to increase his control over them, or, as a great historian says, to let them know ‘that his eye was upon them.’349 The queen herself, though too fond of power, was by no means of a cruel disposition; but she seemed to delight in humbling the nobles. On them her hand fell heavily; and there is hardly to be found a single instance of her pardoning their offences, while she punished several of them for acts which would now be considered no offences at all. She was always unwilling to admit them to authority; and it is unquestionably true that, taking them as a class, they were, during her long and prosperous reign, treated with unusual disrespect. Indeed, so clearly marked was her policy, that when the ducal order became extinct, she refused to renew it; and a whole generation passed away to whom the name of duke was a mere matter of history, a point to be mooted by antiquaries, but with which the business of practical life had no concern.350 Whatever may be her other faults, she was on this subject always consistent. Although she evinced the greatest anxiety to surround the throne with men of ability, she cared little for those conventional distinctions by which the minds of ordinary sovereigns are greatly moved. She made no account of dignity of rank; she did not even care for purity of blood. She valued men neither for the splendour of their ancestry, nor for the length of their pedigrees, nor for the grandeur of their titles. Such questions she left for her degenerate successors, to the size of whose understandings they were admirably fitted. Our great queen regulated her conduct by another standard. Her large and powerful intellect, cultivated to its highest point by reflection and study, taught her the true measure of affairs, and enabled her to see, that to make a government flourish, its councillors must be men of ability and of virtue; but that if these two conditions are fulfilled, the nobles may be left to repose in the enjoyment of their leisure, unoppressed by those cares of the state for which, with a few brilliant exceptions, they are naturally disqualified by the number of their prejudices and by the frivolity of their pursuits.
After the death of Elizabeth, an attempt was made, first by James, and then by Charles, to revive the power of the two great protective classes, the nobles and the clergy. But so admirably had the policy of Elizabeth been supported by the general temper of the age, that it was found impossible for the Stuarts to execute their mischievous plans. The exercise of private judgment, both in religion and in politics, had become so habitual, that these princes were unable to subjugate it to their will. And as Charles I., with inconceivable blindness, and with an obstinacy even greater than that of his father, persisted in adopting in their worst forms the superannuated theories of protection, and attempted to enforce a scheme of government which men from their increasing independence were determined to reject, there inevitably arose that memorable collision which is well termed The Great Rebellion of England.351 The analogy between this and the Protestant Reformation, I have already noticed; but what we have now to consider, and what, in the next chapter, I will endeavour to trace, is the nature of the difference between our Rebellion, and those contemporary wars of the Fronde, to which it was in some respects very similar.
CHAPTER III
THE ENERGY OF THE PROTECTIVE SPIRIT IN FRANCE EXPLAINS THE FAILURE OF THE FRONDE. COMPARISON BETWEEN THE FRONDE AND THE CONTEMPORARY ENGLISH REBELLION
The object of the last chapter was to enquire into the origin of the protective spirit. From the evidence there collected, it appears that this spirit was first organized into a distinct secular form at the close of the dark ages; but that, owing to circumstances which then arose, it was, from the beginning, much less powerful in England than in France. It has likewise appeared that, in our country, it continued to lose ground; while in France, it early in the fourteenth century assumed a new shape, and gave rise to a centralizing movement, manifested not only in the civil and political institutions, but also in the social and literary habits of the French nation. Thus far we seem to have cleared the way for a proper understanding of the history of the two countries; and I now purpose to follow this up a little further, and point out how this difference explains the discrepancy between the civil wars of England, and those which at the same time broke out in France.
Among the obvious circumstances connected with the Great English Rebellion, the most remarkable is, that it was a war of classes as well as of factions. From the beginning of the contest, the yeomanry and traders adhered to the parliament;352 the nobles and the clergy rallied round the throne.353 And the name given to the two parties, of Roundheads354 and Cavaliers,355 proves that the true nature of this opposition was generally known. It proves that men were aware that a question was at issue, upon which England was divided, not so much by the particular interests of individuals, as by the general interests of the classes to which those individuals belonged.
But in the history of the French rebellion, there is no trace of so large a division. The objects of the war were in both countries precisely the same: the machinery by which those objects were attained was very different. The Fronde was like our Rebellion, insomuch that it was a struggle of the parliament against the crown; an attempt to secure liberty, and raise up a barrier against the despotism of government.356 So far, and so long, as we merely take a view of political objects, the parallel is complete. But the social and intellectual antecedents of the French being very different from those of the English, it necessarily followed that the shape which the rebellion took should likewise be different, even though the motives were the same. If we examine this divergence a little nearer, we shall find that it is connected with the circumstance I have already noticed – namely, that in England a war for liberty was accompanied by a war of classes, while in France there was no war of classes at all. From this it resulted, that in France the rebellion, being merely political, and not, as with us, also social, took less hold of the public mind: it was unaccompanied by those feelings of insubordination, in the absence of which freedom has always been impossible; and, striking no root into the national character, it could not save the country from that servile state into which, a few years later, it, under the government of Louis XIV. rapidly fell.
That our Great Rebellion was, in its external form, a war of classes, is one of those palpable facts which lie on the surface of history. At first, the parliament357 did indeed attempt to draw over to their side some of the nobles; and in this they for a time succeeded. But as the struggle advanced, the futility of this policy became evident. In the natural order of the great movement, the nobles grew more loyal;358 the parliament grew more democratic.359 And when it was clearly seen that both parties were determined either to conquer or to die, this antagonism of classes was too clearly marked to be misunderstood; the perception which each had of its own interests being sharpened by the magnitude of the stake for which they contended.
For, without burdening this Introduction with what may be read in our common histories, it will be sufficient to remind the reader of a few of the conspicuous events of that time. Just before the war began, the Earl of Essex was appointed general of the parliamentary forces, with the Earl of Bedford as his lieutenant. A commission to raise troops was likewise given to the Earl of Manchester,360 the only man of high rank against whom Charles had displayed open enmity.361 Notwithstanding these marks of confidence, the nobles, in whom parliament was at first disposed to trust, could not avoid showing the old leaven of their order.362 The Earl of Essex so conducted himself, as to inspire the popular party with the greatest apprehensions of his treachery;363 and when the defence of London was intrusted to Waller, he so obstinately refused to enter the name of that able officer in the commission, that the Commons were obliged to insert it by virtue of their own authority, and in spite of their own general.
In 1572 the order of dukes became extinct; and was not revived till fifty years afterwards, when James I. made the miserable Villiers, duke of Buckingham.
Clarendon (
‘From the beginning it may be said that the yeomanry and trading classes of towns were generally hostile to the king's side, even in those counties which were in his military occupation; except in a few, such as Cornwall, Worcester, Salop, and most of Wales, where the prevailing sentiment was chiefly royalist.’
On this division of classes, which, notwithstanding a few exceptions, is undoubtedly true as a general fact, compare
Lord Clarendon says, in his grand style, ‘the rabble contemned and despised under the name of roundheads.’
Just before the battle of Edgehill, in 1642, Charles said to his troops, ‘You are called cavaliers in a reproachful signification.’ See the king's speech, in
M. Saint-Aulaire (
I use the word ‘parliament’ in the sense given to it by writers of that time, and not in the legal sense.
In May 1642, there remained at Westminster forty-two peers,
These increasing democratic tendencies are most clearly indicated in Walker's curious work,
This was after the appointments of Essex and Bedford, and was in 1643.
‘When the king attempted to arrest the five members, Manchester, at that time Lord Kymbolton, was the only peer whom he impeached. This circumstance endeared Kymbolton to the party; his own safety bound him more closely to its interests.’
Mr. Carlyle has made some very characteristic, but very just, observations on the ‘high Essexes and Manchesters of limited notions and large estates.’
