FULLER AS AN HISTORIAN

PROCEED we in the next place to verses and old ends of poetry, scattered and dispersed in all parts of the history, from one end to the other; for which he hath no precedent in any historian, Greek or Latin, or any of the national histories of these latter times the histories of Herodotus Xenophon, Thucydides, and Plutarch, amongst the Greeks; of Cæsar, Livy, Sallust, Tacitus, and Suetonius amongst the Latins afford him neither warrant nor example for it: the like may be affirmed of Eusebius, Socrates, Sozomen, Theodoret, Ruffin, and Evagrius, Church historians all; though they had all the best choice and the most excellent poets of the world to befriend them in it: and he that shall consult the histories of succeeding times, through all the ages of the Church to this present day, will find them all as barren of any encouragements in this kind as the ancients were: nay, whereas Bishop Goodwin in his annals gives us an epitaph of two verses only made on Queen Jane Seymour, and afterwards a copy of eighteen verses on the martyrdom of Archbishop Cranmer; he ushers in the last with this short apology, "Contra morem Historiæ liceat quæso inserere," etc. Let me (saith he), I beseech you, insert these following verses, though otherwise against the rule and laws of history. But what, alas! were eighteen or twenty verses compared with those many hundred (six or seven hundred at the least) which we find in our author; whether to show the universality of his reading in all kind of writers, or his faculty in translating (which when he meets with hard copies he knows how to spare) I shall not determine at the present: certain I am, that by his interlarding of his prose with so many verses he makes the book look rather like a Church-romance (our late romancers being much given to such kind of mixtures) than a well-built ecclesiastical history. And if it be a matter so unconvenient to put a new piece of cloth on an old garment; the putting of so many old

patches on a new piece of cloth must be more unfashionable. Besides that, many of those old ends are so light and ludicrous, so little pertinent to the business which he has in hand, that they serve only to make sport for children (ut pueris placeas et declamatio fias), and for nothing else.

This leads me to the next impertinency, his raking into the channel of old popish legends, writ in the darker times of superstition, but written with an honest zeal, and a good intention: as well to raise the reader to the admiration of the person of whom they write, as to the emulation of his virtues: but being mixed with some monkish dotages, the most learned and ingenious men in the Church of Rome have now laid them by; and it had been very well if our author had done so too, but that there must be something of entertainment for the gentle reader, and to inflame the reckoning which he pays not for. But above all things recommend me to his merry tales, and scraps of trencher-jests, frequently interlaced in all parts of the history; which, if abstracted from the rest, and put into a book by themselves, might very well be served up for a second course to the Banquet of Jests, a supplement to the old book entitled Wits, Fits, and Fancies; or an additional century to the old Hundred Merry Tales, so long since extant. But standing as they do, they neither do become the gravity of a Church-historian, nor are consistent with the nature of a sober argument. But, as it seems, our author came with the same thoughts to the writing of this present history as poets anciently addressed themselves to the writing of comedies, of which thus my Terence :

Poeta cum primum animum ad scribendum appulit,
Id sibi negotii credidit solum dari,

Populo ut placerent quas fecisset fabulas.

That is to say,

Thus poets, when their mind they first apply

In looser verse to frame a comedy,

Think there is nothing more for them to do.

Than please the people whom they speak unto.

(From Examen Historicum.)

A ROYAL PROGRESS

HAVING secured herself by this peace with France, and being at no open enmity with the King of Spain, she resolves to give

herself some pleasure, and thereupon prepareth for her summer's progress. In the course whereof she bestowed a visit upon Cambridge on the 5th of August, where she was honourably received by Mr. Secretary Cecil, being then Chancellor of that University, together with all the Heads of Houses and other students, attired in their academical habits, according to their several and distinct degrees. Her lodging was provided in King's College; the days of her abode there spent in scholastical exercises of philosophy, physic, and divinity; the nights in comedies and tragedies, and other pleasing entertainments. On Wednesday the 7th of the same month she rode through the town, and took a view of all the colleges and halls—the goodly monuments of the piety of her predecessors, and of so many men and women famous in their generations. Which done, she took leave of Cambridge in a Latin oration, in which she gave them great encouragement to pursue their studies; not without giving them some hopes, that if God spared her life and opportunity, she would erect some monument among them of her love to learning, which should not be inferior unto any of her royal ancestors. In which diversion she received such high contentment, that nothing could have seemed to be equal to it, but the like at Oxon, where she was entertained about two years after for seven days together, with the same variety of speeches, interludes, disputations, and other academical expressions of a public joy. In one point, that of Oxford seemed to have the pre-eminence, all things being there both given and taken with so even an hand, that there could be no ground for any emulation, strife, or discord to ensue upon it. But in the midst of these contentments which she had at Cambridge were sown the seeds of those divisions and combustions with which the Church hath been continually distracted to this very day. For so it happened, that Mr. Thomas Preston of King's College, and Mr. Thomas Cartwright of Trinity College were appointed for two of the opponents in a disputation; in which the first, by reason of his comely gesture, pleasing pronunciation, and graceful personage, was both liked and rewarded by her, the other receiving neither reward nor commendation; which so incensed the proud man, too much opinionated of himself and his own abilities, that he retired unto Geneva, where, having thoroughly informed himself of all particulars, both of doctrine and discipline, wherein the Churches of that platform differed from the Church of England, he returned home with an

intent to repair his credit, or rather to get himself a name (as did Erostratus in the burning of Diana's temple) by raising such a fire, such combustions in her, as were never to be extinguished (like the fire of Taberah) but by the immediate hand of heaven.

(From Ecclesia Restaurata.)

STRAFFORD AND THE KING

BUT now we must look back on the Earl of Strafford, the prosecution of whose impeachment had long been delayed upon some probable hope, that the displeasures of his greatest adversaries might be mitigated by some Court preferments. In order whereunto it was agreed upon (if my intelligence or memory fail not) that the Earl of Bedford should be made lord treasurer, and Pym chancellor of the Exchequer, the Earl of Essex governor of the prince, and that Hampden should be made his tutor, the Lord Saye master of the wards, and Hollis principal secretary in place of Windebank; the deputyship of Ireland was disposed of also, and some command appointed for the Earl of Warwick in the royal navy. Which earls, together with the Earl of Hertford, and the Lord Kimbolton (eldest son to the Earl of Manchester) were taken at this time into his majesty's council, that they might witness to the rest of that party with what sincerity and piety his majesty's affairs were governed at the council table. And in relation to this purpose the Bishop of London delivered to the king the treasurer's staff, the Earl of Newcastle relinquished the governance of the prince, and the Lord Cottington relinquished his offices both in the Exchequer and the Court of Wards; there being no doubt but that Bishop Duppa in order to so good a work would relinquish the tutorship of the prince when it should be required of him: so gallantly did these great persons deny themselves to advance the service of their master. But before all these things were fully settled and performed, the king's mind was altered (but by whom altered, hath been more conjectured than affirmed for certain), which so exasperated them who were concerned in this designation, that they pursued the Earl of Strafford with the greatest eagerness. And somewhat to this purpose was hinted in the king's declaration of the 18th of August; in which he signified what overtures had been made by them, and with what

importunity for offices and perferments, what great services should have been done for him, and what other undertaking even to have saved the life of the Earl of Strafford. By which discovery as he

blemished the reputes of some principal members in the eyes of many of the people; so he gave no small cause of wonder to many others, when they were told from his own pen at how cheap rate (a rate which would have cost him nothing) he might have saved the life of such an able and deserving minister.

This design being thus unhappily dashed, the earl was called unto his trial on the 22nd day of March last past; which being continued many days with great expectation, his adversaries (though the ablest men in the House of Commons) perceived that his defences were so strong, and their proof so weak, that they thought it not safe to leave the judgment of the cause to the House of Peers in way of judicature. For finding that their proofs amounted not to a legal evidence; and that nothing but legal evidence could prevail in a court of judicature, they resolved to steer their course by another wind, and to call the legislative power to their assistance; according unto which both Lords and Commons might proceed by the light of their own understanding without further testimony. And so it was declared by Saint John, then solicitor-general, in a conference between the committees of both Houses, April 29, 1641. Where it is said, that although single testimony might be sufficient to satisfy private consciences, yet how far it would have been satisfactory in a judicial way, where forms of law are more to be stood upon, was not so clear; whereas in this way of Bill, private satisfaction to each man's conscience is sufficient, although no evidence had been given in at all. Thus they resolved it in this case; but knowing of what dangerous consequence it might be to the lives and fortunes of themselves and the rest of subjects, a saving clause was added to the Bill of Attainder, that it should not be drawn into example for the time to come. By which it was provided, that no judge or judges, justice or justices whatever, shall adjudge or interpret any act or thing to be treason, nor hear or determine any treason, nor in any other manner, than he or they should or ought to have done before the making of this Act, and as if this Act had never been made.

His Majesty understanding how things were carried, resolved to use his best endeavours to preserve the man who had deserved so bravely of him. And therefore, in a speech to both Houses of