Answer to a Book, Part 18
XVIII. Upon the Uxbridge Treaty, &c.
IF the way of Treaties be look'd upon in general, as a retiring from bestial force to human reason, his first Aphorism heer is in part deceav'd. For men may Treat like Beasts as well as fight. If som fighting were not mar-like, then either fortitude were no vertue, or no fortitude in fighting: And as Politicians ofttimes through dilatory purposes, and emulations handle the matter, there hath bin no where found more bestialitie then in treating: which hath no more commendation in it then from fighting to come to undermining, from violence to craft, and when they can no longer doe as Lions, to doe as Foxes.
The sincerest end of Treating after War once Proclaim'd, is either to part with more, or to demand less then was at first fought for, rather then to hazzard more lives, or wors mischiefs. What the Parlament in that point were willing to have don, when first after the Warr begun, they Petition'd him at Colebrook to voutsafe a treaty, is unknown. For after he had tak'n God to witness of his continual readiness to Treat, or to offer Treaties to the avoiding of bloodshed, had nam'd Windsor the place of Treaty, and pass'd his royal word not to advance furder, till Commissioners by such a time were speeded towards him, taking the advantage of a thick Mist, which fell that evening, weather that soon invited him to a designe no less treacherous and obscure; he follows at the heels those Me engers of Peace with a traine of covert Warr: and with a bloody surprise falls on our secure Forces which lay quartering at Brentford in the thoughts and expectation of a Treaty. And although in them who make a Trade of Warr, and against a natural Enemy, such an onset might in the rigor of Military Law have bin excus'd, while Armes were not yet by agreement suspended, yet by a King, who seem'd so heartily to accept of treating with his subjects, and professes heer, He never wanted either desire or disposition to it, professes to have greater confidence in his Reason, then in his Sword, and as a Christian to seek Peace and ensue it, such bloody and deceitful advantages would have bin forborn one day at least, if not much longer; in whom there had not bin a thirst rather then a detestation of civil Warr and blood, and a desire to subdue rather then to treat.
In the midst of a second Treaty not long after, fought by the Parlament, and after much adoe obtain'd with him at Oxford, what suttle and unpeaceable designes he then had in chace, his own Letters discover'd: What attempts of treacherous hostility successful and unsuccessful he made against Bristow, Scarborow, and other places, the proceedings of that Treaty will soon put us in mind: and how he was so far from granting more of reason, after so much of blood, that he deny'd then to grant, what before he had offerd; making no other use of Treaties pretending Peace, then to gaine advantages that might enable him to continue Warr. What marvel then if he thought it no diminution of himself, as oft as he saw his time, to be importunate for Treaties, when hee sought them onelyonly, as by the upshot appeard, to get opportunities: and once to a most cruel purpose, if we remember May 1643. and that Messenger of Peace from Oxford, whose secret Message and Commission, had it bin effected, would have drownd the innocence of our Treating, in the blood of a designed Massacher. Nay, when treaties from the Parlament sought out him, no less then seven times, oft anough to testifie the willingness of thir obedience, and too oft for the Majesty of a Parlament to court thir Subjection, he in the confidence of his own strength, or of our divisions, returnd us nothing back but denials, or delaies, to thir most necessary demands; and being at lowest kept up still and sustain'd his almost famishd hopes with the howrly expectation of raising up himself the higher, by the greater heap which he sate promising himself of our sudden ruin through dissention.
But he inferrs, as if the Parlament would have compell'd him to part with somthing of his honour as a King. What honour could he have, or call his, joyn'd, not onelyonly with the offence or disturbance, but with the bondage and destruction of three Nations; wherof though he be careless and improvident, yet the Parlament, by our Laws and freedom, ought to judge and use prevention; our Laws els were but cobweb Laws. And what were all his most rightful honours, but the peoples gift, and the investment of that lustre, Majesty, and honour, which for the public good & no otherwise, redounds from a whole Nation into one person? So far is any honour from being his to a common mischeif and calamity. Yet still he talks on equal termes with the grand Representative of that people, for whose sake he was a King; as if the general welfare, and his subservient Rights were of equal moment, or consideration. His aime indeed hath ever bin to magnifie and exalt his borrowd Rights and Prerogatives, above the Parlament and Kingdom of whom he holds them. But when a King setts himself to bandy against the highest Court and residence of all his Regal power, he then, in the single person of a Man, fights against his own Majesty and Kingship, and then indeed sets the first hand to his own deposing.
The Treaty at Uxbridge, he saith, gave the fairest hopes of a happy composure, fairest indeed, if his instructions to bribe our Commissioners with the promise of Security, rewards, and places, were faire: What other hopes it gave no man can tell. There being but three maine heads whereon to be treated, Ireland, Episcopacy, and the Militia, the first was anticipated and forestall'd by a Peace at any rate to be hast'nd with the Irish Rebels, ere the Treaty could begin; that he might pretend his word and honour past against the specious and popular arguments (he calls them no better) which the Parlament would urge upon him for the continuance of that just Warr. Episcopacy he bids the Queen be confident he will never quitt: which informes us by what Patronage it stood; and the Sword he resolves to clutch as fast, as if God with his own hand had put it into his. This was the moderation which he brought; this was as farr as Reason, Honour, Conscience, and the Queen who was his Regent in all these, would give him leave. Lastly for composure, in stead of happy, how miserable it was more likely to have bin, wise men could then judge; when the English, during Treaty, were call'd Rebels, the Irish, good and Catholic Subjects; and the Parlament before hand, though for fashions sake call'd a Parlament, yet by a Jesuitical slight not acknowledg'd though call'd so; but privatly in the Counsel Books inroull'd no Parlament: that if accommodation had succeeded upon what termes soever, such a devilish fraud was prepar'd, that the King in his own esteem had bin absolv'd from all performance, as having treated with Rebels and no Parlament; and they on the other side in stead of an expected happines, had bin brought under the Hatchet. Then no doubt Warr had ended, that Massacher and Tyranny might begin. These jealousies however rais'd, let all men see whether they be diminish'd or allay'd, by the Letters of his own Cabinet open'd. And yet the breach of this Treaty is lay'd all upon the Parlament and thir Commissioners, with odious Names of Pertinacy, hatred of Peace, Faction, and Covetousness, nay his own Bratt Superstition is layd to their charge; not withstanding his heer profess'd resolution to continue both the Order, Maintenance, and Authority of Prelats, as a truth of God.
And who were most to blame in the unsuccessfullness of that Treaty, his appeale is to Gods decision: beleeving to be very excusable at that Tribunal. But if ever man gloried in an unflexible stifness, he came not behind any: and that grand Maxim, always to put somthing into his Treaties, which might give colour to refuse all that was in other things granted, and to make them signifie nothing, was his own Principal Maxim, and particular instructions to his Commissioners. Yet all, by his own verdit, must be consterd Reason in the King, and depraved temper in the Parlament.
That the highest Tide of success, with these principles and designes, set him not above a Treaty, no great wonder. And yet if that be spok'n to his praise, the Parlament therin surpass'd him; who, when he was thir vanquish'd and thir captive, his forces utterly brok'n and disbanded, yet offerd him three several times no wors proposals or demands, then when he stood fair to be thir Conqueror. But that imprudent surmise that his lowest Ebb could not set him below a Fight, was a presumption that ruin'd him.
He presag'd the future unsuccessfulness of Treaties by the unwillingness of som men to treat: and could not see what was present that thir unwillingness had good cause to proceed from the continual experience of his own obstinacy and breach of word.
His prayer therfore of forgiveness to the guilty of that treaties breaking, he had good reason to say heartily over; as including no man in that guilt sooner then himself.
As for that Protestation following in his Prayer, How oft have I entreated for peace, but when I speak therof, they make them ready to Warr, unless he thought himself still in that perfidious mist, between Colebrook and Houndslow, and thought that mist could hide him from the eye of Heav'n as well as of Man, after such a bloody recompence giv'n to our first offers of Peace, how could this in the sight of Heav'n without horrours of conscience be utter'd?