cide? Papal authority had been rejected. The Sovereign, the Parliament, the Bishops, were either incompetent or prejudiced. Logic proved inadequate, for both sides claimed to have pure reason in their favour. The one thing that could give a decision which might satisfy a fair mind, was learning; and it decided against both Rome and Geneva. This was the conviction that Casaubon had reached; and when he came to England, at Archbishop Bancroft's invitation in 1610, he found a school of theologians who agreed with him. And it seems to be correct to say that, among those who had reached this position, like Casaubon, by independent study, was Casaubon's royal patron, James I. And this leads us to our third point.

3. It has been a common thing to laugh at the learning of James I. No doubt he was a pedant, and was fond of exhibiting the extent of his own reading and of convicting other people of knowing less than he did. But Lingard goes too far in saying that, although the King's learning "won the flattery of his courtiers," yet it "provoked the contempt and derision of real scholars." The esteem which Casaubon had for James, and the liking which he showed for his conversation, is strong evidence that the King's knowledge was by no means contemptible. He read the voluminous works of Bellarmin more than once, and he sent to Cambridge for copies of the Fathers and Councils, in order that he might study the references in the original Greek and Latin. Lord Howard wrote of

him to Harington, "He doth wondrously covet learned discourse." James loved to surround himself with scholars and theologians who could discuss the Fathers and Councils with him; and never before or since has the English Court listened to so much learned conversation. And James was not a mere dictionary or commonplace book: he understood what he had read.1 He probably overestimated the amount of the knowledge of which he was so proud. But his gravest mistake lay in another direction. He mistook learning for wisdom, and thought that knowledge of books qualified him for ruling men. His tutor Buchanan had told him that "a sovereign ought to be the most learned clerk in his dominions," and James appears to have believed that erudition would make him be an excellent king. But it is possible to know many books and many wise maxims, and yet be in conduct and character a fool.

The one substantial good that came of the Hampton Court Conference-and it is one not easy to exaggerate was the Authorised Version of the Bible but to expatiate upon that would be to trespass upon the province of other lectures. Another fact to be remembered in connexion with

1 Gardiner says, "His mental powers were of no common order; his memory was good, and his learning, especially on theological points, was by no means contemptible. He was intellectually tolerant, anxious to be at peace with those whose opinions differed from his own. He was above all things eager to be a reconciler, penetrated with a strong sense of the evil of fanaticism" (History of England, 1603-42, i. pp. 48, 49).

the Conference is that it marks the beginning of that fatal alliance between the Crown and the Episcopate, based on a common claim to Divine Right, and directed against the common foes, Presbyterianism and Puritanism. The war began at once. Ten of those who had supported the Millenary Petition were sent to prison, on the monstrous plea that such a petition was an incentive to rebellion; and hundreds of clergy, who refused to conform, were expelled from their livings. Some Puritans left England for Holland; and thence in 1620 the 120 "Pilgrim Fathers" sailed in the Mayflower for New England.

Under Elizabeth the fateful question, which, in the last resort, is supreme, the Sovereign or the Parliament, had been kept in the background by the tact of the Queen. In his very first Parliament James raised this dangerous point, and throughout the remainder of his reign never allowed it to sleep. As the strength and firmness of the Commons grew, so also did his assertions of the royal prerogative. He told the Commons that "they derived all matters of privilege from him and by his grant," and therefore their privileges must not be used against his power. Neither his failure to get his claims recognized, nor the indignation which his unconstitutional acts provoked, opened his eyes to the necessity of yielding.

The 142 Canons Ecclesiastical, which are still nominally in force for the guidance of the English clergy, had been compiled in 1603, and by their

The

anti-Puritan tendency had given offence to the Commons. The Commons could get no satisfaction from King or Lords, and they retaliated by sharpening the laws against Romanists. Against his wishes, and against the hopes which he had himself encouraged, James was driven to persecute his Roman Catholic subjects. This led to the Gunpowder Plot, an event which left its mark on the history of the next hundred years. It led to the imposition of the Oath of Allegiance and of new Penal Laws. Oath of Allegiance split the English Romanists into two parties, and thereby weakened them. Some took the Oath, and thereby got terms which, however severe, were a great deal better than those given to Romanists who refused the Oath. The latter were liable to loss of goods and perpetual imprisonment. We must remember that imprisonment often meant a slow and horrible death in gaol and large numbers were imprisoned. When, in 1616, to help on the Spanish marriage, James released these Romanists, the Puritans lamented that four thousand idolaters had been let loose to pollute the purified land.1

1 "Criminal attempts, even when they fail, have at times the most extensive political consequences. James I. had started with the idea of linking his subjects of every persuasion to himself in the bonds of a free and uniform obedience. Then intervened this murderous attempt; and the measures to which he had recourse in order to secure his person and his country against the repetition of criminal attacks like this last, rekindled the national and religious animosities which he desired to lull, and fanned them into a bright flame" (Ranke, History of England, i. p. 417).

The first Parliament obtained the abolition of the abuse of Royal Proclamations, which had usurped the place of laws. The friction caused by other points in dispute was somewhat allayed by the adroitness of Cecil and by the popularity of Henry, Prince of Wales, who was believed to favour Puritanism, and who openly condemned the foibles of his father. But Parliament, unable to come to terms with the grasping King, was dissolved in 1611; and next year both Cecil and Prince Henry died. About the latter there was a prophecy current, the influence of which was felt almost in our day: "Henry the Eighth pulled down abbeys and cells; Henry the Ninth will pull down bishops and bells." When William IV. came to the throne, he wished to take the title of Henry IX.; but his advisers told him of the old-wives' prediction, and persuaded him to assume the name by which he is known in history.

We now begin the second period, 1612-1618. When Cecil died, in 1612, James raised a young Scotch favourite, Robert Carr, to high positions, and made him Earl of Somerset. His influence was utterly evil. Somerset married Lady Francis Howard, the divorced wife of the Earl of Essex. To the scandal of the nation, the divorce had been obtained through the outrageous interference of the King and the equally outrageous management of the trial by Bilson, Bishop of Winchester, who was thenceforth known as "Sir Nullity Bilson." The