Answer to a Book, Part 4
IV. VponUpon the Insolency of the Tumults.
WEE have heer, I must confess, a neat and wellcouch'd invective against Tumults; expressing a true feare of them in the Author, but yet so handsomly compos'd, and withall so feelingly, that, to make a Royal comparison, I beleeve Rehoboam the Son of Solomon could not have compos'd it better. Yet Rehoboam had more cause to inveigh against them; for they had ston'd his Tribute-gatherer, and perhaps had as little spar'd his own Person, had hee not with all speed betak'n him to his Charret. But this King hath stood the worst of them in his own House without danger, when his Coach and Horses, in a Panic fear, have bin to seek, which argues that the Tumults at Whitehall were nothing so dangerous as those at Sechem.
But the matter heer considerable, is not whether the King, or his Houshold Rhetorician have made a pithy declamation against Tumults, but first whether these were Tumults or not, next if they were, whether the King himself did not cause them. Let us examin therfore how things at that time stood. The King, as before hath bin prov'd, having both call'd this Parlament unwillingly, and as unwillingly from time to time condescended to thir several acts, carrying on a disjoynt and privat interest of his own, and not enduring to be so cross'd and overswaid, especially in the executing of his chief & bold est Instrument, the Deputy of Ireland, first tempts the English Army, with no less reward then the spoil of London, to come up, and destroy the Parlament. That being discover'd by some of the Officers, who, though bad anough, yet abhorr'd so foul a deed, the K. hard'nd in his purpose, tempts them the 2d time at Burrow Bridge, promises to pawn his Jewels for them, & that they should be mett & assisted (would they but march on) wth a gross body of hors under the E. of Newcastle. He tempts them yet the third time, though after discovery, & his own abjuration to have ever tempted them, as is affirmd in the Declaration of no more addresses. Neither this succeeding, he turnes him next to the Scotch Army; & by his own credential Letters giv'n to Oneal and Sr John Hinderson, baites his temptation with a richer reward; not only to have the sacking of London, but four Northern Counties to be made Scottish; wth Jewels of great value to be giv'n in pawn thewhile. But neither would the Scots, for any promise of reward, be bought to such an execrable and odious treachery; but with much honesty gave notice of the Kings designe, both to the Parlament and City of London. The Parlament moreover had intelligence, and the people could not but discern, that there was a bitter & malignant party grown up now to such a boldness, as to give out insolent and threatning speeches against the Parlament it self. Besides this, the Rebellion in Ireland was now broke out; and a conspiracy in Scotland had bin made, while the King was there, against some chief Members of that Parlament; great numbers heer of unknown, and suspicious persons resorted to the City; the King being return'd from Scotland presently dismisses that Guard which the Parlament thought necessary in the midst of so many dangers to have about them; and puts another Guard in thir place, contrary to the Privilege of that high Court, and by such a one commanded, as made them no less doubtfull of the Guard it self. Which they therfore, upon som ill effects thereof first found, discharge; deeming it more safe to sitt free, though without a Guard in op'n danger, then inclos'd with a suspected safety. The people therfore, lest thir worthiest and most faithfull Patriots, who had expos'd themselves for the public, and whom they saw now left naked, should want aide, or be deserted in the midst of these dangers, came in multitudes, though unarm'd, to witness thir fidelitie and readiness in case of any violence offer'd to the Parlament. The King both envying to see the Peoples love thus devolv'd on another object, and doubting lest it might utterly disable him to doe with Parlaments as he was wont, sent a message into the City forbidding such resorts. The Parlament also both by what was discover'd to them, and what they saw in a Malignant Party (some of which had already drawn blood in a Fray or two at the Court Gate, and eev'n at thir own Gate, in Westminster Hall) conceaving themselves to be still in danger where they sat, sent a most reasonable and just Petition to the King, that a Guard might be allow'd them out of the City, wherof the Kings own Chamberlaine, the Earl of Essex might have command; it being the right of inferiour Courts to make chois of thir own Guard. This the King refus'd to doe, and why he refus'd, the very next day made manifest. For on that day it was, that he sallied out from White Hall, with those trusty Myrmidons, to block up, or give assault to the House of Commons. He had, besides all this, begun to fortifie his Court, and entertaind armed Men not a few; who standing at his Palace Gate, revil'd, and with drawn Swords wounded many of the People, as they went by unarm'd, and in a peaceable manner, whereof some dy'd. The passing by of a multitude, though neither to Saint Georges Feast, nor to a Tilting, certainly of it self was no Tumult; the expression of thir Loyalty and stedfastness to the Parlament, whose lives and safeties by more then slight rumours they doubted to be in danger, was no Tumult. If it grew to be so, the cause was in the King himself and his injurious retinue, who both by Hostile preparations in the Court, and by actual assailing of the People, gave them just cause to defend themselves.
Surely those unarmed and Petitioning People needed not have bin so formidable to any, but to such whose consciences misgave them how ill they had deserv'd of the People; and first began to injure them, because they justly fear'd it from them; and then ascribe that to popular Tumult which was occasion'd by thir own provoking.
And that the King was so emphatical and elaborat on this Theam against Tumults, and express'd with such a vehemence his hatred of them, will redound less perhaps, then he was aware, to the commendation of his Goverment. For besides that in good Goverments they happ'n seldomèst, and rise not without cause, if they prove extreme and pernicious, they were never counted so to Monarchy, but to Monarchical Tyranny; and extremes one with another are at most Antipathy. If then the King so extremely stood in fear of Tumults, the inference will endanger him to be the other extreme. Thus farr the occasion of this discours against Tumults; now to the discours it self, voluble anough, and full of sentence, but that, for the most part, either specious rather then solid, or to his cause nothing pertinent.
He never thought any thing more to presage the mischiefes that ensu'd, then those Tumults. Then was his foresight but short, and much mistak'n. Those Tumults were but the milde effects of an evil and injurious raigne; not signes of mischeifs to come, but seeking releef for mischeifs past; those signes were to be read more apparent in his rage and purpos'd revenge of those free expostulations, and clamours of the People against his lawless Goverment. Not any thing, saith he, portends more Gods displeasure against a Nation then when he suffers the clamours of the Vulgar to pass all bounds of Law & reverence to Authority. It portends rather his dispeasure against a Tyrannous King, whose proud Throne he intends to overturn by that contemptible Vulgar; the sad cries and oppressions of whom his Royaltie regarded not. As for that supplicating People they did no hurt either to Law or Autority, but stood for it rather in the Parlament against whom they fear'd would violate it.
That they invaded the Honour and Freedome of the two Houses, is his own officious accusation, not seconded by the Parlament, who had they seen cause, were themselves best able to complain. And if they shook & menac'd any, they were such as had more relation to the Court, then to the Common wealth; enemies, not patrons of the People. But if thir petitioning unarm'd were an invasion of both Houses, what was his entrance into the House of Commons, besetting it with armed men, in what condition then was the honour, and freedom of that House?
They forbore not rude deportments, contemptuous words and actions to himself and his Court.
It was more wonder, having heard what treacherous hostility he had design'd against the City, and his whole Kingdome, that they forbore to handle him as people in thir rage have handl'd Tyrants heertofore for less offences.
They were not a short ague, but a fierce quotidian feaver: He indeed may best say it, who most felt it; for the shaking was within him; and it shook him by his own description worse then a storme, worse then an earthquake, Belshazzars Palsie. Had not worse feares, terrors, and envies made within him that commotion, how could a multitude of his Subjects, arm'd with no other weapon then Petitions, have shak'n all his joynts with such a terrible ague. Yet that the Parlament should entertaine the least feare of bad intentions from him or his Party, he endures not; but would perswade us that men scare themselves and others without cause; for he thought feare would be to them a kind of armor, and his designe was, if it were possible, to disarme all, especially of a wise feare and suspicion; for that he knew would find weapons.
He goes on therfore with vehemence to repeat the mischeifs don by these Tumults. They first Petition'd, then protected, dictate next, and lastly overaw the Parlament. They remov'd obstructions, they purg'd the Houses, cast out rott'n members. If there were a man of iron, such as Talus, by our Poet Spencer, is fain'd to be the page of Justice, who with his iron flaile could doe all this, and expeditiously, without those deceitfull formes and circumstances of Law, worse then ceremonies in Religion; I say God send it don, whether by one Talus, or by a thousand.
But they subdu'd the men of conscience in Parlament, back'd and abetted all seditious and schismatical Proposals against government ecclesiastical and civil.
Now wee may perceave the root of his hatred whence it springs. It was not the Kings grace or princely goodness, but this iron flaile the People, that drove the Bishops out of thir Baronies, out of thir Cathedrals, out of the Lords House, out of thir Copes and Surplices, and all those Papistical innovations, threw down the High Commission and Star-chamber, gave us a Triennial Parlament, and what we most desir'd; in revenge whereof he now so bitterly enveighs against them; these are those seditious and scismatical Proposals, then by him condescended to, as acts of grace, now of another name; which declares him, touching matters of Church and State, to have bin no other man in the deepest of his solitude, then he was before at the highest of his Sovrantie.
But this was not the worst of these Tumults, they plaid the hasty midwives, and would not stay the ripening, but went streight to ripping up, and forcibly cut out abortive Votes.
They would not stay perhaps the Spanish demurring, and putting off such wholsome acts and counsels, as the Politic Cabin at WhiteHall had no mind to. But all this is complain'd heer as don to the Parlament, and yet we heard not the Parlament at that time complaine of any violence from the people, but from him. Wherfore intrudes he to plead the cause of Parlament against the People, while the Parlament was pleading thir own cause against him; and against him were forc'd to seek refuge of the people? 'Tis plaine then that those confluxes and resorts interrupted not the Parlament, nor by them were thought Tumultuous, but by him onelyonly and his Court Faction.
But what good Man had not rather want any thing he most desir'd for the public good, then attain it by such unlawfull and irreligious meanes; as much as to say, Had not rather sit still and let his Country be Tyranniz'd, then that the people, finding no other remedie, should stand up like Men and demand thir Rights and Liberties. This is the artificialest peece of fineness to perswade men into slavery that the wit of Court could have invented. But heare how much betterthe Moral of this Lesson would befitt the Teacher. What good man had not rather want a boundless and arbitrary power, and those fine Flowers of the Crown, call'd Prerogatives, then for them to use force and perpetual vexation to his faithfull Subjects, nay to wade for them through blood and civil warr? So that this and the whole bundle of those following sentences may be apply'd better to the convincement of his own violent courses, then of those pretended Tumults.
Who were the chiefe Demagogues to send for those Tumults, some alive are not ignorant. Setting aside the affrightment of this Goblin word; for the King by his leave cannot coine English as he could Money, to be current (and tis beleev'd this wording was above his known stile and Orthographie, and accuses the whole composure to be conscious of som other Author) yet if the people were sent for, emboldn'd and directed by those Demagogues, who, saving his Greek, were good Patriots, and by his own confession Men of some repute for parts and pietie, it helps well to assure us there was both urgent cause, and the less danger of thir comming.
Complaints were made, yet no redress could be obtain'd. The Parlament also complain'd of what danger they sate in from another party, and demanded of him a Guard, but it was not granted. What marvel then if it chear'd them to see some store of thir Friends, and in the Roman not the pettifogging sense, thir Clients so neer about them; a defence due by nature both from whom it was offer'd, and to whom; as due as to thir Parents; though the Court storm'd, and fretted to see such honour giv'n to them, who were then best Fathers of the Common-wealth. And both the Parlament and people complain'd, and demanded Justice for those assaults, if not murders don at his own dores, by that crew of Rufflers, but he, in stead of doing Justice on them, justifi'd and abetted them in what they did, as in his public Answer to a Petition from the City may be read. Neither is it slightly to be pass'd over, that in the very place where blood was first drawn in this cause, as the beginning of all that follow'd, there was his own blood shed by the Executioner. According to that sentence of Divine justice, In the place where Dogs lick'd the blood of Naboth, shall Dogs lick thy blood, eev'n thine.
From hence he takes occasion to excuse that improvident and fatal error of his absenting from the Parlament. When he found that no Declaration of the Bishops could take place against those Tumults. Was that worth his considering, that foolish and self-undoing Declaration of twelve Cypher Bishops, who were immediatly appeacht of Treason for that audacious Declaring? The Bishops peradventure were now and then pulld by the Rochers, and deserv'd another kind of pulling; but what amounted this to the feare of his own person in the streets? Did he not the very next day after his irruption into the House of Commons, then which nothing had more exasperated the people, goe in his Coach unguarded into the City? did hee receave the least affront, much less violence in any of the Streets, but rather humble demeanours, and supplications? Hence may be gather'd, that however in his own guiltiness hee might have justly fear'd, yet that hee knew the people so full of aw and reverence to his Person, as to dare commit himself single among the thickest of them, at a time when he had most provok'd them. Besides in Scot-Land they had handl'd the Bishops in a more robustious manner; Edinburrow had bin full of Tumults, two Armies from thence had enterd England against him; yet after all this, he was not fearfull, but very forward to take so long a journey to Edinburrow; which argues first, as did also his rendition afterward to the Scotch Army, that to England he continu'd still, as he was indeed, a stranger, and full of diffidence; to the Scots onelyonly a native King, in his confidence, though not in his dealing towards them. It shews us next beyond doubting, that all this his feare of Tumults was but a meer colour and occasion tak'n of his resolved absence from the Parlament, for some other end not difficult to be guess'd. And those instances wherein valour is not to be question'd for not scuffling with the Sea, or an undisciplind Rabble, are but subservient to carry on the solemn jest of his fearing Tumults: if they discover not withall, the true reason why he departed; onelyonly to turne his slashing at the Court Gate, to slaughtering in the Field; his disorderly bickering, to an orderly invading: which was nothing els but a more orderly disorder.
Some suspected and affirm'd, that he meditated a Warr when he went first from White Hall. And they were not the worst heads that did so, nor did any of his former acts weak'n him to that, as he alleges for himself, or if they had, they cleere him onelyonly for the time of passing them, not for what ever thoughts might come after into his mind. Former actions of improvidence or fear, not with him unusual, cannot absolve him of all after meditations,
He goes on protesting his no intention to have left White Hall, had these horrid Tumults giv'n him but Faire Quarter, as if he himself, his Wife and Children had bin in peril. But to this anough hath bin answer'd.
Had this Parlament as it was in its first Election, Namely, with the Lord and Baron Bishops, sate full and free, he doubts not but all had gon well. What warrant this of his to us? Whose not doubting was all good mens greatest doubt.
He was resolv'd to heare reason, and to consent so farr as he could comprehend. A hopefull resolution; what if his reason were found by oft experience to comprehend nothing beyond his own advantages, was this a reason fit to be intrusted with the common good of three Nations?
But, saith he, as Swine are to gardens, so are Tumults to Parlaments. This the Parlament, had they found it so, could best have told us. In the meane while, who knows not that one great Hogg may doe as much mischief in a Garden, as many little Swine.
He was sometimes prone to think that had he call'd this last Parlament to any other place in England, the sad consequences might have bin prevented. But change of ayr changes not the mind. Was not his first Parlament at Oxford dissolv'd after two Subsidies giv'n him, and no Justice receav'd? Was not his last in the same place, where they sat with as much freedom, as much quiet from Tumults, as they could desire, a Parlament both in his account, and thir own, consisting of all his Friends, that fled after him, and suffer'd for him, and yet by him nicknam'd, and casheer'd for a Mungrill Parlament that vext his Queen with thir base and mutinous motions, as his Cabinet letter tells us? Wherby the World may see plainly, that no shifting of place, no sifting of members to his own mind, no number, no paucity, no freedom from tumults, could ever bring his arbitrary wilfulness, and tyrannical Designes to brook the lest shape or similitude, the lest counterfet of a Parlament.
Finally instead of praying for his people as a good King should doe, hee prayes to be deliver'd from them, as from wild Beasts, Inundations, and raging Seas, that had overborn all Loyalty, Modesty, Laws, Justice, and Religion. God save the people from such Intercessors.