, obliged to sink many of the ancient royal prerogatives, and to confer on his supporters the power of governing provinces, with the titles of dukes, &c. under condition that they should acknowledge themselves vassals of the kingdom, though not dependent altogether on the king's commands. Sep Pujffendorff.J 40 A WordWithout-Doors, concerning the Bill for Succession. prospered him u ith such success, that, when his elder brother Robert came to claim the kingdom by force of arms, he beat him in a pitched battle, took him prisoner, and so he died miserably in bonds. . • " King Henry had one only daughter named Maud, or Matilda, who was married to ,the Emperor; and he dying without issue, she was afterwards married to Geoffrey Planta- genet, Earl of Anjou, in France, by whom she had a son named Henry, whom his grand father declared heir apparent to the crown in his life-time ; yet, after his death, Henry was excluded, and Stephen, Earl of Bulloine; son of Adela, daughter of William the Con queror, was, by the states, thought more fit to govern than Prince Henry, who was then but a child. And this was done by the persuasion of Henry, Bishop of Winchester, and at the solicitation of the Abbot of Glastenbttry, and others, who thought they might do the same lawfully, and with a good conscience, for the public good of the realm. " But the event did not prove so well as they intended ; for this occasioned great fac tions and divisions in the kingdom ; for the quieting of which, there was a parliament held at Wallingford, which passed a law, ' That Stephen should be King only during his life, and that Prince Henry and his offspring should succeed him;' and by the same law debarred William, son of King Stephen, from inheriting the crown, and only made him Earl of Norfolk. "Thus did the parliament dispose of the crown in those days, which was in the year 1153, which sufficiently proves what I have asserted. "The sum of all I have said amounts to this: that government in general is by the law of nature, and consequently the ordinance of God ; but that the different forms of government, whether to reside in one, few, or many ; or whether it shall be continued by succession or by election, together with the different measures and limitations of power and authority in governors of the same kind in several countries : all these things, I say, are ordained by, and purely depend upon positive and human laws. From whence it will necessarily follow, that the same human authority (residing in King, Lords, and Commons, ^Te England) which gave .being to those laws for the good of the community, is su perintendent over them, and both may and ought to make any addition to, or alteration of them, when the public good and welfare of the nation shall require it ; unless you will admit, that an human authority, establishing any thing intentionally for the common good of the society, which in tract of time, by reason of unforeseen circumstances and emer gencies, proves destructive of it, has by that act concluded itself, and made that acciden tal evil moral and unchangeable ; which to affirm, is senseless and repugnant. " And now, Sir, I hope, by this time (said the old gentleman) you begin to think that the bill for disabling the Duke was not so unjust and unreasonable as was pretended ; and that the course of succession (being founded upon the same bottom with other civil consti tutions) might likewise as justly have been altered by the King, Lords, and Commons, as any other law or custom whatever. "And here I might conclude; but because a. late pensionary pen has publicly ar raigned the wisdom, loyalty, and justice of the honourable House of Commons, on the account of this bill, I will, ex abundanti, add a word or two more to that particular." Whereupon he plucked a paper out of his pocket, intituled : < Great and weighty Con siderations relating to the,Duke, and Successor of the Crown, &c.' Which, as soon as he had read unto us, " You see here, (said he) the true temper of those men, of whom I first gave you caution. There never was an endeavour (though in a legal and parlia mentary way) after any reformation either in Church or State, but the promoters of it were sure to be branded by them with the odious imputations of fanaticism and faction. Nay, if the country electors of parliament men will not pitch upon such rake-hells of the nation as are usually proposed by them, but, on the contrary, make use of their freedom and con sciences inchusing able, upright, and deserving persons; and if good men, thus chosen do but (according to their duty in the House) inquire into public grievances, pursue in a leeal course notorious offenders, and consult and advise the security of the Government and Pro testant religion; the time-server immediately swells, and, in a passion, tells you, that all this A Word Without-Doors, concerning the Bill for Succession. 47 proceeds from an old phanatic leven, not yet worn out amongst the people; that we are going back again to forty- one13; and acting over afresh the sins of our forefathers. " Thus ignorantly do they compliment the times and persons they endeavour to expose, by appropriating to them such virtues as were common to good men in all ages. But enough of this. " In the next place, pray observe how hypocritically the Considerer puts' this question, viz. " < Whether Protestant religion was not settled in this nation by the same mighty hand of God that established Jeroboam in the kingdom of Israel? [And then adds] Whether we (like that wicked king) should so far despair of God's providence in preserving the work of his own hands, as never to think it safe, unless it be established on the quick-sands of our own wicked inventions?' [viz. The Bill against the Duke.] " And, throughout his whole discourse, he frequently calls all care of preserving our reli gion, a mistrust of God's providence; and on that score calls out to the nation, ' O ye of little faith, &c.' Now I will allow him, that the least evil is not to be done, that the great est and most important good may ensue. Butgkhat the bill for disabling the Duke is highly- justifiable both by the laws of God, and constitution of our governmentj I think by my former discourse I have left no room to doubt; and, the Considerer having scarce attempted to prove the contrary, it is preposterously done of him, to give us his use of reproof, before he has cleared his doctrine. " However, I owe him many thanks for putting me in mind how Protestant religion was first established here in England : it was, indeed, by the mighty hand of God influencing the public councils of the nation, so that all imaginable care was taken both by Prince and people, to rescue themselves from under the Romish yoke; and, accordingly, most ex cellent laws were made against the usurpation and tyranny of that Man of Sin14. Our no ble ancestors, in those days, did not palliate a want of zeal for their religion, with a lazy pretence of trusting in God's providence; but, together with their prayers to, and af fiance in Heaven, they joined the acts of their own duty, without which (they very well knew) they had no reason to expect a blessing from it. " But now be pleased to take notice of the candour of this worthy Considerer. Nothing less will serve his turn, than the proving all the voters for the bill guilty of the highest perjury: 'for (says he) they have all sworn in the oath of allegiance, to bear faith and true allegiance to his Majesty, his heirs, and successors: but the Duke is heir, ergo, &c.' a very hopeful argument, indeed ! But what if it should happen (as it is neither impossible, nor very improbable to imagine it) that the next heir to the crown should commit treason, and conspire the death of the present possessor15, and for this treason should not only be at tainted by parliament, but executed too; pray, Mr. Considerer, would the parliament, in this case, be guilty of murder and perjury? I am confident, you will not say it. If, there fore, the next heir become obnoxious to the government in a lower degree, why may not the same authority proportion the punishment, and leave him his life, but debar him of the succession? This I say, only to shew the absurdity of his argument. " My answer is this: No man can bear allegiance to two persons at the same time; nor can allegiance be ever due to a subject, and, therefore, my obligation by the. word [heir] in the oath, does not commence till such heir has a present right 16 to, or actual possession of the crown; which, if he never attains, either by reason of death, or any other act that incapacitates and bars him, then can my obligation to him by the word heir in the oath never have a beginning. "But, besides all this, it cannot be denied but that Mr. Considered doctrine does bring great inconvenieneies on succession; for the next heir (by his way of arguing) is let loose fron/all the restrictions and penalties of human laws; and has no other ties upon " Viz. To grow seditious. '* The Pope. " This was laid to the charge of the Duke of York. '* Alluding to the possibility, that' King Charles the Second might have a legitimate child before he died. 48 Robin Conscience: or, Conscionable Robin. him not to snatch the crown out of the hands of the possessor, than purely those of his own conscience ; which is worthy Mr. Considered highest consideration. " I shall only take notice of one objection more, and then conclude (fearing I have too much trespassed on your patience already :) " ' It is very hard (says he) that a man should lose his inheritance, because he is of this or that persuasion in matters of religion.' " And truly, Gentlemen, were the case only so, I should be entirely of his mind. But, alas ! Popery (whatever Mr. Considerer is pleased to insinuate) is not an harmless innocent persuasion of a number of men differing in matters relating to Christian religion ; but is really and truly a different religion from Christianity itself. Nor is the inheritance he there mentions an inheritance only of Black Acre and White Acre, without any office annexed, which requires him to be par officio: but the government and protection of several nations, the making of war and peace for them; the preservation of their religion; the disposal of public places and revenues; the execution of all laws; together with many other things of the greatest importance, are, in this case, claimed by the word inheritance; which, if you consider, and at the same time reflect upon the enslaving and bloody tenets of the Church of Rome, more particularly the hellish and damnable conspiracy those of that communion are now carrying on against our lives, our religion, and our government; I am confident, you will think it as proper for a wolf to be a shepherd, as it is for a Papist to be the Defender of our Faith, &c." The old gentleman had no sooner ended his discourse, but I returned him my hearty thanks for the trouble he had been pleased to give himself on this occasion; and I could not but acknowledge, he had given me great satisfaction in that affair. What it will give thee, Charles, I know not : I am sure I parted from him very melancholy for having been a fool so long. Adieu. I am thy affectionate, J. D. Robin Conscience; or, Conscionable Robin: his Progress through Court, City, and Country; with his bad Entertain ment at each several Place, &c. Edinburgh, printed in the Year 1683. [Duodecimo. Twenty-four Pages.] I HAVE been quite through England wide, Few now endure my presence here • With many a faint and weary stride, I shall be banish'd quite, 1 fear • To see what people there abide, I am despised every where that loves me : and scorned. Poor Robin Conscience is my name, Yet is my fortune, now and then Sore vexed with reproach and blame ; To meet some good woman or man For all, wherever yet I came, Who have (when they my woes did 'scan) reprove me. sore mournedj Robin Conscience ; or, Conscionable Robin. 49 To think that Conscience is despised, Which ought to be most highly prized : This trick the devil hath devised, to blind men ; 'Cause Conscience tells them of their ways, Which are so wicked now-a-days, They stop their ears to what he says, unkind men. I first of all went to the court, Where lords and ladies did resort, My entertainment there was short, cold welcome : As soon as e'er my name they heard, They ran away full sore afraid, And thought some goblin had appear'd, from hell come. " Conscience," quoth one, " begone with speed. The court few of thy name doth breed, We of thy presence have no need, be walking : Thou tell'st us of our pride and lust, Which spite of thee we follow must ; (So out of court was Conscience thrust) "no talking." Thus banish'd, from the court I went To Westminster, incontinent, Where I, alas ! was sorely shent for coming. The lawyers did against me plead : " 'Twas no great matter," some there said, " If Conscience quite were knock'dinth' head." Then running From them, I fled with winged haste, They did so threaten me to baste, Thought it was vain my breath to waste in counsel. For lawyers cannot me abide, Because for falsehood I them chide, And he that holds not on their side, must down still. Unto the city hied I then, To try what welcome there trades-men Would give poor Robin Conscience ; when I came there, The shop-keepers, that use deceit, Did come about me arid did threat, Unless I would begone, to beat me lame there. And every one, both high and low, Held Cqpscience as a mortal foe, Because he doth ill vices show each minute : Therefore the city in uproar Against me rose, and me so tore, That I'm resolved, I'll never more come in it. On Friday I to Smithfield went, Where being come, incontinent, The horse-coursers, with one consent, did chide me: They said, that 1 was not myself, And said, I was a pinching elf, And they could get more store of pelf beside me. I told them of a cheating trick, Which makes the horses run and kick, By putting in an eel that's quick, i'th' belly: Another, which they use full oft, To bear their lame jades' heads aloft, And beat their buttocks till they're soft, as jelly. I told them that their wealth would rot, That they by cheating men thus got, But they, for this same tale would not abide me ; And charg'd me quickly to be gone : Quoth they, " Of Conscience we use none." Those, whom I follow with my mone, out-ride me. From thence I stepp'd into Long-lane, Where many brokers did remain, To try how they would entertain poor Conscience : But my name when I to them told, The women did begin to scold, The men said, " they that word did hold but nonsense." For Conscience is so hard a word, That scarce the broker can afford To read it, for his mouth is stor'd with lying : He knows not what this Conscience meanSj That is no cause unto his gains ; Thus I was scorned for my pains, all crying ; VOL. I. H 50 Robin Conscience; or, Conscionable Robin. " Away with Conscience from this lane, For we his presence do disdain." They said, " If I come there again among them," They said, " they'd band me. back and side." Being menaced, away I hie'd ; Thus worldlings think that, when I chide, I wrong them. Among the butchers then went I, As soon as e'er they did me spy, They threaten'd me most spitefully, to kill me. Quoth one," If Conscience here shoulddwell, We were not able to live well, Nor could we gain, by th' meat we sell ; nor will we Be bound to follow Conscience nice, Which would confine us to a price : Robin, be rul'd by my advice, (quoth he then,) And get thee to some other place, We hate to look thee in the face." I, hearing this, from thence a-pace did fly them. To New-gate Market went I then, Where country-women, maids, and men, Were selling needful things ; and when they saw me ; At me the butter-woman rails, Whose butter weigh'd not down the scales ; Another comes, and with her nails did claw me. The bakers, which stood in a rovv, Began to brawl at me also, And charged me away to go, because I Told them they did make lesser bread ; Did not the law put them in dread; There's some of them would wish them dead, might laws die. Thus. chid of them, my way I took, Unto Pie-corner, where a cook Glanc'd at me as the devil did look, o'er Lincoln : " Conscience, (quoth he,) thou shew'st not wit, In coming to this place unfit : •I'll run thee thorow with a spit ; then think on Those words to thee which I have said, I cannot well live by my trade, If I should still require thy aid in selling; Sometimes one joint I must roast thrice, E'er I can sell it at my price, Then here's for thee (who art so nice) no dwelling." Perforce he drave me backward still, Until I came unto Snow-hill, The sale-men there with voices shrill fell on me : I was so irksome in their sight That they conjured me to flight, Or else they swore (such was their spight) they'd stone me. At Turn-again-lane, the fish-wives there, And wenches did so rail and swear, Quoth they, " No Conscience shall come here,, we hate him :" Their bodges, which for half-pecks go, They vowed at my head to throw : No Conscience they were bred to know, but prating. Away thus frighted by those scolds, To Fleet-street straight my love it holds, Where men, whose tongues were made in of flattery, [moulds Did cry, " What lack you, country-men?" But seeing me, away they ran, As though the enemy had began his battery : One said to others, " Sir, ill news, Here Conscience comes us to abuse, Let us his presence all refuse together, And boldly stand against him all ; We ne'er had use of him, nor shall He live with us, what chance did call him hither ?" The haberdashers, that sell hats, Hit Robin Conscience many pats, And, like a company of cats, they scratch'd him : Quoth they, " Why com'st thou unto us ? We love not Conscience;" rufaing thus, They gave him words opprobrious, and match'd him. Robin Conscience ; or Conscionable Robin. 51 The mercers and silk-men also, That live in Pater-noster-row, Their hate against poor Conscience show ; and, when I Came to that place, they all did set On me, 'cause I their gain would let, Who will both swear and lie to get one penny. From thence unto Cheapside I past, Where words in vain I long did waste, Out of the place I soon was chas'd ; quoth one man, " Conscience, for thy presumption base, Intruding to this golden place, Thou death deserv'st, therefore a-pace begone,, man : Think'st thou that we have so much gold, Before our eyes still to behold, Will this by Conscience be controll'd, and curbed ! Oh, no, poor fellow, haste away, For, if long in this place thou stay, Thou shalt be (I'll be bold to say) disturbed." From thence I turned down Bread-street, A cheese-monger I there did meet, He hied away with winged feet to shun me : " How now," quoth I, " why run ye so ?" Quoth he, " Because I well do know, That thou art Conscience, my old foe, thou'st done me Great wrong ; while I made use of thee, And dealt with all men honestly, A rich man I could never be ; but since then, I banish'd have thy company, And us'd deceit with those that buy, I thrive, and therefore Robin hie thee hence then." I left hifn with his bad intent, And into Fish-street straight I went, Among those lads, who wish that Lent were all year : As soon as. e'er they me espy'd, They all at once upon me cry'd, And swore that " Conscience should not guide a stall there." I seeing things, thus seeming, strange, That all men did from goodness range, Did hie me straight to the Exchange : A merchant Was so affrighted when I came ; But presently he blush'd for shame, His countenance did shew the same in searchant. Quoth he, " Friend Robin, what dost thou,, Here among us merchants now ? Our business will not allow to use thee : For we have traffic without thee, And thrive best, if thou absent be; I for my part will utterly refuse thee." I, being thus abus'd below, Did walk up stairs, where, on a row, Brave shops of ware did make a show most sumptuous: But, when the shop-folk me did spy, They drew their dark light instantly, And said, " In coming there was I presumptuous." The gallant girls, that there sold knacks, Which ladies and brave women lacks, When they did see me they did wax in choler : Quoth they, " We ne'er knew Conscience yet, And, if he comes our gains to let, We'll banish him, he'll here not get one, scholar." I, being jeered thus and scorn'd, Went down the stairs, and sorely mourn'd, To think that I should thus be turn'd a begging : To Gracechurch-street I went along, Where dwell a great ungracious throng, That will deceive both old and young, with cogging: As drapers, poulterers, and such, Who think they never get too much : The word Conscience to them is Dutch, or Spanish ; And harder too, for speech they'll learn, With all their heart to serve their turn, But Conscience, when they him discern, they banish. 52 Robin Conscience; or, Conscionable Robin. I, seeing all the city given To use deceit, in spight of heaven, To leave their company I was driven perforce then : So over London-bridge in haste, I hiss'd and scoff 'd of all men past, Then I to Southwark took, at last, my course then. When I came there, I hop'd to find Welcome according to my mind, But they were rather more unkind than London : All sorts of men and women there Ask'd, " How I durst to them appear ? And swore my presence they would clear abandon." I, being sore a-thirst, did go Unto an alehouse in the row, Meaning a penny to bestow on strong beer : But, 'cause I for a quart did call, My hostess swore " she'd bring me small, Or else I should have none at all ;" thus wrong'd there, I bade her on her licence look ; " Oh, Sir, quoth she, ye are mistook, I have my lesson "without book, most perfect : If I my licence should observe, And not in any point to swerve, Both I and mine, alas ! should starve, not surfeit: Instead of a quart-pot of pewter, I fill small jugs, and need no tutor: I quartridge give to the geometer1 most duly; And he will see, and yet be blind ; A knave made much of will be kind ; Jf you be one, Sir, tell your mind, now truly." " No, no, (quoth I) I am no knave, No fellowship with such I have ; My name is Robin Conscience brave, that wander From place to place, in hope that some Will as a servant give me room; But all abuse me where I come with slander." Now, when my hostess heard me tell My name, she swore " I should not dwell With her, for I would make her sell full measure." She did conjure me to depart ; " Hang Conscience," quoth she, " give me art, I have not got, by a penny a quart, my treasure." So out of doors I went with speed ; And glad she was to be thus freed Of Conscience, that she might speed in frothing. ' To the King's Bench I needs would go, The jailor did me backward throw : Quoth he, " For Conscience here ye know is nothing." Through Blackman-st reet I went,where whores Stood gazing, there is many doors, There two or three bawds against me roars most loudly ; And bade me get hence a-pace, Or else they'd claw me by the face : They swore they scorn'd me, and all grace, most proudly. I walk'd into St. George's field, Where rooking rascals I beheld, , That all the year their hopes did build on cheating : They were close playing at nine-pins ; I came and told them of their sins : Then one among the rest begins intreating, That I would not torment them so : — I told them that I would not go : " Why, then," quoth he, " I'll let thee know, we care not ; And yet we'll banish thee perforce :" Then he began to swear and curse, And said, " Prate on till thou art hoarse, and spare not." I left them in their wickedness, And went along in great distress, Bewailing of my bad success, and speed : A wind-mill standing there hard by, Towards the same then passed I, But when the miller did me spy, he cryed, [The Guager.] Robin Conscience ; or, Conscionable Robin. 53 " Away with Conscience I'll none such, That smell with honesty so much ; I shall not quickly fill my hutch by due toll ; I must, for every bushel of meal, A peck, if not three gallons, steal, Therefore with thee I will not deal, thou true soul." Then leaving cities, skirts and all, Where my welcome it was but small, I went to try what would befal i' th' country : There thought I to be entertain'd ; But I was likewise there disdain'd : A long time bootless I complain'd to th' gentry. And yet no service could I have, Yet, if I would have play'd the knave, I might have had maintenance brave among them : Because that I was Conscience poor, Alas ! they thrust me out of door, For Conscience, many of them swore, did wrong them. Then went I to the yeomenry, And farmers all of the country, Desiring them most heartily to take me ; I told them I would sell their corn Unto the poor ; but they did turn Me out of doors, and with great scorn forsake me; One said, " He had no use of me To sell his corn ; for, I (quoth he) Must not be only rul'd by thee, in selling : If I shall Conscience entertain, He'd make me live in crossing gain ; Here is for thee, I-tell thee plain, No dwelling." Thus, from the rich men of the world, Poor Conscience up and down is hurl'd, Like angry curs at me they snarl'd, and check d me : Alas!, what shall I do, thought I, Poor Robin, must I starve and die ? I, that I must, if nobody respect me. At last I to myself bethought, Where I must go ; and heaven brought Me to a place where poor folks wrought most sorely, And there they entertain'd me well With whom I ever mean to dwell, With them to stay, it thus befel though poorly. Thus people, that do labour hard, Have Robin Conscience in regard ; For which they shall have their reward in Heaven : For all their sorrows here on earth, They shall be filled with true mirth, Crowns shall to them at second birth be given. And all those caitiffs that deny'd, To entertain him for their guide, When they by Conscience shall be try'd, and judged ; Then will they wish that they had us'd Poor Conscience whom they have refus'd, Whose company they have abus'd, and grudged. Thus Robin Conscience that hath had, Amongst most men, but welcome bad, He now hath found, to make him glad, abiding, 'Along honest folks that hath no lands, But get their living with their hands, These are the friends that to him stands, and's guiding. These still keep Conscience from grim death, And ne'er gainsay whate'er he saith ; These lead their lives so here beneath, that dying, They may ascend from poverty, To glory and great dignity, Where they shall live and never die : While frying In hell the wicked lie, who would Not use true Conscience as they should : This is but for a moral told you, in it. He that observes may somewhat spy, That savours of divinity, For conscionable folks do I begin it. 54 An Address, fyc And so I'll bring all to an end, And if that any gall'd jade kick, It can no honest man offend, The author hath devis'd a trick, For those, that Conscience do defend, To turn him loose i' th' fields to pick it praises : up daisies. An Address agreed upon at the Committee for the French War, and read in the House of Commons, April the 19th, 1689- [Folio. Four Pages.] WE your Majesty's1 most loyal subjects, the Commons of England in Parliament as sembled, have taken into our most serious consideration the condition and state of this nation, in respect of France, and foreign alliances ; in order to which, we have exa mined the mischiefs brought upon Christendom in late years by the French King, who, without any respect to justice, has, by fraud and force, endeavoured to subject it to an arbitrary and universal monarchy. In prosecution of this design, so pernicious to the repose and safety of Europe, he has neglected none of those means, how indirect soever, which his ambition or avarice could suggest to him. The faith of treaties among all princes, especially Christian princes, ever held most inviolable, has never been able to restrain him, nor the solemnest oaths to bind him, when any occasion presented itself for extending the limits of his kingdom, or oppressing those whom his interest inclined him to qualify by the name of his enemies. Witness his haughty and groundless declaration of war against the States General of the United Provinces, in the year 1672, in which he assigned no other reason for disturbing that profound peace, which, through God's mercy, all Europe enjoyed at that time ; but his own glory, and his resolution to punish the Dutch, for some imaginary slights and disrespects, which he would have had the world believe, they had put upon him : whereas the true occasion of that war was nothing else but a formed design, laid down and agreed upon by that Kin,g and his accomplices, for the subversion of the liberties of Europe; and for abolishing the Commonwealth of Holland, as being too dangerous an example of liberty to the subjects of neighbouring monarchs. The zeal for Catholic religion, which was pretended by him in this and the following wars, did afterwards sufficiently appear to the world, to be no other than a cloak for his unmeasurable ambition; for, at the same time when the persecution grew hottest, against the Protestants of France, letters were intercepted (and published) from him to Count Teckely, to give him the greatest encou ragement, and promise him the utmost assistance in the war, which, in conjunction with the Turk, he then managed against the first and greatest of all the Roman Catholic princes 2. Witness also the many open infractions of the treaties, both of Aix-la-Chapelle and Nimenguen, (whereof your Majesty3 is the strongest guaranty) upon the most frivolous pretences imaginable, of which the most usual was that of dependencies ; an invention set on foot on purpose to serve for a pretext of rupture with all his neighbours, unless 1 [William the Third, who had been crowned at Westminster eight days before the Commons presented this address on the 26th, of April to their new monarch, who issued a declaration, inviting the French Protestants to transport themselves into England ; and a proclamation, prohibiting the importation of French goods. War against France was declared in the following month.] 2 The King of Hungary, &c. 3 As King of England. See the Emperor's letter to King James the Second, page 18. An Address, §c. 55 they chose rather to satisfy his endless demands, by abandoning one place after another, to his insatiable appetite of empire ; and for maintaining whereof, the two chambers of Metz and Brissach were erected to find out and forge titles, and to invent equivocal con structions for eluding the plain meaning of treaties concluded and sworn with the greatest solemnity, and than which nothing can be more sacred among mankind. From hence it was also, that Strasburg was so infamously surprised by the French King in a time of full peace, and though great conditions were agreed and promised to the inha bitants of that city; yet no sooner was he in possession of it, but all stipulations were for gotten, and that ancient free city doth now groan under the same yoke with the rest of that 4 King's subjects. The building the fort of Hunninghen, contrary to so many solemn assurances given to the Swiss, and the affair of Luxemburgh, are too well known, to need a particular deduction. In a word, the whole series of the French King's actions, for many years last past, has been so ordered, as if it were his intention, not only to render his own people extremely miser able, by intolerable imposition of taxes, to be employed in maintaining an incredible num ber of dragoons, and other soldiers, to be the instruments of his cruelty upon such of them as refuse in all things to comply with his unjust commands; but likewise to hold all the neighbouring powers in perpetual alarm and expense, for the maintaining armies and fleets, that they may be in a posture to defend themselves against the invader of their common safety and liberties. Examples of this sort might be innumerable ; but his invasion of Flanders and Holland, since the last truce of 1684, and the outrages committed upon the empire, by attacking the fort of Philipsburg, without any declaration of war, at the same time that his Imperial Ma jesty was employing all his forces against the common enemy3 of the Christian faith; and his wasting the Palatinate with fire and sword, and murdering an infinite number of inno cent persons, for no other reasons, as himself has publicly declared, but because he thought the Elector Palatine faithful to the interest of the empire, and an obstacle to the compassing his ambitious designs; are sufficient instances of this. To these we cannot, but with a particular resentment, add the injuries done to your Ma jesty, in the most unjust and violent seizing of your principality of Orange, and the utmost insolencies committed on the persons of your Majesty's subjects there; and how, to facilitate his conquests upon his neighbour princes, he engaged the Turks in a war against Christen dom at the same time. And, as if violating of treaties, and ravaging the countries of his neighbours' states, were not sufficient means of advancing his exorbitant power and greatness, he has constantly had recourse to the vilest and meanest arts, for the ruin of those whom he had taken upon him to subdue to his will and power, insinuating himself, by his emissaries, under the sacred name and character of public ministers, into those who were intrusted in the government of kingdoms and states; suborning them by gifts and pensions, to the selling their masters, and betraying their trusts ; and descending even to intrigues by women, who were sent or mar ried into the countries of divers potent princes, to lie as snakes in their bosoms, to eat out their bowels, or to instil that poison into them, which might prove the destruction of them and their countries; of which Poland, Savoy, and Spain, to mention no more at present, can give but too ample testimonies. The insolent use he has made of his ill-gotten greatness has been as extravagant as the means of procuring it, for this the single instance of Genoa may suffice; which, without the least notice or any ground of a quarrel whatsoever, was bombarded by the French fleet, and the Doge, and four principal senators of that free-state, constrained in person to humble themselves at that monarch's feet ; which in the style of France was called " chastising Sovereigns for casting umbrage upon his greatness." His practices against England have been of the same nature, and by corrupt means he has constantly, and with too much success, endeavoured to get such power in the court of * French. s The Turk. 56 An Address, fyc. England, in the time of King Charles the Second, and the late King James, as might by de grees undermine the government, and true interest of this flourishing kingdom . Another art which he has used to weaken England, and subject it to his aspiring designs, was never to admit an equal balance of trade, nor consent to any just treaty or settlement of commerce, by which he promoted our ruin at our own charge. When, from a just apprehension of this formidable growing power of France, the nation became zealous to right themselves; and the House of Commons, in the year 1677, being assured they should have an actual war against France, cheerfully raised a great sum of money, and an army as readily appeared to carry on the war ; that interest of France had still power enough to render all this ineffectual, and to frustrate the nation of all their hopes and expectations. Nor did France only render this desired war ineffectual, but had power enough to make us practise their injustice and irregularities (some years before) by turning our force against our next neighbours7, by assaulting their Smyrna fleet. Nor were they more industrious, by corrupt means, to obtain this power, than careful, by the same ways to .support it ; and knowing that from parliaments only could probably proceed an obstruction to their secret practices, they attempted to make a bargain8, that they should not meet in such a time ; in which they might hope to perfect their designs, of enslaving the nation. In the same confidence of this power they violently seized upon part of Hudson's Bay ; and, when the matter was complained of by the Company, and the injury offered to be proved, the best expedient France could find, to cover their injustice, and prevent satisfac tion, was to make use of their great interest in the court of England to keep it from ever coming to be heard. The French King, in pursuance of his usual methods, of laying hold of any opportunity that might increase his power, and give disturbance to others, has now 9 carried on an actual war in Ireland, sending thither a great number of officers with money, arms, and ammuni tion ; and, under the pretence of assisting the late King James, he has taken the govern ment of affairs into his hands, by putting all officers into commands, and managing the whole business by his ministers, and has already begun to use the same cruelties and vio- lences upon your Majesty's subjects, as he has lately practised in his own dominions, and in all other places, where he has got power enough to destroy. Lastly, The French King's declaration of war against the crown of Spain, is wholly grounded upon its friendship to your Majesty's royal person, and no other cause of denounc ing war against it is therein alleged, than the resolution taken in that court, to favour your Majesty, whom he most injuriously terms, "the usurper of England," an insolence never- enough to be resented and detested by your Majesty's subjects. After our humble representation of all these particulars to your Majesty, if your Majesty shall think fit to enter, into a war against France, we humbly assure your Majesty, that we will give you such assistance in a parliamentary way, as shall enable your Majesty to sup port and go through the same ; and we shall not doubt, but by the blessing of God, upon your Majesty's prudent conduct, a stop may be put to that growing greatness of the French King, which threatens all Christendom with no less than absolute slavery ; the incredible quantity of innocent blood shed, may be revenged ; his oppressed neighbours restored to their just rights and possessions ; your Majesty's alliances, and the treaty of Nimenguen 10 supported to that degree, that all Europe in general, and this nation in particular, may for ever have occasion to celebrate your Majesty as the great maintainer of justice and liberty, and the opposer and overthrower of all violence, cruelty, and arbitrary power. 6 See the Emperor's letter in page 18. 7 The Dutch. 8 With the king and ministry. 9 In the year 1689. " By which proper caution was taken to curb the haughty designs of France, to maintain the balance of Europe, and to secure the prosperity of the Protestant states. 57 Machiavel's Vindication of Himself and his Writings, against the Imputation of Impiety, Atheism, and other high Crimes. Extracted from his Letter to his Friend Zenobius, [Quarto. Eight Pages.] In this apologetical letter, Machiavel endeavours to clear himself of three accusations: 1. Of his favouring democracy. 2. Of his vilifying the church, as author of all the mis- government in the zvorld ; and, by such contempts, making zvay for profaneness and atheism. 3. Of teaching monarchs, in his Book of the Prince, all the execrable villanies that can be invented, and instructing them hozv to break faith, and so to oppress and enslave their subjects ; zvhich particulars are generally laid to his charge. I. To the first, he answers, That being born and brought up in a commonzvealth, viz. Florence, and having had his share in the managing affairs, sometimes in the quality of secretary of that city, and sometimes employed in embassages abroad ; to quit himself of his duty, he began to read the histories of ancient and modern times, and thereupon made some observations on Livy, zvherein he carefully avoided all dogmaticalness, and never concluded, from the excellency of the Roman counsels and achievements, that they naturally proceeded from their government, and zvere a plain effect and consequence of the perfection of their commonzvealth: "But, fsays he,) if readers zvill thus judge, how can I in reason be accused for that ?" Then he gives you a description of rebellion, which he extends, " not only to a rising in arms against any government zve live under, but to all clandestine conspiracies too, and be lieves it to be the greatest crime that can be committed amongst men;" and yet a sin, zvhich zvill be committed, zvhile the zvorld lastsr as often as princes tyrannize over their subjects ; for, let the termor and guilt be never so great, it is impossible that human nature, zvhich consists of passion, as zvell as virtue, can support, zvith patience and submission, the greatest cruelty and injustice, whenever either the weakness of their princes, the unanimity of the people, or any other unfavourable accident shall give them rea sonable hopes to mend their condition, and provide better for their own interest by in surrection." But as to those who take up arms " to maintain the politick constitution or government of their country, in the condition it then is, and to defend it from being changed or in vaded by the craft or force of any man, though it zvere the prince, or chief magistrate himself ; if such taking up of arms be commanded or authorized by those zvho are, by the orders of that government, legally intrusted zvith the custody of the liberty of the people, and foundation of the government : our author is so far from accounting it a rebellion, that he believes it laudable, and the duty of every member of such common zvealth. If this be not granted, it zvill be in vain to frame any mixed monarchies in the zvorld." JI. As to the accusation of impiety, Machiavel denies, that his laying the blame upon the Church of Rome, not only for all the misgovernment of Christendom, but even for the depravation, and almost total destruction of the Christian religion in Italy ; he denies, I say, that such a blame should make zvay for atheism. In order to a further clearing VOL, I. I 58 Machiavel's Vindication of Himself and his Writings, $c. of himself, he makes a most pure profession of faith, and then goes on to prove, that the Popes have corrupted the Christianism : " Nay, (adds he,) zve have something more to say against those sacrilegious pretenders to God's pozver; for zvhereas all other false zvorships^have been set up by some politick legislators, for the support and preservation of government ; this false, this spurious religion, brought in upon the ruins if Christianity, by the Popes, has deformed the face of the government in Europe, destroying all the good principles and morality left us by the Heathens themselves; and introduced, in stead thereof, sordid, cowardly, and impolitick notions, zvhereby they have subjected mankind, and even great princes and states to their empire; and never suffered any orders or maxims' to take place fzvhere they had power) that might make a. nation wise, honest, great, and zvealthy. This I have set down so plainly, in those passages of my book, zvhich are complained of," cXc. And, indeed, I remember to have read many things to that purpose, in his observations on Livy. True it is, that he does not there express his mind so fully ; but zvhat may be written in a letter to particular friends, may not be allozved in a book, especially under the tyranny of {he Inquisition, to which he was subject. Aftcrtvards he pursues to enumerate the prevarication's of the church of Rome, and shezvs*, that the Popes are so far from being the successors of St. Peter, and the vicars of Christ, that they are rather the Antichrist, and man of sin. He briefly confutes the worship of images, the' invocation of saints, the persecution of hereticks-, the indulgences and pur gatory, the immunities of the clergy and monks, bTc. There he says something, by the ¦ zvay, worthy our observation, namely, il That the very same year in zvhich Luther began to thunder against the Pope's indulgences, our author prophesies that the scourge of the church zvas not far off." What kind of prophecies those of Machiavel might be, I leave politicians to judge. Hozvever, this undeniably proves, that this letter is genuine . I might add, that those zvho are excellently learned1 in that science, have something divine in them; and, because of the great chain of consequences they foresee, may fore t el several things some ages before the event. The prophecy of our author, concerning the Reformation, and the reviving of Popery, may be an instance of it. III. Concerning the last accusation, That he teaches princes hozv to enslave and oppress, their subjects : he anszvers, " That his treatise is both a satire against tyrants, and a true cha racter of them ; and that he only designed to drazv such monsters to the life, that .people might the better know and avoid them. Just as a physician describes a foul disease, to the end men may be deterred, and shun the infection of it, or may discern and cure it, if it comes upon them." And as to what he affirmed in another book, That in zvhat zvay soever men defended their country, whether by breaking or keeping their faith, " It was ever well defended.;" he says, " He meaned it not in a strict moral sense, or point of honour ; but zvould only signify, that the infamy of the breach of zvord zoould quickly be forgotten and pardoned by the zvorld;" which is so true, that even good success, a far less consideration than piety to our country, commonly cancels the blame of such a per fidy : as zee see Casar f though not a whit better than Catiline) not only not detested by posterity, but even crozvned zvith renown and immortal fame. THE discourse we had lately (dear Zenobio), and the pressing importunity of Guilio Salviati, that I would use some means to wipe off the many aspersions cast upon my writings, gives you the present trouble of reading this letter, and me the pleasure of writing it. — Machiavel's Vindication of Himself and his Writings, §c. .59 I have yielded, you see, to the intreaty 6f Guilio, and the rest of that company, for that I esteem it a duty to clear that excellent society from the scandal of having so dangerous' and pernicious a person to be a member of their conversation. For by reason of my age, and since the loss of my liberty, and my sufferings under that monster of lust and cruelty, Alexander de Medici, set over us by the divine vengeance for our sins, I can be capable of no other design or enjoyment, than to delight and be delighted in the company of so many chqice and virtuous persons, who now assemble themselves with all security, under the happy and hopeful reign of our new prince Cosimo ; and, we may say, that, though our common wealth be not restored, our slavery is at an end, and that he, coming in by our own choice, may prove, (if I have as good skill in prophesying, as I have had formerly) ancestor to many renowned princes, who will govern this state in great quietness, and with great clemency ; so that our posterity is like to enjoy ease and security, though not that greatness, wealth, and glory, by which our city hath for some years past, even in the most factious and tumul tuous times of our democracy, given law to Italy, and bridled the ambition of foreign princes. But, that I may avoid the loquacity incident to old men, I will come to the busi ness : if I remember well, the exceptions, that are taken to these poor things I have publish ed, are reducible to three. First, That in all my writings I insinuate my great affection to the democratical govern ment, even so much as to undervalue that of monarchy in respect of it; which last I do not obscurely in many passages teach, and, as it were, persuade the people to throw off. Next, That in some places I vent very great impieties, slighting and vilifying the church as author of all the misgovernment in the world, and by such contempt make way for atheism and profaneness \ And lastly, That in my Book of the Prince2, 1 teach monarchs all the execrable villanies that can be invented, and instruct them how to break faith, and to oppress and to enslave their subjects. ' I shall answer something to every one of these ; and, that I may observe a right method, will begin with the first. — I shall speak to that which is indeed fit to be wiped off, and which, if it were true, would not only justly expose me to the hatred and vengeance of God, and all good men, but even destroy the design and purpose of all my writings; which is to treat in some sort, as well as one of my small parts can hope to do, of the politicks. And how can any man pre tend to write concerning policy, who destroys the most essential part of it, which is obedi ence to all governments ? It will be very easy then for Guilio Salviati, or any other mem ber of our society, to believe the protestation I make, That the animating of private men f either directly or indirectly) to disobey, much less to shake off any government, how despo- tical soever, zvas never in my thoughts or zvritings : those who are unwilling to give credit to this, may take the pains to assign, in any of my books, the passages they imagine to tend that way, (for I can think of none myself,) that so I may give such person more particular satisfaction. I must confess I have a discourse in one of my books, to encourage the Italian nation to assume their ancient valour, and to expel the Barbarians; meaning, as the ancient Romans use the word, all strangers from among us ; but that was before the kings of Spain had quiet possession of the kingdom of Naples, or the Emperor of the dutchy of Milan ; so that I could not be interpreted to mean that the people of those two dominions should be stirred up to shake off their princes, because they were foreigners; since at that time Lodovic Sfbrza was in possession of the one, and King Frederick restored to the other; both natives 1 [He was stigmatized by Paulus Jovius as irrisor et atheos, a. scoffer and an atheist.] 1 [The purport of this book is to describe the arts of wickeder tyrannic governors: and Lord Bacon was of ipinion, that we are greatly obliged to Machiavel and all such writers, for telling us so frankly what men do, in- tead of what they ought to do, that we may guard the better against their wiles. Lord Clarendon seems to concur in these favourable sentiments of the author, although he bears an ill name with those who take what he kys from the report of other men, or do not enough themselves consider what he says, and his method in speaking. See Hist, of the Rebellion.] 60 Machiavel's Vindication of Himself and his Writings, $c. of Italy. But- my design was to exhort our countrymen not to suffer this province to be the scene of the arms and ambition of Charles VIII. or King Lewis his successor, who when they had a mind to renew the old title of the house of Anjou to the kingdom of Naples, came with such force into Italy, that not only our goods were plundered, and our lands wasted; but even the liberty of our cities and government endangered ; but to unite and oppose them, and to keep this province in the hands of princes of our own nation : this my intention is so visible in the chapter itself, that I need but refer you to it. Yet, that I may not answer this imputation barely by denying, I shall assert in this place what my principles are in that which the world calls rebellion; which I believe to be, not only a rising in arms against any government we live under, but to acknowledge that word to extend to all clandestine conspiracies too, by which the peace and quiet of any country may be inter rupted, and, by consequence, the lives and estates of innocent persons endangered; rebellion, then, so described, I hold to be the greatest crime that can be committed among men, both against policy, morality, and in f oro conscientia ; but, notwithstanding all this, it is an offence, which will be committed whilst, the world lasts, as often as princes tyrannize, and, by enslaving and oppressing their subjects, make magistracy, which was intended for the benefit of mankind, prove a plague and destruction to it; for, let the terror and the guilt be never so great, it is impossible that human nature, which consists of passion, as well as virtue, can support, with patience and submission, the greatest cruelty and injustice, when ever either the weakness of their princes, the unanimity of the people, or any other favour able accident, shall give them reasonable hopes to mend their condition, and provide better for their own interest by insurrection. So that princes and states ought, in the conduct of their affairs, not only to consider what their people are bound to submit to, if they were in spired from heaven, or were all moral philosophers; but to weigh likewise what is probable, de facto, to fall out in this corrupt age of the world, and to reflect upon those dan gerous tumults which have happened frequently, not only upon oppression, but even by reason of malversation, and how some monarchies have been wholly subverted, and chan ged into democracies, by the tyranny of their princes; as we see (to say nothing of Rome) the powerful cantons of Switzerland, brought, by that means, a little before the last age, to a considerable commonwealth, courted and sought to by all the potentates in Christendom. M princes will seriously consider this matter, I make no question, but they will rule with clemency and moderation, and return to that excellent maxim of the ancients, almost ex ploded in this age, that the interest of kings and of their people is the same : which truth, it hath been the whole design of my writings, to convince them of. Now, having gone thus far in the description of rebellion, I think myself obliged to tell you, what I conceive not to be rebellion. Whosoever then takes arms to maintain the politick constitution or government of his country in the condition it then is, I mean, to defend it from being changed or invaded by the craft or force of any man (although it be the prince, or chief magistrate himself) provided, that such taking up of arms, be commanded or authorized by those, who are, by the order of that government, legally entrusted with the custody of the liberty of the people, and foundation of the government ; this I hold to be so far from rebellion, that I believe it laudable; nay, the duty of every member of such common wealth ; for that he who fights to support and defend the government he was born and lives under, cannot deserve the odious name of rebel, but he who endeavours to destroy it : if this be not granted, it will be in vain to frame any mixed government in the world. Yet such is, at this day, the happy form, under which almost all Europe lives, as the people of France, Spain, Germany, Poland, Swedeland, Denmark, &c. wherein the prince hath his share, and the people theirs : which last, if they had no means of recovering their right, if taken away from them, or defending them, if invaded; would be in the same estate, as if they I had no title to them, but, lived under the empire of Turky or Muscovy; and since they/ have no other remedy but by arms, and that it would be of ill consequence to makef every private man judge when the rights of the people are invaded, (to which they have as; lawful a claim as a prince to his,) which would be apt to produce frequent, and sometimes causeless tumults; therefore it hath been the great wisdom of the founders of such monar- Machiavel's Vindication of Himself and his Writings, $c. 6"1 chies to. appoint guardians to their liberty, which, if it be not otherwise expressed, is, and ought to be understood, to reside in the estates of the country; which for that reason (as also to exercise their shares in the sovereignty, as making laws, levying money) are to be frequently assembled in all the regions of Europe, before mentioned. These are to assert and maintain the orders of the government and the laws established, and (if it cannot be done otherwise) to arm the people to defend and-repel the force that is upon them Nay the government of Arragon goes farther; and, because, in the intervals of the estates or courts, many accidents may intervene to the prejudice of their rights, or juros, as they call them ; they having, during the intermission, appointed a magistrate called el justicia, who is, by the law and constitution of that kingdom, to assemble the whole people to his ban ner whenever such rights are ineroached upon ; who are not only justified by the laws for such coming together, but are severely punishable in case of refusal ; so that there is no question, but that if the kings of Arragon, at this day, very powerful by the addition of the kingdom of Naples, and of Sicily, and the union with Castile, should (in time to come) in vade their kingdom of Arragon, with the forces of their new dominions, and endeavour to take from them the rights and privileges, they enjoy lawfully, by their constitution; there is no question, I say, but they may (though their king be there in person against them) assemble under justicia, and defend their liberties with as much justice, as if they were in vaded by the French, or by the Turk. For it were absurd to think, since the people may be legally assembled to apprehend robbers; nay, to deliver possession forcibly detained against the sentence of some inferior court; that they may, and ought not to bestir them selves, to keep in being, and preserve that government which maintains them in possession of their liberties and properties, and defends their lives, too, from being arbitrarily taken away. But I know, this clear truth receives opposition in this unreasonable and corrupt age, when men are more prone to flatter the lust of princes than formerly, and the favourites are more impatient to bear the impartiality of laws, than the sons of Brutus were, who com plained leges esse surdas ; that is, though they were fine gentlemen, in favour with the ladies, and ministers of kings pleasure, yet they could not oppress, drink, whore, nor kill the officers of justice, in the streets, returning from their night-revels ; but the execution of the laws would reach them, as well as others, who in the time of Tarquin, it seems, found the prince more elozable. Nay, the divines3 themselves help with their fallacies to oppugn this doctrine, by making us believe (as I said before) that it is God's will, all princes should be absolute; and are so far in conspiracy against all mankind, that they assert, that in the text, this shall be the manner of your kings, God was giving that people the jus divinum of government, when in truth he was threatening them with the plagues of tyrants. But, I spare the1 divines here, since I shall have occasion, in discoursing of my next accusation, to shew how that sort of people have dealt with God's truth, and with the interest Of men ; and to be as good as my word, I shall presently fall upon that point, having been tedious already in the former. I am charged then, in the second place, with impiety, in vilifying the church4, and so to make way for Atheism. I do not deny, but I have very frequently in my writings laid the blame upon the church of Rome, not only for all the misgovernment of Christendom, but even for the depravation, and almost total destruction of the Christian religion itself, in this province 5; but that this discourse of mine doth or can tend to teach men impiety, or to make way for atheism, I peremptorily deny. And, although, for proof of my innocence herein, I need but refer you and all others to my papers themselves, as they are now published, where you will find all my reasons drawn from experience and frequent example cited, which is ever my way of arguing ; yet, since I am put upon it, I shall, in a few lines, make that mat ter possibly a little clearer, and shall first make protestation, ' That, as I do undoubtedly ' hope by the merits of Christ, and by faith in him, to attain eternal salvation ; so I do firmly ' believe the' Christian profession to be the only true religion now in the world. Next, lam 3 Of the church of Rome, and such as would make their court to an arbitrary prince. 4 Of Rome. 5 Viz. Italy, or wherever Popery sways the people. 62 Machiavel's Vindication of Himself and his Writings, fyc. < fully persuaded that all divine virtues, which God then designed to teach the world, are con- 1 tained in the books of the Holy Scripture, as they are now extant and received among us. ' From them I understand, that God created man in purity and innocence, and that the first ' of that species, by their frailty, lost at once their integrity and their paradise, and entailed ' sin and misery upon their posterity : that Almighty God, to repair this loss, did, out of his ' infinite mercy, and with unparalleled grape and goodness, send his only begotten Son into ' the world to teach us new truths ; to be a perfect example of virtue, goodness, and obedience ; ' to restore true religion, degenerated among tbe Jews into superstition, formality, and hy- ' pocrisy ; to die for the salvation of mankind; and, in fine, to give to us the Holy Spirit to ' regenerate our hearts, support our faith, and lead us into all truth.' Now, if it shall appear, that as the lust of our first parents did, at that time, disappoint the good intention of God in making a pure world, and brought in by their disobedience the corruptions that are now in it ; so that since likewise the bishops of Rome, by their unsatiable ambition and avarice, have designedly, as much as in them lies, frustrated the merciful purpose, he had in the happy restoration he intended the world by his Son, and in the renewing and reforming of human nature; and have wholly defaced and spoiled Christian religion, and made it a worldly and heathenish thing, and altogether uncapable, as it is practised among them,. either of directing the ways of its professors to virtue and good life, or of saving their souls hereafter. If, I say, this do appear; I know no reason why I, for detecting thus much, and for giving warning to the world to take heed of their ways, should be accused of impiety or atheism; or why his holiness should be so enraged against the poor inhabitants of the valleys in Savoy, and against the Albigenses for calling him Antichrist. But to find that this is an undoubted truth; I mean, that the Popes have corrupted Christian religion ; we need but read the New Testament, ac knowledged by themselves to be of infallible truth, and there we shall see that the faith and religion preached by Christ, and settled afterwards by his apostles, and cultivated by their sacred epistles, is so different a thing from the Christianity that is now professed and taught at Rome, that we should be convinced, that, if those holy men should be sent by God again into the world, they would take more pains to confute this gallimaufry, than ever they did to preach down the tradition of the Pharisees, or the fables and idolatry of the Gentiles; and would, in probability, suffer a new martyrdom in that city under the vicar of Christ, for the same doctrine which once animated the Heathen tyrants against them. Nay, we have something more to say against these sacrilegious pretenders to God's power ; for, whereas all other false worships have been set up by some politick legislators, for the support and preservation of government ; this false, this spurious religion, brought in upon the ruins of Christianity by the Popes, hath deformed the face of government in Europe, destroying all the good principles and morality left us by the Heathens themselves, and introduced, instead thereof, sordid, cowardly, impolitick notions, whereby they have subjected mankind, and even great princes and states to their own empire, and never suffered any orders or maxims to take place, where they have power, that might make a nation wise, honest, great, or wealthy. This I have set down so plainly in those pas sages of my book which are complained of, that I shall say nothing at all for the proof of it in this place, but refer you thither ; and come to speak a little more particularly of my first assertion, that the Pope and his clergy have depraved Christian religion. Upon this subject I could infinitely wish, (now letters begin to. revive again,) that some learned pen would employ itself; and that some person, versed in the chronology of the church, (as they call it,) would deduce, out of the ecclesiastical writers, the time and manner how these abuses crept in6; and by what art and steps this Babel, that reaches at Heaven was built by these sons of the earth : but this matter, as unsuitable to the brevity of a letter and, indeed, more to my small parts and learning, I shall not pretend to, being one who' never hitherto studied or writ of theology, further than that it did naturally concern the politicks ; therefore I shall not deal by the New Testament, as I have done formerly by 6 This shall be done in the course of this collection. Machiavel's Vindication of Himself and his Writings, $c. OS Titus Livius, that is, make observations or reflections upon it, and leave you, and Mr. Guilio, and the rest of our society, to make their judgment, not citing, like preachers, the chapter or verse, because the reading the Holy" Scripture is* little used, and, indeed^ hardly permitted among us7. To begin at the top, I would have any reasonable man tell me, whence this immea surable power, long claimed, and now possessed by the Bishop of Rome, is derived; first, of being Christ's vicar, and by that, as I may so say, pretending to a monopoly of the Holy Spirit, which was promised and given to the whole Church ; that is, to the elect or saints ; as is plain by a clause in St. Peter's sermon, made the very same time that the mira culous gifts of the Spirit of God were first given to the apostles, who says to the Jews and Gentiles, ' Repent and be baptized every one of you, in the name of. Jesus Chr.st, for the remission of sins, and you shall receive the gift of the Holy Ghost ; for this promise is to you and to your children, and to all that are afar- off, even as many as the Lord our God shall call.' Next, to judge infallibly of divine truth, and to forgive sins as Christ did; then to be the head of all ecclesiastical persons and causes in the world ; to be so far above kings and princes, as to judge, depose, and deprive them ; and to have an absolute jurisdiction over all the affairs in Christendom, in ordine ad spirilualia ; yet all this the canonists allow him, and he makes no scruple to assume, whilst it is plain that, in the whole New Testament, there is no description made of such an officer to be at any time in the church, except it be in the prophecy of the Apocalypse, or in one of St. Paul's epistles, where he says, " who it is that shall sit in the temple of God, shewing himself that he is God." Christ tells us, his kingdom is not of this world, and if any will be the greatest among his disciples, that he must be servant to the rest ; which shews that his followers were to be great in sanctity and humility, and not in worldly power. The apostle Paul, writing to the Christians of those times, almost in every epistle com mands them', ' to be obedient to the higher powers,' or magistrates set over them : and St. Peter himself (from whom this extravagant empire is pretended to be derived), in his first epistle, bids us ' submit ourselves to every ordinance of man, for the Lord's sake, whether it be to the kings, or,' &c. And this is enjoined, although it is plain, that they who go verned the world in those days, were both Heathens, tyrants, and usurpers ; and in this submission there is no exception or proviso for ecclesiastical immunity. The practice as well as precepts of these holy men shews plainly that they had no intention to leave suc cessors who should deprive hereditary princes from their right of reigning, for differing in religion8; who, without all doubt, are, by the appointment of the apostle, and by the prin ciples of Christianity, to be obeyed and submitted to in things wherein the fundamental laws of the government, give them the power, though they were Jews or Gentiles. If 1 should tell you by what texts in Scripture the Popes claim the powers before mentioned, it would stfr up your laughter, and prove too light for so serious a matter ; yet, because possibly you may never have heard so much of this subject before, I shall instance in a few: They tell you, therefore, that the jurisdiction they pretend over the churchy and the power of pardoning sins comes from Christ to St. Peter, and from him to them : ' Thou art Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church; I will give thee the keys of the kingdom of Heaven; whatsoever thou shalt bind on earth, shall be bound in Heaven ; and whatsoever thou shalt loose on earth,' &c. From these two texts, ridiculously applied," comes this great tree, which hath with its branches, overspread the whole earth, and killed all the good and wholesome plants growing upon it. The first text will never by any man of sense be un derstood to say more than that < the preachings, sufferings, and ministry of Peter was like to be a great foundation and pillar of the doctrine of Christ :' the other text, as also another spoken by our Saviour and his apostles, ' Whose sins ye remit they are remitted and whose sins ye retain they are retained,' are by all primitive fathers, interpreted in this manner; ' Roman Catholics in Popish states. ¦ i. j ? • f 8 Alluding to Doleman, or Father Parsons's book against Queen Elizabeth; and to the Popish doctrine ot deposing kings for their religion. See page US. 64 Machiavel's Vindication of Himself and his Writings, Src. < Wheresoever you shall effectually preach the Gospel, you shall carry with you grace and remission of sins to them which shall follow your instructions : but the people, who snail not have these joyful tidings communicated by you to them, shall remain in darkness and in their sins.' But if any will contest, that, by some of these last texts, that evangelical excommunication, which was afterwards brought into the church by the Apostles, was here presignified by our great Master; how unlike were those censures, to those now thundered out, as he calls it, by the Pope ! these were for edification and.not destruction, to afflict the flesh for the salvation of the soul ; that apostolical ordinance was pronounced for some noto rious scandal or apostasy from the faith, and first decreed by the church, that is, the whole congregation present, and then denounced by the pastor, and reached only to debar such person from partaking of the communion of fellowship of that church, till repentance should re-admit him ; but was followed by no other prosecution or chastisement, as is now practised9. But suppose all these texts had been as they would have them, how does this make for the successors of St. Peter, or the rest ? Or, how can this prove the Bishops of Rome to have right to such succession ? But I make haste from this subject, and shall urge but one text more; which is, " The spiritual man judgeth all men, but is himself judged of none;" from whence it is. inferred by the Canonists, that, first, "the Pope is the spiritual man;" and then, that " he is to be judge of all the world;" and last, that " he is never to be liable to any judgment himself:" whereas it is obvious tb the meanest understanding, that St. Paul, in this text, means to distinguish between a person inspired with the Spirit of God, and one remaining in the state of nature; which latter, he says, cannot judge of those heavenly gifts and graces, as he explains himself, when he says, ' The natural man cannot discern the things of the Spirit, because they are foolishness unto him.' To take my leave of this matter, (wholly out of the way of my studies,) I beg of you, Zenobio, and of Guilio, and the rest of our society, to read over, carefully, the New Testa ment; and then to see what ground there is for Purgatory, by which all the wealth and greatness hath accrued to these men; what colour for their idolatrous worship. of saints and their images; and particularly for speaking in their hymns and prayers to a piece of wood, the cross I mean, Salve Lignum, &c. And then fac nos dignos beneficiorum Christi, as you may read in that office10 ; what colour or rather what excuse for that horrid, unchris tian, and barbarous engine, called the Inquisition, brought in by the command and autho rity of the Pope, the inventor of which, Peter, a Dominican Friar, having been slain among the Albigenses, as he well deserved, is now canonized for a saint, and styled San Pietro Martine ? In the dreadful prisons of this Inquisition, many faithful and pious Christians, to say no thing of honest moral Moors or Mahometans, are tormented and famished ; or, if they out live their sufferings, burnt publicly to death ; and that only for differing in religion from the Pope, without having any crime or the least misdemeanour proved or alledged against them; and this is inflicted upon these poor creatures, by those who profess to believe the Scripture; which tells us, that 'faith is the gift of God,' without whose special illumination no man can obtain it; and therefore is not in reason or humanity to be punished for want ing it? And Christ himself hath so clearly decided that point, in bidding us let the ' tares and the wheat grow together till the harvest,' that I shall never make any difficulty to call him Antichrist, who shall use the least persecution whatsoever, against any differing in matters of faith from himself, whether the person, so dissenting, be Heretick, Jew; Gen tile, or Mahometan. Next, I beseech you to observe in reading that holy book, though Christian fasts are .doubtless of divine right, what ground there is for enjoining fish to be eaten, at least flesh to be abstained from, for one third part of the year; by which they put the poor to great hardship, who, not having purses to buy wholesome fish, are subjected to all the miseries and diseases incident to a bad and unhealthful diet; whilst the rich,* and chiefly themselves and their Cardinals, exceed LucuUus in their luxury of oysters, turbots, tender crabs, and 9 In the Church of Rome, "> The adoration of the Cross on Good-Friday. Machiavets Vindication of Himself and his Writings, fyc. 65 carps, brought some hundreds of miles to feed* their gluttony, upon these penitential days of abstinence from beef and pork. It may be it will lie in the way of those who observe this, to enquire what St. Paul means, when he says, * that in the latter days some shall de- 'part from the faith, forbidding to marry, and commanding to abstain from meats, which 'God hath created to be received with thanksgiving;' but all these things, and many other abuses brought in by these perverters of Christianity, will, I hope, ere long be enquired into by some of the disciples of that bold Friar11, who, the very same year12 in which I prophesied that the scourge of the church was not far off, began to thunder against their indulgences; and since, hath questioned many tenets long received and imposed upon the world. I shall conclude this discourse, after I have said a word of the most hellish of all the innovations brought in by the Popes; which is, the Clergy: these are a sort of men, under pretence of ministring to the people in holy things, set apart and separated from the rest of mankind, from whom they have a very distinct and a very opposite interest, by a human ceremony, called by a divine name, viz. Ordination: these, wherever they are found, with the whole body of the monks and friars, who are called the Regular Clergy, make a band which may be called the Janizaries of the Papacy: these have been the causes of all the solecisms and immoralities in government, and of all the impieties and abominations in religion; and by consequence, of all the disorder, villainy, and corruption we suffer under in this detestable age : these men, by the bishop of Rome's help, have crept into all the governments of Christendom, where there is any mixture of monarchy, and made themselves a third estate; that is, have by their temporalities, which are almost a third part of all the land in Europe, given them by the blind zeal, or rather folly of the northern people, who over-ran this part of the world, stepped into the throne, and what they cannot perform by these secular helps, and by the dependency their vassals have upon them, they- fail not to claim and to usurp by the power they pretend to have from God and his vicegerent at Rome. They1? exempt themselves, their lands and goods, from all secular jurisdiction; that is, from all courts of justice and magistracy; and will be judges in their own causes, as in matters of tithe, &c. ; and, not content with this, will appoint courts of their own to decide sovereignty in. testamentary matters and many other causes ; and take upon them to be the sole punishers of many great crimes, as witchcraft, sorcery, adul tery, and all uncleanness. To say nothing of the forementioned judicatory of the Inquisi tion ; in these last cases, they turn the offenders over to be punished (when they have given sentence) by the secular arm (so they call the magistrate), who is blindly to execute their decrees under pain of hell-fire; as if Christian princes and governors were appointed only by God to be their bravos or hangmen. They give protection and sanctuary to all execra ble offenders14, even to murderers themselves, whom God commanded to be indispensably punished with death. If they come within their churches, cloysters, or any other place which they will please to call Holy Ground; and if the ordinary justice, nay, the sovereign power do proceed against such offender, they thunder out their excommunication; that is, cut off from the body of Christ not the prince only, but the whole nation and people, shutting the church doors, and commanding divine offices to cease,, and sometimes even authorizing the people to rise up in arms, and constrain their governors to a submission, as happened to this poor city in the time of our ancestors; when, for but forbidding the ser vant of a poor Carmelite Friar who had vowed poverty, and should have kept none to go armed, and punishing his disobedience with imprisonment; our whole Senate, with their Gonfalonier, were constrained to go to Avignon for absolution ; and, in case of refusal, had been massacred by the people. It would almost astonish a wise man to imagine how these folks should acquire an empire so destructive to Christian religion, and so pernicious to the interest of men; but it, will not seem so miraculous to them who shall seriously consider that the Clergy hath been for more than this thousand years upon the catch, and a formed " Martin Luther, who was an Augustine friar. " 1517. 13 In the church of Rome. .... . . •¦» In Popish States, whoever flees to a convent, church, or other place set apart for religious exercises, is protected from justice . VOL. I. K 66 Machiavel's Vindication of Himself and his Writings, fyc. united corporation against the purity of religion and interest of mankind ; and have not only wrested the Holy Scriptures to their own advantage, which they have kept from the laity in unknown languages, and by prohibiting the reading thereof ; but made use likewise, first, of the blind devotion and ignorance of the Goths, Vandals, Huns, &c. and since, of the am bition and avarice of Christian princes ; stirring them up one against another, and sending them upon foolish errands to the Holy Land 15, to lose their lives, and to leave their domi* nions, in the mean time, exposed to themselves and their complices ; they have, besides, kept learning and knowledge among themselves, stifling the light of the Gospel, crying down moral virtues as splendid sins, defacing human policy, destroying the purity of the Christian faith and profession, and all that was virtuous, prudent, regular, and orderly upon earth ; so that whoever would do God and good men service, get himself immortal honour in this life, and eternal glory in the next, would restore the good policy (I had almost said with my author, Livy, the sanctity too) of the Heathens, with all their valour and other glorious endow ments ; I say, whoever would do this, must make himself powerful enough to extirpate this cursed and apostate race 16 out of the world. • , I hope I shall not be thought impious any longer upon this point, I mean for vindi* eating Christian religion from the assaults of these men, who having the confidence to believe, or, at least, profess themselves the only instruments which God hath chosen, or can choose to teach and reform the world; though they who have neither moral virtues nor natural parts equal to other men, for the most part, have by this pretence prevailed so far upon the common sort of people, and upon some too of a better quality, that they are persuaded their salvation, or eternal damnation, depends upon believing or not be-> lieving of what they *say. I would not be understood to dissuade any from honouring the true Apostolic teachers, when they shall be re-established among us, or from allowing them (even of right, and not of alms or courtesy) such emoluments, as may enable them cheerfully to perform the duties of their charge, to provide for their children, and even to use hospitality, as they are commanded by St. Paul. But this I will prophesy before I con clude, that if princes shall perform this business by halves, and leaye any root of tins Clergy, or Priestcraft, (as it now is) in the ground; then, I say, I must foretel, that the Magistrates will find themselves deceived in their expectation ; and that the least fibre of this plant will over-run again the whole vineyard of the Lord ; and turn to a diffusive Papacy in every diocess, perhaps in every parish. So that God, in his mercy, inspire them to cut out the core of the ulcer, and the bag of this imposture, that it may never rankle or fester any more, nor break out hereafter to diffuse new corruption and putrefaction through the body of Christ, which is his Holy Church ; to viciate and infect the good order and true policy of government. I come now to the last branch of my charge ; which is, that I teach princes villainy, and how to enslave and oppress their subjects. If any man will read over my Book of the Prince with impartiality and ordinary charity, he will easily perceive, that it is not my inten tion therein to recommend that government, or those men there described to the world ; much less to teach men to trample upon good men, and all that is sacred and venerable upoii earth • laws, religion, honesty, and what not. If I have been a little too punctual in describing these monsters, and drawn them to the life in all their lineaments and colours, I hope mankind will know them the better, to avoid them ; my treatise being both a satire against them and a true character of them — ' Whoever in his empire is tied to no other rules than those of his own will and lust, must either be a saint, or else a very devil incarnate ; or, if he be neither of these, both his life and his reign are like to be very short : for whosoever takes upon him so execrable an employment as to rule men against the laws of nature and reason, must turn all topsy-turvey, and never stick at any thing ; for, if once he halt, he will fall and never rise again, &c. And so I bid you farewell. {1 April, 1537.) 15 To recover Jerusalem from the Turk,. "¦ Of Popery, 61 The History of the most unfortunate Prince, King Edward the Second; with choice political Observations on him and his unhappy Favourites, Gaveston and Spencer: Containing se veral rare Passages of those Times, not found in other Histo rians; found among the Papers of, and (supposed to be) writ by the Right Honourable Henry Viscount Faulkland, some time Lord Deputy of Ireland. [Octavo. Eighty-four Pages.— Printed in 1680, in Folio and Octavo1.] Henry Cary, Viscount Faulkland, (among whose papers the following history was found) was born at Aldnam in Hertfordshire ; his extraordinary parts, being a most accom plished gentleman and a compleat courtier, got him such an esteem with King James the First, that he thought him a person fitly qualified to be Lord-Deputy of Ireland (the government of which place required at that time a man of more than ordinary abilities), which trust he very well discharged. Being -ecalled into England, he lived honourably here, until, by an unfortunate accident he broke his leg in Theobald's park ; of zvhich soon after he died. He zvas a person of great gallantry, the ornament and support of his country, which he served with no less faithfulness and prudence abroad, than, honour and justice at home, being an excellent statesman. During his stay at the University of Oxford, his chamber was the rendezvbus-of all the eminent wits, divines, philosophers, lawyers, historians, and politicians of that time ; for whose conversation he became eminent in all those qualifications. The subject of the following history f supposed to be written by the above-mentioned noble man) is the unhappy Lives, and untimely Deaths, of that unfortunate English King, Ed ward the Second, and his two favourites Gaveston and Spencer ; for his immoderate love to whom, (says Dr. Heylin) he was hated by the Nobles, and contemned by the Com mons. This King (saith Sir Richard Baker) was a comely person, and of great strength, but much given to drink, which rendered him unapt to keep any thing secret. His greatest fault was, he loved but one ; for, if his love had been divided, it could not have been so violent ; and, though love moderated be the best of affections, yet the extremity of it is the worst of passions. Two virtues were eminent in him, above all his predecessors,, continence and abstinence; so continent, that he left no base issue behind him ; so abstinent, that he took no base courses for raising money*. Our author closes his history without declaring the particulars of the murder of this Prince ; 1 [Wood reports this tract to have been published when the press was open for all books that could make any thing against the then government ; which must have been that of Charles the Second, and his Tory administra tion. Its sage and philosophical reflections are of more worth than the historical matter it contains. The dic tion throughout seems to have been much modified by Mr. Oldys, according to the averment of the folio edition : for the octavo has not been met with.] 68 The Life of Edward the Second. wherefore I shall give you an account thereof, as I find it set down by the aforesaid Sir Richard Baker. Many ways were attempted to take away his life. First, they vexed him in his diet .; allow*- ing him nothing that he could well endure to eat : but this succeeded not. Then they lodged him in a chamber over carrion and dead carcases, enough to have poisoned him ; -and, indeed, he told a workman at his window, he never endured so great a misery in all his life : but neither did this succeed. Then they attempted it by poisons : but, whether by the strength of his constitution, or by -the Divine Providence, neither did this succeed. At last the pestilent Achitophel, the Bishop of Hereford, devised a letter to his keepers, Sir Thomas Gourney and Sir John Mattrevers, blaming them for giving him too much liberty, and for not doing the service which was expected from them ; and in the end of his letter wrote this line, Edvardum occidere nolite timere bonum est ; craftily contriving it in this doubtful sense, that both the keepers might find sufficient warrant, and himself excuse. The keepers, guessing at his meaning, took it in the zvorst sense, and accordingly put it in execution. They took him in his bed, and casting heavy bolsters upon him, and pressing him down, stifled him; and not content with that, they heated an iron red-hot, and, through a pipe, thrust it up into his fundament, that no marks of violence might be seen: but, though none were seen, yet some were heard ; for, when the fact was in doing, he was ' heard to roar and cry all the castle over. This was the lamentable end of King Edward of Carnarvon, son of King Edzvard the First. What became of the actors and abettors of this deep tragedy, Sir Winston Churchill tells us in these words : ' Poor Prince, how unkindly was he treated, upon no other account but that of his own overt- great kindness ! Other princes are blamed for not being ruled by their counsellors, he for being so : who whilst he lived, they would have him thought to be a sot ; but being dead they could have found in their hearts to have made him a saint. How far he wronged his people doth not appear, there being very fezv or no taxations laid upon them all his time; but, how rude and unjust they were towards him, is but too manifest. But their-violence was severely paid by Divine vengeance, not only upon the whole kingdom, when every vein in the body politick was afterwards opened, to the endangering the letting out of the life- blood of the monarchy in the age following ; but upon every particular person consenting to, or concerned in his death. For as the throne of his son that zvas thus set in blood (though without his own guilt) continued to be imbrued all. his reign, which lasted above fifty years, with frequent executions, battles, or slaughters; the sword of justice, or his own being hardly ever sheathed. all his time: so it is said, that the 2ueen herself died mad' upon the apprehension of her own, in Mortimer's disgrace, who was executed at Tyburn and hung there two days, to be a spectacle of scorn. . The King's brother Edmond had this punishment of his disloyalty, to be condemned to lose his head for his loyalty; it being suggested, (and happy it had been for him if it had been proved) that he endeavoured the restoration of his brother; his death being imbittered by the mockery of fortune, whilst by keeping him upon the scaffold five hours together, before any body could be found that zvould execute him, he zvas deluded with a vain hope of being saved. The fiend Tarlton Bishop of Hereford, who invented the cursed oracle that justified the murderers, died with the very same torture, as if the hot iron, that seared his conscience, had been 'thrust into his bowels. Of the two murderers, one was taken and butchered at sea, the other died in exile, perhaps more miserable. And for the Nobility in general, that were actors in the tragedy, they had this curse upon them, that most of their race were cut off by those civil discords of their divided families, to which this strange violation gave the first beginning The Life of Edward the Second. 69 not long after' A dreadful example, both to prince and people, that usurp unlawful methods to accomplish their unjust intentions. EDWARD the Second, born at Carnarvan, was immediately after the death of Edward the First, his father, crowned King of England. If we may credit the historians of those times, this prince was of an aspect fair and lovely, carrying in his outward appearance many promising predictions of a singular expectation. But the judgment, not the eye, must have pre-eminence in the censure of human passages ; the visible calendar is not the true cha racter of inward perfection ; evidently proved in the life, reign, and untimely death of this unfortunate monarch. His story eclipseth this glorious morning, making the noon-tide of his sovereignty full of tyrannical oppressions, and the evening more memorable by his death and ruin. Time, the discoverer of truth, makes evident his imposture, and shews him to the world, in con versation light, in will violent, in condition wayward, and in passipn irreconcileable. Edward, his father, a King no less wise than fortunate, by his discreet providence, and the glory of his arms, had laid him the sure foundation of a happy monarchy. He makes it his last care so to enable and instruct him, that he might be powerful enough to keep it so. From this consideration he leads him to the Scotish wars, and brings him home an exact and able scholar in the art military. He shews him the benefit of time and occasion, and makes him understand the right use and advantage. He instructs him with the pre cious rules of discipline, that he might truly know how to obey, before he came to com mand a kingdom. Lastly, he opens the closet of his heart, and presents him with the poli tick mysteries of state, and teacheth him how to use them by his own example; letting him know, that all these helps are little enough to support the weight of a crown, if there were not a correspondent worth in him that wears it. These principles make the way open, but the prudent father had a remaining task of a much harder temper. He beheld many sad demonstrations of a depraved and vicious in clination ; these must be purified, or his other cautions were useless, and to little purpose. A corruption in nature, that by practice hath won itself the habit of being ill, requires a more than ordinary care to give it reformation. Tenderness of fatherly love abuseth his belief, and makes him ascribe the imperfections of the son to the heat of youth, want of experience, and the wickedness of those that had betrayed his unripe knowledge and easy nature with so base impressions. He imagines, age and the sad burthen of a kingdom would, in the sense of honour, work him to thoughts more innocent and noble ; yet he neglects not the best means to prepare and assure it. He extends the height of entreaty, and useth the befitting severity of his paternal power; making his son know, he must be fit for a sceptre before he enjoy it. He takes from him those tainted humours of his leprosy, and enjoins him by all the ties of duty and obedience, no more to admit the society of so base and unworthy com panions. Gaveston, the Ganymede of his affections, a man, as base in birth as conditions, he sentenceth to perpetual exile. : The melancholy apparitions of this loth to depart, give the aged father an assurance, that this. syren had too dear a room in the wanton cabinet of his son's heart. He strives to enlighten his mind, and to make him quit the memory of that dotage, which he foresaw, in time, would be his destruction. But death overtakes him before he could give it perfection; the time is come, that he must, by the law of nature, resign both his life and kingdom. He summons his son, and bequeaths him this dying legacy ; commanding him, as he will in another day answer his disobedience, never to repeal his sentence. To his kindred and peers, that with sad tears, and watery eyes, were the companions of his death-bed, he shortly discourseth the base conditions of this parasite, and lets them understand both their own and the kingdom's danger, if they withstood not his return, if it were occasioned. They knew his injunctions were just, and promise to observe them; he is not satisfied till they bind it with an oath, and, vow religiously to perform it. This sends him out of the world with more confidence, than in the true knowledge of his son's wilful disposition he had cause to ground on, 70 The Life of Edward the Second, The father's funeral rites performed, Edward in the pride of his years undertakes the crown, and guidance of this glorious kingdom. He glories in the advantage, knowing him self to be an absolute king, and at liberty; yet thinks it not enough, till the belief of the kingdom did equally assure it. He esteems no act more proper to confirm it, than running in a direct strain of opposition against his predecessor's will and pleasure. The strong motive of his violent affection suggests reasons, that the majesty of a king may not be con fined from his dearest pleasure. When he was a son, and a subject, he had witnessed his obedience ; being now a king and a sovereign, he expects a correspondence of the same nature. Where there was so ready an inclination in the will, reason found strength enough to warrant it ; which made him make Gaveston's return the first act of his sovereignty. No protestation of his lords, nor persuasion of his council, can work a diversion, or win so much as a benefiting respect. The barons, that were unable to withstand, are contented to obey ; attending the issue of this so dangerous a resolution. Where the news was so pleasing, the journey is as sudden ; Gaveston loseth not a minute, till he, felt the embraces of his royal lord and master. Edward, having thus regained his beloved Damon, is so transported with his presence, that he forgets the will and ordinary respect due to the greatest lords and pillars of this kingdom ; and hence proceeds their first discontent and murmur. Many ways are in vented to .dissolve this enchantment, but none more fit and worthy than to engage him in the sacred knot of wedlock. The interest of a wife was believed the only remedy to engross or divert those unsteady affectious, which they beheld so loosely and unworthily prostituted. Isabel, the daughter of the French King, the goodliest and beautifullest lady of her time, is moved, and the tender on all sides as plausibly accepted. This sends Edward, scarce a king of nine months standing, into France; and brings him back, seised of a jewel, which not being rightly valued, occasioned his ensuing ruin. The excellency of so sweet and virtuous a companion could not so surprize her bridegroom, but Gaveston still kept possession of the fairest room in his affections. He makes it more noto rious, by creating him Earl of Cornwall, and the gift of the goodly castle and lordship of Wallingford. Gaveston applies himself wholly to the humour of the King, and makes each word that falls from his mouth an oracle; their affections go hand in hand, and the apparent injustice of the one never found contradiction in the other. The subject's voice was so fortunate, that it was always concurrent where the King maintained the party. If the discourse were arms, Gaveston extolled it as an heroic virtue ; if peace, he maintained it not more useful than necessary : unlawful pleasure he styled a noble recreation ; and unjust actions, the proper and becoming fruits of an absolute monarchy. These glosses so betray the willing ear that heard them, that no honour is thought good and great enough for the reporter. The greatest command and offices are in the person or disposure of Gaveston. The com mand of war, and all provisions foreign and domestic, are committed solely to his care and custody. All treaties for peace or war had their success or ruin, by his direction and plea sure. The King signed no dispatch private or publick, but by his consent or appointment : so that all men believed their sovereign to be but a mere royal shadow, without a real sub stance. Neither was it enough to advance him beyond his desert, or the rules of a modest proportion; but his power must be made more extant in the. commitment to the Tower of the Bishop of Chester, whom he quarrels, as the occasion of his first banishment. These insolencies, carried with so great a height and contempt, are accompanied with all the remonstrances of a justly-grieved kingdom. The ancient nobility, that disdained such an equal, justly exclaim against the iniquity of the time, that made him their superior. The grave senators, that understood their own worths, are discontent to see themselves rejected, , while upstarts, by money or favour, possess the higher places. The soldier, that with his blood had purchased his experience, laments his own dishonour, seeing unworthy striplings advanced, while he, like the ruins of a goodly building, is left to the wide world, without use or reparation. The commons in a more intemperate fashion make known their griefs and sad oppressions. The Life of Edward the Second. 71 Gaveston, that both saw and knew the general discontent, sought not to redress it, but, with an ill-advised confidence, strives to outdare the worst of his approaching danger. Lin coln, Warwick, and Pembroke, whose noble hearts disdained the overgrown height of this untimely mushroom ; let the King know their fidelity, and his apparent error. He must free himself, and right them, or else they will seek it in another fashion. Edward knew their complaints were just, yet was most unwilling to hear or relieve them; till seeing their strong resolution, and himself wholly unprovided to withstand the danger, -he makes his affections stoop to the present necessity, and consents to a second banishment of his so dearly beloved favourite. Gaveston, in the height and pride of his ambition, is forced to leave his protector, and to make Ireland the place of his abiding. With a sad heart he takes his leave, departing, yet, with more desire of revenge, than sorrow for his absence. All things thus reconciled, the kingdom began to receive a new life ; men's hopes were suitable to their desires, and all things seem to promise a swift and fair reformation. But the bewitching charms of this wily serpent made it soon evident, that alone his death must prevent his mischief. The personal correspondence taken away, the affections of the rest less King become far more violent. In the short interim of his absence, many reciprocal and sweet messages interchangeably pass betwixt them : Edward receives none but he returns with a golden interest. He is not more sensible of his loss, than the affront and injury, which persuades him, it were too great indignity for him to suffer at the hand of a subject : though, with his own hazard, he once more calls him home, pacifying the incensed lords, with an assurance of reconciliation and amendment. Those strict admonitions, so fully expressed, were not powerful enough to reclaim the fondness of the one, and insolency of the other. \ The King, regaining thus his beloved minion, doats on him in a far greater measure; and he, to make the musick perfect, is of a far more violent temper. He affronts and condemns his adversaries, the ancient nobility ; surreptitiously wasting and embezzling the revenues of the crown. He inflames the King's heart, so apt to receive it, with all the motives of re venge, unquietness, and disorder. The jewels of the crown, and that rich table and tressels of gold, are purloined and pawned, to supply this wanton riot. He had so true a know ledge of his master's weakness, that he made him solely his. His creatures were alone pre ferred, his agents were the guides, and no man hath the King's ear, hand, or purse, but such as were by Gaveston preferred or recommended. Edward, by his voluptuous sensuality, supplies the place; but he had the sole execution of that royal prerogative, that was alone proper to the crown. The nobility, whose lion- hearts struggled betwixt the sense of their just grief and allegiance, at length resolve; the King, as to himself, must be so to them and the kingdom, or they may no more endure it. With grave and weighty reasons, they make the King know both the error and the vanity of his affections ; letting him truly understand, that they had a dear interest, both in him and the kingdom, which they would no longer suffer to be so abused and misguided. Edward, being himself thus hardly pressed, and that no intreaty or dissimulation could prevail, he must now set right the disorders of the kingdom, or have his work done to his hand, with less honour, and more danger. Once more he subscribes to their will, which he sees he cannot withstand or alter. Gaveston is again banished, and makes Flanders, the next neighbour, the place of his reception. Infinite was the joy of the kingdom, who now ex pected a secure freedom from that dangerous convulsion that threatened so apparent an in testine ruin. This their imaginary happiness was made more real and perfect, in the knowledge that Windsor had blessed them with an heir apparent. The royal father is pleased with the news, but had not (whether his divining spirit, or Gavestoh's absence, were the cause) those true expressions of joy, that in justice became so great a blessing. The absence of his minion could not lighten his heavy soul ; but all other .comforts seemed vain and counterfeit : his distracted drains take new and desperate resolutions; he revokes the sentence of his grief, and vows to justify it against the utmost strength of contradiction. 72 The Life of Edward the Second. He that dares do those things that are dishonest and unjust, is not ashamed to justify and maintain them : this error gave this unfortunate King more enemies than he had friends to defend them. Kings that once falsify their faiths, more by their proper will, than a neces sary impulsion, grow infamous to foreign nations, and fearful or suspected to their own peculiar subjects. He that is guilty of doing ill; and justifies the action, makes it evident ne hath won unto himself a habit of doing so, and a daring impudence to maintain it by the protection, of which he believes all things in a politick wisdom lawful. This position may, for a time, flatter the professor, but it perpetually ends with infamy ; which stands with reason and justice: for, as virtue is the road-way to perfection, so is the corruption of a false heart the true path to a certain and an unpitied ruin. The enraged Barons are not more sensible of their own disparagement, than the incon stancy and injustice of their Sovereign. They think this ' affront, done to them and the whole kingdom, of too high a nature to be dispensed with ; yet, with a temperate resolution, they awhile attend the issue. The actions of injustice seldom lessen ; they believe progression to be in all things an excellent moral virtue. He that hath a will to do ill, and doeth it, sel dom looks back, until he be at the toP °f tne stairs. This makes the ill-affected return of this our favourite, more infamous and hated. With an imperious storm, he lets the Lords know, he meditates nothing but revenge, and waits a fit advantage to entertain it. They believe time ill lost, in so weighty a cause, and therefore draw themselves and their forces- together, before the King could prevent, or his abuser shun it. The clouds presaging so great a storm, he studies the best means he could to avoid it. The general distaste of the kingdom takes from him the hope of an able party. Scarborough castle, his last refuge, he makes his sanctuary ; but it was too weak against, the number of his enemies, and the justice of their quarrel. He falls at length into the power of those from whom he had no cause to expect protection or mercy. The butterflies of thetime, that were the friends of his fortunes, not, him ; seeing the season changed, betake themselves to the warmer climate. His greatness had won him many servants ; but they were but retainers, that, like rats, forsook the house, when they beheld it falling. The spring was laden with many glorious and goodly blos soms, but the winter of his age leaves him naked, without a leaf to trust to. In this uncomfortable case, remains this glorious cedar, in the hands of those, whom, in his greater height, he had too much condemned and abused. They resolve to make short and sure work, unwillipg to receive a command to the contrary, which they must not obey, though it should come from him to whom they had sworn obedience. Forsaken, unpitied, scorned, and hated, he falls under the hands of justice. Gaverseed2 is the place which gives the epilogue to this fatal tragedy, whence his adversaries return more satisfied than assured. Thus fell that glorious minion of Edward the Second, who, for a time, appeared like a blazing comet, and swayed the jurisdiction of the State of England, and her confederates. He did not remember, in the smiles and embraces of his lovely mistress,, that she was blind" nor made himself such a refuge as might secure him when she proved inconstant. Such a providence had made his end as glorious, as his beginning fortunate, leaving neither to the * just, censure of time or envy. The King's vexations, in the knowledge, are as infinite as hopeless; his passions transport him beyond the height of sorrow. He vows a bitter revenge, which, in his weakness, he strives to execute with more speed than advisement. The graver senators, that had most interest in his favour, mildly discourse his loss to the best advantage. They lay before him his contempt and abusive carriage, his insolence, honour beyond his birth, and wealth above his merit; which must, to all ages, give a just cause to approve their actions, and his for tune. The least touch of his memory adds more to the King's affliction, who is fixed not to forget, or forgive, so bold and heinous a trespass. The operations in the King were yet so powerful, but the jealousies of the actors areas cautelous ; so fair a warning-piece bids them in time make good their own security. Lin, ' [Blacklow-hill, near Warwick, say our historians.] The Life of Edward the Second. 73 coin, the principal pillar of this faction, follows his adversary to the grave, but with a much fairer fortune. .This man was a goodly piece of true nobility, being in speech and conver sation sweet and affable ; in resolution grave and weighty ; his aged temper active above belief; and his wisdom far more excellent in a solid inward knowledge, than in outward appearance. When the harbinger of death plucked him by the sleeve, and he saw and knew he must leave the world, he calls unto him Thomas Earl of Lancaster, that had married his daughter, giving him a strict imposition on his death-bed, that he should carefully maintain the welfare of the kingdom, and make good his place among the Barons. This reverend old statesman saw the King's ways, and knew him to be a most implacable enemy; and, with a kind of speculative prediction, would often seem to lament the misery of the time, where either the King, kingdom, or both must suffer. The son, whose noble heart was before seasoned with the same impressions, assures it ; which he in time as really performs, though it cost him the loss of his estate, life, and honour. Things are too, far past to admit a reconciliation ; the King's meditations are solely fixed upon revenge; and the Lords, how they may prevent or withstand it. The kingdom hangs in a doubtful suspense, and" all men's minds are variously carried with the expectation of what would be the issue. Meditation and intercession brings it at length to parliamentary discussion ; which being assembled at London, enacts many excellent laws, and binds both the King and Lords, by a solemn oath to observe them. Thus the violence of this fire is awhile suppressed, and raked up in the embers, that it may (in opportunity and advantage) beget a great danger. A new occasion presents itself, that makes each part temporize for a while, and smothers the thoughts of the ensuing rumour. Robert le Bruce re-enters Scotland, whence he had heen by Edward the First expulsed ; inverting all the English institutions, that had so lately settled the peace and subjection of the kingdom. Edward, tender of his honour, and careful to preserve that purchase that had proved so dear a bargain, adjourns his pri vate spleen, and provides to suppress this unlooked-for rebellion. He knew the justice of his quarrel, and wakens from the dream, that had given him so large a cause of sorrow. He gives his intentions a small intermission, and a less respite ; with all speed, he levies an army, and leads it with his own person. Whether it were the justice of Heaven, or his own misfortune or improvidence, the Scots attend and encounter him, making Eastrivelyn3 the fatal witness of his disaster. His army lost and defeated, he returns home laden with his own shame and sorrow. His return is welcomed with a strange impostor, that pretends himself the heir of Edward the First, and the King the son of a baker4. A tale, so weak in truth and probability, wins neither belief or credit. Voidras, this imaginary king, is apprehended, and makes Northampton gallows the first stair of his preferment. His exe cution is accompanied with as strange a story, which suggests the instigation of a spirit, that, in likeness of a cat, had for two years space advised it. The King, with a true feeling grief, lamenting his dishonourable return from Scotland, where his noble father had so oft displayed his victorious arms, doth vow with a speedy rescue to revenge it. He communicates his resolution with the whole body of his council, who are, in their advice, equally concurrent in the action. The former loss exacts a more care, and a better provision. York, as the fittest place, is made the senate of this grave assembly. Thither resort all the sages of the kingdom, and make it their first deliberation to secure Berwick, that is one of the keys of the. kingdom, and exposed to the greatest hazard. This charge is given to Sir Peter Spalden5, who was believed able enough, both in fidelity and valour. A short time discovers him truly possessed of neither. A small sum of money, with an expectant preferment promised, betrays the trust reposed, and gives the Scots the full possession of the charge to him committed6. 3 [Or Stirling; near which was fought the battle of Bannuckbourn.] 4 [Orof a tanner, whose name was Deydras.] s [Or Spalding.] f [After which, according to Walsingham, he was hanged by Robert Bruce.] VOL. I. L 74 The Life of Edward the Second. The Pope, wisely foreseeing into the misery of this dissension, out of his Christian and pious care, sends over two Cardinals, to mediate a peace and agreement. They, being arrived in England, find the King well disposed, so the conditions might be reasonable, and such as might become his interest and honour. They pass from hence into Scotland, and are by the way, with a barbarous example, surprized and robbed. The King is infinitely dis contented with so inhuman an act, that threw a taint upon the whole nation. Great inquiry is presently made, which finds out the actors, and sends Sir Peter Middleton, and Sir Walter Selby, to a shameful and Untimely execution. Immediately at the heels of this follows another example, no less infamous, and full of danger. Sir Gilbert Denvil, and others, pretending themselves to be outlaws, with a jolly army, to the number of two hundred, ramble up and down the country, acting divers notorious insolencies and robberies. The fame of an attempt so new and unexpected, without a speedy prevention, seemed to intimate a greater danger. A commission is immediately sent out, which apprehends the heads of this increasing mischief, and delivers them over to the hand of justice. They which Confessed themselves out of the protection of the law, and glory in their being so, fall under his rigour. Those, that duly examined the truth of this action, believed the pretence to be but a mask, that hid a more perilous intention. The King, by his ' untemperate and undiscreet actions, had lost the hearts of his people, and there was a general face of discontent throughout the whole kingdom. The ulcers festered daily more and more, which seemed to presage and threaten, without some speedy prevention, a dangerous issue. All men discover their ill affections, expecting but a patron, that durst declare himself, and adventure to hang the bell about the cat's neck. If this disorderly attempt, which was but to taste the people's inclinations, had succeeded ; the King (as it was to be feared) had much sooner felt the general loss and revolt of his whole kingdom. But this work was reserved to future time, and the operation of those who had the time to effect it with more power and pretence of justice. The crying maladies of this climate were such, that the Divine Power sent down, at one and the self-same instant, his three fatal executioners, Plague, Dearth, and Famine, to call upon us for a repentant reformation. No part of the kingdom is free; but was grievously afflicted by the unmerciful prosecution of one, or all these fatal angry sisters. So great a misery was too much ; but it is seconded with a sudden invasion of the hungry Scots, who, apprehending the advantage of the present visitation and ill estate of their neighbours, like a land-flood, overrun the naked and unprovided borders. The Archbishop of York, a grave and wise prelate in his element, (but as far from the nature as name of a soldier,) resolves to oppose this over-daring and insolent eruption. He levies in haste an army, in number hopeful ; but it was composed of men, fitter to pray for the success of a battle, than to fight it. With these, and an undaunted. hoping spirit, he affronts the Scots, and gives them battle ; making Mitton upon Swale, that honoured his enemies with the glory of a second triumph, the place of his disaster. Many religious churchmen, with the purchase of their lives, begin their first apprenticeship in arms ; whose loss christened this overthrow, " The White Battle7." The intent of this grave prelate was, questionless, worthy of a great and singular com mendation, but the act was wholly inconsiderate, weak, and unadvised. It was not proper for his calling to undertake a military function, in which he had no experience ; neither did it agree with his wisdom or piety, to be an actor in blood, though the occasion were so great and weighty. Too much care and confidence, improperly expressed, doth many times overthrow and ruin the cause it seeks to.strengthen and advantage. There ought to be, in all considerations of this nature, a mature deliberation, before we come to action, else we lose the glory of our aims, and commit all to the uncertain hazard of time and fortune. The Cardinals are now returned out of Scotland, by whom the King truly understands, that the hopes of peace are desperate. Their leave taken, and losses fairly repaired, they return to Rome, acquainting his Holiness with the success of their employment. The Pope being 7 [From some English priests being killed in the fight with their surplices on. Rapin.] The Life of Edward the Second. 75 truly informed, that the Scots were neither conformable to his will, or the general good, excommunicates both that usurping King and kingdom. The King, nearly touched with the loss of Berwick, inflamed with the insolency of his barbarous enemies, and grieved with so great a loss of his people, resolves no more to suffer, but to transport the war into the very bowels of Scotland. To this effect, with speed he hastens out his directions, and gives present order for the levying of men, arms, and money, to begin the war, and continue it. The royal command, and desire of revenge, gives wings to this resolution. An army is ready, and attends the King's pleasure, before he conceits his will truly understood, or bruited. Nothing is wanting but his own person, or a fit commander, to lead them; he loseth no time, but appears in the head of his army, before his enemies had the least knowledge of this assembly. With a hopeful expectation he leads them on, and makes Berwick the rendezvous, that should make his number complete and perfect. Before this strength that had the warranty of art and nature, he makes the first experiment of this expedition. The town, begirt, was not more confident of their own strength, than assured of a speedy supply or rescue. This gave the King a longer delay than he believed, and his enemies leisure to raise and enable their provisions. They saw it a work too full of danger and hazard, to venture the breach of the body of so great an army, that in worth and number so far exceeded. The memory of former passages and trials taught them how to understand their present condition ; this begets in them a reso lution more solid and hopeful. They leave the roadway,, and war rather by discretion than valour; which succeeds' so fortunately, that they surprize all the English provisions, and enforce the King to a second return,, more fortunate, yet much less honourable. It is true, he retreated, and brought back his army in safety ; but he had quitted the siege, which he had vowed to continue against the united power of Scotland, and lost wholly all that, wealth and luggage he had carried with him. This filled all men's mouths with a complaining grief, and made foreign nations think the English had lost their former lustre, and renowned valour. It was wondered, that an enemy so weak and contemptible should, three several times successively, bear away the garland from those, that had so often and knew the way so well to win and wear it. But now begins a second fire of a higher nature, that made the kingdom a theatre stained with the noblest blood, that within her confines had or life or being. The King, discouraged with his foreign fortune, lays aside the thoughts of arms, and recalls into his wanton heart the bewitching vanities of his youth, that had formerly bred him such dis temper. He was royally attended ; but it was by those that made their tongues rather the orators of a pleasing falsehood, than a true sincerity. These were fit instruments for such an ear, that would not hear, unless the music answered in an even correspondency. The infidelity of the servant is, in a true construction, the misery of the master; which is more or less dangerous, as is the weight or measure of his employment. It is, in the election of a crown, a principal consideration to choose such attendants, whose integrity may be the inducement, as well as the ability; else the imaginary help proves rather a danger than assistance. Neither is it safe or honourable, for the majesty of a King, to seem to depend solely on the wisdom, care, or fidelity of one particular servant. Multiplicity of able men is the glory and safety of a crown, which falls by degrees into confusion, when one man alone acts all parts, whence proceeds a world of error and confusion. . The King was not ignorant, that such a course would make such as were his but at second-hand; yet he resolves to make a new choice of one to supply the room of his lost beloved Gaveston. Though his diseased court was furnished with a large variety, yet his- eye fixeth on Hugh, the younger of the Spencers, who was always tractable and con formable to the King's will and pleasure. This man was in show smooth and humble, of an insinuating spirit, one that knew his master's ways, and was ever careful to observe them. He had applied himself wholly to Edward's will, and fed his wanton pleasures with the strains of their own affection. Heat of spirit, and height of blood, consult more with passion than reason, and a short deliberation may serve, where the subject was so pleasing, and to each side agreeable. . The King, to make his resolutions eminent, with more haste than advisement, makes him 76 The Life of Edward the Second. his lord-chamberlain, and lets the world know, it was his love-and will that thus advanced him. Scarcely is this new great officer warm in his unbefitting authority, but he exactly follows his predecessor-precedent to the life, making all things lawful that were agreeable to his master's will, or his fantastical humour. The Peers of the kingdom, that saw the sudden and hasty growth of this undeserving canker, resolve to lop or root it up, before it should overtop their lustre. Spencer, that in the precedent story of Gaveston, beheld the danger of his own condition, begins in time to provide and strengthen a party. His aged father, fitter for his beads than action, he makes a young courtier, and wins the King to give him power and assistance. He labours to remove from his master's ear all such as might endanger him, and supplies their places with such as were his creatures. Those that were too high for such a surprisal, by persuasion, money, or alliance, he seeks to engage, and make the parties of this his- coming faction. The body of the court thus assured, his actions in the state went in an even correspondency. Those that held him at a distance, valuing their fidelity and honour before so base an ad vantage, saw themselves disgracefully cashiered, and others installed in their rooms, that had neither worth, birth, or merit. The factious entertainers of his proffered amity, not only enjoy their own, but are advanced higher, which made them but the instruments to act and further the corruptions of his will and wicked nature. This foundation laid, they now seem to contemn all fear of danger, and in that assurance, express their contempt and scorn against the Nobility, who they knew would never entertain their society or friendship. While thus the rule and manage of all the royal affairs in their power was daily more and more abused, the incensed Barons met at Sherborough, where the Earl of Lancaster, the prime agent, lays before them, in a short and grave dis course, the iniquity and danger that seemed eminently to threaten both them and the whole kingdom, if such a resolution were not taken, as might assure a speedy prevention. The fore-knowledge of their Sovereign's behaviour, which would observe no rule or pro portion in his immodest affections, gave them small hope to prevail by persuasion or entreaty. They too well understood, that Spencer's pride was too great and haughty to go • less without compulsion, and they must sink a key, or neither the kingdom or themselves (against so inveterate a hatred) could expect, in reason, safety or assurance. Hertford, Mowbray, and Clifford soar a higher pitch, and, in plain forms, affirm, that all other resolutions were vain and hopeless, it was only arms that, must right the time and state so much disordered, Benningfield and Mortimer approve this resolution, and as soon give it life and action; they enter furiously on the possessions of their enemies, spoiling and wasting like professed enemies. • , Such an outrage flies with a nimble wing to the ears of the owner, who as soon makes the King the sharer of his intelligence, and increaseth it to his own advantage. The King, sensible of so great an affront, and as tender of the one, as cruel t6 the other, publisheth, by proclamation, the sentence^ of his royal will and pleasure. The actors of this misde meanour must appear and justify themselves, or presently forsake.the kingdom. The Lords, that saw their interest, at stake, as they had begun, resolve to maintain the quarrel. New levies and preparations are daily made, to make good the succeeding issue. Yet the more to justify those arms, that in the best construction were deemed rebellious, they send to the King a fair and humble message : the tenor whereof lets him know, their intentions were fair and honest, and the arms, thus levied, were rather to defend, than offend his person ; only they in all humility desire, he would be graciously pleased to remove and punish those vipers, , which had too near a room in his royal heart, whereby they had overthrown and undone the peace and tranquillity of the kingdom. The King, that fears, is enforced to believe. He knew their informations were just, and he had no power to deny or withstand them. He assures a reformation ; to make it more real, he adjourns it to the ensuing parliament, which is immediately summoned to appear at London. The jealous Lords, that too well knew the cunning and hatred of their mali cious adversaries, appear like themselves, bravely attended with a crew of lusty yeomen well armed, which styled this " The Parliament of White Bands7." The Mayor, seeing such 7 [On account of pertain white marks by which the adherents of the Barons were to know one another. Rapin.] The Life of Edward the Second. 77 a confluence from all parts of the kingdom, so ill inclined and well appointed, with a careful providence reinforceth the city guards, and planteth a strong watch throughout all, the strengths and parts of his jurisdiction. This great assembly being now met, the complaining Barons find in both houses a ready belief, and as sudden a censure. A solemn declaration gives the King knowledge of their sentence, which commands both the Spencers, father and son, into perpetual exile. The King, as weak in his disability, as wilful in the least advantage, gives a sad and unwilling consent ; which, being known, gives the Spencers no time of imparleance; their judgement is immediately put in execution, and they find more servants than they desire to attend them to Dover, where they are immediately shipped, to go and seek a new fortune. The elder, whose snowy age, and more innocence, deserved pity, makes his tears witness his true sorrow, and his tongue unfold them. He taxeth his son's vanity and ambition, and Ins own weakness, that had so easily consented to his ruin. He laments his misfortune, that in the winter of his age had cast him from his inheritance, and had made him the sea mark and scorn of a whole kingdom. He confesseth the folly, that led him (by indirect means) to the preservation of his high and ill-acquired greatness. He wisheth that his car riage had been such, that, in this so sad change of fortune, he might have found either pity or assistance. But it is the inseparable companion of greatness that is gotten in the by-way, and not by a just desert or virtue. It labours to support itself more by cunning and false hood, than by a sweet and winning temper, when it is of all others the most erroneous maxim, that believes affections can be in a subordinate way gotten or assured. They are the proper functions of the soul, which move alone in their own course, without force, or the least impulsion. All other ways are but temporary provisions, that serve the present advantage ; but he, that by a just desert wins the love and belief of his worth, hath laid a sure foundation ; making his honour his own, and the succession hereditary and permanent, to his everlasting glory. Theseimperious servants thus removed, the father, in obedience to his doom, betakes him self to a foreign quietness. The son, of a more turbulent and revengeful spirit, keeps still a sea-board in the skirts of the kingdom, and falling short in power, to requite the authors of his disgrace, he expresseth his malice to the whole nation. The merchants, free from all suspicion, in their voyages and returns, are pillaged and rifled, and he the principal actor. Such a domestick piracy begets a general terror and exclamation, which fills the King's ears, and presseth (as it required) a speedy prevention or remedy. He knew the action. was foul, but it was one of his own that had done it ; and such a one that was too dearly valued, to be either persecuted or punished. He studies first to satisfy his own passion, before he right this injurious carriage against the subject. This makes him reject the wholesome ad monition of friends, the validity of his laws, and those fearful apparitions that present him with the danger of so foul an enterprise, while with an example new, and full of assured hazard, he repeals the sentence of their exile. This act gave him too large a time of re pentance, and may be a befitting instance to all ensuing posterity. The actions of a crown are exemplary, and should be clean, pure, and innocent ; the stains of their errors die not with them, but are registered in the story of their lives, either with honour or infamy. But to proceed in this historical relation. The Spencers thus recalled, and reinvested in their former favour, they express themselves in another kind ; and now, by a strong hand, strive to crush, by degrees, all those of the adverse faction. Sir Bartholomew Baldsmer was the first that tasted their fury and injustice. , His castle of Leedes in Kent, under a pretended and feigned title, is surprized and taken from him, without a due form, or any legal pro ceeding. Their return, and the abrogation of that law that banished them, was provoca tion enough ; there needed not this second motive to inflame the hearts of the angry Barons. , But when the unjust oppression of the knight (their ally and confederate) was divulged, and came to their ears, they vow a bitter revenge, and make speed to put it in execution. They see the fruits of their dalliance, and long-abusfed confidence, and waken out of that slumber that had fed him with the chimeras of so dull and cold a proceeding. The King, who formerly had been so often surprized, in time arrives to provide a remedy. He knew his arms, and not his tongue, must plead the injustice of his actions, wherein, if 78 The Life of Edward the Second. he again failed, he feared another manner of proceeding. The Spencers, that evidently saw theeminency of their own dangers, make it their masterpiece to crush the serpent in the head before it grew to perfection. They knew the height of their offences were beyond the hope °f mercy ; and there was no way left of assurance, but that, which they must wade through in blood, and make good, with the sword, their lives, or else be sure to* lose them. An army is provided, and appears at Shrewsbury almost before it was bruited.. The first exploit seizeth the two. Mortimers, that had begun again their former invasion of the Spencers. Their strength was great enough for such an incursion, but much too weak to- withstand or encounter this royal army. This first hansel, so fortunate, gives life to. their adversaries, and imprisons them in the Tower, before their associates could be truly informed, or ready to relieve them. There is now left no time to dispute; the Barons must with their arms warrant their proceedings, or they must miscarry in the action. They had soon gathered a strengthj with which they resolve to encounter the King at Burton. The knowledge of the great ptiwer that came against them, and their own weakness, wins them to- a retreat, not more dangerous than dishonourable. But their reasons were just and weighty ; the Earl of Lan caster had sent Sir Robert Holland to raise his tenants and friends, which he hoped would,. in time, reinforce his army. Valence, Earl of Pembroke, that commands his master's forces, seeing the disorder of their going off, lays hold of the advantage, and chargeth them so hotly, that they break and betake themselves to their heels, with great losses and confusion. Holland, entrusted by the Earl of Lancaster, having accordingly performed the work he was employed in, marching up to the rescue, is advertised of the state of their affairs; which makes him seek his own peace, and resign this supply wholly up, to be disposed at the King's will and pleasure. The supply, so unexpected, is graciously received j_ and there is a set resolution. to employ it to the best advantage. The despairing Lords, with their adherents, with much ado- recover Pbmfret : there a second deliberation is taken, which held it the safest course to pass on, and to possess the castle of Dbnstanborough, which was deemed a. strength tenable enough until they could reinforce their party, or work their own conditions. This resolution is presently attempted with more haste than fortune. Sir Andrew Harkely meets and encounters them at Burrow- bridge, where Hertford, Clifford, and others, died honourably, in maintaining a brave de- fence; while Lancaster, Mowbray, and many of their adherents were taken, and with. their heads paid the ransom of their errors. The Spencers, like two furious tigers that had. seized- their prey, give not their incensed master leave to deliberate on the weight of so sad a work; the lives of many brave subjects are taken away in an instant, and each part of the kingdom is stained with loss of that noble blood, that had been much more gloriously spent in a foreign war, than in these domestic and civil tumults. Edward, who was apparently guilty of too many other vices, drowns their memory in this so cruel and bloody a tyranny. The wreaking blood of so many brave: gentlemen,* so unfortunately and untimely lost, doth cry for vengeance, and hurry on the destruction of. the chief and principal actors. Mercy should precede the severity of justice; if not to all, yet to some, since they were not alike guilty. If Lancaster had been of so unnoble a dis position, the Spencers bad neither had time nor cause to rejoice in his ruin. How often had they by a full advantage had power of these their enemies, yet made it evident, their aims were not blood but reformation : and assuredly, in this their last act, their intents to- , wards the crown were innocent in all other respects, than the desire of supporting it. with more honour. As things fell afterwards out, it had been to the King a happiness if their arms had prevailed ; for this victory was the principal and fundamental cause of his ensuing ruin. Fear, and the expectation of danger, kept both him and his favourites in a better temper* so long as there was so strong a bridle. Certainly, in the regimen of a kingdom, it is a wise and discreet consideration to maintain and uphold a divided faction, and to 'counte nance them so, that the one may be still a counterpoise to the other; by this means the King shall be more truly served and informed. The subject that is too far exalted, and, hath no one to contradict or question him, con- The Life of Edward the Second. 79 Riders not the justice, but the means to preserve him; by which the judgment of the King is taxed, and he is robbed of the hearts of his people. The greater the height, the stronger is the working to maintain it, which seldom goes alone, but is accompanied, for the most part, With those state-actions of impiety and injustice, which draws with it so perpetual an envy and hatred, that it leads him headlong to a fatal and dishonourable conclusion. Though the fury of this enraged King had so fully acted this bloody tragedy ; yet Mortimer is spared, rather out of forgetfulness than pity, whose life had been more available than all these, that with so great a speed had felt his rigour. But he is reserved for a second course, to teach the Spencers the same legem talionis, and Edward the plain song of his error. The kingdom seems now in better peace and settled ; the principal pillars of the commonwealth were taken away, and those which remained are utterly disheartened in the danger of so fresh an example. This gains such a liberty to these triumphing sycophants, that they make the whole king dom, as it were, the just fruits of an absolute conquest. The King approves and maintains their actions, giving them the regal power for their warranty. All kinds of insolent and unjust oppressions are now confidently practised, without contradiction or question. No exaction or unlawful action is left unattempted, while the grieved kingdom languisheth under the burthen, yet durst not stir to redress it. The great ones suffer basely beyond their birth or honour, yet look faintly one upon another, aor daring to revenge their quarrel. The Commons murmuring complain, yet find not a man that will give them heart or leading. The watchful Spencers, that saw and knew the general hatred, and infamy of their own conditions, lessen not their height, or fear the sequel. With a politick care they use their best means to prevent it. The King's humour, naturally vicious, they feed with all the proper objects, that might please or more betray his senses. They strive to make liim alike hateful his subjects, that in the change of fortune they might together run one and the selfsame hazard. There is yet another piece of state to this great work as proper. Edward is but a man, and a creature in nothing more constant than his affections ; yet these with age and time may alter: this gap must be stopped, that they may be more assured. Hugh, the younger of the Spencers, who had a searching brain, wise and active, believes this work had two several dependencies ; the one to keep him in continual fear, the other in a perpetual want. These, being marshalled with discretion, he knew would knit fast his master's love, and add to the opinion of his wisdom and fidelity ; imposing a kind of necessary impulsion still to continue him. In his breast alone were locked all the passages and mysteries of state, whereby he was most able to provide for the future inconveniencies. From this ground, with a kind of loose scorn, lie continues the French correspondence, and secretly contriveth a continuance of the Scotish rebellion. He omits no act of con tempt against the antient Nobility, that they might in the sense of their disgrace be, or at least daily threaten some new combustion. The confluence of so many threatening dan gers work the wished effect, and keep the King in perpetual fear and agitation. The ill success of his armies, and expeditions in their memory, help strongly to increase it : yet is not his faithful servant neglecting in the second and remaining part: He so orders his business, 'within doors and without, that the royal treasure of the crown is profusely wasted and spent, without account or honour. The antient plate and jewels of the crown are in the Lombard, and their engagement drowned, before it had the warmth of a sure possession. The subject is racked with strange inventions, and new unheard-of propositions for money, and many great loans required, beyond all proportion or order. Lastly, the royal demeans are set at sale, and all things that might make money within the kingdom. To supply these inconveniencies, which are now grown to a greater height than the plotter of them intended, a new parliament is called at York, where the elder Spencer is ad vanced to the Earldom of Winchester; and Harkely, another chip of the same block, is made Earl of Carlisle: Baldock, a mean man in birth, worth, and ability, is made Lord Chancellor of England. In this parliament, which was by fear and favour made to his hand, he makes known the greatness of his want and occasions; the justly aggrieved Commons, entering into a deep 80 The Life of Edward the Second. consideration of the times, freely give the sixth penny of all the temporal goods throughout the kingdom. When this act came to the general knowledge, it utterly estranged the hearts of the subjects, which plead an impossibility to perform it, in respect of those many former ex actions : yet after some light contestation it is levied, no man daring to make so much as a show of resistance. If we may credit all the. antient historians, who seem to agree in this relation, there were seen, at this time, many sights fearful and prodigious. Amongst them no one was so re markable,* as that which for six hours space shewed the glorious sun clothed all in perfect blood, to the great admiration and amazement of all those that beheld it. Following times, that, had recorded it in their memories by the sequel, believed it the fatal prediction of the ensuing miseries. Those, that more aptly censure the present view of a wonder, conceited, the just heavens shewed their incensed anger, for the noble blood of the Earl of Lan caster, and his adherents, so cruelly shed, without compassion or mercy. The Scots working on the condition of the times, so much dejected and amazed, seize the advantage. They saw by the last parliamentary proceedings, that the, King was so en abled, as the hope of any attempt, in England, was altogether hopeless. Yet they resolve to be doing somewhere within the King's dominions, or at least hjs jurisdiction. This draws them to assemble themselves, and to attempt a surprisal of the northern places in Ireland. As, the action was vain, so the success proved as unfortunate ; they are defeated, slain, overthrown, and return not with the twentieth part of their number. The King, remembering those many indignities he had suffered, and resenting this their last attempt, with an implacable scorn and anger, resolves to let them speedily know that he meant to call them to an after-reckoning. Upon this he sends out his summons, to call his men of war together, and makes all provisions be prepared, for this so constantly resolved a journey. His former misfortunes had instructed him to undertake this design much more strongly and warily. And this so grave a consideration brought him together the remaining glory and strength of the greater part of his kingdom. With these he marcheth forward and invadeth the nearer parts of Scotland ; but, whether it were the in fidelity of those about him, the will and pleasure of Him that is the guider and director of human actions, or the unfortunate destiny of this unhappy King, he is enforced to return, without doing any act that is truly worthy his greatness or memory. The wily Scots, that durst not set upon the face of his army, wait upon the rear, and, in a watched opportunity, surprize his stuff and treasure. This sends him home a third time a discontented man ; and, whether with a just guilt, or to transfer his own fault upon others, the newly-created Earl of Carlisle is pul; to a shameful execution. The grounds against him were very probable, but not certain, and it was enough that he is believed, like Judas, for money to have sold his master. The principal motive, that may lead us to think he was deeply faulty, was the honour and gravity of his trial, which gave him, on a full hearing, so sincere and sharp a sentence. Scarcely is the King settled, after his tedious journey, when comes a stranger news ; that the French King had made a hostile attempt upon the frontier-parts of Guyenne, which was seconded with a declaration, that he was no longer resolved to entertain the friendship or peace with England. This feat had been cunningly beforehand wrought by the secret working of Spencer ; yet he desired to have it still in agitation, and not in action. He wished his master thence might be possessed with the fear of war, and not feel it. The French were of another mind ; they saw into the great disorders and misguidance of England, and thought it a fit time, either by war or policy, to unite so goodly a branch of their kingdom. It is true, they had matched a daughter of France to the crown of England, and had solemnly sworn a peace, but these they thought might be with ease dispensed with on so weighty a cause, and so fair an ad vantage. Edward seeing into the danger, and taxing bitterly the infidelity of the French, begins to survey his own condition, whereby he might accordingly sort his resolution, either to entertain the war, or to seek peace upon some honourable, or at least reasonable con ditions. - The Life of Edward the Second. 81 He in this passage finds himself more hated and feared than beloved ; he saw his coffers empty ; the Scotish war and surprisal had quite exhausted the sinews of his last parlia mentary contribution; he feared the inclination of the subjects would refuse any further suPph/, or> m consenting, make it conditional, which he was unwilling to undergo or adventure. Lastly, The misfortune, that waited on him ever since he was absolute, he feared, had estranged and dejected so the hearts of his soldiers, that they would hardly be drawn forth, or act any thing with their accustomed valour and resolution. In this distraction, he seeks not by the advice of a grave council to qualify or prevent it ; this medicine he conceits is worse than the disease; but calls unto him Spencer, the cabinet of his heart; he alone is thought fit to communicate this deep secret, and to give the resolution. His, father, Bal dock, and the rest of that faction, by his persuasion and entreaty, are admitted, to make, the party greater, and the discourse more serious and likely. Before them is laid the condition of the King, the estate of the kingdom, tlieir own danger, and the intentions of their foreign adversary. Many several ways are devised and advised, and in conclusion* no one is believed more sound and proper, than that the Queen should personally mediate the atonement with her royal brother. This as it was cunningly laid, so had it a double use and reflection. The Spencers saw the subjects more inclinable to adore the rising sun, in which act they thought the Queen's mediation and presence would be a dangerous insti gator. They believed her absence could not work such and so great an assistance as might countervail the domestick danger. They knew the French light and inconstant, and those which, with a kind of natural fear, abhorred the English wars, out of the limits of their own kingdom. And in the worst construction they conceited money, or a resignation of that part which was holden by the King in France, would beget a peace at their own will and pleasure. Yet" these considerations were attended with some doubts, which delayed and put off the execution. The Queen, who had long hated the insolency of the Spencers, and pitying the languish ing estate of the kingdom, resolves in her mind all the possible ways to reform them. Love and jealousy, two powerful motives, spurred her on to undertake it. She saw the King a stranger to her bed, and revelling in the embraces of his wanton minions, without so much as a glance or look on her deserving beauty. This contempt had begot in her impressions of a like, though not so wanton and licentious a nature. She, wanting a fit subject for her affections to work on, (her wedlock being thus estranged) had fixed her wandering eye upon the goodly shape and beauty of gallant Mortimer. He was not behind-hand in the reception and comely entertainment of so rich and desired a purchase : but his last act had lodged him in the Tower, which was a cage too strait te crown their desires with their full perfection; yet is there a sweet correspondency continued ; letters and many loving messages bring their hearts together, though their bodies were divided. By these is Mortimer informed of the resolution for the intended journey of his royal mistress, whom he vows to attend, or lose his life in the adventure. The Queen, understand ing the intentions of her servant, strives to advance her dispatch, and hasten it with all her best endeavours. But, where was so great an inconstancy, there could be no expectation, that this proposition should be more assured and permanent. New delays and doubts inter pose, insomuch, that the hopes of this journey were now grown cold and desperate. The Queen, seeing herself deluded, and this opportunity stolen from her, by those whom she before so mortally hated, sets her own brains a-workingvto invent a speedy remedy. She was therein so fortunate, as to pretend a journey of devotion and pilgrimage to St. Thomas of Canterbury, which by her overseers was wholly unsuspected. Things thus prepared,. by a faithful messenger she gives Mortimer the knowledge of her design, who prepares himself with a more dangerous stratagem to meet it. Her eldest son, her dearest comfort, and the chief spring that must set all these wheels a-going, she leaves not behind, but makes him the companion of her travels. The King's joy was great, that saw, by this occasion, he should gain a free liberty to vol. i, M 82 The Life of Edward the Second. enjoy his stolen pleasures, which were before so narrowly attended by the jealous eyes of his Queen, that in this kind had been so often wronged. . The aspiring Spencers were well pleased, that to be assured would have given a tree con sent to her perpetual absence. A short time brings her to the end of so short a journey where shemakes her stay of the same measure. Winchelsey had the honour to have the last farewel of this pair of precious jewels. Thither conies Mortimer, having made a fortunate escape, and, with the Earl of Cane, resolves to venture his life in the attendance and service of so brave a mistress. An exploit so weighty and dangerous gave no time of stay or ce remony. They immediately embark, and make a trial where they may find another climate more propitious and fortunate. The watery billows and the peaceful winds, as it they were consenting to their enterprise, entertain them with an aspect clear, and quiet, sending them with a fresh and pleasing gale safe to their desired port of Bulloign. The King and Spencers, being truly informed, are startled with the matter and manner of their escape. They knew the birds were too far flown to be catched or reclaimed ; and did imagine the plot was too surely laid that had so prosperous a beginning. Now all the former resolutions were useless ; new deliberations are required how this breach may be handsomely soldered, or the threatening danger prevented. All other ways are deemed short ; that one of taking off the King of France, was believed most sure and easy. They knew the French strain to be giddy, light, and covetous ; and applied themselves in the right key to fit these several humours. The King, whose presaging soul misgave his welfare, grows sad and melancholy, calling to mind the injustice of his own actions, and the fair cause his wife had to seek her right and refuge. The neglect' and breach of wedlock was so great an error; but so to contemn so sweet and great a Queen was a fault, in his own thoughts, deserved a heavy censure. She had not only felt a particular share of her own grief, but suffered deeply in the sorrow of the whole kingdom. Those, which had erected their petty tyrannies over the subjects, were in like sort authorized by him that ought to have had an equal share of her affliction, more and more to abuse her. The sad impressions of these disorders, and the reeking blood of so many noble and brave subjects, so basely spilt, do seem to cry for vengeance. This, for a-while, wrought deeply in his distressed thoughts ; but a small intermission brings him back to his former temper; A customary habit of a depraved nature dulleth the sense of the soul and con science ; so that, when our better angels summon us to repentance, the want of a lively true apprehension leads us blindfold into a dangerous despairing hazard. The French King having notice of his sister's arrival, with a wonderous plausible and seeming joy, doth entertain it with an honourable attendance, fitting more to her estate, birth, and dignity, than her present miserable condition : she is waited on to Paris, where she is soon visited by the royal King, her brother. When she beheld the refuge of her hopes, she falls upon her knee, and, with a sweetly coming modesty, she thus begins her story. . The King, unwilling to suffer such an idolatry from her that had a father, brother, and husband so great and royal, takes her up in his arms, and then attends her motives. " Great Sir, (quoth she,) behold in me, your most unfortunate sister, the true picture of a dejected greatness, and the essential substance of an unhappy wedlocks I have, with a suffering beyond the belief of my sex, overcome a world of bitter trials. Time lessens not, but adds to my afflictions ; my burthen is grown too heavy for my long-abused patience. Yet it is not I alone, but a whole kingdom, heretofore truly glorious, that are thus unjustly wronged. My blushing cheek may give you knowledge ; I too much honour the cause of my affliction, to let my tongue discover it. Yet this in duty and modesty I may ingenu ously confess, my royal husband is too far seduced; his ear is too open, his will too violent, and hjs heart too free, to those bewitching syrens, that makes his errors their profit and glory. All hope of his return is lost, so long as they shall live, and remain his leaders* The Life of Edward the Seconds 83 How many of his noblest and bravest subjects have attempted his freedom, and by an uniust and inglorious death miscarried! Alas! all expectations are vain and desperate TlTad no known the impossibility to disinchant him, I had not in so mean and miserable acaSe stolen to you for succour You have a fair way to make known to the world the truth of your own glory and goodness Fortune leads you by the hand to an action not more Just than honourable, if you would dispute it. Can there be a more precious motiveTmvite you, than the view of these unhappy rums? See here two royal branches of the Flower- de-luce withering, sullied, and depressed. Would you truly consider, how great and noble a work it is to support those that are unworthily oppressed, heaven and earth must witness the true value of your worth and my petition. Let it not breed a jealousy or discourse ment, that I appear before you, and seek your help with so poor a train and mean attend" ance Besides the justice of my cause, I bring with me the griefs and hearts of a kingdom" that have both sworn and vowed to defend it. Nor may you with reason doubt thei? inte' ¦gnty, while you have my wretched self, and the heir apparent, to be your pawn and war" rant, tor God s sake, Sir, by your own virtue and goodness I desire it, and in the chal lenge of that royal blood, whereof by the laws of God, men, and nature, I have so laree a share and interest. Let not after-ages taint your memory with such an aspersion, that vou are the, first of all the Kings of France, that denied to relieve a sister so deeply wronsed and distressed." r J ° She would have spoken more, but here the big swollen fountains of her watery eyes dis charge their heavy burthen. Her tears, like orient pearls, bedew her lovely cheeks while she with a silent rhetorick invites a noble pity. Her sad complaint now won a general re morse, and her liquid tears, a deep and strong compassion. Her brother vows revenge and promiseth to make England and the world know she was his sister. ° The Lords and Peers of France tender their ready help and assistance; the service is so hotly pursued, that the poor Queen, with an abused confidence, believes she shall be speedily and strongly righted. It was not alone her error, it is a general disease : we easily cred it that news we most desire and hope for. The Spencers, whose watchful eyes were soon informed of these passages, too late con demn their own improvidence and folly, that gave the wronged Queen so fit and fair an advantage. They fear not all the power of France, but suspect intestine danger, where they knew the hearts of all were alienated and estranged. They well enough understood the vanity of female passion, but suspect that the rising son would be followed and admired whilst their declining master would be left forsaken and dejected. These conceits work so' deeply, that they conclude they must fall, if they could not stop the foreign danger. The English were cowed, there was in them no fear, unless the strangers strength gave them new life and spirit. In so weighty a cause, there was no time left for delay or dalliance. They dispatch presently away their agents to the French court, laden with the treasure of the kingdom, and many glorious promises. They instruct them how to apply themselves to the time and present necessity, and teach them the way to work and undermine the Queen's proceedings. These messengers, arriving at Paris, find the French heat well qualified and cooled. This gave them more time and hope, to bring their master's will and their own employment to a speedy perfection. They set upon the pillars of the state, such as in their master's ear or in his council, had most sway and pre-eminence ; they give freely and promise more, till they have won a firm and fair assurance. No one had an interest, and was known to be a favourer of the adverse party, but his tongue is tied with a golden chain to a perpetual silence. When thus this practice was ripe, the King is persuaded to the danger and peril of so great and weighty an action : his sister's reputation and intemperate carriage, though tenderly, is often touched. A woman's passion is believed too weak a reason to engage two so warlike nations in a war, wherein themselves had formerly so often suffered. The King, for all his first great and high expressions, had much rather have to do with 84 The Life of Edward the Second. the English in their own kingdom than in France, yet was well enough content not to try their arms in either. Yet still he feeds his sorrowing sister with good words, pretending many Vain excuses, which made her, suspect and doubt his meaning. She arms herself with a noble patience, hopeful, at least, that she and her son might there remain in peace and safety. By the intercourse of messages that had so often passed and repassed, the Spencers are assured, that their affairs in France went fairly on, by which they were well onward in their journey. There could be yet no certain or assured confidence, until they had again gotten the Queen and her son into possession. No promise or persuasion is left to win her to return, but her ears were stopped, she too well knew the sweet enticements of such alluring serr pents. This project falling short, a solemn letter is framed from King Edward to the Pope, and a messenger after their own hearts appointed to carry it. The contents were full of humility and bitterness, complaining to his Holiness, that his wife had, without.just cause, forsaken both him and his kingdom, carrying away his son, the stay of his age, without his leave or licence : a traitor to him and his crown, who had publickly acted a rebellion, and was taken and imprisoned for it, had. made an escape, and was now her sole compa nion ; and though he was not hasty to report or credit, yet he had just cause to fear he was the abuser of his wedlock. The King of France, with whom he had sworn so solemn and firm a- league, being summohed, had denied to restore her. These goodly glosses and pretexts find a ready passage, and an easy belief where there was none to contradict or justify. If these aspersions had been, as they were pretended, just and true ; the fact had been odious, and justly deserved a fair and speedy reformation. The greater Cardinals, who were at that time most great and eminent, had tasted deeply of the King's bounty, which gave the Pope a daily instigation to pity and reform so great and gross an error: on which, an admonition is presently sent out to the French King, that he cause immediately the Queen of England to depart forth of his dominions. Whilst this device was in action, the English discontented Barons send privately to the Queen, informing her, that they were almost crushed to pieces with their suffering. They solicit her to hasten her return, and promise really to engage themselves and their estates in her quarrel. With a joyful heart (as it deserves) she entertains this loving proffer. And, the more to advance her declining affairs, she instantly acquaints her brother with the ten der. He had then newly received his summons from the Pope, which taking out of his pocket, he delivers her back, wishing her to peruse and read it. The amazed Queen, when she beheld so sad a sentence, falls humbly on her knees, and desires, that his Majesty would grant her but so much favour, that she might more truly inform his Holiness, and justify her.- self by a fairer and noble trial. With tears she instanceth the malice of her adversaries, that had taken so strange a course, both to abuse and wrong her. Her brother, glad of such a protection to shadow his dishonourable and unnatural falsehood, lets her know the necessity of his obedience, and that he must not, for her sake, adventure the censure and interdic tion of himself .and a whole kingdom. He wisheth her to arm herself with patience, and to return and make a peace with her husband ; in which act himself would use both the persuasion and strength of his best power and interest ; letting her withal know, that she had but a short time to deliberate, for she must instantly leave his kingdom. Scarcely had he ended these his last unwelcome words, when away he flings, with a seeming discontented show of sorrow, rejoicing inwardly, that he had freed himself of the expence of her enter tainment, and found so fair a colour to avoid the justice of her daily importunity. The drooping Queen, thus abandoned, with an amazed grief, .relates this unkind sad passage to her faithful servants, Cane and Mortimer. Their valiant hearts make good the loss of their hopes ; they accuse the injustice of time, and exclaim against the French un natural baseness. Mortimer, whose inflamed passion flew a higher, pitch, breaks out, and^ with a bold freedom, would have fallen to a bitter expostulation. The Queen, who knew the danger, and was loth to lose that little miserable freedom she had left, with sweet and mild persuasions reclaims him to a milder temper. She had a second doubt, lest in such a The Life of Edward the Second. 85 contestation she might be sent back against her will to her husband, This makes her tem porize, and cunningly to seem to provide for a voluntary return, which might prevent that danger. She, failing in the master, yet tastes a-new his servants, and leaves no means unat- tempted, to bring about and alter so hard and strict a censure. They, that were the first betrayers of her hopes, do now with a more confidence and constancy express it, and, with one voice, sing the same tune with their master : declining misery, the touchstone of friendship, finds itself shunned, like some infectious fever. The sunshine of fortune hath as many professors as beams ; but, if her glory be once eclipsed, they all, with a coward baseness, seek some other succour. This lesson, that is so frequent and familiar, should guide our election more by judgment than affection. They are not to be chosen, or valued, that in the pretence of love, though it be for our proper good and service, will act any thing that is base and unworthy ; the same, in the least change, will not be squeamish, for a poor advantage to confirm their former practice, though it be to our loss or destruction. Where virtue guides our choice, it begins with truth and honour, ending with a like re splendent glory. No worldly cross, nor height of affliction, lessens the worth and value of such a friend, who, like a goodly rock, in fury of the greatest storms, makes good his proper station. Mutual correspondency in affections ought to be pure and innocent ; if private respects taint the sincerity of the intentions, it makes this traffick rather a com merce than friendship. Opinion of faith is a powerful motive, yet not weighty enough, unless it become as well with real ability, as appearance, the subject of our election. But, to proceed : the Queen, being in this distressed agony, finds an unexpected refuge. The gracious God of Heaven, who never forsakes those which are his, sends her a com- . fort wheh her dying hopes were almost sunk and desperate. Robert of Artois, a man as truly valiant as noble, was one of the first that in the French court had tendered the Queen his service. He was a wise, grave, and steady, well-re solved gentleman; his first devotion was not led by matter of form or compliment, but was truly grounded on a true compassion and honour. This brave friend, beholding with a noble eye, the vanity of his fellow-friends and courtiers, and looking into the misery of the Queen's forsaken condition, sets up his rest to appear like himself, a friend in all her for tune, firm and constant. In this resolution he waits a fitting opportunity to let her see and know it. The time was favourable; he finds her in her melancholy chamber, confused in her restless thoughts, with many sad distractions. She, fancying the occasion of the coming of so great a person was great and weighty, with a silent and attentive ear expects his message. " Madam, (quoth he,) it is the most excellent part of wisdom, with an equal virtue, to entertain the different kinds of fortune : this world is but a mere composition of troubles, which seem greater or less, as is tlie quality of the heart that entertains them. I confess the justice of your grief, and truly share it ; but tears and sorrow are not means to relieve or right you. The just Heavens assist those that with an active and lively hope invoke their succour. The tenderness of your sex, and former free condition, is yet a stranger to these trials : time will let you know they are the familiar attendants of our frail structure of flesh and blood, "when you will confess it too great a weakness to sink under the burthen of our afflictions. For your own goodness, (noble Queen,) erect and elevate your thus dejected spirits. Behold in me the character of an unworthy, but true friend; that am resolved my life and state shall attend and run with you the self-same fortune. You may no longer make this unthankful climate, the place of your birth, the stage of your abiding; the way is paved with gold to your destruction. Wherefore, if my advice may sway, let speed prevent your danger. The confines of the sacred empire are near adjoining, where are many brave Princes, who may haply afford you succour; at the worst, you may there enjoy a more assured peace and safety. Neither do I presume to direct this course, but "lay it humbly before you, offering my faithful service to attend you, to what part soever of the universal world your resolution shall fix on ; desiring you to be assured, my life, before my faith, shall perish.; for I have vowed myself, and will continue your everlasting servant." 86 The Life of Edward the Second. Infinitely was the Queen rejoiced in this so grave and sincere an expression ; she doubles a world of promises and thanks for this so free an offer,, and with a secret and wary car riage she speedily provides to begin her thus resolved journey. Though here she saw a far less appearance of hope, when her dearest brother, and her native kingdom had forsaken her; yet she resolves the trial rather than to return, without a more assurance. She knew she had too far waded, and incensed her malicious adversaries, to expect a reconciliation; and feared to be mewed up from all hope of future advantage. These considerations made her, with a sad heart and weeping eyes, forsake the fruitful limits of ingrateful France, and betake herself to her last but most uncertain refuge. The condition, that is truly miserable, finds few real friends, but never wants infidelity to increase its sorrow. Stapleton, Bishop of Exeter, who had fled to the Queen, and made himself a sharer in this weighty action, forsakes her party. He seeing the French hopes vanished, and these remaining so poorly grounded, thought to work his peace by losing his faith ; and, in this conceit, in haste returns for England. His intelligence reconciles and wins him favour- but it was purchased at too dear a rate* that stained the honour of so high a calling, and made him most unworthy of so divine and grave a profession. By this treachery, the King and Spencers understand both the Queen's resolution and weakness. They fear not the German motions, that were a dull sad nation, that seldom use to fight for nothing. — Time hath at last brought our, royal English pilgrims to the shrine of their devotion. The Earl of Heinault, a man truly noble and virtuous, under standing her arrival within the precincts of his jurisdiction, gives her a free and loving welcome. This bountiful honest Earl esteems it his glory to entertain so princely guests like themselves, and to become the patron of their so weak condition. He had a brother that made his arms the honour of his profession, who thinks the estate of this forsaken Queen, injustice, deserved a true relief and pity. He tenders her his service, and believes the occasion happily offered, that might leave to ensuing times the memory of his virtue, worth, and valour. So fair a morning puts the Queen in hope, the evening would prove as fortunate. By all those winning graces of a distressed beauty, she strives to confirm, and more engage, this first and fair affection. The Earl, having knowledge of his brother's resolution, thought the attempt too full of hazard ; and, with a grave and mild temper, commending the nobility and greatness of his spirit, adviseth him to quit the action: he lays before him the weakness of the foundation; the Queen was in want of men and money, and had not such a correspondency in England, as might warrant her against her incensed husband, who was waited on by so warlike and valiant a nation. He, in like sort, acquaints him, how impossible a thing it was, for him to raise such an army, as might credit the cause, and countenance the beginning : true valour consisting not in daring impossibilities, but exposing itself where reason, judgment, and discretion were the leaders. Sir John8, with a quiet patience, hears his brother's admonitions, which he knew sprung from the freedom/of- an honest and a loving heart, but he imagined age had robbed his breast and head of all their noble vigour. " Sir, (quoth he,) If you and all the world forsake this noble Lady, my single arm shall maintain her quarrel ; since I had rather lose my life than my faith, so full and freely en gaged. After-ages shall not blot the glory of our house, so great and noble, with so in glorious a stain of baseness and infidelity : such precedents are seldom seen, and ought to be more tenderly regarded. A Queen, and the heir apparent of so great a crown, pleading so just a pity; nor may, nor shall be forsaken. If, in the reason of state, you list not to be an actor, reserve yourself; and make not the King of England yeur enemy. Know, I have both arms and friends; I will pawn them all, rather than, in the least degree, falsify my word and promise." " [Johnde Heinault, brother to. the Earl, was allowed by the Queen to style himself for Knight.] The Life of Edward the Second. Qy These words, spoken with such a resolution and fearless bravery, stopped all reply and contradiction. The "Queen; that had already both a French and an Italian trick, had no less reason here to doubt it. She knew no means would be left unattempted from her domestic spies, to make her once more forsaken. This enforceth her with a more impor tunity to hasten and advance her enterprize. All the good offices, that might spur on the inflamed heart of her brave protector, she makes the handmaids of her female wisdom. But, alas ! they needed not her careful agent ; they had quickly gotten together a volun tary troop of three-hundred well-resolved gallants, that vow themselves to follow him, even into the mouth of the cannon. He stays not to increase his number with a multitude, but believes, if there were an answering correspondency in the English, with these, to over-run the kingdom. Arms, shipping, and all provisions necessary, attend their coming. They, with the glory of their hopes, lead the revived Queen a-shipboard. Now do they expose themselves to the first trial of their fortune, aiming at Donge Port, to take their hoped possession. The heavens, that favoured their design, out of their present fear, pre serve them beyond belief or expectation. Her adversaries had a forerunning knowledge of their intended place of landing, and had there provided to give them a hot and bitter welcome. The raging billows, and the blustering winds, or rather the Divine Providence, after the second day's extremity, brings them a-land safe at Orwel, near Harwich. They were ignorant, being driven to and fro by the violence of the weather, what part of the kingdom they had light on ; and were as much distressed with the unshipping of their men and baggage, as with the want of harbour and victuals. Three whole days in disorder and confusion, they make the bleak and yielding sands their habitation; perceiving the vanity of their rash and desperate attempt, which, in the least opposition or encounter, must have wrought their confusion. It was in vain to attend longer here, where they saw so small sign of better entertainment ; this makes them march on with this little weather- beaten troop, to win and conquer a kingdom. St. Hammond's, an abbey of black monks, was honoured with the welcome of their long-lost mistress ; here she and her princely son had their first reception and entertainment. The bruit of this novelty, like a Welch hubbub, had quickly overtaken the willing ears of the displeased Commons ; who, ever desirous of innovation, like bees, in swarms, do run to her assistance. The Barons, so depressed, and unjustly grieved, with itching ears, attend the news of this advantage. When the tidings of their arrival came to their know ledge, with so liberal a relation; which made her army ten times greater than it was; they lose no time, for fear of some prevention. Henry of Lancaster was the first ; who was seconded by many others of the braver Peers of the kingdom. By this means the Queen and her adherent strangers lose the depth of that agitation, that till now had kept them doubtful. The King, that till this time had slumbered out the prologue of this ensuing danger, se cure in the belief of the Spencers' strength and providence, in so general a revolt, awakens from his licentious pleasure, and beholds nothing but a grim and fearful face of sorrow. The council of his cabinet, accompanied with their own guilt, are affrighted in the sad apparitions of their approaching ruin. The time of prevention is lost; their abused con fidence had only laboured to shut the gate, but not assured the family. The present ne cessity admits no long deliberation; this flame was too violent to be quenched, and such a course is to be taken as may rather assure them time to temporize, than with a strong hand to strive to repel it. j • ¦. r i The city's guard is recommended to Stapleton, that had so unhappily, and with so little credit changed his master. The King and the Spencers forsaken, but yet strongly attended with the guilt of so many, and so foul errors, fly to Bristol, a town strong enough, and well provided. Arundel, and the elder Spencer, undertake the defence of the city, while the King, and the others, make the castle their hope and refuge. ^ The Queen being informed that the King had forsaken his royal chamber, and had stolen a flight to Bristol, she soon apprehends, and lays hold of the advantage; addressing a fair but mandatory letter to the Mayor, to keep the city, to the use of her, and her son, 88 The Life of Edward the Second. that, was so like to be his sovereign. The inconstant citizens, that ever cleave to the stronger party, are easily persuaded and intreated. Stapleton9, that foresaw and feared the danger, summons the Mayor to surrender him the keys of the gates for his assurance. Chickwell, that was then 'Lord Mayor, incensed with the imperiousness and injustice of this demand, apprehends this inconsiderate Bishop ; and, without all respect to his place or dignity, makes his head the sacrifice to appease the.angry Commons,' This act had too far engaged him to recoil ; he must now wholly adhere to the Queen's faction. Four of the gravest and most substantial burghers are sent, to let her truly understand their devotion. They are graciously and lovingly received; the Mayor hath thanks for his late bloody act, which was styled an excellent piece of justice. This gap thus stopped, with her army she marcheth to the cage that kept those birds, whose wings she would be clipping. She knew, if she struck not while, the iron was hot, the heat of a popular faction would quickly sink and lessen. All the way of her journey, she finds, according to heart's, desire, a free and noble welcome; her troops,. like snow balls, in her motion more and more increasing. When she came before this great and goodly city, she saw it was a strength by art and nature, and did believe it furnished to out-wear a siege of long continuance, which made both her and her adherents more jealous, and suspect the issue. Where the person of an anointed king was at stake, there could be no assurance : but smiling fortune, that had turned her wheel, resolves this doubt, and makes the action easy. The citizens, that knew not the laws of war or honour, will not expose their lives and: goods to the, mercy of the strangers, and the hazard of an unruly conquest. They had too much tasted the afflictions of the kingdom, to think the quarrel just, or to adventure their protection at so dear a hazard, for those that had been the cause and instrument of so much blood and trouble. From this consideration, they, send an humble message to the Queen, and desire as well to capitulate for their commanders, as their own interest. All other conditions are despised and disdained ; if they will have grace, they must purchase it with the resignation and de livering up their captains. This doom was esteemed heavy; they would have been glad, that she had had her will, but were themselves unwilling to be the actors. But the time no more imparleance admitted, neither could they have a delay or remedy. The Queen, that had won so far upon their yielding hearts, knew their condition well enough, and would not give them respite, but calls upon their present answer. This round and smart summons brings, with one and the same art, Arundel, Spencer,: and the city, into her possession. This part of the prey thus gotten, no time is lost .to calt them tQ a reckoning. Sir Thomas Wadge, the Marshal of the army, recites a short ca lendar of .their large offences ; when, by a general consent, they are approved guilty, and without judge, or other jury, they are sentenced to be drawn and hanged, and their bodies, to remain upon the gibbet. The rigour of this doom Spencer, the father, feels, that was ninety years old, and could not long have lived by the course of nature. The castle-walls, and the eyes of the King, and his unhappy son, were witnesses of this sad spectacle and his disaster. This praeludium gives them the sense of their ensuing story; which, with a world of melancholy thoughts, they study to prevent or alter. A despairing resolution at lengthwins them to a desperate hazard. While the Queen was labouring to surprize their fortress, which was like too long to hold good, if some stratagem were not found to get it, there were no citizens to. betray. them, it needed not, themselves were soon the actors. They steal into. a small bark, that rode within the harbour, hoping by this means to make an escape undiscovered ; they find the .merciless waves, and winds alike cruel. Twice had they gained St. Vincent's Rock, but, from that reach,- were hurried back, with sudden gusts and tempests. The often going off, and. return- of this unguided pinnace* begets, a shrewd suspicion. At length she is sprprized, and in her, bulk is found that trea? sure that ends the war, and gave the. work perfection. " • The King is comforted with the smooth language of .those which had the honour, to. ' [ Bishop of Exeter,' whom the King had left guardian. of the City of London.] The Life of Edward the Second. 89 take him, and believes the title of a King, Father, and Husband, would preserve his life, if not his sovereignty. The Queen having now made the victory perfect, no enemy or other work remaining, resolves with herself to use it to her best advantage. Yet she gives her incensed passion pre-eminence; revenge must precede her desire and strong ambition. No sooner had Sir Henry Bearaond brought the imprisoned King and his dejected favourite to the army, but she dispatcheth away her husband to Barkley-Castle, and Spencer is delivered over to the •Martial ; and immediately hath the like entertainment, only he hath somewhat a longer time, and a far more cruel sentence than his father. All things thus ordered, the Queen removes to Hereford, and in all the places of her passage is welcomed with joyful acclama tions. With a kind of insultant triumphing tyranny, far unworthy the nobility of her sex and virtue, she makes her poor condemned adversary, in a strange disguise, attend her pro gress. He was set upon a poor, lean, deformed jade, and clothed in a tabarce; the robe, in those days, due to the basest thieves and rascals; 'and so was led through all the market- towns and villages, with trumpets sounding before him, and all the spiteful disgraces and affronts that they eouid devise to cast upon him. Certainly this man was infinitely tyrannical and vicious, deserving more than could be laid upon him; yet it had been much more to the Queen's reputation and honour, if.she had given him a fair and legal trial, by his Peers, according to that ancient and laudable custom of England, wherein by his death he might have given both the law and his adver saries a full satisfaction. It is certainly (give it what other title you will) an argument of a wonderous base condition, to insult or to tyrannize over those poor ruins, which for tune hath thrown into our power. A noble pity is the argument of an honourable and sweet disposition, and the life of man is great enough to expiate all offences. To sa tisfy bur passions, with the bitterest extremity of our power, may justly be styled rather a savage and barbarous cruelty, than true and perfect justice. No question, it was a pleasing sight to all the wronged subjects, to see such a leprous monster so monstrously used. But when the heat of blood was past, and men had recollected their senses, it then ap peared to be too great a blemish to a Queen, a woman, and a victor. But whether she were now weary with imposing, or he with suffering, Hereford, on a lofty gibbet, of an ex traordinary height, erected on purpose, gives him the end of all his torments: which heing performed, order is left behind for the execution of Arundel four days after, which is accordingly performed. I could never yet read a fair and just cause, why this Earl lost his life, unless it may be counted treason not to forsake his lord and master, to whom he had so solemnly swore his faith and obedience. It certainly was no such capital fault, to accompany and seek to defend his Sovereign, when he was by all others forsaken, that, by their vows and oaths, ought to have been as deeply engaged. If being taken with those that were so corrupt and wicked occasioned it, I see yet.no reason why he alone was executed, and those that, in their knowledge, were his only instruments and creatures, were suffered to live, and be promoted. But we may not properly expect reason in women's actions^ whose passions are their principal guide and mover. Now she is come to London, and received with all the honour due to so great a Queen and conquest ; the people croud to see her, and with applauding shouts extol her, that, in the least change of fortune, would be the first should cut her throat, or do her any other mischief. A parliament is immediately called and assembled, in which the pack was before-hand easily laid, for Edward had lost the hearts and love of all his people; the errors and abuses of the kingdom are there, with too great a liberty against a sacred Kirig yet living, laid open and discoursed. All men were of one mind ; a present reformation must be had, which, in a true construction, Was but a mere politick treason. The three estates presently assent to the deposition of the elder, and raising the younger Edward to the sole regimen and guidance ©f the kingdom; not a Peer,- Bishops Knight, or Burgess, speaks a word in defence of him that was their master; but divers are sent from both houses to the yet King, VOL. i. n 90 The Life of Edward the Second. to. let him know their declaration. When they were cothe into his presence, Trussef, Speaker in the lower house, in the name of the whole kingdom, resigned up all the homage due to him, and then pronounceth the sentence of his deprivation. '. . Edward, that long before had notice of these proceedings, arms himself to receive it with patience. He gives them back no answer, knowing a contestation or denial might hasten on his death, and a consent had made him guilty, by his own confession. Thus did this unfortunate King, after he had, with perpetual agitation' and trouble, governed this kingdom eighteen years, odd months arid days, lose it by his own disorder and improvidence, accompanied with the treachery and falsehood of his own subjects. And that which is most miraculous, an army of three or four hundred men entered his domi nions, and took from him the rule and governance, without so much as -a blow given, or the loss of one man, more than such as perished by the hand of justice. In a decliningfor- tune, all things conspire a ruin; yet never was it seen, that so great a king fell with so jittle honour, and so great an infidelity. But what could be expectedj when, to satisfy his own unjust passions, he had consented to the oppressions of his subjects, - tyrannized over the nobility, abused his wedlock, and lost all fatherly care Of the kingdom, and that issue that was to succeed him ? Certainly it is no less honourable than proper, for the ma jesty and greatness of a king, to have that same free and full use of bis affection and fa vour, that each particular man hath in his ©economic government; yet, as his calling is the greatest, such should be his care, to square them always out by those sacred rules of equity and justice: for if they once transcend to exceed, falling into an extremity, they are the predictions of a fatal and inevitable ruin. Let the favourite taste the king's bounty, and enjoy his ear; but let him not engross it wholly, br take upon him the sway and go vernance of all the affairs of his master; this begets not more envy than multiplicity of error, whose effects doj for the most part, occasion a desperate convulsion, if not the de struction of that state, where it hath his allowance and practice. As kings ought to limit their favours, so ought they to be curious in the electipn ; for persons of -baser or meaner quality, exalted, are followed at the heels with a perpetual murmur and hatred. . Neither is it safe or proper, that all the principal dignities, or strengths of a kingdom, should be committed to the fidelity of any one particular subject, though never so gracious or able. There must be then a kind of impulsive necessity still to continue his power, and approve his actions; else, haying the keys in his hand, he may at all times open the gates to a foreign trouble, or a domestick mischief. The number of servants, as it is the master's honour, so is the knowledge of their ability his glory. Where, by a discreet distribution, they find variety of employment, alid are indifferently heard, both in advice and action, they more secure their master's safety and greatness. Kings, in their deliberations, should be swayed by the whole body of a council ; and, in my opinion, should take it ill, to have any servant esteemed much wiser than his master. Their royal glory should be pure and transparent, suffering not the least eclipse, or shadow. Be the advice of a single wit never so grave and weighty, let the act and honour be solely the king's, which adds more and more to the belief of his ability and greatness. If once the royal heart be so given over to sensuality, that the befitting and necessary cares of a kingdom seem a burthen, and, by letter of attorney, assigned over to the fidelity of another, he is then, by his own indiscretion, no more an absolute king,' but at second hand, and by direction. It is the practice, and not the theoric act of state that awes and assures the heart of the subject ; this being once doubtful or suspected, estrangeth the will of our obedience, and gives a belief of liberty to the actions of disorder and injustice. Neither is the error and imbecility of a crown more prejudicial to itself, than dange rous in the example. Majestick vanities and vices find a ready imitation and practice • so that it may be concluded, an ill king may endanger the virtue and goodness of a whole kingdom. Our nature is prone to the Worser part, which we more readily are'inclined to practise, with the condition of time, and so powerful, and eminent a precedent. Kings that are subject to a natural weakness, or grown to the practice of any other The Life of Edward the Second. 91 particular error, by corruption; should act their 'deeds of darkness with such a reserved secrecy and caution, that there be not a suspicion to taint him : for, if it once win an open knowledge, besides the particular aspersion, it brings with it an ensuing supposed liberty of practice, both in court and state, by his example. As these are most proper to the affections, so are there some as. necessary instructions for kjngly passions, which, of the two, are more violent and dangerous. Though it awhile delay the concluding part of the history, yet my pen must not leave them untouched. I must confess,, if man could master and govern these rebellious monsters, he might justly merit rather the name of an angel than a mortal creature: but this, in a true perfection, is most impossible. It is yet, in divinity and all moral construction, the most absolute master-piece of this our pilgrimage, to dispose them so, that they wait on the operations of the soul* rather as obedient servants, than lopse and uncontrolled vaga bonds. A king, that is in these deficient; having so unlimited a power, and making his will his law; in short time loseth the honour of his calling, and makes himself a tyrant. Intemperate and heady actions beget but disorder and confusion, and. if they end in blood j without a warranty of apparent justice, or inevitable necessity, they cry to Heaven for a deserved vengeance. The law hath advantages and punishments enough for those that lie at his mercy: let not incensed haste betray the roya'ty of a crown, to make itself both judge and executioner. Kings are gods on earth, and ought in all their actions to direct the imitation after a divine nature, which inclines to mercy more than justice. Men's lives, once lost, cannot be redeemed; there ought therefore to be a tender consideration before they be taken, lest the injustice of the actor, in time, be brought to suffer in the same measure. As is the quality of the fact, so is the condition of his agent to be maturely deliberated, wherein there may be such dependencies, that it is for the crown more profit able, safe, and honourable, to save, or delay the execution of the law, than to advance or hasten' it. Howsoever, it is the more innocent and excellent way. to offend in the better part ; and rather to let the law, than one's own virtue and goodness to be visibly de ficient and disesteemed. The actions of repentance are numbered with the register of our misdemeanours, where none appear more fearful than those, which an inconsiderate fury, or the violence of passion, hath acted with too much haste and cruelty. Let then the height of so great and excellent a calling be suited with as sweet a temper, neither too pre cipitate or slow, but with a steady and well-advised motion. As these considerations are in the one part necessary, so ought there to be a correspon dent worth and care in him that hath the happiness to enjoy in so great a measure his royal master's ear and favour. If the actions of the king be never so clear and innocent, yet he must favour or protect the error of so great a servant, which makes him an accessary, if not an actor, in the unjust oppression of his kingdom. It is not discretion, neither hath it any society, with the well-grounded rules of wisdom, for the subject to exalt or amplify the height of his own glory; it is, in the eye of all, too great a presuming insolence; and kings themselves will rather alter their affections, than to be outshined or dazzled in their own sphere or element. He that hath made his master's love, and hath ascended the stairs of his preferment, should make the same virtue the stay of his advantage ; framing his carriage to his equals and inferiors, with a like sweet and winning temper. If he swerve from this sacred rule, and arrive to win fear, or a vain adoration; let him know, the first is the companion of trust and safety, the other of a jealous diffidence, that must betray his life and honour. But, to return to our history, which now removes Edward, the father, to Killingworth, where he remains under the keeping of the Earl of Lancaster, while his unripe son is crowned king; and the Queen, with Mortimer, take into their hands the whole sway arid administration of the kingdom. Their first act sends Baldock, the Lord Chancellor, to Newgate ; a fit cage for such a haggard, though far unworthy the emiriency of his height and dignity.. Now do the recollected spirits of the kingdom begin to survey and examine the injustice of that act, that had disrobed and put down a king, their unquestionable sovereign, that 92 ; T'he Life of Edward the Second* had been so' solemnly anointed, and soiong enjoyed the regimen of the kingdom, They find the condition of their estate but little altered ; and, according to the vanity of their hearts, are as ready to attempt a new innovation. Many suits are made to the King,. and the protectors, to release him out of his imprisonment; but all prove vain and fruitless. The Black Friars were, in thisrequest, more earnest; who, in their denial, sought to bring it to pass by force or surprisal. They make Donhead, one of their number, their captain; but he knew better the use of church-ornaments, than how to handle his weapons,. or manage an army; he is intercepted, and sent to prison, where he dies, before he had so- much as mustered his congregation., This cloud dispersed, the Queen believes it a fit time to fake her leave of her assistant strangers, who mainly hasten their departure. She was, unwilling they should be witnesses. to the unnatural succeeding tragedy, which was too much for her own kingdom, and unfit for the strangers climate, which was filled with the belief of her virtue and honour. She liberally and freely- requites, to each particular, the minute of his pains and travel; ,b,ut Sir John of Heinault, and the better sort, are honoured with many rich jewels, and gifts, besides. continuing annuities, and annual revenues. They hold themselves nobly contented ; and, taking a solemn leave, are honourably attended to Dover, leaving the kingdom with a mer-, rier eye, than when they first beheld it. ; Now is the' Earl of Lancaster, who, though he had least cause, was nobly disposed to wards his old master, removed; and delivers oyer his charge, by indenture, to Sir Morice Barkley and Sir John Mattrevers, who led him back to his first place of imprisonment, where, in the presence of his keepers, he one day, in a melancholy passion, doth thus dis course his sorrows : " Alas ! is my offence so great, that' it deserves nor pity nor assistance ? Is human piety and goodness so wholly lost, that neither in.child, wife, servant, or subject, appears the least expression of love or duty? Admit my errors unexcusable, wherein I will not justify my self, nor accuse others : though it hath taken from me the glory of my former being, 1 am. yet a father and a husband; these titles are without the jurisdiction of fortune. If I be so ; where is the affection and duty that becomes the child, and wedlock ? Sure, my misery, hath not made me such a basilisk, or monster, that my sight should beget or fear or hatred ;• can they believe a danger in the visitation of a poor distressed captive? I know their.. hardened hearts are not so noble, and apt for compassion, that they need suspect them selves, or me, in so poor a courtesy. What then occasions this neglect or estrangement ?, Are they not content to enjoy all that was mine, as .yet, by the laws of God, man, and nature ; but they must despise and forsake my withered ruins? . "A'as ! I know my poor children are innocent; both they, and my injurious Queen, are betrayed by cunning, wicked Mortimer; whom, if I had paid with his just desert, when Heaven, and Iris own guilt, had laid him at my mercy, I had not lived to endure this afflic tion, nor he to be the insulting, instrument of my dishonour. But time, and this sad trial hath taught me patience ; and learned me how to know the height of my misfortunes, which (if my divining spirit err not) will not be long unseen and.unrevenged. Am I unworthy to be seen ? I am then unfit to live, and will receive it as a well-becoming pity, if my death; may send me hence from this so great a sorrow." When he had thus ended, and, with a few manly tears, smothered in the depth of that heart-breaking sigh, that enforced his silence, he was, by one of his attendance, made this rough uncivil answer : " My Lord, your wife and children are jealous, and fearful of your cruel furious nature, whereof both they and the kingdom have too true a knowledge to trust you : besides, they are informed, your resolution is fixed to do them mischief, if they approach your danger. This keeps your Queen from you she once sotruly loved." , The Life of Edward the Second. QS " My Queen! (quoth he) hath she that remaining title, while I, that made her so, am less than nothing ? Alas, poor wretched woman ! hath she, nor could she find no other more tolerable excuse than this, sofaint a pretended fear and danger ? Is there a possibility in her suspicion? Or have I the means (if I were so resolved) to do it, that am here a poor for saken man, as far from power as comfort ? And, fellow, thou that takest so audacious and saucy a liberty, to character thy Sovereign's disposition, which thou art bound to honour, and nut to question : know, Edward's heart is as free from thy base aspersion, as thine from truth or honesty." When he had ended these words, he retires himself to his chamber, sad and melancholy, believing his case was hard and desperate, when so base a groom durst face to face affront him. The Queen and Mortimer, revelling now in the height of their ambition and felicity, had yet a wary eye to the main, which they knew did principally rest on the safeguard and sure keeping of the deposed King. Though they had all the marks and essential parts of an absolute sovereignty, the name alone excepted ; yet they had unquiet and troubled thoughts, in the fear and imagination of losing it. They saw their plausible incomes were dully con tinued, and there was a beginning murmur against the manner of their proceedings. They knew there Was no constancy in the people, that would be as ready to take them off, as they were to bring them on, in any new stirring or innovation. The Lords, that were their prin cipal supporters, were content, but not satisfied ; all ,things concurring to make them suspect their own condition. Edward the father's faults were extenuated, his vices- ascribed to those that had betrayed him, and his estate infinitely pitied, that had so dishonourable an usage, far short of what injustice appertained to the honour of bis first calling. These reports made their ears tingle, and incite them in time to think upon some befitting remedy. Many ways and devices are thought upon, but they are all subject to some manifest imperfection. On this, Mor timer falls to the matter roundly, and tells the Queen plainly, " That there is no way left to make all sure, but absolutely to take away the cause, and to leave the party by Edward's death hopeless, that^ by his life, sought to make a new combustion." The Queen, whose heart was yet innocent of so deep a transgression, was deeply and in wardly troubled with this unhappy proposition. She believed his sufferings were already greater than his faults, and was unwilling to stain the opinion of her worth and virtue with so foul an act of injustice. She was assured if could not be so done, but it would be dis covered: if the eyes of men could be blinded, yet that all-knowing Power of Heaven would reveal and punish it. Such deep actions of crying sins are seldom long unrevenged, which made her most unwilling, that her consent should pass, or be assistant. To kill a King, her husband, that had once so dearly loved her, was more than an act of blood ; nor could she expect, but that the son, grown up, would revenge the death of the father: " Therefore, (quoth she) sweet Mortimer, let us resolve rather any other hazard, than this which is waited on with so great infamy and certain ruin." Mortimer replies, " Madam,: who hath the benefit of time, and neglects the advantage, if he fall, is justly unworthy, pity or compassion. Have you exposed yourself to all the bitter trials of fortune, suffering, so meanly, so many miseries ; and having overcome them ac cording to your desire, are you willing to return to your own condition, and former sorrow ? If it be so, Mortimer is wretched, in. sacrificing his devotion and heart to such a female weakness. In cases of extremity, a tenderness of conscience begets a certain danger, nor is it disproportionate so to continue a crown, that by blood was gotten and surprized; had Edward known .1 should have lived to see his ruin, my head had paid my ransom. The im pressions of fear make his subject less in sense than apparition ; think not me of so poor a brain, but 1 as well know how to work as move it ; such actions are not to be done; but such a way as may prevent proof, if not suspicion. But why do I seek thus to charm your ears? If you be willing he shall live, let him; let the inclining people set him free, to call you to an account for his oppression ; let him parallel his Spencer's death in your affliction^ 04 The Life of Edward the Second. , perhaps he will spare you for your brother's sake, who, he knows, so dearly loves you, and did so bravely witness it in your affliction; perhaps he will suffer you still to guide the crown, and your fair son to wear it. If you be pleased, you- may abide the trial. Mor timer's resolved ; since you neglect his judgment, you will as soon forget his service, which he will in time prevent, before it.be debarred." With this, he flings away, as if he meant to give his words a real execution. The amazed Queen pursues and overtakes him. " Stay, gentle Mortimer, (quoth she) forgive my error ; lama woman fitter to take ad vice than give it. Think not I- prize thy love so little as to lose thee. If Edward must die, I will not seek to divert it; only I thus much beg, I may not be partaker, or privy to the time, means, or manner." " Madam, leave that to me, who will, alone, both undertake the act and danger ; all I require from you is, but to seal a warrant to change his former keepers." Sir Morris Barkley had been tampered withal, and was so far from consent, that heplainh declared he did abhor the action. This answer suddenly dischargeth him, and commits hi master's guard to Sir Thomas Gourney, and his former partner, Mattrevers. They, having received both their warrant and prisoner, convey him to Cork-castle, the place in all the world he most hated. Some say, he was foretold, by certain magic spells, that this place was to him both fatal and ominous: but, whatsoever. the cause was, he was, at his first arrival, deeply sad and passionate. His keepers, to repel, this, humour, and make him less suspicious, feed him with pleasant discourse, and better entertainment, while his misgiving spirit was heavy, sad, and melancholy. The night before his death, he supped heartily, and went to bed betimes: scarcely were his heavy eyes locked up in silent slumber, when his forsworn traiterous murderers enter his chamber, and finding him asleep, inhumanly and barbarously stifled him, before he could avoid or resist it.— The writers differ mainly in the manner of his death, but all conclude him murdered; yet so, that the way, on search and view, could not be known or discovered; A small passage of time gave the most part of all these actors of his death an end fit for tlieir deserts, and this so bloody an action. Their several relations and confessions occasion so many various reports, and different kinds of writing ; the truth whereof is not much ma terial, since all agree, he came to an unnatural and untimely death.- Thus fell that unhappy King Edward the Second, who was son and father to two of the most glorious Kings that ever held the monarchy of the English nation., Main reasons are given probable enough to instance the necessity of his fall, which, questionless, were the secondary means to work it. But his doom was registered by- that inscrutable' Providence of Heaven, who with the self-same sentence punished both him and Richard the Second, his great grand-child, who were guilty of the same offences. The example of these two so unfortunate Kings 'may be justly a leading" precedent to all posterity. Certainly, we have had other kings as faulty and vicious, that liave overlived their errors and died not by a violent hand, but by the ordinary and easy course of nature. The con dition and quality of these was not, in themselves, more perilous and exorbitant, than hurtful and dangerous to the estate, peace, and tranquillity of the whole kingdom. If, by height of youth, height of fortune, or a corrupt natural inclination, the royal affections loosely fly at random ; yet, if it extend no farther than the satisfaction of the proper appe tite, it may obscure the glory, but not supplant the strength and welfare of a monarchy : but when it is, in itself, not only vicious and ill affected, but doth patrocine and maintain it in others, not blushing in such a justification, it is a forerunning and presaging evidence that betokens a fatal and unpitied ruin. ' It is too much in a king, that hath so great a charge delivered to his care and custody, to be dissolute or wantonly given; but when it falls into a second error, which makes more A Letter, §c. 95 kings than one in the self-same kingdom, he opens tlie way to his own destruction. The subjects' hearts, as they are obliged, so are they continued by the majesty and goodness of a king ; if" either of these prove prostitute, it unties the links of duty and allegiance, and hunts after change and innovation. It is of so singular and great a consequence, that kings ought to be well advised, and sparingly to accumulate their honours and favours, wherein both the time, person, and oc casion, ought to be both worthy and weighty ; for the eye of the subject waits curiously on his actions, which finding them degenerating from his own greatness, and inclinable to their oppression, vary their integrity to a murmuring discontent, which is the harbinger to a revolt and mischief: Nor is it proper (if the sovereign's affections must dote) that the ob ject of their Weakness should sway the government of the kingdoin. Such an intermixtion begets confusion and error, and is attended by a perpetual envy and hatred. Is it possible, but there must be perpetual error and injustice, where all things are carried more by favour and affection, than law and reason? Or can the lesser fountains be clear, when the main spring that feeds them is tainted and polluted ? Alas! common and familiar experience tells, that the actions and principal use of a favourite, is to make good, by his strength and favour, those designs that are in themselves unjust, perverse, and insupportable. A good cause, in the integrity of time, needs nd protection but its own innocence; but where the sacred rules of justice are inverted, the sincerity of the law abused, the con science of the judge corrupted or enforced, and all things made mercenary, or carried by indirect favour; what expectation can there be, but that kingdom, which is the theatre of so infamous a practice, should fall speedily into a fearful and desperate convulsion ? Though the histories of these times are plentifully stored, and few commonwealths are free from the examples of this nature, yet I shall not need any other instance, than the story of this un fortunate Prince, whose time presents a perfect mirror, wherein ensuing kings may see how full of danger and hazard it is, for one man's love, to sell the affections and peace of the whole kingdom. Had Edward, in his own particular, been far worse than he was, he might have still sub sisted ; but when for his inglorious minions, Gaveston and Spencer, who successively engross him, he fell to those injurious and dissolute actions, that made all men, and the kingdom, prey to their insolent and imperious humours, he quickly found both Heaven and earth re solved to work his ruin : not only his own, but theirs, and those of their ignoble agents, were made his proper errors ; which took so wholly from him the love and hearts of his sub jects, that he found neither arms nor tongue to defend him. A more remarkable misery, ¦I think, no time of ours produceth, that brings this King to destruction, without so much as any one kinsman, friend, or subject, that declared himself in his quarrel. But he found the climacterick year of his reign, before he did expect it ; and made that unhappy castle, which he ever hated, the witness of his cruel murder : where I must leave him, till he find a more honourable place of burial, and my weary pen a fortunate subject, that may invite it to some other new relation. A Letter to Mr. Serjant, a Romish Priest, concerning the Inv possibility of the Publick Establishment of Popery here in JEngland. [Folio. Two Pages.] SIR, May 19, 1672, SINCE I was last with you I have thought of what you said, " That ere long all our parish churches would be in your possession." .This hath occasioned me to Write (I will not say my advice, but) my opinion:. that you and your clergy should not attempt that 96 A Letter, §c. which I perceive you have already in your speculations. They who know the history of your services in the last wars, and since, must acknowledge that you have deserved well of your Prince, in that not only you asserted his cause in the field with the loss of a limb ; but, which is more, you discovered to one of his great ministers of state the design of the Roman Ca- tholicks, managed by Sir Kenhelm Digby, and Father Hplden, an English Sorbonist, to put their part of this nation under the subjection and patronage of Oliver. It is in respect to you, and so many as are of your loyalty as well as religion, that I wish in the game they now play, by venturing. high, they may not lose all. You are much mistaken, if from a toleration you conclude an assurance of publick establishment. It is one thing to gain a favourable look ; another, that one should so fall in love as to espouse, your cause. Con sider the difficulties, if not impossibilities, which in great number oppose your hopes. The chiefest, as you ought to apprehend, is the firm resolution of the King to defend the Church of England, as it yet stands ; a resolution in him so unmoveable, that neither an interest in mighty princes, obtainable by such an exchange, could invite, nor the argur ments of military men could persuade him to renounce that Church, from which lie then1 received no advantage, but the satisfaction of her communion, and suffering in her defence. You cannot but know withal, that, to believe him inclinable to you, is to commit treason in your hearts; since that to say so, is declared treasonhy- an act of parliament. But, if you should prove so sanguine and full of fancies, as to believe what was formerly ineffectual might now preyail ; I cannot commend your judgment, extept you shew, that either your religion is better, or else that interest doth more strongly draw the King towards you now than heretofore. For the former part, religion, you say it ought not in the least to be altered; and we acknowledge, if it were reformed, it will be less worth to the clergy. For the other, concerning interest of state; if it dissuade under those circumstances, much more will it at this day. In those times he might, by this course, have been restored to three kingdoms. Now he would hereby give up half his jurisdiction, to wit, supremacy; and, after a-while, a good part of his revenue, the appendant possessions of his supremacy. But, this is not the worst; for, besides this, by setting up Popery, he sets up the Pope as his colleague and fellow sovereign in all his Majesty's dominions. He gives him, at once, all the clergy, and implicitly as many as they frighten with purgatory and hell. To obey God's vicar rather than man. This hath been done, not in the case of the Church alone, but. in temporal quarrels betwixt him and other princes. But, if you still hold the conclu sion against unanswerable objections, what means, pray, can you propose, wliereby this may be accomplished ? Exercise all your imaginative power, fancy any thing, though never so unlikely, to be granted or practised, so it be but in the utmost degree of possibility i There are but two ways to do it, either by parliament, and you cannot expect that this par liament, which appeared so earnest against your toleration, should set you up as the national Church. And if you hope this parliament may quickly die of old age, and that another more favourable to the distressed may sit in their rooms, you will find yourselves mistaken • and that it is not your party shall be the men, but rather such, who, though they served' your turn, never loved you when they were uppermost. Let me farther advise you not to forfeit your discretion so far, as to expect as sudden a publick change of religion now by a parliament, as was in Queen Mary's days ; then the Re formation had only been begun by King Edward his six years reign, and carelessly managed by the greatest persons under him, whose chiefest aims appear to be quite another thing: so that thereby, whilst they neglected to bring over the country gentlemen to Protestantism, they confirmed them in Popery. Thence was it, that the Romanists might much better promise themselves to be restored under that Queen, than at these years when people still remember her; and for several generations have been reconciled to the Reformation bv wri tings in those controversies, and held in by penal laws , and- estranged from Rome by 88.* 1 In the time of his banishment, and the grand rebellion. ' The time of the Spanish invasion, with their invincible armado, as they were pleased to term it- fhm.oh £ad brought it to nothing; the particulars whereof will be printed in this Collection. ' 6 The apparent Danger of an Invasion. 97 and the, 5th of November3. ' Now you cannot look for any good from a parliament, you may rightly dread their displeasure; especially if you should stretch your liberty of conscience to the perverting of other men's. Fordo what you can, and declainl never So much against a parliamentary religion ; the Commons will have a committee for religion, or else liberty and privilege are utterly lost. So that you ought by a priyate exercise of your worship, and a peaceable demeanour, to provide for the coming of a parliament, as by repentance men do for death ; because it cannot be avoided, but may be made less hurtful.: — By this time, I suppose, you may have laid aside all hopes of being advanced by a parliament, and cast your thoughts towards a standing army ; certainly you will find this conceit as airy as any of the rest, for (besides that he, whose authority should raise it, intends you no more than a bare and limited toleration) there are very many and obvious hinderances of that project. The kingdom, .being an island, takes away the pretences hereof, which are alledged byoUP powerful neighbours, and allowed by reason of their situation: so that, on the surmises of such a thjng, the mutinous temper Of this climate would appear as jealous of their liberties, as in some countries men are of their wives. And withal, where could you raise men for the service? Your own -gentlemen of estates would not endure foreigners; and they must ne cessarily Want home-born soldiers, there being not a sufficient number of your religion, and of none to give the law of arms to all your adversaries. And where will you get the main weapon, money? Though your religion should open their stock and treasure as for a holy war, yet, in a little time, either their stock or their zeal would be spent, and then an army in its own country cannot sb easily get bread by the sword, as labouring men can do by the spade. For proof of this, you may call to mind how that both rump . and army were well nigh famished into a dissolution, when the country declared they would pay no more taxes. In such necessities, soldiers, like beasts of prey, will fall one upon another, and devour their keepers too ; and, if you believe them to be wholly mercenary, they are never so likely to be hired to a design contrary to their former commission, as when their masters cannot pay, nor their enemies can be plundered, yet will freely part with money upon their own terms. You see, Sir, bow I have followed your propagators through all,, both pro bable and wild methods, which they can invent; all which, appearing unprofitable and Un likely, they will not surely, like vain projectors, waste what they have, for that which they can never obtain. ' Your servant^ - . 3 The day when the Papists had contrived to destroy the, three Estates of the nation assembled in parliament, by blowing them up with gunpowder, and since "called, " The Gunpowder Plot, or Treason." The apparent Danger of an Invasion, briefly represented in a Letter to a Minister1 of State. By a Kentish Gentleman. MDCCL {Quarto. Eight Pages.] SIR, THE present posture of publick affairs abroad has such a terrible aspect upon the liber ties of Europe in general, that France will have no reason to wonder, if all the princes and states of Europe, which are its neighbours, should take the alarum at her late conduct since the treaty of Reswick2. I am sure it would be a very great wonder with me, and posterity too, if, after so late and notorious a violation of a solemn treaty, we should ' [Probably the Earl of Godolphin, Lord-Treasurer; or Henry Boyle, Chancellor of the Exchequer.] 1 The same may justly be remarked of the French behaviour since the treaty of Utrecht. VOL. I. O 98 The apparent Danger of an Invasion. take her word again, and trust to her engagements, unless we can oblige her to perform them3. She has, undoubtedly, her envoys and her instruments in all countries4, especially here, who, with great artifice and subtle insinuations, will tempt the easy and the ignorant by colours and pretences of her good meaning, that she has no farther design than maintaining the Duke of Anjou's succession 5, and all her neighbours, that will own him, shall be, if they please, her dear friends and confederates. But what wise man can be found ? Nay, one may venture to say, Where can you shew me that blockhead that has brains little enough to believe her ? And yet a Frenchman has so much confidence in the folly of all other nations, and in his own dexterity to play the knave, that with very great assurance he obtrudes his flattery, and expresses his friendship and esteem for you, when his own conscience gives him the lye, and he is carrying on a design at the same time to cut your throat. Every body knows, it was but in October last, that all the courts of Europe were, in show at least, earnestly solicited to enter into the treaty of partition ; and all the huffing and sneaking arguments were used by your Guis — ds and your Amel — ts, for two or three months together, to prevail upon the Italians and Germans6, great and little; but, in the midst of all this banter and grimace, arrives an express with the King of Spain's death and Anjou's succession; and what part does my little Franculus esuriens1 act upon so sudden a change ? Why, out he sets as briskly as can be with a new memorial ; fawns and hectors, en bon Francoise ; desires your patience a little, while his master, like a true son of old Eunius, steals away half a dozen kingdoms and dukedoms ; and then promises (believe him if you dare) to be a very good Musselman, till the next opportunity8. There is a certain very worthy gentleman 9, and true Englishman too, who was aware of this, and gave us his advice, in very honest terms, in the year Q8 ; but Thrift and Distrust, two wary devils, opposed his design ; and what the force of foreigners, in ten years war, could never do, the folly of a few true-born Englishmen effected in a trice ; viz. subdued the hero, and ridiculed the politician. We chose, at that time, rather to trust our good neighbour with a standing force of 150,000 foreigners, than, at the end of the war, suffer 10 or 20,000 swords and musquets to continue in the hands of our own countrymen, for fear, I suppose, That Englishmen should Englishmen subdue. I confess they have a pretty good hand at betraying their country ; but, for my part, I was for trusting them at that time, and ever shall, before any foreigners. §. But our fleet was disarmed, and our land-forces reduced, from 84 to 7,000 men, that is full Us. And when we had stripped ourselves thus naked, and invited the Assyrians into our land, you will ask me, How it came to pass, that we have not had a second invasion from Normandy or Picardy ; and that the French have not, before this, taken up their quarters within the weekly bills, and with our friends at Rochester and Sittingbprn ? Why truly I must tell you, not for want of good will, and good opportunity too, (we thank our mas ters) but they had other game in chase : the lingering sickness of the late King of Spain put Versailles in a constant alarum every post; for Spain and the Indies, ever since 1660 were decreed for usurpation10; and if your Montaltoes and Portocarreros had failed of 3 By first reducing her to so low a condition, as to oblige her to an honourable peace ; and so to watch her in trigues, and check her illegal aspirings in time of peace, as to prevent her capacity ever to become troublesome to the liberties of her neighbours any more. 4 See page 19, s To the crown of Spain ; by which union France promised herself to gain a power to give laws to all Europe as her attempts from that time .will prove. r ' 6 Was not this the very method taken by France, to deprive the empire of its liberties, and to ruin the House of Austria, before this war broke out? ' Hungry Frenchman, who grasps at all power. * to take what more he can get from you. • » King William. ,0 By the King of France. The apparent Danger of an Invasion. gg their treason, the ratio ultima regum was at hand; viz. a good train of artillery and an 100,000 men. When this morsel was swallowed, it would be time enough to look after England, and the out-skirts of Europe : who in the mean time are to be hushed, if possible, with spe cious proposals and golden mountains, till my little master.11 is well settled at Madrid. And then her highness the Duchess of Burgundy will put in her claim to the crown of England ; and we may defend the Protestant heir or possessor, if we can, when her grandfather12 has over-run Italy and the Netherlands, and taken possession of all the ports in Holland. He has already made such quick approaches towards that unfortunate country, that the people are in the highest consternation ; and, if we suffer them to be devoured, the next step he takes will be for England. And he has so many and so considerable reasons to invade us at this very juncture, that some mysteries of state, undiscoverable at present, or a mighty infatuation alone can hinder him. The people on our coasts are so sensible of their defenceless condition, especially since the French troops entered so unexpectedly, and all at one moment, into all the frontier towns in the Spanish Flanders, that they expect every morning to hear they have put garrisons into Dover, Rye, and Shoreham ; and it is almost as easy and quick a passage from Calais and Dunkirk, to Harwich, Dunwich, and Yarmouth. The passage between us and them is so short, that five or six hours is time-enough to execute such a design in any part of Kent. Julius Caesar, who had but indifferent pilots, and vessels that were ill sailers, came over in a night: and William the Conqueror crossed a wider part of the channel, viz. from Bo- logn to Pevensey, in a few hours; and both of them succeeded so well, by the folly and di visions of our ancestors, that it is our good luck, if our enemies do not take the advantage of our present circumstances, to make a trial of our boasted English valour, and see how many of the fourteen hundred thousand names, contained in the associations lodged in the Tower of London, dare shew their faces in the field against the Marshal de Boufleurs at the head of twenty or thirty thousand veterans. I pretend not to the skill of a marshal, and you do not mistake me, I am sure, for a con jurer in affairs of state; and yet I will venture to affirm, upon the little experience I have had in a military station, and a pretty long acquaintance with the humour of a people under a panick fear; that, were I of the interest and religion, and in pay of Monsieur at Versailles, I should no more question the success of invading England, at thjs time, till about a month or six weeks hence, than I do my meeting with you next year at Tunbridge- wells in the season. And, upon peril of my head, I would undertake, as old as I am, to land with about twenty thousand foot and two thousand dragoons on next Monday morning in any part of Kent, or Sussex, from Dover to Chichester; and with little or no opposition continue my march towards your populous city, and quarter my troops in London, Westminster, and Southwark, by Saturday next; so as to hear high mass on Sunday morning at St. Paul's, and dissolve your parliament on the Monday following. This you may think a little unlikely, and I wish it were morally impossible ; but, I think, I can make it appear a very feasible enterprise. I will suppose then the Marshal de Bouf- flers at Dunkirk, or Calais, this very Saturday night, embarking his men, and setting sail at one or two in the morning, with a fresh gale at east ; what shall hinder him from crossing the channel in five or six hours, but a tempest, or a fleet, in that very place ? .The first we cannot expect, and the latter we have not ready; so that land he will, in spite of our barks and our fishermen of Kent. When his troops are debarqued, we will suppose they rest them one day; and, by that time, it may be, another reinforcement arrives; what now will hinder him from bending his march directly for London, and coming thither in the time before- mentioned, but a sufficient body of men to meet him by the way? And nothing but an equal force will do; for the battle of Cressy is long since forgotten, and the name of an En glishman, I will assure you, is no such bugbear to a Frenchman at this time of day. But where are the forces we should draw together ? As for the Dutch, Hannibal is at their " The D.uke of Anjou. "The King of France. 100 The apparent Danger of an Invasion. gites; and they cannot spare a single battalion ; and, if , they could twenty, Monsieur Bouf- fiers may march "to York, before they can all embark, for they do not lie ready quartered in their ports, as the French do in theirs. And for our handful of 7,000 standing forces, if you fill all the northern and western garrisons with our militia, it will be a fortnight, at least, before, they can meet in a body on Hounslow-heath, which will be too late. And then for our militia of London and Westminster, which may make a body of ten or twelve thousand men, and can soonest assemble themselves; do you imagine they will march towards Dover, and, with. the assistance of a little mob, venture to give battle to/disciplined troops ? If they should have sp much courage, and so little discretion, I expect little more from such an attempt, than what was done by eight or ten thousand club-men, who rose in the late civil war in the counties of Wilts", Somerset, and Dorset; and were dispersed by half a dozen troops of the parliament horse. The city militia, L believe, is our best ; but What discipline can men have, who appear in arms but once a year, march into the Artillery-ground, and there wisely spend the day in eating, drinking, and smoking ; in storming half a score sir loins of beef and venison-pasties; and, having given their officers a volley or two, and, like so many idle boys with snow-halls, fooled away a little gunpowder; return home again as igno rant as they went out;, and as fit to- fight the French at Blackheath, as one of our little yatchts is to engage the Britannia? And, besides this, which I have not represented to the worst disadvantage, there are other prodigious difficulties that would perplex us upon such an invasion ; we have so many Catilines and, Portocarreros amongst us, that would not fail to betray us; so many religious bigots that are bewitched with a tender conscience for the right of old Pharaoh13; so many hardy villains, and desperate miscreants, that are for plunder, and a prevailing power14; and so many . lukewarm heartless coxcombs, that will stand still to see themselves undone, or run away by the light of their own houses ; and so very few, whatever they pretend, that will stand by the King with their lives and fortunes, and fight for their religion, laws, and liberties: in short, we are so crumbled info factions, civil and religious; so debauched from the old English virtue and valour ; and so destitute of the true love to our country, and real principles of honour; so ripe for a civil war at home, and so exposed to an invasion from abroad ; that our enemies are altogether infatuated, if they do not lay hold on this opportunity, in a week or two ; and we are all utterly undone if they do, unless a miracle be wrought to save us. . - England is now the only nation in Europe, that hath any remains of substantial liberties ; for arbitrary power, like a mighty deluge, has in a manner overspread the face of the whole earth, and is ready to break in upon us 15 with an irresistible fury, unless we make ready to withstand it. Holland stands now exposed to military execution, and so do the counties of Kent and Surry, Who have forty or fifty thousand men ready to land upon them at a day or two's warning from Boulogne, Calais, Gravelin, Dunkirk, Newport, and Ostend16; there is but a hair's breadth betwixt us and ruin. We have been so long fitting ourselves by our vices and our treachery for conquest and slavery, that I fear you have scarce ten thousand men left in city and country, that have spirit and bravery enough to march to our assistance, whenever we have occasion. You will be sure to have as early notice as is possible; for our fears make us as watchful, as we hope you are indefatigable to provide for our security. We cannot forget how the French troops treated the inhabitants of the Palatinate, in 1688.17 ; when they entirely ruined a country on both sides the Rhine, as large as Kent and Sussex;* burnt- down to the ground above two hundred burghs, and the three famous and populous cities of Worms, Spires, and Heidelburg ; put the people to the sword in divers 13 The family of the Stewarts. '* It is a general observation in all rebellions, that the mobile take part with a powerful invader, because they ave nothing to lose, and hope to better their condition upon the ruin of those that maintain their religion and hlaws 15 If overcome by the French invasion. " All which ports were then in the,power of the French. 17 See the Emperor's letter .to King James II. at St. Germain.'^, in page 18. ' ' Comoidia loannis Balei de Christi Eaptismo. 101 toWns, and spared not the Popish temples and Cathedrals ; and this without provocation from the people or their prince. What sort of usage think you then may we expect at Dover and Winchelsea,-&c. and you too' in London, who are Englishmen, rebels, and hereticks, as bad as we? Our enemjes have a particular eye upon your factious city, and the wealth of the Bank and Lombard-street, which the hungry priests and soldiers frequently talk of at Calais and Dunkirk with great indignation ; but with some kind of assurance of late, that.England will shortly receive her old master 18 and the Popish religion again. Which I heartily wish may be prevented by the wisdom and prudence of the King and present parliament. Mo— ds, Feb". 14, I am, Sir, . 1700. 18 A Popish prince, then King James II. A brefe Comedy or Enterlude of lohan Baptystes preachynge in the Wyldernesse; openynge the crafty e Assaultes of the HypocrytesV with the gloryouse Baptyme" of the Lorde Jesus Christ. CompyLed by lohan Bale$ Anno M.d.xxxviii2. [Quarto. Eighteen Pages.] The worde of' God came unto lohan the sonne of Zachary in the wyldernesse. And he resorted into all the coastes about Iordane, and preached the bapfysrrie of fepentaunce for the remyssyon of synnes. Luce iiL John Bale, the compiler of the folloiving Comedy or Interlude, zvas the son of Henry Bale, of Covie in Suffolk. Born in the year 1495; entered among' the Carmelite friars at Norwich, at twelve- years old; and zventfrom thence to be a scholar at Jesus3 college in Cambridge, still remaining, as he himself declares, in the most profound ignorance of all true learning,, and greatest blindness of 'mind, zvithout any tutor or patron, till the word of 1 God began to appear in its proper lustre, and the churches were brought back to- the pure fountains of all divinity ; and then, by the means of, the most noble the Lord Wentzvorth, he zvas induced to leave the monstrous corruptions of Popery, and to embrace the purity of the Gospel^ Soon after his conversion, he married his ivife Dorothy, who also zvas zealous for the true religion; but he had been utterly undone by Dr. Lee, Arch bishop of York, and Stokeley, Bishop of London, had not Lord Cromwell screened him from their persecutions ; ..after zvhose death he retired to the Lozv Countries; from zvhence he was recalled by Edward the Sixth, zvho made him Bishop of Ossory in Ireland, Feb. 2, 1552. Bui, before'he had been consecrated six months, he zvas obliged to fly from thence to escape the persecutions of Queen Mary, zvho then ascended the English throne; and, ' embarking at Dublin, he zvas taken prisoner by the captain of a Dutch man of ' zvar, and ' Alludingto the Popish priests, friars, &c. who, like the Pharisees and hypocrites of old,-were determined, at all events," to prevent the dawning, of the Gospel, at the beginning of tbe Reformation. 2 The year in which Henry the Eighth declared his disgust with the See" of Rome. [St. John's ; says Mr. Reed, in Bibg. Dram. : but-Fuller, in his Worthies, accords with Mr. Oldys,] 102 Prafatio. rifled. But he soon obtained his ransom, and proceeded to Basil, zvhere he employed himself in his studies, till recalled by Queen Elizabeth, who, gave him a prebend of Canterbury ; upon zvhich he was rather contented to live, than to return any more to Ireland. He died in November 1563. He published many books' both in Latin and English', in prose and verse, amongst zvhich this Comedy is one of the scarcest, and gives us a true idea of the stage in those times, when it appears the first reformers endea voured to expose the errors of the Roman church, and to propagate the Gospel, even in those places zvhich had been remarkable for vice ; for, I apprehend; this as zoell as some other interludes, composed by him, were the productions ^ of his younger days, just after his conversion, as it more particularly appears in the conclusion of this Comedy ; and it is further valuable, as it is in no catalogue of plays that ever I sazv, and gives us a specimen of the most refined part of our language in King Henry the Eighth's reign. To conclude ; he was a man of learning, a constant preacher, and good antiquary, but a most bitter zvriter against the Church of Rome, insomuch that he has drawn the zvhole herd of zvriters on that side the question upon himself in most bitter invectives s, zvhenever they mention him ; and his books are particularly prohibited in the Expurgatory Index-, published in folio, at Madrid, anno 1667. INTERLOCUTORES. Pater Coelestis, i. e.The Heavenly Father. Iesus Christus, Jesus Christ. Ioannes Baptista, John Baptist. Turba vulgaris, The common People. Publicanus, The Publican. Miles armatus, The Soldier. Pharisaeus, _7%e Pharisee. Sadducaeus, The Sadducee. BALEUS PROLOCUTOR. PRjEFACIO. THE kyngedome of Christ, wyll now 6 begynne to sprynge, Which is the preachynge of hys newe testament7. Now shall Messias, which is our heauenly kynge, Apere to the worlde, in manhode euydent. Whose wholsom commynge, lohan Baptyst wyll preuent, Preachynge repentaunce, hys hygh waye to prepare, Whych now we entende, before yow to declare. The lawe and prophetes, draweth now fast to an ende, Which were but shaddowes, and fygures of hys commynge. Now shall he approche, that all grace wyll extende, Of cleane remyssyon, our caucyon will he brynge, To pacyfye God, hys father euerlastynge. By sheadynge hys bloude, all thynges shall he renewe, Makynge one people, of the Pagane and the Iewe. * [Sixteen of these dramatic productions, if so they may be called, are enumerated in BiosrraDhia T),-nm3 tica; and more than sixty of Bale's prose tracts are specified in Biographia Literaria: but the moit 1™™/., his Chronicle of Sir John Oldcastle, and Catalogus Scriptorum Illustrium Majoris Britannia ] & s [The acerbity of his writings is said to have acquired him the appellation of Bilious Hr,l* «„„ tt ii . Worthies.] « Our King .being ready to shake off the Popish superstkipn. SeC Ful'er S 7 In ppposjtion to the tradition pf the Churcli of Rome. Comozdia Ioannis Balei de Christi Baptismo. 103 For so moch as we,, are geuen to noueltees 8, Of very nature. Lete vs Our selues applye, To accepte these newes, and heauenlye verytees 9, Which are for our synne, most souerayne remedye, And for our sowles helthe, so hyghlye necessarye. That without knowledge of them, we can not naue, A true fayth in him, which dyed our sowles to saue. Whan man had synned, the harde preceptes of the lawe, Moses proclamed, the prophetes gaue monycyons. But non of them all, to the heauenly kyngedome drawe, Tyll lohan Baptist come, with clerar exposycyons. The publycanes then, leaue their yll dysposycyons, Vnto Christ to come, and hys most holy Gospell, Where the frowarde sectes, contynuallye rebell. Ye shall se Christ here, submyt hymself to baptym, Of lohan hys seruaunt, in most meke humble wyse. ' In poorenesse of sprete, that we shuld folowe hym, Whose lowlye doctryne, the hypocrytes despyse. Folowe hym therfor, and shurne their .deuylysh practyse. Be gentyll in hart, and beare your good intent, Towards hys Gospell, and godlye testament. Incipit Comoedia. Ioannes Baptista. As a massenger, I come to geue yow warnynge, That your Lorde, your Kynge, your Sauer and Redemer, With helth, grace and peace, to yow ys hydre commynge. Applye ye therfor, delaye the tyme no longer, But prepare hys waye, makynge the rough pathes smother. Stryke downe the mountaynes, fyll vp the valleyes agayne, For all men shall se, their mercyfull Sauer playne. The seate of Dauid, whych is the father heauenly, He cometh to possesse, as a ruler spirytuall. And in Iacobs howse, to reigne contynually, Whych is of hys churche, the nombre unyuersall, Not only of Iewes, but faythfull beleuers all. That congregacyon, will he euermore defende, And of hys kyngedome, shall neuer be an ende. Turba vulgaris. At these newe tydynges, whom thys good man doth brynge, My hart within me, for ioye doth leape and sprynge. Publicanus. O myghty Maker, what confort to vs is thys ? Thyne own Sonne to sende, to reforme that is amys. 'Miles armatus. Soch confort to me, as I can not expresse, Of tunges though I had, thre thousande and no lesse. Ioannes Baptista. Approche nyghar, fryndes, and tell me what ye saye. 8 Traditions. 9 Preached by the Reformers. 1 04 Comcedia Ioannis Balei de Christi Baptismo, Turba vulgaris. Ye tolde us, me thought, we shuld prepare a waye, For the'Lordes commynge. Was not your saynge so ? Ioannes Baptista. My preachynge was it, from it can I not go, For grounded it is, on Gods myghty worde trutye, * Vttered longe afore, by the prophet Esaye* Publicanus. I praye ye tell vs, what ye meane by that waye ? Ioannes Baptista. , Your conuersacyon, which is in a sore decaye. Laye apart your wrathe, your couetousnesse and pryde, Your lustes unlaUfull, with your other synnes besyde. Knowledge your trespace, and cease from doynge yll, Flee mennys tradycyons, and Gods hygh lawes fulfyll. Make ye strayght the pathes,. fete euery man haue hys, In no wyse reuenge, whan men vse ye amys. Seke God your father, in sprete and veryte, But not in shaddowes, as doth the Pharysee, Whych by outwarde workes, loketh to be justyfyed, * And neyther by faythe, nor by Gods worde, wyll be tryed. Euer depe valleye, to moch more hygthe. wyll growe, The mountaynes and hylles, shall be brought downe full lowe. Miles' armatus. What meane ye by that ? I praye ye hartely tell. Ioannes Baptista. Mekenesse wyll aryse, and pryde abate by the Gospell : The simple fysher, shall now be notable, The spirytuall Pharyse, a wretche detestable. The wyse and lerned, the.idyote wyll deface, Synners shall excede, the outward sayntes in grace. Abiectes of the worlde, in knowledge. wyll excell, The consecrate Rabyes, by vertii of the Gospell. The poore man by faythe, shall very clerely deme, The clause that wyll harde unto the lawer seme. All that afore tyme, vntowarde ded remayne; The rule of Gods., worde, wyll now make strayght and playne. The couetouse iourer shall now be lyberall, The malycyouse man wyll now to chary te fall. The wratheful hater shall now loue ernestlye, To temperate measure men wyll change glotohye. Pryde shall so abate, that mekenesse wyll preuayle, Lechery shall lye down, and clennesse set up sayle. Slouthfulnesse shall slyde^ and dylygence aryse, To folowe the truthe, in godly exercyse. 1 Prepare ye therefor, so fast as euer ye can, To thys Lorde, whych will renue ye euery man, In case ye repent the folye that is past. Omnes una). Sory are we for it, arid wyll be to our last. Comcedia Ioannis Balei de Christi Baptismo. 105 Ioannes Baptista. What are ye ? tell me, ych persone seuerallye. Turba uulgaris. I do represent the commen people of Jewry. In sweate of my browes, my lyuynge I procure, By daylye labours, and mynde so to endure. Publicanus. A publicane I am, and moch do lyve by pollage, For my offyce is, to gather taxe and tollage. Moch am I hated, of the Pharyse and Scrybe, For axyng trybute, it iudgynge vnlaufull brybe. Miles armaius. A souldyour I am, or valeaunt man of warre, The lande to defende, and hys enemyes to conquarre. Whan my wages are too lyttle for my expence, To get a botye, I spare no vyolence. Ioannes Baptista. For Gods loue repent, and turne ye to the Lorde, That by him ye maye, to hys kyngedome be restorde. Ad Deum conuerlitur turba uulgaris, et peccata sic confitetur. Turba uulgaris. I knowe, blessed Lorde, by playne experiment, Most nygh vnto helth, is he that sheweth hys sore. ' Wherefor I confesse, in place here euydent, The synnefull lyuynge, that I haue vsed afore. A wretched synnar I haue bene euermore, Vnthankefull to thee, to man vncharytable, And in all my workes both false and deceyuable. Hunc tunc baptisat Ioannes flectentem genua. Ioannes Baptista. c , , Then take my baptyme, whych is a preparacyon, Vnto faythe in Christ, wherin rest your saluacyon. To Christes Gospell your conuersacyon applye, And feme by thys sygne, with hym tb lyue and dye. Turba uulgaris. Myne vsage (ye knowe) is outwarde and externe, Some godly preceptes for that fayne wolde I lerne. Ioannes Baptista. I wyll not moue ye to offer calfe nor gote, But to charyte, whych is of hyghar note. With no sacryfyce is God more hyghly pleased, Than with that good hart, wherby the poore is eased. For that he accepteth, as though hymselfe it had. Turba uulgaris. Thys helthsome counsell maketh my hart joyfull and glad. Ioannes Baptista. He that hath two coates, lete hym geue one to the nedye, And he that hath vytayle, lykewyse releue thehungrye. Helpe alwayes the poore, with herbour, foode, and aparell, With socour, solace, with doctryne and ghostlye counsell. These thyaees done in faythe maye mollyfye Godsyre. vol i. v 106 Comozdia Ioanms Balei de Christi Baptismo* Turba uulgaris. Farwell to ye then, for I haue my desyre. Eo exeunte, Publicanus coram Deopeccatum agnoscit. Publicanus. Thy worde, blessed Lorde, by this good man declared, , Causeth my conscyence of synne to have remorce; And to remembre, how that I haue not spared The poore to oppresse, by crueltie and force. I consydre yet, how I oft haue bene horce, Cryenge for custome, exactynge more than duey To my neyber, Lorde, I haue bene full vntrue. Ilium tunc baptisat Ioannes ineuruantem genua. Ioannes Baptista: Be baptysed then, in token of repentaunce, And take to ye faythe, with a newe remembraunce. Thynkyngeby thys sygne, ye are from hensfourth bounde- Vyces to resyst, acceptynge Christ for your grounde. Publicanus. Geue me some precept, or rule, whereon to staye; That I, in my sort, my Lorde God maye obaye. Ioannes Baptista. I wyll not bynde ye, your substaunce to dyspence; But 1 requyre yow to abstayne from vyolence. Though your offyce be to gather and to pull, Yet be no tyrauntes, but rather mercyfull. A good waye thys were, for your estate, I thynkev Publicanus. Perfburme.it I shall, I wolde els I shuld synke. Ioannes Baptista. For your peynes ye haue appoynted by the emproure* Your stypende wages, no creature ye ought to deuoure ;. For Gods loue therfor, do no man iniury In taking tollage, aduauntage to haue thereby. Non otherwyse than, it is to yow prescrybed. Publicanus. By me from hens fourth, nought from the poore shall be brybed; Eo deeedente, Miles sua confitetur scelera. Miles armatus. Experyence doth shewe, where as are good monycyons, Maye be auoyded all ieopardy and daunger. At thys mannys counsell, all synnefull dysposycyons I wyll therfor change to a lyfe (I hope) moch better.. No man so wycked, nor so farre out of order, As I wretche haue bene, in murther, rape, and thefte. Swete Lorde forgeue me, and those wayes shall be lefte. Ilium tunc baptisatloannes in genua procumbentem* Ioannes Baptista. Thys baptyme of myne, to yow doth represent Remyssyon in Christ, in case your synnes ye repent. In hys blessed deathe, it assureth yow of grace, Sealynge your pasport vnto the hyghar place. Comcedia Ioannis Balei de Christi Baptisnio. 107 Miles armatus. My Maker I thanke, of hys most specyall gyfte, For my vsage now, shewe me some ghostly dryfte. Ioannes Baptista. Of warre ye haue lawes, vse them with ryght alwayes, Do no spoyle nor rape, take no vnlaufull prayes. The offyce ye haue, for the publyque vnyte, Mynde to exercyse, to the landes tranquyllyte. Ye maye thus please God, in doynge your feate, ryght well. Miles armatus. Father, go forewarde, for I moch delyght your counsell. Ioannes Baptista. For the publique peace, Gods Iawe doth yow permyt, Stronge weapon to weare, but in no case to abuse it. If ye mynde therfor, of God to auoyde the daunger, For couetouse lucre, hurt neyther frynde nor stranger, But with your wages, yche man be satysfyed. Miles armatus. Prayse be to the Lorde, I am moch edyfyed. Eo locum deserente, intrant Pharisceus ac Sadducaus. Interim Ioannes Baptista alloquitur populum. Ioannes Baptista. Of Christ to tell yow, with the dyfference of our baptym, I washe in water ; but remyssyon is of him. My baptyme is a sygne of outwarde mortyfyenge, A grace is hys baptyme of inwarde quyckenynge. The baptyme of me is the baptyme of repentaunce, Hys baptyme in faythe bryngeth full recoueraunce. My doctryne is harde, and full of threttenynges, Hys wordes are demure, replete with wholsom blessynges. I feare the conscience, with terrour of the lawe, He by the Gospell mannys sovvle wyll gentylly drawe. A knowledge of synne the baptyme of me do teache, Forgeuenesse by faythe wyll he here after preache. I open the sore, he bryngeth the remedye, I sturre the conscyence, he doth all pacyfye. As Esaye sayth, I am the cryars voyce, But he is the Worde, and message of reioyce. The lanterne I am, he is the very Lyght, 1 prepare the waye, but he maketh all thynges perfyght. Inuicem alloquuntur. Pharisceus. As is said abroade, thys fellawe preacheth newe lernynge10, Lete vs dyssemble, to vnderstande hys meanynge. Sadducaus. Wele pleased I am, that we examyne hys doynges, Hys doctrine parauenture myght hyndre els our lyuynges, But in our workynge, we must be sumwhat craftye. Pharisaus. Tush, thu shalt se me, vndermynde hym very fynelye. '* This is the term given to the Reformers preaching the Gospel, by the priests of the church of Rome. 108 Comcedia Ioannis Balei de Christi Baptismo. Et uertens se ad Ioannem, dolose ilium alloquitur* God blesse ye, father, and prospere your busynesse. Ioannes Baptista. Ye are welcome both, so that ye mynde anye goodnesse. Sadducceus. No harme we intende, ye maye trust vs and ye wyll. Ioannes Baptista. Ye shewe to the worlde, as though ye coulde do no ylf, But the Lorde dofh knowe, what ye haue in your hartes, And secretelye how ye playe most wycked partes. Where as sectes remayne, the Sprete of God cannot be, Whose kynde is to knytt, by a perfyght vnyte. Pharisceus. That taunte haue I ones, bycause I am a Pharyse. Sadducceus. My part is no lesse, for I am also a Sadduce. We wyll thu knowe it, our relygyons are worshypfull. Ioannes Baptista. Not so worshypfull, but moch more false and deceytfulf, An outwarde pretence ye haue of holynesse, Whych is before God a double wyckednesse. Pharisceus. A verye wretche art thu, soch vertuouse men to despyse, As the lawes of God, to hys people doth decyse. We Pharysees are those, whych syt in Moses seate, As interpretours, the holy Scriptures to treate. Ioannes Baptista* And them ye corrupt, with your pestylent tradycyons. For your bellyes sake, have yow false exposycyons. Sadducceus. What sayst thu to me ? whych in one poynt do not swerue. From Moses fyue bokes ; but euery iote we obserue. Thynkest not vs worthy the gloryouse name we beare, Of ryghteouse Sadducees ? Saye thy mynde without feare. Ioannes Baptista. I saye thys vnto yow, your observacyons are carnall. Outwarde workes ye haue, but in sprete nothynge at all. Ye walke in the letter, lyke paynted hypocrytes. Before God ye are, no better than Sodomytes. De Christi baptismo. Synners offendynge, of weakenesse, doubt, or ignoraunce, Of pytie God pardoneth. But where he fyndeth resystence, Agaynst the playne truthe, there wyll he ponnysh most. For a wyckednesse that is agaynst the Holy Ghost, And that reigneth in yow, whych neuer hath forgeuenesse.. For enemyes ye are, to that ye knowe ryghteousnesse. Pharisceus. Auaunt begger, auaunt ! Becometh it the to prate So vnmannerly agaynst our comely estate ? Whych is knowne to be so notable and holye ? Thu shalt be loked on, I promyse the surelye. Cotnosdia Ioannis Balei de Christi Baptismo. 109 Sadducceus. Our worthy decrees, the knaue doth not regarde ; But practyseth newe lawes, soch as were neuer hearde. By whose autbryte, doest thu teache thys newe lernynge ? Doubt not but shortly, thu wylt be brought to a reckenynge. Ioannes Baptista. Ye generacyon of vypers, ye murtherers of the prophetes, Ye Lucifers proude, and vsurpers of hygh seates, Neuer was serpent more styngynge than ye be, More full of poyson, nor inwarde cruelte. All your stodye is, to persue the veryte, Soch is your practyse, deceyte, and temeryte. You boast your selues moch, of ryghteousnesse and scyence, And yet non more vyle, nor fuller of neglygence. How can ye escape the vengeaunce that is commynge, Upon the vnfaythfull ? whych wyll admytt no warnynge. Neyther your good workes, nor merytes of your fathers, Your fastynges, longe prayers, with other holy behauers, Shall yow afore God be able to iustyfye, Your affeccyons inwarde, vnless ye do mortyfye. And therefor shewe fourth the due frutes of repentaunce. Not in wordes only, but from the hartes habundaunee. Forsake your malyce, your pryde, and hypocresye, And now exercyse the frutefull dedes of mercy e. Pharisceus. It become not the to shewe what we shall do, We knowynge the lawe, and the prophecyes also. Go teache thy olde shoes, lyke a busye pratlynge fole, For we wyll non be, of thys newe fangeled scole : We are men lerned, we knowe the auncyent lawes Of our forefathers, thy newes are not worth ii. strawes. Sadducceus. The ofsprynge we are, of the noble father Abraham, And have the blessynge, so many as of hym cam. We can not perysh, though thu prate neuer so myche, For we are ryghteouse, wele lerned, famouse, and ryche. Ioannes Baptista* i Great foyle is it, of Abraham so to boost, Where his fayth is not, the kyndred is sone lost. Ye are Abrahams chyldren, lyke as was Ismael, Onlye in the fleshe, to whom no blessynge fell. It profyteth yow lyttle, of Abraham to beare name, If ye be wycked, but rather it is your shame. And as touchynge Abraham, the Lorde is able to rayse, Of stones in the waye, such people as shall hym prayse. The Gentyles can he call, whom ye very sore despyse, To Abrahams true faythe, and graces for them deuyse. No hart is so harde, but he can it mollefye, No synner soy 11, but he maye him iustyfye. Pharisceus. Yea, he tolde the so, Thu art next of hys counsell* 1 10 Comozdia Ioannis Balei de Christi Baptismo. And knowest what he myndeth, to do in heaven and in hell, Now forsoth thu art, a iolye Robyne Bell. Sadducceus. With a iytle helpe, of an heretyke he wyll smell. Ioannes Baptista.. I se it very wele, agaynst Gods truthe ye are bent, And come not hyther, your wicked wayes to repent, For that Prynces sake, that wyll clere vs of care ; But your commynge is, to trappe me in a snare. Sadducceus. We knowe hym not we, nor wyll not knowe hym in dede. But whan he shall come, if he do soWe soch sede, As thu hast done here, he maye chaunce to have yll spede. Ioannes Baptista. Be ware if ye lyst, the axe is put to the rote; With the Lorde to mocke, it will ye no longar bote. . Euery wythered tre, that wyll geue no good frute, Shall up, whych are yow, of all grace destytute. And shall be throwne fourth, into euerlastynge fyre, Where no helpe can be, for no pryce nor desyre." Pharisceus. A lewde knaue art thu, yll doctryne dost thu teache, We wyll so prouyde, thu shalt no longar preache. Sadducceus. If we do not se, for thys gere a dyreccyon, This fellawe is lyke, to make an insurreccyon. For to hys newe lernynge, an infynyte cumpanye, Of worldlye rascalles, come hyther suspycyouslye. Pharisceus. In dede they do so, and therefor lete vs walke, Vpon thys matter, more delyberatlye to talke. Ioannes Baptista. The nature of these, is styll lyke as it hath be, Blasphemers they are, of God and hys veryte. Here haue I preached, the baptyme of repentaunce. After me he cometh, that is of moch more puysaunce. For all my austefyte, of lyfe and godly purpose, Worthye I am not, hys lachettes to vnlose. He wyll yow baptyse, in the Holy Ghost and fyre, Makynge yow more pure, than your hart can desyre. Hys fanrie is in hande, whych is Gods judgement, Vnto hym commytted, by hys Father omnypotent. He wyll from hys floore, which is hys congregacyon, Swepe awaye all fylth, and false dyssymulacyon. Cleane wyll he seclude, the dysguysed hypocrytes, And restore agayne, the perfyght Israelytes. He wyll brynge the wheate into hys barne or grayner, The chyldren of faythe, to the kyngedome of hys Father. The chaffe vnprofytable, whych are the vnfaithfull sort, " Into hell shall go, to their sorowfull dysconfort. Comozdia Ioannis Balei de Christi Baptismo. II J Iesus Chris tus. I am Iesus Christ, the Sonne of the lyuynge God, The lyght of hys glorye, the ymage of hys substaunce. Though he to thys daye, hath plaged man with the rod, Yet now for my sake, he hath withdrawne all vengeaunce, All rygour, all fearcenesse, with hys whole hartes displesaunce, Sendynge me hyther, of hys benyuolence, To suffer one deathe, for all the worldes offence. The tyme prefixed, of my celestyall Father, Is now perfourmed, I reignynge in thys nature, Borne of a woman, yea, of a vyrgyne rather : Subject to the lawe, for man which is vnpure, From deathe dampnable, hys pardone to procure. That he maye receyue the hygh inherytaunce, Due to the chyldren of hys choyce or allowaunce. If ye will nedes knowe, wherfor I am incarnate, It is to be head of your whole congregacyon, To make means for ye, to pacyfye the hate, To be the hygh prest, that shall worke your saluacyon, Your gyde, your confort, your helth, your consolacyon. I come not to iudge, nor flee, but all to saue, Come therfor to me, all yow that lyfe wyll haue. I am become flesh, for myne own promes sake, Without mannys sede borne, hys kynde to sanetyfye, Of synners lynage, the synners quarell to take, Of patryarkes and kynges, as a father and gyde heauenlye ; Poore, that ye shuld thynke my kyngedom nothing worldly© In flesh, to the sprete, that the Gospell shuld ye brynge. Beleuynge by me, to have the lyfe euerlastynge. Ye worldlye people, lerne gentylnesse of me, Which though I am God, unto the Father coequally I toke thys nature, with all dyscommodyte, My selfe to humble, as a creature here mortall, To rayse ye to God, from your most deadlye fall. Lete thys example be grafted first in your wytt, How I for baptyme, to Johan my selfe submytt. Ioannes Baptista. By the Holy Ghost, assured I am thys houre, That thys man is he, whych is of the hyghar poure, Whom I haue preached,. The Lambe of innocencye, Whose shoe to vnlose, my selfe is far unworthye. From whens do ye come, I praye ye tell to me. Iesus Christus. From Nazareth thys houre, a cytie of Galyle, From my mothers howse, the heauenly Father from hence,, To obeye and serue, with most due reuerence. Ioannes Baptista. Your intent or mynde, fayne wolde I understande. Iesus Christus. To receyue with other, the baptyme of thy hande. 112 Comozdia Ioannis Balei de Christi Baptismo. Hie protensis manibus baptismo ilium prohibet. Ioannes Baptista. Requyre not of me, I desyre the instauntlye, To presume so farre, for doubtlesse I am vnworthye. I a carnall synner, ought to haue baptyme of the, My Lorde and Sauer. And dost thu axe, it of me ? Pardon me, swete Lorde, for I wyll not so presume. Iesus Christus. Without presumpcyon, that offyce shalt thu adsume. Ioannes Baptista. The baptyme of me, is but a shaddow or type, Soch is thy baptyme, as awaye all synne doth wype. I geue but water, the sprete, Lorde, thu dost brynge, Lowe is my baptyme, thyne is an heauenly thynge. Now thu art present, it is mete my baptyme ceace, And thyne to florysh, all synners bondes to releace. Me thy poore seruaunt, replenish here with grace, And requyre me not to baptyse the here in place. Iesus Christus. Johan, suffre me now, in thys to haue my wyll, For vs it behoueth, all righteousnesse to fulfyll. That is to saye, me, as wele as these my seruauntes, The great graunde captayne, so wele as hys poore tenauntes. I come not hither, to breake the lawes of my Father, As thy baptyme is one, but to confirme them rather. If I by the lawe, in yewth was circumcysed, Why shuld I dysdayne, thys tyme to be baptysed ? The Pharysees abhorre, to be of the common sort, But I maye not so, whych come for all mennys confort. I must go with them, they are my bretherne all, He is no good captayne, that from hys armye fall. Ioannes Baptista. They are synners, Lorde, and from good lyuyinge wyde. Iesus Christus. The more nede is theirs, to haue me for their gyde. I wyll go afofe, that they maye folowe me, Whych shall be baptysed, and thynke me for to be Their mate or brother, hauynge their lyuerye token, Whych is thy baptyme, as thy selfe here hath spoken. Take water therfor, and baptyse me thys houre, That thy baptyme maye take strength of hyghar poure. The people to marke, vnto my kyngedome heauenlye. Ioannes Baptista. Then, blessed Sauer, thy seruaunt here sanctyfye. Iesus Christus. The man whych haue fayth, lacketh no sanctyfycacyon Necessary and mete, for hys helth and saluacyon. " Thyne offyce therfor, now execute thu on me. Hie loannem subleuat Iesus, ac eius baptismo se submittit. Comozdia Ioannis Balei de Christi Baptismo. 113 I * Ioannes Bttptista. I baptyse the (Lorde) by soch autoryte, As thy grace hath geuen, to my poore symplenesse, Onlye to obeye the hygh request of thy goodnesse. In terram procumbens Iesus, tunc dicit, Deo gratias. Iesus Christus. Thys offyce, Father, whych I in thys niortall nature, Do take vpon me, at thy most hygh appoyntment, For mannys saluacyon, here to appeyse thy nature, So prospere forewarde, that it be to thy intent, And to thy people, fytte and conuenyent. And that thu wytsaue, by thy most fatherly poure, Thy Sonne tb commende, vnto the worlde thys houre. Descendit tunc super Christum Spiritus Sanctus in columbce specie, et uox Patris de ccelo audietur hoc modo : Pater Calestis. Thys is myne owne Sone, and only hartes delyght, My treasure, my ioye, beloued most inteyrlye. Thys is he whych hath procured grace in my syght,, For man that hath done most wylfull trayterye. Alone is it he, that me doth pacyfye. For hys only sake, with man am I now content, To be for euer at a full peace and agrement. I charge ye, To hym, gene dylygent attendaunce, Heare hys monycyons, regarde hys heauenly doctryne. In mennys tradycyons, loke ye haue no affyaunce, Nor in Moses lawe, but as he shall defyne, Heare hym, beleue hym, drawe only after hys lyne. For he alone knoweth my purpose towardes yow, And non els but he, heare hym therefor only now. Tunc caelum inspiciens Ioannes, inciiruat genua, Ioannes Baptista. O tyme most ioyfull, daye most splendiferus. The clerenesse of heauen, now apereth ynto vs. The Father is hearde, and the Holy Ghost is seane, The Sonne incarnate, to puryfye vs cleane. By thys we maye se, The Gospell ones receyued, Heauen openeth to vs, and God is hyghly pleased, Lete vs synge therfor, togyther with one accorde, Praysynge these same thre, as one God and good Lorde, Et expansis ad ccelum manibus, canit Ioannes. Glorye be to the Trynyte, The Father, the Sonne, and Sprete lyuynge, Whych are one God in persones thre, To whom be prayse without endynge, Baleus Prolocutor. Thys vysyble sygne, do here to yow declare, What thynge pleaseth God, and what offendeth hys goodnesse, . vol. i. Q 114 Comozdia Ioannis Balei de Christi Baptismo. The worlde hath proude hartes, hygh myndes, with soch lyke ware, God only regardeth the sprete of lowlynesse. Marke in thys Gospell, with the eyes of symplenesse. Adam, by hys pryde, ded Paradyse vp speare, Christ hath opened heauen, by hys great mekenesse heare. lohan was a preacher, note wele what he ded teache, Not mennis tradycyons, nor hys owne holye lyfe. But to the people, Christ Iesus ded he pfeache, Wyllynge hys Gospell, amonge them to be ryfe, Hys knowledge heavenly, to be had of man and wyfe* But who receyued it ? The sinfull commynalte, Publicanes and synners, but no paynted Pharyse. The waye that lohan taught, .was not to weare harde clpthynge, To saye longe prayers, nor to wandre in the desart, Or to eate wylde locusts. No, he neuer taught soch thynge.' Hys mynde was that faythe, shuld puryfye the hart. My ways (sayth the Lorde) with mennys ways haue no part. Mannys ways are all thynges, that are done without faytfy God's waye is hys worde, as the Holy Scripture sayth. If ye dopenaunce, do soch as lohan doth counsell, Forsake your olde lyfe, and to the true fayth applye. Washe away all fylth, and folowe Christes Gospell. The iustyce of men is but an hypocresye, A worke without fayth, an outwarde vayne glorye. An example here, ye had of the Pharysees, Whom lohan compared, to vnfruteful wythered trees. Geue eare unto Christ, lete mennys vayne fantasyes go, As the Father bad, by hys most hygh commaundement, Heare neyther Frances, Benedyct, nor Bruno, Albert nor Domynyck, for they newe rulers inuent, Beleue neyther Pope, nor prest of hys consent. Folowe Christes Gospell, and therin fructyfye, To the prayse of God, and hys Sonne Iesus glorye. , Thus endeth thys brefe Comedye or Enterlude of lohan Baptystes preachynge in the Wyldernesse, openynge the craftye assaultes of the hypocrytes, with the gloryouse Baptyme of Iesus Christ. Compyled by lohan Bale, anno M.d.xxxvih. 115 Orders set downe by the Duke of Medina1, Lord General of the King's Fleet; to be observed in the Voyage toward England. Translated out of Spanish into English, by T. P. Imprinted at London, by Thomas Orwiri, for Thomas Gilbert, dwelling in Fleet-streete neere to the Signe of the Castle, 1588. [Quarto. Eight Pages.] The zvonderful Deliverance, zvhich England commemorates on the following occasion, is still more remarkable, from the due consideration of the follozving pamphlet ; where, the reader may observe, that not only the strength and exceeding great warlike pre parations, but the political and military orders, to preserve good harmony among tht soldiers and sailors, and due obedience from both to their respective commanders ; and to avoid all confusion, in case of a storm or other disastrous acdident, shew that out enemies had taken all the precautions that human prudence could conceive, to accom plish their intrigues, and to ruin our establishment in church and state. Therefore, I have- inserted these Orders, thereby to encourage us in the like dangers, and to shezv, that, zvhen God is on our side, neither the pozver, nor policy of man, is able to do us harm. Don Alonso Perez de Guzman, the good Duke of Medina, Sidonia, Count of Nebla, Marquis of Casheshe in Africa, Lord of the City Saint Lucar, Captain General of the Ocean Sea, of the Coast of Andalusia, and of this Army of his Majesty, and Knight of the Honourable Order of the Golden Fleece. I DO ordain and command, that the general masters of the field, all captains, officers of the camp; and of the sea, pilots, masters, soldiers, mariners, and officers; and what soever other people for the land or sea service cometh in this army, all the time that it en- durelh, shall be thus governed, as hereafter follow eth, viz. First, and before all things, it is to be understood by all the above-named, from the highest to the lowest : that the principal foundation and cause, that have moved the King his Majesty to make and continue this journey, hath been, and is, to serve God ; and to return unto his church a great many of contrite souls, that are oppressed by the hereticks, enemies to our holy catholick faith, which have them subjects to their sects, and unhappy ness : and for that every one may put his eyes upon this mark, as we are bound, I do com mand, and much desire everyone, to give charge unto the inferiors, and those under their charge, to embark themselves, being shriven2, and having received the sacrament with competent contrition for their sins : by the which contrition, and zeal to do God such great service, he will carry and guide us to his great glory; which is that which particu larly and principally is pretended. In like manner, I do charge and command you, to have particular care, that no soldier, mariner, or other, that serveth in this army, do blaspheme, or rage against God, or our Lady 3, or any of the saints ; upon pain that he shall therefor sharply be corrected, and very 1 [This formidable armament was to have been commanded by the Marquis de Santa Cruz, but that AdmiraJ dying, while the fleet was equipping, the Duke of Medina was appointed in his room.} % Confessed his sins to a priest. 3 The Virgin Mary. 116 Orders appointed for the Spanish Fleet. well chastened, as it shall seem best unto us: and for other oaths of less quality, the go vernors in the same ships they go in, shall procure to remedy all. They shall punish them in taking away their allowance of wine, or otherwise, as they shall think good. And for that the most occasions come by play, you shall publicly prohibit it, especially, the games that are forbi iden ; and that none do play in the night, by no means. And to avoid inconveniencies that might ensue in this army and force of his Majesty, if that the here written were not put, for remedy, by these presents, I do command, that par-: ticularly and generally, all quarrels, angers, defiances, and injuries, that are,' and have been, before this day, and until the publication hereof, of all persons, as well by sea as land, of greater or less qualities, be suppressed and suspended ; so that none goeth in this army for the time that this voyage continueth and lasteth, although they be old quarrels. Yet, for my express commandment, shall break this truce and forbearance of arms, directly, or in directly, upon pain of disobedience, and incurring into high treason, and die therefor. In like manner I do give charge, that a-board the ships there be not any one thing offered to the disgrace of any man. Declaring herewithal, that there cannot be any disgrace imputed to any man for any thing that shall be offered, nor yet be a reproach, whatsoever happeneth a-board any ship. And for that it is known, that great inconveniencies and offence groweth unto God, by consenting that common women, and sugh like, go in like armies : I do ordain and command, that there be none embarked nor carried in the army: and if that any will carry them, I do command the captains and masters of the ships, not to con sent thereto. Who so doth, or dissembleth therewith, shall be grievously punished. The company of every ship, one every morning, at the break of every day, according to the custom, shall give the good morrow 4 by the main-mast, and at night the Ave Maria 4 : and some days the salve regina1* : or, at least, the Saturdays with a Litany. And forasmuch as it importeth for the preservation and good success of this army, that there be between the soldiers and mariners much confirmed friendship, and such amity, that there be not any difference, nor other occasions of murmuring; I command it to be published, that nobody do carry any dagger, nor thwart one another, or give any occasions, but that all do obey the superior officers : and if any scandal or offence come, he that, was the beginner, shall straightly be punished. When the gallion Saint Marten, wherein myself go, Admiral of this fleet, doth make a sign with a piece of ordnance, it shall be a sign of departure for the whole fleet, that sounding their trumpets, shall follow without losing time, and without coming foul of each other, and cutting sail, shall do the like : having great care of the sands and catchops carrying their boats and skiffs ready for any thing that may happen. Being from the land a sea-board, every ship shall come to leeward, saluting the Admiral to know what he will'command : and demand the word, without going a-head the Admiral either in the day or in the night, but to have great care to his sailing. Every afternoon, they shall repair to their Admirals, to take the word, and to know if there be any thing to do. And for that so many great ships, and so great may be, cannot come every day without boarding one another ; to avoid the danger that may follow, the General of each squadron shall have particular care, to take the word in time, to give it unto the ships under their charge. . The Admiral shall be saluted with trumpets, of them that have them; if not, with their whistles: and the people to halloo one after another, and, answering them, shall salute again : and, if it be towards night, to demand the word ; and, taking it, shall salute one another in time, and depart, to give room to others that follow. If it happeneth some days, that the wind will not suffer to take the word of the Ad miral or Admirals ; they shall have, for every day in the week, the words following : 4 A custom still observed in Spain, and some other Popish countries, by. tolling a bell three strokes thrice • iw all, nine strokes. ' Orders appointed for the Spanish Fleet. 1 17 Sunday, Jesus. Thursday, The Angels. Monday, The Holy Ghost. Friday, All Saints. Tuesday, The Holy Trinity. Saturday, Our Lady. Wednesday, Saint James. And for that it importeth, that all the armies do go close together, I do command, that the General, and wings, with great care, do procure to carry the squadrons as nigh, and in as good order, as is possible : and the ship, and pinnaces, of the charge of Don Antonio de Hartado de Mendosa, keep next unto the Admiral, except six : whereof, two shall follow the Admiral Don Pedro de Valdezi, and two the Admiral of Martin Bretendona; the other two, the Admiral of Joan Gomes de Medina : the which shall be appointed presently, and have great care to repart themselves, without the one thwarting the other : and the squadron of the hulks shall go always in the midst. That no ship of the navy, nor any that goeth with them, shall depart, without my licence : and I do command, upon pain of death and loss of goods, that if by chance, with a storm, any be driven to depart 5 before they come to the Cape Finister, that then they follow their. course to the said Cape, where they shall have my order what to do ; or else they shall sail to the Groyne, where they shall have it. In departing from the Groyne, they shall set their course for Silley, and procure to make the southerside of it, having great care of their sounding : and if by chance in this course any ship, or ships, do lose the fleet, they shall not return into Spain, in any manner, upon pain of death, and the loss of goods, and taken, for traitors ; but follow the course, and make to the southward of the said island. And if any such do think the navy to be a-stern of him, he shall detain himself in the same height, playing up and down, and not to depart from his course. And if it be thought that the navy is a-head, then shall you seek them in Mont's-bay, which is betwixt the Land's-end and the Lizard; there shall you have the whole navy, or intelligence what he shall do ; and yet for all this, if he do not meet with the navy, yet shall he find pinnaces, with order what shall be done. In the night, there shall be great vigilance for the Admiral, to see if she change her course, or make about. Before she goeth about, she will shoot off a piece; and, being about, will put forth another light upon the poop, a-part from the lanthorn ; who that doth see it, shall answer with another light. When he doth' take away, bonnets, or shorten the sails, he shall shew lights; one in the poop, and other two shrowd high. When that for any occasion he shall strike all sails, he shall shew three lights, one in the top, another in the shrowds, and the third in the fore-castle^ and the rest shall shew it, with putting forth a light, each upon his poop. If any ship have any occasion to strike all her sails in the night, he shall shoot off a great piece, and put out a lanthorn all night ; and those that are nighest unto him shall shew lights, for that other may procure it, and shall take in the sails till clay : and, if necessity be great, shall shoot off another piece, and those that do see it, shall answer with other two lights, making the like board. When the Admiral will have any communication, he will make a sign, putting a flag in the after-misen near the lanthorn, and so they shall repair unto him to know what he would have. If (which God for his mercy permit not) there happen any ship to take fire, the next unto her shall make from her, sending first their boats and skiffs, to succour and help, and so shall all the rest. They shall have particular care, to put forth their fire in every ship before the sun go down. In taking of their allowance of victuals, the soldiers shall let them that have the charge thereof, to deliver it ; so that the eaid soldiers shall not go down to take it, nor choose it perforce, as in times they have done ; and for this cause, shall be present the serjeant, or s Between Lisbon and Cape Finisterre. 118 Orders appointed for the Spanish Fleet. corporal of the company or companies, where they are, for avoiding disorder, and that timely they have their portions; so that before night every body may have supped. That no. ship, nor other- vessel of this navy, nor of any of those that goeth subject under my jurisdiction, shall not be so bold to enter into any harborough, anchor, nor go a-shore, with out the Admiral doth it first, or with my special leave, upon pain of punishment hereof. The colonels of the field, captains, lieutenants, ensigns, and officers, must have parti cular care, that the soldiers have always their armour clean, ready, and in order, for time of necessity ; causing them to make them clean, twice every week, and using themselves with them in such sort, that they may be expert at the time of need. And for that, iti the way, order shall be given, in what form every man shall put himself, if we do fight ; I do command, that particular care be had, advising the gunners to have half butts with water and vinegar, as is accustomed, with bonnets, and old sails, and wet mantles to defend fire, that as often is thrown, as to have the like care to have shot made in good quantity, and that powder and Vnatch be ready for ship, and soldiers of the store, by weight, measure, and length ; according to the order, that every ship hath to deliver .unto him that hath the charge thereof, according .to use and custom. Also I order and command, that there be a care, that all soldiers have their room clean, and unpestered of chests, and other things, without consenting in any case to have cards ; and, if there be any, to be taken away presently : neither permit them to the mariners ; and, if the soldiers have any, let me be advertised, that I may command them to be taken away. And for that the mariners must resort unto their work, tackle, and navigation, it is con venient, that their lodgings be in the upper works of the poop and fore-castle ; otherwise the soldiers will trouble them in the voyage. . The artillery must stand in very good Order, and reparted amongst the gunners, being all charged with their balls, and nigh unto every piece his locker, wherein to put his shot and necessaries, and to have great care to the cartridges of every piece, for not changing, or not taking fire.; and that the ladles and sponges be ready at hand. Every ship shall carry two boats lading of stones, to throw to profit, in the time of fight, on the deck, fore-castle, or tops, according to his burden ; and shall carry two half pipes, to fill them with water in the day of battle ; and repart them amongst the ordnance, or other places, as shall be thought necessary ; and nigh unto them, old clothes, or coverings; which with wetting may destroy any kind of fire. That the wild-fire be reparted to the people most expert, that we have for the use thereof; at due time.; for that, if it be not overseen, giving charge thereof to those that do under stand it, and such as we know can tell how to use it; otherwise, it may happen to great danger. By the commandment that no ship shall go a-head the Admiral, at the least in the night, none shall tarry a-stern the Vice- Admiral ; and every one to have a care to the trimming of his sails, according to the charge he hath, and the sailing of his ship;, for the much that it irnporteth that all our navy do go close as possible as they may, and in this the captains, masters, and pilots, must have such great care as of them is hoped. These my instructions are delivered unto every ship ; and have their copy, firmed by my hand, and registered by my secretary, the which shall be read by every purser of every ship publicly ; to come to the note of all soldiers and mariners, whereby they may, not pretend ignorance. And to the said pursers I ordain and command, that, thrice in the week, they be bound to read these my instructions publicly ; and that they take witness of the fulfilling hereof, upon pain of him, that doth the contrary, shall receive punishment to the example of others. All the above-said, we command to be manifested, and be kept without any breach for the service of his Majesty ; none to break them, or any part thereof, in no manner, upon pain they shall: be severely punished, everyone according to his estate and offence; all others reserved to our discretion. Made in the gallion Saint Marten, at the road of Belline6, the twenty-eighth of May, 1588. 0 A village three miles below Lisbon. 119 A Discourse, concerning the Spanish Fleet invading England, in the Year 1588, and overthrown by Her Majesty's Navy, under the Conduct of the Right Honourable the Lord Charles Howard, High-Admiral of England. Written in Italian, by Petruccio Ubaldino, Citizen of Florence, and translated for A. Ryther; to be sold at his Shop, being a little from Lea- denhall, next to the Sign of the Tower. MDXC. [Quarto. Thirty-two Pages.] The constant, attempts, zvhich the Romish pozvers have made upon our religion and liberties j the many private treasons they have fomented against our establishment in church and state; their vast armaments that have been made from time to time, since we forsook the superstition of Rome, and believed in the Gospel only ; and especially the late combined- force of France and Spain, to ruin us by sea and land, calls upon us to be thankful to God, zvho still continues to fight for us, as he did in the infancy of the Reformation ; as zvill better appear by comparing our present state with the following account. The Pope had suffered so great a loss in his revenue by the utter separation of England from his authority, zvhen Queen Elizabeth confirmed and established the Reformation, begun and continued by her father and brother, that he tried all means to take her out of the way ; and zoorking more especially zvith the potent King, Philip of Spain, they both determined either lo cut her off by private artifices, or, if those should fail, to subdue the nation by open force. The Pope leads the zvay: for, it being so shocking to human nature, to contrive the death, and to take azvay the life of God's anointed, or the governor of his people ; he, with his pretended dispensing power, zvas to strive to quiet the consciences of those bigots to be, made use of on that occasion. . The first step was to excommunicate the Queen and all her council, and their adherents ; and then to absolve all those her subjects, that zvere zvilling to be rebels and traitors, from their obli gated allegiance. Then, he assumed a right to dispose of the crown of England; gave it to the King of Spain, and exhorted Philip to reduce it to his yoke by force of arms; engaged other states, and largely assisted him otherwise to enable him to make a successful invasion and to conquer ; and decreed it. a virtue and merit, deserving of Heaven, in those English subjects, that could be so cajoled to arm for Spain, and rebel against their lazvful Sovereign. Philip of Spain, thus prompted and supported, resolved upon the execution of a design that zvould, if successful, add so much pozver and riches to his crown. But still he pretended friendship, disavowed his intention, and soli cited Queen Elizabeth's reconciliation to- the Romish religion, that he might the better cover the zvicked design of taking azvay her life privately or by treason. For, in the year 1584, William Parry, (whose trial is proposed to be printed at large in this' Collection,) instigated by Benedicto Palmio, and Christophero de Salazar, Secretary to King Philip, undertook to murder her sacred Majesty ; and Hanibal Codreto, a Spanish priest, ap proved the same diabolical design. But this zvas providentially detected; and so her Majesty escaped the> bloody hands of that monster of ingratitude, whom she had before saved from the gallows ; yet again, in the year 1586, Babington and Ballard agreed 120 A Discourse concerning the Spanish Invasion. zvith Bernardin Menduza, then the King of Spain's Ambassador, to betray the land to a Spanish invasion, or lo kill the Queen; but they zvere both preserved from their wickedness by the almighty poiver and goodness of God. Thus Philip, hoping for no success in this his private scheme, (his intentions being so often detected, and his armaments already completed,) resolved to fight against God and his servants, by the help of the Pope and the zvhole strength of his own power ; and, in consequence of that resolution, in the year 1588, he sent from Lisbon, on the IQth of May, that sea-armament, zvhich he called " The Invincible Navy;" or, as Pope Sixtus the Fifth termed it, " The great, noble, and invincible Army, and Terror of Europe;" consisting of 134 sail of tall tozv- ering ships, besides gallies, galliasses, and galleons1, stored zvith 22,000 pounds of great shot, 40,200 quintals or hundred zveights of pozvder, 1,000 quintals of lead for bullets, 10,200 quintals of match, 7,000 muskets and calievers, 1,000 partizans and halberts ; besides double cannons, mortars, and field-pieces for a camp, upon disembarking, and a great many mules, horses, and asses, with six months provision of bread, biscuit, and wine; 60,500 quintals of bacon, 3,000 cheeses, 12,000 pipes of fresh water, besides a full proportion of other sorts of flesh, rice, beans, pease, oil, and vinegar. To zvhich he added a great quantity of torches, lanthorns, lamps, canvass, hides, and lead, to stop leaks, SXc. according to some accounts. The English fleet gave them such a reception, that, by the blessing of God, it soon defeated and dispersed that invincible Navy, and made it vincible. In memory of zvhich great and miraculous deliverance from the Spanish and Popish tyranny, there zvas a day set apart, by authority, to be kept holy, throughout all her Majesty's dominions ; and it is much to be regretted, that so great a mercy and duty should be noiv laid aside: for, as a certain great zvriter observes, doubtless, all men and zvomen, who would not have bowed the knee to (Spanish) Baal, had been then put to the szoord ; their children had been tossed at the pike's end, or else their brains dashed out by some ill-faced Dons or other. Strangers have not been wanting to commemorate that time of England's deli verance, amongst whom I shall only mention the reverend and religious Theodore Beza (of pious memory), zvhose pathetick poem gratulatory on that occasion, in Latin, inscribed to the Queen, I shall give you here translated by an excellent pen into the language of those days: Spain's King, with navies huge, the seas bestrew'd, T' augment, with English crown, his Spanish sway. Ask you, what caus'd this proud attempt ? 'Twas lewd Ambition drove, and Av'rice led the way. 'Tis well Ambition's windy puff lies drown'd By winds ; and swelling hearts, by swelling waves : 'Tis well the Spaniards, who the world's vast round Devour'd, devouring sea most justly craves. But thou, O Queen, for whom winds, seas, do war, O thou sole glory of the world's wide mass ! So reign to God, still from Ambition far, So still, with bounteous aids, the good embrace, That thou do England long, long England thee enjoy, Thou terror of all bad ! thou every good man's joy ! ' [An abstract of a treatise concerning the Navy of England, written in 1570, with additions in 1588 has been printed in Censura Literaria, vol. v, from an ancient MS.; and states the number and burthen of ships we ought always to have in readiness to encounter the force of our mightiest enemies; with particular directions fpr arming galeasses, and cogent reasons for employing them.] A Discourse concerning the Spanish Invasion. 121 To the Reader. Who list to hear and see what God hath done For us, our realm, and Queen, against our foe, Our foe, the Spaniard proud; let him o'errun This little book, and he the truth shall know: Which when you read with care, retain this thought, That, howsoe'er the means deserved well, 'Twas chiefly God, against our foe, that fought, And sent them quick through midst of sea to hell : Whither, both quick and thick, let them go down, That seek to alienate the title of our crown. T. H. THE Queen's Majesty having divers ways understood the great and diligent preparation of the King of Spain, in divers parts, both by land and sea, not only of the strongest ships of all places within his dominions; but also of all sorts of provision and ammunition necessary for a mighty fleet, which was to come from Spain and Portugal ; (for the furnishing and better direction whereof he had drawn together, into the places aforesaid, the most principal and antient captains and soldiers, as well of the kingdoms of Naples and Sicily, as of Lombardy, and other parts of Italy, and the more remote parts of India; as by every one was long before very evidently perceived, by reason that the preparation of these things, together with the number of the ships, mariners, and soldiers, the divers sorts and quan tities of victuals, the great number and divers kinds of artillery, with the sum of every several kind, were sufficiently specified unto all countries, by certain pamphlets, laying forth at large his whole intent ; the which pamphlets were printed and published in Spain and Portugal, and other provinces of Christendom, with this title : " The most puissant and most happy Fleet of the King of Spain, against the Realm of England :") her Majesty, I say, having in this manner received so open and manifest information hereof; as also certain intelligence of horsemen and footmen, sent in so great number, that they were sufficient for the furnishing of divers camps in the Low Countries, under the government of the Duke of Parma, his lieutenant-general for those provinces ; and withal knowing the multitude of the ships of war, and the possibility that the said King had to transport his soldiers out of Flanders, and land them in England ; not sparing to give out thereupon open and free report, that all that provision was for the invasion and conquest of England : and for so much also as at the same time the King himself, by means of his aforesaid general, the Duke of Parma, pretended a certain treaty of peace to be made with her Majesty, (albeit this offer was in truth known, in England, not to have been made, but only to take advantage of the time, and to make her Majesty negligent in preparing for her defence, although she notwithstanding desirous openly to declare her good inclination unto that, which is a just and Christian commendation in a prudent princess,) refused not in any point this treaty and offer of peace, greatly desired of all Christian people; and, therefore, for that purpose gave commandment to certain noblemen of her privy council and others, with certain governors of her forces in Flanders, to deal in this matter with the commissioners that should be there appointed, in the name and behalf of the said King ; and our commissioners after their departure and"manifest declaration, that they began to parley to some purpose concerning this treaty, being driven off a long time to small effect, and without any manifest hope of agreement likely to ensue, until such time as the Spanish fleet was not only discovered in the English channel, but also withheld and bridled from their purpose, in joining with the forces of the Duke of Parma, and transporting an army into England ; and, finally, until such time as it was inforced to withdraw itself, and seek some better fortune in the northern seas, being every where else unable to make any forcible resistance. Therefore, her Majesty, as well to declare her propense readiness, if on their part any sincere intent of peace had been, as her vigilant providence not to be deluded by so subtle and malicious an enemy; furnished herself by sea with a mighty fleet, and by land with a no less diligence to resist so great forces, as by all nations were reported to come against her. For it was VOL. I. B 122. A Discourse concerning the Spanish Invasion. never known in the memory of man2, that so great preparation was ever heretofore atone time made out, either by King Philip himself, or yet by the Emperor Charles the Fifth, his father, although his power were much more, and his occasions of war far greater. , The diligence therefore of the Englishmen, answerable unto the care ,of the Prince, was such and so great, that her Majesty was provided of a mighty fleet to defend her by sea from the enemy, between the first of November, 1587, and the twentieth of December next ensuing; a time in truth very short for such a provision," in, regard of so many years spent by the said King in preparing of his fleet, which notwithstanding did shew of what force it was, by experience, afterwards made thereof against the English navy, gathered together within fifty days; and provided and most excellently furnished of all things neces sary for such a purpose. — The care and charge of this navy was commended unto the Right Honourable Charles Lord Howard, Baron of Effingham, Lord High Admiral of England ; who, for his place and office, noble courage, experience in martial affairs, and nobility of blood and descent, was thought most fit and worthy to be employed in that service. He had in his company a sufficient number of honourable, worshipful, and valiant personages, famous both in respect of their birth and the gifts of mind, desirous to serve their Prince and country in such a cause as this, being judged of the whole English nation both just and necessary; likewise of sea-faring men and private soldiers so competent a number, as might - be answerable unto the power of so great a Prince in so weighty a cause. The Lord High Admiral, therefore, with these forces, keeping for a season the narrow seas and channel i between England and Flanders ; Sir Francis Drake, Knight, (mentioned here also in honour of his good deserts,) was, by the advice of the Lords of the Council and his honour so com manding it, sent towards the west parts with certain of the Queen's ships and Others from certain ports of England thereabouts, being in all not above the number of fifty sail of all sorts ; there to attend the Lord High Admiral his coming with greater forces, if occasion should so require. In the mean season, the Lord Admiral with his Vice-Admiral, the Lord Henry Seymer, kept the narrow seas, accompanied with twenty ships more, very well fur nished at the charge of the citizens of London? besides many other from divers parts on that side of the realm, that lieth from the town of Dover up to the north ward;, which met all together in good order, and well appointed for the wars. And here the Lord Admiral understanding, for a certainty, that the. fleet of the enemy was already launched and at the sea, he weighed anchor, and leaving the Lord Seymer with sufficient forces of the Queen's ships and other vessels to watch what the Duke of Parma would do, or was able to undertake by sea, and parting from, thence the twenty-first of May, 1588, to the westward with her Majesty's navy, and twenty ships of London, with some others, he arrived at Plymouth, the twenty-third of the same month, where Sir Francis Drake, wjth fifty sail which he had under his charge, met with the Lord Admiral in very good order. And then, the two navies being joined together into one, the Lord Admiral made Sir Francis Drake his Vice-Admiral. Arriving then at Plymouth, Jiis Lordship presently gave. order for provision of victuals for the whole navy, that it might want nothing that should tend to the necessary service en suing. The whole navy was at this present about ninety sail of all sorts. This provision being complete, he resolved With himself to put forth to the sea again about the thirtieth of May aforesaid ; but the wind not serving his turn, he kept himself abroad sailing up and down within the Sleeve between Ushant and Silley, attending some sight or report of the enemies' fleet. Where having waited a certain. time, sometimes drawing near to the coast of France, and sometimes to the coast of England, he returned ; being thereto inforced by a great tempest, with his whole navy, into the port of Plymouth, the sixth of June, to refresh his company there. _ In the mean season, there were discovered, between Ushant and Silley, certain ships of the Spanish fleet, not above the number of fourteen, which were known to be severed from the whole fleet, by violence of the aforesaid tempest. But, before they could be encoun tered withal by any of the English navy, the wind came about; whereby they had oppor tunity to return back again, saving themselves from all perils in their haven, , called the ! See the particulars above in the introduction to this tract, and in one of the succeeding pamphlets. A Discourse concerning the Spanish Invasion. 123 Croin, into the which also the rest of the Spanish fleet was put to provide themselves enough of other things, which they wanted, and especially of fresh water. Of this thing, the Lord Admiral had intelligence and advertisement from sundry parts, as also that the Spanish fleet was, by great fortune, dispersed and severed into divers places, through penury of many, and those necessary, things, through diseases and mortality of men ; although the. report hereof could not afterwards be verified, whereof the certain truth was, that, being troubled with tempest, they were commanded to come a- shore at the Croin. The Lord Admiral therefore, seeing the coast of England and France clear and free from all danger, as, by diligent search, it was understood; resolved, by the advice and opinion of his council, to take the advantage of the next wind that should blow from the north, that, passing to the coast of Spain, he might find the enemies' fleet so dispersed in the Croin, and in other parts of Galatia, where they had been driven by the storm. This was put in execution between the eighth and tenth of the same month, the wind being then at the north, which within a while changing unto the south, after that he was come within forty leagues, or thereabout, of the coast of Spain, made him to cast a doubt of that which afterwards happened indeed-. For laying this before him, as his principal care, according to the charge, laid upon him by her Majesty, to be diligent and careful for the defence of the coast of England, and considering that, with the wind, which was now changed, and very good, to make for England, the enemy might set out, and pass for Eng land, without discovery of his fleet, he returned back with the whole navy, and the twelfth of the same month he arrived at Plymouth, there accordingly to provide himself of all that was necessary. . The nineteenth of June, his Honour, had intelligence by a bark, or pinnace, whose cap tain was Thomas Fleming, amongst other behind him in the Sleeve for discovery, that the Spanish fleet was discovered near unto the Lizard, the wind being then south and by west. And therefore, albeit that, by reason of the great number of English ships which were in Plymouth, it was with that wind very' hard to bring them forth from thence, (as the military art of the sea, and the condition of their affairs required,) yet was there such diligence used by the Lord Admiral, and the rest by his example, as they endeavoured therein with such advice and earnestness, that many of the ships at the length warped out of the Haven, as if the wind had been wholly favourable unto them : which thing could not have fallen out, but through the long and certain skill, which the English masters gene rally, have in marine discipline. To the which reason, this may be added, that they were allof one nation, of one tongue, and touched with a grievous and equal hatred towards their enemies, being mightily persuaded of their forces. Whereupon we may in such cases assure ourselves of what importance it is, in sea-faring matters, for a fleet of any prince whatsoever,- invading any foreign state or kingdom, to encounter with a fleet, ready for defence in such a manner, as the English navy was; for so much as the fleet invading, being provided diversly of masters and officers, differing one from another in custom, lan guage, and conceit, cannot, in any measure, give any assured hope of certain victory, how honourable, soever the commander be. Many of the ships, therefore, came' forth, by reason that the men were moved in the aforesaid respects to labour diligently; and so much the rather, by how much the captains and chief officers, both by counsel and hand, shewed themselves more diligent and industrious. By these means, the twentieth day of June, the Lord Admiral, accompanied with fifty- four ships, came forth with the same wind that the enemy had from the south-west : which thing certainly was not esteemed a small thing to be done, in regard as well of the wind, as of the narrowness of the place itself. The Spanish fleet being manifestly discovered about a hundred and forty miles from Edestone, and clearly seen of every one, towards the west, and so far off from Foy as ,the English fleet, was, that is, twenty-five ordinary English miles; the next morning, being the twenty-first of June, all the ships, which were now come out of the Haven, had gotten the wind of the Spaniards;, and, approaching somewhat nearer, found that their fleet was placed in battle array after the manner of a moon crescent, being ready with her horns., 124 A Discourse concerning the Spanish Invasion. and her inward circumference, to receive either all, or so many of the English navy, as should give her the assault, her horns being extended in wideness about the distance of » eight miles, if the information given have not deceived my pen. The reason of their ar ranging in this order, arose upon the foresight of the Duke of Medina Sidonia, General of the Spanish fleet ; who, approaching the coast, sent out a small ship to espy somewhat concerning the English fleet, and hearing by certain fishermen taken prisoners, that our fleet was in Plymouth, he prepared himself as aforesaid, for the avoiding of all such chances as might after befall. Whereupon, about nine of the clock, before noon, the Lord Admiral commanded his pinnace, called the Disdain, to give the defiance unto the Duke of Medina : after which, he himself, in the Queen's ship called the Ark, went foremost, as was conve^ nieht, and began hotly to fight with a great ship, which was Admiral of the Spanish fleet, in which ship, he thought, by reason of certain likely conjectures, the Duke of Medina to be ; considering also the said ship was so well accompanied by others. The fight with her continued so long, and so hot, that divers other ships, yea, the most part of the Spanish fleet, came to her succour. :In the mean season, the Vice-Admiral, Sir Francis Drake, with master John Hawkins and master Martin Frobisher, fought with a galleon of Portugal, wherein they thought Don Martin de Ricaldes, the Vice-Admiral, to be. This- fight was so well maintained for the time it continued, that the enemy was inforced to leave his place, and to give way, gathering towards the east. In the which point of re moving, a great galleon, wherein Don Pedro de Valdes went as captain, falling foul with another ship of their fleet, was deprived of her foremast, so that she could not follow the body of the fleet that forsook her ; to the great marvel of the Englishmen themselves, whereby Don Pedro became prisoner, as afterward shall be declared. Furthermore also there was, at this time, a great ship of Biscay, about eight hundred ton in burthen, that was spoiled by fire upon this occasion : the captain of the soldiers that went in her, having small regard (as is reported) of an orderly and civil life, did insolently beat a certain Flemish gunner. What cause he had, I know not, whether upon occasion of words, touching his charge, or by means of the gunner's wife, whom he had abused* according to the custom of that nation. Whereupon, the perplexed man seeing himself among such a kind of people, as not only made him serve their turns, at their own pleasure, but disgraced him in as vile manner as if he were a slave, despairing both of life, wife, and his young daughter, and perchance rather moved' with the dishonour of them, than by his own misfortunes, (which mind is many times in men of mean condition,) he set him self on fire, in a barrel of gunpowder; procuring thereby, through the loss of his own life, and the extreme hazard of those that belonged unto him, and the loss of many men's lives besides, a cruel revenge of his injuries received by one only man. This exam ple may serve to instruct such as command over others, how they ought to behave them selves, with less insolency : inasmuch as the mind of man is always ready to revenge, after the custom of this our bloody age, if he be not born utterly void of a quick wit, and lively spirit. Through this mischance of theirs, all the upper decks were blown up, all her furniture marred, and much other spoil done, besides the death and maiming of her men ; so that, being utterly unable all that night to help herself, she was succoured by the galliasses, and, for the time, saved in the body of their fleet. But to return unto our purpose. This first skirmish continued not above two hours; be cause the Lord Admiral, considering that he wanted as yet forty ships, which could' not so readily come forth of the Haven, thought he should do better service if he stayed their coming, before he proceeded any further, beating behind upon the enemy, lest he should bring the rest too much in hazard; and, therefore, he thought it not profitable too much to embolden and prick those forward that he had with him, in a matter that was not greatly convenient, either for the honour of the realm, or his own person; neither did the military- discipline of the English nation, purchased by long experience at the sea, give him leave to do it. And, therefore, he put forth his flag, to call the other captains to counsel; who agreeing unto his determination, received instructions concerning the order that they were A Discoitrse concerning the Spanish Invasion. 125 to. keep in following the Spanish fleet. Then, having given liberty to every man to return to their charge, he gave order, likewise, to his Vice-Admiral, Sir Francis Drake, to appoint the watch "for that night, and bear out the light. The same night, the Spanish fleet lay about fourteen miles off from the Start. The next day following, early in the morning, it was under the wind, not so far off as Berry. In the mean time, the English fleet wanting light, because the Vice-Admiral, Sir Francis Drake, leaving his place to follow five hulks which were discovered in the evening, very late it came to pass, that all the other ships staid behind, not knowing that they were to follow, or whither to direct themselves : so that there might have followed some great in convenience, had they had to do with an enemy more practised in our seas. But as it seemed, by report, the said Vice-Admiral was moved to do this, by meansv of a certain cu rious diligence, and a military suspicion, growing in his mind upon certain and very proba ble conjectures, grounded on circumstances of matter considered in his mind; and, there fore, he gave them the chace, thinking that they had been enemies. But, being overtaken, and their officers examined, and being known to be friends, or; at the leastwise, not enemies, he permitted them to go their way, returning himself unto the fleet the day following. The Lord Admiral, notwithstanding, accompanied with the Bear and the Mary Rose, coming a little behind his stern, by reason of the clearness of the air (which, at that time of the year, is ordinarily very great throughout all England), followed the enemy all that night, within a culverin-shot. By occasion whereof, the rest of the fleet was east so far behind, that, the morning after, the nearest part thereof could hardly descry the tops of the other ships, and many of them were clean out of sight ; so that, with all the force of their sails, they could hardly come all together the whole day following, until the evening. The next day, the Vice-Admiral, Sir Francis Drake, being in the Queen's ship, called the Revenge, having also the Roebuck and a pinnace or two in his company, took Don Pedro de Valdes, who, as was said before, had lost the foremast of his ship : and having received the said Valdes, as his prisoner, and certain other gentlemen of most account that were therein, he sent the ship, together with the prisoners, unto Dartmouth, under the con duct of the Roebuck, and he himself made toward the Lord Admiral, under whose lee he came that night. The same day, being the twenty-second of the month, a little before the Vice-Admiral, Sir Francis Drake, was returned unto the fleet, the Spaniards forsook the ship, which the day before was spoiled by fire. To the which ship, the Lord Admiral sent the Lord Thomas Howard, and with him, Mr. John Hawkins, who, being in the cockboat of the Victory, went a-board her, and there found a lamentable sight : for, all the uppermost decks of her being torn and spoiled by the fire, there were in her fifty men miserably burnt with the powder. The stink in her was so great, and the ship itself so. filthy, that the Lord Howard departed presently from her : and returning, with Mr. John Hawkins, to the Lord Admiral, they informed him of that they found and saw there. For which cause, there was presently commandment given, that the little pinnace of Captain Fleming should conduct her unto some port of England, where they might most commodiously help themselves. Where upon, it was carried to Weymouth, the next day following. For all the mishap that befel this ship, they understood that the Spaniards had taken out of her all the best things that they could, casting off the bulk of her, together with certain gross stuff therein, as for that time altogether unprofitable. About this time, her Majesty, seeing that all hope of peace was frustrate, called home again her commissioners from Flanders, who were, by the Duke of Parma, most courteously dismissed, very honourably accompanied, and themselves and their carriages safe conducted to the marshes of Calais, which way they took their journey. But to the matter : The night last before-mentioned, there befel a great calm, and there upon four Spanish galliasses severed themselves from the rest of their fleet. This thing made the Englishmen to doubt, that that night they had resolved to give the onset upon some of their lesser ships, imagining that they might annoy them the rather, for that they 126 A Discourse concerning the Spanish Invasion. were the rereward of the fleet. But afterwards the galliasses (whatsoever the occasion was) enterprised nothing; either for that they saw they could not safely do it, or else because their minds were not thoroughly settled upon that, which before they thought to do; a thing many times falling out in such persons as are but poor in counsel and resolution, that they continue in their perplexed conceits, without any effect or commodity ensuing thereof. The morning following being Tuesday, the twenty-third of the month, the wjnd was at north-east, whereupon the Spaniards came back upon the Englishmen, with the advantage of the wind, directing their course toward the land ; the which course was not profitable for the Englishmen. Therefore, to take the advantage of the enemy, they cast about toward the west, with a reasonable compass, their ships being very good both of sail and stirrage, that they might bring about their purpose. Now the Spaniards, to hinder their intent, after they perceived it, offered to come near a-board to fight with them, trusting in the huge greatness and height of their ships : the which offer of theirs the Englishmen refused not, but began presently to bring themselves into battle array, which the enemy perceiving, he also did the like. In this case the Ark, the Lion, the Bear, the Elizabeth Jonas, the Victory, and certain other ships, were content to follow the ship called the Non-Pariglia. In the mean season the Triumph, with other five ships of London, namely the Merchant Royal, the Centurion, the Margery Joan, the Mary Rose, and the Golden Lion, were so far to the rereward, and so far severed from the rest of the fleet, that the galliasses undertook to give them an hard assault. But they were well entertained by the ships, for the space of an hour and an half, until at the length some of the Queen's ships coming to succour the Triumph and the Londoners, dealt so well in the matter, that the galliasses were driven to retire. The wind came about at this present to the south-east, and afterwards to the south-west and by south, at which time a certain number or squadron of the Queen's, toge ther with other merchants' ships, gave assault unto the Spanish fleet; and that so furiously, to the westward of them, that' the Spaniards were all inforced to give them way : For which cause, the Lord Admiral considering both the discommodity and danger whereinto the Tri umph and the other five ships were come, he called other of the Queen's ships that were not far off, and gave them strait commandment to follow him, and to charge the enemies which were to the westward with all their force ; giving further order to them all, not to discharge any one piece of ordnance before they should come within a musket-shot of the enemy, inasmuch as that was the 'only way to succour the ships of their friends with the greater damage of the enemy. This was well performed by the Ark, the Elizabeth Jonas, the galleon Leicester, the Golden Lion, the Victory, the Mary Rose, the Dreadnought, and the Swallow. Which thing the Duke of Medina perceiving, he also came forth with sixteen of his best galleons, to hinder and impeach the Englishmen in the defence of the Triumph, seeming in this case to pretend, that the reason of the fight did so require; whereas the regard of his honour did no less inforce him unto it ; because it seemed incon venient that he should in every thing be inferior to the Englishmen; and, therefore, he made large promises unto those, by whose means the victory should be gotten. Howbeit that fell out in the end, that was prefixed by the stars ; that is, that the success of the con flict, falling out on his side, as hardly as in such a case might be, the Spaniards, in the end, were inforced to give place, and to retire unto their array of battle. In this conflict, one William Cocks, captain of a little pinnace, called the Violet, belonging unto Sir William Winter, behaved himself very valiantly against the enemy, in the greatest heat of this en counter; but, within a little while after, he lost his delight, wherewith he was not very well acquainted, and his life, by a great piece of ordnance, fortune not being correspondently favourable .unto his courage, which, therefore, was no whit profitable to the perfection of hjs purpose Toward the evening, four or five Spanish ships came out from the rest of the fleet, from the south-eastward, against whom certain of the English ships came, and namely, the May-Flower of London, which discharged certain pieces upon the enemy, with a very A Discourse concerning the Spanish Invasion. 127 honourable declaration of the marine discipline ; and being accompanied by other ships that were there found, they all behaved themselves no less diligently, (which thing was not at the first hoped for,) shewing their desire tempered with a wish of other company. The conflict continued from the morning unto the evening, the Lord Admiral being at all times ready and vigilant, in all adventures that might, fall out : and, thereupon, he was sometimes more, and sometimes less eager in the conflict, as necessity required, giving thereby evident exam ple, how others should behave themselves. It might well be said, that, for the time, it was not possible to see, before this" battle, in this sea so hard a conflict, nor so terrible a spoil of ships, by reason of the pellets3 that flew so thick every way. To conclude; there was never seen so vehement a fight; either side endeavouring, through an headstrong and deadly hatred, the other's spoil and destruction. For, albeit the musquettiers and harque- busiers were in either fleet many in number, yet could they not be discerned or heard, by reason of the more violent and roaring shot of the greater ordnance, that followed so thick one upon another, and played so well that day, on either side, that they were thought to be equal in number to common harquebusiers in an hot skirmish. The battle was not only long, but also near at hand, within half a musket-shot, and that to the great advantage of the Englishmen, who with their ships, being (as was aforesaid) excellent of sail and stir- rage, yet less a great deal than the Spanish ships, and therefore more light and nimble, sought not at all, according to their manner otherwise, to board them, but keeping them selves aloof at a reasonable distance, continually beat upon the hull and tacklings' of their enemies' ships, which being a great deal higher, could not so conveniently beat the English ships with their ordnance. — This long conflict being finished, and every one retiring unto his part ; the next day following (which was Wednesday, the twenty-fourth of the month) was passed without any thing done, because, by reason of the fight that day before, there was spent a great quantity of powder and shot ; whereupon, the Lord Admiral sent divers barks and pinnaces to the shore, for a new supply of such munition. For her Majesty, prudently foreseeing each thing necessary for her men, ordained that there should be sufficient provision made, according as should be needful, as well of victuals as of munition. It seemed moreover that day, that the Spanish fleet was nothing grieved with that day's respite, but were all of them indifferently glad of that breathing ; inasmuch as, thereby, they had good opportunity to look to their leaks, whereof no doubt they had a great number, for they had carried away many shrewd stripes from their enemies, their hurts being of great likelihood so much the more, in that the Spaniards were penned up in a narrow room. This day, the Lord Admiral, for certain convenient reasons, divided the whole body of the fleet into four squadrons, by means of which division the enemy might be greatly, and more con tinually troubled. The first squadron he kept for himself; the second he assigned unto Sir Francis Drake, his Vice-Admiral ; the third to Mr. John Hawkins, the fourth to Mr. Mar tin Frobisher ; and after noon he gave order, that in the night, six of the merchants' ships in each squadron (for that, as they were of sundry parts of the realm, so they were equally divided into each squadron) should charge the Spanish fleet in as many parts, at one and the same time, that at midnight the enemy might be kept occupied. This order taken (as it was very likely) might have, had as good effect, as it wa§ wisely given ; but by rea son of a great calm which fell out, no part of this advisement could be accomplished ; fortune interrupting good counsel. The next day, being the twenty-fifth of the month, and St. James's day, there was a great Spanish galleon left behind her company to the southward, near to the squadron of master John Hawkins ; so that the barks, belonging unto the greater ships, were within musket-shot of her. By reason hereof, three of the galliasses, and another ship, that was in manner of a galleon, and well appointed, came from the Spanish fleet to succour this galleon. Against whom went out the Lord Admiral in the Ark, and the Lord Thomas Howard in the Golden Lion;- and drew so near, being towed by their boats, that they did them much harm, whereby one of them, requiring the help of the rest, being succoured 3 i. e., Bullets. 128 A Discourse concerning the Spanish Invasion. by them, returned unto the fleet ; and from another, by means of a shot coming from the Ark, there was taken away her light, and thrown into the sea; the third lost her beck. Whereby these two ships, the Ark and the Golden Lion, declared this day to each fleet, that they had most diligent and faithful gunners, desirous as well of the common good, as of the private honour of their leaders, the Lord Admiral and the Lord Thomas Howard, which went in them ; which commendation might rightly be imparted with them, con cerning this happy event, because the calm was so great, that, albeit the two fleets were well able to behold the fortune of each of their friends, yet, notwithstanding, they could not help them at all ; at the length, the wind beginning somewhat to arise, the Spaniards took the opportunity thereof, and. put themselves forward to help those of their side, and succoured them honourably. After this time, the galliasses, in whose puissance the greatest hope of the Spanish fleet was founded, were never seen to fight any more ; such was their entertainment that day. The two fleets, notwithstanding, approaching nigh one unto another, began a conflict, but they continued it but a while, except one ship, called the Non-Pariglia, and another, called the Mary Rose, which, having taken in their top-sails, staid themselves there, to make as it were a certain experience of their manhood, upon the Spanish fleet, behaving themselves honourably for a season. In which time, the Triumph, being to .the northward of the Spanish fleet, was so far off, that doubting that certain of the Spanish ships would assault her to the windward, they succoured her with divers boats, that got the wind easily ; for the Bear and the Elizabeth Jonas, even at one instant, 'having knowledge of the danger, wherein the other were, drew near unto them ; desiring, both in regard of the honour of their commonwealth, and also for the preservation of their friends and country men, to be partakers of the like danger and difficulty. Whereupon each ship doing her duty, they jointly saved the Triumph from all harm, and recovered the wind. And thus this day's work ended ; whereof I may say, that the conflict was no whit shorter than the day itself. At this present, the Englishmen considering the great waste of powder and shot that had heretofore been made, the Lord Admiral determined not to assault the enemy any more, until he were come nigh unto Dover ; in which place, he knew he should find the fleet under the charge of the Lord Seymer and Sir William Winter, who were ready to join with him, that thereby he might both fortify himself with a greater number of ships, and in this manner provide themselves of munition, from that part of the realm. Upon Friday, therefore, being the twenty-sixth of the month, ceasing from fighting, the Lord Admiral (as well for their good deserts and honourable service, as also to encourage others to like va lour) was desirous to advance certain personages to the degree of knighthood, for that behaving themselves manfully as well with their ships as their good advice, they were worthy that degree of honour; and so much the more worthy, in that, being far sepa rated from all courtly favour, which many times imparteth the chiefest honours unto the least deserving men, they declared their valour in the eyes of either fleet. Therefore the two Lords, viz. the Lord Howard and the Lord Sheffield ; Roger Town- send, John Hawkins, and Martin Frobisher, were called forth, and the order of knight hood given them, by the Lord Admiral, as their general. This day there came to the service of her Majesty, in her fleet, divers gentlemen ho nourable both by blood and place, but much more in respect of their courage and virtue- for that, in these publick affairs and so necessary service of the wars, they willingly offered their service in the defence of their country and honour of her Majesty. This day also, and the next, being the twenty-seventh, the Spaniards followed their course quietly, before the English fleet. In which time the Earl of Sussex,,the Lord Buck- hurst, Sir George Cary, Knight, and the Captains of the forts and castles thereabout sent their men with powder, shot, and victuals, to the Lord Admiral, to assist and hefp the army. The same Saturday, towards the evening, the Spaniards drew nigh tq Calais under the coast of Picardy, and there suddenly cast anchor, almost right against the left hand of A Discourse concerning the Spanish Invasion. 129 the Haven,' to the westward, a little less than five miles from Calais cliffs. The English fleet also cast anchor, within a culverin-shot of the enemy to the westward. In the mean season, the Lord Seymer and Sir William Winter joined with the Lord Admiral, whereby the English fleet increased to the number of one hundred and forty ships, of all sorts. But the Spaniards, with all speed, sent tidings unto the Duke of Parma of their arrival, who at this present was at Bruges; who, having retained with him all his seafaring-men, many days before to this purpose, yet proceeded no farther in the matter for that time; although, for such time as the King had limited him, he for his part took as much care as might be looked for at his hands. For, having already embarked a per tain number of his soldiers, he was careful in like manner to dispatch the rest, as soon as they should be ready, that they might take, opportunity to come forth, furnishing them abundantly with victuals and munition. But, in the mean time, such a chance fell out, as made frustrate, not only his, but the conceit also of the Duke of Medina, and wholly overthrew their enterprise, in that her Majesty was not a little careful and troubled in mind, concerning the success of these affairs, albeit she herself had committed her whole fortune into the hands of Almighty God. Moreover, also, the Lord Admiral having by certain notice understood, that the Duke of Parma had prepared a great number of tuns of water, and ten thousand chosen footmen, to be embarked for the joining with the fleet, which could not be avoided, if the Duke of Medina were not compelled to avoid that place ; knowing also the evident peril, that was to be feared, if the Spanish fleet should be suffered to refresh itself, and to be furnished with so many soldiers, he applied his wits so, in the deliberation of these matters of weight and importance, having the consent of others more practised, that no time might be lost for the furtherance of this service : and, for so much as the forces of the enemy were not yet united and joined together ; therefore tbe twenty-eighth of this month, at' midnight, he1 pro vided eight small ships, dressed with artificial fire4, to the intent to drive the same upon tbe Spanish fleet. This thing was diligently and effectually brought to pass, under the charge of Captain Young and Captain Prewse, two valiant and courageous men. By rea son hereof, the enemy was not only inforced to break his sleep ; but, the fire coming so sud denly upon him, (not remembering himself, at the very instant time, of any other remedy, either more safe for himself, or more excusable,) to cut his cables, to let slip his anchors, and to hoist- up sails, as the only way to save his fleet from so imminent and unexpected a mis chief. Furthermore, by means of this tumult and confusion (which, in truth, was very great), the chief galliass fell foul with another ship, upon the cable of whose anchor her stern was set so fast, that they could not loose her all the night long, so that the next day following she was inforced with her oars to make toward the land, and to draw nigh to the haven's mouth of Calais, to save herself in that- place; but, not knowing that water, and having no profitable and convenient counsel for the time, she fell upon a shelf. This thing being, in good time, espied by the Lord Admiral, he sent thither his greatest boat, under the charge of Amicus Preston, his Lieutenapt ; and together with him, Thomas Gerrard and Mr.Harvie, two of her Majesty's gentlemen and servants, and others of the court, and of his own servants, who fought with her, but unequally; for that the ship, being gravelled, could, with her force, prevail but little. In this conflict it chanced that a musket shot struck Hugo de Moncada, chief Captain of the galliass, a noble and valiant man, in the head ; the which mishap, joined with the difficulty of stirring themselves in their defence, bred such a despair in every man, that the greater sort leaped into the water, to save them selves by swimming into the Haven, although many of them perished in the water. By this disorder of the enemy, the Englishmen being more secure, took her, and sacked, her to their great commodity; above an hundred men being entered into her, and their company increasing more and more. Whereupon Monsieur Gordon, Governor of Calais, a man of good estimation in respect he two English captains with their bands towards them, to the number of one hundred fifty ; who found them at Sir John Odoghertie's town, called Illagh, and there, discove their number to be above six hundred, did that night encamp within a musket-shot of th and, about midnight, did skirmish with them for the space of two hours ; in which skir the Spanish lieutenant of the field and twenty more of the Spaniards were slain, be many that were hurt. The next day following they did offer skirmish again to the Spaniards, whereupon all yielded; and so, as prisoners, were carried to Dongannon to the Earl, who mear send them to the Lord Deputy, being judged to be men of good value, and one thougl be a man that hath had some great charge and conduct of men for many years ; wh the Lord Deputy will give knowledge, as soon as they shall be brought to Dublin. There may be some errors in the Spanish names in English, because the same are wr by way of interpretation ; but there is no error in the numbering of the persons thai either dead or alive. Sept. 26* 1588. The Losses of the Spanish Navy upon the Coast of Ireland. 141 Ships and men sunk, drowned, killed, and taken upon the coast of Ireland; in the month of September, 1588. InTyrconnel In Loughfoyle 1 ship . — 1 100 men ofthat ship, and others that escaped. 'In Sligo Haven 3 great ships 1500 In Connaught -I In Munster In Tirawley — 1 ship — In Clare Island 1 ship — In Finglass — 1 ship — In Oflarty — 1 ship — In Irrise *. 2 ships. In Galway Bay 1 ship — fin the Shannon 2 ships — I In Traylie — 1 ship — ¦{ In Dingle — 1 ship — j In Desmond — 1 ship — l^ln the Shannon 1 ship burnt. 400 300 400 200 The men fled into other vessels. 70 600 24 500 300 The men embarked in another ship. Total 17 ships 5394 men. Before the loss of the aforesaid seventeen ships in Ireland, there perished, in July and August, fifteen other ships, in the fight betzvixt the English and Spanish navies in the narrozv Seas of England. First galleys — > — — — 4 Near Ediston, by Plymouth, at the first). conflict — — — — \ The same time was distressed and taken Don? . Pedro de Valde's ship — — \ At the same time by fire, a great Biscay ship 1 Before Calais, spoiled the principal galliass of Naples — — — — In the conflict was sunk a great Biscayan 1 I 1622 men 0000 y These two remain in England. 289) 686 000 The galleon St. Philip — — — 1 St. Matthew — — — 1 A. Biscayan wrecked before Ostend — 1 The day after the fight there sunk twoK Venetians — — — — $ A great Biscayan forced by two of theK Queen's ships to perish at Newhaven £ — 532) — 397 f — 000 — 843 — 000 These two forced into Flush ing, being sore beaten by the English great shot. Total 15 ships The above loss 17 4791 men 5394 Total of both these losses 32 ships 10185 men, whereof there are priso ners in England and Zealand Besides many ships not yet heard of, thought to he lost. at least 1000 ; besides a great multitude of men not here accounted, that were slain in the fight* and that have died of famine ; as by the examinations aforesaid appeareth. 142 The Copie of a Letter sent out of England to Don Bernardin Mendoza, Ambassadour in France for the King of Spaine, declaring the State of England, contrary to the Opinion of Don Bernardin, and of all his Partizans, Spaniards and others ; found in the Chamber of Richard Leigh, a Seminarie Priest ', who was lately executed for High Treason, com mitted in the time that the Spanish Armada was on the Seas : with an Appendix 2. Imprinted at London, by J. Vautfollier, for Richard Field. MDLXXXVIII. [Quarto. Thirty-two Pages.] In this Letter we not only find a confirmation of the foregoing history ; but zve also learn the sentiments of our enemies concerning the most likely methods to enslave us, and the only means to preserve our present establishment. The author, a Papist, and in the Spanish interest, informs the King of Spain, that the hopes, of a foreign invasion did not only depend on a large army to be transported, but on a strong party ready in England to join the foreign forces at their landing. He advises to act more politically than by excommunication of the Prince, and the Pope's Usurped power to absolve subjects from their allegiance, and to dispose of kingdoms by violence, blood, slaughter, and conquest ; as also to conceal their intentions, till the time came of striking the blozv effectually. "For, (says he,) zvhen these things zvere published. without reserve, the Queen endeavoured to strengthen her kingdom. The militia of the inland-tozvns provided for their ozvn safety, and the places on the coast, where a landing might be suspected, zvere zvell guarded. Besides, every nobleman, knight, and. gentleman of fortune, immediately took the alarum, and thought it time to provide for their own and the public safety, by arming their servants and dependents." He shezvs the error of the Popish states, who confide on the numbers of those that profess popery in England; and clears the lazvs of the land from the imputation of punishing any priest, or Jesuit, or other recusanti for his religion only. He blames and explodes those lying accounts published in France, of victories gained over us, zvhen we at the same time have entirely routed the enemy ; yet this, as well as many other of their stale politics, is constantly practised in the same place : and then dissuades them from the like attempt, and proposes the best means to maintain popery in England. MY Lord Ambassador, though at the time of my last writing to you of the state of this country, and of our long-desired expectation of succours promised, I did not think to have had such a sorrowful occasion of any second writing, as now I have, of a lamentable change of matters of estate here; yet I cannot forbear (though it be with as many sighs as • [Seminary-prielts are those trained up in the Romish Church, to propagate its doctrines in Protestant coun tries; whence they may be regarded as Papistic missionaries.] J [Intitled "Certaine Advertisements out of Ir'eland, &c.» See Herbert, p. 1075, who says there were two editions.] J " The Copy of a Letter, Spc. 145 lines) to advertise you of the truth of our miserable condition, as now to me and others of our party the same appeareth to be ; that by comparing of all things past in hope, with the present now in despair, your Lordship, who have had the principal managing, hitherto, of all our causes of long time, both here and there in France, betwixt the Catholic King assisted with the Potentates of the holy league, and all our countrymen which have professed obe dience to the church of Rome, may now fall into some new and better consideration, how our state, both for ourselves" at home, and our brethren abroad, now at this present fallen, as it were, into utter despair, may be revived and restored to some new hope, with better assurance of success, than hath happened hitherto. For which purpose I have thought it necessary to advertise you in what terms this country now standeth, far otherwise than of late both we at home, and others abroad, did make account of. You know, how we have depended in firm hope of a change of the state of this country, by the means of the devout and earnest incitations of the Pope's Holiness, and the Catholic King, and of other Potentates of the Holy League3, to take upon them the invasion and conquest of this realm ; and, by your assurances and firm promises, we were now of a long season past persuaded, that the Catholic King had taken upon him the same glorious act, and thereof, from year to year, we looked for the execution; being continually fed and nourished from you to continue our hope, and sundry times solicited by your earnest requests, and persuasions, to encourage our party at home not to waver, as many were dis posed, by sight of continual delays, but to be ready to join with the outward forces that should come for this invasion. Nevertheless, the delays and prolongations of times appoint ed for the coming of the King's forces, especially by sea, have been so many, as, until this last spring, we were in despair ; at what time you advertised us with great assurance, that all the King's preparations, which had been in making ready these three or four years together, were now in full perfection, and without fail would this summer come into our seas with such mighty strength, as no navy of England, or of Christendom, could resist or abide their force; and for more surety, and for avoiding of all doubts, to make the intended conquest sure, the same should also have joined to it the mighty army, which the Duke of Parma * had made ready, and kept in readiness in the Low Countries all this year past, wherewith he should land, and so, both by sea and land, this realm should be inyaded, and a speedy conquest made thereof, to the which were always added sundry reasons ; where upon was gathered, that neither by sea nor by land there would be any great resistance found here, but a strong party in this realm to join with the foreign force. For otherwise than with such helps, to be assuredly had from hence, I know, it was always doubted, that no foreign force could prevail against this realm, being, as it is, environed by sea, and notably replenished zvith more mighty and stronger people than any country in Christendom. But with the hope of tbe landing of these great armies, and our assistance in taking part, we here continued all this year past in assured hope of a full victory, until this last month. But, alas ! 'and with a deadly sorrow, we must all, at home and abroad, lament our sudden fall from an immeasurable high joy, to an unmeasurable deep despair ; and that so hastily fallen out, as, I may say, we have seen in the space of eight or nine days, in this last month of July, (which was from the appearance of the Catholic great navy upon the coast of England, until it was forced to fly from the coast of Flanders near Calais, towards the un known parts of the cold north,) all our hopes, all our buildings, as it now appeareth but upon an imagined conquest, utterly overthrown, and, as it were, with an earthquake, all our castles of comfort brought to the ground, which now, it seemeth, were builded but in the air, or upon the waves of the sea; for they are all perished, all vanished away from our thoughts. And herewith I am astonished what I may best, think of such a work, so long time in framing, to be so suddenly overthrown, as by no reason could proceed of men, or of any- earthly power, but only of God. And if so it be, (as no body can otherwise impute this late change and fall from our expected fortune, but to God Almighty,) then surely our case 3 So called by the Papists, because combined to destroy all Protestants. * The King of Spain's General. 144 The Copy of a Letter, $c. is either dangerous or doubtful how to judge thereof, whether we have been these many years in the right or not. For I do find, and know, that many good and wise men, winch of long time have secretly continued in most earnest devotion to the Pope's authority, begin now to stagger in their minds, and to conceive that this way of reformation intended by the Pope's -Holiness is not allowable in the sight of God, by leaving the ancientcourse of the church by excommunication, which was the exercise of. the spiritual sword ; and- m place thereof to take the temporal sword, and put it into a monarch's hand to invade this realm with force and arms, yea to destroy the Queen thereof, and all her people addicted to her; which are in very truth now seen, by great proof this year, to be in a sort infinite, and in vincible, so as some begin to say that this purpose by violence, by blood, by slaughter, and by conquest, agreeth not with Christ's doctrine, nor the doctrine of St. Peter, or St. 1 auf . And to tell your Lordship truly, I find presently a great number of wise and devout people, though they continue in their former religion, yet do they secretly condemn this intended reformation by blood and force. Insomuch that I heard a good divine allege a text out of St. Gregory in these words: Quid de episcopis, qui verberibus timeri volunt, canones dicunt, bene paternitas vestra novit; Pastores sumus non percussores. Nova enim est prcedicatio qua, verberibus exigitfidem5 . This sentence I obtained of him, because it seemeth to be chari tably written. But, leaving this authority among doctors, I must needs say that, in very truth, no one thing hath done at this time more hurt to the action, than the untimely hasty publishing abroad in this realm, before this army of Spain was ready to come forth to the seas, of sundry things written and put in print, and sent into this realm, to notify to tbe people, that all the realm should be invaded and conquered, that the Queen should be de stroyed, all the nobility, and men of reputation, of honour, and wealth, that did obey her, and would defend her, or that would withstand the invasion, should be with all their families rooted out, and their places, their honours, their houses and lands bestowed upon the con querors: things universally so odiously taken, as the hearts of all sorts of people were infla med ; some with ire, some with fear, but all sorts, almost without exception, resolved to ven ture their lives for the withstanding of all manner of conquest, wherewith every body can say this realm was not threatened these five hundred years and more. , These reports were brought to this realm, with good credit, not in secret, but in public writings and printings, and took deep root in all kinds of people of this land; and indeed was of the more credit, first, by reason of a new bull, lately published at Rome, by the Pope's Holiness, (which I have seen,) with more severity than other of his predecessors ; whereby the Queen here was accursed, and pronounced to be deprived of her crown, and the invasion and conquest of the realm committed, by the Pope, to the Catholic King, to execute the same with his armies both by sea and land, and to take the crown to himself, or to limit it to such a potentate as the Pope and he should name. And, secondly, there followed a large explanation of this bull, by sending hither a number of English boqks printed at Antwerp, even when the navy of Spain was daily looked for, the original whereof was written by the reverend father Cardinal Allen, in April last, called in his own writing the " Cardinal of England ;" which book was so violently, sharply, and bitterly written, yea (say the adversaries) so arrogantly, falsely, and slanderously, against the person of the Queen, against her father King Henry the Eighth, against all her nobility and council, as in very truth I was heartily sorry to perceive so many good men of our own religion offended therewith, in that there "should be found in one accounted a father of the church, who was also born a subject of this crown, (though by the adversaries reported to be very basely born,) such foul, vile, irreverent, and violent speeches, such ireful and bloody threatenings of a queen, of a nobility, yea of the whole people of his own nation. Sorry, and most sorry, I am to report, the general evil conceit of those unordinate and un advised proceedings of this Cardinal, of whose rash choice, to, such a place, the world speak- eth strangely, as though he came to it, through corruption of the Pope's sister, without s What say the canons of those bishops, who would force themselves to be feared, you know right welt: " We are shephcrlls, and not strikers." For it is a new way of preaching, that would convert us by blood and force. The Copy of a Letter, §c. 145 liking of the college of cardinals; where, otherwise, the blessed intention of our holy father, and the desire also of the said Cardinal, might, without such fatal bloody premonitions and threatenirtgs of future invasions and conquests by the Catholick King's noMe forces, have taken better place. There was also, to add the more credit to these terrible prognostications, such kind df other books printed in Spain, and translated into French, (as it is said by your Lordship,) containing particular long descriptions and catalogues of armadas of Castile, of Andalusia, of Biscay, of Guipusque, of Portugal, of Naples, of Sicily, of Ragusa, and other countries of the Levant, with a mass o*f all kinds of provisions; beyond measure, for the said armadas • sufficient, in estimation, to be able to make conquest of many kingdoms or countries. And one great argument is published by the adversaries to stir up the minds of the nobility of England, against the Spaniards, which is very maliciously invented, to shew the intention of the conquest not only of England, but of the whole isle of Britain ; moving all men especially to mark by the description of the armada, that there are especially named such a number of noblemen, as princes, marquisses, condes and dons, that are called adventurers, without any office or pay, and such another number also of men with great titles of honour, and many of them named captains and alferez 6, without office, but yet in sold7, and therefore called entertenidos 8, as all those, being for no service in the armada, may be well presumed (say they) to have come to have possessed the rooms of all the noblemen in England and Scot land ; and this fiction hath taken more place than it is worth. And, though these armieS were, indeed, exceeding great and mighty, yet they were so amplified beyond measure in these books, as in no preparation of Christendom, in former times, against the Saracens or Turks could be greater. By this means, this Queen and her realm, being thus forewarned and terrified, took occasion with the aid of her people, being not only firmly (as she was persuaded) devoted to her, but thoroughly irritated, to stir up their whole forces for tlieir defence, against such prognosticated conquests ; as, in a very short time, all her whole realm* and every corner were speedily furnished with armed people on horseback, and on foot; and those continually trained, exercised, and put into bands, in warlike manner, as in no age ever was before, in this realm. Here was no sparing of money to provide horse, armour, weapon, powder, and all necessaries ; no, nor want of provision of pioneers, carriages, and victuals, in every county of the realm, without exception, to attend upon the armies. And to this general furniture every man voluntarily offered ; very many, their service personally* without wages; others, money for armour and weapons, and to wage soldiers; a matter strange, and never the like heard of, in this realm or elsewhere : and this general reason moved all men to large contributions, that to withstand a conquest, where all should be lost, there was no time to spare a portion. The numbers made ready in the realm I cannot affirm of mine own knowledge ; but I have heard it reported, when I was grieved to think the same to be so true, that there was, through England, no. quarter, east, west, north* and south, but all concurred, in one mind, to be in readiness to serve for the realm: and, that some one country was able to make a sufficient army of twenty thousand men, fit to fight, and fifteen thousand of them well armed and weaponed; and in some countries the number of forty thousand able men. The maritime countries from Cornwall, all along the southside of England to Kent ; and from Kent eastward, by Essex, Suffolk, and Norfolk to Lincolnshire, (which countries, with their havens, were well described unto you, in perfect plots, when Francis Throgmorton9 first did treat with your Lordship 'about the same,) were so furnished with men of war, both of themselves, and with resort of aid from their next Shires, as there was no place to be doubted for landing of any foreign forces; but there were, within eight>and forty hours, to come to the place above twenty thousand fighting men on horseback, and on foot, with field ordnance, victuals, pioneers, and carriages; and all those governed by the principal noblemen of the countries, and reduced under captains of knowledge^ 6 Ensigns. 7 Part of the corps. 8 Volunteers. -* [See a Discovery of the Treasons practised against Queen Elizabeth by Francis Throckmorton, in vol. iii.] VOL. I* W 146" The Copy of a Letter, fyc. And one thing I heard of. that was very politically ordered and executed at tins time, as of many late years was not used: that, as the leaders and offieers of the particular bands were men of experience in the wars, so, to make the bands strong and constant, choice was made of the principal knights of all countries, to bring their tenants to the field, being men of strength, and landed, and of wealth; whereby all the forces, so compounded, were of a resolute disposition to stick to their lords and chieftains, and the chieftains to trust to their own tenants. And to remember one strange speech that I heard spoken, may be marvelled at, but it was avowed to me for a truth ; that one gentleman, in Kent, had a band of one hundred and fifty footmen, which were worth, in goods, above one hundred and fifty thou sand pounds sterling, besides their lands : such men would fight stoutly before they would have lost their goods, and, by likelihood at this time, many other bands were made of such principal men, both of wealth and strength. Of these things I am sorry to have cause to write in this sort : because you may see how heretofore you have been deceived with adver tisements of many, which had no proof to know the truth thereof; and so I confess myself in some things to have erred, namely, in imagining that, whensoever any foreign power should be seen ready to land in any part of this realm, there would have been found but a small number resolute to withstand the same, or to defend the Queen; but that the same would have been very unable for the wars, untrained, raw, and ignorant in all warlike actions, without sufficient armour and weapons: and that also the noblemen and gentlemen that were in this realm of our religion, whereof, you know, we made account when you were here in England of very many, although many of them be dead since that time ; but at this time there are not so many tens, as we accounted hundreds, whom we thought would have shewed themselves like men of courage for our common cause, and would have sud-- denly surprized the houses, families, and strength of the Hereticks and adversaries. But now, such is our calamity, that it hath pleased God, (as I think, for our sins, or else, for confounding of our bold opinions and presumptions of our own strength,) to put in the hearts of all persons here one like mind, and courage to withstand the intended invasion, as well in such as we accounted Catholicks, as also in the Hereticks ; so as it hath appeared manifestly that for all earnest proceeding for arming, and for contributions of money, and for all other warlike actions, there was no difference to be seen betwixt the Catholick and the Heretick. But in this case to withstand the threatened conquest, yea, to defend the person of the Queen, there appeared such a sympathy, concourse, and consent of all sorts of per sons, without respect of religion ; as they all appeared to be ready to fight against all stran gers, as it were with one heart and one body. And, though some few principal gentlemen of whom heretofore you have had the names in such catalogues of Catholicks, as you have been acquainted withal, were lately, upon the report of the coming out of the army to the seas, sent to the Isle of Ely, there to remain restrained of their former liberty, during the expectation of this intended invasion ; yet, it hath appeared, that they were not so restrained for any doubt, that they would, with their powers, have assisted our army, but only thereby to make it known to all our friends and countrymen in Spain and Flanders ; yea, even to yourself, (for so I heard it spoken, as accounting you to have been the most principal author and persuader of this action) that there should be no hope to have any of them, or of their friends, to assist these great armies. And, in very truth, I see now, whosoever of our friends in Spain, or in Flanders, or elsewhere, made any such account of any aid against the Queen or against her party here, they should have been deceived, if the army had offered to have landed. For I myself have heard, that the best of those that were sent to Ely, did make offers ; yea, by their letters to the council here, signed with their hands ; that they would adventure their lives, in defence of the Queen, whom they named "their undoubted Sovereign Lady and. Queen," against all foreign forces, though the same were sent from the Pope, or by his commandment: yea, divers of them did offer, that in this quarrel of invading the realm with strangers, they would present their own bodies in the foremost ranks with their countrymen against all strangers. Whereupon I heard also, by a secret friend of mine in the court, that it was once in some towardness of resolution amongst the counsellors, that tthey should have been returned, and put to their former liberty The Copy of a Letter, §c. 147 But the heat of the war being kindled, with the knowledge of the King's Armada being at that time come to the Groyne, and the Duke of Parma's readiness with so great an army and shipping in Flanders, daily looked for to land in England, yea to come to London, and a general murmur of the people against such recusants of reputation, was the cause of the staying of these gentlemen at Ely, notwithstanding their offers of their service to the Queen ; and so they do remain in the Bishop's palace there, with fruition of large walks about the same, altogether without any imprisonment, other than that they are not suffered to depart into the town or country ; and yet, for their religion, I think surely they do, and will remain constant to the obedience of the Church of Rome; for the which, nevertheless, they are not impeached to any danger of their lives, but only charged with a penalty of money, because they will not come to the churches ; whereby by the law, a portion of their revenue is allotted to the Queen, and the rest left to the maintenance of them, their wives, and children. By which kind of proceedings, our adversaries here do pretend that both these gentlemen, and all other of their qualities, are favourably used, that they are not pursued to death for their religion, as, they say, it was used in Queen Mary's time ; and as it is daily used (as they say) most rigorously and barbarously in Spain, against the Englishmen that come thither only in trade of merchandize. And yet, I and others sometimes privately speaking with such our adversaries, as we think are not maliciously bent to have men prosecuted to death only for their religion ; (for to say the truth, and as the proverb is, not to belie the devil, very many of our contraries are, in that point, not uncharitable ;) we do object to them the executions by cruel torments and deaths of very many, both here about London and other parts of the realm, whom we account as martyrs, in that they do witness, by their death, their obedience to the Pope and the Catholic Church of Rome. To which, these our adversaries pretending some small drops of charity, do answer us, that no execution hath been of any, to their knowledge, for their religion, or for profession there of; but, for that they which have been executed, have been found to have wandered in the realm secretly and in a disguised manner, which the adversaries scornfully term as ruffians, with feathers, and all ornaments of light-coloured apparel, like to the fashion of courtiers, and do use many means to entice all people with whom they dare adventure to speak, not only to be reconciled to the Pope and the Church of Rome, but to induce them by vows and oaths to renounce their obedience to the Queen ; to deny her to be their sovereign, and themselves to be discharged of their allegiance ; and to repute all magistrates under her to be unlawful, and in conscience not to be obeyed, with many more 'such matters (which I nevertheless count to be very vain calumniations) tending to make the facts of all such holy priests as are sent with commission to win men's souls, to be direct treasons against the Queen and the state of the realm. These defenders of these judgments and executions contend, and do most earnestly maintain, that all such Priests, Jesuits, Seminaries, and others, so persuading the people against the Queen, the laws, the government, and state of the realm, and all others that are so persuaded by them, are manifest traitors; and so they say that their indictments, and all process of law extended and pursued against them, do manifesly declare the same. Wherein these our adversaries do sometimes, for maintenance of their arguments, shew the very copies of their indictments and judgments, wherein there is no mention made of char ging them with their religion ; but that they have attempted to persuade the Queen's subjects to forsake their allegiance, and consequently to be rebels to their Queen and Sovereign. In this sort, these men, for their advantage, do at all times, with these and many like ear nest arguments, maintain their proceedings against the holy Priests and Jesuits that have suffered death for their consciences, as just and necessary. And though, where I and others may reply without peril to ourselves, (as surely in some small companies we may, using modest words,) we object the confession of theCatholick Faith, by the parties at their death, and that with great constancy, which our adversaries cannot deny, so as it may seem they die for their religion; yet is it on the other part against us alleged and maintained, that they 148 The Copy of a Letter, 8?e. are neither indieted, condemned, nor executed for their religion ; or for offering of them selves to die for their religion, hut only for the former treasons in conspiring against th& Queen and, state of the realm ; no otherwise than of late time Babington I0 and all his complices who were condemned for their attempt to have raised war in the realm, and to have murdered the Queen, and to have set up the Queen of Scots, all which the said Babing ton and all his complices voluntarily confessed, and were condemned and executed, only for those their great treasons ; and yet divers of them, at the place of their execution, did make confession of their Catholick faith, with offer to die for the same; and yet (say our adversaries) it Ought not to be affirmed, that Babington and his complices were put to death for religion,, but for their treasons. And for further maintenance of the coloured arguments, wherewith I and others, my good, faithful, and Catholick brethren, are often troubled how to answer them, it is alleged, that the great number of gentlemen, and gentlewomen, yea, some of honourable calling, and of other meaner degrees, are known manifestly to* be of a contrary religion to the laws of the realm, both near the court and far off, and yet they are never pursued by any form of law, to put their lives in danger, or questioned, or imprisoned, for tlieir opinions in religion, whereby to bring them in any danger. Only such as are presented or complained of by the parishioners where they dwell, for never coming to any church, by the space of certain months. in a whole year, are thereof indicted, and afterward being called to answer thereto, if they can shew no such lawful excuse, as the law hath provided ; they are then condemned' to pay a penalty, out of their goods and lands, if they have any, and not otherwise punished, nor yet, by inquisition, any of them examined of their faith. But yet say these defenders, if they shew themselves, by their open deeds and facts, to he reconciled from their allegiance and obedience to the Queen, and that they will therein persist, then they are therewith charged, and punished according to the laws therefore provided. These arguments in their defence I do not repeat as allowing of them, but yet surely they do move me, and some others that are wise, to think, that indeed the rashness of divers co ming secretly into the realm, and professing themselves to be Priests, many of them being both very young, unlearned, and of light behaviour, hath done great harm to the goodness, of our common cause ; and if they, and such others, could have temperately and 'secretly instructed the people, and used more circumspection in their own living and behaviour, there would have been a greater increase of numbers, persuaded in conscience to have joined with us in our profession. Whereof I am the bolder to write to you, my Lord, that you may confer with our countrymen, that have access unto you, and that they also may deal with the fathers of the Jesuits, that more care and choice be had of such Englishmen, as are hereafter to be sent into England ; and not to send every young man, that hath more boldness, than learning and temperance, for such a function. In the former part of this my declaration to you, of the universal, concurrence of all men of value, wealth, and strength, in the body of the realm, to serve and defend the Queen and the realm, I forgot to. repbrt unto you the great numbers of ships of the subjects of the realm ; as of London, and other port-towns, and cities, that voluntarily, thisyear, were armed, able to make a full navy of themselves for an army, and all at the proper costs of the Burgesses, for certain months, with men, victuals, and munition, which did join with the Queen's own navy, all this summer ; a thing never in any former age heard of, other wise than, that such ships were always hired, waged, and victualled by the kings of the realm ; which argued, to the grief of me and some others, a most vehement and unaccus tomed affection and devotion in the cities and port towns, such, as they shewed themselves, therein ready to fight, as it had been, pro aris Sf focis: i. e- "for their religion and lir berties." Of the number and strength of the Queen's own ships of war, I think you have been sufficiently informed many times heretofore. But yet 1 will make you a true report of the *" [Anthony Babington with several others were convicted of conspiring against Queen Elizabeth, and exe cuted with great barbarity in St. Gileses fields, September 20, 1886.] . The Copy of a Letter, §c. 149 state of them this present summer, what I have credibly heard thereof; beeause I have been very sorry to hear how you and others have been therein abused ; and that not only in this matter of the Queen's ships, but in some other things also of late, whereof some part hath been here by very many, maliciously, and in common speeches, imputed to your own in vention and publication : whereof, in a few words," I will make some digression, before I shall shew the estate of the Queen's navy. In this summer past, there was printed in Paris, by your direction (as it was reported), a notable untruth, which I did see, and read : that the King of Scots had besieged Berwick, and had won it by assault, and possessed it quietly. Whereof no part was true, nor any cause to imagine the same, though I wish it, had so been : but not for any good will that I now bear to that King, but for the trouble to this Queen. For, in truth, there is no good for us to be hoped for from the King of Scots, howsoever the Scottish Bishops in France have sought to niake you believe otherwise, who is rooted in the Calvinist religion, as there is never hope that he can be recovered to the Church of Rome : and so I think you are of late duly informed, as by his violent actions against divers Catholicks, and against all that favour the Spaniards, may certainly appear. And, likewise, another great untruth was lately printed (as your enemies say) by your di rection also, in Paris ; that now in July last, when the Spanish fleet and English had met and fought, betwixt France and England, the Spaniards had then a great victory, wherein they had sunk the Lord Admiral of England, with sixteen of the Queen's great ships, into the bottom of the sea, and that all the rest were driven to fly with the Vice-Admiral Francis Drake. Upon these two so notable untruths, which the adversaries spitefully called Don Bernardin Mendoza's Mendacia n; many who honour you were right sorry, that you should give so hasty credit, to publish the same as (your enemies say) you did : though I have to my power, for clearing of your honour, given it out, that these, and such like, have pro ceeded of the lightness of the French, who commonly print more lies than truths, in such doubtful times ; and not of you, whose honour and wisdom I thought would not be justly touched with so great untruths and lies : considering always, a small time will discover things that are in facts reported untruly, and bringeth the authors to discredit and infamy. There hath been a speech also reported here, to have proceeded from you in France, that hath caused a great misliking of you in Scotland ; which is, that you should, in open assembly, and in a bravery say, that the young King of Scots (whom you called, in your language, a boy) had deceived the King your master : but, if the King's navy might prosper against England, the King of Scots should lose his crown. And of this the King of Scots hath been advertised out of France, and useth very evil language of you, which I will not re port. But now to leave this digression, and to return to let you know the truth of the state of the Queen's navy this summer : the same was, in the beginning of the year, when the bruit was brought of the readiness of the King's Armada in Lisbon, and of the army by land, upon the sea-coasts in Flanders, with their shipping,, divided into three companies : the greatest under the charge of Charles Lord Howard, High Admiral of England, whose father, grandfather, uncles, great uncles, and others of his house, being of the noble house of the Dukes of Norfolk, had also been High Admirals afore him, whereof both France and Scot land have had proof. Another company were appointed to remain with the Lord Henry Seymour, second son to the Duke of Somerset, that was Protector in King Edward's time, and brother to the now Earl of Hertford : and these companies, for a time, continued in the narrow seas, betwixt England and Flanders, under the charge of the said High Admiral, to attend on the Duke of Parma's actions. A third company were armed in the west part of England, towards Spain, under the con duct of Sir Francis Drake ; a man by name and fame known too well to all Spain, and the King's Indies, and of great reputation in England : and this was compounded, partly of some of the Queen's own ships, and partly of the ships of the west parts. " i. e. Sir Bernardin Mendoza's lies. 150 The Cbpy of a Letter, §f. But, after that it was certainly understood, that the great navy of Spain was ready to. come out from Lisbon, and that the fame thereof was blown abroad in Christendom, to be invin cible, and so published by books in print ; the Queen and all her council, I am sure, (what soever good countenance they made,) were not a little perplexed, as looking certainly for a dangerous fight upon the seas, and after that, for a landing and invasion. Whereupon, the Lord Admiral was commanded to sail with the greatest ships, to the west of England, to wards Spain, to join with Drake, whom he made Vice-Admiral, and to continue in the seas betwixt France and England,, to stop the landing of the navy of Spain. And, with the Lord Admiral, went in certain of the Queen's ships, the Lord Thomas Howard, se cond son to the last Duke of Norfolk; and the Lord Sheffield, son to the Admiral's sister, who is wife to the Queen's Ambassador in France; with a great number of Knights of great livelode : and at that time the Lord Henry Seymour was left with a good number of ships in the narrow seas, upon the coast of Flanders, to attend on the Duke of Parma. Whilst these two navies were thus divided, I confess to you, and 1, and others of our part, secretly made full account that none of all these English ships durst abide the sight of the Armada of Spain : or, if they would abide any fight, yet they should all be sunk at the first encounter. For such constant opinion we had conceived, by the reports of the world, that the greatness and number of these ships, and the army of Spain, being the chosen vessels of all the King's dominions, was so excessive monstrous, beyond all the na vies that ever had been seen in Christendom (not excepting the Armada at Lepanto), that no power could abide in their way. But how far deceived we were therein, a very short time, even the first day, did manifestly, to the great dishonour of Spain, discover. For when the Catholick army came to the coast of England, which, indeed, the English confess, did seem far greater than they looked *for, and that they were astonished at the sight of them : yet the Lord Admiral and Drake, having but only fifty of the English ships out of the haven of Plymouth, where the rest remained for a new revictualling, Without tar rying for the rest of the navy that was in Plymouth, they did offer present fight, and fu riously pursued the whole navy of Spain, being above one hundred and sixty ships : so as the same with the furious and continual shot of the English one whole day, fled without any returning. And after, the English navy, being increased to an hundred great and small, renewed their fight with terrible great shot all the whole day, gaining always the wind of the Spanish navy. And as I am sorry to remember the particularities, which the English have largely written to their own praise : so to speak all in one word, for nine days together they still forced them to fly, and destroyed, sunk, and took, in three days' fight, divers of the greatest ships : out of which, especially out of the principal great ship of Andalusia, and out of the Admiranta 12 of Guipusque ; and thirdly, out of the principal great galliass of Naples, great numbers were brought (besides many more killed and drowned) to London, and to sundry other ports of the realm, to the great dishonour of Spain : amongst which pri soners were a great number of Captains, both for land and sea. And besides that, which deeply blemisheth the honour of Spain, and vexeth me at my heart, to consider the inequality of fortune ; it is vaunted by our adversaries, that, in all the time of these fights so many days, the Spaniards did never take, or sink, any English ship or boat, or break any mast, or took any one man prisoner. A matter, that indeed these Spaniards, which are taken, do marvel at greatly, and chafe thereat : so as some of them, in their anguish of mind, let not to say, that in all these fights, Christ shewed himself a Lutheran 13. And though such speeches be unadvised, and not to be regarded, yet surely it is most mani fest, that in all this voyage (from the coming of the navy out of Lisbon, even to this hour) God did shew no favour to ours any one day, as he did continually to these Lutherans : whichj perchance, may be done for our good, to correct us, as putting our trust wholly in our worldly strength, and to the confusion hereafter of the Lutherans, by puffing them up, being his ene mies, with prosperity for a time, to be afterwards the cause of their ruin. And amongst other " Admiral's ship. f '3 Note, that all the foreign Papists scarce know any other distinction in the Reformed Churches, than Luthe ran and Calvimst, and generally suppose the Church of England to be a Lutheran Church. The Copy of a Letter, $c. 151 things reported to the dishonour of the Duke of Medina, who, it is said, was lodged in the bottom of his ship for his safety, and to a great touch to the commanders of the Spanish navy, that they never would turn their ships, nor stay them, to defend any of their own ships that were forced to tarry behind, but suffered divers to perish, as are good witnesses thereof the three great vessels, one wherein Don Pedro de Valdez was taken; another galleon of Guipusque, that was spoiled by fire, and the noble galliass, wherein Hugo de Moncada was slain : of which lack of care, by the Duke of Medina, these Spaniards that are taken, give very evil report. The like is said in Zeland, by the Spaniards there, that were saved with Diego de Pimentelli ; though the galleon wherein he was, being beaten with the English shot, and not succoured by the navy of Spain, did there perish in their coming to Flushing, and so also did another likewise perish for lack of succour, before Ostend. And now I must needs think that you are stricken with some grief of mind, or rather with some anger towards me, to hear from me so much of those adverse things, although they are too true : and, therefore, I also imagine you may be desirous, for your better contentation, to understand what opinions we that are here have, being thus frustrate of our expected delivery, by the defeat of this enterprise : whether we do comfort ourselves with a conceit that this action may be, by any probability, once again renewed this next year, for the recovery of our lost hope this year ; famously spoken of by the number of eighty-eight, and so verified to the loss of all Catholicks. Wherein, surely, for our own parts, as by secret con ference, I find, with many with whom I have secretly, of late, upon this unfortunate accident conferred, we cannot judge of any likelihood of good success for any long time : and if there should any be hoped for, surely the sea-forces of the Catholick King must of necessity be more increased,, and better also governed than they were this year. For this we here do consider, that this enterprise of invasion and conquest was always principally grounded upon many probable opinions of the evil state of the realm 14. First, of the weakness of the English navy ; for so, you know, you were divers ways this last year advertised from hence ; and so also, many of us here did conceive the same : wherein we see, by all thisyear's service with these ships, we did all notably err. Next, of a supposed evil contentment of a number of people in this land to serve the Queen, and her government, against her ehemies. Lastly, and most principally, of a great strong party that would be found here in the favour of us for the Catholick religion, that should take arms against the Queen, upon the first sight of the Catholick navy on the coasts of England. Of all which opinions, settled in good men's minds, in manner of judgments, we know that none in the world did more con stantly assure the King thereof than you : which, as the matters have evil succeeded, may, I fear, bring you in danger of his indignation, although I know you meant- very well therein. And as these three opinions have all failed this year, so I assure you, though some of ours on that side the seas may persist in their former opinions against the experience lately seen, (as it is likely they may be forced to do, to maintain themselves in credit, for con tinuing their necessary relief from the Pope, and the King, having no other means to keep them from starving or begging) ; yet, because I would not have you further deceived by them, who have not been present in the realm, to see such contrary proofs against all their conceits, as I and others have done : I will shew you a great number of manifest arguments, though I am sorry at my heart to remember them, whereby you, in your wisdom (if you be not blinded by others) shall see it most certain, that these former opinions, for comfort to be had from hence, will prove the next year as strong against us, and, in some part, more strong than they proved this year, if any account should be made thereof. First, for the navy of England, which hath this year, to the sight of the world, proved to be of great force and value, for those seas, and able to overmatch, in their manner of fight, double to their number of the great galleons, carracks, galliasses, or galleys, it is cer tain that it will be greatly increased this next year : for I know, that within these few days, t* This ought to be well remarked ; and it is upon these suppositions, that the enemy did ever attack us. 152 The Copy of a Letter, $d: bargains are already made, and imprest of money delivered, and certain sent into the Estlands> for great store of all maritime provisions. And as for the increase of the number of good ships for the Queen's proper use, there is already a great quantity of /timber ready, and order given to fell more in November and December next, in the countries near both to the sea, and to the Thames; to build a number of ships of war, equal to those whose service was seen this year, to have overmatched the great Armadas and castles of Spain and Italy. And, further more, to join with the navy of England, this year following, not only the Hollanders and Zelanders, but also ships of Denmark, and other parts of Estland, will certainly be had in great numbers, whereof there was none at all required this year past, to join with the navy Of Eng land; onlyNcertain Hollanders and Zelanders offered their service (according as they are bound) in the end of this summer, since the conflict near Calais, to join with some of the English navy in the narrow seas, to defend the issuing of the Duke of Parma out of the ports of Flanders : and in that service, at this time, there are above forty and six good ships of war, with the Vice-Admiral Justinian, of Nassau, a man that agreeth too well with the English na tion, and is a sworn enemy to all Spaniards, and Catholicks. And as it is reported, for cer tain, there are threescoremore coming out of North-Holland to the seas, for the same purpose: so as it is to be doubted, that this realm, this next year, will be double as strong as it was this last year. As to the second branch of our hope depending upon Opinion of some great miscontent- ment of sundry persons against the Queen, the proof of the contrary so appeared this year, both of her actions, to maintain the liking of all her people, and of the general earnest devo tion shewed to her by all estates, noble and mean, rich and poor, as I think no prince chris tened ever had greater cause of comfort in her people; which I may judge to breed a pride in her. And to recompense the same, she did most notably shew herself in this time, even when most danger was threatened, in all her actions towards her people, as careful for their weal, and for the safety of her realm, without any special or particular provision, or regard to her own person, as ever any prince could do. First, to let her people understand what care she had to make her realm strong against invasion, she politically, yea most carefully, by her own frequent directions, caused her whole realm to be put in arms ; she took account thereof herself by monthly certificates, from such as Were made her Lieutenants, in every shire^of her realm; she caused armour, powder, weapons, to be sent to all countries, and ordnance to all maritime countries: there were also sundry armies described, to defend every coast of the sea, and as I heard it reported, by some that did know the secrets of the court, was impor tunate with her council to leave no day unoccupied, to bring these services to effect ; and yet she did still continue her commissioners, in the Low Countries, to treat of peace, which surely she desired to have obtained, so that she might have had the same with certain condi tions. So as to content her people, she did both treat and desire peace, and did not, in the mean time, neglect to make her realm strong for defence, if peace Could not be gotten. But in the end, when her demands were wholly refused (whereof we and all Catholicks were most glad), and that she understood very certainly, that the army of the Duke of Parma should come first to destroy the city of London, she revoked her commissioners, approached London in person, and did lie, aS it were, in the suburbs of the same ; whereby they of the city took great comfort, having daily in show and muster of their own ten thousand men armed and trained of very able men of the city, and in readiness thirty thousand more, able to fight. She caused also an army to be brought to incamp, near the sea-side, upon the river of Thames, betwixt the sea and the city, twenty miles beneath the city ; and after the army was come thither, she would not by any advice be stayed, but for comfort of her people, and to shew her own -magnanimity of heart, (as she said, she would so do, though she was a woman,) she went to that army lying betwixt the city and the sea, under the charge of the Earl of Leicester, placing herself betwixt -the enemy and her city, and there viewed her/army, and passed through it divers times, lodged in the borders of it, returned again, and dined in the army. And first, saw the people as they were, by their countries, lodged and quartered, in their several camps, which she viewed, from -place to place. Afterward, The Copy of a Letter, §c. 153 when they were all reduced into battles, ready, as it were, to fight with any enemy, she rode round about them, and did view them curiously, being accompanied only but with the General, and three or four others attending on her : but, yet to shew her state, I well marked it, she had the sword carried before her, by the Earl of Ormond. There she was generally saluted with cries, with shouts, with all tokens of love, of obe dience, of readiness and willingness to fight for her, as seldom hath been seen, in a camp and army, considering she was a queen ; and all tended to shew a marvellous concord, in a mutual love, betwixt a queen and her subjects ; and of reverence, and obedience of sub jects, to a sovereign ; all which she acquitted with very princely thanks, and good speeches. I could enlarge this description with many more particularities of mine own sight, for thither I went, as many others did ; and all that day, wandering from place to place, I never heard any word spoken of her, but in praising her for her stately person, and princely behaviour ; and in praying for her life and safety, and cursing of all her enemies, both traitors, and all Papists, with earnest desire to venture their lives for her safety. And besides such particular acclamations, the whole army, in every quarter, did devoutly at certain times sing in her hearing, in very tunable manner, divers psalms put into form of prayers, in praise of Almighty God, no ways to be misliked; which she greatly com mended, and with very earnest speech thanked God with them. This that I write, you may be sure, I do not with any comfort, but to give you these manifest arguments, that neither this Queen doth discontent her people, nor her people do shew any discontentation in any thing that they be commanded to do for her service, as heretofore hath been ima gined. She had also an army of about forty thousand foot-men, and of six thousand horse men, under the charge of the Lord Hunsdon, Lord Chamberlain, as Lieutenant of that army, made ready from the inland parts of the realm, to be about her own person, without disarming the maritime countries ; so as many marched out of sundry countries towards her, at the very time that she was in the camp : some came to the suburbs and towns near London, whom she remanded to their countries, because their harvest was at hand ; and many of them would not be countermanded, but still approached onward on their own charges (as they said) to see her person, and to fight with them that boasted to conquer the realm. But, though the greatest number of the said soldiers were compelled to return, yet the captains, leaders, and the principal knights and gentlemen came to the court to offer their service ; and those were graciously accepted of her, with many thanks, and are now for the more part returned with a full determination, and firm promise to continue their bands in such readiness, as upon a few hours warning, they will assuredly return with them in good array. Beside these foresaid arguments to disprove the opinion of discontentment of the people, which heretofore hath been thought a great furtherance to this honourable action, I will also remember you some other more notable actions, to prove both contentation and readi ness, in all the nobility of the realm at this time, that were not tied to abide in their coun tries by reason of their offices, as lieutenants and governors there, for martial services. For, as soon as it was heard that the Queen was come near London, and that the armies were ingathering to come out of the countries, for defence of all invasions, and reports brought from the sea-coasts of the appearance of the Spanish navy ; all the noblemen in the realm, from east and west, from north and south, excepting only such great lords as had special governments in the countries, that might not lawfully be absent from their charge, and some few that were not able to make forces according to their desire, came to the Queen, bring ing with them, according to their degrees, and to the uttermost of their power, goodly bands of horsemen, both lances, light-horsemen, and such other as are termed Carbines or Argele- tiers15; lodging their bands round about London, and maintaining them in pay at their own charges all the time, until the navy of Spain was certainly known to be passed beyond Scotland. And of these noblemen, many shewed their bands of their horsemen before the Queen, even in the fields afore her own gate, to the great marvel of men of good judgment, ,s Troopers. VOL. I, X 154 The Copy of a Letter, §c. (as I heard . reported,) for that the number of them was so great, and so well armed and horsed, as knowing that they were no parcel of the numbers of horsemen limited in every country, and put into bands with the armies described, it was thought before they were seen, that there had not. been so many spare horses of such valour in the whole realm, ex cepting the north part of England, towards Scotland, whose forces consist chiefly of horse men. The first that shewed his bands to the Queen, was that noble, virtuous, honourable man, the Viscount Montague; who, howsoever men do judge of him for opinion in religion, yet, to tell you the truth, he is reported always to have professed, as now also at this time he did profess and protest solemnly, both to the Queen, and to all her court, in open assemblies ; that he now came, though he was very sickly and in age, with a full resolution to live and die in defence of the Queen, and of his country, against all invaders, whether it were Pope, king, or potentate' whatsoever; and in that quarrel, he would hazard his life, his children, his lands and goods. And, to shew his mind agreeably thereto, he came personally him self before the Queen with his band of horsemen, being almost two-hundred ; the same being led by his own sons, and with them a young child, very comely seated on horseback, being the heir of his house, that is, the eldest son to his son and heir : a matter much noted of many, whom I heard to commend the same, to see a grandfather, father, and son, at one time on horseback, afore a Queen, for her service ; though, in truth, I was sorry to see our adversaries so greatly pleased therewith. But I cannot conceal it from your Lord ship's knowledge, because 1 think this nobleman is known unto you, having been used as an ambassador to the Catholick King many years past by this Queen (as I have heard) to require confirmation of the treaties of amity, betwixt both their fathers. And of this no bleman's conditions, I think there be some others of whom there is no account to be made, that they will give favour to any attempt against the Queen, or to any invasion of the realm. There were also many, at the same time, that made shows of great numbers of ser viceable horses, whereof though it be no comfort for you to hear, yet it is good that you be not abused for lack of knowledge, how the present state is here,; that you may better judge hereafter, what may be done to recover this late loss and dishonour. At this time the Earl of Lincoln, and the Lord Windsor, with some knights and gentlemen with them, shewed their bands, as the Lord Montague had done; and after them, the Lord Chan cellor 1S shewed goodly bands of horsemen and footmen at his own house, very many and strong. And within one or two days after, the Earl of Warwick, the Lord Burleigh, Lord Treasurer, the Lord Compton, and, in the end of the day, the Earl of Leicester, and the Lord Rich, besides sundry knights of the realmv shewed eyery . of them several strong bands, of horsemen, to the great liking of the Queen, and of all the people that were there, being many thousands. And within two days after that, the Earl of" Essex, being Master of the Queen's Horse, with certain principal gentlemen, his servants, friends, and followers, shewed before the Queen above three-hundred horses of all service, and a great number of carbines, and a fair band of footmen, all musqueteers. This show exceeded in number any other particular band, and the Earl himself, with a great number of lances, horsed and armed, did run very many courses, and especially with the Earl of Cumberland, as they call it, the course of the field, which I had never seen be fore ; and did also himself, and his company, tournay on horseback a very long time, and caused also his carbines, and his footmen, to make many skirmishes there, to the great liking of the Queen, and of the multitude of people, which were many thousands. Amongst whom I heard many vehement speeches against all English Papists, calling them all trai tors, wishing also that the Spaniards had been there in that field with treble the number to make proof of the valour of Englishmen ; all which 1 heard to my great grief, with many curses against all their countrymen, saying, that they, as arrant traitors to their native country, had villainously sold, as far as in them did lie, the liberty of their own country H [Sir Christopher Hatton.] The Copy of a Letter, $c. 155 to Spaniards and other Papists. It behoved me not there to have contraried any of them ; for surely, if I had, their rancour was so stirred up by the comfort of these fair shows of horsemen, as they would there in the field in their rage have killed me, and cut me m a thousand pieces. Besides these Lords above-named, there were brought to the town other fair bands, by the Earl of Worcester, the Earl of Hertford, the Lord Audley, Lord Morley, Lord Dacres, Lord Lomley, Lord Mountjoy, Lord Sturton, Lord Darcy, Lord Sands, Lord Mordaunt, and by every one that were of the Privy Council ; so as, by estimation, there were about London, at that time, above five thousand horses ready to serve the Queen, besides all the horsemen that were raised in all other countries for the armies and the sea-coasts. And besides these, I heard in a very good place, where I was silent, that there were, by account, twice as many in readiness, with the Noblemen that were absent, attending on their charges in their several lieutenancies. As the Marquis of Winchester, one counted to be the strongest man of his own furniture for horse and armour, who is Lieutenant of Hamp shire, with the Earl of Sussex, Captain of Portsmouth, and Lieutenant also of Dorsetshire. Next to him is in account the Earl of Shrewsbury, Earl Marshal of England, Lieutenant of a great number of counties, and of great power of his own, both for horsemen and footmen besides the power of the Lord Talbot his son. The Earl of Darby also, though he was in Flanders, from whence he came lately ; yet his son, the Lord Strange, Lieutenant of Lan cashire and Cheshire, in his absence, is said to have raised a great power of horsemen. And to shew the popular affection to this Earl in his country, I heard it for certain reported, that, when the Earl continued longer in Flanders than they liked, and doubting of his re turn, for that they supposed the Duke of Parma would stay him and the other commis sioners there ; the people of his country, in a generality, did amongst themselves deter mine, that the Lord Strange, the Earl's son, and all the manhood of Lancashire and Cheshire, would go over the seas and fetch the Earl home : a matter for no purpose to be spoken of, but to note the force of the love which the people do bear to the Earl, who, with his son, is firmly bent against the Pope. The Earl of Bath also, Lieutenant of Devonshire, had (as is said) great forces of his own ready to have impeached the landing of any strangers in Devonshire. The Earl of Pembroke also, being Lieutenant of Somersetshire and Wiltshire, and Lord President of all Wales, was ready to have come to the Queen with three hundred horsemen, and five hun dred footmen, all of his own retinue, leaving all the countries under his charge fully fur nished. I omit here to speak of the bands of horsemen belonging to the Earls of Northumberland and" Cumberland, which, though they were ready to have been shewed at the same time ; yet the Earls, hearing of the Spanish army approaching, went voluntarily to the sea-side in all haste, and came to the Queen's navy before the fight afore Calais. Where they, being in several of the Queen's ships, did, with their own persons, valiant services against the King's Armada. And to shew the great readiness in a generality of sundry others at the same time, to adventure their lives in the said service, there went to the sea at the same time divers gentlemen of good reputation, who voluntarily without any charge, and without knowledge of the Queen, put themselves into the Queen's navy in sundry ships, wherein they served at the fight before Calais ; of which number, being very great, I remember that the names of some of them were these : Mr. Henry Brook, son and heir to the Lord Cobham ; Sir Thomas Cecil, son and heir to the Lord Treasurer ; Sir William Hatton, heir to the Lord Chancellor; Sir Horatio Pallavicino, a Knight of Genoa; Master Robert Cary, son to the Lord Hunsdon ; Sir Charles Blunt, brother to the Lord Mountjoy. But much speech is of two gentlemen of the court that went to the navy at the same time, whose names are Thomas Gerard, and William Hervy, to me not known, but now here about London spoken of with great fame. These two adventured out of a ship-boat, to scale the great galliass, wherein Moncada was, and entered the same only with their rapiers; a matter commonly spoken, that never the like was hazarded before, considering the height of the galliass compared to a ship-boat. 156 The Copy of a Letter, &c. And yet, to make it more manifest, how earnest all sorts of noblemen and gentlemen were to adventure their lives in this service, it is reported that the Earl of Oxford, who is one of the most antient Earls of this land, went also to the sea to serve in the Queen's army. There went also, for the same purpose, a second son of the Lord Treasurer, called, as I can remember, Robert Cecil : there went also about that, time to the seas, the Lord Dudley, an antient Baron of the realm, and Sir Walter Raleigh, a gentleman of the Queen's privy chamber ; and in his company a great number of young gentlemen, amongst whom I re member the names of the heir of Sir Thomas Cecil, called William Cecil, of Edward Darcy, Arthur George, and such others ; with the rehearsal of whom I do not comfort myself, but only to shew you, how far we have been deceived, to think that we should have had a party here for us, when, as we see both by land and sea, all sorts of men were so ready of their own charges, without either commandment or entertainment, to adventure their lives in defence of the Queen and the realm. And for the Earl of Huntingdon's forces, being Lieutenant General in the north, it is reported, that he hath put in readiness for an army in Yorkshire, and other countries com monly limited to serve against Scotland, to the number of forty thousand well-armed foot men, and near-hand ten thousand horsemen, to come to him, if any occasion of invasion should be in the north parts ; to whom are joined with their forces three Lords in the north, the Lord Scroop, Lord Darcy, and Lord Euers. - There are also divers other Lords that are Lieutenants of countries, that have in readiness of their proper charges good numbers of horsemen : as the Earl of Kent, Lieutenant of Bedfordshire ; the Lord Hunsdon, Lord Chamberlain, Lieutenant of Norfolk and Suffolk ; the Lord Cobham, Lieutenant of Kent ; the Lord Gray, of Buckinghamshire ; the Lord North, of Cambridgeshire ; Lord Chandos, of Gloucestershire ; Lord St. John, of Hun tingdonshire ; Lord Buckhurst, of Sussex : and so, by this particular recital not unmeet for your knowledge, it is to be noted what disposition the Nobility of the realm had at this time to have withstood all invasion. And, if perchance you shall peruse your ordinary cata-. logue of the great Lords of the realm, you shall find that these are the substance of all the great Lords, saving three young Earls within age, Rutland, Southampton, and Bed ford; all three brought up in perverse religjon. And so remaineth to be spoken of the Earl of Arundel, who is in the Tower, for attempting to have fled out of the realm, by provocation of him that now is Cardinal Allen ; who, howsoever he may be affected to the Catholick religion, yet I hear most certainly that he offereth his life in defence of the Queen against all the world. And where account was made to have a party in this realm, which by these former rela tions appear could nc4 be possible ; the whole Nobility being assured to the Queen, and the force of the people not violently bent that way ; in this very time was offered to the Queen as great a party for her, to come to her service and defence of the realm, as out of all Christendom she should not have to all respects a stronger : which was the King of Scots, who, hearing of the intended invasion of the realm, sent a gentleman to the Queen, with his letter, (as I credibly heard,) to offer her all the power that he had to defend her and her realm ; and, if she so would, he would come in his own person and hazard his own life to defend this realm against all invaders for religion, or any other pretence whatsoever. So by this you may see what account may be made of any vain promises, made in the name of this King. And, because you shall perceive that I have good means to have intelligence of any other forces of the realm for defence thereof, it is most certain, as I hear, and I have seen a list or roll of a great number both of horsemen and footmen, which the Bishops of the realm have of their own charges, with the contribution of the Clergy, raised up in bands of horsemen and footmen, which are to be led by noble gentlemen at the Queen's nomination; and these bands must be vainly termed milites sacri, i. e. holy knights. As to the last point of the three foundations of the principal hope conceived, whereupon the invasion was chiefly grounded and taken in hand, which was most certainly and gene rally believed, that there should be found here in the realm a strong party of Catholicks against the Queen, to join and assist the invaders upon the appearing of the Spanish navyj The Copy of a Letter, Kc. 157 by my former relations of the general, great, and fervent love of the people towards the Queen, and of the great offers of service now made by the whole Nobility of the realm, this their foundation may appear to have been wrong laid ; only by vain imaginations, as it were, upon a quicksand, or rather as flying in the air. And yet it appeareth very truly, that no small account was made hereof by the King of Spain, and by his principal ministers; for there is nothing at this present more universally, with one lamentable voice, spoken of by all the multitude of the Spaniards, now here prisoners, yea by the chiefest of them, than that they now evidently see that the King their master was with such informations greatly abused, yea rather betrayed. For they say, there was no man of value in all this army, but he heard it constantly affirmed, and so delivered for comfort of all that served therein, before they were shipped, that they should not be afraid of any resistance to land in England, for that there was good assurance given to the King, that they should find a strong army of Catholicks ready in their favour, as socn as ever their navy should be seen upon the sea- coast, and so they all here say they were encouraged to come to this journey ; otherwise, many of them swear they would never have come of ship-board : so unlikely, they say, it was, and against all reason, to invade a realm, with opinion to conquer it, without both some title of right, and a party also, but especially without a good sure party. And, therefore, now finding this report very false, many of these prisoners do by name curse you, as being the King's ambassador ; as him, they say, who, upon the opinion of the knowledge which you had gotten in England, was therein more credited than any other, and had these many years together tempted the King their master upon hope, and other such like persuasions, to attempt such a matter as this was ; being utterly in all wisdom to have been condemned, without some certainty of this latter part, especially to have had a strong party here. They also curse all such Englishmen as have fled out of this country, whom they spare not to call " arrant traitors," for offering the sale of their country to the Pope and the King of Spain. And these prisoners add also, that they were borne in hand, that this country was so open to march in, and so weak to withstand any force, and the people so miserable ; as they thought the conquest thereof had been of no more difficulty than the overcoming of a number of naked Indians was at the beginning of the conquest thereof by King Ferdinand. And now, for strength of this country and people. Many of these prisoners having been brought from the sea-coasts hither to London, whereby they have observed the coun try and the people, do speak marvellously thereof, counting the same invincible, otherwise than by treason of some great party within the realm. But whether all these speeches, which are commonly reported of them, proceed from their hearts, or that they speak thus to please the English, because they are well used by them, (who also are easily deceived with flattery,) I know not : but sure I am they do thus speak daily, with outward show of great passions against such as have been persuaders to the King for this journey. Divers of them also which are of good judgment, and have heard of such of the English banished men as have been in Spain, and have known some of them there, (as of long time, Sir Francis Englefield, and of late, the Lord Paget and his brother,) have curiously inquired of what power they were and credit here, to have a party. They also inquired of the Earl of Westmoreland ; although of him they confess he is a man but of small government. But our adversaries here have so abased these and all the rest, to have been of no credit to carry any numbers of men, but by the Queen's authority, when they were at their best ; as their prisoners wonder how the King could be so deceived to give them pensions, otherwise than for charity, because of their religion. But they confess they have often heard in Spain, how the King was once notably deceived, when one Thomas Stukeley17, a private Englishman, who fled out of Ireland for debt and other lewd actions into Spain, not being worth one penny ; his debts being paid, and but the second son of a mean gentleman, pretended, and was believed in Spain (by so intitling himself) to be a Duke, a Marquis, and an Earl of " [This Stukeley was a military adventurer, and lost his life at the battle of Alcazar in 1594,.] 158 The Copy of a Letter, SCc. Ireland, and so was a long time entertained, as a man that could do great service against the Queen of England ; until, at length, the King understood his falsehood, and banished him out of Spain. And after, repairing to Rome, was by the Pope also maintained for a time, until he was discovered even by some good Catholicks, that could not endure the Pope's Holiness to be so grossly mocked ; of whom, some of the prisoners using merry speeches, how both the Emperor Charles, and afterwards this King and the Pope, were so. notably deceived by this Stukeley, do conclude merrily, that they think some of these English, that have thus abused their King, have followed Stukeley's steps. And, in very truth, I and many others have been very often ashamed to hear so broad speeclies of the King and of the Pope, yea, of the Emperor Charles, whom such a companion as Stukeley was, could so notably deceive ; and, it was the more to be marvelled, how he could deceive the Catholick King, considering he was known to many of his council, at the King's being in England, to have been but a vaunting beggar, and a ruffian ; and, afterwards, a pirate against the Spaniards. Now, my Lord Ambassador, by these my large relations of the evil things past, and of the opinions of such as I have lately dealt withal, with mine own conceit also, which I do not vainly imagine, your Lordship may see, in the first part, our present calamity and mi serable estate: in the second part, the state of this Queen, her realm, her people, their minds, their strength, so far contrary to the expectation of the Pope's Holiness, the King Catholick, and especially of you, my Lord, and all others that have been in hand these many years with this action, as I know not what course shall or may be thought meet to take; seeing it is seen by experience, that by force our cause cannot be relieved. Neither will any change amend the matter, when this Queen shall end her days ; as all princes are mortal. For both the universality of the people through the realm, are so firmly and despe rately bent against our religion, as nothing can prevail against their united forces: and whosoever shall by right succeed to this crown, after the Queen (who is likely to live as long as any King in Christendom), if the crown should come to the King of Scots, or to any other of the blood royal, as there are very many within this realm descended both of the royal houses of York and Lancaster, there is no account to be made ; but every one of them, that now live at this day, are known to be as vehemently disposed to withstand the authority of the Pope, as any of the most earnest Protestants or hereticks in the world. So as to conclude, after all circumstances well considered, for the present, I know no other way, but to commit the cause to Almighty God, and to all the saints in Heaven, with our continual prayers; and in earth, to the holy counsels of the Pope and his Cardinals, with our supplications to relieve the afflicted number of our exiled brethren, and to send into the realm discreet, holy, and learned men, that may only, (in secret manner, without inter meddling in matters of estate,) by teaching us, confirm us in our faith, and gain, with cha ritable instruction, others that are not rooted in heresy. And for relief of such as are forced to pay yearly great sums of mOney out of their re venue, because they forbear to come to the church ; it were to be charitably considered, whether there might not be some dispensation from the Pope's Holiness, for some few years, to tolerate their coming to the church, without changing of their faith: considering a great number do stand therein, not for any thing (as they say) used in this church, that is directly contrary to God's law ; but for that the rites and prayers (though they are collected out of the body of the Scripture) are not allowed by the Catholick church, and the head thereof, which is the Pope's Holiness : and for that cause justly, all true Catholicks account this church to be schismatical. By which remedy of toleration, a great number of such as will be perpetually Catholicks, might enjoy their livings and liberty ; and, in process of time, the Catholick religion (by God's goodness) might with more surety be increased, to the honour of God, than ever it can be by any force whatsoever. For so did all Christian re ligion at the first begin and spread itself over the world ; not by force, but only by teaching, and example of holiness in the teachers, against all human forces. And so I will end my Jong letter, with the sentence which King David used four times in one of his Psalms : Et The Appendix. 2 50 clamaverunt ad Dominum in tribulatione eorum, 8C de angustid eorum liber avit eos"- and andfalse^ 6 ^ ^ °Ur f°Undation to la^ 0Llr hoPe uPon 5 for a11 other hopes are vain At London, the — of August, 1588. THE APPENDIX. AFTER that I had made an end of this my letter, which I found, by perusal thereof, to have been at more length than I looked for ; although the matters therein contained did draw me thereto ; and that I had made choice of a friend of mine, who had more know ledge in the French tongue than I, to turn the same into French : my mishap was", that when he had done some part thereof, he fell sick of a burning fever, whereby my letter remained with him, upon hope of recovery, for ten or twelve days : and seeing no hope thereof, I entreated another very trusty and sound Catholick, having perfect knowledge in the French tongue, who took upon him to put it into French, wherein was also longer time spent : so as my letter being written in the midst of August, I am forced to end it in September. And, thereupon, I thought good, whilst my former letter was in translating, to add some thingsh appened in the mean time, meet for your knowledge. About the seventh of August, the Lord Admiral returned with the navy, having followed the Spanish navy (as they reported) as far as the fifty-fifth degree northwards; the Spanish navy taking a course either to the furthest parts of Norway, or to the Orcades, beyond Scotland ; which if they did, then it was here judged that they would go about Scotland and Ireland : but if they should go to Norway, then it might be, that if they could recover provisions of masts, whereof the English navy had made great spoil, they might return. But I, for my part, wished them a prosperous wind to pass home about Ireland, consider ing I despaired of their return, for many respects; both of their wants, which could not be furnished in Norway, and of the lack of the Duke of Parma's ability to bring his army on the sea, for want of mariners. Nevertheless, upon knowledge from Scotland that they were beyond the Orcades, and that the King of Scots had given strict commandment upon all the sea-coasts, that the Spaniards should not be suffered to land in any part ; but that the English might land, and be relieved of any wants: order was given to discharge all the navy, saving twenty ships, that were under the Lord Henry Seymour's charge, to attend upon the Duke of Parma's attempts, either towards England, which was most unlikely, or towards Zeland, which began to be doubted. But within three or four days after this, sud denly there came report to the court, that the Spanish navy had refreshed itself in the islands beyond the Orcades, both with water plentifully, and with bread, fish, and flesh, as for their money they could get, and would return hither once again to attend on the Duke of Parma's army, to conduct it by sea into England. Whereupon grew some business here, wherewith I know the Queen and her council were not a little perplexed what to do : but, in the end, order was given to stay the disarming of her navy, and so the whole navy was very speedily made ready again, only upon the former reports; wherewith I and many others were very glad to see them thus newly troubled, and, upon every light report, put to great charges. But this lasted not past eight or ten days; for, upon more certain knowledge, by twq or three pinnaces that were sent to discover where the Spanish fleet was, which certified that they were beyond the Orcades, sailing towards the west, in very evil case, having many of their people dead in those north parts, and in great distress for lack of masts, and also of mariners ; a new commandment was given to dissolve the navy, saving that which should attend on the Duke of Parma : and so the Lord Admiral returned, with the Lord " " And they cried unto the Lord in their trouble, and he delivered them out of their distress." 160 The Appendix. Thomas Howard, the Lord Henry Seymour, Lord Sheffield, Sir Francis Drake, with all the Captains, to the court ; saving such as had charge of the fleet that was under the Lord Henry. And, upon the return of these seamen to the city, there are spread such reports to move the noblemen, gentlemen, ladies, gentlewomen, and all other vulgar people of all sorts, into a mortal hatred of the Spaniards, as the poor Spanish prisoners were greatly afraid to have been all massacred. For that it was published, and of many believed, that the Lords of Spain, that were in the navy, had made a special division among themselves of all the noble men's houses in England, by their names, and had, in a sort, quartered England among themselves ; and had determined of sundry manners of cruel death, both of the Nobility, and the rest of the people. The ladies, women, and maidens, were also destined to all villainy: the rich merchants' houses in London were put into a register, by their very names; and limited to the companies of the squadrons of the navy for their spoil : and to increase more hatred, it was reported, that there were a great number of halters brought in the Spanish navy, to strangle the vulgar people ; and certain irons graven with marks, to be heated, for the marking of all children in their faces, being under seven years of age ; that they might be known hereafter to have been the children of the conquered nation. These were commonly reported by those that came from the English navy, as having heard the Spaniards confess the same ; so as for a time, there was a general murmur, that these Spanish prisoners ought not to be suffered to live, as they did, but to be killed, as they had purposed to have done the English. But the wiser sort of men, and such as had the charge of the prisoners, having no commandment from the council, did straightly look to the safety of the prisoners, as a matter not to be so rashly suffered. But, to content the people with some other matter, there was, upon Sunday last, at the request of the mayor and his brethren, a great number of banners, streamers, and ensigns, which were won from the Spanish navy, brought to Paul's church-yard, and there shewed openly in the sermon-time, to the great rejoicing of all the people. And afterwards they were carried to the cross in Cheap, and afterwards to London- bridge ; whereby the former rage of the people was greatly assuaged, the fury generally con verted into triumph, by boasting in every place, that this was the act of God, who had heard the fervent prayers of the people, and was pleased with their former prayers and fast ings, to have such banners and streamers, which the Spaniards meant to have brought and set up in all places of the city, as monuments of their triumphs, by his good providence, in punishing the pride of the Spaniards, now to be erected by the English, as monuments of their victories, and of perpetual shame to the Spaniards. Upon these shows, great re joicings followed : and as in June and July past, all churches were filled daily with people exercised with prayers, and shows of repentance, and petitions to God for defence against their enemies : and in many churches, continually thrice in the week, exercises of prayers, sermons, and fastings, all the daylong, from morning to evening ; with great admiration to see such general devotion (which I and others do judge to proceed more of fear than of devotion), so now, since the English navy is returned, and the Spanish navy defeated, and intelligence brought of the disorders in Flanders, of the dissensions betwixt the Spaniards and the other soldiers, of the contempt of the Duke of Parma by the Spaniards, being hereto maintained by a Duke, called the Duke of Pastraw, the Catholick King's bastard, and of the departure and running away of the Duke's mariners, here is a like concourse of the people to sermons in all churches; wherein is remembered the great goodness of God towards England by the delivery thereof from the threatened conquest, and prayers also publickly, to give thanks to God for the same. At London, this — of September, 1588. 161 An Exhortation to stirre up the" Minds of all Her Majesty's faithfull Subjects, to defend their Countrey, in this dangerous Time, from the Invasion of Enemies. Faithfully and zea lously compiled by Anthony Marten, Sewer of Her Majesty's most Honourable Chamber. MELIORA SPERO. Imprinted at London by John Windet, and are to be sold in" Paul's Church Yard, at the Brazen Serpent. MDLXXXVIII. [Quarto. Thirty-two Pages.] The following tract was zvritten immediately after the nation's deliverance from the Spanish Invasion, in the year 1588, with that judgment, justice, zeal, and elegancy of style, that at once it perpetuates the just commendation of the author, displays his eloquence, and confirms his seasonable loyalty to his Sovereign, his Religion, and his Country. The several branches of this Exhortation are well united in the most solid reason, that neither time nor deceitful politicks are able to zvithstand their force ; and so zvell adapted lo the general foible of mankind, that it may be accounted a standing exhortation on the like occasions, whenever God permits any such calamities to befall us. For here every one may see his duty, and are instructed as zvell to avoid the misfortunes that ruin a nation, as the mearls zvhich, by God's blessing, frustrate and rout our enemies, and main" tain our just rights and religion, lazvs and liberties. ALBEIT (my dear countrymen and well beloved in the Lord) your faithful and willing minds were lately shewed by an earnest desire of venturing your lives for defence of your country ; yet, because the same then happened in a fury against your enemies, and as it were in the fear of final destruction ; and that the trial of your valiant courages, and proof of your warlike furnitures, was prevented by the great mercy of God, and the provident fore sight of her excellent Majesty ; so as God himself hath stricken the stroke, and ye have but looked on, I am not now to speak of any late acts atchieved by your prowess and courage, but to set before your eyes the great and wonderful causes you have to arm your bodies, to prepare your minds, and to sharpen your swords against your enemies. Not as your forefathers, against some one particular prince in France, in Spain, or, in Scotland; neither for lands, for honour, or conquest, which by battles one or twain might he decided, , and the quarrel ended ; but ye must strengthen yourselves against that horrible beast l who hath received power from the dragon ; against the princes of the nations ' which have entered into league with the whore of Babylon 2, who hath sworn your destruction ; and will not be satisfied with the blood of many days battle, nor with the lands which you hold, nor with the goods which ye possess, nor with the fair houses which ye have builded. Neither are they minded to carry you away, as the Assyrians, Egyptians, and Romans did the Israelites, into captivity : but, after they have taken their vile pleasure of your wives, your sonsj and your .daughters, they will utterly destroy you, that the name of our nation 1 The whole pOwer of Popery uniting to destroy the Protestant interest. * The Pope, VOL. I. Y 162 An Exhortation to her Majesty's faithful Subjects, , shall be no more remembered upon the earth. " Whosoever (say they) falleth not down and worshipeth that golden image 3, shall be cast the same hour into the hot fiery furnace 4." They will no more suffer you to try the truth by testimony of the Scriptures, nor to plead for yourselves the most antient fathers : but, having prevailed against you, they will execute their.malice upon you without judgment, and destroy you without mercy. They have already cast lots for your inheritance, and have given sentence upon* the sacred person of the Queen5. They will make no difference of degrees, but the Queen and the commons, the noble and ignoble, the learned and unlearned, the priest and the people, the poor and the rich, the old and the young, have all one punishment allotted unto them. Was there ever any nation in the world so. barbarous, or people so bloody, or prince so cruel before this time; whether he warred for greediness, or malice, or revenge, or conquest ; but he satisfied himself with the blood and captivity of them that offended him ; sparing the nation, and them that were in nocent in the action? Again, was there ever any king, or prince, or magistrate, whether he were godless or religious, whether idolater or Christian, but, if he minded to revenge against any other * nation, he would plead the cause by messengers 6, according to the law of nations; and not purpose a sudden destruction before a perfect examination ? What barbarian, Turk, or tyrant, would seek to conquer his neighbour by fraud, to gain to his sect by falsehood, to bereave a princess of her kingdom by villainy, of her subjects by disloyalty, of her life by treachery, and of all their lives and souls by hypocrisy? Is this the spirit of Him that re buked his disciples when they would have called for fire from heaven to have consumed them which would not receive him ? " No, (saith he) ye must be of another spirit ; I am not come to destroy men's lives, but to save them," Good King David, albeit he were already anointed King of Israel in the life-time of Saul, and had his said enemy many times alone where he might have slain him, and so have pos sessed the kingdom quietly, would not attempt so great a treachery. What shall we say of the Roman captain, Camillus, that, while he lay at the siege of a city called Falliscus, there came secretly to him out of the city, a schoolmaster- with his scholars, offering him to betray the town into his hands ? " No, (saith Camillus) I will win it honourably, and thou shalt be sent home with shame ;" and, so delivering rods into the hands of his own scholars, they whipped their master home into the city. Is it not that beast. of the bottomless pit, that worketh all these tragedies? Hath he not made drunk the princes of the earth with the cup of his fornication, even the bloody woman that sitteth on the bloody-coloured beast ? That exalteth himself above all the princes, and maketh himself equal with God ? - Was there ever any prince or monarch of the world before this petty god sprang up ; nay, did ever all the princes of the world seek to deprive any one absolute prince of his kingdom, and entitle the same unto another, without an express commandment of God, un less at were by honourable conquest or just victory ? "Byrne, (saith God) kings, reign, and noblemen of the earth do 'bear rule." Where is there any example in the Old Testa ment, that any priest did ever depose any prince ? (For Athaliah was but an usurper, and was slain by consent both of priest and people as a murdress of her own children ; and Joash the right heir was established in the kingdom.) Was not Peter, in the New Testa ment, greater than any pope on the earth? And yet, so far from deposing of princes, he himself of all other was most obedient to secular power, and gave the same lesson unto others? But was not Christ himself the Prince of all princes ; and yet, seeing his kingdom was spiritual,, was he not obedient to all government, commanding all manner of obedience and humility to all his disciples ? Now- let us see more at large, by whom, against whom, and for what causes this war, or rather cruel proscription, groweth. . That, these things being plainly set down before your 3 Popery. 4 Persecuted with fire and sword. 1 See Pope Sixtus V.'s bull of excommunication against the Queen, and his letter to the King of Spain. • Ambassadors. to defend their Country against the Invasion of Enemies. 163 eyes, not only they that be of the poorer sort (which, having excellent courages, will set to their hearts and hands to defend their Prince, their country, and religion, if they may be enabled thereunto), but chiefly those that have substance, lands, and living, which God hath given them, not to consume in their own pleasures and vanities ; but especially to these ends and purposes, may be. persuaded with a full and perfect resolution (forsaking the pomps and vanities of this life) to live frugally, honestly, and temperately, as shall best become the loyal servants of so godly a prince, and the valiant defenders of so Christian a commonweal; and henceforth be ready, not alone with their lands and goods, but also with their bodies and lives, to defend so just, so godly, and so holy a cause. What time as it pleased our most merciful and heavenly Father, in this our age, to disco ver unto his church, by certain preachers of great courage and magnanimity, the manifold abuses and heap of traditions which the bishops of Rome, by their letters, decrees, and canons, have brought into the church by little and little, from the second age of Christ unto that time: (Whereby the sincere and plain religion of Christ, pronounced, written, 'and established by his apostles over all the world, was so corrupted and overshadowed, as even unto this day, unless it be those whose minds God hath lightened with the bright beams of his spirit, men can hardly remove that vale of vanities from their heart :) Even then also it pleased his fatherly goodness to open the eyes of that noble Prince of- everlasting meinory, King Henry the Eighth, father to her excellent Majesty; that he plainly saw how long the princes and people had been abused, and, as it were, bewitched with that ungodly Antichrist of Rome : who being puffed up with certain liberal donations of some well-minded princes, by little and little became, of the poorest of all human creatures, the most mighty Pope, and primate, and commander of all Christian princes. Wherefore, by the -advice of his -most prudent and godly council, with the assent of the whole realm in parliament, he discharged himself of the Romish yoke; which many of his progenitors, the kings of England, for fellowship of other princes had so long submitted themselves unto. And therewithal deliver ing to all his subjects the law of the Lord7 in their own mother tongue, so many years excluded from them ; gave power unto godly preachers to publish the truth, maugre all the enemies of the same. Whose godly example his virtuous and prudent son, King Edward the Sixth, .faithfully following, utterly chased away in one moment all the remnant of traditions that men had been so long in devising, and restored religion to the self-same form that the holy apostles left the same. According whereunto our most gracious Sovereign, leading us out of the captivity of Babylon (where God for our manifold sins made us by the space of six years, Or there about 8, to serve under Antichrist, till we were returned unto him by prayer and amend ment of life), perfectly restored us again to all those heavenly gifts which her royal father and brother had bestowed upon us. Wherefore, these things being thus godly and sincerely taken in hand, Ihe Pope in his greatness sore appalled; fearing at the very first, that if these things. should prosper and have good success, he and his whole religion should be overthrown, and himself cast down from that high dignity of a pope to the poor degree of Peter; from being carried on men's shoulders, to be sent abroad to preach in his own person; from the wearing of Paul's sword, to be obedient to princes' laws; from being served as a king at his table, to serve as a minister in the church ; and from being an universal head, to be content with his own city of Rome. He at the very first, in a great fury, persuaded the Christian princes that were taking in hand a noble action against Infidels, to turn their forces against such their own neighbours as were enemies to his superstition. So then it is the Romish Antichrist that hath blown the trumpet of this cruel sedition. It was that man of sin which caused the commotion of the north against King Henry the Eighth. It was he that raised up divers rebellions against that virtuous young Prince, .King Edward the Sixth, and also against her Majesty. It was he that cursed the Queen ! The Holy Bible. 8 During the .Popish reign of Queen Mary. 164 ' An Exhortation to her Majesty's faithful Subjects, • . * our Sovereign, and, in his own fond imagination, deposed her royal person from her crown and dignity ; and of his own free gift (forsooth) bestowed the same upon others, but never durst give livery seisin of the same himself. He it is, that flatly against the word of God, (wherein it was said, " Let every soul submit itself to the King as to his head9:") discharged all her Majesty's subjects of their due obedience towards her, and sent in swarms of false hypocrites to steal away the hearts of the simple people from her, and to carry away their consciences captive unto Satan. He it is, that hath sundry times laid plots for the destruc tion of her royal person ; and, so far as in him lay, committed cruel murder by assenting unto vile persons to slay her, and by giving them pardons beforehand for their villainies. Finally, he it is that hath sown sedition in the kingdom ; that hath driven men, women, and children, from true religion to perdition ; from sincere worshiping to damnable super stition. And he it is, that hath made not the holy, but the hellish league with the great and mighty princes of his religion, to devour and consume us. But God be blessed for ever more, which hath lately delivered us ; and turned some of their own weapons, prepared against us, into their own, bowels ; and hath drowned Pharaoh and his horsemen in the sea. For, though the Spanish King lately, approached to the kingdom with wonderful force , and preparation to have conquered the same, yet was he but a deputy therein to the Pope ; and should have taken possession but of that which he gave unto him, and have held the same of him ; much like as Charles the Earl of Anjou and Provence held from him the kingdom of both Sicilies. Ye see, therefore, who is author, deviser, and maintainer of all these mischiefs. Now let us consider, against whom this holy father and his adherents have raised up so ungodly and so unnatural a war. This famous and noble kingdom of England (as testify all the best writers old and new) was not the slackest among other nations that received the Gospel. For if Paul himself, or some other of the apostles, were not the first that planted Christian religion in England, yet it is certain, that Joseph of Arimathea, with his fellows, preached the Gospel unto us within less than eighty years after Christ. And in the one hundred and eightieth year of our Lord, Lucius the King of England received new preachers ; and not only was himself the first or the second king that received baptism in all the Christian world ; but he also caused all his kingdom to do the like, and publickly to receive the Gospel. A principal testimony hereof may be, that the kings of England have either the first or the second place in general councils. Afterwards, about the six hundredth year of Christ, they received Augustine and his fel lows, sent from Gregory the Pope, and rather left the more sincere worship of Christ, taught them by Fugatius and Damianus, in the time of King Lucius ; and to make no commotion for the loss of four hundred English Christians, cruelly murdered at Bangor by the procure ment of the same Augustine, than to raise any schism or division in the church. If none of all these most antient merits (for the which England might both be called and reputed the most Christian10 kingdom of all other) will move them to take pity upon us> because antiquity of time breedeth coldness and oblivion : let them remember, that though we be here removed in a corner from the rest of the world, and may be measured with a .span, in comparison of all Christendom besides ; yet have we been ever as ready as. any other of the mightiest and richest kingdoms, to travel over sea and land, to spend our lives, lands, and goods, to resist the fury and invasion of the Turks and other heathen nations : whereas we ourselves, being an island, and defended by the ocean sea, had less cause than any other to fear the Infidels, being so far remote from us. An example hereof may be Richard the First, who behaved himself so nobly in service against the Pagans, that he obtained the name of Cieur de Lion, that is, Richard with the Lion's Heart. Is this then the reward that we receive for so great desert ? Is there ho other city, nor kingdom, nor country, that is fallen from them but we ? Or.be we the first that must be sacrificed by the leaguists, in example of all others ; because we most sincerely profess the truth, and most defend them that are oppressed for the Gospel ? ' 1 Pet. ii. Rom. xiii. " The title assumed by the French King.. s to defend their .Country against the Invasion of Enemies. \65 But is it our Queen, the lanthorn and light of true religion, that they so much envy, be cause she hath reformed the Church in her own kingdom ? Hath she done any thing else than did those good Kings of Israel, David, Hezekiah, and Jehoshaphat ? Hath she sought any other way than her most royal father, and her virtuous brother, as an inheritance left unto her, together with the kingdom? Or any other way than Queen Mary her sistef sometimes followed, and no doubt, but would have so continued, if she had not been seduced by certain parasites of that sinful man; and, perhaps, by some corrupt Pool11 that came from the river Tiber ? Let them shew me, if it be not the self-same way that the most Christian King, Lucius, her antient predecessor, received from Eleutherius fourteen hundred years past; which Eleutherius had received the same from them which heard the apostles? Have not we shewed and proved, a thousand times a thousand, by writing, by disputation, by preaching, by conference, and many other ways, the persons by whom, the times where in, and the matters whereof every particular piece and patch of their religion is framed ? Which things (with the presumptuous affirmation of their vain opinions lately devised, either by curious heads, or by emulation of the learned, or of a fond zeal without knowledge, or for the increase of pomp and riches) laid a-part from our religion, they shall find themselves unawares in the self-same truth which we profess. Wherefore, then, are they of the Holy League12 so deeply offended with the government of so excellent a Princess, that they should seek to bereave her of her kingdom, before they have well examined the question ; and to repute her as a schismatic, before they well know her religion ? No doubt but she daily speaketh unto God, and saith, ' Plead thou my cause (O Lord) and fight thou with them that fight against me.' For she carrieth the testimony of a good conscience, that she seeketh no glory nor praise unto herself, but peace and tran quillity unto the church; she seeketh not the dominions of other princes, but a just defence of her own ; nor to shed any Christian blood, but to save the poor afflicted souls which cry unto her. Hath she ever broken any league with Christians, or made any covenant with Infidels ? Hath she not always laboured for peace between Christian Princes, and travailed therein to her exceeding charges ? She never endeayoured, by any secret or subtle means, to circumvent her neighbours; but what she meant to execute in deed, that she profe'ssed unto the world. She bare not men in hand, that she prepared against the Turk, or for the Indies, when she meant to invade her neighbours; neither did she make any semblance of peace till she might be fully prepared unto battle : but she hath always dealt plainly, and valiantly, and honourably with all promise. She never omitted any good and friendly means to pacification, while any hope of friendship remained : but, when all hope of intreaty was quite extinguished, she fled unto the next remedy ; trusting that the mighty God of Jacob, which had many times delivered her, would now also be her defender and keeper. Alas! what honour shall it be for so great and mighty Princes, to bend their force against so godly and peaceable a Queen, that confesseth, as much as they, one and the self same God in Trinity of persons, and unity of substance ; that hath one and the self-same baptism; that looketh to be saved by one and the self-same death; that hopethfor the same resurrection of the body ; that confesseth one and the same Gospel ; and that belieyeth in the self-same book of canonical Scriptures ? It had been far more for their honour and credit, and for the profit of all Christendom, (they having such store of men and wealth,) if they would have sought first to enlarge the kingdom of Christ, by compelling Turks and Infidels to the faith, rather than to spoil themselves of their riches; and their dominions of Christian soldiers ; by making war against a maiden queen. By the charges and blood of which unnatural war, thev might, perhaps, have gained many thousand Infidels to the faith of Christ. No, forsooth," they would not seem to war with a woman, but to prepare so invincible)3 force against her, as might devour her and her whole kingdom in one day, with out any war at all. But God, who sitteth above, casteth out the counsels of princes, and " Cardinal Pols ; who was sent from Roine, which is situate on the river Tiber in Italy. " Those Popish Princes who had combined with the Pope to extirpate Protestants. 13 Alluding to the fore-mentioned armada. 166 An Exhortation to her Majesty's faithful Subjects, bringeth their devices to none effect : for he hath destroyed their forces, and sunk in the sea their huge and strong vessels ; seeing there is no wisdom, no policy, no counsel, no strength^ against the Lord of Hosts. We see now by whom, and against whom this war is made. It remaineth to declare briefly the causes thereof: which, though they have in some part been touched, yet will I more expressly set forth the same; that it may appear what are the lawful .causes of war, and how justly we take in hand to defend ourselves. '•'Wars (saith Cicero)"must be taken in hand, to the end we may live in peace, without taking wrong :" which rule, no doubt, is very good and agreeable to our religion, and to the law of nature. Ear why else did the Lord promise victory unto Ahab, by the prophet, in defence of Samaria, and to many other kings of Israel, when they were assailed and besieged by their enemies ? Neither have we, in any of our actions, stepped one jot from the same rule. For when the greatest princes of Christendom had, with one consent, conspired with the See of Rome to make war upon all the professors of the Gospel, and to reduce them again to their abominable idolatry ; or else so to destroy them, that their name should be no more remembered upon earth ; but especially perceiving the Queen's Majesty to be most zealous of the truth, and the principal pillar on whom the Church of Christ did depend, they devised many ways how tb deprive her of her life and kingdom. "Come (say theyj this is the heir, let us slay her, and the inheritance shall be ours." Then, her Majesty knowing from whence the chief cause of their malice proceeded, and that the matter, most of all; concerned the glory of God, and next unto that, the life of her own self, and of infinite thousands of her subjects : she hath since that time taken into her possession (though not the hundredth part of 'that which she might and hath been offered her, yet) some part of her enemies' weapons, as lawful was for her. to do, for the better defence of her kingdom, and more safety of the Church of Christ : since, without those helps, she had no safe way to defend 'herself. Yet have these things been done of her Majesty with such deliberation, advisement, and long protracting of time, as it might be evident unto all the world that she sought nothing more than to have her enemies, by some means or other, reconciled unto her, before she would enter into any new action for her own defence. And undoubtedly, but that it so much concerned the cause of God and the kingdom of her antient allies ; all which she was born to defend when she took upon her the imperial crown ; and that she saw, that if she did take whole kingdoms from her enemies by violence, they could never -have enraged more against her than before ; she would rather have lost a thousand lives in her own person, than to have touched any thing that should offend her neighbours, or might seem to belong to another. But when she saw that no good ordinary means would prevail ; when her Highness per ceived that Turks, Jews, and Infidels, were suffered to live quietly among them without compulsion of conscience, but her subjects brought into servitude, unless they would Submit their souls to the power of Antichrist ; when, for a more courteous entertainment of all their subjects within her dominions, all hers, among them, were either made galley-slaves, or else brought within the compass of their cruel Inquisition ; when neither her own friendly letters might be received as they should, nor her messengers of account regarded as they ought : finally, when they had decreed that " no faith 14 was to be kept with us," and made us worse than Infidels ; because we have fled from their superstition, and followed the sincere faith of Jesus Christ : then her Majesty, with all princely courage and magnanimity, began to ' stretch forth her power to defend the cause of God and her own right. And these be the strong causes of their tragical dealings against us ! Awake now, therefore, my countrymen; pluck up your spirits, ye that. have courage in you ; advance yourselves, which have so long lain in security. If ever you were forced hut for a season to shew the strength of your bodies, now have you cause to join therewith the courage of your minds. They have sounded their trumpet, and made ready unto battle What they have these many years devised against you, now they do put in practice, Their J* Or solemn promises, treaties, or engagements* to defend their Country against the Invasion of Enemies. 167 standard is advanced, they are in arms to assail you. Be ye valiant to resist, and prepare you to the fight. It must be no more with you now as it was in times past, when you had sudden expeditions against the French and Scottish nations ; when you thought it sufficient to prepare for forty days victuals and munition, and for one day's action, and So to return home to your wonted quiet rest and careless custom ; fearing no more till a new alarum. For ye deal not now with such nations, which either for their poverty could not, or for lack of courage durst not, or for want of stayed minds would not ; but ye encounter with them that are rich, hardy, resolute, and frequented with daily victories, which neglect no opportunity nor advantage; which desire not to be lords to-day and loiterers to-morrow ; which, if. they set iri "one" foot, are ready to enter in with both. But on the other side, we, of all nations, have been noted invincible, if we encounter with our enemies while our spirits be sharpened against them, while the cause is yet fresh in our memory : and that we, at the first, run unto all great attempts with greedy desire, but after a while grow cold, negligent, and careless : that, which we now willingly enterprise with the loss of our lives, within a few days we let slip by a careless negligence. And this report (no doubt) hath been too much verified by us in France, Normandy, Gascoyne, Aquitain, and in innumerable other places ; gained in some time with wonderful honour, and lost upon the sudden with great dishonour. But far be these old careless minds from new English hearts; and when we have the true knowledge of God, experience of our enemies, riches, munition, and more means to defend than ever before. When we know bur enemies to be so many, so mighty, so rich, and- so resolute : when we are so well advised of our former faults, when our cause is so rare, so great, and concerns not only our lives and goods, our wives and children, our honour, our prince, and our commonweal : but most of all, when it touched the salvation of our soul's, the inheritance of Christ's kingdom, and the preservation of all his saints. Which cause never before this time happened to any of our forefathers. Banish, therefore, from you those old negligences wherewith ye have been so long noted; and print in your minds new resolutions of stedfast and perpetual courage, such as shall never decay, or grow cold by the intermission of time or change of matter. And, to the end there may never be in you any thing to hinder so dutiful and necessary a work, I will set down both the lets and impediments that be most enemies to this excel lent defence : and also the best means-I find to redress the same. Which things being re garded with such care as they ought, will so thoroughly prepare and furnish us, that though the whole world, and enemies of Christ and his Gospel, rage never so much against us, we shall continually be able to defend ourselves and the realm against them; yea, and (if need so require) to offend some of them also, for the better safety of our Christian brethren dis persed abroad in the world. The late enterprise which your enemies made against you, whereby they made a full account to have conquered you ; although the same was exceeding dangerous, by reason of their wonderful great preparation and furniture; (such as I suppose, in that kind; hath scarcely been heard or read of since the beginning of the world against any nation:) yet since God, by his mighty arm, hath delivered you from the danger thereof ; it maytnrn (if ye be well advised) tolhe greatest profit that ever happened unto England, lor thereby we have seen what force our enemies be of, and have learned how to prepare against them. We have tried that great actions must not be taken in hand with slender furnitures : that, if we purpose to be forth for one month, we must prepare for twain: that it is better to leave great abundance, than to lack one pennyworth : that if we have all the strength and provision that can be devised in the world, yet to put no confidence therein, but to rely only on the mercy, and assistance, and defence of Almighty God, the Lord ot "osts It hath also discovered unto us the forces and furnitures of our realm. It hath shewed unto us our own wants. It hath stirred up our minds to look to ourselves. It hath 1 made us effectually to know the meaning of our enemies ; which before we did but mistrust, and would hardly believe. It hath taught us who be her Majesty's loyal subjects at 1 orne^ and her faithful friends abroad. Finally, it hath warned us not to use any more our old wonted 168 An Exhortation to her Majesty's faithful Subjects, negligence; but with hands and heart, with lands' and goods, before and after, and at every present time, to resist every foreign invasion, and to provide earnestly against the same. In like manner, the general musters and training up of men, most prudently and poli ticly commanded throughout the realm: besides the wonderful readiness that it hath brought the state into in time of need; it hath also given us a full and perfect knowledge, both of the sufficiency of our men and of all their furnitures of war. All which things, though they might seem sufficient of themselves to shew and admonish you to prepare all that is necessary ; yet will I shew you more particularly, what things, in my judgment, are most needful herein, and what impediments there be that we cannot so thoroughly defend the realm as we ought, and are bound in duty to do: which being considered, and the im pediments removed, we may more easily do the same. The first and most general thing to be noted herein, is, that all particular persons which are charged by the statute to provide furnitures 15 according to their estate and living, have either none of these things at all, when they be commanded to serve the commonweal ; or else they have them in such bare and simple sort, as it may seem they do nothing for con science and duty, and for the love they bear to their country; but for a bare show to blind the eyes of the world, and to deceive the Jaws of the realm. And, no doubt but the offence of these is so great, as if either in their own conscience they know themselves able, or if it be proved by others that they have sufficient, and yet neglect their service, it standeth both with justice and reason that they should enjoy nothing of their own, till the commonweal be, first furnished of such things as is their, part to perform. Moreover, in the levying and pressing of soldiers, as there have always been great abuses in them which have been captains and had the charge thereof; so is there some corruption used at this day. For the best and strongest bodies, the best trained and most able to do service, are many times spared ; and young weaklings, without strength, or skill, or ability, are appointed in their stead. Howbeit (I hope) that by reason of the weightiness of the cause at this time, and willingness that men have to the wars, hath made this offence not so general now as before-time: and I myself have lately seen whole bands as well chosen and furnished as one might wish. Again, we .must consider with ourselves, that the bands and cornets of horsemen, and especially of lances, have ever been, and yet are the most necessary and puissant strength in wars ; both to defend ourselves and offend our enemies. • And, therefore, we must take more care in these days, to provide great horses and large geldings, than ever before. For if we- have store of these well furnished, and do mount on them our own valiant Englishmen; what great act dare we not attempt ? what army dare we not assail? what city dare we not besiege? nay, what enterprise think we not before-hand obtained? Did we not in- a late siege against Zutfen16, in the Low Countries, with the force of two or three hundred horsemen under the conduct of the valiant Earl of Essex, General of the horsemen, and diners other hardy gentlemen, give repulse unto above twelve hundred of the best horsemen of the King of Spain ? With, infinite other examples of the like. If then the number of twelve score did so great an exploit, what will ten or twelve thousand of those, or the like lances, do in any necessary service for the honour and defence of the realm? And I trust that the worthy example which my Lords of her Majesty's Council, and of other Lords- and Gentlemen, taken in mustering of so many , good horses and men at arms, of their own charge17; will encourage the whole realm to provide such store of horses and armours, as shall thoroughly be able to defend the same. For let it be shewed where there is any civil realm in Christendom, that hath better means to breed horses than England hath ; wherein be more parks, forests, chaces, and commons fit for this purpose, than in all the kingdoms round about us ? And assuredly, if noblemen and gentlemen, which have the greatest store of these grounds to spare, would employ some Of them to the breed of horses, besides the 15 Arms for the militia. 16 [It was in a skirmish near Zutphen that the most heroic Sir Philip, Sidney jost his life, Sept. 1586.1 R See the particulars on pp. 148, 149, to defend their Country against the Invasion of Enemies. 169 unspeakable benefit they should bring to their country, they, themselves also, in short time, should reap as great benefit thereby, as by any other means they can devise. And although, these many years past, there hath been no talk but of peace, peace, and security ; yet that now, when they see they must seek means how to defend both their living and lives also from their enemies, they will no more neglect a matter of so great importance ; but will with one whole consent provide, that within few years, by the example of Germany and other places, all the horses of labour, which are not now worth their meat, shall be turned into able horses of service ; which being done, we shall have one of the most puissant and flourishing "king doms of the world. And hereby we see how necessary a means this is for our defence. Moreover, there ariseth many times a muttering or discontentment of soldiers; that though the Prince, and her chief officers, have provided that every one should be justly paid for the time he serveth, yet oftentimes their pay is kept from them by some mean captain or officer. And I have heard so many of them, so often, and so pitifully complain of the wrong that their young captains have offered them herein, as although some lewd fellows among them may abuse their hearers ; yet, without doubt, there is a great fault : and, lest this should be any impediment to a general and faithful defence of the realm, we are to wish . that there may be good means to redress the same. In like manner all sorts of purveyors and victuallers, whether they be for the army or navy, if they have any love to their country, any faithfulness to their Prince, any charity towards men, or any regard of their duty and service, must be more careful than heretofore; not only that there be store of victuals diligently provided in time, and before there be any scarcity and murmuring among the soldiers, but that it be also good and wholesome for their bodies ; lest by the corruption thereof they be infected, and so the whole realm by their sickness be endangered. Also private men, which have most store of victuals in their houses, and be best able to serve ; and yet, being commanded, do either refuse to serve, or, by corrupting of under- officers, withdraw themselves from the service : besides that they be enemies to their country, and betray the commonweal ; they be also most injurious to their poor neighbours which are compelled to serve, and yet not so well able as they. Finally, the dissension and emulation that I have seen in the commonweal, between pri vate captains for vain-glory, hath been, and is no small hinderance to the defence of the realm. For while one saith, I have been longer in the wars, and have more experience than he : another, I have been in more battles, and have received more wounds : another, I have travelled further upon the sea, and have done greater exploits : another, I have been more fortunate, and have brought home more spoils from the enemies; and yet am worser reward ed than he What is this but to tear in sunder the commonweal, and to hinder every honourable action that belongeth to the defence of the same? Whereas every honest and true hearted man to his country will abandon all contentions, and will set a-part all dis pleasures and petty grudges, especially in the time of any publick service, when every man's duty and courage should appear. Very notable was that action of Hermias towards his adversary Cretinus Magnesius, but especially towards his native country; against which Mithridates made war. For when Magnesius had given his consent that Hermias should be eeneral captain of the wars, and he himself in the mean time would banish himself for fear of factions that might arise : » No (saith Hermias), I know Cretinus to be a better cap tain than myself, and therefore I will be banished till the wars be ended. This example is worthy remembrance: howbeit, Christian captains must step one degree further; and must not only lay aside all displeasure for a time, and be content that their adversary whom they think to have better knowledge, and more experience in martial affairs than they shall have government and pre-eminence above them; and they, for that cause to withdraw themselves from the wars; but they must also be present in person, and, with all their coun sel endeavour, and strength, must help to overthrow the publick enemy of the realm, m how mean a place soever the Prince, or her Lieutenant, shall appoint them. - Last of all, the great prodigality and excess of apparel, building, and dainty fare of the noWhly and gentlemen of the realm, is'an exceeding hinderance to the defence of the same. VOL I. Z 1 70 An Exhortation to her Majesty's faithful Subjects, For since the most part of the lands and possessions thereof belong unto them, and that all others do, as it were, depend on them, and are led by their example, government, and di rection; they are specially, and above all others, bound both in reason and conscience, to defend that which is tlieir own. But how should they defend their own, when they run headlong into debt ; when so many score, so many hundred, yea so tnany thousand pounds, which they have in a year to spend, will not pay for the apparel they wear on their back ? How much less are they able to buy good horses, good armour, and good munition, and to pay their just portion of all such things as belong to the defence of their country? But alas! what should I complain of this impediment, or what can it avail me to speak of so desperate an enormity; since I myself have seen so many good laws, so many command ments, and so many proclamations, set forth by her Majesty; yea,, so many threatenings pronounced by godly preachers out of the word of God, for the reformation of this ex- .cess;; and nothing regarded, nothing amended, nothing, observed : nay, all falling from better to worse, from pride .to pomp, from gay-coloured silk to bright, glittering gold? And were it not that I saw this to be the whole ruin of my country, and (as it were) the material cause why the same cannot prosper, nor be well defended, till this vice and va nity be reformed; I would rather sit down, and bewail the palpable blindness of men, than .seek to persuade them that be obstinate and wilful in their own opinions. The famous Emperor Augustus, though a Heathen prince, yet he said, that costly ap parel was the banner of pride, and the very nurse of riot- and wantonness. But what would he say, if he saw England in these days, and had savoured of Christianity ? As suredly he would judge the same to be the high-way unto hell, and tbe efficient cause of our destruction 18. ¦ Outrageous also is the great and sumptuous building of our time : it consumeth all the great-timber of the realm, which should serve to make us ships for our walls and defence: and within a wliile it will force us either to build our vessels in strange countries, or else to yield ourselves for a prey unto our enemies. Also it beggareth the greatest number of them that take pleasure therein; and maketh them unable to serve their country: and there be many more great houses already, than there be men. of. living able to uphold. I might speak also of the superfluity of meats and drinks: and especially , of the di versity of kinds,, and such as are not nourished, nor do grow within the realm. The abundance whereof doth not only effeminate men's courages, and weaken their bodies; but also beggar tlieir purses, and make them, by all means, unable to defend their country. . We might take example pf the Roman monarch19. The same was one-hundred times greater than ours, and the gentlemen so much greater, richer, and more honourable than ours,, as Marcus Crassus affirmed; that a senator, which was not able to maintain an army of six- thousand, was not worthy to-be accounted rich. And yet was it ordained by a law, that no senator should have at his board but three dishes at one meal: but with us, twenty-three is nothing, and yet one of ours is worth three of theirs. And generally, in all these things, we are so far from the rule of our forefathers, nay, of our own fathers in this age of ours, who (knowing that the unnecessary wars of strange countries might breed infinite loss to the kingdom) rarely used any other ornaments for their own persons,, than such as the realm itself could make. But now we be all Heiio- gabalians 20. We delight altogether in strange fashions, in strange ornaments, strange stuff, strange apparel, strange diet,, and in all things that be far fetched, and dear, bought. If we be far from the sea, we must have fish : if we be near the sea, we must have flesh : when we have, the best, and the finest, and. most diversity of cloth and colour, and of istuff made within the realm, such as our forefathers could never have ; then must we most of all seek for clothes pf silk, of silver, of gold: from Spain, from Italy, from Africa, from Asia, from Calecut, from China, and from the end of the world. When we have the best meat of our own that can possibly be devised, then mujt we send into Flanders, into France, and into far countries, to feed our unsatiable bellies. O the miserable, bondage that our nation hath so willingly submitted their minds unto ! '* Before our enemies. ,'9 Viz. The Roman empire. M i. e. Follow the luxury and excess of HelidgabaW fo defend their Country against the Invasion of Enemies. ij\ Wherefore, since ye have now seen all the causes of this war, and cruel attempts moved against us, and by^how many ways we are hindered from a perfect and resolute defence of the realm; and, by this means also, are taught how to redress the same*: I would (if it were the will and pleasure of God) that, for your sakes, I had the tongue of Hortensius, and the pen of Cicero : that I had the voice of men and angels, to stir up your dull spirits to remember what the Lord in his mercy hath wrought for you, more than for any other nation: how he hath committed to your custody the precious jewel of his word, and the perfect administration of his sacraments : how he hath hitherto defended these things, by the excellency of his own power and goodness: and, haying now compassed you with ene mies on every side, maketh trial of you, whether you will faint in your minds, or defend with courage, those excellent benefits. Whether ye have stedfast faith to stand to the truth, or do mistrust the assistance of his mighty strength : whether the multitude of your ehe-: mies shall make you misdoubt his wonted mercies; or that you have a full hope, and sted fast belief, that he will perform bis promises: whether ye have more care to spate your' gobds, your money, your-rents, and revenues; than to save your wives, your children, your prince and country, and your own lives from destruction : whether you more esteem dainty fare, costly apparel, gorgeous buildings, and other vain delights of this world; than the' loss of so happy a kingdom, of so excellent a prince, of so sincere a religion, "and' of so- pure a Gospel; preached and- committed unto our custody by Christ himself, bur Saviour and Redeemer? • And now, even now, is the time, that shall try who is faithful unto God, obedient to his prince, and natural to his country. Now, even now, will God prove and tempt you ; as he did the children of Israel, at the Red Sea, and in the wilderness. Now, even now, are you either to cast the nations out of the land of Canaan ; or yourself to be cast out of the king dom of England. Now, even now, is the axe laid to the root; that, if ye bring not forth good fruit, you shall surely be overthrown. Say not with yourselves, Lo, we have chased away our enemies, and they are afraid of us: they fly hither and thither, and are at their wits end. For when the children of Israel Called unto God for mercy, with repentance of their sins, he subjected the Philistines and other nations unto them : but when they forsook the Lord, and put not their whole trust in him, they became servants unto the Philistines. So was it with you in times past, when your forefathers submitted themselves to the yoke of every invasion : namely, of the Ro mans, Saxons, Danes, and Normans. And so was it of late days, when, for the multitude' of your sins, the Lord took away his Gospel from you ; and submitted not only your bo dies, but your consciences also, to that Roman Antichrist21. And yet, when you turned to the Lord with inward sighs, with, sorrowful mournings, and with repentance of heart, lie took compassion upon you again, and sent you a mighty deliverer22; under Whom you have lived these thirty years in the greatest happiness and security of any nation in the world; And neither are they so chased from you, that you are to expect them no more. For though the Lord hath done this time very great things for you, and hath covered them with shame and dishonour that sought your life: though the dragon be driven into his den, yet is his sting and poison still in force : .though they be chased and repelled for a' time, yet their malice and fury abideth; though the Lord now defeated their purpose, yet their de vice and practice continueth: though some of their ships and men be sunk in the sea, yet the sinews of their commonwealth remain. Neither will they ever comcforany peace and attonement with you, till ye have plucked those sinews in sunder23. Arm yourselves therefore again and again, ye lords and gentlemen, ye principal cap tains, citizens, and wealthy subjects ; ye that have shewed yourselves so courageous and forward in these late enterprises. Cleanse your armours, make ready your" weapons, re- " The Pope. ¦ " Queen Elizabeth ; who established the reformed religion in England and Ireland. " This maxim, by continual experience, doth still hold good ; for our Popish enemies, France, Spain, &c. never make any peace with us till they are reduced to the last necessity ; and have never kept any league with Eng land longer than they could find an opportunity to break it to their advantage ; and we can never be safe from their invasions, till we have utterly destroyed their power. 172 An Exhortation to her Majesty's faithful Subjects, new your furnitures,' redouble your provisions, slack no opportunities, look for a speedy return of your enemies ; foresee the dangers, provide all necessaries. Look to the amend ing and new "building of ships: make them strong, light, and nimble for the battle. And ye that be honourable, rich, and of the greatest power, follow the good example of Sir W. Raleigh ; who, of his own charge, built two such ships the last year, as, perhaps, might have saved all England in one day. Worthy of great praise also was Mr. Outrich, and Jobson of Hull, and whosoever bui'lded the Merchant-Royal ; by the happy successes of whose ships, their names shall never be forgotten. O, that Englishmen were so sharpened at this day against the enemies of God and her Majesty, as were the Romans against the Cartha ginians! O, that they would join their purses and hearts together, as did the wealthy men of that commonwealth, in any danger of the same 1 For in the first Punick war, when the Romans, by the unskilfulness of their pilots and mariners, had lost and broken at one instant, upon the flats of Silicia, the number of nine hundred and twenty ships ; and having emptied all their common treasury by. reason of the long war, were not able of their pub lick- purse to build any more: it was agreed, by common consent, that the citizens should join their purses together to the building of a new fleet; some to make one ship, and some another, according to the substance of every person ; and so to arm, set forth, and main tain the same ; to the end that the private charge of the citizens should supply the lack of the commonwealth. And so were there speedily made, rigged, and set to the sea in very short space, two-hundred sail (of five men to an oar) for the war. And at another time, upon the loss of four-hundred sail upon the like accident, they builded, furnished, and set forth to the sea, one-hundred, and twenty ships, in four-score and ten days after the timber was felled. And yet were not all the countries which the Romans had then in possession," any bigger than the kingdom of England. But the miserableness of the rich was much less; and the diligence of the subjects, zeal to their country, and regard of their own honour, was without all comparison greater. Hereby also we see, that every coun try hath not, at all times, laid the whole charge of defence upon the prince alone: but in time of necessity, and when the common treasure would not suffice ; every one hath im parted the charge according to the compass of his wealth and living. This being con sidered, I hope every person of ability will know what his duty is to perform in this busi ness. In like manner, ye that be soldiers, and mean captains, prepare yourselves to all obe dience when you be called to the defence of your country. Cast from you all impediments that may hinder so good and loyal an action. Brave not yourselves in gold, in silk, and sil ver. For that is no way to outface your enemies, but to disgrace yourselves : seeing they be braver, they be richer, they be more costly apparelled than you. But be ye rather in- ticed by the glittering show of their gorgeous clothes, to pull down their proud peacocks' feathers. It is neither for your reputation, nor profit, nor good name, so to be decked. Nay, to be clothed in gold and the finest silks, breedeth a suspicion of sdme injustice towards the poor soldiers, though ye have some good entertainment in the wars ; unless you have lands and living of your own to maintain the same, or have obtained such things by the spoil of your enemies. Generally, all ye good men of the realm, and well-willing subjects, in whose courage and assistance standeth a great part of our defence ; prepare yourselves unto all service and loyalty, be strong and hardy. Comfort yourselves in the justice of your cause. Convert your ploughs into spears, and your scythes into swords. Turn your bowls into bows, and all your pastimes into musquet-shot. Abandon all your vain delights and idle games. Imi tate the immortal renown of your English ancestors.^ If ever ye desire fame, or honour, or glory to your nation; now is the time, that, by your prowess, ye may double and redou ble the same. Now is the time, that either, by shameful cowardice, you shall bring your selves into captivity ; or by stout and courageous minds, obtain a noble victory. Consider with yourselves the hard attempts, that other nations in times past have taken in hand for the love of their country. The wonderful magnanimity and resolution of Mutius Sesevola, a young gentleman of Rome, delivered the city from siege, and caused a firm to defend their Country against the Invasion of Enemies. 173 peace between Porcenna and the Romans. For, this gentleman passed over the river of Tyber with great courage, and, with an invincible mind, through the whole host of Porcenna, till he was entered the King's pavillion; where he, finding him with great company about him, pressed in and slew the Sectary instead of the King. But when he perceived that- it was not Porcenna, but the Secretary that he had slain, he was sorry in his heart, and in token thereof burned his right-hand in the fire, and told Porcenna, that though it were his chance to miss of his purpose; yet there were three-hundred gentlemen more in the camp, that had vowed to perform that action. Whereupon Porcenna, seeing so great resolution that the Romans had to defend their country, forthwith levied the siege and made peace with them. And notable was the story of the widow Judith, which ventured to save her city with so unspeakable danger of her life. " For she, seeing no other way to assuage the fury of Holifernes but by the smooth words and simulation of a woman, presented herself before him in his chamber, and promised him fair, till she had lulled him a-sleep with drink, and stricken off his head with a sword. What shall I speak of Curtius, that noble Roman, and Ancurus, the King's son of Phry- gia? Either of which, seeing in their country a dangerous breach or cliff in the earth; which, they were persuaded, would not be closed up again, till the best thing in the city (which they took to be a man) were thrown into it; willingly threw themselves into the same, for the safety of the people. But foreign examples are innumerable, and not so well known to all, as be our own : and I would that we did chiefly follow the noble and wor thy acts of our -own progenitors, in sundry wars and battles fought for the defence of this kingdom, and for the perpetual honour and renown of themselves: whose cause (nevertheless) being nothing comparable unto ours, yet they spared neither the money in their purse, nor the blood in their bodies,, to honour and defend their country. How often did the antient Britons resist the landing and invasion of the Romans, though We were then divided into many kingdoms ; destitute altogether of armour and ammunition, > and without knowledge of warlike discipline? Yet, how often were they repulsed ? And what losses sustained they before they might attain their purpose ? What enterprizes did famous King Arthur attempt, both at home against the Saxons, and' abroad with other nations ? What cities and people did he conquer ? What battles fought he ? What victories obtained he ? Whereby he was reputed of all writers, for one of the nine worthies of the world. What say we to the battle of Cressy, when noble King Edward the Third having not theieighth part so many as had the French King; yet. he vanquished him, and, in a manner, all the chivalry of France? Also the battle of Poictiers shall never be forgotten; where but an handful of English men overthrew all the force of France : for, none that regardeth either honour or credit, was absent from that field; seeing the French King himself was there present, who, being taken prisoner, was carried captive into England. But how valiantly and prudently did that King behave himself, at the battle on the sea, before Sluys ; when the French having three-hundred ships, and we but two-hundred, and they four men to one of us, and all expert soldiers and mariners; yet the King assailed them with such invincible courage as he utterly overthrew them. . Also the noble victory of King Henry the Fifth at the battle of Agincourt, hath deserved everlasting memory : when seven-thousand Englishmen, and those wearied and weakened with long travel, sickness, and scarcity of victuals, vanquished the huge army of the French nation. Many times also have we sought honour in Spain, and defended that country from usur pers. Did not Prince Edward, by vanquishing of King Henry, and those Spaniards and French that took his part, settle Peter in his right again ? But this hath been ever a blessed gift of God, and a peculiar right of the Kings of England, as it were united to the crown; to execute the justice of God against usurpers, and to relieve the Princes their neigh bours oppressed. 174 An Exhortation to her Majesty's faithful. Subjeets, Wherein her Majesty hath mightily and marvellously declared herself, above alt otherher princely predecessors, to descend of the royal seed of courage and magnanimity ; and to be the right Queen of England, sent from above, to nurse and protect the true Christian com monweal, p Again, did not her Majesty's most royal father send the- Lord Darcy into Spain, to aid King Philip's great-uncle,, the King of Arragon, against the Moors, who troubled him ? Did lie not also, within a while after, send thither the Marquis of ;Dorset, with an army of ten thousand, to assist the said King to conquer the kingdom of Navarre ? And, did he not, many other times, aid Charles the Fifth, father unto this Philip, against the French, and all other his enemies ? Yea, and did not the Englishmen, in the time of Queen Mary, assist King Philip himself with an army, to overthrow the French at St. Quintin's; although we received thereby the greatest loss that happened unto England these hundred years ? And' have we not ever been as careful of that house of Burgoygne as of our own selves? But, for which of all these good turns do the Spaniards; now so- deadly hate us ? Also, the worthy examples of great manhood and courage that have been shewed by our- forefathers in times past, and in our days by us, in the kingdom of Scotland, are infinite, and ' so fresh in memory, as they need not hereto be recited. Wherefore, we have -in every age assayed and tried, what courage Englishmen have been of against other nations, and how they have prevailed against them. Some doings also we have had with them of late'; neither do we find them of any more force than in former time; nor yet their success better against us than before. Where have we- met therri with half the number, but we have -overmatched them? Neither will they abide the sight of us, unless they far exceed in multitude. Testimonies hereof are many, and of late, and no table. What did the great army of the King of Spain at the siege of Berk, when it was only bruited that the Earl of Leicester, her Majesty's Lieutenant-general, with "those few forces which he had of English soldiers, came to relieve the town ? Did not the same army forth with retire from the town ? Neither durst they come to levy the siege which we made against DusborOw,. till that town and the great sconce of Zutfen were both won. Neither could they ever have won those things again from us, had not treason more prevailed than force and valiant courage. How many strong cities arid castles also did the young English captains and soldiers conquer lately at the Indies? How valiantly did they behave them selves, under fortunate Sir Francis Drake, at St. Domingo, Carthagena, Cales, and in many other' places, where the English were in number few, and the enemies infinite ? Neither shall any age ever wipe away the honour of those acts from the fame of Englishmen ; neither hath the like act been ever heard or read of in any age before. These and such like things' may mightily encourage our minds, that whatsoever force our enemies bring against us, God is on our side, and we shall not fear what they can do against us. Have we not, of late, beaten and chased away their great mountains of the sea2*, freighted with men, ammunition, and ordnance of war innumerable? Have we not taken and slain many of them, and driven them home with shame enough ? and have so penned in the rest, as they durst not come forth to assail us ? Imitate, therefore, the excellent virtues of your forefathers, if you will be partakers of their famous victories. Take example'by these late actions, how to withstand the force of your enemies. Though they be rich, proud, and cruel; yet God hath given you means to humble and abase them. They have neither justice, nor religion, nor charity, nor con science, nor yet good cause on their side. If they had been just, they would not have pre tended peacess,.and yet swear our destruction. If they had religion and charity, they would have sought by godly and religious means to save our souls, and reconcile us unto them; and not to ban and curse us to the bottomless pit of hell. Neither is their cause good ; for then would they not have fought by treasons and treacheries, but by honourable and princely 24 The Spanish invincible armada. 25 The Puke of Parma, the King of Spain's commander-inrchief, in the Low Countries, endeavoured to amuse the English with a peace, and so divert them from providing for their own security, till the Spanish ar- uuil^ was actually on the English coast. to defend their Country against tlie 'Invasion of Enemies. I75 means to overthrow us : wherefore, having none of all these with them, I trust that neither have they God. on their side. So then they, for the greediness of a kingdom, for despite they bear to our religion, for vain-glory, pride, and presumption, for maintenance of the Pope s: kingdom ; against God, against his word and truth, against our blessed Queen, against all upason, conscience, and humanity, do offer all this violence unto us. And we, on the other side, in defence of ourselves, our native country, our anointed Prince, our holy religion, our own Jesus Christ, his holy word and sacraments, against very Antichrist, and all the pillars of his church, and against those that have cursed and indicted the kingdom, do withstand the injury done unto us. And we, that have done so valiantly at other times, when the quarrel was hut for money, or other small matters, is it possible, but we should be much more forward now in so great and weighty causes ? When had ever England so just a cause to fight as now? AVhen did we ever more infinitely feel the mercies of God than now ? When had we ever a more loving Prince to her subjects than now ? When were ever any subjects more obedient to their Prince than now ? When were there ever so many lusty and gallant gentlemen to defend the realm as now? When were we at any time better acquainted with the sleights and cunning of our enemies than now ? When had we ever more skill in martial actions and trainings than now ? Finally, when had ever our enemies more unjust cause France cut the cards, and Holland led the Way. ) The first deal from the cards Bavaria lost, And fear'd that now his great designs were cross'd : Holland dealt next ; France the first trick did get, But England by the honours won the set. Bavaria, ruin'd, threw the cards away, And had not left another cross to play. THE FOURTH GAME, 1705. France to the last stake brought, and Spain the same, But Germany revok'd, and spoil'd the game; Which made the other gamesters swear, He did not play upon the square : England chang'd sides, and took the Dutch again, While Portugal play'd single hand with Spain. But after many deals, and mighty cost, Between them both, there was but little lost. Now England deals about, for the last stake, And had a hand that made great Monsieur quake : But, when the set to a conclusion came, Holland lost dealing, and quite baulk'd the game. THE CONQUERING GAME, 1706. England deals next, and France is fain To lend a losing stake to Spain. Savoy bets all ; France threatens hard To take from him his leading card ; But England all the rest restore, And tell him, they will lend him more. Now on all sides the stakes are down, And Spain plays briskly for the crown : And Portugal some bets doth lay, Which England does, and Holland pay. The first deal, Spain three tricks doth lose, Which doth old Lewis much confuse. France shuffles next, more stakes does bet, And threatens hard to win the set, Ere Germany his cards can sort, While Venice laughs, and likes the sport. England says nothing all the while, But plays such cards makes Holland smile. France wins a stake or two at first, And Swedes wou'd back him, if they durst : But Poland holds him to't as yet, And hopes to gain his late lost bet. France with his best court-cards begins, While Spain lose faster than he wins. 180 The Pennyless Parliament of Thread-bare Poets, Kc. The set grows warm ; brisk play is shown ; And Savoy lays his last stake down: But Germany, with trumps supply'd, Soon turns the game o'th' t'other side. , France with his ace of hearts doth join, But England plays the king and queen. Old Lewis vex'd, yet looking grave, } With speed throws down another knave, > And questions not the game to save. > While Portugal, with anger then, Plays down another single ten : At which the gamesters seem'd to smile, And stood amaz'd a little while : But, wheri he some excuse did make, They pass'd it by as a mistake. Venice at last for Holland bets, And holds ten thousand pounds o'th' set. France offers now to part the stakes, And Spain the self-same proffer makes : But England will to neither stand, For all the honour's in their hands. France plays a trump, about to try, In whose hand all the rest did lie ; Which he soon finds unto .his cost, When Spain, perceiving all was lost, Throws down his cards, and gives the set for gone; ~i Bavaria takes it up, and plays it on : > But England trumps about, and so the game is won.) France seizes on those stakes he'd made from Spain, But Germany recovers all again. Thus ends the game which Europe has in view,. Which by the stars may happen to be true. The Penniles Parliament of Threed-bare Poets: Or, All Mirth and withe Conceites. Printed at London, for William Barley, and are to be sold at his Shop in Gratious-streete, neere Leaden-hall-gate. 1608. [Quarto. Eighteen Pages.] The zvitty conceits of the follozving Tract, seem to carry zvith them an air of rebuke against the vices and follies of those times in which they zvere composed ; and, so far as the same subject of rebuke subsisteth, they may still be serviceable to the same end. A jocose- re proof is frequently known lo take place of a serious admonition. 1. TT^RST of all, for the increase of every fool in his humour, we think it necessary and JL convenient, that all such as buys this book, and laughs not at it, before he has read it over, shall be condemned of melancholy, and be adjudged to walk over Moorjields,. twice a week, in a foul shirt, and a pair of boats, but no stockings. The Pennyless Parliament of Thread-bare Poets, 8Cc. 181 2. It is also agreed upon, that long-bearded men shall seldom prove the wisest ; and that a niggard's purse shall scarce bequeath his master a good dinner : and, because water is like to prove so weak an element in the world, that men and women will want tears to bewail their sins; we charge and command all gardeners.to sow more store of onions, for fear widows should want moisture, to bewail their husbands' funerals. 3. In like manner we think it fit, that red-wine should be drank with oysters; and that some maidens shall blush more for shame than for shame-facedness. But men must have care, lest, conversing too much with red petticoats, they banish their hair from their heads, and by that means make the poor barbers, beggars for want of work. 4. Furthermore, it is lawful for those women, that every morning taste a pint of mus cadine with eggs, to chide, as well as they that drink small beer all the winter; and those that clip that they should not, shall have a horse night-cap for their labour. Gentlemen, that sell land for paper, shall buy penury with repentance; and those that have most gold, shall have least grace : some that mean well, shall fare worse ; and he that hath no credit, shall have less commodity. 5. It is also ordered and agreed upon, that such as are cholerick, shall never want woe and sorrow ; and they that lack money, may fast upon Fridays, by the statute l : and it shall be lawful for them that want shoes, to wear boots all the year ; and he that hath never a cloke, may, without offence, put on his best gown at Midsummer; witness old Prime, the keeper of Bethlem dicing-house. 6. In like manner,, it is agreed upon, that what day soever St. Paul's church hath not, in the middle aileof it, either a broker, masterless man, or a pennyless. companion, the usurers of London shall be sworn by oath, to bestow a new steeple upon it ; and it shall be lawful for coney-catchers to fall together by the ears, about the four knaves at cards, which of them may claim superiority ; and whether false dice, or true, be of the most antiquity. 7. Furthermore, we think it necessary and lawful for the husband and wife to fall at square, for superiority, in such sort, as the wife shall sit playing above in the chamber, while the husband stands painting below in the kitchen. Likewise, we mark all brokers to be knaves,. by letters-patents; and usurers, for five marks a-piece2, shall lawfully be buried in the chancel, though they have bequeathed their souls and bodies to the devil in hell. 8. In like manner, it is thought good, that it shall be lawful for muscadines, in vintners* cellars, to indict their masters of commixtion3; and Serjeants shall be contented to arrest any man for his fees, Ale-wives shall sell flesh on Fridays, without licence; and such as sell beer in halfpenny pots, shall utter bread and cheese for money, through the whole year i and those that are past honesty and shame, shall smile at sin ; and they that care not for God, prefer money before conscience. 9. Furthermore, it shall be lawful for footstools (by the help of women's hands) to fly about without wings ; and poor men shall be accounted knaves without occasions ; those that flatter least, shall speed worst ; and pigs (by the statute) shall dance the anticks, with bells about their necks, to the wonder and amazement of all swineherds. 10. In like manner it is convenient, that many men shall wear hoods,, that have little learning ; and some surfeit so much upon wit, and strive so long against the stream, as their necks shall fail them : some shall build fair houses by bribes, gather much wealth by con tention, and, before they be aware, heap up riches, for another, and wretchedness for them selves. 11. Furthermore, it shall be established for the benefit of increase, that some shall have a tympany in their bellies, which will cost them a child-bearing; and, though the father bear all the charges, it shall be a wise child; that shall know his own father. 1 Of Queen Elizabeth ; which commands to fast all the Fridays in the year, except Christmas Pay. * Alluding to the table of fees for burials. rs, e. Mixing their neat wines with cyder, perry, water, spirits, &C, 182 The Pennyless Parliament of Thread-bare Poets, fyc. 12. It shall be lawful for some to have a palsy in their teeth, in such sprt, as they shall eat more than ever they will be able to pay for : some such a megrim in their eyes, as they shall hardly know another man's wife from their own ; some such a stopping in 'their hearts, as they shall be utter obstinate to receive grace ; some such a buzzing in their ears,- as they shall be enemies to good counsel ; some such a smell in their noses, as no feast shall escape without their companies ; and some shall be so needy, as neither young heirs shall get their own, nor poor orphans their patrimony. 13. Also, it is enacted and decreed, that some shall be so humorous in their walks, as they cannot step one foot from a fool ; some so consumed in mind, as they shall keep never a good thought to bless themselves ; some so disguised in pUrse, as they count it fatal to have one penny, to buy their dinners on Sundays ; some so burthened in conscience, as they account wrongful dealing the best badge of their occupation. 14. But, amongst other laws and statutes by us here established, we think it most neces sary and convenient, that poulterers shall kill more innocent poultry, by custom, than their wives and maids can sell with a good conscience: also1 it is ordered and agreed upon, that bakers, woodmongers, butchers, and brewers, shall fall to a mighty conspiracy ; so that no man shall have either bread, fire, meat, or drink, without credit, or ready money. 15. Sycophants by the statute shall have great gifts, and good and godly labours shall scarce be worth thanks : it is also thought necessary, that maidens, about midnight, shall see wonderous visions, to the great heart-grief of their mothers. 16. Furthermore, it is marked and set down, that, if lawyers plead poor men's causes without money, Westminster-hall shall grow out of custom, to the great impoverishing of all nimmers, lifters, and cut-purses. Those that sing bass, shall love good drink by autho rity ; and trumpeters, that sound trebles, shall stare by custom. Women that wear long gowns, may lawfully raise dust in March ; and they that keep a temperate diet, shall never die on surfeits. 17. In like manner, it shall be lawful for sailors and soldiers to spend, at their pleasures, what pay they get by their sword ; and if the treasurer pay them any- thing beyond ac count and reckoning, if they build ndt an hospital therewith, they may bestow it in apparel by the statute. 18. It is further established and agreed upon, that they that drink too much Spanish sack shall, about July, be served with a fiery -faces*; but oh 1 you ale-knights, you that devour the marrow of the malt, and drink whole ale-tubs into consumptions ; that sing Queen Dido over a cup, and tell strange news over an ale-pot ; how unfortunate are you, who shall p ss out that which you have swallowed down so sweetly ; you are under the law, and shall be awarded with this punishment, that the rot shall infect your purses, and eat out the bottoms before you be aware. 19. It is also agreed upon and thought necessary, that some women's lips shall swell so big, as they shall long to kiss other men beside their husbands ; others' cheeks shall be so mon strously out of frame, as they cannot speak in a just cause without large fees; some with long tongues shall tell all things which they hear; some with no brains shall meddle much and know little ; and those that have no feet, may by the statute go on crutches. 20. Furthermore, it is convenient and thought meet, that- ale shall exceed so far beyond its bounds, as many stomachs shall be drowned in liquor, and thereupon will follow the dropsy, to the great benefit of all physicians; it is lawful for some to take such purgative drugs, that, if nature help not, the worms, in the churches of London, shall keep their Christmas at Midsummer in their bellies; but tailors, by this means, shall have more con science; for, where they were wont to steal but one quarter of a cloke, they shall have 4 A burlesque on the vi r it fieri facias: for, drinking much wine will not only givea man a red or fiery face, but also bring him into poverty, debt, and so to be arrested. , ¦> The ^Pennyless Parliament of Thread-bare Poefs, $c. 183 due commission to nick their customers in the lace, and, beside their old fee, take more than enough for new fashion's sake. But now, touching "these following articles, we are to advise old men to look with spectacles; lest, in finding over many wise lines, they wax blind with reading. 21. But now, touching the benefit of private houses, by our rare and exquisite judgments, we think it very commodious that those married men of weakest wit, and worse courage, should provide themselves with good weapons, to defend themselves from assaults, which shall assail them about midnight ; and it shall be lawful for all wives to have a masculine cou rage, in such sort, that they who have had their wills to this hour, shall have the mastery all the year after; and those husbands which do not valiantly resist them, shalLbe awarded to pay a sheep's head to their next neighbour, in penance for their folly. 22. As by our provident judgments we have seen into lamentable miseries, incident in these parts of the world ; so, for the reformation thereof, we do ordain and enact, that the oil of holly shall prove a present remedy for a shrewd housewife, accounting Socrates for a flat fool, that suffered his wife to crown him with a p — ss-pot ; ordaining, that all those that give their wives their own wills, be fools by act of parliament. 23. Also, it is further established and agreed upon, that Essex calves shall indict butchers' knives of wilful murder ; and whosoever will prove a partial juryman, shall have a hot sheep's skin for his labour. Bow-bell in Cheapside, if it break not, shall be warranted by letters patents to ring well ; and, if the conduit-heads want no water, the tankard-bearers shall have one custard more to their solemn dinners, than their usual custom. 24. Moreover, it is thought good, that it shall be lawful for all tripe-wives to be exquisite physicians, for in one offal they shall find more simples, than ever Galen gathered since lie was christened ; besides, if dancers keep not tide and time in their measures, they shall forfeit a fat goose to their teacher, for their slender judgment. The French morbus5, by commission, shall be worth three weeks diet ; and they who have but one shirt to shift them withal, may, by the law, strain courtesy to wear a foul one upon the Sunday ; also- our commission shall be sent forth for the increase of hemp, as not only upland-ground shall be plentifully stored therewith, but also it shall so prosper in the highways 6, as the stalks thereof shall touch the top of Tyburn. 25. In like manner, we think it necessary and convenient, that there shall be great noise of wars in taverns, and wine shall make some so venturous, as they will destroy Tyrone 7 and all his power at one draught : also we think it meet, that there be craft in all occupations, and those that are penitent in this world, shall have comfort in a better : silk-weavers, by the statute, shall prosper well, if they wash, their hands clean on fasting-days, for otherwise, in soiling their work, they shall lose their work-masters : daws, by authority, shall leave building in steeples, and dwell in cities ; and such as are cunning in musick, shall know a crotchet from a quaver: but let such men as instruct youth, be very circumspect; for, if they learn more than- their masters can teach them, they shall forfeit their wits to those that bring them up. 26. Furthermore,, we think it most necessary and convenient, that the generation of Judas should walk about the world in these our latter days, and sell his neighbour for commodity to any man; but the usurers shall be otherwise disposed; for, having monthly taken but a penny in the shilling, ever since they first began their occupation, shall now, with a good conscience, venture upon three-pence with the advantage; besides, many men shall prove themselves apparently knavish, and yet, in their own opinions, will not be so ; and many women shall imagine that there are none fairer than themselves. 27. Moreover, for the further increase of foolish humours, we do establish and set down, that fantastick devices shall prove most excellent ; and some shall so long devise for other. 5 Pisease. 6 Viz. By the increase of highwaymen, 7 The Irish, rebel.. 184 The Pennyiess Parliament of Thread-bare Poets, #c. men, that they will become barren themselves ; some shall devise novelties to their own shames, and some snares to entrap themselves with. 28. In like manner, we think it most necessary, that those who be fortune-tellers, shall shut a knave in a circle; and, looking about for a devil, shall find him locked in their own bosoms : atheists, by the law, shall be as odious as they are earless ; and those that depend on destiny, and not on God, may chance look through a narrow lattice at Footman's Inn 8. But my dear friends, the grocers, are plentifully blessed, for their figs and raisins may allure fair lasses by authority ; yea, many men, by the statute, shall be so kind-hearted, that a kiss and an apple shall serve to make them innocents. 29. It is further agreed upon and established, that many strange events shall happen in those houses where the maid is predominant with her master, and wants a mistress to look narrowly unto her. 30. Also, we think it convenient, that some shall take their neighbour's bed for their own ; some the servant for their master ; and, if candles could tell tales, some will take a fa miliar for a flea. Also,-we think it meet, that there should be many fowlers, who, instead of larks, will catch lobcocks ; and many, for want of wit, shall sell their freehold for tobacco- pipes and red petticoats 9. Likewise, we think it convenient, that there should be many takers ; some would be taken for wise men, who, indeed, are very fools ; for some will take cracked angels10 of your debtors, and a quart of malmsy, when then they cannot get a pottle. 3 1 . But, stay a-while ; whither are we carried, leaving the greatest laws unpublished, and establishing the less? Therefore, we enact and ordain, as a necessary statute, that there shall great contentions fall between soldiers and archers; and, if the fray be not decided over a pot of ale and a black pudding, great bloodshed is like to ensue ; for some shall main tain, that a Turk can be hit at twelve-score pricks in Finsbury Fields ; ergo, the bow and shafts won Bullen: others shall say that a pot-gun is a dangerous weapon against a mud- wall, and an enemy to the painters' work ; amongst these controversies we will send forth our commission to god Cupid, being an archer, who shall decide the doubt, and prove that archery is heavenly, for, in meditation thereof, he hath lost his eyes. 32. O gentle fellow-soldiers ! then leave your controversies, if you love a woman ; for I will prove it, that a mince-pie is better than a musket; and he that dare gainsay me, let him meet me at the Dagger in Cheap; with a case of pewter-spoons, arid I will answer it ; and, if I prove not that a mince-pie is the better weapon, let me dine twice a week at Duke Humphry's table n. 33. It is furthermore established, that the four knaves at the cards shall suddenly leap from out the bunch13, and desperately prank about the new playhouse, to seek out their old master, Captain Crop-ear ; also it is thought meet, that some men, in these days, shall be politick beyond reason, and write more in one line, than they can prove in an age. 34. Furthermore, it shall be lawful for some to study which way they may walk to get them a stomach to their meat, whilst others are as careful to get meat to put in their bellies: likewise there shall be great persecution in the commonwealth of kitchen-fees, so that some desperate woman shall boil, try, and see the poor tallow to the general commodity of all the whole company of tallow-chandlers. 35. Alas ! alas ! how are we troubled to think on these dangerous times ; for tailors,, by act of parliament, may lawfully invent new fashions; and he that takes Irish aquavitce by the pint '*, may by the law stumble without offence, and break his face ; and it shall be thought convenient, that some be so desperately bent, as they shall go into my Lord Mayor's buttery, when all the barrels be full, without either sword or dagger about them ; many men shall be * Bridewell. 9 i.e. Will drink and whore aw'ay all their estate. ,0 A piece of bad money : an atgel was half a mark. " On signs. " Or, let me go twice a week without dinner. '3 Pack. '?Instead of gin, now drunk by the common people. The Pennyless Parliament of Thread-bare Poets, fyc. 185 so venturously given, as they shall go into Pettycoat-lane, and yet come out again as ho nestly as they went first in. 36. In like manner, it shall be lawful for Thames water to cleanse as much as ever it did in times past ; and, if the brewers at London buy store of good malt, poor bargemen at Queenhithe shall have a whole quart for a penny ; St. Thomas's onions shall be sold by the rope at Billingsgate by the statute, and sempsters in the Exchange shall become so con scionable, that a man, without offence, may buy a falling15 band for twelve pence. 37. It shall be lawful for smiths to love good ale; and, if it be possible, to have a frost of three weeks long in July, men shall not be afraid of a good fire at Midsummer. Porters' baskets shall have authority to hold more than they can honestly carry away ; and such a drought shall come amongst cans16 at Bartholomew fair in Smithfield, that they shall never continue long filled. 38. The images in the Temple church, if they rise again, shall have a commission to dig down Charing-cross with their fauchions ; and millers, by custom, shall have small mind to morning prayers, if the wind serve them in any corner on Sunday. Those that go to wars, and can get nothing, may come home poor by authority ; and those that play fast and loose with women's apron-strings, may chance to make a journey for a Winchester pigeon ; for prevention thereof, drink every morning a draught of noli me tangere, and by that means thou shalt be sure to escape the physician's purgatory 17. 39. Furthermore, it shall be lawful for bakers to thrive by two things ; that is, scores well paid, and millers that are honest : 40. Physicians, by other men's harms, and church-yards by often burials. 41." Also, we think it necessary for the common-wealth, that the salmon shall be better •sold in Fish-street, than the beer shall be at Billingsgate. 42. And heart's-ease, among the company of herb-wives, shall be worth as much money as they can get for it by the statute. 43. It is further enacted and agreed upon, that those that run fourscore miles a-foot, on a winter's day, shall have a sore thirst about seven of the clock in the evening. 44. And such as are inclined to the dropsy, may be lawfully cured, if the physicians know how. 45. Also, we ordain and appoint, that, if there be no great store of tempests, two half penny loaves shall be sold for a penny in Whitechapel. 46. Chaucer's books, by act of parliament, shall in these days prove more witty than ever they were before ; for there shall so many sudden, or rather sodden wits, step abroad, that a flea shall not frisk forth, unless they comment on her. 47. O what a detestable trouble shall be among women about fourscore and ten years old ; for such as have more teeth about them than they can well use, shall die for age, if they live not" by miracle. 48. Moreover, we think it necessary, that those that have two eyes in their head, shall sometimes stumble ; and they that can neither write nor read, may as boldly forswear them selves, as they that can. 49. And it shall be lawful for almanack-makers, to tell more lies than true tales. 50. And they that go tb sea without victuals, may suffer penury by the statute. 51. In like manner, it shall be lawful for any man to carry about him more gold than iron, if he can get it. 15 Long. ' ,6 Ale-house pots. '7 Viz. a salivation. VOL. I. « B 186 The Pennyless Parliament of Thread-bare Poets, §c. 52. But they that are given to sullen complexions, if they be females, must be more circumspect ; for, if they repent their hidden sins too much, they may by chance catch Heaven for their labour. % 53. Therefore, let maidens take heed how they fall on their backs, lest they catch a forty weeks favour18. 54. And he that hath once married a shrew 19, and, by good chance, buried her ; beware how* he come into the stocks again. 55. Further, it shall be lawful for those that be rich, to have many friends ; and they that be poor, may, by authority, keep money, if they can get it honestly. 56. Also, we command and charge all such as have no conscience, to do their worst, lest they die in the devil's debt : as for the rest ; they that have more money than they need, may help their poor neighbours, if they will. 57. In like manner, it shall be lawful for such as are subject to hot rheums, to drink cold drink : and those that have a mind to enrich physicians, to be never without diseases. 58. Also/ soldiers that have no means to thrive by plain dealing, may, by the statute, swallow down an ounce of the syrup of subtlety every morning; and, if they cannot thrive that way, we think it necessary that, four times in the year, they go a-fishing20 on Salisbury plain. 59. Furthermore, for the benefit and increase of foolish humours, we think it necessary that those our dear friends, who are sworn true servitors to women's pantables, should have this order set down, that you suit yourselves handsomely against goose-feast 21 ; and if you meet not a fair lass betwixt St. Paul's and Stratford that day, we will bestow a new suit of satin upon you, so you will bear all the charges. "60. Brit, as for your dear friends and scholars, thus much we favour you, you shall dine upon wit by authority ; and, if you pay your hostess well, it is no matter, though you score it up till it come to a good round sum. 61. In like manner, it shall be lawful for maid's milk to be good physick for kibed heels; and a cup of sack to bed-ward, a present remedy for the rheum. 62. Such as are sick in the spring, may take physick by the statute ; and those that are cold, may wear more clothes without offence. 63. It is best to ride in long journeys, lest a man be weary with going a-foot ; and more comely to go in broken stockings than bare-legged. 64, Further, it shall be lawful for some to be lean, because they cannot be fat. 65. Some, by statute, shall love beef passing well, because they can come by no other meat; and other some simper it with an egg at dinner, that dare manfully set upon a shoulder of veal in the afternoon. 66. Some shall be sad, when they want money ; and in love with widows, rather for their wealth than their honesty. 67- It is also thought necessary, that some shall suspect their wives at home, because they themselves play false abroad : 68. And some love bowling-alleys22 better than a sermon. 69. But, above all other things, spirits with aprons shall much disturb your sleep about midnight. 18 A woman goes forty weeks with child. '» A scold, or ill-bred woman. » j e. Collecting or thieving. " Or, Green-goose fair, kept at Stratford-le-Bow, two miles from London, on Thursday in Whit sun week. ** Nine-pins, or skittles, at ale-houses. J The Deliverance of certain Christians from the Turks. 1 87 70. Furthermore, it shall be lawful for him that marries without money, to find four bare legs in his bed ; and he that is too prodigal in spending, shall die a beggar by the statute. 71- In like manner we think it necessary that he that is plagued with a cursed wife, have his pate broken quarterly, as he pays his rent. 72. Likewise, he who delights in subtlety, may play the knave by custom ; and, he who hath his complexion and courage spent, may eat mutton on fasting-days by the law. 73. And to conclude, since there are ten precepts to be observed in the art of scolding, we humbly take our leave of Duke Humphrey's ordinary, and betake us to the chapel of ill counsel ; where a quart or two of fine Trinidado shall arm us against the gun-shot of tongue- metal, and keep us safe from the assaults of Sir John Find-fault. Vale, my dear friends, till my next return. John Reynard's Deliverance from the Captivity of the Turks; and his setting free of Two Hundred and Sixty Christians, that were Galley Slaves. [Quarto. Sixteen Pages.] OF such honour (amongst all nations) hath the trade of merchandizing been ever account ed, that commerce (ever in the hottest flames of war against one another) could find no better or fairer means to unite them in amity, and to join them as it were in wedlock, than by commerce and negotiation. This is that chain which binds kingdoms in leagues, begets love between princes far removed asunder, and teacheth nations, different in quality, in colour, in religion, to deal faithfully together as brethren. Traffick (to speak of our own country) hath increased and strengthened our navy, which is a second wall (besides that girdle of the sea that encompasseth her body) to defend our island. It is the breeder and only bringer up of good mariners, skilful pilots, and cunning navigators ; who, to a state are as necessary in peace as husbandmen for the tillage ; and in war, as serviceable as so many captains in the field. Traffick is the carrier abroad of our own homespun commodities, and a bringer in of the fruits of foreign kingdoms, by which means the merchant and citizen grow up to wealth ; and the tradesman that lives by the hardness of his hand, is still kept and maintained in good doings. There is no coast, be it never so dangerous, left unsought ; no language, be it never so barbarous or hard to learn, left unstudied; no people, never so wild, left unventured upon ; nor any treasure of the earth, or curious work of man, left un purchased, only for this end, to do honour to our country and to heap riches to ourselves ; both which benefits do only spring out of our trading to foreign shores. For this cause, therefore, (a peace being concluded between the two great and opulent kingdoms of England and Spain) an English ship, called the Three Half Moons, being man ned with thirty-eight mariners, and bravely armed with amunition; was rigged, victualled, and ready furnished to take her voyage to Spain. The gods of the sea, the winds, knowing her intent, prepared themselves to go alon'g with her, and, making the waves ready, it became this ship to hoist up sails and come on; so that with a ttierry gale she took her leave at Portsmouth, bending her course towards Sevil, the greatest city in Spain. Gallantly did she for many days hold up her head, and danced even on the top of" the billows ; Jier -masts stood up stifly, and went away like so many trees moved by enchant ment] whilst the big-bellied sails made haste to fly after, blustering and puffing either in scorn or in anger, yet could never overtake them ; or rather, as lovers roaming after young 188 The Deliverance of certain Christians from the Turks. damsels at barlibreak J, they took delight to see them make away before, and of purpose suffer ed them to use that advantage. But, alas 1 how soon does the happiness of this world alter ? In this bravery had she not carried herself long, but entering into the Straights, Neptune2 grew angry with her, or else, envying her glory, sent eight galleys' of the Turks to beset her round. Now or never, was both the- courage and the cunning of the mariner to be shewed ; for either he must, by the wings of his sails, fly away, and so save himself; or manfully stand to it, and preserve all from danger, or gloriously to suffer all to perish. Of flight was there no hope; for the winds and waves, that before were their friends, and tempted them to set forth, grew now treacherous", and conspired their" destruction. No thing, therefore, but the miraculous power of heaven, and their own resolutions, is on their side ; every man hereupon calls up his spirits, and, as the suddenness of the deadly storm would allow them, did comfort one another. It was a goodly sight to behold, how, to the very face of danger, they did defy danger ; and how, in the midst of an overthrow which had round beset them, they wisely and stoutly laboured to work out safety ; nothing could be heard but noise and confusion ; and yet even in that wild disorder was there to be seen an excellent method of policy. Their roaming up and down shewed as if they had been all frantick ; yet, like so many dancers, that sometimes are here, and anon antickly leap thither, fetching turnings and windings, with strange and busy action ; they closed up every work with a sweet and musical preparation. For after the close fights were made ready above, and that the devilish mouths of tlieir ordnance were opening to spit hell-fire out of the belly of the ship : up comes the Master, whose name was Grove, armed with sword and target, waving his bright blade about his head in defiance of his barbarous and bloody enemies ; his very looks were able to fright death from his company ; and so well did his courage become him, that it served better than all their warlike musick to hearten up the rest. Close by his side, as avowed partners in all fortune, good or bad, whatsoever, stood the Owner, the Master's Mate, Boatswain, Purser, and the rest of the mariners. All of them armed, all of them full of valour, all of them full of bravery ; they shewed on the top of the hatches like so many well-guarded battlements on the walls of a besieged city, every man encouraging his next neighbour to fight valiantly, because they were Englishmen ; and to die honourably, because they were Christians ; rather than stoop to the base captivity of those that were Christ's professed, and open enemies. As the Englishmen were thus busy to defend themselves on the one side, so were the Turks active in their galleys on the other side ; their scymeters glittered in the sun, their steel targets received the fire of his beams upon them, and beat it back to dazzle the eyes of them whom they assailed : showers of musquets, with bullets charged, stood ready to be poured down; some were preparing, to toss balls of wild fire, as if the sea had been their tennis-court ; others, with bull's pizzles in their hands,.walk up and down between the rowers sometimes encouraging, sometimes threatening, sometimes striking the miserable galley- slaves, because they should be nimble at the oar ; who, for fear of blows, more than of present death, tugged with their arms, till the sinews of them were ready to crack with swelling, and till their eye-balls, instead of bullets, did almost fly out of their heads. At length the drums, trumpets, and fifes, struck up their deadly concert on either side • presently does the demy-cannon and culverin strive to drown that noise, whilst the sea roars on purpose to drown the noise of both. In this conflict of three elements, air, water and fire, John Reynard, the Gunner, so lively and so stoutly behaved himself, in discharging his ordnance of their great bellies, that at length fire seemed to have the mastery; for so thickly did his bullets fly abroad, and were wrapped up in such clouds of lightning, that the sea shewed as if it had been all in flames, whilst the galleys of the Turks, as well as the English ship, could hardly, but by the groans and shouts of men, be found out whereabout in the sea they hovered. Many Turks and many galley-slaves did in this battle lose their lives, and end their captivity ; but those who survived, doubling their spirits at the horror of" the danger with which they were environed, fell upon the English ship in such storms of hail- ' A sort of play, used by young people in the country, J The poetical god of the sea. The Deliverance of certain Christians from the Turks. 189 shot, which still (like hammers on an anvil) lay beating on the ribs of it, that at length the sea offered, in many places, to break into her and to get the conquest ; of which glory the Turks being envious, came flying with the force of all those wooden wings that bore them up, and on purpose to board her. But, at this stirring feast, Neptune was made drunk with the blood both of Christians and Turks mingled together. Here came the galleys and the ship to grappling. Look, how a company of hounds hang upon a goodly stag, when with their noise they ring out his death ; so hung these galleys upon the body of her ; nothing of her could be seen for smoke and fire ; she was half choked with the flames, and half stifled in the waters. Yet, as you shall often see a bull, when his strength seemeth to be all spent, and that he is ready to faint and fall on his knees, casts up on a sudden his surly head, and bravely renews a fresh and more fierce encounter : so did this ship break from the galleys like a lusty bear from so many dogs, or rather like an invincible lion from so many bears. The Turks leaped out of their vessels, and like rats nimbly climb ed up to the tacklings of the ship. But the English mariners so laid about them with swords, brown bills, halberts, and morrice pikes, that, in so tragical an act, it was half a comedy to behold what tumbling tricks the Turks made into the sea, backwards. Some of them, catching hold of the upper decks, had their hands struck off, and so for ever lost their feel ing ; others, clasping their arms about a cable, to fling their bodies into the ship, lost their heads, and so knew not which way to go, though it lay before them. In this terrible insur rection in Neptune's kingdom?, it was hard to tell, for a great while, who should be the winners ; albeit, howsoever they sped, both were certain to be losers ; for the Turks would not give over, and the English scorned to yield ; the Owner, Master, and Boatswain cried out bravely and with loud lusty spirits, " Let us all resolve to die, but not a man be so base as to yield to a Turk :" especially did the Boatswain shew the noble courage of a mariner, both in directing without fear, and in bestowing blows in scorn of danger ; which hard alms whilst he was dealing among the miscreants, a shot was sent from a galley as a messenger of his death ; and thereby a spoiler, though not a conqueror of his valour, for it brake, with the violent stroke it gave, his whistle in sunder, and left him on the hatches with these last words in his mouth, " Fight it out, as you are Christians, and win honour by death." His fall did not abate, but whetted tlieir stomachs to a sharper revenge ; only the Master's Mate shewed himself not worthy of that name, or to be Mate to so noble a Master as he was, for, cowardly he cried, " Yield, yield ;" pulling in his arm from striking in the hottest of the skirmish. What city is not overcome by the tyranny of time, or the oppression of assaults ? What shores, though never so high, can beat back the sea, when he swells up in fury ? What castles of flint o'r marble are not shaken with the continual thunder of the cannon ? So was this poor English ship, whilst her ribs held out, and were unbroken, her mariners held out, and had their hearts sound : but when they felt her shrink under them, that should bear them up in all storms, and that such numbers of Turks did so oppress them with thronging in, and with beating them down, when they had scarce feet able to stand ; then, even then, did they not yield, but yet then were they taken. Glad was the Turk, that (though in this storm it rained down blood so fast) he was wet no farther; he looked upon this ill-gotten commodity with a dull and heavy eye, for the foot of his account shewed him that his gains of this voyage would not answer the treble part of his losses: enraged at which, emptying the weather-beaten and the mangled ship, both of men, and of sucli things as were worth the carriage; the one he took home with him to enrich the number of his spoils, the other were condemned to the galleys. Near to the city of Alexandria (being a haven-town, and under the Turk's dominion) is a road, defended by strong walls ; where the galleys are drawn up on shore every year, in the winter season, and are there trimmed and laid up against the spring. In this road stands a prison, where all those that serve in those galleys of Alexandria, are kept as captives, so long as the seas be rough and not passable for their Turkish vessels : hither were these Christians 3 Viz. the sea. 190 The Deliverance of certain Christians from the Turks. brought; the first villainy and indignity that was done unto them, was the shaving off all the hair both head and beard ; thereby to rob them of those ornaments, which all Christians make much of, because they best become them. It is well known to all nations in Christendom (by the woeful experience of those wretches that have felt it) what misery men endure in this thraldom under the Turk. Their lodging is the cold earth ; their diet, coarse bread, and (sometimes) stinking water ; for, ifthey should taste of the clear spring, their drink were as good as the Turks, who never taste wine ; their apparel, thin and coarse canvas; their stockings and shoes, heavy bolts and cold irons; the exercise to put life into them, or to catch them a heat, is at the pleasure of a proud and dogged Turk, for the least fault; nay, for none at all, but only to feed his humour; to receive a hundred bastinadoes, on the rim of the belly, with a bull's dried pizzle, at one time ; and within a day after, two hundred stripes on the back. In this most lamentable estate did these Christians continue ; but it was not long before the Master and Owner, by the good means of friends, were redeemed from this slavery ; the rest, lying by it, soon were starved to death ; others, with cold and blows, breathed out their last. But John Reynard (the gunner), being enabled by the providence and will of God, to endure this affliction with a stronger heart than others could ; outlived most of his fellows, only to be (as it after fell out) a preservation of his own life, with many other Christians. For, having some skill in the trade of a barber, he did by that means shift now and then for victuals, and mended his hard diet; whereupon growing (after a long imprisonment) into favour with the Keeper of the Christians that were galley slaves ; he so behaved himself, that at length he got liberty to go in and out to the road at his pleasure, paying a certain stipend to the Keeper, and wearing a lock about his leg ; and this liberty did six more likewise purchase upon like sufferance, who, by reason of long imprisonment, were never sus pected to start aside ; or that they had in their bosoms ever any thought tb work the Turks any mischief; with whom they had staid so long, that in a manner they were as brothers, familiar together. But the wrath of winter driving all the galleys into harbour, by which means they lay there unrigged and disfurnished of all their properties, which set them forth ; the masters, captains, and officers of the galleys retiring likewise either to their private affairs, or to some other employment of the state; behold, there remained (at this season and part of the year) in this prison of the road, two-hundred and sixty-six Christian prisoners, who were of fif teen several nations, and all of them taken and made slaves to the Turk. Amongst which there were (at. this time) but only three Englishmen, and of them was this John Reynard one ; who having worn out the misery of thirteen or fourteen years ser vitude under so barbarous a tyrant, began (as he full often had done before) to call to mind the happiness and freedom of his own country, which comparing to his present state, he wept to remember the one, and got up his manly courage, and cast in his thoughts how to shake off the other. , Not far from the road, somewhat near to one side of the city, was a victualling-house, which one Peter Unticaro had hired, paying also a certain fee for his liberty to the Keeper of the road ; this Peter Unticaro being a Spaniard born, and a Christian, had been prisoner under the Turks by the space of thirty years ; yet never (though many times the forelock of occasion was thrust into his hands) did he practise any means for his inlargement, but lived so quietly and so contentedly, in outward appearance, as if he had forgotten that he was born amongst Christians, or that he ever desired to be buried amongst them. Notwith standing which, did John Reynard open his intent to this Spaniard, who consented to put it in act, and within a few days after, a third person (of their fellow prisoriers) was drawn into the conspiracy ; which there, so often as they could without suspicion, held conference to gether, laid several plots for their escape, and at the end of seven weeks, or thereabouts, their councils had fully begot the rrieans of their present delivery. Five more therefore are made acquainted with the business, to all whom liberty being sweet, (especially out of so base and infamous a slavery) these eight resolved (in the three nights following) to free not only them- The Deliverance of certain Christians from, the Turks. 191 selves, but all the rest of the Christians that were in prison. In the prison do these eight meet (at a time convenient), and there did Reynard and Unticaro deliver to all the rest what was intended ; every man was glad of the news, every man vowed to assist them, and in the action to win freedom, or to end their lives. Upon this confident trust put each upon other, Reynard and Peter secretly furnished them with files, which they had as secretly pro vided for the purpose, charging every person to bestir himself nimbly, and to have his heels at liberty from "shackles by such an hour of the following evening. The night approaching, Reynard and Unticaro, with the other six, being at the Spaniard's house, spent their time merrily to blind the eyes of suspicion, till darkness had taken hold of the world ; at which time, Peter Unticaro was sent to the Master of the road, in the name of one of the Masters of the city, with whom the Keeper of the road was acquainted, and at whose request 'he would gladly come: who desired him to meet the other at Peter's house presently, promising to bring him back again to the road. The Keeper, upon delivery of this message, agreed to go with Unticaro ; commanding the Warders not to bar the gate, because his return should be speedy. In the mean season had the other seven, who staid in Peter's house, furnished themselves with such weapons as the time and place did afford them ; amongst whom, John Reynard had gotten an old rusty sword-blade, without either hilt or pommel, which, notwithstand ing, by bending the hand-end of the sword instead of a pommel, served his turn ; the other had spits,- glaves, &c. The Keeper of the road, being with Unticaro, entered into the house ; the lights were of purpose put out, and no noise of any living creature to be heard : at which, the Keeper of the road being astonished, and suspecting some villainy, stepped back; but John Reynard, having hid himself in a corner next to the door, stepped forth unto him, and stopped his passage ; who, perceiving it to be John Reynard„ and that he was armed (as he nlight well fear) for mischief, said thus : " O Reynard, what have I deserved at thy hands, that thou seekest my death ? " " Marry, this hast thou deserved " (quoth Reynard), and struck him on the head; that he clove his scull ; " thou hast been a sucker of much Christian blood, and there fore die like a villain." No sooner were his hands lifted up to give his fatal blow, but the rest (being at his elbow) came forward, and quickly dispatched him; cutting off his head, and so mangled him, that he could not be known. This prologue to the tragedy going off so well, heaven was by this time hung all over with black, to add a grace to that which was to be acted ; no time, therefore, do they lose, but steal softly, and yet resolutely, to the road, where entering, they found six Warders only, who asked, " Who is there ?" " All friends," replied the other, and were let in ; but instead of welcomes, blows were given, and the six Warders in a short time left dead on- the floor. Upon this (taking their enemies' weapons to defend themselves) were the gates presently barred up strongly, and the mouth of a cannon planted full upon it, ready charged ; and one appointed with a linstock to give fire, if any assault were made upon them. Then en tered they into the Jailor's lodge, where they found the keys both of the fortress and of the prison, by his bed-side and in his chamber, where they armed with better weapons. In this lodge of the Keepers found they likewise a chest, which Unticaro and one or two more opening, found well lined with duckets ; the Spaniard, and some others, neglecting the busi ness in hand, stuffed their bosoms and pockets with this gold; but Reynard dissuaded them from that covetousness, which was likely to be the overthrow of them all, wishing them to provide for their liberty, which should return to the honour of God and of their countries, rather than to sell their lives, yea, perhaps their souls, for the treasure of Infidels. But the Spaniard, and his companions, liked the colour of the duckets better than John Reynard's doctrine, and therefore they hastened away to the prison, whose doors being opened, it appeared that they with their files had plied their work as well within, as the other had with their weapons abroad, for every man's legs were delivered from his irons ; whereupon, ha ving first put certain Warders (that were to look to the prison) to silence for ever speaking more, they all fell roundly to labour; some to ramming up the gates, some to launch out a certain galley, which was the best in all the road, and was called the Captain of Alexan^ 192 The Deliverance of certain Christians from the Turks. dria ; some carried masts, others fetched sails, others laid in oars ; all of them were busy, all of them sweat hard, yet none of them were weary. In killing those Turks that were Warders about the prison, eight other Turks hearing a noise, and suspecting mischief, got up to the top of the prison ; between whom and the pri soners (who could not come near them but by ladders) was a hot skirmish. Some were wourided on both sides, some slain outright. John Reynard was thrice shot through his apparel, but not hurt; Peter Unticaro,. and the rest that shared in the duckets, being not able to carry their bodies in this danger, by reason of the gold about them, which wearied them with the weight, were there first mortally wounded, and after were stricken down - dead. Amongst the Turks, was one thrust through, who, falling from the top of the prison-wall, made so horrible a noise, that the Turks who dwelt within, hearing, (for here and there stood a house or two scattering) came to take him up before he was full dead, and by him under stood how the galley-slaves were reckoning with the Turks about their ransom, without pay- ing any thing but cracked crowns towards it ; hereupon, -they raised both that part of Alex andria which lay on the west side of the road, and a castle which was at the end of the city next to the road, also another fortress which lay on the other side of the road. The alarum thus on every side being given, danger and death did round about beset the poor Christians ; there was but one only passage to escape forth, and that lay between the very jaws of destruction ; yet notwithstanding, no man's heart failed him; the nearer death came towards this company of wretches, the less seemed they to care for his threatenings, for the road is still replenished with lusty soldiers, with stout labourers, and with tough mariners, all whose hands are full of helping one another in this great work of life and death ; some to victual the galley that must save them, others to hang up the tacklings, others to line it with shot for defence against enemies ; but the most part were busy in keeping the Turks from the wall of the road. In the end, all things being in readiness every man leaped into the galley joyfully, hoisted up sails lustily, and launched into the seas merrily ; submitting their lives and fortunes to the mercy of Him, that commands both sea and land. The vessel floats on the waves like a goodly pageant ; she flies away by the help of oars, as if she had borrowed so many wings ; and in a moment is she gotten safe out of the road : but, having escaped one danger, she encounters a greater ; for now, on both sides of her, do the two castles send out their vengeance ; the cannons roar, and shoot to sink them ; the waves watch that advantage, and gape to devour them ; forty-and-five bullets (dreadful as thunder) fell about these Christians' ears, yet not one of them bruised their heads ; they came out of the road safely, and went, from the danger of the castles securely; for joy whereof, they gave a lusty shout, that echoed and rebounded back again between the clouds and the shore. On they went, and though the winds began to grow angry, and to threaten storms, yet with cheerful hearts did they ehoose rather to perish in the eye of Heaven, and by the hand of God, than to be fetched back again and bear the yoke of Infidels. For, casting their eyes back, they might behold the Turks (for by this time the sun was a good way on his forenoon's journey) coming down to the sea-side in swarms like locusts to devour a country ; all of them laying their harids to launch out galleys and follow the Christians. But such a spirit of rage, madness, disorder, and fear, fell upon them, that what one set forward, three hindered. And as in a city fired, in the night time, men are so astonished that they scarce can find the common ways by which they may save themselves ; no more could the Turks, in this wild and giddy tumult, know how to further themselves. After much labour, there fore, and nothing prospering ; after much crying out upon Mahomet, and more cursing the Christians, they quieted their spleens, and looked about them how to make good what was in this battle and battery of the Christians defaced; whilst in the mean time, the poor cap tives were both out of their sight and out of their jurisdiction. For away went they roundly, one company still and anon leaping to the oar, as another felt themselves Weary : all their prayers being poured out, that the hand of Heaven would so The Deliverance of certain Christians from the Turks. 193 guide them, that they might land upon some Christian shore. A long time did they thus wander in those uncertain paths of the sea,- the winds sometimes blowing gently on their faces, and sometinies angerly : insomuch-that, at length, victuals began to fail them, and then famine (a more cursed enemy than him from whom they escaped, yea, than death itself) opened her unwholesome jaws, and, with her stinking breath, blasted their cheeks ; by which means, ill twenty-eight days (wherein they were tossed up and down from billow to billow) there died, for want of bread, eight persons, to the astonishment of all the rest, that looked still for their turn, and to be flung overboard after their fellows. But, with a more merciful eye (when he beheld how patiently they endured his trials) did God look down upon them. And, on the twenty-ninth day after they set from Alexandria, they fell upon the island of Candy, and so put in at Gallipoli ; where the abbot and monks of the place gave them good entertainment, warmed them, and gave them food ; not suffer ing them to depart, till they had refreshed their bodies, and had gathered strength to proceed on their journey. The sword, with which John Reynard had slain the Turkish Jailor, did they hang up for a monument, in remembrance, that, by so weak an instrument, so many Christians were delivered from so barbarous a thraldom. From hence, they sailed along the coast, till they arrived at Tarento, where they sold their galley, divided the money amongst themselves, every man having a part of it to relieve them : for so hardly were they pursued by the Turkish galleys, that oftentimes they came to that place at night, from whence the Christians went away but the morning before. So that it behoved them to use all the diligent speed they could, and not to tarry long in one country. From Tarento, therefore, do they travel by land to Naples, and there did they separate themselves and break company, every man shaping his best course to get to his own home. John Reynard took his journey to Rome, where he found good and friendly entertain ment at the hands of an Englishinan, by whose means the Pope gave him a liberal reward, and sent him with commendatory letters to the King of Spain, who, for that worthy exploit upon the Turks, gave him in fee twenty pence by the day. But the love of his own country calling him from thence, he forsook Spain and his preferment there, and returned to England. The copy of the Certificate for lohn Reynard and his Company, made by the Prior and Brethren of Gallipoli, where they first landed. WE, the Prior and Fathers of the Convent of the Amerciates, of the city of Gallipoli, of the order of Preachers, do testify, that, upon the nineteenth of January, there came into the said city a certain galley from Alexandria, taken from the Turks, with two hundred fifty and eight Christians : whereof was principal, Master John Reynard, an Englishman, a gunner, and one of the chiefest that did accomplish that great work, whereby so many Christians have recovered their liberty. In token and remembrance whereof, upon our earnest request to the same John Reynard, he hath left here an old sword wherewith he slew the keeper of the prison : which sword we do, as a monument and memorial of so worthy a deed, hang up in the chief place of our convent-house. And, for because all things afore said are such as we will testify to be true, as they are orderly passed, and have therefore good credit that so much as is above expressed is true ; and, for the more faith thereof, we, the Prior and Fathers aforesaid, have ratified and subscribed these presents. Given in Gallipoli. I Friar Vincent Barba, Prior of the same place, confirm the premises as they are above written. I Friar Albert Damaro, of Gallipoli, Sub-prior, confirm as much. I Friar Anthony Celleler, of Gallipoli, confirm as aforesaid. I Friar Bartholomew, of Gallipoli, confirm as abovesaid. I Friar Francis, of Gallipoli, confirm as much. vol. 1. . c c 194 The Present State of Europe, S?c: The Bishop of Rome's Letters in behalf of John Reynard. Be it known unto all men to whom this writing shall come; that the bringer hereof* John Reynard, Englishman, a gunner, after he had served captive in the Turks galleys by the space of fourteen years ; at length, through God's help, taking good opportunity, the third of January, slew the keeper of the prison, whom he first struck on the face; together with four-and-twenty other Turks, by the assistance of his fellow-prisoners, and with two-hundred sixty-six Christians (of whose liberty he was the author) launched from Alex andria, and from thence arrived first at Gallipoli in Candy, and afterwards at Tarento in Apulia : the written testimony and credit of these things, as also of others, the same John Reynard hath in publick tables from Naples. Some few days since he came to Rome, and is now determined to take his journey to the Spanish court, hoping there to obtain some relief toward his living: wherefore the poor distressed man humbly beseecheth ; and we, in his behalf; do, in the bowels of Christ, desire you; that, taking compassion of his former captivity and present penury, you do not only freely suffer him to pass throughout all your cities and towns, but also succour him with your charitable alms; the reward whereof you shall hereafter most assuredly receive; which we hope you will afford to him, whom, with tender affection of pity, we commend unto you. At Roriie. Thomas Grolos, Englishman, Bishop of Astraphan. Richard Silleun, Prior Angliae. Andreas Ludovicus,.Register to our Sovereign Lord the Pope ; which, for the great cre dit of the premises, have set my seal to these presents, at Rome, the day and year above written. Mauricius Clenotus, the governor and keeper of the English hospital in the city. The present State of Europe briefly examined, and found lan guishing; occasioned by the Greatness of the French Monar chy : for Cure whereof, a Remedy (from former Examples) is humbly proposed. Wrote upon occasion of the House of Commons's Vote to raise =£.800,000 to equip a Fleet for the Year 1671 ; moved thereunto by the pretended March of the French Army towards the Marine Parts of Flanders. By Thomas Manley, Esq. 1689. ' [Quarto. Thirty-two Pages.] THE present designs and puissance of France, both by sea and land, being at once both the wonder and dread of Europe, hath possessed me with so many sad reflec tions on that subject, that I (who am but dust and ashes, and dwell in the shades of obscurity) cannot refrain to form and meditate, how bars may be put to such approach ing dangers ; especially since the honour, safety, and welfare of our Prince and country ought to be the bent and study of the most retired subject. The Present State of Europe, §c. ' 195 The present state of Europe I might fitly resemble to the body of a man, wherein all the members either languish, or are viciously affected ; some through self-mischiefs, others op pressed by their fellow-members. Spain, (heretofore the great pretender to the western mo narchy 1) droops through her own follies 2, whereof if she expire, a jury will undoubtedly find her afelo de se ; while her neighbour, Portugal, instead of holding her sick head, and pitying her case, is ready, on all occasions, to knock out her brains. Italy and Germany are troubled with one disease, through the windy humours of her many and ambitious princes, whose continual jealousies fill them with gripings and disquiets : England and Holland are desperately bruised through mutual bufferings, to which France cunningly looed3 them on4, intending, like Simeon and Levi, to suppress these Sechemites5, when sore and unable to resist ; all which mistakes and calamities have been to France, as so many indulgent nurses to feed and pamper her ; who, like unruly cattle, trespass most on that neighbour whose fence is lowest, and quarry best without fear of impounding ; whereby (like the head in a body rickety) she grows to an unproportionable and dangerous bigness, whilst her erring neighbours (like the members) waste and languish : of whose sudden and prodigious growth, 1 will not now insist on (which yet is none of the least dreadful con siderations), nor tell how our Cromwell seemed a dictator there; nor record how six-thou sand English red coats were, at that time, more essential than humanity and protection to an oppressed King 6 of the blood of France 7 : for now the scene being altered by the ad mirable conduct of a Prince, whom, therefore, his subjects ought to reverence, I cannot but observe how Christendom, instead of a generous resentment, and defence of the op pressed, shrinks and faints at every undue seizure made by that haughty monarch; as if they fancied such softness could secure their own peace, or charm an ambitious con queror into modesty, or put a stop to his career, whose utmost end is the western monar chy, whereunto, with spread sails, he now apparently hasteneth ; whereas they ought rather to be powerfully persuaded, that such tameness must at once enable and encourage him to devour them also. What prudence can justify such procedure? Can time and patience repair the mistakes ? Or may such easy conquests glut his appetite, or possess him with compassion to spare the rest ? Or does not rather one conquest beget a stomach and ability to more and greater ? Who can suppose the seizure of Lorrain will immerge him in ease and voluptuousness? or his successes in Flanders serve as an atonement to secure the rest ? Must not these unrevenged conquests rather be as so many prosperous gales to transport him to greater atchievements ? seeing the like drowsiness in relation to Christian princes, gave occasion formerly to the growth of the Ottoman greatness, and is like still to add to his triumphs; and, as an historian observes in the like case of the antient Britons, Dum singuli pugnant, universi vincuntur. Remarkable, then, was the former policy of these western princes, when, with the ha zard of their ease and lives, they maintained the power of Christendom in an equal ba lance ; dexterously throwing their arms into that scale which appeared lightest, knowing they secured thereby their own peace and government. On this account, England and France are thought to have wisely fomented the revolt of the Low Countries ; and were, 1 Till Oliver Cromwell enabled France to raise the same ambitious views upon the ruins of Spain. 2 See the Rights of the house of Austria to the Spanish succession in the sequel of this Collection. 3 [Or hallood: i. e. encouraged them ; as dogs are stimulated tO pursue their prey, or to attack each other.] 4 Alluding to the unnatural war proclaimed by King Charles the Second, against Holland, by the instigation of France. 5 England and Holland, when wasted in their strength and wealth by a long and bloody war. 6 Charles the Second. 7 Cromwell, being solemnly inaugurated Protector, on the 26th of June 1657, immediately consented to a -league with France against Spain ; thereby stTpulating that all the children of King Charles the First, and their- adherents, should be entirely forsaken by the French King, and drove out of his dominions; and that, in conside ration thereof, Cromwell sent six- thousand of his best troops into France, under the command of Reynolds; by which means the balance of Europe was transferred from Spain to the power of France. 196 The Present State of Europe, Sf-c. in effect, as fond by that means to lessen the grandure of Spain (who then alarmed Europe, as France does now) as if they themselves had made new conquests. Hence it was, that Philip the Second, by way of requital, and our Elizabeth (to whose prudence and memory we owe our remaining glories) threw oil, and not water, into the long troubles of France; With which counsel the same Philip was so transported, (judging it the best expedient to improve his grand design of the western monarchy,) that, to carry the war into France, he apparently (but not wisely) neglected his own affairs in the Low Countries ; thereby spoiling a most sovereign antidote by an unseasonable application. Nor was the costly attempt of 1588, any thing but carrying fire into an enemy's kingdom8, the better to extinguish the flame made by that foe, in his country; kingdoms (like houses in a dreadful fire) being best secured by blowing up the next dangerous neighbour. Hence the French are supposed (by no fools) to have been both the midwife and nurse to our late Scotish and English wars 9; begot the several costly wars between us and Holland 10 ; continued and fostered the revolts both in Catalonia and Portugal ; and of late assisted that King both with men and money. Cromwell, indeed, was an unparalleled sinner against this antient king-craft, when, postpo ning the general tranquillity to his own wretched humour and interest, he assisted France at such a time that all the world judged her too powerful for her rival, Spain; who then lay drooping under her own wounds, and follies, in relation principally to the ill conduct of her treasure, which alone will founder the strongest empire ; and had this nation no other crime to charge on that ill man (who, like the greatest mortals, must, living or dead, be exposed to the severest censure of the people) it were alone sufficient to render him an impolitick and hateful person to all generations. Whereas, on the contrary, we owe great reverence to the wisdom of his Majesty, in espousing the triple alliance, and entering generously into other leagues, in order to secure the peace of Christendom. But yet I humbly conceive it 'is not enough for a cheap, sure, and lasting peace, so long as tbe balance remains so un equal between the two great Pretenders ; and France, through her military grandure con tinues so armed, able, and daring, to give perpetual frights and alarums to the whole neigh bourhood; whereby a peace, through a just and necessary jealousy, becomes as costly as war itself, cpnsuming those that are suspicious of her; and the daily motions and buzzings of her armies oblige the neighbours, with sword in hand, to an eternal watchfulness lest unawares the blow be given; which continual bendings inevitably must draw so manv dreadful weaknesses on the parties concerned, as must at length, without a miracle improve both the designs and glories of that Prince : which is so obvious to all considering men that some of his own subjects have had the vanity, of late, to boast, even in this kingdom' what charge their King would put us unto, by marching his army (mighty and in perpetual pay) yearly near our coasts, before really he would attack us. And certainly great must the advantage be which France hath now over us, (whereby an estimate may be taken of our decay, even in the midst of peace,) if, when the humour possesseth that daring monarch (whose armies, like birds of prey, are always on the wing) to move towards us, either in pre tence or reality (which by the event is only determinable), we must equip, at least, our fleet" at six or seven hundred thousand pounds charge, to prevent the mere fear of an 'invasion ¦ and when we are wearied and consumed by so many fruitless, yet necessary armings a d laid to sluriiber after so many alarums, who can but easily foresee what dreadful effects' m" ensue ? Wherefore, I conclude, with that great statesman, Cicero, Pace suspectd tut ^ bellum ". ' . ¦ ms But suppose, that, whilst the United Provinces and Spain maintain their posts, we were abl both to resist his attempts, and bear the expence; yet it is scarce deniable, but if he de & those countries by piece-meals, and pluck up that glorious commonwealth by the V°?* (which without effectual assistance infallibly he will,) we must also receive a law from T- for what can then keep us, with the rest of Christendom, from subjection to that c '"^ ? * England. See this whole expedition in numbers III and IV beginning in page 1 19. 9 Between King Charles the Second and his parliament. Ia In the reign of King Charles the Second " War is safer than a suspected peace. The Present State of Europe, §c. 197 since we already see the very clappings of his wings beget amazement. Join the power and riches of Holland to him, and all the known world must bow to his scepter. Again, should France attempt, and reduce us to severe terms, whilst our neighbours stand with their aims a-cross, it would only expedite their confusion, and draw on them a more certain conquest.- I will not therefore doubt, but, as the safeties of us, and our allies, are floating in one common bottom, and fortified by mutual interests (the only true cement of leagues) ; so our joint designs, when once put into action, will be vigorously pushed on, till the balance of Christendom be reduced to its proper standard. And whereas it must be granted, that no conquest can satiate, bonds tie, nor leagues charm this great pretender 13, whereby the milky ways of peace may felicitate Europe, without the costly and terrible guards of ar mies, so long as the odds remain so unequal, and this mighty hero (armed and victorious) is able thus to affright the world, hector his neighbours, impose upon the weak, and, on every feeble pretence, ransack their countries without revenge; nothing remains justifiable by the just rules of policy, but with the joint arms of all parties concerned (which indeed is all Europe) to attack this illustrious man upon the very first just provocation, and, by dint of sword, carry the war into his own bosom ; and from the example of wise princes, make his country at once both the seat of war and desolation; whereof the Romans, in the war of Carthage, are a puissant instance : whereas, on the contrary, the states and princes of Europe, Italy especially, neglecting of late to assault the Turk powerfully before Candia, are now justly expecting him, with horror and amazement, at their own doors. He that fights in his enemy's country, does in effect fight at his enemy's cost ; and when peace is clapped up, leaves his enemy, for that age, poor and miserable, as we have not long since beheld in poor Germany. The French King, therefore, commonly makes himself the as sailant, maintaining half his wars at his adversaries' charge, by fighting in their countries ; where, if he receive a blow, he has his own unharassed kingdom either to receive or re cruit him; and our heroick Elizabeth (who, knowing that virtue and justice were the only ligaments of her people's love, governed her affairs with miraculous wisdom and housewifery, made her payments sure to a proverb, and was accordingly adored) studied by all arts ima ginable to fight her enemies on their own soil, whereby at once she imprinted thereon the terrible marks of desolation, and preserved her country as proper fuel, wherewith, on all oc casions, to consume her adversaries. Nor was her sister Mary intentionally her inferior in this particular, when the loss of Calais (which in her hand was so ready an inlet to assail either of the great pretenders, as common interest directed) was supposed either to have occasioned or hastened her death. For this reason, all our kings, from the glorious Edward the Third to Queen Mary, (being two-hundred and ten years,) with infinite care and cost, preserved Calais against all comers, as a sacred jewel of the crown; however, a sort of new policy seems of late to have been introduced. He that fights out of his country, sel dom ventures any thing besides an army ; but he that is assaulted and beat upon his own dunghill, commonly loseth that with the victory, or at least suffereth tgn-thousand cala mities, besides the usual terrors of invasion. Whereof the Swedes' descent into Germany, by virtue of their" King's courage and alliances (such as I drive at) is a wonderful example; wherein a puissant Emperor (armed and victorious, as France is now) was courageously set upon, and after a fierce war of sixteen years, and the death (as is supposed) of three- hundred thousand Germans, torn to pieces by so many eager confederates (whereof France was none of the small ones), who by the deep counsels- of those mighty oracles, Richelieu and Oxenstern (guided peradventure by a divine hint) pursued this method, as the likeliest way to chastise and humble that haughty family, who otherwise, possibly, would, by piece meals, or drowsy peace, have swaggered, if not subdued Europe. Let brave princes, for the common safety of Christendom, repeat this counsel on another theatre ; the scale may soon be turned, and France most justly be chastised with her own terrible scourge forty years after ; otherwise it must be a long and unlucky war, managed by France, on the soil of 11 To universal monarchy. 198 The Present State of Europe, §c. other princes, to make her miserable so long as she enjoys peace at home: allow her that, and she may tug hard with Christendom; like Spain, who,( by virtue of the domestick peace, contended in effect with all Europe for eighty years, and put them shrewdly to their trumps. Nothing more, than peace at home, enables a prince to manage wars abroad ; he then that will humble his enemy, must throw wild-fire into his bosom, carry the war into his country, and strike home at the head and heart. Nor are the ill humours, which peradventure may be found in every, country, the meanest argument to excite an invasive war ; since poor Germany received the deepest wounds from his own weapons, and France, by her arbitrary government and intolerable im positions, (to omit the natural fickleness of her people, the oppressed Huguenots, and the lofty and never-dying pretences of the house of Conde,) hath probably prepared combusti ble matter, wherewith at any time to consume herself, when once, especially her neighbours, with powerful arm, bring flames unto it ; which otherwise (as we have there often seen within this thirty years) is, in effect, as soon extinguished as begun. Why then does Europe slumber, and meekly suffer such dangerous clouds to increase and impend, till of themselves they break about their ears ? Our common safeties invocate our common arms to assail this lion in his den, pare his claws at least, and abate his fierceness, and, instead of expecting him in ours, attack him vigorously in his own coun- tryon the. next just provocation, since nothing is more certain than that delays and softness fortify the danger, and improve that, which, in prudence, is now resistible, into a folly to withstand. Slight distempers, at first despised, prove oftentimes deadly; whereas to meet with a disease before it come to the crisis, is a probable means to ascertain the cure; and venienti occurrite morbo, may be as choice a maxim in government, as aphorism in physick. Pax quceritur bello, was a shrewd motto of a bad man, and ought more justly, on this occa sion, to be wrote in capital letters on all the confederate standards of Europe. In fine, he that sees not an absolute necessity of embracing speedily a confederate war, to abate the edge of this illustrious pretender ; hath either not duly weighed the danger, has some vile and by-ends, Bethlem-mad to introduce some heresy, or, is resolved to truckle. Tanti religio potuit suadere malorum. 1 should tremble to sound a trumpet to war (which is always accompanied with fearful circumstances), did I not from my soul believe that a supreme peace, like an incurable gangrene, would create greater calamities, and introduce both a Certain war, and the ha zard of a total subversion : for, if whilst we become mere spectators of our neighbour's losses and calamities, this Prince, either by force or subtlety, improve his dominions ; we can expect no other favour, but the miserable satisfaction either to be last devoured, or shamefully imposed upon ; which sounds so dolefully in every free-born ear, that, to prevent it, nothing can be esteemed too dear : whereas, a speedy arming of all the confederates may not only repel, but force the infection into his own bowels, and make him experimen tally feel those miseries, which, merely to aggrandize his name and kingdom, he has incom- passionately brought on others ; whereof I may not doubt, when I consider how one of his Majesty's three kingdoms, hy the proper virtue of her kings (which were truly heroick) and the slender help of some one confederate, hath more than once made terrible impres sions in France, and turned up even the foundations of her government ; for which those brave princes will be eternally celebrated, whilst the memory of the slothful and volup tuous perish, who, by forgetting their own and thejr nation's honour, have taught their own : and future ages to forget and dishonour them ; so true is it, that that prince who reigns without honour, lives in contempt and danger, and has his tomb at last besmeared with re proaches. Men cannot be wanting for so honourable and necessary a war, whilst these three king doms enjoy peace at home; nor money (the soul of war) if prudently managed ; since the issue of such a war must, with the Divine blessing, secure the subjects in their beds, an desta- blish such a peace as may be a lasting happiness to the Christian world ; they will there fore certainly tear open their breasts, and give the King their hearts, and with them their The Present State of Europe, fyc. 199 hands and purses ; whilst, with Cato, they esteem nothing too dear for the peace of the com monwealth, according to the Dutch motto, " Defend us, and spend us." And although we iriust not expect a cheap war, yet certainly it cannot be dearer than a watchful, suspected, and languishing peace, in which we must consume the treasure of our nation, by upholding great armaments by sea and land, to watch a seeming friend, that he become not a real enemy, and yet not be able to prevent it at last. Nor needs any treasure be exported in specie, (which, by all imaginable ways, ought to be avoided as part of our life-blood,) but the value thereof transported in the growths and manufactures of Eng land (besides clothes for the soldiery) which either his Majesty's ministers may there expose to sale, or our, confederates be obliged to answer quarterly at a certain rate ; being assured, the Swedes maintained that long war in Germany, without drawing any silver out of their dominions ; but, contrariwise, inriched their country with the choicest spoils of their enemies, as by woeful experience we have found the Scots wisely to practise upon us 13. I know it will be objected, that we are in an untoward pickle to begin a war, after so many hideous calamities, grievous impositions, and universal fall of our rents, occasioned by a thousand follies ; and why shall we throw off peace a moment sooner than we must needs lose her; seeing, with the loss of her, our trade must be miserably interrupted ? To which, I answer, — That were the continuance of peace and trade to. be always at our option, and that probably, the power of no neighbour could ever part us, he were beyond the cure of hellebore 14, that would propose war in their stead : but seeing the case is quite contrary, peace and trade, were better suspended for some years, with probable hopes to en joy them plentifully afterwards, than, after a short enjoyment, to humour an unreasonable fondness, lose them and freedom eternally. Not, but that I am powerfully persuaded that the very commencement of such a war may be so far from interrupting our trade a 'moment, that it may be, at once, the only means to enlarge ours, and beat the French out of hers : whereas, we now plainly see, how, during this present uncertain peace, she dilates her com merce, and thrives on the ocean ; which, with the very first approaches of a confederate war, must, in all probability, vanish ; whilst the Dutch and we have thereby so many advantages, both to beat her out of sea, and increase our own navigation and traffick. This is certain; such a war cannot prejudice us by hindering our trade with her; it being notoriously known, that our commerce there is, at once, mischievous to us, and strangely advantageous to her, whether you respect the open or clandestine traffick. First, in the quantity, by the vast over-balance of her commodities. And, secondly, in the quality of them ; those which she receives from us, being such as are necessary and useful to her, and infinitely disadvan tageous to us, as our wool, &c. whilst we import nothing from thence but what we were a thousand times better to be without ; and such as, if we consume them not, must, in effect, perish on their hands, to the infinite prejudice of her King and people; as we know they now suffer by the Dutch late prohibition of brandy, salt, &c. and which, to gratify our ill- tutored humours and appetites, subdue our rents, corrupt and impoverish our nobility and gentry, destroy our manufactures, and snatch the bread out of the mouths of our artificers ; and, by consequence, increase our poor; and render us the most vain and luxurious creatures in Europe. And, although I cannot magnify our present condition and fitness for war ; yet, certainly, it is safer enterprizing her abroad (as shaken as we are) with the help of powerful con federates (whose shoulders may bear part of the burthen) whilst there remain fresh hopes of victory, than slumber in a dangerous peace, till invincible mischiefs awake us, our neigh bours subdued, our. trade expired, war brought to our doors by a triumphant enemy heigh tened by conduct and successes, and, cock-pit law against us; hoping, now, by a reasonable army (such as the nation may maintain in pay and courage) and the joint force of con federates, to reduce the scale, and confirm that peace, which thrice their numbers, and treble charge at another time, cannot procure ; and, of all evils, the least is always to be chosen. If I be asked, what assurance can princes have of alliances, since all ages afford untoward instances of foul play therein ; to the ruin, commonly, of the most sincere and daring I 13 In times past, before the two kingdoms were united. 14 i.e. uncurably mad.. 200 The Present State of Europe, §c. Not to distinguish between the dissimulation of the South, (where, under the name of pru dence and circumspection, falsehood and frauds are daily reverenced,) and the sincerity of the North, (where most of 'our alliances are,) nor debate the difference between leagues com menced by revenge, passion, or some frivolous capricip (which are no sooner patched' to gether than rent asuftder), and those led on by the exact rules of common safety and govern ment (whose results are immortal) : I answer, that honourable leagues hold commonly in violable, until the several fundamental interests of the confederates are secured. Now, it is almost impossible that any prince's true interest can be secured, whilst France remains so mighty and rampant. Let the league hold till her swaggering fit be over, her nails pared, and she reduced to terms of modesty and good neighbourhood ; and then let the allies fall off as they please. I know, in all leagues of this nature, differences from several little interests have risen, how far it has been safe or necessary to weaken the common enemy; wherein some have always been fiercer for a total subversion than others, as in the miserable case of Germany, wherein nothing would satisfy the Swede and French, but dividing the very car cass of the Imperial Eagle, whilst the rest of the confederates were contented to cut off her beak and talons ; yet they all agreed in this, that she was to be reduced and weakened. But suppose that allies should prove false when once a war is commenced, what would it do else, but at once to hasten the ruin of them all ? And, in the mean time, instruct the deserted Prince to yield to larger terms, out-bid the apostates, stoop to the Pretender (who, as a generous conqueror, must pity such), and with him, in revenge, set upon the perfidious, and make them eternally repent such unworthiness, unless safe counsels in the mean time present. Again, it may be objected, that peace ought to be preserved as long as may be, in hopes that, this busy and dangerous Prince may expire, before his haughty designs are accomplish ed; and the affairs of France fall thereby into the hands of an infant, or a lazy and effemi nate prince (that is worse than a child), accompanied (as commonly) with corrupt, faithless, or factious counsellors and flatterers, the vermin of courts, and plague and ruin of crowns and scepters ; whereby (without the hazard of a war), her huffling, and prosperous condition ' (as frequent examples tell us) may be rendered languishing enough. I answer, that that, which may be, may not be ; and either this active Prince, who is now but thirty-two, may live (without a powerful confederacy) to give Europe a woeful convic tion of the folly of such lazy counsel, or leave a successor to tread in his glorious steps, till that be accomplished, which all but Frenchmen ought to abhor, whatever their religious persuasions are ; and what wise man will expose, even his little private affairs, to such a risque, when safer remedies are at hand ? If it be said, that, in case our neighbours think fit to invade us, we have store of Sampsons to give them warlike entertainment, whereby we may defend our own, without concerning ourselves in affairs abroad. • I answer, first, that it is clearly against the practice of our renowned ancestors, and of all wise states in all ages, who have chosen to fight their enemies on an enemy's soil, at any rate; rather than suffer the terrors and desolations of an invasion, though the enemy should have perished all on the spot. Secondly, there is a moral impossibility to maintain England, otherwise than in a languid and frightful condition, were her Sampsons twice as many' should France (whilst we slumber) reduce the Spanish and United Provinces, and annex the greater part of Germany to his flourishing and mighty kingdpm ; acquisitions whereof he has too fair a prospect. Thirdly, I dare affirm, that nothing but invincible necessity, or ill counsel, ever disposed a prince to receive an enemy into his own bowels, instead of seeking him abroad ; for which I humbly offer these reasons : 1. The assailants both in their own, and their enemies' opinion (which, in war, works mighty effects) have commonly the reputation of being the better men, merely because thev have the courage to seek the enemy at his own door. 2. The invader seldom ventures any thing besides an army, which, ten to one is exceed ingly strengthened (especially if his usage or pay be good), by either male-contents in church, or state, or necessitous persons, to whom novelty is welcome, and all governments alike; a The Present State of Europe, §c. 201 reason which made Lycurgus fear to see a beggar, or a voluptuous person, who rides post to poverty, dwell in Sparta. 3. The assailed prince, in case he has not a standing army and mighty treasure, is, by an invasion, cast into ten thousand straits, in procuring monies and raising men, when he should be fighting the enemy, or securing the country ; whilst the people, instead of taking sword in hand, fly with their amazed families, before the enemy, they know not where, cursing the follies of the government which have undone them ; whilst invasions seldom leave other coun sellors, but fear and revilings, whose results are always wild and preposterous. 4. If a prince has not a treasure of his own, he shall scarce command the purses of his subjects upon an invasion, when they are busier in concealing their money to supply their own wants in the day of calamity, than expend it in defence of the publick, which their fond hopes insinuate may either be saved without it, or fears suggest is past recovery with it ; as was clearly seen in the loss of Constantinople, when taken by Mahomet the Great; unless the subject has an egregious reverence for the government and counsels of the prince, as the results of bis justice and virtue; whereof the great Queen Elizabeth, in the attempt of 88, is a glorious instance. 5. Soldiers are generally observed to be most warlike and manageable farthest from home, when freed from the cares and addresses of wives and families. 6. The prince assailed had need stand right in the opinion of his people, in relation to his religion, treasure, and government ; for if they (who in all disasters will be judges in spite of fate) have once lost all sentiments of veneration and confidence of him, through mis- government ; they soon grow to despise and nauseate all his actions, distrust and prejudicate his counsels, invocate the ghost of some glorious ancestor, and are easily won by the next comer. 7- The prince assailed, doth not only, on a battle or two, venture his country, wherein, if he be beaten, he is certainly conquered ; but, if he subdue the aggressors, he has only their carcasses to atone for the devastation of his country, (the certain effect of invasion, and, next to a conquest, the business of an enemy) which hastens barbarity, and a certain carelessness, and opens an easy way to the next comer ; as it fared with this island in rela tion to the Danes, Saxons, and Normans, whose conquests and pressures made way one for another : so true is it, that poverty weakens the hands, and intimidates the hearts of man kind, and also renders countries not worth keeping. 8. It is the fundamental interest of princes to keep the balance even, which is not to be done without confederacies, and warring upon the growing and dangerous monarch, it be ing certain that armies, fleets, and fortresses, (though highly valuable in their kind, and with out which kingdoms are defective,) secure a country not half so safe or cheap, as parity of strength among neighbouring princes. 9. A prince, who with his Sampsons intends only his own defence, without regard had of his neighbours' peace and safety, may one day fall without the help or pity of his neighbours ; as the excellent Sir Philip Sidney observes, he that only stands on his own defence, stands on no defence. For these reasons, a kingdom, abounding with Sampsons, ought therefore to encounter the Philistines, in the Philistines' country, to prevent their matching into Canaan; since every prince, by the plain rules of discretion, ought rather to humble the thriving monarch, by making his country the theatre of war, (whereon is acted nothing but horrors and fearful representations) than see his own, even with victory, a field of blood and desolation. Lastly, if from the doubtful event of war, it be alleged that peace, even on any terms, ought to be maintained ; I answer, that from the uncertainty of war, there remains to us as much hopes of success, as fear of miscarriage ; but from a supine peace, we have only a certain assurance to be sub dued at last, without the least rational hopes to escape ; for let France extend her conquests and triumphs, whilst we bask and wantonise in peace, and no imaginable softness and com pliance of ours can oblige her, till she has justly branded us with some hateful marks of sub jection; this sort of peace being like a mercenary woman, enchanting at first, but ready VOL. I. DD 202 The Rights of the House of Austria to the Spanish Succession. enough at last to betray us to a thousand mischiefs, when once her vile ends are accom plished. And the better to represent this danger, we must consider what inclinations France has to us, when during the late Dutch inglorious attempt at Chatham (whereunto by our own nakedness and prostitution they were invited, and by what else, I know not), she was upon the point of invading us with a royal army, though affairs seemed not then ripe for so high an attack ; which if she had nevertheless performed, what dreadful effects must have ensued, I leave them to judge, who (with myself) either saw our strange consternation upon the attempt of a weak, yea, and modest enemy, in June 1667; or ever beheld a powerful army in an enemy's country: and although, peradventure, we might have destroyed them, yet if they had stood, but two months to an end, and harassed four or five counties, it had been far less charge to the nation (besides our dishonour, and hazard of our navy and naval stores), tb have borne the expense of an offensive war so many years together. Nor must we imagine this haughty design of France (where the easy conquest of England, and her drooping condition, is lately exhibited in print) is otherwise than wisely deferred, till she is become our rival at sea, and Flanders subdued ; for both which, she now bids fairly, unless, by some potent confederacy, she be happily prevented. And when, in our weekly audiences, I read of the French growth, and marine preparations especially (which our glorious Queen, though friend enough to Henry the Fourth, abhorred to suffer, knowing the consequence to be such, which by experience we now find), and yet see the world inclined to slumber ; I can not discern whether we are warned to a generous resistance, or to prepare our necks for the yoke. In the mean time the ghost of that renowned woman 15 (who yet loves her country, even in shades of deathy reproves us for suffering these French thus to increase at sea ; and, from her profound experience, recommends to us justice, and thrift in publick treasure (as the main pillar of the government) and war, in the great Pretender's country, (as the best expedient to keep peace at home); from which rules the prince that swerves, must end ingloriously, and be content to be hard censured by posterity ; however, out of fear, he rnay escape his own generation. ,s [Queen Elizabeth : whose bright renown (said "Whetstone in his Heptameron) maketh the island of Eng land famous throughout the whole world.] The" Rights of the House of Austria to the Spanish Succession. Published, by order of his Imperial Majesty Leopold, and translated from the original, printed at Vienna, MDCCI. [Quarto. Thirty-two Pages.] THE most illustrious and potent Prince, Charles the Second, King of Spain, had scarce given up his last breath, when all Europe (which was already very attentive on this sad' event) found that Spain, for the future, was to embrace the ways and customs of France. And that, by an uncommon trick of state, a forgsd will was produced, which invited to the succession of all the kingdoms, dutchies, and principalities of Spain, not an indisputable relation, and withal the eldest of the family, but an ally of sixteen years, descended from a woman excluded from all manner of pretension to those dominions, and this contrary to oaths and treaties; contrary to a former disposition of the father and grandfather, and to the rights of birth in such a degree, as, according to the laws of Spain, was to succeed whenever the line- male was extinct; contrary to the nearest affinity by the female side; and, which seems to be most considerable, contrary to the quiet and happiness of all Europe :' which proves, as well in general as particular, that the crown of Spain should not have fallen to Philip of Bourbon, Duke of Anjou \ but to Leopold2 of Austria, Emperor of the Romans. ' The crown of Spain descended to a Frenchman, the grandson of Louis XIV. 2 Grandfather to Maria Theresa, Queen of Hungary and Bohemia. The Rights of the House of Austria to the Spanish Succession. 203 To make this clear, let us take a view of the .affairs as they have past. Philip the First, as every one knows, lived above two ages ago, and was the son of the Emperor Maximilian, the happy offspring of the family of Austria. He had two sons,, viz. Charles, who was the elder, born at Ghent in Flanders; and Ferdinand, who was the younger, born at Medina in Spain. The latter was the first Emperor of his name; and the former was the fifth of his name as Emperor, but the first as King of Spain. The partition which was made of those dominions between the two brothers at Worms, in the year 1521, was such, that Charles, who was the eldest, was to have Spain, together with Burgundy and all Flanders ; and that Ferdinand, who was the younger, and almost a child, should have the territories that are in Germany. Ferdinand rested content with his brother's happy lot, who was already become Emperor; and he was the more easily inclined so to do, at that time, because that, though his share was but small, there was no reason or power which could do any thing in prejudice of his other rights, which he was willing to suspend for a time out of pure respect to his elder brother : that is to say, that he always reserved to himself and successors a power to take possession of that large inheritance, if the elder branch should happen to fall. Under the favourable influences of this solid rule of life and death, Ferdinand has trans mitted his posterity, by his son who was likewise called Charles, and by his grandson, and great grandson, viz. Ferdinand the Second and the Third, in a right line down to Leopold the present Emperor : and to the end he might maintain the union of the family, and follow the sense of the agreement of Worms; he appointed that the branch of Spain, excluding the females, should succeed to his sons. To Charles the Fifth, or First, according to the Spaniards, and, after Philips the First, the Second, the Third, and the Fourth, succeeded the lately deceased Charles of happy memory. He had for his" mother Mary- Anna of Austria, daughter to the said Ferdinand the Third, and sister to Leopold; so that he was doubly related to the Emperor, as well by the mother's side, and by the line of his predecessors of the House of Austria. These reasons, and several others, which regard the common constitutions of kingdoms, and particularly that of Spain, did incline Philip IV, father of the lately-deceased Charles, not to suffer that Maria Theresa his eldest daughter, married to Lewis the XIV. King of France 3, should be admitted directly or indirectly to succeed to the kingdoms and provinces of Spain ; but that both she and her posterity, of what sex or quality soever, should be for ever excluded. Besides, he made a will4, in the year 1665, by which he expressly invites the collateral branch of Austria to the succession of Spain, upon the falling of the Spanish line. The peace of Westphalia, which was signed in 1648, did not hinder, but that a cruel war did break out between Spain and France, attended with several calamities, which continued for some years, and seemed to be in a way to continue much longer, to the great prejudice of both nations, as well by reason of the preparations, as of the alliances which were made on both sides. Wherefore all pains was taken to put a stop to the violence of so implacable a hatred, by settling a good understanding between them ; and, nothing seerriing so much to contribute to this as a marriage, the chief endeavours were directed this way. The French King at first had an eye upon Margaret of Savoy ; and it was thought that he had so much love for her, as to incline him to marry her ; but it was no hard matter to make this Prince's first flames abate, by proposing to him a much more advantageous alliance in the person of the Infanta of Spain. Some reasons of importance made the French very much desire this marriage ; and Chris tiana, the King's own aunt, a lady of great solidity and judgment, having gone from Turin with Margaret her daughter, she came to Lyons, where she met the King her nephew ; and generously exhorted him not to think of marrying her daughter, but rather to make choice of the Infanta of Spain, as well for the common good of Christendom, as for the advantage of so many states, which were brought to ruin by so long a war. 3 From whom Philip V. King of Spain, descended. 4 Which it becomes every honest man to have by him when disputes arise about Spain and the House of Austria. 204 The Rights of the House of Austria to the Spanish Succession. What this prudent lady would have persuaded the King her nephew to, generally prefer ring the publick good to her own private interest, was a business full of very considerable difficulties. The Spaniards had a long time before testified an insuperable aversion to this alliance, especially when they reflected on the fatal confusions that persons of a temper very contrary to theirs would cause in a government, if the issue of this marriage should happen to aspire to the succession of the kingdoms of Spain, under the specious pretext of relation by the mother's side. This difficulty seemed, and that too upon good grounds, of such con sequence, that it was firmly resolved not to give way to it, unless that the Infanta would prefer the friendship of so considerable a husband to considerations, which otherwise perhaps might be of weight. Maria Theresa then must renounce not only for herself, in case of widowhood with offspring, but also for her children of both sexes ; that so the posterity of France might not have the least hopes of sharing in the succession of Spain 5. This did not in the least trouble the Infanta, who, according to the way of the world, did look to the present, without vexing her head with the uneasy thoughts of uncertain futurity : she easily renounced, both for herself and posterity for ever, all hopes of the Spanish inheri tance, that she might have a present share in the flourishing crown of France ; considering that, if she should have children, they might be abundantly happy, though they were as far from the crown of Spain, as from the humour of the Spaniards. King Philip her father, and Lewis her husband, were not averse from this free consent of the Infanta. It is true, that King Philip was under a prudent fear, that, if the renunciation was not made in plain and clear terms, the Ministers of France, who were always inclined to captious interpretations, would take occasion to do the same in this juncture, to attain to their de signs, Which then prevailed, by force : and that his fear was not groundless, experience has but too much shewn. For, though the matter and sense of treaties be never so clear, yet, the letter being more obscure, they wrest it into a wrong sense by force of arms, as far as their interest and power will allow. For which reason, Cardinal Mazarine and Don Lewis Mendez de Haro, both chief ministers of two kings, and their plenipotentiaries, after they had endeavoured very much, at the Pyrenean treaty, to agree about the peace ; and after they had, with extraordinary care, treated of the form of the renunciation, they agreed at length with joy upon a most ample one, containing most express clauses, which was to serve as a law for the future 6. The most Christian King had clothed his Ambassador with a full power to agree to this renunciation6: the same having likewise been done by the Emperor, with respect to his Ambassador. And since, as Titus Livius says, 'That the law of nations prevails in things ' which are transacted by faith, by alliance, by treaties, and oaths ; and that there is a great ' difference between the publick faith and the private faith ; that the publick faith owes its force * to the dignity, and the private to the form of the agreement :' nobody doubted but that what was done with respect to the renunciation, should have been more religiously observed ; since both its dignity and form, in the treaty made about it, did equally contribute to give it power and force. , It was upon this foundation, truly worthy of the Majesty-royal, that so solemn an agree ment, and the first arid most noble part of the Pyrenean peace, was built. It was impossible to find out words more strong, or more effectual, than those the Infanta and the King her husband made use of; the one to express her renunciation, the other to express his consent 6. There, in the most ample manner, you find a renunciation of all and every one of the rights, titles, laws, customs, constitutions, dispositions, remedies, and pre texts, by which the Infanta (unless she happened to be a widow without any offspring) or her children of either sex, born of that marriage, could at any time pretend to the succession of the Spanish dominions. Thus, the offspring of France were altogether excluded from the s It was from this marriage that the French King of Spain laid his.claim ; and in defiance to this renunciation which was a condition of the marriage, and articled therein, supports the same by, force of arms, under the pro tection of France. ' 6 Viz. the form of the Infanta's renunciation, which has never been regarded by her French" successors- though the French King pretended to agree to it in due form, as well as by the treaty concerning the same. ' The Rights of the House of Austria to the Spanish Succession. 205 crown of Spain. Nay, the Pope too was intreated to give his apostolick benediction to an agreement made with so much deliberation, and so unanimously, for the quiet of both king doms, and for the peace of all Christendom, subscribed with the Pyrenean treaty, November 7, 1659; and signed in a numerous assembly of the ministers of both Princes with mutual applauses, and established on both sides with a most prudent foresight. Let any one who is disinterested, and free from passion, but read the fourth, fifth, and sixth paragraphs of the contract of marriage, and without much enquiry he shall clearly see, that no disposition or order could be made, nor any pretext found, by which a male-child of France could aspire to the crown of Spain, since he is excluded from all hopes thereto, by sentences so clear, words so express, and clauses so derogatory and declaratory. There is here no need of school-shifts and subterfuges to obscure the clearest terms. God, who is the searcher of hearts, and who was called upon as a witness in these conventions, does not allow of ambiguous explications : the cross of Christ ; the holiness of the Gospel ; the canon of the mass, and the royal honour : by all which, both parties were to swear in the form of the Pyrenean peace, cannot admit or suffer that the words should say one thing, and the sense another. The meaning and intention of those that contracted, and the perpetual exclusion of the line of France, are clearly to be seen by the publick reasons, and by the treaty confirmed and ratified by the French King. The same Catholick King, Philip IV, who must be allowed to have understood the sense of this agreement, repeats it plainly in his will, made the fourteenth of December, 1665. That King appoints several and different things in his will concerning the succession of Spain ; he also relates several things about the danger that threatened Spain and all Chris tendom, by reason of the marriage made with the Royal Family of France, unless there was a bar put to hinder the accession of any, that was or should be born of them, to the crown of Spain 7. He gives a full account of all the care and precautions which he was obliged to use with his sister Anna, with Maria Theresa his daughter, and with his own wife Elizabeth of Bourbon ; to the end that no child of France, whether male or female, should by any manner of way, or oh any occasion, come to enjoy the states and dominions of Spain. He mentions word by word, the articles that had been lately made to avoid all occasions which might give even the most remote grounds to fear that the crown of Spain should be united to that of France. He particularizes some lines of succession8; and though he knew very well that his daughter could not fail to have a numerous issue by King Lewis his son-in-law ; since she was fruitful, and had already brought forth the Dauphin and two daughters ; yet, not forgetting the Pyrenean peace and agreements9, he excludes the posterity of France from coming, in any manner of way, to the possession of the Spanish dominions : not only the males, in whose persons both kingdoms might be united; but also the females, who, by reason of the Salique law, could not be allowed to reign in France, and consequently could not unite Spain to it, though they were admitted to that succession. But he rather turns himself to his own family of Austria, and invites the children of his sister Mary, who had died in 1646, after having had several children by the Emperor Ferdinand the Third; and, among others, the most august Leopold I0. Nay, he goes farther ; and, that the French line might be absolutely excluded from the kingdoms and dominions of Spain ; he appoints, that, in case the House of Austria came to.be extinct, the succession should fall to the posterity of Catharine of Savoy, his aunt, who had died in 1597- All which is a clear and certain proof of the exclusion of the French line, and of the un doubted right of the House of Austria. The lately deceased King Charles u was not a stranger to so authentick testimonies of the truth ; the perpetual renunciation of his sister, and of her posterity, was notorious. The ' Is not this truly verified by the intrigues between France, and the French King of Spain ?' Has not France managed all the councils of Spain, since Philip's reign, to the service of France; and to assist her in the ruin of all neighbouring states, and the acquiring universal monarchy ? " See the will. 9 Viz. the renunciation of the Infanta^ Maria Theresa, and the treaty that confirmed the same. 10 Grandfather to the Queen of Hungary, &c. V The Second, of Spain. 206 The Rights of the House of Austria to the Spanish Succession. will of his father Philip did particularly nominate a successor of the House of Austria, Charles himself honoured the Emperor Leopold, and considered him as his relation by "the father's side, as his uncle by the mother's side, as the eldest, of the House of Austria as to both branches, and as apparent successor, by virtue of the will of his father ; as bountiful and kind by reason of the part he had lately given him in the kingdom of Hungary ; not to mention several other reasons that he had to honour and esteem him ; yea, being yet alive, he gave him a very ample power over the forces of Spain. Nevertheless, according to the revolutions and turns of the world, some of the Spanish ministers, won by the brightness of a certain neighbour's12 gold, used all means to incline the weak and languishing King13 another way, to- take him off from his own family, and wheedle him over to the French side, which he formerly looked upon with great aversion. They 14 themselves acknowledged and .supposed the validity of the Infanta Maria Theresa's renunciation, and of King Philip's will, with all things which had been done for excluding of the heirs of France; but the reason of all they make to be this, viz. the fear of the union of both crowns : which fear now ceasing, and the union being hindered, there should be way made for the accession of the children of France to the crown of Spain. Then they forge a will, which, by the help of some lawyers, they put into form, in favour of the Duke of Anjou15; and press the dying King to sign it, when his heart was parched and consumed, and his brain dissolved into phlegrh : a fine piece of work this ; which will raise the wonder of future ages, both in schools and courts ; especially if one would but con sider the sequel and coherence of the whole affair, which is in other places sufficiently noto rious, as well as those circumstances already related. ' By the former will of Philip TV, the case is clear, certain, and without limitation, for an heir of the house of Austria; in the late will of Charles the Second, they feign a limitation, which is inconsistent with it both in words and sense. The son claims in the last a power to make a will, which they, that forged the second, endeavour to take away from the father. The renouncing of the sister and the aunt contains an universal, unlimited, and direct exclusion; but the pretended will of Charles will needs say, that it has an oblique restriction in it, directly contrary to those terms and intentions above alleged. The former solemn acts declare for the House of Austria; and, in order to their greater force and certainty, they are established as fundamental laws. But is it to love the House of Austria, and to strengthen its security, the depriving it of the kingdoms already so renowned for the name of Austria, in the grandfather's time, and the nominating French successors ? Reason there fore thoroughly concurs with the letter, for a total exclusion of the French posterity ; and it is not true, that in the treaties of contracts between Spain and France, no more than in the testament of Philip, the union of crowns was the sole and only reason. For why should it else have been necessary to give it away to the females or younger family? When in France it goes to the eldest, and the females are for ever excluded the crown of France ; this would be in vain to fear the union of the two crowns, in a person which is absolutely uncapable of either. The Duke of Orleans, one of the sons of Anne of Austria, was heretofore passed by in silence, and, by virtue of his mother's contract of marriage, has always been neglected • which, in the mean time, would be contrary to all this, if regard was had only to the fear of uniting the two crowns. And, in the last place, the crafty inventor of the late will has been so bold, as to do a manifest injury to the most serene daughters of the Emperor Leopold ; inasmuch as he endeavours to exclude all and every of them from the pretended will; although he has not the least ground to fear in them the throne of France and Spain uniting by inheritance. It is, therefore, evident, that the predecessors of the late King of Spain have had some other motive than that of the sole fear of the union; they having bent their whole care to prevent any prince of France from coming to the throne of Spain, upon the account of the publick tranquillity, and for the particular benefit of the House of Austria. !• French. 'J Charles the Second of Spain. \* The French ministry. "The King of Spain. The Rights of the House of Austria to the Spanish Succession. 207 And, if we examine the danger of the said union ; what is there to assure the present Spanjards against the union, which they never cease exclaiming against ? Is it the faith of France so often given, and so often broken ? Is it the gravity of the Spaniards, which by the arts of its enemies is grown as fickle and as variable as a weathercock, tossed by frequent and sudden whirlwinds? Is it the trouble or the contempt of a crown, in the vacancy of a neighbouring one, which lies perpetually at catch against the neighbouring states, till they are reduced into provinces ? But these last things are of a private concern, whereas the other things mentioned before are of a publick, and may be of pernicious consequence for the future, whatever way we consider them here. The force of peace, treaties, religion, and the very laws of Spain lie at the stake, arid are called in question. The French writers themselves cannot deny this, not even the Archbishop of Ambrun, who has made himself famous among them, by a libel heretofore published, under the title of " A Defence of the Right 15 of the most Christian Queen." That author writing in the said work with great care against the Spaniards, in favour of the French army, which then invaded Flanders, and not thinking it fit that he should be thought to reflect upon the pragmatick16 sanction of Spain; he endeavours to elude it by all possible means, and magisterially to instruct the Spaniards in what was hurtful or profit able to them. The said sanction, with the other laws of Spain, are in a book, intituled, " Nueva Recepilation, or A new Collection printed at Madrid, 1640." This sanction, in most express terms, excludes the French from the succession of Spain, so that it leaves no power to Lewis the Fourteenth, and his brother, nor to any of their children, to succeed to the kingdom of Spain, or any of the states depending thereon. The said Archbishop acknowledges very well the express terms of that law, and puts him self tb a deal of pains to overthrow so strong a bulwark. He repeats the quirks and shifts of some lawyers, which the Flemish17 and Spaniards had already answered so fully, that the French might be ashamed to mention them again ; and, that he might seem to say some thing of his own, he endeavours, in whole chapters, and at the end of his libel, to disprove the reasons of the usefulness of that law drawn from the publick interest of Europe; saying, that it wanted the authority of a legislator, and the solemnity of a publication : as if the publick was only concerned in increasing the power of France, without any regard to the House of Austria, and the quiet of Europe; whence it would follow, that no monarch pould establish any constitutions without the approbation of France, though they were never so conform to the most antient customs of former ages. It is enough that, in that sanction of Spain, the friendship and honour of the House of Austria did prevail ; after they had before been confirmed by agreements, which the French had made and swore to. It is enough that the said pragmatick sanction has been made and published by a wise and prudent king, on the request and by the advice of the states of the kingdom, according to the custom of their ancestors, as also according to other laws of a later date. This author forgets himself, and condemns the Salique law, and the authority of his own kings, if he denies the force of this sanction, in the form and matter of which all the former customs have wholly ceased. The aversion of the French to the female sex has not always been so strong, as to ex clude them with their children and relations from the succession ; and nevertheless what the Salique law, brought in by process of time, has forbid, is as clear as the sun. The French authors are not ignorant of the solemn act which has been made not many ages since, which forbids to admit the daughters of France, who are in the appenage 18 of a royal brother, to the succession after his death, though till then they had some part in it. In the first family of the Kings of France, the younger brothers had also their part in the ,s Of Maria Theresa, which she, with the consent and approbation of her intended consort, had renounced before marriage. 16 You see that the House of Austria has been deluded before now by a pragmatick-sanction, through the policy and power of France. '7 Under the Spanish yoke. 18 [Appanage is the portion set apart by a sovereign prince for the maintenance of his younger children.] 208 The Rights of the House of Austria to the Spanish Succession. crown so far, that even bastards were not excluded. Thus Clovis, who was the first Chris tian king, being dead, his four sons divided the kingdom into many parts. Childebert had that of Paris ; Chodomer that of Orleans ; Clotarius that of Soison ; and Theodorick, their natural brother, had that of Metz. At length, these four kingdoms being united in Clota rius, by the death of the rest, his four sons made a like division of it, each of them retain ing the title of King of France. This way the division continued likewise in the second family of the Kings of France almost to its end, and all the children of the Kings of France were called -Kings. Yet none can say, that those things have been unjustly changed afterwards, and that they ought not to have been altered. Hugh Capet, who brought the sceptre to the third family, was the first that made the law, and gave place to appenages, as may be seen by an act of 1282, pronounced only in the presence of thirty nobles ; yet the female heirs did not think themselves excluded by the act, until the reign of Philip le Bel, who expressly declared against their succession. It were easy to remark several like changes touching the form of laws in ancient times, in the history of France. Now, what Frenchman dare accuse these changes of injustice, or declare them null ? Or, who will accuse their kings of want of natural affection in ex cluding their daughters, even against their will, and without having renounced their right to it ? Who dare declare the present laws of no force, because they differ from the ancient ones? Not to speak of those shadows of power in modern parliaments, which make it clearly appear, that if were ridiculous in France to make the ancient laws the standard of the present ones. Wherefore the Archbishop of Ambrun does but beat the air, when he speaks in a florid, but empty style, against the aforesaid sanction ; prostituting, by that means, the royal sin cerity, and the sacredness of oaths, in the opinion of all those who are not blinded with partiality. But the evidence and the reasonableness of that law appears to all the world. Kings should have but one tongue, and one pen, and there is nothing that shines more brightly in a prince than honesty and sincerity. Things that are promised, agreed upon, and sworn to, if ever they ought to be observed, they should be so, without doubt, by those whom we reverence and esteem as gods on earth. It is not lawful that what proceeds out of their lips should not take effect. The contracts of kings are not liable to school disputes ; they despise the sophisms of the rabble; and they require an observation so much the more sincere, by how much they are agreeable to the matter of renunciations, to the law of nations, to the decrees of the common law, and to the statutes of ecclesiastical canons. Tbe French, Flemish, and Spanish lawyers, and some of other nations, do teach, e That ' stipulations made of the inheritance of a person in life, particularly with respect to a * marriage that is concluded, are approved by universal custom. That the example of almost ' all the world is for the validity of renunciations ; and that too, though no oath should in- ' tervene, even notwithstanding the minority of the person, when they are made by a ge- ' neral consent, and for the pujilick good. That, in the oaths made by heirs, there is im- ' plied a solemn consent of their fathers, and an implication against them; so that they are ' as much obliged in conscience to see the thing performed, as those who formerly swore ' and promised ft. That succession is conveyed to children by a certain instinct of nature ' and not by any law of nature. That some things are founded on some natural reasons' ' yet not so as that they cannot be changed, altered, or revoked. That one civil law may ' be abolished by another. That laws are arbitrary to those in favour of whom they were * made,' &c. Should one be at the pains to read all the books that have been writ these thirty years 19 he shall find that the French have been fickle and inconstant, and that they have no regard' to treaties, laws, or latter wills, when they find it their advantage to break or oppose them And this certainly should excite all the powers of Europe, who have any regard to their own welfare, in the present juncture of affairs, to take just measures in favour of the House of Austria, against the power and avarice of France. '» Anno 1701. The Rights of the House of Austria to the Spanish Succession. 20$ The French put a malicious gloss upon the prudent and wise constitution which is to be seen in the canon law, touching renunciations confirmed by oath, cap. Quamvis de Pactisj as if the author of the said constitution, either out of vain-glory, or out of a design to strengthen the papal authority, had made that exorbitant decretal ; and had endeavoured, by a new law, to confirm that dignity to which the see of Rome has attained, by cunning and deceit. The Pyrenean treaty, which was so prodigal of the Spanish dominions to the French, and the sacredness of repeated oaths, by which France has more than once renounced all claim to the succession of Spain ; now complain of being maltreated and trampled under foot,, and of being quite altered and deformed by law quirks and school quibbles.- The present Pope ought to resent the contempt that is thrown on his predecessor, and on the see of Rome ; since the contract of marriage, which is now thought null, had the apos tolical benediction to give it the more force, and make it more solemn and sacred. The French violate treaties, deny kings the power of making laws, slight wills and testa ments, and, in a word, overturn all those things upon which the peace and security of society and government is founded. They have no regard to the publick good of Europe, and, pro vided they can but raise the glory and power of France, they do not care if the whole uni verse besides should perish. The way to the universal monarchy is now more open to the King of France than ever,. and it cannot be thought that he will stop in his. career which he has begun with so much eraft and success, unless all the rest of Europe, sensible of the injuries done them by France^ do stir up themselves, and, without losing time, examine what they are obliged to do in favour of the House of Austria, lest it should be deprived of its ancient patrimony, and lest Italy, England, Portugal, the United Provinces, and the rest of Germany, be robbed of their beloved liberties, and of their riches and glory. We heartily condole the fate of Spain, that it has been so villainously seduced to act after such a mean and sordid way as it has done of late. That Spain, which has so long discovered the snares, and resisted the cruel designs of France, should now basely submit to it, yield herself a slave, and lose quite her former greatness and glory;, which she must certainly do, if she do not suddenly and vigorously assist the House of Austria. We do not in the least doubt, but that the evident danger, which the dominions and trade of other nations are in, will persuade them to act with all their might, in favour of the just cause of the House of Austria, and make them join together for their own safety and tranquillity. Neither can we doubt, but that his Holiness, according to his great prudence, does per ceive the little regard the French have for keeping of peace, or observing of covenants and oaths ; how much they profane the name of God and the Holy Gospel ; how haughty they are in their threats; how insupportable tlieir government is; how treacherously active they are in foreign courts ; and what they are capable- to undertake, if the Spaniards, who so long nobly resisted them,, continue ingloriously to submit to them, and keep their neck under that intolerable yoke. We deplore the scandal that must follow thereupon; we foresee the approaching danger of our neighbours, and severe calamities, which threaten some remote nations. The Emperor Leopold, who was always peaceable, and a lover of justice, is enemy to- none but the Turks, and that too only when they provoke him. He is the avenger of the Christian dignity, and a religious observer of laws, treaties, and oaths. But what should he do now, when he is robbed of his patrimonial right, which, upon many accounts, belongs to the House of Austria, and so insolently invade the fiefs of the empire ? The other princes of Europe, who have been injured by France, must certainly see that there is no more effectual way to secure their peace and prosperity, than by bringing France down, and opposing of it with all their force. For my part I stop here, and advise them only upon the account of the dangers with which they are threatened, and upon account of their safety, which is now in a very tot- YOU I. E E 2 10 A Trip to Dunkirk. . » ¦ tering condition, to remember what has beeri said of old, ' To make use of the present time.' Time runs away with rapidity and swiftness, and when men neglect the first oppor tunity, they scarce ever find such a one again. A Trip to Dunkirk^ Or, a Hue-and-Cry after the pretended Prince of Wales. Being a Panegyrick on the Descent. Said to be written by Dr. Swift1. Printed, and sold by the Book sellers of London and Westminster. MDCCVIIL '[Folio. Two Pages.] WHY, hark ye me, Sirs,-^-if this rumour holds true, Ware like here, egad, to have somewhat to do : The French, as they say, (he'll believe it that sees it) Are coming, gadsookers ! to pay us a visit ; With such a vast fleet — (L — d have mercy upon's, And keep us from popery, swords, and great guns), That, as I'm alivej-^-tho' I ne'er was afraid yet, It almost had frighten'd me — first when I heard it . Nay, more than all this, it is certainly said, There's a little Welch monarch to come at their head; And he, (shame the devil, and let us speak the truth), You know, in your hearts, is a very smart youth ; And doubtless will prove, when he's pleas'd to bestir him, As valiant as e'er was his father before him ; Who, bent on some great expedition in view, ) Now glitters in arms, with an equipage too, C Which, positively, you may swear is all new. ) For, as I have heard, (if some people speak right,) He ne'er march 'd before, — unless 'twere to sh — te ; But now at the head of ten thousand brave fellows, {That is, as accounts thence are pleas'd for to tell us,) He's going on some strange adventure or other, } (Perhaps 'tis to seek out his father or mother,) C In Ireland, or Scotland, or some land or another; ) I can't tell you where, but to some place, no doubt, Which you'll hear time enough, if he e'er does set out ; With an army of French, Popish bridles, and knives, ' To cut all our throats, and to ride all our wives. Then stand to your arms, all good people, I'd wish ye, Ye loyal trainM-bands, and ye valiant militia, Brush up your buff doublets, and Scotch basket-hilt, (By which, to your honour, no blood was e'er spilt;) The nation will now your assistance want sore, \ Which, as I remember, they ne'er had before, / Nor will — '¦ — r . I hope in kind Heaven, e'er want any more. ) • [And inserted as such, in Mr. Nichols's Supplement to the Works of Swift, vol. iiU] A Trip to Dunkirk. 211 Although, for your zeal, it is not to be quest ion'd, You've always been ready, when aught has occasion'd :¦ At every rejoicing you've made a fine show, } (And that is one part of a soldier, we know,) > Been drunk, and done all that became you to do. ) And as for your valour we cannot deny it, Tis knowh you can fright — though you'd rather be quiet. Nor has the French threats, or their menaces, scar'd us, Because we knew well we'd a hero to guard us. Then since they're so hot on't, 'gad e'en let 'em come, I'll warrant they'll be maul'd — though I don't say by whomv. We've rods here in p — ss that will firk off their tails, For all their brave alls — and their monarch of Wales. Adsheart ' the young hero had best take a care, That he ben't in conclusion drawn into a snare : For, as it is said, his old godsire intends \ (Or at least wou'd be glad, as the matter now stands) > To get shut of him handsomely off of his hands; * And therefore e'en tells him* in words very plain, ' That he hopes (which is true) ne'er to see him again.' So, e'en sink or swim, fleet, forces, and all, He'll venture this cast, though it cost him a fall. To Ireland some think this Welch hero is bound ; Though ppx, that's a jest, one may venture five pound : For there's an old debt stiH on Lewis's score, \ He was bit in assisting his father before ;, x And therefore he'll hardly come there any more. j No, Scotland's the place, they say, he's design'd to, Where 'tis thought—" — H'as a great many friends — which, perhaps, he'll scarce find so^ But let him take care, what may follow hereafter,. If he trust to the Scots, he may chance catch, a Tartar : And, if he should fall in our clutches,, ye know, He'd be damnably mump'd, I can tell him but so. Were I in his case, I'd not trust my own brother; They sold us one K — , shou'd they sell us another ? For our Jacks here at home — as brave fellows as may be,. They prick up their ears at the news on't already ; . And, out of their zeal, they expect him at least To be here, French and all, when the wind's next at east : But some are more cautious,, and question it much, And doubt the invasion's design'd on the Dutch ; For the noise of his landing, they swear 'tis a bite all, They'll trust to't no more— -till they see him at WhitehalL But this is but talk all,, and so let it rest, Some are still of opinion 'twill all prove a jest: This hero at Dunkirk will make his campaign, And so gallop back to St. Germain's again. 212 Memoirs1 of Queen Mary's Days; wherein the Church or England, and all the Inhabitants, may plainly see (if God hath not suffered them to be infatuated) as in a Glass, the sad Effects which follow a Popish Successor enjoying the Crown of England. [Folio. Four Pages.] Humbly tendered to the consideration of, &c. THE first remarkable passage, in Queen Mary's (Popish) reigri, was her wicked dissimu lation with the men of Suffolk, to get herself into the throne, and breach of her faith and word, after she had obtained it, thus : As soon as she heard of her brother King Edward's death, and that he had by his will, with the consent of his council, excluded her, and nominated the Lady Jane to succeed, (the said Queen Mary having before been bastardized by her father King Henry VIII.) she, under pretence of fearing infection, rode forty miles in one day, and removed from Norfolk to her castle of Frummingham2 in Suffolk, where taking upon her the title of Queen, she pretended to all the nobility and gentry of those countries, ' That if they would give her their assistance, she would make no alteration in religion;' thereupon came to her the Earls of Oxford, Bath, and Sussex, Lord Wentworth, John Mordaunt, and Thomas Wharton, Barons, eldest sons, and several Knights, and many others of Norfolk and Suffolk, with whom she conditioned and agreed, ' That she would not attempt, in any wise, the least alteration of religion established by her brother, King Edward VI.' She, by this trick, being thus assisted, wrote her letter to the Lords of the Council, wherein she clairhed the crown, and required them to proclaim her Queen of England, in the city of London, which in a short time was done. As soon as she got into the throne, her fair promises proved false deceits; for she imme diately (the very next day) broke her word with them; and, in a short time, those of the diocese in Suffolk, whom she thus wheedled to assist her, tasted the sharpest persecution under her reign ; for she was so far from keeping her promises and conditions, made either with them, or any others, in matters of religion, that she acted quite contrary, as appears by the sequel of her sad and bloody reign. 1. It was on the third of August, anno 1553, that Queen Mary rode through London to the Tower; and the very next day, she set up Stephen Gardner, the bloody persecutor of the Protestants, in the bishopric!* of Winchester ; and a few days after made him High Chancellor of England. This was that cruel man that the Duke of Norfolk came to dine with, who would not go to dinner till four of the clock in the afternoon, because he would first have the news of Bishop Ridley's and Latimer's being burnt ; of whose death, by God's heavy judgment on him, you may read further in our chronologies. 2. The fifth of August (two days after her coming to London), she turns out the Pro testant Bishops of London and Durharn ; and reestablished Bonner (that blood-thirsty miscreant) Bishop of London, and Turstall Bishop of Durham. You see her first act was to displace Bishops of the Church of England, and put bloody Popish persecutors in their room, who worried and destroyed the poor Protestants. 3. The fifteenth of September after, Mr. Latimer, and Dr. Cranmer Archbishop of Can terbury, with others, werearraigned and condemned. 4. Presently after her coronation, which was the first of October, she pretended to shev* 1 Printed in the year 1681. ' [Framiingham.] Memoirs of Queen Mary's Dayi. $13 mercy by a general pardon ; which, says my author, was so interlaced with exceptions of matters and persons, that very few received benefit thereby; so even that, with all the rest, Was a mere cheat. 5. It was not only the Protestant Clergy that she dealt thus withal, but even with the Judges too ; for Sir James Hales, one of the Justices of the Common Pleas, who had been her friend, and stood for her succession, yet he, for giving charge at a quarter sessions in Kent, upon the statutes of Henry VIII. and Edward VI. in derogation of the primary of Rome, was first committed to the King's Bench, then to the Compter, then to the Fleet ; where he grew so troubled in mind, that he attempted, with a pen-knife, to kill him self, and at last did drown himself. 6. In this her first year, she also caused a synod to be assembled about matters of religion, who restored the Romish religion, and the mass commanded to be celebrated after the Romish manner. 7. The fourth of February, in the said year, John Rodgers, the first martyr of these times, was burnt at London. 8. February the ninth, John Hooper, late Bishop of Worcester, was burnt at Gloucester. 9. Robert Ferrer, Bishop of Man, was burnt at Caermarthen ; after him John Bradford, With many others, was burnt. 10. October the sixteenth, 1554, those two famous men, Ridley, late Bishop of London, and Latimer, late Bishop of Worcester, (no less famous for their constant deaths, than their religious lives,) were most inhumanly and barbarously burnt at Oxford ; after they had first , been conveyed from the Tower thither, upon pretence to dispute with the Romanists about the real presence in the sacrament. 1 1. The next worthy thing that this Popish successor did, was to set up the Pope's supre macy amongst us; for, as soon as she was married to King Philip, she sent to Rome for Cardinal Poole, to come into England, who came invested with great authority as the Pope's legate 3 latere, who made a solemn speech to the Parliament, exhorting them to return to the bosom of the Church, for which end he was come to reconcile them to the Church of Rome; and, for their first work of reconcilement, he required them to repeal and abrogate all such laws as had been formerly made in derogation of the Catholick religion. Upon which speech the Parliament begged pardon for their former errors, and told the Queen, tliey were most ready to abrogate all laws prejudicial to the see of Rome. And thereupon the Cardinal gives them absolution in these words : ' We, by the apostolical authority given unto us by the most holy Lord, Pope Julius III. * (Christ's vicegerent on earth), do absolve and deliver you, and every of you, with the * whole realm and the dominions thereof, from all heresy and schism, and from all judg- * ments, censures, and pains in that case incurred ; and also we do restore you again to the * unity of our mother, the holy Church.' The report hereof, coming to Rome, was cause of a solemn procession made for joy of the conversion of England to the Church of Rome. And thus was all the kingdom of England turned Papists in one day, by having a Popish successor. L2. March, 1555, the Queen called to her four of her Privy Council, and signified unto them, ' That it went against her conscience to hold the lands and possessions as well of mo nasteries and abbeys, as "of other churches; and therefore did freely relinquish them, and leave them to be disposed as the Pope and the said Cardinal should think fit.' And shortly after, in performance hereof, John Fecknam, late Dean of St. Paul's, was made Abbot of Westminster, and the lands belonging to it. 13. Before this, Stephen Gardner, the Queen's great creature, uses malicious practices against the Lady Elizabeth, the Queen's only sister, and next heir to the crown, and en deavoured very-much to take away her life, she being a Protestant. He laid all the snares for her that he could invent, and, at last, by his procurement, the lady was kept in hard durance, and a warrant, at last, was framed under certain counsellors' hands to put her to 214 Memoirs .'of Queen Maryys Day$. death ; and had been done, but that Mr. Bridges, Lieutenant of the Tower, pitying her case, went to the Queen about it, who denied that she knew any thing of it, by which means her life was preserved : this bloody persecutor, Gardner, saying at the council-board, * My Lords, we have but all this while been stripping off the leaves; and now and then lopped a branch ; but, till we strike at the root of heresy (meaning the Lady Elizabeth),, nothing can be effected to purpose.' 14'. All beneficed men of the clergy that were married, or would not forsake the Pro testant religion, the first year of her reign, were put out of their livings, and Romanists put in their room. 15. On the twenty-seventh of August, in the same year, the service began to be. sung in Latin, in St. Paul's church. 16. The same year the Pope's authority was restored in England, and the mass was com manded in all churches to be used. 17. In her fourth year, monasteries were begun to be re-edified and restored, and, had she but reigned long enough, undoubtedly, she would have had all the abbey-lands in En gland restored, had not death put a period. to all. 18. Neither was her persecution less to the common people, and plain-hearted country men, than to the Protestant clergy ; for observe and consider, that, within the compass of " less than four years, there suffered death, for the testimony of their consciences in the Protestant religion, two hundred • and seventy-seven persons, without any regard either of degree, age, or sex ; in the heat of whose flames were consumed five bishops, twenty-one divines, eight gentlemen, and 'eighty-four artificers; one hundred husbandmen, servants, and labourers; twenty-six wives, twenty widows, nine virgins, two boys, and two infants-; and nigh as many died in prison, through hunger and other cruelties. Oh, the bloody cruelty of the Papists, through their Popish religion ! Shall I call it religion, which is more properly a butchery ? And thus you see the effects of a Popish successor. This is no romance, it was de facto, and would you have it so again ? Or will you put it to the hazard once more ? No sure, unless you are infatuated : let experience teach us which is the best mistress; let the burnt child dread the fire. Oh, never forget the burn ings, the scorchings, the tortures, and the flames that were in Queen Mary's reign ! We beg and beseech you all in your places, use all the care imaginable now in time to secure us, our wives and children, and the Protestant religion. 19. Though many persecutions lasted longer, yet it is observable by Dr. Heylin, that none since Dioclesian's time raged so terribly: (Eeqles. Restaur.) but God, being merciful to the poor land and persecuted church, of all, since the Conquest, her reign was the shortest, only excepting that of Richard the Tyrant, yet much more bloody than was his. [She reigned five years and four months, wanting two days.] 20. She lieth buried in Westminster, without any monument or remembrance at all ; as in, her life she deserved none, so in her death her memory is rotten; a just reward for her/ who was so cruel and bloody. Yet one hath given her this inscription to remain to poste rity, viz. Whose name zvas polluted with the blood of so many. martyrs. Unfortunate by so many insurrections. Made inglorious by the -loss of Calais (the key of France) in eight days, which had been tzvo hundred and eleven years in the possession of the English. Memoirs of Queen Mary's Days. 215 SOME COROLLARIES. IN this history we may observe seriously these things as the sad and fatal consequence: I. How Popish successors will, at first, blind us with wheedles, till they have got the power and kingdom in possession ; and will tell us, ' That not one tittle of our religion shall be changed, or altered;' nay, and make compacts, agreements, and conditions to that purpose. II. But, when once set in the throne, let what promises will be, they shall be so far from being performed, that quite the contrary shall be acted ; or else thunder and lightning will come from the Pope, till he hath done it by his legates d latere. III. That, when a Popish successor came to the crown, the Pope's supremacy was imme diately set up in England, even the very first year, and we all made tributary to Rome, and slaves to the Pope ; and would you have it so again ? IVr The Popish religion and the mass set up imriiediately all over England ; and would you have it so again ? V. The Protestant Bishops put out, and Popish ones put in ; and all the clergy that were married, or would not abjure the Protestant religion, were turned out ; therefore, you of the clergy, that mean to be sincere, and not turn Papists, it behoves you well to con sider of it. VI. And not only so, but truly farther, they must be brought to the stake with their wives and children, and burnt for hereticks ; for Popery is a merciless persuasion, and, if they make never so many promises otherwise, yet you know it is their opinion, ' That no faith is to be kept with hereticks ;' so we can never be secure, if ever such reign. . VII. Observe further, That if a Popish successor comes to the crown, there will be all the endeavours used to take off all the next heirs that are Protestants, as there was to destroy the Lady Elizabeth, which ought to be of no small consideration with us. VIII. Observe, Popish monks and friars were brought into England, and great endea vours used to restore all monasteries and abbey-lands, wherein, no doubt, but she and good Cardinal had prevailed, and they had all been restored, had she reigned but a little longer : therefore, it doth not a little behove all you gentlemen that have any priories, abbeys, or monastery-lands to lose, to consider well how to put yourselves or your posterity in any such great hazard to lose your estates ; as for those that have such lands, of the Romish religion, they must not, out of conscience, detain them, if they will have any absolution from their ghostly father ; and as to those Protestants that have such lands, they will be reckoned hereticks, and, to be sure, shall not be suffered to keep church-lands from them. And this highly concerns all to consider, how, with all our religion, we give up our liber ties and estates, by admitting a Popish successor ; which God, of his infinite mercy to En gland, and in opposition to such blood-thirsty, heaven-daring, king-killing principles and practices, be pleased to deliver us ! POSTSCRIPT. NOW as you have plainly seen tbe great and manifold inconveniences, imminent dangers, and most certain ruin, to follow the admitting of a Popish successor, in the sad effects of Queen Mary*s reign ; so' we may also consider and behold, as the bright side of the cloud, the vast advantages of peace, plenty, glory, arid happiness, that accrued to this kingdom by a Protestant successor's enjoying the imperial crown, in the long and prosperous reign of that magnanimous thorough-hearted Protestant Queen Elizabeth, of blessed memory ; , who, after having suffered five years' fiery trials, reigned above forty-four years, maugre all her desperate and bloody enemies ; yet could they not anticipate her death, nor stain her glorious government, by all the black and hellish contrivances of her and our treacherous Popish adversaries. 216 The Life and Death of -Robert, Earl of Essex. Many, I may, say, infinite, were the advantages and felicities that those poor kingdoms* enjoyed by her happy reign ; I will only hint a few general heads now : First, then, By this Protestant Queen, a' period was put to all the bloody and Popish persecution against the Church of England, w'hich all the poor Protestants had groaned under, all the reign of Popish Queen Mary. Secondly, By this true Protestant Princess, the Protestant religion was established in this nation, and idolatrous Popery cashiered. Thirdly, By her were our ancestors' lives protected, the Church of England defended, our estates preserved, and our liberties secured. Fourthly, By her reign did the kingdom enjoy tranquillity, and flourished WonderfulLy, to the great benefit of all our forefathers. Fifthly, And, by her reign, this nation became both glorious and formidable, as well to her and its enemies abroad, as at home, arid kept the balance of all Europe in her hands, by her winning the love of her people, and her continual adhering to the advice of her Parliaments, by which, as she had their hearts, so she had their purses at command ; though she was always so kind and just to them, as sometimes to refuse their grants of subsidies,. and would never make use of their aids in money, though offered by her Parliament, but when there was real occasion for her people's good and safety. The conclusion of all is the same that Moses said to the children of Israel, Deut. xxx.. 15, 19. ' Behold, I have set before you this day life and death, good and evil. I call Heaven ' and earth to record this day against you, that I have set before you life and death, blessing * and cursing ; therefore choose life, that both thou and thy house may live.' The Life and Death of the illustrious Robert, Earl of Essex,. &c. Containing, at large, the Wars he managed, and the Commands he had in Holland, the Palatinate, and in England: Together with some wonderful Observations of himself, and his Predecessors, and many most remarkable Passages, from his Infancy unto the Day of his Death1. By Robert Codrington, Master of Arts. London, printed by F. Leach, for L. Chapman, Anno Don*. 1646.. [Quarto. Thirty-six Pages.] The author, Mr. Codrington, zvas born of an ancient and genteel family in Gloucestershire* elected demy of Magdalen college in Oxford, the twenty-ninth of July, 16 19, about seven teen years old, and took the master's degree in 1626. After that, he travelled into several foreign lands ; and, at his return, lived a gentleman's life, first in Norfolk, where 'he- married; and finished his life in London^ by the plague, in the year 1665; havinv * [This piece of martial biography has been made use of by Dr. Campbell, in his very copious and circum utantial life of Lord Essex, in Biog. Britannica, vol. v, where it is truly remarked that Mr. Codrineton's account is not only entirely defettive in point of method, but is also very barren, of facts, sueh. alone' exceoted as. a** «©Ueeted from the n.ew,s-Avriters of those times.} v The Life and Death of Robert, Earl of Essex. 217 published many pieces of different taste in his lifetime, and left several manuscripts pre pared for the press. As for the history before us, it is true, that he plainly declares himself a parliamenteer ; yet, so far as it goes, it is the least exceptionable, and the most comprehensive, of any zoritings on the same subject, in those times. For, besides the character of his hero, the Earl of Essex, he gives us the general opinion, and the ground of the first part of the civil zvar; seems to relate the natural facts without aggravation; and always speaks of the King's Majesty zvith respect ; ascribing the ill conduct of his affairs, and bad success, to the zvick-. edness and heat of his counsels ; and heartily wishing, a good and lasting reconciliation, and peace between the King and his Parliament. BEFORE we do begin with the discourse of the hfe and death of this illustrious Earl, it will not be impertinent to speak one word of the renowned Earl, his father, who, as he rendered hirnself admirable, by the many great and glorious actions which he performed both by land and sea ; so I may call it his master-piece, that he did beget so brave a son, and I may call it his son's master-piece, that he did lively resemble so brave a father, in the height and perfection of his virtues, which he did express in his love unto his country, and in his achievements for the honour and safety of it ; and this shall ennoble both tlieir names unto all posterity. To give you a parallel of these two worthies, is a task almost as impossible as imperti nent ; for if you will excuse in them the priority of time, we may, in the course of their lives and honours, make a parallel, as soon, betwixt two beams of the sun, who are the same in heat, in glory, and in influence, and who do differ in nothing but in number only; we will therefore save that art and labour, and, as succinctly as we can, we will address ourselves to the great task we have undertaken. This most noble Earl was born in London, in the year of our Lord 1592, and almost in the evening of the reign of Queen Elizabeth, who, for his excellent endowments, did coun tenance his father living, arid did lament him, being dead. His mother had the happiness to be espoused to three of the most gallant personages which that age did know. Her first husband was Sir Philip Sidney, whose virtues are too high for the praises of other men to reach them, and too modest to desire them ; his pen and his sword have rendered him famous enough ; he died by the one, and by the other he will ever, live. This is the hap piness of art, that although the sword doth atchieve the honour, yet the arts do record it ; and no pen hath made it -better known than his own. Her second husband was the re nowned father of this most noble Earl, who died beloved and honoured, as well by his foes, as by his friends ; and whose loss even Heaven might lament, did not Heaven enjoy him. Her third husband was the Earl of Clanrickard, a gallant gentleman, who exceeded the wildness of his native country, by his second education, and who exceeded his education by the happiness of his wedlock ; and though, peradventure, some vain men do account it but as two threads put together, he did make it his band, by the advantage of which, he did so twist hiiriself into the English virtues, that nothing remained in him as spun from Ireland, as Ireland now doth stand. To omit the presages, and the unfaithful kjsses of the promising madams who rocked his cradle, I will not say, that in that moving wicker (like another Hercules) he strangled in each hand the two invading dragons of transcending prerogative and superstition. This was the business of his life to come ; a business which did grow up with his youth in hope, and which,- in the ¦event, did crown his age with glory. Though the laurels, that crown the brows of conquerors, are the thickest and the hea viest ; yet, I believe, the wreaths that court the brows of art are the greenest : we conquer, in our age, our foes in the field, but we overcome our greatest foe, which is ignorance, in our youth; to conquer which, he received hereditary courage from his father, who not only. vol. 1. F F 218 , The Life and Death of Robert, Earl of Essex. overcame, but triumphed over it, and did accept the formality of two degrees, and, with great reputation, performed the exercises belonging to therii in the university of Cambridge^ It is most certain, that illustrious and extraordinary personages have oftentimes extraor dinary illuminations of the events, both good and bad, which shall befall them ; of this we can give you remarkable instances in this family. When Sir Walter Devereux was created Viscount of Hereford, and Earl of Essex, about the twelfth year of the reign of Queen Elizabeth, because he was descended, by his mother's side, from the ancient and honourable family of the Bouchiers, it was the deliberate pleasure of the Queen and state to increase his honours, by the knowledge of the fulness of his merit, and to make him governor of Ireland ; and this place being preferred unto him, (for, indeed, he was a gentleman of incomparable endowments,) he did manage the affairs of that kingdom with great honour and judgment ; and, by a secret power of attraction, which is natural and inherent to that family, hegained the approbation and applause of all men, and did much advance the affairs of England in the kingdom of Ireland : but the ambition and policy of the Earl of Leicester, who would have no man more eminent than himself, did so prevail at court, that, upon no cause at all, but that he was as good as great, he must be dishonoured from his dignity, and the government of that kingdom conferred on Sir Henry Sidney, a deserving gentleman, indeed, and the more meritorious, because he was the father of Sir Philip. This indignity did stick such an im pression on this noble Earl, who had now only a charge of some ernpty regiments of horse and foot, that his melancholy brought a fever on him ; and the sooner, because his friend was the author of this injury, for the Earl of Leicester did pretend to no man greater affection than to himself. After some days, his sickness did confine him to his chamber, and afterwards to his bed. His dying words were remarkable; he desired that his son, who was then not. above ten years of age, might refrain froiri the court, and not trust his ear with the flatteries, nor his eye with the splendour of it ; and, above all things, that he should be mindful of the six-and-thirtieth year of his age, beyond which, neither he, nor but few of his forefathers lived. His instructed son did obey his father's will, and for many years chd lead a contented and a retired life in Anglesey, until (I know not by what spell) the Earl of Leicester did work him irito the fatal circle, and betrayed him to destruction. Being condemned to the block, he remembered his father's prediction, which now he could not avoid: and which is indeed," most wonderful, on the very same hour, and (as it is believed) on the very same minute, that he was beheaded, his son, who at that time was a student in Eton college, did suddenly, and distractedly, leap out of his bed, where he was fast asleep, and, to the amaze ment of all, he cried out, ' that his father was killed, his father was dead ;' and not many hours after, the sad news was brought, which so early in the morning, and so strangely, he presaged. His father being dead, this young Earl was now looked on with more than ordinary ob servance; and the rather, because it Was generally reported, that his father had too severe a trial, and that his life was made a sacrifice, to satisfy the ambition of some great per sonages, high in favour at the court. Sure it is that there appeared something of injustice in his death, for otherwise, why should Sir Walter Raleigh, and others, who were con demned, as accessary to it, so publickly afterwards, and in print, disclaim it. Queen Elizabeth being deceased, King James was no sooner established in the possession of the crown of England, but he restored to this young Earl his father's titles and estate, and his eldest son, (the mirror of his age, and the western world,) Prince Henry, was pleased to be very conversant and familiar with him, being near unto him in age, but more near in affection, than in years. Betwixt whom and this Earl, there happened a remarkable pas sage, which I conceive, in this place, not improper to insert. ' Prince Henry, and this young Earl, delighting themselves one morning, with the exercise and the pleasure of the tennis-court, after that a set or two were played, there did arise some difference upon a mistake. From banding of the ball, the Prince, being raised into a choler, did begin to bandy words, and was so transported with his passion, that he told the Earl of Essex, that < he was the son of a traitor.' The Earl of Essex was then in the flourish of his youth, and full of fire and courage, and being not able to contain himself The Life and Death of Robert, Earl of Essex. 219 he did strike the Prince with his racket, on the head, and that so shrewdly, that (as it is said) some drops of blood did trickle down. The news of this was presently brought to the King's ear, who having examined the business, and fully understood the manner, and the occasion of it, did dismiss the Earl, without any great check, and (being a true peace maker) he told his son, « that he, who did strike him then, would be sure, with more violent blows, to strike his enemy in times to come2.' This being in this manner reconciled, the report of this young Earl did arise every day higher and greater. His recreations were riding of the great horse, running at the ring, and the exercise of arms.. His other hours were taken up in study, and in perusal of books, that yielded most profit, not most delight, and from these he would always arise better, than when he sat down unto them : his delights were hunting of the hare, or buck, and he would seldom fail to be amongst the foremost, at the fall of the stag, or when the falcon on his wing was stooping, to his prey. He, from his infancy, was Well affected to religion, and to the reformation of the church ; and this he received by inheritance from his father, for when the Bishops (that felt the smart of it) had cried out against that lashing pamphlet, called, ' Martin-Mar-Prelate3, and there was a prohibition published, that no man should presume to carry it about him, upon pain of punishment, and the Queen herself did speak as much, when the Earl was present : " Why, then," said the Earl, " what will become of me ?" and, pulling the book out of his pocket, he did shew it to the Queen. I have heard grave men and of great judgment, say, that he was the less inclined to Dr. Whitgift, a reverend di vine, and his tutor also, because he was a Bishop. But the ambition and pride of the prelates, and the clergy, were not then arrived to their utriiost period ; the suppressing of • them must remain to be the work of my Lord, his son, whom the parliament of England shall find to be their happy instrument, ordained for so great an end, by a greater power. The Earl of Essex being confirmed in his father's honours and possessions ; that a perfect reconcilement might be made in all things, a marriage was contracted and concluded in the year 1606, betwixt him and the Lady Frances Howard, daughter to the Right Honourable the Earl of Suffolk. She was a lady as transcendent in her spirit as her beauty : they were much about one age when they were married ; the Lady Frances being about thirteen, and the Earl not above sixteen at the most ; therefore for some few years, by reason of the non age of the Earl, they, lived a-part until about the year 1610, at which time they enjoyed the society of one bed, and so continued until about the year 1613, when a complaint was made, and so closely prosecuted, that a way was contrived, and carried on with great power, • for the procuring of a divorce betwixt the Earl of Essex and this lady. I say it was carried on with great power, for both divinity and law did not only look on, but were inforced to be actors in it. And yet they, who so much laboured in it, had afterwards the leisure to repent it ; for this divorce was no sooner made, but the Earl of Somerset (who, at that time, was high in the King's favour) married this lady ; the King himself and the Archbishop being present, and allowing it. At that time there was a gentleman of excellent understanding, Sir Thomas Overbury by name, who, being beloved by the Earl of Somerset, did compose a poem, intituled, ' The Wife,' to dissuade the Ea/1 of Somerset from this marriage ; but the lady, conceiving that it did reflect upon her honour, did so prevail with the Earl, that she turned his love unto hatred, and wrought his hatred unto so great a height, that nothing but the death of Sir Thomas Overbury could satisfy their revenge. His death being resolved on, they put it to the question by what means it should be performed, and it was concluded on by poison. There was a woman in those days famous for those arts, Mrs. Turner by name ; they propound it unto her, and she is easily drawn into any mischief. The Lieutenant of * [This story of the Earl's quarrel with Prinee Henry stands upon the credit of this narrative ; and it is sur prizing, says Dr. Campbell, that Wilson the historian, who lived many years as a domestick servant with the Earl of Essex, and took so much pains to do justice to his history, should say nothing of this. Besides, this story does not well agree with the spirit of the Prince, who would scarcely have borne such an insult so passively.] 3 [Collier, in his Ecclesiastical History, attributes the libels written under this title to a, junto of four persons, whose names were Penry, Throgmorton, Udal, and Fenner. See a full account of those numerous libels in Her bert's General History of English Printing.] 220 The Life and Death of Robert, Earl of Essex. the Tower, Sir Jervis ElVvayes*, was also made acquainted with it: the tragedy was no sooner acted but discovered; the actors were apprehended^ Sir Jervis Elwayes was exa mined, found guilty, condemned, and suffered on Tower4iill. There was also one Franklin hanged, who brought the poison. Mrs. Turner, that prepared it, did also lose her life at Tyburn. This is the woman who first invented, and brought into fashion the use of yellow starch. The Earl of Somerset and his new-married lady were, upon pain of death, prohi bited not to approach the presence of the King, nor to come within ten miles of his Majesty's court. This did beget so great a discontent, that their love by degrees did begin to suffer diminution with their pomp : and the lady on her death-bed, being troubled in her mind, did much cry out upon the Earl of Essex, whom die had so much injured. The Earl of Essex, perceiving how little he was beholden to Venus, is now resolved to address himself to the court of Mars; and to this purpose he descendeth irito the Nether1- lands, which, at that time, was the school of honour, for the Nobility of England, in their exercise of arms. There he was no sooner arrived, but, with magnificent joy, he was enter tained by grave Maurice, who saw both in his carriage, and his courage, the lively image of his father. He at first trailed a pike, and refused no service in the field, which every ordinary gentleman is accustomed to perform. This did much endear him to the soldiers, and his libe rality and humanity did the more advance him. He noj; long after had there the command of a regiment. At the same time the Earl of Oxford was in Holland, a great and gallant commander, from whose valour and whose actions, other soldiers may take example, both to fight and overcome. With him, and some others, who also had the charge of regiments, the Earl of Essex was very conversant ; and the presence and command of these Noblemen in the army, did much add to the honour of the English regiment, and did enlarge and dilate their own fame into adjacent kingdoms. He continued certain years in the Netherlands, and having gained renown, by his expe rience and perfection in the feats of arms, he advanced thence to the Palatinate, to which place went also the Earl of Southampton, the Lord Willoughby, the Earl of Oxford, and Sir John Borlans, with their regiments : they arrived most welcome to the King and Queen of Bohemia, the present condition ofiheir affairs much wanting the presence of such brave com manders, who gave a new life and spirit to the soldiers wheresoever they came. At thafc time there were great hopes that the King of England would, out of his three kingdoms, send such a continued stock of men to the Palatinate, that the crown of Bohemia should be esta blished on the head of the Elector Palatine, and that by no course sooner than by virtue of the English arms : but King James never stood greatly affected, either to this war, or to the cause thereof, and thereupon some regiments of unexperienced volunteers going over, instead of a well-composed army, it was one reason, amongst many others, that not only Bohemia, but the Palatinate were also lost, which were both invaded by so mighty an enemy as was then the Emperor, and seconded by so puissant a potentate as was the King of Spain. The Earl of Essex having adventured all things for the relief of that distressed Lady, and finding an impossibility, with such weak forces, to oppose so great a power, he resolved to return into England ; but not without some hope that his Majesty would be sensible of his daughter's sufferings, and of those illustrious and hopeful cradles, which grief and fear did rock; and that he would send over such full recruits of men, as might advance again his speedy return into Germany. But God did otherwise ordain it, for not long after King James, by the privation of death enjoyed the possession of a better life : and, Prince Charles being invested with the crown' he was so far from sending forces into Germany, that the German horse were called over into England. The delight of King James was peace ; but almost the first designs of King Charles were war. To this purpose, that he might make his kingdoms as terrible by arms, as his father had left them flourishing in peace, he calleth a parliament, which (the sickness' at the same time, raging with great violence in the city of London) did meet at Oxford 'on the * Or, Yelvis. The Life and Death of Robert, Earl of Essex. %%\ ¦beginning of the month of August, in the first year of his reign • but this King was never fortunate either in his parliaments, or in his wars; for, the Duke of Buckingham being questioned, the parliament was not long after dissolved. Howsoever, a design went on for a sudden expedition into Cadiz in Spain, which was committed to be managed by the Vis count Wimbleton, and by the Earl of Essex. The Earl of Essex did the more readily un dertake it, because the judgment and the valour of Sir Edward Cecill, created by the Kirig', Viscount Wimbleton, was highly regarded by him, having had sufficient experience of it in the Low Countries, where Sir Edward Cecill also for a long, time, and with great reputa- fion, commanded a regiment, for the service of the States. His other reason was, because that his father heretofore had taken Cadiz, and he believed that a more gallant action could never be imposed on him, than to be designed unto that place, where he might enlarge his Own, and renew his father's glory i Being embarked for the prosecution of this service, which promised so much honour ; being at sea, and by a fair wind brought almost as far as Cadiz, the chief commanders opened their commission ; and finding, to their great grief, that they had not that power granted them, which they expected, they had many consulta^ tions on it. Sir Edward Cecill was loth to exceed the bounds of the commission, well know ing what danger, on his return, might ensue thereby. The Earl of Essex was unwilling to return without effecting any thing : and the rather, because the Spaniards (according to the ostentation natural to that nation) did begin to dare him from their walls and battlements ; insomuch that some of his men were landed, and entered some part of the town; and the Earl found, that it was no difficult matter for the English again to be masters of the town, had they but authority to fall on. Howsoever, the Spaniards had notice before-hand that the English ships had a design upon that place; and some, withal, are of opinion, that they knew how far their commission did extend. All along the shore their horse and foot stood ready to entertain us at our landing, who wanted neither desire, nor resolution, to encounter them, had but the word been given. The Earl of Essex, being sorry that he was employed on so unnecessary an expedition, and so unsuitable to the English temper, did resolve with himself, on his return to England, to adventure no more on such employments, but to repair again to Holland, where the courage of himself, and his soldiers, should be sure of action, and where their action should be attended with honour5. He there resided a certain time, and by his exemplary virtue did much advance the affairs of that state. Being called back into England, by the importunity of his friends, he afterwards married with Mrs. Elizabeth Paulet ; who (if 1 am not mistaken) had then some relation to the Marchioness of Hertford, sister to this Earl. This Mrs. Paulet was a young lady of a delicate temper; she was daughter of Sir William Paulet, of Hedington in Wiltshire, and descended, by the father's side, from -the illustrious family of the Paulets, Marquis of Win chester: by her, the Earl of Essex had a son, Who was christened Robert, after his father's name, and died in the year 1636, and lies buried at Drayton in the county of Warwick. There is nothing born so happy, which is absolute in every part ; for, much about the same time, there did arise some discontents betwixt the Earl and this lady also, upon which this Earl did ever after abandon all uxorious thoughts, and wholly applied himself to the im provement of those rules, which conduce to the soundness of church and state : and, if any unseverer hours of leisure offered themselves in his study, he would employ that time in the perusal of some laboured poem, and having great judgment, especially in the English verse, it was his custom to applaud the professors of that art, as high as their desert, and to reward them above it; and he was no way inclined to the sullen opinion of those men who disclaim the Muses, and esteem all poems to be as unlawful, as unprofitable. When the ambition and the excess of the Bishops did swell them up to such an uncom- passed greatness, that they were not only become unwieldy to themselves, and intolerable to their dioceses, but endeavoured also to lay unconscionable burthens by compulsive ceremo nies, on the kingdom of Scotland ; the women there did first begin the coil, which was after- 5 [The Earl, on his return, delivered a charge against the Viscount at the council-table; copies of which occur among the Harleian and Lansdowne MSS. A journal and relation of this expedition to the coast of Spain, was printed in 1 626.] 2#3 The Life and Death of Robert, Earl of Essex. wards followed by their youth, who mustered themselves into arms for the defence of their religion, protesting themselves to be enemies to all thoughts that had -but the least relation to the Church of Rome. To this resolution (it being for the cause of God) the whole kingdom of Scotland did join their devoted hands. . The King was seduced by the English Bishops to make a war against them, and great preparations were in hand, to that intent. In the first year that the King advanced against the Scots, the Earl of Essex was one of his principal commanders, but it pleased God to make that year no year of blood. In the year following, a parliament was called, and, money being gained for the prosecution of the war, it was again broke off. To this war, the Bishops did contribute much, and Doctor Peirce, the Bishop at that time of Bath and Wells, did not doubt to call it in his pulpit, ' the Bishops' War.' But what had the Bishops to do with the sword? and indeed it thrived with them accordingly, for, the army of the King being beaten by the Scots, and the town of Newcastle being seized by them, it was thought expedient by the King's best counsellors that a parliament should be called again. This is the parliament which unto this day doth continue, and which have laboured so much to their perpetual glory, for the reformation of religion, for the liberty of the subject, and the safety of the kingdom. On the beginning of this parliament, which represented the whole body of the kingdom, the King who, without all doubt, was inforced to summon it, to relieve the crying oppres sions of his-subjects, did appear like a man in a fever ; 'sometimes very hot to give satisfaction to the complaints and desires of his subjects, and sometimes again cold and froward. The most noble Earl of Pembroke and Montgomery, being dismissed from his place by the pleasure of his Majetsy, the parliament did move the King, that the Earl of Essex might succeed him, to which his Majesty (unwilling openly to deny them) did give his assent y he knew very well that received maxim that (during their time of sitting in parliament) ' subjects are greater than they are, and the King less.' The Earl, although (for a long time) he had discontinued the court, yet did deport him self with so much honour and judgment, that the old courtiers, and those who were most entire unto his Majesty, could not find the least subject of distaste. But the discontents be twixt the King and Parliament increasing, and the King forsaking London, the noble Earl of Essex (being a member of the House of Peers) would not forsake the parliament, although there is no question but that he had instigations enough from the followers of the court to persuade him to it : of such a virtue is honour and conscience in the breast of true nobility. The King beginning his gests6 towards the west, and afterwards wheeling in earnest'to- wards the north, the parliament did send petition on petition to. beseech his Majesty to return unto the parliament ; to which the King did return most plausible answers, there being no where to be found more art that suborned reason to attend it, or more accurate language. But the parliament finding a great disproportion betwixt the insinuations of his Majesty to delude the people, and his actions to strengthen himself, and that his voice was the voice of Jacob, but the hands were the hands of Esau ; and understanding withal that his Majesty had summoned in the country about York, where there appeared many thou sands that promised to adhere unto him, and that he had a resolution to besiege Hull and force it to his obedience ; they were compelled (though with hearts full of sorrow) to'have recourse to arms. Money is the sinew of war ; to provide themselves with which, the city were desired to bring in their plate to make it sterling for that service. The publick faith of jhe kingdom was their security for it ; and indeed what better security could any man expect than the faith of the whole kingdom, of which the parliament were the body representative and (as it were) the feoffees in trust ? You would admire what sums of ready money, what rings of gold, what store of massy plate both silver and gilt, were.brought in a few days to Guild-half Guild-h&W did never deserve its name so properly, as at this present. In the mean time[ [6 Progresses.] The Life and Death of Robert, Earl of Essex. 223 Moor- fields, and those places where horses for service were to be listed, were almost thronged with excellent horse ; and the youth of London, who devoted themselves to the service of the parliament, and to hazard their lives for the safety of the two kingdoms, did look with emulation on one another who should be the first should back them. This being provided ; in the next place care is taken for the raising of an army, and for a General to conduct them. There was no man could be possibly thought upon more able to undertake so great a charge than the illustrious Earl of Essex; whose name in arms was great, and the love of the people to him did strive to be great as was that name. At the first appearance in the Artillery-garden, where the volunteers were to be listed, there came in no less than four thousand of them in one day; who declared their resolutions to live and die with the Earl of Essex, for the safety and the peace of the kingdom ; and every day (for a certain Space) did bring in multitudes of such well-affected people, who, preferred their con sciences above their lives ; and who would hazard with, them tlieir dearest blood for the preservation of the reformed religion, and for the parliament that did reform it. Not long after, the Earl of Essex, having sent before him his whole equipage of war, who were quartered and exercised in the country, and were now expert in their arms ; did pass through the City of London towards them ; being accompanied with many lords and gen tlemen, as also with many colonels and commanders of the city, and many hundreds of horsemen, and the trained bands who guarded him through Temple-bar unto Moor-fields : from thence in his coach he passed to High-gate, the people, on each hand, having all the way made a hedge with their own bodies, and with loud acclamations all crying out, ' God bless my Lord General ; God preserve my Lord General !' His Excellency being- now in his march to oppose the forces of the King, the high wisdom of the parliament (although they had often moved the King before by diverse petitions) did think it expedient to send one humble petitibn more unto his Majesty, to beseech him to remove himself from those evil counsels and counsellors, who had fomented the horrid rebel lion in Ireland, and had endeavoured the like bloody massacre in England, by inciting him to make war with the parliament, who were the best subjects in his kingdom. We will in this place deliver to you the petition of both the Houses of Parliament ; which petition being so full* of high concernment and humble addresses, and because it was to be delivered by his Excellency the Earl of Essex, we conceive it very requisite in this place to insert. *To the King's most Excellent Majesty. * The humble Petition of the Lords and Commons, now assembled in Parliament. ' WE your Majesty's most loyal subjects, the Lords and Commons in Parliament, cannot, without great grief, and tenderness of compassion, behold the pressing miseries, the im minent danger, and the devouring calamities, which dp extremely threaten, and have partly seized upon both your kingdoms of England and Ireland, by the practices of a party pre vailing with your Majesty ; who by many wicked plots and conspiracies have attempted the alteration of the true religion, and of the ancient government of this kingdom, by the intro ducing of Popish superstition and idolatry into the Church, and tyranny and confusion in the State ; and, for the compassing thereof, have long corrupted your Majesty's counsels, abused your power, and, by sudden and untimely dissolving of former parliaments, have often hindered the reformation, and prevention of those mischiefs ; who, being now disabled to avoid the endeavours pf this parliament by any such means, have traiterously attempted to overawe the same by force, and, in prosecution of their wicked designs, have excited, encouraged, and fostered an unnatural rebellion in Ireland, by which, in a cruel and most outrageous manner, many of your subjects there have been destroyed ; and by false slanders upon your parliament, and by malicious and unjust accusations, they have endeavoured to begin the like massacre here ; but, being disappointed therein by the blessing of God, they have (as the most mischievous and bloody design of all) won upon your Majesty to make war against your parliament and good subjects of this kingdom, leading in your own person an army against them, as if you intended by conquest to establish an absolute and an. 224 The Life and Death of Robert, Earl of Essex. illimited power over them; and, by the power and the countenancing of .your presence, have ransacked, spoiled, imprisoned, and murdered diverse of your people. And, for their better assistance in these wicked designs, do seek to bring over the rebels of Ireland, and other forces from beyond the seas to join with them: and we finding ourselves utterly deprived of your Majesty's protection, and the authors, counsellors, and abettors of these mischiefs in greatest power and favour with your Majesty, and defended by you against the justice and authority of your high, court of parliament, whereby they are. grown to that height and insolence as to manifest their rage and malice, against those of the nobility and others who are any way inclined unto peace; not without great appearance of danger to your own royal person; if you shall not in all things concur with their wicked and traiter- 6us courses: we have for the just and necessary defence of the Protestant religion, of your Majesty's person, crown, and dignity, of the laws and liberties of the kingdom, and th© power and privilege of parliament, taken up arms, and appointed and authorized Robert, Earl of Essex to be Captain General of all the forces by us levied, and to lead and to con duct the same against these rebels and traitors, and them to subdue and to bring to condign punishment ; and we do most humbly beseech your Majesty to withdraw your royal presence and countenance from these wicked persons, and, if they shall stand out in defence of thei? rebellious and unlawful attempts, that your Majesty will leave them to be suppressed by that power, which we have sent against them, and that your Majesty will not mix your own dangers with theirs, but in peace and safety (without your forces) forthwith, return to your parliament, and by your faithful counsel and advice compose the present distempers and confusions abounding in both your kingdoms, and provide for the security and honour pf yourself, your royal posterity, and the prosperous estate of all your subjects. Wherein, if your Majesty please to yield to our most humble and earnest desires, we do, in the presence pf Almighty God, profess, that we will receive your Majesty with all honour, yield you all due obedience and subjection, and faithfully endeavour to secure your person and estate from all danger ; and to the uttermost of our power procure, and establish to yourself, and to your people, all the blessings of a most happy and glorious reign.' The Earl of Essex havjng received this petition, he made use of the Earl of Dorset (who was then at Shrewsbury with his Majesty), that it might find access unto him. And within a few days after the Earl of Dorset sent a dispatch to the Earl of Essex, signifying that (according to his desire) he had acquainted the King concerning such a petition to be pre sented, and the King returned this answer, ' That he would receive any petition that should be presented to him from his parliament, from any that should bring the same ; but that he would not receive a petition out of the hands of any traitor.' His Excellency, having received this answer, did conceive it expedient to acquaint the parliament with it. Whereupon, after a serious debate upon the business, it was voted by the House of Commons, ' That his Majesty refusing to receive any petition from those whom he accounted traitors, and withal, having proclaimed the Earl of Essex, and his adherents, traitors ; he had, in that word, comprehended both the houses of parliament, which is not; only against the privileges of parliament, but the fundamental laws of the land.' It was therefore agreed upon by both Houses, 'That the Earl of Essex should go forward in ad vancing his forces according to his instructions, with all convenient speed; and to lay by the petition which was to be preferred to his Majesty.' Much- about this time the King advanced from Shrewsbury, with an army, consisting of six thousand foot, three thousand horse, and fifteen hundred dragoons; his design was to march towards London with all his forces; of which the Earl of Essex being advertised, he advanced, with a resolution to encouter with them ; and being a grave counsellor, as well as a great commander, he desired the parliament, that the trained bands, in and about the city of London, might be put in a readiness for their own defence; and that the city might be fortified^ and an especial care taken to secure the persons of the chiefest of those malig nant citizens, who were suspected to contrive mischief* and were able to perform it Where upon the House of Parliament did order, 'That the trained bands of London, Middlesex. The Life and Death of Robert, Earl of Essex. 225 and Surry, should forthwith be put into a readiness, and "that the Close Committee should make a diligent enquiry after the chief malignants of the city; and warrants were issued forth with power to apprehend them, and to bring them to the parliament. On the 22d of October, his Excellency the Earl of Essex did march to Kinton, with about twelve regiments of foot, and above forty troops of horse : he made haste to meet with the army of the King, and therefore was forced to leave behind him three regiments of foot, and ten troops of horse ; for, the country being destitute of provision, it was thought requisite that they should not follow the main body of the army, in so swift a march. On the next morning intelligence was received, that the King's army was drawing near, with a resolution to encounter with the forces of his Excellency. They had got the advantage of Edge-hill, which served them for a place of safe retreat, it being of a high and steep ascent. The Earl of Essex made a stand about half a mile from the hill, and did there draw forth his army into a body, and did set them in battalia. He marshalled the field with great judgment, having but little time to do it ; which was no sooner done, but he beheld many regiments of the King's foot come down the hill, and there were a strong body of dragooners with them. The horse also came down in order, and placed themselves at the foot of the hill, on the right hand of our army. It was something long before their cannon and the rear of their foot could be brought down. Our foot were marshalled a good space behind our horse ; three regiments of horse were on the right wing of our army, namely, the Lord General's regiment, commanded by Sir Philip Stapleton, who that day did excellent service; Sir William Belfore's regiment, who was Lieutenant-General of the horse; and the Lord Fielding's regiment, which stood as a reserve unto them. In our left wing were tvyenty-four troops of horse, commanded by Sir James Ramsey, Commissary-General. The cannon on each side having discharged their cholerick errands, the enemy's foot advanced against our right wing, and they were gallantly received by Sir William Stapleton's and Sir William Belfore's regiments of horse, which were at that instant seconded by the noble Lord Roberts's and Sir William Constable's regiments of foot ; who charged on the enemy's foot, with so much resolution, that they forced them, in great disorder, to shrowd themselves amongst their pikes. That day Sir William Belfore shewed excellent demonstra tions of his. valour ; for after this he charged a regiment of the enemy's foot, and broke quite through them, and cut many of them in pieces; and not long after,, having received some assistance of foot, he defeated another regiment, and seized upon a part pf the enemy's ordnance; but we did afterwards leave them, having none to guard them; The enemy's horse, on the left wing, had the better of ours ; for, at the first shock, they routed them, and did beat them back upon our foot, and forced their way clean through Colonel Hollis's regi ment ; which struck such a terror to some other of our foot regiments, on the left wing, that four regiments, without striking one stroke, did run quite away ; their officers being not able to stay them ; who therefore came up to the van, in the right wing, and did extraordi nary service; amongst which was Colonel Charles Essex, who, performing all the parts of a gallant soldier, was unfortunately shot in the thigh, of which, not long after, he died. His Excellency perceiving that four regiments of the left wing of his army were fled, and never fought with; it doubled his resolution on the right wing, where, with undaunted valour, he charged the King's regiment. Once he charged with his own troop of horse, and often with his regiment of foot. An admirable man, who, for the safety of the kingdom, and to pluck the King from the hands of those that did mislead him, did this day admirable service. He was always at the head of his army, and, having at last got the advantage of the wind arid ground, he charged the King's regiment so home (having the regiment of the Lord Brooks to assist him) that he utterly defeated it ; he took the King's standard, and the Earl of Lindsey, General of the King's army : his son was also taken prisoner, and Lieute nant-Colonel Vavasor, who commanded that regirnent ; Sir Edward Varney, who carried the King's standard, was slain ; the Lord Aubigny was also slain ; Colonel Munroe, a great commander on the King's side, was slain. Two regiments of the enemy's foot (the night coming on) retiring themselves towards the hill, found their ordnance without any guard at all, where they made a stand, and discharged many great shot against us. By this time the VOL. I. 6 0. 226 The Life and Death of Robert, Earl of Essex. body of the enemy's horse, which had been pillaging the waggons at Kinton, had the leisure to wheel about, some on one hand of our army, and some on the other; and so at last they united themselves to the body of their foot : Sir Philip Stapleton, who did remarkable service this day, seeing in what disorder they came along, did ride forth with his troop, to charge four or five troops of theirs ; which they perceiving, did put spurs unto their horses, and, With what speed they could; joined themselves with the rest of their broken troops, which had now recovered their foot that did guard their ordnance. Our horse were also gathered to our foot, and thus both armies of horse and foot stood one against another till night. This great victory being obtained, the Earl of Essex marched to Warwick, where he refreshed his army fora few days, where Mr. Marshall speaking of the admirable success of this battle; his Excellency replied twice together, 'That he never saw less of man in any thing than in this battle, nor more of God.' • Not long after his Excellency the Earl of Essex came to London, with several of his* regiments of horse and foot, who, with much joy, were entertained by the citizens. And, on the Lord's-day following, many good ministers, about the City of London, praised God for their safe return to their parents, friends, and masters. About the 4th of November 1642, at a conference in the Painted Chamber, the Earl of Northumberland, in the name of the whole House of Peers, did acquaint the Commons, that the Committee for the safety of the kingdom had some thoughts to send certain propositions to his Majesty, to prevent the farther effusion of. blood, and to re-establish the peace of the kingdom ; before which time they held it requisite to acquaint his Excellency with it, who returned an answer to the parliament to this effect : ' That what he had done was in obedience to the commands of both Houses, and what they should command further, he would be careful to obey. That he was now with his army, and could not leave his charge, to come, in person, to contribute any thing for his Majesty's honour, arid the safety of the kingdom. That he believed the Committee had' such reasons for those propositions, as were laid on sure grounds; but withal, that he hoped that they had no fear of any weakness of his army, or that the courage of those who stood to it so stoutly, in the late battle, would fail them, if nothing but a second encounter must decide the matter, and end the quarrel.' There was now a treaty for peace agreed upon on both sides ; when behold, on a sudden unexpected news is brought unto the parliament, that the King's and parliament's forces Were engaged at Brentford, and that Prince Rupert, with about thirteen troops of horse, had (undiscovered to our scouts) taken the advantage of a misty morning, with a full resolution to cut off the forces of the parliament that were quartered thereabouts, and from thence to force his way to London; trusting, that, upon their approach so near unto the city, the malignants would rise in arms, and declare themselves for the King: but it pleased God so in mercy to ordain it, that he fell short of his expectation; for he was so well entertained at Brentford and Turnham-green, by Colonel Hollis's regiment, and a part of -the Lord Roberts's regiment, the regiment of Colonel Hampden coming also to their assistance, that Prince Rupert durst not adventure to make his approaches nearer to the city. And the parliament forthwith dispatched a Committee tcf London, to raise all the forces both of horse and foot, to defend the city, and to secure the out-works. Immediately his Excellency the Earl of Essex departed from London, and marched against the enemy, who, at the first shock, overpowered our forces by their number; who were many of them destitute both of powder, and all furniture of war. We lost in that service Serjeant-Major Quarles, and Captain Lacy, and many soldiers of inferior quality. Captain Lilburn with some others were taken prisoners. There were divers of the enemy slain, and many carts laden With their wounded, and' their dead ; besides, they buried many, very privately, to conceal the ignominy of their great loss. Immediately after this the Lord General caused a bridge to be made of long and flat- bottomed boats, over the river of Thames, from Fulham unto Putney, (a sudden work of war) to prevent, and the better to enable his men to assault the Cavaliers in their march frorq The Life and Death of Robert, Earl of Essex. QQf Kingston into the county of Kent, and to oppose them in their further invading the county of Surry. This bridge, at each end, was fortified with ordnance and musqueteers to defend it from the enemy, who, at that time, had miserably plundered Kingston and some villages adjacent thereunto ; and now, being full of the pillage of the towns of Brentford, Kingston, and other places, and not daring to attempt further, they were retiring towards Maidenhead, and from thence to Reading and Oxford, the seat of the court, and the 'rendezvous of the malig nant army during the war. The parliament (as they had just cause so to do) did, on this, publish a declaration, to testify to the world the carriage of the matter at Brentford, in the time of a treaty for the peace of the kingdom ; to the end that all men, discerning how far they had been deceived with fair shows and bare pretences, might now, at last, stand upon their own defence, and their strongest guard ; and to associate themselves together to defend and preserve their religion, laws, and liberty of parliament and kingdom; yea, themselves, their wives, and children, from rapine and ruin, who were all concerned in the common danger now round about them ; on this the counties of this kingdom did begin, by degrees, to associate them* selves. The King having, after this, made another motion for peace, and the parliament having returned a fair answer to it ; upon some new counsels, his Majesty was so impatient as to reply : 'That he looked on the parliament's answer, as penned by a malignant party in both Houses, whose safety is built upon the ruin of this nation, who have chased his Majesty, his Peers, and Commons from the parliament ; the truth whereof, he said, might appear by the small number left ; and, moreover, that they had raised an army to take away his life, and the life of his children, and that these rebels are now come to London ; and, since they cannot, snatch the crown from his head, they would invite him, tamely, to come up, and to lay it down.' And, for the expressions of that accident at Brentford, ' his Majesty hoped (if it be permitted by them to be published) that his declaration would satisfy his people.' The parliament, upon consideration of this, being compelled to look unto themselves, did resolve to forbear all further treaties, and gave order to his Excellency, forthwith tosadvance with his army ; and the rather, because, they understood, by an intercepted letter, sent unto Sir Edward Nicholas, that many experienced commanders, and, with them, great provision of money, arms, and ammunition, were designed, from Holland, to land at Newcastle,, for the service of the King, and the advancement of this unnatural war. This did set so sharp an edge on the affections of the city, that, whereas the parliament did desire them to assist them with a loan of thirty thousand pounds, to pay the army, they cheerfully subscribed to pay in threescore thousand pounds ; and would have made it a far greater sum, to further the Lord General, the Earl of Essex, to proceed with his army, to rescue his Majesty from the hands of those who detained him from his people, and his parliament. But the winter did now grow heavy, and immoderate showers of rain had so corrupted the ground, that the body: of foot could not march, nor the train of artillery move ; there fore, the Lord General was inforced to continue in his winter quarters, at Windsor, until the spring: howsoever, our horse did excellent service in the west, under the command of Sir William Waller7, and the Right Honourable the Lord Fairfax8, and his renowned son, Sir Thomas Fairfax, atchieved many glorious victories in the North ; of which, it is not so ' [With the poetry of Anna Matilda, in .1788, were published " The Recollections of Sir William Waller;" and they ascertain him to have been concerned in twenty-two several engagements. It appears from Whitlocke that he was a man of great consideration in the army; and Hume speaks of him, as active and indefatigable, in his operations rapid arid enterprising, and fitted by his genius to the nature of war. From his own report, there must .have existed a military rivalry, if not a personal jealousy, between himself and the Earl of Essex.] 8 [The exploits of Lord Fairfax, as a commander and a general, will be found related in all the histories of his time. He was a-very potent instrument in the hands of Cromwell, who reaped the fruit of all his victories..] 228 The Life and Death of Robert, Earl of Essex. proper, in this place, to deliver the story, it being the task of this pen to express only those particular services, in which his Excellency was personally present. The spring now coming on, his Excellency, about the middle of April, did quit his winter quarters, and advanced towards Oxford : he seemed to pass by Reading, to render that gar rison more secure ; and that, the chiefest strength being gone where the chiefest danger did appear, he might take Reading with the more ease and speed : having, therefore, wheeled about, he unexpectedly came and sat down before Reading, and sent his trumpeter to the Governor to surrender that town unto him, for the service of the King and parliament. Colonel Ashton, who was governor of it, returned a stubborn answer, ' That he would either keep the town, or starve and die in it.' Thereupon his Excellency, taking compassion of the-women and children, which were to undergo the common danger; he sent unto the Governor, that they might be suffered to come forth ; but this also was refused by the- Colonel. Hereupon our soldiers began to intrench themselves, and daily to make their approaches nearer and nearer to the town ; his Excellency incamped on the west-part thereof betwixt Reading and Oxford, to hinder any relief that might come from Oxford to it. The enemy had many strong outworks, which were defended also by some main bulwarks ; from those they continually plied us with their great and small shot, who were not remiss to answer them with advantage. They had in the garrison three thousand soldiers besides townsmen, many pieces of ordnance, and great store of provision and ammunition. The enemy had strongly fortified Causham-hill which commands the whole town ; from this place, by fine force, they were beaten and driven into their works nearer unto the town. This hill being gained, we instantly raised our batteries on it, which much annoyed the enemy ; and, by this means, we got the opportunity with the greater safety, to make our approaches nearer unto their works, and in many places within less than half a musket -shot : hereupon the enemy endea voured to make some sallies, but they were always beaten in with loss. They had planted some ordnance in a steeple, believing, that from that height they mjght play upon our men with more' advantage ; but our cannon were levelled against it with such dexterity, that both the cannoniers and cannon were quickly buried under the ruins of the steeple. After this, the enemies would not adventure themselves on towers, but kept for the most part in places more secure ; our ordnance perpetually beating down the houses, and Colonel Ash ton, the Governor, being sorely wounded in the head, by the fall of bricks, from a battered chimney, which made him the more willing to offer the surrender of the town to my Lord General, if his soldiers might have the honour to march away with bag and baggage ; but his Excellency did send him word, that he came for men, and not for the town only. Whilst this was in agitation, intelligence was received that the King, Prince Rupert, and Prince Maurice, were on their advance towards Reading, for the .relief of the town; where upon his Excellency did send out a strong party of horse and dragoons under the command of Colonel Middleton and Colonel Milles, who did beat up the enemies' quarters at Dorchester, about seven miles from Oxford'; and routed and surprized many of the King's horse, and a regiment of foot under the command of Lieutenant-Colonel Vavasor, who was taken prisoner at Kinton, and afterwards released : he was absent in this service, but his Captain- Lieutenant was taken prisoner. The King's standard was again in danger, and about one hundred and forty gallant horse were taken. Howsoever ,-"the King continued his resolution for the raising of the siege at Reading; and, being advanced to Wallingford, he marched from thence towards Reading, with about nine regiments of horse, and nine regiments of foot, and twelve pieces of ordnance. His regiments of foot were but thin and empty. His Excellency understanding of the approach of this army, and that his Majesty himself and the two German Princes were there in person; he commanded, that two regiments should be drawn forth to oppose them, which were the regiments of the Lord Roberts, and the regiment of Colonel Barcley ; although the King's whole body of infantry were near, he only sent two regiments of his, the green and the red; to encounter these two regiments'. The fight was fiercely begun about Causham-bridge, and on both sides excellent demonstra tions of valour and resolution were expressed; at the first charge the Lord Roberts was The Life and Death of Robert, Earl of Essex. 22£| absent from his regiment, but, hearing that they were engaged with the enemy, he did ride up with all speed unto them, and -by his courage and example did admirably serve to expe dite and increase the victory. After less than half an hour's fight, the enemy began to give ground, and to leave many of their men behind them, and about three hundred arms ; their horse also, which came down the hill to assist their foot, were gallantly repulsed, and forced to retreat to the hill from whence they came. There were about one hundred of the enemy slain upon the place, amongst whom Serjeant-Major Smith was one, whose pockets beings searched, there was found good store of gold. The number which were said to be slain, on our side, are so few, that I am afraid to name them, lest (being too short in my account) I should be accused to dissemble with the truth. I dare not grow too bold on the common report ; there is, undoubtedly, a moderation with judgment to be used by alt those who undertake to deliver to posterity the actions of their own, or foregoing times, which, whosoever, either through faction or affection, shall wilfully transgress, shall lose the grace of a true historian, and the reputation of an honest man. The enemy being thus beaten in the field, and retreated unto Wallingford ; his Excel lency the Earl of Essex did proceed in the treaty with the Governor of Reading, for the surrender of the town. Colonel Bolles, Lieutenant-Colonel Thelwell, and Serjeant-Major Gilby, were sent forth to treat on the articles for the surrender of it ; and the Lord Roch- ford, Lieutenant-Colonel Russel, and Serjeant-Major King, were sent in as hostages for their safe return. It was desired, in the town, that some might go to the King's army, to acquaint the Commander-in-Chief with the terms. This was granted, and, upon the return, his Excellency received a letter from Prince Rupert, and not long after it was concluded on, that the town of Reading should be surrendered on these conditions : I. That the enemy should march away with arms and. ammunition, with colours flying, bag and baggage. II. That those persons, who are not inhabitants, should have liberty to go away with their goods; except such who had been of the army of the parliament. III. That those goods be excepted from the baggage of the soldiers, which had been taken from those who were friends to the parliament, and from the western carriers. IV. That they should have liberty to march to Wallingford, or Oxford, without any molestation from our forces ; provided they offer no assault to any in the way. V. That they shall carry but four pieces of ordnance, and the town not to be plundered either by them or by the forces of the parliament. VI. That four-and-twenty hours be allowed them for the performance of their articles ; and that they give up their outworks immediately, and three persons of quality aS pledges for the faithful performance of these articles. Not long after this, it pleased Almighty God to visit the army of the parliament with sickness; by which many of our young men perished, and the rest by reason of their weak ness were disabled from doing any great service in the field. His Excellency omitted no thing that might give redress unto them. Physick, and whatever else was thought expedi ent, was sent from London, and care was taken, both for money and clothes for the soldiers; and, to make our condition yet worse, Sir William Waller had received some loss not far from Bristol, and the Marquis of Newcastle was grown very powerful in the North. In the mean time, the King, having possessed himself of Bristol, was marching up to London with a puissant army. In his way he summoned Gloucester, unwilling to leave any town behind him to continue in the power of the parliament; and, Bristol being taken, disdained to sit down before a town and riot to carry it; but the courage of the gallant Governor, Colonel Massey, was so remarkable, that he not only did put a stop to the furious, march of the King; who, having gained Gloucester, would have forthwith advanced to London; but, by holding him in play, he gave an opportunity to his Excellency to recruit his army; and, under God, was a principal instrument of the safety of this kingdom. In extraordinary necessities, we do use extraordinary expedients : the trained-bands of 230 The Life and Death of Robert, Earl of Essex. the city of London, who, before, were never known tpiinake so long a march out of the city, did now readily consent to lend their best assistance ; and, to their eternal honour, preferring the publick, before their private good; they resolved to adventure tlieir own lives, to pre serve the city, state, and kingdom. In this resolution they met his Excellency on Hounslow-heath, who being right glad to see them, he thanked them for their love, and applauded them for their courage, and uniting the armies both into one, he forthwith marched to the relief of Gloucester; which, at that time, did much need the assistance of so brave an army. The King's forces, with great violence, did prosecute the siege, which continued from the tenth of August, to the fifth of September ; on which day, the enemy hearing of the approach of his Excellency, did begin to send away their carriages, and their foot and horse did march after them, and the be sieged (it being a day set a-part for a publick fast) did turn it into a day of joy, and paid unto God their humble thanks, for so gracious a deliverance. We have not the liberty to give unto you the discourse of this siege at large, because it doth not so properly belong unto this subject. It may suffice, that, as it was raised by the prowess of the most noble the Earl of Essex; so it was most resolutely sustained by the va lour, industry, and dexterity of the heroick governor, Colonel Massey ; who contrived all stra tagems, and occasioned all the sallies, for the ruin of his enemy, and the protection of the city. The city of Gloucester being thus bravely relieved, and the siege raised ; his Excellency the Earl of Essex did prepare to follow the enemy, who always fled before him, and refused to stand to the hazard of a battle. The Earl perceiving that the main intent of the enemy was to cut off all provision from his army, he made a bridge over the river of Severn, as if he would march to Worcester, to amuse the enemy, and to cause them to draw part of their forces that way ; which accordingly they did ; and, on a sudden, he wheeled about another way, and marched to Tewksbury, and from thence to Cirencester, where he found two regiments of the King's horse, which were but newly entered into service. In one of their standards, the invention was the effigies of the parliament-house, with two traitors' heads fixed on two poles on the top thereof; the inscription was this, Sicut extra, sic intus ; which is, As without, so zvithin. The indignity whereof left such a just impression of dis dain in thebreasts of the parliament, that it was voted, that the contriver of this ignominious invention should be strictly searched out, and, being known, that he should be for ever banished the kingdom, as being unworthy to live in the English air. This good service was performed about two of the clock in the morning ; the enemy, for the most part, being taken prisoners in their beds, and their horses feeding in the stables : there was also a ma gazine of victuals seized on, which was a welcome booty to our soldiers. There were taken, in all, four hundred prisoners, and as many soldiers. From hence his Excellency marched into Wiltshire, and, being advanced towards Auburn- hills, he had a sight of his Majesty's horse; which appeared in several great bodies, and were so marshalled to charge our army of foot, being then on their march in several divisions ; which caused our foot to unite "themselves into one gross, our. horse perpetually skirmishing with them, to keep them off from the foot. In the mean time, the dragoons on both sides gave fire in full bodies on, one another, on the side of the hill; that the woods above, and the valleys below, did echo with the thunder of the charge. There were about fourscore slain upon the place, and more than as many more were sorely wounded. Our horse also made a great impression upon the Queen's regiment of horse, and'flharged them again and again, and cut in pieces many of her life-guard. In this service, the Mar quis of Viyile was taken prisoner. It seems he would not be knqwn who he was ; but en deavouring to rescue hiriiself from a Lieutenant that took him prisoner, and thereupon, ha ving his head almost cloven asunder with a pole-axe, he acknowledged himself, in the last words he spoke, which were, Vous voyez un grand' Marquis mourant; that is, You see a great Marquis dying. His dead body was carried to Hungerford, by the Lord General's command. It had not been long. there, but the King did send a trumpet to his Excellency, conceiving that the Marquis had been wounded only, and taken prisoner; and desired that his chirurgeons and doctors might have free access unto him for his recovery. His Excel- The Life and Death of Robert, Earl of Essex. 231 lency certified the trumpet that he was dead ; and returned his body to the King, to receive those funeral rites as his Majesty would give it. Some say, that his body was ransomed for three hundred pieces of gold. His Excellency being come to Hungerford, the army of his Majesty, which was more numerous in horse, had got before frim, and was advanced towards Newbury, and sweeping the country before them, had left it destitute of provision; insomuch that, his Excellency finding little or nothing at Hungerford, to satisfy the necessity of his army, he was forced to march away that night towards Newbury, to which place (although it is but seven miles distance) it was the next day before he came: when he was within two miles of it, he did understand, by his scouts, that the whole army of the King were at hand, and that they had not only possessed themselves of Newbury, but that they had made themselves masters of all advantages that could be desired, for the disposing of the battle. Their main body did stand in a large plain, and were resolute and ready to receive our forces, which, in the van, were to pass through a lane unto them, in which, but six men could march on breast. Besides, by this means, our foot were deprived in those places of the succours of our horse, and our cannon was made unprofitable. Neither was this all ; for our army was also in great danger to be charged in the rear ; and therefore, the most worthy Major Skippon was called off from the front, to provide a valiant remedy against all dangers that should in vade the rear. All that night our army lay in the fields, impatient of the sloth of darkness, and wishing for the morning's light, to exercise their valour ; and the rather, because the King had sent a challenge over night to the Lord General, to give him battle the next morning. A great part of the enemy's army continued also in the field, incapable of sleep, their enemy being so nigh ; and, sometimes looking on the ground, they thought upon the melancholy element of which they were composed, and to which they must return ; and sometimes look ing up, they observed the silent marches of the stars, and the moving scene of Heaven. The day no sooner did appear, but they were marshalled into order, and advanced to the brow of the hill ; and not long after, the ordnance was planted, and the whole body of their horse and foot stood in battalia. The officers and commanders of their foot did many of them leave off their doublets, and, with daring resolution, did bring on their men ; and, as if they came rather to triumph than to fight, they, in their shirts, did lead them up to the battle. The first that gave the charge, was the most noble Lord Roberts9, whose actions speak him higher than our epithets. He performed it with great resolution, and, by his own ex ample, shewed excellent demonstrations of valour to his regiment. The cavalry of the enemy performed also their charge most bravely, and gave in with a mighty impression upon him. A prepared body of our army made haste to relieve him. Upon this, two regiments, of the King's horse, with a fierce charge, saluted the blue regiment of the London trained- bands, who gallantly discharged upon them, and did beat them back; but they, being no whit daunted at it, wheeled about, and on a sudden charged them; our musqueteers did again discharge, and that with so much violence and success, that they sent them now, not wheeling, but reeling from them : and yet, for all that, they made a third assault, and coming in full squadrons, they did the utmost of their endeavour to break through our ranks ; but a cloud of bullets came at once so thick from our muskets, and made such a havock amongst them, both of men and horse, that, in a fear, full of confused speed, they did fly before us,. and did no more adventure upon so warm a service. In the mean time, Sir Philip Stapleton performed excellent service with the Lord General's regiment of horse, and five times together did charge the enemy. But, above all, the re nown and glo'ry of this day is most justly due unto the resolution and conduct of our General: for, before the battle was begun, he did ride from one regiment to another, and did inflame them with courage, and perceiving in them all an eager desire to battle with their enemies, he collected to himself a sure presage of victory to come. I have heard, that when, in the 9 [This Lord Roberts had, the command of a regiment utider Lord Essex; and led the parliament forces lo the charge with such gallantry at Newbury, as by his courage and conduct to have routed the royal army. See Granger, Biog. Hist.] 232 The Life and Death of Robert, Earl of Essex. heat and tempest of the fight, some friends of his did advise him to leave off his white hat, because it rendered him an object too remarkable to the enemy : " No," replied the Earl, " it is not the hat, but the heart ; the hat is not capable either of fear or honour." He, himself, being foremost in person, did lead up the city regiment, and when a vast body of the enemy's horse had given so violent a charge, that they had broken quite through it, he quickly rallied his men together, and, with undaunted courage, did lead them up the hill. In his way, he did beat the infantry of the King from hedge to hedge, and did so scatter them, that hardly any of the enemy's foot appeared at that present to him, to keep together in a body. After six hours long fight, with the assistance of his horse, he gained those advantages which the enemy possessed in the morning ; which were the hill, the hedges, and the river. In the mean time, a party of the enemy's horse, in a great body, wheeled about, and about three quarters of a mile below the hill, they did fall upon the rear of our army, where our carriages were placed. To relieve which, his Excellency sent a selected party from the hill to assist their friends, who were deeply engaged in the fight. These forces, marching down the hill, did meet a regiment of horse of the enemy's, who, in their hats, had branches of furze and broom, which our army did that day wear, for distinction-sake, to be known by one another from their adversaries, and they cried out to our men, " Friends, friends;" but, they being discovered to be enemies, our men gave fire upon them, and ha ving some horse to second the execution, they did force them farther from them. Our men being now marched to the bottom of the hill, they increased the courage of their friends, and, after a sharp conflict, they forced the King's horse to fly with remarkable loss; having left the ground strewed with the carcases of their horses and riders. In the mean time, his Excellency, having now planted his ordnance on the top of the hill, did thunder against the enemy, where he found their numbers to be thickest ; and the King's ordnance (being yet on the same hill) did play with the like fury against the forces of his" Excellency : the cannon on each side did dispute with one another, as if the battle was but new begun. The trained-bands of the city of London endured the chiefest heat of the day, and had the honour to win it ; for being now upon the brow of the hill, they lay not only open to the horse, but the cannon of the enemy ; yet they stood undaunted, and con querors against all: and, like a grove of pines in a day of wind and tempest, they only moved their heads or arms, but kept their footing sure ; unless, by an improvement of ho nour, they advanced forward, to pursue their advantage on their enemies. Although the night did now draw on, yet neither of the armies did draw off. The enemy's horse, in a great body, did stand on the furthest side of the hill, and the broken remairiders of their foot behind them ; and having made some pillage, about the middle of the night, they drew off their ordnance, and retreated unto Newbury. On the next morning, his Excellency, being absolute master of the field, did marshal again his soldiers into order to receive the enemy, if he had any stomach to the field, and to that purpose discharged a piece of ordnance ; but no enemy appearing, he marched towards Reading. The loss which the King's forces received, in this memorable battle, is remarkable ; for, besides the multitudes that were carried away in carts, there were divers found, that were buried in pits and ditches. There were many personages of note and honour slain ; as the Earl of Carnarvan, the Earl of Sunderland, the Lord of Faulkland, more famous for his pen, than for his sword, Colonel Morgan, Lieutenant-Colonel Fielding, Mr. Strode, and others. There were hurt, the Lord Andover, Sir Charles Lucas, Colonel Charles Gerrard Colonel Eevers, the Earl of Carlisle, the Earl of Peterborough, Lieutenant-Colonel George Lisle, Sir John Russel, Mr. Edward Sackvile, Mr. Henry Howard, Mr. George Porter, Mr. Progers, Colonel Darcy, Lieutenant-Colonel Edward Villars, with many more of note and eminence, whose names are unknown unto us. On the parliament side, there were slain Colonel Tucker, Captain George Massey, and Captain Hunt, and not any more of quality, that I can learn; but before his Excellency advanced towards London, he did direct his ticket to Mr. Fulke, minister of the parish of Enburn, adjoining unto Newbury, and to the constables thereof, giving them strict com mand to bury the dead, which followelh in these words : The Life and Death of Robert, Earl of Essex. 23S * THESE are to will and require, and straightly charge and command you, forthwith, upon sight hereof, to bury all the dead bodies, lying in and about Enburn and Newbury- wash ; as you, or any of you, will answer the contrary, at your utmost perils. ' Dated, September 21, 1643.' < ESSEX.' His Majesty having understood the pious care of his Excellency, for the burial of the dead, on both sides ; he issued out his warrant to the Mayor of Newbury, for the recovery. of the wounded that were taken prisoners on our side, which we have here inserted : * OUR will and command is, that you forthwith send into the towns and villages adjacent, and bring thence, all the sick and hurt soldiers of the Earl of Essex's army; and although they be rebels, and deserve the punishment of traitors; yet out of our tender compassion upon them, being our subjects, our will and pleasure is, that you carefully provide for their recovery, as well as for those of our own army, and then to send them unto Oxford.' His Excellency's forces had not marched above three or four miles from Newbury, but they perceived that a strong party of the enemy made haste to follow them, who were com manded by the Earl of Northampton, and the Lord Wilmot; Prince Rupert was also there in person : they took our forces upon a great advantage in a narrow lane, expecting no enemy so near at hand. Our London brigade marched in the rear, and there was a forlorn hope of six hundred musqueteers, that marched in the rear of them: but our horse, that brought up our rear, perceiving so strong a body of horse and foot so near at hand, and conceiving themselves not able to oppose them ; in great confusion and disorder, they made their way through our own foot, and trampled ori many of them, in that height of fear, under their horses' feet. Howsoever, although this confusion of our horse did put our foot into some disorder; yet remembering the gallant service performed by them, the day before, and not willing now to lose their honour, which they knew was gained by fighting, and not by flying ; they made a stand, and discharged ten drakes 10 at the enemy, who with great fury did assault them, with their cavalry, and had lined the hedges with their foot. The lane on our rear was so crowded with the enemy, that the execution which the drakes performed was very violent, for it did beat down both horse and man, .and in the midst of the lane, made a new lane amongst them. The fall of these men was the rise of the courage of their companions; and thereupon adding fury to their valour, and desperateness to their fury, they adventured on the mouth of our ordnance, and on the jaws of death, and became masters of two of our drakes. In the mean time, a selected party of our foot were drawn out of the lane, into a field, where, on the second charge, (so hot was the service,) they forced the enemy's foot, who lined the hedges, to betake themselves unto their heels, and through the hedges, so galled the enemy with the shot, that about one hundred of them lost their lives upon the place, and the rest did fly for their safety, and were well content to- leave their prize,, which they had taken, and the purchase of our two drakes behind them. It is most, certain, and the papers printed at Oxford do confirm it, that Prince Rupert, in this last service, had three horses shot under him ; peradventure he was one of those, who,. in the vanity of their morning mirth, did boast at Newbury, that although the Roundheads were marching unto Reading, they would make calves of many of them, before they- came unto the Veal. The enemy in this manner being beaten back, the forces of the parliament, who had expressed themselves to be gallant men,, had afterwards an unmolested march unto the Veal, and the next day to Reading; where, having reposed themselves for a few days, they marched in triumph unto London, their companies so full, that it hardly could be discerned, where any were missing. With a general consent, they, declared their cheerful resolution, that whensoever his Excellency, their heroick General, should command their service, they would most readily advance with him, and esteem it their greatest happiness, to partake- '• [Small cannon, or field-pieces.] VOX. I. H ft 234 The Life and Death of Robert, Earl of Essex. with him in the honour of his dangers. The Lord Mayor and the Aldermen of the city did meet the trained-bands at Temple-Bar, and entertained them with great joy; and they had many thousand welcomes from the people, as they passed in martial order through the streets. His Excellency also (being come to London) had solemn thanks returned him by the parliament for his faithful unwearied services for the state and kingdom : and now, the winter coming on, he had the leisure for a-while to refresh himself, and to make new provi sions for war against the ensuing spring; to reduce peace unto the kingdom, and the King unto his parliament, and Oxford, and the malignant garrisons in the West, to the obedience of both : and this great work must ask some time, for the preparations of it. Therefore on Monday, May the 13th, he sent his carriages from London ; his soldiers were marched away before; and on Tuesday, May the 14th, very early in the morning, he followed after them, towards Oxford. The gallant commander, Sir William Waller, advanced with him, but at some distance, to ease the countries through which they marched ; and great care was taken to punish all disorders in his soldiers, as may appear by this his pro clamation : * Robert, Earl of Essex, Captain-General of the Army, employed for the Defence of the Protestant Religion, King, Parliament, and Kingdom. ' WHEREAS these countries have been very much afflicted and oppressed by the enemy, and we are now come to relieve them of their hard bondage : it is therefore my express will and pleasure, arid I do hereby straightly charge and command all officers, and soldiers, of horse, foot, and dragoons, belonging to the army, under my command, that they, and every of them, do forthwith, after proclamation hereof made, forbear (notwithstanding any pretence whatsoever) to plunder or spoil any of the goods of the inhabitants of these countries, or to offer any violence, or other prejudice unto them, upon pain of death, without mercy. v ' Given under my hand and seal. , ' ESSEX.* His Excellency being now in the field, with a resolution to encounter with the King's armies, wheresoever he could meet them ; he received intelligence, that the Earl of Forth, and the Lord Hopton, had made a late muster of them upon Wantage Downs. There is no where to be found a fairer place for two armies, to try the justice of their cause by battle : but they, hearing that the Earl of Essex was advancing towards them, retired to wards Abingdon. His Excellency did send a party after them, of three thousand horse and foot, which were commanded by the Field-Marshal, the most noble Lord Roberts, and by Sir Philip Stapleton, Lieutenarit-General of the horse ; who advanced towards them, with so much resolution, that in some disorder they abandoned the town, which was imme diately entered by the Lord* Roberts ; his Excellency, with the main body of the army, following after, and intending to take up his quarters in that town himself. The enemy, at their departure, had drawn off their artillery, and took with them their magazine, which they did send to Oxford ; but a great body of their army, consisting of five thousand horse and foot, and commanded by the Lord Hopton, did march by Oxford unto Islip, which is in the way to Worcester, and there they took up quarters for one night ; but Captain Temple, who was sent from Newport-Pagnel with some troops of horse to dis cover only, and not to charge the enemy ; being in the height of his youth, and full of the gallant fire of courage, and finding withal so fit an opportunity, he resolved to beat up the enemy's quarters ; which he performed with so much resolution and success, that he took fifty brave horses ; eighteen prisoners, whereof one was a knight ; eight packs of kersey, which came from Exeter, and 150/. in ready money; and gave such an alarm to the enemy' that they fled from Islip to Oxford, crying out, ' Essex was at their heels ;' which did strike such a terror into them at Oxford, that they did shut the gates of the city ; and for a-while (until better information was received) they would not suffer Colonel Aston's own troop to The Life and Death of Robert, Earl of Essex. 2&& «nter, which was one of the three troops which this gallant Captain did so bravely rouse in their quarters at Islip. Not long after, the Earl of Essex, having first rode round about the city of Oxford, and taken a perfect view of it, did sit down before it, with so powerful an army, that his Majesty, on Monday, June the third, about twelve of the clock at night, did take horse, attended with certain troops who carried some foot mounted behind them. There followed him thirty coaches of ladies, who, conceiving that Oxford would be besieged, were unwilling to endure the fury of the siege ; and therefore, the danger being manifest, and our armies almost round about them, in great tumult and disorder they hurried away; leaving behind them many costly moveables, which afterwards became a rich booty to their unfaithful servants. The King being gone, immediately the intelligence thereof was brought unto his Excel lency, and the active and vigilant Sir William Waller was desired to attend him, who being come to Whitney, with his forces,- which is but five miles from Burford, where the King then was ; his Majesty's scouts came galloping in, and brought the sad news that our forces were at hand. On this, in a great fright, they all cried out, ' To horse, to horse ;' and the-King, with his sword drawn, did ride about the town, to hasten his men away. About a day or two after, his Majesty's forces, in a flying march, did come to Parshaw bridge, which they pulled up, and (necessity being the mother of invention) they laid loose boards upon stones, for a party of their forces, then behind, to pass over; which being done, they intended to take the boards away, to hinder the passage of Sir William Waller's forces that were in their pursuit : but this party being come to the bridge, and hastily passing over it, the loose boards did slip from the stones, and they who were upon the bridge did fall into the river, and were drowned. The valiant Sir William Waller did lose no time to overtake the forces of the King : and his Excellency well knowing what a con siderable and sufficient strength he had to prosecute the pursuit ; and believing that Colonel Massey would join his forces with hirn, he resolved to march westward, and, with what speed he could, to send relief to the distressed town of Lyme; but, before the forces intended could arrive, Prince Maurice was gone, and the siege raised by our renowned Lord- Ad miral, the Right Honourable the Earl of Warwick. This town being thus seasonably relieved, (where the besieged, both male and female, and of all ages, shewed incomparable examples of fortitude and patience, to the wonder of their adversaries, and of generations to come,) the Lord-Admiral did advertise his Ex cellency, that, for the more speedy reducing of the West, he would be assistant to him, and to that purpose, that, as he moved by land, he would sail by sea, to attend him in his marches. The town of Weymouth, a haven-town, was summoned, which, understanding that his Excellency the Earl of Essex was coming before it by land, and the Lord-Admiral by sea, it presently did submit unto the noble Sir William Belfbre ; who did summon it for his Excellency, upon conditions, that the commanders and officers should go away on horseback, with their swords and pistols, and the common soldiers only with staves in their hands. There were taken in the town twenty- seven pieces of ordnance, fifty pieces lying in the harbour, and all the ships in it, and near unto it, and above an hundred barrels of powder, besides much arms and ammunition. His Excellency being now come into the centre of the West, the countries round about did come in unto him, and the garrisons did surrender at the first sound of his trumpet : they opened their gates to entertain his army, and they opened their hearts to entertain himself. There came unto him at Chard, within the circuit of twelve miles, at least four thousand men, who were all in one meadow, drawn into ranks and files, where his Excel lency came in person to welcome them ; and the Lord Roberts, Lord Marshal of the field, made them an excellent speech, which they received with loud and repeated acclamations ; offering to live and die, in the cause of the parliament, as their friends at Dorchester did before them. Much about the same time, his Excellency having understood that Prince Maurice had drawn a great part of the garrison from Barnstable, and the inhabitants being confident of his assistance and approach* tbe other part of the garrison heing marched forth upon some 236 The Life and Death of Robert, Earl of Essex. plundering design, they resisted them upon their return, and would not grant admittance to them ; and a party of horse commanded by the Lord Roberts, and Sir Philip Stapleton11, came so opportunely to their aid, that they chased them from that garrison, and, being received themselves with great joy, they became absolute masters of it. for the parliament. Not long after, the most noble the Lord Roberts was designed by his Excellency to march into Cornwall, which did so encourage the garrison of Plymouth, that they did put on a gallant resolution to make a sally forth ; which they so well performed, that, about seven miles from Plymouth, they did beat up a quarter of their enemies, and took forty-four horse, with their riders : and although that Sir Richard Greenvile did attempt to rescue them, with a considerable strength; he was beaten off, and forced to fly in great disorder, with the loss of divers of his ablest men. In this service two, of the chiefest commanders of the enemy were slain ; and Colonel Digby, brother to George Lord Digby, was wounded in the face ; and Greenvile himself, who before had lost his honour, was so close put to it, that he was in apparent danger of the loss of his life. The conclusion of one victory was the beginning of another ; for this gallant service was no sooner atchieved, but his Excellency understood the glad tidings of the taking of Taunton Castle, by the forces which he sent thither, under the command of Sir Robert Pye, and Colonel Blake. This was a castle-town, and of great strength and great concernment, as in the year following the enemies proved to their cost ; who, with a mighty power, did lie long before it, but were never able to take it, either by force, or by persuasion. In it they found four iron pieces, six murtherers 12, great store of arms, of ammunition, and pro vision. His Excellency was now on his march towards Plymouth, which his enemies no sooner understood, but, though they were at least three thousand strong, they presently aban doned their holds, and retreated into Cornwall ; by this means his Excellency possessed himself of Mount-Stamford, Plimpton, Salt-ash, and divers other small garrisons, with their ordnance, which, by reason of the strength of their fear, and the apprehension of their sudden danger, they were not able to draw off. From these places adjoining unto Ply mouth, his Excellency advanced towards Tavistock. Here Sir Richard Greenvile's house was stormed ; the enemy, in -vain, hanging out a white flag, and desiring parley : quarter for life was granted to all, the Irish excepted. In this house were taken two pieces of cannon, eight hundred arms and more, a great quantity of rich furniture, and three thou sand pounds in money and in plate. Sir Richard Greenvile was not here in person, he was retired to Newbridge, which is a passage into Cornwall, which he strongly guarded; but the forces of his Excellency, after some dispute, did beat him from it, having slain about an hundred and fifty of the enemy, and taken many prisoners, and became masters of that passage : Lanceston at the first approach of his Excellency did submit itself unto his mercy. From Newbridge Sir Richard Greenvile retreated, or rather fled to Horsebridge ; but the right valiant the Lord Roberts did pursue him with his brigade, and forced his passage over the bridge ; and, about Lesturhiel, overtook him, and encountered with him. He found his forces to be stronger than fame had at the first reported them : but valour regards not numbers; for he charged On them with such dexterity, judgment, success, and resolution, that he covered the place with the carcases of his enemies, and took about orie hundred and fifty of them prisoners. Immediately upon this, Bodwin, Tadcaster, and Foy did stoop unto his Excellency, and that with such willing humility, that they seemed rather to honour and embrace, than to fear their conqueror: a conqueror he was, who overcame his enemies as much by his goodness as his greatness, and obliged them rather by his humanity than his power. His Majesty understanding that his Excellency, with his army, was advanced into Cornwall, he was resolved to march after him, for he found that his army did daily increase " [According to Sir William Waller's Recollections, Sir Philip Stapleton died of the plague at Calais: but he mentions not the year.] / a JThese were small pieces of cannon, chiefly made use of in the forecastle, or the steerage of a ship.] The Life and Death of Robert, Earl of Essex. 237 in number ; the presence of a Prince, by a secret attraction, always prevailing on the affections of the people ; whereuponhis Excellency did write unto the parliament, that a considerable party might be sent unto him, to charge the rear of his Majesty's army, whilst he did fall upon the van, which might prove a speedy and a happy means for the securing of the King's person, and for the concluding of the war. He advertised them, that he found the people to be a wild and disproportioned body of several and uncertain heads, and un certain hearts ; and that they were apt lo profane in the evening, what with so much zeal and joy they received in the morning. He desired that money might be sewt unto him, to encourage his soldiers, and to confirm the people. But his Majesty, although he was marched up after his Excellency, and was now about Exeter, was forced to send for provisions for his army into Somersetshire, of which Lieute- riant-General Middleton having received intelligence, he valiantly encountered their convoy, and took many of their horse, and seized on many of their carriages. Not long after he encountered with Sir Francis Dorrington's and Sir William Courtney's forces, which consisted of a considerable body of horse and dragoons; and, although the dragoons had lined the hedges, he did beat them from them, and, with great resolution charging the horse, at the first encounter he did rout them, and pursued the victory almost as far as the town of Bridgewater. In this service he took some commanders prisoners, divers troopers, and fourscore horse. Much about the same time, a pernicious design of the enemy, to blow up his Excellency's train of artillery, was wonderfully discovered and prevented. His Excellency, with a labouring expectation, did attend the supplies of men and money, to be sent unto him. The armies of the King, and of his Excellency, were now drawn near, and daily facing one another. A party of the enemy, consisting of about three hundred horse, had one morning cast themselves into three divisions, arid, advancing near his Excellency's quarters, did dare our men to an encounter. The gallant young gentle man, Major Archibald Straughan, not able to endure the indignity, desired of his Excel lency, that he might have leave to charge them, but with one hundred horse. His Excel lency, applauding his courage, did easily condescend unto it. He received the first impression of the enemy without stirring from the place whereon he stood, and not firing on the enemy, until they came breast unto breast, he made such a havock amongst them, that many of them were observed to fall to the ground together, and the rest began to fly. Encouraged with this success; he charged the second division, and that, with so much fury, that they began to fly in great confusion, not able to endure the shock and tempest of the charge. After this he charged the third division, and having his men well armed, their pistols being all before discharged, they did now fall in pell-mell upon them with their swords, and did soon force them, by an ignominious speed, to fly to the main body of their army for their protection. The King himself was then in person in the field, and was a sad beholder of this slaughter, and disorder of his men. For this brave service his Excellency rewarded this victorious Major, who was a gentle man of Scotland, with many thanks, and appellations of honour, and with a gallant horse, esteemed to be worth one hundred pounds. His, Excellency having a long time waited for the supplies of ammunition, money, and men, and finding that none arrived, he much wondered at the cause; and the rather, be cause that he was so straitened, by the iniquity of the place wherein he was encamped, that his horse had no room for forage, and he found the army of his enemy did daily in crease in number, and in power : wherefore a council of war being called ; it was con cluded, that three thousand of our horse, under the command of the resolute Sir William Belfore, should break through the main body of the enemy; which was accordingly per formed ; and that with such a-teriipest, that they did bear down many of the enemy before them, and snatched from them several colours, which they brought with them safe to Ply mouth, as the testimony of their valour. His Excellency disposed of himself to sea, at tended with the Lord Roberts. He took shipping at Foy, and the seas danced to receive- 238 The Life and Death of Robert, Earl of Essex. him whom our land was not worthy of. He landed first at Plymouth, and not long after he put to sea again, and safely arrived at Southampton. In the mean time, the most resolute MajoriGeneral Skippon, improving his necessity into a virtue, did gallantly encourage his soldiers, who were all resolved to live and die, like sol diers, with him; and, the forces of 'the enemy advancing towards them, they were received with such undaunted courage, that the enemy were forced, for their own safety, not only to give them quarter, but to condescend to very honourable articles on our parts ; but those articles were violated, and that almost in the face of the King. I have been often informed, that Major-General Skippon, being despoiled of his scarlet coat, his case of pistols, and rapier, did ride up unto the King, and, very roundly, told him of the violation of the articles by his soldiers, as at all times in general, so at this present in particular. The King not well remembering him, did ask him who he was ; he replied, that his name was Skippon. The King demanded who were those soldiers who had thus injured him ? He shewed them to his Majesty, for, as yet, they continued within the reach of his eye; they were about nine in number. Immediately the Marshal was called, and those soldiers were apprehended ; seven of the nine were condemned to the tree, and suffered according to their sentence. I do believe, therefore, that his Majesty was not accessary to this perfidious rudeness of his soldiers, which though, peradventure, it had a connivance and a toleration from others, it received a punishment from him ; but the protesting Cornish, who, before the advance of his Majesty's army, had so freely devoted themselves to the obedience of the parliament, and the commands pf his Excellency, did shew the deepest dissimulation, and expressed the greatest inhumanity that could be put in execution ; for they stripped our soldiers stark naked from head to foot, and left them nothing to comfort themselves in this distress, but the fel lowship and the number of the distressed. In this condition of innocency and injury, they came unto Southampton ; but the indignity thereof in lively characters was written in their breasts, and will shortly be revenged by their hands. And, indeed, not long after they did meet them again at Newbury, and forgetting almost the military order to actuate their revenge, they did fall upon them like so many ljons j and, having made a great slaughter of them, they did redeem theirclofhes, with the destruc tion of their adversaries, who, having nothing to cover them but their own blood, they did remain, the next day, a woeful spectacle to the conquerors. His Excellency was not then present, but, remembering his virtue, they fought by his example ; he was about that time at Southampton, sick in body and in mind. ' There is no man who by honourable dangers did ever adventure more for wounds than he, and yet in all the wars he managed he never received any hurt, but what he did take inwardly ; which, by a magnanimous and gallant patience, he admirably always both con cealed and cured. The wisdom of the parliament thought it now expedient to call home those commanders- in-chief, who conducted their'armies in the field; that, after the great service performed for the state, the kingdom might now enjoy as much benefit by the strength of their counsels, as it received safety by their arms : and, indeed, who can give better instructions for the field, than those who- have been the leaders of our armies in it ? His Excellency, with as much cheerfulness, was ready to lay down his arms, as with re solution he did take them up; and joining with the parliament, as well in person and presence, as in affection, he did much advance and facilitate the victories to come. And now, about the latter end of March, there was a conference between both houses of Parliament, concerning the new model, for the settling of the army; the former comman ders being called to sit in the houses of parliament. It was before ordered that Sir Thomas Fairfax should be commander-in-chief of twenty-one thousand horse and foot, to be selected for this service; and that Major-General Skippon, now Governor of Bristol, should be Major-General of the whole army. At this conference there was a perfect concurrence of the House of Lords with the House of Comuions, concerning the ratification of the list of Sir Thomas Fairfax's officers, in which was made' no alteration at. all. And this was, in- Ancient Customs of England. %$g deed, so acceptable to the House of Commons, that, upon report thereof unto the House, they appointed a Committee to prepare a messenger to the Lords, to congratulate their happy concurrence, and to assure them of the real affection, and endeavours of the House of Commons, to support their Lordships in their honours and their privileges. And now, an ordinance was drawn up for raising of money to maintain this army ; which army was shortly after completed, and, with admirable success, did take the field, under the command of the renowned Sir Thomas Fairfax ; the particulars whereof shall be the happy labour of some other pen, and not of this, which precisely only must depend upon the relations of the actions and saving counsels of his Excellency the Earl of Essex. Long did he thus continue a mighty agent for the health of this land, until it pleased God to strike him with a violent, a sudden, and a fatal sickness; and now, being confined to his bed, he had no more to do with his hands, but to lift them up to heaven, and his tongue was the orator to render their devotion the more acceptable. It was the force of his body that overcame his foes by arms, but' it was the humility of his soul that overcame the Almighty by his prayers ; which being a conquest for the body not to attain unto, the exalted soul hath now presented the laurels which the body had won for the cause of the Almighty. And these being laid down at the feet of Gpd, they will be reserved in a temple not built with hands, until both soul and body shall be united; and, in the perfection of joy, shall triumph through 'all eternity. The same love, which did follow him alive, did continue to his death ; many of the nobility being always round about his bed, and attending him with their grief, whom they could not relieve with their greatness. My Lord of Holland had his hand so locked in his, when the coldness and sloth of death had begun to make heavy both his understanding and his limbs, that he used some strength to get it from him ; as if by this, at his departure, he would leave some earnest behind him, that he would carry with him the love of his friends into a better world. And thus, having made peace with heaven, and peace with earth, he departed this life on the fourteenth of September 13; leaving, in all nations, to a world of those that honoured him, the grief of his loss, the lustre of his transcendent virtues, and the attractive example of them ; which whosoever shall inherit, shall become the wonder and delight of this age, the lively model and portrait of himself, and the immWtal heir of his fame and glory. 13 [In the year 1 646 : some have said by poison, and others of an apoplexy. But Ludlow, who is likely to have been well informed, affirms his death to have been occasioned by over-heating himself in a stag-chase. The parliament directed a public funeral for him, which was performed with great solemnity in Westminster-Abbey, where a sermon was preached on the occasion by R. Vines. An elegy upon his loss was composed by D. T> Twiss, and another by D. Evance, intitled " Justa Honoraria."] Ancient Customs of England1. BEING desirous for my own particular satisfaction to search and enquire after reverenced antiquity, it was my hap to light on an old manuscript, which although in sound is Saxon-like, yet in something it savours of the Danish matters, and of the ancient British laws under the rule and government of the Danes ; which writing, writ in the Saxon tongue, I have translated into English word for word, according to the true sense and mean ing thereof. ' IT was sometimes in the English laws, that the people and the laws were in reputation ; ' and then were the wisest of the people worship-worthy, each in his degree, Eorle and ' Chorle, Theyn and Under theyn. And if a Chorle so thrived, that he had full five hides ' of his own land, a church and a kitchen, a bell-house and a gate, a seat and several * Printed in tbe year 1641. 4to. 240 Ancient Customs of England. * offices in the king's hall; then was he thenceforth the Theyn's right-worthy. And if a * Theyn so thrived, that he served the king, and on his messuage, or journey, rode in his. ' household ; if then he had a Theyn that him followed, who to the king's expedition five hide ' had, and in the king's palace his lord served, and therewith his errand had gone to the ' king ; he might, afterward, with his fore-oath his lord's part play at any need. And if a ' Theyn so thrived, that he became an Eorl; then was he rightforth an Eorl right-worthy. ' And if a Merchant so thrived, that he passed thrice over the wide sea of his own craft ; he * was thenceforth the Theyn's right-worthy. And if a Scholar so thrived through learning, * that he had degree, and served Christ; he was thenceforth of dignity and peace so much * worthy as thereto belonged, unless he forfeited so, that the use of his dignity might be ' taken from him.' These ruins of antiquity make shew of a perpetuity of nobility, even from the beginning of this Island : but times are changed, and we in them also. For King Edward the Con fessor, last of the Saxon blood, coming out of Normandy, bringing in then the title of Baron, the Thane from that time began to grow out of use ; so at this day men remember not so much as the names of them. And, in process of time, the name of Baronage began to be both in dignity and power so magnificent above the test; as that, in the v name of the Baronage of England, all the nobility of the land seemed to be comprehended. As for Dukes, they were (as it were) fetched from long exile, and again renewed by King Edward the Third. And Marquisses and Viscounts were altogether brought in by King Richard the Second, and King Henry the Sixth. But our Kings descended of the Norman blood, together with the crown of the kingdom, granted an hereditary and successory perpetuity unto honourable titles; such, I mean, as are the titles of Earldom, and Baronies, without any difference of sex at all, which thing I thought good to make manifest, by the examples of the more ancient times. In the reckoning up whereof, that I may the better acquit and discharge myself, I shall, in the first place, desire the reader to observe three things. •First, concerning the disposition and inclination of our King in the creating of the nobility. , Secondly, of the custom of transferring of honours and dignities by families. And Thirdly, of the force of time, and the change and alteration of things. For why ; our kings (who in their kingdoms bear alone the absolute rule and sway) are with us the efficient causes of all political nobility. The titles of named nobility, by our custom, have this natural and common, together with the crown itself; that, the heirs male failing, they devolve unto the women, except in the first charters it be in express words otherwise provided ; and yet, so that regard is always to be had of the time, which is every where wont to bear sway in the formality of things. In this manner (Harold being overcome) William the First, King and Conqueror, having obtained the sovereignty according to his pleasure, bestowed dignities and honours upon his companions and others; some of them so connexed and conjoined unto the fees themselves that, yet to this day, the possessors thereof may seem to be ennobled even with the posses sion of the places only; as our Bishops at this day, by reason of the baronies joined unto their bishopricks, enjoy the title and pre-eminence of barons in the highest assemblies of the kingdom, in parliament. He gave and granted to others dignities and honours, together with the lands and fees themselves.' He gave unto Hugh Lupus, his kinsman, (a Norman ) the earldom of Chester, ad conquirendum 8f tenendum sibi & hceredibus, adeb liber} per sta dium, sicut ipse Rex tenuit Angliam per cor on am. To Hanus Rufus (then Earl of Bretagne in France) and his heirs, the earldom of Richmond, ita libere SI honorific}, tit eundem Edwinus Comes anlea tenuerat. And the earldom of Arundel (which Harold possessed) he granted, with a fee, unto Roger of Montgomery. The first two of which honours (the heirs male failing) by women passed unto other families: but the latter earldom (Robert the son of Roger, being attainted of treason) returned unto King Henry the First, who gave th same in dowry unto Queen Adeliza, his wife. But the succeeding kings more sparingly Ancient Customs of England. 241 bestowed such dignities, to be holden of them in fee ; granting, for the better and more honourable maintenance of their stock and honour, the third part of the pleas of the county (as they term it) which they, in their charters, call tertium denarium, or the third penny; so that he, that received the third penny of any province, was called Earl of the same ; and so by custom the women, the heirs male failing. And if any Earl or Baron, dying without sons, had many women his heirs, howsoever order was taken, either by way of covenant, or partition, concerning the lands and posses sions, according to the common laws of the kingdom ; yet the dignity and honour (a thing of itself indivisible) was still left to be disposed of, according to the King's pleasure, who, in bestowing thereof, usually respected the prerogative of birth ; by which right, King Henry the Third, after the death of John the Scot, dead without issue, (other lands and revenues being, by agreement, given" to his three sisters,) united the earldom of Chester, with the honour thereof, unto the crown. This is manifest in the earldom of Arundel, which (after Robert Bellisme, son to the aforesaid Roger Montgomery, driven out by Henry the First) King Henry the Second bestowed upon AVilliam of Albany, Queen Adeliza his mother's husband ; and by a new charter confirmed it in fee, together with the inheritance, to him and his heirs, with the third pleas of Sussex, whereof he created him Earl. But Hugh the Great, nephew of this William the First, being dead without issue, all the earldom was divided among his four sisters, whose dignity and honour, for all that, together with the castle of Arundel, was, by Edward the First, at length given to Richard Fitz-AIan (the nephew), son to John Fitz-AIan, and Isabella, the second of the aforesaid sisters. I will now pass from Henry the Third, to Edward the First, his son; there being for a time great dissention betwixt him and certain of his nobility, viz. Gilbert of Clare, Earl of Hertford and of Gloucester; Humphrey of Bohun, Earl of Hereford and Sussex, and Con stable of England ; and Roger Bigod, Earl of Norfolk, Marshal of the kingdom ; and that all those noblemen, at length, had lost their earldoms and offices ; they being reconciled to the King afterward, they again, by new charters, received the same in this manner : The first of them to himself and Joan his wife, the same King's daughter, his second wife, for term of both their lives ; and to the children to be by both of them begotten, (his two daughters by his first wife being excluded). This Joan (called Joan of Aeon) bare unto her husband Gilbert a son, called also Gilbert ; but she, the second time, secretly married unto one Radulph, of Mount Hermeri, (without the King her father's knowledge,) and, in her own right, made the same Radulph Earl, so long as she lived ; but, she being dead, Gilbert, her son by the aforesaid Gilbert, succeeded again into the earldom ; Radulph, his father-in-law, be ing yet alive. In the same manner he restored to the aforesaid Humphrey of Bohun, his earldom and constableship, unto whom he also gave in marriage Elizabeth, another of his daughters, widow to John Earl of Holland ; and to the third he restored the earldom of Norfolk, and the office of Marshal, with the yearly increase of a thousand marks ; upon condition, if the heirs male of his body to be begotten failed, both should return again to the King. At length this Roger died, without issue, in the 35th year of him the said Edward the First, viz. in the last year of his reign ; and King Edward, his son, the second of that name, both by a new creation and charter, gave the earldom, and the marshalship, to Thomas of Brotherton, and his heirs male. These things I have thus propounded, thereby to shew, how, according to the diverse dispositions of princes, and change of times, it hath, by little and little, varied in the first bestowing of dignities and honours. Of which thing (that new law) and to them of ancient time unknown; made by King Edward the First, seemed afterward to be of no small moment, whereby, he favouring certain private men, more careful of their own surname, than of their posterity, it was thought good by him to decree to make fees to belong to men only. That law which I would in Latin call gentilitium municipals, and which the lawyers commonly call jus talliatum, and talliabile ; or the law of cutting off; for that it cutteth off successions before general, and restraineth them to the particular heirs of families; which seemeth to have given an occasion of change in the giving and bestowing of dignities and honours. For, ever since that time, in the creating of any new Earl, it is begun to be VOL, I. II 242 Ancient Customs of England. altered by express words in all charters provided, that it shall be but for term of life only, or descend unto the heirs male alone, the women being quite excluded. And for this I need not examples to prove : for why, the thing itself proveth the same. But the force and efficacy of this law of entail {or of cutting off) I have thought good, thus, in few words, to declare. And what I have said concerning Earls, the same may be said also of Barons, created by charters ; but in Barons created by rescripts, or writs of summons, yet resting upon most ancient custom, not so. For in them (one only excepted, sent forth to Henry Bromflet, wherein it was provided him, that same Henry, and his heirs male of his body, lawfully begotten, only to be Barons of Vesey) women, the heirs male failing, were not in ancient time forbidden, or imbarred, but that they might be accounted, and by name styled honourable, with the pre-eminence of the dignity, and calling of Barons ; and after they had borne a child, according to the an cient favour of our laws (and the custom of the kingdom) graced their husbands also with the same honour, and with the same, by inheritance, ennobled their children, yea, without the possessions of those places, from whence the name of such dignities and honours may seem first to have risen. For fees and local possessions, circumscribed by the law, are translated and carried from one family unto another, and usually inrich their lords, and owners, the possessors thereof; but yet of themselves neither being, nor taking away nobility, either dative or native. By example, to manifest these things, were but needless, and of little consequence ; for why, all the most ancient baronies, and the more ancient sort of Barons, at this day, are, in this point, on my side ; and, if any shall object against me in this point, unto him I will oppose either the force of time, or the carelessness and lack of looking unto. But customs are still like themselves ; nor must we detract from the authority of Kings, who, although they have such supereminent and undeterminate prerogative, as that they may seem sometimes to have of favour granted some things beside the law; yet it shall not appear they requested to have done, or yet suffered to have been done, any thing contrary to the custom of stocks and families ; so sometimes they, not regarding the solemnities of ceremo nies, and charters, hare only by their becks (that I may so say) suffered dignities and honours to be transferred ; as in Randulph Blundeville, Earl of Chester and of Lincoln, is to be seen, for the earldom of Chester he permitted, after the manner, to descend to John the Scot, his nephew, by Maud, the elder of his sisters : but the earldom of Lincoln (the King thereunto consenting) he, yet alive, delivered unto Hawisia, another of his sisters, then mar ried to Robert Quincey, by his deed, in the seventh year of Henry the Third. These things, 1 say, were of old and ancient time, but at this day. not so ; for such is the force of time, and change in altering the forms of things, as that, in eating out of the old bringeth still in new; so unto Earls, whom we said in ancient time to have been rewarded with the third penny of the province, whereof they were Earls, to maintain their honour and digriity; a certain sum of money is, at this day, yearly paid them out of the Exchequer, and they enjoy the titles of such places, as wherein they have no jurisdiction, administration or profit at all. Barons also, who, as the fathers and senators in ancient times, among the Romans, were chosen by their Sestertia ; were in like manner wont to be esteemed and valued by knight's fees ; for why, he which had, and possessed, thirteen knight's fees, and a little more, was to be accounted among the Barons, are now more seldom times chosen for their virtue, their great wealth, and large possessions. Neither is there any let, but that a man may hold, and still retain, the name and title of a barony; the head of which barony (as they term it) he hath afterward sold, or alienated to some other common person. In brief,- our King's Royal Majesty is always, like itself, constant and the same; which having regard to the virtue, stock, wealth, and substance, of any man (whereby, he may, with his counsel's service, profit the commonwealth) may in every place freely give and bestow dignities and honours ; sometimes choosing no more Barons than one, out of one and the same family : the custom of the succession of the former and more ancient Baron being still kept whole, and not in any hurt ; as we see Edward the Sixth wisely to have done in the Ancient Customs of England. 243 family of the Willoughby's of Ersby, which brought forth also another barony of Parham. Wherefore we acknowledge our kings to be the fountains of political nobility, and unto whom we may, with thanks, refer all the degrees of honours and dignities : wherefore I may not, without cause, seem to rejoice, on the behalf of our Nobility of Great Britain, which hath had always Kings themselves authors, patrons, governors, and defenders thereof, that when lands, fees, and possessions, subject to covenants, or agreements, are still tossed and tur- moiled with the storms of the judicial courts, and of the common law, it is only unto the kings themselves beholding, and resteth upon heroical order and institutions, proper and familiar unto itself; so that, Per titulos numerentur avi, semperque renatd Nobilitale virent, K prolemfata sequantur ; Continuum proprid servanda lege tenorem. viz. By titles great men's ancestors are knozvn, the posterity of zvhom enjoy the same, to their flourishing and everlasting fame. William the Conqueror, after the death of Harold, having confined the kingdom to him self, laid these foundations of ancient and worthy Nobility ; which afterwards, by his succes sors, according to the diverse occurrents, and occasions, by little and little, became at length, in the reign of King Henry the Third, and Edward the First, to appear a godly and stately building : who having vanquished the Welchmen, and contending with the Scots, bordering upon them, for principality and sovereignty, entreating of all things, concerning the common weal, with the three states of the kingdom (which consisteth of the Nobility, the Clergy, and Commonalty,) they themselves in their royal majesty, sitting in parliament, appointed unto every man a pre-eminence, according to the place of his dignity, from whom especially all the nobility of our age may seem to derive the diverse and appointed degrees of dignities and honours. Now to abbreviate much that might be writ, in the continuance of this discourse, I shall desire to straiten my purpose to some handsome conclusion, by the observation of the degrees and sitting of our English Nobility, in the parliament chamber, out of the statute of the 31st of King Henry the Eighth; who of his princely wisdom, with the full assent of the whole parliament, caused a particular act to be made, for the placing of the Nohility, in the upper house of parliament, the effect whereof I have here recited. That forasmuch as in all great assemblies and congregations of men, having degrees and offices in the commonwealth, it was thought fit and convenient, that order should be taken for the placing and sitting of such persons, as are bound to resort to the same ; to the intent that they, knowing their places, might use the same without displeasure ; the places of which great offices deserve respect and admiration ; and though merely officiary, and depending on life, and the King's gracious election, without any hereditary title or perfection ; yet are they of such high dignity, that all hereditary honour whatsoever, under the degree of, Royalty, may (at all times) without disparagement give them place and precedency. The placing of these most noble and great officers both in the parliament house, and other assemblies, is after this worthy and distinct order : That is to say, the Lord Chancellor, or Lord Keeper, the Lord Treasurer, the Lord Pre sident of the King's Privy Council, and the Lord Privy Seal, being of the degree of Barons of the parliament, are above to sit on the highest part of the form, on the left side, in the parliament chamber; and above all Dukes, except those, which are the King's sons, the King's brothers, his uncles, his nephews, or his brothers' or sisters' sons : but if any of these four great officers aforesaid shall be under the degree of a Baron, then he, or they, to sit on the uppermost part of the sacks, in the midst of the parliament chamber, in such order as is afore shewed. As touching the other, it was enacted, that the Lord Great-Chamberlain, the Lord Con- 244 Ancient Customs of England. stable, the Lord Marshal, the Lord Admiral, the Lord Steward, and the Lord Chamberlain of the King's household, shall be placed next to the Lord Privy Seal; each of them above all other personages, being of their own estates or degrees ; and holding the same prece dence, as they are forriierly named. Lastly, the principal Secretary, being of the degree of a Baron, shall be ranged above all Barons, (not having any of the former offices also), and this range and precedency to continue to all the great officers in general, which are before named ; both in Parliament, in the Council-Chamber, in the Star-Chamber, at the trial of Peers, and in all other assem blies whatsoever. This in brief is the effect of the statute, expressing the dignity and place of our most principal arid supremest temporal officers, of which the first and chiefest is the Lord Chan cellor, or Lord Keeper, who is said to be the King's conscience, his mouth, and confirma tion ; for by him all the rigours of the law are bridled, the King's will in grace-consultations revealed, and his gifts and prerogatives confirmed; before him, all the gre^t business of the commonwealth is dispatched, either at Council-Table, in the Star-Chamber, or in the Chancery, where he hath a principal voice and precedence ; and lastly, he hath the keeping of the Great Seal of the kingdom, in which is expressed a reputation so serious, that all sub jects' lives and estates are depending on the same. The next place is the Lord High-Treasurer of England, to whose trust the King's treasure is committed, who is a man of that noble, worthy, sweet, and generous disposition, of im portant confidence, of noble estimation, excellent in wisdom, and high in estimation, that to his wisdom, and excellent judgment, is referred the whole management of the King's entire estate, and the provident regard of the wealth, and flourishing prosperity of all the King's subjects: he is the prime officer of judicature, between the King and his tenants, and hath dependence on the Council-Table, the Exchequer, and the King's royal house and family. The next to these is the Lord Presiderit of the King's most honourable Privy Council, and is the chief man (next the King) belonging to the high and honourable assembly, and hath in his power, under the King's Majesty, the management of the privileges of that honourable table. The next is the Lord Privy-Seal, an especial ensign of credit belonging to this kingdom, having custody and charge of the King's Lesser Seal, which gives testimony of the King's favours and bounty; but also making the way clear and accessible to the. Great Seal, in which consists the strength of his Majesty's confirmations. These first four great officers are civil, and of judicature, as depending on the publick state. After whom, follow six other, which are as well military as civil, having the managing of all matters of honour, and war like proceedings. The first of which is the Lord Chamberlain of the kingdom, whose office is of the greatest employment in all publick assemblies; as coronations, parliaments, triumphs, or any solem nity, where the King himself rideth in person ; which office is not officiary, but honorary, depending, by a feudal right, unto the noble House of the Earls of Oxford. After this, is the Lord Constable of the kingdom, who was the first and principal General, under the King, of all the land forces, and in all occasions of martial affairs, had the principal nomination of officers, and ordering of ammunition for such employment. Then is the Lord Marshal of the land, a great and renowned officer, in whom consist the solutions of all differences in honour, and dispensation of all things appertaining to the great or lesser nobility. Next followeth the office of the Lord Admiral of the land, who is the King's General, and chief Commander at sea, and hath care and charge of all his Majesty's royal navy, and the censuring of all marine causes whatsoever. The next following is the Lord Steward of the King's household, in whose trust and government is reposed the ordering of all the great and noble families, the discussion of all controversies, the placing and removing of officers, and the disposing of all things therein, for his Majesty's rendwn and dignity. Ancient Customs of England. 245 The last of these great officers is the Lord Chamberlain of the King's royal household unto whose great trust, forth, and integrity, is committed the guard 5f KStS 5enSc°enis on t^K^Wrso "* fT"*""* °' *" °ffi°OT' ^ <^*S <££ veHt k ovJ til lS? P ? ^ ho^oever some would limit his rule above the sayters, yet it is oyer the who e court, and in all places wheresoever the King is present- with manv other privileges, which at this time cannot be fully recited ' Y nameWth!! K w ST\ °&?S' — ^^ * mUSt neces^rily add one great officer more, hSh % 1 KinSs,dlf and princpa Secretary of State, who deserves a due respect, by his ^^T^S£. m reg 1S so intimate and nigh'to a" affairs of hfs "¦£* The Form of the King's Majesty's Writ, to the Peers, to assemble in Parliament. CAR0LUS, Sic. Charissimo consanguineo suo E. Comit. D. salutem. Quia de advisa- mento & assensu eoncilu nostri pro quibusdam arduis urgentibus negotiis nos, statum Si defensionem Regni nostri Anglice Si Ecclesice Anglicance concernent. quoddam Parliamentum nostrum apud civitatem nostram Westmoriast. tertio die Novembris prox. futur teneri or dmavimus, ff ibid, vobiscum ac cum Prcelat. Magnalibus Si Proceribus diet, regni nostri colloquium habere, tractare, vobis sub fide Si ligeanciis, quibus nobis tenemini, firmiter in- jungend. mandamus, quod considerat. dictorum negoliorum arduitale Si pericu'lis imminen- tibus,cessante excusatione qudcunque, diet, die Si loco personaliler intersitis nobiscum ac cum Prcelatis, Magnatibus Si Proceribus prcediclis, super dictis negotiis tractatur. vestrumque consilium impensur. 8C hoc, sicut nos SC honorem nostrum, ac salvationem 6f defensionem Regni ^Ecclesice prcedictorum expeditionemque dictorum negotiorum diligitis, nullatejius omiltatis Teste me apud Weft, decimo-octavo die Septembris, anno regni nostri' 16. The Form of the Writ to the Sheriff, &c. for the Election of the Knights and Burgesses to assemble in Parliament. REX Vic.N. Sic. salut.2uia de advisamento Si assensu concilii nostri pro quibusdam arduis 8i urgentibus negotiis nos, statum Sf defensionem' Regni nostri Anglice 8f Ecclesice Angli cance concernent. quoddam Parliamentum nostrum apud civitatem nostram West, tertio die Novembris prOx. futur: teneri ordinavimus, Si ibid, cum Prcelatis, Magnatibus Si Proceribus dicti regni nostri colloquium habere Si tractare. Tibi prcecipimus, firmiter injungentes qubdf acid proclamation, in prox. comitat. tuo post receptionem hujus brev. nostri tenend. die Si loco prcedict. duos Milit. gladiis cinct. ma<*is idoneos Si discretos comit. prcedict. Si de qudlib. civitate com. illius duos Cives, Si de quo- libet burgo duos Burgenses de discretior. Si magis sufficientibus libere Si indififerenter per illos qui proclam. hujusmodi interfuer. juxta formam statutorum inde edit. Si provis. eligi, Si nomina eorundem Milit. Civium, Si Burgensium, sic electorum, in quibusdam indentur. inter te Si illos qui hujusmodi electionis interfuerit, inde conficiendum, sive hujusmodi electi prcesentes fuerint vel absentes, inseri, eosque ad diet, diem -Si locum venire fac. Ita quod iidem Milites plenam Si sufficientem potestatem pro se Si communitate comit. pradicti, ac diet. Cives Si Burgenses pro se Si communitate civitatum Si burgorum prcedictorum divisim ab ipsis habeant ad faciendum ^Si consentiendum his quce tunc ibid, de communi consilio dicti regni nostri (favenle Deo) contigerint ordinari super negotiis antedictis ; ita quod pro defectu potestatis hujusmodi, sen propter improvidam electionem Milit. Civium, aut Bur gensium prcedictorum, dicta negotia infecta non remaneant quovis modo. Nolumus autem, quod tu nee aliquis alius vie. dicti regni nostri aliqualiter sit electus. Et electionem Mam in pleno comitatu factam, distinct} Si apert} sub sigillo tuo Si sigillis eorum qui electioni illi interfuerint nobis in cancellar. nostr. diet, diem Si locum certifices indilat}, remittens nobis alteram partem indentur. prcedictarum prcesentibus consuet. und cum hoc breve. Teste meipso apud West. 18 die Septembris, anno regni nostri 16. 246 Ancient Customs of England. The Prerogative of the High Court of Parliament. OF all the courts of judicature in England, the court of Parliament is the chiefest and greatest council of estate, called and appointed by the King's Majesty; the Lords of the Upper House, by personal writs of summons ; and for the Commons House, a general writ is sent to the Sheriff, of every shire, or county, to call together all such freeholders (which can dispend forty shillings yearly out of their own free lands, at least) for the electing two gentlemen for Knights of the shire ; the like is directed to the Cinque-ports, for choice of their Barons ; to each city, borough-town, and university, for choice of two Burgesses, for every of them, to represent their several bodies in parliament. The Time and Place of Meeting. This honourable assembly's meeting is noticed by the King's Majesty, to all his subjects, by proclamation. The end of calling this great assembly, is either the disturbance of the Church, by heresy or schism, danger of the kingdom, by war offensive or defensive, or for the relief of the subject, disturbed in the courts of justice by ill customs, undue execution of the laws, oppression, &c. From this high court lies no appeal, the determination thereof being presumed to be the act of every particular subject, who is either present personally, or consenting by his assignee, suffraged by himself. This honourable assembly consists of two houses, Upper and Lower. The Upper is made up by the Lords spiritual and temporal, as Archbishops, Bishops, Dukes, Marquisses, Earls, Viscounts, Barons, (no member of that House being under the degree of a Baron,) all which await the writ of summons, without which, no place, no vote there; and none may absent themselves after summons, without special proxy from his Majesty, whence he hath power to depute one of the said members to give his voice for him in absence. His Majesty, who, by his prerogative royal, hath the sole power, as of calling, so dissol ving, this honourable assembly, sits on a throne in the upper end of the House; on his right hand the Prince of Wales, on the left the Duke of York. The greatest officers of the king dom, as the Lord Keeper (who is the speaker or mouth of the House), Treasurer, Privy Seal, &c. have places some on the right, some on the left hand of the throne : the form whereof is recited in the statute of 31 Henry VIII. The Manner of giving Voices in the Upper House is thus : The Lords spiritual and temporal in their parliamentary robes, the youngest Bishop reads prayers ; those being ended, the Clerk of the House readeth the bills (being first writ in paper), which being once read, he that pleaseth may speak either for, or against it. The Manner of the Lower House is in this sort : The first day each member is called by his name, every one answering for what place he serveth ; that done, they are willed to choose their Speaker, who (though nominated by the King's Majesty) is to be a member of that House; their election being made, he is presented by them to the King sitting in parliament ; where, after his oration or speech, (the Lord Keeper approving in behalf of the King,) he petitions his Majesty in behalf of the House First, for their privileges, from all molestations, during the time of sitting. Secondly that they may enjoy freedom of speech. Thirdly, that they may have power to correct anv of their own members that are offenders. Fourthly, to have favourable access to his Maiestv upon all occasions, the Speaker (in behalf of the House of Commons) promising regard *Jc\ full respect, as befitting loyal and dutiful subjects. g g and The Use of the Parliament Consists in abrogating old, or making new laws ; reforming all grievances in the common wealth, whether in religion or in temporal affairs; settling succession to the crown wants' subsidies, &c. and, in sum, may be called the great physician of the kingdom orrepublick ' Ancient Customs of England. 247 The Speaker's Place in the House of Commons. The Speaker sits in a chair placed somewhat high, to be seen and heard the better of all; the Clerk of the House sits before him in a lower seat, who reads such bills as are first pro pounded in their House, or sent down from the Lords ; for, in that point, each House hath equal authority to propound what they think meet. All bills be thrice in three several days read, and disputed on, before put to question ; and so good order is used in the House, that he, that intends to speak to any bill, stands up bareheaded, (for no more than one speaks at a time,) speaking to the Speaker, not one to another, being against the rule of the House ; and he that speaketh is to speak no more that day, to the bill he hath spoken to, to avoid spinning needlessly out of time; and their speeches must be free from taunts of their fellow members, that are of contrary opinions. The Speaker's office is, when a bill is read, as briefly as, he may to declare the effect thereof to the House ; and to bills first agreed on by the Lords, and sent to the Commons for assent, if they do assent, then are they returned, subscribed thus, les Communs ont assentus. So likewise, if the Lords agree to what is sent to them from the House of Com mons, they subscribe, les Seigneurs ont assentus. If the two Houses cannot agree; (every bill being thrice read, in each House,) then sometimes the Lords, sometimes the Commons, require a meeting of some of each House, whereby information may be had of each other's mind, for the preservation of a good correspondency between them ; after which meeting, for the most part (though not always) either part agrees to the bill in question. The assent or dissent of the Upper House, is each man severally by himself, and then for so many as he hath by proxy ; they saying only, content or not content, and by the major part, it is agreed to, or dashed^. But, in Jhe Lower House, no member can give his voice to another by proxy; the major part, being present only, maketh the assent, or dissent. After a bill is twice read there, and engrossed, (being disputed on enough, as conceived,) the Speaker asketh if they will go to question, and if agreed to, holding the bill up in his hand, saith, As many as will have this bill pass concerning such a matter, say Yea ; and those that are against it, No : and if it be a doubt, which cry is bigger, the House is divided ; the one part that agrees not to the bill, being bid to sit still; those that do, .to go down with the bill ; so plurality of voices, allows or dashes. But no .bill is an act of parliament, ordinance, or edict of law, though both the Houses unanimously agree in it, till it hath the royal assent. Touching the Royal Assent. When bills are passed by both the Houses, they ought to have for approbation the royal assent, which usually is deferred till the last day of the sessions, but may be given at any time during the parliament ; touching which, it hath been a question much debated, whether the royal assent given to any one bill doth not, ipso facto, conclude that present session ? The question is of great consequence; for, if thereby the session -be at an end, then-ought every other bill, although passed both the Houses, to be read again, three times in either House, and to have the same proceeding as it had at first, as if nothing had been formerly done therein : so must it be done of all other acts of the House. But, the 'first session of the first parliament of King James, the House being then desirous to^ have a bill passed forthwith by the royal assent, which should be security to the Warden of the Fleet, touching the delivery of Sir Thomas Sherly, out of execution ; (for it was then questionable whettier he was subject to an action of escape;) did agree, that the giving of the royal assent to one bill or more did not dissolve the sessions, without some special declaration of his Majesty's pleasure to that purpose, 18th of April, 1604. And likewise iri the journal anno 1 & 2 Phil & Marias, .21 Novemb. that the King and Queen came on purpose into the Par liament House to give their assent to Cardinal Pool's bill, and upon question made it was then resolved by the whole House, that the session was not thereby concluded ; but that they might proceed in their business, notwithstanding the royal assent given. At the giving of the royal assent, it isr not requisite the King should be present in person, 248 The present State of Christendom, fyc. for, by the express word of the statute of 33 Hen. VIII. cap. 21, the King's royal assent by his letters patents, under his great seal signed by his hand, and declared and notified in his absence to the Lords spiritual and temporal, and to the Comm6ns assembled in par liament ; is, and ever was, of as good strength and force, as if the King had been there in person personally present, and had assented openly and publickly to the same ; accord ing to which statute the royal assent was given by commission, anno 38 Hen. VIII. unto the bill for the attainder of the Duke of Norfolk. The Manner of giving the Royal Assent. The royal assent is given in this sort : after some solemnities ended, the Clerk of the Crown readeth the titles of the bills in such order as they are in consequence ; as the title of every bill is read, the Clerk of the Parliament pronounceth the royal assent according to his instructions given him by his Majesty in that behalf: if it be a publick bill to. which the King assenteth, he answereth, Le Roy le voet; if a private bill be allowed by the King, the answer is, Soil fait come il est desire: if a publick bill which the King forbeareth to allow, Le Roy se amsera. To the subsidy bill, Le Roy remercie ses layaulx, Subjects accept be nevolence et ausi le voult. To the general Pardon. Les Prelates, Seigneurs, et Commons, en cest present parliament assemblies, en nom de touts votre autres subjects, remercient tres humblement vostre Majestie, et preut Dieu vous donere en suite bene vie et longe. viz. The Bishops, Lords, and Commons, in this present parliament assembled, in the name of all your other subjects, do most humbly thank your Majesty, and beg of God to give you a long and happy reign. The present State of Christendom, and the Interest of England, with a Regard td France. In a Letter to a Friend, 1677. [Quarto. Sixteen Pages.] The subject of this Treatise is of that consequence, that it needs no recommendation, in the present posture of affairs; and the interest of every state of Christendom, to oppose and curb the ambition of France, is here so clearly and justly described and proved, that nothing can be added to its perspicuity and strength of argument. YOU gave me a brief and a pertinent deduction, the other day, of the French practices and designs; the progress of their arms, and the methods of their proceedings • to gether with a scheme of the inevitable ruin and slavery that threatens Europe, without a speedy and a powerful conjunction against them. After this general contemplation of the present state of Christendom, you were pleased to take a particular prospect of the interest of this nation ; and how far we are to reckon ourselves concerned in the common calamity • coming, at last, to this conclusion, that " England cannot reasonably expect to stand lonV after the loss of Holland and Flanders." For the. support of this opinion, (besides the force of your own reasoning,) you referred me to several historical and political treatises The present State of Christendom, §c. 249 upon the subject; which I have diligently examined, and made use of, in this following discourse ; wherein I take the freedom to give you my thoughts upon the whole matter. Your first charge upon the French was, breach of faith; and you pitched upon the cases of Spain and Portugal; the barbarous usage of the Duke of Lorrain; and the nulling of the most Christian Queen's renunciation upon marriage (which was the very foundation of the Pyrenean treaty) by a pretended devolution of the Spanish Netherlands in the right of that match : their underhand tampering of Denmark, and Sweden, to draw the one from us, and hinder the other from joining with us; the influence they had upon our disgrace at Chatham1; their playing booty on both sides, betwixt England and Holland, in the Dutch war : and to these instances (which are all so notorious, that they need no expounding) you might have added a thousand more of the like quality. But these may suffice for a season able and a necessary caution, and without the helps of aggravation and clamour ; especially that extraordinary action of destroying the Queen's renunciation, and then invading the Spanish Netherlands upon it : an action hardly to be paralleled in the story of the whole world, for a concurrence of so many enormous circumstances. There was in it the publick faith of the two crowns; which is the only security of government, and the bond of human society : there was in it the solemnity of an oath, at the very altar ; which is the most sacred tie of a Christian : there was also the highest profession and assurance of friendship ima ginable; which is accounted one of the most binding obligations betwixt man and man: and then there was a brother, a cousin, and an infant, in the case ; which makes it matter of humanity and honour : and yet all these cords were as easily broken as bulrushes. This single precedent may serve, however, for a warning to all princes, and states, not to leave themselves at the mercy of men of such principles. But his most Christian Majesty is not the only prince, that has been abused by corrupt and ambitious ministers. Your next observation was, that they are the greatest intermeddlers in the world, in other people's affairs; that they imbroit all wherever they come ; and that there is hardly any rebel lion, but they are in the bottom of it. For their money walks in all the courts and councils of Christendom ; nay, and beyond it too : for it is said, that the last Grand Visir was their pensioner. Was it not France that debauched Scotland first, and afterwards, En gland, into the late rebellion ? Nay, did they not stand still, and look on, to see the crown ing of the work, which they themselves began, in the execrable murder of the late King ? And did they not refuse to our gracious and persecuted Sovereign, that now is, even a retreat in their dominions? How did they prolong the war in Portugal ? What havock have they made in Poland, and what work in Hungary ? And are they not, at this day, in counsel with the Port against the Empire, and undermining the bulwark of Christendom ? How have they dashed England against Holland ; blinded the eyes of several princes of the Empire; and baffled all mediations toward a general peace? Did they not formerly, under the colour of protecting Germany, cut off Alsatia from the Empire ? And, in a word, this has been their practice, wheresoever they have come : " They covet harbours in Spain, (says the admirable Baron del' Isola) ; leagues in the Empire; factions in Poland; wars in England and Holland; passes into Italy; and the sovereign arbitrage every where. Their quiet consists in the trouble of all others, and tlieir advantage is in the publick cala mities." Nor have they any other way, than, by dividing and weakening of the parts, to master the whole, which is the capital design : and if so, there is no fence against a common enemy, but a common union. It is already made appear, by what is above said, how dangerous they are to mankind. The next hint you gave me, was to consider on it, whether the English may reasonably expect any better quarter from them, than other people ? In which point, I shall only lay the matter before you, and leave you the judge on it. The four main interests of a nation, are, religion, reputation, peace, and trade. For 1 [This was in the year 1667, when a detachment from the Dutch fleet under Admiral Ruyter, sailed up the river Medway as far as Chatham, despoiled Sheerness, and burned three large ships of war, &c. with a magazine of stores valued at «£. 40,000. See an allusion to the same event at p. 202. of this volume.]. VOL. I. K. K 250 The present State of Christendom, $c. the first of these, we shall neither fare the better nor the worse ; but lose just as much for being of another communion, as his Catholick Majesty gets, by being of the same. The question now on foot is, a communion of state, not of faith. The Alcoran and the Gospel go hand in hand ; and, at the same time, the Protestants are protected in Hungary, and persecuted in France. To say nothing of the encouragements they give there to the Jansenists2, which may, for aught we know, prove the greatest blow to the church of Rome, that ever it received since the Reformation. But what do I talk of religion, in a cause that is dipped in Christian blood, and in the tears of widows and orphans ? a cause that is pro pagated by sacrilege, rapes, depopulation, slavery, oppression, and at least a million of lives, sacrificed to it already ? The very thought of it, is enough to strike the soul of any man with horror and indignation. If you would see now, how tenderly they have handled us in the business of reputation ; pray do but cast an eye upon the character of an Englishman in their Politique de France3. ' As for the English, they are a people without friends, without faith, religion, honesty, ' or justice; distrustful and fickle to the highest degree imaginable; cruel, impatient, glut- ' tonous, proud, audacious; they will do well enough for a rubber at cuffs, or a sudden * exploit, but they understand nothing at all of the government of a war. The country is * passable enough for them to live in, but not rich enough to offer at any conquest abroad; ' nor did they ever make any, but upon the Irish, which are a weakly people, and ill soldiers.' I think it were not amiss, in this place, to desire our impertinent undertaker to turn back to the history of Philip de Valois ; and he shall there find that our Edward the Third made a shift with one army to beat sixty thousand French, and leave betwixt thirty and forty thousand of them upon the place ; and with another army in the bishoprick of Durham, to defeat as many Scots, and cut off fifteen thousand of them too. And it must not here be omitted, that this Scotch army was also animated by French counsels. I would not wil lingly run out a letter into a volume; so that, all other reflections a-part, I. shall only add, that, if the English had not ones recovered the field, and another time made it good in two of the greatest actions, of late, that have yet passed betwixt the Imperialists and the French, it is the opinion of wise men, that the latter would not have had much to brag of upon the success of this war. And this, in some degree, is acknowledged by the author of a " French Relation of the Actions betwixt the two Armies, in 1675, 1676' and 1677," (how romantical soever in other cases). Speaking of the battle under the command of the Count de Lorge, after the death of the Viscount Turenne, these are his words: Et a) reridre justice aux Anglois, Si aux Irlandois, on peut dire, qu'on leur doit une bonne par tie de cette victoire ; that is to say, ' And, to give the English and Irish their due, France is ' indebted to them, in a large measure, for this victory.' But now to our politician again : lis se haissent les uns, les autres, Si sonl en division continuelle, soil pour la religion soil pour le governement. ' The English (says he) hate one another, and are still quar- ' relling, either about religion or government.' These indecencies would almost make a man call them names : but let us pass without one angry word, from the interest of our reputation, to that of our peace ; and enquire how they stand affected to us upon that point. To say, that England has not, for a lon^ time had any troubles, either at home or abroad, which the French have not either promoted or improved, to their own advantage, is to say no mpre than that they deal with us, as they do 1 A sort of French Papists, that deny the Pope's infallibility, and differ from the church of Rome, in the doc trine of grace, &c. ; so called from one Jansenius, Bishop of ipers. 3 Quant & ce qui est des Anglois Us n'ont aucuns amis, ce sont des gens sansfoi, sans religion, sansprobite, sans justice aucune, defiant, legers au derniere point, cruels, impatiens, gourmands, superbes, audacieux, avares, propres pour les coups de main, fy pour une promple execution, mats incapables de conduire une guerre avecjugement. Leur pais est asset bon pour vivre, metis il n'estpas assez riche pour leurfournir les moyens de sortir, 8f defaire aucune conqueste; aussi n'ont Us jamais rien conquis, excepte I'Irlande, dont les habitans sont foibles, If mauvais sotdats, ifc.r The present State of Christendom, fyc. 251 with all the world beside; so that we must even have recourse again to their Politiques for some particular mark of their favour; where you shall find that our state-mountebank has not yet shewn all his tricks, but puts himself with a very grave and fore-casting counte nance upon the project of our ruin. ' A war,' says he, c of three or four years, with France, would absolutely destroy the * English ; so that, methinks, we should not entertain any peace with them, but upon very ' profitable terms*.' And then a little after : ' In fine, (says he,) the way to undo the English, is to make them -keep an army on foot; * and there is no fear of their landing in France, but to their eertain destruction, unless 'they should be invited by a rebellion; without which, their troops will, in a short time, * most undoubtedly fall foul one upon another. To keep them upon continual expence, it is « but giving them the alarm upon the isles of Jersey and Guernsey, Wight and Man, Ireland ' and the Cinque-Ports; by which means they will be put upon the charge of fortifications ' and garrisons, which will persuade the people that the King intends to set up a standing * army, and an arbitrary government. So long as this holds, the nation will never be- at ' quiet, but torment themselves with fears and jealousies, which may be easily fomented by ' letters in cipher, to such and such particular persons ; and in such sort to be intercepted ' as shall be found convenient. These letters may give a hint of a descent in Ireland, * and elsewhere, which would dispose the Irish, who mortally hate the English, to a revolt ; ' and among the suspicious multitude they would pass for Gospel. This contrivance would ' make the Scots also to bethink themselves of recovering their liberty; where there must ' be parties made, and the sects encouraged one against another; especially the Roman ' Catholicks must be fairly handled, and private assurance given (in the name of the King ' of England) to the Benedictins (who are easy enough to be imposed upon), that they shall ' be restored to all their former benefits, according to the printed Monasticon; which will ' presently make the Roman Catholicks declare themselves ; and the monks will move hea- ' ven and earth for bringing of matters about ; but then care must be taken to carry on ' the report that the King is of the Romish religion ; which will distract the government, ' and throw all into an absolute confusion.' From hence we may gather ; first, What opinion the French have of us. Secondly, That it is not only their desire and study, but a formed design to embroil us. Thirdly, That they will stick at nothing neither, to compass that end, be it never so foul. Fourthly, This libeller has traced us out the very methods of their working. As by amusing the people with forged letters of intelligence, where the first author of the plot must miraculously dis cover it ; by filling the people's heads with fears and jealousies, and leaving no stone un turned in England, Scotland, and Ireland, to stir up a rebellion ; by making use of the King's name in pretended commissions to Papists, in favour of their religion, and artifi cially insinuating that his Majesty is of that persuasion, to make him odious to his subjects; by first putting the King upon the necessity of an army, for the securing of his dominions ; and then interpreting the effect of that necessity, for an attempt upon the liberty of his people. Why has he not advised the poisoning of all our fountains too ? which would have been a cpurse of as much Christianity and honour ? But, that this trifler may not glorify himself too much in his wondrous speculations, take notice, that he is only the transcriber, not the author of this goodly piece, for the original was betwixt Richelieu and Mazarine; and it amounts to no more, in effect, than an imperfect history of the French dealings with us for a long time, and, particularly, in our late troubles. To come now from his most unmannerly malice to his reason of state : ' If I am not mis- ? Une guerre de France de trois ou quatre ans contre eux les ruinera cntierement, ainsi il semble qu'il ne faut point f aire. de paix avec eux qu' a des conditions qui nous soient tres avuntageuses. 252 The present State of Christendom, Sic. • taken, England might longer subsist in a war with France, than France could in a peace within ' itself:' (the heaviest of all judgments, when a nation must be wicked upon necessity.) And again, when he says, that * Ehgland cannot hurt France by a descent, unless called in by a ' rebellion;' he never considers, that, if England had an army on foot, and stood inclined to make use of it that way, we should not be long without an invitation. For we see what the Bourdelois, &c. did upon their own bottom, and without any foreign encouragement ; .and the whole business miscarried only for want of a vigorous second. Lastly, give me leave to say that he has extremely overshot himself in one thing more; for though this has been really the practice of the French, and is at this day the very model and rule by which their emissaries govern themselves ; it should yet have beeri kept as the greatest secret in the world: for the owning of these inglorious artifices, in publick, makes it one of the grossest libels that ever was written, against the French government; to say nothing of his oversight in dis obliging the Roman Catholicks, and laying snares to trepan them. A word now from their counsels and instructions to their instruments, which will be best known by the conformity of their behaviour to the mode of their French masters; and it is no matter to us, in what shape they appear, nor is it much to themselves ; who are any thing for profit, and the very materia prima is not susceptible of more forms. Do the French put tricks upon us with forged letters ? So do they. Do the French labour to poison the people with apprehensions that their liberties are in danger, and their religion ; and that the King himself is popishly affected ? So do they. Do the French endeavour to create mis understandings betwixt the King and his people ? So do they. Do the French blow the coal in England, Scotland, and Ireland, and, when they have set all in flame, roast their own eggs at the fire ? So do they. Do the French change their party with their interests ? So do they. What can be plainer now than that the French interest beats in the pulse of these incendiaries ? And what can be more ridiculous than be foolish over and over by the same hand ? But this is enough to lay open the source of our miseries. . The question of trade has been so beaten already, that there remains little to be added to it. Nor, in truth, needs it, since it is agreed on all hands, that the French set up for an universal commerce, as well as for an universal monarchy: and, in effect, the one is but a necessary consequent upon the other. Nor is it enough, it seems, for us to be de signed upon by them, without lending them our own hands towards the cutting of our own throats : for, upon a sober and judicious estimate, we are losers by our trade with France at least, a million and a half per annum. I shall conclude this head with one passage more, out of our Politicks of France, (and you'll say it is a pleasant one too; but it must be under the rose). Upon a presupposal of mischief that is a brewing in England, ' Now, ' (says he,) it will be our business to renew an alliance with Holland; we can wheedle ' them into an opinion, that they are the only men that understand the knack of trade, so ' that they shall have that to themselves ; the talent of the French, alas ! lies another way, ' and there is no forcing of any thing against nature: and that now is their nick of time' « to crush their competitors for the northern seas.' So that we are all of us to be served with the same sauce : but it is some degree of honesty yet, when they tell the world what they are to trust to. Now to sum up all that is said : if the French can dispense with oaths and solemn con tracts ; if it be their custom, and a branch of their policy, to fish in troubled waters ; if they hate us, as Englishmen, and are not for us, as reformed Catholicks; if, they do all they can to wound us in our reputation, our peace, and our trade; we may take for granted, that they will destroy us to all purposes, if they can ; which naturally leads me to an enquiry how far we are in their power, or likely so to be, that we may take our measures accord ingly. It will not stand with the brevity I propose, in this paper, to give you a geographical, or an historical account of places or actions ; but, in as few words as I can, I am to present you with a general view of the present state of Christendom, with a regard to the power of France ; and then to consider how far England may come to be concerned in the common * A short View of the present State of Christendom. 253 fate. Here it was, that you and I brake off in our last discourse ; so that, in the prosecution of it, I must try to walk without leading, (saving only the helps that I have gathered from certain tracts which I have read, upon his recommendation,) wherein I shall steer a middle course, betwixt some that overvalue the strength of France, and others that will have it to be less than, indeed, it is. That the arms of France are, at this day, formidable to all Christendom, is not to be denied; and Tacitus gives you the reason of it, in the case of the Romans and Britons: * There must be,' saith he, ' a common force to oppose a common danger; they struggled c one by one, till they were all destroyed5.' The French (no doubt of it) are a wealthy, a populous, and a military nation. But it must be allowed, that they are more indebted, for their greatness, to the slips and oversights of others, (and this without disparagement too,) than they are to their proper conduct and valour. The advance they made into Flanders, in 1667, was introduced by the Spaniards trusting to their assurances of friendship, and rather imputable to an excess of charity, than any want of precaution ; though it seemed not very likely, that they should march with horse, foot, and cannon, only to go a birding. Through these, and the like arts, they have raised themselves to that dangerous height where now we behold them ; taking all advantages of the unsettled condition of Spain, the divisions of the Empire, the factions in Holland, and of all other mistakes in point of foresight, and re solution, elsewhere. You know very well, the conquests they have made upon the United Provinces, the Spanish Netherlands, a considerable part of Germany, with the terror and devastation that accompanies them every where : the progress of their arms in Catalonia, Sicily, the West Indies, &c. Now what may^ be the consequences of this overgrowing power, and how to prevent them, is the matter in question. A short View of the present State of Christendom. AS it is without dispute, that the French aim at universal dominion (which is only a more plausible cover for that universal slavery which must create it), so is it accounted as indubitable a principle, that the conquest of Flanders must be the foundation of it. And according to this maxim it is, that they take their measures ; for they have made them selves masters of the outworks already, in Valenciennes, Cambray, and St. Omers; three places of very great strength and importance : and it is generally believed, by the recalling of their troops from the Rhine, and bending the flower of their force that way, that they will push for the rest this campaign. If they carry it (as probably they will, without the speedy addition of some powerful alliance), take notice, I beseech you, of that which naturally follows-. In the first place, the charge and the hazard of that war is over, which in garri sons, and in the field, has put his most Christian Majesty to the expence of keeping near one hundred thousand men in pay, (which will then be at liberty to fall in upon the Empire). Beside what has been expended in management, as the French call it, which, in honest English, is downright corruption. Secondly, This acquisition will furnish the French King with men, and monies, for an army of fifty thousand men, (and no better soldiers in Europe). Thirdly) What will become of the Duke of Brandenburg, if the French shall fall into Cleves, and Mark ; with a matter of forty or fifty thousand men more, and from thence into Pomerania and Prussia ? Fourthly, The whole patrimony of the Empire, from the Rhine to the frontiers of France, fall by an inevitable consequence into the hands of the French ; as they have already swallowed the three bishopricks of Metz, Taul, and Verdun. So that the Imperial army will be forced over the Rhine, and there probably kept in pfay, and upon the bare defensive, by the troops of Bavaria, and other princes of the French interest; while, in the mean time, the princes of Westphalia will be reduced to an absolute necessity of ranging themselves under the French protection, and changing their party. And what can be then expected from Holland,- after what they have suffered already, and under their pre- s Rarus ad propulsandum commtme periculum conventus: ita, dum singuli pugnant, universi vincuntur. 254 A short View of the present State of Christendom. sent despairs, but to content themselves with such conditions as France will give them r" For, after the loss of Cleves and Flanders, their case is wholly desperate, unless England should vigorously interpose to their relief. And the state of the Empire is neither better, nor worse, than that of their neighbours ; for they must all submit their necks to the same yoke. When matters are brought to this pass, they have before them England, Spain, and Italy ; the cloud is gathered already, and it is wholly at their choice where it shall break. There are a great many people, I know, that promise themselves many things, from the event of another campaign, for want, I fear, of consulting the chart, and the almost insu perable difficulties, that lie in the way; the means they propose are either by carrying the war into France, by way of revulsion, or by forcing the French upon a capital battle. The former proposition seems, first, very impracticable ; and, secondly, of little or no adyantage, if it could be effected. It must be considered that, beyond Mentz, Coblents, and Treves, the Imperialists have no magazine at, all ; that betwixt Treves and France, (a part of Lux emburg excepted,) is absolutely in the enemy's power. Now how should^an army subsist. there, that must, over and above, pass through a country of about twenty leagues, that is wholly laid waste, and in ashes, and without any cattle in it, or any other sort, of necessary provision ? Put the case now, that the Imperialists should break through all these difficulties, and carry an army even into Lorrain itself, the country of Metzin, or Burgundy, (which would take them up the best part of a summer too,) all the strong holds are in the hands of the French, and the country laid so desolate, that there is no living for an army there. When it is come to this, they rnust resolve either upon a battle, or a siege. If the former, the French are at liberty whether they will fight, or no, and there is no compelling of them ; for they are among their strong holds ; and all is their own both behind them, and on each side, and the country either burnt, or deserted. But carry it farther yet, and suppose the French forced upon the risk of a battle. First, the Imperialists are not sure to get the better of it. And, secondly, What if they should ? Nay to the degree of an entire victory ? All that would be expected more, for that year, would be only to take in some considerable post, and make good the ground, they had gotten for the next campaign : for it would be a madness to pursue their victory, into the heart of an enemy's country, and leave so many strong gar risons upon their backs, which would undoubtedly cut off all their convoys, and starve them. But this is still the supposing of a thing not to be supposed ; for the French, in this case, would stand upon the defensive, and not to come to a battle : or in case they should, and be worsted, they have men enough in garrison, for recruits, that would immediately reinforce them. Now on the other side, what if the Imperialists should chance to be routed ? The garrisons, which* the French hold in Lorrain, Burgundy, and Alsatia, would, in such a case, totally destroy that broken army, and cut out such work in Germany, as has not been known in the Empire for manyages. In this extremity, let us suppose that the Empire should yet bring another army into the field, and try the issue of a second battle, and miscarry ; and that the Duke of Bavaria, with other disaffected princes of the Empire, should declare themselves for the enemy : all that part of Germany that lies within two, or three days' journey of the Rhine, would be irrecoverably lost ; a great part of it being so harassed already, that it is not able so much as to furnish an army upon a march, much less for a winter-quarter. Now to the business of a siege, the French have taught us, by Philipsburg, and Maestricht, that they want neither skill to fortify a place, nor courage to defend it. So that, without a great loss of time, and men, it cannot be expected that the Imperialists should make them selves masters of any considerable place: and when they shall have carried it; what will a % town in Lorrain, or Burgundy, signify to the . saving of the Spanish Netherlands, which, if once lost, are hardly ever to be retrieved ? ' Now taking this tor granted, if England does not step in, with all the speed and vigour imaginable, see what will be the end on it. First, that the French, being masters of all th^ A short View of the present State of Christendom. 255 posts, passes, and strong holds in Lorrain, and Burgundy, may dodge, and trifle the Im perialists at pleasure, and make them spend out the year, without any advantage to the Ne therlands. The way would have been for the Irnperialists to have pressed, with an army of five hundred thousand men, directly into the body of France, and the confederate troops, in the Low Countries, to have made another inroad, by the way of Picardy, or Bologne: but since the taking of Valenciennes, Cambray, and St. Omers, there is no possibility of piercing France that way. So that a very small army now upon the Spanish Netherlands, with the help of the French garrisons, is sufficient to amuse and tire out the whole force of Spain, and Holland, upon that quarter. Secondly, France, being thus secured on that side, will unquestionably fall in with all their power upon the Empire ; unless diverted by the alarm, they have now received from England. Now, admitting this to be the condition of France, let any man of sense judge, what good the Imperial army can do to the Netherlands, (upon which single point, depends the fortune of Christendom). What if they should march up to the borders of France, with fifty thousand men ? Will not the French encounter them there, with as many, or more ? And with this odds too, that the Imperialists suffer a thousand incommodities in their march, through a ruined country; whereas the French have good quarters, and plenty of all things at hand, watching the other's motions, and improving all advantages against them. Thirdly, In this posture of affairs, the confederates must never expect to do any great matter upon the French, in these provinces, unless they do very much out-number them. And it is likewise to be considered, that these troubles falling out in the minority of his Catholick Majesty, the distractions of that government, the revolt of Sicily, and great dis orders upon the frontiers of Spain ; the Netherlands have been much neglected, till the ele vation of his highness Don Juan of Austria to the dignity of prime minister. And that it is not possible for him, by reason of the many exigencies of that crown nearer home, to send any considerable succour to the Low Countries, otherwise than by supplies of money: so that, by that time the Imperialists and the Hollanders are got into their winter-quarters, or at least, before they take the field again, the French, frorii time to time, will be ready with fresh troops, out of their garrisons, to prosecute their conquests ; which by degrees must needs break the hearts of the poor inhabitants, when they find that neither their faith, nor their courage, is able any longer to protect them. And, when that day comes, what by their armies, and what by other influences, the French will have as good as subjected two thirds of Europe. And there will also occur these farther difficulties: First, nobody knows where the French will begin their attack; which will oblige the Spaniard, and Hollander, to strengthen all their garrisons as far as their men will reach. Secondly, when the Spanish and Holland troops shall be so dispersed, wheresoever the French sit down, they must give themselves for lost, for want of an army to relieve them ; beside their furious and obstinate manner of assault, for they care not how many men they lose, so they carry the place: (and then most of the men too are made prisoners of war). Nor is the season of the year any discouragement to them neither; witness their first irruption into Burgundy, and the restless activity of their troops, even at this instant. So soon as their work in Flanders is over, ( which only England, under Heaven, is able to prevent a check,) the French will have an army, of at least fifty thousand men, about Lor rain, Luxemburg, and Burgundy, to face the Imperialists ; and at the same time, with as many more perhaps they will seize upon the dutchy of Juliers, and of Cleves, and from thence pass the Rhine, to countenance those that are of the French cabal, on the side of Westphalia ; and so, in due time, several other princes of the Empire. It is remarkable, that in a three years' war against the Confederates, his most Christian Majesty has not only stood his ground, without losing so much as one inch of his ancient patrimony, but ac tually, and almost without opposition, taken several towns, and some entire provinces, from the principals of the Confederacy; and made himself almost as considerable at sea, as he is at land : not only in the Mediterranean, and upon the coasts of Spain and Italy, but in America too ; where he has laid a foundation of great mischief both to England, and Holland, in the point of commerce, if not timely prevented. And he does little less by 256 A short View of the present State of Christendom. his money, than by his arms; for he pays all; supports the Swede, and with French money, under pretext of neutrality, maintains considerable armies in the very heart of the Empire ; which, it is feared, will be ready enough, *upon any disaster, to join with the common enemy. It is the French court that manages the courisels of Poland, and they govern the Swiss no less ; who, by the conquest of the Franche Compte, are made little better than slaves: and yet, by a fatal and besotted blindness, that republick still furnishes the French with the best of their soldiers, and helps forward the destruction of Europe; never dream ing, that they themselves are to be undone too at last. But it is no great matter, you will say, to impose upon the Swiss (which are a heavy and a phlegmatick people), but the French charms have bewitched even Italy itself; though a nation the most clear-sighted and suspicious of all others. For their republicks lie as quiet, as if they were asleep ; though the fire is already kindled in Sicily, and the danger brought home to their own doors. It is a wonder, that they lay things no more to heart, consider ing, first, the passages that the French have to favour their entry. Secondly, that they are many and small states ; weak and easily to be corrupted, if not so already. Thirdly, that though they have been formerly very brave, and in many particulars remain so still ; yet, in the generality, they are soft and effeminate. And, fourthly, that the French is there the master of the seas. These reflections, methinks, might convince any'man of the condition they are in. And certainly, they, that were not able to defend themselves against Charles the Eighth, will be much less able to encounter Lewis the Fourteenth : or if he gets in, to drive him out again, as they did the other. For they must do it wholly upon their own strength, having only the Turk in condition to help them ; for Germany and Spain are sunk already ; and the Swiss will neither dare to venture upon it, nor are they able to do it, if they had a mind to it. As for Spain; it is neither populous, nor fortified, and perhaps want of provisions may keep it from invasion. And yet, for all that, with a body of thirty or forty thousand men by the way of Fontarabia, and as many by Catalonia, the French may, if they please, in two campaigns, make themselves masters of Navarre, Arragon, Catalonia, and Valentia ; and then it is but fortifying the frontiers, and making his Catholick Majesty a tributary in Castile ; who must content himself to take what they please to give him, over and above, in consideration of his dominions in Italy, and the Spanish Indies : a possibility that England and Holland shall do well to think of. For, when he has the mines in his power, and Europe under his feet, there will be no contending. After this, they have only the Swiss, or the English, to fall upon next. For the former they are neither fortified, nor united, in affections, or religion. As for England ; they are a people not naturally addicted to the French ; sensible of their honour, and of their interest ; and the whole world is convinced of their. courage. They are united under the government of a 'gracious Prince ; and their concerns are at this instant lodged in the hands of the most# loyal and publick-spirited representatives that ever acted in that station; beside the strength of the island by situation. So that the French would find it a hard matter, either to make a conquest here, or, if they should surprize it, to keep it. But yet they have finer ways to victory than by force of arms ; and their gold has done them better service than their iron. What have we now to do then, but, in a eominon cause, to arm against a common op pression ? This is the time, or never, for Italy to enter into a league for their common safety, and not only to keep, but, if possible, to force the French from their borders- while the Imperial army holds the capital power of France in play ? And this is the time too, for the Swiss to recall alljheir troops out of the French service and to strike a general league also for the recovery of Burgundy, the only outwork of their liberties; and to expel the French garrisons, and deliver the places into the hands of the right owners. And will it not concern Poland, as much as any of the rest; that stands, or falls with the Empire, as the defence of Christendom against the Turks, anil whose own turn is, next ? This alarm, methinks, should call off the princes from the acquisitions they have made A tohort View of the present State of Christendom. 257 upon part of the Swedes' possessions- in the Empirej to the assistance of the Spanish Nether lands; and make all the French rmefecenaries in the Empire to' bethink themselves of return ing from the delusions which either the French artifice or money has imposed upon them. He, that has no regard for the head, will have less for the dependences, when he has them at his mercy. Nay the very French themselves should do well to contemplate the slavery that is now prepared for them. Their laws and liberties are trampled upon; and, till the French government be reduced to the bounds of its ancient constitution, neither the people, nor their neighbours, can ever be secure. In this dangerous crisis of affairs, it has pleased Divine Providence to leave England the arbitress of the fate of Europe ; and to annex such advantages to the office, that the honour, the duty, and the security of this nation seem to be wrapped up together. In the point of honour, what can be more generous, than to succour the miserable and oppressed, and to put a stop to that torrent that threatens Christendom with an universal deluge? beside the vindication of ourselves for those affronts and indignities, both publick and private, that we have suffered upon our own account. And then, in matter of duty, it is not only Christen dom, but Christianity itself, that lies at stake : for, in the ruin of the Empire, the Turk's work is done to his hand, by breaking down the only fence that has preserved us all this while from the incursions of the Ottoman power. Now, as nothing can be more glorious, than, at all hazards, to hinder the effusion of more Christian blood, and to save Christendom itself from bondage; it is so much our interest too, that we ourselves are lost without it. And, as the obligation is reciprocal, so the resolution is necessary. The choice we have before us being only this, either to unite with our neighbours, for a common safety; or to stand still, and look on, the tame spectators of their ruin, till we fall alone. This is so demonstrative, that, if we do not by a powerful alliance, and diversion, prevent the conquest of Flanders (which lies already a gasping), we are cut off from all communication with the rest of Europe ; and cooped up at home, to the irrecoverable loss of our reputation and commerce ; for Holland must inevitably follow the fate of Flanders, and then the French are masters of the sea; ravage our plantations ; and infallibly possess themselves of the Spanish Indies, and leave us answerable for all those calamities that shall ensue upon it ; which as yet, by God's Providence, may be timely prevented. But He, that 'stills the raging of the sea,' will un doubtedly set bounds to this overflowing greatness ; having now, as an earnest of that mercy, put it into the hearts of our superiors to provide seasonably for the common safety, and in proportion also to the exigence of the affair ; knowing very well, that things of this nature are not to be done by halves. We have to do¥with a nation of a large territory, abounding in men, and money ; and their dominion is grown so absolute, that no man there can call any thing his own, if the Court says nay to it: so that the sober and industrious part are only slaves to the lusts and ambition of the military. In this condition of servitude, they feel ^already what their neighbours fear, and wish as well to any opportunity, either of avoiding, or of casting off the yoke; which will easily be given by a conjunction of England and Holland, at sea; and almost infallibly produce these effects. First, it will draw off the naval force of France from Sicily, America, and elsewhere, to attend this expedition. Secondly, the diversion will be an ease to the Empire, and the Confederates, from whence more troops must be drawn to encounter this difficulty, than the French can well spare. Thirdly, it will not ' only encourage those princes and states, that are already engaged, but likewise keep in awe those that are disaffected, and confirm those that waver. It is true, this war must needs be prodigiously expensive; but then, in all probability, it will be short; and, in cases of this quality' people must do as in a storm at sea, father throw part of the lading over-board, than founder the vessel. I do not speak this, as sup posing any difficulty in the case, for the very contemplation of it has put fire into the veins of every true Englishman ; and they are moved, as by a sacred impulse, to the neces sary and the only means of their preservation: and that which crowns our hopes, is, that these generous inclinations are only ready to execute what the wisdom of their superiors vol. i. n 258 Strange and admirable Accidents, §c. # shall find reasonable to command. I need not tell you how jealous the people of England are of their religion and liberties ; to what degree they have contended, even for the shadow of these interests ; nor how much blood, and treasure, they have spent upon the quarrel. Could an imposture work so much ; and can any man imagine, that they will be now less sensible, when they see before their eyes a manifest plot upon their religion; their liberties invaded ; their traffick interrupted ; the honour and the very being of their country at stake ; their wives and children exposed to beggary and scorn ; and in conclusion, the privileges of a free-born Englishman exchanged for the vassalage of France? A True Relation, without all Exception, of strange and admi rable Accidents, which lately happened in the Kingdom of the great Magor, or Mogul, who is the greatest Monarch of the East Indies. As also, with a true Report of the Manners of the Country ; of the Commodities there found, with the like of sundry other Countries and Islands, in the East Indies. Written and certified by Persons of good Import, who were Eye-witnesses of what is here reported. London, printed by J. D. for Thomas Archer, and are- to be sold at his shop, in Pope's-head Palace. MDCXXII. [Quarto. Twelve Pages.] This short Relation is introduced zvith a commendation of the inhabitants and climate of the Cape of Good Hope, and proceeds zvith a description of the extent of the Mogul's country, and some account of his riches, attendance, and vicious way of living. His manner of receiving ambassadors ; his daily custom of spending the day, and his summary, way of administering justice. But what is most entertaining in this tract, I presume, zvill be the punishment the Mogul inflicted on his own son, who had labelled against him ; the story of an ape, that did many amazing, tricks in the presence of the whole court, and the conversion of one of his great Lords from Atheism, to the profession of a Divine Being, that ruleth in all the zvorld. And then concludes zvith a few hints concerning the riches, and government, of the islands of Zeloon and lapan. IN the year of our Lord 1618, and in the month of June, we arrived at the Cape of Good Hope, where we found the people of the country, albeit heathens and idolaters, yet very kind and friendly unto us ; for some small quantity of iron and old copper, we had of them, upon exchange, beeves and mutton. This Cape (otherwise called the Cape of Bona Spe- ransa) is very temperate, and agreeth well with the constitution of our people. Four or five hundred persons, sick of the scurvy, and other diseases of the sea, they all recovered tlieir health perfectly within a very few days. Strange and admirable Accidents, fyc. 259 They have a very pleasant drink, which they call toddy, like in taste to white wine, which distilleth from the pahneto trees. At our departure from this Cape, we sailed two or three days in a sea like in colour to whey, whose bottom we could not sound. We came afterwards to the country of the great Magor, or as some call him Mogul; his Lascar, which is his train, that followeth and always goeth with him in his progresses, con- sisteth usually of two'hundred thousand people of all sorts. These lodge all in fair tents, richly hanged, which being pitched according to the order of that country, they make a very gorgeous and glorious shew, as of a most beautiful and large city. This Magor hath a place called the Maoll, in which he keepeth a thousand women to serve his lustful desires. When he maketh his progress, his concubines go with him in all sumptuous manner, carried upon elephants in castles, richly covered ; or upon men's shoulders, in a frame made like the upper part of a coach, but not so close covered. He hath under him thirty-seven provinces, and very many goodly cities. The length of his country is two thousand eight hundred miles, the breadth nineteen hundred miles. When he admitted to his presence the Persian ambassador, or the ambassador of any other mighty king ; when he giveth them, either loving or kind speeches, or* looks ; then the ambassadors, in token of thankfulness, kiss the earth. But Sir Thomas Roe, the King of Great Britain's ambassador, would not so much derogate from his place, to abase himself so demissively : notwithstanding, he was always entertained with more, and greater respects, than any other ambassador \ This Magor doth every year weigh himself in a balance made for the purpose ; first, he weigheth himself with weights of silver, next he weigheth himself with weights of gold, and lastly, with jewels, and precious stones : his weight of silver, and gold, he giveth away liberally at his pleasure. After he is weighed, he mounteth into his throne, and then he throweth, amongst the standers-by, a great quantity of silver and gold, made hollow, like to the form of nutmegs, and such other spices, which his country doth afford. These ceremo nies being ended, then he beginneth to carouse and largely to drink with his nobles, till they be all drunk. The scales, with which he is weighed, are all of massy gold, richly beset with precious stones. No man hath any land in this Magor's country, but himself; he giveth pensions, and taketh away pensions, at his pleasure. No child inherits any thing which his father had in possession, but at the pleasure of Magor. All honour and gentility dieth with the person who had any, and returns back to the Magor. He sheweth himself, in publick and open manner to the people, at the least, three times in a day. First, at the sun-rising, to which he maketh low reverence. Secondly, at noon, at which time he seeth elephants fight, or some other pastimes provided for him. Thirdly, before the sun set ; but, when the sun is setting, he descendeth from his throne, and sheweth as low obeisance,, as he did at the rising. At all these times, whosoever cometh unto him as a suitor, useth no other means for his dispatch, but to hold up a paper in his hand, and he is heard immediately, and encountereth the best fortune which suitors can desire ; for either he presently obtaineth his suit, or hath a present denial ; there are no masters of requests, nor any dilatory references upon any petition. Magor's people are governed by no other laws but what lie in his breast, and the breasts of his counsellors ; yet there is no place where businesses are sooner dispatched, or where justice is more uprightly and impartially administered. Cursero, the eldest son of Magor, being of an haughty and aspiring spirit, practised to take from his father both crown and kingdom ; but Magor not only took his son prisoner, 1 [Sir Thomas Roe was highly distinguished for his accomplishments as a scholar, a gentleman, and a courtier; but so peculiarly eminent -was he in his diplomatic capacity, that the society for promotiug learning were in duced to publish his " Negotiations, in his Embassy to the Ottoman Porte ;" containing a great variety of curious and important matters, relating not only to the afiairs of the Turkish empire) but also to those of the other states of Europe at that period.] 260 Strange and admirable Accidents, $c. but, with him, some two thousand of his chiefest followers. Having taken his son, he placed him to see the execution of those two thousand he had taken : the manner of the execution being terrible; for they were put into the ground upon sharp stakes, and so left to die. After this execution, Magor shut up and sealed his son's eyes ; so that, for three years, he saw no light of sun or moon at all-. Seven years he kept him in close prison, but, at this time, he hath a little more liberty. This Prince is of a different disposition from his father, for he keepeth but one wife, and is a great favourer and protector of Christians ; he is generally beloved of all men. Magor will not undertake, nor do any business of import, but as he shall be directed and counselled by his astrologers and magicians; when they tell him the day and hour are for tunate, then he adventureth upon any .thing. He cannot endure to hear any talk or men tion made of death ; which is the most desperate and greatest folly which our age can, or doth afford, nay what madness is it ? not to hear talk, nor make provision for that which cannot be avoided. God hath appointed nothing more certain than death, because we should ever consider of if; and nothing more uncertain than the hour of death, because, every hour, we should be provided for it. Magor being much delighted with astrologers, magicians, and witches, of which his country is replenished, there came upon a time one of that crew unto him, and presented unto him an ape ; telling Magor, that the ape could do strange and admirable tricks : " Well, (quoth Magor,) we will make trial of your ape's skill and cunning:" and thereupon^ commanded the ape and her master to be carried out of that room, into another, that they might not see what was done, in their absence. Magor took a ring from his finger, and having always about him a great number of boys, two hundred, or thereabouts, (which he keepeth for unnatural and beastly uses,) he gave the ring to one of the boys, and bade him hide it; then, these boys flocking together, the ape and his master were called for: "Now, (quoth Magor,) let your ape try her skill ; I have lost my ring, let us see if she can find it." The ape's master commanded the ape to fetch the ring; the ape went immediately to the boy which had the ring, and took it out of his bosom, and brought it to Magor. Who wondering much at it ; he caused the second time the ape and her masterjjo retire out of sight, and, in their absence, he caused his secretary to write, in several papers, the names of twelve or fourteen of the greatest gods, and prophets, which either were heard or known to be worshipped, either in his country, or in any place of the world ; which being written, they were mingled on an heap, and laid upon a table : then the ape was called for, and comfnanded to take the name of the greatest god, and truest prophet, from amongst those papers. The ape went presently to the papers, and turning them up, from amongst them all, only took out the name of Jesus, and delivered it to Magor; whereupon Magor and the rest of his nobles were much amazed ; but, upon secret conference amongst themselves, thev • resolved to make further trial. Whereupon the master and the ape were commanded to go to a further room, and some persons commanded to watch them, that the suspicion of all deceivable courses might he taken away and cleared. The papers were written again with the same names, and more were added ; which being done, the ape was called for the second time, and to make choice as formerly she had been directed. She presently went to the papers, and made the same choice which before she had done; which struck Magor and his nobles in a greater amaze than at the first : notwithstanding a third trial was made, but with the like and same success; whereupon a great nobleman humbly besought Magor, that he might make the fourth trial, which was granted him. This great man was, called' Mattolet Chan, which in their language signifieth, "the beloved Lord." He caused the names to be written a fourth time, and mingled together, and cast in a heap upon the table- the ape was called as formerly she had been, and commanded to make choice of the greatest god or prophet, whose name was contained in those papers. The ape went presently to the heap, and slightly and scornfully turned them over, but took up no paper, but returned to her master. Magor and his nobles wondered more at this than of what passed before, and asked the ape's master, What might be the cause why the ape would not bring any paper', as before she had done, but turned them up in so scornful a manner ? " Perhaps, (quoth the' Strange and admirdble Accidents, §c. . 261 master,) the name, which the ape looketh for, is not there amongst them." Then, the papers being examined, the name of Jesus was missing. "Now, (quoth Magor,) let the ape shew her cunning to fetch that paper, wherein that name is written." The ape, receiving her command, made present haste to Mattolet Chan, and leaped upon him, and withal thrust her hand into his .bosom, and drew out the name of Jesus ; which she brought hastily to Magor. This, being so strange an accident, was wondered at of all the standers-by ; where of some were Jews, some Mahometans, some Christians, with others. 'This hath been averred to be true, by Mr. Edward Terry, preacher to Sir Thomas Roe, who heard it credibly reported, as aforesaid. And Sir Thomas Roe hath reported the same for truth, to sundry right honourable personages. Mr. Terry, the preacher, hath often seen the ape. The great Magor, and generally all the Indians of his country, are given over to fleshly pleasures: they may, and do keep as many wives and concubines as they will, or are able to maintain. \\ hat misery do these Indians endure, to have so many women about them, when as there be many Englishmen are grievously vexed to have the company but of one. But, perhaps, the Indian women are of a far milder temper than the English, as hereafter shall be shewed. The Indians are more jealous of their women and wives, than either Spaniards, or Italians. The father will not trust his son, after he cometh to twelve years of age, except he be gelded. The Indian women in their houses are commonly covered, and, if any woman go abroad uncovered, she is reputed a whore. Magor's subjects are tall, and of comely personage, though of a tawny colour, but they are faint-hearted. Magor will usually say, that one Portuguese will beat three of his sub jects, and one Englishman will beat three Portuguese. In this country are many several sects; some called Banians, who will kill nothing that hath life, no not so much as snakes. They have hospitals to keep and cure lame horses, lame dogs, lame birds, or any lame creature; and, when they be cured, they are set at liberty. The manner of that country is to burn the bodies of the dead, and the wives willingly burn with their husbands : but of late the women begin to break that custom. The Indians, under Magor, worship evil-favoured ugly idols, which they call Pagods; their priests are called Ioggis, or Bramines; their church they call Muskitts ; they go on pilgrimage to several places; some to Meccha in Arabia; some to the head of the river Ganges, wherein they throw silver and gold, according to their abilities; and after wash themselves in the river, and then they think they are pure and clean from all sin. These people have many feasts and many fasts, which they keep with sundry idle cere monies; some of them mourn in blue, others, as Japanuers, mourn in white. They are skil ful in physick, especially in simples. The learning which they have, which is but small, is in the mathematicks, and in natural philosophy; they have small store of bopks, because there is no printing amongst them ; ,all their books are manuscripts. Their vulgar speech is called Indostan. The speech at Magor's court is usually the Per sian language: tlieir learned tongue is the Arabian. The common people are very apt to imitate any thing which they see to be done by strangers. I cannot let pass a strange and wonderful report, which fell out in Magor's court, and hath been, by Sir Thomas Roe, reported confidently for truth. There was a Rasa (so great princes are called) who was an absolute atheist, who would always scornfully and disdain fully speak and dispute against the Deity ; not enduring either himself, or any other, where he might oppose, to acknowledge any godhead. This great Prince, sporting himself among his concubines, one of them, who was most favoured of the Prince, and might be most bold with him, when he was flouting and jesting against the Deity, plucked from his breast an hair, and withal a drop of blood followed, which was not regarded at the first. This very place, within very few days, began to fester, and by degrees grew to that extremity, that the pain was intolerable, and withal proving to be a gangrene: having used all the means, which physick, or surgery might afford him, it proved irrecoverable. This Rasa, seeing his estate, and that he had no hope of life, but a dreadful expectation of imminent death, sent to Magor to take his leave of him: Magor sent divers of his nobles unto him, to comfort him, with all the best offers and speeches which any subject might desire from so 262 Strange and admirable' Accidents, §c. mighty a monarch. Which when the nobles had delivered unto him, he made answer in this manner: "My Lord Magor is a great monarch to command upon earth, but there is a more omnipotent Monarch, which hath absolute command and power, in heaven and earth. You all know, I was an opposer, an enemy, a contemner of all Deity, and against that omnipotent Majesty of Heaven. He hath now shewed and manifested his power and jus tice upon me, who now lie in torment, every minute of an hour expecting to die. What I would not acknowledge in my life, I am constrained to acknowledge and confess upon my death; for we who live at random, and speak at large- in our lives, when death worketh nature's dissolution, we are then compelled to change our former opinions, and to acknow ledge our former errors. I was an atheist : by my own experience I dare, and can assure you, what is one of the greatest causes of Atheism : wicked lives do wish there were no God to punish their offences after this life, and therefore do flatter themselves in their life; they frame to themselves all the reasons they can devise, to persuade themselves there is no God. But, my Lords, there is no atheist, which dare, at the hour of his death, maintain and defend that doctrine of atheism, which he did in life ; for nature itself doth constrain them to a terrible recantation at the hour of death, as you may now behold a grievous example in me. What would hot I give? what would not I do, my Lords, if I might have longer time of life to acknowledge and confess freely and plainly that Godhead, which formerly I have, with scorn and malice, so wickedly denied ? Who would have imagined that I, being a soldier, should not rather have died upon some honourable wound, given by sword or lance ; than so shamefully to die upon the plucking of one hair from my breast ? This kind of death, as it is most shameful to me, so it doth more manifest and illustrate the Divine Power to be most omnipotent and miraculous. My Lords, my vital powers do fail me, I can speak no more, only this for a farewell, which, I pray you, deliver also to my great Sovereign Magor, Do you all fly and take heed of atheism ; seek out; with all the care and diligence you can, the knowledge of the only true and omnipotent God ; dare not live those wicked lives, nor maintain those horrible opinions whilst you are in health, which, as you see most manifestly in me, are so terrible and horrible at this hour of my death." Having ended these words, this mighty Prince died. From Magor's country, we sailed towards other islands, and arrived at an island called Zeloon, which island yieldeth cinnamon, and other spices, in great abundance. It yieldeth also pearls, rubies, sapphires, garnets, and sundry other precious stones. From Zeloon, we arrived at an island Called Sumatra, which yieldeth pepper, .gold, ben jamin, camphire, with sundry other rich commodities. Afterwards we sailed to Patanie, an island governed by a maiden queen. From this we arrived at Japan, which is one of the greatest and goodliest islands in the world, having great store of gold mines, and of silver : they have silver of three sorts, all un stamped ; they have small plate, which goeth in the market for buying of victuals ; they have other pieces of plate unstamped, of finer silver, and that goeth in the country to buy all other commodities; they have a third sort of plate, finer silver than any Spanish money, and this is carried away by strangers. This country is governed by an emperor, who hath under him sixty-two kings. The revenues of this emperor are infinite ; a great part raised by rice. The people of this country are proud and haughty, very warlike, yet exceeding obedient to their emperor, and the kings to whom they are subjects. They are very kiud to strangers. Justice, in this country, is severe without partiality. Thieves are not imprisoned, but presently 'ex ecuted. If a murder be committed, and the murderer escape ; he, who apprehendeth him hath three hundred pounds given him upon the delivery of the murderer ; so that few or none of the murderers escape present execution. In this country a man may walk with out danger, all hours of the night, so he does not misbehave himself. If any controversy arise betwixt party and party, it is forthwith decided; their laws are leges talionis,eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, and life for life. They worship and pray all to a saint, called Ameda; whom they esteem to be a mediator betwixt God and them. When a sol dier dieth, they are persuaded he goeth presently to Ottango Fatechman, the' God of War. '263 A Paradox: Proving the Inhabitants of the Island, called *¦ Madagascar, or St. Lawrence, (in Things temporal,) to be the happiest People in the World. [Quarto. Sixteen Pages.] I CONFESS (worthy Sir) that I have undertaken an argument, which, at the first sight, will seemf to most men idle and impertinent ; although I might answer for my excuse, that I was therefore idle, because I would not be idle ; for it may be objected unto me :'— Will you take upon you to prefer this poor, naked, and simple ignorant people, before the rich, gallant, understanding men of Europe? These are naked, we are clothed ; these are poor and miserable, we are rich and wealthy; these are simple innocents, we have hearing and experience of many things, wherein they are altogether ignorant. ^ All this I confess to be true ; yet let us examine their defects, which are supposed to con sist in their nakedness, poverty, and simplicity. As for their nakedness, I hold them there fore happy, as approaching nearest to the greatest perfection of mankind. For Adam in the state of innocency was naked ; sin and apparel entered both together, those fi°--leaves being sewed together, for a veil or covering to hide his filthiness and deformities, as his vain heart conceived, from the eye of heaven. For as a painter or statuary, havino- lim ned a curious piece, or carved a goodly image, doth take a great delight in the sight of it as of his master-piece ; for if it should by some accident become spotted, or blemished he will delight no more in the beholding of it, but is ashamed of his work every time he looks upon it, and will therefore either cast it aside, or hide and cover it out of his sight. So when this admirable piece of work, this perfection of nature, this master-piece, this epitome of the world, this image of the Deity, Man, was spotted and blemished by sin ; it grieved the Almighty, to see his image so defaced in him ; who therefore did clothe him, as it were to hide and cover him out of his sight. Apparel is but like unto so many plaisters and rollers, to cover our sores and deformities • or like masking-suits wherein we act, not what we are, but what we seem to be ; it is the outside that deceives us, and, by a juggling trick, makes us take that for a brave man, which is a piece of shreds, a mere thing a of tailor's fashioning. For example, put the spruce gallant into a contemptible habit, and what is he then ? A poor miserable wretch, in the world's opinion, which judgeth by the outward appearance, and so esteemeth him. But the same man he was ? No ; he is a ragged rogue, a tattered knave. Again, put such a rogue, or knave, into the accoutrement of a gallant, let him be scarlified and beverised ; let his jupoon be carbonadoed, to discover his damask purpoint, or his embroidered camise; arm his side with steel, his heels with iron, and his head with feather; and then, like Nebuchadnezzar's image, every man is ready to adore him; as " Will it please your Worship to command me any service ? I will wait upon your Worship; it is right as your Worship says." And all this while, we reverence nothing but a suit of clothes, which these happy people, happy in this want, judiciously contemn. Apparel to them is a burthen, an impediment, a very disease; they care not for it, they count it as an unnecessary bundle, and know that it will make them dull, heavy, and effeminate. They prefer the good constructure of the limbs, and lineaments of the body, which they have by nature, before all our artificial, bombasted patches. We wonder at them, how they can go naked ; but they wonder more at us, how we can endure to go packed up in a fardle of clouts sewed together. We are bound up in prison, whilst they are free and -at liberty: we are stifled up in our sweat and stink, whilst the exhalations of their vapours offend them not. Nor doth the coldness of the air hurt their naked bodies, more than it doth our naked faces ; it was our evil custom that clothed us, and their innocency and freedom of nature that keeps them naked. 264 A Paradox. ' For an instance of the premises, I will only call to your remembrance the behaviour of the Rassee, or Governor Andrapela, at that time, when he, with his followers, were invited by Captain Weddel, aboard the ship1; the Captain seeing him naked, did judge it to be rather by a forced necessity, than .a free election, and caused a suit of his own apparel to be given him, which he knew not what to do with when he had it. Being told, that they would defend him, and keep him warm, he said, that he had no need of them, and that they would be but a trouble to him : " for," said he, " I can pierce them through with my lance." At last, with much ado, they were put on ; but their putting on, put him into sucb a fear and agony, as if they had been so many fetters and manacles laid upon him. He looked as if he had been,ashamed of himself;' earnestly intreating the Captain that he might be set a-shore, expressing in his countenance, a great deal of grief and discontent, to be, as he thought, so discourteously dealt withal. The barge being manned, I went a shore with him, to observe his behaviour; and can testify, that he no sooner set foot on land, but he threw away his suit, flinging his doublet into one place, his hose into another, and at last he tore his shirt from his back, as if it had been poisoned with the blood of Nessus, the cen taur; and then, fetching two or three frisks, he expressed a great deal of joy, that he was freed from that bondage and imprisonment. As for ourselves, we are compelled (so miserable and poor we are) to be beholding to the unreasonable creatures for our raiment, robbing one of his skin, another of his wool, an other of his hair ; nay, not so much as the poor worms do escape us, whose very excrements we take to cover us withal, while they, in the mean time, are nothing beholding unto us ! Was nature a mother to them, and a stepdame to us ? No, but, as a kind and loving mother, she hath sufficiently provided for us. It is oar own luxurious effeminacy, that has stripped us out of our natural simplicity, and clothed us with the rags of dissimulation. Let us consider the natural beauties of all the plants, fruits, and flowers; they have no artificial coverings, yet they so far exceed man in beauty and magnificence, (the lily in particular, Truth, itself, hath spoken it,) that Solomon, in all his royalty, was not clothed like one of them. The greatest and sole monarch of the world, Adam, was clothed but with the skins of dead beasts, which divines hold, was to put him in mind of his mortality : but now' the , height of apparel is grown to that excess* that not the skins of the cattle, or the other com modities accruing, but the soil of a whole lordship is scarce sufficient to clothe us. Now the tailor is become the best surveyor ; Euclid might have spared his pains in geometry, he can measure all our lands by his yard-wand. And what are the effects of this monstrous pride in apparel, but the ruin of many noble families, the decay of hospitality, the ushering in of oppression, bribery and extortion, theft, murder, cozening and deceit, and, in the end, beggary ; or, which is worse, a death with ignominy ? Now, for pride, such is the happiness of these people, that they know not what it means; here is no man that respecteth another the better for his outside, but for his inward virtue, and natural endowments. If hediave but a clout to cover his privities, he thinks himself sufficiently appareled. Concerning their poverty, I do confess, indeed, that to be poor is to be miserable, con temptible, and wretched; a very abject of men, a reproach to his kindred,, and a shame to his friends : but if you admit this definition of poverty, which I dare aver to be a true one ' (poverty is a want of all necessaries useful for the present life); and if I can prove that they want no necessary thing for the use of this present life, I hope there is no man that. will judge them poor, but will pronounce us poor, who are always complaining of want, and them rich, which, in their imagined poverty, express no token of discontent. True it is, that they have not so many superfluous things as we have, and therein are they happy. When Diogenes came by chance into a fair, and saw so many toys and bau bles to be sold, he brake but into these words : " Oh, how happy am I, that have no want of any of these things !" And, upon a time, Aboard the Charles, then riding in Augustine Bay. A Paradox. 265 ;to shew how despicable- unnecessary things are; he threw away his dish, because he saw another lap water out of the hollow of his hand. These people know, that nature is contented with a little ; and that it is not these outward things, which make the possessor any thing the better. They know that the inordinate desire of riches is the root of all mischief; a raging famished beast, that will not be satis fied ; a bottomless gulf that cannot be filled ; a very dropsy, wherein, by desire of drink, a man may sooner break his bowels, than quench his thirst. They know that they are gotten with labour, anxiety, and care ; kept with continual fear, suspicion, and watchfulness ; and lost with extreme grief and despair. As for gold, the soul of the world (as I may call it, for it giveth life, motion, and action to all), these people know it not ; or do they know it, they regard it not ; at least, I am, sure, they value it not. Happy people, unto whom the desire of gold hath not yet arrived.. But it may be objected here, that although they respect not gold, yet they are covetous of red beads. It is true, they affect ornaments, not as incumbrances ; for them whilst we lie, as it were, chained and manacled in golden fetters, they adorn themselves with them, as with jewels i only here is. the difference, they covet red stones, and we desire a refined earth, almost of the same colour. We think them fools, because they give us an ox for a few beads; but they account us greater fools to part with such jewels-, for so small a value: for opinion of men, not their virtue, that makes them to be dear, or of small price. Those red beads,, which peradventure we value, but at six-penpe; they may rate at six pounds. But suppose, that they should see us give the price of twenty oxen, bought at the dearest market in Europe, for one white stone, of the same bigness ; would they not laugh at our extreme folly ? And yet, when it is bought, they will not give you a calabash2 of milk for it, though there is no more virtue in the one, than there is in the other3; yet the offensive condition of the diamond is notoriously exceeding the cornelian ; for the powder of the diamond, taken inwardly, is almost mortal poison, and corrodes the sto mach, as learned physicians have observed ; who never could accuse the undervalued corne lian of such a venomous quality. The golden age, so much celebrated by ancient writers, was not so called, from the estU mation, or predomination, that gold had in the hearts of men ; for in that sense, as one. said wittily, Aurea Saturni redierunt scecula, nam nunc Auro venit honos, conciliatur amor^ This may be truly called the age of gold;, •^ For it, both honour, love, and friends are sold. But, from the contempt thereof, then love and concord flourished; then rapine, theft,. extortion, and oppression were not known ; which happy age these people do at this present enjoy. But when men begin to dive into the bowels of the earth, to make descents, as it were, down into hell ; to fetch this glittering ore, from the habitations of devils, and terres-- trial goblins ; with it came up contention, deceit, lying, swearing, theft, murder, and all the seven capital sins ; as pride, covet.ousness, wrath, gluttony, and the rest :.. so that we must needs confess, that it had been happy for us, if gold had never been known. For the attaining whereof, what labours, what sorrow, and what dangers do we endure ? We are contented daily to expose ourselves to a thousand perils, to suffer a thousand injuries, in hope to enjoy it ; and yet scarce one, in a thousand, attaineth to the end of his labour. For this do we suffer a voluntary exile from our native country ; for this are we contented to be imprisoned in a nasty ship, to expose our lives to the tempestuous, fury, of the merciless elements, and to expose our bodies to the rage of the enemy's thunderipg ordnance ; where, through heats, cold, hunger, thirst, watchfulness, ill lodging, bad diet, infected air, and a 1 A gourd(. 3 This I have tried, by offering them a diamond and a red bead ; and they have taken the bead, and refused the diamond. VOL. I. MM *266 A Paradox. thousand other inconveniencies, we not only endanger our lives every minute, but some-: times lose them. But grant that we do escape all these perils, and obtain in some measure what we have so dearly purchased ; it will be so confessed, there is more care and danger in the keeping of them, than in the attaining of them. . For this do thieves lie in wait to rob us, friends to entrap us, and our enemies to betray us. Nay, suppose we do escape all these outward casualties, our inward vices, our disordered' affections, and our evil concupiscences, do all threaten to ruin us. The consideration hereof caused the Lady Catharine4, (who out of her own experience, had tried both fortunes,) that if it were put to her choice, to suffer the extremity of fortune in prosperity or adversity, she would choose adversity ; because the former was never with out danger, nor the latter without comfort. From their poverty, I come in the last place to speak of their simplicity ; which (as the simple uncompounded and unmixed elements are purest) is an argument, if not of their freedom from corruption, yet that it doth not tyrannize over them, and that they enjoy the happiest condition, which mankind can live in ; out of doubt, had our first parents been contented with that simplicity of estate, they were at the first created in, and not have been so curious in the knowledge of forbidden mysteries, they had not purchased the wrath of God upon themselves and their posterity. But let us see wherein their ignorance and simplicity doth consist. It may be objected, that they are ignorant of the use of the creatures, which we have attained to ; and of many arts that we profess; and that they are simple in all their actions. For, first, their houses are but simple sheds made with a few boughs, heaped together, in comparison of which ours are stately palaces. That their diet is gross, and ill cooked ; that they eat their meat half raw and badly dressed ; whereas our tables are furnished plentifully, with sundry delicacies, curiously dressed by the art of cookery, and that with great variety. That their drink is water simply, which is common to them and their beasts alike; whilst we are served with all kinds of pleasant wines, and other artificial aromatick drinks. That their simplicity appeareth in their ignorance of many sciences, wherein the well- heing of a commonwealth doth consist ; as the art of navigation, by means whereof, we are able to visit the remotest parts of the world, to transport our own commodities to them, and to import theirs to the enriching of ourselves ; as also, that they know not military art, nor the use of powder and shot ; all which are evidences of their stupid ignorance, both in these and all other sciences. What an heat do these small coals cast r* What a terrible shew do these poor anticks make? They are just like the pageants or the galley-foists, upon the Lord Mayor's day; deface their paintings, rip off the canvass ; thou wilt find nothing in them, but a few rotten sticks, in the one, and a trimmed dung-boat of the other. Let us compare them together by the square of reasqn, and we shall find their defects, in these things, to be a main testimony of their happiness ; and on the contrary, our excess herein, the cause of our misery and wretchedness. And first for their buildings, they are such as best suit with their free estate and condition, using them but as tabernacles for the present; and changing them according to the quality of the season, and goodness of the soil. We may commend the wisdom of the stork, and swallow, for this cause. These men fear not the oppression of a covetous landlord, nor the danger of a cracked title ; his quarter's racked-rent rends not his sleep, nor takes he care for the renewing of • his old lease; the breaking in of thieves he fears not, for he hath nothing to lose; and the surprise of enemies he regards not, for if they be not strong enough for encounter, they oan suddenly remove themselves to a place of more security. I have seen a town, consisting of above one hundred families, and all of them busied 4 Dowager to King Henry the Eighth. A Paradox.- 267 about their several employments : some about their cattle, some making of lances and darts, and some weaving of cotton, to make their aprons; when upon a. sudden, suspecting us as enemies, in the space of half an hour, they have planted and removed tlieir dwellings. The women carrying their implements for dressing their food, and their young, infants ; their children driving away the cattle, and the rest of their people as a guard unto them, with their darts, and lances, some in front, some in flank, and the rest in the rear5 ; when again we having understood the cause of their departure; with a little persuasion, they returned, and suddenly replanted themselves, and every man quietly settled himself to his business as before, without any noise, tumult, or uproar ; all which was done in the space of an hour. Whereas we, like so many wild beasts, can hardly be forced out of our dens, except fa mine, sword, or fire, do compel us : and then, oh, what lamentation, what exclamation, and grievous complaints do we make ! Yet what are our houses, but so many strong prisons, wherein the owner lies bound in several actions of debt, which I forbear to particularize ? and although he walk abroad sometimes, he doth but trail his fetters after him, and is bound to keep within the rule. He must endure discommodity of evil neighbours, the unhealthfulness of the situation,. which these happy people can avoid at their pleasure, without much pudder or turmoil. And lastly, suppose that one of our houses should take fire, by accident or otherwise, then what passion? what rage? what ungoverned fury, do we fall into? "Oh, I am undone for ever ; oh, I have lost that chest, that box of writings, that casket of jewels, out alfjs ! I am undone ; what shall I do ?" Nay, we are so far out of ourselves, and trans ported with fury; that, as if the black chambers of death were not to be found otherwise, we sometimes lay violent hands upon ourselves, and increase the danger of an eternal death, to prevent a temporal dereliction. Whereas, on the contrary, if any of their houses happen to be on fire, he is not moved at all with it, but can patiently stand by, and warm himself at the flame, and say, " Here is a good fire, I find much comfort by it : this is the last benefit my house can do me :" and in this point they are happier than we are. Their Diet. As for their food, it may be objected, that it is but coarse and simple : for defence whereof. I might answer, that it is therefore the more healthful, and agreeable to nature, who is best pleased with meats of simple qualities. But it is further objected, that it is skittishly dressed, nauseous and loathsome. How know we that? Because we love it not, is it therefore un wholesome ? One man loveth no fish, another no cheese, another no flesh ; which are not only hurtful, but poison to their constitutions. Should we therefore infer, that fish, cheese, or flesh, are poison; such judges are we of their food, which best agreeth with their consti tutions, and preserveth them in health, strength, and vigour : for they eat not, -but for necessity, knowing no other sauce, than the Lacedemonian sauce, hunger ; eating rather for preservation of life, than deligfct, or luxury; whilst we in our diet are so voluptuous,. that " we even dig our graves with our teeth," (as the French proverb hath it,) the whole world being scarce sufficient to make a Bacchanalian sacrifice for that deity, the belly. France, Spain, Italy, the Indies, yea, and the Moluccas, must be ransacked to make sauce* for our meat; whilst we impoverish the land, air, and water, to- enrich a^private table. Thus we live, as if we were born to no other end, but by gluttony and surfeiting to oppose- nature, dull the spirits, subvert the animal faculties, and heap upon ourselves an innume rable company of diseases ; it being a maxim amongst our European physicians, that glut tony hath killed more than the sword. Whereas, to the contrary, such is the temperance of these people, that I can scarce see one sick or'diseased among them. Now for wine, the cherisher of the heart, the expeller of cares and sorrows, the reviver of the spirits, and the infuser of' valour and courage, these people know it not; and herein. I esteem them (whatever our epicures think) most happy. For when I consider the dan- 5 The cause of their removal was the coming a-shore of one with a fowling-piece, to kill fowl for the Captain* 268 A Paradox. gerous effects thereof ; as namely, how it confoundeth our .reason, distorbeth our senses, dulleth our understanding, consumeth our memory, depraveth our judgment, and finally transformeth us from men to beasts:- 1 know not whether I should bewail our own miserable condition, or applaud their happy estate. Heretofore, in our country of England, all foreign wines were sold in apothecaries' shops, forthe relief of the sick, weak, and aged ; then physicians walked on foot forthe service of God's people : but when once it came to he sold publickly in taverns, then they rode on horseback like princes ; the excess of wine being a main upholder of theirs ; thence proceed fevers, convulsions, epilepsies, vertigos, lethargies, gouts, and all exotick diseases, unknown to our ancestors. Besides, what horrible and execrable actions hath it not perpetrated? What sacrileges, what rapes, what murders, have not been committed by the excess of wine ? The exam ples of this kind are infinite, and the consideration thereof moved some kings and princes6 to prohibit, and lay great mulcts and penalties upon them which used it, though with mode ration ; knowing that it transporteth men into all unjust actions, and transformeth them into beasts. * Where, to the contrary, water produceth no evil effects ; for it assuageth thirst, refresheth the spirits, abateth choler, quickeneth the senses, and temperately doth humect and moisten the inward parts of the body : and, had not the distemperature of our parents, our evil education, and our natural corruptions, prevailed against us, we might have enjoyed the like happiness which these people possess. And may not their ignorance in the art of navigation, be deservedly accounted a happi ness ? Certainly, by this means they are not contaminated with the vices and evil customs of strangers ; when we have derived to ourselves, with our commerce with foreign nations, with their wares and commodities, their vices and evil conditions ; as our drunkenness and rudeness from the Germans.; our fashions and factions from the French ; our insolence from the Spaniards ; our Machiavilianism from the Italians ; our levity and inconstancy from the Greeks; our usury and extortion from the Jews; our atheism and impiety from the Turks and Moors; and our voluptuous luxury from the Persians and Indians7: which, perhaps, might have passed without censure by natural men, had not we been infected, by this means, with some diseases of the body, as well as corruption of the soul. Be sides, to halance the account, what are our ships fraught withal, but with toys and va nities, which we might well be without, and serve but as j 'omenta luxuriosa, stirrers up of pride, luxury, and wantonness ; for which cause only, some nations 8 are forbidden to have , any commerce or traffick with strangers, lest they should be infected with their vices and evu -customs. Besides, those happy people have no need of any foreign commodity, nature having suf ficiently supplied their necessities, wherewith they remain contented. But it is we that are in want, and are compelled, like, famished wolves, to range the world about for our living, to the hazard both of our souls and bodies; the one hy Jjlie corruption of the air, the other by the corruption of religion. Their Arms. As for their ignorance in the military profession, though they be not trained up in the practice of those arms our moderns have lately invented, they retain the use of those wea- pons, which have been in use from all antiquity, I mean the lance and dart ; wherein they have attained to such perfection, that therein, I believe, no nation in the world doth equal, I am sure cannot exceed them. But, yon will say, they want defensive armour, and places of strength and retirement. It is true, they^have no other armour than their own valour^ 6 As the Turkish Emperor, and all the eastern princes. ' As the p— x, brought into England, by the first discovery of America. 8 As the'Chinese, who will suffer no stranger to come into their country. N. B. The Chinese have altered this law since this author's time. A Paradox. 260 nor forts, but fortitude and courage ; who, like the Parthians, fight flying, making their retreat as dangerous to the enemy as their first encounter. And lastly, for the use of powder and shot, and the managing of great ordnance, whereof they are altogether ignorant. Herein they are happy also, above all other nations ; it being one of the most damnable inventions that ever was forged in the devil's conclave ; against the fury whereof neither the courage of the valiant, nor the strength of the mighty, can prevail : so that if Hercules himself, whom the poets falsely, or Sampson, whom the Scrip tures truly deliver for the strongest of men, were living in these times, a child might kill them with a pistol. Let us examine the invention, state, and progress of this pernicious and cruel engine. All writers do agree9, that a German monk was the first inventor of the materials thereof; and, as it is thought, not without the devil, to shew his hatred to mankind. The first in vention was but rude and simple, but time and the wickedness of men have added to the first project, even to the mounting them upon wheels, that they might be the easier trans ported, and run, as it were, to the ruin of mankind. From hence hath proceeded these monsters of cannons, and double cannons, and culverins, these furious basilisks and mur therers", those fiery falcons and sakers ; wherein it seems the inventors knew well what they did, when they imposed on them the names of snakes, serpents, and ravenous birds ; the very names of them being terrible, and apt to begef in us a horror and detestation of them. I forbear to speak of lesser engines, but pf greater danger ; as, the dagger and pistol, which may be concealed in a man's pocket, wherewith many have been treacherously slain without any prevention. Out of this miserable and cruel magazine have issued these mines, counter mines, fire-pots, fire-pikes, oranges, granados, hedge-hogs, petards, and the like: a most cursed invention, wherein the malice of man to man is grown to that height, whom we ought to love as our brother ; that such, as can invent the most wicked, cruel, and execrable project to destroy men withal, are held the most worthy to receive the greatest honour, respect, and reward ; and now, if ever, it may truly be said, Homo homini dcemon ; that is, One man is a devil to another. All inventions, as they are but the imitations of nature, do ever fall short of the pat tern ; but in this they have exceeded nature. Take it thus briefly: the thunder and light ning, which these Salmonians would imitate, transcend the other in fury and violence; for the thunderbolt, as'natural and accidental, falleth sometimes on a tree, mountain, a tower, seldom on a' man; but this infernal engine, guided by the malice of man, aims only at man, to whose destruction it is wholly directed. There are some countries, that by reason of the coldness of the climate, as Russia, Tartary, Greenland, at certain seasons of the year, are exempt from thunder : but no country or season can privilege the inhabitants from the fury of this pernicious engine. The thunderbolt, by the means of the lightning, and noise in the air, giveth some warning to men, to avoid the ensuing danger : but this thundereth in striking, and striketh in thunder, sending the mortal bullet, as soon into our. bowels, as the sound into our ears. Therefore, we have good reason to detest the author of this so pernicious and damnable an invention. * And here I cease not, presuming to advise kings and princes, (this being but a paradox) in the use of the instrument, (for I know it to be as well defensive as offensive) but mag nifying the mercies of God towards this people ; whose simplicity hath herein made them more happy than our too dear-bought knowledge hath. advantaged us. * 9 Pareus, lib. xi. in Praef. 270 A most learned and eloquent Speech, spoken or delivered in the Honourable House of Commons at Westminster, bv the most learned Lawyer, Miles Corbet, Esq. Recorder of Great Yarmouth, and Burgess of the same, on the Thirty-first of July, 1647; taken in Short-hand by Nocky and Tom Dunn, his Clerks, and revised by John Taylor. This was a fictitious speech, published in the year 1679, intended to expose the bombast of the rebellious speakers; as zvell as the real misfortunes, which the nation laboured under, by the usurpation, in those times of anarchy and rebellion. Mr. Speaker ; I KNOW not how to speak, I know no man weaker than myself, who do acknowledge, I am as unfitting to speak in this honourable Assembly, as Phormio was to. prattle an oration of war's discipline to the great soldier Hannibal, in the presence of King Antiochus; yet out of the debility of my knowledge, the inability of my learning, the imbecility of my judgment, the nobility of this conscript Senate, the mutability of their censures, the instability of opinions, the probability of offending, the volubility of scandal, and the im- potency of my utterance, I have (maugreall these perilous impediments) adventured to un bosom and disburthen my mind before these unmatchable patriots. Mr. Speaker, I am not ignorant that you are appointed in this Parliament, to be the ear of this Kingdom, and mouth of the Commons ; and I desire that your hearing may not take any offence against my words; nor your tongue to retort me a reproof, instead of an ap- plause. Mr. Speaker, In my introduction to grammar, vulgarly eajled the Accidence, I found eight parts of speech, which is now an introduction to me to divide my speech into eight parts ; that is to say : I. What we have done for Religion. II. What we have done for* the Church III. What for the King. IV. What for the Laws. . V. What for the Kingdom. VI. What for the Subjects. VII. What for Reformation. VIII. What for ourselves. Of all these in order, as my infirm loquacity can demonstrate. Mr. Speaker, I do not herein declare either or neither the opinions of this honourable Assembly, or any fancy of my own ; but I will make plain unto you, how the malignants esteem of us, and into what odium we are fallen amongstJbreign nations. . First, For Religion : they say we have thrust out one religion, and taken in two ; that we have thrown down Protestantism, and erected Anabaptism and Brownism; that by our doctrines we do abuse the famous memory of Queen Elizabeth, King James, and conse quently King Charles ; that in their religions they were papistically minded, (which their lives and acts have and do manifest the contrary) ; and they say, it is no less than odious, and A most learned and eloquent Speech, $c. 271 high treason, to traduce either of those deceased or surviving princes, with such false and scandalous aspersions. Mr. Speaker, I would not be mistaken; I say not my own words, but I say what the malignants say of my Lord Say and of us ; they say, that the Protestant religion was wont to be, and ought,, an inward robe or vestment, for the souls and consciences of all true believers ; and that the bishops, ancient fathers,and all orthodox divines, had a care to keep her neat, clean, and handsome ; in as spotless integrity as a militant church in this imperfect age could keep it. But they say, that we have made religion an outward garment, or a cloke, which none do wear amongst us, but sectaries, fools, knaves, and rebels. They say, this cloke being, with often turning, worn as threadbare as the publick faith, full of wrinkles, spots, and stains ; neither brushed, sponged, nor made clean ; with as many patches in it, as in a beggar's coat, kept by coblers, weavers, ostlers, tinkers, and tub-preachers ; so that all order, and decent comeliness, is thrust out of the church ; all laudable ornaments trod down and banished, under the false and scandalous terms of Popery; and in the place thereof, most nasty, filthy, and loathsome beastliness ; our doctrines being vented in long tedious sermons, to move and stir up the people to rebellion, and traiterous contributions; to exhort them to murder, ' rapine, robbery, and disloyalty- and all manner of mischief that may be, to the confusion of tlieir souls and bodies. All these damnable villainies, our adversaries say, are the accursed fruits which our new- moulded linsey-wolsey religion hath produced ; for, they say, our doctrine is neither derived from the Old or New Testament ; that all the fathers, Protestant doctors, and martyrs, never heard of any such ; that Christ and his Apostles never knew it ; and, for the Book of Common. Prayer, they say in verse : Ten thousand, such as we, can ne'er devise A book so good as that which we despise ; The Common Prayer they mean : if we should sit Ten thousand years, with all our brains and wit, We should pro.ve coxcombs all ; and, in the end, Leave it as 'tis, too good for us to mend. And so much they say we have done for religion ; which is the first of my eight parts of speech ; and as my weakness, and your patience will permit, I will more briefly and com pendiously proceed to the second. Secondly. We are taxed with profane and barbarous pollutions of the Church, or houses, dedicated to God's service. They say, that we never built any, but have taken too much accursed pains to deface and pull down many, perverting the right use of them into stables, receptacles of strumpets, luxurious villains, and infernal stinking smokes of mundungo at the communion-table; destroying those things, which we, with great maturity of judgment, learning, and wisdom, set in order, enacted by former parliaments, most execrably spoiling all by the usurped power and protection of this parliament. Mr. Speaker, It is a rigorous medicine for the tooth-ach to knock out the brains of the patient ; he is no wise man that takes violent physick and kills himself, to purge a little phlegm ; nor is he a prudent builder, if his hbuse wants some slight repairs, will pull it down : a man that loves his wife, will not put her away for a few needless black patches that her face is disfigured withal. In like manner, if any thing were amiss, either orna ment, gesture, ceremony, liturgy, or whatsoever might have been approved unfitting, scan dalous, or justly offensive, it is conceived it might have been removed, or reconciled, in a more Christian way than by ruinating, demolishing, tearing, and violently defacing all, without regard of humanity, Christianity, or order, either from God or man, as too many 272 A most learned and eloquent Speech, SCc. places in this unjointed kingdom can most truly and wofully testify. And these sweet pieces of service (our adversaries say) we have done for the Church. Thirdly, Concerning our loyalty and obedience to the King. It is manifest, that we have all taken the oath of allegiance to his Majesty, and that we have also taken oaths and cove nants to make war against him. Our enemies would fain know, who had power to dis pense or free us from thcformer oath ; and likewise by what authority the latter covenants and oaths were imposed upon the consciences of men. For my own part, if there were none wiser than myself, this ambiguous enigma would never be unriddled. But it is re ported, that if we had kept our first oaths conscientiously, and not taken the second most perniciously, and performed them most impiously ; then we had never so rebelliously op posed and offended so gracious a Majesty. Mr. Speaker, Our adversaries do further allege, that our obedience to his Majesty is ap parently manifest, by many strange ways: we have disburthened him of his large revenues, we have eased him of the charge of royal house-keeping, we have freed him of paying of his navy, we have cleared him from either repairing of (or repairing to) his stately palaces, magnificent mansions, and defensive castles and garrisons ; we have put him out of care for reparation^ of his armories, arms, ammunition, and artillery ; we have been at the cost of keeping his children, and most trusty servants, from or for him ; we have taken order, and given ordinances, that he shall not be troubled with much money or meat ; and that his queen and lawful wife shall not so much as darken his door. And we have endeavoured, by open rebellion, to release him of a most troublesome life and reign, by hunting him like a partridge over the mountains; and by shooting bullets of all sizes at his person for his Majesty's preservation, on purpose to make him a glorious King in another world. We have eased him of a great number of his faithful friends, loyal subjects, and servants, by either charitable famishing, brotherly banishment, liberal and free imprisonment, parliamental plunder, friendly throat-cutting, and unlawful beheading and hanging, or ruinating as many as we could lay hands of, that either loved, served, or honoured him. All these heavy burthens we have eased him of, and overladen ourselves with the usurped ponderosity of them ; so that our adversaries say, that the weight of them will either break our backs, our necks, or sink us for ever : and they say, that, since the world's creation never so good a King had so bad subjects to use him so hardly. Fourthly, Mr. Speaker, It is questioned what we have done for the Laws. There are some that are not afraid to say, that we have transformed or metamorphosed the common laws of this land, into the land's common calamities : that, instead of the common benefit which the laws in community should yield to all men in general, we have perverted those laws to the private profit of ourselves, and some other particular persons. The civil law is turned into an uncivil civil war ; blasphemy, atheism, sacrilege? obsceneness, profaneness, incest adultery, fornication, bigamy, polygamy, bastard-bearing, cuckold-making, and all sorts of beastly bawdry are so far from being punished, that they are generally connived and winked at, or tolerated by us. And those which should be the punishers of these gross and crying crimes, as judges, officials, deacons, proctors, and other officers ; these are derided reviled libelled against, cried down, and made a common scoffing-stock of every libidinous incon tinent whore and whore-monger. The Law of God, contained in the Decalogue, or Ten Commandments, we have rased out of the Church, not so much as suffering them to be read : and the new commandment which was the last that Christ commanded, " That we should love one another " we have turned that the foul contrary way, to the spoiling and murdering one another. The law of nature is most unnaturally changed to brutish, heathenish, devilish, barbarous inhuma nity; parricide, fratricide, and homicide, hath been, and is by us defended, maintained A most learned and ehquent Speech, $c. 273 and rewarded ; no affinity, consanguinity, alliance, friendship, or fellowship," hath or can secure any true Protestant, or loyal subject, either of his life or goods, safety or freedom. These are the best reports, our adversaries, the malignant party, do give us. It is farther said, that we have infringed and violated the law of arms here, and the law of nations abroad ; for whereas messengers and ambassadors have always had, and ought to have free and safe passage, with fair and courteous accommodation and entertainment, which the Turks, Tartars, Jews, and Cannibals always observed most obsequiously and punctually : but we, contrary to them, and repugnant to Christianity, have suffered ambassadors to be rifled, robbed, and evil entreated. And we have caused his Majesty's messengers to be hanged, whom he hath most graciously sent to us with conditions of peace. By the vox populi, or common vote of those people, we are pleased to call malignants, Papists, enemies to the State ; with other scandals and epithets (which they utterly deny both in their words and practice) ; we are justly taxed to be the main incendiaries, and pestilent propagators, of all the mischiefs which this afflicted miserable kingdom groans and bleeds under ; for they say, that the old statutes of Magna Charta are overthrown by us, under pretence and colour of supporting them : and that, by our votes, ordinances, precepts, proclamations, edicts, mandates, and commands, we have countermanded, abrogated, anni hilated, abolished, violated, and made void, all the laws of God, of nature, of arms, and of arts too ; and, instead of them, we have unlawfully erected marshal law, club law, Stafford lawx and such lawless laws as make most for treason, rebellion, murder, sacrilege, ruin, and plunder : but as for the King himself, we have not allowed him so much law as a huntsman allows a hare. These are our enemies' words, and so much they say we have done for the laws. Fifthly, Mr. Speaker, This question or query is, what we have done for the kingdom. It is said, that we have done and undone the kingdom ; this ancient famous flourishing king dom ; this envy of the world for happiness ; this Eden of the universe ; this terrestrial Para dise ; this abstract of Heaven's blessings, and earthly content ; this epitome of nature's glory; this exact extract of piety, learning, and magnanimous chivalry; this nursery of religion, arms, arts, and laudable endeavours ; this breed of men ; this wonder of nations, formerly renowned, feared, loved, and honoured, as far as ever sun and moon shined ; this England, which hath been a kingdom, and a monarchy, many hundred years, under the reigns of one hundred and sixty-eight kings and queens ; this kingdom which hath conquer ed kingdoms ; that hath India, Syria, Palestina, Cyprus, tributary tremblers ; that hath made France shake, and Spain quake ; that relieved and defended Scotland from French slavery, and saved and protected the Netherlands from Spanish tyranny. Now have we made this kingdom, this England, a miserable slave to itself, an universal Golgotha, a purple gore, Aceldama, a field of blood, a Gehenna, a den of thieves, or infernal furies, and finally, an earthly hell ; were it not for this difference, that here the best men are punished, and in hell only the worst are plagued ; here no good man escapes torment, nor any bad man is troubled. The King is abused for being good and just, and his true and loyal subjects and servants are ruined and massacred for their fidelity. The Protestants are called Papists, because they will not be Brownists, Anabaptists, and rebels. And our adversaries are so bold to say, that we have plotted, and laboured long to turn this glorious monarchy into a peddling roly-poly independent anarchy, and make this kingdom to be no kingdom : and so much we have done for this kingdom. Sixthly, Mr. Speaker, they do question us what good we have done for the benefit or liberty of the subject. Many of them say, that they know too well and too ill, what and what not; they find (by lamentable experience) that we have turned their liberty into bondage, their freedom into slavery, and their happiness into an unexampled infelicity. Nay, it is reported, that we have found two ways to hell, which are, either to be rebels, or perjured ; to fight in person against the King, and to be forsworn by a covenant to owe him vol. I. N N 27$ ; A most learned and eloquent Speech, tfc. no obedience, or dutiful allegiance. They say we say, Tush, these are but trifles, which may be answered at an easy rate, a small matter will clear this reckoning ; it is no more than everlasting damnation, for which, Mr. Speaker, I am bold to make use of a speech in the distasteful Litany, " Good Lord, deliver us." The malignants do compare this Commonwealth to an old kettle, with here and there a fault or hole, a crack, or a flaw in it ; and that we (in imitation of our worthy brethren of Banbury) were intrusted to mend the said kettle; but, like deceitful and cheating knaves, we have, instead of stopping one hole, made three or four score : for the people chose us to ease them of some mild and tolerable grievances, which we have done so artificially, that they all cry and complain 1, that the medicine is forty times worse than the disease ; and the remedy a hundred times worse than the medicine. And so much is reported that we have done for the subject. Seventhly, Mr. Speaker, the malignants' query, or question, is, what we have done for reformation : what, by our industrious care, and long sitting, we have reformed ; how the service of God is by us more religiously, sincerely, zealously, fervently, and ardently, preached or practised ; what we have amended either in church or kingdom ; how either the King is more honoured or obeyed than he was before this parliament ; what good we have done this four or five years ; with what faces can we look upon the freeholders and corpora tions in every shire, county, city, town, and borough in this kingdom, who cried us up, and with their voices elected us to be knights and burgesses ; which way we can answer the same,. for our many breaches of that great trust, which they intrusted us withal ? I tell you, Mr. Speaker, these are home questions ; and they plainly say, that all our reformation is non- conformation ; and, by sure confirmation, true information, certain affirmation, we have by cunning transformation turned all to deformation. So that if our predecessors and ancestors that are departed this life (to a better or Worse) should, or could rise out of their graves-, and see the change, alteration, and unmannerly manners, that have overspread this church and kingdom; they would think they were not in England, but either in Turkey, Barbary, Scythia, Tartary, or some land that is inhabited by Infidels or Pagans : for England, as it. is, looks no more like England, as it was five years ago, than a camel, or cockle-shell, are like an owl, or a red herring. Eighthly and lastly, briefly and compendiously, the question is, what we have done for ourselves. We have run the hazard of our estates to be justly forfeited by rebellion, against a just, merciful, and truly religious King; our lives are liable to the rigour of such laws as former parliaments have enacted against rebels and traitors; and ourselves are in danger of perpetual perdition, if submission, contrition, and satisfaction be not humbly and*speedily performed, or endeavoured : for we, and none but we, have altered this kingdom's felicity to confusion and misery ; from a pleasant merry comedy, to a dismal bloody tragedy, sufficient to fill a large history of perpetual memory of us and our posterity. And thus, Mr. Speaker, have I, with as much brevity as I could, run over my eight parts- of speech ; whereby may be perceived, how the malignant adversaries do esteem of us and our actions. I could speak more than I have said, and I could say more than I have spoken - but, having done, I hold it discretion to make an end. ' See the next Tract that follows, intituled, "Awake, O England." 275 Awake, O England : Or the People's Invitation to King Charles. Being a Recital of the Ruins overrunning the People and their Trades; with an opportune Advice to return to Obedience of their Kings, under whom they ever flourished. Nauita de ventis, de tauris narrat orator ; Enumerat miles vulnera ; pastor oves. *e Let mariners observe the winds, and painful ploughmen till their grounds ; Let honest shepherds feed their flocks, whilst soldiers glory in their wounds." And so God save all who cry, God save the King. London, printed for Charles Prince, and are to be sold at the east end of St. Paul's. MDCLX. [Quarto. Eight Pages.] WE Plebeians assuming the name, not of a house, but of a kingdom of commons, having, for twenty years, stood fearfully staring (like our innocent sheep at the bark ing and howling of dogs and wolves) not daring to tune our pipes of pastime ; which to us and them were much more acceptable musick than the shrieking trumpets and affrighting drums, that, like thunder, warn us to our cottages, as in prevention of a storm. We, who have been robbed of that rich treasure, our liberty, and that of honest freedom, whereby we drew our wholesome country air with safety, more natural to us than parlia mentary pills or military lances ; even we also find ourselves to be in the condition of our poor rustick neighbour, who hearing herself abused, and in danger to be ruined by her knavish and corrupted lawyer, cried out to the judge, tfiat, in bearing, ten children, she felt not so much pain as at that time she did to hold her peace, whilst she was wrongfully divested of her livelihood ; therefore, our silence breaks forth. But our case is far worse, for ours is already gone, even all the substance that we had ; and being much against our will wasted, (noj, like prodigals, upon harlots, who, nevertheless, would have shewed some remorse towards them they had rilined). Our lot is rather like theirs, who, having fallen into the merciless hands of thieves and pirates, are left wounded and stripped, yet not at all regarded by our hard-hearted landlords, or by our leech-like lawyers, nor yet by our uncharitable clergy, who load us with duty to death, and for example are the first that fly from the trial. Even we Plebeians, beholding ourselves to be the moral of that emblem which presents the prelate praying for all, and the lawyer pleading for all, and the soldier fighting for all, and the countryman feeding all, have sadly found that we only, the despised peasants, have dearly paid for all ; therefore (if losers have leave to speak) let no man censure us, if we, being brought to the hog's ordinary, to beg the husks of them who devoured the kernels and substance of our food, be yet denied that relief; that we, remembering when we bore obedience to our pious princes, and enjoyed a heavenly Father who provided for us, do now return to him and to our gracious King, his lawful deputy, and, with unfeigned repentance and humility, cry out, saying, " O heavenly Father, O earthly divine Sovereign, we, even we, have sinned and rebelled against heaven and against thee, and are no more worthy to he called thy sons ; make us yet thy servants, O God, and O King ; that so, our timely repentance finding thy gracious pardon, we may become thy sons again." 276 Awake, O England: Or the People's Invitation to King Charles. We now behold ourselves to be as the brutes in the wilderness, and hoping our lions, who by their power, and by the subtlety of their fox-like adjutants, have made themselves bestial kings over' us, would, indeed, relieve and feed us according to their promises and our wants ; do, on the contrary, find and feel, that, instead of help, our hunger is increased ; instead of the liberty which they proclaimed, we languish in prisons; so that for. the showers of joy (after which we have long gaped) our hearts are filled with heaviness, and our tongues utter only lamentations. The oil and honey, promised us by Oliver, is turned into gall and bitterness ; Lambert's free quarterings have licked up the littje that was left in our cruses ; Lavvson hath lost the , honour of our seas ; and we who have so long feared and disclaimed, and cursed the Papists, are now forced and glad to fly to a Monk ' for safeguard, whom, nevertheless, we worthily bless; we worship him with our bodies, and endow him with our own and others worldly goods ; yea, we willingly would espouse him also, did not his order forbid him to marry kingdoms : however, we will honour him as our Joseph, for his wisdom and courage in pre venting us from devouring each other ; as undoubtedly that famine, which we foresee, and he most prudently endeavours to prevent, would bring upon us. The world admires and derides our causeless confusions, beholding that the quarrels of' the most mighty potentates of Europe, for crowns and kingdoms, grounded upon justice and right, are soon and happily composed, whilst our unjust and unnatural cannibal-confusions are unwilling to look towards an end. Was our royal state and unparalleled government the garden which we intended to Weed ? Behold, our foolish and unskilful hands have, together with our glorious monarchs, instead of calumniated evil counsellors, plucked up our inheritance in law and liberty, and swept away our freedom and safety with our Solomon's beautiful and magnificent tents ; was our religion, that goodly corn-field, said to be overrun with tares and thistles, and cockle? Behold, the ignorant man hath been that evil husbandman, who, refusing; the wise instructions of his lord, hath maliciously eradicated the wheat, root and branch, and scat tered over the whole field tares and thistles, and briars, and thorns. Our Scriptures which instruct us, by the fall of Israel's nation, whose prophets had admo nished them by judgments which they found infallible, have nowhere repeated to us such provocations from that people, as we have given to our God, until those, when their com binations took counsel against the Son of God, and crucified the Lord of life; and surely our unchristian rebellion, or at least theirs, which have practised such treasons, have pro duced such effects, as no mortal man came nearer the sufferings of our Saviour's humanity than did our. royal and divine Sovereign, crucified by lawyers, preachers, and soldiers. Our magistracy and judicatures, which are the pretended sanctuary to our liberty, and inheritable interest to justice and right, which by our ancient laws, were founded upon God's law ; have, through usurpation of ppwer, been intrusted in such viscous and bird- limed fingers, as none could have the benefit of them, but such as could give most for their sentence ; insomuch as that, which was formerly under condemnation or bribery, hath lately grown to publick sale; whereby justice is become as valuable and common at rates as cardons at Rome. We remember, that in the beginning of our late transcendent parliament (which none before it could reach in comparison of dangerous issues, and deadly fruits), how high the cries went against ship-money, patents, monopolies, illegal imprisonments ; and such other breaches into our free-born interests, as appeared by the then condemning complaints which searched our sores, to the worth of a sin : and yet amongst all those lamentations ' which hooded our eyes, and deafened our ears, (whilst our pockets were picked, and our wives' fingers stripped) we never heard of excises, fifth and twentieth parts, sequestrations taxes and contributions, and amongst all these oppressions, gifts to maintain foreign rebellions • but well we remember, that, whilst we honestly paid our tithes, we and our ministers enjoyed such a double blessing, as our souls fed 'upon the food, which now they want; and our I [General Monck.] Awake, 0 England: Or the People's Invitation to King Charles. 277 ministers rested contented with their dues, for which they returned grateful hospitalities, without the new ungodly incumbrances of augmentations ; whereby robbing Peter to pay Paul, many of our church doors have so lost their keys, as none have entered into them for many years. When we paid ship-money, which > amounted not to so much as one of our Friday-night suppers, in the whole year, by the pole ; we had safeguard to our seas, our wool went to the workmen, our clothing passed by the merchants tb all parts of the world ; returns were made, of all things we wanted at easy rates, even to richness, glory, and plenty ; our navi gation was as sure as our travel from one market to another ; our meanest seamen, who took charge, had noble receptions at home and abroad ; we enjoyed our houses and lands in peace, and had no complaining in our streets : our woods were guarded by laws, and supplied by plantation ; our fleets were formidable upon all seas, and our people of all con ditions, as well civil as soldiery, brought honour and dignity to our kingdoms. Instead of these rejoicings, we are filled with bowlings; our trades are generally lost, and there is none to give us work ; our wool, and leather, and corn, and butter, and cheese, are daily transported, and whilst we are lessened in our manufactures, and vocations and indus tries, we are raised in rents, and food, and taxes, and all things belonging to our livelihood ; the mysteries of our crafts, and the materials of our manufactures, do find such acceptable receipt in foreign parts, as unconscionable men have brought the ruins of their own country into a trade ; and those laws, which for the chief benefit of the people, and the very life of trade, are made, are so boldly affronted, as the good patriots, who for the benefit of them selves and country, endeavour to prevent the great damages, which come by such bold attempts, are by cunning practices of clerks, and the remissness of superior officers, so dis couraged, as that law, which was made to defend and encourage them, is carried fully against them ; and the plaintiffs are sued at law, till they have neither cloak, nor coat,' nor bed, nor board, nor house, but a prison to receive them : widows wring their hands, and orphans lament, whilst there is none to deliver them ; every man oppresseth his neighbour, for it seems good in his own eyes so to do, because, alas ! we have no king. If we look into our neighbour nations, we are the subjects of their mirth, and the song of the scornful ; we (as if we were all guilty) are styled murderers, king-killers, and the very abjects among them trample upon us, for the blasphemous people among us have committed so horrible treasons, as ought not once to be named among us. If we turn our eyes and ears from these dismal spectacles and groans, we presently encounter another object of our sorrows; the body of our trades is anatomized, dissected, and, from the most intrinsick secrets thereof, is discovered to foreigners ; all workings in wool, which together with that material have, by the providence of our ancestors, been, with all their wisdom, restrained from other nations, are now so much at liberty, and, by false-hearted Englishmen, made so familiar to strangers, as not only our mysteries are laid open, but our materials are made theirs ; and that trade of clothing, which, in one valuable kind or other, maintained eleven or twelve parts of our kingdoms, is almost totally lost to England; which, for many hun dreds of years, hath made them be both loved and feared of all other nations. As for our fleets, which were formidable, and our navigation, which was honourable throughout the world ; our ships are now daily brought, into captivity, insomuch as, through our short and improvident war, made with Spain, above two thousand English vessels have been carried into their ports, and all the goods in them are made prizes; many, who have been very able merchants, who have not only kept hospitality at home to the great relief of the needy, but have built and maintained tall ships abroad, to the honour and strength of our kingdom, and to the increase of mariners and trade ; have in these times been and still are brought to compound their debts, not with more disrepute to their credit than grief to their hearts, and ruin to their families. We could launch forth into an ocean of our calamities, did we not hold it to be more material and timely to prescribe remedies, which, being like to prove a long work by pre- cept,-we will shut it up into example. Look we, therefore, upon our neighbour nations, among whom, though there have been long divisions by claims, each thinking himself to be 27B The Copy of an Order, 8fc. in the right, and each having the unanimous affection and assistance of their own subjects, have yet thought fit, if not been forced, to compound their differences, which they embraced with no small joy ; our case is more formidable, the members of the same body continue fighting against their natural head, for maintenance of which quarrel they have too long destroyed each other ; therefore, in obedience to the divine doctrine; and in compassion to yourselves and posterity, dear country, return in duty to your lawful native Sovereign, fall "to your honest vocations ; fear God and the King, " and meddle not with them that are given to change :" you have dearly paidfor the knowledge of this truth, and let not now your obstinacy longer destroy you. Let him, who hath illegally gotten any thing by the late unnatural wars, make haste and restore it, and learn of that holy and inspired King, David, " That a small estate, rightly gotten, is more and more prosperous than innumerable riches of unrighteous purchase or plunder." Though the Israelites, by God's command, divested the Egyptians of their wealth and jewels, yet it -turned but to their own confusion; for even their most holy priests and instructors ensnared them with the works of their own hands, and though he called the molten images which he made out of their plundered ear-rings, and other ensigns of pride and luxury, their gods which brought them out of Egypt ; yet, doubtless, the devil had set such idols in higher esteem and honour with them than was the God of their deliverances. Their sufferings thereby are recorded for our example. In a word, let no man be ashamed to return to his honest vocation ; if God have hitherto used them as his rod, "let them not be high-minded, but fear," that the angry Father may, by the tears, and prayers, and humiliations, and returnings of children to duty, in expres sion of his reciprocal love to his children, return also in affection ; and, in sign of the same, oast his rod into the fire, "where shall be weeping, and wailing, and gnashing of teeth," because you had not compassion on your brethren, truly penitent for their and your sins. Repent, dear countrymen, and take a Heathen poet's (Prqpertius) advice, as most pro perly becoming each man. The Copy of an Order agreed upon in the House of Commons, upon Friday the Eighteenth of June; wherein every Man is rated according to his Estate, for the King's Use. Printed in the year MDCXLL [Folio. One Page.] DUKES, one hundred pounds. Aldermen Knights, twenty pounds. Marquisses, eighty pounds. Citizens fined for Sheriffs, twenty pounds. Earls, sixty pounds. Deputy Aldermen, fifteen pounds. Viscounts, fifty pounds. Merchant Strangers, Knights, forty pounds. Lords, forty pounds. Common-Council-Men, five pounds. Baronets and Knights of the Bath, thirty Livery-Men of the first twelve Companies pounds. and those that fined for it, five pounds. Knights, twenty pounds. Livery7Men of other Companies, fifty shillings. Esquires, ten pounds. Masters and Wardens of those other Com- Gentlemen of one hundred pounds per an- panies, five pounds. num, five pounds. Every one free of those Companies, one Recusants of all degrees to double Protes- pound. tants. Every Freeman of other Companies, ten Lord Mayor, forty pounds. shillings. The History of Oliver Cromwell. 279 Every Merchant that trades by sea, inhabit- Every Doctor of Civil Law, and Doctor of ing in London, ten pounds. Physick, ten pounds. Every Merchant Stranger that trades within Every Bishop, sixty pounds. . land, five pounds. Every Dean, forty pounds. Every English Merchant residing in the city Every Canon, twenty pounds. of London, and not free, five pounds. Every Prebend, twenty pounds. Every English Factor that dwells in Lon- Every Archdeacon, fifteen pounds. don, and is not free of the city, forty shil- Every Chancellor and every Commissary, fif- lings. teen pounds. Every Stranger Protestant,Handy-craft trade, Every Parson or Vicar at one-hundred pounds and Artificer, two shillings. per annum, five pounds. Every Papist Stranger and Handy-craft, four Every Office worth above one-hundred pounds shillings. per annum, to be referred to a committee, Every Widow a third part, according to her to be rated every man that may spend fifty husband's degree. pounds per annum, thirty shillings. Every Judge, a Knight, twenty pounds. Every man that may spend twenty pounds Every King's Serjeant, twenty-five pounds. per annum, five shillings. Every Serjeant at Law, twenty pounds, Every Person that is above sixteen years of Every one of the King's, Queen's, and Prince's - age, and doth not receive alms, and is not Council, twenty pounds. formerly rated, shall pay six-pence per pole. . The History of the Life and Death of Oliver Cromwell, the late Usurper, and pretended Protector of England, &c. ; truly collected and published, for a Warning to all Tyrants andi Usurpers. By. J. H. Gent.. London,. Printed for F. Coles, at the Lamb in the Old-Bailey, 1663. . [Quarto. Twentyrtwo Pages.] CHAP. I. Shezoing the Birth and Parentage; and Place of Nativity of the said Oliver Cromwell. THE unparalleled actions of this man have made people more curious, than otherwise they would be, to know his rise and birth, which otherwise might better, to the advantage of his memory, have been yet obscured and concealed ; for it will neither add praise nor commendation, either to his country or relations ; both which have publickly protested their shame and their abhorrence of him. So that, without prejudice to his family, who have, cleared themselves of any participation of his facts ; and did, and do, detest both him and them : you may understand, he was the son of Henry Cromwell, alias Williams, the younger son of Sir Henry Cromwell, of Hinchingbrook, in the county of Huntingdon, Knight, who so magnificently treated King James in that place, at his coming into En gland ; who so loyally and affectionately loved King Charles the Martyr ; and who* lastly, so hated and abominated this Oliver, his nephew, god-son, and namesake. He was born at Huntingdon, in the year 1599, where his father, being a cadet, or younger brother, as we have said ; having, nalarge estate, had intermarried with a brewer's' 280 The History of Oliver Cromwell. widow ^by whom he had some addition of fortune, and from her sprung that story of Oliver's being a brewer in Huntingdon. He was, from his infancy, a lusty, active child, and of a sturdy rough temper; which, to remedy, in his young years, his father prudently took this course : CHAP. II. How Oliver zvas educated and brought up in the University of Cambridge, and afterwards in Lincoln's-Inn, in the Study of the Lazo. ABOUT the age, therefore, of thirteen or fourteen years, his father sent him to the Uni versity of Cambridge, to have him tempered and managed by the severe tuition and dis cipline of the University ; but his tutor quickly perceived the boisterous and untractable spirit of his pupil, who was more for action than speculation, and loved cudgels, foot ball-playing, or any game and exercise, better than'his book; so that there was no hopes of making him a scholar, or a learned man ; and much ado there was to keep him so in compass, that he became not an open and publick dishonour to his friends ; (here he was made an actor in the play of the Five Senses *, where he ominously stumbled at a crown, which he had also dreamed he should once wear;) whereupon he was presently re moved, his tutor weary, and afraid of disgrace by him, to Lincoln's-Inn, where he might with less imputation and observance, if his bent were so given, roister it out, and yet, without much trouble, attain some knowledge in the laws, to qualify him for a country gentleman, and that little competency his father could leave him. But no such rudiments would sink into him; he was for rougher arguments and pleas, club-law; and, indeed, what occasion had he to know and be versed in the law, whose designs, and wicked prac tices afterwards, were directly opposite to all laws, both divine and human ? So that he continued not long there, but was called home, his father dying soon after, and leaving him to his swing. CHAP. III. Of his Manner of Life and Conversation in the Country. OLIVER, being come down into the country, and growing sturdy, and of man's sta ture, frequented all manner of wild company ; who but he at any match or game what soever, where he would drink and roar with the rudest of his companions? And when his money, which he had sparingly from his mother, who yet kept the purse, failed him, he would make the victuallers trust him, to such a ruin of his credit'and reputation, he being as famous for his ranting and his scores, as after, for his prayers and victories, that the ale-wives of Huntingdon, if they saw him coming, would set up a cry, " Here comes young Cromwell; shut up the doors, and so keep him out." But he had better success in the war, for then there was no shutting of him out ; no garrison or castle, or strength whatsoever, was sufficient lo debar him. But that may be imputable to the luck of his former at- chievements; fortune being tied at his girdle, and keeping a constant tenor with him; for7 at this age, he would make nothing of beating of tinkers, and such , masty fellows at quarter-staff, or any such weapon they would choose ; so that he was dreaded by all the ale-drinkers, as well as ale-wives of the country. 1 [Lingua; or the Combat of the Tongue and the Five Senses for Superiority. Acomedy first printed in 1607.] The History of Oliver Cromwell. 281 CHAP. IV. Hozv Oliver zvas reclaimed from these lezvd Courses, and hozv he joined himself to the preciser Sort, and became an hypocritical Convert. BY these debauched courses of life, and regardless thoughts how the world went, as long- as drink and company could be had, no matter how n6r where ; he had so endangered his small estate and patrimony, and was so far in debt, that he was forced to retire himself, and get out of the way, and live privately ; for fear of private arrests and judgments, which were brought against him. In this solitary condition, he had time to bethink himself of his condition; and having nothing else to do, having played a part2 at Cambridge, to personate another at home,, seeming very pensive and melancholy, and much reserved in his talk and discourse ; which, from vain, and frivolous, and wild speeches, was now altered into serious, and modest, and grave language, and sober expression ; which, accommodated and set forth with a more staid and solemn aspect and gesture, made him appear to be an other kind of person, having run from the one extreme to the other, from stark naught, to too good : and it will be a question whether, by the first he were more destructive to him self, or by the latter, more pernicious to his country3. This humour soured him at last into a precise puritanism, with whom his zealous design was to ingratiate himself; who increasing every day, and being grown to a headstrong fac tion, he doubted not, but if time should serve, which his daring spirit (if he had not a familiar) told him was a coming, to be principal person among them, and howsoever, to make up his decays on his fortunes, by the kind-hearted supplies and' loans of the brother - - hood, who were very proud of such a proselyte. In a short time after, he had learned to pray4, and attained a very ready faculty there in, which he made no nicety to manifest upon all occasions, both in their publick and pri vate meetings ; so that he was looked upon by those of his godly party, as their chiefest ornament, and by the rest of the world, as a strange wonder. This artificial devotion did not only then advantage him, but served him thereafter through the whole course of his life, and was the main ingredient of all his policies and successes. A friar was an ass to him for saying of prayers ; he was able to give him two for one, with his beads and by rote, and outstrip him extempore. CHAP. V. How Oliver, being noted for his pretended Sanctity, was chosen a Burgess of Cambridge for the Long-Parliament ; and, the War breaking out, was made a Captain of Horse. BY this sanctimonious vizor, and manifested zeal for reformation, which was then in every man's mouth, he was looked upon as the fittest instrument to promote it in the par liament, which the King had called in 1640, to redress the grievances of the state and church, and to supply his necessities ; and, therefore, the Puritan faction, and his relations by marriage, as Mr. Goodwin, and also Hambden of Buckingham, laboured, in electipn of burgesses for the town of Cambridge, to have him chosen. The town was generally in fected with the same disease, and therefore it was no hard matter to effect it. . Sitting in 2 [The part of Tactus in the above comedy; the substance of which, (says Winstanley) being a mock conten tion for a crown, is said to have swelled his ambition so high, that afterwards he contended for it in earnest.] 3 [Who (says the satiric Dr. South) that had beheld such a beggarly fellow as Cromwell first entering the par liament-house, could have suspected that in the space of so few years, he should, by the murder of one King and the banishment of another, ascend the throne, be invested in the royal robes, and want nothing of the state of a King, but the changing of his hat into a crown? Sermons.] 4 [He must likewise have learned to preach: since Dr. Grey describes a printed sermon in his possession, in- titled "Cromwell's Devout and Conscientious Exercise, held at Sir Peter Temple's in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields, upon Romans xiii. 1. 'Let every soul be subject unto the higher powers'." VOL. I. . O O 282 The History of Oliver Cromwell. parliament, as a member, he quickly saw, which way the stream went, and therefore re solved to run one of the first with it ; and therefore helped out the noise and cry for privi lege, proving a great stickler against the prerogative, and, to that end, endeavouring to widen the breach ; and made way, by male-pertness of tumults, against the King's person and court ; insomuch that he became conspicuous and noted for his' aversion to the go vernment. The flame of those inward burnings now breaking out, and because of his in fluence in his country, and his bold, confident spirit, he was courted with a commission (which he accepted) under the Earl of Essex, the parliament's General, and was made a Captain of a troop of horse. CHAP. VI. Of the Exploits Cromwell did, in the Beginning of the War. HAVING raised his troop, he marched not presently with the gross and main body of the army, but was ordered to continue about his own country, that so bis own enterprises might be the better observed, and he taken notice of; so that he was a rising man from the very first beginning of our civil confusions. The first service that he appeared in, was the seizure of Sir Henry Conisby, the Sheriff of Hertfordshire, when, in a gallant contempt of the parliament, he was proclaiming the commission of array at St. Albans, and sending him, and other gentlemen, his assistants, to London: which sudden and meritorious ex ploit of his was well resented, and highly commended by the parliament. His next piece of diligence was the like seizure of Sir John Pettus,,and forty gentlemen more, of the county of Suffolk, who were forming a party for the King, and securing them ; by which means, he broke the neck of any future design in that, or the next county of Norfolk, for the royal interest ; so that he had brought all the eastern part of England to the parliament's subjection, by a bloodless and easy conquest. But his other victories, which vyere princi pally ascribed to him, though they were "joined with him, were very sanguineous, and fatally cruel. As his last home employment, he was ordered to purge and to inspect the University, wherein he proceeded with so much rigour against that place of his own nurture, &c. it was conceived he would at last as mercilessly use his mother, then bleeding England. Which work being over, and unhappily effected, Cromwell was the only man; his pru dence, fortune, and valour every where applauded and extolled ; and he reputed for one of the most eminent and able commanders in the parliament's army. It was time, therefore, now to shew him abroad, having armed, disciplined, and paid his men so carefully, that there was no doubt of their prevailing upon any equal enemy, and under the conduct of so vigilant and wary a leader, whose only aim it was to keep up his reputation to greater undertakings. Therefore, in order to a conjunction and assistance of the Scots, who were entered England, he was made Lieutenant-General to the Earl of Manchester, who had raised his army out of the associated counties, as Cambridge, Huntingdon, Bedford, Suffolk, &c. Those armies being joined, and mastering the field (the Marquis of Newcastle, who opposed them, retreating into York) they resolved to besiege that city : to the relief whereof, Prince Rupert came, and forcing them to draw off from their league, he gave them, battle on Marston-Moor, July 2, 1644. In the be ginning of the fight, Prince Rupert had utterly discomfited the right wing of the army where Sir Thomas Fairfax and the Scots horse stood, and disordered the main body of the foot, so that the day was given for lost, the Scots running and throwing down their arms; when Cromwell, with his cuirassiers, and the rest of my Lord Manchester's horse who were placed in the right wing, fell with such force and fury upon the Lord Goring's brigades on the right, that they presently broke them in pieces, and following their suc cess, before the Prince returned, obtained a complete victory; killing no less than five- thousand men, gaining their camp, bag and baggage; and, as the price of all, the city The History of Oliver Cromwell. . 283 of York. Hence he acquired the terrible name of Ironsides, his troops being reported invulnerable and unconquerable. By this defeat, he lifted up himself to those great titles and^places he went through afterwards. CHAP. VII. A Continuance of his Successes against his Sovereign and his Forces ; his treacherous and disloyal Dealing zvith his Majesty. THE next field we find him in, was that of the second Newberry, October 27, 1644, where, with the same felicity and valour, he had the better, on that part of the field, where he fought, and contributed mainly to that piece of a victory the parliament forces had there: when, to cloud and damp this rising martialist, he was articled against by his superior officers, for some miscarriages and practices in the army, to the hinderance of the service, which was indeed his ambitious insinuation into the affection of the soldiery ; but this was never prosecuted, his friends, the grandees of the independent party, interpo sing and justifying him, for a godly, expert, and valiant commander. This independent faction was now grown too crafty, and had supplanted their brother of Presbytery, by new-modelling the army, turning out most of Essex's officers, and dis missing all members of parliament from their several commands therein ; among which number, Cromwell should have been included, but his partisans wrought so, that he was continued for forty days, and (those expired) longer and longer, even till the war ended. By this said model Sir Thomas Fairfax was made Lord General; and Cromwell, after some time, Lieutenant General ; being the only man looked upon able to carry on the Indepen dent interest. The first action he engaged in, in this quality, was his routing of the Queen's regiment and some other troops (come from Worcester to fetch the King from Oxford, then designed to be besieged in the beginning of the year 1645) at Islip bridge; then his im mediate summoning and taking Blechindon House, April 24 ; where after, as he was de signing a stratagem upon Faringdon House, he was set upon by as vigilant a commander as himself, the Lord Goring ; and received a smart brush, and the only one throughout the war ; which now hastening to an end, at the fatal Naseby, he was called from out the Isle of Ely (whither he had been lately sent to secure it, it being thought the King would have turned his now successful arms thitherward) to assist the General, who, by his letters to the parliament, had desired it. That unfortunate day, the 14th of June, 1646, owes its dis- malnessto the fortune of this rebel, whose troops alone could glory in that, atchievemeht ; for the left wing of that army, where Ireton, his son-in-law, commanded, was absolutely routed, and the main body sorely distressed ; so that Cromwell alone assured that victory. So ended the first war, with the praises and triumphs of this man of war, adored and worshipped by his party ; who stuck not to blaspheme God and his Scriptures, attributing all those hosannas, and psalms, and songs of deliverance and victory to this their cham* pion ; in effect, making a mere idol of him; which fanatick religious veneration he missed not to improve, though, for the present, he covered his ambition with modesty and humi lity, ascribing all things, in a canting way of expression, to the goodness and omnipotence of God; which he frequently and impiously abused, intituling it to all his wicked and vil lainous designs and actions. . The war thus ended, and the King having escaped their swords, and so the main rub yet lay in the way to his projected sovereignty ; he resolved by treachery to ruin him : to this purpose, that he might render the King indisposed to the terms and propositions of the parliament, which were hard and unreasonable enough besides ; he pretended to the King> tHat the army should take his part, and declare for him; as on the other side (in the parliament house, and privately in the army, telling them that the King's design of peace and agreement was only to get them disbanded, and then hang them for their rebellion) fie exasperated them against the King, adding that God had hardened his heart against 284 The History of Oliver Cromwell. any composure, and had rejected him : and when all this would not do, but that the peo ple every day more and more were undeceived, and he conceived a fear, they might rescue the King from Hampton-Court, and bring him to London, which the King and ail good men desired ; he contrived another wicked device to the King's final overthrow,, by scaring him with the Adjutators' (such were two selected, out of each company and troop) conspiracy to assassinate him, and so making him fly to the Isle of Wight, a distant and sure prison, from whence he never came but to his death. The King a while before was hot ignorant of these treacherous arts of Cromwell, seeing nothing performed, as to substance, of whatever he promised ; and, therefore, did roundly tax him with his faith lessness ; who, at the upshot, told the King, that he did misconstrue his words, or else he remembered no such matter : and that, if it were so, yet it were no time to perform them, till the discipline of the army was recovered, and those Adjutators in a capacity to be questioned, who were now most outrageously and uncontrollably violent againt his person and government, with many more such flams and delays, and traitorous fallacies. The King being in prison at Caresbroke Castle in the said isle, by the juggling of Crom well with Hammond the Governor (brother to one of the King's most affected Chap lains), an ungrateful fellow, who owed himself to the King's bounty, several fresh attempts were made for his restitution : that which particularly concerned this Oliver, was the Welch insurrection at Pembroke, which town, in July, after a brave defence, was surrendered to him ; and the Scots' invasion under Duke Hamilton, whose army (to which were joined some three-thousand English under Sir Marmaduke Langdale) he totally defeated at Preston in Lancashire, on the 17th of August, (and not long after the General Fairfax took in Colchester, which had stood out three months in expectation of relief from this army, upon the same account,) and pursued his victory as far as Scotland ; marching to Edinburgh, and there making sure of a party, dealing with bribes, andx other forcible per suasions, and making them disarm themselves to give him no disturbance or interruption, in the accomplishing his most execrable regicide, for which he was now ready; the expected advantages and opportunities being now in his hand. CHAP. VIII. Cromzvell turns out the Parliament, murders the King, and sets up a Commonzvealth ; who, invading Scotland and Ireland, make him their General. CROMWELL posting to London, he and his son Ireton put the council of officers to demand justice upon the King, as the capital offender, and author of all the troubles and bloodshed ; which he so eagerly prosecuted, that though the parliament had nearly con- pluded with the King in the Isle of Wight, after a full treaty, he by Col. Pride (one that would venture upon any thing he was commanded by him), secludes twice the major part of the members, and then packs up a juncto of army blades, of some fifty, who constitute a High Court of Justice, by which the martyr King was traiterously and barbarously con demned and beheaded, January 30. By the same juncto and rump of a parliament, the kingship and government by a single person was voted useless and dangerous ; to which Cromwell freely assented, as purposing to time his ambition, now the great obstacle was -removed. But, though the King and his interest were defunct in England, yet they were not in Ireland or Scotland ; whereupon, Cromwell is made General for the Irish expedition • and though he was the only dissuader of the soldiery from that service, during the quarrel, be twixt the Independents and the Presbyterians, and while he had accomplished his 'mis chievous ends upon the King ; yet now he is severely bent to transport such as the lot should appoint : which the levelling party, the Adjutators, whelps of his own litter, refusing and mutinying, them likewise under pretence of a treaty, and giving and receiving satisfaction (their usual expressions) he betrays and surprizes at Burford (not daring to venture a fight The History of Oliver Cromwell. 285 with them, for fear of a total defection of his own party), and had the ring-leaders shot to death. Having surmounted this difficulty, he wafts his army over into Ireland, and presently storms Tredagh; and understanding it was the flower of the King's army, set there to give him a repulse, having twice been beaten off, he led his men himself the third time, "and entered, and put all to the sword (having amused the defendants who maintained the breach, but, having then lost their Colonel, were in some confusion, through offer of quarter, and by that device got admittance) with a like baseness, treachery, and cruelty. After that followed the rendition of most of that kingdom, the Lord-Lieutenant thereof, the Marquis of Ormond, being in no condition to resist him. Whereupon the Scotch war then newly beginning, Cromwell was sent for over ; and the Presbyterian ministers, set on, no doubt, by some of his agents, having inveigled Fairfax with the unlawfulness of his en gaging against their good brethren, he laid down his commission, which was readily con ferred on, and taken up by Cromwell. CHAP. IX. Of Cromwell' sMarch into Scotland, his Victories at Dunbar and Worcester, and the Re duction of that Kingdom. GLADLY did Oliver undertake this war, for now he was sure to make the army his own, by placing and displacing of officers : long it was, and many delays were used by the Scots, before they would be brought to fight, intending to starve the English army, which was near done to their hands ; and Oliver sneaking away home, when the precipitate blue- cap, greedy of spoil and victory, would needs fall upon them at Dunbar, Sept. 3, 1650, and were there, by the prowess and desperate valour of their enemies, totally overcome. Cromwell, therefore, now marches back again to Edinburgh, and buys that impregnable castle, of the traitor Dundass, and advances against King Charles the Second, who lay encamped by Stirling ; but he not stirring out of his fortified camp, and there being no other or further passage into Scotland, but over the Frith, an arm of the sea : Cromwell wafts over most part of his army, and defeats a Scots party, while the King gives Crom well the go-by, being two days march before him, and after a tedious march, came to Worcester, August 22; whither, not long after, came Cromwell in great doubt and per plexity by the way, (having left General Monk, to carry on the war in Scotland, who, shortly after, reduced the whole kingdom,) and beset the town ; being recruited, and made up with his old army, to above forty-thousand men ; what shall I say, of that unfortunate day ? The King was worsted, and most miraculously escaped, and so Cromwell might have leave to play. But no such matter, the time was come, he had long expected, to act his own game, and appear in it for himself; for by the year 1653, Scotland and Ireland being wholly subdued, and in the hands of his most trusty privados and confidents, his new son-in-law Fleetwood (for Ireton was dead of the plague at Limerick) being Deputy of Ireland, and General Monk Governor of Scotland ; he proposeth to the parliament the desires of the army, for their dissolution, to make way for succession of a new representative ; which they en deavouring to delay, and to impose upon him with the necessities of their sitting a while longer, his ambition could brook no longer retardments, but sent Major-General Harrison on the 20th of April, 1653, to out their rump-ships; which he accordingly did, to the general rejoicing of the people, who considered nor cared, who should come next, so they were -rid of these. 285 The History of Oliver Cromwell. CHAP. X. Hozv Crowzvell ordered the Government afterward, and hozv he made himself Lord Pro tector of England. AFTER the Rump was thus dissolved, Oliver by the advice (forsooth) of his general council of officers, erected a council of state, of such as were true to his interest, and the army, and were well fledged with the spoils of the kingdom ; but, perceiving that was but a slender authority to derive the government to himself, which was the first and last thing intended, he called a picked conventicle, of the like batch as himself and his followers, all of the godly party, whom he styled a Parliament; the name whereof was enough to au thorize and dignify the resignation of the authority they had from, to, him; and their odious actions, moreover, would make a single person (himself) more acceptable ; for these wild fellows were upon abolishing the ministry, and opening the floodgate to heresy and atheism ; when Cromwell dissolved them, and with them discarded his old friend, and their darling, Major-General Harrison, who was tampering with the army to unhorse Oliver : but he smelt him out, and cashiered him, as he did his trusty friend Lambert, soon after, as finding they were both greater in the army, than his safety and interest would suffer. So impossible it is for brethren in iniquity long to continue in love and friendship. Oliver would endure no competitor, but resolved to be single and supreme. CHAP. XI. How Oliver zvas sworn Protector, and how he managed the Government, briefly.. THAT little or foolish parliament being divided among themselves, one part thereof resigned their power unto Oliver, who " straightwith caused the commissioner of the seal, Mr- Lisle, to administer him an oath, on the sixteenth of December, 1653, before the Lord Mayor and Aldermen of the city of London, in Westminster-hall, to observe a model of government in forty-two articles; which instrument of his, as was said, was found in my Lady Lambert's placket ; and thereupon he was proclaimed Lord Protector. In February he was feasted sumptuously in the city, and knighted the Lord Mayor, as he did many others afterwards, upon whom he had better have p — d : he made, also, one Lord, but he pever owned it. Now, though he was proclaimed Protector, yet he knew the people took him for no such thing; therefore he called a Parliament, according to form, thinking to have been declared so by them: but they would not own him, or his authority. Seein°- therefore, he could neither get reputation nor money at home, he resolved to have it from the King of Spain's West Indies ; but, at Hispaniola, his forces, under General Venables were strangely defeated, and forced to plant themselves in Jamaica, and fight for bread instead of gold. He likewise started several plots (the fox was the finder) against cavaliers such as Colonel Gerrard, and afterwards Colonel Penruddock, (maintaining intelligence, at the price of one thousand five hundred per annum, with one Manning, a clerk to the King's secretary, who then resided at Colen, who discovered most qf the King's council, till he was discovered himself and executed,) on purpose to terrify people, and those especially from rising against him. Now, when Oliver saw he could not attain his will by whole parliaments, he resolved on his. old expedient, to garble a parliament; call it, and then cull it; which he did, and se cluded those members that would not, before they entered, recognize and own his High ness; by which means two parts of three were excluded, and he, by the remainder, com plimented with the style of King : but, for fear of Lambert and Harrison, and, indeed, the whole kingdom, especially the army, he durst not accept of it; but was content to take the title of Protector from their hands; and was accordingly, on the sixteenth of June The World's Mistake in Oliver Cromwell, fyc. 287 1657, solemnly installed by the Speaker, Sir Thomas Widdrington, again in Westminster- hall, and the parliament adjourned, who had likewise passed an act for erecting of a thing called another House, consisting of such Lords as Pride5, Hewson6, and Barkstead7 : but, upon the meeting of a full House, after the adjournment, all this new structure was ques tioned, even to Oliver himself; who thereupon, in a passion, and transported beyond his vizarded sanctity, with an oath (by the living God) dissolved them. In the year 1658, he assisted the French against the Spaniards, and helped them to take Dunkirk, which, for his pains, he had delivered to him; and, no doubt, it was the best service he ever did to his country. But, during this unenvied triumph', having drenched his polluted hands in more innocent and loyal blood, namely, that of Dr. Hewet, and Sir Henry Slingsby8, God put a hook into the mouth of this leviathan; and having snatched away his beloved daughter, Claypoole, just before, on the third of September, 1658, his great successful day, he was hurried in a tempest out of the world, which he had so long troubled; and, on the sixteenth of November1 following, was most magnificently buried, to the only sorrow of those who furnished the mourning and pageantry thereof, leaving his Wife Elizabeth, alias Joan, with two sons; Richard, who succeeded, till he tamely and cow ardly resigned, and is now fled for his father's debts; and Henry, and a daughter ycleped Frances Rich. A person, as it is well charactered of him, fit to be a prince of Tartars or Cannibals. Before the King returned into England, Colonel Henry Cromwell, son of Sir Oliver Cromwell, obtained licence of the King to change that hateful name into Williams, which was the name of this family, before they married with a daughter and heir of Cromwell; which was upon condition they should take her name, as well as estate. 5 [Pride was a foundling, and had been a brewer's man; but, transferring himself Into the parliamentarian army, was made a colonel, and had a principal concern in secluding the members in order to the King's trial, which great change was called ''Colonel Pride's Purge." Ludlow tells us, that " Cromwell knighted him with a faggot-stick instead of a sword:" a,nd hence Butler denominates him " Sir Pride." Hudib. p. iii. can. 2.] 6 [Hewson rose from a cobler to a colonel, and was made one of Oliver's upper house, ,to help to cobble the crazy state of the nation. L'Estrange relates the following anecdote: A lady of quality in Ireland having been so terribly plundered as almost to be barefoot, was warming herself in a chimney-corner, when Hewson took notice that her shoes wanted capping. " Why, truly, Sir, (she replied,) all the Coolers are turned Colonels; and I can get nobody to mend them." See Grey's Hudib. vol. ii.] ' [Colonel Barkstead is said to have been " a pitiful thimble and bodkin goldsmith." Watkin'sHist. of Inde pendency, pare ii. Wood mentions a regicide of this name, who was seized at Delft in 1661, and sent into England to receive the reward of the gallows. Athena;, vol. ii.] 8 [Slingsby, Hewet, and Mordaunt, had concerted a project to raise insurrections in several parts of the kingdom in favour of Charles II. for which the two former were tried and executed i but the latter (it is said, through bribery,) found means to escape.] The World's Mistake in Oliver Cromwell ; or, a short Political Discourse, shewing, that Cromwell's Mal-ad ministration (du ring his Four Years and Nine Months pretended Protector ship) laid the Foundation of our present Condition, in the Decay of Trade. London, Printed in the Year MDCLXVIII. [Quarto. Sixteen Pages.] , OF all the sins, that the children of men are guilty of, there is none, that our corrupt natures are more inclinable unto, than that of idolatry, a sin, that may be towards men, as well as other creatures, and things ; for, as that which a man unmeasurably relies, 288 The World's Mistake in Oliver Cromwell, §c. and sets his heart upon, is called his God, even as that which he falls down before and wor shipped ; so, when one hath the person of another in an excess of admiration, whether for greatness, or richness, &c. which we are subject to adore, we are said to idolize him ; and therefore, the wise Venetians, who, of all men, are most jealous of theif liberty, considering that, as the nature of man is not prone to any thing more than the adoration of men, so nothing is more destructive to freedom, have, for preventing the mischiefs of it, made it unlawful, even so much as to mourn for their Duke at his death : intimating thereby, that their felicity and safety depends not upon the uncertain thread of any one man's life, but upon the virtue of their good laws, and orders, well executed, and that they can never want virtuous persons to succeed. And how do such principles in men, led by little more than morality, reprove those, who have a great measure of Gospel-light, for their senseless excess, in their adoring the remembrance of Cromwell ? For as the objects of idolatry are mistaken creatures, or things, proceeding sometimes from self-love, as well as other causes ; so the undeserved approbation, and applause, that Cromwell's memory seems to have with his adherents, amounting to little less, than the idolizing of him ; appears to me to be the product of an excessive veneration of greatness, and a selfish partiality towards him : for that, the more honour is given to him, the more praise they think will consequently redound to them, who were his favourites ; and they fortify themselves herein, with the credit, they say, he hath abroad, (though there is little in that,) because the opinion, that strangers have of him, may well be put upon the account of their ignorance, in the affairs of England, which travellers do find to be so great, even amongst ministers of state, as is to be admired. And now, as this error in idolizing Oliver hath two moral evils in it (besides the sin in itself); the one a reflection upon the present times, as if the former were better than these; and the other, the unjust defrauding the long-parliament of that, which is due to them, to give it idolatrously to him, to whom it doth not belong ; I esteem it a duty in cumbent upon me to discover the mistake. I am not insensible, that I shall, by this, draw the envy of those upon me, who, being jealous of their honour, will be angry for touching them in their Diana1 ; but, knowing myself clear from the vices of envying virtue in any, how contrary soever he may be to me in judgment, as well as from being unwilling to allow every one their due commendations, I will cast myself upon Providence, for the success of this paper ; and in reference to Cromwell's government, and the present times, make some observations relating to both*; and, in order thereunto, shew, First, That the original cause of the low condition that we are now (in relation to trade) reduced unto, had its beginning in Oliver's time, and the foundations of it, laid either by his ignorant mistaking the interest of this kingdom, or wilfully doing it, for the advancement of his own particular interest. Secondly, That his time, for the short continuance, had as much of oppression, and injustice, as any former times. Thirdly and lastly, That he never, in his latter days, valued either honour or honesty, when they stood in the way of his ambition, and that there is nothing to be admired in him (though so much idolized) but that the partiality of the world should make him so great a favourite of ignorance, and forgetfulness, as he seems to be. When this late tyrant, or Protector (as some call him), turned out the long-parliament the kingdom was arrived at the highest pitch of trade, wealth, and honour, that it, in any age, ever yet knew. The trade appeared, by the great sums offered then for the customs and excise ; nine hundred thousand pounds a year being refused. The riches of the nation shewed itself, in the high value that land and all our native commodities bore ; which are the certain marks of opulency. Our honour was made known to all the world,' by a con quering navy, which had brought the proud Hollanders upon their knees, to beg peace of us, upon our own conditions, keeping all other nations in awe. And besides these ad van- ' Or, favourite, The World's Mistake in Oliver Cromwell, §c. 289 tages, the publick stock was five hundred thousand pounds in ready money, the value of even hundred thousand pounds in stores, and the whole army in advance, some four, and none under two, months; so that, though there might be a debt of near five thousand pounds upon the kingdom, he met with above twice the value in lieu of it. The nation being in this flourishing and formidable posture, Cromwell began his usurpa tion, upon the greatest advantages imaginable, having it in his power to have made peace, and profitable leagues, in what manner he had pleased with all our neighbours, every one courting us then, and being ambitious of the friendship of England: but as if the Lord had infatuated, and deprived him of common sense and reason, he neglected all our golden op portunities, misimproved the victory God had given us over the United Netherlands ; ma king peace (without striking a stroke) so soon as ever things came into his hands, upon equal terms with them : and immediately after, contrary to our interest, made an unjust war with Spain, and an impolitick league with France ; bringing the first thereby under, and making the latter too great for Christendom : and by that means broke the balance betwixt the two crowns of Spain and France, which his predecessors, the long-parliament, had always wisely preserved. In this dishonest war with Spain, he pretended, and endeavoured to impose a belief upon the world, that he had nothing in his eye, but the advancement of the Protestant cause, and the honour of this nation; but his pretences were either fraudulent, or he was ignorant in foreign affairs ; (as I am apt to think, that he was not guilty of too much knowledge in them.) For he that had known any thing of the temper of the Pdpish prelacy, and the French-court policies, could not but see, that the way to increase, or preserve the reformed interest in France, was by rendering the Protestants of necessary use to their King ; for that, longer than they were so, they could not be free from persecution : and that the way to render them so, was by keeping the balance betwixt Spain and France even, as that, which would consequently make them useful to their King. But by overthrowing the ba lance in his war with Spain, and joining with France, he freed the French King from his fears of Spain; enabled him to subdue all factions at home; and thereby to bring himself into a condition of not standing in need of any of them ; and from thence hath proceeded the persecution that hath since heen, and still is, in that nation, against the reformed there: so that Oliver, instead of advancing the reformed interest, hath, by an error in his politicks, been the author of destroying it. The honour and advantage he propounded to this nation, in his pulling down of Spain, had as ill a foundation. For if true, as was said, that we were to have had Ostend and Newport, as well as Dunkirk, {when we could get them) they bore no, proportion, in any kind, to #11 the rest of the King of Spain's European dominions -f which must necessarily have fallen to the French King's share, because of their joining and nearness to him, and remoteness from us ; and the increasing the greatness of so near a neighbour must have in creased our future dangers. But this man, who, through ignorance, is so strangely cried up in the world, was not guilty of this error in state only, but committed as great a solecism, in his designing the outing of the King of Denmark, and setting up of the King of Sweden. For had the Swedes but got Copenhagen, (as in all probability, had Oliver lived, they would have done,) they had wanted nothing of consequence, but the cities of Lubeck and Dantzick (which, by their then potency, they would easily have gained), of being masters of the whole Baltick sea, on both sides, from the Sound or mouth down to the bottom of it ; by which, together with all Denmark, Norway, and the Danes' part of Holstein, which would conse quently have been theirs (they then having, as they still2 have, the land of Bremen), there would have been nothing, but the small countries of Ouldenburg and East-Friezland, which would easily have fallen, into tlieir mouths, betwixt them and the United Netherlands, whereby Sweden would on the one side, to the north and north-east, have been as great, as France on the other, to the south and south-west ; and tney two, able to have divided the western empire betwixt them. ' In the year . VOL. I. P P 290 The Worlds Mistake in Oliver Cromwell, Sic. And whereas it had in all ages been the policy of the northern states and potentates, to Iteep the dominion of the Baltick sea divided among several petty princes and states, that no one might he sole master of it ; because, otherwise, most of the necessary commodities for shipping, coming from thence and Norway, any one lord of the whole might lay up the shipping of Europe, by the walls, in shutting only of his ports, and denying the com modities -of his country to other states : Cromwell, contrary to this wise maxim, endea voured to put the whole Baltick sea into the Swedes' hands, and undoubtedly had (though, I suppose, ignorantly) done it, if his death had not given them that succeeded him, the long-parliament, an opportunity of prudently preventing it. For, if he had understood the importance of the Baltick sea to this nation, he could not have been so impolitick, as to have projected so dangerous a design against his new Utopia3, as giving the opening and shutting Of it to any one prince. I am not ignorant, that this error is excused, by pretending that we were to have had Elsinore and Oonenbufg castle, (the first, the town, upon the narrow entrance of the Baltick, called the Sound, where all ships ride, and pay toll to the King of Denmark; asnd the latter, the fortress, that defends both town and ships,) by which we should have been masters of the Sound, and consequently of the Baltick : but they that foiow those countries, and how great a prince the Swede would have been, had he obtained all the test, besides these two bawbles ; must confess, we should have been at his devotion, in our holding of any thing in his countries. And further, if the dangerous consequence Of setting up so great a prince had not been in the case, it had been against the interest of England, to have had an obligation iipoti us to maintain places so remote, against the enmity of many states and princes ; awd that for these reasons : First, Because the ordinary tolls of the Souttd would not have defrayed half the charge ; and, to have taken more than the ordinary tolls, we could not have done, without drawing a general 'quarrel Upon us, from most of the princes and states of the northern parts of Europe. Secondly, Because 'the experience of all 'former times sheweth Us, that foreign acquisitions have ever been chargeable and prejudicial to the people of England, as Sir 'Robert Cotton makes it -clearly appear, that not only all those pieces of France, which belonged to us by rightful succession, but also those We held by Conquest, were always great burthens to our •nation, ;and cause of much poverty and misery to the people. And it is not our case alone, to be the worse for conquest, (though more ours, than other countries, because of the charge and Uncertainty of the winds and weather, in the transportation of succours and relief by sea ; which contiguous territories, which are upon -the main, are not subject to V but the case of (I think I may say) all other kingdoms. In France their burthens and op pressions have grown in all ages, with the greatness of their kings : nay, even after their last peace with Spain, by which they had given them peace with all the world, besides many places in the Spanish Netherlands, and Catalonia, to boot : upon which the poor people promised themselves, though vainly, an unquestionable abatement of taxes. Instead of that, they found their pressures increased daily; and their King, though overgrownly great and rich, himself; yet the people so poor, that thousands are said to die in a plentiful year for want of bread to their water, nothing being free there, but fresh water and air For' except in some few privileged places, wherever they have the conveniency by their situation of sea water, (lest they should make use of the benefit of that, which God and nature hath given them, for saving the charge of salt,) every family is forced to take so much salt of the " King*, at his own rate (which is above ten times the price it is sold for to strangers for transportation) as is judged they may spend in a year: the Lord deliver all other- count r'J< from their examples ! In Sweden, that King, court, and their military officers, are the hetZl for their conquests in Germany, Denmark, Russia, and some places anciently belong to Poland ; but the commons the worse. Spain is undone, by the great number of oeonlf sent thence to the West Indies, which hath depopulated the country; France reaping. more 3 Meaning his own new sort of government. ' • [The gabelle excise, or imp6t sur le sel, still constitutes a prime source of revenue in France.] The World's Mistake in Oliver Cromwell, $c. 291 benefit by keeping 'their people at home to manufactures, than Spain doth by sending theirs abroad for silver and gold : and now, though by these instances it may appear to be the interest of the people of other nations, as well as ours, to live in peace, without coveting additions; yet it is more our true interest, because, by reason of our situation, we have no need of frontier foreign towns, our ships, well ordered, being better than other princes' bordering garrisons, than any other kingdoms, to neglect especially European acquisitions, and colonies, and apply ourselves, First, To the improving of our own land, of which we have more than we have people to manage. Secondly, To the increasing our home and foreign trades, for which we have natural ad vantages above any other nation. Thirdly and lastly, By our strength, which trade will increase. To make use of it, to gether with the helps that God and nature hath given us in our situation, and otherwise, in keeping the balance amongst our neighbours. For, if the province of Holland, which is but four hundred thousand acres of profitable ground, is, by the benefit of trade, able to do so much as we experienced the last war, what might we do, if trade were improved, .who have much more advantages for it, than they have ? I ascribe what was done by the Netherlands, in the late war, to the province of Holland ; because that, though the pro vinces are seven in number, Holland's due proportion of all charges is 58|, in a hundred, to all the others 41|, of which 41^., Holland gets little more than 20 honestly paid them, insomuch that it alone may be reckoned to bear four-fifths in a hundred, to one-fifth. that all the other six bear: and how prodigious a thing is it, that Holland, no bigger than as afore-mentioned, should be able to cope with England, Scotland, and Ireland ; and, that, though their charges in the late war was abundantly greater than ours, yet, by their good management, to be so little the worse for it, as, at the conclusion of the war, to have their credit so high, that they could have, commanded what money they had pleased, at three in the hundred ; and all this by the mere additional benefit of trade and good order; and how, by Cromwell's indiscreet neglecting of tradej and choosing war, when he was in peace, did he hiiss the true interest of 'England, as, by his ill-founded designs, he did the! interest of the reformed religion. For, if he had . succeeded in his unjust invasion of the Spanish territories in the West Indies, (as God seldom prospered! dishonest undertakings) it being intended for a state acquisition, the benefit would not have been diffusive, but chiefly to himself ' and favourites, and prejudicial to the people in general; though at the expence of their substance, the acquests would have been made. For, had he met with so much success in the gaining those countries ; and in them, that plenty of gold and silver as he vainly hoped for; we should have been. as unhappy in them (in the depopulating of our countries, by the loss of the multitude of people that must have been sent thither, and in impoverishing our nations by the vast charges of a continual war) as Spain is; and to no other end, than the making of him only rich, able to enslave the remaining people, and to make himself absolute over them : forthe preventing of which, in such tyrants as Cromwell, surely Moses had an eye, when he said that " tfiey should not greatly muh tiply silver and gold." And thus, as Cromwell's designs must, to an impartial judgment, appear to have been laid, some dishonestly, others impolitickly, and all' contrary to the in terest of the kingdom, so the issue of them was damageable to the people of Ehgland: As, First, In his sudden making a peace with Holland, so soon as he got the government, without those advantages for trade, as they who beat them did intend to ljave had, as their due, and just satisfaction for their charges in the war. Secondly, In his war with Spain; by the loss of that beneficial trade to our nation; and giving it to the Hollanders, by whose hands we drove, during the war, the greatest part of that trade, which we had of it, with twenty-five in the hundred profit to them, and as much loss to us. Thirdly, By our loss, in that, war with Spain, of 1500 English ships, according as was re ported to that assembly, called " Richard's parliament." 292 The World's Mistake in Oliver Cromwell, fyc. Fourthly, In the disgracefullest defeat at Hispaniola, that ever this kingdom suffered in any age or time. Fifthly and lastly, In spending the great publick stock he found, and yet leaving a vast debt upon the kingdom, as appeared by the accounts brought into Richard's assembly ; which had, I believe, been yet much higher, but that they, who under him managed the affairs, were a sort of people, who had been long disciplined, before his time, to a principle of frugality, and against cheating; though at cousening the poorer ^people, for their mas ter's benefit, some of them were grown as dexterous, as if they had been bred in the court of Spain. For, besides imposing Richard upon the people, after his father's death, by a forged title, according to the very law they took to be in being, when, by his assembly, they were ordered to bring in an account of the receipts, and payments of the kingdom ; they made above sixty-thousand pounds spent in intelligence, whereas it cost not above three or four thousand at most ; and calculating the rest by these, it may well be con cluded, that they were expert in their trades. It is confessed, that Oliver's peace and league with France was upon honourable articles; but, as the tottering affairs of France then stood, much more could not have been sooner asked, than had. For Mazarin, being a man of a large and subtle wit, apprehending the greatness of England at that time, which was then dreadful to the world ; and the vast ad vantages France would have in pulling down, by their help, of Spain; granted him, not only any thing for the present that he demanded, but disregarded also even his party's making their boasts of the awe he had him under : considering, that when Cromwell had helped him tb do his work, in bringing under the house of Austria, and therein casting the balance of Christendom on his side, he should afterwards have leisure to recover what then he seemed to part with. And though nothing is more ordinary, than to hear men brag, how Oliver vapoured over France, I do esteem Mazarin's complying with him, for his own ends, to be the chief piece of all his ministry ; for, by that means only, and no other, is his master become so great at this day, that no factions at home can disturb his peace, nor powers abroad frighten him : which is more than any king of France, since Charles the Great, could say. And, when his neighbour nations have, too late I fear, experienced his greatness, they will find cause to curse the ignprance of Oliver's politicks ; and therefore, when a true measure is taken of Cromwell, the approbation, that he hath in the world, will not be found to have its foundation in sense, or reason, but proceeding from ignorance and atheism : from ignorance, in those that take all that was done by him, as a servant, and whilst under, the direction of better heads, than his own, to be done by him alone ; and from atheism, in those that think every thing lawful that a man doth, if it succeeds to his advancement. But they that shall take an impartial view of his actions, whilst he was a single person5, and at liberty to make use of his own parts without controul, will find no thing worthy commendations, but cause enough from thence to observe, that the wisdom of his masters and not his own, must have been that by which he first moved ; and to attri bute his former performances, whilst a servant, as is truly due, to the judgment and sub tlety of the long parliament, under whose conduct and command he was. And now from Cromwell's neglecting to live in peace, as, if he had pleased, he might have done with all the world, to the great mriching of this nation : the improvement of our victory over Hoi land in his peace with them ; his being the cause of the loss of our Spanish trade, during all his time; of the loss of 1500 English ships in that war; besides, by it breaking the ba lance of Europe ; of the expence of the publick stock and stores he found, with the contract ing a, debt of nineteen-hundred-thousand pounds, according to his own account (which for aught I know, he left behind him, but am apt to think the debt was not altogether so great, though made so to his son Richard's assembly, as a means to get the more monev from the poorer people): and lastly, of the dishonourable overthrow we met with at His paniola6. It may be well concluded, that he laid the foundation of pur present want of ' Protector. 6 [In 1655, by the mismanagement of General Venables. See the preceding tract, p. 286.] The World's Mistake in Oliver Cromwell, Sic. 293 trade, to what we formerly enjoyed ; and that the reason, why his miscarriages were not sooner under observation, is, because our stock of wealth and honour, at his coming to the government, being then unspeakably great, stifled their appearance, until, having since had some unhappy additional losses, they are now become discernible as first losses, to a merchant who concealedly bears up under them, are afterwards discovered by the addition of second losses, that sink him. When I contemplate these great failings, I cannot but apprehend the sad condition any people are in, whose governor drives on a distinct contrary interest to theirs ; for, doubtless, Cromwell's over-Weening care to secure his particular interest, against his Majesty, then abroad, and the long-parliament, whom he had turned out; with a prodigious ambition of acquiring a glorious name in the. world ; carried him on to all his mistakes and absurdities, to the irreparable loss and da mage of this famous kingdom. To prove the second assertion, That Oliver's time was full of oppression and injustice, I shall but instance in a few of many particulars, and begin with John Lilburne ; hot that I think him, in any kind, one that deserved favour or respect, but that equal jus tice is due to the worst as well as best men, and that he comes first in order of time. 1. John, in 1646, was, by order of the then parliament, tried for his life, with an in tent, I believe, of taking him away ; but, the jury not finding him guilty, he was imme diately, according to law, generously set at liberty by those, that had quarrel enough against him7. This example in the parliament of keeping to the laws in the case of one, who was a professed implacable enemy to them, ought to have been 'copied by Crom well : but on the contrary, to shew that there was a difference betwixt him and his pre decessors (the long-parliament's) principles, when the law had again, upon a 6econd trial, occasioned by Oliver, cleared Lilburne, the parliament's submitting to the law was no example to him : for, contrary to law, he kept him in prison, until he was so far spent in a consumption, that he only turned him out to die. 2dly, Mr. Coney's case is so notorious, that it needs little more than naming : he was a prisoner at Cromwell's suit, and being brought to the King's Bench bar, by a habeas corpus, had his counsel taken from the bar, and sent to the Tower, for no other reason, than the pleading of their client's cause ; an act of violence, that, I believe, the whole story of England doth not parallel. Sdly, Sir Henry Vane8, above any one person, was the author of Oliver's advance ment, and did so long and cordially espouse his interest, that he prejudiced himself, in the opinion of some, by it : yet so ungrateful was this monster of ingratitude, that he studied to destroy him, both in life and estate ; because he could not adhere to him in his perjury and falseness. The occasion he took was this : he, appointing a publick day of humiliation, and seeking pf God for him, invited all God's people in his declaration, to offer him their advice in the weighty affairs then upon his shoulders. .Sir Henry, taking a rise from hence, offered his advice by a treatise, called " The Healing Question9 :" but Cromwell, angry at being taken at his word, seized, imprisoned, and endeavoured to proceed fur ther against him, for doing only what he had invited him to do ; and some may think, that Sir Henry suffered justly, for having known him so long, and yet would trust to any thing he said, 4thly, In Richard's assembly, certain prisoners in the Tower, under the then lieutenant, and some sent thence to Jersey, and other places beyond the sea, complained of false imprisonment. The jailor was sent for, and being required to shew by what authority he kept those perons in hold, produceth a paper all under Oliver's own hand, as followeth ; 7 [So turbulent a. character was John Lilburne, that Judge Jenkins tartly said— '' If the world was emptied of " all but himself, Lilburne would quarrel with John, and John with Lilburne." Notwithstanding this un quiet propensity, he died in the communion of Quakerism, Aug. 1657.] 8 [Sir Henry Vane was deemed by Lord Clarendon a perfect .enthusiast, who, without doubt, did believe himself inspired; which so far corrupted his reason and understanding, that he did further believe, he was the person deputed to reign over the saints upon -earth for a thousand years. From him a sect arose, who were called Vanists.] 9 [Printed in 1656 : and in the same year -came forth, ." A Le'tter from a person in the country to his friend in the city, giving his judgment upon Sir Hen. Vane's Healing Question."] 294 The World's Mistake in Oliver Cromwell, iVc. ' Sir, I pray you seize such and such persons, and all others, whom you shall judge dan- ' gerousmen; do it quickly, and you shall have a warrant after you have done.' The na ture of this warrant was, by Richard's assembly, debated ; and having first Richard's own council's opinion in the case, as Serjeant Maynard, &c. they voted the commitment of thp complaints to be illegal, unjust, andi tyrannical ; and that, first, because the warrant, by which they were committed, was under the hand of the then (as they called him) chief magistrate, who, by law, ought not to commit any by his own warrant. Secondly, be cause no cause was shewn, in the warrant. And,. thirdly, in the case of those sent out of the reach of a habeas corpus, which in law is a banishment; because no Englishman ought to be banished by any less authority than an act of parliament. And therefore, for these reasons, they voted farther, that the prisoners should be set at liberty without paying any fees, or charges ; but the turning out, and punishing the lieutenant by the assembly (for obeying so unjust a warrant) was prevented by their sudden dissolution. 5thly, The tyranny, in the decimating a party restored to common privileges with all others, and the publick faith given for it, by a law made to that end, by the then powers in being, is sufficiently shewed in the mentioning of it : only there is this aggravating cir cumstance in it; that Cromwell, who was the principal person in procuring that law, when he thought it for his advantage not to keep it, was the only man for breaking it : but to the honour of his first assembly, next following, it may be remembered, that they no. sooner came together, than, like true Englishmen, who are always jealous of the rights and pri vileges of the people, they damned the act of decimation as an unjust and wicked breach of faith. The third assertion of Cromwell's knowing no honesty, where he thought his particular interest was concerned, is made good ; first, (though therein* he mistook his interest) in his odious and unjust war with Spain, without the least provocations, merely* out of an am bitious and covetous design of robbing that prince of his silver and gold mines : and because hq judged it for his credit to disguise his unlawful desires, he proceeded in it, by employ ing his creatures in the city, to draw the merchants to complain of injuries done them by Spain, and to petition for reparations; but, by a cross providence, his project had a con trary success ; for, instead of answering his seekings, the merchants remonstrated to him the great prejudice that a war with Spain would be to England ; and shewed, that that king had been so far from injuring us, that he had done more for compliance, and pre venting^ breach with; England, than ever he had done in favour of any other nation ; but when Oliver saw his method would not take, he called the remonstratorSj malignants, and begun the war with his own accord ; in which, he was highly ungrateful in designing the ruin of that prince, who all along had, been most faithful to" his party. Secondly, His falseness and ingratitudeappeared superlatively in turning out his masters19 who had not only advanced him, but made themselvs.es the more odious by their partial af fection towards him; and in his doing; it, with the breach of a positive negative oath, taken once a year, when made a counsellor of state, besides the breach of all other engagements voluntary imprecations, protestations, and. oaths, taken frequently upon all occasions in dis course and declarations; and yet further (when he had turned them out) and left them void of protection, and exposed them to the fury of the people, in pursuing them with false re proachful declarations, enough to have stirred up the rude multitude to have destroyed them, wherever they had met them. - Thirdly, His want of honour, as well as honesty, appeareth, yet further, in that having by a long series of a seeming pious deportment, gaiped by his dissimulation, good thoughts' in his masters, the long-parliament ; and, by his spiritual gifts, wound himself into so good an opinion with his soldiers,(men, generally, of plain breeding, that knew little besides their military trade, and religious exercises) that he could impose, in matters of business what be lief he pleased upon them; he made use of the credit he had with each, to abuse both' by many vile practices, for making himself popular, and the parliament and army odious to one an- .'• The long-parliament. The World'® Mistake in Oliver Cromwell, Sfe. $95 other: and, because -the artifices he used are too many to enumerate, I shall but instance in some few : as his sly complaining insinuations against 'the army to the parliament, and against 'them to the army : his being the chief cause of the parliament's giving rewards to his creatures, and then, whispering complaints among his officers, of their ill husbandry : his obstructing rthe house in their business, by long drawling speeches, and other Ways, and then complaining of them to his soldiers, that he could not get them todo any thing that was good : his giving fair words to every one, without keeping promise With any; except for his own advantage, and then excusing all withforgetfulness: and his deserting his 'major- generals, in their decimations, cryiug out most against them hirriself, when he only had Set them at work, because questioned by his assembly, is not tb be forgotten, &c. I would not be understood to remember any thing here, in favour of the long-parliament ; for what might be wicked in him, might be jirst as to them. And fhottgh, if what he did, had been for the restoration of his Majesty,, he might have been excused; yet, being for his own single advancement, it is unpardonable, and leaves him a person to be truly admired for nothing but apostacy and ambition, and exceeding Tiberius in dissimulation. I am not ignorant that some think it matter of praise in him, that he kept us in peace, four years and nine months ; but that hath little in it ; his Majesty having done the like, almost double his time, since his return, with one fifth part Of that number of soldiers which he com manded ; though he hath also the trouble of pressing, and sometimes forcing uniformity in religion, which he found under various forms; whereas Oliver kept the nation purposely divided in opinions, and himself of no declared judgment, as the securest way of engaging all several persuasions equally to him; which artifice, together with his leaving the church- lands alienated as he found them, were all the true principles of policy that I know of, which he kept unto. The honesty of these principles I refer to the judgment of every man's conscience; but, if we may judge of things by experience and success, they seem to have been very happy in the world. For, in comparing the condition of the Protestant countries at present, to what they were in times of Popery, we shall find them more considerable how than formerly; for, in taking a true survey of the reformed 'dominions, we shall discover them to bear 116 proportion at all in largeness, to the Popish ; and that there is nothing that keeps the ba lance betwixt the two parties, but the advantage that the first hath, in being free from the bondage of the church of Rome, and the latter's being under it. For, as the church of Rome's mercies are (by their principles) cruelties ; so, had they power answerable to the natural richness of the soil of their countries, and extent of their territories, they would Idng before -this have swallowed up the Protestant churches, and made bonfires of their membefs ; but, as God, in bis mercy and wisdom, hath, by his over-ruling hand of Providence, pre served his church; so, for the Romish church's inability to effect that which they have will and malice enough to carry them on to do, there are these natural reasons: First, There being generally, of the Popish countries, above one moiety belonging to churchmen, monks, friars, and nuns ; who, like drones, spend the fat of the land, with out contributing any thing to the good of mankind, renders them much the less consi derable. Secondly, Marriage being forbidden to all these sorts and orders, occasions great want of people every where, they being uncapable of any children but those of darkness11, ex cept in France, which is an extraordinary case, proceeding partly, by not being so sub ject to Rome, as other countries of that belief are ; but especially from the multitude of Protestants, that are among them. Thirdly, The blind devotion of these people, carrying them on to vast expences, in the building and richly adorning of many needless and superfluous churches, chapels, and crosses, &c. with the making chargeable presents by the better, and pilgrimages by the meaner sort, to their idols, keeps all degrees under. Fourthly, The many holydays, upon which, the labouring man is forbidden to work, adds much to their poverty. " Viz. bastards. 296 The World's Mistake in Oliver Cromwell, Xc. But, fifthly and lastly, The vast number of begging friars, who living idly, and purely upon the sweat of other men's brows, without taking any labour themselves, make it im possible' for the lower sort of people, who think they are bound, in conscience, to relieve them, ever to get above a mean condition. Now, whosoever shall seriously weigh and ponder these circumstances, under which the Popish countries lie, and consider the re.- formed's advantage in being free from them, must confess it the less wonder, that the evangelical 12 princes and states, with their' small dominions, compared to the others great, are able to bear up against them ; and now, as the alienation of church-lands, the turning out the Romish vermin, the Priests, Monks, Friars, and Nuns, who devour all countries wherever they come, and freedom from the Popish imposition upon conscience, hath mightily increased the greatness of the Protestant princes and states, to what they an ciently were, and the not doing the same, in the Popish countries, keeps those Princes under ; so, even amongst the reformed, where the church-lands are most alienated, and liberty of conscience most given, they prosper^ most ; as in Holland, and some parts of Germany, with other places. And, on the contrary, Denmark, where church-lands are least alienated of any of the reformed countries ; and the city of Lubeck, where, of all the free imperial cities of Germany, liberty of conscience is least given; they thrive least in both places. And,- I think, it will also hold, that, as this famous kingdom, in the times of popery, was, in no measure, so formidable as now it is; so before the restoration of our hierarchy to their lands, their hparding up the money, which before went in trade, and their discouraging and driving into corners the industrious sort of people, by imposing upon their con sciences; it flourished more, was richer, and fuller of trade, than now it is: and I dare un dertake to be a prophet in this, that, if ever any Protestant country should be so far forsaken of the Lord, as to be suffered to turn unto popery ; these observations will be made good in their visible loss of the splendour, riches, power, and greatness, that they now know, Had CrOmwell been a person of an open profane life, his actions had been less scan dalous ; but, having been a professor of religion, they are not to be pleaded for : neither can it be consistent with religion .to palliate them, which have been of so much offence, and, as may be feared, made so many atheists in the world; and I cannot but stand amazed, when I hear him extolled by some, not ignorant of his practices, knowing in reli gion, and, as I hope, fearing God. Now I will suppose, I may be suspected to have been injured, or disobliged by Oliver ; but I can with truth affirm, I never received either good or evil from him in all my life, more than in common with the whole kingdom, which, I think, may be allowed to ren der me the more a competent judge in his case; and, that lam so far from being. moved unto this, out of any quarrel to him, that, as 1 have here mentioned some few of many injus tices and state-errors, that he was. guilty of in his short time, if Twere conscious of any thing more, during his protectorship, worthy applause, than I have here mentioned, I should not envy it him, but freely remember it : and, if any think I have not said enough on his behalf, and too much to his disadvantage, I have this for my buckler, that I wish I could have said more for him, and had known less against him ; professing, that, besides what I have here hinted, I am wholly ignorant of any one action in all his four years and nine months' time, done either wisely, virtuously, or for the interest of this kingdom - and, therefore, that I am none of his admirers, I ought be pardoned by my readers. Much more might be said upon this subject, but this may suffice to shew, that, if Ma- zarin, at the hearing of Oliver's death, thought, he had then reason for calling him, '" a for- " tunate fool ;" if he were now living he would find more cause for it; Cromwell's lot as to reputation, having been exceedingly much greater since his death, than whilst he was in the world : and that from forgetfulness of his impolitic government, from whose entrance w.e may date the commencement of our trade's decay ; and, through want of memory in men's giving to him the cause of our former wealth and prosperity, which truly be- longeth to others. But, what opinion goever Mazarin may have had of Oliver, he was without all peradventure, a person of more than ordinary wit, and no otherwise a fool than as he wanted honesty ; no man being wise but an honest man. " Protestant ; so called, because they take the word of God for their rule of faith. m The Wars, and Causes of them, betwixt England and France, from William the First to William the Third ; with a Treatise of the Salique Law. By D. J. and revised by R. C. Esq. MDCXCVII. [Duodecimo. Seventy-Two Pages.] Great and various have the actions been between England and France, since the invasion of the Normans, Anno Dom. 1066, which makes, September next1, just 629 years; but, that the French nation should make a conquest of England hereby, nothing is more manifestly untrue, that people being a distinct nation from the French, who conquering that province by main force, from Neustria, called it Normandia, in the reign of Charles le Simple ; whence, by the way, it is worth remarking, what kind of Kings France hath often had, and what sort of epithets their own chronicles give them, which stand upon publick record to all posterity ; as Charles le Simple, Charles le Chauve, Charles le Gros, Charles le Gras, Charles le Phrenetique, Philip le Long, Lovis le Begue, &c. Now, though there have been many and mighty quarrels, warlike encounters, and feuds betwixt England and France, yet, in the reign of the Saxon Kings, the historians make little mention of any ; but since England was joined; as it were, to the Continent, by the addition of Normandy, there have been as frequent traverses of war as have hap pened between any two nations; for, of those twenty-eight Kings and Queens, which nave reigned here, from William the First to William the Third, there have been but a very few of them free from actual wars with France ; yet, in so long a tract of time, when the French were at their highest pitch of power, they never did nor had any ade quate power to invade England : it is true that they took footing once or twice in the Isle of Wight, but it quickly grew too hot for them. And touching Lewis the French King's son, who did stay, and sway the sceptre here about two years, whereof they so much vaunt : that was no invasion but an invitation, being brought in by the discontented Barons in England ; so that, in a manner, France was the theatre of the war between the two nations, down from William the First to the present time. As for the great battles which were fought from time to time, it is confessed by the French Historians themselves, that the English were at most but half in number to them in almost all engagements ; insomuch that, by pure prowess and point of sword, the En glish possessed two parts of three in that populous kingdom, and, how all came to be lost again, will appear by the sequel of the story. But here I cannot omit one remark able accident, that was concomitant with the English arms in France, and that is, that, when the English were at the height of their conquests in that kingdom, the Pope came to reside at Avignon in France, and there was a common saying which continues still in memory among the vulgar, Ores ! le Pape est devenu Frangois, 8C Christ est devenu Anglois ; i. e. ' Lo ! the Pope is beGome a Frenchman, and Christ an Englishman ;' which related to the marvellous exploits and successes the English had in that kingdom ; which were such, that Sir Walter Raleigh, speaking of the famous Punick wars, puts this query : ' If one should ask, which was the valiantest, the Roman or the Carthaginian ? 1 1697. VOL. I. Q Q 298 The Wars, and Causes of them, between England and Prance, 8Cc. ' One might answer, the Englishman, who performed greater feats of arms than either of ' them ; insomuch that some foreign authors give this character of France, that it was the ' stage whereon the English acted their valour so often.' It is true that in canvassing of treaties, in subtleties or shuffling the cards, and mental re servations, they were mostly too hard for the English, who naturally use downright deal ing, and real integrity ; but in point of performance of what was stipulated, especially if the article related to money, whereof we drew from them vast sums, they seldom exactly performed the capitulation of any treaty, as foreign writers observe : so that part of King John's ransom is yet behind, besides the money which was to be paid for Tournay, in Henry the Eighth's time ; the five-hundred-thousand crowns, which Edward the Sixth was to have for Bologne; and those great expences which Queen Elizabeth was to have for .sending her armies to aid Henry the Fourth, and the French refor mists; two parts of three are. not paid to this day: but of these and other things more hereafter in their proper place. ENGLAND, exclusive of Scotland, which had but very little share in the wars we are to treat of, is the greatest, most southern, and best part of the Island of Great Bri tain, heretofore called Albion and Britannia; it lies, together with Wales, in the form of a great triangle, whereof the Southern shore is the base, and Berwick the opposite angle ; it was divided by the Romans into five parts, by the Saxons into seven kingdoms, and now, Wales included, into fifty-two shires or counties. It is a fruitful country, full of valiant and in dustrious inhabitants; but, in regard to its boundaries, bears no proportion to France, even considered in its narrowest limits, over which, notwithstanding, it has so often and so glo riously triumphed, as will manifestly appear in the series of the ensuing history. But because, the wars with France, in the time of the Saxons, are very obscurely recorded as to their time, cause and effects, we will, therefore, begin with, WILLIAM I. WHO was invidiously termed " the Conqueror," by the Monks of those times, as the learned Sir William Temple has well observed; though it is as true, he could not claim in right of succession, himself being illegitimate, and Edgar Atheline, of the Saxon blood royal, to take place before him, but must, therefore, reign by virtue either of a compact or previous choice of the people of England, the sword which he had then in his hand no doubt, powerfully disposing of them also to such an election ; he proved to be a warlike King of England, as he hadjbeen a successful Duke of Normandy. But, though he had wonderful success in the battle of Hastings, which was fought, October the fourteenth Anno 1066, and got the day with the slaughter of above sixty-thousand of his English enemies, yet things did not succeed so well with him in his Kentish expedition ; for, direct ing his march towards Dover, with a design to reduce Kent first under his obedience as considering this country to be the key of England, and that what he had already done would be of little account, if this were not accomplished: the Kentish men, upon report hereof, assembled to Archbishop Stigand, at Canterbury, and, atter serious' consultation resolved to arm, and to force the conqueror either to confirm their ancient liberties or to die valiantly in the field in defence of them ; and so, under the command of tbe Archbishop, and the Abbot Eglesine, rendezvoused at Swanescomb, where, it was agreed, all the pas sages should be stopped, and that they should make use of the adjacent woods for a covert fiom the discovery of the enemy, till he were fast within their net. The Duke next day expecting no such ambuscade, in his march, finds himself with part of his army su, rounded all of a sudden, with numerous squadrons of horse, and battalions of foot ; which seemed the more surprizing to him, because that, every man for a signal, as it was agreed upon The Wars, and Causes of them, between England and France, tfc. 299 carrying a green bough in his hand, they appeared unto him like a moving wood, wherein he was in danger of quickly losing himself. Stigand approaches to the Duke, tells him the occasion of such an assembly, what their demands were, and what their resolves, if refused. The Duke, wisely considering the danger, grants all their requests, and, upon that, was admitted into Rochester, and had the Earldom of Kent and Dover Castle yielded to him. The former part of this King's reign, as may be well imagined, was taken up in making provision for his adventurers, and in subduing, settling, and modelling of his new English subjects, amongst whom were frequent tumults and insurrections, occasioned mostly through the insults of the Normans ; that but too readily provoked them upon every occasion, pre suming, no doubt, very much upon the favour of the King their countryman, who, on times, shewed too much partiality in that regard. It is true, he had not been a year ihthroned, before he was obliged, upon commotions there, to pass over into Normandy; but we do not find, till about ten years after, that he had any foreign wars, when, passing over into Bretagne, he laid siege to the castle of Dolence, belonging to Earl Ralph ; which engaged Philip, King of France, into the quarrel, and so with a mighty army marches against King William, who, finding himself hereby much streightened for provision, broke up his siege, not without loss, both of men and horses, and of some of his baggage, and hereupon ensued an accommodate ion : but, not a year after, Robert, the King's eldest son, to whom, upon his assuming of the English crown, he had assigned the Dukedom of Nor mandy, in the presence of King Philip of France ; because now his father, as he pretended, would not suffer him to enjoy the said Dukedom in quiet; went into France, and, being by the said King Philip assisted with forces, committed great ravages in Normandy, burn ing many towns, and, at length, engaged with the King his father in battle, near the castle" of Garbery, in France ; the King, according to his usual manner, charged with great re solution, and spared not to expose his person to all dangers, insomuch that he had in this action, first, the misfortune to be unhorsed himself, his son William wounded, and many of his family slain ; and, as an addition hereunto, through intemperate anger to curse his son Robert, who, it was observed, never prospered after. Things, after this, continued in a tolerable state of amity between Philip and this King, till the last year of his reign, when residing in Normandy, and being grown very corpulent, the French King was pleased to speak reproachfully of him, saying, " The King of England lieth at Roan, and keeps his chamber as lying-in women do, and there nourisheth his fat belly ;" did so offend King William, that he said, " Well, when after my delivery I go to Church, I shall offer a thou sand candles to him, and sware to the same by God's resurrection and his brightness;" and this he made good the latter end of August, the same year, when he entered France, with fire and sword, and burnt down the city of Meaux, together with the church of St. Mary, and two friars inclosed therein ; who superstitiously persuaded themselves they ought not to forsake their cell in such extremity, though to the apparent hazard of their lives. This King died at Roan, Anno Dom. 1087, when he had reigned twenty years, eight months, and sixteen days, and lived threescore and four years, and was buried at Caen in Normandy. The causes of his wars were, first, an irruption made by the French into Normandy, con trary to the articles of peace ; and, secondly, the contumelious language used by King Philip, concerning his person. WILLIAM II. SIRNAMED Rufus, or the Red, during his twelve years and about eight months reign, had no wars with France, neither do we read of any just cause given to engage him thereto; but he unjustly invaded Normandy, then subject to his brother Robert, and dispossessed him of the county of Owe, many castles, and some monasteries ; but was, in the mean time, by Divine justice, assaulted by his younger brother, Henry, in his own dominions, 300 The Wars, and Causes of them, between England and France, 8Cc. and it had like to have cost him his life, for he was bore down in fight, from his horse, by a valiant Knight, who, taking his sword to kill him, was stopped by the King's crying out, " Hold thy hand, knave, I am the King of England ;" which words so struck the Knight with reverence, that he mounted him on another horse; and the King, to recompense his valour and submission, swore, by St. Luke's face, he should be his Knight, and be written in his white book. He was accidentally killed by Sir Walter Tyrrell, as he was hunting in the New Forest, Anno 1100; buried at Winchester, and died unlamented. HENRY I. WHO for his learning was called Beauclerk, was youngest son to William the Con queror: he, passing over into Normandy, made war against the Earl of Anjou, who kept Maine against his will, and this engaged Lewis, the French King, to take part with the latter; whereupon ensued many sore battles, both in France and Normandy, between them with various success ; at length, taking Anjou's daughter for wife to his son Wil liam, peace was concluded. But it will not be amiss to give the reader a taste of the high spirit and resolution of this King, in a personal quarrel he had in France. In his father's life-time, he accompanying his eldest brother, Robert, into that kingdom, while the latter associated himself with the then French King; Henry, according to the suitableness of their years, took up with the company and divertisements of the Dauphin, and being one even ing at chess together, the Dauphin happened to lose a considerable sum of money to the Prince at that game ; whereat the former grew so enraged, that, after some reproachful lan guage, he struck the Prince ; who, not brooking the high affront, with the chess-board knocks the Dauphin fairly down to the ground, and being intent to pursue his revenge, his brother, Robert, fortunately came in, and, minding him of the danger, away they both fled, and with great haste and difficulty recovered the next part of Normandy, before their pur suers could reach them. This King made his exit, as his father before him, in Normandy, in the year 1 135, after he had reigned thirty -five years and four months. The cause of this war we have before assigned, to wit, the King of France's taking part with Anjou against Henry. STEPHEN. KING of England, was son to Adella a daughter of William the Conqueror, and ne-^ phew to the two last Kings; he laid claim to the kingdom of England in the year 1135, notwithstanding his oath to Maud, the Empress and daughter to Henry the First, to the Contrary; wherefore, without looking abroad into France for any wars, his whole reign, which was eighteen years and about ten months, was, in a manner, taken up in intestine broils and contests about his right to the English crown, wherein he was stiffly opposed by several Nobles, and by the said Empress Maud, and her son Henry, afterwards Henry the Second, whom she bare to Geoffery Plantagenet, Earl of Anjou, and Duke of Normandy • from whence sprang the noble family of the Plantagenets that so long governed England* He was once made prisoner at Bristol, and at last, notwithstanding he had children of his own, was forced to adopt Henry for his son and heir, and the Nobles sware fealty to him accordingly. HENRY II. SON of Maud and Geoffrey Plantagenet, as aforesaid, at the age of three and twenty years, and even in the life-time of his mother, under whom he claimed, began his reign over The Wars, and Causes of them, between England and France, Kc. 301 England, in the year 1 154. This Prince, notwithstanding his domestick troubles, and famous atchievements against the Welch, and his conquest of a great part of the kingdom of Ireland, (so as he was the first of our English Kings, that was styled the Lord of that country,) yet found opportunity to make war in France, upon several occasions ; the al liance he had made with the French court by the marriage of his son Henry to King Lewis's daughter, Margaret, proving rather an incitative to contention and discord, than a bond of peace and amity : the famous city of Tholouse was chiefly the seat of this war, which was once and again bravely assaulted by King Henry, and as vigorously defended by Lewis. In his first expedition against this place, he was accompanied with Malcolm King of Scots, a Welch King, and with others of highest rank and dignity in England, Nor mandy, Aquitain, Anjou, and Gascoigne; during his second expedition in France, the EarJs of Bulloign and Flanders, with six-hundred sail of ships, attempted to make a descent into England ; but their undertaking proved frustrate and abortive through the vigilance, courage, and prudence of Richard Lacy, who then governed England. This King is famous, or rather infamous in history, for the many base children he had, being no less than nineteen in number ; for his fair Concubine Rosamond, for whom he built that celebrated labyrinth at Woodstock, the recesses whereof could not be penetrated into; but by insuperable jealousy, the Queen, as it was said, by the help of a clew of thread, finding of her out at last, so used her that she lived not long after. And no less to be mentioned for the troubles he met with, from that proud prelate Thomas a Becket ; to whose shrine, after his murder, much blind devotion has been paid even by the greatest potentates. Though his son Henry, who was crowned King in his life-time, and died before him, gave him much disturbance; yet when he found, after his death, that others, and particularly his son John, conspired against him, he was so stricken with grief, that, cursing his son and the day of his own birth, he died, July 6, 1189, aged 61 ; having reigned thirty-four years, and almost seven months. The causes of the war were, that King Lewis did incite the Prince his son against the laws of nature to oppose Henry his father : in the war time Lewis had promised, upon the word of a King, to meet him in order to a treaty ; but he failed for his own advantage ; whereupon Henry, being sensible of the fraud, sought him out with his army, and made him give ground : thereupon another interview being appointed, betwixt Terwin and Arras, histories relate that, as the two Kings were busy in conference, there fell a clap of thunder between them, and meeting the next day, the like accident happened; which struck a consternation in both armies, as inclined the Kings the more to an accommoda tion. RICHARD I. WHO for his valour was sirnamed Coeur de Lion, was the third son of Henry the Second, hut the eldest when his father died, aged 35 years when he began his reign, the former part whereof was spent by him in the wars, in the Holy Land, William Longshamp Bishop of Ely, and Chancellor of England, governing the kingdom during his absence ; in this war, he signalized his valour to a wonder, having first taken Cyprus in his way thither ; and, at Aeon in Syria, so behaved himself, that he became an object of envy to other Christian Princes, especially to King Philip of France, as you shall see hereafter. Wherever he. went, terror was his forerunner; insomuch that it grew common, amongst those eastern people, to terrify their children with the apprehension of King Richard's coming : in his return, being driven upon the coast of Dalmatia, and thinking to pass home by land, incognito, he was made prisoner by the Duke of Austria, who brought him to the Emperor Henry, and was detained by him in custody for a year and five months, till he paid a great ransom. His unparalleled valour and bravery was the occasion of this misfortune ; these and other Princes bearing him envy, especially the French King, who invaded Normandy during his absence, which obliged Richard to make a peace with Saladine for three years, much to the disadvan- 302 The Wars, and Causes of them, between England and France, SCe, tage of the cause they fought for. Philip attacked Gisors, and had it surrendered to him and many other places, and then hasted to lay siege to Roan, but found such a vigorous defence made by the valiant and noble Earl of Leicester, that he was forced to quit his en terprise, and so returned into France. On the 12th of March, 1194, King Richard landed at Sandwich, was recrowned again, reduced the kingdom intirely to his obedience, which was much divided because of his brother John's pretensions in his absence ; and, hearing the King of France had besieged Verneuil, he passed over into Normandy, and arrived at Harfleur with a hundred ships full of horsemen, armour, &c. The noise whereof so frighted the Monsieur, that he left the siege and went his ways ; whereupon Richard enters the French dominions, and takes several strong places, but the noble Leicester had the misfor tune to be taken prisoner, who afterward paid a great sum of money for his ransom, and soon after ensued a truce for a short time; which was no sooner ended, but Richard takes the field, possesses himself of the castle of Brisen, Novencourt, &c. the French King, in the mean time, besieging Albemarle, whither Richard hastening to succour the place, a sharp battle was fought between both armies; wherein the French prevailed, chiefly upon the ac count of the English being wearied with their hard march. But Richard had, no sooner recruited and refreshed his soldiers, but he laid siege to Miligio, took it, and burnt it down to the ground, whereupon ensued some overtures of peace : Albemarle, in the mean time, fell into the French hands, and ran the same fate with Miligio. Some three years after, Richard turned His arms against the Barons of Poictiers that rebelled against, him, with pro sperous success; till at last besieging the castle of Chaluz, and having brought it to that ex tremity, that he would grant no other conditions but a surrender at discretion, he was shot in the left arm out of a cross-bow, with an invenomed dart by one Bertram de Gordon, of which wound he died the 6th of April 1199, after he had reigned nine years and nine months, and was buried at Fonteverault, at his father's feet. The causes were, that, while Richard went on so prosperously in the Holy Land, the French King out of envy, and contrary to his sacramental oath, invaded Normandy, which forced King Richard to make peace with Saladine, so much disadvantageous to all Chris tendom. JOHN. THE brother of Richard, who died without issue, and youngest son of Henry II, suc ceeded his^ brother to the prejudice of Arthur, Geoffrey his elder brother's son, who was the real heir of course. This Arthur in right of his mother was Earl of Bretagne in France so that, by this exclusion, England lost one of the best provinces in that kingdom ; and' by advancing John to the throne, we not only lost almost all our possessions in France but England, itself became vassal to the Pope; the clergy of those times growing strangely bigoted to Rome, and perverse to the King. King John was in Normandy, when his bro ther died, and though be wafted over into England, with all possible speed, to take posses sion of the crown ; and that his presence was so necessary here for to keep his new sub jects in their obedience to him ; yet he could make no long stay, for, before a year came about, he was forced to return into Normandy again, upon information, that Philip, King of France, had, with a powerful army, made an irruption into Normandy, who took the country of Maine, and several other places from the English ; the Britons at the same time possessing themselves of the city of Angiers, . the towns of Gorney, Butenant and Gensoline; Arthur doing also homage to King Philip for Anjou, Poictiers, Touraine Maine, Bretagne, and Normandy. But soon after a peace was concluded between the Kings, and thereby many places confirmed to the French King that he had taken and others yielded up by John, upon the account of his niece Blanch's marriage with Lewis heir of France, besides 30,000 marks in silver paid to Philip . and all this to the great dis honour, as well as detriment, of the English nation. About two years after this to wit The Wars, and Causes of them, between England ami France, fyc. 303 the third of the King's reign, one Hugo Brune, a nobleman of Aquitain, raised a rebellion against King John, in that province ; but he, and his adherents, being not able to with stand John's forces, made complaint of him to Philip of France, whereupon he was sum moned by the nobles of France, as Duke or Earl of Aquitain and Anjou, to appear before the French King, and to stand to the judgment of his peers, which he refused : upon which the court adjudged him to be deprived of all his lands, winch he or his predecessors held of the King of France. King Philip forthwith raises a great army, invades Normandy, takes in many castles, and a great part of the country without resistance ; but Arthur, Duke of Bretagne, besieging the castle of Mirable, with Queen Eleanor then in it, King John fell upon him there, with such force and fury, that he routed his army, and took Arthur, and many others of note, prisoners. Arthur some time after was sent prisoner to the Tower of Roan, and was there barbarously murdered, some said, by King John's own hands : but in all this time Philip prospered ; insomuch that, in a very short space, King John was in a manner despoiled of all the lands he held in fee of the crown of France. King John once and again made great preparations to recover his lost dominions, and had the good success to destroy the French fleet, and recover the province of Poictou ; but his domestick troubles, both from his Barons and Clergy, prevented his further designs ; yet, about the fifteenth year of his reign, having entered into a strong confederacy with other foreign princes, he set sail for Bretagne, and laid siege to Nantz, where a bloody battle was fought, the French King being once in great danger of his life ; but at length proved victorious, and took many pri soners ; whereof of note were the Earls of Brabant, Holland, Flanders, and Bulloign ; the Emperor, who was also at the battle, being driven out of the field ; and 6,000 marks, on the King of England's part, was the purchase of a truce for five years. Commotions in England soon followed upon the neck of this, and for male-administration, insomuch that, at length, Lewis, the Dauphin, was invited over by the Barons, to take upon him the crown of England ; who came accordingly, with little opposition ; but, being soon after displeased with their new king, they resolved to cast him off, and so he was fain at last to depart from whence he came. This was an unhappy reign, but memorable for Magna Charta, and for building of London Bridge of stone. This King died at Lyn, as he was marching with his army to fight the Dauphin, when he had reigned seventeen years and about five months, and was aged 5L years, anno 1216. ~ The first ground of this war was, that Philip of France did infringe the truce made with England for five years, and invaded Normandy. Then, another truce being made, he violated that also, and still fomented the Barons' wars. HENRY III. COMMONLY called Henry of Winchester, from his birth-place, succeeded his father King John, at the age of nine years, as next heir, maugr'e all the attempts of Lewis, the Dauphin of France, whose forces were defeated at Lincoln, by the King's guardian and bro ther- in law, the famous Earl of Pembroke ; and so from that time forward things went worse and worse with him, most places yielding by land, and bis fleet utterly destroyed by sea, by Hubert de Burg. Eustace a monk, that commanded it, being slain by Richard, a bas tard son of King John; he yielded up his claim to the crown, and so returned with a glim mering of it into France. Henry, about the fourteenth year of his reign, determined to make war upon France; and, to that purpose, he assembled at Portsmouth all his nobility, knights, and such a vast number, both of horse and foot, as never was done by any of his predecessors, designing to have recovered all those territories his father had lost ; but, when they came to be shipped, they had not carriages enough for half the army, which he im puted to the treachery of Hubert de Burg, his chief justice; and, in a rage, drawing his sword, would have killed him, had it not been for the Earl of Chester that interposed: the 304 The Wars, and Causes of them, between England and France, %c. Earl of Bretagne, who was present, and bound by an path to conduct the King to his country, and others, persuaded him to defer his expedition for that season, and so his mighty preparations for the present vanished. But the year following, King Henry, with a mighty army, sailed into Bretagne, and after he had ravaged and committed great spoil in the country, laid siege to the city of Nantz ; but, after the consumption of a vast trea sure, and the loss of many men by sickness, and otherwise, returned into England the same year; but set all things first in order for the conservation of the country of Bretagne. The French, making use of the opportunity of the King's absence, took the city of Ro- chelle, and so, pushing on their conquest, reduced the whole province of Poictiers to their obedience, which King John, his father, had conquered ; whereat Henry being nettled, pre pared for another mighty expedition, but with the same fatal success as before : for after se veral bickerings, wherein were lost many of his men, he made a peace, and returned re infectd, but recovered at last the province of Aquitain. The latter part of his reign was so taken up with intestine broils in the Barons' wars, wherein sometimes he was worsted and im prisoned, sometimes prevailed against his enemies, that he had no leisure to look after his territories abroad, and call the French to an account for them ; till at last, after he had lived 65 years, and of them reigned 56, and odd days, and lavished away an immense treasure ; he resigned his breath to Him that gave it, at Edmundsbury in Suffolk, was buried at Westminster, anno 1272, and was happy in nothing so much as in the hopes of his eldest son Edward. 1. One cause of his wars with France was, that the French assisted the Scots against him. 2. Another was, the recovery of those towns and provinces, the French unjustly took from him, and his ancestors. EDWARD I. SIRNAMED Long-shanks, the son of Henry, was in the Holy Laqd with Eleanor his wife, when the crown fell to him, being then about 33 years old. He began his reign the 16th of November, and arrived with his Queen in England, the loth of August following, being in the year 1273. He proved a warlike, wise, and victorious Prince, and may justly be styled, " The best law-giver." He made several expeditions against Wales and' Scot land ; the latter became tributary to him, and the former he reduced intirely under the obedience of the crown of England, and has so continued to this day : but the stratagem he used for to satisfy those unruly spirits, and keep them in subjection, may be worthy of observation. Having about the twelfth year of his reign reduced all Wales, and, by a statute made at Ruthyn, incorporated and annexed it to the crown of England ; but, finding he could not win the good will of the people, unless he would engage to reside amongst them, or allow them a prince of their own nation to govern them; and that, after several conferences no English deputies would do, but that they were content to submit to any man he should name, provided he were a Welchman: at length he privily sends for his Queen, then big with child, and caused her to remain at Cam arvan castle, where she was brought'to bed of a son ; at which time he sends for the Barons and chief men of Wales, to come to him to Ruthyn, to deliberate about the affairs of the country; and when they came, he told them he had now occasion to go out of that country, but, before he went, , he was' determined to name them a Prince, if they promised to obey him. They replied, « They would provided he were one of their own nation:" wherefore the King rejoined, he would name one born in Wales, and that could speak never a word of English, and who was of unspotted life and conversation ; and, when all was agreed to, he named his son Edward, born as aforesaid But, notwithstanding this King had so much todo with Wales and Scotland yet he was no ways negligent of his affairs and interest in France; but, as soon as he had any leisure which was about the twenty-second year of his reign, first, like a wise Prince takes care The Wars, and Causes of them, between England and France, fyc. 305 to have sufficient treasure for such an undertaking ; and therefore, in a parliamentary way, raised a vast sum of money, and so provides an army, and a fleet of ships, suitable to such an expedition. , The army rendezvoused at Portsmouth ; the command whereof he gave to his nephew John de Brytain, Earl of Richmond, with whom he joined in commission John St. John, and Robert Tripot, two prudent Knights ; from whence they set sail, and landed at St. Matthews in Bretagne, (and in the mean time set out three fleets for the guard of the seas, and to prevent the depredations of the enemy,) they entered the mouth of the Garonne towards Bourdeaux, and took two good walled towns, Burgo and Bleya, from whence they marched to Lyons, and had the town delivered to them ; about four years' after, he generously goes over in person, into Flanders, for the relief of Guy, Earl of that country, who was grievously assaulted by the French King ; and, after many noble at- chievements performed, a peace was concluded : Edward taking to wife Margaret, sister to Philip the Fair, then King of France. This King died in 1307, when he had reigned thirty-four years, seven months, and odd days, aged 68, and was buried at Westminster. 1. One cause of this breach with France was the depredations that were committed at sea. 2. The relief of Guy, Earl of Flanders, who was in danger of losing his country. EDWARD II. COMMONLY called Edward of Caernarvan, (the first Prince of England, that bore, in; his father's life-time, the title of" Prince of Wales,") proved an unworthy successor to so brave a father ; for he was a dissolute Prince, and wholly guided by his favourites ; the first whereof was Pierce Gaveston2, who was bred up with him, and on whom he conferred thirty-two towns, and as many castles, in Gascoigne, besides great sums of money out of the Earldom of Cornwall, during his life ; which, together with his arrogance, the Barons, being not able to brook, combined to force the King to banish him : and so little did this Prince understand his true interest herein, that, instead of parting with such a pernicious man, and thereby securing his interest at home, and taking measures for the same in France, and elsewhere, he intended to give up Gascoigne to the French King, Scotland to Robert. Bruce, and Ireland and Wales to others ; as hoping thereby to obtain such aid as mi°ht secure him his favourite, against all the just attempts of his Barons to the contrary. But no, sooner was this man removed, but he had two others, the Spencers, father and son, that were as pernicious as he, and proved more fatal to Edward every way ; for, though they received at length condign punishment, yet it was through their advice chiefly, that Edward refused to go to the French King, to do homage for Aquitain, and other lands, he held of him, and thereby lost Anjou, and the country of Poictiers : and it was his adherence to them that. raised his Barons and Queen against him, which ended in a sad catastrophe; first in his being deposed, next in making a formal resignation of the crown, and lastly, in being soon after barbarously murdered, at Berkley castle, by the procurement of Roger Mortimer, Earl of March, the Queen's favourite. He reigned nineteen years, six months, and odd days. and died in 1327- EDWARD III. COMMONLY called Edward of Windsor, the eldest son of Edward the Second, succeeded his father, upon his resignation of the crown, being then about the~age of fourteen ; his reign commencing from the 25th of January, in the year of our Lord 1326. He proved a blessing to England, and was a Prince of great wisdom, and very successful in his enterprises : the younger part of his reign was much eclipsed by Roger Mortimer, Earl of March, the 2 [See Lord Falkland's historical memoir of Edward the Second, printed in this volume at p.e*7.] VOL. I. U 306 The Wars, and Causes of them, between England and France, fyc. Queen his mother's paramour; but he got quickly rid of him, for he was seized at Not tingham, by the King's order and concurrence, just as he was going to bed with tKe Queen, and for all the Queen's crying out to him, Belfils, belfils, ayes pitie de gentil Mortimer, i. e. " Good son, good son, take pity upon gentle Mortimer ;" he was forthwith carried away to London, committed to the Tower, condemned by his peers in parliament at West minster, hanged at Elmes, and left hanging upon the gallows two days and nights ; and all this unheard, because he had done so by others before. This King made several successful expeditions into Scotland, and made the King thereof do him homage : but the seat of his wars was in France ; for, Charles, King of France, dying, the masculine line of Hugh Capet failed, and the crown descended to Edward the Third (as he alledged) in right of his mother Isabella, who was sister to the said Charles; but Philip de Valois, uncle to Charles, intruded himself by force of arms, and took possession ; and was not only aggressor in this respect, but grew so confident of his power, that nothing would serve him, but he must have all our King had left in France, and therefore bends his force against all the King's castles and towns in Aquitain and Poictiers, and exercises abominable cruelties upon the English inhabitants, and all this under pretence of taking revenge for his friends the Scots. The King in the mean time holds a parliament, obtains considerable supplies, and writes letters to the French King, exhorting him to continue his old amity ; but neither this, nor the Pope's mediation for a peace, would do : so King Edward makes mighty preparation, both by sea and land, and the first action happened to be by sea, and as memorable a one as any in the records of time ; for he took and sunk 200 sail of French ships, which Philip de Valois had prepared in the haven of Sluce for the invasion of England, which fleet, like that of 88, was held invincible ; but King Edward had equipped another as formidable a fleet, in opposition, whereof he was generalissimo, and admiral himself. It was one of the most glorious victories that ever was got at sea ; for the chronicles mention, that the whole French navy perished, and 30,000 men were wounded, slain, and taken. This great naval battle was fought upon Midsummer eve, and Heaven appeared much for the English, for they had wind and sun favourable to them in the fight ; and, to make it more glorious, King Edward himself was wounded in the thigh with an arrow, whereof he was quickly cured. He then goes in person to France, with 8,000 common soldiers, and 15,000 archers, but he raised most of his horse in France : he took over with him his son the Prince of Wales, then but fifteen years old, called afterwards the Black Prince. He enters Normandy like a whirl wind, and carries all the country before him as far as Poissy, about ten miles from Paris • and, after divers hot skirmishes, a main battle is appointed. The English army encamped near a village called Cressy, where it was divided into three battalions ; the first, was led by the Prince of Wales, the second by the Earls of Arundel and Northampton, and in the third was the King himself. The field being thus ordered, the King mounted upon a wliite hobby, and rode from rank to rank, encouraging every one to the performance of his duty. The French army was at least twice more in number, consisting of above sixty thousand combatants, with the flower of all the French cavalry, whereof the chief was the Duke of Alenzon, the King's brother ; there were besides the Dukes of Lorrain and Luxemburg the Earls of Flanders, and Artois, with other foreign Princes. The French King was so fierce in confidence of victory, that he would scarce admit of any previous time for counsel : the old King of Bohemia advised, that the army should receive some refreshment, before the fight, and that the brigade of Genoa, whereof there were about fifteen thousand balestiers or cross-bows, should make the first front, and the cavalry to follow next • which being agreed upon, the Duke of Alenzon did stomach, that the Genoese should have'the honour of the first rank. This bred such a discontent, that they seemed to be more incensed against their leaders, than against the enemy : but, in the interim, there fell such a huge shower of rain, that wetted their bow-strings ; which they had not the wit to cover all the while as the English did ; insomuch that, for the limberness thereof, when they came to engage they grew useless; at the ceasing of the shower, Heaven appeared in the action, for the English for the sun did shine full m the faces of the French, thereby dazzling their eyes but on The Wars, and Causes of them, between England and France, Sec. 307 the back of the English. King Edward, being got into a wind-mill, all the while, whence as from a watch-tower he might explore, and behold the face of the enemy, and discerning the disturbance that happened, because the Genoese were put to change their post, instantly gave order to charge that part, which made the Genoese recoil. Alenzon, perceiving this, rides about in a rage, crying out, " Sa, Sa, let us make way, over the bellies of these Italians, for they do but hinder us :" so, riding thorough them, he came up to the English wing, where the Prince of Wales was ; the fight grew furious, and doubtful, insomuch that the commanders about the Prince sent up to the King, for a recruit of power ; the King asking the messenger, " Whether his son was wounded or slain ?" and being answered, " No ;" he replied, " Then tell them who sent you, that, as long as my son is alive, they send no more to me; for my will is, that he win his spurs, and have the honour of this day:" so, the combatings, on both sides, being wonderfully eager, the French King had his horse killed under him, and so withdrew ; which being known by the English, it added much to their courage, so that soon after, they became masters of the field, and being in heat of blood, they made no prisoners, but put all to the sword ; so that the number of the French slain surmounted the whole army of the English, for there fell about thirty thousand of the enemy ; the chief whereof was the Duke of Alenzon, the Dukes of Bourbon and Lorrain, the Earl of Flanders, the Dauphin of Viennois, son to Imbert, who afterwards gave the province of Dauphiny to the French King, provided his first son should be called Dauphin in perpetuum; and, as a corollary to this mighty victory, the next day sending scouts abroad, there was another French army discovered, under the conduct of the Archbishop of Roan, whom the English encountered also, and utterly defeated. There was one pas sage very remarkable in this battle, whereof Sir Walter Rawleigh makes mention : * That,. ' a day before the engagement, the King sent one Captain David Gam, a Welchman, to ex- ' plore and view the French army ; which he did, with no less danger than fidelity ; and ' brought word, that there were, in the enemy's army, men enough to kill, enough to take ' prisoners, and enough to run away ; which proved true, and so the Welch Captain was ' knighted in the field.' This mighty victory was seconded, a few years after, by another more memorable ; for the Black Prince, having now won his spurs, and being tapered up to his full growth, was sent to Gascoigne ; where, the truce being expired, he over-runs all the country, as far as Touraine. Thereupon John, the then French King, raised a potent army, more nu merous than that at Cressy, and going to find out the Prince of Wales, he heard of him about Poictiers, having not above ten thousand effective men, in his whole army, and they also having been tired with long marches, whereas the French were fresh, and were six times as many ; whereupon the Prince being advised to turn, falls about towards Bourdeaux, when he was suddenly surrounded by the French army, upon which a battle being intended, there came two Cardinals, to mediate an accommodation ; but the French King would hearken to none, unless the Prince, as a vanquished man, would render up himself, and his whole army, to discretion. This was of hard digestion, to a Prince of such a courage, therefore he answered : " That, at the mediation of the Holy Father, he was willing to re store such places which he had taken en bonne guerre, provided this might be done without prejudice to his honour, whereof he was accountable to the King his father, &c." The French King, not hearkening to this, resolved to fight ; thereupon the Prince also re solved, for his part, to part with his life, at as high a rate as he could in such a straight ; wherefore making a virtue of necessity, by a happy Providence, he makes choice of an advantageous ground : for, finding that the French army consisted most in cavalry, he intrenched among the adjacent vineyards, where, when the French horse furiously entered, being wrapped and entangled amongst the vines, the English archers did so ply, pelt, and gall them, that being thereby disordered, unranked, and routed, the whole army, in a short time, was totally defeated. But it seems, that this battle was not so fierce as that of Cressy, where no quarter was given ; for in this a great number of prisoners were made, among whom was King John himself, and Philip his youngest son, whom the Prince brought to England :. SOS The1 Wars, and Causes of them, between England and France, §c, and, as the French historians themselves confess, he was so civil unto him all the while, that he knew not whether he was in quality of a free King, or of a captive. And here a fair occasion is given to discover, and vindicate a great truth, touching the individual person, who first took King John : and he was a Welch gentleman, one Howel, of the life-guard to the Prince, which guard used to carry a kind of battle-axes, - or parti sans : this Howel, it seems, being one of them, in the confused medley, and fury of the fight, did fortunately meet with the King, and seized upon him ; but, suddenly in the thirly-burley, some Frenchmen of the Prince's army rushed in, and the King, knowing one of them, called to him, whose name was Myrobrecht de Artois, who going on, with others, to present the prisoner to the Prince, there was a contest, who took him first, and the King was desired to point at him ; so he pointed at Howel, and said, " This is the man who took me." There are authentick records in some Welch manuscripts that confirm this ; more over, they have a general tradition, and some songs, which continue fresh to this day, how Howel did put a bridle in the French King's mouth, with many other expressions, touching this great act. Now, for that signal exploit, the Prince knighted him in the field, and he was ever after called, Sir Howel y Fuyall, Sir Howel with the axe ; he had the constableship of Crykyth castle given him, with the farms of Chester mills, and other considerable things conferred upon him ; which surely would not have been, but for the merit of some high signal service. The British records (besides tradition and common report) that mentioned this, were to be found in John Wynn's library, an honourable knowing knight, who was a curious collector of antiquities. These and many other glorious exploits were done by this King in France, who ceased not his pursuits till he had got the key of it hanging at his girdle, to wit, the town of Calais, that, in those days, was looked upon to be impregnable, which he carried, after a long siege. This King's reign is also memorable upon many other accounts ; as for the institution of the noble Order of the Garter; for removing the staple of wool, from Flanders into England; for that great champion against Rome, the famous Wickliff ; and for his own numerous issue, by his heroick Queen Philippa, being no less than seven sons, and five daughters : his sons were these, Edward the Black Prince, the hopes of England, and who died before his father ; William of Hatfield, Lionel Duke of Clarence, John of Gaunt, Duke of Lan caster, Edmund of Langley, Duke of York, William of Windsor, and Thomas of Wood stock, Duke of Gloucester ; he died at Richmond in 1377, when he had reigned fifty years and odd months. The cause of the war, betwixt the English and French, in Edward the Third's time, was a claim to the crown and kingdom of France, in right of his mother Isabel, which they would make invalid by their Salick (or distaff law), to which the greatest civilians do allow no essence at all ; and Du Haillan, the great French historian, hath no better opinion of it, but to be a mere chimera, or imaginary thing : but of this more pre sently. Of the Salick Law. HERE I judge it no way impertinent to be a little more particular yet, touching the claim of this King Edward to the crown of France, and what grounds the French had by virtue of this Salick Law, for the exclusion of him, claiming from a female ; and, first ' we will briefly state his claim, as it then stood, and then come to the law itself, and it' was thus : Philip the Fourth, sirnamed the Fair, had three sons, Lewis the Contentious, Philip the Long, and Charles the Fair, (all these successively reigned after him, and died without issue inheritable) ; he had likewise a daughter named Isabel, (I purposely omit the other being foreign to the present affair,) married to Edward the Second, King of England, and so was mother to Edward the Third. The issue male of Philip the Fair thus failing, Philip Tfie Wars, and Causes of them, between England and France, §c. 309 son and heir of Charles, Earl of Valois, Beaumont, &c. (who was brother to Philip the Fair,) laid claim to the crown as next heir male, against King Edward, who made answer to the objection of the Salick Law, that (admitting it was as they asserted) yet he was heir male, though descended of a daughter ; and this, in a publick assembly of the states of France, first about the protectorship of the womb (for Queen Joan, dowager of Charles the Fair, was left with child, and delivered of a daughter named Blanch, afterwards Dutchess of Orleans) was had in solemn dispute by lawyers on both sides, and applied, at length, also to the direct point of inheriting the crown, and so adjudged against King Edward. What followed hereupon we have, in some measure, traced in the preceding history of his wars, and are more at large recorded in Walsingham, Froissart, iEmilius, and a multitude of more modern writers ; whereby it appears, and will in the wars of this King's successors in France, how the denial of this sovereignty to him, by the French, cost the lives of many thousands of their men, and involved that country into long and miserable calamities. But as for the law itself, whereby they pretended such an exclusion of him, it may well be said with Drayton3 in his Poly-albion, ' that every mouth speaks of it, but few understand ' the thing itself, or so much as the etymology of its name ;' and therefore, to clear this point, as well as we can, we are necessitated to ascend a little higher than these times, wherein it was made use of, in prejudice to the English claim, and to begin with the ori ginal of the Francks, with whom they affirm it was brought into France. The Francks therefore (according to many modern historians) came originally from Asia, into Germany, though others, and perhaps upon better grounds, make their original to be in Germany it self; but this is "certain, that, upon the decline of the Roman empire, they inhabited Fran- conia, a province of Germany, and about the year four hundred and thirteen, (or. accord ing to Davila, one hundred and nineteen,) invaded France, under Pharamond, whom they chose to be their king and leader, (which Pharamond they make to be son to Marcovir, a prince that governed them in Franconia,) but, first, before they began their expedition, they held a general assembly, near unto a river named Sala, and there, by the advice of the Salii, their priests, (or, as others, of the Salians, whom they make to be the same with Francks,) enacted laws for government, and amongst the rest, one for the exclusion of females, from inheriting the crown ; which from the aforesaid appellations (whether one or all, it matters not) came to be denominated the Salick Law. ' But Goropius, that fetches ' all out of Dutch, and this perhaps more tolerably than many of his other etymologies, < (deriving the Salians name from Sal, which, in contraction, he makes to be from Sadel, ' inventors whereof, says he, the Salians were,) interprets them to be as much as Horse-men, ¦* a name fitly applied to the warlike and most noble persons of any nation, as Equites in ' Latin, Chevaliers in French, and Marchog in Welch, do very well agree to ; so that, ¦* upon the whole, the Salick Law is made by him to be as much as a chivalrous law ; and ' Salick land, " Qua ad equestris ordinis dignitatem cX in capile summo, Sf in cceteris mem- ' bris conservandam pertinebat ;" which very well agrees with a sentence, given in the par- e liament at Bourdeaux, upon an ancient will, devising all the testator's Salick lands, which ¦* was in point of judgment interpreted to be a fief; and who knows not, but that fiefs were ' Originally military gifts : but, if things be so, how then comes Salick to extend to the 1 crown, which is field to be merely without tenure ? Therefore, (saith a later lawyer,) ' Ego scio legem Salicam agere de privato patrimonio tantilm, " I know the Salick Law ' intends only private possessions." Again, there are some who pretend to give us the ' names of the compilers of this law, (and not this alone, but of many others, as they say,) « viz. Wisogast, Bodogast, Salogast, and Windogast, wise counsellors, about that Phara- * mond's reign ; the text of it in this part is offered us by Claude de Seissel, Bishop of Mar- 5 seilles, Bodin, and other French writers, as if it were as ancient as the original * of the name, in these words : De terrd Salicd nulla portio hcereditatis mulieri veniat, * sed ad virilem sexum tola terrce hcereditas perveniat. " No part of the Salick land can ¦* descend to the daughter, but all to the male ;" and in substance, as if referred to the per 1 [Or rather, with learned Selden^ see his Notes upon the seventeenth song of Drayton's Poly-olbion.] 310 The Wars, and Causes of them, between England and France, §c. ' son of the King's heir female; so much is remembered by that great civilian, Baldus, * and divers others, but rather as a custom, than any particular law, as an author of that 'kingdom hath expressly written: Cen' est point une loye ecritte, mais nee avec nous, que •* nous n' avons point inventer, mais I'avons puisse de la nature meme, qui le nous a ainsi ' apris 8C donne cet instinct; that is, " This is no law written, but learned of nature." ' But why the same author dares affirm, that King Edward yielded upon this point to the ' French Philip de Valois, I wonder ; seeing all stories and carriages of state, in those times, ' are so manifestly opposite. Becanus undertakes a conjecture of the first cause, which ' excluded gynaecocracy among them, guessing it to be upon their observation of the mis- ' fortune in war, which their neighbours, the Bructerans, (a people about the now Over- ' Issel, in the Netherlands, from near whom he, as many others, first derives the Francks,) ' endured in the time of Vespasian, under the conduct and empire of one Velleda, a lady ' even of divine esteem among them.' The learned Drayton, who has particularly treated of this subject4, leaves it at last in. suspense, and concludes thus : ' But howsoever the law be in truth, or interpretable, (for it might ill beseem me to offer ' determination, in a matter of this kind,) it is certain, that, to this day, they have an usage ' of ancient time, which commits to the care of some of the greatest peers, that they, 1 when the Queen is in child-birth, be present, and warily observe, lest the ladies privily ' should counterfeit the inheritable sex, by supposing some other made, when the true birth * is female; or, by any such means, wrong their ancient custom royal.' But, by his favour, this is a custom in England as well as in France, where the females do notwithstanding inherit the crown, and never any law pretended to the contrary. I shall therefore conclude upon the whole with this one remark, that notwithstanding the many volumes that have been writ to justify King Edward and his successors' title to France, (though it is true the English in that age were better skilled in the sword than in the pen,) and the great dust that has been raised by the French under pretence of this Salick Law, to impede his way to their crown : yet, after all, it appears clearly tome, that the aforesaid Dutchess of Orleans had a better title than either King Edward or Philip de Valois, for she was daughter to Charles the Fair the last King of the Capetian line ; whereas Edward was descended only from Isabella sister to this same King. And as for Philip de Valois, his pretensions had little of reality in them, when it is plain Hugh Capet descended from a female of the Carolovinian line yet succeeded to the crown of France ; and where was their Salick Law then, whereof they afterwards so much boasted that it was born with them, and never writ, but taught by nature? RICHARD II. SON to Edward the Black Prince, by Joan his wife, daughter to Edmund, Earl of Kent the youngest son of King Edward the First, succeeded his grandfather, King Edward the Third, being but eleven years old, but had neither his wisdom nor good fortune. From Bourdeaux, his birth-place, where his father kept his residence as Duke of Aquitain, he was called Richard of Bourdeaux. In his minority he was governed by his uncles, the Dukes of Lancaster and Gloucester : his reign was at first much disturbed with the Scots, and there were also diverse traverses of war, especially by sea, with France ; for the French began to improve in navigation, and did us much mischief, for they burnt a good part of Rye Hastings, and Portsmouth, advancing into the river as far as Gravesend, where they like wise took booties, and burnt almost all the place ; they also took footing in the Isle of Wight, but were soon repelled. Sir John Arundel, being sent with a considerable fleet to Bretagne, was disasterously cast away, with above one thousand persons more, whereof some were of rank and gallantry ; but, a little after, Sir Hugh Caverley and Sir Thomas Piercy being made admirals, they so scowered and secured the seas, and they took such a world of 4 [And from the Illustrations to whose Poly-olbion, the whole passage between commas is taken.] The Wars, and Causes of them, between England and France, Kc. 311 prizes, that French wines were sold in London for a mark a ton : and it is a passage of some remark, how one John Philpot, a citizen of London, manned out a fleet, at his own charge, took prizes, and did many exploits against the French : yet at his return he was questioned for setting forth men of war without a warrant from King and Council. This reign is also remarkable for the famous rebellion of Wat Tyler and Jack Straw, for the expeditions of the Duke of Lancaster to Spain, but especially for that famous interview between the Kings of England and France, between Calais and St. Omers, managed with all the ceremony, pomp, and grandeur, that could be imagined ; and where a knot of friendship was tied, by King Richard's taking the Lady Isabella to wife, the King of France's daughter, he being then a widower, as having buried Queen Anne, the King of Bohemia's daughter, about two years before. This King, after much male-administration, was, at length, deposed, when he had reigned twenty-two years and about three months, and was soon after murdered in Pomfret castle, in Yorkshire. HENRY IV. COMMONLY called Henry of Bollingbroke, the first King of this line, was son to John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, fourth son of Edward the Third : he Came to the crown by the power of the sword, but with the consent of the people, the issue of Lionel Duke of Clarence, third son to the said King Edward, being laid aside, that had a prece dent right. He was a prince of singular prowess, but most part of his time was taken up in suppressing of rebellions at home, and in the old trade of warring with Scotland ; whereat the French grew insolent, fitted out divers fleets, and attempted the coasts of England, first under the Count of St. Paul, who landed at the Isle of Wight, with 7000 men, where he burnt some villages, but the island grew quickly too hot for him ; Plymouth also was plundered, and divers houses burnt ; whereupon the western men were permitted to set out ships of war, whereby they sufficiently revenged themselves, of the French, and at one time took forty sail. The French take footing again in the isle of Wight, with 1000 men, but they were repelled, with the slaughter of many hundreds : afterwards, the Ad miral of Britany, with the Lord of Castile, and thirty sail, attempt Dartmouth, where, at a fierce assault, Du Castile was slain, with his two brothers. The English, during this reign, had occasion also to signalize themselves by land in France, upon two several occasions ; for a great feud happening between the Duke of Burgundy (whom the' French King and his eldest son favoured) and the Duke of Orleans, whose father had been put to death by the procurement of the former, it came at last to open wars be tween them ; but Burgundy, finding his adversary had powerful assistance from the Kings of Navarre and Arragon, the Dukes of Bituria, Bretagne, and others ; makes his applica tion to King Henry for aid, who at first gave him good counsel, and afterwards sent him good force, under the command of Thomas Earl of Arundel, the famous Sir John Old- castle, Lord Cobham, and others ; with which reinforcement he prevailed powerfully against his enemy, insomuch that, about a year after, Orleans also becomes a suitor to the same King Henry, for assistance against Burgundy; which the King also granted, and dis patched away, under the command of Thomas Duke of Clarence, Edward Duke of York, &c. many valiant men, who landed in Normandy where Orleans was to meet them, but did not at the time appointed : however, they prosecuted their design, and took many strong places, and at length Orleans and Clarence met, and having settled their affairs, the English departed to their winter quarters in Aquitain. Henry, like a wise Prince, designed to make use of these dissensions in France, and expressed as much to the Archbishop of Canterbury, saying, " Behold, now is the acceptable time, let us go into France, and win, with small ado, that which is our right :" but, being then labouring under a great sickness, he was by his lords, with great difficulty, persuaded to the contrary ; and thus ended his wars in France, he himself dying soon after this last expedition under Clarence, to wit, on 31% The Wars, and Causes of them, between England and France, 8Cc. the 20th of March, anno 1412, aged 46, when he had reigned thirteen years, and about six months, and was buried at Canterbury by his first wife the Lady Mary, daughter to Bohun Earl of Essex. He had issue four sons, Henry, that succeeded him, Thomas Duke of Clarence, John Duke of Bedford, and Humphrey Duke of Gloucester ; of whom it was said they could not be distinguished for their excellency, save that Henry was the eldest. He had also two daughters, Blanch Duchess of Bavaria, and Philippa Queen of Den mark. The causes of this war were first self-preservation, and that the French assisted the Scots against England, and had also sent 12,000 men to Owen Glendower, a British prince, who was up in arms against the King, but a few days after they landed at Milford- Haven, they ran again back to their ships. HENRY V. COMMONLY called Henry of Monmouth, the eldest son of Henry IV. proved a great Prince, was a mirror of magnanimity, and stands to this day one of the greatest orna ments of our English chronicles. He no sooner mounted the throne, but he had his eye presently upon France, for recovering his royal right to that crown ; in order whereunto he altered in his arms the bearing of semy-de-luces, and quartered the three full flower- de-luces as France did bear them : thereupon he sent the Duke of Exeter in a magnificent ambassy, attended with 500 horse to Paris, to demand the crown, and receiving no satis factory answer, but rather a jeer, the Dauphin sending King Henry a sackful of racket court-balls, to employ his time ; he replied, " That, for every one of those balls, he had so many fiery bullets to bandy at the proudest towers of France, as he should quickly find :" and so he presently got over, and encountered the French army at Agencourt, (the French King himself being at the head of it,) which he utterly overthrew, and took more prisoners than he had common soldiers. The battle was fought upon a Sunday morning about the time of high mass ; for having sent notice to England before, that extraordinary prayers should be made in all churches about ten o'clock in the morning, he stood upon the de fensive part all the while till then ; but then, making a moving oration to his whole army and, among other strains, telling them how all England was praying for them at that very hour, he obtained a most glorious and complete victory. Besides that great act of piety another of policy was used, for the King, to prevent the fury of the French cavalry, ap pointed divers stakes, studded with iron at both ends, of about six feet long, to be pitched behind the archers, and ordered that pioneers should attend to remove them, as they should be directed ; which invention conduced much to the good success of the action. The King himself charged the Duke of Alenzon, who, being beaten off his horse' was slain. There was also a great slaughter of all kind of French prisoners ; because the number was so great, that nothing could give assurance of safety, but by making them away. At length, after many wonderful feats and successes performed/especially by himself and noble brothers the Dukes of Clarence, Bedford, and Gloucester, he was, upon articles agreed between him and Charles VI. then King of France, made Regent of that king dom, and proclaimed both there and in England Heir Apparent to the French crown - and did, thereupon, take Catharine, the said King's daughter to wife : but the Dauphin (afterwards Charles VII.) who judged himself much aggrieved hereby, made a strong party in the kingdom, and with a great army laid siege to the town of Cosney ; which King Henry was so concerned at, that he resolved to go in person to the raising of it • but he was so eager and over-hasty in his march, that he could reach no further thari Senlis, (trusting to his brother the Duke of Bedford's care in the prosecuting of that de sign, who relieved the town, and obliged the Dauphin to retreat,) and there his fever The Wars) and Causes of them, between England and France, S(c. 313 increased upon him, that he made his last will, and appointed his jewels to be sold for the payment of his debts, and ordained his brother, the Duke of Bedford, to be Regent of France and Normandy, and so died at Vincennes ; leaving no issue but a young son, whose education he left to the Cardinal of Winchester, and the government of Eng land, during his minority, to Humphry, Duke of Gloucester; being the year of our Lord, 1422, aged thirty- eight ; and having reigned nine years and odd months. He had the mortification to have his brother Clarence slain, with many fine soldiers, at the siege of Bauge in Anjou, before he died, but was otherwise in all attempts successful, and is renowned upon all accounts, but in nothing so much as in his piety to God, to whom he gave all the glory of his victories. The ground of this war was the former claim to the crown and kingdom of France. HENRY VI: COMMONLY called Henry of Windsor, proved a religious prince, but weak and un fortunate : he began bis reign when he was eight years old, and was crowned king of France at Paris, anno 1431, to whom the Nobles, Provost, and chief Burgesses sware fealty ; but lost it, five years after, to Charles the Seventh, and the loss of that drew on the loss of the whole, but. it was not without much struggling. The beginning of his reign, which all persons feared would have been the worst, proved quite contrary, and was the most prosperous ; which is to be attributed to the wisdom, care, and resolution Of those brave men that his father appointed to guard him and his dominions. Things prospered in France whilst the heroic Bedford lived, who won many towns and forts, and proved victor in several encounters and battles, especially that great battle of Verneuil, where (as a French author confesseth) Bedford, Salisbury, and Suffolk "did mighty exploits, and defeated the whole French power ; about which time, Bedford, as Regent, was obeyed in all places through Vimen, Poictiers, and Picardy ; and from Paris to Rheims, Chalons, and Troyes, up to the river of Loyre : but when this brave prince died, which was about the fourteenth year of Henry's reign, and that the Duke of York was made Regent, things went very much to wrqck in France. Guienne was the last province in France that held out for the English, where we lost that brave Captain, John, Lord, Talbot, the first Earl of Shrewsbury of that family, and ancestor to the now illustrious Duke of Shrewsbury, and called by the French historians, the glory of the English nation ; as we had done some years before, at the siege of Orleans, the valiant Earl of Salisbury; a siege which first raised the fame of the French Amazon, Joan, the shepherdess, commonly called the Maid of Or leans, whose wonderful courage and success proved very fatal to the English, (though she was afterwards burnt at Roan for a witch,) and which did not a little contribute to hasten our expulsion out of that kingdom ; all places at length being reduced, except Calais, and the Norman isles of Guernsey, Jersey, &c. And thus was the old prophecy made good, " That Henry of Monmouth should win all, and Henry of Windsor should lose all ;" which was verified to some purpose in this King, for, to the former losses, was added that of the crown, of England, he being deposed, after he had reigned thirty-nine years ; but lived eleven years after, and was murdered by Crookback Richard, in the Tower of London. He was a King pious in an intense degree, which made Henry the Seventh send to the Pope, to have Henry the Sixth canonized for. a saint; but answer was given, that he would ca nonize him for an Innocent, but not for a Saint. The cause of this war, in this King's time, was the revolt of the French from their obe dience to their true King, Vol. i. s s 314 The Warb, and Causes of them, between England and France, Xc. EDWARD IV. ELDEST son of Richard, Duke of York, and first of this line, came to the crown by right of descent, from King Edward the Third ; for Anne, his grandmother, was daughter of Roger Mortimer, Son of Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March, and Philip his wife, sole daughter of Lionel, Duke of Clarence, third son of Edward the Third, and elder brother of John, of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster ; so that it is plain, in course of succession, he had a precedent right to the house of Lancaster. He was fain to maintain his right, as he had got it, by the sword; for, to get it, no less than six battles had been fought by his' father and himself, and six more, to secure it, were fought in his reign ; but, when his af- feirs began to receive any settlement, he revolves upon his old right to the kingdom of France; wherefore, upon the request of the Duke of Burgundy, his brother-in-law, who was already actually in war with the French King, he enters into an alliance with him, for to carry it on with united forces ; and was the more easily induced hereunto, because of the assistance France had lately given the Earl of Warwick, Queen Margaret, her son, Prince Edward, and their accomplices, against him. King Edward makes very great pre parations for this expedition, and having got all things in readiness," rendezvouses at Dover, and so, from thence, sails in a fleet, consisting of five-hundred sail, of all burthens, (whereof, the Duke of Burgundy furnished many,) and lands at Calais, with a greater force than ever, at any one time, came into France : for he had with him one-thousand five-hundred Gens d'Arms, being all nobles and gentlemen ; fifteen-thousand archers on horseback, eight-thousand common soldiers, with three-thousand pioneers, (three thousand English being at the same time appointed to land in Bretagne, for to make a diversion on that side). But, before King Edward embarked, he sent an Herald from Dover, to the King of France, with a letter of defiance, written in such language, that, my author is persuaded, could never be of an Englishman's penning; (so little esteem had the English nation, at that time, for their learning, in the world :) the contents of the letter were, ' That the King should yield unto him the kingdom of France, that so he might restore the clergy and nobility to their ancient liberty, and ease them of those great oppressions they laboured under, &c.' which if he refused to do, he concluded full of menaces, according to the usual form in that kind. The French King read the letter softly to himself, and then withdrawing to another. room, sent for the Herald to come before him, and told him, he was not ignorant of the confederacy between the King, his master, and the Duke of Burgundy; and how that the Constable of" France had intelligence also with the King of England' the King having married his niece ; but, adds he, " He will deceive the King, your mas ter, as he has done me ; and as for Burgundy, it is manifest, he foully prevaricates, for he is already retired from before Nuiiz :" and at last concludes with a present of three- hundred crowns to the Herald," and a promise of one-thousand more, if a peace were con cluded • and got him to engage to further it with all his might. King Edward had no sponer landed at Calais, but the Duke of Burgundy retires from before Nunz, and with a small retinue, rides to the King at Calais ; leaving his army, in the mean time, to plun der the country of Lorrain and Barr. From Calais they both departed, and passing through Bulloign, marched to Peronne, where the English were but coldly entertained by the Duke; for he would suffer but very few of them to come within the gates, so that they were obliged to take up their quarters in the fields. There it was the Duke received a message from the Constable of France, whereby he excused himself for not delivering of St. Quintin ; alledging, that if he had done it, he could have done him no further service in the kingdom of France, but added, that, seeing the King of England, was come over in person, he would, for the future, do whatever the Duke should command him • and gave him his faith in writing, he would serve him, and his confederates, to the utmost of his power, against all opponents whatsoever. The Duke delivers the Constable's letter to the King, adding some things thereto of his own head; as that the Constable would cer- The Wars, and Causes of them, between England and France, SCc. 315 tainly deliver tip St, Quintin, and all other places in his power, as soon as ever he came before them ; which the King, willing to believe, marches, together with the Duke, forth with, from Peronne, towards St. Quintin; the English, expecting to be received with ringing of bells, approached the town in a careless manner ; but had a quite contrary en tertainment, for they, from the town, fired their cannon upon them, and, withal, made a sally both with horse and foot, wherein some English were slain, and others taken pri soners. This double dealing, both of the Constable and Duke, made the King the more readily hearken to the overtures of peace that the French King offered him ; wherefore, in a vil lage near Amiens, Commissioners for both Kings met ; whereof, for France, were the Bastard of Bourbon, Admiral, the Lord St. Peter, and Bishop of Evreux ; and for Eng land, the Lord Howard, one Chalenger, and Doctor Morton ; where it was agreed, the French King should pay the King of England, presently, before his departure out of France, seventy-two-thpusand crowns, towards the expence of the English army, and fifty- thousand crowns a year for ever ; and that the Dauphin should marry King Edward's eldest daughter, and have the Duchy of Guienne for her maintenance5. But, at the King's return, the English Barons held it to be an inglorious peace, though it was^said to be made by the Holy Ghost ; for a dove was seen to be often on King Edward's tent, during the treaty. But the last article was never performed, for the Dauphin was afterwards mar ried to Margaret, daughter to Maximilian, Archduke of Austria, so much to the disap pointment and sorrow of King Edward, that lie fell sick upon it, (as Comines says,) and de parted this life at Westminster, the ninth of April, at the age of forty-one, when he had reigned twenty-two years, and about one month, anno 1483, and was buried at Windsor, where before he had provided him a resting-place. This King had three concubines, whereof Jane Shoar was one, of whom, he would say, " One was the merriest, another the wittiest, and the third the holiest harlot in his realm." The cause of this war was a defection of the French from their loyalty to England, in conjunction with the assistances they gave Queen Margaret, and the Earl of Warwick, against King Edward. EDWARD V. ELDEST son of King Edward the Fourth, was not above twelve years of age when his father died. During this King's short reign (if it may be called so) there was neither, nor well could be, any war, or act of hostility, that we read, between England and France ; for it was but three months that he reigned. For Richard, Duke pf Gloucester, his uncle, knowing how easy a step it was from the place of Protector, and first Prince of the blood, to the crown ; turned every stone to get the Protectorship from the Lord Rivers, the King's Uncle, by the mother's side : and having compassed it, his next business was to get Prince Richard, the King's brother, into his clutches, also ; whom the Queen mother was fain to part with, in great affliction and struggling of nature, for she delivered him up, as it were, for execution ; and the Protector, who was resolved to make both him and the King a victim to his ambition, looks upon the two young Princes, from that very time, as two birds in a cage, that should not be long-lived : but, to blind the people he gave orders for the King's coronation, whilst he secretly contrived with the Duke of Buckingham (his great coadjutor in his cursed designs) to fix the crown upon his own head. Buckingham, with his artifices, forced, in a manner, the city to a compliance, which, nolens volens, was at last forced to proclaim Richard, King of England, the Duke pretending, that all the late King's issue were bastards, and the Protector only, true heir to the crown ; who, when it was offered unto him, by the Duke, in the name of the city, refused it, with a counterfeit 5 See the next tract,- intitled, ' The old French way of managing Treaties.' 316 The Wars, and Causes of them, between England and. France, SCc: angry countenance : but when his privado6, making himself the mouth of the assembly, said, " That, if his Grace would not accept of the crown, they would find one that should; then he was pleased to take it upon him as his right. RICHARD III. WAS youngest brother to Edward the Fourth, of whom it was said he was born with teeth in his head, and hair on his shoulders. At his first coming to the crown, he took his seat in the Court of King's Bench, where, like a gracious prince, he pronounced- pardon of all offences committed against him, to insinuate thereby to the people what a blessed reign this was like to be ; but he spared not the two young princes then in the Tower, but they were, by his order, stifled in their beds. This reign was so troublesome at home, that Richard, though a warlike Prince in himself, had not leisure to mind his affairs abroad ; for the Duke of Buckingham, the great instrument of all his villainies, (whe ther through the horror of the said murder, or some other resentment,) did, most certainly, from that time, project his ruin, who had been the chief instrument of his elevation. There was then at the court of the Duke of Bretagne, in France, Henry, Earl of Rich mond, the next heir to the house of Lancaster, whose advancement to the crown, Buck ingham and others resolved upon, with proviso, that Henry should consent to marry the Lady Elizabeth, eldest daughter to Edward the Fourth, whereby the houses of York and Lancaster should be united into one ; but, before the plot took effect, the Duke was taken, and lost his head without any form of trial, or any regard had to his farmer service. Rich mond lands at Milford-Haven, in Wales, but with two-hundred men ; from whence advancing forwards, by daily reinforcements, he made up a body of five-thousand men, with whom he encountered King Richard at Bosworth, in Leicestershire, being August 12, 1485. The fight was very sharp, but successful to Henry, who carried the day, and with it the crown of England ; for there Richard was slain, after he had acted the part of a great captain and most valiant soldier ; and so ended his bloody and short reign, which was but two years, two months, and odd days ; but, however, to his praise it must be said, that during his reign, he procured many good laws for the ease of his people, and omitted nothing that might tend to the honour of the British nation. HENRY VII. BORN in Pembroke castle, in Wales, succeeded next to Richard, upon Bosworth bat tle, and assumed the crown as heir of the house of Lancaster, by his. mother's side, Mar garet, Countess of Richmond, theft alive, and lived many years after, daughter and heir of John de Beaufort, Duke of Somerset, son of John, Earl of Somerset, son of John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, by Jane Swinford, but born before wedlock, though after wards legitimated by act of parliament, yet with a proviso, of not being capable to in herit the crown ; his father was Edmund Tewdor, son of Owen Tewdor, descended, as it was said, from Cadwallader, the last British King; so that here was but a very s'lender title, insomuch that Henry, according to a former compact, was necessitated, for the strengthening of it, to take Elizabeth, eldest daughter to Edward the Fourth, to wife, and heir to the house of York, to whom he proved no very indulgent husband,' though she wanted no attractive accomplishments; but his aversion to the house of York was so pre dominant, that it found place, not only in his wars and council, but in his chamber and bed. But his assuming of the crown, first in his own name, and afterwards never making use of hers, either in his coins, proclamations, or any administrations, spun him out a 6 [Or secret friend.] The Wars^ and Causes of them, between England and France, M"c. 317 thread of many seditions and troubles at home, and might, perhaps, divert him from great undertakings abroad, for he was a Prince that wanted neither wisdom nor courage. How ever, it was in 'his time that the Duchy of Bretagne was 'annexed to the crown of France, which it was in his power to have prevented ; and, indeed, herein he seemed to be outwit ted by Charles, the French King, who, by his artifices, engaged King Henry to be a me diator between him and the Duke of Bretagne, while he, with his forces, besieges Nantz, and routs the Duke's whole army. It is true, the Lord Wpodville, the Queen's uncle, secretly stole over into Bretagne, with a small band of men, from the isle of Wight ; which action exposed the English Ambassadors, who then mediated a peace, to no small danger; but the reinforcement was so inconsiderable, as to do the Britons no great service. But the battle of St. Alban, aforementioned, wherein the Britons were overthrown with the loss of six-thousand of their men, and the Duke of Orleans, who sided with them, with the Prince of Orange, taken prisoners ; alarmed King Henry in such sort, that he forthwith dispatched succours into Bretagne, under the command of Robert, Lord Brooke, to the number of eight-thousand choice men, who quickly joined the remainder of the Britons' forces, and marched towards the enemy; who, though flushed with their late victory, well knowing the English courage, kept themselves within their trenches, and declined battle, but, in the mean time, took all advantages upon our men with their light horse, though they commonly came off with loss, especially by means of the English archers. But, while these- things were thus transacting, Francis, Duke of Bretagne, dies ; whereupon the principal persons of that Duchy (partly bought, and partly through faction) put all things into such confusion, that the English, finding no head nor body to join forces with, and being jealous of their friends, as well as in danger of their enemies, upon the approach of winter, returned home five months after their landing. At this time, Archduke Maximilian, son to the Emperor Frederick, was Governor of Flanders, and in treaty of marriage with Anne, Heiress of Bretagne, when there happened a rebellion at Bruges, which was carried on by the Lord Ravenstein, who seized upon Ypres and Sluice, and sent to the Lord Corde, French Governor of Picardy, (infamous in history for that saying, ' He could be content to lie in hell seven years, so he might win Calais from the English,') for aid; who, being before provided, immediately besieges Dix- mude. Whereat the King of England, being displeased, sends forthwith the Lord Morley with a thousand men to the Governor of Calais, and with an addition of a thousand more from thence, had order (but under pretence of securing the English pale about that city) to put themselves into Dixmude :- which, in conjunction with some Germans, they effected undiscovered ; and so, with the garrison, attacked the enemy's camp with that resolution and bravery, that, after a bloody and obstinate fight, they beat them out of it with the loss of about eight-thousand men ; but, on the English part, not above an hundred men, and among them the Lord Morley. The cannon and baggage fell also into their hands, with which they marched to Newport, from whence the Lord Daubigny returned to his Government of Calais, leaving the wounded, and some other volunteers, there;- Corde, having intelligence hereof, departs immediately from Ypres, with a great force, and attacks Newport, and bad carried the principal fort of the town, when fortunately there arrived in the haven a reinforcement of English archers, who beat him out of it, again, whereat he became so discouraged, that he raised the siege; which accidents tended to an open rupture between the two crowns. Hereupon King Henry advises Maximi lian to press on his marriage with Anne of Bretagne, which he did accordingly, in somuch that the marriage was consummated by proxy, the Lady put to bed, and Maximilian's Ambassador, with letters of procuration in the presence of many noble personages; putting his naked leg between the espousal sheets. Maximilian, • think ing all things now sure, neglected', for a time, his further proceedings and intended his wars; in the mean while, the French King, consulting his divines, got them to declare this consummation invalid, so as they made sport of it in France, saying, " That it was an argument Maximilian was a widower and a cold wooer, that could content himself to be a bridegroom by a deputy, and would not make a little journey to put all out of ques- 318 The Wars, and Causes of them, between England and Fraud, SCc. tion;" and easily, by emissaries, whereof he had store about her, prevailed upon the young lady to consent to become his wife, who was a young king and a bachelor. Which pro cedure and artifice of France so distasted King Henry, that he caused his Chancellor to tell the French Ambassadors, who were sent to sooth him upon this occasion, that he. Was resolved to recover his right to Normandy, Guienne, Anjou, and to the kingdom of France itself; unless the French King were content to have King Henry's title to France (at least tribute for the same) handled in a treaty. Maximilian, and with good reason, storms more than any body, at this perfidious dealing of France ; sends forthwith Ambassadors both to England and Spain, to incite them to enter into an offensive league against France, promising to concur with considerable forces of his own. Hereupon, Henry calls a par liament, gets plentiful supplies, and raises a puissant army, in which were many noble personages, and over whom he makes Jasper, Duke of Bedford, and John, Earl of Oxford, Generals under his own person; and on the ninth of September, in the ejghth year of his reign, departs towards the sea-coast ; October the sixth he embarked at Sandwich, andLthes same day landed at Calais : some overtures of an accommodation were made him from France, before he took shipping, but he was no sooner arrived at Calais, but the calm winds of peace began to blow, for he found Maximilian was unprovided of the assistance promised for lack of money, which soon spread through the army ; and upon the neck of this he received news also, that Ferdinand and Isabel had made peace with Charles, King of France, upon his restoring unto'them the counties of Rousillon and Perpignan, formerly mortaged unto France, by John, King of Arragon : however, October the fifteenth, he left Calais, and directed his march towards Bologne, where he arrived in four days, and so sat down before it : the siege continued for near a month, but without any memorable action or accident of war, only Sir John Savage, a valiant commander, was slain, as he was riding about to view the walls : the town was well fortified, and had a good garrison, yet it was much distressed and ready for an assault (which if it had been given, it -was believed it would have been carried) when the Commissioners, appointed for that purpose, concluded a peace, which was to continue for both the Kings' lives ; wherein there was no article of im portance, being, in effect, rather a bargain than a treaty, (as my Lord Bacon observes,) for all things remained as they were, save that there should be paid to the King seven-hundred forty-five thousand ducates at present, for his charges in that expedition, and twenty-five thousand crowns yearly, for his expences sustained in the aids of the Britons ; and besides, this was left indefinitely when it should determine or expire, which made the English esteem it as a tribute carried under' fair terms: and the truth is, it was paid both to this King, and to his son, King Henry the Eighth, longer than it could continue upon any computation of charges. But this peace gave no great contentment to the nobility and principal officers of the army, who had, many of them, sold or engaged their estates upon the hopes of the war; and they stuck not to say, that the King cared not to plume his nobility and people to feather himself; and others made themselves merry with what the King had said in par liament : " That, after the war was once begun, he doubted not to make it pay itself, saying he had kept his promise :" however, Charles was by this peace assured of the possession of Bretagne, and free to prosecute his designs upon Naples, which kingdom he won ; though he lost it afterwards in a kind of felicity of a dream, after he had passed the whole length of Italy, without resistance; so that it was true what Pope Alexander was wont to sav " That the Frenchmen came into Italy, with chalk in their hands, to mark up their lod gings, rather than with swords to fight." However, Henry, in the eleventh year of his reign upon this occasion, entered into a league with the Italian potentates, for the defence of Italy. He had many intestine broils and insurrections, and his reign is noted for Lambert Simnel's and Perkin Warbeck's impostures, and no less remarkable for the immense treasure he left behind him; a testimony of his avaricious nature; and, after above twenty- three years reign, and having lived fifty-two, he died, April thetwenty-second, at his palace of * Richmond, which himself had built, anno 1508. ¦ r The causes of his wars were partly for the relief of Bretagne, partly on behalf of the Arch* duke Maximilian, and partly for the recovery of his own right in France. The Wars, and Causes of them, between England and France, 8fc. 319 HENRY VIII. HEIR to both Houses of York and Lancaster, and the only surviving son of Henry VII, succeeded his father at the age of eighteen, and proved a Prince of great virtues as well as vices. Towards the fourth year of his reign, the French King making war upon Pope Julius, King. Henry wrote Kim monitory letters to desist, as being his friend and confede rate ; which letters being little regarded, Henry sent to demand his Duchies of Normandy, Guienne, Anjou, and Maine, and the crown of France itself: but this had the same effect with the former, the French King continuing his war in Italy; which provoked King Henry so, that, entering into confederacy with the Emperor Maximilian, Ferdinand King of Spain, and other potentates, he determined, by the advice, of his council, to make war upon France, and made preparations both by sea and land accordingly ; and, in concert with Ferdinando, sends over into Biscay an army of ten-thousand men, all foot, under the command of the Marquis of Dorset, with a design to invade France on that side, first for the recovery of the Duchy of Aquitain ; but Ferdinand failing in the promises he had made of horse, ord nance, carriages, &c. the English, after they had waited from May till December, for per formance, returned into England without any memorable action performed, their number being considerably diminished through sickness. Henry, nothing discouraged hereat, calls a parliament, who gave him a plentiful supply for carrying on the war ; wherefore, with a puissant army, wherein were many noble persons, and over which as Captain-General was constituted the Earl of Shrewsbury, under the King's person, he lands at Calais on the last day of June, being the fifth year of his reign; and the day following lands the Admiral of England at Whitsand-bay, who entered the town and burnt it, and then returned. From Calais, about the twenty-first of July, the King marches in great state and good order of battle toward Terwin, where he arrives on the fourth of August, and lays close siege to it, the French attempting to impede his march, but without success : seven days after came the Emperor Maximilian, whom the King received with great triumph, between Aire and the camp, where he entered into the King's pay; and, as a testimony thereof, wore St. George's cross with a rose. The town made no extraordinary defence; for, notwithstanding the garrison consisted of four-thousand, whereof were six-hundred good horse, yet they capitu lated the twenty-third, and marched away the day following ; but the King did not think fit to keep the place, and therefore rased all the works and burnt the town, removing first the ordnance that was in it to Aire ; from hence he directs his march towards the city of Tournay, and, about the tvyenty-first of September, sits down before it : it was but weakly garrisoned, though full of inhabitants, and so, on the twenty-ninth of the same month, was, by capitulation surrendered ; the citizens, which were to the number of sixty-thousand, swearing allegiance to him. Here Sir Edward Poiningsr was made Governor, and of this city, Wolsey, then the King's Almoner, was made Bishop ; and so, by the way of Calais, Henry returns for England, and on the twenty-fourth of October lands at Dover ; the Earl of Surrey, during his absence, having fought the Scots, slain their King, James the Fourth, and defeated their whole army. The King's army thus prevailing by land, in France itself, and against the Scots, its confederates proved no less successful by sea ; for Sir John Wallop had landed on the coast of Normandy, and burnt to the number of twenty-one towns and villages, together with many ships in the haven of Trapart, Staples, and other places. The French King, by the means of Leo, with whom he was now accorded, sues for a peace ; which was at length concluded, the Lady Mary, the King's sister, for the tying of the knot, being given to the French King in marriage; whom, however, sloe did not long enjoy, -Lewis the Twelfth dying eighty-two days after. The remainder of this King's reign was, in a manner, spent in domestick affairs, which is not our province to treat of, till about the thirty-fifth year, when, in conjunction with the Emperor, he again makes war upon France; the Emperor took the field in person, and the English joining him, under the command of Sir John Wallop, laid siege to Landarsey; The French King hasted with a great army to succour the town, which was brought to great extremity, upon whose approach, the Em- 320 The Wars, and Causes of them, between England and France, STe. peror, expecting to give battle, raised his siege ; the town, being by this, means relieved, which was all the French cared for, declining to hazard a battle ; and so, upon the ap proach of winter, both camps broke up. The year following, the King raised a mighty army, the front led by the Duke of Nor folk, the main battle by the Duke of Suffolk, (where the King intended to be present him self also,) and the rear by the Lord Russel, attended with many other nobles, as the Earls of Surrey, Oxford, &c. which about Whitsuntide landed at Calais, and from thence, leaving Bolloign to the right, directed their march towards Muterell, and were, as they passed, joined by the Emperor's forces under the Cpunt of Buren; but, finding the foresaid place extraordinarily well fortified and provided for its defence, the Duke of Suffolk, with the King's army, wheels off towards 'Bolloign, where he arrives July 19, and pitched his camp to the east of the town upon the hill ; but, thence removing into a valley after many sharp skirmishes, entered the lower town deserted by the inhabitants, who, under the. covert of the smoke, got into the high town undiscovered ; soon after, the tower, called the Old Man, was yielded up by sixteen soldiers that kept it, which notwithstanding discouraged not the garrison, who continued to make a vigorous defence. On the 26th of July, the King ar rives in person, orders a mount to be raised upon the east-side, planted with divers pieces of cannon and mortars, which incommoded the town very much, so that few houses were left whole within it ; in this distress, two-hundred French and Italians, under the conduct of Joncurtio, attempted to get into the town in the night, and succeeded so well by the means of a priest that spoke English, that most of them were got over the trenches before discovered, and a matter of a hundred and twenty got in, the rest being either slain or taken ; at length, a piece of the castle being blown up, the King stormed the place, but did not carry it; however, the cannon continuing playing, and the garrison having lost the best of their commanders and men, in this action, and fearing as well as concluding that such another assault must carry the town, thought it time to capitulate, before things, came to the last extremity: and so articles were agreed upon, and the garrison marched out with bag and baggage to the number of sixty-seven horse, one-thousand five-hundred and sixty- three foot, eighty-seven wounded, and one-thousand nine-hundred and twenty-seven women and children. On the 25th of September, the King with the sword borne before him, by the Marquis of Dorset, enters Bolloign in triumph, the trumpets, all the while, sounding on the walls; and, two days after viewing of the place, caused St. Mary's church to be pulled down, and a mount to be made in the room of it, for the strengthening the town; and at his departure made Sir John Dudley Governor, and, on the first of October, lands in England. Next year, September the 9th, Sir John Dudley, then Admiral, lands with six- thousand men, at Trey-Port in Normandy ; burns the town and abbey, and thirty ships in the haven, with the loss of fourteen men only. The French attempted the recovery of Bolloign, again and again, but to little purpose ; so that at length a peace was concluded, wherein it was agreed, the French King should pay King Henry eight-hundred thousand crowns within the term of eight years, and then, to have Bolloign restored to him ; but, whilst the oath for confirmation hereof was taken by both Kings, Monsieur Chatillon began to make a new Bastilion at the very mouth of the haven of Bolloign, calling it Chatillon's Garden : the Lord Grey of Wilton, then Governor of Bolloign, advertised the King hereof, by Sir Thomas Palmer, requiring to know his pleasure therein ; the King advises with his council, who all agree the conditions of peace ought by no means to be infringed, and there fore, to let the Bastilion stand ; whereupon the King ordered his Secretary to write to the Lord Grey to that purpose, but then called to Sir Thomas privily, and told him, that, not withstanding the contents of that letter, he should from him command -the Lord Grey to rase the fortification to the ground with all speed., Sir Thomas replied, that a message by word of mouth, contrary to a letter, would never be believed : " Well (says the King) tell him as I bid you, and leave the doing of it to him." Sir Thomas, upon his arrival at Bol loign, delivered the Governor the letter, and withal the message, who hereupon calls a coun cil what to do, wherein they all agreed the letter should be obeyed ; to which the Lord Grey himself said nothing, but caused the message to be written down verbatim from Sir Thomas's The Wars, and Cames of them, between England and France, Kc. 321 mouth,, and those of the council to set their hands to it ; and when this was done; the very next night, he issues out and rases the fort to the ground,, and sent Sir Thomas back to the King with letters to acquaint him with what he had done, who, as soon as he saw him asked aloud, « What, will he do it, or no ?" Sir Thomas, delivering the letter, said, « Your Majesty shall know by these :" but the King, half angry, said, "Nay, tell me, has he done it, or no ?" And, being told it was done, he turned, about to his Lords, and said, " What say you, my Lords, to this? Chatillon's garden is rased down to the ground!" Whereunto one presently answered, that he that had done it deserved to lose his head; to which the King immediately replies, " That he would rather lose a dozen such heads as his was, than one such servant that had done it V' and therewith commanded presently the Lord Grey's pardon to be drawn, which he sent to him with letters full of thanks and promises of reward. The cause why the King took this course was this ; lest, if he had given order in writing for the rasing of the fort, it might have come to the knowledge of the French, before it was done, and so have been prevented. This may be taken as an instance of King Henry's great capacity ; and was the concluding act of his life as to foreign affairs, for he died not long after, to wit, in the year 1547, the fifty-sixth of his life, and of his reign the eight-and- tlnrtieth. The causes of this war with France were partly reasons of state, and partly the league which King Henry had made with the Emperor. EDWARD VI. BORN at Hampton-Court, succeeded his father King Henry the Eighth, at the age of nine years; a most excellent Prince, and the wonder of the age, both for learning and piety: but England did not long enjoy the fruit of the blessings, couched in his person, his reign being shortened by an immature death, as it had been in a great measure rendered uneasy, through the feuds of the nobles, during his life. This, together with the Reformation, carried on at home, made the enemy insult abroad, insomuch that the French assumed the bold ness, in conjunction with the Scots, to attack us in our own borders; for in the second year of this King's reign, on St. Peter's eve, Monsieur Dassey, the French General, with ten- thousand French and Germans, besides Scots, laid siege to Haddington, a town in Scjof*" land, but then in the hands of the English. The town made a most vigorous defence, and at length came one-thousand three-hundred horse from Berwick, with intent to relieve it, but failed in the attempt ; for most of the horse being surrounded by the enemy, were either slain, or made prisoners, together with Sir Robert Bowes and Sir Thomas Palmer, their commanders : but for all this great discouragement and misfortune, the garrison would not flinch, but continued making frequent and successful sallies upon the enemy till August 20, when the Earl of Shrewsbury, with sixteen-thousand men, four-thousand whereof were Ger mans, came to succour the place : the enemy had no sooner intelligence thereof, but they marched away with all speed, but first highly applauded the bravery of the garrison; the Earl revictuailed the place for that time, and then returned, though it was thought, after wards, convenient to demolish it ; which was accordingly performed the twentieth of Sep tember following, by the Earl of Rutland. The year following, i. e. the third of the King's reign, it came to an open rupture be tween England and France ; the French thinking to surprize Jersey and Guernsey, came suddenly with many galleys upon our fleet there, but were received with that resolution and bravery, that they were forced to flee, with great loss, both of men and shipping. News came to the King and Protector, August 28, that the French had taken Blackness, Ha milton, and Newhaven near Bulloign, by the means of one Sturton, (as it was said,) a na tural son of the Lord Sturton, who betrayed this last place into the hands of the enemy, and took service himself in the French army: hereupon the Captain of Bolloign bark, fearing the consequence, after he had conveyed the stores and ordnance to the high town, vol. i. T t 322 The Wars, and Causes of them, between England and France, STc. blew up the fort; the French made all possible preparations to attack the place, and forthe more vigorous carrying on of the siege, and encouragement of the soldiers, the French King comes before Bolloign in person, where were many famous exploits done both by the assailants and defendants; but the brave Sir Nicholas Arnold, who was Governor, began and continued to make so prudent as well as brave resistance, that the French were con strained at last to quit their enterprise, and hereupon were made some overtures of peace, which at last was concluded, and wherein ii was agreed, that Bolloign should be delivered up to the French, upon condition, there should be a reservation of King Edward's title to the crown of France, and due payment made unto him of five-hundred thousand crowns. This King, being about sixteen years old, died at Greenwich, July 6, having reigned six years, and about five months. The causes of this war were, the King's minority and feuds at home, whereof the French thought to take advantage. MARY, ELDEST daughter to King Henry the Eighth, by Queen Katharine of Spain, succeeded her brother Edward, anno 1553, pursuant to their father's will, though contrary to her bro-. ther's, who left the Lady Jane Grey his successor ; and after some small opposition by the aforesaid lady's party, more especially the Duke of Northumberland, her husband's father, got peaceable possession of the throne, and was crowned at Westminster, the last of' April, in great state and magnificence. The former part of her reign, which in all was but short, was much taken up in restoring Popery, and the Papal power, in her dominions; which she effected in a great measure, through the shedding of much innocent blood, which has left a bitter stain upon her memory, in the records of time, as well for her cruelty as supersti tion ; though authors generally represent her to be a Princess, of herself, compassionate and good-natured. She was married to Philip King of Spain, on St. James's day, in the second year of her reign, and this marriage engaged her, about the fifth year of her reign, in a war with France ; for King Philip, passing oyer to Calais, and so to Flanders, made great prepa rations against the French King, and was assisted therein with a thousand English horse, four-thousand foot, and two-thousand pioneers, whereof the Earl of Pembroke was General. With this reinforcement King Philip directs his march to. St. Quintin, and after a sharp siege, takes the place, the English (of whom the Lord Henry Dudley, who first advanced the standard upon the wall, was here slain) doing him mighty service herein, which the King generously rewarded, with the spoils of the town : but this action may be truly said to have been fatal to England, in regard it was the principal cause of the loss of Calais; for while the greatest part of that garrison was employed in the foresaid siege, and before Calais was reinforced, having then but five-hundred men in it, the Duke of Guise, with a powerful army, advancing towards it,Jntrenches himself at Sandgate, and sent one detachment along {he Downs, towards Rise-bank, and another to Newnem-bridge ; he soon possesses himself of both, for the few soldiers that guarded them, had fled secretly into the town ; the next day, they raised a battery from the hills, of Rise-bank, against the walls of Calais, between the water-gate and the prison, and continuing the same for three days, made a small breach, by which they could not well enter, neither was it so designed ; for while the En glish were busy in the defence of this place, the French making their way through the ditch (which was full of water) entered the castle, designing thence to pass into the town ; but here the brave Sir Anthony Agar withstood them, and stopped their further progress, though to the loss of his own life; for there was not a man besides killed, during the siege; till the Governor, the Lord Wentworth, that same evening, which was the, fifth of January, con sidering succours far, the enemy's nigh approach, and the weakness of the garrison, thought fit to capitulate : and so it was agreed, the town, with the ammunition and artillery, should be delivered to the French, the lives of the inhabitants saved, and all to depart where they pleased, excepting the Governor and fifty more, such as the Duke of Guise should appoint, to remain prisoners, and be put to ransom. Thus, the good town of Calais, after it had been in the hands of the English, for the space of two-hundred and ten years (for it was taken The Wars, and Causes of them, between England and France, tie. 323 by Edward the Third, after a siege of eleven months, in 1347) was lost in less than a fort night, till which time, we had the keys of France, at our girdles; and so it was believed Queen Mary resented the loss accordingly, for she died soon after, having said not long be fore, that if she were opened, they should find Calais at her heart. Some feints were made for the repairing of this loss, for the Queen equipped out a fleet, with a design to surprize Brest ; they landed in Conquet road, and in a short time became masters of the town, with the great Abbey, which they sacked and burnt, together with divers adjacent villages, where they found good plunder; from hence (having now alarmed the country) the Admiral judged it not convenient to pursue their enterprise, and so returned. King Philip, in the mean time, went on with his wars, and could not conclude a peace (though both sides seemed to desire it), because he insisted stiffly upon the rendition of Calais to the English, which the French would by no means yield to ; which, together with the King's absence, hastened the Queen's death, for she departed this life at St. James's, November 17, 1558, when she had reigned five years, four months, and odd days. The chief ground of this war with France was the conjugal tie, whereby the Queen was bound to adhere to King Philip her husband. ELIZABETH, SECOND daughter to Henry the Eighth, by Queen Anne Bullen, succeeded her sister Mary to the Imperial crown of England; a Princess whose virtues it is impossible for me to celebrate (if it were my design) having advanced the glory of the English nation, both at home and abroad, beyond any of her predecessors ; and how far short her successors have been from improving, or so much as maintaining of it, is evident in history, but no where so well as in that celebrated piece, the * Detection of the four last Reigns,' &c. In war she was involved almost all her reign, and had not only to do with, but triumphed over, the proudest monarchy then in Europe (I might say in the World), I mean that of Spain; which, however, being foreign from the present design, I shall Pot meddle with. The first occasion of quarrel she had with France was, in the second year of her reign, when the French, having upon the suit of the Queen DoWager of Scotland, sent great numbers of soldiers, to aid and assist her against the reforming Lords; Queen Elizabeth, disliking such neighbours, and knowing the Queen of Scots was married and governed in France, and began to assume the English arms ; upon the humble suit of the said Lords, sent them a strong reinforcement by land, under the command of the Lord Grey of Wilton, and at the same time dispatched Sir William Winter Vice-Admiral with a fleet of ships, for to block up Leith. The army, after some stay at Berwick, pursued their march, and after some usual pickering by the way, and overtures of a cessation, arrived before Leith, which was chiefly garrisoned by French soldiers ; the place was bravely attacked several times, and wonders done by the English both by sea and land against it ; and the French omitted nothing that could be done for its defence : and this continued from about the beginning of April, till the latter end of June, at which time, the place being very much streightened, and must have yielded, the Commissioners appointed for that purpose made a peace at Edinburgh, which, July 7, was proclaimed in the town of Leith; by virtue of which treaty the French were to depart out of Scotland, except one hundred and twenty, and the Scot tish Queen to put out of her title the arms of England and Ireland, &c. About two'years after, that horrid massacre was perpetrated, in France, upon the poor Protestants, that is so infamous in history ; the Popish party having leagued themselves against them ; which barbarity powerfully induced the Queen to assist the Reformists, in order to prevent their final destruction; and, to that purpose, sent over a good band of soldiers to New Haven in France, which the townsmen joyfully received; over whom, and other forces that did arrive, was constituted General the Earl of Warwick, who landed here, the twenty-ninth of Oc tober, anno 1562. This place, is remarkable in history for the long siege it sustained, 324 The Wars, and Causes of them, between England and Frayiee, K'c. through the valour of the English; first came the Rhinegrave before if, then the Constable of France, and last of all, the Prince of Conde, whose united forces had in all probability been baffled, had it not been for a violent pestilence that raged within, and swept away its defendants in great numbers; but notwithstanding this, and that the enemy's cannon were within twenty-six paces of the town, and many breaches made, yet the noble Warwick, with his respective officers and soldiers, stood at the breaches to receive the enemy, if they offered to make an assault ; which the Constable perceiving, he Caused a trumpeter to sound a parley; which being accepted of, the town was surrendered upon honourable articles, after the Earl had held it eleven months, the perfidy of the Reformists giving also an. helping hand to these misfortunes"; to which may be added another disadvantage, in that the French had a pretence, by this our aiding the Protestants, to withhold the surrendering of Calais, after the term of eight years, whereof some were already expired. About the thirty-second year of the Queen's reign, Henry the Third, King of France, was murdered ; whereupon the leaguers armed under the Duke of Maine, to keep Henry, King of Navarre, then a Protestant, from the crown ; whom they pressed so hard upon, that he was forced to fly into Dieppe, designing from thence to get over into England ; but first sends to the Queen an account of his circumstances, who, commiserating his condition, forthwith sends him sixty -thousand brave soldiers, under the command of the Lord Willoughby ; the report of whose arrival coming to Maine's ears, he suddenly raises the siege; which so animated the King, that he marched out, encountered and defeated his enemy ; and so, by degrees, prevailed, through the Queen's good assistance, from time to time, both of men and money. The Spaniards having also, about this time, by means of the leaguers, got footing in Bretagne, the Queen dispatches thither three-thousand men, under the command of that thrice famous General, Sir John Norn's, who beat them quite out of that country. About a year after my Lord Willoughby's succours, arrives in France the renowned Earl of Essex, with four-thousand foot more, some horse and pioneers, as a further reinforcement to the King, and did honourable service ; challenging Monsieur Vil- lerse, Governor of Roan, to a single combate, which he refuses, and then returned ; but had the mortification to have his brother, Walter Devereux, a brave young gentleman, slain with a musquet-bullet, before Roan. The last succours were to the number of two- thousand, and put under the command of that excellent soldier, Sir Roger Williams, who was always forward for the greatest attempts, and did here excellent service. He beat the leaguers that blocked up the passes about Dieppe, upon such unequal terms, that Henry the Fourth could not but take notice, and highly extol his valour, in his letter to the Queen. This Queen, after a glorious reign of forty-four years, five months, and odd days, at the age of seventy years, anno 1603; having lived longer than any of the Kings of England, since the Conquest, died at Richmond, and lies buried at Westminster. The causes of the war in this Queen's time were not direct, but collateral, in behalf of the King and Reformists of France. JAMES I. THEN the sixth King of Scotland of that name, was immediately, upon the death of Queen Elizabeth, proclaimed King of England, Scotland, France, and Ireland, &c as beinsr descended from the united roses of Lancaster and York, King Henry the Seventh and Queen Elizabeth, his wife; whose issue, by the male, failing in the late deceased Queen Elizabeth, the off-spring of Margaret, their eldest daughter, was next heir, which lady was married to James the Fourth, King of Scotland, and by him had issue James the Fifth whose only daughter, Queen Mary, was mother to this our monarch. This King was of a timorous nature, and peaceable disposition, so that Beati pacifici was his motto • and was so far from making any pretensions to the crown of France, or -any part of its dominions notwithstanding his great power, and the flourishing state of the nation; that he suffered The Wars, and Causes of them, between England and France, SCc. 325 his son-in-law, the Palsgrave, and his own daughter, Elizabeth, his wife, with their numerous issue, not only to be beaten out of Bohemia, but even from their just patrimony, the Pala tinate, and to live many years in great want and penury, to the King's great dishonour; Who was nothing but a bluster of words, and ever and anon sending ambassadors, till all was quite lost and unretrievable. This King died at Theobalds, March 27, 1625, in the fifty-ninth year of his age, having reigned twenty-two years complete. CHARLES I. THE only surviving son of King James, (for that noble Prince, Henry, died before his father,) succeeded to the Imperial crown of England. The reformed in France, in the be ginning of this King's reign, lay under great oppressions from their King, Lewis the Thir teenth, and his prime Minister of State, Cardinal Richelieu ; insomuch that they were forced, for their safety, to have recourse to arms, under the command of that ever famous Captain, the Duke of Roan, by land, and Monsieur Sobiez, his brother, who rid Admiral at sea; and by that means, Rochelle, besieged by the French King's arms, was relieved upon all occasions. Hereupon, through the contrivance of the Duke of Buckingham, an English fleet was sent to join that of the French, under the Duke of Montmorency,, the Dutch then basely concurring with some ships of theirs also ; with which united force, Montmo rency fights,, and utterly defeats the fleet of the Rochellers under Monsieur Sobiez ; and then reduced the isles of Rhee and Oleron under the French power. But Buckingham soon after changing his sentiments (the grounds whereof we will assign in the causes of this war), there is a declaration of war published against France, and, for the prosecution of the same with vigour, the Duke is commissioned Admiral and General of a navy of one-hundred sail,, and six or seven-thousand land soldiers, with which he came before Rochelle, still besieged by the French, where Sobiez came on board of him ; and, for several reasons, it was agreed to land the army on the island of Oleron, and not on the isle of Rhee. But Sobiez going to persuade the Rochellers to join with the English, the Duke, before his return, lands on the isle of Rhee, in spight of the opposition made by the French ; but, instead of pursuing the blow, not only neglects to take the fort La Prie, to secure his retreat, and prevent the French from landing supplies, but stays five days; whereby Toiras, the French Governor, encouraged his men, and also got more force and provisions into the citadel of St. Mar tin's. The French were so alarmed at this invasion, that the King offered the Duke of Roan, and the Rochellers, any terms to join against the English, which both refusing, it. caused both their ruins. The enemy's retreat, upon the landing of the English, was sohasty, that they quitted a- well, about twenty paces from the counterscarp, which supplied the citadel with water; which not being possessed by the English, upon their first approach, the French drew a work about it, which our men could not force, and without which well, the besieged could not have subsisted. However, the Duke resolves to take the fort by famine ; but, instead1 of pressing it with a streight siege, he entertains a treaty of Surrender with Toiras, and seve- • ral compliments passed between them, subscribed, 'your humble servant, Buckingham;'' and ' your humble servant, Toiras ;' till the latter got relief of men, victuals, and ammuni tion, and then broke off the treaty with the Duke. Soon after this, the French landed forces^ on the island, by the neglect of the English to oppose them; and orders were given to draw the English out of their trenches,' which the French possess; whereupon the English were forced to retreat. At last the Duke makes a vain storm upon the castle, but was beaten off; and two days after retreats ; the French being now equal to him in foot, and superior in horse ; when the English were entangled in their retreat, the Duke having neglected to' take La Prie, or build a fort upon a narrow lane or causey, to secure the retreat, the French charged the English horse in the rear and routed them, who rout the foot in the narrow passages, between the salt-pits and ditch; but, in this confusion and adversity, the bravery: of the English appeared, for. a few having • passed the bridge, the French following, the 326 The Wars, and Causes of them, between England and Ftmce, %c. English tallied, and faced about gallantly to charge the French, who cowardly retreated over the bridge. And of this a foreign author speaking saith, the English were magis audaces quhm fortunati ; and, withal, taxeth them for want of secrecy in their counsels and conduct of so great an affair. The Duke of Buckingham, upon his retreat from the Isle of Rhee, promised the Rochellers to send them speedy relief, now close besieged by the French; King ; and, upon his return, sent away the Earl of Denbigh, his brother-in-law, with a fleet: ' to that purpose, who, on the first of May, 1628, arrives before Rochelle, where he found the French fleet, consisting of twenty sail, had blocked it up by sea. Upon the Earl's ap proach, the French retired towards their fortification, and anchored within two cannon- shot of our fleet, and so continued till the eighth of May. The Earl promised the Rochel lers to sink the French fleet when the waters increased, and the winds became westerly, it being then neap-tide ; but two days after, the waters increasing, and the wind becoming westerly, the Earl was intreated to fight the French fleet, but did not ; and weighed an chor, and sailed away. The Duke, to redeem this miscarriage of his brother-in-law, in August following, goes to Portsmouth, to command the fleet there, for the relief of Ro chelle ; but, on the twenty-third of the said month, was stabbed by Felton ; on whom, by tfie way, hanging in chains at Portsmouth, was made this ingenious copy of verses : There uninterr'd suspends (though not to save Surviving friends the expences of a grave) ; Felton's dead earth, which to itself must be His own sad monument, his elegy ; As large as fame, but whether bad or good, I say not, by himself 'twas wrought in blood. For which his body is intomb'd in air, Arch'd o'er with Heaven, and ten thousandfair And glorious diamond stars, a sepulchre; Which time, can never ruinate, and, where Th' impartial worms (not being brib?d to spare Princes wrapp'd up in marble) do not share His dust, whjch oft the charitable skies Embalm with tears, doing these obsequies Belonging imto, men, whilo pitying fowl Contend to reach his body to his soul. Yet the design was pursued under the command of the Earl of Lindsey, who attempted several times to force the barricadoes of the river before Rochelle, but all in vain • or if he had, it had been to no purpose, for the victuals wherewith the Rochellers should have been relieved, were all tainted, and it was well the French had no fleet there, for the English tackle and other materials were all defective; and so Rochelle, fell ; and with it, in a man ner, all the glory and interest of the Reformed in France : . but it is remarkable w'hat counsel concurred to the reducing of this important place, and what accidents followed after. The French army had been before it a long time, and had made no considerable progress in the siege, when the Marquis Spinola, returning from Flanders into Spain, directed his course through France, and hearing the King and Cardinal were at the siege of Rochelle waited upon both; and going to view the works one day, asked the Cardinal what they rneant to do there? and continuing his discourse, said, < That as they managed matters, there was no possibility of taking the place.' < What must we do then ?' says the Cardinal ' Push !' replies the Marquis ; < do as we have done at Antwerp; make a dike at the mouth of the harbour, and you will by that means starve them out.' The' Cardinal immediately takes up the project, sets all hands on work, and, with immense labour and celerity finishes the dike, which, in a short time,. reduced the place to that starving condition, that 'they were at length forced to surrender at discretion: and it is note-worthy, that as-Leyden, about fifty-four years before, was miraculously preserved from the hands of theSpanidhte; for being reduced The Wars, and Causes of them, between England and France, 8fc. 327 to the last extremity, they let loose the waters upon them, which the dams restrained before, and upon that, the army marched away ; whereas, had they staid but two or three days longer in the neighbourhood, they might have had an open passage to the town, for the walls of it fell down to the ground, and a strong northerly wind had cleared the country of the water ; so Rochelle, by a quite contrary fate, had been surrendered but a very few days, when the dike so far broke, as that they might have been relieved by sea, had there been a fleet ready for that purpose. But when Spinola came to the council in Spain, he was so brow-beaten and snubbed for his advice to the Cardinal, by the Duke of Medina, then prime minister of state, and other grandees ; that he never could get his money paid, that Was owing him, and died a beggar, in the utmost disgrace : so well did the Spaniards then understand their true interest, that as long as the Reformed could make head in France, the arms of that kingdom would be confined within its own limits, and they and other princes be less molested, by those aspiring and restless neighbours ; and this was the unhappy end of this war between England and France ; and the dreadful presages of the Duke of Roan, hereupon, (to give his words the mildest terms I can,) had but too fatal effects, upon the person of that prince, to whose perfidy he attributed the loss of this fortress, and the Protestant interest in France. Fdr after this, dissension grew daily more and more in England, which drew on an unnatural civil war, that ended with a sad catastrophe, in the King's dying by the axe ; for he was beheaded January 30, 1648, after he had reigned twenty-three years; ten months, and odd days, and in the forty- ninth year of his age. 1. The causes pretended for this war were, that the French King had employed the eight men of war, which the King of England had lent him, to be made use of against Genoa, against the Rochellers. 2. That the King's mediation in behalf of the Reformists, was slighted. 3. That the English merchant-ships, and their effects, were seized, before there was any breach between both kingdoms; though it is certain, that the Duke of Buckingham, as • Lord High Admiral of England, by an extraordinary commission, first seized the St. Peter of Newhaven, the whole cargo being . computed to amount to forty thousand pounds ; and though the King ordered the releasement of the ship, December 7, 1625, yet the Duke, upon the sixth of February following, caused the said ship to be again arrested, and detained, as you may see in Rushworth, fol. 313. 4. A fourth cause of this war we have assigned in the noble Baptista Nani; that the Duke of Bucks, having, while in France, contracted love in that court, and desiring leave to • go thither, under pretence of composing the feuds, that broke forth in the Queen's family^ in England, was by Richelieu's advice denied entrance into that kingdom, and grew thereupon so enraged, that he swore, since he was forbidden entrance in a peaceable manner into France, he would make his passage with an army. CHARLES II. AFTER about twelve years' exile, during which interval, we had no wars with France, was restored to the throne of his ancestors, anno 1660. This Prince had not been above five years settled in his dominions, when, a war broke out with the Dutch by sea, the French joining with them in it at that time against us, so that there was a declaration of war set forth againstFrance ; but the Dutch found no great assistance from them in this confede racy ; for while the Dutch in all the engagements, we had with them, but one, (and that was when the fleet was foolishly divided,) were beaten by us ; the French, instead of uniting their force with the other, dispatched away a fleet to subdue the English, in their plantations 328 The Wars, and Causes of them, between England and France, SCc. in the Leeward Islands; almost totally expelled the English out of St. Christopher's; inter rupted them in their trade to their other islands, and assumed a sovereignty in, those seas; but upon the treaty of peace, they were forced to restore all to the English again : but they left St. Christopher's in so pitiful a plight, that it seemed, in a manner, to be as much a wilderness, as when first the English took footing in it. About seven years after, things veered about, the French joining with the English, against the Dutch, in a second Dutch war, during this reign; and here a late learned author has observed, that as the English were so successful in the former war against both, and the Dane to boot, and were never beaten but once, and that, when the fleet was divided ; so in this the English in all the fights they had, which were four, came off with more loss than the Dutch : but the truth of it is, the French only came out to learn to fight, both in the one, and the other way, for they stood still, looking, on, or firing at a very great distance, while the English and Dutch battered one another ; and Monsieur de Martel, for falling on, and engaging bravely, was recalled, checked, and dismissed his employ; insomuch that the parliament, who began to smell the French designs, moved, November the fourth, 1673, that the alliance with France was a grievance ; and so a peace was concluded with the States, and our King sets up for a mediator at Nimeguen, between the French and Dutch, with their confederates, and in the mean time, having got considerable supplies from his parliament, raises forces ; for the French King had, during this naval war, possessed himself of a great part of Flanders, and the territories of the States; but before a peace was shuffled up, or at leastwise, before the Prince of Orange knew, or would know, of its being concluded, the Prince, not staying for eight thousand English, that were on their march to join him, did, with the assistance only of ten thousand English, under the command of the Duke of Monmouth and Earl of Ossery, storm the Duke of Luxembourg's camp, , fortified with all imaginable art, before Monts, with that resolution and bravery, that he beat him out of it, and relieved the place; and this was the last act of hostility, between England and France, of any kind, during this reign; this King afterwards, instead of putting a stop to the growing greatness of that kingdom, fell in more and more with the interest of it; and the nation, during the latter- part of his reign, was almost rent to pieces, with the parties of Whig and Tory, which are but too much felt to this day ; and he himself, at last, died on the sixth of February, 168 f, in the fifty-fifth year of his age, and the thirty-seventh of his reign, computing it from his father's death. JAMES II. ONLY surviving brother to Charles the Second, immediately assumed the English crown, of which, notwithstanding the opposition made against him, in the preceding reign, he got peaceable possession; but had not long been invested with the regal dignity, when the Earl of Argyle, landing in Scotland, and the Duke of Monmouth, in the West of England, put him in no small danger of losing that he bad so lately attained : but this storm blew over, and ended in the execution of both the aforesaid chiefs, with a multitude of their followers, and that in a very barbarous manner; which execution, as it drew no small emulation upon his person, so the success egged him on, with so much violence, in the pursuits of his designs, for the advancing of the papal power in these kingdoms,* that it made the subjects (now in danger of the loss, both of their religion, and civil properties ) have recoursefor relief to that Prince, who has since so worthily filled the abdicated throne and who then readily embraced their quarrel, and in the most perilous season of the year' with an army from Holland, landed atTorbay, November 5, 1688 ; a day and year memo rable in the annals of time, for the English deliverance : and, having wished success was the thirteenth of February following, with his Princess, proclaimed King and Queen of" En gland, &c. King James having some time before, withdrawn himself, into France, with whom he was so far from having any wars during his four years' reigp, that he entered'into a stricter alliance with that crown; but since his present Majesty's ascending of the throne The Old French Way of managing Treaties. $29 what traverses of war there have been between England and France by sea and land, and what the causes of them, I purposely omit, because they are yet fresh in every man's memory, and for that a final peripd has not hitherto been put unto them. «, The Old French Way of managing Treaties. Submit aemulos > Reges muneribus. Horace. (Quarto. Sixteen Pages.] SIR, , Since you tell me that you do not well understand French, especially that old dialect, which Gomines wrote ; and that you are willing to have an account of the Treaty which was made betwixt our Edward the Fourth and Lewis the Eleventh of France, by the inter vention of some mean fellows ; and that you desire likewise to be informed of the in trigues of the Great Constable of France, who played with all sides, and was the chief trickster of that time ; I am willing to oblige you, and am satisfied you will be pleased with the diversity of scenes that the story presents to your view. THAT Treaty, which Comines gives an account of so much to the dishonour of our nation, wds first set on foot to publick appearance by an ordinary fellow, servant to' a gentleman of the French King's household, who had not above twenty crowns salary per annum, himself; therefore, I can suppose the servant f o have been no more than a foot man. This fellow was taken near St. Quintin, by the English, when they marched up to the town in hopes of being received into it without opposition, according to promise by the Count de St. Paul, Great Constable of France, who was the chief trickster of his time, but lost his head for it at last, as you shall hear in its place. The footman being brought before King Edward the Fourth, and the Duke of Burgundy, one of the predecessors to the House of Austria, who was his ally in this war against France, they examined him ; after which the King ordered him to be set at liberty, since he was the first prisoner they had taken in this expedition. As the fellow was going, the Lords Howard and Stanley gave him a noble, and bid him, in the style of those times, * recommend them to the good grace of the King his master, if he could have access to speak to him.' The fellow made haste to the French King, who was then at Compiegne, and found ac cess to deliver the message. Lewis XI. took him at first for a spy, (because his master's brother was in the service of the Duke of Britany, who was also in alliance with the King of England and Duke of Burgundy,) and therefore ordered him to be kept in custody that night. Abundance of people had liberty however to talk with him, and finding him speak with so much assurance, they gave it as their opinion, that the King ought to allow him a further hearing. Next morning betimes the King sent for him, and, after examining him more thoroughly, ordered him still to be kept in custody. As the King went to dinner, he was full of thoughts about this matter, whether he should send to the King of England or not ? And, before he sat down, whispered Comines in the ear, that he remembered the English herald had told him, that, when the King of England landed, he needed not to send to him for a passport, but might direct any messenger to the said Lords Howard and Stanley. [This mystery you will find unravelled in the course of the story.] The King, having spoke thus, sat down, and ruminating a little, he whis pered again to Comines, bid him rise up, and seek for one who was servant to the Lord vol. r. v v 330 The Old French Way of managing Treaties. Halles, and ask him if he durst undertake to go to the English army in the habit of an herald ? Comines found out the man, and asked what the King had commanded him, but was per fectly amazed when he saw the fellow, for he had neither mien nor behaviour fit for such an undertaking, nor had the King ever spoke to him but once : Comines owns though, that the man had sense, and a very graceful and smooth way of speaking. The servant was so much surprized when Comines spoke to him, that he fell on his knees as if he would have dropped down dead, so that he had much ado to keep him from falling into a swoon ; the proposal was so amazing to one in his circumstances. Comines, to encourage him, promised him a post and money, and told him that he needed not be afraid, for the motion came from the English ; kept him to dine with him, and instructed him what he should do. In the mean time the King sent for Comines, who gave him an account of the man, and advised him to some others that he thought more proper. The King would not hear of this, but went and talked with the fellow himself; and having animated him with the promise of a great re ward, he taught him his lesson : but was so hard put to it to rig him out on a sudden, that he was forced to take a banner from one of his trumpets, to make him a herald's coat, and to borrow a badge from a herald belonging to the Admiral; forthe King had none of his own there ; and so mounted him with his habiliments, put in a fine bag fixed to the bow of his saddle, till he should come to the English camp, which was but eight miles, distant. Thus he set him a-going, unknown to any body but Comines, and the Lord Villiers, his master of the horse. The fellow, according to instructions, came to the English camp, and putting on his coat of arms, was brought to the King's tent ; told those in waiting, " That he was sent from the King of France to the King of England ; and was ordered to address himself to the Lords Howard and Stanley to be introduced.' The King being at dinner, this new vamped herald was carried to another tent, where he had his belly-full of more substantial food than French kick-shaws ; and, whenthe King had dined, the herald was brought before him, and delivered his message thus : ' The King of France had of a long time coveted ' his Majesty's friendship, and that their two realms might live in peace ; that, since his ' master came to the crown, he had never Undertaken any war directly against the King ' of England ; and, though he had entertained the Earl of Warwick, it was only against ' the Duke of Burgundy, and not against him.' He likewise said, ' that the Duke had < invited his Majesty beyond sea, only that he might be able to make the better terms for * himself; and that the rest of the allies, who concurred with him, had done it to retrieve ' their own affairs, and to gain their particular ends : that the winter now drew on ; that ' his master, the King of France, knew his Majesty had been at great expence, and that ' there were many in England, both of the nobility and gentry, &c. who were eager for '- war at home, in favour of the pretenders of Lancaster; but, if the King of England ' would listen to a treaty, the King his master would do all that was possible on his part, c that both he and his kingdom should have satisfaction, and that he might be more tho- « roughly informed of matters. If he would grant a passport for an hundred horsemen, the ' King of France would send ambassadors to him fully instructed ; or, if the King of En- ' gland had rather that they should meet at a village, half way betwixt both armies, the * King of France would readily agree to it, and send passports on his side.' The King of England, and part of his great men, liked these proposals very well, and gave this supposed herald such a passport as he desired, and a present of four nobles ; they also sent a herald with him, to get the King of France's passport : and next day there met in a village near Amiens, on the part of the French King, the Bastard of Bourbon, the Ad miral, the Lord St. Peter, and the Bishop of Eureux ; on the part of the King of England, my Lord Howard, Mr. Chalanger, Dr. Marten, Chancellor of England, and the Arch^ bishop of Canterbury. Thus, Sir, you see the treaty so far advanced by a footman ; for I can suppose a gentle man who had only twenty crowns, or 4/. 10.r. per annum salary, was not able to keep a servant of a higher station than a valet de chambre, for so we must account of this new vamped herald at best. The Old French Way of managing Treaties. 331 I come next to tell you how a nine years' truce was concluded betwixt Edward the Fourth and Lewis the Eleventh, notwithstanding all the endeavours used by the Duke of Bur gundy and his other allies against it. The French valet de chambre having thus performed his part, he was rewarded with a post and money, and the day after the ambassadors on both sides met ; the English (says Comines) demanded, according to custom, the crown of France, or, at least, Normandy and Guienne. They made a vigorous attack, and the French made as brave a defence ; however, the very first day of meeting, they began to come within ken of one another, for both sides, were eager for a peace. At last, the demands of the English terminated in 70,000 crowns, to be paid down before they inarched off : that Lewis the Eleventh's son should be married to King Edward's daughter, and that the Duchy of Guienne should be given to King Edward, or 50,000 crowns paid him annually, in the Tower of London, for nine years ; after which, Guienne was to be peaceably enjoyed by the Prince and Princess above-mentioned. Some other articles there were, relating to trade, &c. which are not worth mentioning ; and there was room left for the allies on both sides to come into this treaty, if they pleased. Nay, the King of England was so forward, that he offered to give the French King an account in writing, of several of his own subjects, who were trai tors to his crown and dignity. The French Ambassadors having reported these things to Lewis the Eleventh, he was extremely rejoiced, and called a council upon it ; at which Comines was present. Some were of opinion that the English dissembled, and that there was fraud couched under the proposals ; which proceeded, I suppose, from the extraordinary forwardness that appeared in the English court towards a peace. But the King of France was of another opinion, because of the advanced season, that the English had not one place of retreat in their hands ; that there was a misunderstanding betwixt them and the Duke of Burgundy ; and that the King knew our Edward the Fourth was wholly given up to his ease and pleasures; and as to the Constable of France, though the King knew him to be a trickster, yet he was sure he would deliver up none of the places he had promised to the Duke of Burgundy and the English ; because the King, being jealous of him, kept fair with him, and was continually sending messengers, with fine words and large promises, to keep him from do-. ing any mischief. Therefore it was concluded to raise the money demanded by the English with all possible speed, and to borrow it from those that were able to lend ; for the King was resolved to be rid of the English at any rate, and rather to hazard all, than to suffer them to get footing in the kingdom of France, which they were just ready to enter. Comines, being sensible that this was a very mean submission on the part of the French King, excuses it thus : that he knew what mischiefs the English had formerly done in France, and knowing the danger of his own circumstances from the Duke of Britany, and others, that were ready to raise commotions in the bowels of the kingdom, he wisely chose this part, as the only means left him to disappoint the designs of the Duke of Bur gundy, and the other confederates. The Constable of France perceiving the treaty to be near concluded, and being sensible that he had tricked with all sides, he sent his Secretary, and one of his Gentlemen, to the King, with proposals to break off the treaty. At the same time one of the Duke of Bur gundy's Gentlemen, who had been taken before Arras, was let go on his parole to procure his ransom, and promised a great sum by the French King, besides being let go ransom- free, if he could bring his master to a peace. He happened to return the very same time when the Constable sent his servants to the King of France, who improved the. opportunity thus : he put the Duke of Burgundy's Gentleman and Comines, behind a large screen in his own chamber, and called in the Constable's Secretary and Gentleman, that tbe Duke of Burgundy's servant might hear their proposals, and repoisf them to his Master, which he doubted not would have a good effect. The Constable's servants began their discourse, and told the French King that their Master had sent several times to persuade the Duke of Burgundy to break with the English, and found him so much incensed against the King 332 The Old French Way of managing Treaties. of England, that he had almost gained him not only tp desert them, but to fall upon tliem as they retired \ and, the better to please the King', one of the Constable's servants acted the Duke of Burgundy before him, stamped with his foot against the; ground, swore by St. George, (which was the Duke's usual oath,) and called the King of England Blayborgne (the bastard of a beef-eater of that name), and all the other reproachful names which he could invent. The French King laughed heartily, and, pretending to be thick of hearing, bid the fellow repeat it, and speak out louder; which he did with a very good grace. The con clusion of their message was, that the Constable advised his Majesty to make a truce with the English, to avoid the dangers which otherwise threatened him from the allies, and to grant the King of England a little town or two for winter-quarters, pointing at Eu and St. Valery : and added, That the Constable was sure this would please the English; and for his part he would be guarantee they should keep the treaty. The French King having gained his end, which was to let the allies know the Constable's knavery, he answered his messengers very civilly, told them he would in a little time let his brother the Constable know his mind, for so he thought fit to call him, because he had married a daughter of Savoy, sister to the queen Of France; and then dismissed them, after one of them had taken his oath that- he would discover every thing that he knew to be transacted again his Ma jesty's interest. The King had much ado to dissemble his wrath at the Constable's pro posal tb give the English those two towns ; because he knew it was made on purpose to excuse himself at their hands for not delivering them St. Quintin, &c. according as he had promised to the King of England and the Duke of Burgundy : but he concealed his dis pleasure, and sent a civil answer to the Constable to keep him in suspense, and prevent his delivering up the towns under his government. When the Constable's messengers were gone, the King called the Duke of Burgundy's Gentleman (who had much ado to keep his patience when he heard his Master so much abused) and Gomines, from behind the screen. The King laughed heartily, and was very merry, while the Duke's Gentle man was in such a rage, that he could scarce be kept from taking horse immediately to acquaint his Master with the Constable's treachery. But the King prevailed with him to stay till he wrote down with his own hand what passed : and the King writ to the Duke, assuring him of the truth of what his gentleman Seigneur de Contay (for that was his name) had writ. The truce with Ehgland was concluded before this, on the terms above-men tioned, and an interview agreed on betwixt the two Kings ; after which the King of Eng land, upon receiving his money, was to return to his own country, and to leave the Lord Howard and Mr. Cheyney, who was Master of his Horse, as hostages behind him. A private pension of 1 6,000 crowns per annum was also promised to the King of England's servants. The Lord Hastings had 2000 per annum, the Lord Howard, the Master of the Horse, Mr. Chalanger, the Lord Montgomery, and others, had the remainder, besides good sums in hand, and presents of plate to others of King Edward's servants. The Duke of Burgundy, being informed of this negotiation, came from Luxemburg in all haste, attended only by sixteen horse, to the English camp. King Edward was very much surprized at his coming in that manner, and, perceiving by his countenance that he was in a rage, asked him the reason? The Duke told him he came to speak with him, and asked if he had made a peace ? The King answered, He had made a truce for nine years, which he prayed him to agree to, since there was room left for him, and the otjier allies' to enter into it. The Duke upbraided him, as Hollinshed tells us, with this shameful treaty, and that he had not so much as killed a fly, or burnt a sheep-cote for his coming to France : that his glorious ancestor, King Edward the Third, behaved himself otherwise, and would never make peace till he conquered France, was made Regent of it and' declared heir apparent : that the said victorious Prince was as near a-kin to him, the' Duke of Burgundy, as the King of England was to King Henry the Fifth, whose blood he charged him with having destroyed ; and told him, ' That he had agreed to a peace not worth a pease-cod :' that he did not invite him beyond sea, for any need he had of him since he was able to revenge his own quarrel, but only to give him an opportunity to recover what had been unjustly taken from him ; and, to let the King of England see that The Old French Way of managing Treaties. 333- he did not value his assistance, he scorned to enter into his truce, or to make any league with the French King, till three months after King Edward was returned home; and, throwing down his chair in a rage, would have been gone. But the King stopped him, and answered his reproaches with others, for which I refer to Hollinshed : the Duke left him in a fury. Some of the King of England's Council, who were against the peace, ap proved very much of what the Duke of Burgundy had said. I return now to the tricking Constable. He, being afraid of the consequences of this treaty, sent his Confessor, as Comines and Hollinshed agree, with a letter to King Ed ward, praying him, for God's sake, not to believe the French King, who would break his promise as soon as the King of England was returned ; and, rather than he should conclude a peace for want of money, he would lend him fifty-thousand crowns. Therefore he ad vised him to take Eu and St. Valery for winter-quarters, and, before two months, were over, he promised that he would take care his quarters should be enlarged. King Edward answered, he had already agreed with the French King, and so left the Constable in despair. I come next to the interview between the Kings of England and France, and the cir cumstances which preceded it. The King of England, to ratify this peace, came with his army within half a league of Amiens, but they marched in such disorder, says Comines, as shewed they did not' understand discipline. The French King viewed them from the gate of the town, and, though- they were very numerous, he might easily have defeated them, had he thought it for his purpose ; but his design was to treat them nobly, and to make peace with them at any rate, in order to dissolve the alliance. He sent the King of England three-hundred waggon-load of the best wine he could get, which, with their convoy, made as great a show as the English army ; and, besides this, he or dered two very large tables to be placed at the entrance of the' gate, with all sorts of provisions that would make them drink ; and at each table there was the strongest wine in France, with six or seven French men of quality, of the fattest and largest that were in the kingdom, to entertain and please the English, who loved jolly compa nions and good cheer. The English came in great numbers, with their horse and arms to the town, without observing any order ; and as soon as they approached the gate, there- were Frenchmen who took them by the bridle, and, pleasantly asking them to run at the lance with them, brought them to the tables, where they made them eat and drink en passant, and told them they might go into the town, and call for what they would, but should pay for nothing. This pleased them mightily, and thus they were treated for three or four days successively. They came in such numbers, that the Lord de Torcy and Co- mines told -the French King, it was dangerous to have so many enemies in the town, for they were at least nine-thousand. Upon which Comines was ordered to mount on horse back; and to speak to the English Captains about it, for the King would seem to take no* notice of it himself. Comines did so, but, for one that the Captains sent back, there were twenty came in their places ; so that the King sent Comines again with a Mareschal of France, to view their posture in the town, where they found most of them drinking, or asleep in the publick houses, and reported it to the King; who, though he thought there was- no great danger, from men who observed so little order, commanded troops to be privately armed, placed some of them at the gate, and came himself to the porter's lodge, where he invited the chief of the English to dine with him. The King of England, being informed of these disorders, was ashamed of it, and sent to the French King to suffer no more bf- them to enter the town ; to which Lewis the Eleventh answered, that he would never do so, but if the King of England pleased, he might send his own guards to keep the gates, and to let none in but whom they thought fit. This was accordingly done, and the town cleared of the English. 1,1 To put an ead to those disorders, the place of interview was agreed on, by gentlemen deputed on both sides. A wooden bridge was made on purpose over the Soame, with an apartment for the two Kings in the middle, and a barrier betwixt them. Comines ob serves that the road by which the King of England came to the bridge was a straight; 334 The Old French Way of managing Treaties. cause-way, with a dangerous morass on both sides, whereas the French King had the coun try open on his side; from whence that Author remarks, ' That the English are nothing ' so subtle as the French, and go very awkwardly about treaties ; but, being cholerick, those ' that deal with them must have patience, and not give them hard words.' I shall not in sist upon the further particulars, but the interview was made. The French King came first to the barrier, and leaning against it, the King of England came up, took off his black velvet cap, adorned with a great flower-de-luce set in jewels, and kneeled to the French King, who returned him a very low bow, and said to him, " Cousin, you are very wel come. There's no man in the world I desire to see so much as yourself; and thank God, that we are met here in so friendly a manner." The King of England, who spoke French well, made a suitable return in that language ; and then the Bishop of Ely, who was Chancellor of England, began his speech with a prophecy (for the English are never with out one, says Comines,) the import of which was, ' That Merlin had foretold there should ' be a remarkable peace concluded between England and France at that place.' After this, the articles were read and sworn on both sides. Then.the French King said smilingly, to King Edward, " That he must come to Paris, and feast with the Ladies ; and he would give him the Cardinal de Bourbon for Confessor, who would readily pardon him, if he hap pened to commit any slip." King Edward laughed ; for he knew the Cardinal was a boon companion. Some farther discourse of this nature having passed, the French King ordered his own courtiers to retire, for he would speak with the King of England alone. The English courtiers retired, says Comines, at the same time, without expecting their King's orders ; and, when those princes had spoke a while together, the French King called for- Comines, presented him to the King of England, and asked his Majesty if he did not know him ? King Edward owned that he did, and remembered the services he had formerly done, him at Calais. The French King asked King Edward what he would advise him to do, if the Duke of Burgundy, who had so haughtily rejected the treaty, continued in that mind ? King Edward answered, he should he offer him once more, and if he did not comply, they would consult about it. Then the French King asked him the same question about the Duke of Britany. To which King Edward replied, that he desired his Majesty not to make war upon him, since he had been his chief friend, when he was forced to retire from England. Upon this they parted after very fine compliments ; the French King to Amiens, and. King Edward to his army. The Duke of Gloucester, the King of England's brother, and several others, who did not like this peace, would not assist at the conference ; but they were induced to wait upon the French King afterwards, who presented them with plate and fine horses nobly accoutred. On the road to Amiens, the French King told Co- mines, that he did not like King Edward's being so willing to come to Paris, for he was a handsome Prince, and loved women; so that he was afraid, if he came thither, he might- find some lady that would tempt him to return again ; that his predecessors had been too often in Paris and Normandy, and that he did not care for their company on that side the sea, though he loved to have them his friends in England. He was likewise displeased that he would not abandon the Duke of Britany ; but urged it no further, lest he should have pro voked him. When the French King returned to Amiens, three or four Englishmen of quality, who had promoted the treaty, came and supped with him ; during which, the Lord Howard whispered him in the ear, that, if his Majesty pleased, he believed he could pre vail with the King of England to come and make merry with him at Amiens, if not at Paris. The French King received the message with a pleasant countenance ; but put it off by saying, that he must make haste to observe the Duke of Burgundy. The next day after the treaty, abundance of English came to Amiens and said, that the peace was made by the Holy Ghost, because a. white pigeon perched upon the King of England's tent during the interview, and would not move from it, notwithstanding all the noise made by the soldiers. But the truth of the matter, says Comines, was told him by ¦ one of King Edward's own servants, viz. that there had been a great rain, and after that the sun shined out very hot, and the pigeon lighted upon the King's tent, which was the highest, to dry it self. The same gentleman, who was a Gascoign, told Comines privately, " That he The Old French Way of managing Treaties. 335 perceived the French court made nothing but a jest of the King of England.'^ Comines asked how many battles that Prince had won ? The Gascoign answered, he had gained nine in person. Comines asked further, how many he had lost ? The gentleman answered, none but this ; meaning the treaty, by which he said, he lost more honour than he had gained by all the nine battles. Comines told this to the King of France, who thereupon said, the Gascoign was a cursed son of a whore, and that Comines must take care what he said to him. He afterwards sent him to invite that gentleman to dinner, which he accepted ; and the King offered him very great rewards, if he would take service under him, which the gentleman refused : but the King told him, ,he would take care of his bro thers that were in Gascoign, made him a present of a thousand crowns ; and Comines whispered him in the ear, that he should be well rewarded, if he would use his interest to entertain a good correspondence betwixt the two Kings. Lewis XI. resolved to take great care after this to say nothing that might give the English ground to think that he laughed at them ; yet, the very next day, when there were none but Comines and three or more about him, he could not forbear laughing at the wine and other presents which he had sent to the English army ; but turning about, he saw a Gascoign merchant in the room, who lived in England, and was come to beg leave to carry over some wine custom-free. The King was vexed, when he saw him, asked him who he was, and what estate he had ; and, understanding that he had no great -matter, he gave him a post in Bourdeaux, granted him his demand, and presented him with a thousand franks, on condition that he should send for his family from England, and go no more there himself. Comines gives another instance of the King's care to avoid giving any offence to the English: A gentleman of our nation, seeing part of the Duke of Burgundy's guards, who came with his ambassadors to treat with the King after he had been deserted by the En glish, said to Comines, " Had we known that the Duke of Burgundy was so well provided with troops, we should not so readily have agreed to a peace." The Lord of Narbonne replied, " Were ye such fools as not to know that ? Ye only say so now ; but six-hundred pipes of wine and a pension from our King has sent you alla-packing again to England." The English gentleman broke out into a rage, and said, " He perceived it now to be true what he had often been told, that the French made their games at the English; but by St. George, (says he,) what your King gave us, is not a pension but a tribute." Upon which Comines interposed, broke off the discourse, turned it into a jest, and told the King of it ; who sharply rebuked the Lord of Narbonne. I return again to the tricking Constable, who finding, that he had entirely disobliged the Duke of Burgundy and the King of England, sent one of his chief servants to beg of the King, not to believe all the ill that was said of him : and, to assure his Majesty of his fidelity, he offered to prevail with the Duke of Burgundy to fall upon the English in their retreat. The message was delivered to Comines,, and he reported it to the King, who, in presence of the Lord Howard and the Duke of Burgundy's gentleman that had formerly overheard the Constable's treacherous proposals, delivered a letter to the Consta ble's servant, and told hirn, " That he was taken up about affairs of great concernment, and stood in need of such an head as his master's." The poor man thought it a very friendly answer : but, when he was gone, the King turned about to the gentleman above- mentioned, and said merrily, " I did not intend to have the Constable's body, for his head is all I want." At the same time the King of England sent Lewis XI. two of the Constable's private letters, with an account of all that he had said and done against him : so that those three Princes conspired to take off this trickster's head, which certainly he very well deserved ; though it was below the character of the King of England and the Duke of Burgundy to become evidence against him. It is time now to wind up the story in as few words as I can : Comines tells us, that the King of England did not engage cordially in this war, for, before he came from Dover, he began to treat with the French King ; and that he brought his army over to France forthe two following reasons : First, Because his people were eager for a war against 336 The Old French Way of managing Jlredtk*.. France, and the Duke of Burgundy pressed him to it. Secondly, That he might save most of the money which had been granted him by the parliament for that war ; and, the better to impose upon his subjects, he brought with him twelve of the principal commons of England, who had been the most zealous for the war, and contributed chiefly to raise the money for maintaining it. The King lodged them in good tents ; but being corpu lent men, and not accustomed to the fatigues of war, they hoped the King would soon have ended the matter by a battle. His Majesty, who never intended it, filled their heads with doubts and fears as to the issue of a battle, and managed matters so well, that he brought them to approve the peace, and engaged them to help in suppressing the mur murs of his subjects upon his return ; for there never was a greater and better appointed army sent from England to France. But King Edward was not of a complexion to en dure such fatigues as the conquest of that kingdom would have required ; besides he was mighty earnest for a match betwixt the Dauphin, afterwards Charles VIII. and his own daughter, which made him dissemble many things that afterwards turned to the French King?s advantage. All the English being returned home, except the hostages, the treaty betwixt the French King and the Duke of Burgundy was brought to bear by M. de Contay, that Duke's gen tleman, formerly mentioned ; and the King carried the English hostages to Vervins, where the treaty was finished. The King of England being informed of the negotiations, and enraged that the Duke of Burgundy would not agree to this truce, -sent Sir Thomas Montgomery, one of his favourites, to the King of France, to pray him that he would make no other treaty with the Duke than he had done with him, and particularly that he would not yield up St. Quintin's. He proffered at the same time, if the King had a mind to continue the war, that he would join him, next year, in person against the Duke ; provided the French King would pay half his army,1 and give him an equivalent for the ¦customs of wool at Calais, which was about fifty-thousand crowns per annum. Lewis XI. thanked the King for his proffer, and told Sir Thomas, the treaty was already concluded ; that it was only for nine years, but the Duke would have a particular treaty for himself; and thus making the best excuses he could, he made Sir Thomas a rich present of plate, and sent the English hostages home with him. Thus Lewis XI. thought himself well rid of the English, and did not care to see them any more on that side the sea, lest they should have renewed their treaty with the Duke of Burgundy. This Prince was at last ruined by the intrigues of Lewis XI. who stirred up enemies against him on every side ; and after his death he seized the Duchy of Burgundy, besides several places in Flanders. The King of England was the only Prince capable to put a stop to Lewis Xlth's career, and the heiress of Burgundy sent ambassadors to intreat his assistance, which the parliament came heartily into, and represented to King Edward the French King's perfidiousness, and his breach of the above-mentioned treaty, in not con cluding the match betwixt the Dauphin and his daughter. But King Edward being a heavy unwieldy man, and wholly addicted to his pleasures, he had no regard to their remonstrances ; besides, the pension of fifty-thousand crowns, paid him every year, was a bait for his avarice. And when he was obliged to send ambassadors with sharp messages, to please his subjects, the French King always treated them well, took them off by rich presents, and gained time, by pretending that he would speedily send ambassadors with full instructions to give their master satisfaction ; and at other times he proposed to share the Netherlands with him. But his chief trust was in the great number of pensioners he had in England, whom Comines names as follows : The Lord Chancellor ; the Master of the Rolls ; the Lord Hastings, who was Great Chamberlain; and in mighty favour with his master ; Sir Thomas Montgomery ; the Lord Howard, afterwards Duke of Norfolk ; the Master of the Horse, Mr. Chalanger, and the Marquis, son to the Queen of England by a former marriage. To all these he gave great gifts, besides their pensions, and parti cularly to the Lord Chamberlain, Hastings, a thousand marks of plate at once ; and the acquittances of all those pensioners were to be seen in the French King's chamber of ac counts, says Comjnes, except those of the Lord Hastings, who had formerly been a penr A Discourse of the Travels of two English Pilgrims. 337 sioner to the Duke of Burgundy, by Comines's interest ; who, knowing his weak side, advised Lewis XI. to purchase him in Ijhe same manner, for he was at that time a great enemy to France, and mightily pressed King Edward to assist the heiress of Burgundy; but Lewis XI. bought him off, by doubling his pension. He sent it him by Mr. Cleret, master of his own household, and ordered him to take an acquittance for it, as he did from the Lord Chancellor, the Lord High-Admiral, the Master of the Horse, and others, and as he had formerly done from the preceding Lord Chamberlain. But when he came to the Lord Hastings, and delivered him his message with the pension, that Lord refused him an acquittance. The French gentleman insisted on it, and said, that his Master might otherwise think he had cheated him, and not delivered the money. The Lord Hastings replied, " That what he said was very just, but, since the money came by the King's free will, and not at his desire, he must put it into his sleeve without witness or acquittance ; for it should never be said, that the Great Chamberlain of England was a pensioner of France, or that his acquittance should be found in the French King's chamber of accounts." Cleret was forced to comply, and though Lewis XI. was angry at first when he told him the story, he ever after esteemed the Lord Hastings more than any of his other En glish pensioners ; and ordered his money to be paid him, without demanding any more acquittances. Thus, Sir, you have an account of this dishonourable treaty, bow England was tricked by the French King's perfidiousness and cunning ; how our allies were abused and ruined ; how the exorbitant power of France was founded, though England was in a capacity to have prevented it ; and how our country and parliaments were imposed upon, to the per petual dishonour of the nation, by the French King and his pensioners.- A true and strange Discourse of the Travels of two English Pilgrims : what admirable Accidents befel them in their Journey towards Jerusalem, Gaza, Grand Cairo, Alexan dria, and other Places. Also, what rare Antiquities, Monu ments, and notable Memories (according with the ancient Remembrances in the Holy Scriptures) they saw in Terra Sancta, or the Holy Land ; with a perfect Description of the Old and New Jerusalem, and Situation of the Countries about them1. A Discourse of no less Admiration, than well worth the regarding : Written by Henry Timberlake. London, Printed by Nicholas Okes, MDCXVI. [Quarto. Eighteen Pages.] What recommends this tract, is the plainness and impartiality, zvhich the reader will justly commend, when he has read it throughout ; as zvell as the subject, on zvhich it is wrote : for he gives an exact journal of his journey, from Grand Cairo, to lerusalem, zvith several curious observations in his zvay, and a particular account of the toll or tribute, to be paid by all travellers at stated places. He describes the power of the I [1601.] VOL. I. XX 338 A Discourse of the Travels of two English Pilgrims. Romish friars, zvhich are settled at lerusalem ; and gives an instance of their invete rate hatred to Protestants, in his oivn person : then he proceeds to shezv the ceremonies used by these friars, to purify the pilgrims, before they are admitted to. visit the holy places ; and zvithout the superstition of a bigot, zvho believes all, upon the credit of the relator, he gives you an honest account of every individual place, and relick, which those friars shozv, and recommend to the devotion of such as go in pilgrimage to the Holy. Land. Besides, his topographical description of lerusalem, and the adjacent vil lages and places, is most accurate, and conveyed the more sensibly to our understand ings, as compared zvith the distances of certain tozvns and villages from London ; so that this little piece may justly be esteemed one of the best, if not the first Protestant account of the Holy Land ; and from which, I dare venture to say, most others that ¦ have zvrote since, on the same subject, have been supplied zvith those particulars of greatest certainty, that grace their journals. ALTHOUGH it passes as a general proverb, that c travellers may tell leasings by authority;' yet I. being no way daunted by that bug-bear thunderbolt, but confi dently standing on the justice of my cause, (my kind commendations to all you, my dear friends, first remembered,) thus from Jerusalem, I begin to salute you. You shall under stand, that since my departure from Grand Cairo, towards the Holy Land, I wrote you a letter from Rama : this Rama is a place, where the voice was heard of Rachel, weeping for her children: wherein I certified you of all my proceedings, from Grand Cairo, even to that very place. I sent it, with seven other letters beside, to Damasco in a caravan, from thence to be conveyed to Constantinople : but doubting, lest the said packet is not yet come to your hands, I thought good to write you, concerning all my aforesaid pro ceedings ; as also the rest of my voyage to Jerusalem, with my imprisonment, and troubles in the city, and what memorable antiquities I saw there, and elsewhere, until my return back to Alexandria. 'First, you shall-know, that I departed hot. from Grand Cairo, till the ninth of March, upon which day I came to the place, where (it is said) the Virgin Mary did stay2 with our Saviour, Christ. So far was I accompanied by Anthony Thorpe, and four others, that Went to Cairo with me, but there left me, departing back to the city ; and I, with my fellow-travelfer, master John Burrell, (both of us being in our pilgrim's habits,) came that night to a town called Canko, where we were glad to take up our lodging in a yard, having no other bedding than the bare ground. The next day we departed thence, arid came to a town in the land of Goshen, where we met with a company of Turks, Jews, and Christians, and some seven-hundred and fifty camels, all which were bound for Damasco over the Desarts ; yet were there amongst them two-and-twenty Greeks and Armenians, whose purposed travel lay to Jerusalem, which made us the gladder of their company. At this town, being named Philbits, we staid two days and one night ; in which time, I went into a house, where I saw a very strange secret of hatching of chickens, by artificial heat, or warmth. The like I had seen before at Grand Cairo, but not in such extraordi nary numbers or multitudes as here ; the manner whereof I will declare as followeth : the country people inhabiting about this town, four or five miles distant, everyway, bring their eggs in apt carriages for the purpose, upon asses or camels, to this place, where there is an oven, or furnace, purposely kept temperately warm, and the furner, or master thereof, standeth ready at a little door, to receive the eggs of every one, by tale ; unless that when the number arises so high (as to ten camels loading or more) then he filleth a measure by tale, and after that order, measures all the rest. And I tell you this for a truth, that I saw there received by the furner, cook, or baker, in one day, by tale, and by measure, the number of thirty -five, or forty thousand eggs; and they told me, that for 2 When they fled into Egypt. A Discourse of the Travels of two English Pilgrims. 33Q three days space together, he doth nothing, but still receive in eggs, and at twelve days end, they come again to fetch chickens,, sometimes at ten days, and sometimes (but not very often) at seven days, according as the weather falleth out. Perhaps, some two hun dred persons are owners of one rangeful, some having two thousand, some one ; or more, or less, as the quantities amount to. The furner noteth the names and portions of every bringer ; and if he chanceth to have a hundred and fifty thousand, or two hundred thou sand, at one heat (as many times it chanceth that he hath), yet doth he mingle them all together, not respecting to whom they severally belong. Then he layeth, them, one by one, upon his range, so Hear as they can lie, and touch each other ; having first made a bed for them, of camels-dung burnt ; and the place, whereon the ashes do rest, is of a very thin matter made of earth, but mixed with the camels-dung in the making, and some pigeons- dung amongst it: yet herein consisteth not the secret only; for there is a concave, or hol low place, about three feet breadth, under it, whereon is likewise spread another layer of camels-dung, and under that is the place, where the fire is made. Yet can I not rightly call it fire, because it appeareth to be nothing but embers ; for 1 could not discern it, but to be like ashes, yielding a temperate heat to the next concave, and the heat being resisted by the layer of dung next it (which dung being green, and laid upon pieces of withered trees) delivereth forth an extraordinary vapour, and that vapour entereth the hol low concave, next unfler the eggs, where, in time, it pierceth the aforesaid 'mixed earth, which toucheth the ashes, whereon the eggs are laid, and so serveth as a necessary recep tacle for all the heat coming from underneath. This artificial heat, gliding through the embers, whereon the eggs lie, doth by degrees warm through the shells, and so infuseth life by the same proportions of heat ; thus, in seven, eight, nine, ten, or sometimes twelve days, life continueth by this artificial means. Now when the furner perceiveth life to ap pear, and that the shells begin to break, then he beginneth to gather them ; but of a hundred thousand he hardly gathers threescore thousand, sometimes but fifty thousand, and sometimes (when the day is overcast) not twenty thousand; and if there chance any lightning, thunder, or rain, then, of a thousand, he gathers not one ; for then they all miscarry and die. And this is to be remembered withal, that, be the weather never so fair, the air perfect clear, and every thing as themselves can desire, and let the chickens be hatched in the best manner that may be, yet have they either a claw too much, or too little : for Sometimes they have five claws, sometimes six, some but two before, and one behind, and seldom, very few or any in their right shape. Afterwards, when the people come to receive their eggs, that before had brought them in, the furner gives to every one rateably, according as the furnace yieldeth, reserving to himself the tenth for hi? labour. Thus have you the secret of hatching eggs, by heat artificial, at the town of Philbitsin the land of Goshen, which I think were in vain to be practised in England, because the air there is hardly ten days together clarified, neither is there any camels-dung, though they have dung of other beasts every way as hot ; therefore, when the sun is in Cancer, Leo, or Virgo, you may, if you please, try what may be done. Perhaps some will think this to, be a lie, or fable ; but to such I answer, I can urge their credence no further than my faith and truth can persuade them: and if thereon they will not believe me, let them take pains to make their own eyes a witness, and when they have paid as dearly as I have done, (for the sight of this and other things cost me an hundred marks in fifty days,) their judgments will be better confirmed. But now to my journey toward the desarts of Arabia, which I was of force to pass, be fore I could come to the Holy Land. Then we departed from the town of Philbits, tra velling all night in company with the caravan of Damasco, and the fourteenth, at nine of the clock, we pitched our tents at Baharo, in the land of Goshen. From thence we departed that night, and the fifteenth at night, we pitched at Salhia, which is to the eastward of the land of Goshen, and stands on the borders of the Arabian desarts ; there we staid two days for fear of the wild Arabs, and departed thence the seventeenth. We passed that night over a great bridge, under which the salt-wafer standeth. This water comes out of the sea from the parts of Damietta, and by men's hands, was cut out of that place, some nun- 340 A Discourse of the Travels of two English Pilgrims, dred and fifty miles into the main land, by Ptolemeus, King of Egypt, who purposed td bring the Red-sea, and the Mediterranean, all into one : but when he foresaw, that if he had gone through with his work, all his country had been quite drowned, he gave if over, and built a bridge there to pass over. This place parteth Arabia and Egypt ; and no sooner had we passed this bridge, but we were set upon by the wild Arahs ; and, notwithstanding our great company, (for we were more than a thousand persons,) a camel, loaden with cal- licoes, was taken from us, four of our men hurt, and one of them mortally wounded ; and the Arabs ran away with the prey, we being unable to help it, because it was night. The next day we pitched by a well of brackish water : (but I forgot to tell you, that my fellow- pilgrim, Mr. John Burrell, escaped very narrowly in the last night's bickering :) there we rested ourselves till three of the clock in the afternoon, which they call Lasara ; for the Ara bians and Egyptians divide the day into four parts. Then we departed, and pitched the next morning at a castle in the desarts, called Carga, which is one of the three castles which the Turks keep in the desarts, to defend all travellers from the wild Arabs. There fore, there we paid a certain tax, which was sixty pieces of silver3, of two-pence a piece value, for each man or boy, and seventy-six pieces4 for a camel loaden, and fourteen3 for a mule. Haying paid this imposition, we departed ; and pitched again the nineteenth, at another brackish well : from whence setting onward, we pitched the twentieth of March, at the second castle, called Arris, kept also by the Turks, in the said desarts; where our tax was but twenty pieces of silver6 for each passenger, and thirty7 for a camel. From thence we were guided by many soldiers to the third castle, called Raphael; making one long jour ney of twenty-four hours together. Here, it is said, that the Kings of Egypt and Judea fought many great battles; which, tome, seemed very unlikely, because there is nothing to relieve an army withal, except sand and salt-water. There we paid ten pieces8 every passenger, and twenty for a beast. So departing thence,. the twenty-second in the morning, we pitched at Gaza, in Palestine, a goodly fruitful country; and there we were quitted of all the desarts. In this town, I saw the place where (as they told us) Sampson pulled down the two pillars, and slew the Philistines : and surely it ap pears to be the same town," by reason of the situation of the country. There we paid twenty-two pieces1' for each beast, and ten10 for each passenger. From thence we departed, and pitched at a place called, in Arabian, Canvie ; but, by the Christians, called Beer- sheba, being upon the borders of Judea, where we paid but two pieces u of silver each one and four12 for a beast. Departing thence, the twenty-third in the morning, we pitched our tents, upon a green close, under the walls of Rarnoth13, in Gilead: there I staid all the day, and wrote eight letters for England, by the forenamed caravan, which went for Damasco] to be conveyed to Constantinople, and so for England. The next day, being the twenty- fourth, in the morning, I, with other Christians, set out towards Jerusalem, and the great caravan went their way for Damasco'; but we pitched short that nightv at a place called, in Arabian, Cudechelanib, being sixteen miles from Hebron, where the sepulchre of our father Abraham is, and five little mites from Jerusalem. From thence we departing in the morn ing, being our Lady-day in Lent, and nine of the clock before noon, I saw the city of Je rusalem ; when kneeling down, and saying the ' Lord's Prayer,' I gave God most hearty thanks for conducting me thither, to behold so holy a place with my eyes, whereof I had read so often before. Coming within a furlong of tjtie gates, I, with my companion, Mr. John Burrell, went singing and praising God, till we came to the west gate of the city, and there we staid, because it was not lawful for a Christian to enter unadmitted. My compa nion advised me to say I was a Greek, only to avoid going to mass: but I, not having the Greek tongue, refused so to do, telling him even at the entry of the gate, that I would nei ther deny my country nor religion. Whereupon, being demanded who we were, Mr John Burrell (answering in the Greek tongue) told them that he was a Greek, and I an Englishman. I Value ten shillings English. ? Twelve shillings and eight-pence. ' Two shillings and four-pence. Three shillings and four-pence. Five sh.l ings. , • One. shilling and eight-pence. 9 Three shillings and eight-pence. ° One shilling and eight-pence. "Four-pence. " Eight-pence. " Or, Rama. A Discourse of the Travels of two English Pilgrims. 341 This gave him admittance to the Greek patriarch; but I was seized on, and cast in prison, before I had staid a full hour at the gate ; for the Turks flatly denied, that they had ever heard either of tay Queen14 or country, or that she paid them any tribute. The pater 1S guardian, who is the defender of all Christian pilgrims, (and the principal procurer of my imprisonment, because I did not offer myself under his16 protection, but confidently stood to be rather pro tected under thaTurk,than the Pope,) made the Turk so much my enemy, that I was re puted to be a spy, and so by no means could I be released from the dungeon. Now give me favour to tell you how it pleased God (the very day) to deliver me, and grant me pass as a Protestant, without yielding to any other ceremony, than carriage of a wax-candle only, far beyond my expectation. Here let me remember you, that when I staid at Ramotli in Gilead, (where I wrote the eight letters for England, by the caravan of Damasco,) having so good leisure, I went to a fountain to wash my foul linen, and being earnest about business, suddenly there came a Moor unto me, who taking my clothes out of my hand, and calling me by my name, said he would help me. You doubt not, but this was some amazement to me, to hear such a man call me by my name, and in a place so far distant from my friends, country, and acquaintance : which he perceiving, boldly thus spoke in the Frank17 tongue, ' AVhy, Captain, 1 hope you have not forgot me, for it is not yet forty days since you set me a-laud at Alexandria, with the rest of those. passengers you brought from Algier, in your ship, called the Trojan? And here is another in this caravan, whom you likewise brought in company with you, that would not be a little glad to see you.' I demanded of him, if he dwelt there ? He answered me, No ; saying, that he and his fellow were going in that caravan to Damasco (which place they call Sham), and from thence to Bagdad (which we call Babylon), and from thence to Meccha, to make a Hadgee ; for so they are called, when they have been at Meccha : more over, he told me, that he dwelt in the city of Fesse, in Barbary. This man (in my mind) God sent to be the means of my immediate delivery : for, after I had taken good notice of him, I well remembered that I saw him in my ship ; though one man, among three hundred, is not very readily known : for so many I brought from Algier, into those parts, of different nations ; as Turks, Moors, Jews, and Christians. I desired this man to bring me to the sight of his other companion, which (having washed my linen) he did, and him I knew very readily. These two concluded, that the one of them would depart thence with the caravan, and the other go along with me to Jerusalem, which was the Moor before remembered : and such kind care had the Infidel of me, that he would not leave me unaccompanied in this strange land : which I cannot but impute to God's especial providence for my deliverance out of prison, or else 1 had been left in a most miserable case. When this Moor saw me thus imprisoned in Jerusalem, my dungeon being right against the sepulchre of Christ, albeit he wept, yet he bade me be of good comfort, and went to the bashaw18 of the' city, and to thesaniake19, before whom he took his oath', that I was a mariner of a ship, which had 'brought two hundred and fifty, or three hundred Turks* and Moors into Egypt, from Algier and Tunis, their journey being unto Meccha. This Moor (in regard he was a Musselman) prevailed so well with them, that, returning with six Turks back to prison, he called me to the door, and there said unto me, that if I would go to the house of the pater guardian, and yield myself under his protection, I should be inforced to no religion but mine own, except it were to carry a candle; to the which I willingly condescended. So, paying the charges of the prison, I was presently delivered, and brought to the guar dian's monastery, where the pater, coming to me, took me by the hand, and bade me wel come; marvelling I would so much err from Christianity, as to put myself rather under the Turks, than his protection. I told him, what I did was, because that I would not go to mass, but keep my conscience to myself: he replied, that ' many Englishmen had been there, '* Elizabeth. I5 i. e. Father or chief of the friars, settled in that city. "Romish. '» That is, in a mixed kind of speech, used among sailors, that get a smattering of every tongue where they come. -8 Turkish' gfyernor. '9 Or, chief justice. 342 A Discourse' of the Travels of two English Pilgrims. but (being Catholicks) went to mass; telling tlie Turks at the gate's entrance, that they were Frenchmen, for the Turks know not what you mean by the word Englishman ;' ad vising me further, that when any pf my countrymen undertook the like travel, at the jfates of Jerusalem, they should term themselves either Frenchmen or Britons, because they were well known to the Turks. This, or such like conference, passed between us; and further he asked me, how old our Queen's Majesty was, and what was the reason she gave nothing to the maintenance of the holy sepulchre, as well as other kings and princes did ? with divert other frivolous questions : whereto I answered accordingly. This day being spent even to twilight, Mr. John Burrell,. who passed as a Greek, without any trouble, came in unto us, being nevertheless con strained to this monastery, or else he might not stay in the city; for such sway do the Papists carry there, that no Christian stranger can have admittance there, but he must be protected under them,, or not enter the city. Mr. Burrell and I being together, in the court of the monastery, twelve fat-fed friars came forth unto us, each of them carrying a wax-candle burning, and two spare candles .beside, the one for Mr. Burrell, and the other for me. Another friar brought a great bason of warm water, mingled with roses, and other sweet flowers, and a carpet being spread on tbe ground, and cushions in chairs set orderly for us, the pater guardian came and set us down, giving each of us a candle in our hands ; then came a friar and pulled -off our hose, and (setting the bason on the carpet): washed our feet. So soon as the friar began to wash, the twelve friars began to sing, continuing so till our feet were washed ; which being done, they went along singing, and we, with the guardian, came to a chapel in the monastery, where one of them began an oration in form of a ser mon, tending tp this effect: ' How meritorious it was for us to visit the- Holy Land, and ' see those sanctified places where our Saviour's feet had trod.' The sermon being ended, they brought us unto a chamber, where our supper was pre pared ; there we fed somewhat fearfully, in regard the strange cats have as strange quali ties : but, committing ourselves to God, and their outward-appearing Christian kindness, we fell to heartily, supped very bountifully, and (after praising God) were lodged decently. Thus much for my first entertainment in Jerusalem* which was the 25th of March, 1601, being our Lady-day in Lent. , Now follows what the friars afterward shewed me, being thereto appointed by the pater guardian. Early the next morning we arose, and, having saluted the pater guardian, he appointed us seven friars and a trouchman ; so forth we went to see all the holy places in the city, which were to be seen, except those in Sepulchra Sancta20 ; for that re quired a whole day's work afterward ; and at every place where we came we kneeled clown, and said the ' Lord's Prayer.' The first place of note, that the friars shewed us, was the place judicial next the house of, Veronica Sancta21 ; and demanding of them what saint that was,, they told me it was she that did wipe our Saviour's fa£e, as he passed by in his agony. Descending a little lower in the same street, they shewed me the way which our Saviour Christ went to be crucified, called by them Via Dolorosa22. Then, on the right hand, in the same street, I was shewn the house of the rich glutton, at whose gate poor despised Lazarus lay. Holding on our way down this street, we came to a turning passage, on the left hand, whence they told me Simon Cyreruis 23 was coming towards the Dolorous Way, when the sol diers, seeing him, called him» and compelled him, against his will, presently to help our Saviour to carry his cross. Then they told me, that in that same place the pepple wept, when Christ, answering, said unto them, ' O daughters of Jerusalem, weep not for me,' &C.24. Next they shewed me the church where the Virgin Mary fell into an agony, when Christ passed by, carrying his cross25. '° Or, holy sepulchre. " Or, Saint Veronica. " Or, the dolorous, or mournful way. 33 Simon of Cyrene, Matt, xxvii. 32. * Luke xxiii. 28.. » This is unscripjpral, or a Monkish, invention^ A Discourse of the Travels of two English Pilgrims. 343 Afterward' they brought me to Pilate's palace, which though it be all ruinated, yet is there an old arch of stone, which is still maintained by the Christians ; and, it standing full in the high-way, we passed under it ; much like the way or passage under Mr. Hammon's house in the bulwark, but that the arch is higher; for, upon that arch, is a gallery which admitteth passage (over our heads) from one side of the street to the other; for Pilate's palace extendeth over the high-way on both sides, and Pilate had two great windows in the said gallery, to gaze out both ways into the street, as Mr. Mammon hath the like ad vantage at both his windows. Into this gallery was 6ur Saviour brought when he was shewn unto the Jews, and they, standing below in the street, heard the words, Ecce homo26, A little from this place, is the foot of the stairs where our Saviour did first take up his cross. Then they brought me to the place where the Virgin Mary was conceived and born ; which is the church of St. Anne, and no Turkish church. Next they shewed me the pool m where Christ cleansed the lepers : and then, guiding me to St. Stephen's gate, a little within it, upon the left hand, they shewed me the stone wherewith St. Stephen was stoned. From hence I saw the stairs going up to port Area, at which port there are divers relicks to be seen ; it was the east gate of the temple which Solomon built upon mount Moria, in which temple was the place of Sanctum Sanctorum2* ; but now in that place is built a goodly great church, belonging to the Turks. Thus spent I the second day, being the 26th day of March, all within the gates of Je rusalem, except my going to see the stone wherewith St. Stephen was stoned. The next day being the 27th, having done our duty to God, and the pater guardian ; we hired asses for the friars and the trouchman to ride on, and, going forth to the city gates, we mounted, and rode directly towards Bythinia29. By the way as we rode, they shewed me the place of the fruitless fig-tree, which Christ cursed: next, the castle of Lazarus, that Lazarus whom Christ loved so well; for his house or castle was in Bythinia ; but it was utterly ruinated, and nothing to be seen but the two sides of the wall. In the same town they shewed me the house of Mary Magdalen, but so ruinated, that nothing- is left of it but a piece of a wall. There I saw likewise Martha's house, consist ing of three pieces of a wall ; and thence they brought me to the stone where the two sisters told Christ that Lazarus was dead ; from whence, passing on, they shewed me the place where our Saviour raised Lazarus from death, after he had lain three days in the ground, and where he was buried afterward when he died. This place hath been notably kept from the beginning, and is repaired still by* the Chris tians ; but yet in poor and very bare sort : and this is all that I saw in Bythinia. From hence we rode unto mount Olivet, and, passing by Bethphage, they brought me to the place where our Saviour took the ass and colt when he rode to Jerusalem, upon Palm- Sunday. Riding through Bethphage directly north, we came to the foot of mount Olivet, where they shewed me the place Benedict^, of the Virgin Mary's annunciation ; and, as cending to the top of the mount, we saw the place of our Saviour's ascension ; at the sight whereof we said our prayers, and were commanded withal to say five Pater-nosters30, and five Ave Mary's31; but we said the Lord's Prayer, took notice of the place, and departed. This is the very highest part of mount Olivet, and hence may be discerned many notable places; as, first, west from it is the prospect of the new city of Jerusalem; south-west from it, may be seen the prospect of mount Sion, which is adjoining to new Jerusalem ; also in the valley between Sion and the mount, whereon I stood, I saw the brook Cedron, the pool Siloam, the garden wherein our Saviour prayed, the place where afterwards he was be trayed, and divers other notable things in this valley of Gethsemane ; as, the tomb of Ab salom; King David's son, the tomb of Jehoshaphat, and others, which I will speak of, when I come to them. * Behold the man. " Of Siloam. 2S The holy of holies. 3» i. e. Bethany. *> Or, the Lord's Prayec^five times. »''Or, Hail Mary's ; a-prayer to the Virgin Mary, used by Papists.. 344 A Discourse of the Travels of two English Pilgrims. Full south from mount Olivet, I could see the places we came last from, as all Bythinia and Bethphage ; also, east-north-east from this mount, may be seen both the river of Jor dan, which is about fifteen miles off, and Jericho, which is not far, because it is to the west- Ward of Jordan. From mount Olivet east and east-south-east, may be seen the lake of Sodom and Gomor- rha, which is about an hundred miles long, and eight over: all these places I set with the compass, when I was on mount Olivet ; for I staid on the top of it about two hours and an half, having a little compass about me. Descending hence towards the foot westward, we came to a place where the friars told me, that a woman, called Saint Pelagia, did penance there in the habit of a friar; whereat I smiling, they demanded, why I did so? I answered, ' that to believe Pelagia was a Saint,, stood out of the compass of the creed.' They told me, when I should come home at night, they would shew me sufficient authors for it ; but, when I came home, I had so much to do in writing my notes out of my table-book, that I had not leisure to urge their au thors for St. Pelagia. By this time they brought us to the place where our Saviour did foresee the judgment ; then where he made the Pater Noster32; and then where the Apostles made the Creed32. From hence we came to the place where Christ wept for Jerusalem, and from thence to the place where the Virgin Mary gave the girdle to St. Thomas32, and then to the place- where she prayed for St, Stephen3*. All these last were coming down mount Olivet, towards the valley of Gethsemane, where by the way we came to our Lady's church, wherein is her sepulchre32, and the sepulchre of her husband Joseph32, with the sepulchre of Anna32, and many others in that church. This church standeth at the foot of mount Olivet,. and was built, as they say, by Helena,., the mother of Constantine the Great ; here the friars went into the Virgin Mary's sepul chre, and there either said mass or prayers, while we in the mean time went to dinner. In this church is a fountain of exceeding fine water, and in regard we went down into a vault, as it were,, it giveth a marvellous loud echo or sound. Hence we went to the cave whither Judas came to betray Christ, when he was at prayer-. and thence to the garden where our Saviour left his disciples, commanding them to watch and pray, but found them sleeping at his return ; then they brought me to the garden where Christ Was taken ; and all these last three were in the valley of Gethsemane. Ridinw unto the town (whereof the valley bears the name) on the left hand I saw the before-men tioned sepulchres of Absalom and Jehoshaphat, and on the right hand the brook Cedron which, at my being there, had not one drop of water in it ; for, indeed, it is but a ditch to convey the water to the two hills (I. mean mount Olivet and mount Sion J when any store of rain falleth : and this ditch, or brook Cedron, is in the valley between both those hills. Hard by the brook Cedron, they shewed me a stone, marked with the feet and elbows of Christ, in their throwing of him down when they took him, and ever since (say they33) have those prints remained there. From thence we rode to the place where St. James the younger did hide himself, and after wards was buried there. There also they shewed, where Zechariah, the son of Barachiah was buried, and brought me to another place; where (they say) the Virgin Mary used often to pray. Then came we to the pool of Siloam, wherein Mr. Burrell and I washed ourselves and hence we was shewn the place where the prophet Isaiah was sawn in pieces; thence 'they guided us to an exceeding deep well, where the Jews (as they say) hid the holy fire in the time of Nebuchadnezzar. Here we ascended from the valley to a hill-side, which lieth just south from mount Sion 31 According to the Monkish traditions. * Not the Scriptures, or any good author; but the monks and friars, that are now in possession, and contrive all means to pick the pockets or the devout and credulous. A Discourse of the Travels of two English Pilgrims. 345 but there is a great valley between, called Gehennon ; and there they shewed me the place where the Apostles hid themselves, being a cave in a rock. Ascending higher hence, they brought me to the field, or rather to be more rightly termed — the rock, where the com mon burial-place is for strangers ; being the very same (as they say) which was bought with the thirty pieces of silver,, that Judas received as the price of his Master; which place is called Aceldama34, and is fashioned as followeth: it hath three holes above, and on the side there is a vent ; at the upper holes they let down the dead bodies, to the estimation of about fifty feet down. In this place I saw two bodies, new or very lately let down, and looking down (for by reason of the three great holes above, where the dead bodies lie, it is very light) I received such a savour into my head, that it ,made me very sick ; so that I was glad to intreat the friars to go no further, but to return home to the city. So here we went through the valley of Gehennon, and at the foot of mount Sion (having a little bottle of water, which I brought from the pool Siloam) I drank, and rested there an hour's space, eating a few raisins and olives, which we brought with us from Jerusalem in the morning. After I had well rested and refreshed myself, we began to ascend mount Sion, and a little way up the hill they shewed me the place where Peter having denied Christ, and hearing the cock crow, went out and wept. Ascending higher, they shewed me the house where the Virgin Mary dwelt, which was near unto the Temple; then they brought me to the place where the Jews setting on the blessed Virgin Mary, to take her, she was conveyed away by miracle. Hence we went to the house of Caiaphas, which was somewhat higher upon mount Sion, and there I saw the prison wherein our Saviour was detained. Passing on still higher, they guided me to a little chapel, which is kept by the Armenians, whereinto entering, at the high altar, they shewed me the stone, which was upon our Saviour's sepulchre (as they say), and it is near to the place where Peter denied Christ ; for there they shewed me the pillar whereon the cock stood when he crowed. Hence was I brought tp the place where our Saviour made his last supper, and thence I came where the Holy Ghost descended upon the Apostles; whence passing on, they shewed me the place where Christ appeared to his Disciples, the eighth day after his resurrection, where St. Thomas desired to see his wounds. Near to this place upon mount Sion, the Virgin Mary died; and, hard by, they shewed me a place bought by the Pope of the Turks, for the burial of the. European Christians ; because he would not have them cast into Aceldama. They told us, the year before five Englishmen were buried in that place ; but whether by the Friars poisoning them, or how soever else it happened, we thought it strange, that all five should die together in one week. Thence came we to the house of Annas the High Priest, which is now but a pair of very old walls, and nothing else of it to be seen ; but at the side of one of the walls is an old olive-tree, whereto they told me that our Saviour was fast bound; and demanding a further reason thereof they said, that when he was brought unto his house, Annas being asleep, his people would not awake him; so, during their time of stay, they- bound him to the said olive-tree, and when he awaked, then he was brought in and examined. Departing hence, towards the south-gate of the city, which standeth likewise upon mount Sion, we alighted from our asses, and entering, I noted it well ; for I had seen three of the four gates. Arid, being desirous to see the north-gate also, they brought me to the church of St." Thomas, which is within the wall, all ruinated ; then to the church of St. Mark, where Peter came, being delivered out of prison, by the Angel, that broke open the gate. Then they shewed me the house of Zebedeus, whence we came to the place kept by the Abassenes35; and there, ascending first by a dark way, led on by a line or cord, we * Or, Field of Blood. ls A sort ef Eastern Christians, sejtled in the land of Prester John. VOL. I. Y y 346 A Discourse of the Travels of two English Pilgrims. attained to a high place, near to the Sepulchra Sancta, where I paid two pieces" of silver to go in; and, being entered, I demanded what place it was? 'The same (say they) where Abraham, would have sacrificed his son Isaac' . Thence went we to the prison where St. Peter and St. John were, being the next door to the prison wherein I was put before; which made me the sorrier, that it was not my for tune to have gone into it, being so near it. Hence we came to the north-gate, being on mount Calvary side, where having well viewed the gate, and perceiving it waxed late, we went directly home. This was my third day s work, in and about Jerusalem, wearied not a little with often alighting to pray; for, at each several place before recounted, we dismounted and said the ' Lord's Prayer on our knees. On the morrow, being the twenty-eighth day, early in the morning, we took our asses, riding forth at the west-gate, through which I first entered, and, passing on to the south ward, we left mount Sion on the left hand ; at the foot whereof they shewed me the house of Uriah, and the fountain where Bathsheba washed herself at, when King David espied her out of his turret. Thence went we to the place where the angel took up Habakkuk, by the hair of the head, to carry meat to Daniel, in the lions' den. Next came we to the place where the Wise men found the star when it was lost, and then where the Virgin Mary rested herself under a tree, as she came from Bethlehem to Jerusalem, which tree they still repair, by setting another close to the root of it. Hence rode we to the house of Elias the prophet, where they shewed me his usual place of sleeping; and his house standeth so upon a hill, as from thence I did see Bethlehem afar off. Thence we went to an old ruinated house, which they told me was Jacob's ; which may the better appear to be so, for, in the field thereto adjoining, is the tomb of Rachel, Jacob's wife; and about two miles from this tomb is a town in the same field, called Bethesula, the inhabitants whereof are all Christians. In this great field (being between Jerusalem and Bethlehem) did lie the camp ofSena- cherib, when he besieged Jerusalem. From hence we rode to the field, where the Angels brought tidings of great joy to the Shepherds, which is two miles from Bethlehem ; and thence we rode to Bethlehem to the Monastery, wherein were about ten friars ; who wel comed me very kindly, and brought me first into a great church, then into a large entry, wherein I saw the name of Mr. Hugo Stapers twice set, one above another, and between them both I set my name. Then they guided me down the stairs into a vault, where was a chapel set in the place of our Saviour's nativity, inclosing both it and the manger wherein Christ was laid, and also the place where he was presented with gifts by the wise men. Over this chapel is a great church, built by Queen Helena, mother to Constantine the Great (as they say), and furtherl saw divers tombs of holy men and others. Going up to the top of the church, I saw, upon the leads, the name of Mr. Hugo Sta pers again engraven, which made me look the more earnestly for some other Englishmen's names ; but, finding none, I engraved down my name, and came away ; then we went and dined with the friars. After dinner, they brought me to a place where the Virgin Mary hid37 herself, when search was made to kill the children. So taking my leave of Bethlehem, giving the Friars three pieces of gojd, for my dinner, and my company with me, being eight in number, mounting on our asses, we rode to the well, where King David's three Captains fetched water for him, through the whole host of the Philistines ; which standeth a little way from Bethlehem, towards Jerusalem, and hath three places to draw water up. 36 Four pence. .- " This is contrary to Scripture, wKich assures us, that Joseph, being warned of an Angel, took Mary and the child Jesus, and fled into Egypt, before search was made, by Herod's order, tp kill the infants. A Discourse of the Travels of two English Pilgrims. 347 Hence went we presently back to Jerusalem, entering the gate at four of the clock in the afternoon, and at five the Turks let us into the Sepulchra Sancta, each of us paying nine pieces of gold for our entrance. No sooner were we in, but they locked the gates ; so there I staid till eleven of the clock the next day, and then came forth. Now follows what I saw in Sepulchra Sancta : First, I noted hanging without the gate, at the least, an hundred lines and strings, and in the gate is a great hole, whereat a little child may easily creep in ; whereof demanding the reason, they told me the hole served to give victuals at, for them which lie within the church, which are above three hundred persons, men and women, all Christians ; and there they live continually night and day, and can have no passage in or out, but when the Turks do open the gate for some pilgrim ; which happeneth not sometimes in fourteen days : wherefore, these Christian liegers in the church have there their whole household, and boarded lodgings there builded for them. The strings before spoken of, hanging at the gate, have each one a bell, fastened at the lodgings, and when their servants (which are without) bring them any meat, each rings the bell belonging to his household, and so come accordingly (each knowing his own bell) for receipt of their food. The several sorts of Christians, which I saw in this church, I will in order describe unto you. First, The Romans38, for they bear the greatest sway of all. Secondly, The Greeks3', for they be next in number to the Romans, yet little better than slaves to tbe Turks.. Thirdly, The Armenians 40, who have been so long time servants to the Turks, that, having forgotten their own language, they use all their ceremonies in the Arabian tongue, and so I heard them. The fourth sort of Christians are Nestorians*1, who are as slaves to the Turk, and have no other language42 than the Arabian. The fifth are the Abassenes, be-, ing people of the land of Prester John. The sixth are the Jacobines43, that are circum cised Christians, but slaves likewise and servants to the Turk. All these (Christians in name) have bought of the Turk their several places in th© church, and by-rooms for ease ; being never fewer in number, of all these six sorts, than two-hundred and fifty, or three-hundred, continually there lying, and praying after their manner. The places where they ordinarily use to go, and say their devotions, are thus, as I de scribe them, and as the Roman friars brought me to them : First, The pillar- whereat our Saviour was whipped. Secondly, The place where he was imprisoned, while they were preparing or making his cross. Thirdly, Where the soldiers divided his garments. Fourthly, Where the cross was found by Queen Helena, which is at the foot of mount Calvary, and hard by it is the chapel of the said Queen Helena. Fifthly, The place where Christ was crowned with thorns ; which I could not see, till I was glad to give the Abassenes that kept it two pieces of silver44. Sixthly, The place where, the cross being laid along on the ground, our Saviour was nailed fast unto it. 38 Viz. Papists. 35 Christians of the Greek church, who deny the Pope's supremacy, &c* «° The Christians that live in the territories of Armenia. 41 Christians, so called from Nestorius, Bishop and Patriarch of Constantinople, in the fifth century ; wh» taught that the two natures in Christ were united only in a mystical and moral manner. They are very nume rous in the East, especially in Mesopotamia, and along the Tigris and Euphrates. Their Patriarch is generally seated at Mosul, which is the ancient Seleucia. *' i. e. use no other language in their Holy Offices. ' rut? « Or rather Jacobites: a Sect of Christians, so called from one Jacob, a Syrian, in the days of the Emperor Mauritius ; or from Jacob Zanzales, who flourished in 550 ; and hold but one nature in Jesus Christ ; though they are much divided among themselves; for the Cophtes, Abassenes, and Armenians are frequently compre hended under that name. They perform Divine Service in the Chaldean language, and are under their owm Patriarch, who resides at Caramit. ¦m Four-pence. 348 A Discourse of the Travels of two English Pilgrhns. Seventhly, The place on the top of mount Calvary, where tlie cross stood when he suffered. Eighthly, The rock that rent at his crucifying, which is a thing, well worth the behold ing ; for it is slit, like as it had been cleft with wedges and beetles, even from the top to the two-third parts downwards, as it were through the brow and breast of the rock : nor is the rent small, but so great, in some places, that a man might easily hide himself in it, and so groweth downward less and less. Ninthly, The place where the three Marys anointed Christ after he was dead. Tenthly, Where he appeared to Mary Magdalen in the likeness of a gardener : and whence we came to the sepulchre itself, which is the last place where they use any prayers. From whence I went to see the tombs of Baldwin and Godfrey of Bulloign : and, return ing back to the sepulchre, I measured the distance between place and place, spending thus the time from five of the clock before -night, when I came in, until next day at eleven of the clock, at my coming forth, writing down all things I thought note worthy. My companion, Mr. John Burrell, and I being thus come forth of the church, we went to the Pater Guardian to dinner, where we had tidings that five other Englishmen were arrived at the city-gates, directing towards Aleppo. Their names were Mr. Wil liam Bedle, preacher to the English merchants, which were liegers at Aleppo ; Mr. Edward Abbot, servant to the Right Worshipful Sir John Spencer ; Mr. Jeffry Kirby, ser vant to the Worshipful Mr. Paul Banning, and liegers for them in Aleppo ; two other young men, the one called Jbhn Elkins, and the other Jasper Tymme. These five, hear ing of my being there, came all to the house, and these (though they saw not my im prisonment, nor were with me at the sight of those things, in and about Jerusalem) can witness that they were acquainted therewith at the gates, and testify the other truths, be side. These men, as also my companion Mr. John Burrell, I left behind me in Jeru salem, departing thence to see other places in the country of Palestine. But let me first tell you,- what I observed in the city's situation, because I was informed, before I came to see it, that it was all ruinated (albeit on the sight thereof) I found it otherwise ; having a little compass about me, to set such places as I could easily come by. Understand then, first of all, that the very heart of the old city was seated on mount Sion and mount Moria ; to the north part whereof was mount Calvary, without the gates of the old city, about a stone's cast, and no farther. But now I find this new city situated so far in the north part, that it is almost quite off mount Sion, but yet not off mount Moria, which was between mount Sion and mount Calvary ; so that now, undoubtedly, the south walls of the city are placed on the north foot of the hill of Sion. The east wall, which doth confront mount Olivet, is a great part of the ancient; wall, and so, from the south-east angle north, a quarter of a mile behind mount Calvary ; so that mount Cal vary, which was, in former times, a stone's cast without the city, and the appointed place for ordinary execution, I find it to be now seated in the heart or middle of the new city. This mount Calvary is not so high as to be called a mount, but rather a piked, or a spired rock. For I noted the situation of it, both when I was at the top of.it, and when I came to the sepulchre, the sepulchre being distant from it (I mean from the foot of it) an hundred and seventy-three feet, as I measured it : whereupon I conclude, that the place of burial, which Joseph of Arimathea made for himself, was, from the foot of mount Calvary, an hundred and seventy-three feet westward, in which place is. the sepulchre of our Saviour. The sepulchre itself is two feet and a half high from the ground, eight feet in length, and four feet broad, wanting three inches, being covered with a fair stone, of a white colour. Over the sepulchre is a chapel built, the north wall whereof is joined close with the north side- of the sepulchre ; and the chapel is of like stone as the sepulchre is, con sisting of fifteen feet in breadth, twenty-five feet in length, and above forty feet in height. A Discourse of the Travels of two English Pilgrims. 349 In this chapel are always burning thirty or forty lamps, but upon festival days more, which are maintained by gifts given at the death of Christians in Spain, Florence, and other parts, to be kept continually burning ; and the givers of these lamps have their names engraven about the upper edges of them, in letters of gold, standing in a band of gold or silver. This chapel is inclosed with a church, and yet not it only, but therewith are circled in all the before-named Holy places, viz. where Christ was whipped; where he was in prison ; where his garments were divided ; where the cross was found ; where he was crowned with thorns ; where he was nailed on the cross ; where the cross stood when he suffered ; where the vail of the temple rent ; where the three Marys anointed him ; where he appeared to Mary Magdalen; and, in brief, all the most notable things, either about mount Calvary, or Joseph's - field of Arimathea, are inclosed within the compass of this church, which was built by the fore-mentioned Queen Helena, mother to Constantine the Great, she being (as I have read in some authors) an English woman, and daughter to King Coel, that built Colchester ; which being urged to them, they denied it. I mea sured this church within, and found it to be four-hundred and twenty-two fathoms about ; the one side of it likewise I found to be an hundred and thirty fathoms. Thus much for mount Calvary, which is in the midst of the city now. From the north-east angle of the city to the north-west, is the shortest way of the city; and from the north-west angle to the south-west, is as far as from the south-east to the north-east : but, from the south-west to the south-east, which is the south wall that stand eth on the foot of mount Sion, I measured, and found it to be three^thousand seven-hun dred and seventy-five feet, which is about three quarters of a mile. Upon this south side of the city, is a great iron gate, about which gate are laid seventeen pieces of brass ord nance. This gate is as great as the west gate of the Tower of London, and exceeding strong, the walls being very thick, and on the south side fifty or sixty feet high. So much for the south wall and side of the city. The north wall is not altogether so long, but much stronger, for on the north side it hath been often surprized, but on the south side never ; and on the east side it is impreg nable, by reason of the edge of the hill which it standeth on, which is five times as high as the wall. On the north side are twenty-five pieces of brass ordnance, near to the gate, which is of iron also; but what is in other places, as at the corners and angles, I could not come to see, and demand I durst not. The east wall, containing the gate where St. Stephen was stoned, a little without, and to this day called St. Stephen's Gate, I saw but five pieces of ordnance there, and they were between the gate and the relick of Port Aurea, which is to the southward ; and concerning the west side of the city, at the gate whereof I entered at my first arrival, it is very strong likewise, and hath fifteen pieces of ord nance lying near together, and all of brass. This gate is also made of iron, and this west wall is altogether as long as the east wall ; but it standeth upon the higher ground ; so that coming from the west, to the west wall, you can see nothing within the city but the bare wall; but upon mount Olivet, coming towards the city, from the east, you have a very goodly prospect of the city, by reason the city standeth all on the edge of the hill. To conclude ; this city of Jerusalem is the strongest of all the cities that I have yet seen in my journey, since I departed from Grand Cairo ; but the rest of the country is \ery easy to be entered ; yet in the city of Jerusalem are three Christians for one Turk, and many Christians in the country round about, but they all live poorly under the Turk. Now concerning how the country about Jerusalem lieth, for your more easy and perfect understanding, I will familiarly compare their several places, with some of our native En glish towns and villages, according to such true estimation as I here made of them. - Imagine I begin with London,! mean much upon the point of distance. 350 A Discourse of the Travels of two English Pilgrims. The city of Bethlehem, where Christ our Saviour was born, is from Jerusalem, as Wands- Worth*5 is from London; I mean much upon the point of distance 4S. The plain of Mamre is from Jerusalem, as Guilford47 is from London ; in which place, Or near to it, is the city of Hebron, where our father Abraham lieth buried. Beersheba is from Jerusalem, as Alton is from London : Ramoth Gilead is from Jeru salem, as Reading48 is from London. Gaza, which is the south-west part of Palestine, is from Jerusalem, as Salisbury49. is from London. Ascalon is from Gaza, north-east, three miles. Joppa is from Jerusalem, as Aylesbury50 is from London. Samaria is from Jerusalem, as RoySton51 is from Londbn. The city of Nazareth is from Jerusalem, as Norwich52 is from London. From Nazareth to mount Tabor and Hermon, is five miles north-east ; these two do stand very near toghether, Tabor being the greater. From Tabor to the sea of Tiberias, is eight miles north-east. From Jerusalem to mount Sinai, is ten clays journey, and north-east thence. These places last spoken of (beginning at Samaria) I was not in, but the other five Englishmen that met me in Jerusalem, coming through Galilee, they came through them, and of them had I this description ; they received of me likewise the description of my journey through Palestine. The place where Christ fasted forty days and forty nights, called Quarranto, is from Jerusalem, as Chelmsford53 is from London. The river Jordan (the very nearest part thereof) is from Jerusalem, as Epping 54 is from London. Jericho, the nearest part of the plain thereof, is from Jerusalem, as Lowton-Hall5* (Sir Robert Wrath's house) is from London. The lake of Sodom and Gomorrha is from Jerusalem, as Gravesend56 is from London. The river Jordan runneth into the lake, and there dieth ; which is one of the greatest secrets (in my mind) in the world, that a fresh water should run continually into this salt lake, and have no issue out, but there die ; and the said lake continuing still so salt, as no weight of any reasonable substance will sink into it, but fleeteth upon it, as a dead man, or beast, will never go down. And further note, that what filth soever is brought into it, by the river Jordan, or any other substance, it fleeteth continually upon the water, and being tossed thereon, by the force of the weather, in time it becometh a congealed froth, which, being cast upon the banks, and there dried by the extreme heat of the sun, becometh black, like pitch, which, in that country, is called bitumen ; whereof I have brought some with me from thence. This lake is about eight or nine miles broad, and about eighty, or a hundred miles long; the length stretching from the north, where the river Jordan falleth into it, to the southward, and hath no farther issue. The fields where the Angels brought tidings unto the Shepherds, lie from Jerusalem, as Greenwich57 doth from London. Mount Olivet lieth from Jerusalem, as Bow58 from London. Bethania is from Jerusalem, as Black-wall59 is from London. Bethphage is from Jerusalem, as Mile-end60 is from London. The Valley Gethsemane is from Jerusalem, as Ratcliff-fields61 lie from London. Brook Cedron is from Jerusalem, as the Ditch without 62 Aldgate is from London. Mount Sion is near adjoining to Jerusalem, as Southwark joineth63 to London. 45 In Surrey. 4« Four miles. « T„ Surrey, twenty-five miles 48 In Berkshire, thirty miles. 4» Seventy miles. "> Forty-two miles " Thirty-four miles " Ninety-five miles. * In Essex, twenty-four miles' S4 In Essex, thirteen miles. * In Essex, eleven miles. s« I„ Kent' twenty ™;i«. » In Kent five miles " Bow or Stratford, in Middlesex, two miles 7 " I u Middlesex,two miles and a half. « In Middlesex, one mile. - I„ Middlesex] half a mile. *' Houndsditch, about sixty yards. "J By London Bridge. A Discourse of the Travels of two English Pilgrims. 351 Thus have I described the city of Jerusalem, as it is now built, with all the notable places therein, and near unto the same, and the country about it : by which comparisons, you may well understand the situation of most parts of the places near unto it: and thereby you may perceive, that it was but a small country, and a very little plot of ground, which the Israelites possessed in the land of Canaan, which, as now, is a very barren country : for that, within fifteen miles from Jerusalem, the country is wholly barren, and full of rocks, and stony: and, unless it be about the plain of Jericho, I know not any part of the country, at this present, that is fruitful. What hath been in times past, I refer you to the declaration thereof, made in the Holy Scriptures. My opinion is, that when it was fruitful, and a land that flowed with milk and honey, in those days God blessed it, and that as then they followed his commandments; but now, being inhabited by Infidels (that profane the name of Christ, and live in all filthy and beastly manner), God curseth it, and so it is made barren; for, it is so barren, that I could get no bread when I came near untp it; for, that one night, as I lodged short of Jerusalem, at a place called, in the Arabian tongue, Cuda Chenaleb, I sent my Moor to a house (not far from the place where we had pitched our tents) to get some bread, and he brought me word, that there was no bread there to be had; and that the man of that house did never eat bread, in all his life, but only dried dates, nor any of his household. Whereby you may partly perceive the barrenness of the country at this day; only, as I suppose, by" the curse that God layeth upon the same; for that they use the sin of Sodom and Gomorrah, very much in that country ; whereby the poor Chris tians, who inhabit therein, are glad to marry their daughters at twelve years of age, unto Christians, lest the Turks should ravish them. And to conclude, there is not that sin in the world, but it is used there amongst those Infidels that now inhabit therein ; and yet it is called Terra Sancta, and in the Arabian tongue, Cuthea, which is, the Holy Land, bearing the name only, and no more ; for all holiness is clean banished from thence, by those thieves, filthy Turks and Infidels, that inhabit the same : and having my certificate- sealed by the guardian, and a letter delivered unto me, to shew that I had washed myself in the river Jordan, I departed from Jerusalem, in company of the Moor, that helped to get me out of prison, leaving Mr. Edward Abbot, Jeffry Kirby, Mr. John Elkins, Jasper Tymme, and Mr. Beadle, the preacher, (whom I met there by chance, not knowing of their coming,) behind me in Jerusalem; and, which grieved me most, the gentleman of Middleborough, called Mr. John Burrell ; that I met withal at Grand Cairo, that had borne me company from thence to Jerusalem, forsook me there, and staid also in Jerusalem, with the other five Englishmen ; and so was I left alone to the mercy of my Moor that kept me company, and never left me till I came to Grand Cairo. Now what happened unto me in my travel ling from Jerusalem to Cairo, and from thence to Alexandria, where my ship lay, I will hereafter declare. Departing from Jerusalem, we got safely to Rama, and from thence went to Ascalon, and so to Gaza, that lieth upon the borders of the desarts of Arabia ; at one of those two places I hoped to have some passage by water, either to Alexandria, or to Damietta ; but failing thereof, I was in amaze, and knew not what to do, whether I were best to go back again to Jerusalem, or to put myself desperately into the hands of the wild Arabians, to be by them conducted to Grand Cairo ; one of those two courses I must of force take, so there was no hope of passage ; and yet I had another hope, but to no end, which was, that I should find passage at Joppa ; and for that cause I staid at Gaza, and sent my Moor to Joppa to seek for passage, but there was none to be had. At last, considering with myself, that my haste into Egypt was great ; for I had left my man Waldred in Cairo, with my stock, of one thousand two hundred pounds, and my ship lay in the road of Alexandria, with sixty men in her, and whether they would depart without me, or no, I knew not ; for that, when I went from them to go up the river of Nilus to Cairo, I had no intent to go for Jerusalem. My business standing at that point, I was forced to this extremity, to make away all the money I had about me, and to put myself into the hands of two wild Arabians, that under took to carry me and my Moor (without whom I durst not go) to the city of Cairo, in four days, if I would pay them twenty-four sultans of gold, when I came to the Materia, near ¦352 A Discourse of the Travels of two English Pilgrims. to Cairo; and,, upon that condition, they would deliver me safely there, otherwise, they said, that they would carry me prisoner with them, or else cut my throat : and so agreeing with them, by my Moor that spake for me, and withal warranted me to go safely, swearing that he would not leave me by any means; the two wild Arabians provided, two good dromedaries for us to ride on ; I, and the Moor riding before, and the Arabians behind us, two upon each dromedary, and so departed from Gaza, about two of the clock in the af ternoon, and rode a hard pace; those kind of beasts going so hard, that within four hours I was so weary, that I desired them to suffer me to alight down to rest me, which we did about six of the clock in the evening; and, being alighted, the Arabians tied the dromeda ries' two fore-feet together, as their manner is, making them kneel down ; which done, we sat down to eat a few raisins and biscuit, such as we carried in our alforges64 : but, in the mean time, one of our dromedaries broke his strings, being but a small piece of a hazel, and ran back again towards Gaza; whereupon, one of the thieves took the other dromedary, and made after him, until both he and the other, that had broke loose and ran away, were both out of our sight ; then the other Arabian, that staid behind with us, ran after them, and we were left alone in the wild desarts of Arabia. At last, night approaching, and both our guides and dromedaries being gone, we were both in no small fear, what would become of us ; in which case, leaving my Moor with my alforges (wherein we carried our victuals) I went up to the top of a sandy hill, not far from thence, to see if I could espy our two thieves ; but I was no sooner upon the top of the hill, but I saw four wild Arabians come running towards me, from the other side of the sandy hill ; which I perceiving, ran in great haste to my Moor ; yet I could not run so fast, but one of the thieves was at my heels, and, drawing out his sword, bade my Moor deliver me unto him ; but the Moor made him an swer, and bade him search me, (for he knew Well that I had nothing about me worth anything, only my hair-cloth coat) ; and said further unto him, this guaire (which is as much as to sav an unbeliever) is to be conducted to Cairo fin four days, by two of your companions, and therewith named them unto him ; whereunto they all made answer, and, said, that if it were true, they would do me no hurt, but if their companions Come not again, with their drome daries, then they would carry us away with them ; but, within two hours after in the night time, my two Arabians came again with tlieir dromedaries, and then they were all fellow- thieves. And we gave them a few raisins and a little water, and so departed; and the fourth day at night, we came to a place where the Arabians had tents, and there they gave me some camels-milk, and beheld me so earnestly, as if they had never seen a white man before. From thence we departed, arid the next night we came to Salhia, where, being sore shaken in my body (notwithstanding I was rolled with rollers), I was constrained to give over my dro medaries, and to get horses, which they procured there of some of their acquaintance. This dromedary is a kind of beast like unto a camel, but it has a lesser head, and a very small neck, but his legs are as long ; and there is no more difference between a camel and a dromedary, than there is between a masty»dog and a .greyhound : those beasts eat but little, and drink less, for they drank not as long as I was with them ; and it is said, that they will not drink in eight or ten days together, but cannot abstain so lbng from meat. And by this you may . see that I was as far in four days, as I was going in twelve days before. I think a good horse will run as fast, but not continue it ; their pace is a reaching trot, but very hard and quick. From the edge of Salhia, which is upon the east side of Goshen, I took horse: but the reason, why the Arabians did grant to get me horses, was not, because they pitied me for my weariness, but for that they durst not go any nearer to the inhabited country with their dromedaries ; and there one of them staid, and the other went with me to Materia, from whence I sent my Moor to Cairo, to fetch me their hire; and there I paid them, that let me the horses, six pieces of gold, and gave the two wild Arabians twenty-four pieces of gold, and therewith they delivered me in safety into the custody of my Moor, within three miles of the city Cairo, where I was welcomed by the Consul and others there resident ; and there I paid my honest Moor six pieces of gold, and bought divers provisions for him to furnish him in his journey to Meccha; in which journey, as he returned again, he died. 64 Knapsack, or bag. A Letter, §c. » / 353 In Cairo I staid two days, and the ' seventh night after I came to Bullae, and there took boat, and in three days I got down the river of Nilus, to Rosetta; and there taking horse, with a Janisary, I fell into greater danger than any I had during my journey; for, between that town and Alexandria, there were divers great Janisaries, that came from Constanti nople, that were newly landed at Alexandria, who, having tired their horses, would have taken our two mules from us, which my Janisary refused them, and therewith drew out his sword; and they, to be revenged, came running to take me, and, having laid hands upon me, four of them beat me cruelly, and drove me to the passage that was hard by, and there would have killed me ; which my Janisary perceiving, and seeing that nothing could appease them but our two mules, after he had been sore wounded, he delivered them unto the other Janisaries, or else I had there been slain, after my long and weary journey, being within five miles of my ship, that lay in the road at Alexandria : and so he being sore wounded, and I well beaten, .it last we got to the gates of Alexandria; but it was so late that we could not get, in, but were forced to stay all that night, (till the morning) upon the hard stones; and in the morning 1 got a-board of my ship, when I had been from it fifty days : and so I ended my pilgrimage. A Letter written l>y an unknown Hand, whereof many Copies were dispersed among the Commanders of the English Fleet. This Letter was printed in the year 16?3 ; kto. But it may be thought as proper to be sent # into the Mediterranean in the year 1744. G Dear Cousin ; OING yesterday to your father's house, partly to see him, hut chiefly to learn when he heard from you, and what news was lately from the fleet ; he told me, you were in health, the fleet near ready to sail, and then shewed me a letter, he was just ready to send you, wherein (among other things) I found these words: ' Have a care of yourself, be not fool-hardy, by venturing too far into the fight; there ' are ships enough to beat the Dutch, without yours; and captains enough in the fleet, who ' will prudently shew you the way, to keep farthest off, when danger is nighest ; and then ' you need not fear the aspersion of a coward, as long as you have good company: there- ' fore I say again, be wisely cautious, for your death would certainly break the heart of my ' daughter, and bring my grey hairs with sorrow to the grave.' I had scarce patience to read out so much, without tearing the letter in a thousand pieces, and I could not forbear such language, as did but ill agree with the friendship between us. ' If you are (said I) so mighty fond of your son, send for him home presently, and let him run no other danger, than what he may meet in a London tavern, or bawdy-house : when he has a mind to fight, let bowls be his bullets, and broad oaths and curses his gun- powder; at other times, let him have nothing else to do, but treat his wife, or (as the fashion is) his wench, .at the play-house, Hyde-park, or Spring-garden.' As soon as I had* vented my passion, and grew calm, I so far convinced your father of his fault, that himself burnt his letter, and desired me to write one, more suitable to my own inclination. According to that little notice I have taken of sea-matters, I think'our Captains in ge neral (and you among the rest.) rather need a spur than a curb, when you are going to fight ; and therefore, quite contrary to the former advice, I will set before your eyes the. justice, and the danger, that attends a cowardly commander. vol. i, zz 354 A Letter, tyc. 1. He robs the King and kingdom, not only of the money himself receives, but likewise of so much as the whole charge of the ship, with provisions and wages, amounts to, ;by ren dering the same of no use, just when it should do the King service; he murders' all those gallant men, which are slain by the enemy, and loses those ships, which fall into their hands, for want of being well seconded ; he betrays his own party, to the enemy, by keeping back the expected assistance ; and the weakening of us, and the helping of them, is all one ; nay, as if he had received a bribe, to do mischief, he fires both over, and into the ships of his friends ; so helping both ways, to bring them to ruin, he completes in himself the character of a traitor. By these means it is, our battles are lost, or at best so balanced, when they might have been won, that after a fight, the enemy, sooner than we, are in a condition of disputing the victory. No. common high-way robber is half so great a rogue, as that officer, who takes wages, and dares not, or does not fight bravely, when there is an occasion. 2. As he largely contributes to the loss of the battle, so he hazards doubly his own loss : for it is observable, (I am sure in land-fights,) that where one is killed standing stiffly his ground, five are destroyed in the running away ; and I am told, in your sea-fights too, you lose most men, when you fight at greatest distance from the enemy. But then, besides the danger of the enemy, the coward has more reason to be afraid of his friends, they being likely to hate him the most, who before had the best esteem of him; and a gallows may easily catch him at home, whom a bullet abroad could not reach. So that to him may be well applied our Saviour's saying, ' He that will save his life, shall lose it.' 3. His fear impeaches the Divine Providence, which chiefly glories to exercise itself in times and places of most eminent hazard : I know some valiant men, who have come off unwounded from the heat of at least twenty battles : God oftentimes makes those places safest, where we apprehend the most danger, and those most dangerous we think most se cure. Thus, my dear cousin, you see, a coward with a commission, is neither a good sub ject, a good Christian, nor a good or wise man, in any sense ; but must be, of necessity, a traitor to the King, a thief to his country, a murderer of his own party, and consequently detested of God and man. Consult therefore your own heart, and if fear dwell at bottom, do not cozen any longer the King's expectation; lest, by staying another battle, you let all the world be witness of that shame, which yet may be easily hid. You may find fair excuses enough to lay down your commission, and the Prince can find men enough to take it up, who better deserve it. But if you will stay and fight, resolve to fight bravely, so as you may do service to the King, and gain yourself lasting reputation. If there have happened any disgust, between you* and any other commander, in the fleet, either for wrongs really received, or supposed, or because he, being a man of less desert, is preferred, and advanced before you :, consider that a fraction of the parts tends fairly to the ruin of the whole; and that your safety, and success, does chiefly depend on your unity, and a right understanding. If therefore you would be thought faithful to the King, if you would not be found false to your country, let all private quarrels die ; or at least go to sleep, till the publick ones are decided. In the mean time, assist one another, by all manner of kind offices, as often as it lies in your power; let the enemy only feel the effects of your indignation, and make it appear, by the greatness of your actions, that you are the man of most merit. Where duty bids go, never stay for the example of any others ; but rather strive, all you can, to make yourself their example. In a good cause, God prospers best the bold adven turer ; let gallant resolution lead the van, and glorious victory shall bring up the rear. Sheerness, July 16, 1673. 355 Honour's Invitation; or a Call to the Camp. Wherein the Triumphant Genius of Great Britain, by a Poetical Alarm, awakens the Youth of the Three Nations, to generous At tempts, for the Glory of their Country. Written by a . young Gentleman of Quality now in the Service. Dignos laude viros Musa vetabit mori. [From a Folio Edition, printed at London, by H. B. 167S.] BRED by fond mother's too indulgent care, My vainer life spun out its thirtieth year : Charm'd with the pois'nous sweets of barren ease, And all the luxuries of wanton peace ; To duel rampant Miss on a soft bed, Hector the watch, or break a drawer's head ; To drown a younger brother in a look, Kick a poor lackey, or berogue a cook ; Top a small crew of tenants that dare stir In no language, but, ' please your worship, Sir ;' To chase the stag, and now and then pursue The tim'rous hare, were all the wars I knew ; When drunk o'er night with generous Burgundy, I thought (as gallants use) to sleep all Sunday : But scarce could Morpheus' leaden plummets close My eye, and lock my senses in repose, When, lo 1 a rev'rend spectrum did appear, Surprizing me with equal joy and fear; It seem'd a personage of noblest race, A manly presence and majestick face, An azure mantle flowing round his waist, And his strong hands with Neptune's trident grac'd ; Three crowns he1 bore, and under them his brow Circled with laurels fresh, pluck'd from the bough. I gaz'd a-while, till it approach'd more near, And thus (with voice like thunder) pierc'd my ear: ' Wilt thou, degen'rous youth ! ignobly blot ' The trophies, which thy ancestors have got ? ' Prove them the sires of a spurious race? ' O'erturn their statues, and their tombs deface ? ' Forfeit those honours, which they left to thee, ' By sleeping in a senseless lethargy? ' Now, when each noble soul, greedy of fame, 4 Feels his breast glowing with a gen'rous flame; ' When scenes of blood on neighb'ring shores appear, ' Andf urious Mars sways all our hemisphere ; * Wilt thou alone, stupidly drowri'd, prefer * Sordid delights to th' glory of the war ? ' The King of England, Scotland, and Ireland. 356 Honour's Invitation ; Or, a Call to the Camp. ' Decline that road of honour which displays " To ev'ry daring hand a wreath of bays, 1 And in a wretched sloth consume thy days? ' Can the poor yelpings of a deep-mouth'd hound ' Vie musick with the trumpet's warlike sound ? c Or faint applauses of a horse-race won ' (When sprightly Sorrel out-flew nimble Dun), ' Equal those acclamations that are sent ' In volleys to the echoing firmament ? ' Which ev'ry victor justly calls his own ? c For kingdoms conquer'd, and proud states o'erthrown ? ' Shall troops of heroes from all parts resort, ' That quit the softer pleasures of the court ? ' Charge death in th' face, and forward still aspire * Through midst of dangers swift as Heaven's fire r ' Shall the drum's rattling summons nimbly bring ' Crowds of the vulgar in, to serve their King? ' That laugh at hardships, and dare bravely die, ' If fate require't, to purchase victory ? ' And their example never move thy spirit, ' Nor. emulation of the others merit ? * What drowsy opium has pbssess'd thy brain, ' Dull soul! that all these joggings are in vain? ' For shame ; at last awake, lest it be said, ' Your courage does not slumber, but is dead: c From before paltry beauties raise your siege, ' Who think by faint resistance to oblige ; ' Nor let the kinder ladies' tempting charms ' Confine you still to their enfeebling arms. ' When fate, turn'd prodigal, freely affords ' The destinies of nations to your swords ; ' Let mighty cities be your mistresses, ' Whose dowry brings the spoils of provinces : ' Level their prouder walls, and let it be 1 A doubt hereafter to posterity, ' When only shatter'd monuments they view, * Whether Jove's thunder hath been there, or you ! ' These are achievements fitting to be done, ' By each dares call himself stout England's son. ' As a brave courser, standing on the sand ' Of some swelling sea-channel, views a land ' Smiling with sweets upon the distant side, ' Garnish'd in nature's best embroider'd pride, ' Larded with springs, and fring'd with curled woods, ' Impatient bounces into th' cap'ring floods ; ' Big with a nobler fury than that stream ' Of shallow violence he meets in them; c Thence, arm'd with scorn and courage, plows a way ' Through the imposthum'd billows of the sea ; ' And makes the grumbling surges slaves to oar, ' And waft him safely to the further shore, ' Where landed in the sovereign disdain, ' He turning back surveys the foaming main ; Europe a Slave, §c. 357 ' Whilst the subjected waters, flowing, reel, ' Ambitious yet to kiss their conqu'ror's heel. , ' At such a gen'rous rate shou'dst thou engage, c In the grand expedition of our age ; ' Thy active soul in gallant fury hurl'd ' To club with all the worthies of the world : ' Then rouze at last from this lethargick dream, ' And let heroick actions be thy theme. c No more to base effeminate follies yield, 1 Thy country's GENIUS calls thee to the field !' No sooner these last accents had I heard, But straight the glorious vision disappear'd; And round about, methought, a glitt'ring ray Was spread, creating in my soul new day. As Cassar once on banks of Rubicon Stood shivering, and scarce durst venture on ; Till lucky daemon by a signal chance Beckon'd him o'er, and made his troops advance; So I, confirm'd by this good omen, found Those mists exhal'd, which had my courage drown'd. ' Ah ! glorious art of war !' I cry'd, < from whence All honour and all pow'r did first commence, By which the grandeur of each state doth grow, And unto which nations their safety owe; Henceforth, my mistress thou alone shalt be, And all my strength I consecrate to thee. Hence, then, you gay diversions of the town, Your bubbling vanities I must disown : Morning long-sleeps, adieu 1 Let sordid ease Silken buffoons and painted peacocks please ; Whose lab'ring souls, being stifled with excess, Scarce keep from stench their rotten carcases ; Whilst I, 'midst blood, and sweat, and toils of war, Through storms, cold, hunger, and many a scar, Pursue my fate, resolved thus to have An honour'd life, or else a noble grave.' June 21, 1673. . With allowance. Europe a Slave, when the Empire is in Chains: Shewing the deplorable State of Germany, from the Invasion of the French, and the fatal Consequence of it to us and all Eu rope. This is part of a Pamphlet, that was published in the year 1713, in 8vo. saon after the conclusion of the peace zvith France, intended to expose the danger the English nation ran by making a peace so hazardous to ourselves and advantageous to an enemy, zvhom 358 Europe a Slave, fyc. zve had reduced to the last extremity ; and pointing out the only means to maintain the balance ofpozver in Europe. I cannot zvith any certainty give you the name of the author, zvho, in my opinion, has zvritten more like a prophet than a bare politician .• but I heartily recommend his strong reasoning, and the necessity of supporting the House of Austria, against the pozoer of France, which he supports from facts, confirmed by long experience, both before and since his time., In a zvord, our author foretold that the Elector of Bavaria, under the protection of France, zvould succeed Charles the Sixth, in the Imperial throne. WHAT is it an Englishman can say, that will not now-a-days give offence ? If we write against the French, we write against our new allies ; if for our late confede rates, we are enemies to peace, we delight in war; and (when the Examiner1 has the power) must be knocked on the head, as he threatens us in several of his late papers. What shall we do ? Shall we see the French masters of Germany ? Shall we be alarmed with a new war in the bowels of the Empire, and not have a word to say in favour of a Prince, whom, ten years ago, we declared King of Spain and the Indies ; whom we took from the arms of a fond father, and sent in the midst of winter-storms to fight for a monarchy that was in effect the gift of England and Holland ? It is not now for Spain that this unfortunate Prince fights; it is for Germany, for his patrimony; for liberty, and not for empire. Is it not amazing to meet with Britons and Protestants so stupid as to rejoice at the Emperor's dis tress, whose ruin must inevitably be followed by the loss of the liberties of Europe ? When France has suppressed the House of Austria, what will become of all other powers ? Can the Dutch maintain their barrier, or England defend herself singly against France and Spain united ? Whose turn will be next ? The best we can hope for ourselves is to be last de stroyed ; and, if the French have no enemy on the Continent, who will dare to be an enemy to a King who is master of Germany, France, and Spain ? What should We not fear from such a neighbour? I will not say the Pretender. A King of our own would be too good fortune for us, let him be ever so bad a one ; we should soon be a province of France, and have the honour to be governed by a Lieutenant-General, a Lieutenant-Civij, and a gra cious disinterested Intendant. Our Parliament would be far from being so honourable an assembly as that of Paris ; our church, our constitution would have no more a name • we must be of what religion the French please, and instead of a treaty of commerce have no trade at all ; which would quickly reduce us to the condition of the first Britons, and make us so wretched that even slavery will be the least part of our misery. It is in vain now to ask, how the French came again so near the Danube, how the Elec tor of Bavaria once more approaches the plains of Blenheim ; and where is the General that drove him from thence out of the Empire ? Is it to no purpose to enquire into the causes of the progress of the French arms in Germany ? The Marshal de Villars is there and at the head of a hundred thousand Frenchmen ; and what is it not that he may do there, if the rest of Europe is passive ? Where is that Empire whose power was repre sented so formidable ? Where are the kingdoms that were to ravish the balance from the House of Bourbon ? Have we not seen that, in two or three months, France has driven all before her ? Is she not ready to restore the Bavarian to the condition he was in ten years ago, when the Emperor scarce thought himself safe in his palace, and the Imperial scepter was the hope and promise of the conqueror ? Will France be content with Stras- burgh, when she can be mistress of Vienna? Will Bavaria be satisfied with a new Electo rate, when he can as easily have the Empire ; and can he support himself, without the French King, to whom he must always be a creature and subordinate ? Let. us imagine then, that the Emperor Charles is forced to submit ; that the Elector of Bavaria is his suc cessor, intirely depending on his protector the most Christian King : will Germany be then able to send armies to the relief of the Dutch? Will the Dutch be able to give assistance ' [The periodical paper so intitled.] Europe a Slave, §c. 350, to Britain; and where then will be our defence? Will not all our hopes lie in that King's goodness and moderation ? Whatever opinion I have of his bona fide, or his keeping his word with us, better than with any body else, I shall not now declare myself. I have lived long enough to have seen a reflection on his most Christian Majesty's conduct called < Se dition;' which, one could not have believed, would ever have been, when the Duke of Marlborough was where the Marshal de Villars is now. I must confess, however, that, notwithstanding the ' Examiner' brags of our new alliance with the most powerful monarch in the world, I dread that power of his as much as when we might freely speak the truth of him, and every one called him the common enemy. I know the respect due to crowned heads ; at least I am not to be taught by a faction, who in one libel created five or six of those sacred heads as a company of beggars and scoundrels, though King William and her present Majesty had been above twenty years in the most strict and necessary alliance with them, for their mutual defence, against the puissant monarch, our present friend. I wish the respect due to him was prescribed to us, that we might know what homage we owe to a King2, that has all his life-time been endeavouring to destroy us. For my part, I cannot help wishing him as ill now as ever I did ; knowing that Europe cannot be safe while France is in prosperity : to which, though we are at peace with her, I cannot think it our duty any more than our interest to contribute. How far those powers will contribute to it that suffer the House of Austria to be ruined, I shall not determine, but leave it to the reader, who will not want light in so plain a matter as that is. What France would do,, were she mistress of Germany, any one may imagine by what she did in the year 1683, and the following year, when she expected the Empire would be over-run by the Turks and Hungarians. A book was published at Paris by authority, and dedicated to the King him self; intituled, " The just pretences of the King of France to the Empire." In which treatise, this was laid down for a ground, « That the dominions of sovereign princes have ' been always the dominions and conquests of their estates ; and that the dominions and c conquests of crowns can be neither alienated nor prescribed.' From whence, the author draws but these two conclusions : First, ' That the greatest part of Germany is the patrimony, and ancient inheritance of ' the French princes.' Secondly, ' Tbat Charlemain did possess Germany as King of France, and not as Em- ' peror.' If the French court was pleased with this assertion,, when they had only possessed them* selves of a few places on the frontiers ; what will they say when their armies are triumphing in the heart of Germany, and nothing can stop their march to the gates of its capital ? The Earl of Danby3, when he was Lord-Treasurer, at the same time that he lay under the suspicion of taking French money, was so well apprised of the ambitious designs of France, especially upon the Empire, that he set an author at work, to lay them open ; which was done with equal truth and boldness, in a book called " Christianissimus Christiandus," re printed in 170], and" again in the State Tracts, wherein among other things is said: ' If ' this is believed in France, what may not her scribes persuade their master ? May they not ' as well prove and persuade him, that he wears the titles of all other princes in the pummel ' of his sword? If one may judge of What is to come by what is past, all Europe will have ' cause enough to stand upon tlieir guard, and take the alarm to prevent the machinations ' of the French ministry, whose sole business is to blow up the glory of their master to a ' mighty bubble,' &c. Another author, who wrote some time after, has this expression : ' Germany is a fat morsel which the French King has long been preparing to devour ;' and " Of France. 3 [The Earl of Danby, afterwards created Marquis of Caermarthen and Duke of Leeds, was made Lord-Trea surer in 1673. The Earl of Shaftesbury, his bitter enemy, caused him to be impeached in 1678 : but he made a defence that evinced extraordinary taldnts, and proved that his conduct had been sanctioned by the King's orders. He was imprisoned however till the year 1684, when he was released upon bail.] 360 Europe a Slave, $c. was he ever in a fairer way ! Where are the Prussians and other troops, that used to strengthen the Imperial armies? Are they not disarmed by the peace of Utrecht? Where are his Imperial Majesty's allies ? Are not the Electors Palatine of Mentz and Treves sur rounded by the arms of France ? Are not the circles of Swabia and Franconia exposed to their ravages? What can hinder the Elector of Bavaria's returning to Munich ; and, sup posing his most Christian Majesty would be content with his restoration only, is it for the interest of Europe to have power always ready and able to assist the French within a hun dred miles of Vienna ? Where nothing else is to be feared from the successes of France in the Empire, it would be enough to raise in us the most terrible apprehensions. I shall not . impose my own sentiments on the reader,' on so important a subject, but communicate those of a person of great worth and distinction, in a treatise published on that Elector's declaring for France: ' The advantage,' says he, ' accruing to the French King, by having ' the Elector of Bavaria in his interest, is so great, that it is not at first sight to be easily * seen or conceived. But this is plain, that he is one of the greatest princes of the Empire; ' that he is capable of leading an army, and of raising a considerable force of his own; that the * situation of his dominions is such, as enables him to invade the paternal inheritanceof the ' House of Austria on the one side; and to give disturbance to the circles of Franconia, Swabia, ' and the Upper Rhine, on the other : that he is capable of depriving the Emperor of one suf- 1 frage in the Diet, and of giving the King of France another. And that by the Palatinate of ' Bavaria, on the north ; and by the Duchy and Electorate of Bavaria on the south ; it is in ' his power to block up the Diet of the Empire at Ratisbon, or oblige them to remove at his c pleasure. He gave us very lately a proof of what he is capable to do in this matter, by en- ' tertaining the deputy of a circle of , Burgundy -at a tiQuse of his just opposite to TRatisbon, ' when that deputy was ordered to quit the Diet and the dominions of the Empire ; and by ' his numerous army, and great sums of French gold (which he received, not under the ' disgraceful name of a bribe, but under the specious pretence of being Governor of the ' Spanish Netherlands,) he seems capable of opening the French King's passage to the Da- ' nube, that he may meet his most dear and natural ally, the Grand Seignior, before the walls ' of Vienna.' This treatise was written before the last war broke out ; and how the Elector of Bavaria made good what the author says of him, in the course of it, is too well known to need repetition. And this then is the Prince, who, we are told, has taken post to put himself at the head of the French army, now almost in the bowels of Germany, and more numerous, and more in heart, than that which, at the expence of so much blood, the victorious Duke of Marlborough drove from the Danube to the Rhine, after it had made the Imperial diadem shake on the head of the Emperor Leopold. Do not we all remember how great was our concern for the fate of Germany, when the Duke of Marlborough was marching to its deliverance ? The French army was then in Bavaria, and what can hinder its being there again ? Where have the German princes two hundred battalions and two hun dred and fifty squadrons to oppose them ? Have they not done as much as they ever will do already? and to what purpose have been their boasted efforts, but to shew their impotency ? If we should again hear of an Elector of Bavaria, and a Marshal of France, at the head of an hundred thousand men, on the banks of the Danube; and that at a time when the ma ritime powers have tied up their hands and sent home their soldiers; to whom must the distressed Emperor fly for refuge ? Can the King of Poland help him, when he is alarmed with the approach of an army of Infidels ? Can the King of Prussia assist him, after a treaty so solemnly and so lately signed ; German faith being of quite another kind than was the Punick of old ? And what difference there is between^fflfoy Punka and fides Gallica, let the history of the last century determine. Will the Elector of Hanover and the House of Lux-' emburgh be able to send him sufficient forces, when the Swedes are so near at hand, ar\d so willing to fall upon them at the first opportunity ? Of what advantage will the alliance of the Elector Palatine be to his Imperial Majesty ; when he himself and what forces he has in his territories are shut up in garrisons, too weak to defend themselves, whenever they shall be attacked ? Will it not be easy for the French to involve the Electorate of Cologne and country of Liege in new troubles, by means ofthat Elector, their fast friend? And what can hinder Europe a Slave, fyc. ggl the Bavarians on the other side returning to the obedience of their abdicated sovereign; for whom, it is well known, they have preserved an inviolable affection ? Is this terrible scene a distant one? Are all these fears visionary ? What have the Germans to hope in, but God and the winter ? And when their strength is ruined ; the Elector pf Bavaria returned with a French army, to revenge the disgrace of an almost ten years' banishment ; what advantage will it be to Charles theSixth, to have the name of Emperor, and how long will they permit . him to wear it ? About the year 1705, the French emissaries in Holland dispersed a project of peace, in one article of which they insert, that, ' If France had obtained the victory, over the allies ' at Hochstet, that would have served for no other end but to engage her in an abyss of 'designs and enterprizes one after another,' &c. What would that abyss of designs and, enterprizes have been ? Is it not plain ? Could it have been any thing else but setting up the Bavarian or, a Prince of her own, as Emperor ; the depriving of the German princes and others of their rights and liberties; and establishing an arbitrary power over all Europe, under the new restored title of the Western Empire ? Will France be in a worse condition to undertake such an abyss of designs, when she has only the Emperor Charles to cope with; than when she had a most powerful alliance' formed against her, of the most puissant mo- narchiesland states in Christendom ? For my part, this melancholy prospect fills me both with pity and terror : pity, for the unfortunate state of the ally; and terror, for our own perilous one afterwards. Whether we can, or whether we ought to stir a step in his favour, is no busi ness of mine; I only ease my own mind by communicating my apprehensjons, and shall be glad to find them imaginary and chimerical. However, we seem to have forgot what was the general opinion ten or twelve years ago; that, next to the Dutch, the Emperor's and our interests were most inseparable ; and that, as a constant maxim of English politicks, was depended upon by all our neighbours. These things are not new ; we have heard them over and over ; they are as certain and fixed as truth : and yet, how dexterous have some men been, to make us as indifferent to every thing abroad, as if we were not at all concerned in what happened there ? That wise and warlike King, Henry the Eighth, had quite other notions ; and held it as an unalterable maxim of government, to hold the balance even, between the Houses of Austria and Valois. I have seen an answer to the before-mentioned project of peace, written by a German, wherein is a paragraph, which shews what foreigners think of our interest and policy in this particular; it is as follows.: ' As to the particular interest of the crown of England; all Eu- ' rope knows well enough, that it consists in the restoring of a balance, which is the only ' thing that can make her happy abroad. King Henry the Eighth made this balance his ' maxim, and maintained it (as has been already said) against France, at a time when she was ' not near so formidable as she is now become, since the treaties of Munster and the Pyre- ' nees ; and that too in favour of Charles the Fifth, the only Emperor of the House of ' Austria, who could give umbrage to his neighbours. Now, if the power of France was ' capable of giving umbrage to England, at a time when she was confined within her natural ' bounds ; how much more ought she to give them umbrage at this time, considering the ' great increase of her power since; and yet still more, if she be left in possession of half ' the Spanish .monarchy ? To this, if we add the infinite advantages she has over all her ' neighbouring powers, (as has been observed already,) it is certain that there is cause enough, • not only .to alarm the English nation, but the remotest people of Europe. Matters being ' thus, it is.very probable, that the crown of England will never agree to any other treaty ; ' except the.restitution of the balance, as, above-mentioned, be the preliminary conditions,' &c. It is sometimes very„dangerous for authors to pretend to. tell what princes andstates will do, their interest changing with events : but here this writer is not out in his foresight ; for, by the late treaty; the kingdoms' of France and Spain are so effectually divided, that the House pf Bourbon is not to be the better for the acquisition of such part of the Spanish monarchy, as has been yielded to a branch of it. But not to enter into that debate, France, as we find by woeful experience, is of herself more than a match for the Emperor and Em pire, which now lies so much at his mercy ; and where shall we find the balance so necessary vol. i. -3a, 362 Europe a Slave, etc. for their liberty of Europe, when it ceases to be in the House pf Austria ? If there must be a power to counter-balance that of France, it can be no where else, but in that Imperial House, for three reasons : The first is, That to counter-balance the power of France, an hereditary and monarchical power is necessary, that it may be always in a condition to act ; because (as all the world have seen) it is easy for France to embroil republicks, elective dominions, or any other where the royal authority is more limited. The second is, That the same power ought to extend to all the places where France can attack her, and to have an essential interest every where to expose the growth of her power. The third is, That this faculty to act, and the power, which directs it, require a tempe rate government, mixed with uprightness and honesty to ascertain by that means the peace and confidence of its neighbours. Now those conditions are not to be found altogether any where else but in the House of Austria, and with this advantage more, that she can never give any umbrage to her neigh bours ; both because of the known constitution of her government, and because, being ex posed to many attacks, her dominions being so dispersed, she is not able to maintain her self, but by the assistance of others, and especially that of the maritime powers. Without this balance well" established, it is a mere illusion that the United Provinces,- as France has more than once insinuated, can always be the most firm bulwark of the liberty and independency of the sovereigns of Christendom ; even though we suppose them in a con stant alliance with England : but who can promise that such an alliance and good under standing will always last ? For, as the above-mentioned author expresses himself, ' If ' France engaged them in war together3, and to weaken one another, when they should ' have maintained the balance between her and the House of Austria ; how many ways f may we find to divide them, if once the peace were concluded ? Nay, suppose a good ' union should be preserved ; is it likely that the balance should be maintained by them ? ' We know well enough, that according to the constitution of their government, they can ' neither continue standing armies, nor flatter themselves always to prevail with their ' people to undertake a war4, when France thinks fit to renew one.' Which is very right; and our neighbours know as much of us, as we do of ourselves. If, as it has been proved, the balance of power can only be maintained by preserving an equality, be tween the Houses of Austria and Bourbon ; where, for God's sake, is that equality now ? Throwing the Spanish monarchy out of the scales, and allowing that King Philip is no more to be looked upon as a Frenchman, but as a Castilian ; which I will always allow ; was it for no other reason but that the late general peace made him so 5? That it is a general one,. I do not dispute, there being a difference between general and universal, as was made appear, in a speech in the last parliament. But it is certain,that the Emperor is at war; that the empire is invaded by the most powerful army, it ever saw • that one of her chief bulwarks has been ravished from her; that her lines of defence are de molished ; and that she is threatened to be a prey to a cruel and insolent invader. This is certain ; and that instead of being the better, for the grand alliance, she is exposed to the revenge of the once common enemy, for all the losses, routs, and disgraces he met with from the united allies. What, says the author of the fable, of the lion's share : < If the ' French scatter their treasures in all the courts of Europe; if they amuse one part, and 3 In the reign of King Charles the Second. * Which had been the case for many years ; while France was striving, with all its power and policy to de stroy the House of Austria, r j* s But their union against England and the House of Austria proved the contrary. Europe a Slave, 8fc. 36*3 * draw the other into their interest ; if they imbroil people on all sides, only for the sake ' of imbroiling ; if they maintain great armies, which exhaust their country : in a word, * if they move heaven and hell, to make as many enemies to the Emperor as they can, ' and to seduce his allies, no man ought to wonder. For this is a master-game ; and, if ' they succeed, they will be reimbursed with interest, and become absolute arbitrators of * Europe. The greatest business of France is to triumph over her rival, which cannot ' fail, if she be permitted to tear up the foundations of her power, by* dismembering the ' dominions of the Spanish monarch ; for, so soon as the House of Austria shall cease to ' be the balance of her power, no other bank will be able to put a stop to her rapidity ' and violence.' These are the sentiments of all Europe, that only the Empire6, supported by her confederates, can prevent the common slavery ; for when her liberty is lost, what nation will dare boast of independency ? what sovereign dare assert the rights of his crown ? There will never be wanting pretences to quarrel, when success has animated those dispirited armies, that, instead of skulking behind lines and trenches, are now defying the conqueror. What shall I say of pretences ; are there not thousands living in Hol land, that saw her cities in flames, and her citizens massacred, for the ill satisfaction of France, as may be seen in her manifesto of 1672 ? Has it not been given for a reason of war, that such or such territories lay convenient ; and were not the Swedes themselves once told, that she did not think fit to stand to a treaty, she had made with them ? As for us, while the pretender to the crown of our rightful sovereign lives, never will she want pretences, whatever want we may be in of alliances. When' I reflect on her Ma jesty's wonderful moderation in giving peace to an enemy her arms had reduced to the necessity of imploring her mercy, notwithstanding the presumptuous attempt of sfending her competitor7 to insult her dominions ; when I consider that nothing but that modera tion, so worthy all her Majesty's other royal virtues, could, I will not -say, have given Spain to a prince of the Bourbon race, but have preserved France herself: how can one, without a sort of indignation, hear her demanding of Genoa, how she dares buy Final ; and of Holland, how she dares keep Traerback ? All which, however, is little in compa rison to the devastation her arms have committed in a country, where, a few years since, the British name was in such esteem and glory. It is not for us, who by two happy treaties of peace and commerce, have disarmed ourselves; and thrown off the burthen of an expensive, though a victorious war; to take arms again, when any of our neighbours may desire us. Peace is too valuable a blessing to be abandoned, on the first alarm that is given us. But whether it is for us, by all other offices, to endeavour to save that country, which we once saved by the sword, is a subject for the consideration of others ; and that our offices, when they are employed in earnest, will be effectual, one may be assured, by the great deference his most Christian Majesty owes to our Sovereign's councils, or by the power she still has, to obb'ge him to it. When the armies of France have possessed themselves* of Friburgh, and got footing on the other side of the Rhine ; when they no longer subsist at her own expence, but are maintained by their pillages and contributions in Germany ; what can we expect will be the issue of another campaign ? what the defence of a divided, plundered, and an impoverished empire ? It will be as easy for the French to give her a new master8 as to threaten it ; and who then will be able to set bounds to their ambition, or avoid subjection to an universal monarchy ? We are often put in mind of the danger Europe was in, of having one master in the reign of Charles the Fifth, who was King of Spain, and Emperor of Germany. But considering how powerful' the Princes of Germany then were, what separate interest they had, and how disjointed were that prince's dominions ; what was that danger to the hazard Eu rope must be in, when the vast empire of Spain and the Indies, the mighty kingdom of France, are in one house, and Germany depending on it like a province, as it must do, i * Or rather the Emperor, who was then Charles the Sixth, and head of the House of Austria. 7 The Pretender. * As they did in the election of the Duke of Bavaria to the empire by force of arms. 364 < Europe a Slave, Sfe. whenever the House of Austria loses that power!, which alone can preserve the indepea* dency of all other powers in Christendom ? v . I am far from sounding a -charge, or weakening the strong ties of the late peace ; I know •pot either what will, or what should be done; I only see what is done, and make those reflections that are naturally born of the subject. It is for other heads, than mine, to de liberate effectually of these matters, so as to prevent the mischievous consequences by pro sper methods. However, this I may say without vanity, and this every man may without presumption pretend to : that I know, if the Swabians, Franconians, and Austrians are depressed, the Saxons, Prussians, and Hanoverians will quickly have the same fate ; Ger many will have but one master; that master be entirely French; and what will. follow then, one may venture to foresee without much penetration. One may perceive how ex actly, the faction, that ever was in the French interest in England, correspond in their affections with their good friends of France. In the Post-boy of the twenty-ninth of Sep tember, are we entertained with this hopeful prospect of affairs from all quarters. From Madrid we are told, ' That the Duke de Popoli had ordered a detachment to To- * rellas, to mortify the inhabitants for harbouring the Miquelets.' From Warsaw, ' That the Poles had received the disagreeable news, that forty-thou- ' sand Turks, and a good number of Tartars, were arrived at Chocksin, with one-hundred . ' and forty pieces of cannon ; the Tartars, having sounded the Dienster, have found three ' places fordable in it, so that it was feared they would yet lay siege to Caniiniec this ' harvest.' From Rotweil, 'That the French advance a-pace towards Flornberg and St. George, to 'which last place their army is extended ; some say that the Elector of Bavaria is with ' them.' " , From Strasburgh, ' That the Marshal de Villars had forced the enemies' lines near Frir ' burgh ; and killed and taken above one-thousand Germans ; that the Marshal de Rezons ' had passed the Rhine with twenty^-five thousand men near Fort Lewis, and was marching ' towards - Offenburgh, to join the troops that are passed near that place; that.Fri- ' burgh was invested, and abundance of ammunition carrying to the army from our ' magazines.' t , From Schafhausen, 'That the Germans have been much alarmed for some days past ' by the French passing the Rhine, and, advancing. towards Friburgh, in order tb besiege * that place ; that a great many men from thbse' parts fled thither with their effects ' and that it was the general opinion that the French had a design also against Vjl- ' lengen.'- From Frankfort, 'That, in all probability, the Freneh design to, besiege Friburgh, to * attack the Germans' middle line and Viltengen at the same time, and, afterwards to ' make an irruption into Swabia, in order to take winter quarters there.' This news monger adds, ' We have not jet the particulars of the loss of the Germans, and, per- ' haps, never shall.' , Is not this one of the most happy postures of affairs, that the enemies of our constitu tion have been blessed with since f he campaign of the Dauphin, when the Palatinate was turned into a .' If Holland should pretend to meddle with other folks' matters, she will be remembered of the Prince of Orange's rebellion; and that the Seven Provinces themselves are part of the succession of Burgundy. We know what is the moderation of France, when she is at liberty to act as she pleases; and when we have no friend to help us abroad; and what' friend can we have when the empire is in chains ? What will it avail us to have treaties* of peace and commerce ; to have acquired so much glory, in the late war ; to have many good laws to secure our religion and liberties? What will it avail tlie Dutch to have so ex tended a barrier, to have garrisons in so many strong towns ? tt is in the memory of many of them, that,, in the campaign of 1667) the French King' over-ran Flanders; and, in two or three months, took as many, and as strong towns, as have been yielded to them by their last treaty ; yet the French were so far from being masters of Germany, that they were not in possession of Alsace: Strasburgh was between them and the empire, and the Germans could, at any time, come to the relief of Flanders, then under the dominion of the House of Austria. If it be objected that we should not fright ourselves with these fears, that they are remote, and that the French do not intend- to conquer Germany, but only to oblige the Emperor to come into the peace : all that I must say is, that it does not seem to be prudent and politick, to rely wholly on the good disposition of a nation, whom we have been beating for ten years together; which cer tainly must put them out of humour with us, and we may depend upon it, we shall pay" for it, whenever they can make uS; and they will never be able to make us, as long as- there is any power in Europe besides us, of which they stand in fear; The Character of a disbanded. Courtiet. Ingenium Galtree male habitat. [From a folio Edition, printed at London, anno Dom. 1681.] 'E was born with an aspiring mind, by mudi too high flown, for his quality and his- . estate. His dexterity, in doing ill, made him thought capable of performing admi rably well, if ever he came to be employed and entrusted. He was preferred, for'ability,, to high degrees of honour and office, admitted into the cabinet councils, made acquainted with all the secret wheels (and could tell how many cogs there were in each wheel) upon which the great engine of state was turned, and kept in motion. By the favour of his prince, he acquired sufficient riches^to support the splendour of a new-raised family. H' The Character of a disbanded Courtier. Srjj His glory was so eminently conspicuous, that there were but few persons below the crown seemed above him : and nothing was wanting to render his felicity as lasting as na ture intended his life, but a heart that knew how to be grateful to a most munificent be nefactor. He thought all the favours and honours he enjoyed were less than the reward of his merit. That thought puffed him with pride ; such a sort of pride, as is commonly attended with an irrecoverable fall, (which was his fortune) : and, at his fall (like that of his predecessor), might very well have been proclaimed : ' Woe to you, the inhabitants of the * earth, for the devil is come down among you.' Open revenge against his Sovereign, being too dangerous to attempt, he presently re solves upon secret. He exposes all the weaknesses and infirmities of the court (from which no court is free) ; and where he can find no real faults, he feigns imaginary ones, and passes them off for current. By this new and false optick, he represents every mole-hill of mistake, in the publick administration, for a mountain as tall as Teneriff, and as dan gerous as the top of yEtna. Nay, he multiplies and magnifies the very miscarriages, which were the effect of his own evil counsel. He amuses the freest nation in the universe, with wild rumours, and extravagant apprehensions of slavery ; under the government of a prince, who, in acts of favour, mercy, and clemency, has exceeded all his predecessors. He fills the heads of the people full with whimsical fears of fantastick devils (chimeras which only his malice had raised) on purpose to frighten them out of their loyalty and their wits, and prepare and ripen them for Bedlam, or for rebellion. He makes the pretences of1 liberty, the stirrup to- get up, and 2 religion the steed he rides, in pursuit of his mon strous designs. With these pretences, he cheats the innocent ; and promising to open their eyes, (serves them, as the apostate angel did our parents in paradise,) only blows into them the dust of disobedience, and robs them of those jewels he pretends to bestow, viz. liberty and religion; which are both so much talked of, and both so little understood. Being a gentleman of little or no religion himself, he seems, for all that, to espouse every division and subdivision of it ; every faction and person, who are bold enough to stand in stiff opposition against the well settled government. What avails it, that he is, in his own nature, a frugal man ? He keeps open house for entertainment of all state male-con tents, without consideration either of qualities or qualifications. And what is he the bet ter for being temperate himself, so long as he accompanies and carouses, and contracts inti macy and amity, with the lewdest debauchees, that he thinks will help to forward his private intrigues ? He becomes ' all things to all men,' in the very worst of senses ; per verting the design of St. Paul, that he may, at least, delude some, to be as bad as himself. Having lost his honour with his prince, and reputation with the best of men, he cringes, and creeps, and sneaks, to the lowest and basest of the people, to procure himself, among them, an empty, vain-glorious, and undeserved name, the Patriot of his country. And, lastly, hoping to be made the little head of the great rabble, he persuades them to believe, that they are all betrayed : encourages them to strike home against the ene mies of king and kingdom, (pointing at the faithfullest and most affectionate servants to both) ; well knowing that the mighty fabrick can never be shaken, till its m n pillars and supporters be, by cunning and sly stratagem, either destroyed, or undermined. By this, may appear the weakness of that modern piece of state policy3; ' Oblige your enemies, your friends you are sure of already :' and the transcendant wisdom of Solomon's advice : ' Let thy own friend, and thy father's friend, never be forsaken.' 1 Liberty is not a freedom for every man to do what he pleases; or an exemption from just laws. These laws were made for the punishment of transgressors ; and are the true liberty of every honest man ; the destroying of which laws is throwing down the fence, whereby virtuous and good men are secured and pro tected. 2 Eeligion does not consist in the stubborn adhering to this or that party, or in crying up one faction as in fallible, and censuring all others as damnable : but in ' doing justice, and loving mercy, and walking humbly with God,' (says Micah the Prophet) : ' and is first pure, and then peaceable,' says St. James the Apostle. 3 Of King Charles the Second. 368 A Letter from his Holiness the Pope of Rome, to his, Highness the Prince of Orange : containing several Proposals and Overtures of Agreements, betwixt the Church of England, and the Church of Rome. Translated out of Latin, for the Benefit of all true Protestants. [From a Quarto Edition, reprinted at Edinburgh, anno 1689-1 The resentment of the people of this nation, who, a little before, had like to have become a prey to Popery and arbitrary power, never appeared greater against France and Rome, than at the time, when the Prince of Orange, being settled on the throne of these king doms, delivered them from all fear of their tyranny and superstition. Then, every true- Protestant strove to signify his abhorrence of the dangers, from which both their church and state zvere so lately and zvonderfully extricated : so that the press zvas' never mare > employed, than nozv, zvith learned, ingenious, and satirical pamphlets ; amongst zqhich, the follozving zvell deserves to be recorded to posterity. For, though it must be allowed to be no' more than a pretended letter front Jhe Pope to King William, yet the matter ii contains is real, the subject is serious, and the consequences of the highest, importance ; and therefore can never be unseasonable ; especially at a time, zvhen, in defiance of treaties, religion, and the lazvs of our land, we are threatened zvith an invasion from a Popish power ,- because it briefly sums up , both the tyranny and superstition of Popery. If any- thing herein be thought any zvays partial, I have this to advance in my ozvn favour, that I only collect zvhat I believe to be genuine ; that I have examined the historical facts here mentioned, and find them in good and approved authors ;. that I zvill never publish any thing through partiality; that every religion, .party, condition' and state of men must expect the invectives of their adversaries, in the course of this Collection: and therefore, that the pamphlets or tracts, here published, are by me looked upon as the best of their kind ; and, I hope, zvill be generously accepted by the reader . only as the collection, and not as the composition of the Editor. Great Prince, ALTHOUGH the semicircle of your Highness be (at present) elevated above the full orb of my Holiness, I conjure you by bell, book, and candle1,, seriously to consider your proceedings against me, and my Catholick church ; which (as a lily amon<* thorns) I lately2 planted in England and Scotland; and you (to the great grief of all the members of my sacred conclave, and zealous favourites of my spiritual court) have almost -rooted up. Call to mind, and tremble at my great power, prudence, aud' supre macy ; and that I am God upon earth, seventy-seven times greater than the greatest emperor in the world. Remember what I have done to mighty monarchs, kings, and puissant ' [An ancient form of anathema among the .Papists. See Beam's Reliques of Rome.l " f By his nuncio,, in King James the Second's reign, A Letter from the Pope, $c. $Qg princes, whose glory and high looks I have laid in the dust, till they have willingly sub mitted their stubborn necks to my iron yoke, and humbly bowed their heads to salute my holy feet. Did not my predecessor Pope Gregory the Seventh (who poisoned nine popes in thirteen years space, to make way for himself to the popedom) for want of due worship and honour, excommunicate and depose the emperor Henry, both from his crown and empire; discharge all his subjects of their allegiance, and give his crown to Ro- dolphus Duke of Swevia ; till he, with his Empress, and young son, clothed in sack cloth, came bare-foot, in the cold of winter, and begged pardon three days, without ac cess, at his sumptuous gates ? Did not Pope Paschal the Second stir up Henry the Fifth, to rebel against his old father the Emperor ? who by the assistance of his Holiness beat him from his empire; so that he lived and died miserable,- and lay five years above ground, without burying, at the Pope's command. Did not Pope Alexander the Third put his foot upon the Emperor Frederick's neck, and tread upon him as he had been a dog? Did not Pope Celestine the Third crown the Emperor Henry the Sixth, and his Empress Constantina, with his feet ; and (throwing off the crowns with his toe) say, ' I have power to make and unmake kings and emperors?' Did not Adrian the Fourth fall out with the Emperor Frederick, for holding his wrong stirrup ; and would not crown him for three days, till he begged his Holiness pardon ? Did not Clement the Fifth cause his hangman to take Francis Dandalus, a Venetian Duke, bind him with chains, and throw him under his table, to gnaw bones with his dogs ? Did not Innocent the Fourth call Henry the Third, King of England, his vassal, slave, and page ; whom (at pleasure) he might imprison, and put to open shame ? Did not Pope Benedict the Ninth send to France tlie two sons of Charlemain, with their mother Birtha, the widow Queen ? who humbly brought them to his Holiness to be crowned; where (with the poor King of Lombardy, and his wife and children) they were kept in prison, till the day of their death; for disobliging their uncle, the Emperor Charles, the Pope's special friend, and great favourite. The cries of poor widows and orphans I value no more than the cackling of liens. Blood and wounds are my daily delight. Murders, battles, treasons, conspi racies, and the turning of kingdoms upside down, are to me but ordinary recreations, and May-games. With my tail or cynosure, I drew the stars of heaven backwards, and threw them to the earth. I bewitch the world with signs and lying wonders, and per suade people out of their senses; to believe that I can make, worship, and eat an im mortal Deity, of ordinary bread. How many princes have I poisoned in my sacrament; which my emissaries have transubstantiated into a devij, rather than a God ? How many kingdoms have I ruined ? How many common-wealths have I overturned ? How many cities have I rased ? And how many millions of Christians have I sacrificed to my vin dictive power and greatness ? And dare you cope with me ? Remember what I did to John, King of England, whom my holy Monk Stephen poisoned in Lincolnshire. Come then to me in a humble manner, as to God's deputy, Christ's vicar, and St. Peter's successor; and restore all my church-lands, which my ancestors have (for several gene rations) purloined from kings and princes, for the sanctified use of the holy chair ; and swear fealty to me, as your supreme head and holy father ; and I will be reconciled to you, and all Englishmen. Yea, (though Peter, King of Arragon, willingly bought his salvation from Pope Innocent the Third, at the rate of his crown and kingdom,) I will freely pardon you all your sins, past, present, and to come : . and for your unruly rab ble (that indigested lump of ignorance and precipitancy), I will have compassion on them, and send them as many old useless merits, and works of supererogation, as would loaden a Spanish Armado ; which will send them (in a perpendicular line) to heaven, without touching at purgatory. And, (to ingratiate myself further in the kingdom of England's favour) I will licentiate your ladies of pleasure in London, and all females in general there, to whore, pick pockets, for a Julio, or six-pence a week ; which is no more than my own order of harlots pay at Rome, and all Italy over. And to all men within the walls of London and Westminster, I will freely give liberty to be as intimate with their vol. i. 3 b 370 A Letter from the Pope, 8Cc. neighbours' wives, as ever Pope Hildebrand was with Matilda, the Marquis of East's lady ; or Pope Alexander the Sixth was with his own daughter, Lucretia. And (in one word) I will let the inhabitants of the whole Isle of Britain fulfil their hearts' desire, in all kinds of villainies and abominations, without sinning. For, as Bellarmine tells you, I can make that which is sin, no sin; and that which is no sin, sin. But if you will not submit your self, nor humble your highness to my holiness ; then will I clothe myself with cursing, and take the thunderbolt of excommunication in my mouth : with the sword of- supremacy, I will cut asunder the cords of unity ; and with the breath of my mouth, will I dissipate the peace of all nations. I will incense my rebellious first-born, his most Christian Majesty of France, to invade your territories, burn your cities, put your males to the edge of the sword, and rip up your women with child,, without pity or compassion ; as he lately served your tribe 3 in his own kingdom : and, as 1 4 once served the Waldenses and Albi- genses. I will privately contrive your overthrow, by my desperate Jesuits, Monks, and Friars ; whom I will, after death, canonize, for murder, mischief, and conspiracy 5. I will found an order of Irish cut-throats (men mighty for mischief), who will divide the wind pipes of all Protestants, and subtract breath from their whole bodies. They shall dig as deep as purgatory, for the contrivance of a new gun-powder treason; and make a covenant with hell for your destruction. And (if I can bring my projects to a period) I will hold a spiritual court in Smithfield, and decide all controversies with fire and faggot ; till I level the nation with the dust, and make the Isle of Great Britain acknowledge me for their superior. Finally, I cannot but resent your deportment towards my piece, your glorious Queen, who left England without bidding farewell to her favourites ; only taking along with her the Prince of Wales, whom you term ' her supposed son.' But it is an hyper bole, beyond the conception of humanity, that a King, pretending to so much reason, reli gion, and piety, should praise (or rather mock) God for a child, whilst his Queen had only conceived a pillow, and was brought to bed of a cushion, to cheat his subjects of their an cient and royal line, and his own posterity of their crowns and kingdoms. This was the old contrivance of another Mary-queen ; but Philip was more a man than to own the brat of sophistry, and father the impudence of so villainous a fact. But let the production be what it will, real or imaginary, my singing of Te Deum, in St. Mary's church at Rome, is enough both to naturalize and legitimate it lawful Prince of Wales, and apparent heir to the crowns of the three kingdoms. I have sent you this letter by'Guido Faux, the younger ; whose brains are big of a gun-powder plot ; therefore (as you love your life and well-being) honour him, with all and as much respect as it were I myself. Father Peter saluteth you, with my whole consistory of Cardinals, and Clergymen of my sacred Conclave. I desire to be remembered to Titus Oates6, and Samuel Johnson7. If the tide turn, I will- talk with tliem, and reward them, according to their fidelity. Thus, expecting a speedy answer, before I proceed any further in my great designs, I continue , Written from my court at Rome, Your hurtful Prid. Calend. Jan. 1689. INNOCENT8. , 3 The Protestants of the principality of Orange. * The Pope. s Alluding to Father Garnet, and other Jesuits and Priests, that have been executed for treason. 6 [The notorious Titus Oates was the son of an Anabaptist, but turned Conformist, then Papist, and tlien Conformist again. The detail of his public conduct may be found in most of our English histories.] 7 [Johnson seems in this place to be rather inapppsitely coupled with Oates, since he was remarkable for writing and printing several pieces against popery, which he dispersed gratuitously, arid for which he suf fered severely.] * The name of the Pope at that time.. The Case of Clandestine Marriages stated, §c. 371 The Church of England's Answer to the preceding Letter. Grand Impostor, WHETHER you, with your Clergy, be possessed with the spirit of error and delu sion, and cast in a bed of sensuality, to wallow in your own filthiness, with your eyes dark ened, and your ears deafened, we know not ; but certainly there must be a great mystery in your obstinacy : for you shut your senses (which are the gates of your understanding) against the clearest evidences of truth, scripture, and reason. Our learned divines have these several years, confuted your opinions of ridiculous nonsense, by sound arguments, and undeniable demonstrations ; till (being wearied with your contradictions) grooms, pages, and porters, began to discover your nakedness, in your ignorance and supersti tion ; and by writing against you, to convince you of your fooleries, fopperies, and chi merical fancies. Yet, for alh this, are you not ashamed of your abominations and filthi ness. Thus (since you shut your ears against the word of manifest truth, and the. king dom of heaven against the whole world, denying the principles of sure and unquestion able faith) we desire none of your converse ; for there can be no fellowship betwixt light and darkness, nor between God and Belial; for they, that are wilfully filthy, will be filthy still; neither can we send you any answer fitter than that the Grecian' church sent to Pope John the Twenty-third, when he wrote to them to, bow and submit to him as to their terrestrial God, and infallible Supreme : ' We do assuredly (said they) acknowledge ' your high power over your subjects, but we cannot abide your high pride, we cannot ' quench your greedy covetousness : the devil is with you, but God is with us.' Thus (with the eastern churches) we must leave you, and let you alone : yet, with the prophet, will we wail over you, and cry out, ' We would have healed Babylon, but she is not healed.' Remember what the Lord saith, Isaiah 1. 11. ' Behold, all ye that kindle a fire, that compass yourselves about with sparks : walk in the light of your fire, and in the sparks that ye have kindled. This shall ye have of mine hand, ye shall lie down in sor row.' Thus, not fearing your power, curses, nor thunder-bolts of excommunication, nor all the train of your infernal court, (whilst God is with us,) we continue still stedfast in that faith, whereof Christ Jesus is both the foundation and chief corner-stone ; who is able to preserve and present us spotless before the throne of his grace, with exceeding great joy. To whom, with the Father and Holy Ghost, be ascribed glory, honour, and praise ; with dominion, majesty, and power ; world without end, Amen. London, Jan. 6th, 1689. The Case of Clandestine Marriages stated, wherein are shewn the Causes from whence this Corruption ariseth, and the true Methods whereby it may be remedied. In a Letter to a Person of Honour. [From a Quarto Edition, printed at London, in the Year 1691.] BY the sixty-second canon of King James the First, as well as by the constitutions of John Stratford, Archbishop of Canterbury, in the reign of King Edward the Third, it is ordained, < That no person shall be married, but in the parishes where one ' of the parties dwells.' And in the hundred-and-second canon, it is further provided, 372 The Case of Clandestine Marriages stated, 8(V. ' That when a licence is granted, the person, that grants it, shall take good caution ' and security:' As for other things in the canon mentioned, so lastly for this, ' That ' they shall celebrate the marriage publickly, in the parish- church, or chapel, where one ' of them dwelleth, and in no other place; and that between the hours" of eight and * twelve in the- morning.' i Most clandestine marriages that have happened, have proceeded from the breach of these canons: for, were they punctually observed, and all marriages solemnized only in the parish-church, or chapel, ' where one of the parties dwells,' and no where else : no clandestine design, this way, could be carried so closely, but that the friends must know of it : at least, a stop must be put thereto, when it comes to the minister. For, when a minister celebrates a marriage that is clandestine, he doth it either out of ignorance or ill design. As to the ignorance of the minister in this particular, (and many clan destine marriages proceed only from their being imposed on this way,) the method, pre scribed by the canon, must be a very - effectual , way ; because, when all are married in their own parishes, the ministers cannot be supposed to be ignorant, Whether they have consent of friends, or no, (unless, perchance, in some of the larger parishes in London,, where other care may be taken, by requiring the friends of both parties to be actually present,) and, therefore, though a licence should be fraudulently obtained, yet, if directed to him, it can be of no effect ; because all licences go with a proviso- of nullity, in case of fraud; and, therefore, to him that knows the fraud (as it is scarce possible but every minister must in his own parish), it can be no licence at all, but he will be as much liable to the penalty of the law, if he marries with a licence in this case, as if lie had no licence at all. And as to a minister's being party to the ill design of a clandestine marriage, you shall scarce ever find this to happen, when people are married by their own minister. For, the penalty being suspension per triennium, none that have benefices which are worth any thing, and are sensible of the fraud (as all ministers must be in the parishes where they live), will expose themselves to be deprived of them so long, for the Sake of a marriage-fee. But, most an end, they are not ministers of parishes, but indi gent curates, or unpreferred chaplains, that wilfully engage themselves in this matter; who, having nothing to lose, on this account, are out of the reach of the penalty ; and, therefore, if there ixe but one or two such in a county, usually the whole trade of clan destine marriages goes to them ; and, therefore, the best way to prevent such marriages, will be, to confine all, according to the canon, to be married at home in their own pa rishes by the minister of the place that hath an interest therein, wherein to suffer, if he doth amiss. Because, if this be done, the minister can neither.be imposed on by a fraudu lent licence, where the persons are so well known unto him (as those of bis own parish must be), nor will he dare to marry without one.. It may, I confess, be possible, that a minister, to gratify some gentleman of his parish, who, he thinks, is able to protect him from the penalty, or else make him amends for what he suffers by it, may be prevailed with to celebrate a clandestine marriage for his sake; and thereby put an obligation upon him, and all his family and friends, on account of the advantage usually gotten to the mart by such stolen matches. But, in the parish where the woman lives, it will be quite other wise : for, it being, for the most part, the man that steals the woman, and not the wo man the man, there, instead of obliging, he will injure, and that in so high a degree,, that the family which suffers, with all their friends and relations, (who, perchance, may make the major part of the parish) will be sure to fall upon him with their utmost resentments ; and, in this case, a minister will have but little comfort of his life among them afterwards' though he should escape the penalty of the law; and scarce any being so weak as not to foresee it must be so, where so just a provocation is given ; this alone will be a sufficient tie, were there no other to keep any minister from betraying any of his own parish. And, therefore, were one small alteration made in the canon, and instead of the parish-church or chapel where one of the parties dwells, it were ordered, That all marriages should be celebrated in the parish-church or chapel only zvhere the woman dzvells, (as, indeed, common custom hath already ordered it, in most marriages that are not clandestine,) I apprehend The Case of Clandestine Marriages stated, Kc. 373 it would be, a thorough remedy to the whole abuse. However, were the canons, as they now stand, punctually observed, this alone would go so far towards it, that there would not be so frequent instances of this injurious practice, as to alarm the nation against us, as now we find they do, and provoke them to bring sanguinary laws upon us to prevent it. - But the mischief is, that, when the Church makes good laws, our Courts, when they find them against their interest, will not put them in execution. For, were all obliged to be married in their own parishes, it would cut off above half the trade of granting licences, which would very considerably diminish from the profit which Chancellors, Commissaries, and Registers make of their places. And, therefore, instead of executing the canons above- mentioned (as is their duty) they make it their whole endeavour to baffle them, and make them of no effect, by all the tricks they are able. For, 1. They never take any such caution or security, as the hundred-and-second canon en-. joins in their licences ; but, on the contrary, scarce ever direct any that they grant to the parishes where the parties dwell, but put in any other parishes which the parties to be married shall desire, at what distance soever they may be from the places of their usual ha bitation, without any regard at all had to the canon which enjoins the contrary. Whereby occasion is given to abundance of frauds in this particular, which otherwise might be prevented. 2. Whereas the hundred- and-first canon enjoins, That none shall grant any licences, but such as have episcopal authority, or the Commissary of the Faculties, Vicars- general of the Archbishops, and Bishops, sede plena, or the Guardian of the Spiritualities, sede vacante, or Ordinaries exercising right of episcopal jurisdiction in their several jurisdictions: and whereas the law is, that those grants are only to be made before themselves, and not before any substitute whom they shall appoint, that all the matters, requisite to the granting of a licence, may be first well enquired into, as, Whether there be any pre-contract ; whe ther there be consent of friends ; whether the parties to be married are within the prohibited degrees of relation, or no, &c. which often require the skill of the judge him-. self to determine in them. The good orders of the Church have been so far neglected in all these particulars, and the corruption of officers in our ecclesiastical courts, for the sake of gain, hath run so high, that every thing is done contrary to them in this matter. For in stead of Chancellors and Commissaries taking any pains in the particulars above-mentioned, or making any previous examinations requisite to prevent either fraud, or illegal copulations, they leave the whole matter to their registers; who, regarding nothing else, but to make the most of this trade, by dispersing and vending as many of those licences as they can," as often as they have occasion for them, seal them by heaps, with blanks reserved to insert the names of any such as shall afterwards come for them ; and, as customers come in, fill them up, without any other enquiry of the persons concerned, than for their money to pay for them. And when this stock is spent, then they go to sealing again ; and, for the better advancing of this unlawful gain, they are not content to break all the good orders of the Church concerning this matter themselves, but also involve a great many of the clergy, with them, in the guilt and scandal of this corruption, by making some of them their factors in every deanery, for the dispersing of those licences ; who, under the name of Surrogates, are drawn in to be their under-agents in so scandalous a work, which is to the great da mage of the Church, as well as against all right and law. For, 1. No Chancellor or Commissary hath power to make any such Surrogates to act out of their respective .courts. For, although they now take upon them thus to do, it is only founded on a clause in their patents, which gives them the office to be executed, aut per se, aut per siifficientes deputatos. The meaning of which only is, that, in case of sickness, absence on just occasions, or any other lawful impediment, they may appoint others to hold their courts for them, and expedite all other acts usually done out of court ; but not that they should erect inferior courts under them, as they do now by their Surrogates in every deanery, to draw the more grist- to their mills ; which is directly contrary to law, and o| infinite prejudice to the Church, in corrupting and depraving all the good orders and dis cipline of it, and drawing thereby the odium of the people upon the governors thereof, by the frequent acts of injustice, which by clandestine marriages are done unto them. 374 The Case of Clandestine Marriages stated, Kc. 2. It is a very great snare to clergymen, in being thus made the tools of those men's kna veries, and may expose them to one of the most disgraceful punishments of the law, that is, the pillory. For to fill up a blank instrument, after the seal is put to it, is forgery by the law of the land; and I once had the curiosity to advise with one of the ablest lawyers in England about it, who assured me it was so ; and although I urged the constant practice of every diocese in England, against it, he answered, " That would not alter the law ; but whosoever shall insert any thing into an instrument, after the seal is put to it, will certainly be found guilty of forgery in Westminster-Hall, whenever pros&cuted there for it. And, if a clergyman once undergoes the disgraceful punishment due to that crime, the blot may be sufficient to make his ministry ineffectual all his life after." 3. It is making clergymen parties to knavery and fraud, and putting the blame of the unjust practices of Chancellors, Commissaries, and Registers,' upon those, who for the re putation of the Church, as well as of themselves, are most concerned to prevent them. And thereby a great deal of clamour is drawn upon us, which we can never prevent, as long as any of the clergy are thus permitted in so mean and base a manner to be subservient to the knavery and unjustifiable practices of these men. For they, regarding nothing else but their gain in the choice of those, whom, they appoint to be their Surrogates, choose only such as are properest for their purpose this way ; who, being of the poorer and meaner sort, make their advantage of the employment, by marrying themselves all those that come to them for licences; and, thereby advancing their own gain as well as that of their masters, become the more diligent agents for them. And I am told of some that keep markets weekly for this purpose, there exposing their blank licences to sale, as tradesmen do their wares; which they fill up for any that will pay for them, without any other reserve, but that of the marriage to themselves, by putting in only those "churches for the solemnizing of it, where they themselves are ministers. But at best, though all Surrogates do not thus carry their blank licences to market, yet all keep shops of them, at home, and seldom or never refuse any customer that comes, on how unjustifiable an account soever. And, therefore, when a wedding comes to them, and a marriage-fee is to be gotten, without any fur ther enquiry, the blank licence is brought forth, the names of the persons to be married are inserted into it, and then the Surrogate thinks himself safe, and away he goes to the church with them, and there marries them by virtue of a licence from himself, without re garding how they come together, so he hath a fee to his masters for the licence, and another to himself for the marrying of them. And, if it happens that any such are afterwards ques tioned for these marriages, the licence is produced for their justification, which being under the seal of the office, and in the name of the Chancellor or Commissary that grants it, the matter is usually shuffled off, and no justice at all done to any that complain of the injuries that they suffer in this kind : for the truth is, was the thing brought to an examination, the law would excuse the minister, who produceth the licence, (unless his being party to the fraud were proved upon him, which he usually takes care to provide against in -the manner of transacting it,) and lay the whole blame upon the Chancellor or Commissary, in whose name it is granted ; who usually know ways enough to baffle all prosecution, that shall be made against them on this account ; and therefore, no examples being made of those that offend in this kind, they are the more bold still to go on in the same illegal practices, and the Church infinitely suffers in its reputation thereby ; and, in truth, no excuse can be made in this particular, while our governors, who have officers under them for the putting the laws of the Church in execution, permit them thus in so scandalous a manner to corrupt them all for their own advantage. Of which scandalous corruption, being abundantly sensible, by what I found in it, where concerned, about two years since, I set myself to reform it, and drew up a monitory to be sent to all the clergy of my jurisdiction, wherein I inhibited them to marry any either by licence, or otherwise, unless one of the parties lived in their parish, according as it is en joined in ths canon above mentioned. But hereon the Commissary and Register came to me with open mouths, complaining, " that this would totally spoil their places." To which I answered, that my business was not to take care of their places, but that the canons be kept; The Case of Clandestine Marriages stated, SCc. 375 and if they would make gain, by what was inconsistent herewith, they were not to be to lerated in it. Whereon the Commissary told me, that, " although the canon was as I said, yet he could assure me, that the practice was quite the contrary, through the whole king dom ; and that since the Archbishops, and all their suffragans thought fit to tolerate it, he thought it would not become me to contradict it." And on enquiry, finding it really to be so, as he told me, I was forced to let the matter fall ; because I thought it would ap pear a ridiculous singularity in me, to attempt a reformation in that which the Archbishops and Bishops of our Church thought fit, in all parts of the nation besides, to allow. And besides, I had an account given me, that the late Bishop of Norwich miscarried in the same attempt : for, on his first coming to his diocese, finding great clamour about clandes tine marriages, he made his Chancellor and Commissaries call in all their surrogations, and suppress all blank licences, and ordered, that no minister should marry any, but whereof one of the parties dwell in his parish : and by this means, for a while, things were kept in good order ; but they had not been long so, before the Master of the Faculties, and the Vicar- General to the Archbishop, took the advantage to send their licences into the diocese ; which the Bishop perceiving, and having no authority to controul them herein, he thought it better, since he saw there was no remedy, to suffer the corruption to be still continued by his own officers, over whom he had some awe, than by those interlopers with whom he had nothing to do ; and therefore relaxed all his former orders, and left all his officers to proceed in the same course as they did before ; and the mischiefs, which have since followed hereon, are too many to relate. But two very signal ones, in my neighbourhood, I cannot pass over ; the one of a man who hath married his father's wife, and the other of one that married a woman, whose husband was alive in the next parish, by virtue of those licences. And this course can never be remedied, unless the two Archbishops will be pleased, to undertake it, and send their orders to all their Suffragans, that the canons be punctually observed in these following particulars •„ 1. That all Surrogates, with blank licences, be suppressed, and no licence for marriage at all granted, but by the person himself, that hath authority in this particular, or the de puty only who keeps his seals, and presides in his court in his absence. 2. That all previous examinations be made, and all cautions and securities carefully taken, which are by law required, before any licence be granted. 3. That no parish-church or chapel be put into the licence for the place of celebrating the marriage, but those only where one of the parties, that are to be married, dwells! And if the Archbishops have authority so to do, (which I think they have, all licences in this kind being only ex gratia, J that they limit it to the parish-church or chapel where the woman dwells. 4. That a severe prosecution be enjoined against all those that transgress in any of the premises. If the bill pass against clandestine marriages, which I hear is now before the parliament, I confess it will be too late for the Church to meddle with this matter ; but in case the bill be cast out (as perhaps it may), I think.it will then be very proper for the Church to under take the business, and employ all the authority it hath to reform so' great an abuse. And if the Archbishops and Bishops would be pleased so. to do, to whom the cognizance of this matter*doth most properly belong, I know no way can be more effectual for it, than the putting the canons in execution in the particulars I have mentioned. And if this be done as soon as the bill is cast out, by a publick order from the two Archbishops, to their re spective provinces, and the Bishops be hearty and zealous in the executing of it, I doubt not there will be these following good effects thereof: .¦> 1. A speedy remedy will thereby be put to this great abuse, which hath raised the cla mour of the nation so loud against us, and made so many disaffected to the Church, by reason of the injuries that some of their families have suffered by our tolerating so unjus tifiable a practice among us. 2. Full satisfaction will be given to those who so earnestly call for a reformation in this particular ; which will be the most effectual method of preventing the ill designs of those 376 The Golden Speech of Queen Elizabeth. who endeavour the bringing of sanguinary laws upon us for this purpose; which, if effected, will be a great severity, and may prove a constant snare to their lives, whenever the people have malice enough to raise a prosecution against them. 3. It will stop the mouths of those who are too often heard to reproach the Bishops with * this whole abuse, as if the whole reason of it were from this : that they sold their Chancel lors', Commissaries', and Registers' places, and therefore were bound to tolerate those officers under them in all their illegal practices, that they may thereby the better raise the money that they exacted from them, for their admission to those employments. And thus far having stated to your Lordship this whole case, and shewn you therein from whence the great abuse of clandestine marriages ariseth, the manner how the practice of it is grown so frequent, and the means whereby it may be prevented, I earnestly beseech your Lordship to make use of that opportunity which. God hath given you, in putting to your helping hand for the reformation of this corruption, that the reputation of our Church, and the interest of so many families that are members of it, may not thus continually be sacri ficed to the illegal gain which Chancellors, Commissaries, and Registers reap to themselves, from the practice of it. In order whereto, I wish your Lordship would be pleased to lay the state of this whole matter before my Lord Archbishop of Canterbury, that if the Parliament puts not that severe act upon us for the reformation of this abuse (as I hope they will not), his Grace may do herein, what in his great wisdom he shall see may be most conducing to the good of the Church. lam, Decemb. 11, 1691. My Lord, Your Lordship's most humble servant. A private Letter sent from one Quaker to another. The follozving Letter (zvhich zvas really sent from a country Quaker, to his friend in Lon- , don,) I here publish, not zvith design to reflect on the Quakers, but that the reader may see I am so impartial, that I zvill insert every thing wrote either by Churchman, Presby* terian, or Quaker, 8>c. that I think deserves it. ' Friend John, ' T DESIRE thee to be so kind as to go to one of those sinful men in the flesh, called an A ' attorney, and let him take out an instrument with a seal fixed thereunto, by means ' whereof we may seize the outward tabernacle of George Green, and bring him before ' the lamb-skin men at Westminster, and teach him to do, as he would be done by : and so ' I rest thy friend in the light. < ]$, Qt» The Golden Speech of Queen Elizabeth, to her last Parlia ment, November 30, Anno Dom. 1601. [From a Quarto Edition.] Within these three hundred years last past, almost all Europe (except Muscovy) lived Under the happy form of a mixed monarchidal government; having this maxim of the ancients, '. That the king and the people's interest are one and the same.' The king had his dues] The Golden Speech of Queen Elizabeth. 377 and the people had theirs; as it zvas then in France, Spain, Germany, Poland, cXc. But the Pope, envying the happiness of princes, and people, under this mild monarchy; and to secure his nezo Trentine antichristian supremacy, having gotten his lesuits to be king's confessors, flattered and wheedled princes, that, as in the text, ' This shall be the manner of your kings;' God zvas giving the people the Jus Divinum of government, zvhen, in truth, he zvas threatening them zvith the plague of tyrants ! And this took such effect, as to turn the former easy monarchies into absolute illegal tyrannies; zvhich first began by Lezvis the Eleventh, in France, and followed by that horrid Inquisition in Spain, &c. So that Europe, and the West Indies, have been the shambles of papal barbarities in the massacres of millions of Christians, and other human souls, ever since. Our zvise Queen Elizabeth, therefore, having a right regard to the general good and zveal of the people, accommodated her government to the true genius of the monarchical institution, as it then stood : for she constantly courted the people, expressing her monarchy was founded in the people's affections : and by that expedient, kept up herself and monarchy to that height and glory, as it first stood in its natural foundation ; and this against all foreign pozvers. And she thus answered all the ends of government ; for factions and parties zvere thus sunk, the interest of court and country zvere made one, and virtue, honesty, and piety zvere restored and encouraged. This Speech ought to be set in letters of gold, that as zvell the majesty, prudence, and virtue of her gracious Majesty, Queen Elizabeth, might in general most exquisitely appear ; as also- that her religious love, and tender respect, zvhich she particularly, and constantly, did bear to her parliament, in unfeigned sincerity, might be nobly and truly vindicated, and proclaimed, zvith all grateful recognition lo God for so great a blessing to his people of England, in vouchsafing them heretofore such a gracious Princess, and magnanimous defender of the reformed religion, and heroick patroness of the liberty -of her subjects, in the freedom and honour of their parliaments ; zvhich have been, under God, the conti nual conservators of the splendour, and wealth of this kingdom, against tyranny and oppression. Her Majesty being set under state in the Council- chamber at Whitehall, the Speaker, ac companied with Privy-Counsellors, besides Knights and Burgesses of the Lower House to the number of eight-score, presenting themselves at her Majesty's feet, for that so graciously and speedily she had heard and yielded to her subjects' desires, and proclaimed the same in their hearing, as followeth : Mr. Speaker, WE perceive your coming is to present thanks unto us. Know,. I accept them with no less joy, than your loves can have desire to offer such a present, and do more esteem it, than any treasure of riches; for those we know how to prize, but loyalty, love, and thanks, I account them invaluable : and though God hath raised me high, yet this I ac count the glory of my crown, that I have reigned with your loves. This makes that I do not so much rejoice, that God hath made me to be a Queen, as to be a Queen over so thankful a people; and to be the mean, under God, 'to conserve you in safety, and to pre serve you from danger; yea, to be the instrument to deliver you from dishonour, shame, and infamy; to keep you from servitude, and from slavery under our enemies1, and cruel tyranny, and vile oppression, intended, against us. For the better withstanding whereof, we take very acceptably your intended helps, and chiefly in that it manifesteth your loves, and largeness of heart to your Sovereign. Of myself, I must say this, I never was any greedy scraping grasper, nor a strict fast-holding prince, nor yet a waster ; my heart was '_ The Pope and Popish Princes, especially the King of Spain. VOL. I. 3 c 378 The Golden Speech of Queen Elizabeth. never set upon any worfdly goods, but only for my subjects' good. What you do bestow on me, I will not hoard up, but receive it to bestow on you again ; yea, my own properties I account yours ; to be expended for your good ; and your eyes shall see the bestowing of it, for your welfare. Mr. Speaker, I would wish you, and the rest to stand up ; for I fear I shall yet trouble you with longer speech. Mr. Speaker, you give me thanks, but I am more to thank you, and I charge you, thank them of the Lower House for me ; for, had I not received knowledge from you, I might have fallen into the lapse of an error, only for want of true information. • Since I was Queen, yet did I never put my pen to any grant, but upon pretext and sem blance2 made me, that it was for the good and avail of my subjects generally, though a private profit to some of my antient servants, who have deserved well ; but that my grants shall be made grievances to my people, and oppressions, to be privileged under colour of our patents, our princely dignity shall not suffer it. When I heard it, I could give no rest unto my thoughts until I had reformed it ; and those varlets, lewd persons, abusers of my bounty, shall knowthat I will not suffer it. And, Mr. Speaker, tell the House from me, I take it exceeding grateful that the knowledge of these things is come unto me from " them. And though, amongst them the principal members are such as are not touched in private, and therefore need not speak from any feeling of the grief, yet we have heard that other gentlemen also of the House, who stand as free, have spoken as freely in it ; which gives us to know, that no respects or interests have moved them, other than the minds they bear to suffer no diminution of our honour, and our subjects' love unto us. The zeal of which affection tending to ease my people, and knit their hearts unto us, I embrace with a princely care, far above all earthly treasures. I esteem my people's love, more than which I desire not to merit ; and God, that gave me here to sit, and placed me over you, knows that I never respected myself, but as your good was concerned in me : yet what dangers, what practices, and what perils I have passed, some, if not all of you know ; but none of these things do move me, or ever made me fear, but it is God that hath delivered me. And, in my governing this land, I have ever set the last judgment-day before my eyes, and so to rule, as I shall be judged and answer before a higher Judge, to whose judgment-seat I do appeal, in that never thought was cherished in my heart that tended not to my peo ple's good. And if my princely bounty have been abused, and my grants turned to the hurt of my people, contrary to my will and meaning, or if any in authority under me have neglected, or converted what T have committed unto them, I hope God will not lay their culps3 to my charge. To be a King, and wear a crown, is a thing more glorious to them that see it, than it is pleasant to them that bear it ; for myself, I never was so much enticed with the glorious name of a King, or the royal authority of a Queen, as delighted that God hath made me his instrument to maintain his truth and glory, and to defend this kingdom from dishonour, damage, tyranny, and oppression. But should I ascribe any of these things unto myself, or my sexly weakness, I were not worthy to live, and of all most unworthy of the mercies I have received at God's hands ; but to God only and wholly, all is given and ascribed. The cares and trouble of a crown I cannot more fitly resemble, than to the drugs of a learned physician, perfumed with some aromatical savour ; or to bitter pills, gilded over, by which they are made more acceptable, or less offensive, which indeed are bitter and unpleasant to take : and, for my own part, were it not for conscience-sake to discharge the duty that God hath laid upon me, and to maintain his glory, and keep you in safety, in my own disposition I should be willing to resign the place I hold to any other, and glad to be freed of the glory with the labours ; for it is not my desire to live or reign longer, than my life and reign shall be for your good. And, though you have had, and may have, many mightier and wiser princes sitting in this seat, yet you never had, nor shall have any, that will love you better. Thus, Mr. Speaker, I commend me to your loyal loves, and yours to my best care, and your further counsels : I pray you, Mr. Comptroller, and Mr. Secretary, and you of my council, that, before these gentlemen depart into their countries, you bring them all to kiss my hand. ' Representation. * Culpabilities; faults. 379 A Narrative of the Proceedings of a great Council of Jews, assembled in the Plain of Ageda in Hungary, about thirty Leagues distant from Buda, to examine the Scriptures con cerning Christ, on the Twelfth of October, 1650. By Sa muel Brett, there present. Also, a Relation of some other Observations in his Travels beyond the Seas ; and particularly in Egypt, Macedonia, Dalmatia, Calabria, Apuleia, Sicily* Assyria, Sclavonia, France, Spain, and Portugal ; the Islands of Cyprus, Candia, Patmos, and Delphos ; the Cities of Carthage, Corinth, Troy, Constantinople, Venice, Naples, Leghorn, Florence, Milan, Rome, Bottonia, Mantua, Genoa, Paris, &c. [From a Quarto Edition, printed at London, for Richard Moon, at the Seven Stars in St. Paul's Church-yard, near the great North Door, 1655.] The contents of this Pamphlet are very extraordinary ; some of them of the last impor tance to the Christian Commonzveal, and all of them matter of great Curiosity, and scarce to be met zvith in any other English historian. As for the author, take his ozvn account of himself asfollozvs: ' There was nothing I more desired, than to travel beyond the seas, and to know the various manners of the nations of the world ; for which, through God's Providence, I had, an .opportunity offered me, to my great satisfaction, being chirurgeon of an English ship in the Streights, where, for a cure that I did for Orlando„de Spina of Gallipoli, (an eminent man in those parts,) I was by him preferred to be Captain of a ship of Malta, which was set out by the said Orlando, and committed to my command against the Turks in the arches, in assistance to the Venetians ; in the which service I spent about nine months, till the tempestuous season of the year forced me to return into harbour again. And, in this time of employment, I made five fights at sea, and two at land ; being chosen by lot, to . invade the Turk's country, with a certain company of soldiers collected out of our fleet, to do some execution upon the borders of the enemy, and to get some provision for our relief; in all which fights, though very perilous, God gave me the victory. The whole time I spent beyond the seas, before and after this employment, was almost four years, not staying long in any one place. But first I travelled to all the sea-towns of note for merchandizing, to know the trade of the places, and the conveniency of their harbours, that I might be able to do some profitable service in merchant-affairs. Also I travelled into several countries, and the most eminent cities and towns therein, viz. Egypt, Macedonia, Dalmatia, Calabria, Apuleia, Sicily, Assyria, Sclavonia, and some parts of Spain and Portugal ; to the islands of Cyprus, Candia, Patmos, and Delphos ; 'to Carthage, Corinth, Troy, and Constantinople ; besides many other towns and places ; but my longest abode was in* Italy, and therein at Venice, Naples, Leghorn, Florence, 380 A Narrative of the Proceedings of a Council of Jews. Milan, Rome, Bolonia, Mantua, Genoa, &c. And at last, looking homeward, I came into France, taking a brief view of many eminent places in that kingdom : and at Paris I found many of my countrymen; of which, though some be persons of great quality, yet (God knoweth) they are in a low condition. And, now, I shall give a brief ac count of some of my observations, during the time of my abode beyond the seas.' AT Paris, our countrymen live peaceably, and enjoy our religion without disturbance. There is a place allowed them, with necessary accommodations for the exercise of religion. Dr. Steward did often preach to them ; and, for their form of worship, it is the same that was formerly in England, with the Book of Common Prayer, and the rites therein used; and also they continue the innovations that were practised by many of our clergy; as bowing at the name of Jesus towards the altar, &c. which, I know, giveth offence to the good French Protestants, who, to me, did often condemn those innovations for Romish superstitions : doubtless, they would do our church and our religion more credit there, if they did use less ceremony. As for the French Papists, truly they are more civil to them than was expected ; for the opinion of the world, where I have been, is but mean of that nation: and, I believe, the Italians may be their cousin-germans, for both of them are false and faithless enough. And this consideration (God having taken away Orlando, my noble friend, who did always much countenance me) did lessen my affection to continue in that service; for my soldiers were all Italians, except a few Greeks; and I never saw so much cause to be confident in their fidelity ; but it waschiefly for fear of him, that they were so tractable to me. As for religion, in most parts where I have been, it is generally the same with the church of Rome ; but for the Grecians, for amongst them I was, they are neither pure Protestants nor pure Papists : I mean, neither only Protestants, nor only Papists, but their religion is a mixture of both ; for, though they hold some fundamentals with us, yet they follow many of the Romish superstitions ; and, according to my observation, they follow more the religion of Rome, than the Protestant church, and they are much poisoned with heresies. But of all nations, according to my observation, none are more zealous for the religion of Rome than the Spaniards ; who, I think, for this, are more Romanists than the Romans themselves : for, with them, there is an Inquisition ; and in Rome I never heard of the same dangerous snare1 : there I had as much freedom as I could desire; and more courtesy than I could expect, without any temptation to apostatize from my religion. As for the occurrences that I met with, they were many, but these four were the most considerable : First, The strangling of the great. Turk, -by the Janizaries, at which time there was great fear and trouble in Constantinople; but they inthroned his son, and this brought about a peaceable settlement; and with him there were cut off divers Bashas' heads; all whose heads, excepting the great Turk's, lay three days in chargers before the palace-gate for the publick view of the people; which, they say, is the custom for noblemen -that are beheaded. The next thing is, The flowing of the river Nile in Egypt, the manner whereof is this : it beginneth to flow about the fifteenth of June, every year ; the people know the time thereof, and expect it accordingly ; and this is after their harvest, which is usually ended about the beginning of May. As for rain, there seldom falleth any in Egypt. During the time the river is up, all the country appeareth like islands. Their towns are seated upon hills, and their lower grounds are all covered with waters ; and the inhabitants use small boats to pass from place to place about their affairs ; and, because they know the yearly flowing of the Nile, they provide for the safety of their cattle till the waters are wasted away 1 There is an Inquisition at Rome, but not so rigorous.. A Narrative of the Proceedings of a Council of Jews. 381 again. There are also certain pillars of stone set up, with divers marks upon them, by which they know the degrees of the rising, and the usual height that the waters do ascend unto ; and, if the waters do ascend above the highest mark, they do expect some strange consequence thereof. But the greatest wonder is the present cessation of the plague, upon the flowing of this river. There died some thousands of the plague, the day before the flowing of the Nile, in Grand Cairo, as they certified me ; and, a day or two after, not one person died of the infection. This I observed, that the land is full of unhealthy fogs, mists, and vapours, which cause the disease; and it seems the waters of the Nile do purify it again. In the kingdom of Grand Cairo, alias Pharaoh's Town, is the city, and it is greater than any elsewhere I did behold ; but Memphis is the nearer city : and being there, I went to see the land of Goshen, where the Israelites did inhabit. This is a very pleasant and fruitful land for pasture, such as 1 have no where seen the like. At this time also, I had an opportunity to see the Red-Sea, and the place where (as they informed me) the Israelites did enter their journey through the same ; there they also shewed me the great mountains that inclosed them, when Pharaoh pursued them with his great army; and the hills where the two armies- lay in sight of one another; and there I found the true reason why it is called the Red-Sea; not because the water is red naturally, but because the sand is red ; and this was clear to me, by plain demonstration : for I put some of the water into a clean vessel, and there I did see it had the same colour of other water ; but the sand is reddish, and giveth the same colour to the water. I shall omit many other things concerning Egypt ; only this, it is under the Turk's do minion, and the natives are his miserable slaves. Thirdly, You may expect some news from Rome, where also I was, and did behold their great solemnity ; it being then the a?ino sancto (as they there call it), that is, ' the Year of Jubilee.' There I beheld the Pope in his glory, and how in great state he was carried about the city ; the streets were thronged with the people ; and, as he passed by, they made them even to ring with acclamations and rejoicings ; he was carried by some eminent men, having a rich canopy over him. He made his crosses in the air with his fingers, and threw his blessings amongst them. And truly these delusions were so prevailing with the people, that (poor souls) they seemed to me to rejoice, as if Christ himself had been come to Rome, and brought them down the felicities of Heaven. At one time I beheld, in Naples, (perhaps it will seem strange, but it is true,) about eight thousand pilgrims going to Rome, for their absolution ; all which the Viceroy of Na ples maintained three days at his own charge ; and, on the fourth day, they did present themselves before him at his palace in pilgrim weeds, viz. with leaden pictures of saints in their hats, and leather collars about their necks, which fell down half way over their arms, and their staves in their hands ; and thus they marched away from Naples, in the posture of an army towards Rome, and so farewell Rome : Vidi; satis est vidisse; i. e. I have seen it, and that is enough. I omit to recite many other occurrences, which by conference I shall willingly commu nicate to my friends ; they being too many to commit to writing. Only now The fourth remarkable thing remaineth to present you withal ; and that is, The proceedings of a great Council of Jews assembled in the plain of Ageda in Hungary, about thirty leagues distant from Buda, to examine the Scriptures concerning Christ, on the twelfth of October, 1650. , It hath been much desired by many honest Christians, that this narrative of the Jews Council should be published, which I did intend only to communicate to private friends; the chief argument, by which they have persuaded me to do it, is ; because they do conceive it to be a preparative, and hopeful sign of the Jews' conversion ; and, that it will be glad tidings to the Church of Christ; and therefore I have yielded to satisfy then- desires therein. And thus it was-. 382 A Narrative of the Proceedings of a Council of Jews. At the place above-named, there assembled about three hundred rabbies, called together from several parts of' the world, to examine the Scriptures concerning Christ ; and, it seems, this place was thought more convenient for this council, in regard that part of the country was not much inhabited, because of the continual wars between the Turk and the King of Hungary ; where (as I was informed) they had fought two bloody battles : yet both Princes, notwithstanding their own differences, did give leave to the Jews to hold their council there. And, for their accommodation there, the Jews did make divers tents for their repose ; and had plenty of provisions brought them from other parte of the country, during the time of their sitting there. There was also one large tent, built only for the council' to sit in, made almost four-square ; the north and the south parts of it being not altogether so large as the east and west parts thereof. It had but one door, and that opened to the east ; and, in the middle thereof, stood a little table and a stool for the propounder to sit on, with his face towards the door of the tent. The said propounder was of the tribe of Levi, and was named Zacharias ; and within this tent round about were placed divers forms for the con- suiters to sit on. It was also inclosed with a rail, that stood a distance from it, to prevent entrance to all strangers, and to all such Jews as could not prove themselves to be Jews by record, or could not dispute in the Hebrew tongue, which many had forgotten, who lived in such countries, where they are not allowed their Synagogues, as in France, Spain, and those parts of Italy that do belong to the King of Spain, viz. the kingdom of Naples, with the province of Calabria, and Apuleia ; the kingdom of Sicily, and Sardinia ; in which places, if a Jew be found, and he deny the Popish religion, he is in danger to be con demned, and executed for it : and yet profit and benefit allureth them to dwell in those countries, notwithstanding their fears and dangers ; and themselves are willing to forget and so neglect to teach their children their native2 language, rather than they will lose their opportunity of profit ; and some have burnt the ancient records of their tribe and family, that they might not be discovered by searching, or otherwise. And for this defect, that they could not prove their tribe or family, they were not permitted to come within the rail ; but were commanded to remain without with the strangers that remained there, to see the issue of their proceeding, which were above three thousand persons; and they were for the most part of them Germans, Almains, Dalmatians, and Hungarians, with some Greeks, but few Italians, and not one Englishman that I could hear of, besides myself. I was informed, that the King of Hungary, not favouring the reformed religion, did give no encouragement to any Protestant churches, to send any divines thither; but he did allow, that some assistants should be sent from Rdme ; and their coming thither did prove a great unhappiness to this hopeful council. When the assembly did first meet, they spent some time in their mutual salutations ; and, as their manner is, they kissed one the other's cheek, expressing much joy for their happy meeting; and all things being provided for their accommodation, they considered of the Jews that were to be admitted members of this council; and they were only allowed to be members, which could by record prove themselves to be native Jews3 ; and, for defect herein I observed above three hundred refused ; though, doubtless, they were true-born Jews, yet they could not by record prove themselves so to be ; and for this they were not admitted to - be members of the council ; but they did abide without the rail, with the strangers that were there ; and the number of them, that were accepted to be members, was about three- hundred Jews. And this was all that was done the first day. On the second day, the assembly being full, the propounder stood up, and made his speech concerning the end of their meeting: and, « This (said he) is to examine the Scriptures, Gpncerning Christ4, whether he be already some, or whether we are yet to expect his coming ?' In examining this question, they searched the Old Testament with great care and labour, to be resolved of the truth thereof; having many bibles with them there for this end. And about this point there were great disputes amongst them. The major part were of opinion, * that he was not come ;' and some inclined to think, ' that he was 2 Original. 3 Jews by original record or genealogy. * The Messiah. A Narrative of the Proceedings of a Council of Jews. 383 come;' being moved thereunto by their great judgment5, that hath continued now this 1600 years upon them. I remember very well, one of riie council, in his conference with me, seemed to be very apprehensive of the great and long desolation of their nation, ever since their destruction by the Roman emperors ; and .he imputed this their affliction to their impenitency, and comparing their present judgment with their other judgments they had suffered before. The same he ingenuously confessed, that he did conceive it was for some great wickedness; and that their nation was guilty of the blood of the prophets sent from God to their na tion, and the many massacres that have been committed by the several sects and factions amongst them. ' For, (said he,) we are no idolaters, neither do I think we were guilty of idolatry since our captivity in Babylon; and, therefore, (said he,) I do impute this our cala mity and present judgment to the fore-named causes.' And this is the sum of that which was disputed amongst them, the second day of their meeting : and so they adjourned till the next morning, which was the third day of their meeting. When, being assembled together again, the point that was chiefly agitated was concern ing the * manner of Christ's coming.' And, This, some said, shall be like a mighty Prince, in the fulLpower and authority of a King, yea, in greater power than ever any king had; and that he will deliver their nation out of the power of their enemies, and their temple shall be re-built again; and that the nations shall be of their religion, and' worship God after their manner. For they hold, that the Messiah will not alter their religion, whenso ever he cometh. And further, concerning his parentage, they did agree in this, that he should be ' born of a Virgin,' according to the prediction of the prophets ; and they agreed also, that he may be born of such a virgin, which might be of mean note amongst their nation, as was the Virgin Mary. And here some of them seemed to me to incline to think, that Christ zvas come. Therefore when they came together again, the next day, the propounder demanded of them, ' If Christ was already come ? and who they thought he was ?' And to this demand they gave this answer, ' That they thought Eljjah was he, if he was come; because he came with great power, which he declared by slaying the priests of Baal; and, for the fulfilling of the Scripture, he was oppressed by Ahab and Jezabel ; yet they esteemed him to be more than a mortal man, because he so strangely ascended up into Heaven.' And, because this opinion was contradicted by others, the day following, they took into examina tion the same question, to answer them that said Elijah was not the Messiah. They of the contrary opinion, did urge the care and love of Elijah, for the good of their nation, in that he left them Elisha, his disciple, to teach and instruct the 'people ; which they expect to be the care of their Messiah. These were the chief arguments they had to defend their opi nion ; and, the same day towards night, it came into question amongst them, ( What he then was, that said he was the Son of God, and was crucified by their ancestors?' And, because this was the great question amongst them, they deferred the further consideration thereof, until the next day. . When, meeting again, the Pharisees (for some of this sect were amongst them, that were always the enemies of Christ,) they first began to answer this last night's question ; and these by no means would yield that he was the Christ ; and these reasons they gave for their opinion : ,.,._.' First, Because (said they) he came into the world like an ordinary and inferior man, not with his scepter, nor royal power; wherewith they affirmed the coming of Christ should be glorious. 2. They pleaded against him the meanness of his birth, m that his father was a carpenter ; and this they said was a dishonour, that Christ should not be capable of. 3. They accused him to be an enemy to Moses's law, in suffering his disciples, and m doing works himself, that were prohibited on the Sabbath-day; for they believe that the Messiah will punctually and exactly, keep the law of Moses ; and where the Gospel doth testify of Christ, that he did fulfil the law, they reject the testimony thereof, because they do not own the « Of having neither church nor nation, and their being a vagabond-people, ever since the destruction of their city and temple. 384 A Narrative of the Proceedings of a Council of Jews. Gospel. But I observed, these reasons of the Pharisees did not satisfy all that heard them, but there still remained some doubt in some of them concerning Christ ; for there stood up one rabbi called Abraham, and objected against the Pharisees the miracles that Christ wrought, whilst he was upon earth, as his raising of the dead to life again, his making the lame to walk, the blind to see, and the dumb to speak. And the same Abraham demanded of the Pharisees, by what power he did those miracles ? The answer, the Pharisees re turned to him, was to this purpose : they said he was an impostor, and a magician ; and blasphemously traduced him of doing all his miracles by magick : ' Thus (said they) he first caused them to be blind, to be dumb, to be lame; and then, by taking away his ma* gical charm, they were restored to their former condition.' Nevertheless, this answer gave little satisfaction to the said Abraham ; but thus he replied, ' That he could not charm those that were born in that condition, as blind, &c. and born also before Christ himself was born ; as it appeareth some of them were.' This seemed to him an absurd paradox; and truly the pressing of this argument did almost put them to a nonplus, till at last they had this evasion (though weak and vile), ' They were (said they) by other magicians convinced to be so in their mothers' wombs ; and that, although himself was not then born, when they were born with these evils, yet he, being a great dissembler, and more cunning than any magician before him, power was given him, by the devil, to remove those charms, which others had placed :' and there was one Pharisee, named Zebedee, that of the Pharisees there, did most opprobriously revile him, and vehemently urge these things against him ; but I conceive he did it not to the well-liking of many there that heard him, even members of the council. And as the Pharisees that day played their parts against him ; so did the Sadducees also endeavour (for some of that sect were also of the council) to render Christ vile and odious to the rest of the Jews that were assembled there. 1 observed it was with them as it was once with Herod and Pilate ; though they two could not agree betwixt themselves at other times, yet they could agree together to crucify Christ ; for the Pharisees and Sadducees, though they be much divided in opinion among themselves, yet did they at this time too much agree to disgrace and dishonour Christ with their lies, calumnies, and blasphemies ; for the Sadducees, as well as Pharisees, did in other things accuse him for a grand impostor, and for a broacher of corrupt doctrine; in that in his Gospel he teacheth the resurrection from the dead, which they there denied to be true doctrine. But it is no new thing to see" factions dissenting, to agree in some evil design against others, as I found it by experience : being at Rome in the year 1 650, which was the year of their Jubilee, there was a great strife between the Jesuits and the friars of the order of St. Dominick, both which were against the Protestants; and although their differences have been, by the care and vigilance of the Pope, so smothered, that the world hath not taken much notice thereof, yet this fire broke out into a flame greater than ever it was before, (as they certified me there,) both by publick disputings, and by bitter writings one against another, opening the vices and errors of one another's faction, thus seeking to disgrace one the other ; which caused the Pope to threaten to excommunicate the authors of all such black and libellous books, that did tend to the dishonour of his clergy and religion, to make them infamous to the world. But this by the way. We are now come to the seventh and last day of their council ; and, on this day, this was the main quere amongst them : ' If Christ be come, then what rules and orders hath he left his Church to walk by ?' This was a great question among them; and because they did not believe the New Testament; nor would-be guided by it, they demanded some other instruction to direct and guide them, in this point ; thereupon six of the Roman clergy (who of purpose were sent from Rome by the Pope, to assist in this council), were called in, viz. two Jesuits, two friars of the order of St. Augustine, and two of the order of St. Francis ¦ and these, being admitted into the council, began to open unto them the rules and doctrine of the holy cliurch of Rome (as they call it), which church they magnified to them, for the Holy Catholick Church of Christ, and their doctrine to be the infallible doctrine of .Christ and their rules to be the rules, which the Apostles left to the Church for ever to be observed^ and that the Pope is the holy vicar of Christ, and the successor of St. Peter; and for in- A Narrative of the Proceedings of a Council of Jews. 385 stance, in some particulars, they affirmed the real presence of Christ in the Sacrament, ther religious observation of their holy days, the invocation of saints, praying to the Virgin Mary, and her commanding power in Heaven over her Son ; the holy use of the cross and images ; with the rest of their idolatrous and superstitious worship ; all which they commended to the assembly of the Jews, for the doctrine and rules of the Apostles. But, as soon as the assembly had heard these things from them, they were generally and exceedingly troubled thereat, and fell into high clamours against them, and their religion, crying out, ' No Christ, no Woman-god, no intercession of saints, no worshipping of images, no praying to the Virgin Mary,' &c. Truly their trouble hereat was so great, that it troubled me to see their impa tience ; they rent their clothes, and cast, dust upon their heads, and cried out aloud, ' Blasphemy, blasphemy!' and, upon this, the council broke up. Yet they assembled again, the eighth day ; and all that was done then, was to agree upon another meet ing of their nation three years after, which was concluded upon before tlieir final disso lution. I do believe there were many Jews there, that would have been persuaded to own the Lord Jesus ; and this I assure you for a truth, and it is for the honour of our religion, and the encouragement of our divines, one eminent rabbi there did deliver his opinion, in conference with me, that he at first feared that those, which were sent from Rome, would cause an unhappy period to their council ; and professed to me, that he much desired the presence of some Protestant divines, and especially of our English divines, of whom he had a better opinion, than of any other divines in the world ; for he did believe that we have a great love to their nation ; and this reason he gave me for their good opinion of our divines, because he understood that they did ordinarily pray for the conversion of their nation; which he did acknowledge to be a great token of our love towards them : and especially, he commended the ministers of London, for excellent preachers, and for their charity towards their nation ; of whom he had heard a great fame. As for the church of Rome, they account it an idolatrous church, and therefore will not own their religion ; and by conver sing with the Jews, I found that they generally think, that there is no other Christian reli gion in the world, but that of the church of Rome ; and for Rome's idolatry, they take offence at all Christian religion ; by which it appeared that Rome is the greatest enemy of the Jews' conversion. For the place of the Jews' next meeting, it is probable it will be in Syria, in which country I also was, and did there converse with the sect of the Rechabites, living in Syria; they still observe their old customs and rules ; they neither sow nor plant, nor build houses ; but live in tents, and often remove from one place to another, with their whole family, bag and baggage. And seeing, I find, that by the Italian tongue, I can con verse with the Jews, or any other nation, in all the parts of the world, where I have been ; if God give me an opportunity, I shall willingly attend their next council. The good Lord prosper it. Amen. vol. k 3 I* 386 The Art of good Husbandry, or the Improvement of Time : be ing a sure Way to get and keep Money. In a Letter to Mr. R. A. by R. T. With Permission, August 7, 1675. Roger L' Estrange. [From a Quarto Edition, printed at London, for J. G. in the Year MDCLXXV.] In this tract are prescribed several rules, for merchants, shop-keepers, and mechanical ' tradesmen (as zvell servants as masters), how they may husband their time, to the best advantage ; the loss whereof is the sole cause of poverty in this city and nation. Likewise, the loss of a man's time spent in a tavern, coffee-house, or alehouse, com puted. Also instructions to all sorts of people, hozv to order their business for the future, both to the enriching of themselves and their families. SIR, IN compliance to your late requests, obliging me to write to you, as soon as I came to London, I have sent you the result of a few serious minutes concerning the great decay of trade, and want of money ; which is now the general cry of all people both in city and country ; the grounds and reasons of which many have attempted to find out, by curious enquiries into the several laws and statutes made for the promoting of trade, supposing the non-execution of those laws to be the occasion of it. To this end large discourses have been made concerning the decay of the fishing trade ; several proposals offered by ingenious persons for the restoration of it ; and the great advantages that would ensue thereupon ; With the many damages destructive to trade in general, that arise from the enquiries into the wool-trade, alledging the exportation of wool, the importation of foreign manufactures, and the permission of foreigners to work here, to be the chief cause of that decay of trade, and want of money, which every person complains of. Now, though the grounds and reasons before-mentioned are guarded with so many pro babilities, and seeming rational demonstrations, that every understanding person will be ready, at the first view, to hold up his finger, and give his assent to them ; yet upon cri tical inspection, or more curious survey, we shall find them to be only circumstantial. There is something more material which is near us, that we overlook by looking so far off; that is, the little value or price we set upon that inestimable jewel, time, which most people slight, like the cock in the fable, if they cannot make use of it, to satisfy their lascivious appetites. It is the industrious hand, that enricheth the land, and not the contriving pate, The wasps and hornets, by their rapine, bring to their nests more honey at once, than the industrious bees can at many times ; and yet, for all this, they usually die for want in the winter; whilst the industrious bees, by continual labour and improvement of time gather sufficient to serve themselves in the winter, and can afford their masters a liberal share out of their plentiful stock. I shall first begin with the inferior rank of people, for those are the persons most con cerned in this general complaint, and shew them, how they may remedy what they com plain of. First, Let them be diligent and industrious in their several trades and callings. Secondly, Let them avoid all such idle societies, that squander away a great deal of time, at a cheap rate. I shall instance in those sober and civil conventions, as at coffee-houses, and clubs, where little money is pretended to be spent, but a great deal of precious time lost, which the person never thinks of; but measures his expences, by what goes out of his pocket ; The Art of good Husbandry, fyc. 387 nor considers what he might put in by his labour, and what he might have saved, being employed in his shop. As for example : A mechanick tradesman, it may be, goes to the coffee-house, or alehouse, in the morn ing, to drink his morning's draught, where he spends two-pence, and in smoaking and talking, consumes at least an hour : in the evening, about six o'clock, he goes to his two penny club, and there stays for his two-pence till nine or ten ; here is four-pence spent, and four hours at least lost, which, in most mechanick trades, cannot be reckoned less than a shilling ; and, if he keeps servants, they may lose him near as much by idling, or spoiling his goods, which his presence might have prevented. So that, upon these consi derations, for this his supposed groat (a day's expence) he cannot reckon less than seven groats ; which comes to fourteen shillings a week (Sundays excepted), which is thirty-six pounds ten shillings a year. A great deal of money in a poor tradesman's pocket ! Now the same may be applied to the higher trades and professions, whose loss of time is according to the degree, or spheres they move iri ; and yet this is the least thing thought of. We are apt to favour and excuse ourselves, and impute a general calamity to things afar off, when we ourselves are the occasion of it at home. It will be necessary, before I proceed, to take notice of one objection, which seems to be most material, viz. That some men's business lies abroad, and cannot be so well managed at home, and that these meetings, or societies, are advantageous to them. As first, merchants, by these clubs or meetings, have intelligence of ships going out, and coming in ; and also of the rates and prices of Commodities, and meet with customers by accident, which possibly might never make enquiry at their houses or warehouses. The like excuses all men of business and trade pretend. To this I answer : that indulging this custom, hath made it seemingly necessary ; but yet there is no absolute necessity for it ; for the Exchange is appointed for the merchant's intelligence, and his warehouse is his shop. And, to other tradesmen, their shops are their markets ; to which if they would be reserved, they might better themselves, and improve that time, they spend in taverns and coffee-houses, to a greater advantage. For, by these idle meetings, they lose not only what they spend, but what might be improved by the overseeing their goods, and examining their accounts, which they now wholly trust to the fidelity of a servant or servants ; who, being led by their masters' examples, grow idle and extravagant; and, knowing their masters sure, make sure for themselves: furnishing themselves for their debauched assignations, they now plot and invent the means and ways for their extravagant meetings, which are the occasion of the ruin of many masters, and hopeful servants; all which might be prevented by the diligent eye of the" master ; the want of which is the occasion of all the debauchery, poverty, and misery, which every place cries out of. From this negligence and loss of time, come many more inconvenien cies, that heap on poverty, and entail it upon themselves and generations. From these clubs and societies (how civil soever they appear to be) it is impossible in any such meeting, but some of them are given to vice ; and it is probable, the greatest part. By this means are introduced gaming, foolish wagers, wenching, swearing, and other -debaucheries. And usually at parting, or breaking up of these clubs, they divide themselves according to their several inclinations or dispositions ; some go to a tavern, some to a convenient place for gaming, others to a bawdy-house ; by which means, the family is neglected, and not governed as it ought to be ; the wife (though possibly a very virtuous and careful housewife) exasperated by the extravagancies of her husband, and foreseeing poverty and want attending her, and her children, grows desperate ; and, it may be, yields to some temptations which are too common in these days ; by which means, oftentimes an estate, that was gathered by grains, is scattered abroad by bushels. The servants too, by these examples, fall into the same vices, and many times ruin both themselves and their friends, who have strained tlieir estates to the utmost, to get them into those places, and engaged their friends for their fidelity, hoping that their in dustry might, afterwards make them some retaliation ; all which is frustrated, and they be come vagrants and extravagants, by which means city and country are filled with so many 388 The Art of good Husbandry, fyc. idle persons, that live only by spoil and rapine ; or like drones, feeding upon others' ¦labours: the greatest * part of their business being to undo what others do, and to de vise or contrive ways to cozeii, supplant, or cheat each other ; accounting it as lawful to get twenty shillings by cheating or playing, as by the most honest and industrious labour ; so that, by this means, our commodities, which might be employed by industrious manufacturers, lie waste ; and no wonder that we complain for want of trade, when the hands, that should be employed about it, are idle; for, if a strict enquiry were made into the city and suburbs, of all the persons that are capable of work, either in the wool or fishing trade, as men, women, and children, from seven years upwards, that are now all together idle, or not employed to any purpose, in trade, there would not . be found less than an hundred and fifty thousand, that live like drones, feeding upon the stock of others' labours. Now, it is our own negligence and idleness that bring poverty upon us ; for, if these idle persons were employed, we need not cry out of the exportation of wool, neither would industrious foreigners have that encouragement to work here, if we would mind it ourselves ; b,ut, if we will not improve our manufactures, we cannot blame others for doing of it. Now it will be supposed, that, by those Jaws for setting idle people to work, punishing vagrants, and rectifying disorders in publick houses, all this might be prevented. This commonly is our last shift, and thus are we apt to excuse ourselves, and lay the burthen of our own faults upon the shoulders of our governors ; we may be very sensible, that we have in this kingdom as good laws as in any place in the world ; we live under such a King, that, for prudence and wisdom, no empire or kingdom can make comparison with us ; nor can laws be better executed than in this kingdom : but it is impossible that the eye of magistracy can see into every corner ; every single person hath a corporation within himself; every family is a petty principality, of which, the master or mistress is vicegerent ; it lies upon every private person to put in execution those laws of nature within himself, that will inform him, what he ought to do, and what he ought not to do. Every governor or governess of a family should take care, by their good examples, to in struct their families ; and severely to punish such disorders as shall be committed in their house or houses, as far as their power doth extend ; the remainder they may leave to the magistrates, who will not be wanting on their parts. Now since every one is guilty, let us endeavour tp mend, and no longer complain of want, since it is in our power to enrich ourselves and our country. The industrious hand needs not make a leg to fortune for wealth ; nor the honest heart bend his knee to flat tery, to gain him a reputation. These are the heads of what afterwards I shall present you with, methodically handled in a treatise, which, as this finds acceptance, will, before long, see the light. In the mean time, I am Yours to command, R. T. 389 Proposals for carrying on an effectual War in America, against the French and Spaniards. Bellum justum, quibus necessarium, & pia Afma, quibus in Armis spes est. Tit. Liv. Humbly offered to the Consideration of the King's most Excellent Majesty, the Right Honourable the Lords Spiritual and Temporal, and the Honourable the House of Commons. [From a Quarto Edition, printed at London, in the year MDCCIL] ALL Europe is justly alarmed at the succession of Spain so unexpectedly falling to the House of Bourbon, already too great1. The entire reconciliation, and, as may be said, union of these two formidable monarchies, cannot but with good reasons cause the utmost jealousies in all their neighbours, who may be in danger of becoming their prey : insomuch, that a general confederacy, and well-cemented league, is absolutely ne cessary to support a vigorous and sudden war. If you give these two powers time, they will more firmly unite together; induced to it, by the apprehensions they have of other nations. The French will inspire the Spaniards with their active and martial temper, -Residesque movebit Rursus ad arma viros ; with their art of government and management of their revenues, with their methods of advancing and engrossing trade : and we must expect in a short time to see the riches of the West-Indies fall into the hands of these two nations, and they exclude all others. Of all their neighbours the English have the greatest interest to hinder this mischief, and England is the only power that can, and ought to do it ; since its colonies are so vast and populous, and since America is the only place where England can well with honour and profit enlarge its dominions, and soon become the most potent nation in the world : arid it looks as if Providence had pointed out that way, when we consider the vast increase of the English in the West-Indies. The English may easily ruin all the French colonies in America, and drive all the Spaniards out of their vast, but ill-fortified plantations. They are effeminate, and would surrender to a general enemy, and many of them are willing to be transported to Spain, where they have estates in land or money. The Spaniards have possessed the fountains of gold and silver long enough ; it is high time, they should pass into the hands of the English, who have in the same part of the world so many populous colonies, and out of which young people may be drawn, and trans ported to better places, as swarms out of bee-hives, to the incredible advantage of the na tion in general. If twenty-four years experience in those parts, some employments not very inconsi derable in peace and war, which the writer of this paper has had among the English and the French; if having seen and been concerned in most, if not all the actions that have been iri those countries; if all these things can enable him to judge rightly of the matter, 1 [In January 1702, the Lords presented an address to William the Third, wherein they represented the per- fidiousness of the French King (Louis XIV.) in placing, his grandson (Philip, Duke of Anjouj upon the throne of Spain.] *¦ 390 Proposals for carrying on an effectual War with America. he thinks that he ma^r, upon very good grounds, affirm, That, a war with America may be very practicable, and, with God's assistance, very successful. The miscarriages and ill success of most of the undertakings there in the late war, and the great mortality which fell among the forces sent thither, is, perhaps, an objection, but many things may be replied to it : the incapacity of most of the commanders, their little skill in military affairs, the disaffection in some, the want of discipline and order in ge neral : and you may add to this, the ill practices about the plunder : such disorders will hinder the best troops from doing any thing, much more such people as those forces were composed of. As to the mortality and the great loss of men, it could not well be otherwise with un ruly, drunken, and dissolute people, who, falling sick, had nobody to assist and look 'to them. Good discipline, good order, good provisions, good physick, and such like neces saries, would certainly remedy all these evils. I do here, with all submission and respect,' propose a method by which I am persuaded, that a war may be carried on in America with very little charge ; I mean, by managing the plunder, and other things of that nature, in such a manner, as the proposed war should feed and maintain itself; and there is no doubt, but that, making war, in a rich country, if affairs are rightly and honestly carried, the conquered people may be-made to defray the charges, and so consequently the war will be enabled to support and main tain itself. i I likewise propose to raise forces as soon as possible in all the colonies out of the young people, who could be more easily transported any where ; I would order them all into independent companies, each of an hundred centinels, with one Captain, two Lieutenants, one Ensign,, and four Serjeants : when they form a battalion, and go upon service, the eldest or senior officer should command. Regimenting of forces is subject to a great many inconveniencies, and is of no use when the regiment is not all together, and serves in different places,; besides that, the State- major takes takes up all the spoil. All the standing-forces the French have, in America, and all their militia are inde pendent companies. When they draw into a battalion, the senior officer takes the right hand, and every other according to the seniority of their commission ; so that the service is performed as well as if they had Colonels, Lieutenant-colonels, and Majors, and it saves the King a great sum of money. Perhaps his Majesty may think it convenient to model after that manner the forces raised here in England, to be sent to the West-Indies, since, in a series of time, it would save a great sum of money, please very much the militia, and take off all occasions of dissatisfaction and murmurings about the division of spoil and plunder, which might then be all equally divided to the several companies, without distinction of standing and militia forces. The militia never repines at the right hand and post of honour being taken by " the standing forces ; but cannot willingly see those who are allowed pay, pretend to a greater share than they who have no salary, and endure commonly more hardship, and are usually put upon more difficult service. The well-ordering of plunder, and justly and impartially dividing it, is of very great consequence ; all our divisions and misunderstandings proceeded from thence. At the taking of St. Christopher's, some were very busy about getting, hiding, securing, and transporting of plunder, whilst others were intent on service, and minded their duty; so .that the division of the spoil and plunder was not justly made. I would provide good arms and good powder ; and, as most of those countries have store of horses, I would carry a great number of small ordinary saddles and bridles, to mount the greatest part of the forces, and make them dragoons, the most useful sort of troops. People in those parts use, upon travelling in woods, or such like places, to carry along with them each man his pavilion to sleep under and defend him from gnats, a most trou- Proposals for carrying on an effectual War with America. 391 blesome and intolerable insect, and of an extraordinary bigness in some places. This pa vilion is made of thin canvas, in such a form that, being spread and supported upon some stjcks planted upon the ground, a man lies under it ; the canvas falling like the curtains of a bed, and so leaves no room for gnats to get in. The man has his fusee between his legs, and lies upon some grass or leaves, and in a march carries his pavilion like a shoulder- belt. Tents would never hinder the gnats. This is the Buccaneers' fashion, and by these means their incampments are soon made and soon raised. Every soldier should have a good fusee with a bayonet of that sort, that he may fire off his fusee with the bayonet fixed ; one pistol and a good sword, and one pavilion ; to every four men I would give a brass pot, well tinned within, to dress victuals, and a good hatchet. Of ordnance I would carry eight brass guns, of eighteen, or at least twelve pounds bullet, some hollow bullets, and three or four mortar-pieces of the middle size ; a great number of shells, some field-pieces, store of hand-granadoes, and all ingredients for carcases and fire-works,, with a good quantity of the best gun-powder, together with all tools necessary for miners and pioneers. Among the shipping I would have two bomb-ketches. Out of every ship may be drawn a sufficient number of people to serve the batteries, or any service a-shore for some time. These also to be ordered into independent companies. Besides the forces to be sent from Europe, his Majesty may, out of all his dominions in America, without any danger or prejudice to them, draw a great number of brisk and active people ; sending thither before-hand somebody that should carry them his commis sions, and encourage them to go where the service should require, and list them to that purpose. The officers would instruct and exercise them in the mean while, until they should be ordered to march towards the rendezvous. What I propose of the number of people, which may be drawn from every place, may be altered more or less ; as the officer sent, and the governors of the respective places, shall judge for the best. Such an army well governed, and wanting no necessaries, nor supplies of arms and ammunition, may, under the command of good officers, conquer and subdue all the West- Indies, and secure to England the greatest part of the riches of the world. I observed before, the ill effects of sharing the plunder, and the bad consequences of it : the remedy may be this : — If his Majesty would give order that such plunder, as pieces of plate from churches, publick and private houses, sums of money out of publick houses, pigs of silver, ingots of gold, slaves, coppers, mills for sugar, quantities of indigo, cotton, natto, cocoa, sugars, tobacco, hides, dying wood, &C. be all reserved for the King's use, and suffer nothing to be plundered but clothes, linen, and loose money, which may be also considerable : and if, out of the produce of the aforesaid goods retained and reserved, the King would be pleased to give such a gratuity as he may think fit to his standing- forces, such perhaps as may amount to half-pay, and whole-pay to his militia ; it would, I conceive, satisfy every body, and prevent disorders and murmurings. I reckon the num ber of people each colony may send, after this following manner : Companies. Places. Barbadoes, - 4 Antegoa, - - 2 Mountserrat, - 1 Nevis, - - - 2 St. Christopher's, 1 Jamaica, - - - 5 Providence, - - 1 Bermudos, - - 1 Carolina, - - 8 Virginia, - - 40 Pensilvania, - - 8 Men. 400200 100 200 100 500 100 100 800 4000 800 Places. Companies. Men Maryland, - - 8 - - - 800 New Jersey, - 8 - - - 800 New York, - 10 - - 1000 New England, - 40 - - - 4000 Buccaneers, - - 10 - - - 1000 149 14,900 Officers to each Company, - 596 In all, - 15,496 Men. 392 Proposals for carrying on an effectual War with America. His Majesty sending out a general pardon and amnesty to all Buccaneer pirates, would soon bring in a great number of them, of all nations : they agree well together against tile Spaniards, would be fit for any service, and soon be at Jamaica. , The French -may have in America, by what I could observe myself, and learn of others, men fit for service ; Men. Men. In Cyenne, - - 400 Granada, - - 300 Martinico, - 1500- Hispaniola, - 5000 Guardeloupe, - 800 Canada, - -500O Marie Galante, 200 St. Christopher's, 500 In all, - 13,700 Tjie Dutch may have also in all, In Surinam, - - 900 Saba, - - - 10O Essecape, - - 200 Curacao, - - 500 Berbiche, - - 200 '- Eustathia, - - 200 2100 Men. The Spaniards have not, in all America, by the best informations I could get, one hun dred thousand men ; and, perhaps, not near so many : they are dispersed into several places, very distant one from another. It is easily to be believed, if we rightly consider the disposition of the Spaniards in general, the barrenness of their women, and the nature of the country, where they are for the most part settled. New England and Virginia can afford some thousands of men more than I mention i Virginia especially, which has no troublesome neighbours to fear. Two-thirds of the in habitants of New England, all tlie people of Pescatway, Acadie, and Newfoundland, live and depend upon the fishing-trade ; the best half of their ships go for Spain, Portugal, and the Streights; the rest are employed in voyages to the southern colonies ; so that most , of those people, if we have a war, will be at leisure, and may be very serviceable. In what I propose about the islands, an objection may arise, that they must keep their people to guard and defend themselves. But this may be remedied, by transporting thi ther good numbers of Scotch servants, engaged to serve, as usually, for so many years. The planters. like them very well, and will freely entertain them. They will soon learn the use of their arms, and help to guard and defend the place.. When I consider the great inconveniences which I have observed to attend giving of the plunder to soldiers; the difficulties, or rather the impossibilities of dividing it to their con tent and satisfaction ; I cannot but urge and insist again, on what I had but hinted at before, That his Majesty would be pleased to grant and send his commissions to all the officers to be raised, to encourage them the better; and to allow them all, officers and soldiers, such a pay as they may deserve, and esteem just ; considering that they shall have, whilst upon service, all provisions and ammunitions found at the King's charge. And the King may easily do it, providing in time good, store of beef and pork from Ireland ; of beef and pork, salt-fish, biscuit and pease, from New England, and a ship or two loaded with salt, if possible, from France ; being the best to preserve flesh and fish. There is, in most parts of America, a vast number of cattle, wild and tame ; of sheen goats, and hogs ; finding victuals for every body. Killing and destroying of' cattle and stock should be strictly forbidden ; and you may procure people, as butchers and such like, whose whole business would be to dress and salt such meats. There is also in some places, a great quantity of manatees, or sea-cows ; of turtles, and other sorts of fish The islands, likewise, will furnish abundance of rum, lhne-juice, and sugar, to make drink. If the King would be pleased to send some few officers of the Mint in his fleet, with Proposals for carrying on an effectual War in America. 393 all things necessary for coining : they may coin the Spanish gold and silver that should fall into our hands, and the army might be paid with it. This way would make a large addition to the English coin, to the great and general benefit of the nation. The taking of Canada may be easy enough, if we attack it at once, both by sea and land ; and not as it was done lately, by very unskilful people. The keeping of Canada, and settling and fortifying that large island of Newfoundland, will hinder the Frendh from fishing upon the great bank, and consequently diminish greatly, if not totally ruin, their maritime power. Martinico is the only place of strength the French have in America ; its fort-royal is impregnable any other way than by famine, but it may easily be bombarded, whereby you may ruin and burn the houses and buildings in it ; and perhaps the very magazines and cisterns, after which they cannot subsist long, and will be forced to surrender. Grenada is of very little strength, having but few inhabitants : its fort is on the top of a hill, and was surprized and taken by one Erasmus, a single Dutch privateer. Its harbour is very large, and capable of holding many of the greatest ships. This island is. not subject to hurricanes, its situation lying near Trinity island, and the Spanish coast ; and those other places, by which most of the Spanish ships pass in going to the West-India plantations, make it very considerable. It has many rivers of excellent water ; the land is hilly about the harbour, and the north-side ; but, towards the south and west, very level ; cocoa-trees, and the vanilio, grow there naturally. In lieu of sending two regiments (as it is discoursed of) to Jamaica, I would only draw detachments from all the regiments here in England, and Ireland, perhaps, also, from Scotland ; model them all into independent companies, and give them commanders out of the reformed and half-pay officers. The regiments, keeping all their officers, would soon recruit, and be filled again, with new soldiers, who would presently be disciplined; and these independent companies would be as serviceable as if they were regimented, and be of less charge to the nation. I would also propose to send these companies, as soon as possible, to the north-continent of America. For example, two to Newfoundland, six to New England, four to New York, and so of all the other companies : it would make no great noise, and alarm no body, not being likely to be thought, or presumed to intend, farther than the defence of all those places. The transport from that northern continent, to the southward, is very easy, and may be done at any time, together with the provisions, all the parts of New England having a great number of ships of their own. The sending of two regiments to tbe island of Jamaica will cause many inconveniences. Jamaica is unhealthy, and many will be sick and die, before you can bring them to action. ,The northern parts of America are as healthy as England. Jamaica lies to the leeward of all the French Colonies, so that it is very difficult, and sometimes impossible, always very tedious, and long, to turn up to the windward ; the winds are contrary, and the current is against you, very often so strong, that a brisk, favourable, westerly wind cannot make you overcome it. I would gather all the forces to the islands of Barbadoes and the Caribbees : they lie to the westward of all the French and Spanish colonies ; the wind is always favourable to go to them at pleasure. I humbly propose the attacking of the French first. If a war breaks out towards the spring, most of the forces being ready in the continent of New England, I would begin, by attacking Canada by sea and land in the beginning of the summer ; the conquest of it may be thoroughly perfected before the fit time of attempting any considerable action in the southern colonies. The timing well your attempt is so very necessary, that, without it, you cannot, with any probability, succeed; yet it has been hitherto so little regarded, that all our fleets for the West-Indies, in the late war, arrived always, and thought of some action, when the hurricanes began to be feared and expected. voi.. 1. 3 E 394 Proposals for carrying on an effectual War in America. It was very far in June, when we attacked St. Christopher's ; it was the beginning of it, also, when we landed at Martinico ; and it was also in June, when Willmot and Lilling- ston attacked Port de Paix in Hispaniola. Had Ruiter been at Martinico any other time but June, he would have certainly taken it. The Dutch committed many errors in their attack : but the only thing, which forced them to withdraw, was, that, it being hurricane time, Ruiter, seeing great appearance of a storm, would not venture his fleet, and caused that sudden retreat. The French, who were but few, had no other defence, but a very bad pallisado ; and a narrow trench, almost filled up in many places, could not possibly have resisted a brisk attack with sword and pistol in hand. But the Dutch must needs land in order, though they saw nobody to oppose their landing, and would npt advance upon the enemy, until they had formed their battalions, as if they had been in a pitched battle : they were all this while exposed, from, head to foot, to the musquets of the enemy, and the great and small guns of a man of war, which lay in the then careening-place, commanded by M. d'Amblimont, who died lately, General for the French King in America.. The same night the Dutch retreated, the French left and abandoned their fort, judging it un tenable, and expecting the Dutch would have stormed it the next morning. All things should be so ordered, that the fleet and forces may arrive where you intend to make your attack. In the beginning of October, the hurricane time is just over, and you may venture your fleet any where, during nine months; and you have then three months that the heat is but moderate, and the weather, for the most part, very clear and dry ; the best time for action. I would put the forces upon action and attack, as soon as they arrive ; arid so make the best use of their strength and health, and not stay until the "heat of the weather, or any other cause, shall pull their courage down, or they should fall sick, and be out of order.- In the West-Indies, I would begin with Martinico ; take that island from the French, and you will ruin them in all their colonies : there they keep all their stores for ships and land-forces. It is easy to block up Fort-Royal by sea and land : by falling upon the island unexpectedly, and landing near the fort of a sudden, you may binder the people from go ing and carrying any provisions and water into the fort; and dry weather may happen, so that there may be but little water in the cistern. One may encamp round about it very well, and commodiously, all along a river of good water. The country about it is also full of pro visions. The fort being besieged and blocked up, I would ply them night and day with bombs and carcases, in order to burn and destroy their houses, magazines, and cisterns. From some of the neighbouring hills, guns may shoot at random into the fort, and, raking along, may do much damage. Having left people enough to maintain and continue the siege, some considerable body of forces may be sent all over the island to subdue it ; which I am confident would be easy enough; especially, if his Majesty, intending the conquest of all. the colonies, would give out and proclaim, that he intends to keep the island to himself, and would receive its inhabi tants into his protection as subjects, and so forbid burning and destroying of plantations and houses. Very many, if not all, would submit ; and it would be easy afterwards to banish and force away those, that should be deemed unfit to be kept there as inhabitants. I would also take, keep, and fortify, the island of Granada ; it has an excellent large harbour; it is never troubled with hurricanes. And the Spanish ships, going to their western plantations, pass near and often in sight of it. That island is better than any of the English Caribbees, Barbadoes excepted. It might soon be settled, and made a pro fitable colony. All the rest of the French colonies would easily be subdued. I would ruin them, and transport what I would keep of them, to Martinico or Granada. There are still in the French islands, many Protestants, French and Dutch, who may be trusted and depended upon. Proposals for carrying on an effectual War in America. 395 The taking of Martinico would discourage the French, and, I am confident, would hinder them- from assisting the Spaniards in the West-Indies. How could they with reason venture out thither a considerable fleet, after the loss of Martinico, the only strong-hold they have ; being sensible that the English can be always their superiors in those parts, whensoever they please ? All our Caribbee islands being secured by the taking and keeping Martinico, some few frigates might suffice to protect and defend them from any insult, and they may spare some of their people to help to attack the Spaniards. The island of Cuba is that of the Spanish I would begin with. The Havannah, its chief town, is very strong on the harbour and sea-side ; but would be easily enough taken, if besieged on the country and land-side ; and as we commonly say, in form, with those preparations that are requisite in sieges. You may land in many places, and the march is easy from thence to the town. The country abounds in cattle, sheep, goats, and hogs : the bays are well stored with fish, manatees, and turtles : the country provisions very plenty every where. The bay of Mattancas would, perhaps, be the fittest place to land in, and to preserve the fleet ; some few frigates, being sufficient to stop and block up the harbour's mouth, during the siege. The taking and keeping the Havannah would soon ruin the Spaniards in the West-Indies. As their ships, coming, pass near Granada ; going home, they must pass also near the Havannah, and so through the Bahamas : so that some frigates at Granada, and some at Havannah, would annoy the Spaniards going and coming. I would, by all means, keep and settle Cuba, -though forced to abandon some other set tlements. It may, perhaps, be done, without deserting any other place, with some people out of New England, the least profitable of all the colonies. Having Cuba, we may easily seize Porto-Bello, Chiagre, and Panama, and so command both the north and south seas in America. The design I propose is great, and may, perhaps, appear impossible to some people ; but I am sincerely persuaded of the feasibleness of it to the English nation, so very popu lous, and so very strong in the West-Indies. Quod nemo promittere Divum Auderet, volvenda dies certe offer et ultro. There is nothing wanting for so great an undertaking, but a faithful, honest, hearty, and honourable disinterested mind, in the commanding officers. The success of such an enterprize would enrich the English nation beyond measure, making her mistress of most of the mines of gold and silver, besides all tbe productions peculiar to that part of the world, as sugars, cocoas, cotton, indigo, natto, tobacco, &c. What increase would it not bring to its navigation and shipping ? All sorts of merchant-ships may be built in the Northern America, or with timber brought from thence ; whilst the English oak, so very excellent for building, may be kept and reserved only for building of men of war. I am confident, and I dare maintain it, That the conquest of all the Spanish and French colonies, in America, would never cost England, what the taking of Namur did, in blood and money. It would, without doubt, make the English nation the strongest and the richest of the world : and, that it may be so, is the hearty wish of a faithful and devoted subject. 396 An Account of the Arraignments and Trials of Colonel Richard Kirkby, Captain John Constable, Captain Cooper Wade, Captain Samuel Vincent, and Captain Christopher Fogg; on a Complaint exhibited by the Judge-Advocate, on Efehalf of her Majesty, at a Court-Martial, held on board the Ship, " Bredah, in Port-Royal Harbour, in Jamaica, in America, the eighth, ninth, tenth, and twelfth Days of October, 1702, for Cowardice, Neglect of Duty, Breach of Orders, and other Crimes, committed by them in a Fight at Sea, commenced the nineteenth of August, 1702, off of St. Martha, in the Latitude of ten Degrees North, near the main Land of America, between the Honourable John Benbow, Esq. and Admiral Du Casse, with four French Ships of War ; for which Colonel Kirkby and Captain Wade were sentenced to be shot to death1. Transmitted from two eminent Merchants at Port-Royal in Jamaica, to a Person of Quality in the City of London. [From a Folio Edition, printed at London, 1703.] AT a court-martial held on board her Majesty's ship, the Bredah, in Port-Royal harbour in Jamaica in America, the eighth, ninth, tenth, and twelfth days of Oc tober, 1702: Present, The Honourable William Whiston, Esq. Rear-Admiral of her Majesty's ships for the West- India squadron, President ; Samuel Vincent, John Hartnoll, ChristopheV Fogg, John Smith, John Redman, George Walton, William Russel, Barrow Harris, Hercules Mitchell, Philip Boyce, Charles Smith; Arnold Browne, Esq. Judge- Advocate : Who being all duly sworn, pursuant to the act of parliament ; * ^ Proceeded * to the trial of John Arthur, gunner of the Defiance, on a complaint exhi bited by Fraricis Knighton, third Lieutenant of the Defiance, and George Foster, gun- ' [This sentence was executed at Plymouth on Kirkby and Wade ; Constable was cashiered and imprisoned; Vincent and Fogg were suspended ; and the 'gallant Admiral Benbow died of his wounds in November following.] * October 8th. An Account of the Trials of Col. Richard Kirkby, §c. 397 ner of for hiding and concealing forty-three barrels of powder in the wad-room, and covering them with wads and coins, &c. when a survey of her Majesty's stores of am munition after an engagement was ordered ; and denying to the surveyors that there was any more powder on board, than was in the powder-room and gun-room, viz. one hun dred ; which upon a second survey were discovered. It was proved also, That he had two keys to the powder-room ; and that, having lost or mislaid his own, he, without ma king any application to the commanding officer then on board, who kept the other key, prevailed with William Baker, carpenter of the said ship, to break open the door. In mitigation of his offence, he alleged, That, examining into the powder-room, he found three barrels that had received wet, which caused his removal of the forty-three bar rels ; but had little to say for his concealing them from the surveyors. Whereupon the Court adjudged, That, the said offence falling under the thirty-third article of war, the said John Arthur should be carried from ship to ship in a boat, with a halter about his neck, the Provost Master declaring his crimes ; and all his pay, as gunner, to be mulcted and forfeited to the Chest at Chatham, and be rendered uncapable of serving her Majesty in any other employment. Colonel Richard Kirkby, Commander of the Defiance, was tried 3 before the aforesaid Court, (except Captain Samuel Vincent, and Captain Christopher Fogg, who appeared as witnesses for the Queen,) on a complaint exhibited by the Judge-Advocate, on the behalf of her Majesty, of Cowardice, Neglect of Duty, Breach of Orders, and other crimes com-, mitted by him in a fight at sea, commenced the nineteenth of August, 1702, off of St. Martha, in the latitude of ten degrees north, near the main land of America, between the Honourable John Benbow, Esq. Vice-Admiral of the Blue Squadron of her Majesty's fleet, and Admiral and Commander in Chief, &c. on board her Majesty's ship Bredah, Christo pher Fogg Commander, and six other of her Majesty's ships, viz. The Defiance, Richard Kirkby Commander; the Falmouth, Samuel Vincent Commander; the Windsor, John Constable Commander ; the Greenwich, Cooper Wade Commander ; the Ruby, George Walton Commander ; and the Pendennis, Thomas Hudson Commander ; and Monsieur Du Casse, with four French ships of war : which continued until the twenty-fourth of August, inclusive. The witnesses that were sworn in behalf of the Queen, viz. The Honourable John Benbow, Esq. Admiral 1 Captains ------- ..--2 Lieutenants ------ 8 Masters ----_------- 5 Inferior officers - - - - - 5 In all - 21 Who deposed, That the said Colonel Richard Kirkby, the van in the line of battle, the nineteenth of August, about three in the afternoon, the signal of battle being out, the Admiral was forced to -send his boat on board of Kirkby, and command his making more sail, and get a-breast of the enemy's van, for he was resolved to fight them. About four the fight began ; but the said Kirkby did not fire above three broadsides, then luffed up out of the line, and out of gun-shot, leaving the Admiral engaged with two French ships till dark, and the said Kirkby receiving no damage : that his behaviour caused great fear of his desertion. At night, the said Kirkby fell a-stern, leaving the Admiral to pursue the enemy. That on the twentieth, at day-light, the Admiral and Ruby were within shot of all the enemy's ships, but Colonel Kirkby was near three or four miles a-stern. The Admiral then made a new line of battle, and took the van himself, and sent to each ship, with a command to the said Kirkby to keep his line and station ; which he promised to do, but did 3 October 8th and 9th. 398 An Account of the Trials of Col. Richard Kirkby, §c. not, keeping two or three miles a-stern, though the signal for battle was out all night ; thff French making a running fight, the Admiral and Ruby plied the enemy with their chace- guns till night. That the twenty-first day, at light, the Admiral was on the quarter of the second ship of the enemy's rear, and the Ruby on the board side, very near, who plied- him warmly, and met the same return, by which he was so much disabled, though' the Admiral came in to his assistance, that he was. forced to be towed off; and this pre vented the Admiral's design of cutting off the enemy's sternmost ship. This action lasted two hours, during which time the said Kirkby lay a broad-side of the sternmost ship ; as did also the Windsor, John Constable Commander. The Admiral then commanded the said Kirkby tb ply his broad-sides on him ; but, this having no effect, the second time he commanded the same, but he fired not one gun ; nay, his own boatswain and seamen re peated the Admiral's command to him, but were severely used, and threatened that he would run his sword through the boatswain: and, had the said Kirkby done his duty, and Captain Constable his, they must have taken or destroyed the said French ships. The Ad miral, though he received much damage in his sails, rigging, yards, &c. yet continued the race all night. That the twenty-second in the morning, at day-light, the Greenwich was three leagues a-stern ; and the Defiance, Colonel Kirkby, with the rest of the ships, three or four miles ; the Falmouth excepted, whose station was in the rear : That the said Captain Samuel Vincent, seeing the behaviour of the said Kirkby and the rest, came up with the Admiral, and sent his Lieutenant on board, desiring leave to assist him, which was ac cepted : the said Kirkby never coming up,< and, by his example, the rest did the same, as if they had a design to sacrifice the Admiral and Falmouth to the enemy, or desert. The enemy were now about a mile and a half a-head, standing in to the shore, with a small breeze at west, fetched within Sambey, the Admiral firing at the sternmost till night, and continuing the pursuit; and a Flemish ship that was in Monsieur Du Casse's company, on board of Which were all the French and Spanish new governors and other officers, made. her escape. That the twenty-third in the morning, at day-light, the enerrfy bore north-west, distant about four or five miles, the Admiral and Falmouth pursuing; but the said Colonel Kirkby, with the rest of the ships, being three or four miles a-Stern, (though there was not a ship, but, before and after the battle, sailed better than the Admiral). About seven in the evening, it having been some time calm, a gale of wind sprung up; the Admiral and Falmouth were about two miles from the enemy, and at eight the said Kirkby and his se parate squadron were fair up with the Admiral ; and this day the Admiral sent away the disabled Ruby, George Walton Commander, to Port Royal, and under his convoy the Anna galley, retaken from the French. That the twenty-fourth in the morning, about two of the clock, the Admiral came up with the sternmost of the enemy within call, and the Falmouth pretty near ; but the said Colonel Kirkby, with the rest of the ships, according to custom, were three or four miles a-stern. The Admiral and Falmouth engaged the said ship, and at three the Admiral was wounded, his right leg being broke, but commanded the fight to be vigorously maintained ; and at day-light the enemy's ship appeared like a wreck, her mizen-mast shot by the board, her main-yard in three or four pieces, her fore-top sail-yard the same, her stays and riggino- all shot to pieces: Soon after day, the said Kirkby, with the rest of the ships, being to windward of the said disabled ship, he the said Kirkby, with the rest of his separate squa dron, fired about twelve guns at the said ship ; and fearing a smart return from her, he low ered his mizen-yard, his top-sails on the caps, set his sprit-sail, sprit-sail top-sail, and fore- top-sail stay-sail, and, having waired his ship, set his sail, and run away before the wind from the poor disabled ship, the rest following his said example; though they had but eight men killed on board them all (except the Admiral). The other three French men of war were at this time of action, about four miles distant from their maimed ship : whereupon the enemy seeing the cowardice of the said Colonel Kirkby, and the rest of the English ships, in a squall bore down upon the Admiral, who lay close by the disabled ship ; and, having got in their sprit-sail-yard, gave him all their fire ; and, running between him and the disabled An Account of the Trials of Col. Richard Kirkby, fyc. 399 ship, remanned her, and took her in. The Admiral's rigging, being very much shattered, was obliged to lie and refit till ten o'clock, and then continued the pursuit, and the rest of the fleet following in the greatest disorder imaginable ; the Admiral commanded Captain Fogg to starid a-breast of the enemy's van, and then to attack him, and having then a fine steady gale, the like not happening during the whole engagement ; and further ordered that he should send to all the Captains to keep the line of battle, and behave themselves like Englishmen ; and this message was sent by Captain Wade, then on board the Bredah. That the said Colonel Kirkby, on the receipt of this message, and seeing the Admiral's re solution to engage, came on board him, who then lay wounded in a cradle; and, without common respect of enquiring after his health, he the said Kirkby expressed these words fol lowing: viz. ' That he wondered that the Admiral should offer to engage the French again; it being not necessary, safe, nor convenient, having had six days' trial of their strength ;' and then magnified that of the French, and lessened that of the English. But the Ad miral, being surprized -at his speech, said, ' It was but one man's opinion, and that he would have the rest of the Captains ;' and accordingly ordered the signal to be made for all the Captains to come on board ; and at this time the Admiral, and the rest of the ships, were to windward, and within shot of the enemy, and had the fairest opportunity that in six days presented, to chase, engage, and destroy the enemy. That the said Colonel Kirkby had endeavoured to poison the rest of the Captains, forming a writing under his own hand, which was cowardly and erroneous : the substance of which was, c Not to engage the enemy any more :' he the said Colonel Kirkby brought it to the Admiral, who reproved him for it, saying, ' It would be the ruin of them all.' Upon which he the said Colonel Kirkby went away, but writ another in the following words : ' At a Consultation held on board her Majesty's Ship, Bredah, the Mth of August, 1702, off vf Carthagena, on the main Continent of America. 1 IT is the opinion of us whose names are under-written, ' 1. Of the great want of men in number, quality, and the weakness of those they haye. ' 2. The general want of ammunition of most sorts. ' 3. Each ship, masts, yards, sails, and rigging, being all, in a great measure, disabled. ' 4. The winds are so small and variable, that the ships cannot be governed by any ' strength; each ship, ' 5. Having experienced the enemy in six days' battle, following the squadron consisting ' of five men of war and a fire-ship, under the command of Monsieur Du Casse ; their equi- ' page consisting in guns from sixty to eighty, and having a great number of seamen and ' soldiers on board, for the service of Spain. ' For which reasons above-mentioned, we think it not fit to engage the enemy at this Mime, but to keep them company this night, and observe their motion; and, if a fair op- ' portunity shall happen of wind and weather, once more to try our strength with them. ' Richard Kirkby, ' Samuel Vincent, ' John Constable, ' Christopher Fogg, ' Cooper Wade, and ' Thomas Hudson.' That, during the six days' engagement, he never encouraged his men ; but, by his ovyn example of. dodging behind the mizen-mast, and falling down upon the deck on the noise of shot, and denying them the provisions of the ship, the said men were under great dis couragement. That he amended the master of the ship's journal of the transactions of the fight, according to his own inclination. 400 An Account of the Trials of Col. Richard Kirkby, fyc. All which being proved, as aforesaid : The said Colonel Richard Kirkby denied the whole, excepting the pretended written con sultation: which being shewn to him, he owned his own hand and name too. He brought several of his men to give an account of his behaviour during the fight ; but their testimo nies were insignificant, and his behaviour to the court and witnesses most unbecoming a gentleman. And being particularly asked by the court, * Why he did not fire at the enemy's sternmost ship, which lay point-blank with him, the twenty-first of August ?' He replied, ' Because they did not fire at him, for that they had a respect for him :' which words upon several occasions, during the trial, he repeated three several times. Whereupon due consideration of the premises, of great. advantages the English had in number, being seven to four, of guns one hundred and twenty-two more than the other ; with his acts and behaviour as aforesaid, and more particularly his ill-timed paper of con sultation, as afore-recited, which obliged the Admiral, for the preservation of her Majesty's fleet, to give over the chace and fight, to ' the irreparable dishonour of the Queen, her crown and dignity, and come to Port Royal, Jamaica. For which reasons the Court was of opinion, that he fell under the eleventh, twelfth, fourteenth, and twentieth articles of war, and adjudged accordingly, that he should be shot to death. But further decreed, that the execution of Colonel Kirkby be deferred, till her Majesty's pleasure be known therein ; but be continued a close prisoner till that time. Captain John Constable, commander of the Windsor, was tried before the aforesaid Court, on a complaint exhibited by the Judge-Advocate on the behalf of the Queen, for breach of orders, neglect of duty, and other ill practices committed during a fight com menced the nineteenth of August, 1702, as aforesaid. (Refer to Colonel Kirkby's trial.) The witnesses, sworn on the behalf of the Queen, were: ¦& Captains -------- 2 Lieutenants ------------- 7 Masters -----_--1.--._5 Other officers ----------- . _ 2 The Honourable John Benbow, Esq. Admiral - - 1 Witnesses - - 17 Who deposed, that the Captain John Constable never kept his first or second line of battle, but acted, in all things, as Colonel Kirkby had done. That the Admiral had fired two guns to command him into the second line of battle. That he did set more sail, in order to come into the line and his station;' but, upon Colonel Kirkby's calling to him, to keep his line, he accordingly did. That the Admiral sent his Lieutenant Landgridge to command him the said Constable to keep his line of battle, within half a cable's length of the ship before him, which was twice verbally delivered. And that he signed the paper, Consultation ; as is in Colonel Kirkby's trial aforesaid ; tending to the hinderance and disservice of her Ma jesty, &c. and was drunk during the fight, &c. All which being fully proved, as aforesaid ; the said Captain John Constable denied his breach of orders, or neglect of duty ; but owned the signing of the paper or consultation prepared by Colonel Kirkby, and did it at his request, and for that he had received damage in his masts and rigging ; and owned no other article to be true, but that he had signed to. He called several witnesses to his behaviour during the fight ; who all declared he kept the quarter-deck during the engagement, and encouraged his men to fight; and that sometimes he gave them drams of rum ; and that verbal message delivered by Lieutenant Landgridge, was delivered him in some heat and passion, and was understood to be, to keep the line Within half a cable's length, and to follow Kirkby ; which he did. That he so understood it him self, and several of his men : he prayed the mercy of the Court, and so concluded, &c. An Account of the Trials of Col. Richard Kirkby, §c. 401 Whereupon due consideration of the premises, the Court was of opinion, that the said John Constable, Captain, fell under the twelfth, fourteenth, and twentieth articles of war; and adjudged the said Captain John Constable to be immediately cashiered, and rendered in capable of serving her Majesty, and be imprisoned during her Majesty's pleasure, and sent home to England a prisoner in the first ship, the Admiral shall think fit ; and be confined a prisoner, till then. Captain Cooper Wade, commander of the Greenwich, was tried4 before the aforesaid Court, on a complaint exhibited by the Judge-Advocate, on the behalf of the Queen, of high crimes and misdemeanonrs, of cowardice, breach of orders, and neglect of duty, and other ill practices ; committed during a fight, commenced the nineteenth of August, 1702, as aforesaid. (Refer to that part of Colonel Kirkby's trial.) The witnesses sworn on behalf of the Queen : The Honourable John Benbow, Esq. Admiral - - 1 Lieutenants ----- -9 Masters 3 Inferior officers ---3 Witnesses - - 16 Who deposed, that during the six days' engagement, he never kept the line of battle, fired all his shot in vain, not reaching half way to the enemy ; that he was often told the same by his Lieutenants and other officers, but notwithstanding he commanded them to fire, saying, they must do so, or the Admiral would not believe they fought, if they did not continue the fire. TJiat, during the whole fight the Admiral was engaged in, the said Captain Wade received but one shot from the enemy ; that he was in drink the greatest part of the time of action ; and that he signed the paper or consultation drawn up by Colonel- Kirkby, as aforesaid ; and, in the time of fight, arraigned the honourable courage and con duct of the Admiral. All which being fully proved, as aforesaid : That the said Captain Cooper Wade denied the arraignment of the honourable courage and conduct of the Admiral, during the whole six days' engagement, declaring the bravery and good management of the Admiral in this time of action, and that no man living could do more or better, for the honour of the Queen and nation. He called some persons to justify his behaviour, who said little in his favour. He begged the mercy of the Court, and so concluded. Whereupon the Court was of opinion, that the said Cooper Wade fell under the eleventh, twelfth, fourteenth, and twentieth articles of war ; and accordingly adjudged the said Cooper Wade to be shot; to death : but it is farther declared by the Court, that the execution of the said Captain Cooper Wade be deferred, till her Majesty's pleasure be known therein ; but be continued a close prisoner till that time. Captain Samuel Vincent, commander of the Falmouth, and Captain Christopher Fogg, commander of the Bredah, were tried5 before the aforesaid Court, on a complaint exhibited by the Judge-Advocate, for high crimes and misdemeanours, and ill practices in the time of Admiral Benbow's fight with Monsieur Du Casse, as aforesaid, in signing a paper called- a consultation arid opinion held on board the Bredah, the twenty-fourth of August, 1702. (Which is verbatim recited in Colonel Kirkby's trial, to which I refer.) It tending to the great hinderance and disservice of her Majesty's fleet then in fight : and the said paper so written, being shewed to each of them, they severally owned their hands to the same. But 4 October 10th and 12th. 5 October 12th. VOL. I. 3 F 402 The Instrument by which Queen Jane the said Captain Vincent and Captain Fogg, for reason of signing the same, alleged, that, being deserted during each' day's engagement by Colonel Richard Kirkby in the Defiance, Captain John Constable in the Windsor, Captain Cooper Wade in the Greenwich, and Captain Thomas Hudson jn the Pendennis, and left as a prey to Monsieur Du Casse, they had great reason to believe they should be captives to the enemy. And the Honourable John Benbow, Esq. Admiral, &c. coming in Court, declared, that during the six days' fight, the said Captain Fogg behaved himself with great courage, bravery, and conduct, like a true Englishman, and lover of his Queen and country : and that the said Captain Samuel Vin cent valiantly and courageously behaved himself during the said action, and desired leave to come into the said Admiral's assistance, then engaged with the enemy, and deserted by all the rest of the above ships, which he did to the relief of the said Admiral, who otherwise had fallen into the hands of Monsieur Du Casse. Whereupon the Court, being of opinion, that the signing of the aforesaid paper brought them under the censure of the twentieth article of war, accordingly adjudged Captain Sa muel Vincent, and Captain Christopher Fogg, to be suspended : but the execution thereof is hereby respited, till his Royal Highness Prince George of Denmark, Lord High Admiral of England, &c. his further pleasure be known therein. Captain Thomas Hudson, commander of the Pendennis, died on board his said ship in the harbour of Port-Royal, at Jamaica, the . At five q'clock the twelfth day of October, 1702, the President, &c. having finished all the business before the Court, dissolved the same. The Instrument by which Queen Jane was proclaimed Queen of England, &c; setting forth the Reasons of her Claim, and her Right to the Crown. [From the First Edition, in Three Folio Sheets.] Whoever reads the latter part of the Life of Henry the Eighth, will soon be convinced, that he left the succession of the crown so disputable, that it could only be owing to the hand of Providence, that the nation had not for ever after been distracted zvith contrary claims. His divorces from Catharine of Arragon and Anne Sullen; the acts of parliament confirm ing those divorces; other subsequent acts, which seemed to repeal what the first had or dained; the power given to the King, to appoint his successors, and to place them in zvhat order he pleased; and his last will itself so embroiled the affair of the succession, that it was left full of obscurity and contradiction. For, as the makers of these new laws were not swayed zvith justice and equity, and calculated .merely to gratify the ambition and schemes of a prince, who would have taken vengeance on those that should act in opposi tion to his directions, it was not possible to act in such emergencies according to the ancient laws' and customs of the realm. He, after cohabiting with Catharine of Arragon eighteen years, and having several children by her, obliged the Archbishop of Canterbury to pronounce him divorced from her, and his marriage with her to be null and void; but not before he had contracted a second marriage with Anne Bullen, of which he also grew weary; and, accusing his second Queen of adultery, he ordered her t» be beheaded, after he had been also publicly divorced from her. was proclaimed Queen of England, SCc. v 403 His next step was to obtain an act of parliament (1536) to confirm both these divorces, and to declare Mary and Elizabeth, the children of these two marriages, illegitimate, and in capable of succeeding to the crozvn without his special will and appointment. But in an act made in 1544, Mary and Elizabeth were declared successively to inherit the crown after Edward, still allozving the King to impose conditions on these two princesses, without which they could have no right to succeed. And Henry made his last will and testament in the same manner ; by which, preferring Edward to be his immediate successor, he left it as his opinion, that his daughters were illegitimate. Thus far the succession zvas much disturbed; but what still conduced to embroil it more was, the not mentioning in his zvill, the issue of, Margaret, Queen of Scotland, Henry's eldest sister, and placing the children of his younger sister, Mary, Queen Dowager of France, and Duchess of Suffolk, next to his daughter Elizabeth. And, To complete this confusion of claims to the crozvn, Edward the Sixth confirmed the act which declared: Mary and Elizabeth illegitimate; abrogated, by his own authority, the act which gave his father power to settle the succession, and by his own zvill excluded Mary, Eli zabeth, and the Queen of Scotland from the throne, and conveyed the crozvn to lane Grey, by the importunity and ambition of the Duke of Northumberland, who was known to hold Edzvard's council in subjection; and therefore whatever methods were taken before, or after, the young King's death, lo secure and settle lane on the throne, and the drawing up and publishing the following proclamation, must be looked upon as the act and deed of the said Duke, and not to be ascribed to the council. This zvas the state of affairs zvhen Edward the Sixth zvas removed by death ; and by this short recapitulation it may easily be perceived, what a door of divisions and civil wars was opened by Henry the Eighth and his successor. For, according to their acts, and wills, and letters patents, Mary, Elizabeth, the Queen of Scotland, and lane Grey, four princesses, could claim the crown after Edward's death, and each of these princesses could- find in these ' very acts, 8Cc. arguments to oppose the claim of her competitors. Yet only lane, who, though by far the youngest, was not less endozved with the gifts of nature, and prefer able to all her adversaries in the endowments of her mind, and least tainted zvith the am bitious desire of a crozvn, was forced by the importunity of her relations to accept of it, and thereby fell a sacrifice to their ambition; as it is excellently well related by Dr. Heylin, in these words, in his History of the Reformation : " She was eldest daughter of Henry Lord Grey, Duke of Suffolk. Her mother was the Lady Frances, daughter, and, in fine, one of the co-heirs of Charles Brandon, the late Duke of Suffolk, by Mary his wife, Queen Dowager to Lewis the Twelfth of France, and youngest daughter of King Henry the Seventh. She seemed to have been born with those attractions which seat a sovereignty in the face of most beautiful persons ; yet was her mind endued with more excellent charms than the attractions of her face; modest and mild of disposition, courteous of carriage, and of such affable deportment, as might entitle her to the name of Queen of Hearts, before she was designed for Queen over any subjects. " These her native and obliging graces, were accompanied with some more profitable ones of her own acquiring; which set an higher value on them, and much increased the same, both in worth and lustre. Having attained unto that age in which other young ladies used to apply themselves to the sports and exercises of their sex, she wholly gave her mind to good arts and sciences; much furthered in that pursuit by the loving care of Mr. Elmer, under whose charge she came to such a large proficiency, that she spake the Latin and Greek tongues with as sweet a fluency as if they had been natural 404 The Instrument, by which Queen Jane and native to her ; exactly skilled in the liberal sciences, and perfectly well studied in both kinds pf philosophy." Take here a story out of Mr. Ascham's Schoolmaster, page 11, in his own words: " One example, whether love or fear doth work more in a child for virtue or learning, I will gladly report ; which may be heard with some pleasure, and followed with more -profit. Before I went into Germany, I came to Broadgate, in Leicestershire, to take my leave of that noble lady, Jane Grey, to whom I was exceeding much beholding. Her pa rents, the Duke and the Duchess, with all the household, gentlemen and gentlewomen, were hunting in the park; I found her in her chamber, reading Phasdon Platonis in Greek, and that with as much delight as some gentlemen would read a merry tale inBoccace. After salutation, and duty done, with some other talk, I asked her, Why she would lose such pastime in the park ? Smiling, she answered me, I know all their sport in the park is but a shadow to that I find in Plato: alas! good folk, they never felt what true pleasure meant. And how came you, Madam, quoth I, to this deep knowledge, and what did chiefly allure you unto it, seeing not many women, but very few men have attained thereunto ? I will tell you, saith she, and tell you a truth, which perchance you will marvel at. One of the greatest benefits that ever God gave me, is, that he sent me so sharp and severe parents, and so gentle a schoolmaster. For, when I am in presence either of father or mother, whether I speak, keep silence, sit, stand, or go ; eat, drink, be merry, or sad ; be sewing, playing, dancing, or doing any thing else, I must do it, as it were, in such weight, measure, and number, even so perfectly, as God made the world ; or else I am so sharply taunted, so cruelly threatened, yea, presently sometimes, with pinches, nips, and bobs, and other ways (which I will not name, for the honour I bear them) so without measure misordered, that I think myself in hell till the time come that I must go to Mr. Elmer; who teacheth me so gently, so pleasantly, with such fair allurements to learning, that I think all the time nothing, whilst I am with him. And when I am called from him, I fail to weeping, because whatsoever I do else, but learning, is full of grief, trouble, fear, and whole misliking unto me. , And thus my book hath been so much my pleasure, and bringeth daily to me more pleasure and more, that, in respect of it, all other pleasures, in very deed, be but trifles and trou bles unto me. I remember this talk gladly, both because it is so worthy of memory, and because also it was the last talk that ever I had, and the last time that ever I saw that noble and worthy lady." Thus far Mr. Ascham. By this eminent proficiency in nil parts of learning, and an agreeableness in disposition' she became very dear to the young King Edward; to whom Fox not only makes her equal, but doth acknowledge her also to be his superior, in those noble studies. And for an ornament superadded to her other perfections, she was most zealously affected to the true Protestant Religion, then by law established ; which she embraced, not out of any outward compliance with the present current of the times, but because her ozon most ex cellent judgment had been fully satisfied in the truth and purity thereof. All which did so endear Her to the King, that he took great delight in her conversation. Thus lived she in these sweet contentments, till she came unto the years of marriage, when she, that never found in herself the least spark of ambition, zvas 'made the most unhappy instrument of another man's. The proud and aspiring Duke of Northumberland treats with the Duke of Suffolk about a marriage between the Lord Guilford Dudley, his fourth son, and the Lady lane. The marriage is concluded, and, by Northumberland's policy, the crown is transferred from King Edward, to his cousin the Lady lane, his was proclaimed Queen of England, fyc. 405 two sisters, the Lady Mary and Lady Elizabeth, being passed by. Memorable is the speech she made to the tzvo Dukes, zvhen they owned her far Queen, to this effect: " That the laws of the kingdom, and natural right, standing for the King's jsisters" she would beware of burthening her weak conscience with a yoke, which did belong to them : that she understood the infamy of those who had permitted the violation of right to gain a sceptre : that it was to mock God, and deride justice, to scruple at the stealing of a shilling, and not at the usurpation of a crown. Besides (said she) I am not so young, nor so little read in the guiles of fortune, to suffer myself to be taken by them. If she enrich any, it is but to make them the subject of her spoil: if she raise others, it is but to pleasure herself with their ruins. What she adored but yesterday, is to day her pastime. And, if I now permit her to adorn and crown me, I must to-morrow suffer her to crush and tear me in pieces," 8(c. But the am bition of the tzvo Dukes was too strong and violent to be kept down by any such pru dent considerations. So that being wearied at last with their importunities, and over come by the intreaties of her husband, whom she dearly loved, she submitted unto that necessity which she could not vanquish, yielding her head with more unwill ingness to the ravishing glories of a crown, than afterward she did to the stroke of the axe2. Accordingly the Duke of Northumberland declared, in his report to the council, that this good Lady lane zvas so far from aspiring to the crown, as to be rather made to accept of it, by enticement and force. And, The Duke had no sooner obtained Lady lane's consent, but it was resolved that the council should move zvith her into the Tower of London, and that she should be proclaimed in the manner follozving : A proclamation3, zvhich, for its substance, antiquity, curiosity, and scarceness, well deserves the attention of the reader, and to be preserved, in this Mis cellany, from the injuries of time. JANE, by the grace of God, Queen of England, France, and Ireland, Defender of the Faith, and of the Church of England, and also of Ireland, under Christ, in earth the supreme head. To all our most loving, faithful, and obedient subjects, and to every of them, greeting. Whereas our most dear cousin, Edward the Sixth, late King of England, France, and Ireland, Defender of the Faith, and in earth the supreme head, under Christ, of the Church of England and Ireland, by his letters patents, signed by his own hand, and sealed with his great seal of England, bearing date the twenty-first day of June, in the seventh year of his reign, in the presence of the most part of his nobles, his counsellors, judges, and divers others grave and sage personages, for the profit and surety of the whole realm, thereto assenting", and subscribing their names to the same, hath by the same his letters patents recited, that forasmuch as the imperial crown of this realm, by an act made in the thirty-fifth year of the reign of the late King of worthy memory, King Henry the Eighth, our progenitor and great uncle, was, for lack of issue of his body lawfully begotten, and for lack of issue of the body of our said late cousin King Edward the Sixth, by the same act limited and appointed to remain to the Lady Mary, by the name of the Lady Mary, his eldest daughter, and to the heirs of her body lawfully begotten, and, for default of such issue, 1 Mary and Elizabeth. * [A short time before this tragical catastrophe, she wrote a most pathetic and eloquent letter to her father, which has been printed in vol. i. of the enlarged edition of Lord Orford's Royal and Noble Authors, from Harl. MS. 2194.] 3 [An original warrant, signed " Jane the Quene," occurs in Harl. MS. 416; and among the Shelburne State Papers is preserved a letter addressed by her to Lord Northampton, in which she terms Q. Mary " bastard daughter to her great uncle Henry VIII."] 406 The Instrument, by which Queen Jane the remainder thereof to the Lady Elizabeth, by the name of the Lady Elizabeth, his second daughter, and to the heirs of her body lawfully begotten, with such conditions as should be limited and appointed by the said late King of worthy memory, King Henry the Eighth, our progenitor and great uncle, by his letters patents, under his great seal, or by his last will in writing, signed with his hand. And forasmuch as the said limitation of the imperial crown of this realm, being limited (as is aforesaid) to the said Lady Mary and Lady Elizabeth, being illegitimate, and not lawfully begotten, for that the marriage had between the said late King, King Henry the Eighth, our progenitor and great uncle, and the Lady Catharine, mother to the said Lady Mary, and also the marriage had between the said late King, King Henry the Eighth, our progenitor and great uncle, and the Lady Anne, mother to the said Lady Elizabeth, were clearly and lawfully undone, by sentences of divorces, according to the word of God, and the ecclesiastical laws : and which said several divorcements have been severally ratified and confirmed by authority of parliament, and especially in the twenty-eighth year of the reign of King Henry the Eighth, our said progenitor and great uncle, remaining in force, strength, and effect, whereby as well the said Lady Mary, as also the said Lady Elizabeth, to all intents and purposes,. are, and have been clearly disabled, to ask, claim, or challenge the said imperial crown, or any other of the honours, castles, manors, lordships, lands, tenements, or other hereditaments, as heir or heirs to our said late cousin, King Edward the Sixth, or as heir or heirs to any other person or persons whosoever, as well for the cause before rehearsed, as also for that the said Lady Mary and Lady Elizabeth were unto our said late cousin but of the half blood, and therefore, by the ancient laws, statutes, and customs of this realm, be not inheritable unto our said late cousin ; although they had been born in lawful matrimony, as indeed they were not, as by the said sentences of divorce, and the said statute of the twenty eighth year of the reign of King Henry the Eighth, our said progenitor and great uncle, plainly appeareth. And forasmuch also as it is to be thought, or, at the least, much to be doubted, that if the said Lady Mary, or Lady Elizabeth, should hereafter have and enjoy the said imperial crown of this realm, and should then happen to marry a stranger, born out of this realm, , that then the same stranger, having the government and the imperial crown in his hands, would adhere and practise, not only to bring this noble and free realm into the tyranny and servitude of the Bishop of Rome, but also to have the laws and customs of his or their own , native country or countries to be practised, and put in use within this realm, rather than the laws, statutes, and customs here of long time used ; whereupon the title of inheritance of all and singular the subjects of this realm do depend, to the peril of conscience, and the utter subversion of the commonweal of this realm. Whereupon our said late dear cousin, weighing and considering with himself, what ways and means were most convenient to be had for the stay of the said succession in the said imperial crown, if it should please God to call our said late cousin out of this transitory life, having no issue of his body, and Calling to his remem brance that we, and the Lady Catharine, and the Lady Mary, our sisters, being the daughters of the Lady Frances, our natural mother, and then and yet wife to our natural and most loving father, Henry, Duke of Suffolk, and the Lady Margaret, daughter of the Lady Eleanor, then deceased sister to the said Lady Frances, and the late wife, of our cousin Henry, Earl of Cumberland, were very nigh of his Grace's blood, of the part of his father's side, our said progenitor and great uncle, and being naturally born here within the realm, and for the very good opinion our said late cousin had of our, and our said sisters and cousin Margaret's good education, did therefore, upon good deliberation and advice herein had and taken, by his said letters patents declare, order, assign, limit, and appoint, that if it should' fortune himself our said late cousin, King Edward the Sixth, to decease,' having no issue of his body lawfully begotten, that then the said imperial crown of England and Ire land, and the confines of the same, and his title to the crown of the realm of France, and all and singular honours, castles, prerogatives, privileges, pre-eminences, authoritiesjurisd.ictions, dominions, possessions, and hereditaments, to our said late cousin, King Edward the Sixth' or to the said imperial crown belonging, or in anywise appertaining, should, for lack of such was proclaimed Queen of England, Kc: 407 issue of his body, remain, come, and be unto the eldest son of the body of the said Lady Frances, lawfully begotten, being born into the world in his life-time, and to the heirs male of the body of the same eldest son, lawfully begotten, and so from son to son, as he should be of antienty in-birth, of the body of the said Lady Frances, lawfully begotten, being born into the world in our said late cousin's life-time, and to the heirs male of every such son, lawfully begotten ; and for default of such son born into the wold in his life-time, of the body of the said Lady Frances, lawfully begotten, and for lack of heirs male of every such son, lawfully begotten, that then the said imperial crown, and all and singular other the premises, should remain, come, and be to us, by the name of the Lady Jane, eldest daughter of the said Lady Frances, and to the heirs male of our body lawfully begotten, and for lack of such heir male of our body lawfully begotten, that then the said imperial crown, and all other the premises, should remain, come, and be to the said Lady Catharine, our said second sister, and to the heirs male of the body of the said Lady Catharine, lawfully begotten, with divers other remainders, as by the same letters patents more plainly and at large it may and doth appear. Sithens the making of which letters patents, that is to say, on Thursday, which was the sixth day of this instant month of July, it hath pleased God to call to his infinite mercy our said most dear and entirely beloved cousin, Edward the Sixth, whose soul God pardon; and foras much as he is now deceased, having no heirs of his body begotten, and that also there remain at this present time no heirs lawfully begotten of the body of our said progenitor and great uncle, King Henry the Eighth; and forasmuch also as the said Lady Frances, our said mother, had no issue male begotten of her body, and born into the world in the life-time of our said cousin, King Edward the Sixth, so as the said imperial crown, and other the premises to the same belonging, or in any wise appertaining, now be, and remain to us in our actual and. royal possession,by authority of the said letters patents : we do, therefore, by these presents sig nify unto all Our most loving, faithful, and obedient subjects, that, Jike as we for our part shall, by God's grace, shew ourselves a most gracious and benign sovereign Queen and Lady to all our good subjects, in all their just and lawful suits and causes, and to the uttermost of our power shall preserve and maintain God's most holy word, Christian policy, and the good laws, customs, and liberties of these our realms and dominions ; so we mistrust not, but they, and every of them, will again, for their parts, at all times, and in all cases, shew themselves unto us, their natural liege Queen and Lady, most faithful, loving, and obedient subjects, according to their bounden duties and allegiances, whereby they shall please God, and do the thing that shall tend to their own preservations and sureties, willing and commanding all men of all estates, degrees, and conditions, to. see our peace and accord kept, and to be obedient to our laws, as they tender our favour, and will answer for the contrary at, their extreme perils. In witness whereof, we have caused these our letters to be made patents. Witness ourself at our Tower of London, the tenth day of July, in the first year of our reign. God save the Queen. Londini in cedibus Richardi Graftoni Regince d typo- Anno Domini M.D.LIII. graphia excusum. Cum privilegio ad imprimendum solum. 408 KING WILLIAM'S GHOST. [From a Half Sheet Folio, printed in the Year MDCCXL] Gentlemen, THE last time I spoke to you, I told you, you had still one opportunity left, but, if dipped, you should be a miserable people. I was then near my end, God inspired me, I spoke the decrees of fate. What successes ! what triumphs ! have ever since attended your victorious arms ! Your resolution to assert your own and Europe's liberties. But you stand still ! A fiend in the likeness of an Imperial eagle dazzles your eyes. In her right pounce the hereditary countries, in her left the dominions of Italy, in her beak Spain and the West Indies. Be not frighted. Where is her fleet ? How remote is she from your shore ? Where are her manufactures to supplant yours ? The phantom disappears. Your lions are, at any time, an over-match for her disjointed forces. Your good angel comes forth. Behold the Gallican cock and her numerous toads1, three hundred thousand veteran sol diers, thirty thousand experienced officers, a mighty fleet, how distant ? Seven leagues from your coast. Tremble ! But no. Resume your usual courage. Rush in before Cambray. The genius of. France sickens. Push on your bold squadrons, the .toads fly ! Lutetia z surrenders. O blessed day ! I have my wishes ! Now pause a little. Secure the Protestant interest. Give Austria her due, but recompense her helper. Let Holland keep all the strong holds in Flanders, it is your barrier. Reserve Calais your own. Restore to Prussia Orange. Give Portugal Badajox, Gallicia, and Algarve. To Savoy Brianc^on, Mount Dauphine, and Fort Barrau. Erect two bulwarks against France. Let Anjou3 have Navarre, and add it tp Guienne. Lorrain is of the eagle race, his great father was my best friend ; give him Luxemburg- and Alsace, the three bishopricks Burgundy, Bar, and Champagne, he will be your friend for ever. Take for yourselves Panama, and Calloa, Havannah, and Porto-Bello. Burn the Toad's fleet, choak Brest and Toulon's ports. Hang the Pretender, he is not of Stuart's blood. Go home, be happy, rich, and glorious. Three toads were anciently the arms of France. - aris formerly called Lutetia. a Afterwards-King of Spain. 409 An Account of St. Sebastian's, in relation to its Situation, For tifications, Government, Customs, and Trade. By one lately come from thence. [From Twenty-two Pages in Quarto, printed at London, 1700.] ST. Sebastian's, in the province of Guiposcoa, in the kingdom of Castile, is a free town, in manner of a republick ; subject to the crown of Castile, on conditions approved on by the Kings of Spain. And in all their writings they style it, The Most Noble and Most Loyal City of St. Sebastian's. The Kings of Spain have given them this title for the services they did the crown in their wars against the French and Kings of Navarre. The province of Guiposcoa enjoys great privileges, and does not obey the King's orders, when that which is required of them is contrary to the privileges and liberties of the pro vince, which is governed thus : Every year there is a convocation or assembly, whither every town does send their depu ties to concert affairs relating to their county or province. Their meeting is in four different places by turns, and they are called, St. Sebastian's, Tolosa, Aspeitia, and Ascoitia : The head or chief of such as are chosen for the governing this province, is a Judge, called Corrigidor1, who is a Lord-Lieutenant of a county, or Intendant of a province. It is to him the King sends his orders to be executed in the county. Besides this Corrigidor, there is chosen, for the governing the said province, a Deputation, so called by the Spaniards, consisting of several representatives of the several places in the said province, who have power of refusing the King's orders served to them by the Corrigidor, if any such orders, or commission, presented them, are against thefrights of the Deputation, or places whom they represent ; but if the King's commission, or orders to the Corrigidor, do not contradict the rights of the Deputation, they let him put them in execution to the full. For example, When the King asks of the said province to supply him with a certain number of men, either landmen or seamen, the Corrigidor serves the King's orders to the province, and ac quaints the Deputation ; they tell him they are a free people, and that they cannot oblige any inhabitant to leave his family to serve the King ; but, when they find that the demand is not against their liberties and rights, they are so civil to give the King leave to order a drum to be beat, and they will not oppose it ; otherwise they do as in the case of the Corrigidor, Duke Corsano, a few years ago, who requiring of this province of Guiposcoa, and in par ticular of the city of St. Sebastian's, some things contrary to their privileges (which I shall not mention), they presented their Leij Secundo, or charter, in one hand, and a sword in the other, with orders to him in four hours to leave the province ; the Duke was fain to scour for it. The government of thecity of St. Sebastian's, whose magistrates are chosen once a year, about a week before Christmas, is thus : There are about an hundred electors, who must be qualified as you will hear hereafter, for nobody can be of the government of St Sebastian's, nor of. the province, nor indeed of the least village, till he has proved his Higuidalquir, viz. that he is noble. Their magistrates are chosen thus : * i. e. Judge or Sheriff. VOL. I. 3 G 410 An Account of St. Sebastians. There is a great silver bowl, into which are put, confusedly, all the electors' names : the first eight, which a boy (like one of our blue-coat boys) takes out, are those who are to be Alcaijde, Subalcaijde, and Syndect, i. e. magistrates and jurates for the following year. These eight name, every one of them, one to be Alcaijde and Subalcaijde ; the first two of these eight, the boy takes out, are Alcaijde and Subalcaijde ; the first Alcaijde, the se cond Subalcaijde ; and so after the same manner of the Syndect and other officers. Notwithstanding this fair way of choosing their magistrates, there is faction and interest made to get in their friends into the magistracy; they are generally very poor, despising in dustry and arts ; and when they come to govern, or to be Alcaijde, have opportunities of exacting even upon their own people as well as strangers, and which they make no scruple of doing in the face of the world. I could relate several particulars to rhy knowledge, but that I should expose them too much; and, indeed, it would hardly be believed- that such tricks and little things were practised in Spain, where every one, from the highest to the lowest, value themselves on their families, nobility, and punctilios of honour. In order to be thus qualified to get into the government (as I said before), • They must be noble. Their nobility is thus: not to have had any of their kindred a Jew, Moor, Turk, or Heretic. And, to prove this, the person that would be of the government, presents a request to the province of Guiposcoa, in which is explained his intention, and asks to be a Cavallero Dillegenzero2, viz. that his birth and estate may be enquired into, in order to his being made a nobleman. The province or town orders their Syndect, whose business it is to enquire into his family (and for which he has a pistole a day) to go to the place of his birth along with him, and there take both private as well as public informations of his family, which afterwards he re ports to the province or magistrates of the place, where such a 6ne. Would be of the govern ment ; if the report is allowed, the Cavallero Dillegenzero is declared noble. Besides these qualifications already mentioned, There is one yet very remarkable, and without it, if they were descended from Caesar's or AchiilesTs race, they cannot be noble, viz. If they live, or are to live in town, they must have a house of their own, or else they must have land enough in the province whereon they have two thousand apple-trees, or whereon they may raise two thousand apple-trees, and then the Cavallero Dillegenzero is admitted, or made capable of being admitted into the government. No man can be noble by his wife, or by her estate. The town of St. Sebastian's is seated on the south side, and at the bottom of a high htUk of free-stone, in a square form; the town is hid by the hill, as you make towards theland> and is not to be seen till you are in the road. There are two gates, that- of the Peer, and the other that is called the Pas'sage-Gate, from which goes a road to Passage, a noble harbour: there is a horn-work with a ravelin before it, that covers tbe Passage-Gate, and but very ordinary, and in ill repair, and out of all due proportion. The castle upon the: top of the hill stands prettily, a noble prospect from it all along that part of the Bay of Biscay, from Cape Martinchauco to Arkason and Cape-Britton, in France. The going up, or access to this castle, is difficult, which adds to the strength of it, and, I think, all that can be justly said of this castle is this. Although the Spaniard* are extreme proud of it, and quote you Charlequin, who said in praise of it (if you will be lieve them) that, if he should lose ail Spain, and had only the castle of St.. Sebastian's, fw would recover it. The castle was blown up by the magazine's taking fire, but is now rebuilt, aud in gdod 1 A candidate for an honourable employment, An Account of St. Sebastians. 411 repair ; all the water in the castle is rain-water, which is conveyed into a well by leaden pipes from the roof of the guard-room, and barracks, which are indeed very fine, and ca pable of lodging two thousand men conveniently. The garrison at present consists of a serjeant and six men, which by detachment from the main guard (which does not consist of above twelve, besides a Governor, Captain, Lieutenant, and Ensign), is relieved every day by the like number, and by sometimes a lesser. The soldiers are all beggars, and, if a stranger refuses to give them something, they contrive to do him mischief. • There are two platforms mounted with guns, I suppose designed to secure the harbour, and play on ships that, would force themselves into the road; they are too high to be of any use to them, as well as the castle for this purpose. In the mouth of the harbour there is a hill called St. Claire, where there was, three months ago, a hermit of the order of St. Francis, who tells twenty legends and stories, and helps to fill the casks with wine; as he must live by begging, so the poor fellow will be every day as drunk as a beggar : for this reason, they say, they turned him out of his cell ; but it is rather believed it was to make room for one that is now there, agentleman of a considerable estate in the kingdom of Castile; for reasons, he has his estate taken from him, and is confined to this island as a hermit, to beg his bread for fourteen years, and then returns to his estate again. The church and clergy enjoy his estate in the mean time. All that die hereticks are buried here; when the corpse is carried out of town to be wafted over to this island to be buried, the mob of men and women follow, insulting over the corpse, crying aloud, ' He goes to hell.' The hermit has the benefit of the ground on his island, and sells it as he thinks fit. To give the clergy their due, they are not so troublesome to strangers when they are sick and dying, although hereticks, with their extreme unction and wafers, as in France. The coming into the road, and over the Bar of St. Sebastian's is difficult, unless with a leading wind; a great rock lying under water in the middle of the Bar. But, to run no hazard, the pilots will force themselves on board of you; which is com mendable enough, if it was not on design to impose upon you, and make one pay what they please, and no help for it, and no justice done, if you complain. The Consul and merchant strangers, residing at St. Sebastian's, have brought them to some better reason, and to composition, but, for all that, it is still as they please. Every fisherman looks upon himself as good as Signior Alcaijde himself: so that a man must sit down under all affronts and hardships, and be quiet. Their way of living at- St. Sebastian's. People that are of the better sort, and distinguishable, after having enjoyed the musick of serenading a little before day, tbey get up and drink chocolate, without which they will not stir abroad if their house was on fire; then they take, both men and women, a great deal of pains with their hair, dress themselves, and go to church; they and their priests under stand what they pray fo God for, much alike, for not one in twenty of their clergy under stands Latin. After mass the men go to the Peer, where they tarry till eleven of the clock; then they go to the middle of the town, called the Four Corners, where they stay till twelve: after it has struck, if it was to save the town, they would not stay a minute longer, and oftentimes break off in the middle of a story or sentence, to go home to their Olio. The first thing presented at their tables is a chocolate cup of soup, or the gravy of meat boiled; and bread crumbled into it, served upon earthen platters; then comes the roast meat, then the boiled, and at last the dessert. They give this reason for bringing the roast meat before the boiled (which seems plausible enough) : the best of the boiled- meat, say they, is in the broth, and there is more substance and nourishment in the roast than the boiled ; for that reason, this would pass, if 412, Ail Account of St. Sebastians. they did not spoil their roast meat and fowl, by over-doing of them, and roasting them dry as they do their boiled meat, by boiling it to pieces. But most people think it is rather in opposition to the rest of the world; for they shew it almost in every little thing else: cider they have cheap, and abundance of sweet apples, very large all round the country. The corn of the country "is Indian corn, and no other.. With wheat they are supplied from the Sound, and sometimes from Barbary, and often from England. They have been so hard put to it this last year, that they have been forced to make bread of chesnuts, which is the reason they are prohibited to be exported. They have, extraordinary good rabbits of Navarre, and wild-fowl plenty; their pigeons are much esteemed, and their red partridges of Arragon are excellent and large. Fish they have plenty, and of good sorts, if they will be at the pains to catch it; and if the sea (which with a north-west blowing wind flies high on the Bar, and even up almost to the top of the island St. Claire, about six hundred feet) will permit: the sea oftentimes in the harbour flies to the top of the walls forty feet high and more. Wheri the fishermen come from sea with their boats, their wives are sitting on the Peer with their husbands' cloaks and long spadas, or long rapiers; the husband walks in state into the town, and his wife carries the basket of fish on her head to the market-place and sells them. Billingsgate language and noise is nothing to what. the fishermen and apple- women make at St. Sebastian's : they are always quarrelling, and will cuff heartily, and will not be friends under a week. Their common language is Basque; which is as much different from Spanish, as Welch from English. Their houses are lofty and stately, only covered with pantiles; and because of great un expected squalls of wind, which happen here often, they lay great stones on the pan tiles to keep them fast ; sometimes both stones and pan-tiles are fetched down by storms of wind and, their streets being narrow, it is dangerous then to walk in them. Their rooms are large, and there is only one chimney in a house of five rooms of a floor, and four or five stories high, and that at the top of the house. They live all winter in the upper stories to enjoy the benefit of the sun, and in the lower rooms in summer. It is very hot here • the reflection of the sun from the castle-hill on one hand, and from the* sand in the vale on the other, is the cause that it is hotter here than in many other places of a more southern lati tude. Their beds are finely carved and gilt, but very hard to lie on ; their curtains are of linen laced at every half-yard broad, but not wide enough to draw round the bed • they have few or no glass windows, only lattices ; their beds stand all in alcoves. ' . Merchant strangers, unless married with a Spanish woman, have not the liberty to hire houses, but must get one of the town to hire them, and live in it with him, and they gene rally go snacks with the merchants in their profits. From dinner they go to sleep till two or three, and then go out of town between the Horn-work and the Town-wall ; there they tarry all the afternoon, either playing, or look- - ing on those that play at tennis and nine-pins. Their tennis-court is in the open air and rough paved, yet they are very expert in tossing the ball. ' ' In the winter they pass their time till eight- of the clock at night in private houses or at an assembly, where every one, that comes in, pays six-pence ; he may either pick un a party to play at cards, or sit and see others play and talk, and call for three or four classes of wine. If they stay beyond eight, the Mayor sends his algosins, and makes money of the company, as well as of him that entertains them, after such an hpur. Sometimes trp clock strikes eight, when it is but seven, if the Mayor wants a little money Tlie men are very tight in their Spanish garb, their long spadas, their silk stocking and slashed shoes; the women, modestly and oddly attired, all of them eo vailed tr i ' vails being very large, gathered at the bottom in such a manner, that, as they walk' their vails sit as full-blown about them, as the sails of a ship, before the wind ¦" their Dettiroat are proportionable, and the ladies, who generally all sit on the ground or' floor have mrS an address, when they sit down, to fling their petticoats out in a round, that, modestly sneak mg, they take up more room than any millstone in England does in circumference and trj An Account of St; Sebastians. 413 wind gathered under their coats, by the turn they make, is so long getting out, that, by de grees, as their coats fall, they find a cool breeze that is very refreshing to them, in so hot a climate. They seldom stir abroad, the better sort, but to church ; and even hot then, with out a great deal of jealousy of an ill-natured husband. They have protty faces, black eyes, and would look about them, as women do, in other countries, if they durst. The priests are the only happy men that enjoy the ladies' company, who are about eighty in all ; their revenue is but small ; they live merry lives, eat and drink of the best, in pri vate houses, where they are always welcome : few Or none of them, but have three or four children, and no reflection on them. When a priest would lie with a woman, he absolves her from the great scruple women make, of whoredom's being a great, sin: he tells her, he will take that sin to himself. As for the other scruple that women have, of losing their reputation and spoiling their fortunes, there is no such thing amongst them : for, if a man gets a woman with child, that does not pass for a prostitute, he is only to keep the child, and give the wench a portion, (if she has nothing of her own,) who marries and is not a bit the worse looked upon. Women have another advantage in this country ; for, after they are contracted, and all matters settled, and the day of marriage agreed on, she has the liberty to desire her bride-. groom to come and shew himself a man : and if she does not find him to her satisfaction, the contract is void, and she is a good maid still. They bring up some of their young women to play on the Spanish harp, for which they let their nails grow so long, that it looks strangely. They do not allow of any bawdy-houses, but every street, in a dark night, serves their turn ; and he must look to himself that disturbs them, or spoils sport. Every Sunday and holiday, the ordinary sort of them have a dance on the market place, thus ; There are three drums and pipes; the drum-major who has the biggest drum, which is about the bigness of a child's drum, is the common hangman ; there they whistle with one hand, and beat their drums with the other, till there is a ring made, when one of the nim blest of the fellows goes into the middle of the ring, shews his activity, takes out of the ring a, wench, she her mate, and so it goes round ; tlie first fellow leads the brandle, and all dance and shew their parts for an hour. The coopers, who are numerous here, on St. Andrew's- Day, their patron, go a masquerading all day, and play twenty tricks ridiculous enough, and would not work that day for any reward; but they make it up at other times, for they are at work before day. The country all round abounds with oak, proper for the staves, and chesnut trees, of which they make the hoops for casks; there is also a great number of casks made in the country, and at Passage, and brought to St. Sebastian's empty on mules. There is, near to the town; the convent of St. Austin, a nunnery of women, where there is to be seen the corpse of a woman dead hundreds of years ago ; her arms, legs, and face appear as full, as if she had been buried but yesterday ; she looks tawny, and I believe has been served mummy-like. When they were digging the foundation of this monastery, they found this corpse, which they pray to. The chief trade of the town is iron, WJne, and oil. Their iron mills are near to the town, and their iron, bars are brought to the town on horses or mules, on crooksaddles, to the publick magazine, which is under the town-hall, where constant attendance is given for receiving them out of the country, and delivering and weighing them to the buyer. Our tin-men in Cornwall are here supplied with their stamps, and other utensils for the carrying on their work. All other merchandizes, except iron, are drawn on sledges, by two oxen, in and out of the town. They deal somewhat in train-oil and whale-bone. They have some ships that go to the northward a. whale-fishing: besides, they catch some in sight of the castle; and in order to this, some months in the year, they hire a man that looks out continually from the top of the 'hill, betwixt St. Sebastian's and Passage,, who, when he sees a whale or bottle-nose-, 414 An Account of St. Sebastian's. makes a sign to the castle; the cenrinel, from the castle, advertises, by his bell, the town; ^immediately the fishermen upon that go forth to the prey. There was a bottle-nose about the bigness of that which was brought up to Greenwich, brought into St. Sebastian's in November last, out of whom they got a great quantity of that which they call spernia-ceti : the flesh was boiled to oil. They have also some trade to Newfoundland, but with that sort of fish, Cabelau they call it, they are better supplied from other nations than by their own ships. The great quantity of pilchards, caught on the coast of Galicia, is a mighty help to this part of Spain, of which they are great lovers, and are in more esteem with them than herrings. > But the more remarkable trade of the town at present, and that which brings most money to the town, is the wine trade. .The late war with France, from whence we were supplied with their excellent Graye Medoc and Pontack wines, occasioned our parliament to put such a great duty on French wines, and other liquors of the growth of France, that merchants have looked out how to be supplied otherwise, that they may pay easier duties ; and, luckily, they have light upon a spot of ground, called the Spanish Navarre, of which Pampelone, Ablitas, and Villa Franca are the chief towns, that afford us as good wines as any French wines ; and the Spaniards of late, both at St. Sebastian's, Passage, Fontarabia, and Guitaria, finding such a demand for wines, and considerable profit by them, have improved their vineyards to so great a degree, both in quantity as well as quality of good wines, that their improvement equals, if not exceeds that of Portugal; which, before the war, was not able to furnish us with above three or four hundred pipes in a year, and now there are above ten thousand pipes a year imported from thence, which appears from the Custom-house books. This will not be allowed by some, but it is very true ; one shall see at St. Sebastian's mules by hundreds, loaden with wine in hog-skins ; three skins upon a mule, containing ten gallons each, come every day into town, Sunday not excepted; all this is unloaden in the magazines and sorted, and next day put into casks ; the mules carry away the empty skins into the country for more. This is not only done at St. Sebastian's, but also at Fontarabia, Passage, and Guitaria ; from these places they come to St. Sebastian's in barques and barcelongos, because' of the conveniency of sea-carriage, in casks, and are lodged in merchants' cellars ready for the buyer. The truth of all this is so well known in England, from the care the commissioners of the customs took, in sending over two of their officers to examine into the truth of it, and from some trials at the Exchequer bar, that it cannot be further questioned. Besides, for all wines shipped off from St. Sebastian's, the masters of ships are obliged to take certificates from the Mayor and Consul, as a sufficient testimony that their wines are of the growth of Navarre, in his Catholick Majesty's dominions, given under the great seal of the Most Noble and Most Loyal City of St. Sebastian's. And undersigned by their sworn master cooper, Signipr Nicola and his assistants, that the very casks are made by them. 415. Elynovr Rvmmin ; the famous Ale- Wife of Bngland. Written by Mr. Skelton, Poet-Laureat to King Henry the Eighth. [From an Edition printed at London, for Samuel Rand, 1624.] Henry the Eighth's Reign abounded zvith poetical productions, published in loose sheets, and other forms in small pamphlets, amongst zvhich writers lohn Skelton zvas one of the most remarkable ; and, though he' is deservedly commended for his other zvorks, yet the most comical of all his pamphlets is this of Elynour Rumniin1, the famous ale-zoife of England, &"c. containing two sheets and a half in quarto, zvith the picture in the title-page, and the like on the last page, representing an old ill-favoured woman2, holding in her hand a pot of ale, and underzvritten zvith these verses : When Skdlton zvore the lazvrell crozvne, My ale put all the ale-zciues downe. HHO all tapsters and tiplers, X And all ale-house vitlers, Inne-keepers, and cookes, That for pot-sale lookes,- And will not giue measure, But at your owne pleasure, Contrary to law, Scant measure will draw, In pot, and in canne, To cozen a man Of his full quart a penny, Of you there's too many : For in King Harry's time, When I made this rime, Of Elynour Rummin, With her good ale tunning ; Our pots, were full quartedr We were not thus thwarted^ With froth-canne and nick-pot, And such nimble quick-sliot, That a dowzen will score, For twelue pints, and no more. Full Winchester gage, We had in that age ; The Dutchman's strong beere Was not hopt ouer heere., To us 'twas unknowne; Bare ale of our owne,, In a bowle, we might" bring, To welcome the king, And his grace to beseech, With " Wassal my ljege." Nor did that time know To puff and to blow In a peece of white clay, As you do at this day, With fier and coale, And a leafe in a hole; As my ghost hath late scene, As I walked betweene Westminster- Hall And the church of St. Paul, And so.thorow the citie, Where I saw and did pitty My countrymen's cases, With fiery-smoake faces, Sucking and drinking A fylthie weede stinking Was ne'er known before Till the devil,- and tlie More, In th' Indies did meete, And each other there greete,- With a health they desire Of stinke, smoake, and fier. But who e'er, doth abhorre it, The city smoakes for it ; 1 [She sold ale near Leatherhead in Surrey, says Aubrey in his Antiquities of that coiinty. See passus primus; She ijWeft in Sothray, By side iLederhede.'] 1 [On account of its extreme rarity, this frightful witch-like effigy was republished by Richardson, from a title-page in the cathedral library of Lincoln : and the republication drew from Mr. Steevens a copy of sarcastic verses, intitled, "Ekonora Redlvivc" printed in the European Magazine, for May 1794.] 416' Elynovr Rvmmin, the famous Ale-Wife of London. Now full of fier-shops, And fowle spitting-chops, So neesing and coughing, That my ghost fell to scoffing, And to my selfe said, Here's fylthie fumes made : Good physicke of force To cure a sick horse. Nor'had we such slops, / And shagge-haire on our tops : At wearing long haire, King Harry would sweare, And gaue. a command, With speede out of hand, All heads should be powl'd, Aswell young as old, And his owne was first so, Good ensample to show. Y'are so out of fashion, . I know not our nation, Your ruffes and your bands, And your cuffes at your hands , Your pipes and your smoakes And your short curtail clokes ; Scarfes, feathers, and swerds, And thin bodkin beards; Your wastes a span long, Your knees with points hung, Like morris-daunce bels, And many toyes els, Which much I distate. But Skelton's in haste. My masters, farewell, Reade ouer my Nell, And tell what you thinke Of her and her drinke ; If she had brew'd amisse, I had neuer wrote this. The Tunning of Elynovr of Rvmmin. TELL you I chill, If that you will A while be still, Of a merry gyll, That dwelt pnnill, But she is not grill : For she is somewhat sage, And well worne in age, For her visage It would asswage A man's courage. - Her lothly leere Is nothing cleere, But ugly of eheere, Droupy and drowsie, Scurvy and lowsie, Her face all bowsie ; Comely cryncled, Wondrously wrinckled, Like a roast pigge's ear, Bristled with haire, 'Her lewd lips twaine, They slauer, men sayne, Like a ropie rayne. A gummy glaire, She is vgly faire, Her nose somedeale hooked. And camously crooked, Neuer stopping, But euer dropping; Her skin loose and slacke, Grain'd like a sacke, With a crooked backe ; Her eyne gowndy, Are full vnsoundy, For they are bleared, And she gray-haired, Jawed like a jetty, A man would haue pitty, To see how shee's gum'd, Finger'd and thumb'd, Gently joynted, Greas'd and annointed Up to the knuckels, The bones her buckets , Together made fast, Her youth is farre past. Footed like a plane, Legged like a crane, And yet she will jet, Like a jolly set, In her furred flocket, And gray russet rocket, With symper the cocket. Her huke of Lyncolne greene, It had bin hers I weene More then fortie yeare ; And so it doth appeare, The greene bare threeds Lboke like, seere weedes, Elynovr Rvmmin, the famous Ale-Wife of London. 417 Wither'd like hay, The wooll worne away; And yet, I dare say, She thinks her selfe gay, Upon the holyday, When she doth her aray, And girdeth in her geetes, Stitched with pleetes ; Her kirtill Bristow red, With.clothes on her hed, That waigh a sow of lead. Writhen in a wonder-wise, After the Sarsan's guise, With a whim-wam, Knit with a trim-tram, Upon her brain-pan, Like an Egyptian Capped about, ' When she goeth out Her selfe for to shew, She driueth downe the dew With a paire of heels, As broad as two wheeles ; She hobbles like a goose, With her blanked hose, Her shoone smeer'd with tallow ^f. ,}j£ 3|£ ^ 3f£ 3j£ Jfc ' 3/fc Greased vpon dyrt, That baudeth her skirt. Primus Passus. AND this comely dame, I understand her name Is Elynour Rummin, At home in her wonning, And as men say, She dwelt in Sothray, In a certain steed, By side Lederhede. Shee is a tonnish gib, The deuill and she be sib. But to make up my tale, Shee brueth nappy ale, And make thereof pot-sale. , To trauellerS and tinkers, To sweaters and swinkers, And all good ale drinkers, That will nothing spare, But drinke till they stare, And bring themselues bare, With now away the mare, And let vs sley care, As wise as an hare. Come who so will, To Elynour on the hill, - With fill the cup, fill, And sit thereby still, Early and late ; Thither comes Kate, Cisly, and Sare, With their legs bare, And also their feete, Hardly unsvveet ; With their heeles dagged, Their kirtles all 'to jagged, Their smockes all to ragged ; VOL. I. WTith titters and tatters, Bring dishes and platters, With all their might running, To Elynour Rummin, To haue of her tunning. Shee giues them of the same, And thus begins the game ;. Some wenches unbraced, And some all unlaced, With their naked paps, Their flips and flaps, ' It wigs and it wags, Like tawny saffron bags"; A sort of foule drabs, All scuruie with scabs, Some be flye-bitten, Some skew'd like a kytten. Some, with a shoe-clout, Binde their heads about ; Some haue no haire-lace, Their lockes about their face> Their tresses untrust, All full of u nl ust ; Some looke stravvry, Some cawry mawry 5 Some vntydie tegges, Like rotten egges ; Such a lewd sort, To Elynour resort, From tide to tide, Abide, abide, And to you shall be told, How her ale is sold To mawte and to mold. 3 H 418 Elynovr Rvmmin, the famous Ale-Wife of London. Secundus Passus. SOME haue no money, That thither commy For their ale to pay, That is a shrewd aray : Elynour swears nay, Ye bear not away My ale for nought. By him that me bought; With hey dogge, hey, Haue these dogges away ; With get me a staffe, The swine eat all my draffe, Strike the hogs with a club, They haue drunke up my tub ; For be there neuer so much prese, The swine go to the hy dese : The sowe with her pigges, The bore his taile wrigges, Against the high bench, With fough, . here's a stench : Gather up then, wench ; Seest .thou not what's fall, Take up dirt and all, And beare out of the hall ; God give it ill preeuing, Clenly as euiH chieuing : But let vs turn plaine, Where we left againe, For as ill. a patch as that, The hens run in the mash-fat ; For they goe to roust, Straight ouer the ale ju§t, And dong, when it comes., In the ale-iunnes.: Then Elynour taketh The mash-boule,. and shaketh The hens dong away, And scomes it in a tray Where the yeast is, With her mangie fistis : And sometimes she blens, The dong of her hens And the ale together; And saies/ gossip,, come hither, This ale shall be thjcker, And flower the quicker ; For I may tell you, I learn'd it of a Jew, When I began to brew, And I have found it trew. Drinke now, while it is new; And ye may it brooke, It shall make you looke Yonger than you be, Yeares two or three, For you may proue it by me ; Behold, I say, and see How bright I am of blee, Ich am not cast away, That can my husband say : When we kisse and play, In lust and liking, He cals me his whiting, His mulling and his mittine, His nobes and his eonny, His sweeting and honny, With basse, my pretty bonny, Thou art worth gtiod and mony ; This make I my falyre Fanny, Till he dreame and dronny : For, after all our sport, Then will he rout and snort ; Then sweetly together we lye, As two pigges in a ;stye : To cease me, seemeth best, Of this tale to rest, And leaue this letter, Because it is no better: Because 'tis no sweeter, We will no farther rime Of it at this time ; But we wilt turne plaine, Where we left againe. Tertius Passus. INSTEEDE of quoine and mony, Some bring her a conny, And some a pot with honny ; Some a salt, some a spone, Some their hose, some their shoone ; Some rvn a good trot, With skillet or pot ; Some fill a bagge full Of good Lemster wooH. Elynovr Rvmmin, the famous Ale-Wife of London. 410 An huswife of trust, When she is a-thirst ; Such a web can spin, Her thrift is full thin* . Some go straight thither, Be it slaty or slidder, They hold the high-way, They care not what men say, Be they as be may. Some, loth to be espide, Start in at the backside, Ouer hedge and pale, And all for good ale. Some run till they sweat, And bring malt or wheat, And Elynour entreate, To byrle them of the best. Then comes another guest, She swear'd by the rood of rest, Her lips are so dry, Without drinke she must die, Therefore fill by-and-by, And haue her pecke of rye. Anon, comes another, As dry as the t'other, And with her doth bring, Meale, salt, or other thing, Girdle, or wedding-ring, Tq pay for her sept, As comes to her lot.. Some bring their husbands hood, Because the ale is good ; Another brought his dap To offer at the ale-tap, With flaxe and with towe, And some brought sower dowe, „ With hey and with hoe, Sit we down arow, And drink till we blow, And pipe tirly, tirly lowe. Some lai'd to pledge Their hatchet and their wedge, Their hickell and their reele, Their rocke and spinning-wheele ; And some went so narrow, They laid to pledge their wharrow, Their ribskin and spindle, Their needle and thimble : Heere was scant thrift, When they made such shift : Their thirst was so great, They neuer asked for meat, But drinke, still drinke, And let the cat winke ; Let us wash our gummes. From the dry crummes. Quartus Passus. SOME, for very need, Lay down a skaine of threed, Some beanes and pease, Some chaffer doth ease ; Sometime, now and than, Another there ran, With a good brasse pan, ,„ Her cullour full wan ; Shee ran in all haste, Unbrac'd and unlaste, Tawny, swart, and sallow, Like a cake of tallow, I swear by All-hallow, It was a stare to take The deviU in a brake. Then came halting Jone, And brought a gambpne Of bacon that was restie ; But Lord how testie, Angry and waspie, She began to yawns and gaspie, And bad Elynour goe bet, And fill in good met, It was deere that Was farre fet. Another brought a spicke,; Of a bacon slicke, Her tongue was very quieke, But she spake somewhat "thicke. Her fellow did stammer and sfut, But she was a foule slut; For her mouth foamed, And her belly groaned. Jone saine she had eaten a fyest ; ' Queane (quoth she) thou Jyest, I haue as sweet a breath, As thou, whh shamefull death.' Then Elynovr said, ' Ye callets, I shall breake your pallets, Without you now cease, And so was made a drunken peace. 420 Elynovr Rvmmin, the famous Ale-Wife of London. Then came drunken Ales, And she was full of tales Of tidings in Wales, And St. James in Gales And of the Portingales ; With loe gossip I wis, Thus and thus it is ; -There hath beene' great warre Between Temple-Barre, And the Crosse in Cheape, And there came a heape Of mill-stones in a rout ; Shee speaketh thus in her snout, Sniueling in her nose, As though she had the pose, Loe here is an old tippet, You shall giue me a sippet* Of your strong ale, And God send good sale ; And as she was drinking, Shee fell in a winking With a barlyhood, Shee pist where she- stood ; Then began shee to weepe, And forthwith fell a-sleepe : Elynour took her up, And blest her with a cup Of new ale in cornes, Ales found therein no thornes, But supt it up at once, Shee found therein no bones. Quintus Passus. NOW in commeth another rable, First one with a ladle, Another, with a cradle, And with a side-sadle, . And there.began a fable, A clattering and a bable, Of foles .silly, That had a fole with Willy, With jast you and gup gilly, She could not lie stilly. Then came in a gennet, And sware by Saint Bennet, I drank not, this sennet, A draught to my pay ; Elynour, I thee pray, Of thy ale let me assay, And haue here a pelch of gray ; I wear skins of conny, . That causeth I looke so donny. Another then did hitch-her, And brought a pottell-picher, A tonnell and a bottell, But she had lost the stoppell; She cut of her shpoe-sole, And stopt therewith the hole. Among all tbe blommer, Another brought a scommer, A frying-pan, and- slice, ' Elynour made the price For good ale each whit. Then start iri mad Kit, That had little wit, Shee seemed some-deale seeke, And brought a penny che eke, To dame Elynour, For a draught of liquour. Then Margery milke-ducke Her kirtle did up tucke, An ynch aboue her knee, Her fegges'that ye might see; But they were sturdy and stubled, Mighty pestles and clubbed, As faire and as white As the foote of a kite ; She was some-what foule, Crooked-neck'd like an owle, And yet she brought her fees, A cantle of Essex cheese, Was well a foot thicke, Full of magots quicke ;- v It was huge and great, And mighty strong meat, For the Deuill to eat, It was tart and punicate. Another sort of sluts ; Some brought walnuts, Some apples, some peares, And some tlieir clipping-sheares Some brought this and that, Some brought I wot nere what, Some brought their husbands hat : Some puddings and linkes, Some tripe that stinkes. But of all this throng, One came them among; ¦i<;'' Shee seem'd hahV a leach, And began to preach Elynovr Rvmmin, the famous Ale-Wife of London. 421 Of the Tuesday in the weeke, When the mare doth kicke ; The vertue of an unset leeke, And her husbands breeke ; With the feathers of a quaile, She could to bord onsaile, And, with good ale-barme, She could make a charme, To helpe withall a stitch ; She seem'd to be a witch ; Another brought two goslings, That were naughty froslings, Some brought them in a wallet, She was a comely callet ; The goslings were vntide, El'nour began to chide, They be wrethocke thou hast brought, And shire-shaking nought. Sextus Passus. MAUD ruggie thither skipped, She was ugly hipped, And ugly thicke lipped, Like an onyon sided, Like tah'd-leather hided,- She had her so guided, Betweene the cup and the wall, She was there-withall Into a palzie fall : With that her head shaked, And her hands quaked ; One's heart would have aked, To have seen her naked ; She dranke so of the dregs, The dropsie was in her legs ; Her face glistring like glasse, All foggie fat she was : She had also the gout In all her joints about, Her breath was sower and stale, And smelled all of ale, Such a bed- fellaw Would make one cast his craw ; But yet, for all that, She dranke on the mash-fat : There came an old ribibe, She halted of a kibe, And had broken her shin, At the threshold comeing in, And fell so wide open, One might see her token, The Devill thereon be wroken, What need all this be spoken ; She yelled like a calfe : « Rise up on God's halfe;' Said Elynour Rummin,. « I beshrew thee for comming ;' As she at her did plucke, * Quacke, quacke,' said the ducke In that lampatram's lap,. With fie, couer the shap, With some flip-flap ; God give it ill hap, Said Elynour for shame, Like an honest dame : Up she "start halfe lame, And scantly could goe, For paine and woe. In came another dant, With a goose and a gant ; Shee had a wide wesant, She was nothing pleasant, Necked like an elephant, It was a bullifant, A greedy cormorant Another brought garlike-heads, Another brought her beads, Of jet or of cole, To offer to the ale pole : Some brought a wimble, And some brought a thymble ; Some brought a silke lace, And some a pin-case ; Some: her husband's gowne, Some a pillow of downe ; And all this shift they make For the good ale sake. Then start forth a phisgigge, And she brought a bore-pigge, The flesh thereof was ranke, And her breath strongly stanke ; Yet ere she went she dranke, And gate her great thanke Of Elynour, for her ware, That she thither bare, To pay for her share. Now truly, to my thinking, This was a solemne drinking. 422 Elynovr Rvmmin, the famous Ale-Wife of London. Septimus Passus. ' SOFT,* quoth one hight Sibbill, ' First let me with you bibbill ;' Shee sate down in the place, With a sorry face, Whey-wormed about, Garnished was her snout, With here and there a puscull, Like a scabbed muscull : ' This ale,' said she, ' is noppy,' Let us sipp and soppy, And not spill a droppy, For so mote I hoppy, It cooleth well'my coppy.' ' Dame Elynour,' said she, * Haue, here is for me, A clout of London pins ;' And with that she begins The pot to her plucke, And dranke a good lucke, She swing'd up a quart At once for her part : Her paunch was so puffed, And so with ale stuffed, , Had she not. hyed a pace, , She had defiled. the place. Then began the sport Amongst the drunken sort, * Dame Elynour,' said, they, * Lend here a locke of hay, To make all things dearie ; You wot well what I meane.' But, sir, among all That sate in that hall, There was a prick-me-dainty ' Sate like any sainty, And began to painty, As though she would fainty ; She made it as coy As a lege de moy, She was not halfe so wise As she was peeuish nice ; . She said neuer a word, But rose from the bord, And "called for our dame, Elynour by name. We supposed, I wis, That she rose to pisse : But the very ground Was to compound With Elynour in the spence, To pay for her expence. ' I haue no penny nor groat, To pay,' said she, * God wot, For washing of my throat : But my beades of amber, Beare them to your chamber,' Then Elynour did them hide Within her bed-side; But some sate right sadA That nothing had, There of their owne, , Neither gelt nor pawne ; Such were there menny, That had not a penny : But, when they should walke, Were faine with a chalke, To score on the balke : - Or score on the taile, God give it. ill haife, For my fingers itch, I haue written to mych, Of this mad mumming Of Elynour Rummin. Thus endeth the gest Of this worthy feast. Skellon's Ghost to the Reader. THUS, countrymen kinde, I pray let me fiiide, For this merry glee, No hard censure to be. King Henry the Eight Had a good conceit Of my merry vaine, Though duncicall plaine : It now nothing fits The time's nimble wits : My lawrell and I Are both wither'd dry, And you flourish greene, In your workes daily scene, That come from the presse, Well writ I corifesse • But time will devouer Your poets as our, And make them as dull As my empty scull. 423 Discourses upon the Modern Affairs of Europe, tending to prove that the illustrious French Monarchy may be reduced to Terms of greater Moderation. Di denari, di s6nno, e di f6de C'n'e manco ch6 non cr6de. There is commonly less money, less wisdom, and less good faith than men do account upon. Verulam. Et digiti pedum partim sunt ex ferro, & partim ex luto ; quia ex parte regnum futurum est durum, et ex parte futurum est fiagile. Dan. ii. 42. [From a Quarto Edition, Twenty-four Pages, printed at the Hague, in the Year 1680.J The Publisher to the Reader. The author of these Discourses I know not. But the same coming to my hands, beyond any expectation of mine, I thought I was bound to give the publick (whose mark' is upon them) credit for the same. And, because it is one essential property of a good merchant to pay well, I also thought myself obliged to render the effects of so good a hit, into the common bank, where they are due. It is true, there are some things in them, which seem not so fit for publick view ; but those things concerning the author and not me, who have a stock only going in the publick company, and am no private trader ; I pass those considerations over, seeing good things (as the philosopher long since observed) the more common, the better they are. And he that cannot speak within doors, may some times take liberty to speak without doors, especially when those within doors seem to forget the most material points. Something I would also say of the Discourse itself; but because it is a proverb as old as Apelles himself, its author ; * That the shoemaker must not go above his last:' I will pray in aid of my Lord Bacon1, and desire him to be of council for me. And first, for the method and manner of handling, thus he speaks : ' The form of writing, which best agrees with so variable and universal an argument (as is the handling of negociations and scattered occasions) that would be of all others the fittest, which Machiavel made choice of for the handling of matters of policy and govern ment; namely, by observations and discourses, as they term them, upon history and examples.' For knowledge, drawn freshly, and, as it were, in our view, out of particulars, knows the way best to particulars again; and it hath much the greater life for practice, when the discourse or disceptation attends upon the example, than when the example at tends upon the disceptation ; for here not only order but substance is respected. And as to the matter, who would not but be in a passion, to see the world undone by insufficient counsellors ? Or, to speak in our own dialect, so many good ships lost, as it were, in ths very mouth of the haven, through, unskilful pilots ? And to see fighting armies neglected, and impertinent things relied on ? Let him therefore speak to these two things. To the first, The speech of Themistocles, taken to himself, was indeed somewhat uncivil and haughty ; but if it had been applied to others, arid at large, certainly it may seem to 1 Advancement of Learning. 424 Discourses upon the Modern Affairs of Europe. comprehend in it a wise observation, and a grave censure : desired at a feast to touch a lute, he said, 'he could not fiddle, but yet he could make a small town a great city.' These words, drawn to a politick sense, do excellently express and distinguish two dif fering abilities, in those that deal in business of estate. For, if a true survey be taken of all counsellors and statesmen that ever were, and others promoted to publick charge, there will be found (though very rarely) those who ban make a small State great, andyet cannot fiddle : as, on the other side, there will be found a great many, that are very cun ning upon the cittern or lute (that, is, in court-trifles), but yet are so far from being able to make a small state great, as their gift lies another way, to bring a great and flourishing estate to ruin and decay. To the second thus : Walled towns, stored arsenals' and armories, goodly races of horse, chariots of war, elephants, ordnance, artillery, and the like ; all this is but a sheep in a lion's skin, except the breed and disposition of the people be stout and warlike. Nay, number itself, in armies, imports not much, where the people are of a faint and weak courage : for, as Virgil saith, ' It never troubles a wolf, how many the sheep are.' And a little after, ' A man may rightly make a'judgment,. and set it down for a sure and certain truth, that the principal point of all others, which respects the greatness of any kingdom or state, is to have a race of military men,* Farewel. THE great thing which has disturbed the peace of Europe, filled it with blood and slaugh ters, and shaken the dismembered kingdoms and states thereof, has been the huge design of the universal monarchy ; a design which (by a kind of fascination) has possessed the genius of the Spanish and French monarchies, which therefore, in tlieir , turns, have been dangerous to all Europe. But the French have made nearer approaches to the throne of such extended empire, than the Spaniards. Let us then look upon the means and ad vantages the Most Christian King has, to pursue so vast a design, as if he would plough up the air : to the end our minds may be stirred up (if any thing will stir them) to raise up those banks, which (under that Providence, to which nothing is so high, to be above it ; nothing so low, to be beneath it ; nothing so large, but is bounded ; nor, nothing so con fused, but is ordered by it) will circumscribe such wild and boundless ambition, within its own limits. And, for our encouragement, let us, by the way, hear the judgment of that excellent man, Sir Walter Raleigh, in the case of the Spanish monarchy, which then was, what France now is, to the rest of Europe. His words are these : < Since the fall of the Roman empire ' (omitting that of the Germans, which had neither greatness nor continuance,) there hath ' been no state fearful in the East, but that of the Turk ; nor in the West, any prince that ' hath spread his wings faroveHiis nest, but the Spaniard; who, since the time that Ferdi- ' nand expelled th-j Moors out of Granada, have made any attempts to make themselves ' masters of all Europe. , And it is true, that by the treasures of both Indies, and ' by the^ many kingdoms which they possess in Europe, they are at this day the most ' powerful, But, as the Turk is now counterpoised by the Persian ; so, instead of so * many millions as have been spent by the English, French, and Netherlands, in a defen- ' siye war, and in diyersions against them ; it is easy to demonstrate, that with the charge ' of two hundred thousand pounds, continued but two years, or three at the most, they may ' not only be persuaded to liye in peace, but all their swelling and overflowing streams may < be brought back into their natural channels and old banks.' But to go on. France then is come to the greatest perfection, in respect of domestick empire it is ca pable pf. For, 1. Whereas heretofore the body of that kingdom was not entire, but subject to several great Barons, who were able not only to expostulate, but to contend with the King; they are all brought now to a dependence on the crown, and become most obse quious to it. 2. AH those mighty members, into which that kingdom was formerly divided are now annexed to the crown: so that, for largeness of territory, and compacted and united! Discauhes upon the Mkdem Affairs of Europe* 425 strength, it is become the most formidable kingdom in all Europe. And as, by the former of these, they have secured themselves against all intestine wars, which many times, through the interests and feuds of those Barons, shook the whole frame of that kingdom : so, by the latter, they, have fenced themselves against all foreign invasion. For, heretofore, all the neighbouring princes were ready, upon every occasion, to invade the kingdom of France, the Dukes of Burgundy, Britany, Guienne, or Flanders, being always tempting them there unto, and giving them access, passage, and reception. By this means England made two conquests of France, and at other times forced them to buy peace of them, and pay them tribute. But now, whosoever would invade that kingdom, shall not only want these for their confederates, to invite and assist them, but shall have them for their enemies. Thus far Machiavel has observed for substance. 3. By abrogating the convention of estates2, that King has spoiled the people, of that power and share in government, which they have ori ginally had. in all the mixed monarchies of Europe, and made himself absolute, even in the point of raising money ; which is the blood that fills the veins of that, mighty body. By this means he has changed the constitution of that kingdom, from mixed to absolute monarchy, for the kind of it ; which is the form that enables a prince to do most mischief, both at home and abroad. 4. But that which is the crown of this perfection, and may be the strongest stay of it, is the naval force, now added to the other strengths of that powerful monarchy, wherein it now3 equals, if it be hot an overbalance to, either England or Holland. For this is a maxim, ' That the power of a prince, whose dominions border on the sea, cannot be perfect without a force in shipping able to command the sea.' Where fore,, in my .opinion (which nevertheless is exceeding weak), one of the greatest mischiefs this war has produced, is, that it has given occasion to France to become mighty in naval power. And that mischief can never better be demonstrated than by this consideration: that there was never before any example, upon earth, of a triumvirate of mighty nations in a vicinity of neighbourhood one to another, and bordering upon the same seas, equally pow erful, in naval strength. The consequence of which must of necessity, in time to come, be a perpetual emulation and jealousy ;¦ greater, by how much either, an union or division of three is more perfect than of any other number. Whereby it must necessarily come to pass, either jthat some two jai the, three shall alternately, or by turns, fight against the third; or that two of the three shall agree tp extinguish the power of the third; that themselves may remain in indifferent, terms, without jealousy one of another. It is now long since France wanted but one of three things to help them to drive on that huge design of ambition for the universal monarchy, which has so long swelled their hearts. To bring Holland under a kind of feudal protection of ¦ that crown, by. which means they might serve themselves of their ships and seamen : or to make themselves masters of the Spanish Netherlands : or lastly, to grow great in naval strength at home. For France has been dangerous enough to the rest of Europe, whilst they were in a manner without shipping : insomuch that those two things were observed of them in the time, of Queen Elizabeth, ' That France could ' never abstain from war, for above two or three years together.' And, ' That .they could * never be poor.' 5. And lastly,- To all this may be added, the new conquests and acqui sitions of the French. But nevertheless, it may be doubted, whether that monarchy has received any real accession of strength by those conquests, in case it should come to feel the shock of a powerful and vigorous enemy. It is true, indeed, (what Machiavel has said) * That the conquests of commonwealths that are ill governed, and contrary to the model of ' the Romans, do conduce more to the ruin, than advancement of their affairs.' But, when we shall a little penetrate (what he elsewhere says) that, when we have observed the histo ries of former times, we shall find, that commonwealths had generally but three ways of enlarging their empire. One is that, which was observed by the Tuscans of old, who en tered;, into a league of confederacy with several other commonwealths, with condition of equality, that no particular should have any degree or authority above the rest, and that comprehension should be left for all their new conquests to come in, not much unlike tlie ' Viz. The power of .their parliament Anno 1680. VOL. I. 3 I 426* Discourses upon the Modern Affairs of Europe. practice of the Switzers and the Hollanders of late, and the Achaians and ^Etolians of-ofdV Another way of extending your empire' is, by associating with several cities; but so, as- that the dignity of the command, the seat of the empire, and the honour of the enter prize, may remain with you, which was the way observed by the Romans, and it was pe* culiar to them; no other people has observed it, and certainly no better is to be found. The third is the way of the Spartans, and Athenians, who entertained no confederates, but whatever territories they conquered, they annexed them to their own : which way is, un doubtedly, the worst of the three, as appeared by the two said republicks, who were ruined upon no other account, but because they had grasped more dominion than they were able to hold. I say, these things distinctly considered, and the last way being that which the French practise in their conquest?, it makes the doubt yet greater. , From that of the state, if we descend to the consideration of. the person of the King, it gives us these two momentous observations. 1. It shews us how necessary a thing it is for a prince, ' that would either defend or enlarge his state,, to excel in practical wisdom, which consists in application, conduct, and pursuit: for by that means he shall always be served by wise and excellent men. : For it ever was, and ever will be true : ' As the, prince himself. is, so are his council, and those that are about him.' A weak prince will never endure wise men ; nor can wise men ever be safe under an inadvertent pririce.. And it gives him mighty advantages over the princes and states, that are about him ; especially if their administrations? be slow, weak, and remiss.. And it is commonly seen, when a great: man rises in the world, either that he is alone, or that the magnificence of his actions swallows up the weaker efforts of others,, as the sea does the rivers. And secondly, That when a wise and: martial prince rises, and issucceeded by one or two princes of equal condition to himself, without a pusillanimous one interposed, tney may do very great things in the world; since the succession of two such princes alone, Philip and Alexander, in the kingdom of Ma- cedon, was sufficient to conquer the world. I conclude therefore, that if "the present King^ of France * should be succeeded by a prince of equal virtue to himself, they would swallow up the greatest part of Europe. But because the great things of monarchy begin .and end, with one or a few princes ; and it is rarely seen, that three sufficient princes imme diately succeed one another, without some effeminate or ill-consulted prince between, I am of opinion, that monarchy will sink with its own weight. Now having taken a view of the force and strength of this monarchy, and the sufficiency: of her present King, let us next consider what- their next- attempts are like to be. In ge neral they will do these two things, What they began by war, they will pursue in peace r for they had no other design in making peace, than to disarm, their enemies, break their confederation, and hinder England from coming into it, that they might insult over the world, by a peace more tyrannical than the war of a gallant enemy; And then, when the injured world can bear their' insolences no longer,, out of the elements of this peace they will raise up a new war. For that prince, that would make great conquests, must make short wars, and renew them often. Holland they will not attack,, at least not this year, for two important reasons: because Flanders lies between, that and France: and besides' they will go as softly as they can,' till towards the latter end of the summer, for fear of awaking them out of that sleep, their wasted spirits, and trading humour, have cast them into. And England their stomachs do not serve them to meddle with. For though it be true, that whoever he be, that shall attempt to set up an universal monarchy in Europe will first or last, find England the strongest bar in the way; I say England, which is not' only the strongest, but now the only strong kingdom that is in Europe, next to France And therefore Plnhp the Second of Spain, after all his vain attempts and pursuits, turned himself upon England; in which though he miscarried, yet he maintained a long war in Ireland Yet the French will think to serve themselves of the supine negligence of England and still hope that they may have prorogations there for their money, till they have eaten un, the rest of Europe, as they eat bread. And besides, they will find a better way to distress 4 Lewis the Fourteenth.. Discourses upon ihe Modern Affairs of Europe, 42 1 England, and more effectual than by any point-blank attack which they can make upon it, as we shall see anon. Lastly, there is yet one very important reason, and that is, they are afraid of England ; and truly, if God had not placed in man the irascible affection of fear, he would be much a wilder creature than he is. But,, lest the truth of this should "be doubted, it will not be amiss to call a foreign witness, and that is Machiavel, whose own words are: ' The French are in great fear of the English, for the great inroads and devas- * tat ions, which they have made anciently in that kingdom ; insomuch that, among the * common people, the name of English is terrible to this day.' But he adds, ' there was not ' then the same reason for it.' It is true, there are not so strong reasons, why they should fear us so much now, as they did formerly ; our advantages, which we had over that kingdom, being most of them lost, and that monarchy come to its full strength and the greatest per fection it is ever like to see. And yet there be very strong reasons, why they should yet fear us, and, if they do not apprehend them, it is nobody's fault but our own. And I say, that both the Spanish and French monarchies inherit such a remembrance of the English, as the Romans did of Hannibal. Nay, I think it may be truly affirmed, that France is more afraid of the parliament of England (that is, the King and the estates of parliament, for they are all comprehended under the word parliament) than of any one, if not of all the princes and states of Europe. But if France will do neither of these, what is it then that they will do ? I answer, we must not take our measures by those reports, they cause to be given out, up and down the world, to cast a mist before the eyes of their neighbour princes and states, as jugglers do ; nor when they seem to look far abroad must we regard it ; but consider by the exact rules of prudence, what is fit for them to do, and what we ourselves would do, were we in their case. I say then, that the greatest and wisest thing, which France can do next, is to make himself master of the residue of the Spanish Netherlands, and particularly to seize upon Ostend and Nieuport. And when he has done that, to turn his whole force upon the Em pire, not omitting in the mean time to attempt all that he can do there, as well to amuse and divert them,' as to open his way to the complete conquest of that branch of the mise rable House of Austria* To demonstrate this, I know no better way than a little to consider and discourse upon the consequences of this, with respect unto England and Holland. For England, if the French be permitted to become masters of the Spanish Netherlands, and to possess Ostend and Nieuport, then England will not only not have a footing on the main, but all the sea-coast, opposite, to the whole body of it, will be in the hands of the French, always enemies to, England, in interest and humour. And, if he pleases to look over the sea, he rnay seize upon Ireland, when he pleases,- which will always lie open to him, and where he will find Papists enough to entertain and join with him. And let it be remembered, that Ireland is in a manner already cut off from England by the Irish act ; and what would England then be, but an island hemmed in by the sea, arid their enemy is its master, and shut out of the world? By this means they will be precluded from sending any succours to the rescue or relief of those provinces. And by this means also it must necessarily come to pass, (which is worst of all,) that England must lose both the dominion of the sea, and their trade ; and in time will not be able either to build, or sail ships out of their own ports, without the licence of France ; and so will be in a fair way to become a feudal province of France. And thus we see England may be distressed without warring directly upon it. It is the greatest blemish in the reign of Henry the Seventh (celebrated in our histories for one of the wisest of all our princes), that he suffered Britany to be lost, and annexed to the crown of France ; a foul spot in so beautiful a picture, as he is taken by the pencil of my Lord Bacon. And the more I think of these things, the more I am confirmed, that we shall stir up the just in dignation of those that are to come after us, agaiust our memories ; and it will be the won der of succeeding generations, that so great a King,. as^ the Xing of England; in a war that had for its ends an universal monarchy, for the most Christian King, and the subver sion of the Protestant religion and interest ; the one as foolish and impossible to be effected, as the other is full of monstrous detestable impiety towards God; and to which ends our 428 Discourses upon the Modern Affairs of Europe, enemies have been travelling through a sea of blood, and all those crooked ways thefirsfc attempter against God beat out to those that travel with pride, ambition, and impiety : I say, that such a King5, in such a war, and such a peace as followed it, should sit still, and suffer himself to be, (as it were) besieged in his own kingdom, whilst he suffered France, not only to grow to an over-balance to England in naval force, but to plant himself all along on the opposite shore of the main continent, and in the mean time to suffer the greatest part of Europe to he consumed with the' flames of an unjust war,, and be sacrificed to the ambition of France. An aggravation greater, by how much England has been famous for holding and casting the balance of Europe, and protection of the Protestant religion. Since therefore it is a royal virtue in kings, not only to avoid flatterers as a pest, but to encourage somebody to tell them the truth roundly, still preserving the dignity of their persons, and the majesty of their state ; I think a man cannot do better than to bring these things home to them ; for if princes would but a little reflect, and look back upon the times past, where they might see the beauty, that is upon the memory of good princes, and the deformity of that of the bad, they would seethe excellency of plain dealing, and the odiousness of per nicious flattery. . ' For Holland, it will be enough to gay, that if they suffer the Spanish Netherlands to be lost, France will not only claim, by a title prior to theirs, all the conquests and dominions of this state in Flanders and Brabant, but may set up the title of the House of Burgundy to the whole seventeen provinces ; and finally, that they will have a very bad neighbour. I conclude therefore, that it is the interest of England and Holland, by ail means, not only to preserve the rest of the Spanish Netherlands from falling into the hands of France, but to make him vomit up what he has already swallowed of them. For, besides what I have already said, if France once becomes master of those provinces ; Holland,, and the rest of the provinces of the league, will become an easy and cheap prey to him ; which concerns England not a little, in point of interest. And to keep those Netherlands in the hands of Spain is (I think) more the advantage of England and Holland, than it is of Spain itself. For of Spain we are secure6, because he is weak, at that distance, and neither will, nor can incroach upon his neighbours ; and so we preserve the greatest bank of security to both,, against the inundations of France. To conclude this part. For the most Christian King,, we are no doubt to look upon him as the minister of God's indignation; howbeit he meaneth not so, but has done all these things in pride and cruelty, and attributed their success to his strength and wisdom. For the power both of Satan and wicked kings is from God, but the will and malice is their own. Therefore the French King has made use of all these powers and advantages to do evil ; evil I say, than which the most merciless tyrants and destroyers of the earth (whom God hath said he will destroy) have not, in any the most barbarous age of the world, committed greater, or more crying to the righteous God for vengeance : and a prince, affected .with so vast and wild ambition, is to be looked on as an enemy to mankind, as a proud attempter, to destroy the bounds which God has set. And therefore if so excellent hope, that God will stop the way against our enemies, if we return to him ; if the preservation of the true reli gion, the liberties of our countries, the great interests of mankind, or whatsoever other excellent consideration we can propose to our minda will move us^ let us behave ourselves like men, and do some great thing worthy of our remembrance. And this brings me to the second part of my discourse. In the first we have seen the mischiefs; let us now consider of the remedies. Now, because there is no separate kingdom or state in Europe sufficient to balance the weighty body of the French monarchy ; nor any of their strengths, in disjunction comne- tent to be opposed against so formidable force ; therefore there must be a new fund of nowe* and interest raised up, sufficient to keep the balance of Europe from being called back into a chaos, out of which the French may form an universal monarchy, according to the idea they have conceived thereof. 6 5 This was the case of England, under King Charles the Second. •' So long as it was governed by an interest opposite to the French : but now the case is chaWed. Discourses upon the Modem Affairs of Europe. 42$ ¦ And this can by no means better be done than by England and the United Provinces, entering into a new league, for the mutual and reciprocal defence of themselves, and their confederates, that shall be admitted into such league, and for preservation and defence of the Spanish Netherlands; and for restraining the further growth and increase of the French monarchy, and hindering their incroachments upon the rest of Europe. The excellency of which league will appear by this, that the ends of it are in a manner common to all Eu rope : for, though the preservation of the Protestant religion be most the concernment of England and Holland ; yet the special and immediate end of the preservation of Flanders, and the general end of holding the balance of Europe, is universal. Upon occasion of the beginning of the war between the Latins and the Romans, Ma chiavel has delivered this rule : ' That, in all consultations, it is best to come immediately ' to the point in question, and bring things to a result, without too tedious a hesitation * and suspense.' And the reason of this is founded upon divers observations which he ga thers out of several parts of the Roman story, as, ' That weak commonwealths are gene- ' rally irresolute, and ill-advised, as taking their measures more from necessity than election : ' that it is the property of weak states to do every thing amiss, and never to do well but in ' spite of their teeth ; for there is no such thing as prudence amongst them : that weak and ' irresolute states do seldom take good counsels, unless they be forced; for their weakness * suffers them not to deliberate, where any thing is doubtful ; and, if that doubt be not * removed by a violent necessity, they never come to a resolution, but are always in sus- ' pense : and that is a fault peculiar to all weak and improvident princes and governments to ' be slow and tedious, as well as uncertain in their counsels, which is as dangerous as the ' other.' With divers more of the like nature. Wherefore there may seem to be but one thing that may perplex us, and that is, Whether this course may sort to the nature of the times and our circumstances ? Touching this point, the same author gives this rule, ' That ' the occasion»of every man's good or bad fortune consists in its correspondence and ac- ' commodation with the times.' The wary course that Fabius took against Hannibal was good, because the times and the condition of the Romans suited to it : but, had the same course been holden on, when Scipio undertook the war, Hannibal might have staid in Italy ; but, the times being changed, they also altered the method of the war. And it is certainly true, that to eyery purpose there is a time and a judgment, therefore the misery of man is- great upon him; because the time is hard to be discerned : for, if the time be missed, things cannot succeed ; for man knoweth not his time. . If a man chooses a wrong time, he may, labour and travel; not only in vain as to the issues designed, but may bring forth his own destruction ; for the universal influence and concourse of the first providence is wanting. But when we shall seriously consider, that there is no other way left;, that the French King will neither be quiet himself, nor let any body else alone; and that we must either throw up the cudgels, and let him domineer as he pleases, or do something that may either deter him from attempting further, or, if he does, may shew him that there is as good iron in the world as any he has in France. I say, things being thus, I can foresee rio ob jection of weight against the proposition : 'That state, that will defend itself, must be in a condition to offend its enemies.' And, so long as this state shall give occasion to France to apprehend that they are afraid of him, he will use them as dogs. Therefore, since this is like to be a league of as great importance as has been made in the world a good while ; to render the same secure to the parties; to add majesty and grandeur to it ; to render it more sacred, and to give it weight and reputation in the world;, it will be necessary, that the same be approved, ratified, and confirmed, both by the parliament of England, and the general estates of the Seven Provinces, in an extraordinary assembly. I confess the thing is both very extraordinary and magnificent, and will make the times fa mous. But the arguments that enforce the necessity thereof are irrefragable : the demon stration whereof I shall leave this whole discourse, and the dignity and weight of the mat ters themselves, to give evidence unto ; and shall say no more in this place, than that there is nothing that princes arid states may more justly value themselves upon, than faith and sincerity, in their leagues, and treaties, and negotiations, with other princes and states -. and 43Q , Discourses upon the Modern Affairs of Europe. insincerity or state-hypocrisy less becomes the majesty of state, than it does private per sons in moral and civil actions. But, before we go'any further, it will be but necessary to answer an objection that may be made on the part of England ; and that is, that to confirm a league, by the parliament, will weaken the King's prerogative. To which I answer, 1. Ad hominem: That which has been done in the time of former kings, and those the greatest and wisest of our princes, and did not lessen their prerogative, may be done again without weakening. the prerogative of the present king ; but this thing has been often done in former parliaments, as our rolls of parliament, records, law books, arid histories shew. But I shall content myself to name two or three of the most principal, as sufficient. A league and alliance was made between King Henry the Fifth, his heirs and successors, and Sigismund King of the Romans, his heirs and successors, Kings of the Romans, and was confirmed by act of parliament. Coke, Inst. Pars 4. 156. Rot. Pari. 4 Hen. V. No. 14. That illustrious peace, 9 Hen. V. made between Charles the Sixth of France, and the said Henry the Fifth of England (who was the very Alexander of the Kings of England for mag nificence), by which the King of England had confirmed to him the regency of the kingdorri of France, during the life of Charles ; and the succession of the crown, after his death, was ratified by the three estates of France, and sworn to by the King of England in par liament, and by the same parliament ratified. And 11 Hen. VII. the same case happened again. The three states of the kingdom joined with the King in the ratification of a peace with France in the same manner. This King was a Prince of great wisdom and sufficiency (as I said before) ; he invaded France with a royal army, made them buy a peace of him, and pay him tribute, which continued yet in the times of Henry the Eighth, his son ; nevertheless he ratified a peace by the parliament. So you see two Kings, one the greatest conqueror, as the other was the greatest politician, of the Kings of England, ratifying their leagues (which nevertheless they purchased with their own swords) by parliaments. And so sacred were our leagues and truces held to be in those times, that, 2 Hen. V. c. 6: it was enacted by parliament, ' That the breaking of truces should be high-treason in the * subjects of England.' But 2. I answer ad rem: It is said the King's prerogative is, to make war and peace. If the King then make a league, and the parliament confirm that league, it is so far from lessening, that it confirms that authority. That there must be a new league, and that it must have not only more, but larger dimen sions, than the present league in being, is evident: because the House of Commons in the late long parliament voted, * That the league offensive and defensive, between his Majesty * and this state, is not according to their advices given to his Majesty, nor pursuant to the « ends by them proposed.' Which vote has blasted the present league : arid, if you should call twenty parliaments, they would all be of the same opinion: And, because all human providence is short-sighted, there may be a provisional clause added ; that, where the ordinary provisions and remedies, of this league shall fall short or disproportionate, the parliament shall be called to deliberate of supplementary complex ments of provisions, that may be adequate to the force that shall attack the league ; which will yet add both strength and reputation to it. But, not to enter into common-place discourses, I will insist upon but one thing- more in this place, and it is this : there is a rule' which Machiavel has observed, ' That the best ' and most secure way, to repress the insolence of an ambitious and powerful state,, is to ' preclude and stop up those ways by which he would come to his greatness :' and that there is not a better or more secure way to suppress the insolence, or cross-bite the designs of such, than to take the same ways to prevent, which he takes to advance them. Now, then, I think it would be of great advantage to this league (as every body may easily apprehend) Discourses upon the Modern Affairs of Europe. 4S1 to put Ostend and Nieuport into the hands of England. And, if Spain will suffer them selves to hear* reason, and be persuaded to do it ; I am without all doubts, a way may be found how they may do it with infallible security to themselves, of having the said places restored to them, so that their end may be obtained, and their hazard prevented. '. Having now spoken to that part of the parliament's confirmation, I shall discourse,, and that very briefly, the other part of the ratification by the general estates; and the more willingly, because I think it may import this state in a double respect. And I have con ceived it thus : the prescience, predetermination, and concourse of God none denies, though all have not conceived of them in the same modus7. But the politician has said, that it is a certain truth, that the things of this world are determined, and a set time appointed for their duration ; but those run through the whole course which is assigned them by their stars, 'who keep their body in such order, that it may not alter at all, or if it does, it is for the better. And the way. to preserve such bodies (mixed bodies, he speaks of, as commonwealths) is renovation; for no mere bodies are of long duration, unless they be often renewed; and the way to renew them is to reduce them to their fijst principles; and they are reduced partly by external accident, and partly by internal prudence. Those alterations are there fore salutiferous, which reduce them towards their principles. But my design is not to enter into the common-place of renovation, therefore 1 go on. And since it is in the nature of all things to decline, and tend to depravation, it is the wisdom of governments to look often back to their first constitutions, which are the very formalis ratio, and fundamental laws of their governments. Therefore let the general estates of the Seven Provinces be summoned to meet in the great. Zael in the Hague, to these two general ends : First, To renew their common league among themselves, which will have these two ad mirable effects :_ 1 . To cure their internal disease, and especially that kind of politick paralysis of the two provinces of Groeningen and Friesland,' which tends to mutilation. 2. To restore a kind of new life and vigour to their government. No government can live, that has not extraordinary remedies to have recourse to, in extraordinary cases : Rome had its dictators, which kept it in health ; and England has its parliament, without which its government could not stand. For this cause have our parliaments so often renewed our Magna Charta ; near forty times. — And, Secondly, To ratify this league with England : for as the first defends them against in ternal diseases; so this against external force: the two diseases of which all governments die. And this will also give reputation abroad to the states thus recreated and fenced. And, if there be any other argument necessary to enforce the proposition, it may be drawn from the nature of the government itself. There are, in story and politicks, but three divisibns of commonwealths. First, They are either single, as Athens, Lacedemon; &c. Or by leagues, as the Achaians, iEtolians,- Switz, and the States. Secondly, They are divided into such as are for preservation, as Lacedemon and Venice; or for increase, as Athens and Roriie. Or, Thirdly, Into equal and uneqpaL in libration. This is a government of a league, and for preservation only,, and very unequal; which whosoever shall thoroughly penetrate, shall find cause to apprehend the weight of this pro position; for such another war would shake the States in pieces. And there is but one of three ways for them; war, submission to France, or a league with England., ' Manner.. 43$ Discourses upon the Modern Affairs of Europe. And, if there was time, I think a man should not' feaf to want either matter of words, to set home the argument. They are riow but newly delivered frorn the most dangerous crisis that ever their state passed-under since its first formation; wherein they have laboured under, not only very dangerous domestick convulsions, but the powerful assaults of foreign force. And, therefore, what physician, that is not a mountebank, would not prescribe some potent restorative in such a case ? I have now but two things to do, to finish this second part of my discourse. The one is to set down some just praises of the English nation, to the end these people may be moved to rely upon their friendship with the greater confidence : and I would have done it elabo rately, but that my discourse has already drawn itself out to so great a length; The other is, the admirable effect that will he produced by opposing the English courage to the French fierceness. Let us then but run them over. The English have always been sincere in their leagues, alliances, and treaties. I know presently what will be cast in our teeth, and that is the infamous breach of the triple league: But as he shall always be very far from making a true judgment, that shall determine upon one or a few single actions ; so nothing can be more injurious than to impeach the faith of a gal lant nation, for that which nobody has regretted more than themselves. The philosopher has said, that actions denominate not the subject to be such. And it is true in divinity, that a man is not to be judged by a few, or many single actions; but by the course and tenor of- his life. I say then, that the excellent virtue of faithfulness has been the general tenor of the English in all times. Let not so foul an indignity therefore be charged on them ; but let the crime lie at the doors of those few men, who were the authors and coun sellors of it: and, in the mean time, I will comfort myself with this hope, that, when the sanction of our parliament shall come to be put upon this league, his Majesty, and the whole nation with him, will be restored to the good opinion of all, whose interest it is not to believe lies. And let me say this, that I have not found in story any nation to be pre ferred to them, for the above-mentioned excellent quality; wherein I may affirm that they have exceeded the Romaris themselves. For the Romans, passibhately affectirig an universal sovereignty and dominion, were not seldom constrained shamefully to prevaricate, to make strained constructions of their leagues, to violate their faith, and to pass oyer all whatsoever respects of honour, to travel to the ends of their ambition. Whereas thejEnglish never can have any interest to propagate their empire uppn the body of Europe beyond those bounds, which God by nature (his instrument) prescribed to them. The. most they pre tend to .is, to be arbiters between the princes and states of 'Europe, as we may see in the example of Henry the Eighth,, who living in an active time, when three such great-spirited princes met, as himself, Charles the Fifth, and Francis the First of France, might have made his own markets ; yet sought no more than to keep the balance equal between those two, England then, in peace, has been famous for the excellent virtue of loyalty and faith fulness; and, in all times, forfceeping close to that righteous maxim of holding the balance of Europe steady, a maxim they took up above six hundred years ago. In war they have been renowned for their courage, redoubted strength, and great atchievements. In a word, in war they have been just, as well as valiant ; in peace kind, and in both sincere. And for the profession of the true religion (without which all other things are either nothing, ov as good as nothing) they have been celebrated above all the nations of Europe., It began there early, and continued in the worst of times; and, since the reformation, her divines have been the most learned and pious of the Christian world; as all foreign divines will be ready to testify. These methinks should be powerful encouragements to this state tojoin with England. England, in whom the publick virtue of true meaning is inherent ; from whom both in peace and war we may expect not only justice but even generous goodness, to al lude to the most ancient distinction of the Jews: and who against "all other nations are zealous against Popery. But that it may appear we do not lay our stress upon general and rhetorical discourses; there are other considerations of a more particuljar nature, which must not be passed over. England has been the principal instrument of saving this state twice from destruction; once Discourses upon the Modern Affairs of Europe. 433 Once in the. infancy of their commonwealth, in the time of Queen Elizabeth, against the Spa niards ; and now again in the late war, from the French. Again : Nothing can secure this state for the future, against the mischiefs impending from France, but the friendship of England. And that England, in conjunction with this state, is able to balance the French monarchy, I shall thus demonstrate .- France is larger than England, but England will al ways afford more soldiers than France, Ijnean foot; and the strength of all armies consists in the infantry. The reasons of this are these two : ¥ 1st, The division of the people. In France, and generally in all other countries, there are but two divisions of the people, the Nobless and Peasants ; but in England we have three. 1. The Nobless, that is, the nobility and gentry, competent to furnish a sufficient cavalry. 2. The Yeomanry, or middle sort of people, which make up the great body of the king dom, and who are sufficient to furnish the greatest and strongest infantry, of any kingdom or state in the Christian world. And, 3. The inferior sort, or Servants ; I mean such as work for day-wages, which are very inconsiderable, in number, to the yeomanry. The division of the people is one of the principal foundations of empire: and the division of the people of England, being the best and most perfect of any other in all Europe; it must necessarily follow, that England is capable to endure stronger shocks, than any other kingdom or state, founded upon the same ba lance of government, and is the most perfect government, of its kind, in Europe. 2dly, In England, the people, that is, the inferior gentry and yeomanry, are an over balance both to the King, Nobility, and Church; which is a defect in monarchy, arid tends to the generation of a commonwealth. In France and Spain, the King and the Nobility have destroyed the people; but, in England, the King and the people have destroyed the nobility. I say, then, the strength of the kingdom of England is in the inferior gentry and yeomanry ; and these exceeding all other kingdoms in number, strength, and courage, it must needs follow, if the business should come to be tried, where blows must decide; that England would be found an over-match, even to France itself, if demonstration be demon- , stration. But the cause and occasiori how these two things come to be so, that is, why the nobility of England are so depressed, and the people become so formidable, as you may see they are, if you look but upon the House of Lords, and the House of Commons, in our present parliaments : I say, the cause is, those popular statutes of population, against retainers of the nobility, and for alienations of their lands, made by Henry the Seventh (the Romulus of the English Kings), which shews the unwariness of that politick King, who, in seeking to cure that dangerous flaw in the government, of the nobility's being an over match to the people, made a far greater of making the commons formidable. For the one strikes only. at a king they dislike, the other at the throne itself; although it be true, those ¦ effects came not to manifest themselves till above one hundred years after his death : there fore a wise Prince indeed he was, but not long-sighted. To the second: The French have beaten and baffled the greatest part of the Christian world, without fighting, and have oppressed them at their own charge. But, if ever they should come to deal with an enemy that would force them to fight, they would shew them selves to be Frenchmen; that is, would suffer themselves to be persuaded to submit to more reasonable terms. : If you look upon the carriage of this whole war, you may presently see, that the wisest thing, which the French thought they could do, was ever to avoid fighting; supposirig surely, that, therein, they imitated the wisdom of Fabius- Maximus. But this is most certain (as the discourses upon Livy prove) that a General, who desires to keep the field, cannot avoid fighting,' when the enemy presses, and makes it his business to engage him8. 8 [The memorable instance of General Washington might be adduced, to invalidate the force of such theo retical reasoning.]" VOL. I. 3 K 434 Discourses upon the Modern Affairs of Europe. For, in such a case, there is but one of three ways : the first is the way of Fabius, of stand ing upon your guard, and keeping your army in places of advantage : and this is laudable and good, when your army is so strong, ,that the, enemy dares not attack you, as it was in the case of Fabius and Hannibal ; ,.for, if Hannibal had advanced, Fabius would have Kept his ground, and engaged him. The second way to avoid figliting, if your enemy will needs attack you, is flying; and fight or fly you must. Philip of Macedon, being invaded by the Romans, resolved not to come to a battle ; and, to avOid.it, he took the way of Fabius, incamped his army upon the top of a mountain, and jntrenclied himself so strongly, that he believed the Romans, durst not have ventured to come at him. -But, alas ! the Romans were another kind of enemy; they not only adventured, but removed him from his mountain, and forced him to fly with the greatest part of his army; and, had it not been for the unpassableness of the country, which hindered the pursuit-, the Macedonians had all been cut -off. The French were strongly incamped at St. Dennis, and did not at all believe that the Prince of Orange would attack them ; and yet, for all their confidence, they could find no other remedy, than to betake themselves to their heels. And this was the greatest and most famous action of the whole war. The third way tb avoid fighting is, to shut yourself up in some strong town, which" is the most pernicious way of all, as making your ruin inevitable. Therefore, (as Machiavel says) to keep the field, and avoid fighting, is to be done no way so securely, as by keeping fifty miles off, and sending out store of spies and scouts, that may give you notice of the enemy's approach, and opportunity to retreat. Nor is it necessary, to do all this, that your army should be very numerous. The Romans and the Greeks always carried on their wars with a few men," depending more upon their great order, arid the excellence of their discipline, than great numbers ; but the eastern and western nations did all by their multitudes. Alexander conquered the world with thirty thousand men ; Pyrrhus was wont to say, that with fifteen thousand men he would go through the world ; and yet Pyrrhus fought against the Romans, and beat them in two battles, and was, in the judgment of Hannibal himself, one of the greatest captains of the world. The ordinary Roman army consisted of about twenty-four thousand men, and, if they were, at any time, overpressed with numbers, they exceeded not fifty thousand ; with whioh number, at one time, they opposed two hundred thousand Gauls, or, if you will, call them Frenchmen. , j ¦• There are two nations, whose genius resembles that of the ancient Romans, the Germans and the English, who are descended from them. But there are these two differences be- tweeri them: the Germans you shall never bring up to make a point-blank" attack in the mouth of cannons, in such fashion as the English; nor again, after a rout, shall you hardly make them rally, as you may the English. From all these things I make this conclusion : that, if the French renew the war again, the best way will be to oppose them with an army of English, and, by all means, to force them to fight continually, till the field be too hot for them ; and, when they can keep that no longer, their towns will be of little service to them. The English have fought many battles with the French, and always >beaten them ; and yet the French have exceeded them much in numbers, as in the memorable battle of Poictiers, when the English were but about eight thousand, and the French were sixty thousand. And thus I come to the third and last part of my discourse, the office whereof is to dispose into method such arguments, as will be necessary to be used to the several par- ties, that is to say, the King, Parliament, and this State, to draw them on to such a league; and they are as follow: To the King. 1. It will serve to conciliate, and beget a better understanding between him and the parliament, and to remove some part of that jealousy, which the people travail with of the Kings administration ; and which will never leave burning, till it burn to the founds*- . Discourses upon the Modern Affairs of Europe. 435 lions of the throne, if not prevented. And, if it attains not the end of introducing other co-operative acts of concord, it will, at least, avert the hastening on of greater evils. There be some of those things which the parliament would have, which the King would consent to, upon condition he might not be pressed in the rest, as the case of the Duke Of York, &c. Therefore let them begin with some popular great thing, that may involve the interests and affections of all. 9. As to that point of the confirmation by the parliament, I have shewed the prece dents of former times. ;' 3. The ratification here, by the general estates, will be equipollent to the ratification, m England, by the parliament ; which saves the King's honour. For, thus, the parties rather conspire in one, how to render this league illustrious and great, than on their respective parts, to be forced to any thing. To the Parliament. I. Let it move from themselves, that is, let some of those in the House of Commons, who are of unquestionable reputation for wisdom, honesty, and integrity, be engaged ; let them engage others, and let them communicate their counsels with my Lord Shafts- bury, and that party, in the House of Lords. Then let the scheme and project be pro posed in the House of Commons ; then the Commons seek the Lords' concurrence ; and then let it be offered to the King, as the advice of the whole kingdom ; for every man is there in person, or by representation. 2. This will shut up those avenues, those back-doors, by which the French have had accesses to our councils, and have influenced them; and, consequently, will render the sittings of Parliaments more cajm and secure,, when that mighty trade of theirs, of buying prorogations, shall be spoiled, and their factors rendered less malignant. 3. This is an infallible argument ; as the end of a thing is, so is the thing. The two general ends of this league are, to preserve the Protestant religion, and. to preserve and restore the balance of Europe, by lessening the power of France ; and those are the two greatest ends in Christendom : therefore that thing, that has those for its ends, is the greatest thing; and the minds of gallant men are exceedingly moved with great things, and strongly carried to the pursuit of them. To this State. L The first argument is prudential. Prudence is that virtue, by which, when several things are offered, we are directed which to choose, and which to refuse ; what to do, and what not to do. Holland then must either make a league with France, or with England, or remain neuter. To make a league with France is utterly imprudent, for these two reasons : 1. Because France aiming at, and designing an universal monarchy, would only secure himself of them, till .their own turn come ; that is, till he hath swallowed up the .Spanish' Netherlands and Germany, when he would turn his force upon them. 2. By such means they would lose the best and surest friend they have had from their foundation of their state, and that is England : and where, a state is not sufficient by its own proper force, in respect of the weakness of the one, or the mightiness of its neighbours, to defend itself; it must of necessity rely somewhere else for protection. To remain in a neutral condition cannot be; for so, instead of making one friend, they would make three enemies: and, in case France should renew the war upon them, England would be won, upon such terms as France would offer, either to join with them, or to standstill, and see Holland ruined. Besides, how impolitick a thing neutrality is, any man may see that will consider the observations made thereon. Mach. Prince, cap. 21, 436 . A. Speech made by Queen Elizabeth, SCc. It remains then (and I know nothing eke that remains) to make a league with England. For that will haye one of two effects : either France will be wholly deterred froin attempt'; ing upon their state ; or, if he does, they will be able, with the assistance of England, to defend themselves. This is the first argument. 2. The authority and reputation of the proposers ; it is a league proposed by the Parr liament of England, to be entered into with the King and kingdom of England. The Par liament represents the whole people of England, and commands both the parts and per sons of a great, rich, and. valiant nation; from whom neither . money nor soldiers will be wanting to beat down the power of that proud and insulting nation of France. But these people here are afraid of France : why then let them make a league with those of whom France itself is afraid. And withal, let them remember this league is to be made with a people, from whom they have received the greatest benefits, as I have shewed be fore. And this argument alone will beat down the most, if not all the objections that would arise against such a league, proposed in any other manner. 3. The great reputation and security such a league will give to this state ; which will cover them as with wings of protection , against France, and whosoever else would prey upon them. If I have not expressed these things so as I would, I have done it as well as I can in a short time. And so, submitting it with all decent humility to the grave considerations of those excellent personages whom it may concern, I leave it to its fate, Hague, May 24, 1680. A Speech made by Queen Elizabeth (of famous Memory), in Parliament, Anno 1593; and in the thirty-fifth Year of her Reign ; concerning the Spanish Invasion, My Lords and Gentlemen ; THIS kingdom hath had many wise, noble, and victorious princes ; I will not compare with any of them in wisdom, fortitude, or any other virtues : but saving the duty of a child, that is, not to compare with his father in love, care, sincerity, and justice ; I will compare with any prince that ever you had, or shall haye. It may be thought simplicity ifi me, that, all this time of my reign, I have not sought to advance my territories, and enlarge my dominions ; for opportunity hath served me to do it. I acknowledge my womanhood and weakness in that respect ; but, though it hath not been hard to obtain, yet I doubted how to keep the things so obtained : and I must s,ay, my mind was never to invade my neighbours, or to usurp over any ; I am contented to reign over my own, and to rule as a just princess. Yet the King of Spain doth challenge me to be the quarreller, and the beginner of all these wars ; in which he doth me the greatest wrong that can be, for my conscience doth not accuse my thoughts, wherein I haye done him the least injury : but 1 am persuaded in my conscience, if he knew what I know, he himself would be sorry for the wrong that he hath done me. .•»''. J fear not all his threatenings ; his great preparations and mighty forces do not rtir me- for, though he come against me, with a greater power than ever was, his Invincible Navv I doubt not (God assisting me, upon whom I. always trust) but that I shall be able to de feat and overthrow him. I have great adyantage against him, for my cause is just I heard say, when he attempted his last invasion, some, upon the sea-coast forsook their towns, and flew up higher into the country, and left all naked and exposed to his en A List of the Monasteries, Nunneries, Colleges, tfc. 437 trance : but', I swear unto you, if I knew those persons, or any that should do so here after, I will make them know and feel what it is to be so fearful in so urgent a cause. The subsidies, you give me, I accept thankfully, if you give me your good wills with them 2; but if the necessity of the time, and your preparations, did not require it, I would refuse them. But, let me tell you, that the sum is not so much ; but that it is .heedful for a princess to have so much always lying in her coffers, for your defence in time of need ; and not to be driven to get it, when we should use it. You that be lieutenants and gentlemen of command in your counties, I require you to take care that the people be well armed, and in readiness upon all occasions. You that be judges and justices of the peace, I command and straitly charge you, that you see the laws to be duly executed ; and that you make them living laws, when we have put life into them. The Queen protests she will punish cowards. * [It was not till after many debates, that the Commons granted these subsidies, together with six-fifteenths and tenths, amounting in all to .£"280,000. in order to defend the kingdom against Spanish invasion, and to afford assistance to France and the United Provinces. It was also cautiously inserted in the act of parliament, that so large and unusual a supply, granted to a most excellent Queen, who made such good use of the public money, should not be drawn into a precedent.]" A List of the Monasteries, Nunneries, and Colleges, belong ing to the English Papists in several Popish Countries be yond Sea. Published to inform the People of England, of the Measures taken by the Popish Party for the Re-establish ing of Popery in these Nations. In a Letter to a Member of Parliament. [From Eight Pages Quarto, London, printed in 1700.] SIR, I FIND that your honourable House is fully sensible of the dangerous consequence of the numbers of Papists amongst us, by your present proceedings ; and to add what I can to your knowledge concerning Papists, I have here sent you a list of the seminaries and religious houses abroad, maintained at the charge of the English Papists. I cannot assure you the list is perfect, believing there are many more that have slipped my know ledge, but what I here send you is known to be true, lisbon. 5. With a college of secular Irish priests, un- 1. HERE is a college of secular English der the government of Portuguese Jesuits; priests ; in number about forty. in number about thirteen. 2. Here is also a monastery of English nuns', of the Order of St. Bridget ; their valladolid in spain. community thirty. Twelve secular priests, under the govern- 3. Also a convent of Irish Dominican friars ; ment of Spanish Jesuits. An English in number sixteen2. Jesuit is the minister* in the house, and 4. AIsoDoni.inicannuns3ofthe same country. is next to the rector. 1 These nuns call their nunnery, Sion-house, and pretend to be originally transported from the ancient mo nastery of Bridgettan nuns, at Sion-ho.use, near Richmond, in Surrey : to which ihey lay claim, when time shall serve. [The abbey of Sion was valued at 1731/. 18*. 4rf. and maintained 60 nuns, 13 priests, and 8 lay brethren.] ' Afterwards increased to double the number. ' These nuns are situated at Bethlem, about three miles from Lisbon. 4 .Confessor. 438 A List of the Monasteries, Nunneries, Colleges, 8Ccf MADRID. 1. An English college, under the govern ment of Spanish Jesuits. An English-man is the minister in the house ; in number eight. 2. A Scots and Irish college.- SEVIL, An English college, under the government of Spanish Jesuits., ST. LUCAR. A small college s of English, called St. George's. B1LBOA. A house, whereof father Anthony is chief. PARIS.. 1. In the Faubourge St. Jacques, is a con vent of English Benedictine monks ; they are in number twenty-four. 2. A monastery pf visitation-nuns, otherwise blue nuns ; number twenty. 3. A monastery of nuns of the order of St. Augustine. The nuns are in number sixty, the pensioners as many more. 4. A monastery of Benedictine nuns ; in - number thirty. 5. A college of Irish secular priests, called Montacute College. g A college of Scots secular priests DUNKIRK. 1. A monastery of Benedictine nuns, com monly called the Rich Dames, under the direction of the Jesuits. • 2. A monastery of poor Clares. CRAVEL1N. A monastery of English poor Clares. •FLANDERS. A monastery of discalced, alias bare-legged, . Carmelite nuns. Two other monasteries of Augustine nuns. AT BURNHAM, NEAR BRUSSELS^ ' A convent of Dominican friars, founded by Cardinal Howard. NEAR THAT, A monastery of English Dominican nuns. NEAR THAT, A convent of Carmehte friars., ARES IN FLANDERS. A monastery of poor Clares. LOVAINE. I. A college of Dominican friars. 2. A college of Irish capuchins. NIEUPORT IK FLANDERS. 7* Near Paris a convent of English discal- A convent, of Carthusian monks 7 ; in number ' ced, alias bare-legged, Carmelite friars. twelve. CAMBRAY. A monastery of Benedictine nuns, under di rection of the monks of the same order ; in number thirty. LIEGE. 1. A monastery Of Canonesses Regulars of the order of St. Austin. 2. A college of English Jesuits, consisting of one hundred and eighty." GHENT. 1. A college of Jesuits ; in number six. 2. A nunnery. . .. •¦•¦.'¦ BRIDGES. I. A monastery of nuns of the third order of St. Francis ; in number thirty. 2. A monastery of Augustine nuns. DOWAY. 1. A college of secular priestsr and stu dents j in number about one hundred and fifty. 2. A convent of Benedictine monks ; in number twenty-five. 3. A college in the convent,, of English youths ; they have been known to be fifty- , nine. 4. A convent of- Franciscan friars ; in num ber sixty. 5. A Scots college of jesuitsY BLOIS IN FRANCE. A nunnery. PONTOIS IN FRANCE.. A monastery of Benedictine nuns, under the direction of the Jesuits6. s This was originally an hospital belonging to the English factory, and afterwards turned into a college j tut had only one priest in it. • Viz. having Jesuits for their confessors, &c. t ' Who pretend a title to the Charter-hpuse, London, and al) its estates, ¦whenever they can lay hold of a Popish government in England. A Question of the Cock ; and whether his Crowing affrights the Lion ? 439 ST. OMERS. DEIULWARD IN LORRAIN. A college of Jesuits about thirty8, with one A convent of Benedictine monks; in num- hundred and eighty English scholars. ber sixteen. ROME. lansprinq in Germany. 1. A college of secular priests under the An abbey of Benedictine monks, with a government of the English Jesuits r lord abbot ; in number thirty. 2. A Scots college. ,9 By this account it appears, there are fifty-one religious houses maintained at the charge of the English Papists, which carries vast sums of money yearly out of the nation, and returns nothing in lieu thereof, but a sort of vermin, that are a common nuisance to church and state. The methods, how to prevent this growing evil, are left to the great wisdom of your honourable house. I am, Sir, yours, &c. * Upon the. establishment pf the house. * This college flourished very much of late years. A Question of the Cock ; and whether his Crowing affrights the Lion ? Being one of those Questions handled in the weekly Conferences of Monsieur Renaudot's Bureau d' Ad dresses, at Paris. [Translated into English, Anno 1640, in Six Quarto Pages.] THE first man said thus : " The Germans, going to the wars, had reason to take a cock with them to serve them fora spur, and an example of watchfulness ;- whence came a custom to this day used by the mule-drivers ; some of which tie a cock upon the foremost carriage ; and others, that will not trouble themselves with him, pro vide only a plume of his feathers. Upon the same ground, Phidias made a statue of Mi nerva, bearing a cock upon her helmet ; unless you will rather think his reason to be, be cause this goddess is as well president of war as of study ; both which have need of much vigilancy. Though this bird, for other causes, may be well enough said to pertain to her; as, for his being so warlike and courageous, as that he will not part with his desire of vanquishing, though it cost him his life; and this desire he prosecutes with such fury, that Caelius Aurelian reports, that a man fell mad, having only been pecked by a cock in the heat of his fighting.: for the passion of choler, being a short madness, is able exceedingly to raise the degree of heat in a temper already so extremely cholerick, that in time the body of a cOck becomes nitrous; and in this consideration it is prescribed to sick persons to make them laxative, and it is the better, if he were first well beaten and plucked alive, and then boiled. " And this courage of the cock moved Artaxerxes King of Persia, when a soldier of Caria had slain Prince Cyrus, to grant him leave to bear a little cock of gold upon his javelin, as a singular badge of his great valour. In imitation whereof, all the soldiers of the same province fell to wear the like upon the crests of their helmets ; and were thence called Alec- tryons, that is in Latin, galli, a name afterwards given to our nation ', and it may be for the like reason. " The cock is also tbe hieroglyphick of victory, because he crows when he hath beaten his adversary ; which gave occasion to the Lacedemonians to sacrifice a cock, when they 1 The author was a Frenchman. 440 A Question of the Cock; and whether his Crowing affrights the Lion ? had overcome their enemies. He was also dedicated to Mars : and the poets feign that lie was a young soldier, and placed for a centinel by this god of war when he went to lie with Venus, but feared the return of her husband ;- but, this watchman sleeping till after sun-rising, Mars and" she were taken napping by Vulcan. Mars being very angry, trans formed "this sleeper into acock for his negligence ; whence, say 'they, it comes to pass, that, well remembering the cause of his transformation, he now gives warning when the sun draws near to our horizon. Which fable is as tolerable as that of the Alcoran, which attributes the crowing of our cocks to one that, as he saith, stands upon the first heaven, and is of so immense a hugeness, that his head toucheth the second ; which cock crows so loud, that he awakens all the cocks upon the earth, that immediately they fall to pro-' voking one another to do the like; as if there were one and the same instant of cock- crowing all over the face of the whole earth. The cock was also dedicated to the sun, to the moon, and to the goddesses Latona, Ceres, and Proserpina; which was the cause that tlie novices, or those that were initiated in their mysteries, must not eat of a cock. He was also dedicated to Mercury, because vigilancy and early rising is necessary for mer chants; and therefore they painted him in the form of a man sitting, having a crest Upon his head, with eagle's feet, and holding a cock upon his fist. But particularly iie was consecrated to iEsculapius, which made Socrates, at the point of death, to will his friends to sacrifice a cock to him, because his hemlock had wrought well. And Pyrrhus, curing men of the spleen, caused them to offer a white cock ; whereas Pythagoras forbade his followers to meddle with the life or nourishing of any of that colour. " The inhabitants of Calecut sacrifice a cock to their deity, whom they conceive in the shape of a he-goat; and Acosta, out of Lucian, assures us, that anciently they worshipped a cock for a god; which, Christianity not suffering, hath put them upon churches, the spires Of steeples, and high buildings, calling them weather'-cOcks ; because, as fans, they shew the coast whence the wind comes ; unless you rather think they are set up in remem brance of St. Peter's repentance, at the second crowing of a cock. " The cause of his crowing is commonly attributed to his heat, which makes him rejoice at the approach of the sun, as being of his own temper; of which approach he is Sooner sensible than others, because he more easily than any other creature receives the impres sion of the air, as appears by that harsh voice which he sometimes useth in crowing, when he hath been newly moistened by the vapours ; and, therefore, the countrymen count it an ordinary sign of rain. And forasmuch as the whole species of birds is more hot, dry, and light, than the species of four-footed beasts; therefore the lion, though he be a sOlar creature as well as the cock, yet is so in a lesser degree than he. Whence it comes to pass, that the cock hath a pre-eminence over the lion, which he understands not, till the crowing raise in his imagination some species which in him produce terror. Unless you will say, that the spirits of the eoCk are communicated to the lion, by means of his voice; for that is a thing more material, and so more capable to act than the spirits which come out of sore eyes, which nevertheless do infect those that are sound, if they look on them ; nay, to speak with the poet, they do bewitch the very lambs." The second said, " We must reckon this error [of a cock scaring a lion by crowingT among divers other vulgar ones, of which oftentimes the chairs and pulpits ring, as if they were certain truths ; when, in the trial, they prove stark false. It may be some tame lion, grown cowardly by the manner of his breeding, hath been seen affrighted by the shrill sound of some cock, crowing suddenly and near to his ears ; which will, seem not unlikely to them that, in the beginning of March last past, were present at the intended combat in the tennis-court at Rochelle, between such a lion and a bull ; at the sight of whom the lion was so afraid, that he bolted through the nets, throwing down the spectators which were there placed in great numbers, as thinking it a place of greater security ; and, run ning thence, he hid himself, and could by no means be made re-enter the lists. Or it may be the novelty of this crowing surprized some lion that never heard it before, as A Question, of the Cock ; and whether his Crowing affrights the Lion ? 441 having always lived far from any village or country-house where poultry are bred ; and thereupon the lion at this first motion startled. " It is also possible, and most likely too, that the startle of choler, whereinto the lion falls as soon as any thing displeases him, was mistaken by somebody for a sign of fear, whereas it was a token of his Indignation. For I see no shew of reason to imagine in this generous beast a true and universal fear of so small a matter as the voice of a cock, seeing that this likeness of nature, which is attributed to them, should rather pro duce some sympathy than any aversion ; and yet this enmity, if any were, and that as great as between wolves and sheep, ought no more to scare the lion than the bleating of a sheep affrights a wolf. But the wolf devours the sheep, and assimilates it to his own substance, rather for the good-will that he bears himself, than for any ill-will or hatred that he bears towards the sheep. Besides, we ordinarily see cocks and hens in the, court-yards of the houses where lions are kept, which never make any shew of asto nishment at their crowing Nay, I remember, I have seen a young lion eat a cock; it is true, he did not crow any more than those of Nibas, a village near to Thessalonica in Macedonia, where the cocks never crow. . But the lion would have been content with tearing the cock in pieces, and not have eaten him, if there had been such an an tipathy between them as some imagine. But this error finds entertainment for the mo ral's sake, which they infer upon it, to shew us that the most hardy are not exempt from fear, which oftentimes arises whence it is least looked for. So that to ask, Why the crowing of a cock scares lions ? is to seek the causes of a thing that is not." The third said, " We must not make so little account of the authority of our predeces sors, as absolutely to deny what they have averred, the proof of which, seems sufficiently tried by the continued experience of so many ages; for to deny a truth, because we know not the reason of it, is to imitate Alexander, who cut the Gordian knot, because he could not untie it. It is better, in the nature of the cock and his voice, to seek a cause of the fright of the lion; who being a creature always in a fever, by his excessive cholerick distemper, of which his hair and his violence are tokens; great noise is to him as intolerable as to those that are sick and feverish, especially those in whom a cholerick humour, inflamed, stirs up the. head-ach. Besides, there are some kinds of sound, which some persons cannot endure ; and yet can give you no reason for it, but are constrained to fly to specifical properties and antipathies ; and such we may conceive to be between the cock's crowing and a lion's ear, with much more likelihood than that the Remora stays vessels under full sail ; and a thousand other effects impenetrable by our reason, but assured by our experience. .1 " Lastly, This astonishment that the Cock puts .the lion into, with his crowing, is not very unreasonable: this king of beasts having occasion to wonder, how out of so small a body should issue a voice so strong, and which is heard so far off; whereas himself can make such great slaughters with so little noise. Which amazement of. the lion is so much the greater, if the cock be white; because this colour helps yet more to dissi pate his spirits, which were already scattered by the first motion of his apprehension." vol. i. 3 L 443 An Enquiry into the Measures of Submission t6 the Supreme Authority ; and of the Grounds upon which it may be lawful or necessary for Subjects to defend their Religion, Lives, and Liberties. [From Sixteen Pages, Quarto, printed in the Year 1688.] THIS enquiry cannot be regularly made, but by taking, in the first place, a true and full view of the nature of Civil Society, and • more particularly of the nature of Supreme Power, whether it is lodged in one or more persons. 1. It is certain, that the law of nature has put no difference nor subordination among men, except it be that of children to parents, or of wives to their husbands; so that, with relation to the law of nature, all men are born free. And this liberty must still be supposed entire, unless so far as it is limited by contracts, provisions, and laws; for a man can either bind himself to be a servant, or sell himself to be a slave, by which he becomes in the power of another, only so far as it was provided by the contract : since all that liberty, which was not expressly given away, remains still entire ; so that the plea for liberty always proves itself, unless it appears that it is given up, of limited by any special agreement. 2. It is no less certain, that as tbe light of nature has planted in all men a natural principle of the love of life, and of a desire to preserve it; so the> common principles of all religion agree in this, that; God having set us in this world, we are bound to- pre* serve that being, which he has given us, by all just and lawful ways. Now this duty of self-preservation is exerted in instances of two sorts : the one is in the resisting of vio lent aggressors; the other is the taking of just revenges of those who have invaded us so secretly, that yv& could' not prevent them, and so violently, that we could not resist them. In which cases, tlie prinoiple of self-preservation warrants us, both' to recover what is* our own, with just damages; and also to put such unjust persons out of a capa city of doing the like injuries any more, either to ourselves; or any others. Now, in these instances of self-preservation, this difference is to be observ-ed ; that the first cannot be limited, by any slow forms, since a pressing danger requires a vigorous repulse, and cattnot admit of delays ; whereas thesacond, of taking revenges or reparations, is not Of such haste; but that it may be brought under rules and ^forms. 3. The true and original notion of civil society and government is, that it is a com promise made by such a body of men, by which they resign up the right of demanding reparations,1 either in the way of justice against' one another, or in the way of war against their neighbours, to such a single person^ or to such -a body of men, as they think fit to trust with this. And in the management of this civil society, great distinction is to be made between the power of making laws for the regulating the conduct of it, and the power of executing these laws ; the supreme authority must still be supposed to be lodged with those who have the legislative power reserved to them; but not with those who have only the executive, which is plainly a trust, when it is separated from the legis lative power; and all trusts, by their nature, import, that those, to whom they are given, are accountable, even though that it should not be expressly specified in the words of the trust itself. . . 4. It cannot be supposed by the principles of natural. religion, that God has authorized any one form of government, any other way, than as the general rules 6f order and of justice oblige all men not to subvert constitutions, nor disturb the peace of mankind, nor "invade those rights, with which the law mayihave vested some persons ; for it is certain/ that An Enquiry into the Measures of Submission, §c. 443 as private contracts lodge Or transact private rights, so the publick laws can likewise lodge such rights, prerogatives, and revenues, in those under whose protection they put them selves; and, in sttch a manner, that they may come to have as good a title to. these-, as any private person can have to his property ; so that it becomes an act of high injustice and vio lence to invade these, which is so far a greater sin, than any such actions would be against a private person, as the publick peace and order is preferable to all private considerar tions whatsoever. So that, in truth, the principles of natural religion give those that are in authority no power at all ; but they do only secure them in the possession of that which is theirs by law. And as no considerations of religion can bind me to pay another more than I- indeed owe him, but do only bind me more strictly to pay what I owe; so the considiera- tions of religion do, indeed, bring subjects under stricter obligations to pay all due alle giance and submission to theiF princes ; but they do not at all extend that allegiance further than the law carries it. , And though a man has no divine right to bis property, but has acquired it by human means, such as succession, or industry; yet he has a security for the enjoyment of it, from a divine right. So, though princes have no immediate warrants from Heaven, either for their original titles, or for the extent of;,them ; yet they are secured in the possession of them, by the principles and rules of natural religion. 5. It is to be considered, that as'apriyate.person can bind himself to another man's sep- vice by different degrees, either as an ordinary servant for wages, or as an appropriate for a longer time, as an apprentice; or, by a total giving himself tip to another, as in the case of slavery. In all which cases, the general name of Master may be equally used'; yet the degrees of his power are to be judged by the nature of the contract -. so, likewise, bodies of men can give themselves up, in different degrees, to the conduct! of others. And, there fore, though all those may carry the same name of King, yet every one's power is to be taken from tlie measures of. the authority which is lodged in him ; and not from any general speculations founded on some equivocal terms, such as King, Sovereign, or Supreme. 6. It is certain, that, God, as the creator and governor of the world, may set up whom he. will, to rule over other men; but this declaration of his will must be made evident by prophets, or other extraordinary men sent by him, who have some manifest proofs of the divine authority, that is committed to them, on such occasions ; and- upon such persons de claring the will, of God, in favour of any others, that declaration is to be submitted to and obeyed. But this pretence of a divine delegation can be carried no farther than to those who are thus expressly marked out ; and is unjustly claimed by those, who can prove no such declaration to have been ever made in favour of them, or their families. Nor does it appear reasonable to conclude, from their being in possession, that it is the will of God that it should be so : this justifies all usurpers, when they are successful. 7- The measures of power, and, by consequence, of obedience, must be taken from the express laws of any state, or body of men, from the oaths that they swear; or from im memorial prescription, and a long possession, which both give a title, and, in a long tract jof time, make a bad one become good; since prescription, when it passes the memory of man, and; is hot disputed by any other pretender, gives, by the common sense of all men, a just and good title. So, upon the whole matter, the degrees of all civil authority, are to be taken either from express laws, immemorial customs, or from particular oaths, which the subjects swear to their princes; this being still to be laid down for a principle, that, in all the disputes between power and liberty, power must always- be proved; but liberty proves itself; the one being founded only upon positive law, and- tnerother Upon the law of nature. 8, If from the general principles of human society, and natural religion, we carry this matter to be examined by the Scriptures, it is clear, that all the passages, that are in the Old Testament, are not to be made use of in this matter, on either side. For as the land of Canaan was given to the Jews, by an immediate grant from Heaven, so God reserved still this to himself, and to the declarations that he should make from time to time ; either by his prophets, or by the answers that came from the cloud of glory that was between the cheru* i>im$ to set up judges, or kings oyer them, and to pull them down again as he thought fit. '444 An Enquiry into the Measures of Submission, $c. Mere was ah express delegation made by God ; and therefore all that was done in that dis pensation, either for or against princes, is not to* be made use of in any other state, that is founded on another bottom and constitution ; and all the expressions in the Old Testament relating to kings, since they belong to persons that were immediately designed; by God, are without any sort of reason applied to those who can pretend to no such designation, neither for themselves nor for their ancestors. ' 9. As for the New Testament, it is plain, that there are no rules given in it, neither for the forms of government in general, nor forthe degrees of any one form in particular ; but .the general rules of justice, order, and peace, being established in it upon higher motives, and more binding considerations, than ever they were in any other religion whatsoever, we .are more strictly bound by it, to observe the constitution in which we are; and it is plain, •that the rules, set us ih the Gospel, can be carried no further. It is, indeed, clear from the New Testament, that the Christian religion, as such, gives us no grounds to defend or pro pagate it by force. It is a doctrine of the cross, and of faith and patience under it ; and if, by the order of Divine Providence, and of any constitution of government, under which we are born, we are brought under sufferings, for our professing of it; we may indeed retire and fly out of any such country, if we can; but, if that is denied us, we must then, ac cording to this religion, submit to those sufferings Under which we may be brought, consi dering that God will be glorified by us in so doing, and thathe will both support us under our sufferings, and gloriously reward us for them. This was the state of the Christian religion, during the three first centuries, under Hea then Emperors, and a constitution in which Paganism was established by law : but if, by the laws of any government, the Christian religion, or any form of it, is become a part of the subject's property, it then falls under another consideration, not as it is a religion, but as it is become One of the principal rights of the subjects, to believe and profess it ; and then we must judge of the invasions made on that, as we do of any other invasion that is made on our rights. 10. All the passages in the New Testament, that relate to civil government, are to be expounded as they Were truly meant, inopposition to that false notion of the Jews, who believed themselves to be so immediately under the Divine authority, that they would not become the subjects of any other power ; particularly of one that was not of their nation, or of their religion; therefore they thought, they could not be under the . Roman yoke, nor bound to pay tribute to Caesar; but judged that they were only subject out of fear, by reason of the force that lay on them, but not for conscience-sake; and so in all their dis persion, both at Rome and elsewhere, they thought they were God's freemen, and made use of this pretended ' liberty as a cloke of maliciousness.' In opposition tO all whichy since in a course of many years they had asked the protection of the Roman yoke, and were come under' their authority, our Saviour ordered them, to continue in that by his saying, 1 Render to Caesar that which is Caesar's ;' and both St. Paul in his Epistle to the Romans, and St. Peter in his general Epistle, have very positively condemned that pernicious maxim ; but without any formal declarations made of the rules or measuresof government. .• , And, since both the people and senate of Rome hadacknowledged the power that Augustusilad, indeed, violently usurped ; it became legal when it was thus submitted to, and confirmed both by the senate and people; and it was established in his family by a long prescription, when these epistles were writ ; so that, upon the whole matter, all that is in the New Tes tament, upon this subject, imports no more but that all Christians are bound to acquiesce in the government, and submit to it, according to the constitution, that is settled by law. 11. We are then at last brought to the constitution of our English government ; so. that no general considerations from the speculations about sovereign power, nor from any pas sages either of the Old and New Testament, ought to determine us in this matter; .which must be fixed from the laws and regulations that have been made among us. , It is then Certain, that with relation to the executive part of the government, the law has lodged that singly in the King, so that the whole administration of it is in him; but the legislative power is lodged between the King and the two houses of parliament; so that' the power of An Enquiry into the Measures of Submission, $c. 445 making and repealing laws is not singly in the King, but only so far as the two houses concur with him. It is also clear, that the King has such a determined extent of prero gative, beyond which he has no authority : as for instance, if lie levies money of his people, without a law impowering him to it, he goes beyond the limits of his power, and asks that, to which he has no right, so that there lies no obligation on the subject to grant it; and if any in his name use violence for the obtaining it, they are to be' looked on, as so many rob bers, that invade our property; and they being violent aggressors, the principle of self- preservation seems here to take place, and to warrant as violent a resistance. 12. There is nothing more evident, than that England is a free nation, that has its liber ties and properties preserved to it by many positive and express laws : if then we have a right to our property, we must likewise be supposed to have a right to preserve it ; for these rights are by the law secured against the invasions of the prerogative, and by consequence we must have a right to preserve them against those invasions. It is also evidently declared by our law, that all orders and warrants, that are issued, not in opposition to them, are null of themselves; and by consequence, any that pretend to have commissions from the King, for. those ends, are to be considered, as if they had none at all : since these commissions, being void of themselves, are indeed no commissions in the construction of the law ; and therefore those, who act in virtue of them, are still to be considered, as private persons, who come to invade and disturb us. It is also to be observed, that there are some points that are justly disputable and doubtful, and others that are so manifest, that it is plain that any objections, that can be made to them, are rather forced pretences, than so much as plausible colours. It is true, if the case is doubtful, the interest of the publick peace and order ought to carry it ; but the case is quite different, when the invasions, that are made upon liberty and property, are plain and visible to all that consider them. 13. The main and great difficulty here is, that though our government does indeed assert the liberty of the subject, yet there are many express laws made, that lodge the militia singly in the King; that make it plainly unlawful, upon any pretence whatsoever, to take arms against the King, or any commissioned by him ; and these laws have been put in the form of oath, which all that have borne any employment either in church or state have sworn; and therefore these laws, for the assuring our liberties, do indeed bind the King's conscience, and may affect his ministers : yet, since it is a maxim of our law, that ' the King can do no wrong,' these cannot be carried so far as to justify our taking arms against him, be the transgressions of law ever so many and so manifest. And, 6ince this has been the constant doctrine of the Church of England, it will be a very heavy imputation on us, if it appears, that though we held these opinions, as long as the court and the crown have favoured us ; yet, as soon as the court turns against us, we change our principles. 14. Here is the trite difficulty of this whole matter, and therefore it oUght to be exactly considered. First, all general words, how large soever, are still supposed to have a tacit exception, and reserves in them, if the matter seems to require it. Children are com manded to obey their parents in all things ; wives are declared, by the Scripture, to be subject to their husbands in all things ; as the church is unto Christ : and yet how com prehensive' soever -these words may seem to be, there is still a reserve to be . understood in them; and though, by our form of marriage, the parties swear to one another, till death them do part; yet few doubt but this bond is dissolved by adultery, though it is not named; for odious things ought not to be suspected, and therefore not named upon such occasions : but, when they fall out, they carry still their own force with them. 2. When there seems to be a contradiction between two articles in the constitution, we ought to examine which of the two is the most evident and the most important, and so we ought to fix upon it; and then we must give such an accommodating sense to that which seems to contradict it, that so we may reconcile those together. Here then are two seeming con^ trad ict ions in our constitution : the one is the publick liberties of the nation; the other is the renouncing of all resistance, in case that were invaded. It is plain, that our liberty is only a thing that, we enjoy at the King's discretion,, and during his pleasure, if the other against all resistance is to be understood, according to the utmost extent of the words : 446 An Enquiry into the Measures of Submission, $c. . therefore since the chief design of our whole law, and all the several rules of our constitu tion, is to 'secure and maintain our liberty ; we ought to lay that down for a conclusion, that it is both the most plain and the most important of the two : and therefore the other article against resistance ought to be so softened, as that it do not destroy this. 3. Since it is by a law, that resistance is condemned, we ought to understand it in such a sense, as that it doth not destroy all other laws: and therefore the intent of this law must only relate to the executive power, which is in the King, and not to the legislative, in which wetoannoi suppose that our legislators, who made that law, intended to give up. that* which we plainly see they resolved still to preserve entire, according to the ancient constitution. SO then the not resisting the King, can only be applied to the executive power ; that sO, upon ho pre tence of ill administrations in the execution of the law, It should be lawful to res'st him : but this cannot with any reason be extended to an invasion of the legislative power, or tb a total subversion of the government. For it being plain, that the law did not design to lodge that power in the King; it is also plain, that it djd not intend to secure him in it, in case he- should set about it. 4. The law mentioning the King, or those commissioned by him; shews plainly, that it only designed to secure the King in the executive power: for the word commission necessarily imports this, since, if it is not according to law, it is no com mission; and by consequence, those who act, in virtue of it, are not commissioned by the King, in the sense of the law. ' The King likewise imports, a Prince Clothed by law with the regal prerogative : but, if he goes to subvert :the whole -foundation of the government* he subverts that by which he himself has his power; and by consequence he .annuls his own power, and then he ceases to be King; having endeavoured to destroy that, upon which his own authority is founded. It is acknowledged by the greatest asserters of monarchical power, that, in some cases, a King may fall from his power, and in other cases that he may fall from the exercise of it: his deserting his people ; his going about to enslave, or sell them to any other; or a furious going about to destroy them ; are, in the opinion of the most monarchical lawyers, such abuses,: that they naturally divest those, that are guilty of them, of their whole authority. Infamyor phrfenzy do also put them under the guardianship of others. All the crowned heads of Europe have, at least, secretly approved of the putting the late King of Portugal under a guardianship, and the keeping him still prisoner, for a few acts of rage, that had been fatal to a very few persons. And even our court gave the first countenance to it, though of all others the late King had the most reason to haye done it at least last of all, since it justified a younger brother's supplanting the elder; yet the evidence of the, thing, carried it even against interest; therefore, if a King go about to subvert the government, and to overturn the whole constitution, he by this must be supposed either to fall from his power, or at least, from the exercise of it, so far as that he ought to be put under guardians • and according to the case of Portugal, the next heir falls naturally to be the guardian. - The next thing to be considered is, to see in fact whether the foundations of this govern^ ment have been struck at, and whether those errors, that have been perhaps committed,, are only such malversations, as ought only to. be imputed to human frailty, and to the ignorance, inadvertencies, or passions, to which all princes may be subject, as well as other men; but thisywill best appear, if we consider, what are the fundamental points of our governmentj and the chief securities that we have- for our liberties. , The authority of the law is, indeed, all in one word ; so that, if the King pretend to a power to dispense with laws, there is nothing left, upon which the subject can depend: and yet, as if dispensing power were not enough, if laws are wholly suspended for all. time coming, this is plainly a repealing of them, when likewise the men, in, whose1 hands the ad ministration of justice is put by law, such as judges and sheriffs, are allowed to tread all laws under foot, ever* theft, that infer an incapacity on themselves, if they violate them. This is such a breaking of the, whole constitution, that we can no mofe have the administration Of justice, so that it is really a dissolution of the government ; since all trials sentences, and tlie executions of them, are become so many unlawful acts, that are null and void of themselves. ..... An Enquiry into the Measures of Submission^ fyc. 447 The next thing in our constitution, which secures to us our laws and liberties, is. a free ahd lawful parliament. Now iibt to mention the breach of the law of triennial parliaments, it being above three years since we had a session, that erected ally law ; methods have beetl taken, and are daily taking, that render this impossible. Parliaments Ought to be chosen with an entire liberty, ahd without either force or pre-ehgagements, how they will vote, if they were chosen themselves; or how they will give their votes in the electing of others ; this is plainly such a preparation to a parliament, as would, indeed, make it no parliament, but a Cabal, if one were chOseh after all that corruption of persons, who had pre-engaged themselves, and after the threatening and turning out of all persons out of employments whd had refused to do it ; and if there are such dally regulations made in the towns, that it is plain, those, who manage them, intend at last to put such a number of men in the corpo rations as will certainly choose the persons who ate recommended to them. But above all, if there are such a number of sheriffs and mayors made over England, by whom the elections must be conducted and returned, who are now under an incapacity by law,- and so are nd legal officers, and by consequence, these elections, that pass under their authority, are hull and void ; ,if, I say, it is clear that things are brought to this, then the government is dis- solved ; because it is impossible to have a free and legal parliament in this state Of thingSi If then both the authority of the law and the constitution of the parliament are struck at and dissolved, here is a plain subversion of the whole government.- But if we enter next into the particular branches of the government, we will find the like disorder among them alL The Protestant religion and the Church of England make a great article of our govern ment; the latter being secured not only of old by Magna Charta, but by many special laws made of late; and there are particular laws made in King Charles the First's ahd the late King's time, securing them from all commissions that the King can raise for judging or censuring them : if then, in opposition to this, a court so condemned is erected, which proceeds to judge and censure the clergy ,j arid even to disseise them bf their free holds, without so much as thO form of atrial; though this is the most indispensable la# of all thfese, that secures the property of England ; and if the King pretends that Jig can require the clergy to publish all his arbitrary declarations, ahd, in particular, One that strikes at their whole settlement, and has Ordered process to be begUh against all that disobeyed this illegal warrant, and has treated so great a number of the Bishops as cri minals, only for representing to him the reasons of their not obeying him $ if likewise the' v King is not satisfied to profess-his own religion openly, though even that- is contrary to laws hut has sent ambassadors to Rome, and received nuncios from thence, which is plainly tfe"asoft by law ; if likewise many Popish churches and chapels have been publickly opened 5 if several colleges of Jesuits have been set up ih divers parts of the nation, and one'Of the order has been made a privy-counsellor, and a principal minister of state;- and if -Papists, ahd even those who turn to that religion, though declared traitors by law, are brought into all the chief employments, both military and civil ; then it is plain, that all the rights Of the Church of England, and the Whole establishment of the Protestant religion, are struck at, and de signed to be 'Overturned ; since all these things, as they are notoriously illegal, so they evi dently demonstrate, that the great design of them all is the rooting out this pestilent heresy, {in tlieir style) .1 mean the Protestant religion. In the next., place'; if, in the whole course of justice, it is visible, that there is a constant practising upon the judges, that they are turned out upon their varying from the intentions of the court, and if men of no reputation or abilities are put in their places ; if an army is kept up jn time -of peace, and men who withdrew from that illegal -service are hanged up as criminals, without any colour of law, which by consequence are so many murders ; and if the soldiery are connived at and encouraged in the most enormous crimes, that so they may be thereby prepared to commit great ones, and, from single rapes and murders, proceed to a rape upon all our liberties, and a destruction of the nation: if, I say, all these things are true in fact, then it is plain, that there is such a dissolution of the government made, that there is not any one part of it left sound and entire; and if all these things are done now, it is easy to imagine what may be expected, when arbitrary power that spares no man, and 448 An Enquiry into the Measures of Submission, fyc. Popery that spares no heretick, are finally established. Then we may look for nothing but gabels, tallies, impositions, benevolences, and all sorts of illegal taxes; as from the other, we may expect bUrnings, massacres, and inquisitions. In what is doing in Scotland, we may gather what is to be expected in England ; where, if the King has over and over again declared, that he is vested with an absolute power, which all are bound to obey without re serve; and has upon that annulled almost all the acts of parliament that passed in King James the First's minority, though they were ratified by himself when he came to be of age, and were confirmed by all the subsequent Kings; not excepting the present : we must then conclude from thence, what is resolved here in England, and what will be put in execution, as spon as it is thought that the times can bear it. When likewise the whole settlement of Ireland is shaken, and the army that was raised, and is maintained by taxes, that were given for an army of English Protestants, to secure them from a new massacre by the Irish Papists, is all now filled With Irish Papists, as well as almost all the other employments ; it is plain, that not only all the British Protestants, inhabiting that island, are in daily danger of being butchered a second time, but that the crown of England is in danger of losing that island ; itbeingnow put wholly into the hands and power of the native Irish; who, as they formerly offered themselves up sometimes to the crown of Spain, sometimes to the Pope, and once to the Duke of Lorrain, so are they, perhaps, at this present, treating with another court forthe sale and surrender of the island, and for the massacre of the English in it. If thus all the several branches of our constitution are dissolved, it might be at least ex-. pected, that one part should be left entire, and that is the regal dignity; and yet that is prostituted, when we see a young child put in the reversion of it, and pretended to be the Prince of Wales1, concerning whose being born of the Queen, there appear to be not only no certain proofs, but there are all the presumptions that can possibly be imagined to the contrary. No proofs were ever given, either to the Princess of Denmark, or to any other Protestant ladies, in whom we ought to repose any confidence, that the Queen was ever with child ; that whole matter being managed with so much mystei-ipusness, that there were violent and publick suspicions of it before the birth. But the whole contrivance pf the birth the sending away the Princess of Denmark, the sudden shortening of the reckoning, the Queen's sudden going to St. James's, her no less sudden delivery, the hurrying the child into another room, without shewing it to those present, and without their hearing it cry ¦ and the mysterious conduct of all since that time; no satisfaction, being given to the Princess of Denmark upon her return from the Bath2, nor to any other Protestant ladies of the Queen's having been really brought to bed; these are all such evident indications of a base imposture in this matter, that, as the nation has the justest reason in the world to doubt it, so they have all possible reason to be at no quiet, till they see a legal and free parliament assembled, which may impartially, and without either fear or Corruption; ex amine that whole matter. . If all these matters are true in fact, then I suppose no man will doubt that the whole foundations pf this government, and all the most sacred parts of it, are overturned; and as to the truth of all these suppositions, that is left to every Englishman's judgment and sense. ' [Fuller, who had been a page of honour to the Queen, published " A Brief Piscovery of the true Mother of the pretended Prince of Wales/' which was rebutted by depositions made before the Privy:Council and bv caustic pamphlet intitled, " Fuller's plain Proof made out to be no Proof." The public opinion on' this noin't seems to have been directed by religious prepossession, since the Papists gave credence to the birth of » tr Prince, and the Protestants did not.] true * [The city of Bath, where the Princess Anne of Denmark had been pressed by the King to eo beW th* Queen's accouchement.] 9 ° ' "Klvl c loc 449 i . The Expedition of his Highness the Prince of Orange for En gland. „ Giving an Account of the most remarkable Passages thereof, from the Day1 of his setting Sail from Holland, to the first Day of this Instant December, 1688. In a Letter to a Person of Quality. [From a Quarto, containing Eight Pages, printed in the Year 1688.] ' SIR, THE account you so earnestly desired of me, of the Prince's expedition and invasion of England, is a task no one should have commanded from me but yourself; the ancient friendship between us makes nothing appear difficult, in the way to serve you. I shall not undertake to determine the legality of this great and bold attempt, nor reflect on the counsels that have brought this misery upon us, but shall cOntent myself with giving you a brief account of the Prince's expedition. And, first, you are to take notice, that his Highness set sail from Holland with fifty-one men of war, eighteen fire-ships, and about three hundred and thirty tenders, being ships hired of merchants, for the carriage of horse and foot, arms, ammunition, &c The fleet stood out at sea to the northward, which met with horrid storms for two days and two nights together ; in which bad weather there were lost above five hundred horse, and a vessel parted from the fleet, wherein were four hundred foot, supposed to be lost, but now known to be arrived at the Texel, though grievously shattered and torn by the storm ; two of the Prince's principal men of war were 'forced to new -rig at Helvetsluce. The Prince, immediately pn his return back, informed the States of the condition of the fleet (which was not so damnified as was represented by the vulgar and ignorant) who, thereupon, to lull a great man2 a-sleep, the States, or some one employed by them, ordered that the Haerlem and Amsterdam Courahtier should make a dismal story of it, by repre senting to the world, that the Prince returned with his fleet miserably shattered and torn, having lost nine men of war, and divers others of less concern; a .thousand horse ruined; a* calenture among the seamen; the' loss of Dr. Burnet, and the chief ministers under the Prince; the ill opinion the States had of the expedition; in short, that one hundred thou sand pounds would not repair the damage sustained ; and, almost next to an impossibility, that the Prince should be in a condition to pursue his design, till the spring; And yet, at the same time, all hands were at work to repair the damaged ships, which were inconsider able, so that in eight djays' time they were all re-fitted. The signal being given by the discharge of a gun, all the fleet immediately weighed anchor, ahd stood out at sea, steering their course northwards, all that night ; next day upon tide of ebb, they made a stretch; and made a watch above a league, and then stood westward, and lay all night in the same posture, not making two leagues a watch. ¦ In the middle of the night, an advice-boat "brought us an account, that the English fleet, consisting of thirty-three sail, lay to the westward of ours. Upon which the Prince fired a gun, which caused a great consternation in the whole fleet ; we, having a brisk easterly ' wind, concluded- ourselves to be all ruined; but the small advice-boats, cruizing fora more certain account of the English, brought us back word, that, instead of the English fleet, Which the former advice had alarmed us with, it was Admiral Herbert with part of our fleet, which had been separated some hours from the body of our fleet. Upon whose arrival great rejoicing was among us all, and a signal of joy was given for it by the Prince. 1 [The 19th of October, on which day the whole fle6t was dispersed by a storm, when it had been but a few hours under sail.J t * James II. VOL. I. 3 M 450 The Expedition of the Prin6& of Orange for England. In the morning, about eight, the Prince gave a signal, that the Admiral should come a-board him. Immediately after the whole fleet was 'got into the North Foreland, upoa" which the Prince gave the Usual sign Of danger (according to tlie printed book), and ordered that the fleet should all. come up in a body, some fifteen or sixteen deep, his Highness leading the van in the ship the Brill (in English, Spectacles) s his flag, was English colours ; the motto impaled thereon, was, c The Protestant Religion, and Liberties' of England,' and underneath, instead of Dim &. mon droit, .was* ' And I will maintain itV The council of war, from on board the Prince, sent three small frigates into the mouth of the Thames, viz. the Porpus, Postilion, and Mercury; who, on their return, brought us word, that the English fleet Jay- in the Buoy of the Nore, consisting of thirty-four, sail, and three more which lay in the Downs. The wind continuing at E.N.E. The Prince immediately thereupon gave another signal of stretching the whole fleet in a line, from Dover to Calais, twenty-five deep ; so that our fleet reached within a league of each place; the flanks and rear were guarded by our men of war. This sight would have ravished the most curious eyes of Europe : when our fleet Was in its greatest splendour, the trumpets and drums playing varibus tunes to rejoice our hearts ; this continued for abov e5 three hours. Immediately after, the Prince gave us a sign to iAm&, and Bailed that night as far as Beach,, ahd commanded us to follow the signal by lights he had hung Out to us, viz. all the Small sail should come up to him by morning. • By the moming-day we espied the Isle of Wight, ahd theh the Prince ordered the fleet to be drawn into the same posture, as before related ; yet not stretching above half channel over, in this place. About five in the morning we made the Start, the wind chopping about to tlie westward; upon which we stood fair by Dartmouth, ahd so made for Torbay, where the Prince again ordered the whole fleet into the same posture as at Dover and Calais^ , Upon his arrival at Torbay, the people on land, in great numbers, welcomed his High ness with loud acclamations of joy. Immediately after, the Prince gave two signals, that the Admirals should come a-board' him, which they did ; and then ordered, that the whole fleet should come to an anchor, and immediately land; ahd further ordered, that the Admirals should stand out at sea, as a guard, as Wei as the smaller men of, war, to attend and guard their landing; ahd also ordered six men of War to run in, to guard Torbay. The Prince then put out a red flag at the mizen-yard-arm, and provided to land in sixty boats, laid ready for that purpose. . Upon which Itthe Prince signified, that General Mackay with his six regiments of English and Scotch should fil*st land ; and also, that the little Porpus, with eighteen guns, should run a-grou«d, to secure their landing ; but there was no Opposition : for the people bid us heartily welcome to England^ ahd gave us all manner of provisions for our refreshment;. The fifth of November (a day never to be blotted out Of the Englishman's heart) th£ Prince caused to be landed about two thousand. On the Sixth we laTMed as many horse and foot as we Could possibly, and so continued the seventh: the country hringihr in all manner of provision, both for man and horse, ahd were paid their price honestly for rt. The Prince the same day commanded Captain M— '-^ to search the LadyCary's house atTor-Abby, for arms and horses; and so all other houses which Were Roman Catholicfe-;*; The Lady; entertaining them civilly, said her husband was gone to Plymouth. They brought from thence some horses and a few arms, hut gave nO further disturbance to the Lady or her house. Nor shall it be forgotten, what was faithfully acted at this LaoVg house, immediately oh our arrival at Torbay :— There were a priest and some others With him upon a watch-tower, to discover what our fleet was, whether French or Dutch At last they discovered the white flags on some of 'Our men of war; the ignorant priest cOtt^ eluded absolutely we were the French fleet, which, with great impatience they had so long expected; and having laid up great provisions . for (iheir entertainment ; the priest ordered 3 [Je maintiendrai: the motto of the House of Nassau.} The Expedition of the Prince of Orange for England. 45 1 all to the chapel, to sing Te Deum, for the arrival of their supposed foreos; hut, being soon undeceived on our landing, we found the benefit of their provisions; and, instead of Vostre serviteur Monsieur, they were entertained with Yeen Mynheer, Can yotf Dutch spraken ? Upon which they all ran away from the house, but tlie Lady and a few old servants. The whole army, to the best of my knowledge, consisted of eighteen thousand hofse; three thousand dragoons, and one thousand eight hundred foot; besides a thousand voluni teer persons of quality, horse well equipped, and about five hundred horse for carriage. November the eighth, the Prince came from Chudleigh, towards Exeter, with the greatest part of his army attending him ; ahd about one of the clock entered at the west-gate of the city, welcomed with loud acclamations of the people. The manner of his publick entrance into Exeter was as follows : 1. The Right Honourable the Earl of M— — *,' with two hundred horse, the most part of which were English gentlemen richly mounted on Flanders steeds, managed and used to war, in head-pieces, back and breast bright armour. . 2. Two hundred blacks brought from the plantations of the Netherlands in America, having on embroidered caps lined with white fur, and plumes of white feathers, to attend the horse. « 3. Two hundred Finla«ders or Laplanders in bear-skins, taken from the wild beasts they had slain; the common habit of that cold climate; with black armour, and broad flaming swords. 4. Fifty gentlemen, and as many pages to attend and support the Prince's banner, bear ing this inscription, ' God and the Protestant Religion.' 5. Fifty led horses, all managed and brought up to the wars, with two grooms to each horse. 6. After these rode the Prince on a milk-white palfrey, armed cap a-pee, a plume of white feathers on his head, all in bright armour, and forty-two footmen running by him. 7. After his Highness followed likewise on horseback, two hundred gentlemen and pages. 8. Three thousand Switzers with fuzees. 9. Five hundred volunteers, each two led horses. 10. His Captain and guards six hundred', armed cap-a-pee. The rest of the army brought up the rear. 1 That night the Prince lay at the Deanery, having before Ordered the advanced guard to march to Clist-heath, and settled the quarters of the army ; which was done so much te the content and satisfaction of the inhabitants in, and about the city, and such just pay ments made for what the soldiers had, and such civil behaviour among them, without swearing and damning, and debauching of women, as is usual among some armies, that it is to admiration to behold. I am sure, Sir, I was an eye-witness of the whole order, and when we marched away from the city,- their joy was turned into dulness and cloudiness. On the ninth, the Prince commanded Dr. Burnet to order the Priest-vicars of the Cathe dral, not to pray for the Prkice of Wales, and to make use of no other prayer for the King, but what is in the second service ; which they refused to observe, till they were forced and very severely threatened : the Bishop and the Dean being then gone from the city. About twelve this day, notice was given to the Canons, and all the Vicars, choral and singing lads, to attend in the Cathedral immediately, for that the Prince would be there ; and Dr. Burnet ordered them, as soon as the Prince entered into the quire, they should sing Te Deum, which was observed. The Prince sat in the Bishop's chair, and all his great Officers attending on him. After Te Deum was sung, Dr. Burnet, in a seat under the pulpit, read aloud the Prince's declaration, and reasons for this his expedition; when this was over, the Prince returned to the Deanery. * [Macclesfield?] 452 The Expedition of the Prince of Orange, for England* The baggage was many days bringing from Torbay ; but the ammunition, both arms for., foot and horse, and the artillery, were brought into Topsham road, and there, by boats and. Other carriages landed ; the field-pieces were sent after the army at Clist-heath, the brass cannon remaining some of them in Exon. :.,.,: The greatest part of the army were ordered tb march forward to Ottery and Honyton, and in several parties were ordered to ..divers places in the county.: One party was sent to the north of Devon for horses, which were 'bought at excessive rates. From Roman Ca-- tholicks they took horses without money ; and many gentlemen, who might have had money " for their horses, refused ;• as the Bishop's son and divers others. On Sunday, Dr. Burnet preached at the Cathedral on this text, Psalm cyii. last verse, Ferguson preached in the Presbyterian meeting-house, but was fain to force his, way with his sword up to the pulpit, for even 'the old Presbyter himself could, not away with the breath of his brother Ferguson in his diocese : his text was in Psalm xciv.' ' Who will rise up for me, against evil doers?' I heard one of that, gang say, that his discourse came very much under the lash of the 25th of Edward the Third : he is not much regarded by. any Of the Prince's retinue. Sir William W , who had been at Ford with the Prince, to see Sir William C— t— , were both refused to be seen of him. One Major M — — , and Sir. Will: — — were in com mission to make new levies, which were carried on vigorously, and many enlisted under them ; but Sir W — — , it,seems, began to use an old trade, of taking mpney for quarters. Com plaint was made thereof to the Prince, and they were discarded, andthe men disbanded to seek for new officers. But? Sir W- does continue under the Prince's protection. The Prince was here above three days, before any appearance of gentry came, insomuch that the great officers began to wonder, that the Prince should be invited into England by them, and not to appear to the -Prince's assistance; but this consternation was soon over, when a considerable body of the gentry came in to him. Some that were for faking off the test and penal laws,- they, have not appeared as yet. So that now the counties of Corn wall and Devon are in the possession of the gentry thereof, and the Prince's army quite marched away. ..,..- Pendennis castle is managed by several gentlemen, who take their turns. Plymouth fort is declared for the Prince's service, by the Earl of B — > — s ; who, it seems, was to have been poisoned, by throwing white .mercury over a leg of mutton (appointed as one dish, for his supper) instead of flour: for that, ahd some other reasons, he secured the Lord H — , turned out all Papist soldiers, and has taken in the country soldiers into the fort. . Since which, there is an association among. the gentry, worded much after that of my Lord Shaftsbury's. . . Mr. Seymour being made governor of Exeter, and the Lord Mordaunt in his absence;. there are new levies raising every day ; so that this city is almost full of these new regiments, which are hourly disciplining by officers and old soldiers left here by the Prince. AH their arms are the Prince's, and I am told, he brought with him as many as will set out twenty thousand, both horse and foot. I am apt to believe this to be true, having seen most of what has been landed. All the vessels that brought up the anmunition, &c. are returned again to Torbay, under the guard of the principal men of war, a*quadron of which lie now in the Sound of Plymouth, and saluted each other with many cannon from the fort and the fleet. On Sunday last, there was a report that the twenty thousand French were landed at Pol lock in this county, upon which the whole country rose with pikes, spits, scythes, and what weapons they could get, and made away for Exeter; but it proved' a false alarm'- for there were two small French ships driven by the Dutch fleet ashore, and the French quitted their vessels and went on land, and were some killed, others sent hither. So that now they are pretty quiet again ; but it has given that advantage to the commissioned officers, who are to raise new levies, to pick and choose amongst them whom they please. 5 [Bath?] The Expedition of the Prince of Orange for England. 453 I shall now return again to the Prince ; When his Highness left Exeter, Wednesday, Nov. a I, he marched with his own guards, attended by a great many of the gentry both of Somersetshire and Devon to St. Mary Ottery, where lie dined ; after which he marched to . Axminster, where he continued four days ; from thence to Crook-horn, where he tarried only one night; from thence to Sherborne, where his Highness was splendidly entertained by the Lord D 6 ; from thence he went to Wincanton, where he lodged at the house of one Mr. Churchill, a merchant ; and, it is credibly reported, designs for Oxford. Sir, I have given you the best account I can of this great affair; you may communicate it to such friends as you think fit. Sir, I am, with all due respects, Wincanton, Your most obedient servant, 1 Dec. 1688. N. N. A further Account of the Prince's Army, ina Letter. sent from Exon, dated Nov. 24, 1688. HAD I not insensibly overslipped my time the last post, you had received this then : when I came here, I endeavoured to inform myself, after the best manner I could, as to the number and quality of the Prince's army; and all generally concluded them to be about thirty thousand, all picked men, and many of them personally present at the siege of Buda. This, I am certain, of, that they appeared to be men resolute, well disciplined and stout, and of an extraordinary stature, and their arms suitable, muskets, swords, and pikes, being far larger than ever I yet saw ; and notwithstanding the streets were thronged, almost as thick as yours on a Lord-Mayor's -day, yet was it even- a rarity to see one of them .shorter than six foot ; and some of them were, I am confident, six foot and a quarter, if not six foot and a half in height : so that, were it lawful to trust in an arm of flesh, they might have some cause to presume. But. the tenor of their words was otherwise ; their civil deportment, and their honesty of paying for what they have (and the strictness of their discipline hinders them from being otherwise) winning not a little the affections of the country-men, who daily resort thither, forty or fifty in a gang, to be enlisted. My Lord Mordaunt's regiment was soon completed, which, with two others, was raised and main tained at thecharge of the gentry in this county, of which Edward Seymour, Esq. is^by the Prince made Governor. During his Highness's stay here, which was till last Wed nesday, there appeared a court most splendid^; composed not only of foreign,, hut of many of the English nobility and gentry, which came hither to wait on his Highness since his arrival, of both ranks, upwards to the number of sixty, all mighty gallant in their equi page, each striving thereby to add to the glory of their design. The gentry of these parts first seemed slow in their advances to serve the Prince ; but, as. soon as the ice was broke by Captain Burrington, the majority soon followed his steps, and have entered into an asso ciation. It is to admiration to consider the vast magazine of all warlike utensils, brought hither by the Prince's army, their baggage having for a fortnight together been continually landing, and yetnot fully ended. Were it not for the badness of the roads, (as I was informed by a private sentinel,) they could draw into the field an artillery of above two. hundred pieces. But the greatest curiosity I yet saw was a bridge of boats ; such as J conceive the Imperialists use to pass over the Danube and Saave with ; which was,, for the speedy con veyance of their carriages, laid over the river in two or three hours, and afterwards as soon removed ; not to mention a smith's shop, or forge, curiously contrived in , a waggon ; or another contrivance the foot carry with them, to keep off the horse, which, in their manner, may well yield the service of a pike. There hath been lately driven into Dartmouth,, and since taken, a French vessel loaden altogether with images, and knives of a very large proportion; in length, nineteen inches,. and in breadth, two inches and an half; what they were designed for, God only knows. * [Digby ?} 454 The Act of Parliament of the Twenty-seventh of Queen Eli zabeth, to preserve the Queen's Person, the Protestant Re ligion, and Governmentj from the Attempts of the Papists, then big with Hopes of a Popish Successor: With the Association the Protestants then entered into, to the Ends aforesaid, till the Parliament could meet, and provide for their necessary Preservations. Together with some sober and seasonable Queries upon the same. By a sincere Pro testant, and true Friend to his Country, That which hath been, is now; and that which is to be, hath already been; and God requireth that which is past. Eccles. iii. 15. And in her was found the blood of prophets, and of saints, and of all that Were slain upon the earth. Rev. xyiii; 24. [From a Folio, containing Six Pages, printed in the Year 1679.] ANNO XXVII. An Act for Provision to be made for Ike Surety of the Queen's Majesty's most Royal Person, and the Continuance of the Realm in Peace. FORASMUCH as the good felicity and comfort of the whole estate Of this realm con- sisteth (only next under God) in the surety and preservation of the Queen's most ex cellent Majesty: and for that it hath manifestly appeared, that sundry" wicked plots, and means, have of late been devised and laid as well in foreign parts beyond the seas, as also Within this realm, to the great endangering of her Highness's most royal person, and to thd utter ruin of the whole commonweal ; if, by God's merciful Providence, the same had not been revealed. Therefore, for preventing of such great perils as might hereafter otherwise grow, by the like detestable and devilish practices, at the humble suit and earnest petition and desire of the Lords Spiritual and Temporal, and the Commons, in this present parliament assembled, and by the authority of the same parliament ; be it enacted and ordained, if, at any time after the end of this present session of parliament, any open invasion or rebel lion shall be had or made, into or within any of her Majesty's realms or dominions, or any act attempted, tending to the hurt of her Majesty's most royal person, by, or for any per son, that shall, or may pretend any title to the crown of this- realm, after her Majesty's decease; or if any thing shall be compassed or imagined, tending to the hurt of her Ma jesty's royal person, by any person, or with the privity of any person, that shall or may pretend title to the crown of this realm; that then by her Majesty's commission, under her great seal, the Lords and other of her Highness's Privy-Council, and such other Lords of parliament, to be named by her Majesty, as, with the said Privy-Couheil, shall make un the number of four^nd-twenty at the least; having with them, for their assistance in that behalf, such of the Judges of the courts of record at Westminster, as her Highness shall for that purpose assign and appoint; or the more part of the same Council, Lords, and Judge* shall, by virtue of this act, haye authority to examine all and every the offences aforesaid and all circumstances thereof; and thereupon to give sentence or judgment, as, upon good The Act of Parliament of the Twenty -seventh of Queen Elizabeth, $c. 455 proof, the matter shall appear unto them ; and that after such sentence or judgment given, and declaration thereof made, and published by her Majesty's proclamation, under the great seal of England, all persons, against whom such sentence or judgment shall be so given and published, shall be excluded and -disabled for ever to have or claim, or to pretend to have or claim the crown of this realm, or of any of her Majesty's dominions; any former law or statute whatsoever, to the contrary, in anywise notwithstanding : and that there upon all her Highness's subjects shall aiad may lawfully, by virtue of this act, and her Ma jesty's direction in that behalf, by forcible and possible means^ pursue to death every such wicked person, by whom, or by whose means, assent, or privity, any such invasion or rebellion shall be, in form aforesaid, denounced to have been made, <&r such wicked act at tempted, or other thing compassed or imagined against her Majesty's person, and all their aiders, comforters, and abettors. And if any such detestable act shall be executed against her Highness's most royal 'person, whereby her Majesty's life shall be taken away (which God of his great mercy forbid) that then every such person, by or for whom any such act shall be executed, and their issues being anywise assenting, or privy to the same ; shall, by virtue of tibisact, be excluded and disabled for ever to have or claim, or to pretend to have or claim, the said crown of this realm, or of any other of her Highness's dominions ; any former law or Statute whatsoever, to the contrary, in anywise notwitlhstajnding. And that all the subjects of this realm, and all other her Majesty'sdominions, shall and may lawfully, by virtue of thisact, by all forcible and possible means, pursue to death every such wicked person, by whom or by whose means any such detestable fact shall be, in form hereafter expressed, 'denounced to have been com mitted, and also their issues being any way assenting ©r privy t© the same, and all their aiders, comforters, and abettors, in that behalf. And to the end that the intention of this law may be effectually executed, if her Ma jesty's life should be taken away, by any violent or unnatural means (which God defend) : be it further enacted by the authority aforesaid, that the Lords and others, w'hich shall he of her Majesty's Privy^Council, at the time of such her decease ; or the more part of the same Council, joining unto them, for their better assistance, five other Earls, and seven other Lords of parliament at least (foreseeing that none of the said Earls, Lords, or "Council,'- be known to. be persons, that may make any title to the crown) those persons which were Chief Justices of either Bench, Master of the -Rons, and'Chief Baron of tbe Exchequer, at the time of her Majesty's death; or, in default of the said Justices, Master of the Rolfs, and Chief Baron, some other of those which were Justices of some of the Courts of Records at Westminster, at the time of her Highness's 'decease, to supply their "places-; or anyfonr- and-twenty or more of them; whereof eight to be Lords of the parliament, not being of the Privy-Council ; shall to the uttermost of their power and skill examine the cause and manner of such her Majesty*s death, and what persons shall be any way guilty thereof, and- all circumstances concerning the same, according to the true meaning of this act, and there upon shall by open proclamation publish the same, and without any delay, by all forcible. and possible means, prosecute to death all such as shall be found to be offenders therein, and all their aiders and abettors ; ahd 'for the doing thereof, and for the withstanding and suppressing of all such power and force as shall any way be levied or stirred in disturbance of the due execution of this law, shall, by virtue of this act, have power and authority not Only to raise and use such forces, as shall m that behalf he needful and convenient ; but also to use all other means and things possible and necessary for the maintenance of the same forces, and prosecution of the said offenders. And if any such power and force shsill be levied or stirred, iri disturbance of the due execution of this law, by any person, that shall or may pretend any title to- the crown of this realm, whereby this law may not in all things be fully executed, according to the effect and true meaning of the same ; that then every such person shall, by virtue of this act, be therefore excluded and disabled for ever, to have or claim, or to pretend to have or claim, the crown of this realm, or Of any other her Highness's dominions; any former law or statute whatsoever, to the contrary, notwith standing. 456 The Act of Parliament of the Twenty-seventh of Queen Elizabeth, $c> And be it further enacted, by the authority aforesaid, that all and every the subjects of all her Majesty's realms and dominions shall," to the uttermost of their power, aid and assist the said Council and all other the Lords, and other persons, to be adjoined . unto them for assistance, as is aforesaid, in all things, to be done and executed according to the effect and intention of this law; and that no subject of this realm shall in any wise be impeached in body, lands, or goods, at any time hereafter, for any thing to be done or executed according to the tenor of this law; any law or statute heretofore made to the contrary, in any wise notwithstanding. „ < And whereas, of late, many of her Majesty's good and faithful subjects have, in the name of God, and with the testimonies of good consciences, by one uniform manner of writing under their hands and seals, and by their several oaths voluntarily taken, joined themselves together in one bond and association; to withstand and revenge to the utter most all such malicious actions and attempts, against her Majesty's most royal person: now for the full explaining of all such ambiguities and questions as otherwise might hap pen to grow, fey reason of any sinister or wrong construction or interpretation, to be made or. inferred of or upon the words or meaning thereof, be it declared and enacted by the authority of this present parliament, that the same association, and every article and sentence therein contained, as well concerning the disallowing, excluding, or disabling any person, that may or shall pretend any title to come to the crown of this realm, as also for the pursuing and taking revenge of any. person, for any such wicked act or attempt, as is mentioned in the same association ; shall, and ought to be in all things expounded and adjudged, according to the true intent and meaning of this act, and hot Otherwise,- nor against any other person or 'persons, In Consideration of the said Act, may it not be queried, First,. Respecting the imminent danger, that England was in at that time, by the Pa-, pists, who in expectation of a Popish successor (Mary Queen of Scots) designed to murder the Queen, and subvert the government, and Protestant religion, by their hellish plots, both at home and abroad. Query I. Whether it is not a direct parallel case to our own, at this very time, wherein the Papists, in hopes of a Popish successor (the Duke of York) have so long, and by so many ways, designed to murder the King, and subvert the government, and Protestant religion, by their hellish plots, both at home and abroad ; as the manifold and still renewed discoveries of the plot, the reiterated proclamations, public fasts, legal proceed ings, and repeated parliament votes upon it, doth so fully appear? Some of which votes '. are these, viz. , , « Die Martis, 25 March, 1679. * Resolved, Nemine contradicente, By the Lords Spiritual and Temporal, and Commons, * in Parliament assembled, that they do declare, that they are fully satisfied by the proofs they * have heard, there now is, and for divers years fast past hath been, a horrid and treason- ' able plot and conspiracy, contrived and carried on by those of the Popish religion, for ' the murdering of his Majesty's sacred person, and for the subverting the ProtestantreK- * gion, and the ancient and established government of this kingdom.' ' Sunday, April 27, 1679. * Resolved, Nemine contradicente, That the Duke of York being a Papist ; and the ' hopes of his coming such to the crown, hath given the greatest encouragement and coun- < tenance to the present conspiracies and designs of the Papists, against the King and * Protestant religion.* ° The Act of Parliament of the Twenty-seventh of Queen Elizabeth, §c. 457 And again in the intended act : ' Do declare, that the Duke of York having openly ' parted from the church of England, and publickly -professed and owned the Popish reli- ' gion, hath notoriously given birth and life to the most damnable and hellish plot (by the c, most gracious providence of God brought, to light), &c.' . Secondly, As to the remedies then applied, and so effectually (by God's blessing) for the preservation of her Majesty's person, Protestant religion, and government ; as, 1. By that famous association, entered into by the people, in the interval of parliament. 2. The wholesome laws made by the parliament at their meeting. First, As to the association of the people in that extraordinary case. Query II. Whether the good people of England (now in a like case) in- sense of their most imminent danger, are not loudly called upon, in this interval of parliament, to be in a preparedness to enter into such a solemn association, to preserve the King's person, Protestant religion, and government, with their lives and fortunes ; and to be ready to revehge upon the Papists any violence by them offered in the mean time to his Majesty's person ; and to prevent any Popish successor, till the parliament may meet and provide for the necessary preservation of King and kingdom.. And whether, from the circumstances of danger that appears to King and kingdom now, there is not the same reason to sup pose, it may be as acceptable to his Majesty now, as to the Queen then, and to be as Well approved by the approaching parliament now, as by that parliament then ? Especially since the late parliament's votes are so leading and obliging thereto, viz. ' Sunday, May 11, 1679. ' Resolved, Nemine contradicente, That in defence of the King's person, and the Pro- * testant religion, this House doth declare, That they will stand by his Majesty with their 'lives and fortunes ; and that if his Majesty should come by any violent death (which ' God forbid) they will revenge it to the utmost on the Papists.' And in their address to the King upon it, May 11, 1679, do farther say, viz. ' And further to obviate, by the best means we can, all wicked practices against your ' Majesty's person and Protestant religion, whilst any such laws, are in preparation and 'bringing to perfection, we will stand by your Majesty with our lives and fortunes, ' and shall be ready to revehge upon the Papists any violence offered by them to your * sacred person. In which we hope your Majesty will graciously please to be more ' assured, as we ourselves are the more encouraged, in that the hearts of all your Ma- * jesty's Protestant subjects, with the most sincere affection and zeal, join with us ' herein.' And for which the King gave them his thanks ; assuring them he would do what in him lay, to preserve the Protestant religion, and to do all such things as majr^end to the good and benefit of the subject. Secondly, As to the good laws made the twenty-seventh of Queen JLlizabeth, to the preservation of the Queen, Protestant religion, and government. Query III. Whether we may not hopefully expect that the parliament, at their meet ing (as the parliament then did) will make such good laws as may tend to preserve the King's person, the government, and Protestant religion, and" secure us against a Popish successor, and punish the Popish traitors and delinquents ; as this parliament and other parliafnents of this Queen did ; and as was in the hearts and endeavours of the last worthy parliament to effect, not only by the good acts they had prepared against the Papists, and 'resolutions to try the delinquents, but in that famous act to exclude the Duke of York from the succession, in pursuance of their vote, viz. vol. i. 3 N 458 The Act of Parliament of the Twenty-seventh of Queen Elizabeth, STc. « Sunday, May 11, 1679^ * Orclfer6cl < That a bfll be brought in,, to disable the Duke of York to inherit the Imperial ' crown of this realm.' " Which bill was brought in accordingly, being read, and passed, and ordered to be ingrossed, and was as followeth : ' A copy of the Bill, concerning the Duke of York. ' Forasmuch as these kingdoms of Ehgland and Ireland, by the wonderful providence Of Almighty God, many years since, have been delivered from the slavery and super stition of Popery, which had despoiled the King of his sovereign power, for that it did and doth advance the Pope of Rome to a power over sovereign princes, and makes him mo narch of the universe; and doth withdraw the subjects from their allegiance, by pretended absolutions from all former oaths and obligations to their lawful sovereign ; and by many superstitions and immoralities hath quite subverted the ends of the Christian religion : but notwithstanding that Popery hath been long since condemned, by the laws and statutes of this realm, for the detestable doctrines and traitoroUs attempts of its adherents, against the lives of their lawful sovereigns, King sand Queens of these realms ; yet the emissaries,; priests, and agents for the Pope of Rome, resorting into this kingdom of England in great numbers, contrary to the known laws thereof; have, for several years last past, as well by; their own devilish acts and policies, as by counsels and assistances of foreign princes, and prelates, known enemies to these nations, contrived and carried on a most horrid and exe crable conspiracy to destroy and murder the person of his sacred Majesty, and to subvert the ancient government of these realms, and to extirpate the Protestant religion, and massacre the true professors thereof ; and for the better effecting their, wicked designs, and encouraging their villainous accomplices, they have traitorously seduced James, Duke of York, presumptive heir to. these crowns, to the communion of the church of Rome; and have induced, him to enter into several negociations with the Pope, his Cardinals, and Nuncios, for promoting the Romish church and 'interest ; and by his means and procure-* ment, have advanced the power ahd greatness of the French King, to the manifest hazard of these kingdoms ; that, by the descent of these crowns upon a Papist, and by foreign alliances and assistance, they may be able to succeed in their wicked and villainous designs. And forasmuch as the parliament of England, according to the laws and sta tutes thereof, have heretofore, for great and weighty reasons of state, and for the publick good and common interest of this kingdom, directed and limited the succession of the crown in other manner than'of course it would otherwise have gone ; but never had such important and urgent reasons, as at this time press and require their using of their said extraordinary power in that behalf. Be it therefore enacted by the King's most excellent Majesty, by and with the advice and consent of the Lords Spiritual and TempOral, and the Commons, in this Parliament assembled, and by the authority of the same. And it is hereby enacted accordingly, that James, Duke of York, Albany, .and Ulster, (having departed openly from the church of England, ahd having publickly professed and owned the Popish religion, which hath notoriously given birth' and life to the most damnable and hellish plot, by the. most gracious providence of God lately brought to light) shall be excluded and disabled, and is hereby excluded and disabled for ever, from possessing, ha ving, holding, inheriting, or enjoying the imperial crowns and governments of this realm and these kingdoms, and of all territories, countries, and dominions, now or which shall hereafter be under his Majesty's subjection ; and of and from all titles, rights, preroga tives, and revenues, with the said crowns, now or hereafter to be enjoyed ; and that upon the demise or death of his Majesty, without heirs of his body (whom God long preserve) the crowns and governments of these kingdoms, and all territories, countries, and domi- The Act of Parliament of the Twenty-seventh of Queen Elizabeth, $c. 459 nions, now or which shall hereafter be under his Majesty's subjection, with all the rights, prerogatives, and revenues therewith, of right enjoyed, atjd to be enjoyed ; shall devolve and come upon such person, who shall be next lawful heir of the same, and who shall have always been truly and professedly of the Protestant religion now established by law within this kingdom, as if the said Duke of York were actually dead; and that whatever acts of sovereign power the said Duke of York shall at any time exert or exercise, shall be taken, deemed, and adjudged, and are hereby declared and enacted high-treason, and to be punished accordingly. • ' And forasmuch as the peace, safety, and well-being of these kingdoms, do so entirely depend upon the due execution of and obedience to this law, be it further enacted by the authority aforesaid ; That if any person shall in any wise, at any time, during the King's life (which God preserve) or after his demise or decease, aid, assist, counsel, or hold cor respondence with, the said Duke of York (who is and ought to be esteemed a perpetual enemy to these kingdoms and governments) either within these kingdoms or out of thern; or shall endeavour or contrive his return into either of them, or any of the territories or dominions of the same ; or shall, during the King's life, publish or declare him to be the lawful or rightful successor apparent, presumptive, or other heir, to the crown of England; or shall, after the demise or decease of the King that now is, proclaim, 'publish^ or de clare the said Duke of York to be King, or to have right or title to the crown Or govern ment of England or Ireland ; or shall, by word, writing, or printing, maintain or assert that he hath any manner of right or title to the crown or government of these kingdoms, and shall be therefore convict upon the evidence of two or more lawful and credible wit nesses ; shall be adjudged guilty of high-treason, and shall suffer and forfeit as in cases of high-treason. ' And forasmuch as the said Duke's return, or coming into any of* the aforesaid king doms, countries, territories, or dominions, will naturally conduce to bring vast mischiefs, and all the evil hereby provided against upon them, in war and slaughter, and unspeak able calamities, which therefore the said Duke must be presumed to design by such his return, or coming info any of the aforesaid kingdoms, countries, territories, or dominions; be it therefore likewise enacted, and it is hereby enacted by the authority aforesaid ;r^ That, if the Duke do at any time hereafter return of come into any of the aforesaid king doms, countries, territories, or dominions, he shall be and is hereby, thereupon and for so doing, attainted of high-treason ; and all manner of persohs whatsoever are hereby authorized and required, to apprehend, secure, and imprison' his person; and, in case of resistance made by him, or any of his accomplices, to subdue or imprison him, or them, by force of arms.' «¦ Query IV. Whether the Protestants of England have not cause, by sad experience, to be made sensible what a horrid detestable thing the Popish religion is ; or rather, what a faction and qonfederacy it is against all mankind, that submit not their bodies and souls to that tyrannous Romish yoke ; who by principle (to accomplish their cursed ends and designs) can violate faith, say, swear, forswear any thing, yea, at the very point o[ death, [witness their own books, and late trials and executions] kill and murder kingsj [as their own Writings and practices in all ages, and particularly their designs and attempts upon Queen Elizabeth, King James, and his Majesty that now is, so fully eviT dence] massacre their neighbours, friends,* and nearest relations, [witness Paris, Piedmont* the 300,000 in Ireland, and the late never to be forgotten hellish butchery of * Sir Ed- mondbury Godfrey] fry and burn our persons, [as Smithfield, &c witnesseth] fire and lay Waste our cities, [which London in chief can never forget, and who had tlieir hands in chief therein] buy and sell (at the devotion of foreigners) the prorogations and dissolutions of our parliaments [as Coleman's and the treasurer's letters can at large tell you.] How 1 [The iHurder of this able and upright Magistrate, on the I'M: of October, 1678, Was imptte'd to' a' p'a'pistic conspiracy, in consequence of his vigifanf exertions to discover the contrivers of a plot to' assassmate Charles lis and subvert the established religion and government.] : 46() The Act of Parliament of the Twenty-seventh of Queen Elizabeth, Kc. ¦ brutishly cruel and barbarous to their native country [by their late designing not only to raise an army within us to enslave us, but to bring upon us that army .of foreigners, the Spanish crusado or pilgrims, under the Pope's banner, those devils incarnate as they ap peared to the Waldenses of old.] How restless and unwearied in their conspiracies and ' attempts, notwithstanding their many frustrations [just as it was in Queen Elizabeth's time, when though sixty-seven priests and Jesuits were then executed, and fifty-three banished, discovered and defeated in every enterprise; yet no sooner was one design made abortive, but they presently hatched and attempted another, and so went on all her days; and how good they have been at it since, through the three succeeding kings' reigns to this very day, the St. Omer's Records, Calendar of Newgate, and Parliament Rolls, can fully tell you.] And with what horrid impudence [as in the powder-treason, Paris and Irish massacres] they can out-face the fullest and clearest discoveries (though brought as now so undeniably out of their own bowels and so multiplied upon them, [witness their atheistical, astonishing,' lying deaths, and those swarms of insolent and audacious papers, daily, like their fire-balls, flung amongst us ; and which, like wild-fire, take place with sOine persons, as in their houses formerly] sometimes as though a Protestant plot to destroy them. And again, so hellishly and jesuitically subtle in managing their designs, [that, when the bare faced Papist cannot do it, the Protestant in masquerade, shall] the stratagem of this very day, and above all to be watched against.) As, Coleman's declaration for the church of Eng land, at that very time when they so designed its extirpation; being, as you wilt also find, the very devilism of Savage and other priests in Queen Elizabeth's time; who, the better to lull in security, and to cover Babington'S treasons in killing the Queen, (which they had engaged him and others at that time to perpetrate,) do at the same time write a book, exhprting the Papists in England to attempt nothing against their prince, and to use only the Christian weapons of tears, prayers, watching, and fasting. And, at another •time, the better to divert the stroke so unavoidably coming upon them, they fall upon their old method to divide the Protestants among themselves ; and therefore, putting on a vizard of conformity, cry loudly out against the Presbyterians, as, being only a plot of their devising, who, under pretence of suppressing of Popery, have no other design than to cast down the mitre and the crown (being, poor hearts, so tender of heretical kings and bishops); so villainous are these miscreants, who, with their father the devil, can trans form themselves into any Shape to accomplish their ends, and accommodate their mis chievous purposes, Therefore, whether all true-hearted English Protestants, though of different forms and persuasions, as they value their bodies, souls, estates, posterities, religion, peace, and pro sperity of king and country, are not thoroughly engaged by all ways and means to pre serve and deliver "themselves from such a hellish and intolerable yoke and bondage; and in order thereto to preserve peace and union amongst themselves, so eminently struck at in this very juncture ; without ' which it is not to be attained, and which the common enemy knows right well. Query V. Whether for any pretending Protestantism (after such Undeniable demonstra tions of their hellish and damnable plottings and actings, as before) having seen our cities and boroughs so often fired and refired, Sir Edmondbury Godfrey butchered Coleman's and the Treasurer's letters (so signally brought to light),' two parliaments' repeated votes the King s reiterated proclamations, the publick fasts, and bishops' prayers ; who can now at last be made so drunk with the cup of tlieir fornications, and bewitched with their lying inchantments and forgeries; (so as giving the lie to King and Parliament and their own senses) to defraud and invalidate the witnesses, mince or deny the plot • and call it with them a Protestant or Presbyterian project, pleading, for a Popish successor- oueht to be esteemed others tlian betrayers of their King and country, runagadoes from their religion (if ever Protestants at all), and the worst of Papists; and that, whatever otherwise they might pretend, yet to be so marked and dealt with, in city and country A brief History of the Succession of the Crown of England, fyc. 461 Query VI. Whether the Protestant interest in these nations, in the feeling sense of their most imminent danger, would, as one man,- petition and beseech his Majesty, as he tenders his own life and safety, the preservation of the Protestant religion, the lives and liberties of his people, security and peace of his kingdoms and governments ; and to be secured not only from the restless attempts of such an inveterate, implacable enemy, .within us, but from the present threats, and great preparations, of a successful potent enemy, without us: , that he be not prevailed with by any, either to retard the parlia- ' ment's sitting, or when sat, to hihder the passing of such good laws as may naturally tend to the common safety of these nations, and therein of his own person and Protestant ' religion, _ Query VII. Whether it may. not well become the wisdom of the parliament, at their next meeting, (the better to secure the Protestant cause and interest, so eminently .struck at in this juncture both at home and abroad,) to petition his Majesty not only for a right ordering of a Protestant league and association within ourselves in these three kingdoms, but to. further and promote the same amongst all the Protestant princes and countries, as well within themselves, as one with another; as the most hopeful way to frustrate the usurping attempts, not only of the old pretender, but the new rampant designer, to the universal monarchy, the better to enslave the bodies and souls of the nations. A brief History of the Succession of the Crown of England, &c. Collected out of the Records, and the most authentic]? Historians. Written for the Satisfaction of the Nation. [From- a Folio, containing eighteen Pages, printed in the Year 1688-9.] , * <* MEN generally, at present, busy themselves in discoursing about the succession, and therefore cannot but be pleased to have a short history of it set before them : for, by seeing how the crown has descended, and in what manner, and upon what grounds the natural course of the descent hath been changed, they will be enabled to judge what; has been the opinion of all ages, in this so controverted a point, and thereby may safely direct their own. Nothing certain has come down to us, of the nature of the government of this island, be fore the Romans came thither ; only this we learn from Caesar1, and Strabo2, and Tacitus3; that the Britons were subject to many princes and states, not confederate, nor consulting in. common, but always suspecting, and frequently warring with one another. During the Heptarchy, whilst,every kingdom was governed by different laws, we cannot think they agreed in one rule of succession : but if that does not, I am sure the reading the many changes and confusions of those times must convince any man, that their rule was uncertain, or else that they had no rule at all. Those seven kingdoms were at last united under Egbert. But yet our historians, who lived nearest those times, expressed themselves so oddly in this matter, and do so constantly .mention the election of almost, eyery king, before they tell us of his coronation, that some learned men have doubted, whether, before the Conquest, the government of this island was ever grown up into a settled hereditary monarchy. Surely if it were so, yet all must ' Caes. de Bell. Gall. lib. 5. 2 Strab. lib. 4. 3 Tacitus in Vita Jul. Agricolae. 462 A brief History of the Succession of the Crown of England, $c. agree, that then the succession was not guided by the' same rules, as some men believe, or pretend, it ought now to be. Egbert himself, the first English monarch, came to the crown, riot by succession, but election ; being no way related to Brissicus, the last of the West-Saxon kings ; and, when he died, he gave the kingdoms of Kent and Essex to his second son. Ethelwolf divided the whole island between his two sons, Ethelbald and Ethelbert. Athelstan (though a bastard) succeeded his father, and was preferred to his legitimate brothers. Edred, the younger brother of King Edmund, was advanced to the throne; though the deceased Prince had two sons, Edwin and Edgar, who did both of them reign afterward successively. Edgar left a son at his death; but yet there happened a mighty contest about his successor, some of the great men contending for the election of Ethelred, his brother : but, at last, the interest of Edward, the son, prevailed, and he was, in full assembly, elected, consecrated, and anointed King. That which Ailredus, Abbot of Rievallis,in his Life of Edward the Confessor, gives an account of, seems very remark able to our purpose. KingiEthelred, (who was no tame and easy Prince) desirous to esta blish his successor in his life-time, summoned a great council, expressly for that purpose, and proposed the thing to them. The council were divided; some of them appearing for Edmund, his eldest son ; and some for Alfred, his second son, by Queen Emma. But at last, upon some superstitious fancy, they agreed to pass by both of them, and elected the infant that was in the Queen's womb : to which election, the King gave his royal assent, and the whole assembly swore fealty to the child, whilst yet unborn. Undoubtedly, this story makes it plain, that it was not enough at that time to entitle one to the crown, that he was the King's eldest son ; for then' Ethelred would never have suffered a debate about the election of a successor, nor summoned a parliament expressly for that purpose, which you see he thought necessary to be done. And, notwithstanding all his care, it seems, upon the death of Ethelred, Canutus had so great an interest, that by an unanimous consent, in a full council, he was elected King; and' all the issue of the last Prince rejected. It is true, the Londoners stood firm to Edmund Ironside, (the approbation of that renowned city had then no little influence on the succession,) and there were divers battles fought between them; but, at last, they came to an agreement, and Edmund dying, the Dane ruled the whole island peaceably whilst he lived. Immediately, upon the death of Canutus, there was assembled, at Oxford, a great coun cil, to determine who ought to succeed; where, notwithstanding all the interest which 'Godwin, Earl of Kent, and the West-Saxon great men, could make on the behalf of Har- dicanute, the legitimate son of the dead King, they were over-voted, and Harold Harefoot (his bastard, begotten on Ailena, or Elgiva) was elected. Harold died in the fifth year of bis reign, and then the people were content to accept of Hardicanute for their King, and, to that end, sent for him out of Flanders ; but, he dying issueless, it was ordained in a general council, that never any Dane should for the future be admitted to reign in Ehgland. After which, they proceeded to elect Alfred, the son of Ethelred; and be being murdered by the treachery of Earl Godwin, they chose his brother Edward, commonly called Edward the Confessor. Nor were these elections of theirs made with any respect to nearness of bloorf, more than those whereof we have heard before- for Edmund Ironside, their elder brother, had a son then alive, whose name was Edward, and who was father to Edgar Atheling, living also at the same time. And though this Edward had an undoubted title to the crown, (if proximity of blood could have given it,) yet the Confessor was so far from suspecting any danger from such a title, as that he invited his nephew into England ; and welcomed him, when he came, with the greatest expressions of joy, and* entertained him with the greatest confidence. Nor had the people any regard to this royal blood upon the death of the Con* fessor ; but elected Harold, the son of Earl Godwin, who had no pretence of kindred to the Saxon line. These few, among many other instances which may be given, will shew plainly enough, how men entitled themselves to the crown in those days, and that then it was no strange thing to hear of a parliament's meddling with the succession. Therefore, I suppose, the A brief History of the Succession of the Crown of England, $e. 463 men, who seem astonished at the boldness of a parliament, in presuming to speak of it at this time*, will say, that they ought not to be troubled with precedents before the Norman conquest ; and that though the Saxons might be guilty of preferring a brave and deserving bastard, before a cruel or a silly legitimate prince, and of many other irregularities; yet no such things are to be found in our histories, since the time of William the First, whose reign is the great epoch, from whence we do compute our Kings. Let us, therefore, go on more particularly to observe, what has been done since that time; and we shall see, whe ther they, who wonder so much, have any reason to do so. William the Conqueror was himself illegitimate, and yet succeeded his father in the Duchy of Normandy, and therefore had no reason to set any great value upon that sort of title; which is derived from a right of blood. And it seems he did not much regard it j for, (pas sing by Robert his eldest son,) he gave the crown, by his last will, to William Rufus, his younger son; disposing, only with regard to his own inclinations, the crown which himself had gained. But his son was too wise to rely upon this disposition, as a sufficient title; and therefore had recourse to a more sure one : for, calling the nobles and wise men of the kingdom, he acquainted them, in full council, with his father's will, and desired their consent to it ; who, after a long consultation, did at last unanimously agree to make him their King, and there upon he was crowned by Lanfranck, Archbishop of Canterbury. I cannot but observe one thing farther, that though some men make use of the absolute victory, which the Con queror had made; and affirm, that thereby the English were wholly broken, and all the old laws and customs of the realm were destroyed ; yet it is plain that, at this time, the English interest was so great, that it kept the crown upon William Rufuss head, in spite of all that the Normans could do in behalf of Robert, though they universally joined with him. For, the King calling together the English, and opening to them the treason of the Nor mans, and promising them a complete iestitution of their ancient laws ; they stood firm to him, and soon put an end to all the attempts of his brother, and his Norman accomplices. Upon the death of William Rufus, Robert had a fair pretence to renew his claim to the crown ; but that Prince had discovered too much of the cruelty of his disposition, of his aversion to the English nation, and of his proneness to revenge ; so that, by the full eon- sent and counsel of the whole body of the realm, assembled at Winchester, he was finally rejected ; and they did concur to elect the Conqueror's third son Henry for their King (as Matt, of Westminster expresses it). Nor did they do this but upon terms; for both the clergy and laity said, that if he would restore them their ancient liberties* and confirm them by his charter, and abrogate some severe laws which his father had made, they would con sent to make him King. And this prudent and learned King was not ashamed or unwil ling to own this title ; for lie does at large recite it in his charter, whereby he confirms their liberties, Scialis me, misericordid Dei, 8( communi concilia Baronum regni Anglim, ejusdem regni regem coronatum esse, &c. i. e. Know ye that I am crowned King of England by God's mercy, and the general council of the Barons of the said kingdom. Henry the First, you see, had reason to believe and own the power of the kingdom, in setting the crown upon what head they pleased ; and therefore he desired to secure it that way to his posterity. To that end, in the thirteenth year of his reign, he summoned a council, and procured all the great and powerful men of the kingdom to swear, that his son William should succeed him : but afterwards this son of his was unfortunately drowned, and the King died ; leaving no other issue but Maud his daughter, who had been married to the Emperor, and afterward to Geoffrey Plantagenet, Earl of Anjou. No dispute can be made, but that she had all the right which proximity of blood could give ; yet Stephen, Earl of Boloign, who was the son of Adela, one of the Conqueror's daughters,' and whose elder brother Theobald, Earl of Blois, was then living, stepped in before her; and, by repre senting to them the inconvenience of a feminine government, and promising them to con sent to such good and gentle laws, as they should devise, prevailed with the estates of the 4 Of the Kevolution. 464 A brief History of the Succession of the Crown- of England, Sfb. realm to elect him King. And in this charter, which he made soon after,' he owns this title, beginning it thus: Ego Stephanus, Dei gratid, assensu cleri SC populi in regem Aftgli« 27 Eliz. c. 1 •*' Strangway's Hist.of Mary Queen of Scotland, fol. 179. A brief History of the Succession of the Crown of England, Xc. 473 that the historian had reason for saying, that seldom, or never, the third heir, in a right descent, enjoyed the crown of England. It were as easy to shew, that in all other kingdoms, the next of blood hath been fre quently excluded from the succession48; but the history of our own country is our business: yet I cannot forbear reciting the speech which Ambassadors, sent from the states of France, made to Charles of Lorrain, when they had solemnly rejected him (though he was brother to Loys d'Outremes, and next heir to the crown) arid had elected Hugh Capet for their king. They told him, " that every one knew that the succession of the crown of France belonged to him, and not Hugh Capet49. But yet (say they) the very same laws, which give you this right of succession, do now judge you also unworthy of the same ; for that you have not hitherto endeavoured to frame your manners accOrding to the prescript of those laws, nor according to the usages and customs of your country ; but rather have allied yourself with the -German nation, our old enemies, and have loved their vile and base manners. Wherefore, seeing you have forsaken the ancient virtue and sweetness of your country, we have also forsaken and abandoned you, and have chosen Hugh Capet for our king, and put you hack ; and this, without any scruple of conscience at all ^esteeming it better, and more just, to live under him, enjoying our ancient laws, customs, privileges, and "liberties, than under you, the heir by blood, in oppressions, strange customs, and cruelty. For, as those, who are to make a voyage at sea, do not much consider whether the pilot be owner of the ship, but whether he be skilful and wary : so our care is, to have a prince to govern us gently and happily (which is the end for which princes were appointed), and for these ends we judge this man fitter to be our king. Certainly, it were a most dangerous thing to have an opinion prevail, that the king, in concurrence with his parliament, should not have power to change the direct order of suc cession, though the preservation both of him and his people did -depend upon it. For it does directly tend to anarchy, and makes the government to want power to defend itself, by making such alterations, as the variety of accidents in several ages may make abso lutely necessary. There must be a supreme uncontroulable power lodged somewhere : mid the men, who talk at this rate, can hardly find where it is lodged in England, if not in the King, Lords, and Commons, in Parliament. But when a man begins to ask a reason of this doctrine of theirs, that proximity of blood does give a title unchangeable by any human laws, the teachers of it differ exceed ingly; some !of them tell us of a divine patriarchal right, which kings, as natural fathers of their people, have derived down to them from Adam. -And this notion, though it be nO older than the present age, has been very frequent in men's mouths and books, and has much pleased of late (as new things use todo). But they consider not, that if this be true, there never can be hut one rightful monarch in the universe ; that is, he only who is the direct and lineal heir of Adam then living. And thus these great patrons of absolute power, instead of supporting, do shake the thrones of all the princes in the world ; since none of them, at this day, can make but any such title. There are Others, who being desirous to bestow upon the crown a compliment of the like nature, which they were 'at the same time obtaining from it, have declared in general, that monarchy is of divine right, that princes succeed by the laws of God, that their title is not subject to any earthly cognisance, nor owing to any consent of the people. But the consequences of this opinion are not once considered by these men, that thereby the property of all" subjects and the laws of all countries are destroyed together. For no hu man laws or contracts can bind or restrain a power divinely instituted. (Or, if you like it better, in the words of a great Cardinal50), ' a jurisdiction which is of divine right, is not alterable by the will or power of man.' Besides, all communities, which live under another form of government, must be guilty of violating this divine institution. And, perhaps, there are few others, besides the Great Turk's dominions, which are governed as they ought to be. ** Daniel, fol. 5. in Vita Hen. I. '49 Gerr. du Hail. lib. 6. ann. 988. 50 Card. Palav. Hist. Cone. Trid. lib. 18. c. IS. ¦ voi. i. «* E 474 A brief History of the Succession of the Crown of England? Kc. In what a damnable condition are the Venetians and the Netherlands, who admit no mo narch at all ? Poland, and the Empire, who elect their princes, and will not hear talk of this divine right of succession 3 Arragon, where they do not only elect their king, but tell him' plainly at his corona tion, that they will depose him, if he observes not the conditions which they require from him, and have a settled officer, called El' Justitia, . for that purpose. Nay, even France itself, which, it is notoriously known, does exclude women from this divine right. That government is of nature, and derived from God, is manifest. Nothing is more natural in man, than the desire of society ; and without government, society would be intolerable. But can it be proved from hence, that the government cannot be moulded into several forms, agreeable to the interest and dispositions of several nations, and may not be* varied from thne to time, as occasion requires, by the mutual consent of. the go vernors, and of those who are governed ? And after all pretences of this kind, let any place of Scripture be produced, wherein God obliges a people to this, or that form, till they have first obliged themselves to it, by some act of their own ? I do not agree that, if God by any extraordinary revelation has ordained any sort of government; or, by any immediate denomination, has conferred a kingdom on any family; and has directed in what order the crown shall descend, that all men are bound to submit to it, and acquiesce in the Divine Will, as soon as it is clearly and evidently made out to them ; but they must not be angry, if men expect such an evidence. ' There is a third sort of men, who tell us, this realm being entirely subdued by the Conqueror, and by him left* to descend to his heirs, none of these heirs, who derive a title under him, can deprive those who are to succeed of any right, which they ought to have^ but must leave the crown as free to them, as they themselves received it from their ancestors. I will not here insist upon the danger that any prince runs into,, who founds his title in force; because it will be hard to prove that such an one does not leave as good a title open for every man,, who can make himself strong enough. Nor need I trouble myself to shew, that all conquest does not put the conqueror into an absolute right. Though it be most evident in the case of William the First, who did by his sword prosecute a claim of another nature, and meant Only to acquire that right, and, after conquest, rested in it. He pretended to the crown as the gift of King Edward, and to vindicate that title, he entered with arms. And' though his relation to the crown was more remote than that Of Edgar Atheling (then a child), yet this title was better than Harold's, the present usurper, who could pretend no kindred at all, and who. had himself sworn to support the grant to , William. Nor did he claim a power by conquest,: (though the name of Conqueror was given him by after-times, says Daniel,) but submitted to the orders of the kingdom, desirous rather to have his testamentary title, than his sword, to make good his succession. But I will admit that he made an absolute conquest, arid then these men will grant that he might himself dispose of this conquered kingdom. Therefore, if he did not leave it to de scend in such a manner as they would have it go, nor did institute any such sort of suc cession, surely this argument of theirs will fall to the ground. Now it is plain, that he never designed that the crown should descend, but gave it to his second son, and thereby 'gave an early example of excluding and pretermitting the unworthy. Lastly, others object that the fundamental laws of the land, against which no act of parliament can be offeree, have so established the succession, that the course of it cannot be altered. This is surely anew discovery unknown to our forefathers, as the foregoing history does abundantly prove. But let these objectors be asked, by what authority these imaginary laws were made ? For if an authority, equal to that which made them, be still in being; that authority may certainly repeal, whenever it pleases to exert itself If the King alone made them, no doubt but that he may-change them too. > If they will say they were made by the diffusive body of the people ; they run before they are aware, into the guilt of worshipping that idol the multitude, and make a great step towards placing A brief History of the Succession of the Crown of England, SCc. 475 the foundation of the government upon contract and consent. But then let them produce those laws, or some authentick memorial of them, before it be exacted from us to believe, there were ever any such. Yes, they will say, there is such an ancient law, acknowledged by all the judges, and known to every man, that the descent of the crown purges all defects whatsoever. This maxim,- as it is usually repeated, is in these words; and this might be admitted, and yet could not be pertinently applied to a case, where the descent itself is prevented by a law. But I will not take advantage of their words, but will consider the objection, as it stands in that book, where the first mention of it was made, and that is in the Year Book of Henry the Seventh ; it being said there by the judges, * That the King was a person able, :e and discharged of any attainder, eo facto, that he took upon him the government, and * to be king51.* First, This was not only ah extrajudicial opinion, but was not pertinent to the questiop referred to their consideration, ' Whether those who were chosen into the House of Com mons, and were at that time attainted of treason, might sit in parliament till their attain ders were reversed ;' and they all agree that their attainders should first be annulled. But they then proceed to say, ' That there was no necessity that the King's attainder should be reversed ; for that he might enable himself, and needed not any act of reversal.' But surely ' they said very wisely in what they, said ; for he, who had won a CrOwn in the field, had gone a great way towards enabling himself to wear it. Most sure it is, that if an act of •reversal were necessary before he could sit, that then it was impossible he ever should sit there, because no such act could be made, without the royal assent. Henry the Seventh Was then king de facto, and in possession of the throne ; and it was somewhat . of the latest to consider, whether he was qualified or not. Certainly it had been strange self- denial in the judges, and a neglect of themselves (which is not usual with them) to have alledged an incurable disability in the king, from whence they had their patents and authority. In the next place let us consider, what precedent the judges cite to justify this opinion of theirs, and how opposite it is. Henry the Sixth, being driven out of the kingdom by Edward the Fourth, the conqueror called a parliament, and got an act to pass, whereby. Henry was disabled to hold the crown. About ten years after, Henry regains the king dom, and upon this re-accession to the crown (as it is usually called) this act is never repealed. But does not every child see the reasons of it ? For if Henry was lawful king {and before he was not to doubt that) the act itself was void, inasmuch as it wanted the royal assent. So that for him to have procured an act of repeal, had been to affirm a title to the crown in Edward. But without doubt, this opinion of the judges, .as it is applied by the objectors, was new and unheard of before. We see the King of France was other wise informed by the learned men in the time of King John52, for 'they thought his blood corrupted, and him uncapable of taking the crown by descent, because he was attainted ¦of treason ; which prevailed with that king to send over his son Lewis, to put in his claim, in right of his wife, who was tlie next heir. It also ought to be observed, that the true reason why the generality of the nation did so long approve the title of the house of Lan caster, was, because all the princes of the house of York were attainted of treason, and tlieir blood corrupted. But as soon as ever this corruption was purged, and Richard Duke of York was declared heir-apparent by parliament, the people soon forsook the Lancas trians, and set the house of York on the throne. Nay, the very learned men of the same age with these judges thought quite otherwise, as will appear beyond contradiction, in this famous case which follows. Richard the Third had two elder brothers, Edward, and George Duke of Clarence. Richard, designing to secure the crown to himself, had procured the children of Edward to be declared illegitimate, yet still the Duke of Clarence had issue living, which might pretend. But observe what the parliament say (as. to this) in the first year of Richard the Third53 : ' That, in the seven- " 1 Hen VII. fol. 4. b. Que le Roy fuest Person able & discharge d> auscun attainder eo facto qu'il prist sur -hi le reign & estre Roy. " Matt. Westm. 275. v. supra. " Vid. sup. & Cott. Rec. 709. 47^5 * A brief Account of the Succession of the Crown of England, 8Cc. , ' teenth year of Edward the Fourth, George Duke of Clarence was attainted of treason, ' by reason whereof all the issue of the said George was, and is disabled and barred of all ' right and claim, that in any case, he, or his issue, might have, or challenge by inheri- •' tance to the crown, and dignity royal of these realms. After that we consider, that ' you be the undoubted heir, &c. And so they proceed, affirming that all learned men ' in the laws do approve his title.' You see, within less than three years before this opinion of the judges, the whole parliament do not only give their opinion, but assure you that all learned men of that time held clearly, that an attainder did hinder the descent of the crown, and incapacitate the person to take it. Nay, what goes yet further in this matter, Richard himself, though he was as jealous to secure his title as, ever tyrant was, and had as good advice to discern tlie most distant danger ; though he was always restless in endeavouring to get the Earl of Richmond into his hands, who was a very remote pre tender, and only descended from a bastard of the house of Lancaster; yet he feared no thing on this side. He knew how he had wronged the children of his brother Edward, and could not be at ease till he had sent them out of the world, but he let the children of his brother Clarence live, without apprehending any danger from them, because their blood was corrupted, and all possibility of descent taken from them, by the attainder of their father. It was this only preserved them alive, and not any remorse of conscience, or any niceness in sending another nephe\v out of the world, after those whom he had dis patched before. This notable case, attended with these circumstances, will convince every man, either that the judges intended no such thing by their opinion as some men fancy, or else at least that extrajudicial opinions were then as apocryphal as they have been since. Consider,, lastly, the unreasonableness of this doctrine, which tends directly to subvert government, and to put the life of the king regnant into the hands of his successor, The next heir may commit rapes, and murders, and treasons; burn cities, or betray fleets; may conspire against the life of his prince, and yet after all, if by flight or force he can save himself, till some of his accomplices can get the. king dispatched, in spite of all laws and justice, he must come to the crown, and be innocent. But when I reflect what sort of men I am arguing with, and how willingly they use to submit to authority, I think I shall convince them best by citing, the Opinions of two great men, the one a Cardinal, the other a Lord Chancellor, both of them martyrs for the Papal supremacy; I mean, Bishop Fisher and Sir Tho. Moor. And, if their judgments approve the power of parliaments in the business of the succession, it cannot but weigh very much on such occasions as this. It is well known, how S4 with resolution, even to death, they refused the bath of succession which the parliament had framed, because therein the king's supremacy was, avowed, and therefore they cannot be suspected to dis semble, when at the very same time they declared, that if that of supremacy was left out, they would willingly swear an oath to maintain the succession of the crown to the issue of the king's present marriage? as it was then established by parliament; and gave this reason for it, that this was in the power of a parliament to determine ; but not who was supreme head of the church. Sir Tho. Moor went further, and owned a very strange opi nion of their power in this point. But he says expressly at the same time, that the par liament had unquestionable authority in the ordering thesuccession, and that the people were bound to obey them therein. After the testimonies of these two great Papists, it will be little to add the testimony of a Protestant. But yet I will mention what Sir Walter Rawleigh (who was no incon siderable man, though a Protestant} says in his incomparable Preface to the History of the World : ' Without doubt (says he) human reason would have judged no otherwise but that 4 Henry the Fourth had rendered the succession as unquestionable by the act of parliament ' which he had procured to entail it on his issues, as by his own act he had left his ene- * mies powerless.' * Burn. Hist. Reform, lib. ii. fol. 156. Advice to a Soldier, 3Ce. 47 T But sinking men catch hold of every thing, and when they cannot object to the vali dity, they will tell us, ' That such ah act of parliament, to disinherit the riext heir, is unjust and without a sufficient ground.' ' I will not, at present, enter into a dispute how far the difference of religion, which will also necessarily draw on a change in the government, does justify men in seeking to pre serve tlie two dearest things on earth in an orderly and lawful way. I will not (though I safely might) challenge these men to tell me, wherever any settled nation which had laws of their own, and were not under the immediate force of a conqueror, did ever admit Of a king of another religion than their own. I will not insist on it that the crown is not a bare inheritance, but an inheritance accompanying an office of trust ; and that, if a man's defects render him uncapable of the trust, he has also forfeited the inheritance. , I need not say how far a nation is to be excused for executing justice summarily, and without' the tedious formalities of law, when the necessity of things requires haste, and the party flies from justice, and his confederates are numerous and daring, and the prince's life in danger. But this I will say, that if the parliament have power in this thing, which I need not prove, by shewing, that the ordinary course of law allows heirs to be disinherited of fines. and recoveries ; arid that the parliament, in all ages, has frequently done it by making acts to alter the strongest settlements, where equity has dictated it, though the heirs were never, in any wise, criminal : ' There (according to Sir Thomas Moor's opinion) the ' people are bound, in conscience, to obey their laws, and must not pretend to enquire ' whether they were made upon just grounds.' For by the same reason they may pre tend that all other laws were made without just cause, and refuse obedience to any of them. And surely those, that should do so, would be an excellent loyal party. God de fend this nation from, such loyalty, as opposes itself to the laws ! > Advice to a Soldier, in Two Letters, written to an Officer in the English Army ; proper to be exposed at the present Time, while the Peace of Christendom (if not the Liberty. of it) seems to be very short-lived. [From a Quarto, containing Fourteen Pages, printed at London, by John Sliadd; 1680.} The, first of these Letters endeavours to convince every candidate for afeld-commission, that ¦ he is petitioning, not for a small and trivial matter, but for a preferment, on the due execution of which depends his own and his King's and nation's welfare ; and therefore the author adviseth every one first to engage a volunteer in some action in thezvars,. before he accepts of the post of the meanest officer ; because the military arts of battles. and sieges are as little to be learned by reading and theory, as any other worldly em ployment ,- and they that have the commission, and must be beholden to the instruction- and direction of a subaltern in the execution of their duty, lie subject to this dilemma, < To lose the credit of their success zvhen fortune favours, or to bear the blame zvhen it happens otherwise.' The second Letter contains the moral part of military discipline; and that not only in rd to the soldiers in general, but to the officers in particular. And they are both, rega 478 Advice to a Soldier, 5fc. not only nmv, but at all times, worthy the perusal of those gentknien zvho serve their King and country zvith their hearts and swords. The First. Letter to a young Gentleman, zvho, by the mediation of great friends, had ob tained the grant of a considerable command in the English army, against the prevailr ing power of France, in the year 1678. My dear Friend, I DO highly approve the resolution you have taken to serve his Majesty in the wars, if any happen; it being a duty which every good subject owes him, especially- the gen try, who derive all their streams of honour from that original fountain. But it may pos sibly seem strange, that, while all the rest of your friends are congratulating your good fortune, in the preferment proffered you, I only shew myself dissatisfied.: I will assure you I am so far from envying your promotion, that no man living does more heartily desire it than myself; it is the reality of my friendship makes me jealous, that preferment is arrived at your port, before you are ready, before you are fit for it. It is no small or trivial matter which he undertakes, who receives a Commission from the King", how light soever you and other young gentlemen think of it ; arid I should not be worthy any place in your esteem, if I did not deal very candidly and plainly with you. And in the first place I will tell you, He cannot be a fit man to command, who knows hot the duty of those that are to obey him. I doubt not but you have read books relating to war, and may understand something of the theory of it ; but all the reading in the Universe will not enable a man to perforin well the meanest of the mechanick arts. We usually allow seven years1 experience, for attaining the skill to make shoes, &c. and do you believe that the military science (upon the success whereof depends the safety or the ruin, the standing or falling of towns and citadels, kingdoms and empires) is to be learned amidst the softnesses and ease of courts and rich cities, and reposing on the laps of ladies ? or by the imperfect ideas of a battle, and a siege represented in a play? or at best by a "little superficial reading of commentaries ? — No, the art of war is to be attained by other methods and means more studious, more laborious, more manly ; and, if you accept of a command at this time, it is od ds that you neither efficaciously serve the King, nor yourself. Not the King, for the obtaining preferments by favour, without merit, is the greatest, discouragement in the world, tp men of low fortunes and high spirits, and such, in times of danger, are the usefullest men to a common-wealth ; who, having served many years in the wars, and made themselves ¦capable of the greatest offices, shall on the sudden find themselves defeated, by such young gentlemen as you ; although, if you come to speedy action, you must necessarily be baffled, and disappoint his Majesty's service, or else owe your success wholly to chance, for which none but fools will commend you. You cannot serve yourself, because the main thing you aim at, is honour : Now you must know, they lie under a vulgar error, who think that to have a great office, or great title, is sufficient to make a man honourable. True honour does not so much consist in possessing great offices, or great titles, as in the using those great titles, and in discharging those great offices so, as the Prince may be well arid faithfully served, and the publick good advanced and promoted. Which can never be done by one who wants experience, unless (as I said before) it be by chance, or by the discreeter menage of the under-officers. I will add further, that what miscarriage soever happens under you, will be imputed, right or wrong, to your want of conduct ; and the credit of all good service you do, shall be carried away by those of your officers who have more skill, even then when they do not deserve it. Wherefore my advice is, if you would serve your Prince and your country, as becomes a good subject and a gentleman ; if you would bring an addition of honour to yourself and family ; let your advancement be the reward, rather than the obligation Advice to a Soldier, Wc. 479 of your merit. Content yourself for a time, to serve as a private gentleman, a volunteer, and you will find, that one year's experience, in time of action, will instruct you better than twenty years' reading without it. It has been always my manner to express my mind freely, and so I do now, when I assure you, I am, London, Aug. 20, 1678. Your faithful Friend. A Second Letter to the same young Gentleman, after he had received Ms Commission; wherein is chiefly discoursed the Moral Part of Military Discipline. My dear Friend, IT seems, before my letter came to your hands, you had received the commission, from Which I was too late endeavouring to dissuade you. The wisest men do many things in their lives, which they are sorry for when done, but cannot undo without greater disad vantage : this act of yours I look on to be. one of those. It was the desire of honour made you take a commission, and though now you wish it had been deferred till another time ; yet, since you have put your hand to the plough, you must not look back, you cannot lay it down without shame, without disparagement. Therefore, I will give you such general advice as I can ; for particular or practical, you know, I do not pretend to. It will be impossible for you, at first, to conceal your unskilfulness in arms, from your men, and therefore all attempts of that nature will be fruitless and ridiculous ; wherefore it will be your best way to own it, to such of your officers as are ingenious, and do not think it any disparagement to learn of your inferiors. It is no shame not to know that which one has not had the opportunity of learning ; but it is scandalous to profess know ledge and remain ignorant. In regard your experience in martial matters is green, as well as your years; it will be heedful that you use all the helps you can, to make some amends for that defect. And, first, I would have you get intimately acquainted with some of the best of our English officers, especially some of those who have been either on the side of France or Holland, or both, engaged in the present war of Christendom ; and by a frequent converse with them, and by your own heedful observation, you may the sooner make a good im provement of your time ; and you would do well to get yourself provided with some of the best books, describing the modern way of military discipline ; for books are great assist ances to those who every day compare their reading and practice. When you have made a choice of persons with whom you intend to be intimate, be careful you are not by any of them drawn into private or particular quarrels ; and if any such accident happens in your presence, between others, endeavour what you can to com pose, not widen the breach. If the difference grow so high, that nothing less than a duel can reconcile the feud in point of honour ; make them sensible what a shame it is for men of true merit, to receive the laws of honour from faint effeminates, the hectors and huffs of the town, who possess none themselves but what they are indebted for to their schools of honour and morality, the play-houses ; ask with what justice they can expect the King's pay, or hope for his favour, or his pardon, while they shew such contempt of him and his laws, and hazard their lives in a quarrel, destructive to his service. Remind them that the French, the great promoters of duelling in a more pusillanimous age, having now shaken - Off former fooleries, and put on the bravery of a warlike people ; look on that man who offers to send a challenge, as a fellow fit to be kicked by their foot-boys; and that is the usual way the gentry of France think themselves obliged in honour to answer him. He who charges most briskly at the head of his troops ; he who first mounts the enemy's wall, and he who is forwardest in attacking their fortifications; are the only men among them, who now ohtain tlie title and the esteem of honourable. But if you meet with any so fond of false honour, so false to the principles of loyalty and true glory, that no reason can divert them, even in a foreign country, from assisting 480 Advice to a Soldier, STc. the enemy, by diminishing our strength, and making factions in our own party; let them alone by themselves to destroy one another, for it is pity they should live, and it is pity they should die by any worthier hands than those of the hangman or their own. If you would ever arrive at greater preferment than you have, of deserve that which his Majesty has already bestowed; you must be beholden for it chiefly to the valoUr and affec tion of your soldiers: therefore endeavour, what you can, to get them their pay in due season ; and, if that cannot be done, at least let them see that it is not your fattlt ; observe and abhor the example of some others, who detain the soldiers' wages, the price of their blood, and throw it away on the turn of a die, or spend it profusely on their pride and their lusts. Despise all base ways of enriching yourself, either by cheating the King with false mus ters, or defrauding or abridging your men any part of their due : such practices haye been the undoing of many a good cause, and are so far more worthy a gallows, than common robberies, by how much the loss of a battle is more considerable than the loss of a bag of money, and the ruin of the publick, than that of a private single person. Consider, your men are equal sharers in the danger, though not in the profit or honour of the war; and that as you are the head, they are the body, containing, beside the trunk, the usefullest members, hands, arms, legs, and feet, without whose executive power, all your contriving faculties will prove insignificant ; so that you must not think you discharge the duty of a gOod or prudent commander, when you only shew yourself .bold,, and bring them on bravely to battles your care must be, both before and afterwards, to see that they have as whole some food (and physick when it needs) and as good quarters as the place will afford ; and since English constitutions cannot so easily endure famine, as the people born and bred up in less plentiful countries; you must make it a principal part of your endeavours, to have them sufficiently provided, and when upon any action, your under-officers or others have deserved well, you ought to use your interest to get them encouraged and promoted. A good commander will use his soldiers, just as a good father uses his children ; and he who governs otherwise, through covetousness, negligence, pride, or ill-nature, shall never get any great honour himself, nor ever do any service considerable, for his King or country. But though I would have you love your men well, because you can do nothing without them, I would not have you spoil them with overmuch kindness. It is the wise dispensing of rewards and punishments, which keeps the world in good order. They never had their business well done, who through an excess of goodness reward mean services too highly, or punish great miscarriages too lightly. Therefore, as you must take care of the back and the belly, the pay and provision of your soldiers, so you ought to be very severe in your discipline; the two former will gain you the love of your men, the latter their fear, and all mixed together, produce complete obedience : or, to express it better in the martial phrase,, ' Pay well, and hang well, makes a good soldier.' The frequent company of women, and the tippling strong liquors, debilitate both the mind and body of a soldier ; rendering him soft and effeminate, lazy and sipkly, Unapt and unfit for heroick exploits. Restrain, therefore, as much as may be, the debaucheries of your men, and be careful to refrain your own, and take this along with you as a general rule; that when you teach your men to live innocent, you do at the same time make them valiant. To the end you may with greater facility effect so good a design, you ought to be always attended with a good chaplain ; and if I were worthy to advise your general, I would bee him to be as careful in the choice of his chaplains as his captains. Nay, I would adventure to say, they are as necessary, and many times have done, and may again, as largely con* tribute towards the obtaining happy successes. And now there is as great an occasion for able divines in our army and navy, as ever there was, since England professed Christianity For the fops of this age, .under the notion of wits, endeavour to buffoon religion out of countenance ; talk blasphemy and atheism, in common discourse ; speak treason against the Majesty of Heaven; a crime which no prince upon earth will endure, at an easier rate than mortal punishment. And so, while nothing is allowed for fashionable wit, which is not Advice to a Soldier, SCc. 481 atheistical, or profane, or impudently immodest ; the young gentry, fond of that foolish hu mour, called witty, are in a fair way to be debauched. For what shall restrain their exor bitances, who have learned to despise the supernal power? And by their ill example, a door is set wide open, to let in, among the vulgar, all the lewdnesses and immoralities in the world. Therefore you should choose for a chaplain a man reserved in his life, grave in his deport ment, fixed in his principles, and faithful to his Prince ; one that will not be abashed when fools deride him ; one that will not be afraid to exhort and reprove, as occasion requires ; one that is patient enough to endure scorn and reproach, and bold enough to oppose himself against the greatest torrent of impiety. And then you ought to shew him respect, as unto the messenger of God, and to see that the martial laws relating to religion, and good order, be put in execution ; which truly of late have been just so observed, as if they had been pur posely made to be broken. If you begin the good example, you shall hardly need to compel your men to follow ; they will be ashamed to be vicious, if their commander be virtuous : and shame is a more effectual way to reform vice, than pecuniary penalties or corporal pains. By this means the lives of many men will be saved, who other wise; to support their vices, neglect their duty, commit thefts, and robberies, and rapes, and the like ; and bring themselves under the lash of martial law, great punishments, and ignominious deaths. You should be as frequent and regular, at your publick prayers, as time and your affairs will' permit; especially neglect it riot before a battle, or other great undertaking. For prayer, by a strange and secret influence, (which none can tell but they who use it) brings from Heaven new life, and vigour, and courage, to the most weak and timorous. And now I have happened to speak of courage, that necessary qualification in a soldier ; I will give you my opinion what it is, and whence it usually arises. Courage is either active or passive, and both are as useful for a soldier, as a swordand a target. Active is that which does prompt and excite a man, to the undertaking and at tempting great and hazardous enterprises: and passive is a certain even temper and frame of mind, which dangerous accidents cannot discompose,, or divert from his intended pur-, pose. Oh the contrary, fear amazes and distracts, and disappoints the wisest counsels, and most deliberate designs ; hurrying men into the danger they think to avoid, or into greater; as the hart in the fable, to escape the dogs, sought shelter in the lion's den: so it com monly happens in battles, that those men are killed in flight, who, by keeping the field, might have won the victory ; and it is frequent for a coward, who runs away from a sword, , to stumble upon a halter. Inconsiderate rashness is by some men called courage, when it produces the like effect ; but is in truth no better than madness : and I intend only to speak of that courage, which is the product of reason. Tine courage 'springs from a contempt of death, or an opinion that one shall not dje. Contempt of death arises from a confidence in God's mercy, or a consideration of honour, or both. Confidence in God's mercy. will naturally grow as the fruit and effect of a good and virtuous life; and those men willbe afraid of nothing, who are, and who believe them-. selves to be, under the sacred- protection of Almighty God 1 And when honour (or the thirst after publick fame for well-doing) is added, I think there is all, which is necessary to make a man truly courageous. HOnottr by itself (I mean a great title or publick applause) is but an empty name (not valued by wise men, save only \v hen it comes as the just re ward of virtue, the fruit of worthy performances) ; and the apprehensions of death and damnation are two weighty things, when nothing but that empty name is put in the balance '. against them : now there are but a few atheists in the world so thorough-paced, as to have totally extinguished the fears of a future being; however they may boast of it, when no danger seems to be near them. I have seen some of those gallants, who talk nothing but honour, in the middle of a sea-fight, look as silly as sheep, and sneak themselves behind the . main-mast. Vol. i. 3q .482 Advice to a Soldiera: S{c. But the far greater, number of those, who go to the wars, are persuaded they sbfj [not be kilted : and that opinion Isthe cause of their courage, which, having a foundation so liable to uncertainty, is easily overturned by a little adverse fortu he. FOr when the baffle grows 'hot ; when death presents itself in, diversity of shapes ; when ope loses a leg, and. another ¦both his arms, and a third is shot off in the middle; when men and horses confusedly come tumbling down together, and a man's best friends lie bleeding by his side : then that con fidence, which was groundless, vanishes of its own accord, jind quickly follows disorder and tout, and downright running away. •Neman can promise himself before a battle, that he shall be alive afterwards ; and every prudent man should be provided, not only for that which must, but as near as one Can, for that which may happen. I mean every prudent mah should think it may be his turn to be killed as soon as another, and therefore should endeavour before-hand to keep himself from an horrid, flagitious, enormous crimes, such as hinder one, m times of greatest danger, from asking or hoping for God's mercy, and make a valiant man turn coward. I have insisted the more on this particular, because we have lived to see the best King, having the best cause in the world, ruined by his own rebellious subjects; towards which ruin, I have been told, the irregularities of some of the loyal party did in a |jreat measure contribute. .And because it is reported by some, and believed by many, that piety, and devotion. Virtue and religion, are only to be found amongst those who are dissenters frorri, or enemies to the church of England : I would persuade you, my dear friend, by your own practice, to endeavour the contradicting that wicked assertion. I would fain have you as eminent for your piety, as your native bravery, and let one add reputation to the other. King David among the Jews, Scipio Africanus among the Romans, and King Henry the Fifth among the English, were, in their times, the most pious and most prosperous generals in the world. It- is very convenient, (I think I may say, necessary,) that your men be possessed with the justice of the cause they fight for. Let them be tpld'by your chaplain this truth, that they are doing God's work, by endeavouring to restore those to right, who suffer wrong; to bring an universal peace to Christendom, and preserve it from falling into the slavery, wherewith, at this time, it seems to be threatened ; to put an end to that blood and slaughter, rain and devastation, which it has, for several years past, suffered under. You may also do well, at convenient times, to relate to your officers and men, the great things their ancestors formerly performed in France, and be stirring them up to a like emu lation. But I cannot by any means, approve of their policy, who persuade their men to despise their enemies : instead of that, I would have you let them know, that they are not now to fight against France, lulled a-sleep by a long peace, and drowned in the pleasures of ease and idleness ; but against France awakened, grown watchful and wise ; against men, whom a long war has made martial, and taught to be as good soldiers, perhaps, as are in the world ; and against men, who have taken the strongest towns in Christendom, with greater facility, and defended them, with greater obstinacy, than any of their enemies, with whom they have hitherto been contending. In my opinion, the contempt of a crafty enemy is one Of the greatest advantages you can give him, and he who, commands valiant men, as the English are, heed not be afraid to make them sensible of danger ; it will rather serve to inflame, than abate their natural courage; whereas, if they be taught to slight their enemy, they will be apt to think of a victory without labour, without dangers : such an imagination will teach them to be care less, and carelessness will lay them open to inevitable ruin and destruction, But you must not dwell too long on this subject, yott must put them in mind, that, although the French are politick and powerful, they are yet very far from invincible ; their courage will give way when attacked by men of resolution, who are hot afraid of dying, (the truth whereof appears by the shock and disappointment they lately 'received before Mons). And achievements against them will be so much more gforious, by how much they seem more difficult and dangerous. Advice to a Soldier, Kc. 483 Remember your soldiers, how unkindly the French used some of their fellows, who had faithfully served them many years, and to whom they owed a good part of their success; use any arguments which may heighten their Courage, «or whet revenge, to a sharp and Vigorous prosecution; and always let them know, they are in a place, where they must owe their safety and success, and the very bread they eat, only1 to the effects of their own valour and vigilance. The season. for action, this year, is now almost over; however, you should not be absent from your men qftener, or longer than you need, although you have nothing for them to do ; for vulgar minds are generally busy, and depraved, and will rather be contriving ill, than doing nothing. It will therefore be an act worthy your prudence, to exercise them at con venient times (above what is usual) in matches at leaping, rurrriing, wrestling, shooting at marks, or any other manly and innocent sports, which may render them healthy, and hardy, and give them no leisure to study mutinies, or other mischief". If thus by your example, by the strictness of your discipline; by the veneration you shew , religion, by the encouragement you afford the dispenser of it, you can persuade or compel your men to live wdl and temperate, you will find when you come to fight, that soldiers so well paid and provided for, so kindly used, and so strieHy disciplined, and prudently ma naged, will enter trenches, mount walls and fortifications, endure steadily the shock of enemies, run upon the mouths of cannons, and perform actions becoming gallant men^ even such as seem to others impossible. ;' For your own part. As long as you have a superior- commander, you must be a punctual Observer of orders, and, when you are employed on any particular design, endeavour to get your orders in writing; so may you best avoid committing mistakes, ahd best secure yourself from father ing the mistakes of other men. In any thing, especially if the hazard be eminent, never attempt less than you are commanded, and, without a very good reason, do not attempt more; for, in such ease, if it succeed well, you shall only share the honour • but, if ill; you shall bear all the blame by yourself* In a word, when it depends on your choice, be wary in undertaking, speedy m prosecuting your design: caution in resolution, and quickness in execution, being the two greatest characters of a wise man. Thus* my dear friend, I have touched upon several particulars, which I did not think of, when I first set pen to paper, and doubt I have too much exceeded the limits of a modest letter; and perhaps a great part, if not all of it, will be rendered useless to you, by a ge neral peace, which is the end of his Majesty's arming; and if it can be had on safe and reasonable terms, without more contending, is that which all good men ought to wish and pray for. If it happen otherwise, I shall then venture to write you something else, in an other strain, which for. the present is not convenient. I hope you will accept kindly, What is kindly intended, from Aug. 30th* 1678. Your faithful Friend and Servant. 484 A Letter from a Minister to his Friend, concerning the Gamef of Chess1. [From a Broad-Side, printed at London,, in the Year 1680.} sir, ¦'.*:' I HERE send you my. reasons for my disusing and declining the Game of Chess. This I premise,^ that I think, recreation to be in itself lawful ; yea, that like physick it is to some persons, and in some cases, very needful, Also that this Game of Chess is not only lawful, but it may be the most ingenious and delightful that ever was invented. Others seem to.be calculated for children, this for men; in most others there is much of , contin gency, in this there is nothing butarf. But though it be never so lawful and eligible ii? itself,. yet to me it is inexpedient. And, there are some particular reasons why I am fallen out- with this exercise, and, I believe, shall never be reconciled to it again; and they are such as follow : » ?. I. It is a great time-waster. How many precious hours (which can never be recalled) have I profusely spent in this game ! O Chess, I will be avenged of thee for the loss of* my time ! It is a true saying, ' that it is more necessary thriftiness to be sparing and saving of time than of money.' One offered on his death-bed a world Of wealth, for att inch of time; and another, with great earnestness cried out, when -she lay a-dying, 'Call time again! Call time again!' This I heard, says a worthy minister, and I think the sOund-of it Will be in my ears so 'ong as I hve. , . * ' II. It hath had with me a fascinating property.; I have been bewitched by it: when I have begun, I have not had the power to give over. Though' a thing be never so lawful, yet I ought not to suffer myself to be brought under the power of it. I will not use it, till I find I can refuse it. Reason and religion shall order my recreation. III. It hath not done with me, when I have done with it. It hath, followed me into my study, into my pulpit; when I have been p/aying or preaching, I have (in my thoughts)- been playing at chess ; then I have had, as it were, a chess-board before my eyes ; then I have been thinking how I might have obtained the stratagems of my antagonist, or make such and such motions to his. disadvantage; nay, I have heard of one who was playing at chess in his thoughts (as appeared by his words) when he lay a-dying. . x , : . .. IV. It hath caused me to break many solemn resolutions ; nay, vows and promises. Some times I have obliged myself, in the most solemn manner, to play but so many mates at a time, or with any one person ; and anon I have broken these obligations and promises, and after vows of that kind, I have made enquiry how I might evade them ; and have sinfully prevaricated in that matter; and that not once only, but often. V. It hath wounded my conscience, and broken my peace. I have had sad reflections upon it, when I have been most serioUs. I find, if I were now to die, the remembrance of this game would greatly trouble me, and stare me in. the face. I have read in the life of the famous John Huss2, how he was greatly troubled, for his using of this game, a little before his death. ¦ [Chess was formerly called ' the Philosopher's Game,' by those who attributed its invention to Pythagoras- but to other persons of em.nence has its origin been assigned ; and he who desires to obtain complete information on the subject, may have recourse to the entertaining volumes of Mr. Twiss.] ' [This celebrated divine and martyr was born atHussenitzin Bohemia, about J 37 6, received his education at the university of Prague, and became a zealous defender of the writings of Wickliff; for which he suffered condemnation as a heretic by the council of Constance, and was burned alive, in July 14.15 ] A Letter from a Minister to his Friehd, concerning the Game of Chess. 485 VI. My using3 of it hath been scandalous ahd offensive to others. Some godly friends (as I have understood), have beeri grieyed by it; and others (as I have reason to fear) have been hardened by it. Great irfconvehiehcies have arisen from the places where, and the persons with whom, I have Used this game. , - VII. My using of it hath occasioned much sin, as passion, strife, idle (if not lying) words, in myself and my -antagonist, or both. It hath caused the neglect of many; duties both to God and man., •• ; ,, • VIII. My using of it doth evince, I have little self-denial in me. If I cannot deny my self in a foolish game, how canTthinkl either do or shall deny myself in greater matters? How shall I forsake all for Christ, when I cannot forsake a recreation for him? IX. My using it is altogether needless and unnecessary to me. As it hinders my soul's health, so it doth not'further my bodily health. Such is my constitution (being corpulent and phlegmatick), that, if I need any exercise, it is that which is stirring and labouring. I cannot propound any end to myself in the use of it, . but the pleasing of my flesh. X. My using of it hath occasioned (at times) some little expence of money. This is the least, and therefore I mention it last. ' I should think much to give that to relieve others'? wants, that I have wasted this way at several times upon my own wantonness. I conclude with the passage of Mr. Baxter, in his Christian Direction, p. 464. Thus he writes: ' I know not one person of an hundred, or of many hundreds, that needeth any ' game at all, there are such variety of better exercises at hand to recreate them: and it is ' a sin to idle away ahy tune, which we can better improve. I confess, my own nature was c as much addicted to playfulness as most, arid my judgment alloweth so much recreation ' as is needful to my health and labour, and no more; but for all that, I find no need of any' * game to recreate me. When my mind wants recreation, I have a variety of recreating c hooks and friends,, and business to dO; that, when my body needeth not it, the hardest ' labour, that I can bear, is my best recreation: walking is, instead of games and sports, ' as profitable to my body, and more to my mind. If I am alone, I may improve that ' ' time in meditation ; if with others, I may improve it in profitable Cheerful conference. * I condemn not- all sports and games in others, but I find none of them all to be best for e myself. And. when I observe how, far the temper and life of Christ, and h^best servants, ' was from such recreations, I avoid them with the more suspicion. And I see but few but * distaste it in ministers, (even'shooting, bowling; and such more healthful games, to say no- ' thing of these and such others sis fit notthe end Of recreation,) therefore, there is somewhat ' in it that nature itself hath some suspicion of. That student that needeth chess or cards ' to please his mind, I doubt hath a carnal empty mind ; if God, and all his books, and all ' his friends, &c. cannot suffice for this ; there is some disease in it that should rather be: ' cured than pleased : and for the body, it is another kind of exercise that profits it.' ' Being a Minister of the Gospel, and charged with the care of souls.. 486 A Dialogue between the Cities of Loudon and Parte, In rela tion to the present Posture of Affairs ; rendered into Verse, and made applicable to the Disturbances which now seem- to threaten the Peace of Europe. Written by a Person whp has no Money to pay Taxes, in Case of a War. [From a Folio Edition, containing Thirteen Pages, printed at London, 170L] THE PREFACE. Prefaces have formerly been made use of, to clear up some obscurities: which have crept into the body of the books they belonged to, and let the reader into the author's design. But as there is no occasion for such a plea, either to vindicate -my present intentions, or illustrate what is so obvious to every man's understanding, that has any knowledge from the news-papers of the publick transactions; I shall forbear making comments in prose, 1 upon that which is no otherwise clouded with verse, than the common performances that run about the town so merrily, as pieces of scandal have of late. I ought, indeed, to account for my making Cities speak, when their inhabitants have tongues . loud and capable enough of expressing their dissatisfactions at some proceedings, which are like to embroil them in a hew war, and be very burthensome to their pockets, which they, probably, might wish to have loaden with more agreeable, things than. taxes, which are the likeliest methods imaginable to make them too light for those whom they belong to: but since Chaucer's birds and beasts1 have lately been talkative, and spoke their minds; with a sort of assurance and freedom 5 I presume I may take the liberty to give stones the same privilege, which is altogether as poetical. But as some expressions, probably, may give occasion to some people who are subjects for satire, and make thqm very ready ' 'to run down and decry them ; so I must let tliem know something of my sentiments, and - acquaint them, that it's two combatants* business to try which can cut deepest, and it has been the custom of every Roman gladiator, to take care, nd parma coder et, that he should not drop his guard, and lay himself open to his enemy's attacks. This, I hope, will excuse the freedom one city takes with another: and since he, who has set them to gether by the ears, has taken care, like a true-born Englishman, to state the case so as to make his own countryman's side the strongest ; it is hoped, the English reader will give the design his favourable interpretation, especially since the author has as little to get by no war (being a military man) as he has hitherto got by the peace. LONDON. THOU City, whose aspiring turrets rise, And next to mine are nearest to the skies ; Tell me from whence oUr mutual discord flows, And two so near ally'ds must act like foes ? * [An apparent allusion to Dryden's modern version of " The Cock and the Fox, or the Tale of the Nun's Priest, from Chaucer," which had been recently published in the year 1700.] * In situation and greatness. A Dialogue between the Citk» of Jjmdon- and Paris, STv* 48Z Paris. Ah ! Sister, while we two divided stand, And differently support a diff'reht land, ..:.-. While Holland's quarrels England's treasures drain, And Franco remits her louis-d'brs to Spain, '¦¦- r' '-.• What hopes- are left of seeing peace restored, Or that our rival Kings will sheathe the swords? LONDON. Our Kings will surely do as sov'reigns shou'd, That earnestly advance their subjects' good; Not seek for measures to perplex the throne, ; And for another's quiet lose their own. ' Suppose two distant countries can't agree, What are their private feuds to you or me ? E'en let 'em by themselves maintain the fight, And each, with arms in hand, assert its right ; We, that are neighbours, should like neighbours prove, And study commerce as we practise love. PARIS, But ties of blood, and friendship's laws, enjoin Those that are PhihpV3 enemies should be mine: Here the young Prince first suck'd the vital' air, Ordain'd from hence to fill the regal chair; And ought, from hence^ to'be with aid supply'd, Since justice, b>th, and meri^, take his side. Yonder's a land4, from whence your Monarch drew His infant-breath, and is that land untrue? ^ *' "' Whate'er he speaks or acts," has their applause, And life and fortune wait upon his cause- While he for arbiter of fate is ownM, And reigns a soy'reign6 where he's hot enthron'd. Why should not my affection be the same, Since there is no. distinction in thefr claim, ' As I amative's right with zeal pursue, And practise what should be performed by you ? LONDON. 'Tis own'd that natives should for natives stand, Where nature pleads, and justice binds a land; But when a Prince, by mean clandestine ways, Ascends a royal throne, and scepter sways ; When vows and oaths are reckort'd things of course, "And a forg'd will6 is valid and of force. Your bonds and, obligations are as void, As if a foreigner the throne enjoy'd ; Since what's unjust deserves an eqwatscorn, From those in France, as those without uV .born ; * .Philip, Puke pf .A«J afterwards £ing of Spain. ''•Holland. ' Stadtholdejr. e See this explained in the Rights of the House of Austria to the Spanish Succession, beginning on page 203, in this Collection. - •¦¦; - - • ... , w,.~ ,,, ; u 488 A Dialogue between the Cities of* London and Paris, Wc. If perjury's the same in diff'rent climes, And Paris should abhor Parisians' crimes7. ' Such is thy Philip— — wBen, my William's name Fills ev'ry tongue,, and swells the voice of fame: Bold is his soul, yet peaceful is his mind, Forgetful of himself for human kind ; Ready for war, when Honour sounds alarms, But, for his. subjects* ease, averse to arms, Unless their safety wings- him to the field, And kingdoms screen themselves behind his shield : As Lewis grasps at the terrestrial hall*, And's not content to rise; unless toe fall. PARIS. Presumptuous wretch, thy base reflections spare, T Monarchs, like mine, are Heaven's peculiar care, > As Heaven's vicegerents they its image bear. } Born to be Kings, , by God's own act9 they reign, And from their high descent their scepters gain : Not call'd to govern by the people's choice, Or holding crowns precarious from their voice. Survey my Prince, if thou canst bear the sight Of lineaments, so awful and so bright, And stand amaz'd at features that surprize y The most audacious looks and daring eyes, > Arid vindicate their kindred to. the skies. ) Is there a line ignoble in his face, Or what's degenerate from Bourbon's race ? Is there a thought admitted to bis soul, That prompts him to commit a deed that's foul ? Or can a mind so prodigally good. That has for others' rights so nobly stood; That Kings exil'd maintains within his court, And gives thy abdicated Prince18 support; Submit to methods of so vile a fame, When armies might make good his grandson's11 claim, .'¦ And troops innumerable seize a crown, Which must have been without a will n his own ? He swore, indeed, exclusive of his right, And promis'd France and Spain should ne'er unite; And still he keeps religious to his Oath, Since there. are different Kings that govern both, And in their" separate thrones distinctly shine, Though both proceed from one illustrious line. LONDON. , Not that I'd wrongfully crown'd heads abuse, Or due respect to regal titles lose; ' Alluding to the bloody JBartholomew massacre of the Protestants at Paris, at a time, when all seemed to live in peace. 8 Universal monarchy. » This is the doctrine of absolute monarchs, who pretend to an hereditary right, not only to the crown but to the liberties and properties of their subjects, by DiVine right, or that they are commissiotted by (Jod to enslave their subjects. ,0 James II. «' Philip's claim to Spain; " See note(6J on the foregoing page. A Dialogue' between the Cities of London and Paris, Sfcv 489 But when fictitious births, as true, are feign'd, And Bourbon's blood with Mazarine's is stain'd: When a Queen's fame a just suspicion brings, ' And lustful .priests beget lascivious kings; I stand excus'd, and guiltless are my thoughts, If I affirm a certain King has faults ; And fall off from the deference fie might claim, Did not the father's birth the mother's shame: As the lewd statesman13 took his master's place, And dash'd with infamy the regal race. All must allow, as it by all is known,. That Lewis was begotten to a throne ; And from his very being was ordain'd To wield the scepter where he long has reign 'dr Yet all must likewise hold this maxim good-,. That merit is superlative to 'blood ; And it's much nobler to deserve ahd gain Crowns; the rewards of hero's toils and pain, Than idly be beholden to his birth, And owe to nature what is due to worth. We grant that our Nassoviari hero1* came, And trod unbeaten ways to purchase fame ; Through devious paths in quest of crowns appear'd':. But he deserv'd the more, the more he dar'd, As he through joyful crowds to empire rode, And sliew'd the people's voice the voice of God • Whilst thy inglorious monarch sat at home; Y And meditated over ills to come, >- Unwearied with the mischiefs he had done. J- With his insatiate strumpet 1S by his side, To feed his lust, and gratify his pride. What if thy master looks austere and great,. And he seems pointed out to reign by fate B What if his eyes majestically' roll, If no kind beams of goodness grace his soulr* If his base mind, possess'd by thoughts unclean,. Darkens the brightness of his shining mien ; It is but just, that monarchs should provide For those their wicked arts have led .aside. Two Kings, it's granted, in two kingdoms reign, And one's enthron'd in France, and one in Spain; Different in person, but the same in mind, As the same principles run through the kind, And spread their venom, and disperse their stains, To make one's boundless pride swell t'other's veins ;, ' ^ ' While France creeps slily into Spain's esteem, And Lewis is not King, but Lord supreme16. "» Cardinal Mazarine was the supposed father. . . , '* King William the Third, Prince" of Orange and Nassau*. "• Madam Maintenon, who lived openly with the King of France, in defiance of God and his holy religion-. 16 Sways the councils of the court of Spain. VOL. I. 3- R 49© A Dialogue between the Cities of London and Paris, #c. PARISt When threat'ning foes lier provinces invade, 'Tis time to look about^ and seek for aid ; And where should kindred but on kindred call, , T' avert their ruin, arid prevent their fall? If then my monarch, rous'd from peace's, charms, Has, for his grandson's sake, recourse to arms ; . If he foregoes his pleasures to maintain The sinking grandeur of declining Spain ; Over their council's he may well preside, And, as he is their safeguard, be their guide LONDON. Mistake him not ; but take a nearer sight, And lay his actions open to the light ; Find, if thou canst, amidst his earliest Cares, . Ev'n but a thought not selfish in affairs ;. Int'rest directs him, and stmbitiomshows The means by which his predecessors' rose, And climb'd the steps where empire was the prize;, . Seemingly loth, but resolute to rise : .. .- His troops are Spain's assistants in pretence,' And cover usurpation with defence; .:'¦-.. But times will come,- > should German armies foil, • . And injuries o'er what is right prevail, When her brave sons, that have so long withstood The vain attempts of France arid' Bourbon's bloody Shall wish this friend had been their open foe, And feel a sad increase of shame and woe. As they at last, this just conclusion make, Lewis turn'd hypocrite for Lewis' sake, - And stood by the succession to the throne, Not for his grandson's interest, but his own. PARIS. The souls'of princes are of moulds divine* And from superior orbs enlighten'd shine ; No scanty bgings that confinement bear, But are enjarg'd as elemental air, That knows no limit, but what nature bounds* And fleets about the globe in endless rounds. Ambition fires 'em, and dominion warms, And shoots them forth in search of glory's charms ; As fame and greatness claim their sole regard, ' And conquest offers crowns as their reward. Such thoughts as these thy monarch's breast inspir'd, And made him nobly seek what he desir'd ; Forc'd him rough seas and tempests to explore. And try the dangers of thy faithless shore: Else had he still, contented with his state, Forborne to do the glorious work of fate,' And sat at home, that burghers might propose Business for him, that was to 'scepters chose j A Dialogue between the Cities of London and Paris, 8f c... 491 And those illustrious chiefs", who swell his veins 1 With princely blood, that servitude disdains, > Never had shaken off the Spaniard's chains. > This godlike ardour made 'em grasp the shield; And run to yipt'ry, as they took the field ; While they let these18, that were their masters, see They durst revolt ; be conquerors* and be free. If acts, like these, are worthy Of applause, Why should not praise attend my sovereign's cause ; If lust of empire boils within his soul, - < And he slights half the universe for the whole ? . In them such daring thoughts have gain'd esteem, ^ And ought likewise to be admir'd in him. > LONDON. Such are the thoughts that fill thy Prince's breast, And turbulently keep him from his rest : Theft, murder, violence, fraud, and perj'ry join, 1 To push him forward to some mean design, >¦ And prompt him to perform what's scorn'd by mine. 7 'Tis not ambition wings, him, forth for fame, But a base niggard soul that covets shame; That still subjects his. reason to his will; And would, be talk'd of, though for doing ill ; Desirous to be known in after-days, And to employ OUf tongues, if not our praise. When, if you search my careful monarch's mind, You'll see the noble passions all refin'd, All of a piece, just, regular, and true, And fitting for a Prince toi have. in view; Well-temper'd thoughts, not over hot nor cool, Ready, to act, but acting still by rule; Wisdom his pilot, and content his guide, A known experience, and, a judgment tried; Boundless in wishes for his. people's good, And prodigal of industry and blood ; For their sakes, covetous of being knownv But wholly unambitious for his own. PARIS. With grief I speak it, and confess with pain, Could but my Lewis like thy William reign, Contract his wishes, and withdraw his claim To universal empire, and to fame, No. prince more envied could adOrn a crown, Or have more fair pretensions, to renown. How would my ;sons within these walls appear, And gladness be successive, to their fear ; If trade could. once return into the Seine, , Or Thames his riches be exchang'd for mine ? " The Prince of Orange's1 ancestors, who delivered Holland from the tyranny of Spain., " Spaniards. 492 A Dialogue between the Cities of London and Paris, 8£c. : LONDON. - ; . Please not thyself with vain delusive schemes, " Nor feed my willing hopes with empty dreams; Who can expect such welcome joys to share,' When monarchs fatten on the spoils of war ? l - "• ¦ • '¦ ''¦ When in thy courts no treaties are of force, And solemn leagues are render'd void of course; When trade's denied us that's to others free, And we must lose th' advantage of the sea; ' As edicts break through the most sacred ties, And oaths are trivial things in royal eyes; u As perjury's an act of special, grace, i And James the Third has. James the Second's place1'} For England's King, within thy borders own'd, Though England has another Prince enthrOnVl, Whose lawful title France would ne'er oppose, . ; ' 3. Did she regard the peace, beyond, my foes. ¦ \ .PARIS. ¦•••';•'. V. i; j:-' r '¦' :'-' What has my Prince against his treaties dOhe? He kept the father, and maintains the son. Nor arms, nor force, nor treasure does he lend, Just only to the word he gave his friend20, Whose dying breath bequeathed him to his care, He seeks no kingdoms; though he's own'd their heir. Titles are empty sounds, and cannot break " : > Treaties, unless. he arms for titles' sake; - • . - ." f Asserts his right, arid vindicates his claim, ¦¦'¦^ '¦'"¦ Beyond a specious compliment of name. • •¦'".'¦. That's all he gives him, and that gift's no more, Than what the father was allow'd before; "¦'¦"¦ And since that recognition broke no vow, \ Why is it styl'd the cause of rupture now? As for your commerce, and decrease of trade, Ev'n thank your senate21 for the lawsthey've made ; Their votes occasion what my Prince enjdins ; We tax your products, 'cause you tax our wines ; Else had your merchants traffick'd on my coast, And both oub nations gain'd what both have lost : Yet may we still those mutual joys restore, And plenty spread its wings on either shore ; Would but your sons e'en now with mine agree, And what I'd suffer them, they suffer me. LONDON. Think not of peace, nor, with expecting eyes, Hope for the goddess that my courtship flies. Long she can ne'er within thy walls abide, While men for private ends the publick guide i * As soon as King James the Second died at St. Germain's, Lewis, the King of France, ordered James's nrL tended son to be proclaimed King of Great Britain, by the title of James the Third. oraerea Jame* s P» *° He promised this to James the Second, upon his death-bed. ?' Parliament. A Dialogue between the Cities of Ldndori and Paris, 8Cc. 493 While modern Whigs are in my courts receiv'd, And those are trusted who the nation griev'd ; While O- — -d22 still enjoys his master's smiles, Like beast of prey escap'd from hunter's toils ; While serious S /sprung from a saint-like race, l Advises war with a religious grace, > To hide the irreligioh of his place ; ) And H And suffer wrong to take the place of right. ) Thus «pilf 'rers pass with undistinguish'd names, And fish for- others' goods amidst the flames, While the poor sufferers their engines turn To quench the fire that in their houses burn; All hands are busied to direct its course, And houses are blown up to stop its force; When, at the last, impoverished by their stealth, They save their dwellings, but they lose their wealth. PARIS. t I see too plainly that your thoughts are true, And our old enmities break out a-new ; Like wounds skinn'd o'er, a-fresh they rage and bleed, And the most skilful artists' councils need, . Who timely can the patients' lives ensure, And by incision make a perfect cure. Since war's the gen'ral cry, let war be chose. My sons were never us'd to fly their foes ; Fearless in fight,' they cannot fight refuse, And us'd to gain, they know riot how to lose ; Witness When Europe all contending strove, Like giants in a league to conquer Jove. TroOps joiri'd with troops, and states with states combin'd, To bring down Lewis his exalted mind ; When ev'ry nation found it to its cost, That in ten years he ne'er one battle lost. The same success will still his arms attend, And fortune must of course be now his friend, Since kingdoms,- when divided, needs must fall, And he must conquer part that conquer'd all. Go : let your Prince recall his subjects hence, And M • ** shew manners like his sense ; Let Poussin25 be return'd us back again, With all the marks of hate, and cold disdain : " [Edward Russell, -Earl of Oxford, Vice-Admiral of England, who was impeached by the Commons, and acquitted by the Peers, within a few days after the trial of Lord Somers.] 23 [Charles Montague, Lord Halifax, Chancellor 6f the Exchequer.] H [The Earl of Manchester, then ambassador at Paris, was hastily recalled by King William, in Sept. 1701.] *s The French ambassador. .494 A Dialogue between, the Cities of London and Paris, $(c< The times may come, you may this action rue, And wish for peace with me, as I with you ; , Since wounds and, death are still the gains of war,., And you dari.be, at last, but what you are. ; . LONDON. To be but what he is, is all the claim My Prince does make, from empire and from fame; Grief swells his breast to think of subjects' wounds, But France must be with-held within its bounds; And her' false King, who thinks no crimes amiss, Be made, what he is not, from what he is. Look on thy sons, so daring and so brave, , And see th' Italians26 climb once more their grave: Through rocks of stone the German passage makes, Levels the mountains, and dries up the lakes ; From hill to fritf the pond'rous cannon slings, And climbs imperious cliffs with eagle's wings. As Eugene acts tlie Carthaginian's^ part, Shewing much more of industry ^hd art, And cuts out roads, where nature did intend Nothing, almost, like human should ascend ; While adverse troops, astonish'd at the sight, Leave floods unguarded, to avoid the fight. These are the champiOns which thy cause maintain, - And vindicate a base inglorious reign ; . . That plead prescription from their father's pride, To* lord it over all the WOrld besidei Nothing, like this, is by my ^Prince28 design'd, ' Just are his thoughts, arid righteous is his mind; He fears no danger,' and he seeks no. war, Though it appears to gather from a-far*: Fleets he provides, arid armies he prepares, To calm our troubles, and remove our fears. Grant, that herie'ei' increase his large domains, And by his' conquest riO'new kingdoms gains, That Mexico; though sav'd from Gallick hands, Be none of his, nor rich Peruvian lands ; Ease and content would fill the riibnarch's breast, Were not his Aval25 of their wealth possess'd : ' ' So the fierce bull 'that has iri battle strove * For the' reward of empire and of love,' Wearied with fight, his head declining lays, ' Joyful to see the prize at distance graze, While his tirM foe alike contented lies, And views; what he can't seize, With lOnging eyes; ^ Paid fully for thedangers'he has run, Since rieither does; possess what neither won. . . J- .,'..; > , .-,;: * -^ b?fo^e attlie battle 0C.P8via' where -Francis the First was tafceti prisoner. " Hannibal, that melted the Alps, with vinegar, according to Ltvy's account ¦ ' -TheKuigofGreat-Britain. -' n TheKing of Franceand Spain/ 495 The Curates' Conference: Or, a Discourse betwixt. two Scho lars j both of them relating their hard Condition, and con sulting which Way to mend it. - Interpone tuis interdum gaudia curis. [From a Quarto, containing Thirteen Pages, printed in the Year 1641.] Master Poorest. TT7ELL met, good Master Needham. V V Master. Needham. I am heartily glad to see you here ; how have you canvassed the course of the world this many a day, good Master Poorest? Mr. P. Good Sir, take the pains as to walk into St. Paul's church, and we will confer a little before sermon "begins^ .Mr.N. With all my heart, for, I must not so suddenly leave your company, having not enjoyed your society this long time. . Mr. P. Good Sir, tell me, are you resident in Cambridge, in the College still •?¦ I make no question but the University, and your merits, have preferred you to some good fellow ship, parsonage, or the like goOd fortune. Mr.N. Alas!, good Master Poorest, this is not an age for to bestow livings aridprefer- ments freely ; it is now, as it- was said long ago, Si nihM attuleris, ibis, Homer e, for as.. I tell you, it is a pity to see how juniors and dunces take possession of colleges ; and scholar ships and fellowships are bought and sold, as horses' in Smithfield. • But I hope yoU are grown fat in the country, for there is not such corruption there, as there is among the. Muses. Mr. P. . I will tdeal plainly with you ; 1 staid in the Uriiversity of Oxford, till I was forced to leave it for want of subsistence. I stood for three or four- several scholarships^ and, though I was found upon examination sufficient ; yet I do seriously protest, that one time I was prevented by half a buck and some' good wine, that was sent up^to make the fellows merry; and, another time, a great" lady's letter prevailed against all ability of parts and endowments whatsoever -. a third time, the warden of the College had a poor kinsman, and so he got the major part of the fellows on his side, for fear and flattery, that there were not hopes to' swim against so great a stream ; and so I was forced to retreat into the cohntry, and there turn first an usher, and at last, was made curate under a great prebend, and a double-beneficed rich, man, where I found ' promises beyond performances ^ for my salary was inferior by much to his cook or his coachman, nay, his barber had double my stipend; for I was allowed but eight pounds per annum, and get my own victuals, clothes, and books, as I could; and when I told him the means were too little, he- said that, "If I would not, he could have his cUre- supplied by another, rather for less than what I had;" andsol wasyoaked to a small pittance, for the space of twelve years. Mr..N.. Is it possible there should besuch a concurrence of hard fortunes? It was no otherwise in our University1, when I stood for preferment ; for, at first, a lawyer's son had the scholarship, because his father had done some business for the College1 at common law; and a doctor of physick's son was preferred in my place to a fellowship, because his father had cured the. master's wife of a tympany; and so, finding all hopes gone there, I went home to my friends ; and, within awhile after, I was made a minister, and served a cure. Mr. P. Where, I pray you, is your charge ? Mr.'N* It is in a little poor parish, hard by Pinckback in Lincolnshire; where the churchwarden is scarce able to give the minister more than a barley bag-pudding to Iris1 Sunday's dinner. Where are you placed ? 1 Cambridge. 496 The Curates- Conference, 8(c. Mrr P. I. serve a cure hard by Hungerford in Wiltshire; where my allowance is so short, that, was it not more for conscience to be in this my calling, I had rather be a cobler, and sit and mend old shoes. . ..,.•._. Mr. N. I protest, I think we curates are worse dealt withal by the rich double-beneficed. men, than the children .of Israel were' by the. Egyptians; for, though they made. them work'haVd, yet they allowed them straw, and other materials, and. gpdd yictuals '; for they longed after the flesh-pots of iEgypt, which proves they had them a long time : but we are forced to work, and yet can get nothing; and yet these should be either fathers or brethren to us, but they were enemies to them; and yet they dealt better with them, than these do with us. , Mr. P. They deal as bad with us, as they do with their flocks, I mean their parishioners; for they starve their souls, and pinch our bodies. Mr. N. I wonder how these lip-parsons would do, should there be but once a general consent of all the curates- to forbear to preach or read prayers but for one three weeks, or a month only; how they would be forced to ride for it, and yet all in vain; for how can one person supply two places at one time,, twenty miles distance ? Mr. P. By my consent they should have, for every benefice, a wife; they should have variety of pleasure, as well as of profit ; but, withal, I think that course would quickly weary their bodies and. purses too. .•>-,. Mr. N. Wives! oh strange.! no, I would not live to see that day; for, if they be so fearfully covetous, having but one, I wonder what they would be, having so many. Mr. P. Oh, Sir, I tell you, they might by this course in tune stand in no need of cu rates, nor clerks neither; for, if they could speak as much in the church as at home, they. might serve, the turn; and they are all masters of art, to gather up the small tithes and Easter-boqk, as well as. the clerk. r Mr. N. JNay, now since we are fallen upon it, ,1 will tell you, our parson hath a living in London, as well. as here, arid his wife is so miserably proud, that both livings will scarce suffice to maintain her ; insomuch that she takes out of the curate's wages, as, half of every funeral sermon, and out of all burials, churchings, weddings, christenings, ,&c. she hath half duties, to buy Jace, pins, gloves; fans; black-bags, satin petticoats, &c. and towards the maintenance of a puny servitor to gO before her ; nay, she pays half towards the main tenance of a coach, which she either gets from her husband, or else from the curate, by sub- , tractirig his allowance at -the quarter-day; and, what is more, she made her curate in London to enter into bond privately to her husband, to leave the place at half a year's warnings or else her husband, tlie parson of the place, would not have granted him a licence for the place. Mr. P. Oh strange! is it possible, that this old remainder of popery should be yet up^, held by our clergy, to have such Pope Joans to rule the church ? I have heard say, there are, three places in which a woman never should hear any sway, the buttery, the kitchen, and the church ; for women are too covetous by nature to keep a good house ; and too foolish to rule a church. * Mr. N. Alas! Master Poorest, there, is a necessity in this1, for I think our parson hath scarce wit enough to. do it ;. and though he had, yet his wife's tongue would put him out of his wits, if he should riot let her have her will, Mr. P. What care I how she punished him, so that she did not intrench upon our liber ties;, but, alas ! shebreaks her husband's back, and pinches our bellies. Mr. N. Such a piece of correction hath our parsori too ; for I bought, one new cloak2 in' six years, and that money too was given me in legacy by a good parishioner; and she oh how she envied my felicity I and informed her husband, that I waxed proud; and advised him to get another in my place. " Mr. P. Is it possible! and yet our she-regent is not unlike her; for she frets fearfully to hear that a worthy gentleman, who lives in the parish, loves .me so much ; it. galls her to the quick, if the parishioners, out of their loves, give me any thing to mend my salary- oh't she thinks all is lost that goes beside her hands. . 1 GOwn. The Curates' Conference, -8Cc. 497 - Mr. N: Well, but what does' your great parsort with all his wealth ? Does he keep good hospitality ? Or is he charitable to the poor, what's his name? Dr. Proud. Mr. P. Alas! nothing less: he weareth cassocks of damask and plush, good beavers, and silk stockings ; can play well at tables3, or gleek; can hunt well, and bowl very skilfully; is deeply experienced in racy canary, and can relish a cup of right clafet ; and so passeth the time away. What is your great overseer's* name? Mr. N. Dr. Harding. What goodness lodgeth in his corpse ? Mr. P. Little or none; he is worse thanyours, for he never comes to visit his parish, but; horse-leech like, he sucks them ; he loves preying better than praying, and forces his parish to humility, by oppressing them ; he was a main projector for two shillings and nine-pence in the pound, and looks like a piece of reesed bacon, ever since the plot failed ; he is tor mented with the yellow jaundice, and a wanton wife, which, like two incarnate devils, will force him to believe a hell before he comes thither. Mr. N. It is no great matter ; it is but just that he, that torments others, should taste the same sauce himself. Mr. P. I will tell you what his custom js, when he comes amongst us; he neither prays, nor preaches ; the.one I think he will not, the other I fear he cannot perform' Mr. N. Oh strange ! how came he then by such livings ? Mr. P. Easily enough, for it is money that makes the parson's horse to go novv-a-days-5 ; for they may say to parsons, as it hath been of old said of books, Quanti emisti hum ? Mr. N. I will assure you, 1 am afraid he is discontented at our church government, as well as many other great parsons; for they force and strictly enjoin their curates to read all Divine Service, which they never do themselves. Mr. P. It is a strange world, that they should flourish and flow in wealth for doing nothing,' and the poor curates, that do all, can get nothing; I will tell you truly, he has not given his parish a sermon these three quarters of a year. Mr. N. I wonder how they can answer the canon, which enjoins them to preach once a month. • Mr. P. Pish, what do you talk to them of thecanons ; they, who can rnake new ones, think they may slight the old ones; their canons are like those laws which caught flies, but could not hold hornets or great bees : they are the curates, who are set to be cannoniers-; these endure the heat of the day, of this once or twice a-day preaching; alas! they say, as the priests did once to Judas, " What is that to us? See you to that." Mr. N. You speak truth ; and I will maintain it, that our Doctor differs not much from the weathercock on the church steeple; for as it is placed highest, says nothing, is sounding brass, or some such metal, and turns as the wind; so he rules, all the. parish, seldom preaches, is void of charity, and turns in his courses every time ; for sometimes he is all for ceremony, sometimes indifferent, sometimes against them. He hath made a terrible combustion, where and how to place the Lord's table ; it "stood in the church, anon it must be advanced into the quire ; then it must be east and west, and presently after north and south; covered, uncovered; railed, without rails; of this fashion, of that ; of this wood, of another; nay, "he himself, who was the, first that altered it, hath now, within this month or two, altered his opinion, and .placed it again in the body of the church. Oh fine weathercock ! Mr. P. Oh lamentable ! that curates should be shadows to such empty shells : but our great Doctor is of another strain ; he cares not much, I think, whether there was any table or communion at all, so that he may receive his tithes; it is not so much to him whether it be an altar or a table, so that he can get the gold that comes from it; he is so taken with covetousness, that, so. he may get; money, what cares he for. either preaching or 1 [ Tables is back-gammon > Gleek was a game at cards ; the method of playing which may be seen in the Compleat Gamester, i67b'.] * Rector. 5 These certainly were sad days, when the word of God was'set to sale. VOL. i. "3s 49$ Tlk Curates' Conference, BCti. praying? I fell you, he threatened a poor widow, to put her into the court ff; because (as he was told) she had thirteen eggs in, a nest, and yet gave him but one for tithe. ' Mr. N. Well, our master is as full of law, as yours can he of covetousness ; he, threa tened one of. his parishioners for- sneezing in prayer-time, becausehe hindered his devotion; nay, he made one jaunt it up a-foot into the Arches, fourscore rniles» because he desired to receive the communion in his seat ; nay, I protest, that the parishioners, when they hear he is going away, do usually make him some feast, but it is for joy, that they shall be rid of him, till next summer. Mr. P. What j is your's a good able scholar ? . • Mr. N Yes, he is scholar good enough, but ,* he preaches Christ out of contention.' Mr. P. That is something yet-; but, alas! our parson is as bad as one of Saunderson's- Doctors; for he was made Doctor7 in Scotland, when our Kirig. was there. I will warrant you, that he knows not whether St. Ambrose was a Greek or a Latin fatheri Mr.N. Oh miserable! Mr. P. Nay, he holds Greek for Heathenish, and Hebrew for Jewish languages; and Latin he says is tlie language of Rome, and so holds ignorance best in these. -He scarce knows the difference betwixt annus8 and Annas9, or betwixt anus10 or anas11 : I have heard? him read opa.tenebr. for opera tenebrarum, because they were cut a little short : and said the printers, deserved to be punished for curtailing Latin. I heard him also decline Smex for an old man, genitivjo Senecis1*; ,and was confident that he was right too. Mr. N> Oh ! such doctors had need to pray, that, Popery may come in again ; for then it was well when the priest could read Latin, whether it Was ri£ht or wrprtg. ; '• Mr. P. And yet he is loaden with no less than a good parsonage, a great vicarage, two prebendships, and another place worth fourscore pounds by the year; it is impossible sure for him to preach, for telling his money. Mr.N. Any of those places would suffice for you, or myself; but, alas! * Wishes and woulders,' you know how the proverh runs ; these optative moods are merely poor and beggarly. Mr. P. Ideal plainly wjth you, I was Offered a.place in the city of London,, but the name of it frightened me; it was at St. Peter's Poor13, and I thoUght I had enough of poverty already, and so I refused it. ' Mr. N. Just so was I offered to serve a cure more north by far than this is, but the name of it startled me, and turned aside all resolution towards it ; for it was at a place called Sterve- ling in Cumberland. Mr. P. Nay, I will tell you more, Master Needham; I thought to have gone up to London, had not Our Doctor's curate there, one Master Hand-little, told me plainly, that most curates in. London lived upon citizens' trenchers; and, were it not that they were pitiful and charitable to them, there was np possibility Of subsistence ; ahd that, of late, it went harder with them, than, before; for ever since the parsons have so enhanced their re venues, the eitizens have mainly. withdrawn their purses, so that now the curate must live upon his set pittance, or else starve. j Mr.N. Well, Master Poorest, I do not intend to stay longer in the country; for I will wait here in town upon hOpes a-while. ¦;, , Mr. P. Do as you please, hut you will find the old proverb true, ' London lick-penhy ' > Mr. N I am resolved upon it, though I gO to the three-penny ordinary; my reason is, I do hear say, that there are great store of clerks' places about London, that are good al lowances for. scholars, some worth two hundred pounds and upwards per annum ; I know gome of the parish-clerks are worth seven or eight thousand pounds; oh \ their fees come in sleeping or wakirig : what think you of, the plot ? . . 6 The Archbishop's court : called also The Arches, * Without doing a proper and regular exercise before the University, for his degree. • A year. » The father of Caiaphas, the high priest. •» j^n old-woman. '•' A duck or drake. 'J Instead of Satit. • " In Broad-slreet. 'the Curates' Conference, $c- • $ g§ ¦Mr. P, I marry, such places are 'Worth the while ; but how should one catch them? Mr.N. Twill assure yOu, it is a shame, tfyat such, mechanicks should live in such state as they do ; many of them are as greedy of -funerals, as vultures of dead carcases ; and they are most of them; in an ill name, for exacting most grossly in their.fees; hence it is, that some of them rule the whole parish, and parson and all; you shall see them,, upon festival- days, as wellclothed as the chiefest citizens ; their fingers as full of rings of gold, as an old ale-wife, that has buried four or five husbands ; and their necks set as big with a curious ruff, as any the proudest Dons in Spain : Oh, what pure rich night-caps they wear, and good beavers!' Besides, all "this, they can have their meetings usually in taverns of three or four pound's a sitting, when poor curates must not look into a red lattice14, under fear of a ge- ®eraT censure. Mr. P. Oh strange! I thins it was well if curates could turn parish-clerks,; if it be as yb'u say, it is the better course by far. Mr. N. Come, come, I tell you, we are bound.to look out for .ourselves.,, and I know no more safer course, than this, for most of the clerks have trades to five upon beside; but 1 hope their charter will fail, and then others may come into their places. Mr. P. What say you, Master Needharh, how strong are you; will you go and shew me that pretty banquet ing-house for curates, I mean the three-penny ordinary, for I can go no higher? , Mr. N I, I, With all ray heart, for ;I am almost at the same ebb ; but let us hope better ; things will not always ride in ibis rack. Mr. P. Sir, I conceive plainly ,"that we curates are but as the stalking-horses to the clerks ; fo.r they get wealth by Our labours. Mr. N. Are you advised of that ? You woUld say so, indeed, should you but see some of their bills; ; so much" for burials, so. much for the knell, sO much for the grave ; for the corpse more, if ebffined; more yet, if in such a church-yard; more than that, if in the church; higher yet, if it be in the chancel; beyond all these, if buried with torches, and sermon, and mourning with attendance; but it is put upon the highest strain, if jt be a stranger. Besides, for marriages by. banns, or by licence, for makingthe certificate; so for churchings, and divers other ways, and nothing to the curate all this while. Mr. P. Well, I conceive it more than ever I did ; but now let us leaye off discourse, and fall tb our commons. What a pretty modicum I 'have here! Sure this ordinary-keeper has been' some cook or scullion in a college. How dextrously tlie fellow plays the logician, in dividing the meat ! It is an excellent place sure, to learn .abstinence by ; I promise you, I will visit this house, as my stock holds out. It is just one degree.above dining witri.Duke Hum phry*5; itis as good as a preservative against surfeits. Mr.N. Oh; good brother, it is as fine a refreshment as may be; I hold it wonderons &ood,' for here a man shall he sure to rise from his meat, as many Others use to sit down to it, with a stomach. Mr. P. I will tell you one thing, which I had almost, forgotten ; I was Offered. the other day to go a voyage to the East-Indie^, to be preacher in a ship. Mr. N. Excellent well, oh! refuse it not; it is ferheyond living a-shore, for ten pounds' per annum) 1 know you will find brave worthy merchants; you cannot want, if you un dertake it. 'Mr. P. I promise you, I had determined to have gone in one of his Majesty's ships, upon Our narrow seas ; but, if the voyage be so, good, I will away (God willing) next spring; ultra pisse non est esse™, as you know. s* [A red lattice at the doors and windows was formerly the denotement of an ale-house. See'Reed's Shaksp.} IS [Todinewith Duke Humphrey, was a phrase, synonymous to ' going without dinner.'] 16 Or, ' No one can go beyond his ability.' ;500" * Proposals for the/Reformation of Schools and^Vniversities, fyc. Mr.P: lam as willing to have done the like to yourself, not having seen you so long since, but my purse, denies ability. - Mr. N. 1 must be gone at one of the clock, to meet with a gentleman of the inns of court; well, good brother, God bless us both, and send us better times, and, a happy meeting. Farewel. . ... ¦ Proposals for the Reformation of Schools and Universities, irr order to the better Education of Youth; humbly offered to the serious Consideration of the High Court of Parliament. . [From a Quarto, containing Nine Pages, printed iri 1704.] These Proposals were calculated for the reformation of learning in North-Britain, and though the individuals, contained in them, are peculiar to Scotland, yet the substance of the whole, mutatis mutandis, may not be improperly applied to that part of the realm, . zvhich lies south, of the Tweed, where the. same objections are as forcible against schools and schoolmasters ; the aspiring of poor and ^mechanical spirits to the ministerial office, and the admission into holy orders of those, zvho .either have never been initiated zoiih the advanced studies of an university, or, perchance, on account of their poverty, . have -been permitted, after a very short stay at those fountains &f learning, to return home, and seek after a title to orders, that they may get a morsel 6f:bread\. Though, it must be con- fessed,' that rio no>tion has produced more learned and pious divines, than the tioo famous • Xlniversities of England. But it is wished, that a method could be found to prevent so. many extra-university men ; zvho, zvithout due education, creep into the ministry for a maintenance; and to reform the extraordinary expences, that are squandered azvay in the excesses of our young gentlemen, in the. great schools and universities of this nation. THERE has been a great decay of learning in this kingdom for many years. For in stance, where we have now one, who can write one single sheet, an hundred years ago we had- twenty, who could have written, volumes in good sense, and good Latin: and though the causes of the low ebb learning has sunk to among us, are very obvious ; yet I must confess, it is no easy matter to put a stopto the^rowing evil. It is hard to make a scheme of education which will generally please, and harder still to put it in execution • it is dif ficultto alter an old constitution, though full of errors; and more difficult, in our circum stances, to establish a new one, though ever so just and reasonable. We have been t oolong pursuing the wrong road, to be set easily right. We neither take just measures nor allow sufficient time for the education of our youth. However, since the encouragement and improvement of learning is certainly so much for the true interest of the nation I shall ad venture to tell my opinion frankly, and shall be heartily glad, if it can be found of any use" or service ; at least, I hope it shall excite others of greater ability to make farther enquiries into these matters, such as may convince the parliament of the necessity of reforming our schools and universities, for the good and benefit of learning. One main cause of the low estate of learning is, < That it'is too easily and cheaply nur chased. One can make his son, what nowwith us passes for a scholar, at a much cheaper. ' See 1 Sam. ii^ 36. Proposals for the Reformation of Schools and Universities, <$c 501 rate, than he can breed him a shoe-maker or weaver. For a short time at the schools, and three or four years at the universities, upon little or no ex pence, in our way, is enoughto make a master of arts ; who immediately gets into the most considerable employments, which require the longest study and best qualification.-, before he have years, sense, pru^ dence, or learning. Upon which account, the mechanicks and poorer sort of people are, encouraged to send their sons to schools and universities; finding a very little money, and as little time, sufficient to make what we call a scholar. But, in my opinion, were these put to the plough and Other trades, it would be better for themselves (who would be kept within their proper spheres) and more for the interest of the nation, which is overstocked with scholars, and in extreme want of people, for mechanical employments. This is one great' cause of the low condition of learning. People, who are daily pinched for the back and the belly, cannot bestow much time upbn the improvement of their minds ; their spirits are depressed under their poverty ; they have not money to afford them books, or to bring them into the conversation of the world : and how, without these, a man can be come a good scholar, passes my comprehension. But it may be said, by debarring the poorer sort from learning, some good spirits may be excluded ; which as it is the only objection; so it is as easily removed. We have as much use for good spirits, to be employed in mechanical trades and mer chandizing, as for learning ; and by admitting one, upon the pretence of good spirit, we certainly must take in an hundred of low and dull capacities. And let their genius he as good as you please, unless you give theni riioney too, they will never be able to make any tolerable advance in learning; and, by the following scheme for rectifying our bursaries, a competency is provided for them, as.far as the funds will go. Another great cause of the decay of learning is, ' the bad methods, which are followed in our. schools and universities; and the insufficiency of the. masterSj who are provided for the government of them.' There are in the kingdom near one thousand parishes ; and in most of them, Latin is pretended to be taught, though not one of fifty of the schoql-masters is capable of teaching it: and no wonder, for riot one of fifty of them was tolerably taught it; and not one of an hundred, however capable, has books to enable him.to,acquire it "by his after industry. At the universities, we bestow a few months, upon the study of, the Greek ; whereas that noble language, and the learned and useful books, which are written in it, may perhaps deserve our care and pains for as many years. We allow too much time upon old antiquated metaphysical jargon : and as for natural philosophy, which, in this and the last age, has been so happily brought (from an idle prattling about words of no signi fication) to a solid science ; it requires such a deep insight into the most profound parts of the mathematieks; that 1 am afraid, few of those, who profess it, are capable of teaching if. We get too hastily through our diviriity. History, law, and medicine we have none. The cheapness of learning brings it into the hands of the poorer and meaner people. Their poverty, the wrong methods which are taken in teaching, and the insufficiency of the teachers, unavoidably subject them to the greatest ignorance: and both together, the ig norance and the poverty of our scholars, infallibly bring learning itself under disgrace and contempt. Poverty deprives them, as of a great many other advantages, so particularly of that due assurance, that address and" that freedom of spirit, which are so natural to quality andgeutry. Nay, sometimes under difficult circumstances, to prevent starving, it forces them upon courses unworthy of their professions; to the no small scandal of others who should be led by their examples. And in brie word, the natural tendency of our present methods is to unfit a scholar for a gentleman ; and to render a gentleman ashamed of being- a scholar: and, till we reconcile the gentleman with the scholar, it is impossible learning should ever flourish. But was this once done, was learning taken out of the hands of the vulgar, and Drought to be as honourable and fashionable among the gentry, as it is now contemptible; I think it would be indeed in a fair way- of prospering. For were the younger sons of the nobility arid gentry (who now are idle at home, or sent abroad to be knocked on the head) kept the due time at schools and universities, they being encouraged with all things proper for studying, and having their time in their own hands for reading ; £02 Proposals for the Reformation of Schools attd Universities, $*c. and not being foreedj but of pure necessity, to enter too sqqn Oh business; woukhmall probability make considerable advances in learning. : And when possessed of employments, gentlemen would be as tender of their character, as they are of their. honour ; besides, that being generally able to live without- them, they would not lie under such temptations as poorer people do. This; as it would considerably add to the honour of learnings and in terest of the nation, in general ; so it would be no dishonourable way to dispose of the younger sons of the nobility and gentry. For, besides what encouragement they might expect from the study of the laws and of rhfidicine, there are in the kingdom at least an hundred places in the church and universities which yield two thousand marks yearly ; and few of the„other church-benefices are under one thousand. Now in my humble opinion, the younger sons of even the best families, especially when not sufficiently .provided for, might be as Wisely and honourably disposed of this way,as by being kept idle at home, or sent off to be soldiers abroad. It is plain, to dispose pf them so, would put them in-a way of being more serviceable to God, : their country, and, their kindred, than commonly they are : and were matters ordered after this manner, it is probable the church-government would not be so ambulatory as it has hitherto been in this kingdom ; since the nobility and gentry, of whom the parliaments are made up, would not readily make acts which should oblige them to take back their brothers and sons to their houses. And nothing could contribute more to the quiet and peace of the'nation, than that the government of the church was at last effectually secured against so frequent changes; , Now, that so good a design may take effect, it is necessary to raise the price of learning, so as to discourage tbe poorer sort from attempting it ; that those only, whose circumstances enable them to make successful advances in learning, may have access 'to it. To make learning dearer, the number of the schools, at least, must be diminished, and the masters' salaries and fees augmented. And the time and methods of teaching in schools and unir versities should be regulated according to the following, or some such like scheme. I think there should be only one grammar-school in a county or shire ; two at most in the •largest; and where two lesser lie together, one may serve for both. These schools ought to be well endowed, and some of the best men of the nation for prudence and learning, pro- Tided to be masters and Ushers. A master: and four doctors or ushers, at least, will be ne cessary for every school. And, besides those publick schools, at all the country churches, I would have the precentor of the parish (who heeds not to be a master of arts) to teach the chudrento read and write English, and the common rules of arithmetick ; which is all the learning that is needful or useful to the mechanicks and poorer people. 'But it may be en quired, ' Where shall funds be had for maintaining those schools ?' I answer, That is not my business, jet the wisdom of the nation consider it: but, perhaps, it would be no dif ficult task to find out funds, if some people would apply themselves a little that way. There are, for example, in the shire of Fife, about eighty parishes, and every parish has a salary, one with another, above one-hundred pounds' Scots a year for a schooUmaster. Now, take" the'one half of this salary, and give to the teacher of the English language; this, with the advantage of his scholars, and his emoluments as precentor and session-clerk, may make him live pretty well ; for he has no great character -to maintain. Apply the other- half fot- the publick grammar-schools ; this will maintain two, being six thousand marks a year • to wit, the master of each school should have one thousand marks* and four doctors each of them, five hundred marks salary a year ; which, with the benefit of their scholars' .(for be cause I would have learning -dear, I would have the scholars pay much more liberally than they commonly *lo) would be a very comfortable and handsome provision for both masters arid ushers. My designed brevity will not allow me to be very particular in naming all the books that should be taught inschools. Ishall only say in general, they ought to teach some plain and short grammar in English prose ; thus they- will bestow less time on grammar, and have more to employ in reading authors; some of which they should read, riot by shreds as is com rnohly done hut from beginning to ending, such as Justin's History; Ftorus's Epitome Cornelius Neposs Lives, Sailust, fortius, Terence, Ovid's Metamorphoses, as beino- the Proposals for the Reformation of Schools and Universities,,- $c. 503 com pletest system of the Heathenish mythology, &c. Some Odes, Satires, and Epistles of Horace, may be taught, and some particular places of Virgil, and other poets, al the mas ter's discretion. Arid perhaps it maybe very convenient, if not necessary, that boys, while at school, be taught the rudiments of geography and chronology, so far as they are capable, that they may read their authors to the best advantage. The last year they are at school (for I would have them, at least fourteen years of age before they leave it) they ought to learn the Greek grammar, and some easy Greek authors, such as iEsop's Fables, Lucian's Select Dialogues, Herodian, &c. and so we bring'- them to the university. At the university, the youth must be obliged to stay six years, passing regularly through nil the classes/before they can be made masters of arts. For examinations and trials, how rigorously soever designed; may be abused and shammed: but a long time, and due exercises performed,- is the best and most probable way to make good scholars. In Oxford and Cam bridge, which are famous universities for learning all the world over, none can be made master of arts; until he stay seven years; none doctor of medicine or law, till he stay fourteen; and none doctorof divinity, till he has been eighteen years about the university! Yet, after all, according to this calculation, our young men may commence masters of arts in tlie twentieth, or twenty-first year of their age, which I suppose every body will think soon enough. In my opinion, two universities are enough for this nation2, for there are n0 more in England. But since we are to "ingraft on an old stock, we can Only conveniently reform, not abolish any of our universities. As I said, the students ought to stay six years at the university, and three of these years should be employed in reading Greek and Latin jointly: such of. the Latin and Greek historians and' orators as they have not read at school, with the art of rhetorick, will be employment enough for two years. The poets, with the art of poetry, may furnish more than enough for the third. '¦ i Though one cannot find any great difficulty in choosing the fittest authors that are to he taught ; yet (for preventing all possible mistakes, and preserving uniformity, in all the colleges within the kingdom) it is highly convenient, that some persons of good reputation for learning; and who understand the Constitutions and customs' of foreign universities, should be appointed to meet, 'and particularly determine what books, and in what order they are to be read. Perhaps it might be proper to read together Greek and Latin authors, who write on the same or the like subject. For example, Dionysius Halicarnassensis, and the three first books of Livy ; the third book of Polybius, and the twenty-first of Livy ; Appianus Alex- andrinus, and Caesar de Bello Civili; the Orations of Demosthenes and Cicero ; the Pas torals of Theocritus and Virgil ; Hesiocl, and Virgil's Georgicks; Homer's llias, and Vir gil's iEneis; Pindar, and Horace; &c.3 A great many of the best modern books of all sorts, and on all' subjects, being written in the style of the inodern schools; it would seem necessary, that short compends of logicks, ethicks, and metaphysieks should be printed and taught in the fourth year. The professor may likewise recommend, as a private task, Aristotle's Ethicks and Politicks ; some select Dialogues of Plato, Xenophon's Apomemorierimata, some of Plutarch's Moral Treatises, Hierocles in Aurea Carmina, Tully's Philosophick Works, some books of Seneca, &c.; and one day of the week may be appointed for enquiring into the diligence of tlie students, and resolving their doubts. And seeing all the aneieht orators and poets, and even historians; nay, and fathers of the church too, have been addicted to the hypotheses and principles of some one or other of the philosophical sects, and often reason from their notions, and use their terms and phrases: it would seem proper (besides therecommending of Diogenes Laertius, EUnapiUs, &c to be diligently read and considered by the students), that some learned person or persons should compile a clear and distinct, but compendious history Of all the ancient philosophies, disi 2 Scotland. > 3 [This scholastic catalogue of Greek and Latin authors, has been much- enlarged by Clarke, in his Essay upon Study.] 504 Proposals for the Reformation of Schools and Universities, fyc. tingUishing their hypotheses judiciously, digesting their principles methodically, explaining their terms of art and phrases, and putting their notions in as clea,r light as possible: this would mightily facilitate the. understanding of . the ancient learning. . During these four years, the students should be also taught arithmetiek, geography, and chronology, to greater perfection; the first six, with the eleventh and twelfth books of Euclid, theelements of algebra, the plain and spherical trigonometry. . The two last years are to be spent in learning mixed mathematicks, or natural philo sophy, viz. the laws of. motion, mechanicks, hydrostaticks ; opticks, astronomy^ Ssc.'and experimental philosophy. - All along, from their first going to school, till they leave the university, the students ought carefully to be taught and instructed in the principles of religion : nothing being mOre certain than that, where there is not a well-directed conscience, men- are rather the worse than the better, for being learned in any science. In every -university, there must-be at least three professors of Greet and Latin; one, of fogick, ethicks, and : metaphysicks ; two, of mathematicks, and natural philosophy; one, of divinity.; one, of civil history; .another, of ecclesiastical; and one, of, Hebrew, and other Oriental languages. Where, scholars are numerous, the number of professors .Ought to be augmented in proportion: for I would have many masters, and few ' Scholars. One master who pretends to teach eight or nine score of scholars (as we commonly see done) - may as well undertake to teach eight or nine thousand. One master should not have^above thirty scholars : and according to bur scheme of making learning dear, let each of them pay 5 lib. sterling yearly to his master, at which rate thirty will afford 150 lib. sterling; which, with a small salary, may maintain the professor handsomely enough. Besides this private teaching, I would have every professor to have, once a week) one publick lecture in the common school, that who pleases may come and hear him. Thus we may have one or more such lectures every day, and on different subjects, according to the number and professions of the lecturers. Nothing can contribute more than this, to the honour and advancement of learning/ There is nothing. more deserves the consideration of the parliament, than that our youth are obliged to trave} abroad, to study physipk and law, and. carry so much money out of the kingdom ; ten or twelve thousand pounds sterling, by modest calculation, is every year spent abroad this way. . Now, would the parliament, but for once, give two months "cess, Which is but about what is spent in foreign universities in one year; the interest of it might esta blish professions of law and physick at home, where our youth might learn more in one year, than they can do abroad in three. For they are generally sent abroad about the twentieth' year of their age, which isthe nicest part of it. Then their passions are strong, and they have little sense to govern them, and they are just let .loose from their parents and tutors; so that they acquire neither virtue nor learniqg,"but habits of all sorts of debauchery, as we are taught by every day's experience. I would have the professions of law and physick esta blished in the university of Edinburgh, where the students of law may have the advantaoe of excellent libraries for the civil law, and opportunity to hear- the, pleadings, and learn the form of the house; which our young men who study abroad, for all the money they have spent, are altogether ignorant of : and the physicians can have no subjects nor rooms for anatomy, nor laboratories for chymistry,, nor gardens for botany, but at Edinburgh. I vvouldhave none entered into the house of advocate's, but such as have certificates from the professors of law, that they had studied four years with them, after they had passed the uqiversity ; and none made doctors of medicine but such as have certificates, from the pro fessorsof physick, that they had studied four years with them ; and none allowed to prac tise, but such as are graduated in our own universities. And their payin°> liberally to their respective masters every year (and thereby saving so much from being squandered away abroad) with some salary ; might prove a very good allowance to the professors This mirjlit also hold concerning the students of divinity, that they should not be admitted into the church, without testimonials from the professors of divinity, that they had been a com ne tent time (perhaps four years may be. too, little) at their lectures. ^* The Triumph of Learning over Ignorance, Me. 505 f I do nOt design by this to discourage the publick or private donations of charity for edu cating the children of honest parents, who shall be found to have good spirits : I would only have them regulated. For example, our bursaries*, as we call them,, are commonly but one hundred marks', or one hundred pounds5, which cannot maintain any person. • I would therefore advise to cast three or four of them together ; which, that it would abridge the number of pretenders to learning, might furnish sufficient funds for handsomely maintain ing some few, and providing them with necessaries for prosecuting their studies : neither ought this to be thought contrary to the intentions of those, who made the donations ; since, perhaps, at the time when they were first bestowed, an hundred marks might have gone further than now four hundred can do. The genuine design therefore being still pursued, it is to be presumed, that it was the will of the donators that such alterations should be made, when they should be found necessary. * One thing I forgot relating to funds. Perhaps, were the funds, belonging to some uni versities, carefully and narrowly enquired into, some of them might :be found not so usefully applied as they might be; and others yet /unbestowed, which might help to erect new pro fessions, where they are wanting. . ., _ . 4, Scholarships, or donations for providing Tor scholars in a dollege. - 'Scotch. Ticc&ilcc-fyalyZoc, the Triumph of Learning over Ignorance, and of •-•< Truth over Falsehood: being an Answer to four Queries: • : Whether there. be any need of. Universities ? ... •. . , ¦ Who is to be accounted an Heretick ?¦ . >... > Whether it be lawful to uses Conventicles? >. . Whether a- Lay-man may preach? ¦ \ Which were lately proposed by a Zealot, in the Parish Church \ of Swacy near Cambridge, after the second Sermon, October 3, 165£: Since that enlarged by the Answerer, R. B. b. d. and Fellow of Trinity College, Cambridge. •nODrr ro^D -PDW i"D10 Qui auget- Academias, auget sapientiam & sapientes. Talmud. T«*f tx GXJGfi&a voiSvlcts Qivyere lis xpzvv xcatuiv. Ignat. Mark them which cause divisions, and avoid them. Rom. xvi. 17. How shall they preacb, except they be sent ? Rom. x. 15. * - . [.From a Quarto, < containing Thirty-eight Paiges, printed at London, in 1653.] The autfior.jof. this Pamphlet, Robert Boreman,-( brother to ,Sir William Boreman,. or Boureman, „ Clerk of the- Green-Cloth to King Charles the Second,) zvas Fellozo of Trinity College in Cambridge, afterwards Doctor of Divinity, and Rector of St. Giles's in the Fields; and very probably of the family of the Boremans in the Isle of Wight, He published several other small pieces, and a' sermon on PhiLiiu 20. and died at Green- - wich in Kent, about the latter end of the year 1675. vol. i. 3 T 506 The Triumph of Learning over Ignorance, 8Cc.; It appears by this piece, that he zvas a man of both learning and piety ; for, I doubt not, but the reader zvill presently see, that he had not only read much, but zvas blessed with a happy, methodical, and impartial talent, whereby he confutes, without depreciating his adversary ; and, throughout the ivhole, there runs a sensible vein of compassion, and sincere and hearty prayer for the conversion of those that are misled, and for the sub siding of all disputes in matters of faith. The subjects here treated of, are not only zvell handled, but are such as, at that time, were mqst necessary to be explained, zvhen ignorance was, under the pozver of the szvord, tri umphing over learning; zvhen sectaries increased daily, and every opinionated cobler ± or . tailor, usurped the ministerial office, and gloried in his endless capacity of dividing the church of Christ; zvhen private assemblies in rooms or garrets, (after the manner of our modern schismatic'ks, the disciples of Wesiley and Whitejjeld, 8(c. who, had they the same power, are of no less turbulent and aspiring spirits,} zvere preferred to the zoorship of God's house, the publick prayers and preaching in the church ;t and lay teachers and preachers zvere substituted in their private meetings, in opposition to their stated and lauf ul ministers. But our author's reasons zvill best appear from his own. preface, as, follozos. To all sincere and true-hearted Christians ; Lovers of Learning, Truth, and Peace. The Jews have a saying, not more short than ingenious, that * Truth stands upon twO legs, and a lie upon one1:' their meaning is, that as falsehood and heresy fall, at' the length of themselves, without any contradiction ; so truth is, and ever was, firm, stable, and lasting, getting ground, growth, and strength, by opposition. By this means, many questions, which lay hid, and as it were buried in the grave of silence, are raised, dis- . cussed, and evidenced, even to vulgar capacities. St. Augustine, in his 18th lib. de Civ. Dei, cap. 51, treating -of hereticks, and proving that the Catholick faith is strengthened and confirmed by heretical, dissensions, says thus, of false teachers, Habentur in exercentibus inimicis, &c. i. e. * They are to be put into the file of, number of those enemies, who exercise the gifts and graces of God's servants •' who, like the stars that shine brightest in the cold nights of winter, are, in times of op- ¦ ; position, more active than ever in zeal, more vigilant and circumspect in their lives (as those2 religious men were, in the days of Apollinaris, who laboured to outshine him in , strictness of life, knowing that by this, his opinions thrived and prevailed). Lastly, more earnest, in their devotion and prayers to the ' Father of Lights,' that t he seduced; may be undeceived, and the seducers convinced of their errors. This (not to be seen in print which is a poor piece of ambitious pride) is the scope of my pen, and the aim of my unworthy endeavours: especially now, that little birds3, scarce fledged or hatched, f]yin°- with tlieir shells upon their heads, and having only a feather or two of boldness in their faces, shall dare (and that in the bosoni of their nurse, or mother) preach, or rather prate against learning, which they never had; and inveigh against universities, fqiid tales, simply as universities,) of which they never deserved to be members. ' It is an ill bird/ &c* Every Englishman knows what follows in the proverb. There are no such enemies to learning, as the malicious and ignorant. It was my happiness, of late, to meet with some adversaries, (not, perhaps, so knowing, yet ' Talmud. 2 Zkibant operant per inculpatos mores, ut fflius dagmata nonplus valeretU. Sozom. lib. 6. cap. 27. Jam. i. 17 » -Hujusfurfuris (ne dicam farina) est Burtanus iste, hesterw dieihomnlus, cut doctrimm tfptaatan audacia inau attce parent opiomus. , r <««««.«« muu- The Triumph of Learning over Ignorance, 8Cc. 507 more candid than the former,) declaimers against academies, and men of more Christian spirits ; not (as St. Augustine4 writes of the Donatists) pertinacid insuperabiles, ' invincible and pertinacious in their opinions ;' but such, whose minds were tuned to that obedience and meekness, that they, after a mild and long debate, yielded, with thankful acknow- , lodgments and protestations of love, to my reasons. And hereby declared plainly, before the congregation, that they were free from that whereof they were falsely suspected, i. e. heresy: agreeable to that of the learned and most profound Augustine5; Qui sen' tentiam suam, quamvis falsam, atque perversam, nulld pertinaci animositate defendunt, sed veritatem cautd solicitudine quarunt^ corrigi parati cum invenerint, nequaqudm sunt inter hiere ticos depittandi. The meaning of which words, in brief, is this ; that * He only is to be counted an heretick, who persists, with obstinacy, in an opinion, which is agaihst the word; not he who errs, yet is ready to forsake his error, and yield to the truth, so soon as he is convinced of it.' This pious and humble temper was in those my antagonists; for whose farther confirmation, and satisfaction to their modest desires, together with the rest or that populous parish of Swacy, I have published the discourse, with some enlargements; hoping that it will meet with as good success (by God's blessing on it) in the conviction of those by whom it shall be perused, whose judgments, perhaps, have been formerly perverted by false teachers, who beguile unstable souls, having hearts exercised (or overcome) with coye- tousness; cursed children (they are children for their ignorance) who, forsaking the way of all righteousness, 'have gone astray,, following the way of Balaam, that made Israel to sin6. Such blind guides as these have been the cause of many poor souls falling into the ditch of. heresy-, which (if backed with obstinacy) is a bar that shuts men out of all hope of glory. This, hereafter, shall be proved, in my answer to the second doubt. May the Infinite Goodness (to whose only glory I humbly desire to devote myself,-and all my ' weak endeavours) make them as useful and beneficial in the confirming and reforming of weak deceived souls, as they are well meant and intended to the church's good, by the Unvvorthiest of 'his servants: who am, likewise, Christian Reader, Thine in Christ Jesus, R. BOREMAN. A short Vindication of the Use and Necessity of Universities, and other Schools of Learning; being an Answer to THE FIRST QUERY: What Need is there of Universities ? IT is truly observed by a learned writer7, that the Pope of Rome and that church, never flew higher in power, never sunk deeper into error, than when ignorance prevailed, and learning was suppressed. , We may as safely, apd with as much truth, assert, that where the purity of God's word is corrupted, and not preserved in its integrity; that kingdom, church,, or state, cannot but fall into ruin, and moulder away into divisions, caused by the multiplicity of false opinions,, which, being joined with schism, do often (as they have now done) engender and beget a monster, the subverter of all government, and the disturber of peace, the nurse of religion. This and learning we may fitly resemble to the great lumi- 4 Ep. 167. 5 Ep. 162. 6 2 Pet. ii. 14', 15; Jude, ver. 1 1 ; Numb. xxv; 2. xxxi. 16. ,' Gentilet. Exam. Concil. Trident, lib. 1.- sect. 7, 8. Ignorantiam fy Romance sedis autoritatem simul auctam, life. Vicissimque ut bonarum-.artiust. If literarum instauratione fucessere ccepit ignorant ia,' ita Sf Pontificia autoritas paulatim imminui (f labascere visa est. > 508 A short Vindication of the Use and Necessity naries of Heaven, the sun and moon, both for .their light and influence. And, as for the preserving the entire lustre of the moon, there is required a continual emanation of light from the sun ; sq learning borrows its true light from religion; without which, a man ha ving a learned head, and an unsanctified* heart, is the fittest agent and best instrument for the devil to do mischief with. ' But now, here is the difference between that lesser lumi nary and learning, in that resemblance: the moon repays no tribute, confers*" no benefit to the sun; but learning, by way of reflection, conduces much (if not to tlie being precisely taken, at least) to the happy and well being of religion. These two, like Eros and An- tero'Sjin the fable of the poets,, are sick and well both at a time'. Julian.8 the Apostate un derstood this well, when he put down by a pubHck edict the schools where the children, of Christians were to be educated: so did Pope9 Paul the Second, when he absurdly pronounced those hereticks, that did either in jest or earnest but use the word acaftemy in their tongues or writings. The Jesuits and their factors, men subtle in their generations, and active in their mischievous intentions, they know, the sanie,' and therefore endeavour now to effect (what of late was vauntingly said in the ears of a good Protestant1 would be done), that. is, to destroy the universities, and with them the ministry and religion. That the universities so called, as one10 explains the term, because the circle of alfthe arts and sciences is in them expounded or taught to young students ahd others of all sorts, degrees, and callings whatsoever; that these uriiversities and other schools of learning (seed- plots and nurseries subordinate to them) are not only profitable to the church, but also ne cessary for the maintenance of religion; so necessary, that without them, neither the doc trine of the Gospel can be preserved pure and uncorrupted; nor the church, wherein we live, stand sure, upon its foundation, but will certainly be destroyed ; this I shall endeavour to prove by a familiar climax or gradation, proposed to vulgar capacities byway of question: First; By what means can the church be pure and free from heresies, without the guidance and light of the pure word of God, the holy Scriptures ? - Secondly, How can that word be preserved in its purity without the ministry ? Thirdly, How can there be a ministry without able and fit ministers to explain and pub lish that' word purely without corruption? Whose office it is to<:act the parts Of truth's champions, to defend it against seducing hereticks,. who (as Tertullian11 well notes, ' ev.er- ' more alledge Scripture to back and bolster out their absurd opinions ; and by this their * boldness they move some, tire out those that are strong by their restless disputes, take the ' weak in their nets, and as for those of a middle temper, these they send away full of dOubts ' and scruples.' And whence do heresies arise, but from this (as- St. Augustine ,? observes). dum Scriplurce bona intelligantur non bent, SU quod in eis non bene intelligitur etiam Jemere SCaudacter osseritur? &c. i. e. 'Whilst the good, word is not well1 understood, arid that which is not well understood is rashly and boldly asserted for truth,' &c. Now, in the fourth place, How can such stout champions, learned and faithful pastors be had without schools of learning, the universities ? It will follow then by a necessary, illation or consequence, that without universities, out of which such learned, wise, orthodox, and pious men may be called and produced ho\y to govern particular congregations, and to sit at the helm of ; the church, this cannot be pre served secure and entire from heresies, but will be, like the ship 13 wherein our Saviour was asleep, i. e. battered with tempests, and beaten with the waves of contrary opinions. For this cause we find in antient records, that not only among the people of God, the antient Jews and Christians, but also even among the Gentiles evermore in all ages great care and diligence was used to ordain and maintain schools, of learnings and'to p'lace ii *£>' people •' G. Naz. Orat. 3. » Platin. in vitd ejus. '° Fab. Soranus in Tttesaurol " Tertul. Lib; de Prescript. Scripturas obtendunt, % hdc sua audacid quosdam movent, &c " Aug! Tnct. 18 in Evang. Johan. ** Luke viii.23. of Univwsities, and other Schools of Learning. 509 To omit the. schools' of tliejGentiies, as of the ^Egyptians14 (to whom learning' and arts were, derived from the Jews), likewise those of the Chaldeans, Babylonians, Persians, Greeks, - and Romans, all which (to the shame of Christians in these times) had learned and men of wisdom in high estimation, especially professors and assertors of their religion ; such were their magi, their gymnosophists, their philosophers, their augurs, or soothsayers.. Omitting these, I shall make a plain discovery of the schools erected by the people of God, as well before as after Christ ;. and then leave it. to the judgment of discreet and moderate judges, whether a want of love to religion, and the fear of God, does not discover itself in the pro fane practices, of those men who labour to , poll down the ministry (which is now the Jesuits' main design) by doing as the Philistines15 did by the wells of Abraham, i. e. by seeking to stop the springs and fountains of learning, into which they have thrown dirt and stones; by undeserved slanders, and reproachful infamies. If we traverse the story of the Old Testament, we shall find that there were (and this not without the prescript or command of God): in the kingdom of Israel, schools constituted and opened to publick use; in some whereof were placed Leyites, in others prophets, to teach and explicate the law of God to train up disciples or scholars, who afterwards should teach either in the temples or synagogues, and propagate the doctrine of the law to suc ceeding generations. 'For* who were the Sons Of the prophets, of whom there is so often mention made in the books of the Kings16; but those that were students, educatedand brought up. in those schools, whereof the prophets were heads and governors? This was the intent or meaning of the prophet Amos, when he said, ' I am not a. prophet, nor the son of a prophet17,' i. e. never brought up in the schools of the learned, prophets* , What- Wag the reason, that the Lord commanded18 forty-eight cities with their, «sttburbs to be assigned to the Leyites, above their brethren of the other tribes? Was it not for. this, that in the land of Israel there might be schools and colleges, in the which the Leyites might teach and instruct young novices, their pupils, in the law of God; .and thereby fit them for the offices of the sanctuary ? Over these schools or colleges there were eyer placed men renowned for their piety, learn* ing, prudence, and gravity of manners, and those chosen out of the prophets and Levites: Thus Samuel19 was the prefect or governor of the school which was at, Naiofh in Mount Ramah; where were a school and scholars in the reign of Asa, if we may believe the Tal- mudists20; ,who;say, that he was therefore punished with lameness in his feet, ' because he ' compelled all the wise men or doctors of that place, together with their disciples; or scho.- c lars, to leave their studies and take up arms for his aid against Baasha, King of Israel.' This they collect (how. truly I will not determine), out of ,1 Kings xv« 22. where it is said, that ' Asa. made a proclamation throughout all Judah (none was exempted), and they took ' away the stones of Ramah,' &c. i. e. when the scholars were all warned out by the King's edict. • Elias2,1 was the praepositus or master of the school at Jericho ; in his place succeeded his disciple Elishah, and so others after him in succeeding ages. In Sl.Chron. xxxiv. 22, we read of a college in Jerusalem22, wherein Huldah the prophetess dwelt, when Hilkiah went unto her with. a message from, Josiah. ; Doubtless, she dwelt, by herself in one of the courts remote from the prophets ,and their sons, who were taught in the other. For colleges, indeed,; ought to be (what a name, that is given them by Eusebius does import) r«. a§y.v?7ci., places of gravity .and severity ; which cannot well stand with a mix-; ture of.hoth sexes in one and the same place. But to return from' this short' digression, *.- • To this end and purpose it likewise was (I, mean for the maintenance of schools) that. the Levites, under the law, had such large incomes by God's appointment ; they had well nigh '* Alsted. lib. 24. c. 13. Encycl. Scholast. Heurn. primord. Philosoph. " Gen. xxvi. 18. '6 1 Kings, xx. 35. 2 Kings, ii. 3. 7.' 15. " Amos v'ii. 14. ,s Numb. xxxv. 2f ... ' '9 1 Sam.xix. 18. 20 Vid. Buxtorf in KHJUM (2 Cnfon", xvi. 12..) 21 2 Kings, ii. 5. 11 It is called there niwa which is' as much as a double" house; so called by reason of its tvvo courtsi _ 510 A short Vindication of the Use and Necessity (as hath been proved by me in another treatise83) the fifth part of the Jews' revenues; which large allowance was given them, that, being free from all cares (to which the ministers of the Gospel are too sharply exposed) they might, with the less distraction, and more freedom of spirit, devote themselves wholly to their studies, and their ministerial functions. Again, we find that the Jews themselves ever in after-ages endeavoured (even when they were dispersed among the Gentiles) to retain their schools which are called, sometimes, Sy nagogues; although in a strict sense a school and a synagogue differ. Philo (as he is- cited by Grotius On St. Matth.) uses2* the names promiscuously, and calls those synagogues 5/&«r- K«!Aer«25, for that they did both pray and preach in them ; and withal (as they do now where they are) train up their youth, and exercise themselves by disputes and polemical discourses, concerning the holy Scriptures ; whereby they find Out many hidden truths. This isthe prac tice of colleges in the universities, by which means the students learn to whet their tongues in disputes against the truth's adversaries, those of Rome, together with other hereticks. In the second place, That there were colleges, places of public concourse, even under the Gospel, in the time of the apostles at Jerusalem; we may collect or gather out of the Acts: 'And there were dwelling at Jerusalem Jews, devout men, out of every nation under ¦' heaven26,' St. Luke records37, concerning our Lord Christ, that when he went into the Synagogue, that is, the school28; there was given to him (as to a doctor) the book of the Scriptures,' that. he should explain a portion or piece of them, which he accordingly did 'to the amaze ment and conviction of those that heard him. The same apostle likewise reports,- that when he was twelve years of age, he disputed29 with the doctors of the school with'great admiration. There were then scholars, colleges; and doctors in our Saviour's time; how then dare any disallow of those which Christ himself did approve of, so as to go .often irito them; which he did surely to demonstrate and shew their necessity and use? They who speak and act, by a bold opposition, the contrary, by denying their Ufee ; to such I may aptly retort, what St. Augustine did once in another cdse to the Donatists, the true pictures of our Separatists, Christianos vos esse dicitis, ST Christo contradicitis ; i.e.-' You say yott ' are Christians, and contradict Christ in your words and actions30 S this cannot stand with Christianity, which admits of no such contradictions. • In Acts vi. 9- there is mention of the synagogue or college of- the Libertines, Cyrenians, and Alexandrians, and of them of Cilicia and Asia, who disputed with the prOtomartyr St. Stephen. The same author tells us31, how that St. Paul came from Tarsus of Cilicia unto Jerusalem' where he was c instructed in the law of the Lord at the feet of Gamaliel.' It was the fashion or custom then of the scholars, to sit at the feet of the doctors ; whence those are called by the rabbins Pulverisantes32, from the dust which they received, thus sitting below their teacher's. The forenamed Gamaliel was a doctor or teacher of the law in the academy of Jerusalem, and disciple of that old Simeon, Who took our Saviour, being then a child in his aims, and then sung his Nunc Dimittis, &c. his swan-like song, ' Lord33, now lettest * thou thy servant depart in "peace; for mine eyes have seen thy Salvation,' i. e. the Lord Christ, who is Mercy and Salvation clothed in flesh. That school or college of Jerusalem had many famous doctors, one after another successively m after-days; amongst whom, was Rabbi Hillel, who lived an hundred years before the de struction of the temple by Titus; of which Hillel we find so many rare and pious sayings in the < Pirk Avoth,' a book famous amongst the Jews, for choice proverbs, and grave counsels ' We read likewise of St. Paul/that, after his conversion, he went often into the synagogues or schools of the Jews, and mightily « convinced them, that Jesus was the Messias for the c Christ) and persuading the things concerning the kingdom of, God3*.' * The Church's Plea, &c. sept. 10. p. 23. printed at London, in 1651, 4to. ** Grot, in Matt iv 23 » Places of instruction, * Acts ii.. 5.; * Luke iv. 15, 17. - 'nrtmn fan * Luke »• 42> 46- 3° Aug. Ep. 171. ' » AcU xxii# 3- ' u pp^na " Luke i .26,29. ' * Acts xviii. 28. of Universities, and other Schools of Learning. 511 There is mention in the Acts33, of the school of one Tyrannus; it was erected by one^ who was so called by his proper name, as Beza proves by many testimonies against Erasmus, and others, and with him, in this, the Syriack agrees ; which, as Salom Glassius notes36, is the fittest .to determine any doubt or controversy bordering upon a word, or phrase in the New Testament,, as the Chaldee Paraphrase in the Old. To omit that famous school in Asia at Ephesus, erected by St; John the Apostle, in which Polycarp and Irenaeus were scholars; with many other famous Bishops and martyrs for the truth of Christ. , Likewise that in Palestine of Caesarea, in which Gregory Bishop of Neocaesarea was Drought up. Also that in Alexandria, the most famous in the whole world, where (as St. Jerom attests) from the days of St. Mark the Evangelist, many and great doctors flourished, as Patasnus, Clemens Alexandrinus, Origen,-Hieracles, Dionysius, with many others. To the forenamed, we might add that of Byzantium37 in Greece, where St. Basil, that Demosthenes38 amongst the fathers (for his sublime elegancy so called) was educated ; he was brother to that learned Nazianzen who (being, indeed, a magazine" of all kind of learn^ ing) is worthily called,, i fled/oy©^ i. e. the divine. To this of Byzantium might be adjoined that of Tiberias in Galilee, by the Lake of Gen-- nesareth39, so famous for the Masorites, those laborious textuaties and cabalists among the Jews. * - But omitting the farther discussing and opening of these schools or colleges, (whereby I might farther evince by demonstrative arguments the necessity of learning, and learned men; as so many pillars, to sustain the; vast. fabrick of a church, kingdom, or state, frorh crumbling info dust, and mouldering into ruin) I shall only subjoin. what now follows, by way of a concluding parenesis; or exhortation to men of vulgar conceits, and misled fancies.. Let them run back in their thoughts, and look upon the story of our church in former ages.: Who were they that gave Pope; and his factors, their deadly wounds, stabbing them at the heart with the sharp weapons of their acute arguments ? Who did this glorious work, but first a Jewel®, a Bishop? who was the first, that in a sermon at Paul's- Cross; , made a publick challenge to all the Papists in the world, to produce but one "clear and evi dent testimony out of Scripture, or any father, or other famous writer, within six hundred years after Christ, for any one of the many articles which the Romanists, at this day, main tain .against us; and upon good proof, of any one such. good allegation, he promised to yield them the bucklers, and reconcile himself to Rome.. And although Harding41, and some others, undertook him, and entered into the lists with him, about the twenty-seven con troverted articles;, yet they came off poorly, and Jewel, on the contrary, with triumphant victory, having so amazed and confounded them with a cloud of witnesses in every point, that (as'Bishop Godwin42 reports of him, Dici non potest quantum hac res Pontificiorum apud nos viresfreger.il, existimalionem minuerit, ac prasertim postquam Hardingi frigidd respon- sione errorum ab illis recensitprum novitas patuerit ; i. e. * It cannot be said how this thing ' broke the heart's, and weakened the force of the Pontificians43, with the loss of their ' esteem and credit in these parts, especially, when, after the frigid or cold answer of ' Harding, the novelty of their opinions was plainly discovered.* This glorious champion of truth, for his. rare and admirable partsand gifts, both natural . and supernatural, did every way correspond to his gracious and precious name ; he was a rich jewel consisting of many gems, shining as well in his life, as his incomparable writings. . Lord ! adorn and enrich thy church continually with such jewels, deck her cheeks with rows of such rubies, her neck with such glorious chains, &c. He was born in Devonshire, " Acts xvii. 8. . 36 Glass. Physiol. Sac. 37 Or Constantinople, anciently called Byzantium. 38 Vidi'Pdssevin. in Vita Basil. *> Vid. Buxtorf. in Tiberiad. 40 Bishop Jewel. Godwin, in Vitd tjus, p. 409. *x A Romish priest. 42 Page 410. « Or Papists. 512 . A short Vindication of the Use and Necessity Jjred up at Oxford44; and if 4t lay at my mercy, %to save or. destroy it43, I should spare* it, because it bred such a pillar of truth, and the scourge of Rome; as the conqueror spared Syracusa; because he, found in it an Archimedes. > . ;, ;; ; With him we may parallel our famous Whitgift, who was contemporary j with him; for the former died, anno 1571; this latter was installed Bishop of Worcester, anno 157=75' and afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury 1583. He was born, in Lincolnshire; bred here at .Cambridge,, first in Pembroke Hall, afterwards ; fellow of Peterdiouse, and -not long after, he bejng of rare and eminent parts, was made president of Pembroke Haill, next master of TrinityCollege, in which time he was first the Margaret, then; the .King's- professor of Divinity. This matchless pattern of prudence and patience did stand as stoutly, as the former, in the defence of the truth, against our home-bred innovators, whO (as our learned Cambden says in his Annals) trampled on all government, and making. fancy, the mistress of their judgment,, (pride and a zealous ighOrance being their guides,) they inveighed against tlie. ©ueen's;46. authority,; and herein spake the language of Ashdod; acted highly for the Jesuits, denied uniformity in divine worship, although established by the authority of parliament ; .severed . the administration of the sacraments from the preaching of -the Word47 : Novos ritus pro arbitrio in privatis. adibus usurpabant®, &c. . They neglected and -despised the sacraments ; forgetting that God will not save lis without -the use of means;. They refused to go. to church,. thus making a. dangerous schism, and rending the seamless coat of Christ, Pontifciis plaudentibus, multosque in suas partes trahentibus, quasi nulla esse't in.ecclesid Anglicand unitas ; i. e. ' Hereby they made our adversaries to rejoice" and 'triumph over us, and were the cause of many weak ones turning Papists, upon this / ground, that there was no unity in our church.' . (I fear our separatists49- have now caused the like, if not worse, /mischief in the revolt Of, many thousands: from us.) Those Ghams^ men of : hot and fiery, spirits, who inveighed against their fathers, .and; uncovered their m&- tilers' nakedness; those Scindentes. (as jrenaeus50 well calls them), to which he jo\m .elatiSf ¦superbi ; those proud, high minded, daring schismaticks, that reverend, learned; and most patient Whitgift-quelled, and suppressed .in a short time by his 'discreet meekness, and gentle exhortations to [ peace; first stopping, by arguments, the mouths; of their antesig^ nani, their. leaders (as Cartwrightf1 and others); this he did by disputes and ¦ mild persua sions to peace, and at last' having, by a patient courage, overcome many strong oppositions from .the nobles and their adherents, abettors in that schism, by God's blessing ! he restored the church to unity and concord both in doctrine and discipline. Who, but a man of great learning and grace, could have done this,: and. been the instrument of settling, in a-disi- tracted kingdom, an universal peace ? » ., > • •< ', Let me add to these one, though of , a lower rank in the church,- yet not much inferior in gifts, of, nature, and grace, the renowned Whitaker?V first scholar, and after 'fellow of Trinity Gollege, famous for his admirable skill in the arts and tongues; as for his excellency in the knowledge of divinity, his famous works now extant; his confutation of . Campian, Sanders, Durajus, Raynolds, Stapleton, nay, pf Bellarmine.: himself, with whom, then living] this our, champion encountered-; -he confounded the former,, proving the Pope to be Anti* 44 First in Merton; afterwards in Corpus Christi College. ,..,,. ; 45 Alluding to the danger in which Oxford was then, for refusing to submit to the Rump visitors. ' 46 Elizabeth. 47 Sacramentorum administrationem a verbi divini prasdicatione sejungebant. Gambd. , -»8; They used new rites in private houses, &c. 49 The confused number of sectaries, which sprang up in the time of the civil wars. 50 Aug. lib. d«dvitat. Dei 16, c. 2. comparat Chamo karetieos, ; 1. 4. c. 43. , . ,. , " [Cartwright was the leader of the Puritans, and greatly distinguished himself at the. university of Cam bridge, as a laborious student, an acute disputant, and an admired preacher. See Isaac Walton's Life1 of Hooker- in which much information respecting Cartwright will be found. He died in 1603.] - . ' S1 [This polemic divine became renowned for rhis controversial writings against the church of Rorrfe. Bishop Hall 'is reported to have said, that " never man saw Whitaker without,reverence, or heard him without wonder " He died in; 15«5, at the age of 47. An interesting accounfot ;him niay be seen in i)r. Whitaker's History of Whalley Abbey.].. ' ..!.,> of Universities, and other Schools of Learnings 513 christ, and maintaining the authority of the Scriptures above the church ; and at last i singling out the Cardinal53 himself, the Goliah of Rome, he stunned him so, with the strength of prevailing truth and reason, in his controversies concerning the Church, Scrip tures, and Councils, &c. that the Cardinal (it seems, first convinced by his argumentations) having him in high estimation, procured his picture, and hung it in his study among the por traitures of other noted men, and was heard to say, " That, though he was an heretick, yet he was a learned one." Never any saying had more of falsity and truth in it. When he con fessed him to be learned ; it was all one, as if he had acknowledged that he was by hiin con futed. What firmer testimony than that, which falls from the lips of a professed enemy ? ¦ To these forenamed worthies, I might add the late right reverend Davenant54, Bishop of Salisbury ; the now living and most knowing prelates Armagh*5 and Morton56, true nursing fathers of the church, fed with their doctrine, and defended. by their pens, which the)' have with great success dipped in the ink of confutation, against Jesuits and hereticks. ' The * Lord hath done great things by these Benaiahs57, and wrought great victories,' by means of their painful works against our adversaries. .;• Could these famous, useful, and church-preserving acts, with many hundred more which have been. effected by men of parts; could these mighty things have been done without learning; could this have been attained without the help and. furtherance of publick schools and universities? I suppose no man is so wanting to truth and modesty as fO say it. This made Alphonsus, King of Arragon, bear an open book in his escutcheon 58 ; to testify thereby to the world his high esteem of learning, as being the prop of religion, and the pillar of a state and kingdom: and therefore Charles the Great, wheresoever he erected a church, there he ever annexed a school of learning, to it. Oh, then, let not the undermining and crafty Jesuits (who now swarm amongst us^ blow any longer this poison into your ears ; believe not the voice of these hyaenas59, who may speak like men, nay, like angels ; but within are ravening wolves and savage beasts. Their common trade and work now is, to cry down learning, and the fountains of it, the universities. They know that their cause cannot thrive so long as learning noes flourish : these sol ifugae60 hate that confounding light: these frogs love to croak in the black night of ignorance, they ever dig their mines in darkness. The traitor Vaux61 and his dark lantern, was the true emblem of a Jesuit, who has some light within, which makes him sin against his conscience; yet that light obscured by malice; which forces him to act in defence of the Catholick cause, and contrive any bloody wick edness. And now is his harvest, who loves to fish in troubled waters ; he hath put forth the sickle of his undermining policy to cut down the clergy and the universities ; witness the late pe titions against tithes, and that other from some mistaken ones in the county of Bedford; who little dream that they are now plowing with the Jesuits'62 heifer, who* have closely contrived those petitions, and incensed the countrymen against churchmen and scholars. Ear shame, work not any longer in this bloody field ; be not daysmen to these men of dark ness; what they have covertly contrived, do not thou attempt openly and inpublick. Be lieve it, if the pipes be cut from the two fountains, if the revenues and means which flow from the springs of benefactors for learning's maintenance, if they be taken away (which God I hope will prevent by his merciful and over- ruling Providence), then (I trust this then 53 Bellarmine. 54 [Bishop Davenant was a pious and liberal theologian, who strove to unite Christians in one communion, by a book intitled, " Adhortatio ad Communionem inter Evangelicas Ecclesias." He died in 164.0.] 55 Archbishop Usher. [An eminent pillar of the Protestant cause, famous for religion and literature throughout Europe. He died in 1655.] 56 [Dr. Morton, a most learned and pious man, died Bishop of Durham, in 1659, See his life, printed in 4-to.] " 2 Sam. xxviii. 12.20. 58 Mjddledorp, 1. de Academ. i. p. 104. « De his vid.Eranzii Histor, S. p. 1, c. 20V "' De his vid. Solinum, " Guy Fawkes, who was found with a dark lantern ready in the cellar under the parliament-house, to get fire to the gunpowder, intended to blow up the King, Lords, and Commons, &c. 6' Judges x;v, 18. VOL. I. 3 U 514 . Who is an Ltemtick; and. What is Heresy? will never be), then we shall see $ hope we shall never see it) these « wild boars'?3, coming out of Rome's wood andwilderness ; these * foxes6*, deceitful workers, ministers of Satan-65; wolves in sheeps' clothing*6;' they will, when they meet with no opposition, when the walls and watchmen are gone, break with violence into the vineyard, destroy its pleasant branches, devour its grapes, and (like those wolves in the fable,, when the dogs at their persuasion Were sent away) they will prey upon the poor sheep, tear their fleece from their backs, de vour their flesh. In a wprd,. when they want their guard and. watch, i. e. orthodox pastors and sound. doctors or teachers, the one to instruct the churches, the other to train up stu dents in the schools :, then will the people be left as a prey to hereticks,' whose doctrine will eat like a gangrene67,' i. e. speedily, incurably, mortally. They will infect their souls with poisonous Opinions, and (as they have begun) with ' damnable heresies68,' (to speak in St. Peter's, language,) which St. Paul reckons ' amongst the fruits of the flesh 69 ;' and exclude men from the heavenly inheritance. Of this opinion was Igrtatius, a scholar of the apostles, who assures us70 that, both seducing and seduced hereticks shall perish for ever, and that with as good reason as thieves among men are put to death. Hereticks rob men's souls of God and the truth ; they shut men out of Heaven, and drive them into hell. To prevent all these fatal mischiefs, drain not (but rather increase with augmentations) the fountains of learning and religion ; if these* be once dried up, a drowth of truth will follow, and a deluge of miseries, when barbarism and atheism, with other horrid impieties, shall abound in this land, and overthrow the church71, whose welfare is contained (together with the common wealth's) in the preservation of learning, arts, and sciences ; which I could prove more at large, did I not fear to load the press, and tire the reader's patience. I shall conclude this first Query with an open confession, that itt these tumultuous, dis ordered times, some dirt has gotten into our fountains72, and mingled itself with our pure streams ; but what was ever in all ages, we hope will not with aggravations be charged upon us, as the only fault of ours. . And I trust that those Bedfordians (who clamOur against the universities) will be laid asleep,- and silenced, by higher powers ;. neither doubt we, but that those who have made such loud cries and protestations for truth, will hot- now' at length (after spilling so much blood in the defence of the Gospel, as was pretended) give themselves the stab of a lie, by doing that which will overthrow and lay truth in the dust ; and setting up falsehood with a painted face, coloured with shews of piety and pretences of godliness^ Quod ayerruncet Deus. As for my part, I shall ever beg of God (and it is a piece of my daily devotions) that he would open the eyes, and mollify the hearts of the seduced, and ob durate seducers in this age; that being reduced to the saving knowledge of the truth, they may have good wills joined with their great power to preserve the keriotsepher, the univer sities, and other schools ; that from thence may come knowing men of sound opinions73, and- incorrupt lives, whereby they may outshine hereticks, and be able to refute and stop thfe mouths of heresies. Men well learned, of good lives, and lawfully ordained ministers, have a special call to dp so great a work; they have a blessing promised on their labours74; and may such be ever blessed, who are lovers oC peace and truth's defenders. THE SECOND QUERY. Wha-is an Heretick; and What is an Heresy? AMONGST many convincing arguments to prove the greatness of the evil and danger of hereticks, some have been drawn from the great pains and cost which the primitive church employed, and spent to extinguish the flame or fire of heresies, wheresoever and whensoever 63 Psalm viii. 14. «4 Cant. ii. 15. «'»' 2 Cor. x. 13. 15. « Matt. vii. 15. «? 2 Tim. ii. 17. «" 2 Pet. ii. i. « Gal. v. 40. 70 fenat- EP- ad Ephes. Oi ohofytiipot $a, Ezek. liii. 17, 18, 19. *° Praefat. in Panopliam. »¦ Aug. contr.Pelag. * 2 Cor. xiii. 7. «3 De his vid. Epiphan. Aug. Philast. de Haeresibus. Cranraer. adv. Haeres. 94 Ep. Mort. contra Missam, lib. 8. cap. 2; Hall, in his Treatise called, Rome irreconcil. ; White against Fisher, G. 19 ; Dr. Crakanthorp, cap. 48. num. 23. « [Joseph Hall, Bishop of Exeter and afterwards of Norwich, well known for his genius as a poet, and erudi tion as a prelate.] 9" [Dr. Francis White, a very profound scholar and zealous divine, died Bishop of Ely, in 1637.] »' [Anthony Wood has given a long account of Crakanthorp, and says he was esteemed by most men to have been replenished with all kinds of virtue and learning, philosophical and theological, and so familiar and exact in the fathers, councils, and schoolmen, that none in his time scarce went beyond him. He died in 1624, rector of Blitcknolley in Essex.] ^ Antonio de Dominis, Archbishop of Spa'ato in Italy. Salv. lib. 5. de Guber. Dei. 518 Whether it he lawful to frequent Contienticles,tind diction) call themselves Catholicks, wheh? indeed, they are not truly so. It is a terrti .proper only to the universal church of Christ, dispersed and scattered over the face Of the whole earth. They are a particular church, and therefore, whilst they style themselves (indeed, it is stylo novo) Catholicks, they speak as much, or in effect, as "if a man should say, 'a par- ' ticular universal, or universal particular,' which is absurd, and against the rules Of lo Cant. iv. 9, 10. '* Rom. viii. ll. •*' Eph. iv 3 forsake the publick Meetings of Christians in Churches ? 5<£$ they should be at church. What to do? Not to take upon them the minister's office to -preach, but to repeat what they have heard from the mouths of their orthodox teachers, or to read the Scriptures to the unlearned, or to do as David did, i. e. * tell what God hath done for their souls142;' the manner of their conversion, the method and means God used to cp'mforf them in their tribulation, or to pray together * for the peace of Jerusalem m,' for the restoration of the poor distressed church, for a blessing upon the persons and labours of their honest ministers ; let this be the end of your house-meetings, and my soul shall meet with you in commendation of y Our holy practice, and in prayer for a blessing on your pious ex ercise : but if you do otherwise, i. e. forsake the church (the place where God's people, bis servants, do congregate) ; I fear that it will happen to you, as it doth to the silly sheep that strays from the flock, which becomes a prey to the devouring wolf; or as it did to Dinah, the daughter of Leah, who, leaving her father's house to see the daughters of the land, was met, and ravished byShechem144. So they that forsake their ministers, arid out of curiosity resign and devOte themselves to be followers of those who are none ; they must expect to be deflowered of their faith and manners by such seducers, who are spiritual adulterers and mur-> .derers; who corrupt men's judgments, and feast it with the souls of their simple disciples; whom they grind with the teeth of error145, and poison with that cup which they themselves have drunk of, a gilded cup pf heresies, ' full of abomination and filthihess 14V The Lord prevent us with his grace, and preserve us from these corruptions ! S. Augustine, in his fourth bOok ' De Doctrina Christiana,' notes, that the word in Latin, which signifies a conventicle, or place of private 'meeting, (it is Conventiculum, cX tantum singulariter dicitur,) is Only used in the singular number, irnproperly in the plural ; as if by God's Spirit (the prime author of words in the hearts and by the tongues of men) this was thereby intended to be implied, that there must not be more places than One, for God's people to meet in, in their several parishes ; that is, each particular church, the only plaOe allowed and appointed by God, for his publick worship arid service. ' Oh, that men would therefore praise the Lord for his goodness, and declare his Wonderful works before the sons of men ! That they woUld exalt him in the congregation Of the people147;' leaving their Con^- ventieles, wherein God cannot be so higlily' praised, nor so much honoured as in a place of pubfick concourse, a church. I must, for a close of this third Query, freely vent my thoughts, which have been ever iA my breast. The classical presbyters made way for these abuses and corruptions in our church, by making ah unhappy breach in it, when they brought in their motley directory into the church; by which means, they drove many out of it into COnventicles, and, like the sons of Eli1*5, by their Unjust usurpation 'made men to abhor the offering of the Lord, and caused the people to trespass':' ver. 14. ¦ They too, by their usurping the pbwer of ordination, contrary to the rule of Christ, and the established order of the church, were the cause that Others (in opposition to them) did and do now preach without orders. ¦ <•¦.¦„ ¦By this we see, what good friends and servants, how-dutiful sons, the presbyters have been to their mother,1 the church. All the hurt that I wish them is this, that they were confined and doomed Scotorum'pttltibus sdginafii1®, to be fellow-commoners ; live, repent, and die, arnohgst their wretched brethren the Scots, the first fqmenters of bur divisions, and authors of our miseries. • ' Heavenly Father, forgive them ! they know not. what mischief they have done.' '¦t* Psalm ixvi. 18. ' '« Psalm axxii. 6. I44 Gen. xxxiv. 2. '*? Apeffwwm fas'tvY MtXaripusv $u%«j, t%s a-txtyis ZSSriv cvvlplZovtes. Cyril, in. Hos. '<* Rev. xvii. 4. . ?« Psalm cvii. 31,32. "" 1 Sam. ii. 17. ** Vossius Hist. Pelag. says of Pelagius, that he was Socotorum pultibus saginatus. 424 Whether it be lawful for a Lay-man to preach? THE FOURTH QUERY. „¦¦ f Whether it be lawful for a Lay-man to preach ?' *¦*''•, I REMEMBER a saying of Isocrates, a* «?/*o'?« *ef2 rSv Cpay^Sv *oMA Uym, It is not proper for an orator, or any one, to spend many words about a business or theme that is clear and common. Therefore seeing that the Query is not attended wittvany great dif ficulty, and hath been so much discussed by the pens of our learned, I shall not spend many words about it. Only this 1 shall say, for the benefit and .conviction of the un learned, to whose capacity I desire to fit my discourse and suit my phrase. '. Jf by preaching we understand (as we are to do) the ' dividing of the word aright •», i. e. the applying of it (according to the diversity of persons, times, and places) to ^the con sciences of the hearers in publick; which application of it, implies a reproving of sin in a judicial authoritative way, and a denouncing Pf judgment against sinners; and, lastly,^ laying forth or unfolding of sweet promises of the Gospel, of pardon and forgiveness to the faithful and penitent, who renounce their own, and rely upon Christ's merits. To affirm, that to do this, in a constituted or settled church, is lawful for a lay-man, is as incongru ous, and carries with it as great an absurdity, as to gay (which is impious) that St. Paul was mistaken, and did not speak from Christ, when he enjoined ' every one to abide m / ' that calling, to which he is called m.' ' For one to invade the proper duty of a minister, ' without a speciarcalling from the church, is altogether unlawful;' so says Amesius him self, Jib. iv.de Cas. Consc. cap. 25. -r . Secondly, He that can maintain it lawful for a common soldier (because he hath good skill at his weapon and in the feats of war) to challenge the place of a colonel or chief com mander, without the consent of the superior officers ; he that can prove it that Korah and his two confederates sinned not in rising up against Moses and Aaron132, and usurping the .priest's office. (Moses I am sure checked their boldness thus 153, ' Ye take too much upon • 'you,' &c. It was so much, and so weighty a burthen ; their usurpation so great a sin; that the earth could not bear them, but opened and swallowed up them, and all their Thirdly, He that can convince my judgment, that Uzzah 154 sinned not in touching the ark; that the men of Bethshemesh155 did not offend by looking boldly into it; that Saul156 and Uzziah im did not commit a great trespass in taking upon them the priest's office. ' Thou 'hast done foolishly,' so said Samuel to Saul, 1 Sam. xiii. 13. He lost his kingdom, by it, as appears ver. 14. 'Now the kingdom shall not continue,' &c. they are the words of the prophet. ' Azariah158 the priest, and with him fourscore priests of the Lord, valiant men ; \ they withstood Uzziah the king, and said unto him, " It belongeth not to thee, Uzziah, ' to burn incense unto the Lord, but to the priests, the sons of Aaron, that are consecrated ' for to offer incense ; go out of the sanctuary, for thou hast transgressed, and thou shalt ' have no honour of the Lord thy God." You may read, ver. 1 9, how that he was punished with leprosy, a foul disease, for his foul fact ; and that in the forehead, the seat of impu dence, he was too bold. His open sin was punished with open shame. ' Though his ' zeal seemed to be good, and also his intention 159, yet, because they were not regulated or ' guided by God's word, he did wickedly, and was therefore both justly resisted [by the * priests] and punished [by God.]' This note you shall find in the margin of your English 150 2 Tim: ii. 15. 1 Cor. vii. 20. 151 Art thou then called to be a weaver, a tailor, or a cobler ? Desert not thy calling,, and thrust not thyself into that which belongs to another. "' Numb. xvi. 3. *" Ver. 17. »*2 Sam. vu6. ' ".5 I Sara; vi. 19. 156 1 Sam. xiii. 11. "« 2 Chron. xxvi. 18. ,s< 2 Chron. xxvi. 17, 18. "' To a lawful act there is required not only a good end, but also good means., A .good intention,, if the means he bad, will not bring a man to Heaven. Many with this mistake have gone to hell. Bonum bene is the rule in divinity. Whether it be lawful for a Lay-man to preach^ 5%5 bibles, which I wish were well observed by our too fprward zealots, who flatter and deceive themselves with their good intentions, when, the means they use are not lawful but un righteous.. . Fourthly, He that can prove it by any plausible argument (as I am sure none can, though he were as powerful in invention, and witty in arguing, as Perronius160, once a Car dinal of Rome) that it was lawful under the old law for any .butcher, because he had skill in killing of a beast, to slay the sacrifice, which was only proper to tlie Levites161. And he that shall demonstrate to my understanding, that he is not guilty of great presumption, and much pride, who shall first think, himself fit for that office, which St. Paul so admired, and trembled at, that he brake forth into a tIq Itutvos;162 ' "Who is sufficient for it ?' He. that thinks himself so, is most insufficient ; especially vyhen ne shall want all those gifts, which are usually seen and required in ministers ; as skill in the languages, fathers, councils, school men, church-histories, with other, modern writers ; together with the arts and sciences. Fifthly, He that shall clear this point unto me, that the practice of Christ and his apos tles, together with the whole church, for sixteen, hundred years and upwards, is not to be allowed of; especially, when that practice is confirmed and ratified by precept in the holy Scriptures, where We find directions163 to the then Bishops for the laying on of hands upon those who were then, and now are to be admitted into holy orders: ' And, lastly, He that can. evince it, that besides the inward ' testimony of a man's own conscience164, there is not, upon the former grounds required the outward call or testimony of the church, to whom he is to give trial of his gifts, and then receive the church's blessing, with solemn prayers to God to prosper the work which he is going about, i. e. that he may convert souls,, and thereby enlarge the kingdom of Christ. He that is able (as I am sure none ever was, or will be) to prove alt these particulars, shalt subdue my reason, and bring me to a confession, that it is lawful for:a lay-man to preach. Till this be proved (as it never can be expected) I shall with the authority of God's word, the consent of all antiquity, and the practice of a]l_reformed churches, conclude and stand firmly to this position : That no man ought to take upon him this sacred function, or office, ' but he that is called as Aaron was165,' i. e. by God. The voice of the church is the voice of God; ergo, lay-men that call themselves by a bold intrusion, we may lawfully call usurpers of the priests' office, of the stock of -Korah, of the race of Jeroboam's priests. ' He-made, of the lowest of the c people, priests of the high places; which thing became a sin to the house of- Jeroboam; •even to cut it off. and destroy it from'the face of the earth I6V ¦¦ ,-'¦ And unless the Divine justice shall speedily stop the mouths of the apron-rabbies, and russet-Levites, by some.strangejudgment ; and so cut them off who have kindled a flame in state ahd church (that hath blasted all good order, consumed all God's ordinances, d caused a generaf ebh ofdevotion and piety amongst us), who also have crept in like thieves into the church by back-ways, have secretly insinuated themselves into the society of God's people; professing themselves to be teachers of the : true faith, but. are, indeed, the de stroyers of it, and' disturbers of our peace,, ' ungodly men, who were of old ¦a^vty^.^iwu, ordained167,' appointed (as if it had been set down in a book) ' to this condemnation, or to this judgment,' to be jlagelkim ecclesice,^ to try, to exercise, and molest the church by their false doctrine168; and, when they have done their worst, to receive for a recompence, or re ward of their impiety and wickedness, damnation. 150 ' Persuadebit nobis quicquid volet,? ita de Perronio Paulus Sanctus, in vita Perronii opusculis ejus prefixa. '*' Levit. i. 4. ' He shall kill the bullock.' ,62 2 Cor. ii. 16. >« lTim.iv. 14. ; v. 22. Tit. i. 5. Acts xiv. 23, &c. . ,s* That he is both willing and able to discharge the office of a minister. ¦es HeD. v. 4. ,66 1 Kings; xiii. 33. '6? Jude 4. 168 Idcirco doctrinam Catholicam contradicenfium obsidet' impugnatio, ut fides nostra non olio torpeseat, sed multis excrcitatioriibus elimetur. Aug.' 526 An Essay on Writing, and the Art and Mystery of Printing. Till these incendiaries be suppressed and silenced, we cannot expect but this our now distracted nation, which was Once the scOurge of others, ; and the praise1 of all the world, sh$u. become the scorn of all nations; whilst, as the Jews169 once did, we destroy ourselves at home by our multiplied divisions; and so prevent the mischievous malice of our foreign, enemies ; which thing will make us a derision to those that are round about us, to the iheri of Gath and Askalon, the uncircumcised Philistines, bloody Jesuits arid Papists : which God avert, for his mercies',, sake, and the merits of his son Christ Jesus! \ - ' Pray for the peace of Jerusalem.' Psalm cxxii. 16. The Author's Prayer to God for the suppressing of Heresy, and happy composing of out unhappy Divisions. ' O THOU ! who art one and infinite in power, the center of perfection, and the God ? pf love; collect, our scattered thoughts from perverse disputes, and worldly distractions; ' draw in our hearts from hunting after vanities; confine them to thine Heaven, and to thyT ' self, who art the Heaven of that Heaven. Make us to love thy truth, which is the bright- ' ness of thy everlasting light, the undefiled mirror of thy majesty, and the image of thy ' glory. And, because there is -but one Heaven, and one way to it, that living way of 'faith and obedience, oh! let the bright beams of thy grace slune in the hearts of thy people, who are now turned to the by-ways pf error, and wander in the deserts of sin and ' heresy; reduce them, good Father, into the way of truth, that with one heart, and one ' mind, they may serve thee the onlyone true God, through Jesus Christ pur Lord. Amen* Trin-uni Deo sit honos, laus, SU gloria. l6» See Joseph. Hist. An Essay on Writing, and the Art £nd Mystery of Printing. A Translation out of the Anthology. Quisquis erat, meruit senii ' transceridere metas, &c. [From a Broad-Side, printed at London, in the Year 1696.] WORTHY that man to 'scape ^mortality, And leap that ditch where all must plunging lie, Who found out letters first ; and did impart, With dext'rous skill, Writing's mysterious, art \ In characters to hold intelligence, And to express the mind's most hidden sense. The Indian slave, I'm sure, might wohder well, How the dumb papers could his theft reveal. The stupid world admirM the secret cause Of the tongue's commerce, without help of voice ; That merely by a pen it could reveal, And all the soul's abstrusest notions tell : The pen, like plough-share, on the paper's face,- With black and magick tracks its way does trace, An Essay on Writing, alld the Art and Mystery of Printing. #§7 Assisted only by that useful quill, . '¦ ; v Pluck'd from the geese that sav'd the Capitol; . First writing-tables paper's place supply'd, Till parchment and Nilotick1 reeds were tried: Parchment, the skins of beasts, well scrap'd and dress'd, By these poor helps of old, the mind express'd : » . But after times a better way did go, A lasting sort of paper, white as snow, . Compos'd of rags well pounded in a mill, Proof against all but fire, ahd the moth's spoil. What poor beginnings these ! The silk-worm there Had nought to do, no silken-threads were here ; But rags from doors pick'd part, from dung-hills part, Mash'd in a mill, gave rise to this fine art ; Which in an instant gives a speedy birth To Virgil's books, the rarest work' on earth. But still an art from Heaven was to come, (From thence it came) this matter to consume; Which could transcribe whole books without a hand ; Behold the Press ! See how- the squadrons stand' ! In all his fights the Roman parricide* With half the skill, ne'er did his troops divide;. Nor Philip's son, who with his force o'errun, < And mow'd the countries of tlie rising mora : Not the least motion from their post j but all Work hard, and wait the welcome signal's call ; The letters all turn'd mutes, in iron bound", Never prove vocal; till in ink they're drOwh'd : The lab'ring engines their still silence break, And straight they render up their charge and speak : Now,- drunk with the Cast ali an flood, they sing, Arma virumgue,. gods, and god-like kings : Six hundred lines of Maro's, quick as thought, Beyond- the nimblest running-hand are wrought ; Much fairer too the characters do show ; For grace; fam'd Cocker's? pen; its head must bow. Three thousand births at once, you see, which soon i O'er ev'ry country scatter'd are, and thrown, > In ev'ry tongue with which fame speaks, are known : j These types- immortalize where-e'er they come,. And give lea-rn'd writers a more lasting doom. ' Court rites, Galen ick precepts, Moses' rules, Are printed off, the guides of learned schools : What wonders would antiquity have tried, ' Had they the dawn of this invention 'spied ? The Offices of Tully were the first That came abroad in this new-fashion'd dress^ 1 [Nilotick reeds are the papyri, which grew on the banks of the Nile, and furnisked a vegetable substitute for .paper. The epithet Nilotick occurs in Milton's Paradise Regained,, book iv. and is thought by Mr. Bunster to have been adopted from Martial, who calls Egypt " Nilatica tellus."] 1 [Cocker published fourteen books of copies engraved by his own hand. Some of these specimens of cal ligraphy were cut upon silver plates. He lived during the Interregnum. See Granger's Biog. Hist.] 5W The Natural History of Coffee. Imperial Mentz3 herself would author prove; n And Venice cries, she did the art improve ; > Not antient cities more for Homer strove. J Goddess ! Preserver from, the, teeth of . time, . ;. > Who keeps our names still fresh in youthful prime; Whatman was he whom thus the gods have grac'd, .,... . Worthy among the stars to have a place ! . Like head of Nile unknown, thy .bubbling rise Is hid, for ever hid, ifrom mortal eyes. »* [Single types of wood are said to have been used before the year 1440 by Costar at Harlem, whence these characters were transferred to Mentz, either directly or by degrees ; probably by the elder Genfleisch ; who, with his brother John Guttemburg,. cut metallic types under the patronage of Fust, whose son-in-law, Schoeffer, cast his own types. See Essay'on the Invention of Printing, in Gent, Mag. for Jan. 1794. The Rev. Mr. Dibdin, in a learned account of the, firsUprinted Psalters, expresses his Opinion that the Mentz Psalter of 1457 was the first book printed with metal types.' "Vid. Athenaeum, "Sept. 1807J The Natural History of Coffee, Thee, Chocolate, and Tobacco* in four several Sections; with a Tract of Elder and Juniper- Berries, shewing how useful they may be in our Coffee- Houses: And, also,, the Way of making Mum, with some Remarks upon that Liquor. Collected from the Writings of the best Physicians, and modern Travellers. [From a Quarto, containing Thirty-nine Pages, printed at Londohj for Christopher Wil kinson, at the Black Boy, over against St. Dunstan's Church in Fleekstreet, 1682.] "SECTION!. The Natural History of Coffee. COFFEE is said tof>e a sort of Arabian bean, called Bon, er Ban, in the eastern countries; the drink made of it is named Coava,, orChaube,. over all the Turkish do minions. Prosper Alpinus1 (who lived several years in VEgypt) assures us, that he sawi the tree itself, which he, compares to our spindlertree, orsprick-wood ; only the leaves were a •little thicker, and harder, besides coutinually green2. This tree is found in the Desarts of Arabia, in some /parts of Persia, and India, the seed or berry of which is called by the inhabitants Buncho, Bon, and Ban; which.being dried and boiled" with water, is the most universal drink, in all the Turkish, and several eastern countries, where wine is publickly forbid ; it has been the most antient drink of the Arabians, and some 3 will have the lus nigrum Spartanorum, i. e. the black broth of the Spartans, tb have been the same with our Coffee. The Persians at this day do tipple as much coffee off, as the Turks themselves. Tavernier 4 in his description of Ispahan (the metropolis, of Persians very jocose -and merry, when he comes to describe the famous coffee-hpUse of that city : 'he says,, that the wise Sha Abas, observing great numbers of Persians to resort to that house .daily, and to^Ouarrel very much - * Alpinus de Plant. .ffigyptiac. p; 26. £ - ' This tree is now very common in gentlemen's green-houses in the south of England ; and Ebenezer Mussel, Esq. of Bethnal-green, near London, had twdof the largest and healthiest, perchance, in the nation. ' Dr. Mundy de Potulentis, p. 351. 4 Tavernier's Travels, ,p. 1. The Natural History of Coffee. 52Q about stdte-affairs, appointed a Moullah to be there every day betimes to entertain the tobacco-whiffers, and coffee-quaffers, with a point of law, history, or poetry; after which, the Moullah rises up, and makes proclamation, that every man must retire, and to his business ; upon which they all observe the Moullah, who is always liberally entertained by the company. Olearius does also speak5 of the great diversions made in the coffee-houses of Persia, by their poets and historians, who are seated in a high chair, from whence they make speeches and tell satirical stories, playing in the mean time With a little stick; and the same gestures, as our jugglers and legerdemain-men do in England. As for the qualities and nature of Coffee, our own countryman, Dr. Willis, has published a very rational account6, whose great reputation and authority are of no small force; he says, that in several head-afchs, dizziness, lethargies, and catarrhs, where there is a gross habit of body, and a cold heavy constitution, there coffee may be proper, and successful; and in these cases he sent his patients to the coffee-house, rather than to the apothecary's shop; but where the temperament is hot, and lean, and active, there coffee may not be very agreeable ; because it may dispose the body to inquietudes, and leanness. The Doctor makes one unlucky observation of this drink, which I am afraid will cow our citizens from ever meddling with it hereafter, that it often makes men paralytick, and does so slacken their strings, as they become unfit for the sports and exercises of the bed, and their wives' recreations ; to confirm which, I will quote, here two precedents, out of the most learned Olearius, who says7, that the Persians are of an opinion, that coffee always allays their na tural heat, for which reason they drink it, that they may avoid the charge and inconve niences of many children ; .nay, the Persians are so far from dissembling the fear they have thereof, that some of them have come to the Holstein physician of that ambassy, for reme dies to prevent the multiplication of children ; but the Doctor, being a merry, bold German, answered the Persians, that he had rather help them to get children, than to prevent them. This most famous Olearius (that made' so many curious and accurate observations in liis travels) tells us of a Persiah King, named Sultan Mahomet Caswin, who reigned in Persia before Tamerlane's time, that was so accustomed to drinking of cahwa, or coffee, that he had an unconceivable aversion to. women, and that the Queen, standing one day at her chamber window, and perceiving they were about gelding a horse, asked some standers- by, why they treated so handsome a creature in that manner ? whereupon answer was made her, that he was too fiery and mettlesome, therefore they resolved to deprive him of his generative faculty : the Queen replied, " That trouble might have been spared, since cahwa,' or coffee, would have wrought the same effect, the experiment being already tried upon the King her husband." 'This King left a son, called Mahomet, after him, as our most grave and faithful traveller8 does assure us, who, being come to the crown, commanded that great poet, Hakim Fardausi, to present him with some verses, for every one of which, the sophy promised him a ducat; the poet, in a short time, made sixty thousand, which, at this day, are accounted the best that ever were made in Persia, and Hakim Fardausi esteemed the poet laureat of the East ; the treasurers, thinking it too great a sum for a poet, would have put him off with half; whereupon, Fardausi made other verses, wherein he reproaqhed the King with avarice, and told him, he could not be of royal extraction,, but must be rather descended from a shoemaker, or a baker. Mahomet, being nettled, made complaint to the Queen his mother; who, suspecting that the poet had discovered her afnours, ingenuously confessed to the King her son, " that his father being impotent, through his excessive drinking of cahwa, or coffee, she fancied a baker belonging to the court;" and said, " If it had not been for the baker, the young King bad never been what he was;" so, lest the business should take wind, the poet got his full . reward. But let us return a little into our old serious road. -u- Coffee is said to be very good for those that have taken too much drink, meat, or fruit, s Olearius's Ambassadors' Travels through Persia, book vi. p. 224-. * Pr.. Willis PharmacKut. Rat. p. I . » Olearius's Ambassadors' Travels through Persia, book vi. * Idem, ibid. p. 2+0 VOL. I. 3 ¥ 530 The Natural History of Thee,, or Tea. as the learned Schroder9 wiH inform you \ as alsO against shortness of breath, and rheum; and it is very famous in old obstructions, so that all the Egyptian and Arabian women, are observed to promote their monthly courses with coffee, and to tipple constantly of it, all the time they are flowing;' for which we have the undoubted authority of Prosper Alpinus'0, who spent several years among them. It is found to ease the running scorbutick gout, or rheumatism, as Mollenbroccius has affirmed11. As for the manner of preparing: Coffee* it is so easy, and so commonly known, that we need, not mention it; Only we may observe, that some of the Asiatiek nations make their coffee of the coat, or husk of the berry, which they look upon to be much stronger,, and more efficacious, than the berry itself* so that they take a less quantity of it; but the EU-i ropeans do peel and take off the outward skin of the berries, which, being so prepared, are baked, burnt, and afterwards ground to powder ; one ounce of which they mix con> monjy with a pint and a half of hot water, which has been boiled half away; then they are digested together, till they are well united.; ' ' , The Laplanders12 prepare a very good drink out of juniper-berries, which some prefer before either Coffee or Thee13; of which berries, we will discourse in a tract at the end of these sheets. V SECTION II. The Natural History of Thee, or Tea. THIS herb, Thee; is commonly found in Chiiia, Japan, and some other Indian coun tries ; the Chinese call it Thee, the Japonians, Tchia. That of Japan is esteemed much the best, one pound of it being commonly sold for one hundred pounds, as Tulpitis informs us1*, from several great men that have been ambassadors and residents in those parts; so that most of the Thee which is brought into Europe, comes from China, and that too; of the worst kihd, which cannot but decay in so long a voyage ; for the Dutch have been Observed to dry a great quantity of sage, whose leaves being rolled up like Thee, they were carried into China by them, under the name of a most rare European herb; for. one pound of this dried sage, the Dutch received three pounds of Thee from the Chinese, as Thevenot informs us15. 'There is a great controversy amongst the herbalists, to' what classis this Thee may be reduced. BontiUs16 compares it to the leaves of our wild daisy; for which Simon Pauli is very angry with him", and gives very strong arguments that Thee is the leaves of a sort of myrtle ; for, out of the leaves of myrtle, a liquor may be made, resembling Thee in all qua lities : therefore the Jesuit Trigautius is of opinion 18, that several of our European forests and woods do abound with a true Thee, it being observed to £row in great plenty in Tartary (which lies under the same climate with many countries of Europe), from whence, some learned men think, it came originally; for it has not been long known to the Chinese19, they having nO ancient name, or hieroglyphick characters for Thee, and Cha being an ancient Tarta rian word: besides, it is known to several merchants, that a great quantity of Thee is brought yearly out of Tartary into Persia ; and we are all acquainted with the several great conquests20 which the Tartars have made in China, sd that the Chinese have had several opportunities of learning the use of Thee from the Tartars, in whose country it is 9 Schroder's Append, p. 24. 10 Prosp. AJpinus, de Med. .ffigyptor. 1. 4. de Plant. .Egyptiac. ap.r!18. ad p. 122. " Mollenbfock, de Arthrit. bagascorbut. p. 114. " History of Lapland. » Or Tea. ¦? Nicol. Tulpii Observat. Med. lib. 4. c. 60. " Oldenburg's Philos. Transact. N. 14. 16 Bontius de Medicina Indorf lib. 2. p. 97. " Simon Pauli, de Thee, p. 19, 20. 18 Trigautius, de Regno Chinee, lib. 3. •» Simon Pauli, de Thee, p. 25. M Olearius's Ambassadors' Tiavels in Persia, p. 241. The Natural History of Thee, or Tea. 531 observedsto be in great plenty, and of little value; yet the inhabitants of China and Japan have a great esteem and opinion of it, where they are as much employed, and concerned for their harvest of Thee (which is in spring) as the Europeans are for their vintage, as several Jesuits inform us in their observatians of China21. For the noblemen, and princes of China and Japan, drink Thee at all hours of the day ; and, in their visits, it is tlieir whole en tertainment; the greatest persons of quality boiling and preparing the Thee themselves, every palace and house being furnished with convenient rooms, furnaces, vessels, pots, and spoons, for that purpose ; which they value at a higher rate than we do diamonds, gems, and pearls, as Tulphis22 assures us, from the relations of several great Dutchmen, who travelled China in the quality of ambassadors ; and made great observations of those rich stones, and woods out of which the aforesaid materials were made. As for the qualities and virtues of Thee, these few following observations may give satisn faction ; that it makes us active and lively, and drives off sleep, every drinker of it cannot but be sensible. The great Jesuit* Alexander de Rhodes, always cured himself ofa periodi cal pain of his head by Thee23, .and having often occasion to sit up whole nights in China, to take the confessions of dying people, he found the great benefit of Thee inthose great watchings, so that he was always as vigorous and fresh the next day, as though he had rest ed all night ; nay, he says, that he sat up six nights together, by the assistance of Thee. Kircher himself took notice of Thee for clearing the head and opening the urinary pas sage24; and it was observed by those concerned iq the. Dutch ,ambassy to China, that the Chinese did spit very little, and were seldom subject to the stone and gout, which their physi cians imputed to.their frequent drinking of Thee2?., It is. a common proverb in Japan : Illene s anus non sit t Bibitde optima Tsiaf " What, is he not well ? He drinks of the best Thee26." I know some that celebrate good Thee for preventing drunkenness, taking.it before they go to the' tavern, and use' it also very much after a debauch, Thee: being found so friendly to . their stomachs and' heads: several ambassadors find^the advantage of it in. preserving them from the accidents ahd inconveniences of a bad foreign air; but that, which gives thegreatesit commendation to Thee,is the good character which our famous countryman, M.r. Boyle, gives of it in his Experimental Philosqphy m, where he says, that it deserves those; great praises which are commonly bestowed upon it. Yet Simon Pauli exclaims28 against, the. use of Thee, as a great drier, and promoter of old age, and as a thing unnatural, and foreign to the European complexions. But Schroder29 answers Pauli very mildly, supposing him to speak' only , of the abuse and extravagant management of Thee;. for, otherwise rhubarb, china, sassafras, and saunders, should be banished from our shops by the same reason, they being.driers, and foreign to us Englishmen ; therefore, we may conclude Thee innocent andbepeneial. The Chinese gather the leaves in the spring, one by one, and immediately put themto warm in an iron kettle over the fire; then, laying them on a fine light mat, roll .them together with their hands; the leaves, thus rolled, are again hanged over the fire,, and then Tolled closer together, till they are dry; then put up carefully in tin vessels, to preserve , them from moisture ; thus they prepare the best leaves, that yield the greatest rates; but the common ordinary ones are only dried in the sun, yet in the shade is, doubtless, much better 's the ingenious author of Vinetum Britannicum does well observe30) the sun having a great power to attract the virtue out of any vegetable after its separation from its nourisher, the earth. One spoonful of this prepared Thee, is enough for. one quart of boiled water. 1 .-¦-. i . -" , ¦ •¦ - " Philos. Transact. N. 49. " Njcol. TulpiiO,bservat.1Med. lib. 4. c. 60. 23 Alexander de Rhodes, Yoyages &'Misiio.nes Apostpliques. 3+ Kircheri China Illustrata, lib. 4. 25 Thevenot, Hislor. Legat. Batavor. in China, toni. 3- ..Philosoph. Transact. N. 14. ¦6 Varenius, Descript. Regni Japon. c. 23. p. 161. *7, Boyle's Exper. Philos. p. 94. 28 Sjmon Pauli'de Thee,"p. 67. !» Schroderi Append, ad Pharmacop;p. 28. ' 30 Vinet. Britan. p. 140. 532 The Natural History of Chocolate. There are several waysand methods for preparing Thee31* -The Japonians powder the •plant upon a stone, and so put it into hot water. The Chinese boil the leaves with water and a little sugar. Some Europeans make tinctures, infusions, conserves, and extracts; of Thee.' The Tartars areobserved to boil their Thee in milk with a little salt, which way they think is the very best32. The inhabitants of Carolina prepare a liquor out, of the leaves of an American tree, which is very like Thee^ and equal to it in every respect. Dr. Mundy observes33, that the inhabitants of Florida have an old custom, before they go into the field to war* of drinking a liquor in a great pubhck assembly, which he that vomits Up, is judged unfit for that war> like expedition, and is condemned to stay at home in disgrace; but, when herhas learnt to carry off the liquor, then he is admitted to be a lawful soldier. Now Thee itself, when given in a large dose, and in a strong decoction, does often prove, vomitive; as I myself have observed several times. . - Some make decoctions of the roots of avens, galanga, coriander, anniseeds, sarsa,; china, saunders, of the leaves of sage, betony, rosemary, which they do extol above Thee or coffee. SECTION III. The Natural History of Chocolate. HAVING given a short natural history of two things; which are so universally Used in the eastern parts of the world, we now come to treat briefly of two more, which are generally used in the western. First, of Chocolate, of which the cocoa, or'cacaw-nutj-being the prin cipal ingredient, a short account of it cannot be improper. This nut, or rather the seed or kernel of the nut', as Mr. Hughes observes3*, is of the bigness of a great almond ; in some of these fruits there are a dozen; in some twenty, in others thirty, or more of the§e kernels, or cocoas; which are well described by the ingenious ahd learned Dr. Grew35; when these kernels are cured, they become blackish, and are compared to a bullock's kidney, cut into •partitions: there is great variety in them, by reason of the difference of soils and climates where they grow. The tree is said tb be as large as our English plum-trees, the leaves sharp-pointed, compared by some travellers to the leaves of chesnut; by the curious Piso to the leaves of an orange 3S ; the flower of a saffron colour ; upon the appearance of which, the fruit appears upon the branches as apples: this tree grows in several parts of America, as in Nicaragua, New Spain, Mexico, Cuba; and in Jamaica, especially at Colonel Bar- rihgton's quarters, or plantations37 ; they, prosper best hi low, moist, and fat ground, and are as squarely? and orderly set, as the cherry-trees in Kent or Worcestershire ; they com monly bear within seven years, and then twice every year ; the first crop between January and February, the other between May and June. The inhabitants have so great a value for them^ that they secure them with the shades of plantain and bonona-trees, • against the injuries of their fiery sun, and do use the- kernels instead of money, both in their traffick and rewards; as the great Jesuit, Josephus Acosta, observed, when he was sent into America38. The Indians look upon their chocolate as the greatest delicacy for extraordinary entertainments. Montezuma is said to have treated Cortez and his soldiers with it; and you can scarce read an American traveller* but he will often tell you of -the mao-nificent collations of chocolate, that the Indians offered him in his passage and journeys "through their country; as -Mn Gage (who travelled many years in America) informs Us, the Spa niards do constantly drink chocolate in their churches at Mexico and Chiapa; of which they being once forbid, did mutiny, and commit great outrages, till their custom was restored *' Nicol. Tulpii Observat. Med. lib. 4. c. 60. * Thevenot, Histor. Legat. Belgic. ad Sinensium Re-em. * Dr.Mundy de Potulentis, p. 353. 34 Hughes's American Physician, p.l 15. « Dr. Grew Mus. Reg. Soc. Angl. p. 204. * Piso in Histor. Nat. Iodise utriusque. * Hughes's American Physician, p. 112. *> Jos. AcostaJndor. Histor. lib. 4. c. 22. The Natural History of Chocolate. 533 them39. The Indians and Christians, in the American plantations, have been observed to live several months upon cocoa-ftuts alone, made into a paste with sugar, and so dissolved in water; I myself have eat great quantities of these kernels raw, without the least incon venience; and have heard that Mr. Boyle and Dr. Stubbs have let down into their stomachs some pounds of them raw without any molestation : the stomach seems rather to be satisfied than cloyed with them, which is an argument they are soon dissolved and 'digested; The Spaniards do not scruple to eat them Upon their great fast-days. -The Indians at first made their chocolate of the nut alone without any addition, unless sometimes pepper, and maize, or Indian wheat ;* and in Jamaica at this day, as Mr. Hughes observes40, there is a sort of chocolate, made up only of the paste of the cocoa' itself; ahd this he esteems to be one of the best sorts of chocolate. Dr. Stubbs41, who was a great master of the chocolate art, did not approve of many ingredients besides ¦ the cocoa-nuts ; that chocolate, which the Doctor prepared for his Majesty, had double the quantify of the cocoa-kernel to the other ingredients. In the common sort, the cocoa-nuts may take up half .the composition, according to Piso42 ; in the worst, a third -part only. As to the other ingredients for making up chocolate, they may be varied according to the constitutions of (hose that are to drink it; in cold constitutions, Jamaica pepper, cinnamon, nutmegs, cloves, &c. may be mixed with the cocoa-nut ; some add musk, ambergrease, citron, lemon: peels, and odoriferous aromatick oils. In hot consumptive tempers you may mix almonds, pistachos, &c. sometimes china, sarsa, and saunders; and sometimes steel and rhubarb may be added for young green ladies. Mr. Hughes gives us very good advice43, in telling us, that we may. buy the best. chocolate of seamen and merchants, who bring it over ready made from the West-Indies ; his reason is none of the worst, which is this:--— Let the cocoa- kernels be niever so well cured in the West-Indies, and stowed never so carefully in the ship ; yet, by their long transportation, and by the various airs of climates, they are often spoiled, their natural oiliness tending- much to putrefaction ; from whence I have heard several com plain in England^ that their chocolate, made up here, does often prove musty, and will settle much to the bottom of the dish ; which is a certain -sign, says the learned Dr. Stubbs44, that the nuts are either . faulty, or not well beaten. and made up. The best cocoa-nuts are said to come from Carraea, or Nicaragua, out of which Dr. Stubbs prepared chocolate for the King; yet the Doctor commends the cocoa:nuts of Jamaica, which were first planted there by the Spaniards. That you may know how to prepare your chocolate, I will give you a short direction, if you intend to make it up yourself: Consult your own constitution and circumstances, and vary the ingredients according to the premises, for I cannot give a receipt to make up the mass :of chocolate, which willbe agreeable and proper to all com plexions ; yet, in the composition of it, you must remember to appoint the cocoa-kernel for the fundamental and principal ingredient; as for the managing the cocoa-nut, Dr. Stubbs45 and Mr. Hughes46 have published most excellent instructions, how you must peel, dry, beat, and searce it .Very carefully, before you beat it up into a mass with other simples: As, for the great quantity of sugar which is commonly put in, it may destroy the native and genuine temper of the chocolate, sugar being such a corrosive salt, and such an hy pocritical enemy to the body. Simon Pauli47 (a learned Dane) thinks sugar to be one cause of our English .consumptions ; and Dr. Willis48 blames it as one cause of our universal scurvies; therefore, when chocolate produces any -ill effects, they may be often imputed to the great superfluity of ;its sugar, 'which often fills up half its composition. For preparing the drink of chocolate, you may observe the following measures : Take of the mass of choco late, cut into small pieces, one ounce; of milk and water well boiled together, of each, half *> Gage's Survey of the West Indies, chap, of Chocolate. 4° Hughes's American Physician, p. 1 1. 41 Dr. Stubbs's Indian Nectar. 42 Piso,' Nat- Hist. Indor. 43 Hughes's American Physician, p. 111. 44 Dr. Stubbs's Indian Nectar. n Id ib. »6 Mr. Hughes's American. Physician. 47 Simon Pauli Quadfipart. Botan. •" Er. Willis de Scorbuto- £34 The Natural History of Chocolate. a pint ; one yolk of an egg well beaten ; mix them together, let them boil but gently, till all is dissolved, stirring them often together with your mollinet, or chocolate-mill ; afterwards pour it into your dishes, and into every dish put one spoonful of sack. As for" the virtues and effects of the Cocoa-nut or Chocolate, all ^ the American travellers have written such panegyricks, and so many experimenta) observations, that I should but degrade this royal liquor, if I should offer at any; yet, I think, two or three remarks upon it cannot be unsuitable to this little history. Several of these curious travellers and phy sicians do agree in this, that the cocoa-nut has a wonderful faculty of quenching thirst, allaying hectick heats, of nourishing and fattening the body. Mr. Gage acquaints usso, that he drank chocolate in the Indies two or three times every day, for twelve years together, and he scarce knew what any disease was in all that time, he growing very fat; some object it is too oily and gross, but then the bitterness of the nut makes amends, carrying the other off by strengthening of the bowels. Mr. Hughes informs 51 us, that he lived at sea for some months on nothing but chocolate, yet neither his strength nor flesh were diminished ; he says, our English seamen are very greedy of it, When they come into any Indian ports, and soon get plump countenances by the use of it. Mr. Hughes himself grew very fat in Jamaica, by virtue of the cocoa-nut; so he judges it most proper for lean, weak, and con* sumptive complexions ; it may be proper for some breeding Women, and those persons that are hypochondriacal and melancholy. The industrious Dr. Mundy gives a notable example of the effect of chocolate: he52 says, that he knew a. man in a desperate consumption who took a great fancy for chocolate ; and, his wife, out of complaisance, drank it often with liim; the consequence was fhis, the husband recovered his health, and his wife was after wards brought to bed of three sons at one birth. The great use of chocolate in venery, and for supplying the testicles with a balsam, or a sap, is so ingeniously made out by one of our learned countrymen already, that I dare. not presume to add any thing after to so aqcomplished a pen ; thoUgh I am of opinion, that I might treat of the subject without ariy, immodesty, or offence. Gerson, the grave Roman casuist, has writ de pollutione nocturnd, and some have defended fornication in the Popish nunneries; hysterical; fits, hypochondriacal melancholy, loye-.passions, consumptive pinings away, and sperinatieal fevers, being instances Of the necessity hereof, natural instinct. point* ing out the cure. We cannot but admire the great prudence of Moses, who severely pro hibited that there should be no whore among the daughters of Israel; yet that most wise legislator took great care for their timely marriage; upon these very accounts the casuists defend the Protestant clergy in their marriages. • And Adam is commanded in Paradise to increase and multiply ; therefore I hope this little excursion is pardonable, being so adequate to this treatise of Chocolate; which if Rachel had known, she would not have purchased mandrakes for Jacob. If the amorous and martial Turk should ever, taste it, he would de spise his opium. If the Grecians and Arabians had ever tried it, they would have thrown away their' wake-robins and their cuckow-pointles ; and I do not doubt but your London gentlemen, do value it above all your cullisses and jellies; your anchovies, Bononia sausages, your cock and lamb-stones, your soys, your ketchups and caveares, your cantharides, and your whites of eggs, are not to be compared to our rude Indian ; therefore you must be very courteous and favourable to this littje pamphlet; which tells yoU most faithful observa tions. The industrious author53 of the Vinetum Britannicum makes a query, Whether the kernel of-the walnut may not supply the defect of the cocoa, if well ground? Dr. Grew thinks54, that for those that drink chocolate at coffee-houses without any medicinal respect, there is no doubt, but that of almonds finely beaten, and mixed with a due proportion of spices and sugar, may be made as pleasant a drink as the best chocolate. , « Job- de Laet. Hist. Indpr. Piso Nat. Hist. Indor. Herbar. Mexican. Benzonus, Histor. Indor. Occident. 8?c. sc Gage's Survey of the West-Indies, Chap, of Chocolate. *' Hughes's American Physician, p. 147. " Dr. Mundy de Potulentis, p. 350. " Vinet. Britan. p. 139. 5* Dr. Grew's Mus. Reg. Soc. p. 205* The Natural History of Tobacco. 5&5 SECTION IV. The Natural History of Tobacco. TOBACCO is reckoned by the best herbalists to be a species or sort of henbane, proper to the American regions, as Dodonasus and Sinion Pauli55; yet some botanists will have it a native of Europe, and reduce it to several of Our classes. But I will not trouble you with this controversy ; onty we may take notice, that Thevet did first bring the seed of tobacco into France, though Nicot the French ambassador in Portugal (from whom it is called Ni- cotiana) was the first that sent the plant itself into his own country. Hernandes de Toledo, who travelled America by the command of Philip the Second, having supplied Spain and Portugal with it before56. Sir Francis Drake got the seed in Virginia, and was the first that brought it into England m-, yet some give Sir Walter Rawleigh the honour of it ; since which time it has thriven very well in our English/ soil: a great quantity of it grows yearly in several gardens about Westminster, and in other parts of Middlesex. It is planted in great plenty in Gloucester, Devonshire, and some other western countries ; his Majesty sending every year, a troop of horse to destroy it, lest the trade of our American plantations should be incommoded thereby.- Yet many of the London apothecaries make use of English tobacco in their shops, notwithstanding the vulgar opinion that this herb is a native of America, and foreign to Europe: yet Libavius assures us; that it gjrows naturally in the famous Hercynjan forest of Germany. If this was true, we would no longer call it Tobacco, from the island of Tobago. The names of it are so various, as they would glut the most hungry reader. The Americans style it Picielfe; in Nova Francia, Petum; in Hispaniola, Cozobba; in Virginia, UppUv'oc; at Rome, Herba Sancta Crucis; in some parts of Italy, Herba Medicea; in France, Herba Reginae, as you may read in Magnenus and Neander58. But, let;it be of what name Or kind it Will, I am confident that it is of the poisonous sort ; for it intoxicates, inflames, vomits, and purges ; which operations are common to poisonous plants, as to poppies, nightshades, hemlocks, monks-hood, spurges, and hellebores, that will produce" the like effects. Besides, every one knows that the oil of tobacco is one of the greatest poisons in nature ; a few drops of it, falling upon the tongue of a cat, will immedi ately throw her into convulsions, under which she will die. This, Dr. Willis assures59 us to be true ; the experiment succeeded, when it was tried before the Royal Society, as the learned Dr. Grew has affirmed60: besides, I can speak it upon my own certain knowledge, having killed several animals with a few drops of this oil. Yet that most sagacious Italian, Fran cisco Redi, observes61 very well, that the oil of tobaccO kills not all animals, neither does it dispatch those it kills, in the same space of time; there is a great difference between the tobacco of Brasil, and that of St. Christopher's, as to this effect : Varino and Brasil tobacco being almost of the same quality and Operation ; whereas that of St. Christopher's, Terra Nova, Nieve, and St. Martin, has very different effects. If we run over those countries where Tobacco is made use of, we may observe the various manners of using it ; some Americans will mix it with a powder of shells, to chew it, saliva ting all the time, which, they fancy, does refresh them in their journeys and labours : others in New Spain will daub the ends of reeds with the gum, or juice of tobacco; and, setting them on fire, will sUck the smoke to the other end. The Virginians were observed to have pipes of clay before ever the English came there62; and, from those, Barbarians, we Eu ropeans have borrowed our mode and fashion of smoaking. The Moors -and Turks have no great kindness for tobacco; yet, when they do smoak, their pipes are very long, made of reeds or wood, with an earthen head. The Irishmen do most commonly powder their 55 Dodonaeus Herbal. Simon Pauli Quadripart. Botan. & Lib. de Tobacco. i6 Hernandez Histor. American. » Purchas's Voyages into America. !8- Magnenus de Tobacco. Neander Tabaealog. » Dr. Willis Pharra. Ral. * Dr. Grew's Mus. Reg. Soc. p. 352. •«" Philos. Transact. Olclenburgh, N. 92. " Piircbas's Voyages to America. 536' The Natural History of Tobacco. tobacco63 and snuff it up their nostrils, which some of our Englishmen do, who ofteh chew and swallow it. I know some persons that do eat every day some ounces of tobacco, with out any sensible alteration ; from .whence we may.learn,, that use and custom will tame and naturalize the most fierce and rugged poison, so that it will become civil and friendly to the body. We read of a French ambassador64, that, being in England, was so indisposed, that he could never sleep; upon which he would often devour whole ounces of opium without being concerned : and the Turks are often, observed to swallow great lumps of it, a tenth part of which would kill those that, were not accustomed to opiates. I know a woman in this city, that, being used to take both the hellebores, will often swallow whole scruples of them without the least motion or operation ; so that custom and conversation will make the fiercest creature familiar. • As for the culture, harvest, preparation, and traffick of Tobacco, I will recommend you to Neander; where, if ypu are curious, you may meet with satisfaction65. > 1 cannot omit one story out of Monardus66, who tells us, that the Indian priests, being always consulted about the events of war, do burn the leaves of tobacco, and, sucking into their mouths the Smoke by a reed or pipe, do presently fall into a trance or ecstasy.; and, as soon as ever they Come out of it, they discover to the. Indians all the secret negotiation which -they have had with the grfcat dasmon, always delivering some ambiguous answer. . ? As for the qualities, nature, and uses of Tobacco, they may be very considerable in several cases and circumstances; though King James himself has both writ, and disputed very smartly against it at Oxford, and Simon- Pauli m has published a very learned book against it. Some anatomists68 tell, us most terrible stories of sooty brains and black, lungs, which have been seen in the dissections of dead bodies, . Which, when liying, had been accustomed to tobacco. We read that Amurath the Fourth did forbid the use of it, over all the, Turkish dominions, under the most severe penalties; the Turks having an opinion amongst ^them, that tobacco will'make them effeminate and barren, unfit for. war. and procreation ; though some think there is a politick design in it, to obstruct the sale of it in the eastern countries, and to prevent the Christians from establishing any considerable traffick, from so mean a commodity; which, perhaps, may be one reason69, why the great Duke70 of Muscovy has threatened to punish those merchants, who offer to' sell any tobacco in his countries. Spach Abas (the great Sophy of Persia) leading an army against the Cham of Tartary, made proclamation, that if any tobacco was found in the custody of any soldier, he should be burnt alive, together with his tobacco. Yet, for all this, it'may be very beneficiaffo man kind, as you will conclude from what follows. Dr. Willis71 recommends tobacco to soldiers, because it may supply the want of victuals, ahd. make them insensible of the dangers, fatigues, and hardships, which do usually attend wars and armies; besides, it is found to cure mangy and ulcerous diseases, which are fre quent in camps, I know a curious lady in the north, that does very great, feats in sores and ulcers by a preparation of tobacco. Our learned and most experienced countryman, Mr. P°yle,73s does highly commend tobacco clysters in the most violent pholick pains, which are Often epidemical in cities and camps. The renowned Hartman extols the water of tobacco, against agues 7f :,and the curious Dr. Grew74 found the success of the oil of it in the tooth- ach, a lint being dipped in it and put into the tooth. The effects of tobacco ; have been very good, in some violent pains of the head ; as some thousands have experimented. As for the daily smoak.ing.of it, the state and circumstances of your body must be' the best guide sfnd rule; if your complexion be lean, hot, and dry, it is"an argument against it; but 63 Observe the original of that nauseous and unwholesome custom of taking Snuff. «? Ephem. German. An. 2. « Neander Tabacalog. « Monardus, lib. X. Exoticor. Clufii-. «> Simon Pauli de Abusu Tabaci.. , <» Diemerbrock. Anat. Hoffman. Pauvius., ' 6»-01earius, Ambassadors' Travels through Muscovy. ?° Or Czar. , n j)r< Willis Phamr. Rat " Boyle's Experimental Philosophy. 73 Hartman, Prax. Chym. » Dr. Grew Mus. Reg. Sot. p, 252. The Use of Juniper and Elder-Berries, fyc. 537 if cold; moist, and humoral, subject to catarrhs, rheums, and pains-, then there may be a temptation to venture upon it; so every man must consult his own temper, and .the ex perience of others. A modern French author75 has writ a peculiar tract of Tobacco, wherein he commends it in convulsions, in pains, and for bringing on sleep; be extols the oil of it in curing deaf ness, being injected into the ear in a convenient vehicle ; also against gouty and scorbutical pains of the joints, being applied in a liniment. A lixivium of tobacco often prevents the falling off of the hair, and is famous for curing the farcy or leprosy of cattle. The Use of Juniper and Elder-Berries in our Publick-Houses. THESE two berries are so celebrated in many countries, and so highly recommended to the world by several famous writers and practitioners, that they need not desire any varnish or argument from me. The simple decoctions of them, sweetened with a little fine sugar-candy, will afford liquors so pleasant to the eye, so grateful to the palate, and so beneficial to the body, that I cannot but wonder, after all these charms, they have not as yet been courted, and ushered into our publick-liOuses ; if they should once appear on the stage, I am confident, that both the Whig and Tory would agree about them far better than they have done about the medal76 and mushroom ; nay, the very Cyhick and Stoick himself would fall in love with the beauty and extraordinary virtues of these berries, which are sO common and cheap, that they may be purchased for little or nothing ; one ounce of the berry, well cleansed, bruised, and mashed, will be enough for almost a pint of water; when they are boiled together, the vessel must be carefully stopped ; after the boiling is over, one speonful of sugar-candy may be put in. The Juniper-tree grows wild upon many hills in Surry and Oxfordshire, and upon Juni per Hill, near Hildersham in Cambridgeshire; besides, in several other parts of England: the berries are most commonly gathered about August. The astrological botanists ad vise us to pull them when the sun is in Virgo. The Juniper-berry is of so great reputation in the Northern nations, that they use it, as we do coffee and tea; especially the Laplanders, who do almost adore it. Simon Pauli, a learned Dane, assures us, that these berries have performed wonders in the stone, which he did not learn from book's, or common fame, but from his own observation and experience; for he produces two, very notable examples, that, being tormented with the stone, did find incredible success in the use, of these berries ; and (if my memory does not fail me) I have heard our most ingenious and famous Dr. Troutbeck commend a medicine prepared of them in this distemper. Besides, Schroder knew a nobleman of Germany, that freed himself from the intolerable symptoms of the stone by the constant use of these berries. — Ask any physician about them, and he will bestow upon them a much finer character than my rude pencil can draw. The learned Mr. Evelyn will tell you what great kindnesses he has done to his poor sick neighbours, with a preparation of Juniper-berries, who is pleased to honour them with the title of Forester's panacea77 : he extols them in the . wind cholick, and many other distempers. Do but consult Bauhinus and Schroder, the first being the most exact herbal, the other the most faithful and elaborate dispensatory, that ever has been published ; and you will find great commendation of these berries in dropsies, gravel, -coughs, consumptions, gout, stoppage of the monthly courses, epilepsies, palsies, and le thargies, in which there are often an ill appetite, bad digestions', and obstructions. " Journal des Scavans, An. 1681. i6 ' [' The Medal,' a satire by Dryden, was published in 1682. The poem took its title from a Medal, with Lord Shaftesbury's head on one side, and on the reverse, a yiew.of the City of London with a rising sun. It was struck in commemoration of the Jury's refusing to find a bill against his Lordship for high treason. See Malone's Dryden.] « [See Dr. Hunter's edition of "Silva, or a Discourse of Forest-trees," 1776, p. 322, where an electuary of the Juniper-berry is recommended as sovereign against the stone, rheum, phthisic, dropsy, jaundice, inward impos- thumes ; nay, against gout, palsy, and the plague.] VOL. I. 3 z 538 The Use of Juniper and Elder-Berries, Wc. Take one spoonful of the spirit of Juniper-berries, four grains of the gait of Juniper, alld three drops of the oil of Juniper-berries well rectified; mix them all together, drink them morning and night in a glass of white wine, and you will have no contemptible medicine in all the afore:mentioned diseases. Now it is probable, that you have- both the spirit, salt, and oil of this, berry in a simple decoction of it, provided it be carefully and skilfully managed. If this will not satisfy, do but read Benjamin Scarfnus, and John Michael, who have published in Germany two se veral books of the Juniper; and you may meet with far more persuasive arguments, than I can pretend to offer you. The Elder-tree grows almost every" where, but it most delights in -hedges, orchards, and other shady places, of on the moist banks of rivulets and ditches,* into which it is thrust by the gardeners; lest, by its luxury and importunate increase yearly, it should possess all their ground. We write here of the domestic, common Elder, not of the mountain, the water, or dwarf Elder ; ours, in figure is like the ash ; the leaves resemble those of a walnut- tree, but less; in the top of the branches, and twigs, there spring sweet and crisped umbels, swelling with white odoriferous flowers (in June before St. John's eve) which by their fall give place to many-branched grapes, first green, then ruddy,- last of a black, dark purple colour, succulent and tumid with its wihish liquor; of all the wild plants it is first covered with leaves, and last unclothed of them. It flourishes in May, June, and July; but the berries are not ripe till August. As for the qualities and virtues' of Elder-berries, I heed say no more, but that Mr. Ray has given a great encomium of them; our learned' Di*. Needham commending them in drop sies, and some fevers ; and I have been informed, that the ingenious Dr. Croon has extolled a spirit of Elder-berries in an epidemical intermitting fever. Schroder says, they do peculiarly respect some diseases, attributed to the womb. Mr. Evelyn is so bouhtiful to his poor Forester, as to assure him, that if he could but learn the medicitial properties of the Elder-tree, he might fetch a remedy from' every hedge, either for sickness or wounds ; the same curious gentle man takes notice, how prevalent' these berries are in scorbutick distempers, ahd for the pro longation of life (so famous is the story of Neander). I have heard some praise them, in bloody fluxes, and other diseases of the bowels ; also in several distempers of the head, as the falling-sickness, megrims, palsies, lethargies ; they are said likewise to promote the monthly inundations of women, and to destroy the heat of an erysipelas ; for which the flowers themselves are highly celebrated by Simon Pauli, who experimented them upon himself with wonderful success. I could produce several cases out of the best physical writers, as Fores ts, Riverius, Rulandus, &c. where these berries have acted their parts, even to admiration ; but, if you are curious and inquisitive after the qualities and nature of them, 1 will recom mend a learned German, Marty n Blochwitz, to your reading, where yon may entertain yourself with great variety. Yet 'I have one thing still to take notice of, that the same me- .dicine may be prepared out of the spirit, oil, and salt of this berry, that you have been taught before to make out of the Juniper-berry ; but you may obtain them all in a simple decoction, if it be well managed. 'You have read here the great use of these two berries, that are more. universally agree able to all tempers, palates and cases, than perhaps any other two simple medicines, which are commonly known amongst us ; so that several persons, being under ill habits of body, 'and upon the frontiers of some lingering diseases, cannot but desire to drink them/ when they have occasion to resort to publick- houses ; yet, for all this, my pbor advice will certainly meet with that fate, which does attend almost every thing in the World; that is, Laudalur ab his culpatur ab illis.: but it dreads most of all the Turkey and East-India merchant, who will condemn it in defence of their coffee and tea, which have the honour of coming from the Le vant and China. Besides, I am afraid of a lash, or a frown, from some young ladies and little sparks, who scorn to eat, drink; or wear any thing, that comes not from France or tlie Indies; they fancy poor England is not capable of bringing forth any commodity that .can be agreeable to their grandeur and gallantry; as though nature, and God Almighty had cursed this Island with the production of such things, as are every way unsuitable to the com- The Way of making Mum, 8£c. 530 plexions and necessities of the inhabitants ; so we cannot but repartee upon these a-la-mode persons, that while they worship so much only foreign creatures, they cannot but be wholly ignorant- of those at home. His Excellency, the most acute and ingenious Ambassador from the Emperor of Fez and Morocco, (who now resides amongst us) is reported to have advised his attendants to see every thing, but admire nothing ; lest they should seem thereby to dis parage their own country, and shew themselves ignorant of the great rarities and wonders of Barbary. Poor contemptible berries ! fly hence to Smyrna, Bantam, or Mexico ; then the merchants would work through storms and tempests, through fire and water, to purchase you ; and, on y'oup arrival here, would proclaim your virtues in all publick assemblies : so true is that common saying, « A prophet is never valued in his own country.' The English soil is cer tainly influenced by some pestilential star, that blasts the credit of its productions. The Way of making Mum, zvith some Remarks upon that Liquor. IN the first place, I will give some instructions how to make Mum, as it is recorded in the House of Brunswick ; and was sent, from thence, to General Monk. To make a vfessel of sixty-three gallons, the Water must be first boiled to the consump tion of a third part ; let it then be brewed, according to art, with seven bushels of wheat-malt, one bushel of oat-malt, and one bushel of ground beans ; and, when it is tunned, let not the hogshead be too much filled at first ; when it begins to work, put to it of the inner rind of the .fir, three pounds, of the tops of fir andbirch, of each one pound; of carduus benedic- tus dried, three handfuls; flowers of rosa solis, two handfuls ; of burnet, betony, marjoram, avens, penny-royal, flowers of elder, wild thyme, of each one handful and a half; seedsof cardamum bmised, three ounces; bay-berries bruised, one ounce: put the seeds into the ves sel. When, the liquor hath wrought a while with the herbs, and after they are added, let- the liquor work over the vesselas little as may be; fill it up at last, and when it is stopped, put into the hogshead ten new laid eggs, the shells net cracked or broken ; stop all close, and drink it .at two years old ; if carried by water, it is better. Dr. ^Egidius. Hoffman added water-cresses, brook-lime, and wild parsley, of each six handfuls, with six handfuls of horse radish rasped in every hogshead ; it was observed that the horse-radish made the Mum drink more qu iek than that which had none. By the composition of Mum, we may guess at the qualities and properties of it ; you find great quantities of the rind and tops of fir- in it; therefore if the Mum-makers at London are so careful and honest as to prepare this liquor, after the Brunswick fashion, which is the ge nuine and original way; it cannot but be very powerful against the breeding of stones, and against all scorbutick distempers. When the Swedes carried on a war against the Mus covites, the scurvy did so domineer among them, that their army did languish and moulder away to nothing, tilk, once encamping near agreat number of fir-trees, they began to boil the tops of them in their drink, which recovered the army, even .to a miracle; from whence the Swedes call the fir, the scorbutick tree, to this very day. Our most .renowned Dr. Walter Needham has observed the great success of these tops of ftp in the scurvy, as Mr. Ray informs us ; which is no great wonder, if we consider the balsam or turpentine (with which this tree abounds) which proves so effectual in preserving even dead bodies from putrefaction. and corruption. If my memory does not deceive me, I have heard Mr. Boyle (the orna ment and glory of our English nation) affirm that the oil of turpentine preserves bodies from putrefaction. much better than the spirit of wine* The fir being a principal ingredient of this liquor, is so celebrated by some modern writers, that it-alone may be, sufficient to advance the Mum-trade amongst us.. Simon Pauli (a, learned Dane) telle us the great exploits of the tops of this tree in freeing a great man of Germany from an inveterate scurvy ; every physi cian will inform you, how proper they are against the breeding of gravel and stones : but then we must be so exact as to pull these tops in their proper season, when they abound most with turpentine, and balsamick parts, and then they may make the Mum a proper 540 The Way of making Mum,, Kc. liquor in gonorrhaeas : besides, the eggs may improve its faculty that way. Yet I will not conceal what, I think, the learned Dr. Merret affirms in his observations upon wines,.that those liquors, into which the shavings of fir are put, may be apt to create pains in the head ; but still it is to be confessed, that the fir cannot but contribute much t-Otthe vi-. gour and preservation of the drink. ... ; By the variety of its' malt, and by the ground beans, we may conclude, that Mum is a very hearty and strengthening liquor : some drink it much, beckuse it has no hops; which, they fancy do spoil our English ales and beers, ushering in infections ; nay, plagues amongst us. Thomas Bartholine exclaims so fiercely against hops, that he , advises us to mix any tiling with our drink rather than them ; .he recommends sage, tamarisks, tops of pine, or, fir, instead of hops, the daily use of which in our English liquors is said to have been one cause, why the stone is grown such a common disease amongst us Englishmen ; yet Captain Graunt, in his curious observations upon the bills of mortality, observes that fewer' are afflicted with the stone in this present age, than there were in the age before, though far more hops have been"used in this city of late than ever. .. As for eggs in the composition of Miim, they may contribute much to prevent its grow- ; ing sour;; their shells sweetening vinegar, and destroying acids ; for which reason they may be proper in restoring some decayed liquors, if put whole into the vessel. Dr. Stubbs, in some Curious observations made in his voyage to Jamaica, assures us that eggs, put whole into the vessel, will preserve many drinks, even to admiration, in long voyages; the shells and: whites will be devoured, and lost, but the yolks left untouched. f Dr. Willis prescribes Mum in several chronical /distempers,- as scurvies, dropsies; and some sort of consumptions. The Germans, especially the inhabitants of Saxony, have so great a veneration for this liquor, that they fancy their bodies can never decay, or pine away, as long as they are lined and embalmed with so powerful a preserver ; and, indeed,* if we consider the frame and complexions of the Germans in general, they may/appear to be living mummies. But to conclude all in a few words, if this drink* called Mum,; be exactly made according to the foregoing instructions, it must needs be a most excellent alterative medicine ; theingredientsof it being very rare, and choice simples, there being scarce any one: disease in nature against which some of them are hot prevalent, as betony; marjpramj thyme, in diseases of the head : birch, burnet, water-cresses, brook-lime, horse-radish,- in the most. inveterate scurvies, gravels, coughs, consumptions, and all obstructions : aveus and carda mom-seeds for cold weak stomachs : carduus benedictus, and elder-flowers, in intermitting fevers : bay-berries and penny-royal, in distempers attributed, to the womb. But it is to be feared that several of our Londoners are not so honest and curious,, as to prepare their Mum faithfully and truly ; if they do, they are so happy as to furnish and stock theirrcountry with one of the most useful liquors under the sun, it being so proper and effectual in several linger ing distempers, where there is a depravation and weakness of the blood and bowels^ There Still remains behind a strong and general objection, that may, perhaps, fall upon. this little puny pamphlet, and crush it all to pieces; that is, the histories are too short and imperfect: to which I have only this to answer, • t . • -' t ; Ars lokga, vita brevis, . , * I!'/'- -, , A perfect natural history of the least thing in the world, cannot be the work of one man, or scarce of one age,, for it requires the heads, hands, studies, and observations' of many, well compared and digested together : therefore this is rather an essay, or topick, for men to reason upon, when they meet together in publick- houses, and to encourage them, to follow the ex ample of Adam, who, in the state of innocence, did contemplate, of all the creatures that were round about him in paradise; but after the fall,, and the building of a city, the philosopher turned politician. , Postscript. 541 • POSTSCRIPT. LIQUORS and drinks are of such general use and esteem, in all the habitable jiarts of the world, that a word or two concerning them cannot be improper or. unwelcome. First, the saps and juices of trees will afford many pleasant and useful liquors. The Afri cans and Indians prepare their famous palm-wine (which they cafl Sura, or Toddy) oUt of the sap of the wounded palm-tree : as we do our birch-wine in England, out Of the tears of the pierced birch-tree, which is celebrated in the stone and scurvy. So the sycamore and wal nut, being wounded, will weep out their juices, which may be fermented into liquors. In the Moluccas, the inhabitants extract a wine out of a tree called Laudan. Fruits and berries yield many noble and necessary liquors. Every nation abounds with various drinks by the diversity of their fruits and vegetables. England with cyder, perry, cherry, currant,- gooseberry, raspberry, mulberry; blackberry, and strawberry wine. France, Spain, Italy, Hungary, and Germany, produce great varieties of wines, from the different species and natures of their grapes and soils. In Jamaica and Brasil they make a very deli cious wine out of a fruit called Ananas, which is like a pine-apple, not inferior to Malvasia wine. The Chinese make curious drinks out of their fruits ; so do the Brasilians and South- Americans ;• as from their cocoa, acajou, paeobi, unni, or murtillas. We may note here, that all the juices of herbs, fruits, seeds, and roots, will work and ferment themselves into in toxicating liquors, out of .which spirits and brandies may be extracted : most nations under the.sun have their drunken liquors and compounds ; the Turk his maslack, the Persians their bangue, the Indians their fulo, rum, arrack, and punch. The Arabians, Turks, Chinese, Tartars, and, other Eastern countries, do make inebriating liquors Out of their corn and rice ; some, rather than not be drunk, will swallow opium, dutroy, and tobacco, or some other intoxicating thing; so great an inclination has mankind to be exalted. Pliny complains, that drunkenness was the study of his time, and" that the Romans and Parthians contended for the glory, of excessive wine-drinking. Historians tell us ¦ of one Novellius Torquatus, who went through all the honourable degrees. of dignity in Rome', wherein the greatest glory ai\d honour he obtained, was for drinking, in the presence of Tiberius, three gallons of wine at one draught, before ever he drew his breath, and without being any ways concerned. Athenaeus says, that Melanthius wished his own neck as long as a craiie's, that lie might be the longer a tasting the pleasure of drinks ; yet, what he reports, of Lasyrtes^ is wonderful, that he never drank any thing, though, notwithstanding, he urined as others do. The sarne famous author takes notice, that the great drinkers used to eat coleworts, to prevent drunken-. ness ; neither are some men of our days much inferiour to those celebrated antients. The. Ger mans commonly drink whole tankards, and ell-glasses, at a draught, adoring him that drinks fairly ahd most, and hating him that will not pledge them. The Dutchmen will salute their guests with a.pail and a dish, making hogsheads of their bellies. The Polander thinkshim the bravest fellow that drinks most healths, and carries his liquor best; being of opinion, that' there is as much valour in drinking as fighting. The Russians, Swedes, and Danes, have so naturalized brandy, aqua vitae, beer, mum, &c. that they usually drink our Englishmen to death ; so that the most ingenious author of the Vinetum Britdnnicum concludes, that 'Temperance (relatively speaking) is the cardinal virtue of the English.' ; It is very wonderful what Mr. Ligon and other American travellers relate of the Cassava- root, how out of it the Americans do generally make their bread, and common drink, called Parranow ; yet that root is known to be a great poison, if taken raw ; their drink, called Mpbby, is made of potatoes. But we will conclude all with Virgil, who, speaking of the many liquors in his time, says, . Sed neque qudm multee species, nee nomina quce sint, Est numerus. ' 542 Contemplations upon Life and Death ; with serious Reflections on the Miseries that attend Human Life, in eyery Station, Degree, and Change thereof. Written by a Person of Qua lity, in his Confinement, a little before his Death ; shewing the Vanity of the Desire of long Life, and the Fear of Death ; with a true Copy of the Paper delivered to the Sheriffs upon the Scaffold at Tower-hill, on Thursday, Ja nuary 28, 1 696-7 > by Sir John Fenwiek, Baronet. [From a Quarto, containing Thirty-one Pages, printed at London, in 1 697-3 I do not presume to arraign the justice of that sentence by which Sir John Fenwick, the author1 of this Tract, was condemned to die for high-treason ; neither does it concern me to enter into the particulars of the charge brought against him: but I cannot but justly observe, that he, in these Contemplations, has left us a convincing proof how zvell he im- ' proved the time under his confinement ; and a rare example of patience, resignation to God's zvill, and of a real Christian understanding in the way of godliness. For I may venture to say, that in this short draught of life and death, he- not only shezvs his great ability in point of method and invention,; but has excelled those excellent authors, Drex- elius, Bellarmine, Bona, Sherlock, c¥c. zvho have written upon the same subject ; and, therefore, believe it will be acceptable to my readers, and thought zvorthy to be preserved • front the injury of time in this Collection. JK70SCE ieipsum*, is a lesson a man can never learn too late; and, therefore, though "* hitherto I have lived so much a stranger to myself, that I have had little leisure and less desire to think or contemplate (a studious and sedentary life having always been my aversion), yet the solitary condition I am now reduced to, and the melancholy circum stances under which I lie, do, methinks, call upon me to consider what I have been doing, and what I am further shortly to do. I am now under a close confinement, secluded from all conversation with the world, and denied the visits of my nearest and dearest relations- and all this seems to be but the sad prologue to that sadder tragedy in which I am to be the principal actor, before I go off the stage of this world. And, therefore, since death and I must shortly be better acquainted, it will certainly be my wisdom, as well as my iiiteasast to familiarize it tome before-hand: and I do not. know how that can be better done, tihan" by contemplating the miseries of life, in all its various changes and conditions; and then to look upon death as the great panpharmacon, or remedy, of all those evils that life sub jects us to. . 1 [Mr. Oldys was evidently misled by Sir John Fenwick's posthumously asserted claim to what did not belone to him. He averred indeed, in a paper delivered on the scaffold, that ? writing was never his talent-' yet the Tract here given, is entitled to the praise of being very, ably and eloquently written. This therefore mio-ht eo far to disprove the intimation of its publisher. But the fact, is, that Philip de Mornay, Lord of Plessis M°arley and Privy-counsellor to Henry the Fourth of France, was the original-author of these '.fipntemplations • which were printed so far back as 1575, and translated from the French language by the celebrated Countess of Pem broke, in 1590. Her Ladyship's version was printed at London in 1600, and differs chiefly from the present by the occasional intermixture of a few more antiquated words.] ' KnowU^yself. " Contemplations on Life and Death, 'fyc. 543 It is true, indeed, we generally fly from death as our worst enemy, although it is in truth Our greatest friend; and this, to a considering man,»is very unaccountable. I must con- • fess, it does seem strange to me, and is, methinks, a thing to be admired, that the poor labourer; to repose himself,, longs for the setting sun; that the mariner rows with all his might to attain his wished-for port, ahd rejoices when he can discover land; that the tra veller is never contented, till he be at the end of his journey ; and that we, in the mean while, tied in this world to a perpetual task, tossed with continual tempests, and' tired with • a rough and thorny way, yet cannot see the end of our labour, but with grief; nor behold our port, but with tears; nor approach to our home, but with horror and trembling. This life is but a Penelope's web, in which we are always doing and undoing ; a sea that lies open to all winds, which sometimes within, and sometimes without, never ceases' to blow .violently upon us- a weary journey through extreme heats and colds, overhigh mountains, steep rocks, -and dangerous desarts: and thus1 we, pass away our time in weaving, at this web, in rowing at this oar, and in passing this miserable way; and yet, when- death comes to end our work, and stretches out his arm to pull us into the port ; when, after so many dangerous passages, and loathsome lodgings, he would conduct us to our true home and resting-place: instead of rejoicing at the end of our labour, of taking Comfort at the sigi'.-i of our desired haven, and of singing at our approach to those happy mansions ; we would fain begin our work again, hoist sail to the wind, ahd would willingly undertake our journey a-new. No more we then remember our weariness and pains ; our dangers and our ship wrecks are forgotten. We fear no more the tiresomeness of travel, nor the danger of de sarts. But, on the contrary, We apprehend death as an extreme pain; we shun it as the fatal- rock on which we are like to s'plit; we fly it as ja thief that comes to rob us of our treasure. We do as little children, Who all the day complain of illness,. and, when the medicine is brought them, are'no longer sick: of, as they who all the week long runup and down the streets, complaining of the pain of their teeth, and yet, seeing the, barber coming to pull them out, are rather willing still to endure the pain, than use1 the remedy. And as those tended and delicate bodies, who in a pricking pleurisy complain, and cry out, and cannot stay fora surgeon; and yet when they see him' whetting his lancet, to cut the throat of the disease, putt in their arms and hide them in the bed, as if he were eOme to kill tliem. We fear more the cure than the, disease; the surgeori, than the pain; the stroke, than. tbe ini- posthume. We have more sense of the medicine's bitterness, soon gone, than of a" bitter long- continued languishing: we have more feeling of death, the end of our miseries, than the endless misery of our life. And whence proceedeth this folly and simplicity? We neither know life nor death ; we fear what we ought to hope for, and wish for what we ought to fear; we call life a continual death, and yet death is the entrance of a never-dying life. , Now, what good, O my soul ! is there in life, that thou shouldst so much desire it ? Or what evil is there in death, that thou shouldst so much fear it ? Nay, what evil is there not , in life, and what good is there not in death ? Consider all tlie periods of this life; we enter it in tears, we pass it in sweat, we end at in sorrow. Great and little, rich and poor, not one in the whole world that can plead immunity from this condition. Man in this -point is worse than all other creatures; he is born unable to support himself; neither receiving in his first years any pleasure, nor giving to others any thing but trouble ; and before the age of discretion, passing infinite, dangers. Only herein he is less unhappy than in other ages, because in this he hath no sense nor apprehension of his misery. Now can we think there is any so void of reason, that, if it were granted him to live always a child, would make choice of such a life ? So then it is evident, that not simply to live is desirable; but to live well and happy. But to proceed : Grows he? His troubles likewise grow with him. Scarcely is he come out of his nurse's hands, ahd scarce knows what it is to play, but he falls under the subjection of a school master ; I speak but of those which have the best education, and. are brought up with the greatest care and strictness. And then, if he studies, it is ever with repining ; and, if he plays, it is never' but with fear." 544 Contemplations on Life and Death; This whole age, while he is under the charge of another,,is unto him no better to hhh than a prison; and. therefore he longs for, ahd only aspires to, that .age, inwhich, freed from the tutelage of another, he may become master of himself; pushing time forward, as it were, with his shoulder, that he may the sooner enjoy his hoped-for. liberty. In short, be desires nothing more than to see the end of his age, which he looks upon as, bondage and slavery; and enter upon the beginning of his youth. ..; And what is the beginning of youth, (but the death of infancy ? And the beginning of manhood, but the death of youth? Or. what is the beginning of to-morrow, but. the death of the present day ? , > And thushe implicitly, desires his death, and judges his .life miserable; and therefore cannot be reputed in a state of happiness or contentment. 4, Behold him now, according tofiis wish, at liberty; in that age wherein he has his choice, to take the way of virtue or of vice-, and either to choose reason or passion for his guide; his passion entertains him witjva thousand delights, prepares for him a thousand baits, and presents him with a thousand worldly pleasures to surprize him; and these are so agreeable to headstrong anil unbridled youth, that there are very few that are not* taken and beguiled -by them; of which my own example is too evident. an instance. But, when the reckoning comes to be made up, what pleasures are they? They are but vicious arid polluted pleasures, which ever hold him in a restless fever; pleasures that, at the best, end in repentance",' and, like sweet-meats, are of a hard digestion ; pleasures 'that are bought with pain, and in a moment perish, but leave behind a lasting guilt, and long re morse of conscience; all which I wish my own too dear experience could not witness. And yet this is the. very nature (if they be. well examined) of all the pleasures of . this world ; there is in none so much sweetness, but there is more bitterness; none so. pleasant to the mouth, but it leaves, an unsavoury gusto after it. I will not .speak here of the mis chiefs, quarrelsj dehates, wounds, murders, banishments, sickness, and other dangers, where into sometimes the incontinency; and sometimes the insolency of this ill-guided; age does plunge men; for the remembrance of my bwri follies, upon this occasion, stops my mouth, and fills me with remorse and shame. -¦',.--'. • : * But if those that seem pleasures, be nothing else but displeasures, if the sweetness thereof be as an infusion of wormwood; what then must the displeasure be which they feel ? and how great the bitterness that they taste ? , Behold, then, in short, the life of a young man, who; .rid of the government of his pa rents and masters, abandons himself to all the exorbitances; of his unruly passion; which, like an Unclean spirit possessing: him, throws'- him sometimes into the water, and then into the fire; sometimes carries him clear over a rock, and at other times flings him headlong to the bottom. ' But, if he follows reasonfor his guide (which is much the better choice) ; yet, on this hand, there are wonderful difficulties : for he must resOlve to fight in every part of the field, arid at every step to be in conflict, as having his enemy in front, in flank, and on the rear, never leaving to assail him; and this enemy is all that can delight him,: all that he sees near! or far off. In short, the greatest enemy in the world, is the wOrld3 itself, which he must therefore overcome. But, beside the world, he has a thousand treacherous enemies within him, among whom his passion is none of the least ; which waits for an occasion to surprize him, and betray him to his lusts. It is God only that can make him choose the path of virtue, arid it is God only that can keep him in it to the end, and make him victorious in all his combats. But, alas, how few they are that enter into it! And, of those few, how many that retire again! So that, let a man follow the one way or the other, he must either - subject himself to a tyrannical passion, or undertake a weary and continual combat- wil fully throw, himself into thearms of destruction, or fetter himself, as it were, in the stocks • ' easily carried away with the current of the water, or painfully stemming the impetuous 3 The corruptions of nature in those that he couverseth with, &c. with Rejections on the Miseries of Human Life. " 543 See here the happiness of the young man ! who, in his youth, having drunk his full draught of the world's vain and deceivable pleasures, is overtaken by them with such a dull heaviness and astohishment, as drunkards the morrow after a debauch, or gluttons after a plentiful "feast ; who are so over-pressed with the excesses of the foaher day, that the very remembrance of it creates their loathing. And even he, that has made the stoutest re sistance, feels himself so weary, and with this continual conflict so bruised and broken, that lie is either upon tlie point to yield, or die. And this is all the good, all the contentment, of this flourishing age, by children so earnestly desired, and, by those who have experi enced it, so heartily lamented. Next cometh that which is called perfect age, in which men have no other thoughts, but to purchase themselves wisdom and rest. It is called perfect, indeed, but is herein Only perfect, that all imperfections of human nature, hidden before under the simplicity of child hood, or the lightness of youth, appear at this age in their perfection. I speak of none in this place, but those that are esteemed the wisest and most happy in the opinion of the* World. I have already shewed that we played in fear; and that our short pleasures were attended on with long repentance : but now avarice and ambition present themselves to us, promising, if we will adore, them, to give us 'perfect' contentment with the goods and honours of this world : and surely none but those, who are restrained by a Divine hand, can escape the illu sions of the one, or the other, and not cast themselves headlong from the top of the pin nacle. But let us see what this contentment is. The covetous man makes a thousand voyages by sea, and -journeys by land ; runs a thousand hazards, escapes a thousand shipwrecks, and is in perpetual fear and travail ; and yet* oftentimes. either, .loseth his> time, or. gains nothing but sicknesses, gouts, and Oppilations. In the purchase of this goodly repose, he bestoweth his true rest ; and, to gain wealth, loseth his life. But suppose he hath gained much, and that he hath spoiled the whole East Of its pearls, and drawn dry all the mines of the West ; will he then be at quiet, and say he is content? Nothing less. For, by all his aqquisitionsi he gains but more disquiet, both of mind and body; from one travel falling, into another, never ending, but only changing his miseries. He desired to have them, and now he fears to lose them; he got them with burning ardour, and possesses them in trembling cold ; he adventured among thieves to get them, and how fears by thieves and robbers to' be deprived of them again; belaboured to dig them out of the earth ; and now, to secure them, he hides them therein. In short; coming from' alibis voyages, he comes into a prison: and the end of his bodily travels is but the beginning of the endless labour of his mind. Judge now what this man has gained, after so many miseries ! This devil of covetousness persuades him he has some rare and excellent thing; and so it fares with him, as with those poor crea tures whom the devil seduceth, under colour of relieving their poverty; who find their hands full of leaves, when they thought to find them full of crowns. He possesseth, or rather is possessed by, a thing wherein is neither power nor virtue, more base and unpro fitable than the least herb of the earth. Yet hath he heaped together this vile excrement, and so brutish is grown, as therewith to crown his head, when he ought to tread it under his feet. , - , - But, however it be, is he therewith satisfied and contented? So far from that, that he is now more dissatisfied than ever. We commend most those drinks that breed an alteration, and soonest extinguish thirst ; and those meats that in least quantity do longest resist hunger : but now, of this, the more a man drinks, the more he is a-thirst ; the more he eats, the more he is an hungry. It is a dropsy that swells him till lie bursts, before he can be satisfied: and, which is worse, in some so extravagant is this thirst* that it makes them •dig the pits, arid carefully draw the- water; and, after all, won't suffer them to drink. In the midst of a river, they are dry with thirst ; and, on a heap of corn, cry out of famine : they have: goods, and dare not use them; garments, but dare not put them on: and though they are possessed of that in which they joy, they don't enjoy it. Tlie sum, of all which is, that of all which they have^ they have nothing. vol. i. 4 a 546 Contemplations on Life and Death, Let us then return unto that, that the attaining of all these deceivable goods is nothing else but weariness of body, and the possession", for the most part, weariness of mind; which certainly is so much the greater evil, as the mind js more sensible than the body. But the complement of all their misery is; when they come to lose them, either by ship wreck, fire, or any other accident, then they cry, weep, and torment themselves; like little children, that have lost their play-game, which. yet is nothing worth. One cannot per suade them that mortal men have any other good in this world, but that which is mortal,. They are, in their own conceits, not only spoiled, but utterly undone : and forasmuch as in these vain things they have fixed all their hope ; having lost them, they fall into despair, out of which they are seldom recovered ; many times laying violent hands upon themselves, and bringing their own lives to an unhappy period. In short, the recompence that covetousness yields those that have served it all their life, is like that of the devil ; who, after a small time, having gratified his votaries, either leaves them to the hangman, or himself breaks their necks. I will not here discourse of the wickedness to which covetous men subject themselves to attain to these goods, whereby their conscience is filled with a perpetual remorse, which never leaves them in quiet. It is enough that in this immo3erate pursuit of riches, which busieth and abuseth the greatest part of the world ; the body is macerated, the mind debi litated, and the soul is lost, without any pleasure or contentment. Let us then come to ambition, which, by an over-eager aspiring to honour, takes up the time and thoughts of the greatest persons. And, what ! Do we there think to find more content ? Alas ! 'tis rather less ; and this, I am sure, I can witness to my cost. For as the one deceives us, by giving us, for all our travail, but a vile excrement of the earth ; so the other repays us but with smoke and wind : the rewards Of this beirig as vain, as those of that Were gross. In both, we fall into a bottomless pit ; but, into this, the fall is by so much the more dangerous, as at the first sl^ow the water is more clear and pleasant. Of those men that make their court to ambition, some are great about princes, others comrhanders of armies; both sorts, according to their degree, you see saluted, reverenced, and adored of those that are under them. You see tliem apparelled , in purple, in scarlet, and in cloth of gold ; that, at the first sight, one wOUId think there is no content to be found, but amongst them. But, alas! men know not how heavy an ounceof that vain ho nour weighs: they know not what those reverences cost them, nor how dearly they pav: for an ell of those rich stuffs : they are so over-rated, that he, who knew them well, would never buy them at the price. The one hath attained to this degree, after a long and painful service, hazarding his life, upon every occasion, with loss, oftentimes of a leg or an arm ; and that at the pleasure of a prince, that more regards a hundred perches of ground on his neighbour's frontiers, than the lives of a hundred thousand such as he; unfortunate to serve one who loves him not, and foolish to think himself in hOnour with him, that makes so little reckoning to lose him for a thing of no worth. « Others there are that aspire to greatness by flattering a prince; which is a life so base and servile, that they can never say their very souls are their own, any longer than their prince is pleased.to let them ; for they must always.have their hands and tongues ready to do, and say, whatever he would have them : and yet they must be content to suffer a thousand in juries, and receive a thousand disgraces. And, as near as they seem about the prince they are nevertheless, always like the lion's keeper; who, when by long patience, a thousand feedings, and a thousand clawings, he hath made a fierce lion familiar, yet never gives him meat, but with pulling back his hand, always in fear lest he should catch him • and if once in a year he bites him, he sets it so close, that he is paid for it a long time after,' Such ee- nerally is the end of the favourites of princes. When a prince, aft'erfong service, hath raised a man to the highest pitch of honour he sometimes makes it Ins pastime to cast him down ip aw instant ; and when he hath filled 'him with heaps of wealth and riches, he squeezes liim afterwards like a sponge ; loving none but himself, and thinking every one born but to serve and please him. These blind courtiers make themselves believe that they have friends, and many that ho- with Reflections on the Mis&ries of Human Life. 547 hour them ; never considering, that, as they make only a show to love and honour every body,, so others do to them. Their superiors disdain them, and never, but with some kind of scorn, so much as salute them. Their inferiors salute them, because they have no need of them, (I mean, of their fortune, their food, their apparel, not their persons). And for their equals, .between whom friendship Usually consists, they envy, accuse, and cross feach other ; being always troubled either at their own harm, or at another's good. Now, what greater-torment is there to a man than envy ? which is indeed nothing but a hectick fever of the mind; by which they are utterly deprived of all friendship, which was ever judged by the wisest, the sovereign good amongst men. ¦ But, to make this more evident, let but fortune turn her back, and every man turns from them; let them but be disrobed of their triumphal garment, and nobody will know them any more. And then, suppose the most infamous and vilest miscreant to be clothed in it, he shall, by virtue of his robe, inherit all the honours of the other, and the same respect shall be paid him ; so that it is the fortune which they carry that is honoured, and not them selves. But you will say, " At least so long as that fortune endured, they were at ease, and had content ; and he, who has three or four years of happy time, has not been all his life un happy." True ; if it be to be at ease, continually to fear to be cast down from that degree unto which they are raised; and daily covet with great labour to climb higher. But. those whom thou lookest upon to be go much at ease, because thou seest them but without, are within far otherwise ; they are fair-built prisons, but full within of deep dungeons, darkness, serpents, and torments. Thou supposest their fortunes very large, but they think them very strait ; thou thinkest them very high, but theythink themselves very low. Now, he is full as sick who believes himself to be so, as he who indeed is so.- Suppose them to be kings, yet, if they think themselves slaves, they are no better'; for we are only what opinion makes us. You see them well followed and attended, and yet even those, whom they have chose for their guard, they distrust. Alone, or in company, they are ever ih fear. Alone, they look behind them ; in company, they have an eye on every side : they drink in gold and silver ; but it is in those, and not in earth or glass, that poison is prepared : they have beds, soft, and well made; yet, when they lie down to sleep, their fears and cares do often keep them waking, and turning from side to side, so that their very rest is restless. And there's no other difference between them and a poor fettered prisoner, but only that the prisoner's fetters are of iron, and the other's are of gold ; the one is fettered by the body, the other by the mind; the prisoner draws his fetters after him, the courtier weareth his upon him: the prisoner's mind sometimes comforts the pain of his body, and' he sings in the midst of his miseries; the courtier is always troubled in mind, wearying his body, and can never give ft rest. And as for the contentment you imagine they have, you are therein more deceived. You esteem them great, because they are raised high ; but are therein as much mistaken, as they who should judge a dwarf to be tall, for being set on a tower, or standing on the top of the Monument. You measure (like one unskilled in geometry) the image with its base; which you should measure by itself, if you would know its true height. "' You imagine them to be great; but, could you look into their minds, yOu would see they are neither great (true greatness corisisting in the contempt of those vain greatnesses unto which they are slaves) nor seem unto themselves to be so ; seeing they daily are aspiring higher, and yet never where they would be. Some there are, that pretend to set bounds to their ambition; and to say, " If I could attain to such a degree, I should be contented, and sit down satisfied:" but, alas! when he has once . attained it, he scarce allows himself a breathing-time, before he makes ad vances towards something higher; and all he has attained he esteems as nothing, and still reputes himself low, because there is some one higher ; instead of reputing himself high,- because there are a million lower: and so high he climbs at last, that either his breath fails him by the way, or lie slides from the top to the bottom.' But if he should get up, by all his toil and labour, unto the utmost height of his desires, he would but find himself as on the top of the Alps, not above the clouds, but more obnoxious 548 Contemplations on Life and Death, to the -winds ahd storms ; and so a fairer mark for those lightnings and, tempests which com monly take pleasure to thunderbolt and dash to powder, that proud height of their's^ It may be herein you will agree with me, compelled thereto by those many examples that we find in the histories of former ages, and those more modern ones that are still recent in most men's memories; but my own sad experience is, to me, more convincing than a thousand instances: while, aiming at a higher pitch of honour, by a too forward zeal for my Prince* I have only brought myself into a prison; where the greatest preferment I can hope for, is to mount a scaffold ; and, instead of having my head circled with a coronet, 'tis like to fall a victim to my enemies, by the hands of an executioner. But, say you, " Such, at least, whom nature hath sent into the world with crowns on their heads, and scepters in their hands; such as from their birth are placed in that high sphere, that they have nothing more to wish for; such are exempt from all- the fore-men tioned evil6, and therefore may call themselves happy.'? It may be, indeed, they may be less sensible of them, having been born, bred, and brought up amongst them: as one, born near the downfalls of Nilus, becomes deaf to the sound of those waters; and he, that is born and brought up in prison, laments not the loss of liberty; nor does he wish for day,., that is brought up iamongst the Ciriimerians in perpetual night. Yet even persons of this high quality are far from being free ; for the lightning often blasts a flower of their crowns, or breaks the scepter in their hands ; sometimes their crowns are made of thorns, and the scepter that they bear is but a reed : and.such crowns and scepters are so far from curing the' chagrin of the mind, and from keeping off those cares and griefs that hover still about them, that, on the contrary, it is the crown that brings them, and the scepter that attracts them; " O crown! (said the Persian monarch,) he,* that knew how heavy thou sittest on the head; would not vouchsafe to take thee up, though he should meet thee in his way." This Prince gave law to the whole world, and each man's fortune was. what he pleased to make it; and, therefore, to appearance, could give to every man content ; and yet you see himself confessing, that in the whole wofld, which he held in his hand, there was nothing but grief and unhappiness. And what better account can the rest give us, if they would speak impartially;, what they found? We Will not ask them who have concluded a miserable .life with a dishonourable death; who have beheld their kingdoms buried before them, and have in great misery long over-lived their greatness. Neither will we enquire of Dionysius the tyrant ofSicilyi ' who was mOre content with a handful of twigs to whip the little children of Corinth in a school, than with the scepter wherewith he had beaten all Sicily. Nor will we ask of Sylla, who having robbed the commonwealth of Rome, .which had herself before robbed the whole world; never found means of, rest in himself, but by robbing himself of his own estate, with incredible hazard -of his power and authority. [Nor* (to come nearer home) will we enquire of Charles, the royal martyr, the lustre of whose crown did ohly: serve to tempt his enemies, not only to take it from his head, but to take his head off too ; and whose scepter was too weak to overcome the force of armed rebels. Nor will we ask of his two exiled sons, the first of which endured twelve years of banishment ere he enjoyed his crown; and the last, in less than a quinque neronem, was forced to leave his crown and kingdoms, and fly for refuge to a neighbouring monarch, whose generous goodness has ever since supported him ; whose sad misfortunes I the more regret, because they both in clude my own, and are their source and fountain. ¦ It is of none'of, these unhappy princes that we will, make enquiry after happiness.] But let us ask the. opinion of the most Opulent and flourishing of princes, even, of the great King Solomon, a man endowed with singular wisdom from .above, beyond the rest of men; and whose immense -riches was so great, that gold and silver were as plentiful as the stones in the street ; and the sacred his tory tells us, there was such plenty of gold, that silver was nothing accounted of, in the days of Solomon; and, as he wanted not treasure, so neither did he want for largeness of heart to make use of it; and, after he had tried all the felicities that the world could afford him, this is the account that he gives of it, ' All is vanity and vexation of spirit.' 4 [This passage between brackets, is added in the present pamphlet.] with Reflections on the Miseries of Human Life. 549-. If we ask Of the Emperor Augustus, who peaceably possessed the whole world; he will bewail his life past, and, among. infinite toils, wish for the rest of the meanest of his sub jects ; esteeming that a happy day that would ease him of his insupportable greatness, and suffer hhn to live quietly amOng the least. If of TiberiUs, his successor ; he will tell us, that he holds the Empire, as a wolf by the ears, and that, if he could do it without danger of being bitten, he would" gladly let if go; complaining on fortune for lifting him so high, and then taking away the ladder, that he could not get down. If of Dioclesian, a Prince of greab wisdom and virtue in the opinion of the world; he will preferhis voluntary-banishment at Soloria, before all the Roman, empire. And lastly, If of the Emperor Charles the Fifth, esteemed the most happy that hath lived these many ages ; he will curse his conquests, victories, and triumphs ; and not be ashamed- to own, that he hath felt more good in one day of his monkish5 solitude, than in all his triumphant life. Now can we imagine those happy in this imaginary greatness, who think themselves un happy, iri it ? and do profess that happiness consists in being lesser and not greater? In a- word, whatever happiness ambition promiseth, it is nothing else, but suffering of much evil, to get more. Men think by daily climbing higher, to pluck themselves out of this evil; and yet the height, whereunto they so plainly aspire, is the he'ght of misery itself I speak not here of the wretchedriess of them^ who all their lives have been holding out their caps to fortune for the alms of court-favour, and can get nothing; nor of them who, jostling one another for it, cast it into the hands of a. third ; nor of those who having it, and seeking to'hold it faster, drop it through their fingers, which ofteh happens, Such, by all men, are esteemed unhappy ; and are so indeed, because they judge themselves so. Well, you will now say, the covetous, in all his goods, hath no good; the ambitious, at the best he can he, is but ill: but may therenot be some, who supplying the place of justice, or beingnear about a Prince, may, without following such unbridled passions, enjoy their goods with innocence and pleasure, joining honour with rest, and contentment of mind ? Perhaps, in former ages (when there remained among men some sparks of sincerity) it might in some sort be so ; but, being of that composition they now are, it is, in a manner,- impossible. For, if you deal in affairs of state, you shall either do well or ill ; if ill, you have God for your enemy, and your own conscience for a perpetual tormenting executioner : if well, you have men for your enemies, and of men the greatest ; whose envy and malice will espy you out, and whose cruelty and tyranny will evermore threaten you. Please the people, .you please a beast ; and pleasing such, ought to be displeasing to yourself. Please your self, you displease God : please Him, you incur a thousarid dangers in the world, with the purchase of a thousand displeasures. The sum of all therefore is this; there are riohe con tented with "their present stations: for, if you could hear the talk of the wisest arid least; discontented of men, whether they speak advisedly, or their words pass them by force of truth, one would gladly change garments with his tenant: another preacheth, how goodly an estate it is to haye nothing: a third, complaining that his brains are broken with the noise of a court, or palace, hath no other thought, but as soon as he can to retire himself thence. So that you shall. not see any but is displeased with his own calling, arid envieth that of another: and yet ready to recorl, if a man should take him, at "his word. None but is weary of the inconveniences whereunto his age is subject, arid yet wishes hot to be older, to free himself of them, though otherwise he keeps off old age, as much as in him lieth. . ' . What must we then do in so great a contrariety and confusion of minds ? Must We, to find true Contentment, fly the society of men, hide us in forests among wild beasts, and se quester ourselves from all conversation, to preserve ourselves from the evil of the world? 5 Charles' the Fifth, according to some authors, being grown very infirm in body, resigned his crown to his son, and became a monk in the cloister of the Ilieronymites, at St. Justus, near Placentia, on the frontiers of Castile and Portugal, anno 1557. * 550 Contemplations on Life and Death* Could we, in so doing, live at rest, it were something ; but, alas ! men cannot fake herein what part they would; and even they, which do, find not there all the rest they sOught for. But Where can he fly, that carries his enemy in his bosom ? And since, as the Wise Man says, the worjd is in our hearts; hardly can we find a place in this world, where the world will not find us. And as some make profession to fly the world, who thereby seek nothing but the praise of the world; and as some hide themselves from men, to no other end but that men should seek them; so the world often harbours, in disguised attire, among them that fly the world. It is npt, therefore, solitude and retirement can give us contentment, but, only the subduing of our unruly lusts and passions. Now, as touching that contentment that may be found in solitude by wise men, In the exercise of reading divers books, of both divine and profane authors, in order to the ac quiring of knowledge and learning, it is indeed a very commendable thing; but, if we will take Solomon's judgment in the case, it is all but ' vanity and vexation of spirit.' For some are ever learning to correct their speech, and never think of correcting their life. Others, by logical discourses of the art of reason, dispute many times so long, till they Jose thereby their natural reason. "One learns, by arithmetick,- to divide into the smallest fractions; and yet hath not skill to part one shilling with his brother. Another, by geo metry, can measure fields, and towns, and countries; but cannot measure himself. The musician can accord his voices, and sounds, and times together; having nothing in his heart but discords, nor one passion in his soul but what is out of tune; The astrologer looks up to the stars, and falls in the next ditch : foreknows the future, and is careless for the present; hath often his eye on the heavens, though his heart be .buried in the earth. The philosopher discourseth of the nature of all other things, and yet knows not himself. The historian can tell of the wars of Thebes and of Troy, but is ignorant of what is done- in his own house. The lawyer will make laws for all the wor|d, and yet observe none himself. The physician cures others, but languishes himself under his own malady: he can find the least alteration in his pulse, but takes no notice of the burning fever of his mind. Lastly, the divine' will spend the greatest part of his time in disputing of faith, and yet cares not to hear of charity : will talk of God, but has no regard to succour men. These knowledges bring on the mind an endless labour, but no contentment; for the more he knows, the more he desires to know. They pacify npt the debates a man feels in himself, they cure not the diseases of his mind. They make him learned, but they make him not good ; cunning, but not wise. The more a man knows, the more he knows that he knows not ; the fuller the mind is, the emptier it finds itself. Forasmuch as whatsoever a. man can know of any science, in this world, is but the least part of what he is ignorant of: all his knowledge consisting in know ing his ignorance, all his perfection in seeing his imperfections, which who best knows and notes'is, in truth, among men the most wise and perfect. In short, we must conclude with Solomon, ' that the beginning and end of wisdom is the fear of God,:' yet this wisdom, never theless, is taken by the world for mere folly, and persecuted by the world as a deadly enemy; and, therefore, as he that fears God,- ought to fear, no evil, for that all his evils are con verted to his good: so neither ought he to hope for gbod in the world ; having there the devil his professed enemy, whom the Scripture termeth ' the Prince of this world.' But with what exercise soever we pass the time, old age unawares comes upon us, which never fails to find us out. Every man makes account in that age to repose himself without further care, and to keep himself at ease in health. But, on the contrary, in. this age there is nothing but an after-taste of all the foregoing evils ; and most commonly ¦ a plentiful harvest of all such vices as, in the whole course of their life, hath held and possessed them There you have the imbecillity and weakness of infancy, and (which is worse), many times accom panied with authority. There you are paid for the excess and riot of your youth with gouts palsies, and such like diseases; which take from you limb after limb, with pain and torment' There you are recompensed for the anxieties of mind, the watchings and cares of manhood- with Reflections on the Miseries of Human Life. 551 with loss of sight, loss Of hearing, and all the senses one after another, except only the sense of pain. Not one part in us, but death takes hold of; to be assured of us, as of bad pay masters, which seldom keep days of payment. There is nothing in us, which is not visibly declining, except our vices ; and they not only live, but, in despite of nature, grow young again. - The covetous man hath one foot in his grave ; and is yet burying his money, as if he had hopes to find it again another day. The ambitious in his will provides for a pom pous funeral ; making his vice to triumph, even after his "death. The riotous, no longer able to dance on his feet, danceth with his shoulders ; all vices having left him, and he not able to leave them. The child wishes for youth, and this man laments it. The young man lives in hope of the future, and this feels the evil present, laments the false pleasures past, and sees for the time to eonie nothing to hope for; and the old man is more foolish than the child, in bewailing the time he cannot recall, and remembers not the evil that he suffered in it ; and more wretched than the young man; in that after a vicious life, and not being able any longer to live, he must miserably die ; seeing nothing round about him but matter of despair. As for him that, from his youth, -hath undertaken to combat against the flesh and the world ; who hath used to mortify himself, and leave the world, whilst he continues in it ; who, besides those"* ordinary evils, finds himself vexed with this great and incurable disease of old age ; and yet feels his flesh, how weak soever, often stronger than his spirit ; what satisfaction can he take, but only in this, that he sees his death is at hand; that his ' war fare is accomplished,' and that he is ready to depart by death out of this loathsome prison, wherein he has been all along racked and tormented ? I forbear to mention the almost infinite evils wherewith men in all ages are afflicted, as loss of friends and parents, banishments, exiles, disgraces, and other accidents, common and ordinary in the world ; one complaining of losing his children, another of having them ; one lamenting for his wife's death, another for her life ; one finding fault that he is too high in court, and others more often that they are not high enough. The world is so full of evils, that it would require a world Of time to write them in: and if the most happy man in the world should set his felicities against each other, he would see cause enough to judge him self unhappy. And yet perhaps another man might judge him happy, who yet, if he had been but three days in his place, would give it over to him that should come next. And he that shall consider, iri all the goods that ever he hath had, the evils he hath suffered to' get them ; and, having got them, to retain and keep them (I speak of pleasures that may be ' kept, and not of those that wither in a moment) he will soon judge, that keeping itself of the greatest felicity in this world, is full of unhappiness and infelicity. We may well conclude, then, that childhood is but a foolish simplicity ; youth, a vain heat ; manhood, a painful carefulness ; and old age, an uneasy languishing : that our plays are but tears; our pleasures, fevers of the mind; our goods, racks and torments ; our ho nours, gilded vanities; our rest, inquietude: that passing from age-to age is but passing from evil to evil, and from the less unto the greater ; and that always, it is but wave driving on another, until we be arrived at the haven of death, In short, life is but a wishing for the future, and a bewailing of what is past ;. a loathing of what we have tasted, and a longing for what is yet to taste; a vain memory of the state past, and a doubtful expectation of the state to come :. and to conclude, in all our life there is nothing certain, but the certainty and uncertainty of death. And now we are come to the end of all the living, even to the house of death. Behold this king of terrors, O my soul ! and see, whether or no, he be so.terribie as he is repre sented. It is high time, methinks, for death and I to be acquainted; since I expect in a Very few days, not to say hours, to be taken into his arms, and conducted by him to the bright mansions of eternity. Let us now consider then, whether death be such as we are generally made to believe; and whether we oUght to fly from him as we do. We are afraid of death, like little chil dren of a vizard, or of tlie images of Hecate. We have a horror of death, because we 552 , Contemplations on Life and Death, conceive him not such as he is, but ugly, terrible, and hideous; such *as the painters' please to represent him. We fly before him, because prepossessed with such vain imagina tions, and care not to inform ourselves better. But, if we dare stand and look death in the face, we shall firid him quite another thing than, he is represented to us; and altogether ofi a more amiable countenance than our miserable life. Death makes an end of this life, and this life is nothing but a perpetual~scene of misery and trouble. Death then is the period of our miseries, and safe conduct into that desired haven, where, we shall ride in safety from all winds and storms. And shall we be afraid of that which -delivers us from all our fears,, and brings us safe into the port of happiness ? ;¦¦:'• But, you will say, " It is a pain to die." Admit it be; and so there is pain in curing of a wound. Such is the world, that one evil cannot be cured but by another : to heal a con tusion, must be made an incision. You will say, "There is difficulty in the passage." But if this be an objection, the ma riner must always keep at sea, and not come into port, because there is no harbour whose entrance is not strait and difficult. There is nothing of value or worth to be had in this world, without the coin of labour and pain. The entrance may indeed be hard, but then it is ourselves that make it so ; by carrying thither self-tormenting spirits, anxious minds, accusing consciences^ and fearful ' expectations of meeting with the jus* reward of a de bauched and vicious life. But let us carry with us calmness and serenity of mind, with the comfortable remembrance of a virtuous and well-spent fife; and the lively hOpe and expec tation of approaching happiness ; and we shall find no danger nor difficulty at all. But what are the pains that death brings us ? And why should death be charged with those pains we feel, when we come to die? We accuse death of all the evils we suffer intending our lives, and consider nOt, how many more grievous and cruciating pains and sicknesses we have suffered in this life, in which we have even called .upon death to deliver us ; and yet all the pains of our life, to oUr last moment, we impute to death, whereas it ought to be ascribed to life; for it is but reasonable to believe that a life, begun and continued in all sorts of pain, must of necessity end so. And, therefore, it is only the remainder of our life that pains us, and not death ; the end of our navigation that troubles us, and, not the haven that we are to enter, which is nothing else but a safeguard against all winds. We complain of death, when we should complain of life ; just as if one that had been long sick* and beginning to be well, should accuse his health of his last pains, and not the relicks of his disease. . Tell me, then, what is it :else to be dead, but to be no more living in the world ? And is it any pain not to be in the world ? Did we then feel pain, when as yet we were not ? Have we ever more resemblance of death, than when we are asleep?, or evermore rest than at that time ? Now, if this be no pain, why accuse we death of the, pains our lives give us at our departure? Unless also we will fondly accuse the time wherein we were not, of the pains we felt at Our birth.% If our coming in be with tears, what wonder is it that out going out be such? If the beginning of our being.be the beginning of our pain, no marvel that such is the ending* But if our not-being, in times past, hath been without •pain, and all our being here full of pain ; whom ought we in reason to accuse of our last pains, the not-being to come, Or the remnant of , the present being ? We generally think we die not, unril we fetch our last gasp ; but, if we mind it well, we shall find that we die eyery day, every hour, every moment. We apprehend death as a thing unusual to us, and yet have nothing so common in us. Our living is but a continual dying ; and look, how much we live, so much we die ; how much we increase, our life de creases. We cannot enter a step into life, but we are upon the borders of death. Who. has lived a third part of his years, is a third part dead; who,, half his years, is already half dead. Of our life, all the time past is dead, the present lives and dies at once* and the future likewise shall die. The past time of our lives is no more; the future is not yet; the present is, and no more is. with Reflections on the Miseries of Human Life. 553 Briefly, this whole life is but a death. It is as a candle lighted in our bodies6 : in one, the wind makes it melt away; in another, it blows it quite out, many times before it be half burned; in others, it endures to the end. Howsoever it be, look how much the candle shines, so much it burns; for its shining is its burning, its light is but a vanishing smoke, and its last fire but its last wick, and. its last drop of moisture. So is it in the life of man : life and death, in man, is all one. If we call the last breath by the name of death, so we must all the rest; all proceeding from one place, and all in the same manner. One only difference there is between this life and that which we call death: that, during the one, we are always dying ; but, after the other, we shall always live. In short, as he that thinketh death, simply, to be the end of man, ought not to fear it, (in asmuch as he who desires to live long, desires to die longer) ; so he who fears to die quickly; does, to speak properly, fear lest he may not die longer. But to us who profess the Christian religion, and are brought up in a more holy school, death is a far other thing: neither do we need (as heretofore the Pagans did) consolations against death. For death itself ought to be, to us, a consolation against other afflictions ; so that, we must not only strengthen ourselves, as they did, not to fear it, but we ought also to hope for it : for, unto us, it is not only a departing from pain and evil, but an access unto all good; not the end of life, but the end of death, pain, and sorrow; and the be ginning of a life that shall never have an end. ' Better (saith. Solomon) isthe day of death, than the day of birth.' But for what reason? — Why, because it is not to us a last day, but the dawning of an everlasting day. No more shall we have in that glorious light, either sorrow for the past, or expectation for the future ; for all shall there be present to us, and that present shall be present for ever. No more shall we spend our strength in seeking after vain and painful pleasures; for there we shall be filled with true and substantial delights. No more shall we weary ourselves in heaping together those shining exhalations -of the earth ; for the inexpressible glory of , Heaven shall be ours : and this mass of earth, which ever draws us towards the earth, shall be then-buried in it, and consumed with it. . No more shall we then be votaries to that gaudy idol, honour ; nor put our wits upon the rack, that so we may, be decked with finer feathers than our neighbours. Ambition will have there no place; for we shall there be raised to that excelling glory, and be possessed of all those heights of greatness, that we shall look with scorn and with contempt upon an earthly diadem; and smile at all the follies of poor groveling mortals, who fight and quarrel with each other for a small spot of earth, like children for an apple. And, which is better still, no more shall we have combats in ourselves : our sinful flesh, that here was our worst enemy, will cease from troubling there ; and our renewed spirits shall be filled with life and vigour. Our passion shall be buried, and our reason be restored to perfect liberty. The soul, delivered out of this foul and filthy prison, where, by its long continuing, it is grown into a habit of crookedness; shall again draw its own breath, re cognize its ancient dwelling, and again remember its former glory arid dignity. This flesh which thou feelest, this body which thou touchest, is not man. Man is a spark of the Divinity shot down from Heaven ; Heaven is his country, and his native air: that he is in this body, is but by way of exile and confinement. Man, indeed, is soul and spirit, and is of a divine and heavenly quality; wherein there is nothing gross, nothing material. This body, such as it now is, is but the bark and shell of the soul ; which must necessarily be broke, before we can be hatched, before we can live and see the light. We have, it seems, some life and some 'sense in us, but are so very crooked and con tracted, that we cannot so much as stretch out our wings; much less take our flight towatds 6 [" Our birth is nothing but our death begun ; As- tapers waste, that instant they take tire." See Night 5, of Dr. Young's Complaint, where several thoughts and images: will be found, which have a striking similarity to these admirable Contemplations on Life and Death-.] VOL. i. 4b 554 Contemplations on Life and Death; Heaven, until we be disburthened.and separated from this lump of earth. We look, but it is through false spectacles ; we have eyes, but they are overgrown with pearls ; we think we see, but it is but in a dream, wherein allthat we see is but a vain illusion. All that we seem to have, and all that we seem to know, is but deceit and vanity. Death only can awake us from our dream,, and restore us to true life and light ; and yet we think, (so blockish are we)'that he comes to rob us^of them, ; We profess ourselves Christians, and that we believe, after this mortal life, in a life, of im mortality ; that death is nothing but a separation of soul and body; and that the soul Tec tums to its former happy abode, there to joy in and enjoy the fountain of all bliss; and that, at the last day, it shall re-assume its body, which shall no more be subject to corrup tion. With these goodly discourses we fill our books; and, in the mean while, when it pomes to the point, and that we are ready to enter in at this portcullis of seraphical glory j, the very name of death, as of some. dreadful gorgon, makes us quake and tremble. If we believe as we speak ; pray, what is it that we fear ? — To be happy ? to be perr fectly at ease ? to enjoy more content, in one moment, than ever was enjoyed by Methu selah himself, in all his nine hundred sixty-nine years; which was the longest mortal life I ever read of? If this be nothing that we fear; then we must of necessity confess, that we believe it but in part ; that all, that we have said, are only words; that all our discourses, as of those hardy trencher-knights, are nothing but vaunting and vanity. Some there are, that will confidently tell you, " I know very well that I shall pass out of this life into a better; I make no doubt of that, only I fear the mid-way step." Weak-hearted creatures! they will kill themselves, to get their miserable living; they willingly suffer almost infinite pains, and infiriite wounds, at another man's pleasure; and fearless, go through infinite deaths without dying ; and all this for things of nought, for things that perish, and that, oft-times, cause them to perish with them. But, when they have but one step to make to be at rest, and that not for a day, but for ever; and not barely rest, but a rest of that exalted nature, that man's natural mind can never compre hend; they tremble, their hearts fail them, they are afraid : and yet it is nothing but fear that hurts them. Let them never tell me they apprehend the pain; it is but an abuse on purpose to conceal the little faith they have. No, no; they would rather languish of the gout, the sciatica, or any other disease whatsoever, than die one sweet death* with the least pain possible ; rather piningly die, limb after limb, out-living, as it were, all their senses motions, and actions ; than speedily die, though immediately to live for ever. Let them tell me no more, that they would, in this world, learn to live ; for every one is thereunto sufficiently instructed in himself, and not one but is cunning in the trade. Nay rather they should learn, in this world, to die; and, that they may once die well, to die 'daily in themselves, so prepared, as if the end of every day's work were the end of our life. Now, contrariwise, there is nothing to tlieir ears more offensive, than to hear of death Senseless people 1 we abandon our life to the ordinary hazards of war for six-pence a day7' and are foremost in assaults, for a little booty ; go into places, whence there is no hope of" returning; with danger, many times, both of bodies and souls. But, to free us from all hazards, to win the precious prize of things inestimable, to enter into eternal life, we faint in the passage of one pace, wherein is no difficulty but in opinion ; yea, we so faint that were it not of necessity that we must pass, and that God's ordination, < that all tnus't die ' compels us ; hardly should we find in all the world one, how unhappy or wretched soever that would ever shoot that gulph. Another will say, «« Had I lived till fifty or sixty years' I should have been contented, I should not have cared to live longer; but to die so voun<' is that which troubles me: I would willingly have known the world, 'before I had left it" Simple soul ! ' In this world there is neither yoUng nor old. The longest age in comparison of all that is past, or all that is to come, is nothing; and when thou hast lived' to the W thou now desirest, all that is past will be nothing; thou wi!t still gape for that which is to come. The past will yield thee but sorrow, the future but expectation, the present "no con- ' The pay of a common soldier formerly. with-Refiections on the Miseries of Human Life. 555 tehtment ; and thou wilt be as- unwilling to die then, as ever thou wast. Thou fliest thy creditor from month to month, and time to time, as unwilling to pay the last day, as the first; thou seekest but to be acquitted. Thou hast tasted all which the world esteemeth pleasures ; not one of them is new unto thee. By drinking oftener, thou shalt be never a whit the more satisfied ; for the body thou carriest, like the pail of Danans's daughter, which was bored full of holes, will never be full. Thou mayest sooner wear it out, than weary thyself with Using, or rather abusing it. Thou desirest long life, to cast it away, to spend it on worthless delights, to mis-spend it on vanities. Thou art covetous in desiring, and prodigal in spending. Say not, thou findest fault with the court or the palace ; but that thou desirest longer to serve the commonwealth, to serve thy country, to serve God ! He that set thee on work, knows until what day, and what hour, thou shouldst be at it ; he ¦well knows how to direct his work. Should he leave thee there longer; perhaps thou wouldst spoil all. But if he will pay thee liberally for thy labour, as much for half a day's work as for a whole; as much for having wrought till noon, -as for having borne all the heat of the day ; oughtest thou not so much the more to thank and praise him ? But if thou examine thine own conscience, thou lamentest not the cause of the widow and the orphan, which thou hast left depending in judgment; not the duty of a son, of a father, or of a friend, which thou pretendest thou wouldst perform; not the ambassage for the common wealth, which thou wert ever ready to undertake; not the service thou desirest to do unto God, who knows much better how to serve himself of thee, than thou of thyself.- It is thy houses and gardens thou lamentest, thy imperfect- plots and purposes, and thy imperfect life; which, yet, no days, nor years, nor ages can make perfect, although thyself mightest do it iri a moment, couldst thou but think in earnest, that where or when it ends, it matters not, provided that it ends but well. " Now the Only way to end this life well is to end it willingly, devoting ourselves, with an entire resignation, to the will of God; and not suffering ourselves to be constrained and drawn by the force of unavoidable destiny. And, then, to end this life willingly, we must hope for death, not fear it. To hope for death, we must certainly look, after this life, for a better. To look for a better life, we must fear God: and he that truly fears God, has nothing else he ought to fear in this world; and has reason to hope for all things in the world to come. To one well resolved in these points, death must needs be sweet and agreeable; knowing that through it, he is tb enter into the fulhess of joy. The bitterness we may find, by the straitness of the passage, will be allayed by the sweetness we shall find when we are entered in; our suffering of ill shall be swallowed up in the enjoyment of good; and the sting of death itself, which is nothing but fear, shall be dead. Nay, I will say more : he shall not only triumph over all those evils supposed to be in death, but he shall also scorn all those evils men fear to meet with in this life, and look upon them as unconcerned. For what can he fear, whose death is his hope? If you think to banish him his country, he knows he has a country, from whence you cannot banish him ; and that all these countries are but inns, from which he must part in a little time. If to put him in a prison, he can have none more strait than his own body ; nor any more filthy or dark, or more replete of racks and torments. Or, if you think to kill him, you only then complete his hopes; for death is what he desires. And, for the manner of it, be it by fire, by sword, by halter, or by "axe ; within three years, within three days, within three hours, it is all one to him ; he matters not the time, nor minds the way, by which he passes from this miserable life; for his work is ended, his affairs dispatched, and by the self-same way that he goes out, he hopes to enter into a most happy and everlasting life. Men can but threaten him with death, and death is all he promiseth himself; the worst that they do, is but to make him die ; and death is the best thing, in his account, that'he can hope for. 556- Gontetnplatitms on Life and Death,, The threateriings of a tyrant, to him are promises; the swords of his greatest enemies against him, he reckons drawn in his favour: forasmuch as he knows, that threatening him death, they threaten him life ; and the most mortal wounds can make him but immortal. The sum of all is, he that fearS God, fears not death; and he that fears not death, fears not the worst of this life. By this reckoning, perhaps, some men may say, " Death is a thing to be wished for : and to pass from so much evil, to so much good ; a man would be ready to cast away his life, , and make away himself." In answer to this, we may take notice first, That though the spirit aspires towards Heaven,- the body draws towards the earth ; and the soul is too often drawn by the body. But, in the second place, We must, indeed, seek to mortify our flesh in us, and to cast the wOrld out of us; but to cast ourselves out of this world, is in no case lawful. The Christian ought willingly to depart out of this life, but not cowardly to run away. His work is to fight against the world, and. he cannot leave his post, without reproach and infamy. But, if his great Captain be pleased to call hiin, let him willingly obey: for he is not born for himself,, but for God ; .of whoih he holds his life at farm, as tenant; at will, to yield him the. profits. It is in the landlord to take it from him, .not in him to surrender it, when a conceit takes him. Diest thou young? Praise God : as the mariner that hath a good wind, soon to bring him to, the port. , . Diest thou old ? Praise God likewise: for, if thou hast had less wind, it may be thou hast also had less waves. . But think not, at thy pleasure, to go faster or slower, for the wind is not in thy power; and instead of taking the shortest way to the haven, thoumayst suffer shipwreck: , Let us then neither fly from death, when we are called to die, whether it be in a more natural way, as. by old age or sickness ; or by a more violent, way, as by the sword in battle, or by the hand of an executioner; nor fly to it, not being called : which both argues the greatest baseness and pusillanimity of spirit, and will also bring the guilt of our own blood upon our own heads. But let us meet death, whenever, or however it comes, with that magnanimity and greatness of mind,; that becomes both a man and a Christian. [And now having beguiled my solitary hours in contemplating the miseries of life, and happiness of death, (to me so much the more necessary, by how much it is nearer approach ing); I will conclude with a valediction to the world, and all its vain* delights, written by a •very great man, and prime minister of state,8 in the reign of Charles the First, whilst under my unhappy circumstances, and but a little before his execution.] GO, empty joys, With all your noise, And leave me here alone, In sad sweet silence to bemoan - Your vain and fond delight, Whose dangers none can see aright, Whilst too much sunshine blinds his sight. Go, and ensnare, With your false ware, Some other easy wight, And cheat him with your flattering light: Rain on his head a show'r Of honour, greatness, wealth, and pow'r, Then snatch it from him in an hour. Fill his big mind, With the vain wind Of flattering applause ; Let him not fear all curbing laws, Nor king nor people's frown ; But dream of something like a crown, And, climbing tow'rds itj tumbledown. 8 [This personage is believed to have been Thomas Earl of Strafford, who was beheaded, in May 1641 ¦ butTiis lordship's traditionary claim to be considered as author of these verses, has been set aside in the fourth collec tien of Somer's tracts, vol, i.] , ' " with Reflections on the Miseries of Human Life. 557 A true Copy of the Paper delivered to the Sheriffs upon the Scaffold at Tower-Hill, on Thursday, January the<28lh, 1696-7, by Sir John Fenivick, Baronet. . SPEAKING nor writing was never my talent : I shall therefore give a short, but faithful account, first, of my religion ; and next, what I suffer most innocently for ; to avoid the calumnies I may reasonably expect my enemies will cast upon me, when dead, since they have most falsely and maliciously aspersed me, whilst under my misfortunes. As for my religion, I was brought up in the church of England, as it is established by law, and have ever professed it ; though, I confess, I have been an unworthy member of it, in not living up to the strict and excellent rules thereof; for which I take shame to my self, and humbly ask forgiveness of God. I come now to die in that communion ; trusting, as an humble and hearty penitent, to be received by the mercy of God, through the merits of Jesus Christ my Saviour. My religion taught me my loyalty, which, I bless God, is untainted : ahd I have ever endeavoured, in the station wherein I have been placed, to the utmost of my power to sup port the crown of England, in the true and lineal course of descent, without interruption. ' As for what I am now to die : I call God to witness, I went not to that meeting in Lea- denhall-street, with any such intention as to invite King James by force to invade this nation ; nor was I myself provided with either horse or arms, or engaged for any number of men, or gave particular consent for any such invasion, as is most falsely sworn against me. I do also declare, in the presence of God, that I knew nothing of King James's coming' to Calais, nor of any invasion intended from thence, till it was publickly known : and the only notion I had that something might be attempted, was from the Thoulon fleet coming to Brest. I also callGod to witness, that I received the knowledge of what is contained in those papers that I gave to a great man that came to me in the Tower, both from letters and mes sages that came from France ; and he told me, when I read them to' him, " That the Prince of Orange had been acquainted with most of those things before," I might have expected mercy from that Prince, because I was instrumental in saving his life. For when, about April 1695, an attempt formed against him came to my know ledge, I did,. partly by dissuasions and partly- by delays, prevent that design; which, I sup pose, was the reason that the last villainous project was concealed from me. If tliere be any persons whom I have injured in word or deed, I heartily pray their pardon; and beg of God to pardon those who have injured me-; particularly those who with great zeal have sought my life, and brought the guilt of my innocent blood upon this nation, no treason heing proved upon me. I return my most hearty thanks to. those noble and worthy persons who gave me their assistance, by opposing this bill of attainder; without which it had been impossible I could have fallen under the sentence of death. God bless them and their posterity ! though I am fully satisfied they pleaded their own cause, while they defended mine. I pray God to bless my true and lawful sovereign King James, the Queen, and the Prince of Wales ; and to restore him and his posterity to this throne again, for the peace and prosperity of this nation, which is impossible to prosper, till the government is settled upon a right foot. 'o And now, O God, I do, with all humble devotion, commend my soul into thy hands ; the great maker and preserver of men, and lover of souls; beseeching thee, that it may be al ways dear and precious in thy sight, through the merits of my Saviour, Jesus Christ. Amen. J. FENWICK. • 558 The Manner of creating the Knights of the antient and ho nourable Order of the Bath, according to the Custom used in England, in Time of Peace ; with a List of those honour able Persons, who are to be created Knights of the Bath at his Majesty's Coronation, the Twenty-third of April, 1661. Printed at London, for Philip Stephens, at the King's Arms, over against the Middle-Temple, 1661. [Qurato, Ten Pages.] 1 . TT7HEN an Esquire comes to court, to receive the order of knighthood, in the time of V V peace, according to the custom of England, he shall be honourably received by the officers of the cburt ; sc. the steward or the chamberlain, if they be present ; but other wise, by the marshals- and ushers. Then there shall, be provided two Esquires of honour, grave and well seen in courtship and nurture ; as also in the feats of chivalry ; and they shall be Esquires, and governors in all things relating to him, who shall take the order abovesaid. 2. And if the Esquire do come before dinner, he shall carry up one dish of the first course to the King's table. - ; 3. And after this, the Esquire's governors shall conduct the Esquire that is to receive the order, into his chamber, without any more being Seen that day. 4. And, in the evening, the Esquire's governors. shall. send for the barber, and they shall make ready a bath, handsomely hung with linen, both within and without the vessel ; ta king care that it'be covered with tapestry, and blankets, in respect of the coldness of the night. And then shall the Esquire be shaven, and his hair cut round. After which the Esquire's governors shall go to, the King, and say, " Sir, it is now in the evening, and the Es quire is fitted for the bath, when you'please :" whereupon the King shall command his chamr berlain, that he shall take along with him unto the Esquire's chamber, the most gentle and grave Knights thafare present; to inform, counsel,' and instruct him, touching the order, and feats of chivalry : and in like manner, that the other Esquires of the household, with the min strels, shall proceed before the Knights, singing, dancing, and sporting, even to the chamber- door of the said Esquire. . - 5. And when the Esquire's governors shall hear the noise of the minstrels, they shall un dress the said Esquire, and put him naked into the bath : but, at the entrance into the cham ber, the Esquire's governors shall cause the musick to cease, and the Esquires also fora while. And this being done, the grave Knights shall enter into the chamber, withOut making any noise ; and, doing reverence to each other, shall consider which of themselves it shall be that is to instruct the Esquire in the order and course of the bath. And when they, are agreed, then shall the chief of them go to the bath, and, kneeling Sown before it, say with a soft voice : '« Sir ! be this bath of great honour to you :" and then he shall declare unto him the feats of the order, as far as he can ; putting part of the water of the bath upon the shoulder of the Esquire ; and, having so done, take his leave. And the Esquire's governors shall attend at the sides of the bath, and so likewise the other Knights, the one after the other, till all be done. 6. Then shall these Knights go out of the chamber, fora while; and the Esquire's gover nors shall take the Esquire out of the bath, and help him to his bed, there to continue till his body be dry ; which bed Shall be plain, and without curtains. And, as soon as he is dry' they shall help him out of bed ; they shall clothe him very warm, in respect of the cold of the night' ; and over his inner garments shall put on a robe of russet with long sleeves, havinp- a .hood thereto, like unto that of an hermit. And the Esquire being out of the bath, the barber shall take away the bath, with whatsoever appertaineth thereto, both within and without for The Manner of creating Knights of the Bath, SCc. 559 kkfee ; and.Ukfaw*«-/br the collar (about his neck) be he Earl, Baron, Banneret, or Batche- lor, according to the custom of the court. 7. And then shall the Esquire's governors open the door of the chamber, and shall .cause the antient and grave Knights to enter, to conduct the Esquire to the chapel, And, when they are'come in, the Esquires, sporting and dancing, shall go before the Esquire, with the minstrels, making melody, to the chapel. 8. And being entered the chapel, there shall be wine and spices ready to give to the Knights and Esquires. And then the Esquire's governors shall bring the said Knights before the Esquire, to take their leave of him; and he shall give them thanks all together, for the pains, favour, and courtesy, which they have done him ; and, this being performed, they shall depart out of the chapel. 9. Then shall the Esquire's governors shut the door of the chapel, none staying therein except themselves, the priest, the chandler, and the watch. And in this manner shall the Esquire stay in the chapel all night, till it be clay, bestowing himself in orisons and prayers ; beseeching Almighty God, and his blessed Mother, that of their good grace they will give him ability to receive this high temporal dignity, to the honour, praise, and service of them ; as also of the holy Church, and the order of Knighthood. And, at day-break, one shall call the priest to confess him of all his sins ; and, having heard mattins and mass, shall afterwards be commended if he please. 10. And after his entrance into the chapel, there shall be a taper burning before him ; and, as soon as mass is begun, one of the governors shall hold the taper, until the reading of the Gospel ; and then shall the governor deliver it into his hands, who shall hold it himself, till the Gospel be ended ; but then lie shall receive it again from him, and set it before him, there to stand, during the whole time of mass. 11. And, at the elevation of the Host, one of the governors shall take the hood from the Esquire, and afterwards deliver it to him again, until the Gospel in principio ; and, at the beginning thereof, the governor shall take the same hood again, and cause it to be carried away, and shall give him the taper again into his own hands. 12. And then, having a penny or more in readiness, near to the candlestick, at the words Verbum caro factum est, the Esquire, kneeling, shall offer the taper and the penny ; that is to say, the taper to the honour of God, and the penny to the honour of the person that makes him a Knight. AH which being performed, the Esquire's governors shall conduct the Es- .quire to his chamber, and shall lay him again in bed, till it be full day-light. And when he shall be thus in bed, till the time of his rising he shall be clothed with a covering of gold, called singleton, and this shall be lined with blue cardene. And when the, governors shall see it fit time, they shall go to the King, and say to. him, "Sir ! When doth it please you, that our master shall rise ? " Whereupon the King shall command the grave Knights, Es quires, andminstrels, tO go to the chamber of the said Esquire, for to raise him ; and to attire and dress him, and to bring him before him, into the hall. But, before their entrance, and the noise of the minstrels heard, the Esquire's governors shall provide all necessaries ready for the order, to deliver to the Knights, for to attire and dress the Esquire. And when the Knights are come to the Esquire's chamber, they shall enter with leave, and say to him ; " Sir ! Good'morrow to you ; it is time to get up, and make yourself ready :" and thereupon they shall take him by the arm to be dressed ; the most antient of tlie said Knights reaching him his shirt, another giving him his breeches, the third his doublet, and another putting" upon him a kirtle of red tartarin : two others shall raise him from the bed, and two others put on his nether stockings, with soles of leather sewed to them ; two others shall lace his sleeves, and another shall gird him with a girdle of white leather; without any •buckles thereon : another shall comb his head ; another shall put on his coif; another shall give him his mantle of silk (over the bases or kirtle of red tartarin) tied with a lace of white silk, with a pair of white gloves hanging at the end of the lace. And the chandler shall take, for his fees, all the garments, with the whole array and necessaries, wherewith the Esquire shall be apparelled and clothed on the day that he comes into the court to receive- order: as also the bed, wherein he first lay, after his bathing ; together with the singleton and other 560 The Manner of creating Knights of the Bath, '8Co. i necessaries. . In consideration of which fees, the same chandler shall fiffdVat'his proper costs* the said coif, the gloves, the girdle, and the lace. 13. And when all this is done, the grave Knights shall get on horseback, and conduct the Esquire to the hall, the minstrels going before, making musick : but the horse must be ac coutred as followeth. The saddlehaving a cover of black leather, the bow of the sadtlle being of white wood quartered; the stirnip-leathers black, the stirrups gilt; the poitrel of black leather, gilt, with a cross-pate, gilt, hanging before the breast of the horse, but without any crupper : the bridle black, with long notched reins, after the Spanish fashion, and a cross-pate on the front. And there must be provided a young Esquire, courteous, who shall ride before the Esquire bareheaded, and carry the Esquire's sword, with the spurs hanging at the handle of the sword ; and the scabbard of the sword shall be of white leather, and the girdle of white leather, without buckles. And the youth shall hold the sword by the point ; and after this manner must they ride to the King's hall, the governors being ready, at hand. 14. And the grave Knights shall conduct the said Esquire ; and, as soon as they come be fore the hall-door, the marshals and ushers are to be ready to meet him, and desire him to alight ; and, being alighted, the marshal shall take the horse for his fee, or else C. s. Then shall the Knights conduct him into the hall, up to the high table, and afterwards up the end ;Of the second table, until the King's coming, the Knights standing on each side of him, and the youth holding the sword upright before him, between the two governors. 15. And when the King is come into the hall, and beholdeth the Esquire ready to receive his. high order, and temporal dignity; he shall ask for the sword and spurs, which the chamber lain shall take from the youth, and shew to the King. And, thereupon, the King, taking the right. spur, shall deliver it to the most noble and gentle person there, and shall say to him, " Put this upon the Esquire's heel ; " and he, kneeling on One knee, must take the Esquire by the right leg, and, putting his foot on his own knee, is to fasten the spur upon the right heel of the Esquire ; and then, making a cross upon the Esquire's knee, shall kiss him : which being done, another Knight must come, and put on his left, spur, in like manner. And then shall the King, of his great favour, take the sword, and gird the Esquire therewith : whereupon the Esquire is to lift up his arms, holding his hands together, and the gloves betwixt his thumbs and fingers. 16. And the King, putting his own arms about the Esquire's neck, shall say, " Be thou a good Knight ;" and afterwards kiss him. Then are the antient Knights to conduct this new Knight to the chapel, with much musick, even to the high altar, and there he shall kneel ; and; putting his right hand upon the altar, is to promise to maintain the rights of holy Church^ .during his whole life. , 17. And then he shall ungird himself of his sword, and, with great devotion to God and holy Church, offer it there ; praying unto God, and all his Saints,: that he may keep that or der which he hath so taken, even to the end. All which being accomplished, he is to take a draught of wine. * «& ' 18. And, at his going out of the chapel, the King's master-cook, beirig ready to take off his spurs for his own fee, shall say, " I, the. King's master-cook, am come to receive your spurs for my fee ; and if you do any thing contrary to the order of Knighthood, (which, God forbid i) I shall hack your spurs from your heels. " 19. After this, the Knights must conduct him again into the hall, where he shall sit the first at the Knights' table, and the Knights about him ; himself to be served as the other Knights are ; but he must neither eat nor drink at the table, nor spit, nor look about him upwards nor downwards, more than a bride. And this being done; one of his governors' having a handkerchief in his hand, shall hold it before his face when he is to, spit. And when the King is risen from his table, and gone into his chamber, then shall the new Knight be conducted, with great store of Knights and minstrels proceeding before hini, unto his own cham ber ; and, at his entrance, the Knights an minstrels sliall take leave of him, and go to dinner 20. And the Knights being thus gone, the chamber-door shall be fastened, and the new Knight bedi srobed of his attire, which is to be given to the Kings of Arms, in case they be there present; and if not, then to the other heralds, if they be there ; otherwise, to the minv The Mariner of creating Knights of the, Bath? $c. 56 1. Strels, together with a mark of silver, if he be a Knight- Batchelor ; if a Baron, double to that ; if an Earl, or of a superior rank, double thereto : and the russet night-cap must be given the Watch, or else a noble. 2 1 . Then is he to be clothed again with a blue robe, the sleeves whereof to be straight, shaped after the fashion of a priest's, and upon his left shoulder, to have a lace of white silk, . hanging. And he shall wear that lace upon all his garments, from that day forwards, until he hath gained some honour or renown by arms ; and is registered of as high record, as the Nobles, Knights, Esquires, and Heralds of Arms; and be renowned for some feats of arms, v as aforesaid ; or that some great prince, or most noble lady, can cut that lace from his shoulder, saying ; " Sir ! we have heard so much of the true renown concerning your honour, t which you have done in divers parts, to the great fame of chivalry, as to yourself, and of him, that made you a Knight;,that it is meet this lace betaken from you." 22. After dinner, the Knights of honour and Gentlemen must come to the Knight, and conduct him into the presence of the King, the Esquire's governors going before him ; where, , he is to say, " Right noble and renowned Sir ! I do, in all that I can, give you thanks for these honours, courtesies, and bounty, which you have vouchsafed to me : " and, having so said, shall take leave of the King. 23. Then are the Esquire's governors to take leave of this their master, saying, " Sir, vye have, according to the King's command, and as we were obliged, done what we can ; but if through negligence, we have in aught displeased you, or by any thing we have done amiss at this time, we desire pardon of you for it. And on the other side, Sir, as right is, and accord ing to the customs of* the court, and antient kingdoms ; we do require our robes and fees, as the King's Esquires, Companions to Batchelors, and other Lords." The Form of his Majesty's Summons, in a Letter from the Lord Chamberlain, to the several Persons of Honour, who are to be created Knights of the Bath. SIR, After my hearty commendation to. you, WHEREAS his Majesty hath appointed the Twenty-third day of April next, for his so lemn coronation at Westminster, and the day before, to proceed publickly through the city of London, to his palace at Whitehall ; and, according to the antient custom used by his Royal Predecessors, his Majesty is graciously pleased to advance certain of his Nobility and princi pal Gentry, into the Noble Order of the Bath, to attend him in those great solemnities ; and, amongst others, hath vouchsafed to nominate you to be one of that number. These are, therefore, to will and require you, in his Majesty's name, to make your appearance at his Majesty's palace at Westminster, upon Thursday in the afternoon, being the eighteenth of April next ; furnished and appointed, as in such cases appertained ; there to begin the usual ceremony, and the next day to receive the said Order of Knighthood of the Bath, from his Majesty's hands. Hereof you are not to fail. And so I bid you heartily farewell. White-Hall, Your very affectionate friend, March 1, 1660. MANCHESTER. The Names of some of those honourable Persons, zvho are to be created Knights of the Bath; at the Coronation of his Majesty, April %3, 1661. The Lord Richard Butler, son to the Lord Mr. Veere Vane, second son to the Earl of Marquis of Ormond. Westmoreland. Mr. Hyde, son to the Lord Chancellor. Mr. Bellasis, son of the Lord Bellasis. Mr. Egerton, son to the Earl of Bridgwater. Mr. Capell, Brother to the Earl of Essex. Mr. Berkley, son to the Lord Berkley, Mr. Francis Vane, son of Sir Francis Vane. Mr. Peregrin Barty, second son to the Earl Mr. Henry Vane, son of George Vane, Esq. of. Lindsey. Mr. Edward Hungerford, of Earley Castle. vol. i. "4-c 562 An Inquiry into the Causes of our Naval Miscarriages, SCc. Mr. Monson, son of Sir John Monson, Knight kirk, eldest son of Sir Robert Harley, of the Bath. late Knight of the Bath. Mr. Charles Frenaman, whose noble father Mr. Alexander Popham. was slain at Bevis. * Colonel Richard Ingoldsby. Mr. Nicholas Slannying, son of that loyal Mr. George Browne. ' subject, Sir Nicholas Slannying, slain at Mr. Bourchier Wray, son of Sir Chichester Bristol, 26 July, 1643. Wray. Mr. Thomas Fanshaw, son of Sir Thomas Mr. Francis Godolphin. Fanshaw. Sir Thomas Trevor. Mr. Edward Wise. Mr. Simon Leech. Mr. Carr Scroop, grandson tp the valiant Sir Mr. John Bramston, son of Sir John George Scroop, who received so many Bramston, late Lord Chief Justice. wounds in the royal cause at Edge-hill. Mr. Wise. Mr. Butler. Mr. George Freeman, son of Sir Ralph Colonel Edward Harley, Governor of Dun- Freeman. An Inquiry into the Causes of our Naval Miscarriages : With some Thoughts on the Interest of this Nation, as to a Naval War, and of the only true Way of Manning the Fleet. De dicated to the Parliament of Great Britain . . [From the Second Edition in Quarto, containing Thirty-seven Pages, printed at London, 170?.] May it please your Honours : If Croesus's dumb son could speak, when he saw the knife at his father's throat ; -I hope I may be justified, when I plead in behalf of my country, our common mother, whose re putation, wealth, and security^ are now so higlily concerned. How it comes to pass, I need not say ; but it is a melancholy reflection to consider, that from the beginning of the war with France in King William's reign,, to this day, a naval war seems to have been neglected, and accourited only a thing by the bye ; and a war by land, carried on in foreign countries, has been regarded as our principal business, though nature and reason plainly dictate, the contrary. Nature has assigned us an island, and kind Providence furnished us with materials to build ships, and with men of able bodies and stout hearts to man them; nor has the Divine Goodness been wanting to supply us with navigable rivers, and safe harbours : by which we may be enabled to defend ourselves, and annoy our enemies. By all this it is plain, we have had it in our power, by a right management of our Fleet, to reduce our common enemy of France ; and to have had the whole trade of the Spanish West-Indies, as the reward of the blood and treasure we have expended in defence of our own, and the liberties of Christendom. It has been in our power, not only to seize the French colonies in North and'South America; but to establish our trade in the Spanish West-Indies, beyond whatever our ancestors could do. We have been engaged iri defence of the monarchy of Spain, from the usurpations of France ; and this intitled us tp fix a place of arms in any part of their dominions, as would best suit such a design. It is therefore strange, that when our attempt upon Cales miscarried (the reason of which js still a mystery) An Inquiry into the Causes of our Naval Miscarriages, Kc. 563 we did not immediately sail up the Streights, and take possession of Port Mahone in Minor ca, and make it a harbour for our fleet, a magazine for our naval stores, for careening and refitting our men of war ; as we did in the reign of King Charles the Second, during our wars against Algiers. This neglect deserves so much the more inquiry, that it is common for those who design an invasion, to secure a place of arms and retreat in the country they invade, without which an invasion seldom proves successful ; for, if there be no such place, the invaders by a cross accident may be left to the mercy of the invaded, or obliged to return home in winter, and lose all the advantages gained during the summer. Had we possessed Port Mahone, and kept a fleet there superior to the French, it would natu rally have had the following consequences : 1. We might have prevented their sending forces to Italy by sea, which would soon have put an end to the war in that country ; and, having no way to recruit their troops there, they must have surrendered prisoners of war. 2. We should have ruined the trade of Marseilles with the Italians, Spaniards, and Turks ; and not only have secured, but considerably advanced our own trade in the Mediter ranean. 3. The isle of Majorca would have declared immediately for the Emperor, as tbey have since ; and the inhabitants, who are accounted the best seamen, for privateers, of any in the Streights, would have been of considerable use to us, having a natural aversion to the French and Gastilians. 4. When Naples, Sicily, and Sardinia had seen us masters of the Mediterranean, in winter as well as summer, they would have cast off the French yoke, on our sending a squadron to visit their coasts, whereby King Charles might easily have taken possession by land ; and, consequently, the charge and hazard of this voyage, which we were put to, had been prevented. 5. We should have had a considerable trade with the Spaniards, even before they had been reduced ; by means of neutral ships fetching our goods from Port Mahone, and bringing Spanish goods thither for us to carry home. 6. When the rovers of Barbary had once found us masters of those seas, they must have given over their piracies, and applied to a fair way of trading; by which we should have en larged our trade to Barbary, to our great advantage. 7. By being masters of Port Mahone, we should naturally become guararitees of all treaties betwixt the Turks and any Christian nation : for the Turks, seeing us sovereigns in those seas, would never find it their interest to break treaties. The French first acquired their reputation at the Ottoman Porte, by pretending to be sovereigns of the Mediterra nean : but, since the Turks have been partly undeceived, by' seeing us mastersof that sea in the summer season, the French have sunk, at least, one half, at the Ottoman court ; which clearly proves they must have sunk entirely, had welcept a fleet all the year in the Streights. 8. We should have saved the lives and ships lost in the great storm, had we wintered in Port Mahone ; and likewise prevented the vast charge of making good those ships, and re pairing the damage others have sustained, by coming home late in tempestuous seasons: to say nothing of our great loss of seamen, occasioned by want of good provisions, and particularly of clothes, on returning home from a hot country in the winter season. How it may fare with Sir Cloudesley Shovel l, God only knows ; but a great many hearts ake •for him, considering how indifferently he was provided when he came from before Thoulon ' He was lost on the banks of Scilly> near the Land's End, on his return to England. -564 An Inquiry into the Causes of our Naval Miscarriages, $c. and that it is now a season of long nights* subject to stormy and foggy weather; whereas, had Port Mahone been in our hands* we might have been supplied with all necessary stores both from Africa and Europe. i). To mention no more, had we been masters of Port Mahone, we might have maintained our fleet in the Streights with little or no expence to ourselves ; by obliging the Pope, Princes, and States of Italy, to contribute towards their maintenance. This would have been but, reasonable, considering we prevented their falling under the French yoke, which all of them in theirturns have found unsupportable. In this case, it had been just, that the court of Rome, who have fomented all the wars which now destroy Christendom, should have borne the greatest share. And had the Pope pretended his apostolical trea sure was low ; it is known he can raise money to carry on a war against us, whom he calls hereticks, and for that end can suppress monasteries; which therefore would bemore reasonable he should do now, to help to maintain those who preserve his dominions from being swallowed up by the power of France. But had he proved stubborn, we could soon have made him comply, by blocking up the mouth of the Tiber, and bombarding Ancona and Civita Vecchia, For, as Algernon Sidney2 says, 'Rome was more afraid ' of Blake, and his fleet, than they had been of the great King of Sweden, when ready « to invade Italy with a hundred thousand men.' About which time, the Duke of Flo rence, by Blake's means, was glad to pay six hundred thousand scudis for our friendship. Another omission, in the beginning of the war, was our hot having ten or twelve meri of war constantly cruizing in the latitude of Martinico, and Guardalupa; which would have cut off their communication of supplies from France, and soon have obliged those islands to surrender fo us. We might likewise, with five or six men of war, two or three bomb-vessels, and two or three thousand men, not only have recovered' Placentia, which is our own by right, and have seized the great fleet of ships, commonly there to catch fish in the summer; but like wise, by the assistance of New England and New York, have subdued Canada, the adr vantage of which is inexpressible; for, by this means all North America, the fishery and fur trade, must have entirely come into our hands : and this would have occasioned a yast consumption of our own manufactures and product, especially- of our coarsest woollen cloth, which takes up the greatest, part of our wool. On the whole, this must soon have occasioned business for two or three hundred sail of ships more than ever we had to that part of the world ; the profit and advantage of which would much exceed that of our East-India trade, and be a peculiar advantage to the western parts of this nation. Another omission, at the beginning of this war, was our neglecting to send a strong squadron to the Bahama Islands, to intercept the Spanish galleons, and prevent the landing the plate at Vigo; which would have been twenty times more advantageous, than our ac, cidental rencounter at that place. The happy situation of Jamaica, and our noble settlement upon it, enables us to make our selves sovereigns of those seas ; which would soon put an end to our enemy's trade with New Spain, and make all that profitable trade our own. The last omission I shall take notice of; was our not sending two or three men of war with some merchant-ships, into the South-Seas, at the beginning of the war; by which we had made ourselves masters of those seas, and put the Spaniards there on a willing necessity of trading with us ; and consequently have brought several millions pf gold and silver into this nation, which have been carried into France. * piscourses of fJovernmeut, second edition, p. 199,, An Inquiry into the Causes of our Naval Miscarriages, $c. 505 Whatever might have been said against our making war with Spain at first, when they had done us no harm, and of the provocation they had received by the treaty of partition, which was a direct breach of the grand alliance in 1689, and declared by the Commons of England to be in its nature, unjust : or whatever the Spaniards might then plead from natural right, to choose what prince they please upon the failure of a royal family; it is plain now, that our assisting the House of Austria to maintain King Charles in the pos session of those dominions, to which he has been legally called by the Lords of the soil, is just and equitable, on that consideration, as well as by virtue of the said grand alliance. It is upon your most august, assembly, that the eyes not only of Great Britain, but of all Europe, are fixed, as from whom they must expect their fate ; for it is in your power, by God's blessing, in conjunction with her Majesty, to recover this nation, and the whole confederacy, from their weak and languishing state, and to restore them to perfect health and vigour, by a strong offensive naval war. The radicated distempers, under which our strength, is consumed, proceed chiefly from these two causes : I . That in some late reigns, our parliaments vi ere influenced by places and pensions. By this means, in Charles the Second's reign, they sat still, and suffered that luxurious mo narch to assist France, in enslaving the rest of Europe ; and, in a later reign, were taken off from that natural affection and duty they owed to their country, and wholly drowned in covetousness : so that, instead of contriving how to better the nation by the happy revolution, their chief care was to get money for themselves, and to bring in others to share in the bribery, that they might form a party strong enough to prevent the ' root of all evils' being punished as a crime. Thus our naval affairs lay neglected, and nothing was done concerning them, but taking away six-pence per month from the poor seamen who had too little before. However, it had this effect, that it occasioned the, erecting a new office, which gave rise to several new places, to gratify those who would blindly pursue the measures of the court. What great debts the managers then run the nation into, are too sensibly felt to be denied ; and the scandalous peace they suffered to be made, ought not to be mentioned, were it known only to ourselves. From all which it is plain, that it is impossible for us to thrive when our parliaments are influenced by places and pensions ; for, in that case, be the ministry and the power of the parliament in the. . hands of what party soever, it is all one. It was a blessing more peculiar to Queen Elizabeth's reign, than to any other we can find almost in our history: that our ministry and court pursued the interest of their country, as knowing their own was thereby best secured. The second cause of our distempers was the cramping of the executive power, and not al lowing it the inherent right of all government to employ whom they think fit to serve them. Thus the administration is engrossed by a party, and the subjects as well as the Prince deprived of their natural right. This has been the effect of excluding men from civil employments by religious tests, and making the conscience accountable to man, which has no sovereign but God ; and is such a hardship upon the Dissenters in this nation, as some Popish countries are not guilty of, where Protestants enjoy this right. It is well known, that in the arbitrary" government of France, the Protestants of that nation were capable of the greatest posts, till the edict of Nants was revoked. And, according to tbe treaty of Westphalia, in tliose Popish parts of the Empire3 where the Pro testants had the liberty of their religion, they were made capable of publick employments; 3 Vid. the Elector Palatine's declaration in favour of his Protestant subjects, published by A. Baldwin ; and 'ihe King of Sweden's proceedings, in relation to' Silesia. 566 An Inquiry into the Causes of our Naval Miscarriages, §c. and what the Papists abroad and the high-fliers at home have got by pursuing the con trary measures, is of so little value, that they have no need io boast, of it. Besides the example of most other nations, which is against us, it is a prostitution of the most sacred ordinance of religion to a worldly end, for which Christ never appointed it. His command was, ' To do it in remembrance of him;' and we no where .find he .has required it to be done, in order to get money or a place. I think, upon casting up our accounts, it will not appear our affairs have prospered better than they did before the , enacting that test ; and I wish the profanation of so solemn an ordinance be not one of the procuring causes of our great losses, by an infatuation which seems to -be judicial. The design of the following sheets is to propose an easy, safe, and speedy method, for re dressing such disorders m our naval management, and to prevent the like for time to come : and, since they have all been approved by experience, it is hoped they will be the more taken notice of. Nothing bat integrity, courage, and diligence, with the blessing of God ; can recover our naval glory, and make it the terror of other nations, and the security of our own, as formerly. Then we should quickly be able to reduce France to reason, which can never be effected without destroying its naval force ; and how that can be done by a land war only; I am no more able to comprehend, than how tlie sea- officers in a late reign, voting for a standing army, were like to maintain tlie dominion of the sea. And that God may direct your august assembly in the prosecution of that noble design, shall ever be my desire, as it is that of all the honest people of Great Britain. 24th October, 1707". The Way to retrieve the Glory of the English Arms by Sea, as it is done by Land, 8Cc. SIR, SINCE her Majesty's4 happy accession to the throne, the reputation of the English arms, by land, is advanced to so high a pitch in the world, by the conduct of her wise and brave Generals, who have revived the old English way of fighting; that there seems to be nothing wanting to complete our military glory, and to make it equal to that of the Greeks and Romans; but a rectification of those things, which have hitherto obstructed our being equally glorious in our naval achievements ; for which our situation, genius, and materials, give us the advantage over all the people of the world. Therefore, Sir, in order to retrieve our honour that way, aS effectually as we have done the honour of our arms by land, I presume to sollicit your advice; whem I know to be a person of consummate experience in those matters, and of unquestionable zeal and affection for your Queen and country. The occasion of my giving you the trouble is this: some worthjr gentlemen of our house have under consideration, how to man our fleet with less trouble and inconvenience than has been done since the year 1660. As to which our mOst sensible members are at some loss, considering that the measures taken for this end, since that period, have most of them proved ineffectual ; and particularly that the barbarOus method of pressing has been far from answering the end, as it is arbitrary, illegal, and in consistent with the liberty of the subject ; upon which we in England have always valued ourselves. Besides, it is no inconsiderable objection to this method, that it exposes us, of revolution-principles, to the reproach of those who are enemies to our constitution. An instance of which be pleased to take, as follows : Being the other day at the water-side, I saw a press-gang hauling and dragging a man in a most barbarous manner, in order to send him on board a press-ketch. When 1 came* up, I found him to be a- citizen of substance, and interposed in his behalf ; for which, the 4 Queen Anne. An Inquiry into the Causes of our Naval Miscarriages, pect a fair hearing, and impartial justice ; without being brow-beaten, hectored, and tricked out of their rights, which they so often complain is their hard lot elsewhere. This would quickly retrieve the loss of our trade and honour; and humble France effec tually ; which 1 am afraid we shall scarce be able to do, notwithstanding our glorious, suc cesses by landj until we have utterly destroyed, or at least broke their naval power ; which, in all probability, had been broken ere novv, and the war brought to a happy conclusion, but for our naval mismanagements above-mentioned, and others of the like nature. I should think, Sir, that nothing can better deserve the inquiry of the Commons of England, than how it comes to pass, that we and Holland, the two greatest maritime powers of the> World, have been so long in confederacy, yet so many of our American settlements have been ruined by the French ; and the rest of our valuable plantations there are exposed to coriti-. nual danger, by that same enemy, whom for several years we have run down by land, and to; whom we are sO much superior at sea ? It is really a surprise to every thinking man, that we, have not been able hitherto to prevent the French King's benig master of the treasures of the West Indies, and to stop his bringing home their plate continually to his own country;. while we ourselves are iri such want of bullion, that we are forced to melt down vast quantities of our current money. •Had any man pretended to foretel twenty years ago, that England and Holland should be> in war with France and Spain, and not be able in a course of fifteen or sixteen years' war to. prevent such losses as both of us have had by sea, arid in our plantations by the naval pdfcver of France; nor to make Ourselves so much masters at sea, as to hinder their con- tiuual supplies of money from the West Indies, while we ourselves are in such want of it :i I say, any man, that should have pretended to foretel this, would have been looked upon as a false prophet, a brain-sick enthusiast, void of all reason. Nor would he have been less ri diculed and despised, who should have ventured to say, that two such wise and warlike na-. tions could have failed of effectual measures, to prevent such a bloody, lasting, and expensive war by land, when it was in their power to have brought it to a short conclusion, by a vi gorous war at sea. For had we once seized the French- King's purse in the West Indies,- which one would think we mighteasily have done by our own native strength there, second-, ed by a strdng squadron of men Of war, and a competent number of brisk cruizersupon his trade, he must soon have dropped his sword; for in that case, Spain, instead of being an advantage to him, must have proved such a burthen as would have broke his back. I am the . more confirmed in this opinion, because I have very good information, that, had we but a few* years ago sent a competent squadron, well manned, to the West Indies, we might have easily been masters of Canada; the French plantations there being in so great want, till they were? supplied by a convoy of about sixty sail, that they could not have avoided submitting to us ; and by that meansfwe should have effectually secured our own plantations in -Northern America : whereas now, from memorials and other papers that I have seen by men who are 570 A71 Inquiry into the Causes of our Naval Miscarriages, Kc. concerned to understand the state of that country, it appears that we are still in danger of greater losses in those parts, than any we have yet sustained. - There is one thing more I cannot but take notice of, as the result of our want of seamen, occasioned by the mismanagements abovementioned ; and that is, that many times our Josses by storms at sea, proceed from want of convoys in due time. And thusit happens, that our Virginia and Barbadoes fleets, which in time of peace used to come regularly home in July, August, or September ; now, for want of convoys in due time, do often make it September or October before they set out from thence, and are by consequence exposed to the tempests of the season. Many times our merchant fleets outward-bound, also, lose their seasons and markets for want of convoys ; which is not only a 'great loss to our merchants' and tradesmen, but also to the government, who lose in proportion of their customs, what the merchants lose in trade. Though merchants and other private adventurers may be under difficulties, and insuper able discouragements, in representing those things to such persons as they think capable to give them ease and redress ; the Commons of England can never be under such circumstances, as to make it inconvenient or unsafe for them to make due inquiries into the cause of such misfortunes, and to advise to such methods as may prevent the like in time to come. Whatever views others may have in prolonging a war, it is the interest of the people of England, whose representatives you are, to bring it to a speedy and honourable conclusion. And I think it is plain, that the reducing of the Spanish West Indies to the obedience of King Charles9 would be the speediest, as well as the most effectual way of doing it. This would give us, at the same rime, an opportunity of enlarging our trade in those parts, and of get ting some convenient ports to secure it ; which by the articles of the treaty 1Q, we are allowed to retain, if we take them Out of the hands of the French ; and this is the least the Spaniards ought to grant us, in consideration of the blood and treasure we have spent on their account. Nor is there any, reason why we should not, rather be entrusted tb cOnvey and bring home their plate, to be made use of for our mutual wealth and defence, than that it- should be suffered to come under the French King's management, to be made use of against us both. I know it is objected by some, that this would give umbrage to the Spaniards, and increase the aversion of. that country against the House of Austria. But this can have no weight with ariy man of thought; for to suffer the treasures of the West Indies to continue in the French King's power, is the most effectual disservice that can be done, not only to the House of Austria, but to all Europe ; nor is there any more reason that the Spaniards of King Charles's party should receive umbrage at having their West Indies under the management and protection of us and the Dutch, during the war; than those of the Duke of Anion's " party do at the French King's having the management and protection of it at present ; or, if both of them be jealous at it, there is rio cause to be given why we should regard the one more than he does the other. The case being thus, Sir, I hope that you and our other patriots will take it into con sideration ; and since we have already contributed so much towards-the security of the United Provinces, by procuring them a good frontier, and'have likewise done so much for the Em pire; it would seem but reasonable that we should think of doing something that may be of advantage to ourselves, with relation to our trade, lest it take another channel; and so we, who have done most of any of the allies, should also come to suffer more than any of them by this long and expensive war. This is the more reasonable, because our allies the Dutch are very careful of their trade and maintain an advantageous commerce with the French, notwithstanding the war ; and like wise with the Spanish, West-Indies by way of Curassaw ; so that they have brought home double the plate from thence since'the war, that they did in time of peace, whereas we have brought home far less. And, on this occasion, I cannot but think the Spaniards of King Charles's party might easily be induced to grant us and the Dutch the same conditions of trade » The Emperor, who laid claim to the Crown of Spain ; see above, page 202. " With the said King Charles the Fifth. •' Afterwards Philip King of Spain. Postscript. '577 to the Spanish dominions ; exclusive of all others, that the Marquis de Bergarnanero offered us in King Charles the Second's reign, as has beenmentioned already, ;y , I am not of capacity to judge,whether it be absolutely necessary, in order to carry on the war in Spain and the West-Indies, that we should diminish the number of our forces hvthe Ne therlands : but, according to my poor way pf reasoning, I should think if the- Emperor would redress-, the grievances of the Hungarians,1 and persuade the other Popish qsrhices of the Empire to redress the grievances, ofthe German Protestants; our allies in Germany and the Netherlands might find the French employment enough on that. side, and leave us and the Dutch with part of our fleet ahd forces to manage the war in Spain and the.-: West-Indies. And since both of them require a naval force, we should have the money for their provisions and pay circulate among ourselves ; whereas vast sums of our money are now spent by our army beyond the sea to the enriching of our allies, while we ourselves are impoverished. We should also, by this means, recover the plantations we have lost, secure those that are in danger, deprive the French of theirs, and retrieve our New-found-Land fishery, which would be a constant nursery for seamen, and recover our trade to the Streights* &c. that depended upon it.' This, Sir, in my humble opinion, would be a speedy and effectual way to retrieve our na val glory- and trade, and to humble France, so as to put it out of their.power to'impose the St. Germains family 12 upon us, and enslave Europe ; which is the chief design of the war. But I am afraid we shall befar from obtaining it by a land war only, while the French King is master ofthe Spanish West-Indies* of sueh a naval force* of so good a trade; of such large dominions, secured by strong frontier garrisons, and of such an absolute power over his subjects. I shall conclude with this observation, that; since we are in an island, it, ought to be our principal care to be always in a condition to man our fleet well, and betimes ; as it ought to be that of governments on the continent to be always in a condition to man and provide well their frontier towns ; because the neglect of the one may be as fatal to us, as the neglect of the other to them. And, since our situation is so happy as to make us need no standing army in time of peace, it would seem to be our interest to enlarge and advance our trade, so as we may always have^a competent numberof seamen in readiness to man our fleet, whenever occasion requires it. .u ' ; ' ] ''J : tM" This is what I have to suggest about retrieving our naval glory; arid if it may be of any use to the publick, it is wholly due to yOu who imposed this task upon me : only,T beg your pardon,, that I could not send it time enough for you to make use of last year, but, I hope, it may do as well this, lam, Sir, •>, ; .. January 4, 1706. Your humble servant. POSTSCRIPT. SIR, • .-..;¦ ¦ - •-¦*¦ ;/•.<- -•¦ • v I have been longer than I intended, but hope you will excuse me, because you know when. once I am engagedin this subject,. I cannot tellhowrto ,1 eave it. But to make the thing as easy as possible to yourself, and others to whom you. may impart this, I shall make a brief capitulation of the whole, that you may have the substance of what I have said at one 1. Take care to reform the morals of your officers and seamen, according to the methods above-mentionedy lest otherwise heaven as well as. the common enemy be engaged, against you; .and,', though there was nothing in.this,, youisje there are political reasons,., why out officers and seamen ought to be sober arid regular in their conversation. . r , "Those who claimed the Crown of Great-Britain, by hereditary tight, from King; James the, Second, wM resided at St. Germains. VOL.1. • 4e • ¦ ' 578 Postscript. 2. Be sure, that the punishments on board the fleet be such as may convince the seamen of the odiousness of their crimes, and not such as may debase their spirits, or make them think that the officers seek to gratify their own brutish revenge, contemn their fellow-crea tures and subjects, usurp a legislative power, or invade Magna Charta, and the birth-right of Englishmen. 3. Take care, their provisions be good and plentiful ; that there4)e no connivance at frauds to the prejudice of the seamen:; and let them be kept sweet and clean, carefully looked after, when sick, and in all other respects used kindly. 4. Let them be duly paid, when they come home, that they may have some comfortable enjoyment of themselves, with their wives, relations, and friends; and that the money we pay them, may circulate among ourselves. Let their short allowance, and prize-money, be duly paid, at the same time with their wages ; and their plunder be duly shared among them. o\ Let the quarters of the sick and wounded be duly paid ; and let their doctors and sur geons, on board or a-shore, be skilful mid careful, and furnished with good medicines. 6. Take care that men be advanced, according to their merit ; and let not seniority with out other qualifications, or letters of recommendation, and money or interest, be the ordinary steps to advancement. And to this end, let a list of all those who behave themselves well on any occasion, be carefully kept ; and at the end of every expedition laid before the Prince and Parliament. 7. Let seamen's wages be raised according to the present proportion of the wages of ser vants and labourers, as was the old commendable practice : for it is a disgrace to the govern ment, that private persons should pay and reward better than they. 8. Let there be money always at the pay-office to satisfy the executors of those who die in the'service, or those who have lawful powers to receive the pay of such as have beeri turned over into other ships, before the ships, they belonged to, were paid : and let an end for ever be put to that mischievous practice of calls and recalls, in attending upon which, many have spent the greatest part of their pay before they received it. 9. In a word, let all those abuses introduced into the management of our fleet, since the restoration, be inquired into and redressed ; and let commissions be given to such as have ¦been bred to navigation, and have a good repute among the mariners. For such officers will be able to raise most of their men by their own reputation. These methods will save many thousands of pounds to the nation, that are spent by press ings, press-ketches, and in provisions and Wages to keep men on board. ships, that are laid up, during the winter, to prevent their running away. Had these things been put in practice at the beginning of this war, there had been no complaint for want of seamen; the decay that has' since happened in our trade and manu factories (the natural consequences of war) would have brought more into the service, than we should have heeded ; and when the war had been over, and trade restored, those trades men would haye returned from the fleet to their former employments ; which would have pre vented our being overstocked with seamen, for the rest must have been employed by mer chantmen. Before I conclude, I must put you in mind, of what you and I discoursed before the pre sent war was proclaimed, when you asked my thoughts about the great naval expedition we had then in hand. You may remember, I told you, that if it was designed for Spain, my opinion was that we should in the first place seize the Isle of Minorca ; and, by consequence, possess ourselves of the noble port of Mahonu; erect a magazine of naval stores there, and send thither our hulks to careen, as we did in King Charles the Second's time, wheh we had a war with the Algerines, and as we did during the last war at Cales. By having a good fleet, or at least a. strong squadron there all the year, we should have been masters of the Mediterranean, and have prevented the French from sending recruits to " This was done afterwards. Postscript. 579 Italy and Spain. And as the plain resultrof this, the Duke of SavOy had not been reduced to such straits, nor the confederacy obliged to so much expence and danger in sending him relief ; nor had Barcelona, and all the advantages which King Charles gained in Spain, been in so much danger of being lost by the opportunity which the -French had to- attack Barce- loua by sea and land ; in retaking of which they were visibly disappointed by the immediate hand of heaven. Nor should the French, after such a blow as they received there, have been in a condition to march their troopsf round to regain Castile, dispossess our allies: of Madrid, retake Carthagena on the Spanish coast, and Alcantara on the frontiers of Portugal ; to the evident -hazard of drivirig King Charles again out of all those- Spanish dominions, the redu cing of which has cost England so. much Wood and money. Nor should we have been under any necessity of courting the expensive and hitherto almost useless alliance ofthe Portuguese ; but having such a good harbour and place of arms as Port- Mahon, we should quickly have been masters of Majorca, Sardinia, and Sicily ; have reduced Naples to the obedience of King Charles, and obliged the Italian potentates (the Pope not ex cepted) either to come into the alliance, or to pay contributions : which would have prevent ed his visible partiality in favour ofthe House of Bourbon, that has kept the war so long on foot, and has so much endangered the liberty of Europe and the Protestant religion ; and given the French King so fair a chance to destroy our own liberty and religion, by imposing; with the assistance of our male-contents at home, the St. Germains Pretender upon us, and making him real as well as titular King of Great-Britain and Ireland. I shall only add, that had we, according to the maxims of all wise invaders, first secured ourselves of a port or place of arms upon the skirts of their dominions, as we might easily have done by seizing Port-Mahon, we should have prevented the fatal mismanagement ofthe war, in Italy ahd Spain ; where sometimes the French, and sometimes the allies, have had the advantage of one another by a- sudden run, as happens in a game at football; and had we kept that port after the- war was over, which could not well have been denied us; we might have made it a magazine and station for ships, to command the Mediterranean, and protect our Streights trade ; and should thereby have been in a condition, by a naval power (with- ' out incurring any danger from standing armies) to hold the balance of Europe in our hands j which, as it is our natural province, is England's greatest security and glory.' . From all this, Sir, I hope .that you, and the rest of our good patriots, will take care to propose due methods for. retrieving our naval glory, and to see that the war be so carried on, as it may be brought to a speedy and honourable conclusion ; which, in my humble opinion* can never be done, except by our naval force we deprive the French King of the continual supplies of money he has from the West-Indies, or carry the war into his own country. And I think, Sir, it is but reasonable, that having done so much already for the House Of Austria, and our other allies the Dutch, we should now begin to think of doing something for our selves ; that others may not run away with the greatest part of the profit, while we have borne the greatest proportion of the charge of the war. Adieu. 580 A ,PesQription of the famous ]£u)gdom of Macaria; shewing its excellent Government, wherein the Inhabitants live in gfce£t prosperity, Health* >9n4 Happiness ; the. King obeyed, the Nobles honoured, and all good Men respected ; Vice punished, and Vjtrtue rewarded. An Example to pther Na tions: In a Dialogue between a Scholar and a Traveller. [From a dUarto,' containing Fifteen Pages, printed at London, for Francis Constable, Anno 1641.] i, ' , -. t To the high and honourable. Cpurt of \ Parliament f-.^ -..¦-'.- 1 Whereas I am 'confident, that this honourable court will lay the corner-stone Of the world's happiness, before the final recess thereof, I have 'adventured to cast in my widow's mite into the treasury ; not as ah instructor or counsejlor'to this honourable assembly, but have* delivered my conceptions in a fiction,. as a more mannerly way ; having for my .pattern Sir Thomas More, and Sir Francis B^con, once. Lord Chancellor of England : and humbly desire that this honourable assembly w.ill be pleased, to make use pf any , thing therein contained, if ft. may stand with-their pleasures, and tolaugh at; the. rest -as a solace to my mind,,, being inclined, to do good to the publiokj, :So:: humbly craving leave,! that I may take my leave, I rest; this twenty-fifth of October, 1641. Traveller. TTf TELL met, Sir, your habit professes -scholarship t<' are you a graduate? ' TVV Scholar, Yes, Sir, I am a master o^'arts; ';::¦: : , , ,, • Trav: But, what do you>hear in the Exchange ?•'< I conceive -you trade in knowledge,' iand here is no placerto« traffick for it ; neither in the book of.rates* is there any imposition Upon siKh'cOmmodHies.vso tffeat you have no great business ejther, here, -or at theCUstom<- fiohse.-'Come, fetvus.go into the fiejdsfl am«a Traveller, and >ean tell' you strange news, whither you will. .us.' ih i , . ; a ¦ -ijjiii Trav. Well, we will go into Moor-fields and take a turn or two; there we shall be out of this noise and throng of people. Schol. Agreed ; but, as we go, what good news do you hear of the parliament ? Trav. I hear that they are generally bent to make a good reformation ; but that they have some stops and hindrances, so that they cannot make such quick dispatch as they ' This was the parliament which met at Westminster, on the third of November, 1640, and having chosen Mr. Lenthall their Speaker, fell immediately upon their grievances, as ship-money, innovations in religion, &c. to accuse Mr. Secretary Windebank, of being a great promoter of popery; to vote Archbishop Laud'a traitor and the author of all the troubles -in Scotland ; to impeach the Lord Strafford of high treason, and to declare the Lord Keeper Finch to be a traitor. And instead of "driving out the Scots, who had invaded -England with a powerful army, and offered to put themselves under the protection of the French King, suffered ihem to remain in a body in the north of England, advanced them three hundred tlrousand pounds, and obliged.the King to disband his army, and to leave himself and kingdom to the mercy of those rebels. Hence We may gather the intention of this little Treatise, which, composed by way of novel, was designed to intimate a new model of government therein specified, as the properest means to reconcile the destructive breach, that then was beginning to appear between the King and his parliament. , . *" A Description of the famous Kingdom of Macaria. 581 would : and if any experience, which I have learned in my long travels, may stand them in stead, I woqld willingly impart it for the publick good. Schol. I like that well : I pray you declare some good experience, that I may say that I have gained, something by the company pf travellers. " ¦> :.; Trav. In a kingdom called Macaria, the king and the governors do, live in great honour and riches,- and the people do live in great plenty, prosperity, health, peace; and happiness; and ha^e not half so much trouble as they have jn tbiese European countries, v; « Sohdl.. That seemeth to me impossible. You travellers, must take heed of two things prhv cipally in your relations ; first, That yoU say nothing that is generally deemed impossible ; secondly, That your relation hath no contradiction in it, or else all men will think that you make use of the traveller's privilege, to wit, ' to lye by authority.' ' ¦¦¦•¦* ^- '<'- ,Trav. If I could change all th© minds in England,, as easily as I suppose I shall change yours, this kingdom would be presently like, to it. '..When you hear tbemanner of their go vernment; you will deem it to be very .possible ¦; and, withal, Very easy. A. .- -.-' SchoL I pray you, Sir, declare the manner of their government; for I ihintelbng till I> hear it. ¦;:¦<: '"''' *H'?! ' Vs . Trav. As for brevity in discourse, I shall answer yOur desire.. They have a great council, like to the parliament of England; .but it sitteth once in a year for a short space; and1 they hear ho complaints against any but .ministers of state, judgesi and officers.; 'those they trouHoe soundly, if there be cause. Besides, they have five Uhder-cOuncilSjHo wit, f r * A Council of Husbandry. A Council, of Fishings A Council of Trade by Land. A -Council of Trade by Sea. A Council, for new Plantations. -'¦¦ -MV.r These sit once a year, for a short space',; and have power to hear and determine, and to punish malefactors severely, and to reward benefactors honourably, ahd to make laew lawsj not repugnant to the laws of the great council, for the whple kingdom ; like as court-' leetsand corporations have, within their own precincts and liberties inTLhgfemd. Schol. I pray you, Sir, declare some of the principal laws made by those councils; Trav. The Council of Husbandry hath ordered, that the twentieth part of every man's goods, that dieth, shall be employed. about the improving of lands, and making highways fair* > and hridges oyer rivers; by whichmeans the whole kingdom is ^become like to a fruitful garden, the highways are paved, and are as fair as the streets of a city ; and, as for bridges over rivers, they are. so high,, that none are ever drowned in their travels. -•¦ Also, they.have esjiabhshed. a law, that if any man holdeth more land than he is able to improve to the utmost, he shall be admonished,, first,, of the great hindrance which it doeth to the commonwealth; secondly, of the prejudice to himself; and if he do not amend his husbandry within a year's space, there js a penalty set upon him, which is yearly, doubled; till his lands. be forfeited, and he .banished oUt . of the kingdom, as an ehemy to the: com monwealth. - <':'''-- '.'¦"'• '"'¦;'• ' . r .. ; In the Council of Fishing, there are laws. established, whereby immense riches are yearly drawn out ef the ocean. ... . > - -,~ ^ - Trav. They are all of approved ability in human learning, before they take in hand that function; and then they have- such rules, that they need np considerable study toac* complish all. knowledge fit for divines, by reason that there is no diversity of opinions amongst them. . '-¦ . Schol. How can that be ? Trav. Very easily ; for they have a law, that if any divine- shall publish a new opinion. to the common people, he shall be accounted a disturber of the publick peace, and shall suffer- death for it... Schol. But that is the way to keepthem in error perpetually, if they- be once in it. Trav. You are deceived ;: for if any one hath conceived a new opinion, he is allowed every year freely to dispute it before the great council ; if he overcome his adversaries, or such as are appointed to be opponents, then it is generally received for truth; if he be overcome, then it is declared to be false. Schol. It seemeth that they are Christians by your relation of the parochial ministers; but whether are they Protestants or Papists ? Tray. Their religion consists, not in taking notice of several opinions and sects, but is made lip of infallible tenets, which may be- proved by invincible arguments, and such as will abide the grand test of extreme dispute; by which means none have power to stir up schisms and heresies; neither are any of their Opinions ridiculous to those who are of con-; trary minds. Schol. But you spoke of great honour, which the governors have in the kingdom of Macaria. ... Trav. They must needs receive great honour of the people, by reason that there is no injustice done, or very seldom ; perhaps once in an age. Schol, But how come they by their great riches which you speak of ?- Trav. It is holden a principal policy in state, to allow to the ministers of state, judges* 2 ' The care both of souls and bodies J A Description of the famous Kingdom of Macaria. 583 and chief officers, great revenues; for that; in case they do not their duty, in looking to the kingdom's safety, for conscience-sake, yet they may do it for fear of losing their own great estates. Schol. But how can the King'of Macaria be so rich as you speak of? Trav. He taketh a strict course that all his crown lands be improved to the Utmost, as forests, parks, chaces, &c. by which means his revenues are so great, that he seldom needeth to put impositions upon his subjects, by reason he hath seldom any wars ; and if there be cause, the subjects are as ready to give, as he to demand ; for they hold it to be a prin cipal policy in state, to keep the King's coffers full, and so full, that it is an astonishment to all invaders. •Schol. But how cometh the King's great honour which you speak of? Trav. Who can but love and honour such a prince, who, in his tender and parental care of the publick good of his loving subjects, useth no pretences for realities, like to some princes, intheir acts of state, edicts, and proclamations ? Schol. But you travellers must take heed of contradictions in your relations; you have affirmed, that the governors in Macaria have not half so much trouble, as they have in these European kingdoms, and yet by your report they have a great council, like to our parliament in England, which sits once a year; besides that, they have five under-councils, which sit once a year; then how cometh this facility in government? Trav. The great council heareth no complaints, but against ministers of state, judges, and chief officers ; these, being-sure to be trounced once a year, do never, or very seldom, offend: so that their meeting is rather a festivity, than a trouble. And as for the judges and chief officers, there is no hope that any man can prevail in his suit by bribery, favour,^ or corrupt dealing ; so that they have few causes to be troubled withal. Schol. I have read over Sir Thomas More's Utopia, and my Lord Bacon's New Atalantis, which he called so, in imitation of Plato's old one ; but none of them giveth me satisfac tion, how the kingdom of England may be happy, so much as thisenemies to themselves and their posterity. Trav. And you may put in, that they are enemies to the King and his posterity, and so, consequently, traitors ; for he that would not have the King's honour and riches to bp ad vanced, and his kingdom to be permanent to him and to his heirs, is a traitor; or pise I know not what a traitor meaneth. Schol. Well, I see that the cause is not in God, but in men's fooleries; that the people Jive in misery in this world, when they may so easily be relieved: I will join my forces with -you, and we will try a conclusion, to make ourselves and posterity to be happy. Trav. Well, what will you do towards the work ? Schol. I have told you before, I will publish it in my next sermon, and I will use means that, in all visitation, and meetings of divines, they may be exhorted to do the like. Trav. This would do the feat, but that the divines in England, having not the skill of physick, are not so highly esteemed, nor bear so great a sway, as they do in Macaria. Schol. Well, what will you do towards the work ? Trav. I will propound a book of husbandry3 to the high court of parliament, whereby the kingdom may maintain double the number of people, which it doth how, and in more plenty and prosperity than now they enjoy. Schol. That is excellent : I cannot conceive, but that, if a kingdom may be improved to maintain twice as many people as it* did before, it is as ^jood as the conquest of another kingdom, as great, if not better. * This alludes toHartlib's Book of Husbandry, which was offered -with such proposals: and printed in 1651. 584 A Description of the famous Kingdom of Macaria; * Trav. Nay, it js certainly better; for when the towns are thin and far distant, ahd the people scarce and poor, the King cannot raise men and money upon any sudden occasiotf,. without great difficulty. Schol. Have you a cOpy of that book of husbandry aboUt you, which is ro he pro>- pounded to the. parliament?, : • - ..< Trav. Yes, here is a copy, peruse it, whilst I go about a little business. .» . . i Well, have you perused my book ? , Schol. Yes, Sir,' and firid that you shew the transmutation of sublunary bodies in such a manner, that any man may. be richthat will be industrious ;, you shew also, -how great cities which formerly devoured the fatness of the kingdom, may yearly make a considerable retri bution without any man's prejudice, and your 'demonsf rations are infallible: this book Will certainly.be highly accepted by the high court of parliament. Trav. Yes, I doubt it not; for I have shewed it to divers parliament-men, who have all promised me fair, as soon as a seasonable time cometh for such .occasions., Schol. Werel a parliament-man, I would labour to have this book to: be dispatched the next thing that is done; for, with all my seven liberal arts I cannot discover hOw any bu siness can be of more .weight than this; whereinthe pUblickgood is so greatly furthered; which to further, we are all bound by the law of God and nature. -,..-. Trav. If this conference be seriously considered of, it is ho laughing matter ; for you hear of the combustions in France, Spain, Germany; and other Christian countries ; you know that' a house, divided against itself cannot stand ;' this may give the Turk an ad vantage, so that England may fear to have him a nearer neighbour than they desire.. Why should not all the inhabitants of, England join with One consent, to make this7 country tO be like to Macaria, that is; numerous in people, rich in treasure and ammunition, that so they may be invincible ? ' -."••¦. i Schol. None but fools or madmen will be against .it : you have changed my mind, ac cording to your former prediction, and I will change as jnahy minds as I can, by the ways formerly mentioned ; and I pray you, that, for a; further, means, this conference may be printed. Trav. Well, it shall be done forthwith. Schol. Bat one thing troubleth me, that many divines are of opinion that no such re formation, as we would have, shall come before" the day of Judgment. Trav. Indeed, there are many divines of that opinion ; but I can shew an hundred texts of Scripture which do plainly provtei that such a reformation shall come before the day of Judgment. I ? - ' .'-¦•,.- . ,-, • , • Schol. Yea, L have, read many plain texts of Scripture to that purpose; but when I searched the Expositors, I found that they did generally expound them mystically. ' Trav. That, is, true': but i worthy St. Jerom, considering that those places Of Scripture would not bear an dllegorical exposition;* said^ thus u Pdssumus, sicut M multi alii, omnia h th°Ugh 1 ValUGd them ab°Ve ^'tffSES or^^^^„n^e!n,UITtha5.il?re,lt,jr addiCtGd t0 ^ exPe»™ents, but how he hath one ^notier g"od g y°U aC<*Uainted with him^ Per»aP* 7°" ™ay do ^.^'¦^k'I haVG aPP°inted a meeting at two ofthe clock this day; I love to dis course with scholars, yet we must part. If you meet me here the next Monday at the" Stanfs of Macaria 7°U S°me m°re °f '^ kWS' CUSt°mS' and mannerS °f the in" Schol. I will not fail to meet you for any -worldly respect; and if I should be sick I would come in a sedan ; I never received such satisfaction and contentment by any discourse in my life : 1 doubt not but we shall obtain our desires, to make England to be like Ma caria ; for which our posterity, which are yet unborn, will fare the better; and, though our neighbour countries are pleased to call the English a dull nation, yet the major part are sensible of their own good, and the good of their posterity, and those will sway the rest; so we and our posterity shall be all happy. A Philosophical and Medicinal Essay of the Waters of Tun- bridge. Written to a Person of Honour; by Pat. Madan, M.D. Temporibits medicinajuvat ; data tempore prodest, Et data non apto tempore lympha nocet. [From a Quarto, containing Twenty-six Pages, printed at London, for the Author, in 1687.] My Lord, IT was your Honour's pleasure to ask my judgment, concerning Tunbridge-waters, be cause I often recommend my patients to theni ; which, in my opinion, are not inferior in medicinal virtues to any Spaw of that kind : for, by their effects, which is an after-de monstration 1, they are impregnated with a chalcanthous or vitriolate juice; which, with its sulphureous particles, irritates and moves the belly to a blackish excretion, ahd by frequent drinking thereof, blackeneth the tongue ; because this member, being of a spongy sub stance, imbibes some sooty sulphureous minims into its porosity, occasioning this tiricture. Through its more subtle piercing chalcanthous spirits, it provokes urine in a plentiful manner. To these is admixed some ferrugineous juice, that contains a great deal of the volatile salt, which is it that is dissolved in the chalybeate wine, now so much in vogue amongst physicians. His aquisferrum inesse videtur in principiis solutis, unde earum vis chalybeata intimitis sanguine permiscetur, &' potentiits morbos expugnat, qudm ferrum quocunque demum arti- fieio nobilitatuni. ' These waters seem to contain iron in its unconcrete and seminal principles, where- ' upon their chalybeate virtue is more entirely mixed with the blood, and more powerfully ' attacks diseases, than iron prepared to the best advantage can.' Dr. Sydenham, 1 Demonstrative d. posteriori. VOL. I. 4 F 586' A Philosophical and Medicinal E§say on the Waters of Tunhridge. ' Mars in itself consists chiefly of salt, sulphur, and earth: it has very little of spirit and - water, and particles of the former elements, especially the sulphureous and saline in th« ' mixed are combined together with earth, remain wholly, fixed; but being loosed and di- ' vided from each other (as in these waters) have a very efficacious energy.' Dr. Willis de Chalybeat is. In them galls shaven or oak-leaves added; or, by pouring to them some infusion of tea made in water, they will become of an atro-purpureous colour ; to which instilling, some drops of spirit of vitriol, or. pouring thereunto some sherry, they become clear again and redintegrate their, pristine colour. On the surface of these waters there is a grey film in the morning ; they have a roughness in the mouth ; with them no arsenical vapours are intermixed, but, void of all noxious quality, are limpid and salutiferous ; many do daily receive benefit by the use of them; wherefore, by. the concurrence2 of these appearance?, they have the ch'aracteristick of a gpod and wholesome Spaw. As for their virtues and properties; in physick, I believe, if there, be, any such remedy. in being as a panpharmacon, or universal remedy, it is here; for even as soap, put to foul linen with water, purgeth and cleansethall filth, and maketh them to, become white again ; so these waters with their saponary and detersive quality clean all the whole microcosm or body of man from all feculency and impurities. Vid. the first region, by stool ; the second, by urine ; the third, by transpiration, sending forth from the center to the circumference many sooty and fetid effluviums, which, in some, colour their shirts blackish : 3an ob servable quantity of this liquid substance, gliding through the inner passages of thebowete, brushes off the peccant humours that stagnate in their proper channels, and roots out the cause and origin .of diseases. The acidulae also dissolve tartarous and viscous matter, and correct the hot indisposition of the liver and kidneys. See the author Fredericus Lossius in Conciliis Medicis. Wherefore the use of these waters has deservedly gained a great esteem and reputation in curing many chronick and 4-ebelIious diseases, which are accounted the shame pf phy sicians ; for they cure, even to a miracle, such as are quite given over by doctors ; they may well be named aqua vitce, or waters of life, because they restore men to life,- and make them live twice : 4to enjoy their former health, is to live again ;J6r sickness, and neutra lity of health, as the Greeks say, is but ^ios.u€in\, ' To live without life;' wherefore s life is not only to live and breathe, but also to have perfect health ; and that is -got here by drinking. Physicians6, when they have tired their miserable afflicted patients with tedious and chargeable courses of physick, (finding all ways else unsuccessful) at last send them to these waters, which they lay hold of, as a sacred anchor; for they are the most efficacious and powerful remedy against the greatest and most inveterate diseases, by the appointment of Almighty God, provided they are made use of in a due and right manner; which the poet expresses in these words : Publica morborum requies, commune meden- ' Diseases publick ease, a common heal, turn ' A free-cost health, a God does never fail, Auxilium,pra:sensnumen,inemptaquesalus, ' Vigour to men restore with ease, avail, Amissum reparant lympliis impune vigorem, ' All pain in wanton patients does assail.' Pacaturque agro luxuriante dolor. 1 .Syndrome phainomenon. * Harum enim substantia liquida notanda quantitas, per intimos viscerum recessus prcsterfluens, peccantes fyinpro- priis cmiculis stagnantes suceos egregie everrit, morborumque causam averruncat, maieriam tartaream % viscosam dis- solvit: hepatis quoque Sp renum intemperiem corrigit. 4 Suia vitd priori posse frui est bis mvere. * Non *st vivere, sed< bene valere, vita. Maktial. 6 Ad has aquas medici, postquam tegros magna fy sumptuoso medicamentorum apparatu Ion go tempore defatigdrunt, strni vident res sibi ex voto non succedere, miserps relegant, ianquam ai.sacram anchoram; sunt enimefficacissimum fypo- tentissimum remedium ad profligandos gravissimos morbos d Deo concessum,'si dextrd manu porrigantur, quod poeta cxprimit his versibus. . A Philosophical and Medicinal Essay on the Waters of Tunbridge. 58? ' But if yoU take them in the left hand, or by the wrong handle, they cause thousands < Of diseases, and hasten even death itself Fredericus LossiusinCOnciliis de Morbis Hypochondriacis, Chalybeates7 cure not so much by opening obstructions of the viscera, as by depressing the exaltations of sulphur and fixed salts, and by volatilizing the blood much depauperated and made effete, as in cachectick bodies ; for they communicate a volatile sort of ferment, as a spur to the effete and languid mass of blood, by which the spirits, that before lay gasping as it were, and pressed down with their own weight, are excited and made more lively, by invigorating the blood, and renewing the ferment ; for, as soon as chalybeate medicines are made use of in the green-sickness, the pulse becomes suddenly greater and quicker; the external parts of the body grow hot; the face is no longer pale and dead- coloured, but fresh and purpled with blood itself. Betwixt the ferment of the stomach and chalybeates, there is a mutual conflict, as ap pears by the nidorolent belches and eructations after taking them, as if one had eaten hard -fried eggs : in this re-action chalybeates undergo a dissolution within the viscera of con coction; and the active particles, both sulphureous and saline, display themselves, and mixing with the nutritive juice, are carried into the blood which they inactuate. Chalybeate waters, by their many and divers seminary principles with which they are embryonated, are very powerful and efficacious in curing of many and divers diseases, though they be of a contrary nature and disposition ; for they serve not only as a bridle, but as a spur: yet, I would not advise them to be drank indifferently by all constitutions and sexes, without the advice of a physician, who, by his prudent conduct and management, weighing all indications8, contra-indications, and co-indications according to discretion, may obviate all symptoms that may arise, and thereby render them more useful and effectual. The potation of waters, thus circumstantiated, may deserve to be called the most powerful hand of God; and keep their reputation untainted: but, without this caution, they may prove a sword in a mad-man's hand, and not at all auxiliary, but pernicious and hurtful; hence comes the saying5 ' That steel is the worst instrument of death, and best of fife9/ wherefore our learned and well-experienced doctors now-a-days, abbreviate the, tedious and various therapeutick method of physick; and in lieu of it, prescribe their patients only a chalybeate course, to satisfy all intentions, judging it to be instar omnium, or equivalent to all other prescriptions10; and, as a learned physician was wont to say, ' as true as steel.' The sanative virtues and energies Of those waters are beyond any polypharmacon pre scription imaginable; being very prevalent against frequent giddiness ahd scotomia, pas sions of the heart, and fainting of spirits; with a fear and dread, as it were, of present death. In hypochondriacal and hystericlc fits, by suppressing the anathymiasis of ill va pours, and hindering damps to exhale to the head and heart; no remedy more effectual. In scurvy, which is an endemick disease, it is an appropriated and specifick remedy ; by correcting the depraved ferments, and dulcifying the blood. In haemorrhages, taken with advice, it is of great strength and force; in both obstructions and overflowings of the terms also, an excellent remedy. It is good against all obstructions of the liver, spleen, and mesentery ; leucophlegmatia; febris alba, seu amatoria, or green-sickness; stone, and gravel; nay, it cures hydrophobia, or the disease called the Fear of Water, commonly contracted by the bite of a mad dog, methodically drunk. Moreover, these waters are endowed with an admirable and powerful faculty, in render ing those who drink of them fruitful and prolifick, by reason of their spirituous ferment, i ' ¦ Etenimmassa sangtSneee effcetw # languescenti volatile quoddam fermentum, seu caicaria, subdit, & quo excitantur # quasi eriguntur spiritus antea jacentes % suo pondere pressi: sanguinemvigorat ejusque vim fyipiophyv rediniegrat: nam, quoties chfllybeata in chlorasi seu febre alba ,vel amatorid propinantur, pulsus dereprntb major fit. $ .eelerior: ejcte- riora corporis incalescunt, fades non amplius pallida # morti concolor, sedvivida cernitur # sanguine purpurata. * , • ' • 1?REDE1UCUS LOSSIUS. 8 Kolt dyvh'Oixy. - 9 Pessimum mortis sed optimum vitce instrumentum. " Ut hujus veluti panacz® usus ccelera possit excusare medicamenta. 588' A Philosophical and Medicinal Essay on the Waters ofTunbridge. they enliven, invigorate, and actuate the whole mass of blood, the nobler parts ofthe body and spirits thereof: likewise reduce them from a saline or sulphureous dysorasy, and sometimes from both, to a sweet balsamick, spirituous, and sanguineous temperament11; which naturally incites and inspires men and women to amorous emotions and titillations, being previous dispositions enabling them to procreation. This may be the aitiology of this product in some sense. Venus comes from the salt sea, through many crannies, interstices, pores of the earth, and dangerous precipices ; foaming to meet her beloved Mars in the bowels of the earth ; whom she no sooner embraces, but she is impregnated and big with a valiant hero, in the bed of honour, with no insipid delight. From thence, soon after this digression, she rises triumphing in our hemisphere at Tunbridge, generously imparting and distributing this im- pregnative faculty to her votaries, in order to preserve and perpetuate mankind12. To her, Mars, in a poetical rhapsody, speaks: TuDea! tu rerum naturam sola gubernas, ' Thou Goddess! turnest nature's wheel; Nee sine te quidquam, dias in luminis or as, ' To thee all. beings do appeal ; Exoritur; nee sit latum nee amabile quicquam. ' Without thee, neither joy nor love we feel.' So passionate was he for a married Venus ; to these lines I may annex a poetical hypo thesis,' de Aquis Chalybeatis, or Chalybeate Waters, made by a learned and ingenious man, alluding to the preceding discourse : Quid valet obdurum placide dissolvere Mar- ' What thing can reach Mars his hard heart? tern ? ' 'Tis Venus only has the dart. Ecce Venus madidans mollit amore deum. ' The foaming sea finds Terra's chinks, Spuma maris transit telluris sedula rimas, 'And mad with love into 'em siriks. Huemque ardet juvenem ; quarit ubique ' 'Tis nothing strange if Venus rise," furens. ' And both in joy here sympathize. Non erit ergo novum si nostris emicet undis, ' Moisten'd in salt embraces bed, ; Hie Martem exultans convenit ilia suum. ' She melted, rising rears her head. Sdlsis in Terra. • thalamo complexibus humenl, ' Hence waters fame of iron race, Surgit 8( explosus colliquef actus amor. ' Mars gives the strength, Venus the grace; Hinc tantis digna f errata laudibus ,unda .-' ' Come hither, dames, whose beauties fade, Mars prabet robur: dat Venus alma decus. ' A goddess in a trice is made: Hue queis forma perit: hue, hue, properate ' Come hither, old, whom age has bent, puella, ' God's power is omnipotent. Vos pulchras reddit Candida lympha deas. ' Drink, men and women, drink and swell, Hue properate senes, curvans quos deprimit ' You can't drink dry kind Cupid's well. atas, ¦' Drink, sirs and ladies; he, she dove, Ecce Dei vires exhibet unda sui. ' What here you drink, increases love. Ventriculos implete, mares; implete, puella ; ' No more of Bacchus; Venus chill Quos bibilis fonles rivus amoris erunt. ' Appears, when Mars has no good-will. Posthac de Baccho sileanl proverbia : friget ' Nay, only then, to say I'm bold, Non sine Lenao, sed sine Marte Venus. ' Venus is so, when Mars is cold.' Notwithstanding all these encomiums of the waters, yet some are of opinion, they are not proper in some kind of maladies, as in a rheumatism ; nor in hectick fevers, or consump tions. First, by reason of the ill success they are wont to have in using these waters. Se condly, because in them the parts are much weakened, and nature cannot throw off the glut of waters sent into the blood. In rheumatick persons the nervous juice degenerates from its crasis, and inclines to a sharpish nature, and is wont to be perverted by the fluid salts of the Spaw-waters ; as Dr. Willis well observes, ' As for hecticks, they are com- " 4ctiones sequuntur temperamentwn corporis. " Omne bonum sui communicativum. A Philosophical and Medicinal Essay on the Waters of Tunbridge. 589 monly of a fine texture of body, much distempered with heat, dryness and costiveness ; all which symptoms are farther increased by Chalybeates, than abated.' . Wherefore the learned Dr. Willis, in his chapter of Chalybeates, says, < That steel is not very proper in very hot * and spirituous blood, nor where the bowels are of a hot temperament.' Neither are these waters good, but rather hurtful to those who are in perfect health, according to Hippocrates's sentiments, who says, Medicament a non conveniunt sanis ; ' medicaments are not convenient for sound and healthy persons.' Moreover, they are judged not proper for women with child ; because whatever provokes urine, as these waters do, provokes also the terms ; and whatever provokes them in women, causes miscarriage ; therefore not fit for them in this circumstance. Old and ancient persons are not to be too bold in drinking these waters, because their ferments, and natural faculties, are much debilitated by decay of nature, and not -sufficient to exert their function, in distributing these waters; which, if remaining in the body, and not carried off, suffocate the vital flames of the heart and arteries. Wine therefore, for them is most convenient. 13 For God has given wine as a physick-help against the morose aus terity of age, that, by the moderate use thereof, old men may, in a manner, renew their lives, and forget their aches; even the habit of the mind, from a hardened condition, is become soft ; as iron, by the help of fire, is made more tractable ; whereupon wine is called lac senum, the old man's milk. The method which is to be observed in drinking these waters, is as followeth : first, to drink for three or four days every morning Epsom or North-Hall waters, to purge the body, and prepare it in order to Tunbridge ; for, unless the first passages are cleansed, medicines, designedfor any use, will be deprave'd by the filth residing in them. These purging waters may be drunk to three or four pints, either raw or boiled, and altered with milk. This being done, drink of Tunbridge; walking gently to the fountain-head. 14For waters are more pleasant and profitable, taken at the fountain-head : whence once removed, they lose their vivifick spirits, in which all virtue does reside : which afterwards no diligence can recover. For, being impregnated with spirituous and volatile exhalations, they easily lose their virtue by the avolation of fugitive parts being carried at a distance. That they are embodied with such subtile parts, you may experience it sensibly, by putting a bottle half full of them, about sun-rising, to your eyes ; and from thence you will perceive such emanations of efflu viums to come analagous to those of orange-peel when squeezed, as will stimulate and irri tate the tender tunicles of your eyes. This I have by tradition from a physician, who for many years frequented Tunbridge, and made great scrutiny into the nature and idiosyncrasia of these waters : yet this I know, that Chalybeate waters in long deportation, or being some space of time out of the fountain, will not tinge with galls or oaken leaves, at least not so intensely as before ; whence I deduce, that in carriage to some distance, or being long out of the fountain, they are divested of their martial, and consequently medicinal power15. They are to be drunk gradually, and with leisure, not in great draughts, with little or no intermission; because they are chiefly prescribed to purify and keep in its duecrasis the blood and nervous juice ; to open obstructions, and strengthen the tone of the nervo.us plexus. Now this they effect, by insinuating subtile and active particles, of a different state and origin, into the morbific minera ; conquering and subduing saline and irritative particles residing in the blood, and carrying some forth as prisoners, by urine. This mutual16 contest, betwixt the combatants of Chalybeates and their antagonist, cannot be expected to.be at an end in haste, or in a short space of time; but after many attacks and several collisions, and, as I may say, broken pates. But precipitate drinking destroys all these intentions, and leaves no time for alteration, assimilation, or mortification of particles of a different nature and " Deus enim vinum hominibus quasi auxilium adversus senectutis auSteritatem pharmacum largitus est, ut reviviscere videantur, et mast dice oblivio capiat .- atque ipse animi tiabitus, mollis e duro f actus utferrum igni imposilum, tructabitior fiat, unde vinum-h nonnullis lac senum nominatur. Los&ius. ' '? Nam dulcius, et utilius ex fonte bibuntur: delates enim ex propriis fontibus fieri non potest quin amittant mvificos- illos spiritus in quoque omnis vivamenli vis consislit, quos nullo postea labore rcstitui potest. Bacchius de Thermis.. u Unumquodque quo magis elongatur i principio, eb magis languescit. l6 def}pafatti;. Festina lenteHippes, omne nimium nature inimicum, quod vera paulatim .fit, tutum est,prcesertim si ab uno ad aliud progrediatur. " Ad ruborem, sed non ad sudorem. * Numero Deus impure gaudet, M Virtus unita fortior se ipsa dispersa. " Nulla salutifero prastantior herba Tabaco. ' Interpone tuis inter dum pocula fwnis. A Philosophical and Medicinal Essay on the Waters of Tunbridge. 5Q\ Tlie regimen which is observed in eating andi drinking at those waters, is as followeth. First, eschew all gross and obstructive meats, as, pork, beef, duck; pudding, sausages; all fried victuals, as, eggs, collops Of bacon, most sorts of fish and salads; all soused and pickled meats, as, anchovies, cucumbers, &c; refrain from milk, and all milk-meats ; eat no roots, or any sort of fruit ; let your meat, be of easy digestion, and nutritive, as the Greeks say, euxpftoi xai zoXwrpcQo*- Keep no days of fast or abstinencej during this time, if I may ad vise you as a physician, and not as a casuist, lest I incroach upon another's province, tractent fabriliafabri, every one in his own sphere. Fast three or four hours after the waters ; and, if at dinner you have an esurine appetite, take care not to eat too much ; because the quantity of waters you drank, has relaxed and distended your stomach :. therefore little eating is best, according to the Latin proverb, Qui mullum edere optat, parum comedat :. ' He that desires to eat much, must eat little.' Avoid variety of meats; but, if you indulge yourself to several sorts5 let the easier of. digestionpre- cede the grosser, and not be postponed; as the Greeks advise us, fiwf %\u. SiWraflMs. Let your drink be. clear, well fermented, not stale nor sour, not thick nor muddy, not heating nor cooling, but temperate ; all ale is prohibited, because thick and muddy. — Nihil spissius ilia dum ingeritur ; nihil ' It goes, in thick, and comes out thin, clarius cum egeritur : . ' And therefore leaves its dregs within.' Ergo in cor pore relinquit multas faces. Begin your meals with a glass of white-wine 22; I recommend Anjou wine beyond others, because it is small, clear, light, very dihretick, and of a singular virtue against the stone, or. gravel, and all obstructions of the mesentery. Yet, though yOu begin "with liquids ; nevertheless, be advised to conclude with solids. By this means yOu first wash and fortify your stomach, and at last close the orifice thereof, that no fumes or vapours arise to disturb your head. The French, who are esteemed a wise nation, are always observed boucher Id bottle, ' to stop the bottle,' lest nothing exhale: so likewise they close their stomach with some desair, or sweet-meat, after eating ; for the same intent. All excesses and debauchery, with late sitting up at nights, is pernicious and destructive, during this time, for many reasons , which I, here omit, because every one may experience it easily in himself, after such nocturnal lucubrations : therefore, bibas ut vivas, sed non viva's utbibas; ' drink to live, but not live to drink.' To change your linen ofteh will be convenient, if not necessary, while you drink these waters ; because many sooty, fetid, sulphureous steams come from them, which render your shirt black, and some other particles obstruct the pores of your body, and make them imper vious, and hinder insensible transpiration; which is an evacuation far greater, and more con siderable, than any manifest or sensible one, either by stoOl, or urine, according to Sanc- torius de Sanctorio, in his ' Medicina Statica.' During the time you drink these waters, it is necessary to take some gentle medicine evdry fourth or fifth night going to bed, or in a morning early ; drinking these waters thereupon, after the physick hath begun to work. Here aloetic medicine is held offensive, by reason it consists of acrimonious and lixivial parts, apt to heat and corrode the viscera: but this is easily resolved, if to the aloetick physick you mix some resinous, or balsamick substance, which may lenify, mitigate, hebetate, and obtund the fiery alkalies of aloes. And with this correction, or preparation, it is not only rendered less hurtful, but particularly an appro priated medicine to be taken with these waters. My usual pill is %Massa Pitul. Ruffi 9i resina lalap gr.iu. Balsam Peru q.s.;f.Pilulai\j. sumenda horajomni, superbibendo ; mane aquas pradictas ad % iiij., plus minusve. Many doctors give Diacassia cum Manna to an ounce over night, which is a good eccoprotick, fit for all ages and constitutions, and leaves no ill diathesis in the viscera. Another rare eccoprotick, and ecphractick remedy is highly commended with these waters, which is tinctura cathartica; an ounce of which, or " heipe cum liqiddo ; sicca finire memento. Schola Salernitatiav Ut vites pxnam, de potibus. incipe ctenam , » 592 A Philosophical and Medicinal Essay on the Waters of Tunbridge. an ounce and a half, given in the first glass, purgeth citb, tutb, jucunde, ' soon, safely, and pleasantly.' For no violent catharticks are proper with these waters, for fear Of agitating and irritating nature too much, and making an ill impression on the blood and viscera. I knOw some who, in lieu of physick, will take in the first glass, to purge them, a spoonful of common salt, with very good success ; but this remedy is not proper for all constitutions. To those who are obnoxious to stone or gravel and frequent these waters, my advice is, that the night preceding drinking them, they take an emollient clyster ; and in the morning, an Jiour or two before the waters,- to swallow four or five pills of Venice or Chios turpentine. Likewise, in the first glass, to take an ounce of syrup of marsh-mallows; or let them take the bigness of a bean of lucatellus balsam, or turpentine pills (especially if there be any ex coriation in the kidneys, or bladder,) every night going to bed, with an ounce of the said syrup in the first glass every morning, and an emollient clyster every third or fourth night ; because, by these means, the passages are lubricated^ and the distribution of the waters ren dered more easy. Hypochondriacal persons may take, in the first glass, a spoonful or two of the syrup of steel, or a dram of cremor tartarin powder ; and so likewise in all other distempers, to mix specl- ficks with chalybeates, is the opinion of Dr. Willis, ' de Morbis Hypochondriacis,' and many other learned physicians ; for, in so doing, they associate their operation against the malady. Now, as to the animi pathemata, or passions of the mind ; those who drink these waters must be facetious, merry, cheerful, gay, jovial, free from melancholy, jealousy, suspicion, discontent, peevishness, &c. 23 because such passions as these corrode both soul and body ; impede the' benefit they may reap by the waters ; nay, in lieu of health, they may catch their death ; so great is the sympathy betwixt body and soul in their disorders. "ASvvxrov ucatug -^v%v{q hSafw /xvj1 s wd travel tailyf ovvotrtTv : * Non sine animo corpus, nee sine corpore animus, bene valere potest ; ' The mind without the body, nor the body without the mind, cannot be well.'-— What a catastrophe have passions of the mind, with fear and ap prehensions of death, (which of all things is the most terrible) made in condemned persons' bodies in few days ? Insomuch that those, who were, before condemnation, youngs vigourous, intrepid, magnanimous, &c. were afterwards metamorphosed into old, effete, pusillanimous, decayed bodies, with grey hair and Hippocratical faces, which is the visage of a dying man, after being wasted away with long .sickness.. We experimentally see that women impart their marks of fancy, even to the child they carry in tlieir womb : it is to be observed, that physicians prepossess their patients with hopes of cure to the end, that the effect of imagina tion may supply the defect of their physick. A doctor being asked the question, '« Why. he could not cure his mother-in-law, as well as his father ?" he wittily replied, " That his mother-in-law had not the same confidence, or rather fancy for him, as his father had ; other wise the cure would be effected." So great, you see, is the influence ofthe fanqy, or imagina tion, on the body of man. Likewise the effects of the body are communicated to the mind. You see, for example, valiant, heroick, magnanimous souls, by change of temperament of body, either by disease or old age, become timorous, suspicious, pusillanimous cowards, (omnia tuta timent) more like statues than men. Of these Hippocrates says, Vidi mortuos ambulantes ; .' I have seen dead men walk;' their body is a sepulchre to their soul, and, as the Greeks say, expatiate your mind, and hearken sometimes to the Charming musick you have here, the choicest and best that can be had : it is an antidote against the spleen. ' . *' " ' Dulcisoniim refkit tristia vorda melos. « Melodious songs do oft impart ' Refresimient to tlie saddest heart.' ' "' For melody, gently soothing nature, disposes and directs the spirits into a dahcing, and ob serving regular motions. You se6 mUsick', by its i hflueiice, forces sound and sober meri, even against their own wills, or thinking of other things,, to actions emulating the tune heard. Willis, « de Convulsione a Tarantula.' Physicians, whom Almighty God has created for the necessity and use of mankind, and commands us to honour 26, are here many, able, worthy, and eminent in that professioh ; Who, by their diligent scrutiny into the recesses of nature, are come of late years to great perfec tion and knowledge of physick, here in England, far excelling those of former ages ;; wherein physick laboured under a dying Hippocratical face, and in Cimmerian darkness. These Doctors are, in this -place, ready to assist with their learned prescriptions and wholesome advice, according to the exigency of every one, in order to their health,- and methodically drinking the waters. — Many learned divines and spiritual guides are. hot here wanting, whom you may freely consult, and make choice of, according to your inclination, in order to the good and safety of your soul. Here are women, whom they call Dippers, ready to fill you glasses of water. Confestim advolitat, qua pocula porrigat ' With winged speed, one to you glasses ultra 'brings, Plena perennis aqua, quamfons sine munere * With waters fill'd, free as the living springs; donat ; ,' Whose : fame, far above Rome's or Quale m nee Laliumnov it, nee Graecia jactat: ' Greece's, rings : . , Ilia beat siccos fcecundd stirpeparentes ; « This blesseth parents with a fruitful face, Deciduumque facit, post funera, vivere ' That even death itself cannot deface : nomen : ' This waters, fevers, and the stone cashiers, Ilia domatfebres; et, si male calculus harens ' That vex'd the shaft and kidneys manyyearsi Renibus,aut peni,languentia viscera torquet, "« This chaseth sorrow; clears acloudy mind;- Illafugdt; pellit euros; et, nubila menti 'Fits it for learning; which, with Muses' Discutiens, apt at doctis, sacratque Camanis. * join'd? 5 All here a seat, and temple too, do find. The air, than which (to the preservation of man's life) nothing is more necessary, as all philosophers agree, (and the derivation of the very word air, from the Greek word *«, spiro, denotes the same, being composed pf two vowels, Alpha and Omega, as princzpium et finis vita, which is the « beginning and'end of man's life,') is here clear, serene, lucid, void of any stinking mephitis, or damps arising, from hogs or fens, which may occasion epidemical distempers in the blood ; but, on the contrary,. -the whole ambient of the horizon is filled With an inexhaustible series of odoriferous and fragrant effluviums, incessantly exhaling from sweet-scented herbs and plants that grow' in these parts. The air, thus embodied, we per- petuaily inspire, which raises and (analogically speaking) spiritualizes our minds, far beyond all exotick, either natural or artificial perfumes. Moreover, at Tunbridge you find conference with eminent and famous wits, which is the most fruitful and natural exercise of the mind ; the use of which is more sweet than any other action of our life. The study of books is a languishing and feeble.motion, in respect * aMqtb * Ecclesiasticus xxxviii. 1, 2. 'toiffr &» «^' *wAA«r Mdfas &**». VOL, I. 4 Q 594s A Philosophical and Medicinal Essay on the Waters of Tunbridge. of.it j for what is delivered vivd voce, 'with a lively voice,' makes a deeper impression on the. mind ; and, consequently, is more /advantageous than reading.. Much mOre may j?e said of the various and manifold benefits and comforts you may receive at Tunbridge ^, which I now supersede ; hoping these I have mentioned, are allurements strong enough to invite, if not a magnetism to draw men thither. It is rare to write any thing to that perfection, as to rescind the occasion of all objections from cavillers ; : wherefore, what I have said of the virtues of these waters would not be suffi cient, if I do not obviate also such objections as may raise scruples in the minds of those who make use of-them. The first objection is, that many, soon after drinking' of these waters, died ; and that others, by the use of them,, received no benefit. Whence they infer these waters to be improper, noxious, lethiferous, and not fit to be drnuk by men. . Vina bibdnt homines, dnimantia cater a fontes; ' Let none but cattle water drink, . . Absit ab humano pectore potus aqua'. ' That fit for men no men can think.' As for the first objection, I confess one may die soon after taking waters ; and so he may after taking any thing else. Not that the waters, duly prescribed, are the occasion of death ; but through irregularity, disorder, or neglect of something, that was to be done in order fa the taking of them,, death may ensue. Nay, men may die immediately, or soon after taking things indifferent in themselves, and void of any medicinal, or alterative quality ;. as, for example, after eating bread and butter, or drinking a glass of wine: it doth not therefore follow, that this last thing they eat or drank caused their bane,, and that no man ought to eat or drink any more of this kind of food. Secondly, some of those who drink waters may have a malady of a cacoethes-nature; or of such a contumacy, and so far radicated, that it illudes all- energy of chalybeates or any sprt of -physick. 28 It does not follow therefore, that this martial remedy is ineffectual .in itself in order to cure other maladies of a different nature, by reason of the 'impregnable habit, and rooting of some incurable, distempers : Non djefamanda prasidia, qua aliis prof uere. CelsOs.. 'Remedies, which have done others good, are not to be undervalued ; 29 they exert their* operation according to the disposition of the subject, on which they work.. The sunA fox example* with the same heat, melts the wax, and hardens the clay : Limus ut hie durescil, et hac ut cera liqueseit Uno eodemque igni. Virgilius. And, by this, reason, that which is one man's meat may prove another's poison. So* likewise, these Waters, if used with a physician's advice and due consideration, prove effec tual and salubrious; but, taken without it, and by an indisposed of unprepared body, may be .noxious, and sometimes mortiferous. Wherefore, since all things do not agree with all persons ; nay, nor the samejhing always, or a long time, with the same person ; therefore the careful observation and daily advice of a prudent physician is here necessary ; that, by indications taken from things that do good or hurt, the method of cure may be rightly order ed, and now and then changed. Willis, 'Capite de Colico.' These waters kill and expel all manner of worms, ingendered either in the stomach, intes tines, matrix, or any other part of the body.— Ryetius, in his observations of the Spaw waters, makes mention of a woman who laboured a long time with achronick distemper under the doctors' hands, without receiving any benefit by all their prescriptions and physick that she had takerybut was at last advised to chalybeate waters; and by drinking of them with method and continuance, avoided several worms of divers shapes, figure, and longitude, and was pefectly cured. " Sic variis animifmstudiis Tunbrigia mulcet, Ut vix absentes possis lugere Penates. 28 Non est in medico semper, relevetuv ut a;ger ; Nam doctd interdumplus valet arte nudum. Ovloius. " Actiones activorum sunt in suhjecto disposito.. A Philosophical and Medicinal Essay On the Waters of Tunbridge. '595 , They are a polychrest remedy, serving for many uses and intentions ; they bOth loosen and bind, cool and make hot, dry and moisten : cure distempers of divers states and ori gins, nay, of contrary natures and dispositions, as I said before. Certainly, a perfect knowledge of their idios-yncrasia and properties would reduce physick to a narrower com pass, and to prescribe well the stadium chdlybea'tum, or chalybeate course, would make the studyingof so many volumes of the parts of physick unnecessary: for by the help of these waters, we prolong man's life by a more facile and easier means, than has hitherto been known. Veritas ex puteo exantlanda ,- ' Truth must be drawn out of a well.' Provocat Juec leniter Tunbrigia menstrua ' These waters virtue have to ope and close, pridem, ' What may be calPd the female's monthly Suppressa, 5f nimium sislit ubi illajlutint. j'. rose. Nostraquesuppressosut provocat ipsavicissim, ' These waters loosen, and as firmly bind, Immodicos fluxus sic quoque sislit aqua : * As in all fluxes any one may find. Stringunt quippe sud vi lymph a sive relaxant, ' By their own virtue, strengthen and relax, Frigore turn corpus sive colore juvant. ' Both heat and cool, dry clay, and harden wax. JEcquis idem medicameneodem in corpore ere- ' 'Tis strange, that in one body, the same dat, ' thing Adversa inter se pellere posse mdia ! ' Should cross-grainM maladies to cure bring.' Ecce quctm sint natura, omnippteniis Dei prudentid &' potestate ducUe, admiranda. opera qua aqua istius limpida ac piira beneficio tot tamque inter se contrarios morbos curat, id quod ars medica sine corporis noxd prastare nequit. — Ryetius, in his Observations ' De .Aquis Spadanis.' ' Behold the wonderful works of nature, guided by the prudence and power of the al- * mighty God, that, by the help of a limpid and clear water, she cures manifold, nay, con- * trary and opposite maladies, which the art of physick, without great detriment to the 'body, cannot do.' To accelerate and promote the, passing of these waters hy urine, Ryetius advises some drops of spirit of vitriol to be instilled into their glasses of water; for acids, being endowed with a diuretick and penetrative faculty, depose the serum, and convey it to the reins, to be sent forth to the ureters. , To promote evacuation by stool, he adviseth to mix some common salt in powder with the waters, and a dram to every pint, more or less, proportioning the quantity to the 'bearing of the patient. This gently expels the loose matter contained in the ventricle and intestines, and purgeth viscous phlegm adhering to their tunicles, and bilious humours from he pancreatic passages : but it is not to be taken indifferently by all persons. Dumjuga monlis aper, dumflumen piscis ha- ' Whilst boars on mountains shall abide, fafat . ' Or fishes in the river glide ; Anchor a fons agris, hie sacra semper erit; ' So long, both sure and uncontroll'd, Ut bibat accurret (rumpantur ut ilia Codris) ' Will last this health-firm anchor-hold. : Germanus, Scotus, Belga, Britannus, fber. ' This drink (let Codrus burst with rage) 7 Hinc populus floret, crescet Tunbrigia, quic- ' Will English, Scotch and Irish sage, V _„$ ' With German, French, and Dutch engage.) Bellum destruxit, max repar-abit aqua. ' Hence people's glory, Tunbridge praise, * What war throws down, water will raise, • Thus much for Chalybeates, to comply With your Honour's solicitations; hoping this rude Essay upon a barren subject, may be cultivated by other philosophers and physicians, better qualified to the benefit and advantage of mankind, especially to your Honour s satisfaction 59$ A Descent from France, §c. and welfare; whom almighty God, the everlasting fountain and source of living waters, preserve with- long life and health in this world, and grant immarcescible laurels, in that which ts to come ! which is the earnest and unfeigned desire of, ' '. . \ /,'¦'." ' My Lord, /' ,. Your Honour's most humble and obedient servant, P.M. M.I* A Descent from France : Or, the French Invasion of England,; considered and discoursed. Printed at London, 1692. [From Half a Sheet, Folio. J THAT there is, or at least has been, an intended invasion from France, headed by King- James, is too apparent ; and that the greatest encouragement to such an undertaking must be the expected, if not promised succours ready to join him upon the descent, is as plainly evident. Now that there can be such a party of Englishmen, and those professing them selves Protestants too, (for the Romanists are no part of our wonder) whose reason and sense can be' so' lost and depraved as to conspire with such a design, is not a little stu pendous. ' The business of this Paper, therefore, is to examine what consequences they can expeGt from the success of such an invasion ; and what patriots they shall make themselves, in assisting the return of King James ? ' In the first place, Do they flatter themselves because, forsooth, the greatest part of our invaders, for the' most plausible pretext; are composed of English, Scotch, and Irish, na tives and subjects to the crowns of England ; that therefore, King James's service (so poor a mask) is all the business of this expedition ? Have we forgot since so lately, in Ireland, the French King could hardly hold the vizor on till the conquest of that kingdom ; where the very Irish themselyes began to be jealous (and with too much cause) of their pretended friends, but intended lords, the French ? And that no unguis in herbd, no French reserve^ lies at the bottom of this invasion. Secondly, Do they think this succour to King James, though in so important a service as resettling him upon, this throne, can. deserve any grateful return ; and upon that encou ragement, found they the safety of their religion and liberties, in any promises of security from that obligation i Alas !L is it so late since wofttl experience convinced -them* that ac knowledgment or gratitude are no part of a Popish King's principle; witness the unkind return he made to that very Church of England, that, more thah once, were so exemplarily zealous for securing the crown upon his head, in their strenuous opposition against both the bill of exclusion, and Monmouth's insurrection. 'And if both those deserving services those accumulated obligations, were such feeble cbbweb-lawn ; shall any thing done in his service now, make a stronger tie. upon him? No, quite to the contrary. For example, the Church of England had then twice obliged him, arid never once offended him : besides there was not only, a coronation-oath, but liis first voluntary declaration, at his assumption of the government; one would reasonably think enough to bind him to performance. But how little all those bonds signify, when the cancelling hand of Rome came into play- we have but too much reason to remember. And if all those ties, I say, could not hold then ¦ what can we hope for, when there neither is, nor can be any tie at all to hold him nowf For example, suppose the blipd and mistaken frenzy of some of our Protestant zealots A Descent from Erxmcej $c. 597 (if that name can be proper for them) could remount him to his throne; what shall they deserve for it, any more than the title of ' unprofitable servants?' Their turning him out from the throne, together with the remembrance of the dear Irish blood shed by them, and the rest of our faults, are such capital transgressions, thafr the restoring him into it again will not be half Our expiation. And supposing he publishes the most mollifying declaration upon his landing, that all the eloquence of Rome can put together ; shall that oblige him ? No, so far from it, that it neither is nor can be any more than a scroll of waste paper. For supposing the contents of it should run in these flattering insinuations, viz. what wohder- ous clemency he would shew us upon our return to our allegiance, and with what moderation he would reign over us, upon our re-admitting of him to his throne^ with all the most solemn protestations, and what not. Now as it is unlikely that King James should ever return without opposition, and undoubtedly a Very strenuous one; it being impossible we should be all drawn in,' with the specious bait of sweet Words and fair promises ; and consequently; he must have a blow for it. Supposing, nevertheless, I say, his party so strong, and his success so great, as to recover his kingdoms. Upon such a recovery, whatever he promises in his declaration, is, from that moment, null and void. For the consideration is not per formed ; and •consequently, the obligation cancelled. For instance, he comes not in by our submission and return to our allegiance, but by force and conquest: and as such, riot only his declarations, but his very coronation-oath, without the stretch of a mental reser vation, are all actually absolved. And if law nor oaths, service nor fidelity, as before- mentioned, were able to keep his Romish zeal in any bounds or limits before; what shall the loOsehing.of them all expect now ? And consequently what driving Jehu must we loOk for, when that black day comes (which Heaven of its mercy keep far from Us !) And whatT ever private gratuities or favours some particular eminent Protestant hands may possibly receive for their signal services in this revolution; nothing pf sense, but must conclude us the miserablest nation and people in the world. Besides, could we look for miracles, and expect a reign of clemency from him, our reli gion and rights secured ; what a crew Of Irish, dear-joys, that .come over with him, are here td be rewarded ;' all preferment and honours, nay, the fat of the land to be cantoned out amOngst them. Arid consequently the pOwer in these confiding hands, the whole nobility, gentry, and commorialty of England, must live under the check and awe of tories arid fapparees, and submit to all the insults of miscreants and vagrants; and well we compound so cheap. Nay, though some people fancy we shall at least, enjoy this blessing of being eased/from taxes by his return : it is so much a mistake, that, in the other extreme, that very shadow vanishes too. For what must this expedition cost the French Kirig, and what must all his Irish arrears, and other infinite unaccountable sums, amount to; which must all lie upon this rained nation to satisfy, with a very courteous compliment into the bargain --if the French King Will graciously and mercifully please to demand no more. Nay, perhaps," the whole charge of his several years naval preparation (for had King James epntihued on his throne, most Of all that expence had been saved) must lie at oUr "doOr ; a score tpo ter rible, Oveh to think of; and, take it altogether, a very grateful payment out of the Pro testant pockets, to so prodigious a champion of the Protestant religion as King Lewis. But for once (though contrary to common sense) granting we should allow all in his fa vour, that the most zealous' Jacobite cari pretend, viz. that King James, upon his return to the throne, shall tb a tittle perform every particular article in this very declaration, as plau sible soever as it'maybe penned, viz. we will suppose, that the French King shall disclaim, directly or indirectly, all pretensions whatever to England; that the restoration of his friend King James is his only part and design in this expedition ; and King James, on the other side, shall abjure all manner of violation to the laws, shall supbort the Protestant religion, and (making a sea-mark of his former wreck) shall peaceably keep up to the full observance of so generous a profession : granting all this, I say, and whatever other ima ginary security his dreaming party can form to themselves ; nevertheless, in the fairest face, let us observe the dismal and tremendous effects of his restoration. It is known to 598 A Descent from France, tfe. the whole world to what the French ambition terids, viz. universal monarchy. And it Is as notoriously famous, what desolations and ravages the arms of France have made, and , how formidable that -successful destroyer is, even to the whole united powers of Europe. And as his present Majesty King William is, possibly (without vanity) the leading champion of the whole confederacy, and all little enough to make head against France; upon King James's return to the throne, here is not only so potent an arm as the alliance of Britain lopped off from the confederacy, but added to the strength of France. For though, in his reign before, he only stood neuter, with little or no other assistance to his idolized grand Lewis, than his heartiest vows and prayers" for the success and prosperity of that incroaching en slaver of mankind : yet nO.w he will lie under a more pressing obligation ; and the least re turn even of common gratitude, for his remounting him on his throne, will be to list under that tyrant's standard, and joining the arins of England, to the finishing and crowning the whole designs of that universal aspirer. And as the whole confederacy, already, is little enough to match him : Upon this revolution in England, it is impossible tO expect less than that the whole cause Of" Christendom' must sink; and all Europe truckle beneath him. Arid whilst the English hands must bear so great a part in this fatal turn (to give it no harder name) what is it but a making ourselves the monsters of mankind^ the inevitable instruments and tools to that grand cut-throat Of Christendom r And what has some little palliation, on his side, as having the pretence of renown and honour, in the quest of laurels and enlargement of empire, &c.' will on our part amount only to butchery and desolation, for mere butchery and desolation's sake. The glory, if any, will be Lewis's ; and the infamy, England's. Infamy indeed, (if we meet with no worse reward) when we consider what a barbarous part we must act in the yoking and shackling of Europe. But suppose it ends there, aud that will be the only brand in the English escutcheon: and that Lewis, in" bis grasp of universal empire, shall exclude Ehgland from any part of his feudatories, and tri butaries, viz. that he shall make golden promises to King James, and once in his life (his first virtue of that kind) keep faith, and no worse follow (a very unlikely flattery): yet what an eternal shame to the old English honour, the sleeping dust of our third Edward, and fifth Henry, and indeed the whole British chronicles, is oUr portion; in aggrandizing. of France to that prodigious bulk and growth, and dwindling ourselves to that diminutive and despicable state and condition, as are, and must be, the unavoidable consequences of King James's restoration. Granting the Jacobites, therefore, all their own delusions can shape, that King James shall forget and forgive ; shall rule by law, and turn a saint upon a throne : and that the disinterested Lewis shall have no 'other designs upon England, but purely King, James's assistance; yet still the most they can look for, is, perhaps, to enjoy a little. English liberty (upon their own supposition) during the short remnant of King James's days, whilst his grey hairs, perhaps, shall fill the seat. But I wonder any reasonable man, that pretends but to coihmOn sense, can think it possible, that France should engross the dominion of. Europe, and England everhOpe to. continUe the only Oxehapt from the universal yoke : is there that frenzy, so mad as to fancy if ? No.; all our best hopes will be tp be swallowed last, and the annexing of Britain, a province to France; arid consequently to groan under all the slavery and vassalage of a French government, is the undoubted fate of England; and hereby the restoration of JKing James, in its favourablest aspect, brings no less fatality alpng with it, than entailing of misery upon us, to the end of the world; and all the honour our Pro testant restorers will reap, is to be the ruin and curse of their whole posterity, their very names and memories loathed and abhorred to all succeeding generations. r ; ' 599 , The Danger of Mercenary Parliaments. Printed, Anno 1690. [Quarto, containing Eight Pages.] 1. QEVERAL treatises have been formerly written, and more (I doubt not) will be in O this juncture published, with directions and informations to the people of England for choosing fit and proper representatives for the ensuing parliament; wherein sufficient notice will be taken of the failures and defects of several who- have already been entrusted in that sendee, and the due qualifications of such, who are now to be elected. I shall, therefore, confine my present thoughts only to one particular head ; which yet, in my opinion, seems to involve in it the inevitable fate of England, which wholly depends upon the choice of members for the next session of parliament : I mean the choosing or re fusing of such persons, who are now possessed of any places and preferments, depend ing upon the gift and pleasure of the court. If herein my endeavours prove unsuc cessful, I shall have nothing left but the satisfaction of my own conscience to support me under the deplorable consequents and effects, which must necessarily attend the choice of a House of Commons filled with officers and court-pensioners. This is the last struggle and effort the people of England have left them for their properties: and, should we now mis carry in this, we may sit down and idly shew our affections for our country, and fruitlessly bewail the loss of our liberties; but shall never meet with another opportunity of exerting ourselves in its service. That I may, therefore, set the minds of people right, iri this particular, before it be too late; I think it will be -only necessary to shew the danger of? choosing members that are in places, from two considerations: First, From the nature of such a parliament, considered in itself: and, Secondly, From what has already been done by parliaments so qualified. In both which I shall be very brief, and content myself with much fewer arguments than might be urged upon this subject. For I should almost despair of being survived by the liberties of England; if I could imagine there was a necessity of saying much, in a case! not only of such irresistible evidence and demonstration, but also of the utmost concern, and importance to us. ' 2. First then, We shall best be able to understand the nature of such an ill chosen par-' liament, by comparing it with a true one ; and with the original design of parliaments in their institution. I hope it need not be told, that they were, at first, intended for a sup port to the King's just, prerogative, and a protection to the subjects, in their as just rights; and privileges : for maintaining all due honour to the executive power; and all suitable respect and encouragement to those who are entrusted with the administration ofthe laws:. for a poise and balance between the two extreme contending powers of absolute monarchy arid anarchy : for a check and curb to insolent and licentious ministers, and a terror to am bitious and overgrown statesmen: for giving their, advice to. his Majesty in all matters of importance : for making necessary laws, to preserve or improve our constitution, and abro gating such as were found burthensome and obsolete: for giving the King money for de^ fraying the charges and expences of the government, or maintaining a necessary war against foreign and domestick enemies : for examining and inspecting the publick accounts, to know if their money be applied to its true use and purposes: in short, for the best security imaginable to his Majesty's honour and royal dignities, and the subjects' liberties; estates, and lives. 3 This being the nature and true design of a parliament, let us now see whether a House of Commons, full of officers and court-pensioners, will answer those noble and laudable ends of their constitution. And, here indeed, 1- begin already to be ashamed of my undertaking- the proof of the negative is so ridiculous, that it looks too much like a jest, to 600 The Danger of Mercenary parliaments, ask anyone in his wits, whether a parliament, filled with delinquents, will ever call them selves to an account ; or what account would be given, if they should? Whether ah assem bly of publick robbers Will sentence oner another to be punished, or to make restitution? Whether it be possible our grievances can be redressed, that are committed by persons, from whom there is ho higher power to appeal ? 'Whether there is any hope of justice, where the malefactors are the judges? Whether his Majesty can be rightly, inforrned, in affftirs..re|ating to himself or the publick, when they are represented to him only by such persons, who design to abuse him? Whether the publick accounts will be faithfully inspected by those, who embezaleour money, to their own use? Whether the King's prerogative oan be law fully maintained by such, who. only : pervert it to their .own sinister ends and, purposes? Whether a parliament can bfe a true balance, where all -the weight liesouly in one scale-? Or, lastly, Whether a House of Commons can vote freely, whp ^re either prepossessed with the hopes and promises of enjoying places, or the slavish fears of losing, them .? .Methinks it is offering too much violence to human: nature, ,ta,ask such, questions as. these, : - j shall, therefore; leave this invidious point. - .!.{¦; + a 4. Yet, lest still any should remain unsatisfied, or lulled into a fond opinion that these mischiefs will not ensue upon the elections they shall make ; I shall further endeavour toxon- tinee those' who (are most moved by. the force of examples, by . coming to my second parti cular, and shewing how parliaments, so qualified, have(all along -behaved themselves. . And here I must confess there are not, many instances tp be given, the project of corrupting par liaments being but of a Jate date; a practice first set on, foot within the compass. of our own memories, as the last and most dangerous stratagem that ever was invented, by an in- croaching tyrant to possess himself of the' rights of a free-born people': I mean King. Charles the Second, who, well remembering, with how little success both he, and his father had made use of open arms and downright violence to storm and batter down the bulwarks of our excellent constitution,: had recourse at last tot hose, mean arts and underhand prac tices, of bribing and corrupting, with money, thpse who were entrusted, with the conser vation of our laws, and the guardianship of our liberties. And herein he so welt succeeded, that the mischiefs and calamities, occasioned by that mercenary parliament, did not termi nate with his life and reign ; but the effects of them are handed and continued down, and very sensibly felt by the nation to this very hour. For it is to that House of Commons the formidable greatness of France was owing, and to their' account, therefore, ought we to set down the prodigious expences of the late war. It was by those infamous members that money was given Jo make a feigned and collusive war with France; which, at the same time, was employed -either in subduing the subjects at home, or oppressing our Protestant neighbours abroad. Tt was this venal parliament iri effect that furnished the King of -France with timber and skilful workmen for building ships, as weljas' expert mariners, and a pro digious quantity Of brass and iron cannon, mortar-pieces, and bullets* from the -Tower- bv the help of which; Our own.treacherous King was able to bOast publickly; and thank God that he had at last made his brother of France a seahiam - By this means the honour of England was prostituted, arid our natural ahd naval strength betrayed, with which :like; SampsOn, we should easily have broken all! the cords that ' Europe, or the whole world could have made to bind arid enslave us;'1 had hot this'parliamerit made a sacrifice of all to the charms of a French Dalilah. To this profligate and villainous reign, we are to ascribe tlie loss of all the considerable charters of England,1 the deaths of Our best^ patriots the encouragement and almost establishment of POpery1; the decay of trade, the growth Of . * Which will better appear from the following letter, published in the year 1 nesty. These and all the other mischiefs of that reign are justly chargeable to the account of that pensioned parliament, who either were the immediate authors, or the undoubted causers of them : who, though they sat long and often, and could not. be ignorant of our. deplorable condition, yet having their* eyes blinded with the dust of gold, and their tongues locked up with silver keys, they durst not cry out for the rescue of their country, thus in-. humanly ravished in their very presence. It will not consist with my designed brevity, nor is it here necessary: to give the reason., that induced the court to dissolve the parliament; nor shall I take any further notice of their great and fortunate oversight in doing it, nor of their unfeigned repentance afterwards for it: I shall only observe, that if the nation had been so senselessly stupid to have chosen the same members a second time, who were pensioners in the foregoing parliament, we had long ago suffered the dismal consequences pf our folly and madness in such a choice ; nor r should we now have had this liberty to warn one another against, splitting upon the like rocks, and falling into the same precipices. But they were wiser iri those times; and the consideration of the dreadful shipwreck they had so lately escaped* made them choose pilots' of a quite contrary disposition, who, as far as in them lay, and as long as they were per mitted to sit at the helm, repaired the shattered vessel of the commonwealth, restored its. honour, revived its drooping genius; gave force to its laws, countenance to, its religion, and, in a great measure, reduced our banished liberties, and exposed the persons, who sold them, to the universal hatred and reproaqh of their fellow-subjects ; a punishment in deed infinitely less, than they deserved for the highest crime, a member of parliament is ' capable, of committing. ' 6, As for King James's reign, though it was notoriously guilty of the breach and viola-: tion of most of our fundamental laws, which sufficiently justjfies.our carriage towards him ; yet cannot we say, that his mismanagement is to be ascribed to the corruption of any par liament sitting in his time. It is true, indeed, he reaped too much, advantage from the; conduct of the bribed parliament in his brother's reign, and used all possible endeavours to procure such another for himself, well, knowing it to be the most effectual means for carry-* ing on his ruinous and destructive projects; yet, either from the unshaken constancy of the people, or want of dexterity in his ministers, he was altogether defeated in his ex pectations. -. . ;,;,,. $. .This miserable disappointment of King James's hopes, made way for our late glorious' revolution ; which was brought about by the hearty endeavours, and accompanied with the most unfeigned, vows and wishes of all true lovers of their country.; who, from hence, ex-- pected a full deliverance from their present miseries, and a sure remedy from their future; fears. For. what happiness might not the people well hope for under the government of the' best of Kings, supported by* the best of titles, viz. trie general consent and election of his; fieopleR, We Were filled with, golden dreams, not only of a bare security for our estates and ives; but an jnexhausted affluence of all manner of blessings a nation is capable, of en joying. But though we have dreamt the dreams, yet have we not seen the visions. And though the nation is, by this time, sadly sensible how wretchedly they have fallen short of their expected happiness, yet are they not all acquainted with the true spring and fountain from whence all their misfortunes flow ; which/is, indeed, no other than that bare-faced and openly-avowed corruption, which, like an universal leprosy, hq,s so notoriously infected and overspread both our court and parliament, It is, from hence, are plainly derived all the calamities and distractions under which the whole nation at present groans. It is this that has changed the very, natures of Englishmen, and of. valiant, made them cowards; of eloquent, dumb ; and of honest men, yillains. It is this that can make a whole House of Commons eat their own words, and pounter-vote what they had just before resolved on, It is this could summon the mercenary members from all quarters ofthe town in an instaritj to vote their fellow-criminals innocent. Jt is this that can make a' parliament throw away The Danger of Mercenary Parliaments. (503 the people's money with the utmost profusion, without enquiring into the management of W. It is this that put a stop to the examination of that scandalous escape of the Thoulon fleet into Brest. It is this that has encouraged the mismanagements of the Admiralty, in relation to the loss of so vast a number of men of war; and merchant-ships, as well as other miscarriages; which were by all men judged to proceed, not from their want of un derstanding m sea-affairs. It is this that has hindered the passing a bill so often brought into the House for incapacitating members to bear offices. It is this that could not only indemnify, but honour a leading member, for his audacious procuring and accepting a grant pf lands; which, by the parliament, had been set apart for the publick service: a vote that shall stand recorded in their own Journals, to the never-dying infamy of that mercenary assembly. It is this could make the same person most confidentlyafhrm, that he was sure the majority of the House would agree to what he was going to propose. It is this that could make men of peaceable dispositions, and considerable estates, vote for a standing army. It is this that could bring Admirals to confess, that our fleets, under their command, was no security to us. It is this could make wise men act against their own -apparent interest. In short, it is this that has infatuated our prudence, staggered our constancy, sullied our reputation, and introduced a total defection from all true English principles. Bribery is, indeed, so sure and unavoidable a way to destroy any nation ; that we may all sit down and wonder, that so much as the very name of a free government is yet continued to us. And, if, by our wary choice of members,- we should happen to recover our ancient constitution- we shall with horror and amazement look back, and reflect upon the dreadful precipice we so narrowly escaped. 7. Fatal experience has now, more than enough convinced us, that courts have been the same in all ages; and that few persons have been found of such approved constancy and resolution, as to withstand the powerful allurements and temptations, which from thence have been continually dispensed, for the corrupting of men's minds and debauching their honest principles. Such instances of the frailty of human- nature may be given, within these few years past, as might make a man even ashamed of his own species; and which, were they not so open and notorious^ ought, out of pity to mankind, to be buried in -per petual silence. Who can enough lament the wretched degeneracy of the age we live in ? To see persons, who were formerly noted for the most vigorous assertors of their cpuntry's liberty ; who, from their infancy, had imbibed no other notions, than what conduced to the publick safety; whose principles were further improved and confirmed by the advantages of a suitable conversation ; and who were so far possessed with this spirit of liberty, that it sometimes transported them beyond the bounds of moderation, even to unwarrantable excesses. To see these men, I say, so infamously fall in with the arbitrary measures of tbe court, and appear the most active "instruments for enslaving their country*; and that, without any formal steps or degrees, but all in an instant ; is so violent and surprizing a tran sition, from one extreme to another, without passing the mean, as would have confounded the imaginations of Euclid or Pyrrho. All the stated maxims, in relation to the nature of mankind, which have been long ago settled and established by philosophers, arid observing men, are now baffled and exploded ; and we have nothing left us to contemplate, but the wild extravagancies of romantick fables, the sudden conveyances of nimble-fingered jug glers, the inimitable dispatches of transubstantiating priests, or the now more credible me tamorphoses of men into beasts. 8. The necessity we have lain under of frequent meetings of parliarnent, during the war, has taught our managers so much dexterity and address in their applications to the mem bers of that assembly; that they are now become consummate masters in that most detest able art of corrupting our representatives, by hopes and fears of attaining or losing' offices and .preferments. And though I here name offices, yet those offices are downright bribes and pensions, since they are held, precariously from the court, and constantly taken away upon non-compliance with the court-measures; though lam riot igndrant, that several con siderable pensions were also paid out of the' Exchequer to members of both Houses : for places could not be had for all, though they have tried all imaginable arts, for dividing 604 J%e Danger of Mercenary ParMamenftf. -among themselves the considerable posts pf the kingdom. For, either by splitting of of fices among several persons which were formerly executed by ©ne, or by reviving such as Were, sunk, or by creating others which were altogether useless and unnecessary, or by pro mises pf preferment to those who could not presently be provided for ; they bad made above twp hundred members absplutely dependent upon them. And what points may not such a number carry in the House, who are always ready, and constantly \ attending, with more diligence to destroy pur constitution, than the rest were to preserve it? Who represented not their country, but themselves; and always kept together in a close and undivided phar lanx, impenetrable either by shame or honour ; voting always the same way, and saying always the same things, as ,jf they were no lpnger vpluntary agents, but sp many engines, merely turned abput by a mechanick motion; like an organ where the great humming bases, as well as the little squeaking trebles, are filled but with one blast of wind from the same sound-board. Yet a few of them may, in some measure, be ^distinguished frorh those point-blank voters, whom neither their country's safety, nor their own dear and valued interest, nor the persuasion of their once intimate friends, nor fear of reproach, nor love of reputation, could ever prevail to join in an honest point; or dissent from a question that parried in it the violation of the rights and properties of tbe subject. These are the men who have persuaded bis Majesty, or rather assumed tp themselves, npt to fill up any vacant offices, whilst the parliament is sitting; but to keep all pretenders in a dependence till the eud pf the session, and bind them up ip their ill behaviour, which will then be their best pretence to demand their wages pf unrighteousness. Witness the commission of excise the last session, which was sued for'by, and promised to above thirty competitors, who all did their utmost to signalize their several merits for an office, which, doubtless, will be at last divided amongst those who have deserved, worst of their country. By these means, they made their numbers and interest in the House so great, that no miscarriage in the govern ment could ever be redressed, nor the meanest tool belonging to them, be punished : some pf which, they did, indeed, take into their own hands, which raised in the people a high ex pectation that some .extraordinary penalties would be inflicted upon them; when their de sign, at the same time, was nothing else but to protect and screen them from the ordinary course of justice. Such is now the difference, in point of corruption, between a common juryj and tfte grand jury of the nation ! such a mutual assistance and support have they been to one another, in the several mismanagements of their trusts; so favourable have they been to their own creatures, and sp implacable to those who have any way opposed their unjust proceedings:' witness their scandalous partiality in the case of Duncomb, which I hope Jo see printed at large, for the satisfaction of the publick. If it were truly represented, I am sure there needs nothing more tp excite in the people an universal detestation of their arrogance and injustice. And yet do these apostates pretend to value themselves upon their merit, in contriving that most destructive project of Exchequer Bills; by which all impartial men must either think they notoriously dissemble with us, or that they have indeed lost their senses, when they speak of publick service; the word is so unbecoming in their roeuths and so awkwardly pronounced, that they seem not to breathe in their own element, when they usurp the name. These are tlie men who have endeavoured to render pur cpnditipn hopeless, even beyond the power of the King himself to relieve us : for though bis Majesty be deservedly loved and honoured by his people, for his readiness to do them justice, and ease their oppressions; yet can we not expect it from him, whilst he is thus beset and surrounded, -and his palaces invested by these conspirators against their own ho nour, and the welfare of his kingdoms. The only remedy, therefore, that remains, is to choose such a parliament who lie under no temptations, and are actuated by no other motives, but the real and true interest of his Majesty and his dominions'; a parliament that will fall unanimously upon publick business, and be free from those petty factions and personal piques, which in the late session so shamefully obstructed and delayed tlie most important service of the commonwealth. 9. If it should be pretended, that the nation is yet unsettled, and the fear of King James has, forced them uppn these extraprdinary methpds for their own preservation : I answer, The Danger of Mercenary Parliaments, 605 -that no «ause; whatsoever can be justly alledged, in vindication of such vile arts and per nicious practices. But, I would, further ask them, What necessity there is, upon that ac count, for their gaining such prodigious estates to themselves, in so Short a time, and in so merciless a way ; when the nation was racked to the utmost by taxes in a long and ex pensive war ? Is it the fear of King James, that has brought such a reproach upon our revolution ; as if it needed to be supported by such mean and unjustifiable practices ? Is it the fear of King James, that makes us content he should live so near us; or that he should be.maintained at our own charge of fifty thousand pounds per annum? Or has not rather King James been made the pretence for the unwarrantable proceedings of our conspiratorsj during the war, and since the conclusion of the peace? It is very strange, that King James, who is but their jest in private, should be thus made their publick bugbear, to frighten us out of our senses, like children ; so that King James must be at last our ruin abroad, who could not compass it by all his power and interest at home. And, in this sense, I am of their opinion, that we are not yet quite delivered from the fear of King James, who must be made the instrument of our slavery, by those very persons who pretend their greatest merit to consist in delivering us from him. But what is this, but making the old abdicated tyrant a footstool to ascend the throne of absolute power, and a scaffold for erepting that proud and stately edifice, from whence we have so justly tumbled him down headlong? But, it is to be hoped the nation will be no longer imposed on by such stale pretences as these; and that a well-chosen parliament will not fail to pass their severest censures upon those who would thus jest us out of all that is dear and valuable amongst us : that they will no longer resemble a flock of sheep (as Cato said of the Romans in his time) that follow the bell-wether, and are contented, when all together, to be led by the noses of such whose counsels not a man of them would make use of in a private cause of his own : that they will at last vindicate the honour of England, and imitate their wise ancestors, in hunting down these beasts of prey, these noxious vermin to the commonwealth ; rather than suffer •themselves to be led in collars and couples by one mighty Nimrod^ who, upon the turning . up his nose, shall expect a full cry of sequacious animals, who must either join voices, or he turned out of the pack. 10. Notwithstanding what I-have said, I would not have any of them either really imagine themselves, or falsely suggest to others, that I envy them their places and preferments ; which I am so far from doing, that I wish they rather had them for the term of their lives : I desire only they may be subject to .the laws, and to some power on earth, that may call them to account for their misbehaviours ; that they may not be their own judges ; that our sovereign remedy -may not prove our chief disease ; and that the kid may be seethed iri something else than its mother's milk. Nor would I, by any means, deny tbem their seats in parliament; provided they are in a condition to speak and act freely, and discharged from those temptations, which I find they have not constancy enough to withstand : for, after all, I still believe many of them so honest, that nothing but money, or preferments, will corrupt them. But if nothing will satisfy them, but the downright subversion of our constitution ; if they will be content with nothing but the utter abolishing of all laws, and the rooting up of those fences, and securities, provided by our ancestors, for the preserva tion Pf all things that are sacred and esteemed amongst mankind; it is high time for the electors to look about them, and disappoint their unreasonable and exorbitant hopes; and to spew them out as detestable members of the commonwealth; not only as unfit to be trusted with their liberties, but as unworthy to breathe in the air of a free government. 1 1 If any should say, that the alterations in elections will stand us in no stead, since whoever are chosen, will still be bought off and bribed by court-preferments. I answer, It will require a considerable time to new-model and debauch a House of Commons ; nor can it be done- but by displacing all those, who are already possessed, to make room for these new comers, which will make the trade and mystery of bribery more plain, and eonse- ouently more abhorred. And, since no parliament can now sit above three years, the. court will meet with fresh difficulties, to interrupt them ; which may possibly at last^make Hiem weary of these practices. It is true- indeed, this consideration ought to make us . 606 The Danger of Mercenary Parliaments. more circumspect, in our choice of members: for though we should chpPse^ but an incon siderable number of pensioners, yet will they soon be able to work over a. majority to their side; so true is the saying, * A little leaven leavens the whole lump.' Whoever therefore out of any particular friendship, or other motives of fear or private interesl;, should vote for any one person, so qualified; let him consider, that as much as in him lies, he makes a compliment of all the liberties of England to tlie unsatiable avarice and ambitipn pf states men and court-ministers. Since, therefore, we have so narrowly escaped our destruction, and one session more of the last parliament would infallibly have ruined our constitution, we cannot surely be so grossly overseen as to neglect the opportunity, now put into .our hands, for avoiding the like hazards, in time tp come; which may easily be done, if the freeholders and burghers in England will petition, and engage their representatives to cpn- sent to a Bill which shall be brought into the House, to incapacitate all members for; holding offices and preferments. Or, if it should be thought too much to debar them, altogether, from the enjoyment of posts of honour and advantage; let them keep them, during good behaviour, and not otherwise ; that such places may not be reserved in store for those, who shall be from time to time elected, and thereby a.continued course of corruption be carried on successively through the whole nation; who will, in a few years, insensibly find them selves so universally infected with this insinuating vice, that we shall be thoroughly ripe for destruction, and readily expose to sale the liberties of England, .by auction, to the fairest bidder. If it was deservedly thought one of our most dangerous grievances, that the judges, who only declare the law, should hold their places, ad beneplacitum ; what condition must we be in, when our law-makers themselves are subjected to the same temptations ? Or what advantage have we got by having, our judges' commissions for life, when pur very le gislature itself is prostituted to bribery and sordid gain ? The fortune of England is now brought to the nicest point, and there are critical seasons, which, if neglected, will never again be offered ; and should we now fail in our duty to our country, we shall assuredly fall unpitied by the rest of the world. But if, on the other hand^ we can by our foresight and diligence, prevent, for the future, the bribing and corruption of parliaments; it is not to be imagined what security, what happiness, and what immortal reputation will be the never- ceasing concomitants of such a settlement. If the very rump of a parliament, even in the midst of domestick discontents, arid beset on all sides with foreign assaults and inva sions, were able, by that one self-denying act, to maintain the publick welfare from the danger of inward convulsions at home, and violent concussions from abroad ; if that small and broken number, without any head, and under so many disadvantages, could by this only means secure.our peace, and sp widely extend the repute and honour of tlie English name; what country or what religion could ever give limits, to the unbounded reputation of a full and legal parliament, so nobly qualified ? What nation could there be so powerful as to resist our forces, or so politick as to infatuate pur counsels ? There is nothing within the compass of human wishes, that we might not assure ourselves from the wisdom and virtue of such a disinterested assembly; headed and encouraged by tlie most auspicious Prince that ever yet swayed the English scepter. A Prince who only waits the opportunity of our own willingness to be happy, and is fixed with a longing eagerness tP see the nation deserve the glorious effects of his inimitable conduct, and inexhausted beneficence; who pnly wishes a happy conjuncture of a free and unbiassed parliament, that he might join 'with them, in the rescue of himself and us, from the oppression of those devouring harpies, who would tear off the yet green and flourishing laurels from his majestick brows, and ungratefully cast a tarnish upon the lustre of his bright and shining atchievements : that he might dissipate those inauspicious vapours, which have hindered him from breaking out in the height of his* meridian glories, and intercepted his benign and noble influence upon his inferior and dependent orbs: that he might deliver up to justice those traito rous aud insinuating parasites, who endeayour.to inspire into his sacred breast an unworthy jealousy of his people; as if he wanted the assistance of a standing army tp secure and establish to himself that throne, which he has already so firmly, erected in the hearts and affections pf his subjects: and. lastly, that he might wholly discharge himself of those A new Looking-Glass for the Kingdom. 607 wretched and perfidious statesmen, who endeavour to fix the brand of their own acquired infamy upon tlieir master ; that they may make him as hateful to one party, for their vices, as be -is already to another, for his own virtues; and deprive him of the glorious title, of the world's greatest benefactor, which he has so justly purchased to himself, by his im mortal performances. 12. I shall conclude with one word, in answer to such who may possibly think I have; reflected too much upon the supineness and base neglect of the people of England; as if it were possible they could be such monstrous and unnatural self-murderers, as to give, away with their own breath, and free consent, all their rights to their estates and lives. I confess I should be glad to find my labour lost upon this account : but I desire such to consider, that there are many honest and well-meaning Englishmen, who do not distinguish between our present government, and our present way of governing; .whose distance from the parT liament, multiplicity of business, or other circumstances in the world, render them less able to penetrate the designs that are now carrying on, for the total subversion of our most excellent constitution. And it is plain on the other hand, that the great and unwearied diligence of the present conspirators against our government, in order to support theif fature elections, does infer their thoughts, that the majority of the electors are capable of being imposed upon in this gross and unexampled manner. Since, therefore, those, who are making us slaves, think it no great difficulty to effect their purposes ; I see no reason, why I ought to be so tender as to forbear expressing my fears and apprehensions of their success. A new Looking-Glass for the Kingdom: Wherein those, that admire the late Governments1, may have a true Prospect of Liberty and Slavery, and take their Choice. Printed at London, for J. C. near Fleet-Bridge, 1690, [From a Half Sheet, Folio.] IN the twelfth year of King Charles the Second, being the first of his restoration, there was granted to him a subsidy of tonnage and poundage, and other sums of money, payable upon merchandize imported and exported ; in consideration of the great trust and confidence which tlie parliament reposed in his Majesty, iri and for the guarding the seas, against all persons that should attempt the disturbance of his subjects in the intercourse of trade, or by invasion of the kingdom. The same year, came forth another act, for the speedy provision of money, for disband ing and paying off the forces of the kingdom, by land and sea; by a contribution of all persons, according to their several rsmks and degrees. The same year likewise, by two acts more, were given to the King; by the one, seven- score thousand pounds, for the complete disbanding of the whole army, and paying off some part of the navy, by a two months assessment of seventy thousand pounds a month: by the other, seventy thousand pounds, as a present supply to his Majesty. After which, followed the act for settling certain impositions upon beer, ale, and other liquors ; for the increase of his Majesty's revenue, during his life. The same year alse, the post-office was erected by the parliament, with a considerable revenue accruing to the King. This parliament, after these great gifts, being dissolved ; the next year (being the thirteenth of the King's reign) sat a new par lament, which, m the first place, passed an act for the free and voluntary present; and then passed an act for granting to the King twelve hundred and three-score thousand pounds, to be assessed and '[ Of King Charles tlie Second, and King James the Second. 60S A new Looking-Glass for the Kmgdvml levied by an assessment of threescore and ten thousand pounds a. month, for eighths** months. - . » In the fourteenth year of the King, the additional revenue of hearth-money was settled? uppn his Majesty, his heirs and successors*. .. .'• ' In the fifteenth year of" the King, were granted four entire subsidies from the temporality, and four from the clergy. In the sixteenth year of the King, a royal aid was granted by" the same paTlianjent, of twenty-four thousand four hundred three-seere and seventeen thoasandandiiHre hwsdred? pounds; to be raised, levied, and paid, in three years' space, for the. King's extraoreKitary occasions. As an addition to which, in his seventeenth year, twelve hundred and fifty thousand pounds were * granted .for his Majesty's further sappiy, by tlie parliament at Oson. ' > • In the eighteenth year of the King, more money was raised by a poll-bill,, for the proee- eution of the Dutch war. In his nineteenth year came forth another act, fo» raising three lwndred and ten thou sand pounds, by an imposition on wines,, and other liquors. After which followed, in his twenty-second year, an imposition uppn all wines and vi negar, for eight years, which was attended by the imposition upon brandy : together with another act, for advancing the sale of fee-farm-rents, and other rents* berth' valued at one million thirteen hundred and threescore thousand pounds. - In the twenty-second and twenty-third years of the reign of King Charles the Second, was granted another subsidy for supply of his occasions; twelve-pence in the pound upon all lands, and money at interest ; fifteen shillings' in the hundred for all money owing to the bankers ; and six shillings in the hundred uppn personal estates. . ... .. After, whicb,.,theGe followed an act foraddsitipnal: excise upon hew, tele*, and ©ther liq»lo«sv; •towhich succeeded the.la\y-bill.. Which three, being, summed up together^ were -estimated at no Iessthan two millions arid a half. _ After this, at the* adjournment of the* par&ansent, upon the; sixteenth; o£ Aprife,. 1677, being the twentieth of the. King, passed an act fan raising the sum of, five hundred. eighty- four thousand nine hundred^seventy-eight pounds, two shillings, arid two-pence halfpenny, for the speedy building thirty ships- of war: together with, an additional excise upon beer, ale, and other liquors, for three -years. Upon -the fifteenth of Jiuyy 1678, being the thirtieth of the King* passed an act- far granting a supply to his Majesty, of six hundred and nineteen thousand' three hundred etghtyeight pounds* eleven dhillirigs^ and" nine-pence, for disbanding the army» and other. uses therein mentioned. With another act, for granting an additional duty upon wines for three years. To all which may be added (for it cannot be forgotten in .haste), tlie shutting up of the Exchequer.. . This, if it be not a perfect arithmetical account to some thousands. of pounds,, perhaps-, yet it comes pretty near tlie matter; to shew, as in a mirror, the prodigious sums, it cost the kingdom, in a, few years, to maintain the vanity and profuseness of the court at that time ; and to support a design carried on all along, to subvert the religion, laws, liberties, and properties of' the whole nation. It is generally imprinted in the minds of men, that there is, nothing so dear to them, as the preservation of their religion, their laws, their liberties, and properties. . Life is con temned, to preserve these four inestimable comforts of human being;, which make it a strange thing to consider, that people, who were so lavish to undo themselves, should so stingily grudge a necessary, though more than, ordinary expence, to be for ever quit of future danger. They do not find their money how profusely wasted upon the excesses of prodigal luxury, nor upon wars, to extirpate the Protestant religion,; nor upon designs, to enslave both their souls and -bodies j bat thriftily expended, by a frugal and saving Prince2; once their *King William the Third. A new Looking-Glass for the Kingdom. 609 generous and fortunate preserver, upon men, arms, and all manner of warlike ammunition, both by sea and land. • They find not now pretences of wars to juggle them out of their wealth, to be as deceit- frilly expended either upon pleasure, or to support tbe interest of the common foe : but a real war at the door, maintained by the capital enemies ofthe Protestant religion, and the general peace of Europe : and withstood with as much vigour, as prudent counsel and wary conduct will permit ; by a prince no less vigilant, no less courageous and formidable, than his adversaries are potent and malicious. To repine at expence, at such a time as this, and in the management of such princely and faithful hands, is to be like niggardly misers, that love the banquet, but grumble at the payment. The choice is now, Whether to be free for ever, or slaves for ever ? the expence is necessary, therefore just ; and, being necessary and just, no true Englishman will murmur at the parchase ofhisown, and the preservation of his posterity, though it cost never so dear. Is it possible there should be men that should so soon forget, the late ravages of tyranny and popery, upon their religion and laws ? Is it possible for fathers to forget the murders of their sons, or for sons tp forget tlie haling of their .parents tp execution ? Is it possible for them to forget the contrivances of sham plots, and the subornation of perjured evidence, to take away the lives of the innocent 3 ? They that so fondly kiss the late king's picture,, and are so covetous of his return, forget the verses made upon the cruelty of Tiberius, that gave them sufficient warning of a prince returning from exile to power again, by the examples of Marius, Sylla, and Mark Anthony. There is nothing to be sp much dreaded, as the dispo sition of a prince, longo exilio efferati, i. e. ' grown wild with long exilement ;' and, igno- minid accensi, i.e. * enraged at the ignominy he has received.' They forget how infinitely the abdicated King must be beholden to his French patron, .the professed enemy ofthe English name and freedom ; if ever this kingdom should beso unhappy as to be under ihis clutches again. For, farewell, then, that noble liberty, which has so long blessed this fortunate land. And, therefore, the miseries of the French government should be enough tp «nake these un- thinking Jacobites tremble at the very sound pf wh^t they so extremely wish for, the return of their idol. The very picture of France is enough to JjilJ with the sight of it : where the people live in cottages of straw, in a fat and fertile soil, reduced to the utmost degree qf poverty ; where the miserable peasant, after he has tilled .his land, when he comes tb reap the fruit of his labpur, has nothing to feed him but the rye and barley, or a few chesnuts ; nothing to drink but water squeezed through the lees of the pressed \grape; the collectors qf the taxes, the imp#s>gatherers, and other ravenous beasts pf prey, carry off the com, his wine, his oil, and other choicer conveniencies of life; so innumerable are the taxes, imposts,, rights of entrance, peages 4, aids, &c. which if a man should reckon up, he would seem to talk thelaqguage of aconjurer: and all these sp tyrannically exacted, by the numberless swarms -Pf ruffians, publicans, and harpies, as render one of the most delightful countries in the world a hell upon earth. Into this condition was England tumbling, fill redeeme&by their most sacred Majesties, King WilHam and Queen Mary; and such would England.be, jf these unreasonable Jacobites might have their will ; which God forbid ! 3 .As was done in the West by Judge Jefferjes,and Col. Kirk, after Monmouth's defeat, in. the reign of James the Second. "* [Tolls, or Customs.] VOL. J. 61b A modest Account of the wicked Life of that grand Impostor, Lodowick Muggleton : wherein are related all the remarkable Actiopshe did, and all the strange Accidents that have befall en him, ever since his first coming to London, to this Twenty- ' fifth of January, 1676. Also a Particular of those, Reasons, which first drew him to these damnable Principles : with several pleasant Stories concerning him, proving his Com mission to be but counterfeit, and himself a Cheat ; from divers Expressions which have fallen from- his own Mouth, Licensed according to Order. Printed at London for B. H: in 1676. [Quarto, containing Six Pages.] LODOWICK Muggleton was born of poor, though honest parents, living at Chippen ham, within fifteen miles of Bristol. His relations haying but little means and a great charge of childreri to maintain ; they were forced to send their daughters to wait on their neighbouring gentry, and to place their sons to such trades as Cost little binding. them ap prentices : but, amongst all the rest of those of this worshipful brood they were blessed withal-, they might have observed, even in his cunicular days, in this Lodowick Muggleton, an ob stinate, djssentious, and opposive spirit ;' which made them desirous to settle him at some distance from them, and also to bind him to such a trade and master, as might curb him from that freedom which the moroseness of his coarse nature extorted from his too indulgent parents. By which means, as soon as he had made some small inspection into his acci dence, without any other accomplishment besides a little writing and casting of accompts, he was hurried up to London, and there bound apprentice to one of the crossi-legged order, but of an indifferent reputation in the place where be lived, though by trade a taylor. We will pass over the parenthesis of his youth in silence, therein being nothing but the usual waggeries, which generally recommend to our expectation something remarkable) when the useful extravagaricies shall be seasoned with age. ; When the time of his apprenticeship grew near its expiration, so that he was admitted more liberty than formerly was granted him, he was observed to be a great haunter of con venticles ; insomuch that there could not a dissenting nonconformist diffuse his sedition in any obscure corner of tlie city, but this Lodowick Muggleton would have a part pf it : by which means, continuing, in tbe same idle curiosity, and taking great observation on that unknown gain many of that canting tribe got by their deluded auditors, he proposed to himself a certain and considerable income to be got by the same means, by which he had observed many of- those great pretenders gull both himself and others : for a rooked convpn,- ticler, like a bankrupt gamester, having for soriie time been cullied out of his money ; learns the trick, sets up hector, and trades for himself. Thus did Lodowick. Muggleton, by sliding out pf one religion into another, so dissatisfy- his judgment, arid run himself from the solid basis of his first principles ; first, degenerating from the orthodox tenets of the Church of England to Presbytery ; from thence to Indepen dency ; thence to Anabaptism ; thence to Quakerism ; and lastly, to no religion at all. When men have thus once fooled themselves out of religion and a good conscience, it is no wonder that their secular interests draw them into all sorts of impiety and profaneness, ' as it has done this Lodowick Muggletpn : who, though in himself a poor, silly, despicable creature, yet had the confidence to think he had parts enough to wheedle a company of silly, The Life of Lodowick Muggleton. 611 credulous proselytes, out of their souls and estates. And, indeed, he has had such admira ble success in that wicked enterprise, that though we cannot absolutely conclude that he has cheated them of the first ; yet we can prove, if occasion were, that he has defrauded them of the laUer : as has been often told him, since the first day of his standing in the pillory. " k u un t0-ld a1rea(1y> aow ^is impious impostor lays claim to a counterfeit commission, whereby he has infected the truths of many honest* ignorant people, with an extraordinary power, that was delivered to him by as infamous a blasphemer as himself, John Reeve; ' who, as he formerly rivalled Muggleton in impiety, had he been yet living, should certainly have clubbed with him in his deserved punishment. , It is about twpnty-one years, since this impudent creature began his impostures ; who ' knowing himself as defective of reason as of religion, made it one of the grand maxims of his policy, that his proselytes should be fully persuaded, contrary to all sense or probability." Reason was that great beast, spoken of in the Revelation ; and, consequently, not to be con sulted withal, as to the examining of any fundamental point in religion : whereby he secured both himself and his shallow disciples, from all those frequent disputations and arguingsj which, otherwise, must necessarily have diverted them from adhering to his damnable, impipus, and irrational tenets ; which I purposely omit, as being too insufferably profane for the modest ear of any sober, well-meaning Christian. But we may judge a little of the theorick by the practick ; I mean, of his principles by his practices ; and of the soundness of his doctrine by those duties he held himself, and his follow ers, obliged to, in the performance of it ; which indeed were none at all : it being his usual custom, when they met on the sabbath-day, to entertain them with" a pig of their own sow ; I mean, with wipe, strong dririk, or victuals ; which either they sent in before-hand, or brought along with them ;- allowing them to be as licentious as they pleased, in all things that might gratify, or indulge their senses., , A friend of mine was, one Sunday, walking in the fields ; and, meeting there an old ac quaintance of his, who was lately turned Muggletonian, with a young baggage in his hand, which he did more than suspect was light ; he could not forbear expressing his admiration, to this Muggletonian himself, in these, or such-like terms : " I cannot but wonder to see you, my old neighbour, who have for these many years busied yourself in the study of religion, and was,.not long since, like tp have gone mad, because you knew not which opinion to stick to : I say, I cannot but wonder to see you abroad on the sabbath-day, in this brisk posture : you are altered both in countenance, apparel, and manners, so that I almost "doubt, whom I speak to." " Ah ! (answered the Muggletonian) you know, friend, how I have heretofore troubled myself about religion indeed, insomuch that it had almost cost me my life ; but all in vain, till about six weeks since ; at which time I met with Lodowick Muggleton, who has put me into the easiest way to Heaven, that ever was invented ; for'he gives us liberty, provided we do but believe in his commission, freely to launch into all those pleasures, which others, less knowing, call vices ; and, after all, will assure us of eternal salvation." Behold', reader, what a sweet religion here is like to be. But, as Muggleton was liberal in the freedom he gave his adherents, so'he was always care ful to avoid the prohibitions of the law : he generally appointed his bubbles to meet in the fields, where he also permitted them to humour tlieir sensualities with any recreation, not ex cepting uncleanness itself; for which profaning the sabbath lie was, in Oliver Cromwell's time, committed to Newgate, where he. had like to have been so dealt withal then, that Tyhurn had saved the pillory this trouble now. But that perfidious usurper, conscious to himself that Muggleton could not be a greater impostor in the church than he was in: the state, upon the consideration Of fratres in mails, restored him to his liberty. Hpwbeit, a little before Oliver's death, ' Muggleton, by continual flatteries, .had got into his books ; and, amongst other prophecies concerning him; had declared, that Oliver should ' rMtto-o-leton and Reeve are said .to have pretended . an absolute power of extending salvation or condemna tion oWwhom they pleased ; giving out,, that they were the.two last witnesses from heaven, who should appear A>efor.e. the .end of the. world, George Fox, an apostle of the Quakers, was also an associate with Muggleton. Sxe his Journal, and Leslies Snake in vthe Qrass.] ., ¦„. w!2 An Epitaph on the Life and Death of br. Monner. perform more wonderful actions, irhati any he had yet atchieved, before he die* Biit, fee' happening to depart this life, /before he had done any thing else that was remarkable, Mug gleton was demanded, " why his prophecy proved not true ?" He answered very Wisely; ant! like himself, viz. " That he was sure Oliver WPiild have performed them, had he lite©! Ibfeg enough." But since his gracibus Majesty's return, he has driven on a much more profitable tfa^olo* gTcal cheat, havirig assumed the liberty not only of infusing what docfeine he pleased into fife minds pf his ignorant deluded follPwefe, but writ several profane books; which, to his- great advantage, he dispersed among them; poisoning their minds thereby with a hedge-- pedge of rotten Tenets, whereby they are become uheapable of relishing the moro :soiind, Whefesottiei and undoubted principles of the Church of England. I shall conclude with one story more concerning Muggleton, and SO leave him to the ceft- sttre pf the ingenuous reader. A thnish gentleman, accoutered with sword and peruke, hearing the noise this man caused in the town, had a great desire to discourse With him, whom he found alone in his study ; and, taking advantage pf that occasion, he Urged Maggie* ton so far, that, knowing not what to say, he falls to a solemn parsing of the gentleman ; who was so enraged thereat, that he drew his sword, and swore he wPrild run him through immedi ately^ unless he recanted the sentence pf damnation, which he had presumptuously cast upon him. Muggleton, perceiving, by the gentleman's looks, that he really intended what hie threat ened, did riot only recant his curse, but pitifully entreated him whpm he had cursed before; by which we may understand the invalidity both of him arid his commission. Thus, whoever considers the contents of Muggleton's whole life, will find it, in toto, nothing but a continued cheat of above tWenty-one years long; which, in the catastrophe, lie may behold worthily rewarded with the modest punishment of a wooden ruff, er pillory ; his grey hairs gilded with dirt and rotten eggs ; and, in fine, himself brpught(by reason of his own horrid arid irreligious actions) intP the greatest scorn and contempt Imaginable, by all the lovers of piety, discretion, Pr good manners. An Epitaph \ or rather a short Discourse, made Vp6n the Life and Death of Dr. Bonner, sometime unworthy Bishop of London ; whiche dyed the Fifth of September in the Mar- shalsie. Imprinted at London, N at the long Shop adjoining vnto S. Mildreds Church in the Pultrie, by John Allde, - An. Dom. 1569. Sept. 14. [Duodecimo, containing Fourteen Pages.] Suam cito de vivis exlirpabuntur iniqui ? Fidenfum Domino pilrsboniifvrlis etil : Per breve tempos adhut, et non erit impius ultra ; Stitterettir, nee erit quo fuit ante loto. HOW soon are wicked men cut of, A little while as yet, therfore, From such as live in fame ? And there shall not remain Yet is the Lord the portion gppd, One wicked man hencefoorth to be, Of those that love his name. Of all the wicked train. r [Some verses of more merit, arid little less caofctteltjr, were addressed to Bonner, by tbe father of the xefei- brated Sir John Harington^ and are printed in Nuga: Antiquae, vol. ii. edit. 1 804. Otherverses, made upon Bonner's picture, appeared in the Mirrourof Martyrs, 1615 : but the most virulent piece of personal invective a«amst this hated map, was itititled " A Commemoration, or Dirige of Bastarde Edmonde Boner, alias Saeage, usurped Eisshoppe of Loirddh," ahd pointed in 1569. It closes with a lineal pedigree, in whteh the *le&?e lit ©F Bonner i* pretended to be traced from a juggler, a cutpurse, and a Tom o' Bedlam.] . An Epitaph on the Life and Death qf Dr. Planner. 6iS The wicked man shall then be sought, But he shall not finde grace ; There to be found, where he before Was knowne to have a place. And therfore joy all Englishe harts That fear the Lord aright* And have the Ipve of native land Alwayes before your sight. Lift up your harts, rejoyce in him, For work of his owne hand; •For I of happy tidings mean To let you understand : Whiche cheerful wil be sure to ail Of faithful Englishe blood ; Whose harts did never hate the truthe, Nor Gospel yet withstood. A man there was, a quondam great, Of might, Pf pomp, and praise ; Of Englishe bloed, though Englishe love Were small in all his wayes. As did appeer by Roomishe acts, Proceeding -from his hight ; Whiche proovde him not an Englishe man, But sure a Romain right. For never faithful Englishe hart Was foe to native soil ; Yet hee in native land did seek, Christ's faithful flock to spoil : And also' then he wrought much wo To England's chiefest stayes -f He spilt their blood, and mockt Gpd's woord. Whereby bis gave hfm praise ; Seducing men from sacred truthe, To walke in Roomish trade ; Whereby this land was ransackt so? So spoil 'd, and so bare made, That many yet doo feel the smart Of that unhappy time ; Though God have clensed now these parts From suche moste ugly crime, Wherwith this land infected was, By Balams brood throughout ; Who sought a mischeef huge and great, As then to bring abput. And more then so, t'encrease, by blood, The great and pining lack Of pastors pure, and pillers strong, Whiche then were brought to wrack. Without remorse, his mates and he Ful sore did them torment ; By seeking of their death and losse, Which lov"d Christes testament. , ^ And more then so, of waorthy wights Of whom bereft are wee, Whiche left their welth, their ease, and iife, That Christe might gayned bee. And yet not so, this 2 Cyrus left Much humain blood to spil ; And so peace his devouring rage, And moste blasphemous wil. But more and more he sought outrage, (As all his mates were bent) By lies, and tales, and Popish toyes, God's Gospel to prevent. As one in place by Sathan sent, God's instrument oi fce ; To dausot the pride of England then, (Which -did -it much require;) - And so no dout this 3 Bonner did, He spared no degree ; Ne wise, ne ;grave, ne riche, ne poor, Be-pitied no man hee. Ne lame, ne blinde, suche was his thirst, Ne fooles, ne wise in name ; Yea, nobles blood, as tyrant tride, He sought to bring to flame. When Pastors roum, and Bishops place, Of London see he had • As beadtie then of all his dayes, (A woolf io lamb-skinne clad) His rage defilde the seat with crime, That nations far could say : " A drunken man dooth take in hand, To guide the ship her way." Not drunk with wine, tho' judgement, might Declare he loov'd it more, Then Christes pasture sheep, whereby He should have set great store. » Cyrus was sonne of Carabises, and k-ing of the Meedesand Persians, who making war agai «s' J^cithians, Totatfo tfte'ftueen, having by suttletife slain Cyrus with two hundred thousand Persians, did cut offh.s head, and •<^it;irt»*'b»llof iwa^^ Jdstra- * He spared none, that he eyther durst, *r could, bebo^e to put to pain tor God's triitKe. 614 An Epitaph on the Life and Death of Dr. Bonner. But bloody drunk, sith he not one Did spare of Christes sheep ; Whiche did desire their conscience pure, By.Gpspel, for to keep. Yet he did watche, though as a wPolf, Christes lambes for to dejroure ; He watched not to feed their soules, Nor yet. to preaclie one houre. For sure, though he had Bishops' rowm, Paul saith, he was unfit4 In suche a place of Christes flock, At any .time to sit: Whose judgment was so small and weak In Christes testament ; And learning lesse to teache the flock, With that so slowe intent. Should he obtain of grace devirie, Now for to have a praise ? Whose retchless rage, and swinishe life, Shall live in all. mens dayes. ; His knoweledge was to base, no dout, To sit in Bishops seat ; Though he, perhaps, in Popes decrees, Through travail might be great. And civile law right prompt he knew, Though all for private gain ; And cannons too, for therin was His only studeous pain. And all but to upholde the pride Of Rome, which was to ill; Or els to finde a way how he God's childrens blood might spil. But who can boste in God's decrees, Of Bonner's knowledge now ; In Scriptures force his answers shewd Him learned as a cow. * Or as an asse, whiche judgement lacks In sence of Holy Writ ; Though he obtaind, a bitter space, In Bishops seat to sit. * 1 Tim. iii. 5 Sus Mimervam, the sow teacheth Minerva, What a sow is by nature,, needeth no expressing : Minerva was daughter of Jupiter, and called by the poets goddess of wisdome and all good, arts; now this is talking a proverb, where one unlearned teacheth him of wisdom he might better be taught.' 6 Bufo is a tod, so applied to Bonner, because of his venemous niindc. ? Asinus ad liram. This is a proverb of those that have neither grodnes, nor wils to submit to discipline, * Pallas, the neck-name of Minerva,, so named from a mountain of Thessalia or Aonia, with a twisted topt l»-h.ere the Muses, called Parnassides, or Aonides, did remain, ,' ' , - . Sus5 taught Minervam there to long, Whiche held usurped place ; 'Till Christe, by force" of Gospel truthe, This Bufo6 did displace : Ahd took the asse7 from his repast Of playing on the harp; Whose horned pawes, in harmony, Made neither flat nor sharp : But spilt the sound so long a time, When mischeef reignd at Wil ; 'Til Pallas,8 came, who took the asse Down from Parnassus hil : And tied him up at maunger yet, Whiche once did there remain : Though there he felt not his deserts, Nor halfe deserved pain. To lodge on boords, as he had made Some other lodge before ; With hands and feet, to starve in stocks, With' gives to be ful sore; No, no, in stall ; his torments were None suche, nor half so. vile; He pris'rier hath been sure, but yet Not tasted, all this while, Of pris'ners thrall, of hungers bit, In dungeon deep; to" grone ; Yet he of captives life, fol oft, To many made his mone. Not sure for pain whiche he did feel, . But for the greatest greef ; That he could not be fed as yet, (In slaughter who was cheef ) With blood of Saints, and Christian fleshe, Wherwith his lust was fed ; . . •.•¦;: That he could not exalt the Pope, Stil heer as, supreme hed. That he could not his holy lambes, And leaden bullqs bestowe ; His pardons and his obsequies, |Vlens souls to overthrowe, i, An Epitaph on the Life and Death of Dr. Bonner. 615 That truthe had overthrowen with power His brutishe vile intent; Whiche thought, by fire and fagots force, God's Gospel tp prevent. This wrought his onely greef and wp, As wel it did appeer ; For other cause sure there was none That ever I could hear. He lay ful soft and had inough ' Of beer, and chaunge of wine ; Bothe fleshe and fishe, bothe fruits and foul, Moste delicate and fine. His table never wanted sutes At wil it to maintain ; He lacked neyer cators he, His ayds took always pain, To keep their god, their hope, their .trust, Their staffe of Roomishe stay ; Because with him they wisht a chaunge, Stil looking for a day. And not with him, but with the rest, Of all tlieir helliShe rable ; Whiche are in'their bl inde errors stil, Moste hard and wilful stable. Who pris'ners are as foes to Christe, To Christian Queen and land; But cheef this quondam which made boste, " If he might have in hand His former poure and time again, To blesse and curse at wil ; Where one he burnt, on thousands then He would his lust fulfil." This was his" boste and blooddy thirst, Wherin his ayds did trust ; That once again the Roomishe whore Might have her filthy lust. Although since he, by due desert, Hath been in holde for sin ; Suche mercy hath been shew'd him there, As he shew'd none, I win, To suche as were his betters far, In knoweledge, birth, and fame; Yea, and in life apostolique Of muche more godly name. For sure his manners were moste vile, At all times plainly shew'd ; Why ? was't not he that sought the tree Of our increase t'ave hew'd ? Who shamelesly hath stood thus long At royall mercyes grace ; Although his deeds and woords ful oft Did crave another place. But what said those of Balams sect, There is no law wherby The sword of justice could him strike, Nor cause why he should die. Although, when as the dragon riflde, Right woorthy wights were slain : But one9, when cannon law could not, He was adjudged pain. Without the cannons councels he, That Pool10 might have his place : By Popes assent, and Roomishe rout, Whiche ror'd him to deface. Yf Popes assent, when Englishe lawes Nor cannons could prevail ; Might giltJess make so wise a sage, By fiery flames to quail. Why might not princes lawful poure Have made a just decree? That suche, deserving open shame, • Might recompensed be. l But onely that pure mercy did Keep back that right did crave : In recompensing him with death, As all the rest might have. Yet he tryumpht as whole and sound, ' .His purpose whole to make : Right many yet (if time would serve) To bring unto the stake. And once again, if fortune stood, He might have up the Masse: (But see how now the Lord of Hostes Hath made his foe like grasse.) Who bragd and boasted in his greace To washe the tile anew ; And faind an end to his devise, Whiche yet he never knew. » Tho. Cranmer, Archbishop of Cant, whom, by their cannons, they could not put to death, til the Pope, a ray ing his image at Boom, condemned it, burnt it, and then was he burned at Oxford. '*" Cardinal PooJ^, who could not be Archbishop by the cannons, til the other were dead. 616 An Epitaph on the Life and Death of Dr. Bonner* And so the rest with cheerful sound, At ev'ry newes that came, Sang, as the proverb olde hath been, Laudes ante victoriam. Sith monstVous corps, with delicates. So monst'rously was bfowen; [woords, Whose mbnst'rous minde, with poys'iring In grave is overthrowen. But wba,t, did he repent of all His blooddy sinful race ? And learn fey Gods woord to amend, His life so voyd of grace ? Nay sure, ttf time of present death, He chaunged not his minde : But, as he liv'd a foe to Christe, , So dyed moste wilful blinde. Oh, yet though lie had liv'd so il, God's mercy is eot bace, To suche as think that J hesus Christe Can all their sinnes deface. But as this Eresichthon11 liv'd, In spite .and rage to spoil : So, in his end, of mjghtiejfave He took a deadly foil. Not that he died, but that in death His helth he did denie : For sure non imori turpe est, Sed turpiter mori. And yet, thoagh Eresichthon's end Hapt npt unto this fop, To eat his fleshe ; sith Bonner's mates In stie did fat him so : Yet viler end had he, no dout, Then Eresichthon 's was : Because their times were far unlike, As it did come to passe. Tlie one a Christian was in name, The other Pagan prowd : Yet in there acts of maners like, As may bee wel avou'd. He Ceres sought, this J hesus Gbriste, And his to bring to wrack : He did starve* this with grease died, Though grace from him went back. Whereby all such as blinded were, By fav'ring of his acts, May see what, judgement is preparde To recompence tlieir foots. And therefore houle all Balam's seed, And weep both moste and least, Which bear the mark. (in such a light) Of that ilfav'red beast. But Englishe harts, which love God's woj?d, Our Queen and Englishe land ; Rejoyce, sith hepe of foes is spoild, By force of God's right hand. Sith filthy flesh doth lie in grave. Though soule 1 fear be il ; Which Jiy?d and dide so stout a foe To Christes death and wil. But what though blooddy corps of his Be forste to lie ful lowe : His blopddy fects, and deeds moste vile, From hence, shall no man knowe ? Shall treason so conspi^d, shall pride, Shall blasphemy lie dead? No fame from earth tp upper skies His wickeifees shall spread ? His brutisne tigrishe toil, in time Of his most high renown, T'extoll the power and pomp of him That weres the triple crown. His rage and currish cruel spile, Against his cuntriemen ; His butcherly device, to waste The fleshe of Christians then. His false surmise and murdring spite., Whiche shew'd him then to be A Poliphemus1' right, whiche slue In three yeeres hundreds three. Not of Ulisses souldiours sure, But Christians truly tride ; Whiche were devoured, while he had The ruther for to guide. ", Eresichthon was King of Thessalia, who despised Ceres, and cut down her woods; at last, being stroke n with a mervailous hunger, was compe'ld to eat his own fleshe. " Poliphemus, or. Cyclops, was son of Neptune and Thoosa, a great monster, having but one eye, which was in his forehed. He was or the ile of Sciciiia, into whiche ftjlisses being cast by rage of tempest, and hapning on the cave of this Cyclops, lostffour of his men ; who would liave devoured the rest, if Uiisges, making him drunk, had not, with afire-brand, bored out his eye, : An Epitaph on the Life and Death of Dr. Bonner. 617 Shall now Philonides13 lie dead, Shall serpentinishe rage So sleep ? Nay sure his wickednes Shall live the worldes age. His stoutnes shall remain now shewd, In time of his conflict ; Who as a subject did deny, To have his hart adict. And as a foe to Ghriste his wpprd, And to our gracious Queen ; Wisht, with his mates moste trat'rously, . Some others raign, I ween. Beside his epicurishe1 life, Before and in this cace : Though corps be dead, yet death cannot These horrours quite deface. He suffred was, ful ten yeers space, By favour him to win : (As Gospels nature is) yet he Could never once begin For to repent (though favour he Deserved had but small At those, which now in his distresse, Did shew him moste of all.) But scoft and mocked those, as yet Whiche gladly would him teache : But, cheefly in his death, such men As Gospel soundly preache. And therfore sith, in life of his, No vertue was to praise : In welth, ne wo, no spark of grace ; Whiche liv'd and spent his days; So like a Cyclops in his den, Deserving no good fame : Sith God hath cut off suche a drone '*, Can we but praise his name ? And eke beseeche th' almightie Jove, The number to fulfil ; In cutting of the rest with speed, That bear the beast good wil. Who sure may shame at his vile race, But more at his vile end : And sore lament his fearful state, Whiche now did not amend. Though all his life he had been bent, Yet now to stand so stout : Denying Christe, at his last breath, Is fearful, out of dout. This may suffize, as God hath lent Me grace to rule my pen ; In biasing foorth the deeds and fame, (Before all Christian men) Of Romaine's greasy God, whose life And death (so woorthy shame) I have display'd, and therfore now, Such shal be muche to blame, Which carp at truthe, and stomack this That evry man can tel Throughout this land ; and others to, Ere this whiche knew it wel. God save our Queen Elizabeth, And bring her foes to il ; And root out those with speed from us, Which bear the Pope good wil. Amen. T. KNELL, Ju. '3 Philonides was a great big lubber of Miletae (now called Malta) altogether so folishe and unlerned, that of him grew a proverb, Indoctior Philonide. Some will say, Bonner was wel lerned. I graunt; yet, in knowledge of Holy Scripture, like to Philonides; notwithstanding his civile law. 14 A drone breedeth among bees, muche like a bee; and alwayes lives in the hive, never coming out to ga ther hony, but stil devoureth that whiche the bee doeth gather; and, at last, the bee and all. THE END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. VOL. 4 K