But it was impossible to neglect for a hundred years the need for a more productive system of taxation, a problem which, after the death of the parsimonious queen, continually returned to vex and embroil kings with their Parliaments. Elizabeth had waged the most serious of England's wars with a revenue no larger than that which James exhausted in time of peace. At slight expense to herself and her subjects, she had presided over a court, corrupt indeed, but famous to all ages for wisdom in politics and for excellence in literature; James, at a vast charge to the nation, maintained a court no less corrupt, but notorious for folly and lack of When the king realized that he was spending at the rate of from £500,000 to £600,000 a year, and thereby incurring an annual deficit of from £50,000 to £150,000, he was the more willing to exert to the utmost all the prerogative rights of the crown which could bring in a revenue.

taste.

The regulation of trade with foreign countries, by impositions of duties at the ports, and by the grant or sale of trading monopolies, was a power that rested, by the custom of the Tudor queens, not with Parliament, but with the crown. It had hitherto been regarded rather as an administrative function than as a financial advantage, but the increasing volume of English trade enabled the needy James to find in it a source of large and independent revenue. The Book of Rates which he issued was an attempt to systematize the import duties on many various articles; and the commercial and financial policy involved in the tariff was determined by the Privy Council Commissioners of Trade, afterward turned by Charles I into a council of trade. In 1606 the resistance of a merchant named Bate to a new form of these duties brought the whole question of impositions before the judges, who decided that the king had acted within his legal rights. The Commons, not yet aware of all the points at issue between themselves and the crown, paid no attention to the matter in the following session of 1608; but in the two sessions of 1610 they realized that the power of the purse, the chief safeguard of their liberties, would slip from them as trade increased, unless this right to lay impositions was at once challenged. A vigorous controversy ensued. Statutes of Edward I, clearly prohibiting the levy of duties without consent of Parliament, were quoted in the House; while the crown lawyers advanced Tudor precedent, and Tudor statutes that implied the existence of the right. The question, still undecided, became merged in all the other questions at issue between Parliament and king.

Side by side with the controversy over impositions, a friendly negotiation was being conducted to put the whole financial system on a new footing. The Great Contract, which Salisbury attempted to make with Parliament, was to commute the antiquated and vexatious feudal rights of the crown for a permanent settlement of £200,000 a year, which, together with the other sources of income, should have met the annual expenditure of £600,000. Both sides were desirous of coming to such terms as would at once supply the financial needs of England, and put an end to the use of prerogative powers to raise money without Parliament; for James would on these terms forego his right to impositions.

But at the last moment religious and political misunderstanding prevented financial agreement. As early as 1604 the Commons had protested against the deprivation of their favorite clergy, the three hundred silenced Puritan pastors. As the sessions came and went, the complaints on this head were strengthened by others, touching all points of the religious question, the imperfect enforcement of the penal laws; non-residence, so common with the inefficient type of incumbents favored by the bishops; and the swelling pride shown by those prelates to all classes of men in their ecclesiastical courts. James, always in arms to defend the episcopal power, was still more indignant to find his Parliaments seeking to interfere in his own management of the Church. The Great Contract was broken off through mutual suspicion, the dispute on impositions was left undecided, and finally, in February, 1611, the Houses were dissolved. The king determined henceforth to carry on affairs free from the vexatious cavilling of a Parliament.

BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE

Gardiner, History of England, 1603-1642, Vols. I and II, consult table of contents. Ranke, History of England, Vol. I, pp. 359 ff. Hallam, Constitutional History of England, Vol. I, chap. vi. For documents and illustrative materials, consult Prothero, Statutes and Constitutional Documents.

CHAPTER II

THE PARLIAMENTARY CRISIS OF 1629

THE Constitutional conflict initiated during the reign of James I was renewed under his son Charles I. Parliament opposed the counsellors whom he chose as his advisers, resented his favor to Catholics, and refused to grant the sums he demanded without redress of grievances. After two unsuccessful attempts at securing the desired grants, Charles resorted to forced loans, to billeting soldiers on householders without their consent, and to other irritating practices. Still in need of money, he gave way to his Parliament in 1628 and signed the Petition of Right. This concession did not settle the dispute, however, for the question as to whether tonnage and poundage could be levied without specific grant led to further troubles in Parliament which were complicated by religious difficulties. The stout resistance of Parliament induced the king to order an adjournment in March, 1629, and shortly afterward a dissolution. Then began the eleven years of government without Parliament, which paved the way for the revolution.

§ 1. Contest over the Right of Adjournment 1

As was expected, when the morning of March 2 came, the speaker, Sir John Finch, declared the king's pleasure that the House should be adjourned to the 10th. He then put the formal question to which, under such circumstances, a negative had never been returned. Shouts of "No!" "No!" rose on every side. Eliot rose, as if to speak to the question of adjournment. Finch did his best to check him. He had, he said, an absolute command

1 Gardiner, History of England, 1603–1642, Vol. VII, pp. 67 ff. By permission of Messrs. Longmans, Green, & Company, Publishers.

from his Majesty instantly to leave the chair if any one attempted to speak.

The question of the right of adjournment thus brought to an issue was not beyond dispute. The king had again and again directed adjournments. The Lords had always considered the command as binding. The Commons had been accustomed to adjourn themselves in order to avoid the appearance of submission to the king's authority, though they had never refused to comply with his wishes.

Eliot had made up his mind that the time had arrived when the House ought to make a practical use of the right of self-adjournment which he claimed for it. As Finch moved to leave the chair, Denzil Holles and Benjamin Valentine stepped forward, seized him by the arms, and thrust him back into his seat. May and Edmondes, with the other privy councillors present, hurried to his assistance. For a moment he broke away from his captors. But his triumph was short. Crowds of members barred the way, and Holles and Valentine seized him again and pushed him back into his seat. "God's wounds!" cried Holles, "you shall sit till we please to rise." Physical force was clearly not on Finch's side, and he made no further effort to escape.

As soon as quiet had been restored Eliot's voice was heard claiming for the House the right to adjourn itself. His Majesty, he went on to say, must have been misinformed, or had been led to believe that they had "trenched too far upon the power of sovereignty." They had done nothing unjust, and as the king was just, there could be no difference between them. A short declaration of their intentions had been prepared, which he asked to be allowed to put to the question.

Eliot spoke from the highest bench at the back of the House, and he threw the paper forward in order that some one in front might hand it to the clerk to be read even if the speaker refused his consent to its reading. Shouts of "Read!" "Read!" were raised in the midst of a confused struggle. The crowd swayed backward and forward around the chair. In the midst of the excited throng, Coryton struck one of his fellow members. The speaker defended his rights. He knew no instance, he said, in which the House had continued to transact business after a command from his Majesty to adjourn. "What would any of you do," he added plaintively, "if you were in my place? Let not my desire to serve you faithfully be my ruin."

There was no room for the suggestion that the speaker was not

properly authorized to order the adjournment. He had the command, he said, from the king's own lips. Eliot rejoined that they were quite ready to adjourn in obedience to his Majesty, but the declaration must first be read. Strode in a few words acknowledged the reason for this persistency. "I desire the same," he said, "that we may not be turned off like scattered sheep, as we were at the end of the last session, and have a scorn put on us in print, but that we may leave something behind us." They wished that their voice should be heard as a rallying cry to the nation in the conflict which had begun.

One after another rose to urge upon the speaker the duty of obeying the order of the House. The order of the House, said Eliot, would be sufficient to excuse him with the king. If he refused obedience, he should be called to the bar.

At this intimation of defiance of the king's command, some members rose to leave the House. Orders were at once given to the sergeant-at-arms to shut the door, that no tales might be carried to those who were outside. The sergeant-at-arms hesitated to obey, and Sir Miles Hobart, at his own suggestion, was directed to close the doors. He swiftly turned the lock and put the key in his pocket.

As soon as order was restored, Finch's voice was heard once more. To be called to the bar, he said, was one of the greatest miseries which could befall him. Then, after a few words from others, he begged to be allowed to go to the king, as in the last session. He had done them no ill-offices then, and he would do them none now. "If I do not return, and that speedily," he ended by saying, "tear me in pieces."

Cries of "Ay!" and "No!" showed that there was a division of opinion. Eliot again threatened the speaker with the consequences of persisting in his refusal. No man, he said, had ever been blasted in that House, "but a curse at length fell upon him." He asked that his paper might be returned to him. He would read it himself, that the House and the world might know the loyalty of the affections of those who had prepared it. Before the paper was returned, Strode made one more effort to have the question regularly put. "You have protested yourself," he said to the speaker, "to be our servant, but if you do not what we command you, that protestation of yours is but a compliment. The Scripture saith, 'His servants ye are whom ye obey.' If you will not obey us, you are not our servant."

Finch's position was indeed a hard one.

Elected by the Com