and that he had some wild hope of gaining the
Irish people over to his side by favouring a
rise among them. Whether or no, they did
rise in a most brutal, savage, and atrocious
rebellion; in which, encouraged by their
priests, they committed such atrocities upon
numbers of the English, of both sexes and
of all ages, as nobody could believe, but for
their being related, on oath, by eye-witnesses.
Whether one hundred thousand or two
hundred thousand Protestants were murdered in
this outbreak, is uncertain; but, that it was
as ruthless and barbarous an outbreak as
ever was known among any savage people on
earth, is absolutely certain.

The King came home from Scotland,
determined to make a great struggle for his lost
power. He believed that, through his presents
and favours, Scotland would take no part
against him; and the Lord Mayor of London
received him with such a magnificent dinner
that he thought he must have become popular
again in England. It would take a good many
Lord Mayors, however, to make a people, and
the King soon found himself mistaken.

Not so soon, though, but that there was a
great opposition in the Parliament to a
celebrated paper put forth by Pym and Hampden
and the rest, called "THE REMONSTRANCE,"
which set forth all the illegal acts that the
King had ever done, but politely laid the
blame of them on his bad advisers. Even
when it was passed and presented to him, the
King still thought himself strong enough to
discharge Balfour from his command in the
Tower, and to put in his place a man of bad
character: to whom the Commons instantly
objected, and whom he was obliged to
abandon. At this time, the old outcry about
the Bishops became louder than ever, and the
old Archbishop of York was so near being
murdered as he went down to the House of
Lords—being laid hold of by the mob and
violently knocked about, in return for very
foolishly scolding a shrill boy who was yelping
out "No Bishops!"—that he sent for all the
Bishops who were in town and proposed to
them to sign a declaration that as they could
no longer, without danger to their lives,
attend their duty in Parliament, they
protested against the lawfulness of everything
done in their absence. This they asked the
King to send to the House of Lords, which
he did. Then the House of Commons
impeached the whole party of Bishops and sent
them off to the Tower.

Taking no warning from this, but encouraged
by their being a moderate party in
the Parliament who objected to these strong
measures, the King, on the third of January,
one thousand six hundred and forty-two, took
the rashest step that ever was taken by
mortal man.

Of his own accord, and without advice, he
sent the Attorney-General to the House of
Lords to accuse of treason certain members of
Parliament, who, as popular leaders, were the
most obnoxious to him: LORD KIMBOLTON,
SIR ARTHUR HASELRIG, DENZIL HOLLIS, JOHN
PYM (they used to call him King Pym, he
possessed such power and looked so big), JOHN
HAMPDEN, and WILLIAM STRODE. The houses
of these members he caused to be entered,
and their papers to be sealed up. At the
same time, he sent a messenger to the House of
Commons demanding to have the five gentlemen
who were members of that House immediately
produced. To this the House replied
that they should appear as soon as there was
any legal charge against them, and
immediately adjourned.

Next day, the House of Commons sent into
the City to let the Lord Mayor know that
their privileges are invaded by the King,
and that there is no safety for anybody or
anything. Then, when the five members are
gone out of the way, down comes the King
himself, with all his guard and from two to
three hundred gentlemen and soldiers, of
whom the greater part were armed. These
he leaves in the hall, and then, with his
nephew at his side, goes into the House, takes
off his hat, and walks up to the Speaker's
chair. The Speaker leaves it, the King stands
in front of it, looks about him steadily for a
little while, and says he has come for those
five members. No one speaks, and then he
calls John Pym by name. No one speaks,
and then he calls Denzil Hollis by name.
No one speaks, and then he asks the Speaker
of the House where those five members are?
The Speaker, answering on his knee, nobly
replies that he is the servant of that House,
and that he has neither eyes to see, nor
tongue to speak, anything but what the House
commands him. Upon this, the King, beaten
from that time evermore, replies that he will
seek them himself, for they have committed
treason; and goes out, with his hat in his
hand, amid some audible murmurings from
the members.

No words can describe the hurry that
arose out of doors when all this was known.
The five members had gone for safety to a
house in Coleman Street, in the City, where
they were guarded all night; and indeed the
whole city watched in arms like an army. At
ten o'clock in the morning, the King, already
frightened at what he had done, came to the
Guildhall, with only half a dozen lords, and
made a speech to the people, hoping that
they would not shelter those whom he accused
of treason. Next day, he issued a proclamation
for the apprehension of the five members;
but the Parliament minded it so little that
they made great arrangements for having
them brought down to Westminster in great
state, five days afterwards. The King was so
alarmed now at his own imprudence, if not
for his own safety, that he left his palace at
Whitehall, and went away with his Queen
and children to Hampton Court.

It was the eleventh of May when the five
members were carried in state and triumph