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Answer to a Book · John Milton

Answer to a Book, Part 21 – Part 23

XXI. VponUpon His Letters tak'n and divulg'd.

THE Kings Letters taken at the Battell of Naesby, being of greatest importance to let the people see what Faith there was in all his promises and solemn Protestations, were transmitted to public view by special Order of the Parlament. They discover'd his good affection to Papists and Irish Rebels, the straight intelligence he held, the pernitious & dishonorable peace he made with them, not solicited but rather soliciting, wch by all invocations that were holy he had in public abjur'd. They reveal'd his endeavours to bring in forren Forces, Irish, French, Dutch, Lorrainers, and our old Invaders the Danes upon us, besides his suttleties and mysterious arts in treating: to summ up all, they shewd him govern'd by a Woman. All which though suspected vehemently before, and from good grounds beleev'd, yet by him and his adherents peremptorily deny'd, were, by the op'ning of that Cabinet, visible to all men under his own hand.

The Parlament therfore to cleer themselves of aspersing him without cause, and that the people might no longer be abus'd and cajol'd, as they call it, by falsities and Court impudence, in matters of so high concernment, to let them know on what termes thir duty stood, and the Kingdoms peace, conceavd it most expedient and necessary, that those Letters should be made public. This the King affirmes was by them don without honour and civilitie: words, which if they contain not in them, as in the language of a Courtier most commonly they do not, more of substance and realitie then complement, Ceremony, Court fauning and dissembling, enter not I suppose furder then the eare into any wise mans consideration. Matters were not then between the Parlament and a King thir enemie in that state of trifling, as to observ those superficial vanities. But if honour and civilitie mean, as they did of old, discretion, honesty, prudence, and plaine truth, it will be then maintain'd against any Sect of those Cabalists, that the Parlament in doing what they did with those Letters, could suffer in thir honour and civilitie no diminution. The reasons are already heard.

And that it is with none more familiar then with Kings, to transgress the bounds of all honour and civility, there should not want examples good store, if brevity would permitt; In poynt of Letters this one shall suffice. The Duchess of Burgundie and heire of Duke Charles, had promis'd to her Subjects that shee intended no otherwise to Govern, then by advise of the three Estates, but to Lewis the French King had writt'n Letters, that shee had resolv'd to committ wholly the managing of her affaires to foure Persons, whom shee nam'd. The three Estates not doubting the sincerity of her Princely word, send Embassadors to Lewis, who then beseig'd Arras belonging to the Duke of Burgondy. The King taking hold of this occasion to set them at division among themselves, question'd thir Credence; which when they offerd to produce with thir instructions, he not only shewes them the privat Letter of thir Duchess, but gives it them to carry home, wherwith to affront her; which they did, shee denying it stoutly; till they, spredding it before her face in a full assembly, convicted her of an op'n Iye. Which although Commines the historian much blames, as a deed too harsh and dishonourable in them who were Subjects, and not at Warr with thir Princess, yet to his Maister Lewis, who first divulg'd those Letters, to the op'n shaming of that young Governess, he imputes no incivilitie or dishonour at all, although betraying a certaine confidence repos'd by that Letter in his royal secrecie.

With much more reason then may letters not intercepted only, but won in battell from an enemie, be made public to the best advantages of them that win them, to the discovery of such important truth or falshood. Was it not more dishonourable in himself to faine suspicions and jealousies, which we first found among those Letters, touching the chastitie of his Mother, thereby to gaine assistance from the King of Denmark, as in vindication of his Sister? The Damsell of Burgundie, at sight of her own letter, was soon blank, and more ingenuous then to stand outfacing; but this man whom nothing will convince, thinks by talking world without end, to make good his integrity and faire dealing contradicted by his own hand and seale. They who can pick nothing out of them but phrases shall be counted Bees: they that discern furder both there and here, that constancy to his Wife is set in place before Laws and Religion, are in his naturalities no better then Spiders.

He would work the people to a perswasion, that if he be miserable they cannot be happy. VVhat should hinder them? VVere they all born Twins of Hippocrates with him and his fortune, one birth one burial? It were a Nation miserable indeed, not worth the name of a Nation, but a race of Idiots, whose happiness and welfare depended upon one Man. The happiness of a Nation consists in true Religion, Piety, Justice, Prudence, Temperance, Fortitude, and the contempt of Avarice and Ambition. They in whomsoever these vertues dwell eminently, need not Kings to make them happy, but are the architects of thir own happiness; and whether to themselves or others are not less then Kings. But in him, which of these vertues were to be found, that might extend to the making happy, or the well-governing of somuch as his own houshold, which was the most tious and ill govern'd in the whole Land.

But the op'ning of his Letters was design'd by the Parlament to make all reconciliation desperate. Are the lives of so many good and faithfull men, that dy'd for the freedom of thir Country, to be so slighted, as to be forgott'n in a stupid reconcilement without Justice don them? VVhat he feares not by VVarr and slaughter, should we feare to make desperate by op'ning his Letters? VVhichWhich fact he would parallell with Chams revealing of his Fathers nakedness: VVhen he at that time could be no way esteem'd the Father of his Countrey, but the destroyer; nor had he ever before merited that former title.

He thanks God he cannot onelyonly beare this with patience, but with charity forgive the doers. Is not this meer mockery to thank God for what he can doe, but will not? For is it patience to impute Barbarism and inhumanity to the op'ning of an Enemies Letter, or is it Charity to cloth them with curses in his Prayer whom he hath forgiv'n in his Discours? In which Prayer to shew how readily he can return good for evil to the Parlament, and that if they take away his Coat, he can let them have his Cloak also, for the dismantling of his Letters he wishes They may be cover'd with the Cloak of confusion. VVhichWhich I suppose they do resigne with much willingness, both Livery, Badge, and Cognizance, to them who chose rather to be the Slaves and Vassals of his will, then to stand against him, as men by nature free; born and created with a better title to thir freedom, then any King hath to his Crown.

XXII. VponUpon His going to the Scots.

THe Kings comming in, whether to the Scots or English, deserv'd no thanks: for necessitie was his Counselor: and that he hated them both alike, his expressions every where manifest. Som say his purpose was to have come to London, till hearing how strictly it was proclaim'd that no man should conceal him, he diverted his course. But that had bin a frivolous excuse: and besides he himself rehearsing the consultations had, before he took his journey, shewes us cleerly that he was determin'd to adventure upon their Loyalty who first began his troubles. And that the Scots had notice of it before, hath bin long since brought to light. What prudence there could be in it, noman can imagin; Malice there might be, by raising new jealousies to divide Freinds. For besides his diffidence of the English, it was no small dishonour that he put upon them, when rather then yeild himself to the Parlament of England, he yeelded to an hireling Army of Scots in England, payd for thir Service heer, not in Scotch coyn, but in English Silver; nay who from the first beginning of these troubles, what with brotherly assistance, and what with mounthly pay, have defended thir own Liberty and consciences at our charge. However it was a hazardous and rash journey taken, to resolve riddles in mens Loyaltie, who had more reason to mistrust the Riddle of such a disguised yeelding; and to put himself in their hands whose Loyalty was a Riddle to him, was not the cours to be resolv'd of it, but to tempt it. What providence deny'd to force, he thought it might grant to fraud, which he stiles Prudence: But Providence was not couzen'd with disguises, neither outward nor inward.

To have known his greatest danger in his supposed safety, and his greatest safety in his supposed danger was to him a fatal Riddle never yet resolv'd; wherin rather to have imployd his main skill, had bin much more to his preservation.

Had he known when the Game was lost, it might have sav'd much contest: but the way to give over fairely, was not to slip out of op'n Warr into a new disguise. He layes down his Armes, but not his Wiles; nor all his Armes, for in obstinacy he comes no less arm'd then ever, Cap a pè. And what were they but wiles, continually to move for Treaties, and yet to persist the same man, and to fortifie his mind before hand, still purposing to grant no more then what seem'd good to that violent and lawless Triumvirate within him, under the falsifi'd names of his Reason, Honour, and Conscience, the old circulating dance of his shifts and evasions.

The words of a King, as they are full of power, in the autority and strength of Law, so like Sampson, without the strength of that Nazarites lock, they have no more power in them then the words of another man.

He adores Reason as Domitian did Minerva, and calls her the Divinest power, thereby to intimate as if at reasoning, as at his own weapon, no man were so able as himself. Might we be so happy as to know where these monuments of his Reason may be seen, for in his actions & his writing they appeare as thinly as could be expected from the meanest parts, bredd up in the midst of so many wayes extraordinary to know somthing. He who reads his talk, would think he had left Oxford not without mature deliberation: Yet his Prayer confesses that he knew not what to doe. Thus is verifi'd that Psalme; He powreth contempt upon Princes and causeth them to wander in the Wilderness where there is no way, Psal. 107.

XXIII. VponUpon the Scots delivering the King to the English.

THat the Scots in England should sell thir King, as he himself here affirmes, and for a price so much above that, which the covetousness of Judas was contented with to sell our Saviour, is so foule an infamy and dishonour cast upon them, as befitts none to vindicate but themselves. And it were but friendly Counsel to wish them beware the Son, who comes among them with a firme beleif that they sould his Father. The rest of this Chapter he Sacrifices to the Echo of his Conscience, out-babling Creeds and Ave's; glorying in his resolute obstinacy, and as it were triumphing how evident it is now, that not evill Counselors, but he himself hath been the Author of all our troubles. Herein onelyonly we shall disagree to the worlds end, while he who sought so manifestly to have annihilated all our Laws and Liberties, hath the confidence to perswade us that he hath fought and suffer'd all this while in thir defence.

But he who neither by his own Letters and Commissions under hand and Seale, nor by his own actions held as in a Mirror before his face, will be convinc'd to see his faults, can much less be won upon by any force of words, neither he, nor any that take after him; who in that respect are no more to be disputed with, then they who deny Principles. No question then, but the Parlament did wisely in thir decree at last, to make no more addresses. For how unalterable his will was, that would have bin our Lord, how utterly averse from the Parlament, and Reformation, during his confinement, we may behold in this Chapter. But to be ever answering fruitless Repetitions, I should become liable to answer for the same my self. He borrows Davids Psalmes, as he charges the Assembly of Divines in his twentith Discourse, To have set forth old Catechisms and confessions of faith new drest. Had he borrow'd Davids heart, it had bin much the holier theft. For such kind of borrowing as this, if it be not better'd by the borrower, among good Authors is accounted Plagiarie. However, this was more tolerable then Pammela's Praier, stol'n out of Sir Philip.