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CHAPTER V.: The first discovery of Russia by the north-east, 1553, with the English embassies, and entertainments at that court, until the year 1604. - John Milton, The Prose Works of John Milton, vol. 2 [1847]Edition used:The Prose Works of John Milton, With a Biographical Introduction by Rufus Wilmot Griswold. In Two Volumes (Philadelphia: John W. Moore, 1847). Vol. 2.
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CHAPTER V.The first discovery of Russia by the north-east, 1553, with the English embassies, and entertainments at that court, until the year 1604.The discovery of Russia by the northern ocean,† made first, of any nation that we know, by Englishmen, might have seemed an enterprise almost heroic; if any higher end than the excessive love of gain and traffic had animated the design. Nevertheless, that in regard that many things not unprofitable to the knowledge of nature, and other observations, are hereby come to light, as good events ofttimes arise from evil occasions, it will not be the worst labour to relate briefly the beginning and prosecution of this adventurous voyage; until it became at last a familiar passage. When our merchants perceived the commodities of England to be in small request abroad, and foreign merchandise to grow higher in esteem and value than before, they began to think with themselves how this might be remedied. And seeing how the Spaniards and Portugals had increased their wealth by discovery of new trades and countries, they resolved upon some new and strange navigation. At the same time Sebastian Chabota, a man for the knowledge of sea affairs much renowned in those days, happened to be in London. With him first they consult; and by his advice conclude to furnish out three ships for the search and discovery of the northern parts. And having heard that a certain worm is bred in that ocean, which many times eateth through the strongest oak, they contrive to cover some part of the keel of those ships with thin sheets of lead; and victual them for eighteen months; allowing equally to their journey, their stay, and their return. Arms also they provide, and store of munition, with sufficient captains and governors for so great an enterprise. To which among many, and some void of experience, that offered themselves, Sir Hugh Willoughby, a valiant gentleman, earnestly requested to have the charge. Of whom before all others both for his goodly personage, and singular skill in the services of war, they made choice to be admiral; and of Richard Chancelor, a man greatly esteemed for his skill, to be chief pilot. This man was brought up by Mr. Henry Sidney, afterwards deputy of Ireland, who coming where the adventurers were gathered together, though then a young man, with a grave and elegant speech commended Chancelor unto them. After this, they omitted no inquiry after any person, that might inform them concerning those north-easterly parts, to which the voyage tended; and two Tartarians then of the king’s stable were sent for; but they were able to answer nothing to purpose. So after much debate it was concluded, that by the twentieth of May the ships should depart. Being come near Greenwich, where the court then lay, presently the courtiers came running out, the privy council at the windows, the rest on the towers and battlements. The mariners all apparelled in watchet, or skycoloured cloth, discharge their ordnance; the noise whereof, and of the people shouting, is answered from the hills and waters with as loud an echo. Only the good King Edward then sick beheld not this sight, but died soon after. From hence putting into Harwich, they staid long and lost much time. At length passing by Shetland, they kenned a far off Ægelands, being an innumerable sort of islands called Rost Islands in sixty-six degrees. Thence to Lofoot in sixty-eight, to Seinam in seventy degrees; these islands belong all to the crown of Denmark. Whence departing Sir Hugh Willoughby set out his flag, by which he called together the chief men of his other ships to counsel; where they conclude, in case they happened to be scattered by tempest, that Wardhouse, a noted haven in Finmark, be the appointed place of their meeting. The very same day afternoon so great a tempest arose, that the ships were some driven one way, some another, in great peril. The general with his loudest voice called to Chancelor not to be far from him; but in vain, for the admiral sailing much better than his ship, and bearing all her sails, was carried with great swiftness soon out of sight; but before that, the ship-boat, striking against her ship, was overwhelmed in view of the Bonaventure, whereof Chancelor was captain. The third ship also in the same storm was lost.* But Sir Hugh Willoughby escaping that storm, and wandering on those desolate seas till the eighteenth of September, put into a haven where they had weather as in the depth of winter; and there determining to abide till spring, sent out three men south-west to find inhabitants; who journied three days, but found none; then other three went westward four days journey, and lastly three south-east three days; but they all returning without news of people, or any sign of habitation, Sir Hugh with the company of his two ships abode there till January, as appears by a will since found in one of the ships; but then perished all with cold. This river or haven was Arzina in Lapland, near to Kegor,† where they were found dead the year after by certain Russian fishermen. Whereof the English agent at Mosco having notice, sent and recovered the ships with the dead bodies and most of the goods, and sent them for England; but the ships being unstaunch, as is supposed, by their two years wintering in Lapland, sunk by the way with their dead, and them also that brought them. But now Chancelor, with his ship and company thus left, shaped his course to Wardhouse, the place agreed on to expect the rest; where having staid seven days without tidings of them, he resolves at length to hold on his voyage; and sailed so far till he found no night, but continual day and sun clearly shining on that huge and vast sea for certain days. At length they enter into a great bay, named, as they knew after, from St. Nicholas; and spying a fisherboat, made after him to know what people they were. The fishermen amazed with the greatness of his ship, to them a strange and new sight, sought to fly; but overtaken, in great fear they prostrate themselves, and offer to kiss his feet; but he raising them up with all signs and gestures of courtesy, sought to win their friendship. They no sooner dismissed, but spread abroad the arrival of a strange nation, whose humanity they spake of with great affection; whereupon the people running together, with like return of all courteous usage receive them; offering them victuals freely, nor refusing to traffic, but for a loyal custom which bound them from that, without first the consent had of their king. After mutual demands of each other’s nation, they found themselves to be in Russia, where Juan Vasiliwich at that time reigned emperor. To whom privily the governor of that place sending notice of the strange guests that were arrived, held in the mean while our men in what suspense he could. The emperor well pleased with so unexpected a message, invites them to his court, offering them post horses at his own charge, or if the journey seemed over long, that they might freely traffic where they were. But ere this messenger could return, having lost his way, the Muscovites themselves loath that our men should depart, which they made show to do, furnished them with guides and other conveniences, to bring them to their king’s presence. Chancelor had now gone more than half his journey, when the sledman sent to court meets him on the way; delivers him the emperor’s letters; which when the Russes understood, so willing they were to obey the contents thereof, that they quarrelled and strove who should have the preferment to put his horses to the sled. So after a long and troublesome journey of fifteen hundred miles he arrived at Mosco. After he had remained in the city about twelve days, a messenger was sent to bring them to the king’s house. Being entered within the court gates, and brought into an outward chamber, they beheld there a very honourable company to the number of a hundred, sitting all apparelled in cloth of gold down to their ancles: next conducted to the chamber of presence, there sat the emperor on a lofty and very royal throne; on his head a diadem of gold, his robe all of goldsmith’s work, in his hand a chrystal sceptre garnished and beset with precious stones; no less was his countenance full of majesty. Beside him stood his chief secretary; on his other side the great commander of silence, both in cloth of gold; then sat his council of a hundred and fifty round about on high seats, clad all as richly. Chancelor, nothing abashed, made his obeisance to the emperor after the English manner. The emperor having taken and read his letters, after some inquiry of King Edward’s health, invited them to dinner, and till then dismissed them. But before dismission the secretary presented their present bareheaded; till which time they were all covered; and before admittance our men had charge not to speak, but when the emperor demanded aught. Having sat two hours in the secretary’s chamber, they were at length called in to dinner; where the emperor was set at table, now in a robe of silver, and another crown on his head. This place was called the golden palace, but without cause, for the Englishmen had seen many fairer; round about the room, but at a distance, were other long tables; in the midst a cupboard of huge and massy goblets, and other vessels of gold and silver; among the rest four great flaggons nigh two yards high, wrought in the top with devices of towers and dragons’ heads. The guests ascended to their tables by three steps; all apparelled in linen, and that lined with rich furs. The messes came in without order, but all in chargers of gold, both to the emperor, and to the rest that dined there, which were two hundred persons; on every board also were set cups of gold without number. The servitors, one hundred and forty, were likewise arrayed in gold, and waited with caps on their heads. They that are in high favour sit on the same bench with the emperor, but far off. Before meat came in, according to the custom of their kings, he sent to every guest a slice of bread; whom the officer naming, saith thus, John Basiliwich, emperor of Russ, &c., doth reward thee with bread, at which words all men stand up. Then were swans in several pieces served in, each piece in a several dish, which the great duke sends about as the bread, and so likewise the drink. In dinner-time he twice changed his crown, his waiters thrice their apparel; to whom the emperor in like manner gives both bread and drink with his own hands; which they say is done to the intent that he may perfectly know his own household; and indeed when dinner was done, he called his nobles every one before him by name; and by this time candles were brought in, for it grew dark; and the English departed to their lodgings from dinner, an hour within night. In the year fifteen hundred and fifty-five,* Chancelor made another voyage to this place with letters from Queen Mary; had a house in Mosco, and diet appointed him; and was soon admitted to the emperor’s presence in a large room spread with carpets; at his entering and salutation all stood up, the emperor only sitting, except when the queen’s name was read or spoken, for then he himself would rise: at dinner he sat bareheaded; his crown and rich cap standing on a pinnacle by. Chancelor returning for England,† Osep Napea, governor of Wologda, came in his ship embassador from the Russe; but suffering shipwreck in Pettislego, a bay in Scotland, Chancelor, who took more care to save the embassador than himself, was drowned, the ship rifled, and most of her lading made booty by the people thereabout. In the year fifteen hundred and fifty-seven,‡ Osep Napea returned into his country with Anthony Jenkinson, who had the command of four tall ships. He reports of a whirlpool between the Rost Islands and Lofoot called Maelstrand; which from half ebb to half flood is heard to make so terrible a noise, as shakes the door-rings of houses in those islands ten miles off; whales that come within the current thereof, make a pitiful cry; trees carried in and cast out again have the ends and boughs of them so beaten, as they seem like the stalks of bruised hemp. About Zeinam they saw many whales very monstrous, hard by their ships; whereof some by estimation sixty foot long; they roared hideously, it being then the time of their engendering. At Wardhouse, he saith, the cattle are fed with fish. Coming to Mosco, he found the emperor sitting aloft in a chair of state, richly crowned, a staff of gold in his hand wrought with costly stone. Distant from him sat his brother, and a youth the emperor’s son of Casan, whom the Russe had conquered; there dined with him diverse embassadors, Christian and heathen, diversely apparelled: his brother with some of the chief nobles sat with him at table: the guests were in all six hundred. In dinner-time came in six musicians; and standing in the midst, sung three several times, but with little or no delight to our men; there dined at the same time in other halls tow thousand Tartars, who came to serve the duke in his wars. The English were set at a small table by themselves, direct before the emperor; who sent them diverse bowls of wine and meath, and many dishes from his own hand: the messes were but mean, but the change of wines and several meaths were wonderful. As oft as they dined with the emperor, he sent for them in the morning, and invited them with his own mouth. On Christmas day being invited,§ they had for other provision as before, but for store of gold and silver plate excessive; among which were twelve barrels of silver, hooped with fine gold, containing twelve gallons apiece. In the year fifteen hundred and sixty was the first English traffic to the Narve in Livonia, till then concealed by Danskers and Lubeckers. Fifteen hundred and sixty-one. The same Anthony Jenkinson made another voyage to Mosco; and arrived while the emperor was celebrating his marriage with a Circassian lady; during which time the city gates for three days were kept shut; and all men whatsoever straitly commanded to keep within their houses; except some of his household; the cause whereof is not known. Fifteen hundred and sixty-six. He made again the same voyage;* which now men usually made in a month from London to St. Nicholas with good winds, being seven hundred and fifty leagues. Fifteen hundred and sixty-eight. Thomas Randolf, Esq., went embassador to Muscovy,† from Queen Elizabeth; and in his passage by sea met nothing remarkable save great store of whales, whom they might see engendering together, and the spermaceti swimming on the water. At Colmogro he was met by a gentleman from the emperor, at whose charge he was conducted to Mosco: but met there by no man: not so much as the English; lodged in a fair house built for embassadors; but there confined upon some suspicion which the emperor had conceived; sent for at length after seventeen weeks’ delay, was fain to ride thither on a borrowed horse, his men on foot. In a chamber before the presence were sitting about three hundred persons, all in rich robes taken out of the emperor’s wardrobe for that day; they sat on three ranks of benches, rather for show than that the persons were of honour; being merchants, and other mean inhabitants. The embassador saluted them, but by them unsaluted passed on with his head covered. At the presence door being received by two which had been his guardians, and brought into the midst, he was there willed to stand still, and speak his message from the queen; at whose name the emperor stood up, and demanded her health: then giving the embassador his hand to kiss, fell to many questions. The present being delivered, which was a great silver bowl curiously graven; the emperor told him, he dined not that day openly because of great affairs; but, saith he, I will send thee my dinner, and augment thy allowance. And so dismissing him, sent a duke richly apparelled soon after to his lodging, with fifty persons, each of them carrying meat in silver dishes covered; which himself delivered into the embassador’s own hands, tasting first of every dish, and every sort of drink; that done, set him down with his company, took part, and went not thence unrewarded. The emperor sent back with this embassador another of his own called Andrew Savin. Fifteen hundred and seventy-one. Jenkinson made a third voyage; but was staid long at Colmogro by reason of the plague in those parts; at length had audience where the court then was, near to Pereslave; to which place the emperor was returned from his Swedish war with ill success: and Mosco the same year had been wholly burnt by the Crim: in it the English house, and diverse English were smothered in the cellars, multitudes of people in the city perished, all that were young led captive with exceeding spoil. Fifteen hundred and eighty-three. Juan Basiliwich‡ having the year before sent his embassador Pheodor Andrewich about matters of commerce, the queen made choice of Sir Jerom Bowes, one of her household, to go into Russia; who being attended with more than forty persons, and accompanied with the Russe returning home, arrived at St. Nicholos. The Dutch by this time had intruded into the Muscovy trade, which by privilege long before had been granted solely to the English; and had corrupted to their side Shalkan the chancellor, with others of the great ones; who so wrought, that a creature of their own was sent to meet Sir Jerom at Colmogro, and to offer him occasions of dislike: until at Vologda he was received by another from the emperor; and at Heraslave by a duke well accompanied, who presented him with a coach and ten geldings. Two miles from Mosco met him four gentlemen with two hundred horse, who, after short salutation, told him what they had to say from the emperor, willing him to alight, which the embassador soon refused, unless they also lighted; whereon they stood long debating; at length agreed, great dispute followed, whose foot should first touch the ground. Their message delivered, and then embracing, they conducted the embassador to a house at Mosco, built for him purposely. At his going to court, he and his followers honourably mounted and apparelled, the emperor’s guard were set on either side all the way about six thousand shot. At the court gate met him four noblemen in cloth of gold, and rich fur caps, embroidered with pearl and stone; then four others of greater degree, in which passage there stood along the walls, and sat on benches, seven or eight hundred men in coloured satins and gold. At the presence door met him the chief herald, and with him all the great officers of court, who brought him where the emperor sat: there were set by him three crowns of Muscovy, Cazan, and Astracan: on each side stood two young noblemen, costly apparelled in white, each of them had a broad axe on his shoulder; on the benches round sat above an hundred noblemen. Having given the embassador his hand to kiss, and inquired of the queen’s health, he willed him to go sit in the place provided for him, nigh ten paces distant; from thence to send him the queen’s letters and present. Which the embassador thinking not reasonable stepped forward; but the chancellor meeting him, would have taken his letters; to whom the embassador said, that the queen had directed no letters to him; and so went on and delivered them to the emperor’s own hands; and after a short withdrawing into the council-chamber, where he had conference with some of the council, he was called in to dinner: about the midst whereof, the emperor standing up, drank a deep carouse to the queen’s health, and sent to the embassador a great bowl of Rhenish wine to pledge him. But at several times being called for to treat about affairs, and not yielding aught beyond his commission, the emperor not wont to be gainsaid, one day especially broke into passion, and with a stern countenance told him, he did not reckon the queen to be his fellow; for there are, quoth he, her betters. The embassador not holding it his part, whatever danger might ensue, to hear any derogate from the majesty of his prince, with like courage and countenance told him that the queen was equal to any in Christendom, who thought himself greatest; and wanted not means to offend her enemies whomsoever. Yea, quoth he, what sayest thou of the French and Spanish kings? I hold her, quoth the embassador, equal to either. Then what to the German emperor? Her father, quoth he, had the emperor in his pay. This answer misliked the duke so far, as that he told him, were he not an embassador, he would throw him out of doors. You may, said the embassador, do your will, for I am now fast in your country; but the queen, I doubt not, will know how to be revenged of any injury offered to her embassador. Whereat the emperor in great sudden bid him get home; and he with no more reverence than such usage required, saluted the emperor, and went his way. Notwithstanding this, the Muscovite, soon as his mood left him, spake to them that stood by many praises of the embassador, wishing he had such a servant, and presently after sent his chief secretary to tell him, that whatever had passed in words, yet for his great respect to the queen, he would shortly after dispatch him with honour and full contentment, and in the mean while he much enlarged his entertainment. He also desired, that the points of our religion might be set down, and caused them to be read to his nobility with much approbation. And as the year before he had sought in marriage the lady Mary Hastings, which took not effect, the lady and her friends excusing it, be now again renewed the motion to take to wife some one of the queen’s kinswomen, either by sending an embassage or going himself with his treasure into England. Now happy was that nobleman, whom Sir Jerom Bowes in public favoured; unhappy they who had opposed him: for the emperor had beaten Shalkan the chancellor very grievously for that cause, and threatened not to leave one of his race alive. But the emperor dying soon after of a surfeit, Shalkan, to whom then almost the whole government was committed, caused the embassador to remain close prisoner in his house nine weeks. Being sent for at length to have his dispatch, and slightly enough conducted to the council-chamber, he was told by Shalkan, that this emperor would condescend to no other agreements than were between his father and the queen before his coming: and so disarming both him and his company, brought them to the emperor with many affronts in their passage, for which there was no help but patience. The emperor, saying but over what the chancellor had said before, offered him a letter for the queen: which the embassador, knowing it contained nothing to the purpose of his embassy, refused, till he saw his danger grow too great; nor was he suffered to reply, or have his interpreter. Shalkan sent him word, that now the English emperor was dead; and hastened his departure, but with so many disgraces put upon him, as made him fear some mischief in his journey to the sea: having only one mean gentleman sent with him to be his convoy; he commanded the English merchants in the queen’s name to accompany him, but such was his danger, that they durst not. So arming himself and his followers in the best wise he could, against any outrage, he at length recovered the shore of St. Nicholas. Where he now resolved to send them back by his conduct some of the affronts which he had received. Ready therefore to take ship, he causes three or four of his valiantest and discreetest men to take the emperor’s letter, and disgraceful present, and to deliver it, or leave it at the lodging of his convoy, which they safely did; though followed with a great tumult of such as would have forced them to take it back. Fifteen hundred and eighty-four. At the coronation of Pheodor the emperor, Jerom Horsey being then agent in Russia, and called for to court with one John de Wale, a merchant of the Netherlands and a subject of Spain, some of the nobles would have preferred the Fleming before the English. But to that our agent would in no case agree, saying he would rather have his legs cut off by the knees, than bring his present in course after a subject of Spain. The emperor and prince Boris perceiving the controversy, gave order to admit Horsey first: who was dismissed with large promises, and seventy messes with three carts of several meath sent after him. Fifteen hundred and eighty-eight. Dr. Giles Fletcher went embassador from the queen to Pheodor then emperor; whose relations being judicious and exact are best read entirely by themselves. This emperor,* upon report of the great learning of John Dee the mathematician, invited him to Mosco, with offer of two thousand pounds a year, and from prince Boris one thousand marks; to have his provision from the emperor’s table, to be honourably received, and accounted as one of the chief men in the land. All which Dee accepted not. One thousand six hundred and four. Sir Thomas Smith was sent embassador from King James to Boris then emperor; and staid some days at a place five miles from Mosco, till he was honourable received into the city; met on horseback by many thousands of gentlemen and nobles on both sides the way; where the embassador alighting from his coach, and mounted on his horse, rode with his trumpets sounding before him; till a gentleman of the emperor’s table brought him a gennet gorgeously trapped with gold, pearl, and stone, especially with a great chain of plated gold about his neck, and horses richly adorned for his followers. Then came three great noblemen with an interpreter offering a speech; but the embassador deeming it to be ceremony, with a brief compliment found means to put it by. Thus alighting all, they saluted, and gave hands mutually. Those three, after a tedious preamble of the emperor’s title thrice repeated, brought a several compliment of three words a piece, as namely, the first, To know how the king did; the next, How the embassador; the third, That there was a fair house provided him. Then on they went on either hand of the embassador, and about six thousand gallants behind them, still met within the city by more of greater quality to the very gate of his lodging: where fifty gunners were his daily guard both at home and abroad. The prestaves, or gentlemen assigned to have the care of his entertainment, were earnest to have had the embassador’s speech and message given them in writing, that the interpreter, as they pretended, might the better translate it; but he admonished them of their foolish demand. On the day of his audience, other gennets were sent him and his attendants to ride on, and two white palfreys to draw a rich chariot, which was parcel of the present; the rest whereof was carried by his followers through a lane of the emperor’s guard; many messengers posting up and down the while, till they came through the great castle, to the uttermost court gate. There met by a great duke, they were brought up stairs through a stone gallery, where stood on each hand many in fair coats of Persian stuff, velvet, and damask. The embassador by two other counsellors being led into the presence, after his obeisance done, was to stay and hear again the long title repeated; then the particular presents; and so delivered as much of his embassage as was then requisite. After which the emperor, arising from his throne, demanded of the king’s health; so did the young prince. The embassador then delivered his letters into the emperor’s own hand, though the chancellor offered to have taken them. He bore the majesty of a mighty emperor; his crown and sceptre of pure gold, a collar of pearls about his neck, his garment of crimson velvet embroidered with precious stone and gold. On his right side stood a fair globe of beaten gold on a pyramis with a cross upon it; to which, before he spake, turning a little he crossed himself. Not much less in splendour on another throne sate the prince. By the emperor stood two noblemen in cloth of silver, high caps of black fur, and chains of gold hanging to their feet; on their shoulders two poleaxes of gold; and two of silver by the prince; the ground was all covered with arras or tapestry. Dismissed, and brought in again to dinner, they saw the emperor and his son seated in state, ready to dine; each with a skull of pearl on their bare heads, their vestments changed. In the midst of this hall seemed to stand a pillar heaped round to a great height with massy plate curiously wrought with beasts, fishes, and fowl. The emperor’s table was served with two hundred noblemen in coats of gold; the prince’s table with young dukes of Cassan, Astracan, Siberia, Tartaria, and Circassia. The emperor sent from his table to the embassador thirty dishes of meat, to each a loaf of extraordinary fine bread. Then followed a number more of strange and rare dishes piled up by half dozens, with boiled, roast, and baked, most part of them besauced with garlic and onions. In midst of dinner calling the embassador up to him he drank the king’s health, who receiving it from his hand, returned to his place, and in the same cup, being of fair chrystal, pledged it with all his company. After dinner they were called up to drink of excellent and strong meath from the emperor’s hand; of which when many did but sip, he urged it not; saying he was best pleased with what was most for their health. Yet after that, the same day he sent a great and glorious duke, one of them that held the golden poleaxe, with his retinue, and sundry sorts of meath, to drink merrily with the embassador, which some of the English did, until the duke and his followers, lightheaded, but well rewarded with thirty yards of cloth of gold, and two standing cups, departed. At second audience the embassador had like reception as before: and being dismissed, had dinner sent after him with three hundred several dishes of fish, it being Lent, of such strangeness, greatness, and goodness, as scarce would be credible to report. The embassador departing was brought a mile out of the city with like honour as he was first met; where lighting from the emperor’s sled, he took him to his coach, made fast upon a sled; the rest to their sleds, an easy and pleasant passage.
A DECLARATION OF LETTERS PATENTS,
|
| 1. The damages comprehended in the sixteen articles, and formerly exhibited, amounting to 298,555 royals ½, of which is of our money | 74,638l. 15s. 00d. |
| 2. We demand satisfaction to be given for the incomes of the island of Pularon, from the year sixteen hundred and twenty-two, to this time, of two hundred thousand royals ½, besides the future expense, till the right of jurisdiction over that island be restored in the same condition, as when it was wrested out of our hands, as was by league agreed to, amounting of our money to | 50,000l. 00s. 00d. |
| 3. We demand satisfaction for all the merchandise, provision, and furniture taken away by the agents of the Dutch company in the Indies, or to them delivered, or to any of their ships bound thither, or returning home; which sum amounts to 80,635 royals, of our money | 20,158l. 00s. 00d. |
| 4. We demand satisfaction for the customs of Dutch merchandise laden on board their ships in Persia, or landed there from the year sixteen hundred and twenty-four, as was granted us by the King of Persia, which we cannot value at less than fourscore thousand royals | 20,000l. 00s. 00d. |
| 5. We demand satisfaction for four houses maliciously and unjustly burnt at Jocatra, together with the warehouses, magazines, and furniture, occasioned by the Dutch governor there, of all which we have information from the place itself, after we had exhibited our first complaints: the total of which damage we value at | 50,000l. 00s. 00d. |
| We demand satisfaction for thirty-two thousand eight hundred and ninety-nine pound of pepper, taken out of the ship Endymion, in sixteen hundred and forty-nine, the total of which damage amounts to | 6,000l. 00s. 00d. |
| 220,796l. 15s. 00d. |
| 1. For damages sustained by those who besieged Bantam, whence it came to pass, that for six years together we were excluded from that trade, and consequently from an opportunity of laying out in pepper six hundred thousand royals, with which we might have laden our homeward-bound ships; for want of which lading they rotted upon the coast of India. In the mean time our stock in India was wasted and consumed in mariners’ wages, provision, and other furniture; so that they could not value their loss at less than twenty hundred and four thousand royals. | £ 600,000 00s. 00d. |
| 2. More for damages by reason of our due part lost of the fruits in the Molucca islands, Banda and Amboyna, from the time that by the slaughter of our men we were thence expelled, till the time that we shall be satisfied for our loss and expenses; which space of time, from the year sixteen hundred and twenty-two, to this present year sixteen hundred and fifty, for the yearly revenue of 250,000 lib. amounts in twenty-eight years to | £700,000 00s. 00d. |
| 3. We demand satisfaction for one hundred and two thousand nine hundred and fifty-nine royals, taken from us by the Mogul’s people, whom the Dutch protected in such a manner, that we never could repair our losses out of the money or goods of that people, which lay in their junks, which we endeavoured to do, and was in our power, had not the Dutch unjustly defended them. Which lost money we could have trebled in Europe, and value at | £77,200 00s. 00d. |
| 4. For the customs of Persia, the half part of which was by the king of Persia granted to the English, anno sixteen hundred and twenty-four. Which to the year sixteen hundred and twenty-nine, is valued at eight thousand royals; to which add the four thousand lib. which they are bound to pay since sixteen hundred and twenty-nine, which is now one-and-twenty years, and it makes up the sum of | £84,000 00s. 00d. |
| From the first account | £220,796 15s. 00d. |
| Sum total | £1,681,996 15s. 00d. |
The interest from that time will far exceed the principal.
LETTERS WRITTEN IN THE NAME OF OLIVER THE PROTECTOR.
To the Count ofOldenburgh.
Most Illustrious Lord—By your letters dated January twenty, sixteen hundred and fifty-four, I have been given to understand, that the noble Frederick Matthias Wolisog and Christopher Griphiander were sent with certain commands from your illustrious lordship into England; who when they came to us, not only in your name congratulated our having taken upon us the government of the English republic, but also desired, that you and your territories might be comprehended in the peace which we are about to make with the Low Countries, and that we would confirm by our present authority the letters of safe conduct lately granted your lordship by the parliament. Therefore in the first place we return your lordship our hearty thanks for your friendly congratulation, as it becomes us; and these will let you know that we have readily granted your two requests. Nor shall you find us wanting upon any opportunity, which may at any time make manifest our affection to your lordship. And this we are apt to believe you will understand more at large from your agents, whose fidelity and diligence in this affair of yours, in our court, has been eminently conspicuous. As to what remains, we most heartily wish the blessings of prosperity and peace, both upon you and your affairs.
Your illustrious lordship’s most affectionate,
OLIVER, protector of England, Scotland, and Ireland, &c.
To the Count ofOldenburgh.
Most Illustrious Lord—We received your letters, dated May the second, from Oldenburgh, most welcome upon more than one account; as well for that they were full of singular civility and goodwill towards us, as because they were delivered by the hand of the most illustrious count Anthony, your beloved son; which we look upon as so much the greater honour, as not having trusted to report, but with our own eyes, and by our own observation, discerned his virtues becoming such an illustrious extraction, his noble manners and inclinations, and lastly, his extraordinary affection toward ourselves. Nor is it to be questioned but he displays to his own people the same fair hopes at home, that he will approve himself the son of a most worthy and most excellent father, whose signal virtue and prudence has all along so managed affairs, that the whole territory of Oldenburgh for many years has enjoyed a profound peace, and all the blessings of tranquillity, in the midst of the raging confusions of war thundering on every side. What reason therefore why we should not value such a friendship, that can so wisely and providentially shun the enmity of all men? Lastly, most illustrious lord, it is for your magnificent present* that we return you thanks; but it is of right, and your merits claim, that we are cordially,
Your illustrious lordship’s most affectionate,
OLIVER, &c.
Superscribed, To the most Illustrious Lord, Anthony Gunther, count in Oldenburgh and Delmenhorst, lord in Jehvern and Kniphausen.
Oliver,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland, Scotland,andIreland,&c., To the most Serene Prince,Charles Gustavus,King of theSwedes, Goths,andVandals,Great Prince ofFinland,Duke ofEsthonia, Carelia, Breme, Verden, StettininPomerania, Cassubia,andVandalia;Prince ofRugia,Lord ofIngra, Wismaria,as also CountPalatineof theRhine,and Duke ofBavaria, Cleves,andMonts,&c., Greeting.
Most Serene King—Though it be already divulged over all the world, that the kingdom of the Swedes is translated to your majesty with the extraordinary applause and desires of the people, and the free suffrages of all the orders of the realm; yet that your majesty should rather choose, that we should understand the welcome news by your most friendly letters, than by the common voice of fame, we thought no small argument both of your goodwill towards us, and of the honour done us among the first. Voluntarily therefore and of right we congratulate this accession of dignity to your egregious merits, and the most worthy guerdon of so much virtue. And that it may be lucky and prosperous to your majesty, to the nation of the Swedes, and the true Christian interest, which is also what you chiefly wish, with joint supplication we implore of God. And whereas your majesty assures us, that the preserving entire the league and alliance lately concluded between this republic and the kingdom of Sweden shall be so far your care, that the present amity may not only continue firm and inviolable, but, if possible, every day increase and grow to a higher perfection, to call it into question, would be a piece of impiety, after the word of so great a prince once interposed, whose surpassing fortitude has not only purchased your majesty an hereditary kingdom in a foreign land, but also could so far prevail, that the most august queen, the daughter of Gustavus, and a heroess so matchless in all degrees of praise and masculine renown, that many ages backward have not produced her equal, surrendered the most just possession of her empire to your majesty, neither expecting nor willing to accept it. Now therefore it is our main desire, your majesty should be every way assured, that your so singular affection toward us, and so eminent a signification of your mind, can be no other than most dear and welcome to us; and that no combat can offer itself to us more glorious, than such a one wherein we may, if possible, prove victorious in outdoing your majesty’s civility by our kind offices, that never shall be wanting.
Your majesty’s most affectionate,
Westminster, July 4, 1654.
OLIVER, protector of the commonwealth of England, Scotland, and Ireland, &c.
To the most Illustrious Lord,Lewis MendezdeHardo.
What we have understood by your letters, most illustrious lord, that there is an embassador already nominated and appointed by the most serene king of Spain, on purpose to come and congratulate our having undertaken the government of the republic, is not only deservedly acceptable of itself, but rendered much more welcome and pleasing to us by your singular affection, and the speed of your civility, as being desirous we should understand it first of all from yourself. For, to be so beloved and approved by your lordship, who by your virtue and prudence have obtained so great authority with your prince, as to preside, his equal in mind, over all the most important affairs of that kingdom, ought to be so much the more pleasing to us, as well understanding that the judgment of a surpassing person cannot but be much to our honour and ornament. Now as to our cordial inclinations toward the king of Spain, and ready propensity to hold friendship with that kingdom, and increase it to a stricter perfection, we hope we have already satisfied the present embassador, and shall more amply satisfy the other so soon as he arrives. As to what remains, most illustrious lord, we heartily wish the dignity and favour, wherein you now flourish with your prince, perpetual to your lordship; and whatever affairs you carry on for the public good, may prosperously and happily succeed.
Your illustrious lordship’s most affectionate,
Whitehall, Sept. 1654.
OLIVER, &c.
To the most Serene Prince,Charles Gustavus Adolphus,King of theSwedes, Goths,andVandals,&c.
Being so well assured of your majesty’s good will towards me by your last letters, in answer to which I wrote back with the same affection, methinks I should do no more than what our mutual amity requires, if as I communicate my grateful tidings to reciprocal joy, so when contrary accidents fall out, that I should lay open the sense and grief of my mind to your majesty, as my dearest friend. For my part, this is my opinion of myself, that I am now advanced to this degree in the commonwealth, to the end I should consult in the first place and as much as in me lies, for the common peace of the protestants. Which is the reason, that of necessity it behoves me more grievously to lay to heart what we are sorry to hear concerning the bloody conflicts and mutual slaughters of the Bremeners and Swedes. But this I chiefly bewail, that being both our friends, they should so despitefully combat one against another, and with so much danger to the interests of the protestants; and that the peace of Munster, which it was thought would have proved an asylum and safeguard to all the protestants, should be the occasion of such an unfortunate war, that now the arms of the Swedes are turned upon those, whom but a little before, among the rest, they most stoutly defended for religion’s sake; and that this should be done more especially at this time, when the papists are said to persecute the reformed all over Germany, and to return to their intermitted for some time oppressions, and their pristine violences. Hearing therefore, that a truce for some days was made at Breme, I could not forbear signifying to your majesty, upon this opportunity offered, how cordially I desire, and how earnestly I implore the God of peace, that this truce may prove successfully happy for the good of both parties, and that it may conclude in a most firm peace, by a commodious accommodation on both sides. To which purpose, if your majesty judges that my assistance may any ways conduce, I most willingly offer and promise it, as in a thing, without question, most acceptable to the most holy God. In the mean time, from the bottom of my heart, I beseech the Almighty to direct and govern all your counsels for the common welfare of the Christian interest, which I make no doubt but that your majesty chiefly desires.
Your majesty’s most affectionate,
OLIVER, &c.
To the Magnificent and most Noble, the Consuls and Senators of the City ofBreme.
By your letters delivered to us by your resident Henry Oldenburgh, that there is a difference kindled between your city and a most potent neighbour, and to what straits you are thereby reduced, with so much the more trouble and grief we understand, by how much the more we love and embrace the city of Breme, so eminent above others for their profession of the orthodox faith. Neither is there any thing which we account more sacred in our wishes, than that the whole protestant name would knit and grow together in brotherly unity and concord. In the mean time, most certain it is, that the common enemy of the reformed rejoices at these our dissensions, and more haughtily every where exerts his fury. But in regard the controversy, which at present exercises your contending arms, is not within the power of our decision, we implore the Almighty God, that the truce begun may obtain a happy issue. Assuredly, as to what you desired, we have written to the king of the Swedes, exhorting him to peace and agreement, as being most chiefly grateful to Heaven, and have offered our assistance in so pious a work. On the other side, we likewise exhort yourselves to bear an equal mind, and by no means to refuse any honest conditions of reconciliation. And so we recommend your city to Divine Protection and Providence.
Your lordships’ most affectionate,
Whitehall, Oct. 26, 1654.
OLIVER, protector of the commonwealth of England, &c.
Oliver,Protector of the Republic ofEngland,To the most Illustrious Prince ofTarentum.
Your love of religion apparently made known in your letters to us delivered, and your excelling piety and singular affection to the reformed churches, more especially considering the nobility and splendour of your character, and in a kingdom too, wherein there are so many and such abounding hopes proposed to all of eminent quality that revolt from the orthodox faith, so many miseries to be undergone by the resolute and constant, gave us an occasion of great joy and consolation of mind. Nor was it less grateful to us, that we had gained your good opinion, upon the same account of religion, which ought to render your highness most chiefly beloved and dear to ourselves. We call God to witness, that whatever hopes or expectations the churches according to your relation had of us, we may be able one day to give them satisfaction, if need require, or at least to demonstrate to all men, how much it is our desire never to fail them. Nor should we think any fruit of our labours, or of this dignity or supreme employment which we hold in our republic, greater than that we might be in a condition to be serviceable to the enlargement, or the welfare, or what is more sacred, to the peace of the reformed church. In the mean time, we exhort and beseech your lordship, to remain stedfast to the last minute in the orthodox religion, with the same resolution and constancy, as you profess it received from your ancestors with piety and zeal. Nor indeed can there be any thing more worthy yourself, or your religious parents, nor in consideration of what you have deserved of us, though we wish all things for your own sake, that we can wish more noble or advantageous to your lordship, than that you would take such methods, and apply yourself to such studies, that the churches, especially of your native country, under the discipline of which your birth and genius have rendered you illustriously happy, may be sensible of so much the more assured security in your protection, by how much you excel others in lustre and ability.
Whitehall, April —, 1654.
Oliver,the Protector, &c., To the most Serene Prince,ImmanuelDuke ofSavoy,Prince of Piemont, Greeting.
Most Serene Prince—Letters have been sent us from Geneva, as also from the Dauphinate, and many other places bordering upon your territories, wherein we are given to understand, that such of your royal highness’s subjects, as profess the reformed religion, are commanded by your edict, and by your authority, within three days after the promulgation of your edict, to depart their native seats and habitations, upon pain of capital punishment, and forfeiture of all their fortunes and estates, unless they will give security to relinquish their religion within twenty days, and embrace the Roman catholic faith. And that when they applied themselves to your royal highness in a most suppliant manner, imploring a revocation of the said edict, and that being received into pristine favour, they might be restored to the liberty granted them by your predecessors, a part of your army fell upon them, most cruelly slew several, put others in chains, and compelled the rest to fly into desert places, and to the mountains covered with snow, where some hundreds of families are reduced to such distress, that it is greatly to be feared, they will in a short time all miserably perish through cold and hunger. These things, when they were related to us, we could not choose but be touched with extreme grief and compassion for the sufferings and calamities of this afflicted people. Now in regard we must acknowledge ourselves linked together not only by the same tie of humanity, but by joint communion of the same religion, we thought it impossible for us to satisfy our duty to God, to brotherly charity, or our profession of the same religion, if we should only be affected with a bare sorrow for the misery and calamity of our brethren, and not contribute all our endeavours to relieve and succour them in their unexpected adversity, as much as in us lies. Therefore in a great measure we most earnestly beseech and conjure your royal highness, that you would call back to your thoughts the moderation of your most serene predecessors, and the liberty by them granted and confirmed from time to time to their subjects the Vaudois. In granting and confirming which, as they did that which without all question was most grateful to God, who has been pleased to reserve the jurisdiction and power over the conscience to himself alone, so there is no doubt, but that they had a due consideration of their subjects also, whom they found stout and most faithful in war, and always obedient in peace. And as your royal serenity in other things most laudably follows the footsteps of your immortal ancestors, so we again and again beseech your royal highness, not to swerve from the path wherein they trod in this particular; but that you would vouchsafe to abrogate both this edict, and whatsoever else may be decreed to the disturbance of your subjects upon the account of the reformed religion; that you would ratify to them their conceded privileges and pristine liberty, and command their losses to be repaired, and that an end be put to their oppressions. Which if your royal highness shall be pleased to see performed, you will do a thing most acceptable to God, revive and comfort the miserable in dire calamity, and most highly oblige all your neighbours, that profess the reformed religion, but more especially ourselves, who shall be bound to look upon your clemency and benignity toward your subjects as the fruit of our earnest solicitation. Which will both engage us to a reciprocal return of all good offices, and lay the solid foundations not only of establishing, but increasing, alliance and friendship between this republic and your dominions. Nor do we less promise this to ourselves from your justice and moderation; to which we beseech Almighty God to incline your mind and thoughts. And so we cordially implore just Heaven to bestow upon your highness and your people the blessings of peace and truth, and prosperous success in all your affairs.
Whitehall May —, 1655.
Oliver,Protector of the Republic ofEngland,To the most Serene Prince ofTransilvania,Greeting.
Most Serene Prince—By your letters of the sixteenth of November, sixteen hundred and fifty-four, you have made us sensible of your singular goodwill and affection towards us; and your envoy, who delivered those letters to us, more amply declared your desire of contracting alliance and friendship with us. Certainly for our parts we do not a little rejoice at this opportunity offered us, to declare and make manifest our affection to your highness, and how great a value we justly set upon your person. But after fame had reported to us your egregious merits and labours undertaken in behalf of the Christian republic, when you were pleased that all these things, and what you have farther in your thoughts to do in the defence and for promoting the Christian interest, should be in friendly manner imparted to us by letters from yourself, thus afforded us a more plentiful occasion of joy and satisfaction, to hear that God, in those remoter regions, had raised up to himself so potent and renowned a minister of his glory and provilence: and that this great minister of heaven, so famed for his courage and success, should be desirous to associate with us in the common defence of the protestant religion, at this time wickedly assailed by words and deeds. Nor is it to be questioned but that God, who has infused into us both, though separated by such a spacious interval of many climates, the same desires and thoughts of defending the orthodox religion, will be our instructor and author of the ways and means whereby we may be assistant and useful to ourselves and the rest of the reformed cities; provided we watch all opportunities, that God shall put into our hands, and be not wanting to lay hold of them.
In the mean time we cannot without an extreme and penetrating sorrow forbear putting your highness in mind, how unmercifully the duke of Savoy has persecuted his own subjects, professing the orthodox faith in certain valleys, at the feet of the Alps: whom he has not only constrained by a most severe edict, as many as refuse to embrace the catholic religion, to forsake their native habitations, goods, and estates, but has fallen upon them with his army, put several most cruelly to the sword, others more barbarously tormented to death, and driven the greatest number to the mountains, there to be consumed with cold and hunger, exposing their houses to the fury, and their goods to the plunder, of his executioners. These things, as they have already been related to your highness, so we readily assure ourselves, that so much cruelty cannot but be grievously displeasing to your ears, and that you will not be wanting to afford your aid and succour to those miserable wretches, if there be any that survive so many slaughters and calamities. For our parts, we have written to the duke of Savoy, beseeching him to remove his incensed anger from his subjects; as also to the king of France, that he would vouchsafe to do the same; and lastly, to the princes of the reformed religion, to the end they might understand our sentiments concerning so fell and savage a piece of cruelty. Which, though first begun upon those poor and helpless people, however threatens all that profess the same religion, and therefore imposes upon all a greater necessity of providing for themselves in general, and consulting the common safety; which is the course that we shall always follow, as God shall be pleased to direct us. Of which your highness may be assured, as also of our sincerity and affection to your serenity, whereby we are engaged to wish all prosperous success to your affairs, and a happy issue of all your enterprises and endeavours, in asserting the liberty of the gospel, and the worshippers of it.
Whitehall, May —, 1655.
Oliver,Protector, To the most Serene Prince,Charles Gustavus Adolphus,King of theSwedes,Greeting.
We make no question, but that the fame of that most rigid edict has reached your dominions, whereby the duke of Savoy has totally ruined his protestant subjects inhabiting the Alpine valleys, and commanded them to be exterminated from their native seats and habitations, unless they will give security to renounce their religion received from their forefathers, in exchange for the Roman catholic superstition, and that within twenty days at farthest: so that many being killed, the rest stripped to their skins, and exposed to most certain destruction, are now forced to wander over desert mountains, and through perpetual winter, together with their wives and children, half dead with cold and hunger: and that your majesty has laid it to heart, with a pious sorrow and compassionate consideration, we as little doubt. For that the protestant name and cause, although they differ among themselves in some things of little consequence, is nevertheless the same in general, and united in one common interest; the hatred of our adversaries, alike incensed against protestants, very easily demonstrates. Now there is nobody can be ignorant, that the kings of the Swedes have always joined with the reformed, carrying their victorious arms into Germany in defence of the protestants without distinction. Therefore we make it our chief request, and that in a more especial manner to your majesty, that you would solicit the duke of Savoy by letters; and, by interposing your intermediating authority, endeavour to avert the horrid cruelty of this edict, if possible, from people no less innocent than religious. For we think it superflous to admonish your majesty whither these rigorous beginnings tend, and what they threaten to all the protestants in general. But if he rather choose to listen to his anger, than to our joint entreaties and intercessions; if there be any tie, any charity or communion of religion to be believed and worshipped, upon consultations duly first communicated to your majesty, and the chief of the protestant princes, some other course is to be speedily taken, that such a numerous multitude of our innocent brethren may not miserably perish for want of succour and assistance. Which, in regard we make no question but that it is your majesty’s opinion and determination, there can be nothing in our opinion more prudently resolved, than to join our reputation, authority, counsel, forces, and whatever else is needful, with all the speed that may be, in pursuance of so pious a design. In the mean time, we beseech Almighty God to bless your majesty.
Oliver,Protector, &c. To the High and Mighty Lords, the States of theUnited Provinces.
We make no question, but that you have already been informed of the duke of Savoy’s edict, set forth against his subjects inhabiting the valleys at the feet of the Alps, ancient professors of the orthodox faith; by which edict they are commanded to abandon their native habitations, stripped of all their fortunes, unless within twenty days they embrace the Roman faith; and with what cruelty the authority of this edict has raged against a needy and harmless people, many being slain by the soldiers, the rest plundered and driven from their houses, together with their wives and children, to combat cold and hunger among desert mountains, and perpetual snow.—These things with what commotion of mind you heard related, what a fellow-feeling of the calamities of brethren pierced your breasts, we readily conjectured from the depth of our own sorrow, which certainly is most heavy and afflictive. For being engaged together by the same tie of religion, no wonder we should be so deeply moved with the same affections upon the dreadful and underserved sufferings of our brethren. Besides, that your conspicuous piety and charity toward the orthodox, wherever overborne and oppressed, has been frequently experienced in the most urging straits and calamities of the churches. For my own part, unless my thoughts deceive me, there is nothing wherein I should desire more willingly to be overcome, than in goodwill and charity toward brethren of the same religion, afflicted and wronged in their quiet enjoyments; as being one that would be accounted always ready to prefer the peace and safety of the churches before my particular interests. So far therefore as hitherto lay in our power, we have written to the duke of Savoy, even almost to supplication, beseeching him, that he would admit into his breast more placid thoughts and kinder effects of his favour toward his most innocent subjects and suppliants; that he would restore the miserable to their habitations and estates, and grant them their pristine freedom in the exercise of their religion. Moreover, we wrote to the chiefest princes and magistrates of the protestants, whom we thought most nearly concerned in these matters, that they would lend us their assistance to entreat and pacify the duke of Savoy in their behalf. And we make no doubt now but you have done the same, and perhaps much more. For this so dangerous a precedent, and lately renewed severity of utmost cruelty toward the reformed, if the authors of it meet with prosperous success, to what apparent dangers it reduces our religion, we need not admonish your prudence. On the other side, if the duke shall once but permit himself to be atoned and won by our united applications, not only our afflicted brethren, but we ourselves shall reap the noble and abounding harvest and reward of this laborious undertaking. But if he still persist in the same obstinate resolutions of reducing to utmost extremity those people, (among whom our religion was either disseminated by the first doctors of the gospel, and preserved from the defilement of superstition, or else restored to its pristine sincerity long before other nations obtained that felicity,) and determines their utter extirpation and destruction; we are ready to take such other course and counsels with yourselves, in common with the rest of our reformed friends and confederates, as may be most necessary for the preservation of just and good men, upon the brink of inevitable ruin; and to make the duke himself sensible, that we can no longer neglect the heavy oppressions and calamities of our orthodox brethren. Farewel.
To the Evangelic Cities ofSwitzerland.
We make no question, but the late calamity of the Piedmontois, professing our religion, reached your ears before the unwelcome news of it arrived with us: who being a people under the protection and jurisdiction of the duke of Savoy, and by a severe edict of their prince commanded to depart their native habitations, unless within three days they gave security to embrace the Roman religion, soon after were assailed by armed violence, that turned their dwellings into slaughter-houses, while others, without number, were terrified into banishment, where now naked and afflicted, without house or home, or any covering from the weather, and ready to perish through hunger and cold, they miserably wander thorough desert mountains, and depths of snow, together with their wives and children. And far less reason have we to doubt, but that so soon as they came to your knowledge, you laid these thing to heart, with a compassion no less sensible of their multiplied miseries than ourselves; the more deeply imprinted perhaps in your minds, as being next neighbours to the sufferers. Besides, that we have abundant proof of your singular love and affection for the orthodox faith, of your constancy in retaining it, and your fortitude in defending it. Seeing then, by the most strict communion of religion, that you, together with ourselves, are all brethren alike, or rather one body with those unfortunate people, of which no member can be afflicted without the feeling, without pain, without the detriment and hazard of the rest; we thought it convenient to write to your lordships concerning this matter, and let you understand, how much we believe it to be the general interest of us all, as much as in us lies, with our common aid and succour to relieve our exterminated and indigent brethren; and not only to take care for removing their miseries and afflictions, but also to provide, that the mischief spread no farther, nor encroach upon ourselves in general, encouraged by example and success. We have written letters to the duke of Savoy, wherein we have most earnestly besought him, out of his wonted clemency, to deal more gently and mildly with his most faithful subjects, and to restore them, almost ruined as they are, to their goods and habitations. And we are in hopes, that by these our entreaties, or rather by the united intercessions of us all, the most serene prince at length will be atoned, and grant what we have requested with so much importunity. But if his mind be obstinately bent to other determinations, we are ready to communicate our consultations with yours, by what most prevalent means to relieve and re-establish most innocent men, and our most dearly beloved brethren in Christ, tormented and overlaid with so many wrongs and oppressions; and preserve them from inevitable and undeserved ruin. Of whose welfare and safety, as I am assured, that you, according to your wonted piety, are most cordially tender; so for our own parts, we cannot but in our opinion prefer their preservation before our most important interests, even the safeguard of our own life.—Farewel.
O. P.
Westminster, May 19th, 1655.
Superscribed, To the most Illustrious and Potent Lords, the Consuls and Senators of the Protestant Cantons and Confederate Cities of Switzerland, Greeting.
To the most Serene and Potent Prince,Lewis,King ofFrance.
Most Serene and Potent King—By your majesty’s letters, which you wrote in answer to ours of the twenty-fifth of May, we readily understand, that we failed not in our judgment, that the inhuman slaughter, and barbarous massacres of those men, who professed the reformed religion of Savoy, perpetrated by some of your regiments, were the effects neither of your orders nor commands. And it afforded us a singular occasion of joy, to hear that your majesty had so timely signified to your colonies and officers, whose violent precipitancy engaged them in those inhuman butcheries, without the encouragement of lawful allowance, how displeasing they were to your majesty; that you had admonished the duke himself to forbear such acts of cruelty; and that you had interposed with so much fidelity and humanity all the high veneration paid you in that court, your near alliance and authority, for restoring to their ancient abodes those unfortunate exiles. And it was our hopes, that that prince would in some measure have condescended to the good pleasure and intercessions of your majesty. But finding not any thing obtained, either by your own, nor the entreaties and importunities of other princes in the cause of the distressed, we deemed it not foreign from our duty, to send this noble person, under the character of our extraordinary envoy, to the duke of Savoy, more amply and fully to lay before him, how deeply sensible we are of such exasperated cruelties, inflicted upon the professors of the same religion with ourselves, and all this too out of a hatred of the same worship. And we have reason to hope a success of this negotiation so much the more prosperous, if your majesty would vouchsafe to employ your authority and assistance once again with so much the more urgent importunity; and as you have undertaken for those indigent people, that they will be faithful and obedient to their prince, so you would be graciously pleased to take care of their welfare and safety, that no farther oppressions of this nature, no more such dismal calamities, may be the portion of the innocent and peaceful. This being truly royal and just in itself, and highly agreeable to your benignity and clemency, which every where protects in soft security so many of your subjects professing the same religion, we cannot but expect, as it behoves us, from your majesty. Which act of yours, as it will more closely bind to your subjection all the protestants throughout your spacious dominions, whose affection and fidelity to your predecessors and yourself in most important distresses have been often conspicuously made known: so will it fully convince all foreign princes, that the advice or intention of your majesty were no way contributory to this prodigious violence, whatever inflamed your ministers and officers to promote it. More especially, if your majesty shall inflict deserved punishment upon those captains and ministers, who of their own authority, and to gratify their own wills, adventured the perpetrating such dreadful acts of inhumanity. In the mean while, since your majesty has assured us of your justly merited aversion to these most inhuman and cruel proceedings, we doubt not but you will afford a secure sanctuary and shelter within your kingdom to all those miserable exiles, that shall fly to your majesty for protection; and that you will not give permission to any of your subjects to assist the duke of Savoy to their prejudice. It remains that we make known to your majesty, how highly we esteem and value your friendship: in testimony of which, we farther affirm, there shall never be wanting upon all occasions the real assurances and effects of our protestation.
Your majesty’s most affectionate,
Whitehall, July 29, 1655
OLIVER, Protector of the Commonwealth of England, &c.
To the most Eminent Lord, CardinalMazarine.
Most Eminent Lord Cardinal—Having deemed it necessary to send this noble person to the king with letters, a copy of which is here enclosed, we gave him also farther in charge, to salute your excellency in our name, as having intrusted to his fidelity certain other matters to be communicated to your eminency. In reference to which affairs, I entreat your eminency to give him entire credit, as being a person in whom I have reposed a more than ordinary confidence.
Your eminency’s most affectionate,
Whitehall, July 29, 1655.
OLIVER, Protector of the Commonwealth of England.
Oliver,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland,To the most Serene Prince,Frederick III., King ofDenmark, Norway, &c.
With what a severe and unmerciful edict Immanuel duke of Savoy has expelled from their native seats his subjects inhabiting the valleys of Piedmont, men otherwise harmless, only for many years remarkably famous for embracing the purity of religion; and after a dreadful slaughter of some numbers, how he has exposed the rest to the hardships of those desert mountains, stripped to their skins, and barred from all relief, we believe your majesty has long since heard, and doubt not but your majesty is touched with a real commiseration of their sufferings, as becomes so puissant a defender and prince of the reformed faith: for indeed the institutions of Christian religion require, that whatever mischiefs and miseries any part of us undergo, it should behove us all to be deeply sensible of the same: nor does any man better than your majesty foresee, if we may be thought able to give a right conjecture of your piety and prudence, what dangers the success and example of this fact portend to ourselves in particular, and to the whole protestant name in general. We have written the more willingly to yourself, to the end we might assure your majesty, that the same sorrow, which we hope you have conceived for the calamity of our most innocent brethren, the same opinion, the same judgment you have of the whole matter, is plainly and sincerely our own. We have therefore sent our letters to the duke of Savoy, wherein we have most importunately besought him, to spare those miserable people, that implore his mercy, and that he would no longer suffer that dreadful edict to be in force; which if your majesty and the rest of the reformed princes would vouchsafe to do, as we are apt to believe they have already done, there is some hope, that the anger of the most serene duke may be assuaged, and that his indignation will relent upon the intercession and importunities of his neighbour princes. Or if he persist in his determinations, we protest ourselves ready, together with your majesty, and the rest of our confederates of the reformed religion, to take such speedy methods, as may enable us, as far as in us lies, to relieve the distresses of so many miserable creatures, and provide for their liberty and safety. In the mean time we beseech Almighty God to bless your majesty with all prosperity.
Whitehall, May —, 1655.
Oliver,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland, &c., To the most Noble the Consuls and Senators of the City ofGeneva.
We had before made known to your lordships our excessive sorrow for the heavy and unheard of calamities of the protestants, inhabiting the valleys of Piedmont, whom the duke of Savoy persecutes with so much cruelty; but that we made it our business, that you should at the same time understand, that we are not only affected with the multitude of their sufferings, but are using the utmost of our endeavours to relieve and comfort them in their distresses. To that purpose we have taken care for a gathering of alms to be made throughout this whole republic; which upon good grounds we expect will be such, as will demonstrate the affection of this nation toward their brethren, labouring under the burden of such horrid inhumanities; and that as the communion of religion is the same between both people, so the sense of their calamities is no less the same. In the mean time, while the collections of the money go forward, which in regard they will require some time to accomplish, and for that the wants and necessities of those deplorable people will admit of no delay, we thought it requisite to remit before-hand two thousand pounds of the value of England with all possible speed, to be distributed among such as shall be judged to be most in present need of comfort and succour. Now in regard we are not ignorant how deeply the miseries and wrongs of those most innocent people have affected yourselves, and that you will not think amiss of any labour or pains where you can be assisting to their relief, we made no scruple to commit the paying and distributing this sum of money to your care; and to give you this farther trouble, that according to your wonted piety and prudence, you would take care, that the said money may be distributed equally to the most necessitous, to the end that though the sum be small, yet there may be something to refresh and revive the most poor and needy, till we can afford them a more plentiful supply. And thus, not making any doubt but you will take in good part the trouble imposed upon ye, we beseech Almighty God to stir up the hearts of all his people professing the orthodox religion, to resolve upon the common defence of themselves, and the mutual assistance of each other against their imbittered and most implacable enemies: in the prosecution of which, we should rejoice that our helping hand might be any way serviceable to the church. Farewel.
Fifteen hundred pounds of the foresaid two thousand will be remitted by Gerard Hench from Paris, and the other five hundred pounds will be taken care of by letters from the lord Stoup.
June 8, 1655.
Oliver,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland, &c., To the most Serene Prince, the Duke ofVenice.
Most Serene Prince—As it has been always a great occasion of rejoicing to us, whenever any prosperous success attended your arms, but more especially against the common enemy of the Christian name; so neither are we sorry for the late advantage gained by your fleet, though, as we understand, it happened not a little to the detriment of our people: for certain of our merchants, William and Daniel Williams, and Edward Beale, have set forth in a petition presented to us, that a ship of theirs, called the Great Prince, was lately sent by them with goods and merchandise to Constantinople, where the said ship was detained by the ministers of the Porte, to carry soldiers and provisions to Crete; and that the said ship being constrained to sail along with the same fleet of the Turks, which was set upon and vanquished by the galleys of the Venetians, was taken, carried away to Venice, and there adjudged lawful prize by the judges of the admiralty. Now therefore in regard the said ship was pressed by the Turks, and forced into their service without the knowledge or consent of the owners directly or indirectly obtained, and that it was impossible for her, being shipped with soldiers, to withdraw from the engagement, we most earnestly request your serenity, that you will remit that sentence of your admiralty, as a present to our friendship, and take such care, that the ship may be restored to the owners, no way deserving the displeasure of your republic by any act of theirs. In the obtaining of which request, more especially upon our intercession, while we find the merchants themselves so well assured of your clemency, it behoves us not to question it. And so we beseech the Almighty God to continue his prosperous blessings upon your noble designs, and the Venetian republic.
Your serenity’s and the Venetian republic’s most affectionate
Westminster, Decemb. —, 1655.
OLIVER, Protector of the Commonwealth of England, &c.
Oliver,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland,&c., To the most Serene Prince,Lewis,King ofFrance.
Most Serene King—Certain of our merchants, by name Samuel Mico, William Cockain, George Poyner, and several others, in a petition to us have set forth, That in the year 1650, they laded a ship of theirs, called the Unicorn, with goods of a very considerable value; and that the said ship being thus laden with silk, oil, and other merchandize, amounting to above thirty-four thousand of our pounds, was taken by the admiral and vice-admiral of your majesty’s fleet in the Mediterranean sea. Now it appears to us, that our people who were then in the ship, by reason there was at that time a peace between the French and us, that never had been violated in the least, were not willing to make any defence against your majesty’s royal ships, and therefore, overruled besides by the fair promises of the captains Paul and Terrery, who faithfully engaged to dismiss our people, they paid their obedience to the maritime laws, and produced their bills of lading. Moreover, we find that the merchants aforesaid sent their agent into France, to demand restitution of the said ship and goods: and then it was, that after above three years slipped away, when the suit was brought so far, that sentence of restitution or condemnation was to have been given, that his eminency cardinal Mazarine acknowledged to their factor Hugh Morel, the wrong that had been done the merchants, and undertook that satisfaction should be given, so soon as the league between the two nations, which was then under negotiation, should be ratified and confirmed. Nay, since that, his excellency M. de Bourdeaux, your majesty’s embassador, assured us in express words, by the command of your majesty and your council, That care should be taken of that ship and goods in a particular exception, apart from those controversies, for the decision of which a general provision was made by the league: of which promise, the embassador, now opportunely arrived here to solicit some business of his own, is a testimony no way to be questioned. Which being true, and the right of the merchants in redemanding their ship and goods so undeniably apparent, we most earnestly request your majesty, that they may meet with no delay in obtaining what is justly their due, but that your majesty will admit the grant of this favour, as the first fruits of our revived amity, and the lately renewed league between us. The refusal of which as we have no reason to doubt, so we beseech Almighty God to bless with all prosperity both your majesty and your kingdom.
Your majesty’s most affectionate,
Westminster, December —, 1655.
OLIVER, Protector of the Commonwealth of England, Scotland, and Ireland, &c.
To the Evangelic Cities ofSwitzerland.
In what condition your affairs are, which is not the best, we are abundantly informed, as well by your public acts transmitted to us by our agent at Geneva, as also by your letters from Zuric, bearing date the twenty-seventh of December. Whereby, although we are sorry to find your peace, and such a lasting league of confederacy, broken; nevertheless since it appears to have happened through no fault of yours, we are in hopes that the iniquity and perverseness of your adversaries are contriving new occasions for ye to make known your long ago experienced fortitude and resolution in defence of the Evangelic faith. For as for those of the canton of Schwitz, who account it a capital crime for any person to embrace our religion, what they are might and main designing, and whose instigations have incensed them to resolutions of hostility against the orthodox religion, nobody can be ignorant, who has not yet forgot that most detestable slaughter of our brethren in Piedmont. Wherefore, most beloved friends, what you were always wont to be, with God’s assistance still continue, magnanimous and resolute; suffer not your privileges, your confederacies, the liberty of your consciences, your religion itself to be trampled under foot by the worshippers of idols; and so prepare yourselves, that you may not seem to be the defenders only of your own freedom and safety, but be ready likewise to aid and succour, as far as in you lies, your neighbouring brethren, more especially those most deplorable Piedmontois; as being certainly convinced of this, that a passage was lately intended to have been opened over their slaughtered bodies to your sides. As for our part be assured, that we are no less anxious and solicitous for your welfare and prosperity, than if this conflagration had broken forth in our republic; or as if the axes of the Schwitz Canton had been sharpened for our necks, or that their swords had been drawn against our breasts, as indeed they were against the bosoms of all the reformed. Therefore so soon as we were informed of the condition of your affairs, and the obstinate animosities of your enemies, advising with some sincere and honest persons, together with some ministers of the church most eminent for their piety, about sending to your assistance such succour as the present posture of our affairs would permit, we came to those results which our envoy Pell will impart to your consideration. In the mean time we cease not to implore the blessing of the Almighty upon all your counsels, and the protection of your most just cause, as well in war as in peace.
Your lordships and worships most affectionate,
Westminster, January —, 1655.
OLIVER, Protector of the Commonwealth of England, &c.
Oliver,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland,&c., To the most Serene Prince,Charles Gustavus,by the Grace of God King of theSwedes, Goths,andVandals,Great Prince ofFinland,&c.
Most Serene King—Seeing it is a thing well known to all men, that there ought to be a communication of concerns among friends, whether in prosperity or adversity; it cannot but be most grateful to us, that your majesty should vouchsafe to impart unto us by your letters the most pleasing and delightful part of your friendship, which is your joy. In regard it is a mark of singular civility, and truly royal, as not to live only to a man’s self, so neither to rejoice alone, unless he be sensible that his friends and confederates partake of his gladness. Certainly then, we have reason to rejoice for the birth of the young prince born to such an excellent king, and sent into the world to be the heir of his father’s glory and virtue; and this at such a lucky season, that we have no less cause to congratulate the royal parent with the memorable omen that befell the famous Philip of Macedon, who at the same time received the tidings of Alexander’s birth, and the conquest of the Illyrians. For we make no question, but the wresting of the kingdom of Poland from papal subjection, as it were a horn dismembered from the head of the beast, and the peace, so much desired by all good men, concluded with the duke of Brandenburgh, will be most highly conducing to the tranquillity and advantage of the church. Heaven grant a conclusion correspondent to such signal beginnings; and may the son be like the father in virtue, piety, and renown, obtained by great achievements. Which is that we wish may luckily come to pass, and which we beg of the Almighty, so propitious hitherto to your affairs.
Your majesty’s most affectionate,
Westminster, February —, 1655.
OLIVER, Protector of the Commonwealth of England, &c.
To the King ofDenmark.
Most Serene and Potent Prince—John Freeman and Philip Travess, citizens of this republic, by a petition presented to us, in their own and the name of several other merchants of London, have made a complaint, That whereas about the month of March, in the year 1653, they freighted a certain ship of Sunderburg, called the Saviour, Nicholas Weinskinks master, with woollen cloth, and other commodities to the value of above three thousand pound, with orders to the master, that he should sail directly up the Baltic for Dantzic, paying the usual tribute at Elsenore, to which purpose in particular they gave him money: nevertheless that the said master, perfidiously and contrary to the orders of the said merchants, slipping by Elsenore without paying the usual duty, thought to have proceeded in his voyage, but that the ship for this reason was immediately seized and detained with all her lading. After due consideration of which complaints, we wrote in favour of the merchants to your majesty’s embassador residing at London, who promised, as they say, that as soon as he returned to your majesty, he would take care that the merchants should be taken into consideration. But he being sent to negotiate your majesty’s affairs in other countries, the merchants attended upon him in vain, both before and after his departure; so that they were forced to send their agent to prosecute their right and claim at Copenhagen, and demand restitution of the ship and goods; but all the benefit they reaped by it was only to add more expenses to their former damages, and a great deal of labour and pains thrown away; the goods being condemned to confiscation, and still detained: whereas by the law of Denmark, as they set forth in their petition, the master is to be punished for his offence, and the ship to be condemned, but not the goods. And they look upon this misfortune to lie the more heavy upon them, in regard the duty which is to be paid at Elsenore, as they tell us, is but very small. Wherefore seeing our merchants seem to have given no cause of proscription, and for that the master confessed before his death, that this damage befell them only through his neglect; and the father of the master deceased, by his petition to your majesty, as we are given to understand, by laying all the blame on his son, has acquitted the merchants; we could not but believe the detaining of the said ship and goods to be most unjust; and therefore we are confident, that so soon as your majesty shall be rightly informed of the whole matter, you will not only disapprove of these oppressions of your ministers, but give command that they be called to an account, that the goods be restored to the owners or their factors, and reparation made them for the losses they have sustained. All which we most earnestly request of your majesty, as being no more than what is so just and consentaneous to reason, that a more equitable demand or more legal satisfaction cannot well be made, considering the justice of our merchants’ cause, and which your own subjects would think but fair and honest upon the like occasions.
To the most Serene Prince,Johnthe Fourth, King ofPortugal,&c.
Most Serene King—The peace and friendship which your majesty desired, by your noble and splendid embassy sent to us some time since, after certain negotiations begun by the parliament in whom the supreme power was vested at that time, as it was always most affectionately wished for by us, with the assistance of God, and that we might not be wanting in the administration of the government which we have now taken upon us, at length we brought to a happy conclusion, and as we hope, as a sacred act, have ratified it to perpetuity. And therefore we send back to your majesty your extraordinary embassador, the lord John Roderigo de Sita Meneses, count of Pennaguiada, a person both approved by your majesty’s judgment, and by us experienced to excel in civility, ingenuity, prudence, and fidelity, besides the merited applause which he has justly gained by accomplishing the ends of his embassy, which is the peace which he carries along with him to his country. But as to what we perceive by your letters dated from Lisbon the second of April, that is to say, how highly your majesty esteems our amity, how cordially you favour our advancement, and rejoice at our having taken the government of the republic upon us, which you are pleased to manifest by singular, testimonies of kindness and affection, we shall make it our business, that all the world may understand, by our readiness at all times to serve your majesty, that there could be nothing more acceptable or grateful to us. Nor are we less earnest in our prayers to God for your majesty’s safety, the welfare of your kingdom, and the prosperous success of your affairs.
Your majesty’s most affectionate,
OLIVER, &c.
Oliver,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland,&c., To the High and Mighty States of theUnited Provinces.
Most High and Mighty Lords, our Dearest Friends—Certain merchants, our countrymen, Thomas Bassel, Richard Beare, and others their copartners, have made their complaints before us, that a certain ship of theirs, the Edmund and John, in her voyage from the coast of Brazil to Lisbon, was set upon by a privateer of Flushing, called the Red Lion, commanded by Lambert Bartelson, but upon this condition, which the writing signed by Lambert himself testifies, that the ship and whatsoever goods belonged to the English should be restored at Flushing: where when the vessel arrived, the ship indeed with what peculiarly belonged to the seamen was restored, but the English merchants’ goods were detained and put forthwith to sale: for the merchants who had received the damage, when they had sued for their goods in the court of Flushing, after great expenses for five years together, lost their suit by the pronouncing of a most unjust sentence against them by those judges, of which some, being interested in the privateer, were both judges and adversaries, and no less criminal altogether. So that now they have no other hopes but only in your equity and uncorrupted faith, to which at last they fly for succour: and which they believed they should find the more inclinable to do them justice, if assisted by our recommendation. And men are surely to be pardoned, if, afraid of all things in so great a struggle for their estates, they rather call to mind what they have reason to fear from your authority and high power, than what they have to hope well of their cause, especially before sincere and upright judges: though for our parts we make no question, but that induced by your religion, your justice, your integrity, rather than by our entreaties, you will give that judgment which is just and equal, and truly becoming yourselves. God preserve both you and your republic to his own glory, and the defence and succour of his church.
Westminster, April 1, 1656.
OLIVER, Protector of the Commonwealth of England, &c.
Oliver,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland, Scotland,andIreland,&c., To the Most Serene Prince,Charles Gustavus,King of theSwedes, Goths,andVandals,Great Prince ofFinland,Duke ofEsthonia, Carelia, Breme, Verden, Stettin, Pomerania, Cassubia,andVandalia,Prince ofRugia,Lord ofIngriaandWismaria,Count Palatine of theRhine,Duke ofBavaria, Juliers, Cleves,andMonts.
Most Serene Prince—Peter Julius Coict having accomplished the affairs of his embassy with us, and so acquitted himself, that he is not by us to be dismissed without the ornament of his deserved praises, is now returning to your majesty. For he was most acceptable to us, as well and chiefly for your own sake, which ought with us to be of high consideration, as for his own deserts in the diligent acquittal of his trust. The recommendation therefore which we received from you in his behalf, we freely testify to have been made good by him, and deservedly given by yourself; as he on the other side is able with the same fidelity and integrity, to relate and most truly to declare our singular affection and observance toward your majesty. It remains for us to beseech the most merciful and all powerful God, to bless your majesty with all felicity, and perpetual course of victory over all the enemies of his church.
Your majesty’s most affectionate,
Westminster, April 17, 1656.
OLIVER, Protector of the Commonwealth of England, &c.
Oliver,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland,&c., To the Most Serene and Potent Prince,Lewis,King ofFrance.
Most Serene Prince—John Dethic, mayor of the city of London for this year, and William Wakefield, merchant, have made their addresses to us by way of petition, complaining, that about the middle of October, sixteen hundred and forty-nine, they freighted a certain ship called the Jonas of London, Jonas Lightfoot master, with goods that were to be sent to Ostend; which vessel was taken in the mouth of the river Thames by one White of Barking, a pirate, robbing upon the seas by virtue of a commission from the son of King Charles deceased, and carried to Dunkirk, then under the jurisdiction of the French. Now in regard that by your majesty’s edict in the year sixteen hundred and forty-seven, renewed in sixteen hundred and forty-nine, and by some other decrees in favour of the parliament of England, as they find it recorded, it was enacted, that no vessel or goods taken from the English, in the time of that war, should be carried into any of your majesty’s ports, to be there put to sale; they presently sent their factor Hugh Morel to Dunkirk, to demand restitution of the said ship and goods from M. Lestrade then governor of the town; more especially finding them in the place for the most part untouched, and neither exchanged or sold. To which the governor made answer, that the king had bestowed that government upon him of his free gift or service done the king in his wars, and therefore he would take care to make the best of the reward of his labour. So that having little to hope from an answer so unkind and unjust, after a great expense of time and money, the factor returned home. So that all the remaining hopes, which the petitioners have, seem wholly to depend upon your majesty’s justice and clemency, to which they thought they might have the more easy access by means of our letters; and therefore, that neither your clemency nor your justice may be wanting to people despoiled against all law and reason, and contrary to your repeated prohibitions, we make it our request. Wherein, if your majesty vouchsafe to gratify us, since there is nothing required but what is most just and equitable, we shall deem it as obtained rather from your innate integrity, than any entreaty of ours.
Your majesty’s most affectionate,
Westminster, May —, 1656.
OLIVER, Protector of the Commonwealth of England, &c.
Oliver,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland,&c., To the High and Mighty Lords, the States of theUnited Provinces.
Most High and Mighty Lords, our Dearest Friends—John Brown, Nicholas Williams, and others, citizens of London, have set forth in their petitions to us, that when they had every one brought in their proportions, and freighted a certain ship called the Good Hope of London, bound for the East Indies, they gave orders to their factor, to take up at Amsterdam two thousand four hundred Dutch pounds, to ensure the said ship; that afterwards this ship, in her voyage to the coast of India, was taken by a ship belonging to the East India Company; upon which they who had engaged to ensure the said vessel, refused to pay the money, and have for this six years by various delays eluded our merchants, who with extraordinary diligence, and at vast expenses, endeavoured the recovery of their just right. Which in regard it is an unjust grievance, that lies so heavy upon the petitioners, for that some of those who obliged themselves are dead or become insolvent; therefore that no farther losses may accrue to their former damages, we make it our earnest request to your lordships, that you will vouchsafe your integrity to be the harbour and refuge for people tossed so many years, and almost shipwrecked in your courts of justice, and that speedy judgment may be given according to the rules of equity and honesty in their cause, which they believe to be most just. In the mean time we wish you all prosperity to the glory of God, and the welfare of his church.
Your high and mighty lordships’ most affectionate,
Westminster, May —, 1656.
OLIVER, Protector of the Commonwealth of England, &c.
Oliver,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland,&c., To the High and Mighty Lords, the States of theUnited Provinces.
Most High and Mighty Lords, our Dearest Friends—The same persons in whose behalf we wrote to your lordships in September the last year, Thomas and William Lower, the lawful heirs of Nicholas Lower deceased, make grievous complaints before us, that they are oppressed either by the favour or wealth of their adversaries, notwithstanding the justice of their cause; and when that would not suffice, although our letters were often pleaded in their behalf, they have not been able hitherto to obtain possession of the inheritance left them by their father’s will. From the court of Holland, where the suit was first commenced, they were sent to your court, and from thence hurried away into Zealand, (to which three places they carried our letters,) and now they are remanded, not unwillingly, back again to your supreme judicature; for where the supreme power is, there they expect supreme justice. If that hope fail them, eluded and frustrated, after being so long tossed from post to pillar for the recovery of their right, where at length to find a resting place they know not. For as to our letters, if they find no benefit of these the fourth time written, they can never promise themselves any advantage for the future from slighted papers. However it would be most acceptable to us, if yet at length, after so many contempts, the injured heirs might meet with some relief by a speedy and just judgment, if not out of respect to any reputation we have among ye, yet out of a regard to your own equity and justice. Of the last of which we make no question, and confidently presume you will allow the other to our friendship.
Your high and mighty lordships’ most affectionate,
Westminster, May —, 1656.
OLIVER, Protector of the Commonwealth of England, &c.
Oliver,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland,&c., To the most Serene Prince,John,King ofPortugal.
Most Serene King—Whereas there is a considerable sum of money owing from certain Portugal merchants of the Brasile company to several English merchants, upon the account of freightage and demorage, in the years sixteen hundred and forty-nine, and sixteen hundred and fifty, which money is detained by the said company by your majesty’s command, the merchants before mentioned expected, that the said money should have been paid long since according to the articles of the last league, but now they are afraid of being debarred all hopes and means of recovering their debts; understanding your majesty has ordered, that what money was owing to them by the Brasile company shall be carried into your treasury, and that no more than one half of the duty of freightage shall be expended toward the payment of their debts; by which means the merchants will receive no more than the bare interest of their money, while at the same time they utterly lose their principal. Which we considering to be very severe and heavy upon them, and being overcome by their most reasonable supplications, have granted them these our letters to your majesty; chiefly requesting this at your hands, to take care that the aforesaid Brasile company may give speedy satisfaction to the merchants of this republic, and pay them not only the principal money which is owing to them, but the five years interest; as being both just in itself, and conformable to the league so lately concluded between us; which on their behalf in most friendly manner we request from your majesty.
Your majesty’s most affectionate,
From our Palace at Westminster, July —, 1656.
OLIVER, Protector of the Commonwealth.
Oliver,Proctector of the Commonwealth ofEngland,&c., To the most Serene Prince,Charles Gustavus,King of theSwedes, Goths,andVandals,&c.
Most Serene King—As it is but just that we should highly value the friendship of your majesty, a prince so potent and so renowned for great achievements; so it is but equally reasonable that your extraordinary embassador, the most illustrious lord Christiern Bond, by whose sedulity and care a strict alliance is most sacredly and solemnly ratified between us, should be most acceptable to us, and no less deeply fixed in our esteem. Him therefore, having now most worthily accomplished his embassy, we thought it became us to send back to your majesty, though not without the high applause which the rest of his singular virtues merit; to the end, that he, who was before conspicious in your esteem and respect, may now be sensible of his having reaped still more abundant fruits of his sedulity and prudence from our recommendation. As for those things which yet remain to be transacted, we have determined in a short time to send an embassy to your majesty for the settling of those affairs. In the mean time, Almighty God preserve in safety so great a pillar of his church, and of Swedland’s welfare.
Your majesty’s most affectionate,
From our Palace at Westminster, July —, 1656.
OLIVER, Protector of the Commonwealth of England, &c.
Oliver,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland, &c., To the most Serene Prince,Lewis,King ofFrance.
Most Serene King, our most dear Friend and Confederate—Certain merchants of London, Richard Baker and others, have made their complaint in a petition to us, that a certain hired ship of theirs, called the Endeavour, William Jop master, laden at Teneriff with three hundred pipes of rich Canary, and bound from thence for London, in her voyage between Palma and that island, upon the twenty-first of November, in the year sixteen hundred and fifty-five, was taken by four French vessels, seeming ships of burden, but fitted and manned like privateers, under the command of Giles de la Roche their admiral; and carried with all their freight, and the greatest part of the seamen, to the East Indies, whither he pretended to be bound, (fourteen excepted, who were put ashore upon the coast of Guiney,) which the said Giles affirmed he did with that intent, that none of them might escape from so remote and barbarous a country to do him any harm by their testimony. For he confessed he had neither any commission to take the English vessels, neither had he taken any, as he might have done before, well knowing there was a firm peace at that time between the French and our republic: but in regard he had designed to revictual in Portugal, from whence he was driven by contrary winds, he was constrained to supply his necessities with what he found in that vessel; and believed the owners of his ships would satisfy the merchants for their loss. Now the loss of our merchants amounts to sixteen thousand English pounds, as will easily be made appear by witnesses upon oath. But if it shall be lawful, upon such trivial excuses as these, for pirates to violate the most religious acts of princes, and make a sport of merchants for their particular benefits, certainly the sanctity of leagues must fall to the ground, all faith and authority of princes will grow out of date, and be trampled under foot. Wherefore we not only request your majesty, but believe it mainly to concern your honour, that they, who have ventured upon so slight a pretence to violate the league and most sacred oath of their sovereign, should suffer the punishment due to such perfidiousness and daring insolence; and that in the mean time the owners of those ships, though to their loss, should be bound to satisfy our merchants for the vast detriment, which they have so wrongfully sustained. So may the Almighty long preserve your majesty, and support the interest of France against the common enemy of us both.
Your majesty’s most affectionate,
OLIVER, Protector, &c.
Oliver,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland,To his Eminency CardinalMazarine.
Most Eminent Lord—Having an occasion to send letters to the king, we thought it likewise an offered opportunity to write to your eminency. For we could not think it proper to conceal the subject of our writing from the sole and only person, whose singular prudence governs the most important interests of the French nation, and the most weighty affairs of the kingdom with equal fidelity, counsel, and vigilance. Not without reason we complain, in short, to find that league by yourself, as it were a crime to doubt, most sacredly concluded, almost the very same day contemned and violated by one Giles a Frenchman, a petty admiral of four ships, and his associates, equally concerned, as your eminency will readily find by our letters to the king, and the demands themselves of our merchants. Nor is it unknown to your excellency, how much it concerns not only inferior magistrates, but even royal majesty itself, that those first violaters of solemn alliances should be severely punished. But they, perhaps, by this time being arrived in the East Indies, whither they pretended to be bound, enjoy in undisturbed possession the goods of our people as lawful prize won from an enemy, which they robbed and pillaged from the owners, contrary to all law, and the pledged faith of our late sacred league. However, this is that which we request from your eminency, that whatever goods were taken from our merchants by the admiral of those ships, as necessary for his voyage, may be restored by the owners of the same vessels, which was no more than what the rovers themselves thought just and equal; which, as we understand, it lies within your power to do, considering the authority and sway you bear in the kingdom.
Your eminency’s most affectionate,
From our Palace at Westminster, Aug. —, 1656.
OLIVER, Protector of the Commonwealth, &c.
Oliver,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland, &c., To the most High and Mighty Lords, the States of theUnited Provinces.
Most High and Mighty Lords, our dearest Friends and Confederates—We make no doubt but that all men will bear us this testimony, that no considerations, in contracting foreign alliances, ever swayed us beyond those of defending the truth of religion, or that we accounted any thing more sacred, than to unite the minds of all the friends and protectors of the protestants, and of all others who at least were not their enemies. Whence it come to pass, that we are touched with so much the more grief of mind, to hear that the protestant princes and cities, whom it so much behoves to live in friendship and concord together, should begin to be so jealous of each other, and so ill disposed to mutual affection; more especially, that your lordships and the king of Sweden, than whom the orthodox faith has not more magnanimous and courageous defenders, nor our republic confederates more strictly conjoined in interests, should seem to remit of your confidence in each other; or rather, that there should appear some too apparent signs of tottering friendship and growing discord between ye. What the causes are, and what progress this alienation of your affection has made, we protest ourselves to be altogether ignorant. However, we cannot but conceive an extraordinary trouble of mind for these beginnings of the least dissension arisen among brethren, which infallibly must greatly endanger the protestant interests. Which if they should gather strength, how prejudicial it would prove to protestant churches, what an occasion of triumph it would afford our enemies, and more especially the Spaniards, cannot be unknown to your prudence, and most industrious experience of affairs. As for the Spaniards, it has already so enlivened their confidence, and raised their courage, that they made no scruple by their embassador residing in your territories, boldly to obtrude their counsels upon your lordships, and that in reference to the highest concerns of your republic; presuming partly with threats of renewing the war, to terrify, and partly with a false prospect of advantage to solicit your lordships, to forsake your ancient and most faithful friends, the English, French, and Danes, and enter into a strict confederacy with your old enemy, and once your domineering tyrant, now seemingly atoned; but, what is most to be feared, only at present treacherously fawning to advance his own designs. Certainly he who of an inveterate enemy lays hold of so slight an occasion of a sudden to become your counsellor, what is it that he would not take upon him? Where would his insolency stop, if once he could but see with his eyes, what now he only ruminates and labours in his thoughts; that is to say, division and a civil war among the protestants? We are not ignorant that your lordships, out of your deep wisdom, frequently revolve in your minds what the posture of all Europe is, and what more especially the condition of the protestants: that the cantons of Switzerland adhering to the orthodox faith are in daily expectation of new troubles to be raised by their countrymen embracing the popish ceremonies; scarcely recovered from that war, which for the sake of religion was kindled and blown up by the Spaniards, who supplied their enemies both with commanders and money: that the councils of the Spaniards are still contriving to continue the slaughter and destruction of the Piedmontois, which was cruelly put in execution the last year: that the protestants under the jurisdiction of the emperor are most grievously harassed, having much ado to keep possession of their native homes: that the king of Sweden, whom God, as we hope, has raised up to be a most stout defender of the orthodox faith, is at present waging with all the force of his kingdom a doubtful and bloody war with the most potent enemies of the reformed religion: that your own provinces are threatened with hostile confederacies of the princes your neighbours, headed by the Spaniards: and lastly, that we ourselves are busied in a war proclaimed against the king of Spain. In this posture of affairs, if any contest should happen between your lordships and the king of Sweden, how miserable would be the condition of all the reformed churches over all Europe, exposed to the cruelty and fury of unsanctified enemies! These cares not slightly seize us; and we hope your sentiments to be the same; and that out of your continued zeal for the common cause of the protestants, and to the end the present peace between brethren professing the same faith, the same hope of eternity, may be preserved inviolable, your lordships will accommodate your counsels to those considerations, which are to be preferred before all others; and that you will leave nothing neglected, that may conduce to the establishing tranquillity and union between your lordships and the king of Sweden. Wherein if we can any way be useful, as far as our authority, and the favour you bear us will sway your lordships, we freely offer our utmost assistance, prepared in like manner to be no less serviceable to the king of Sweden, to whom we design a speedy embassy, to the end we may declare our sentiments at large concerning these matters. We hope moreover, that God will bend your minds on both sides to moderate counsels, and so restrain your animosities, that no provocation may be given, either by the one or the other, to fester your differences to extremity; but that on the other side both parties will remove whatever may give offence or occasion of jealousy to the other. Which if you shall vouchsafe to do, you will disappoint your enemies, prove the consolation of your friends, and in the best manner provide for the welfare of your republic. And this we beseech you to be fully convinced of, that we shall use our utmost care to make appear, upon all occasions, our extraordinary affection and goodwill to the states of the United Provinces. And so we most earnestly implore the Almighty God to perpetuate his blessings of peace, wealth, and liberty, upon your republic; but above all things to preserve it always flourishing in the love of the Christian faith, and the true worship of his name.
Your high and mightinesses most affectionate,
From our Palace at Westminster, Aug. —, 1656.
OLIVER, Protector of the Commonwealth of England, &c.
Oliver,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland, &c., To the most Serene Prince,John,King ofPortugal.
Most Serene Prince—Upon the eleventh of July last, old style, we received by Thomas Maynard, the ratification of the peace negotiated at London by your extraordinary embassador; as also of the private and preliminary articles, all now confirmed by your majesty; and by our letters from Philip Meadows, our agent at Lisbon, dated the same time, we understand that our ratification also of the same peace and articles was by him, according to our orders sent him, delivered to your majesty: and thus the instruments of the forementioned ratification being mutually interchanged on both sides in the beginning of June last, there is now a firm and settled peace between both nations. And this pacification has given us no small occasion of joy and satisfaction, as believing it will prove to the common benefit of both nations, and to the no slight detriment of our common enemies, who as they found out a means to disturb the former league, so they left nothing neglected to have hindered the renewing of this. Nor do we question in the least that they will omit any occasion of creating new matter for scandals and jealousies between us. Which we however have constantly determined, as much as in us lies, to remove at a remote distance from our thoughts; rather we so earnestly desire, that this our alliance may beget a mutual confidence, greater every day than other, that we shall take them for our enemies, who shall by any artifices endeavour to molest the friendship by this peace established between ourselves and both our people. And we readily persuade ourselves, that your majesty’s thoughts and intentions are the same. And whereas it has pleased your majesty, by your letters dated the twenty-fourth of June, and some days after the delivery by our agent of the interchanged instrument of confirmed peace, to mention certain clauses of the league, of which you desired some little alteration, being of small moment to this republic, as your majesty believes, but of great importance to the kingdom of Portugal; we shall be ready to enter into a particular treaty in order to those proposals made by your majesty, or whatever else may conduce, in the judgment of both parties, to the farther establishment and more strongly fastening of the league: wherein we shall have those due considerations of your majesty and your subjects, as also of our own people, that all may be satisfied; and it shall be in your own choice, whether these things shall be negotiated at Lisbon, or at London. However, the league being now confirmed, and duly sealed with the seals of both nations, to alter any part of it would be the same thing as to annul the whole; which we are certainly assured your majesty by no means desires to do. We heartily wish all things lucky, all things prosperous to your majesty.
Your majesty’s most affectionate,
From our Palace at Westminster, August —, 1656.
OLIVER, Protector of the Commonwealth of England, &c.
Oliver,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland, &c., To the most Serene Prince,John,King ofPortugal.
Most Serene King—We have received the unwelcome news of a wicked and inhuman attempt to have murdered our agent Philip Meadows, residing with your majesty, and by us sent upon the blessed errand of peace; the heinousness of which was such, that his preservation is only to be attributed to the protection of Heaven. And we are given to understand, by your letters dated the twenty-sixth of May last, and delivered to us by Thomas Maynard, that your majesty, justly incensed at the horridness of the fact, has commanded inquiry to be made after the criminals, to the end they may be brought to condign punishment: but we do not hear that any of the ruffians are yet apprehended, or that your commands have wrought any effect in this particular. Wherefore we thought it our duty openly to declare, how deeply we resent this barbarous outrage in part attempted, and in part committed: and therefore we make it our request to your majesty, that due punishment may be inflicted upon the authors, associates, and encouragers of this abominable fact. And to the end that this may be the more speedily accomplished, we farther demand, that persons of honesty and sincerity, wellwishers to the peace of both nations, may be entrusted with the examination of this business, that so a due scrutiny may be made into the bottom of this malicious contrivance, to the end both authors and assistants may be the more severely punished. Unless this be done, neither your majesty’s justice, nor the honour of this republic, can be vindicated; neither can there be any stable assurance of peace between both nations. We wish your majesty all things fortunate and prosperous.
Your majesty’s most affectionate,
From our Palace at Whitehall, Aug. —, 1656.
OLIVER, Protector of the Commonwealth of England, &c.
Oliver,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland,&c., To the most Illustrious Lord, theConde d’Odemira.
Most Illustrious Lord—Your singular goodwill towards us and this republic has laid no mean obligation upon us, nor slightly tied us to acknowledgment. We readily perceived it by your letters of the twenty-fifth of June last, as also by those which we received from our agent Philip Meadows, sent into Portugal to conclude the peace in agitation, wherein he informed us of your extraordinary zeal and diligence to promote the pacification, of which we most joyfully received the last ratification; and we persuade ourselves, that your lordship will have no cause to repent either of your pains and diligence in procuring this peace, or of your goodwill to the English, or your fidelity towards the king, your sovereign; more especially considering the great hopes we have that this peace will be of high advantage to both nations, and not a little inconvenient to our enemies. The only accident that fell out unfortunate and mournful in this negotiation, was that unhallowed villany nefariously attempted upon the person of our agent, Philip Meadows: the concealed authors of which intended piece of inhumanity ought no less diligently to be sought after, and made examples to posterity, than the vilest of most openly detected assassinates. Nor can we doubt in the least of your king’s severity and justice in the punishment of a crime so horrid, nor of your care and sedulity to see, that there be no remissness of prosecution, as being a person bearing due veneration to the laws of God, and sanctity among men, and no less zealous to maintain the peace between both nations, which never can subsist if such inhuman barbarities as these escape unpunished and unrevenged. But your abhorrence and detestation of the fact is so well known, that there is no need of insisting any more at present upon this unpleasing subject. Therefore, having thus declared our goodwill and affection to your lordship, of which we shall be always ready to give apparent demonstrations, there nothing remains, but to implore the blessings of Divine favour and protection upon you, and all yours.
Your lordship’s most affectionate,
From our Palace at Westminster, Aug. —, 1656.
OLIVER, Protector of the Common wealth of England, &c
Oliver,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland,&c., To the most Serene Prince,Charles Gustavus,King of theSwedes, Goths,andVandals,&c.
Most Serene King, our dearest Friend and Confederate—Being assured of your majesty’s concurrence both in thoughts and counsels for the defence of the protestant faith against the enemies of it, if ever, now at this time most dangerously vexatious; though we cannot but rejoice at your prosperous successes, and the daily tidings of your victories, yet on the other side we cannot but be as deeply afflicted, to meet with one thing that disturbs and interrupts our joy; we mean the bad news intermixed with so many welcome tidings, that the ancient friendship between your majesty and the States of the United Provinces looks with a dubious aspect, and that the mischief is exasperated to that height, especially in the Baltic sea, as seems to bode an unhappy rupture. We confess ourselves ignorant of the causes; but we too easily foresee, that the events, which God avert, will be fatal to the interests of the protestants. And therefore, as well in respect to that most strict alliance between us and your majesty, as out of that affection and love to the reformed religion, by which we all of us ought chiefly to be swayed, we thought it our duty, as we have most earnestly exhorted the States of the United Provinces to peace and moderation, so now to persuade your majesty to the same. The protestants have enemies every where enow and to spare, inflamed with inexorable revenge; they never were known to have conspired more perniciously to our destruction: witness the valleys of Piedmont, still reeking with the blood and slaughter of the miserable; witness Austria, lately turmoiled with the emperor’s edicts and proscriptions; witness Switzerland. But to what purpose is it, in many words to call back the bitter lamentations and remembrance of so many calamities? Who so ignorant, as not to know, that the counsels of the Spaniards, and the Roman pontiff, for these two years have filled all these places with conflagrations, slaughter, and vexation of the orthodox? If to these mischiefs there should happen an access of dissension among protestant brethren, more especially between two potent states, upon whose courage, wealth, and fortitude, so far as human strength may be relied upon, the support and hopes of all the reformed churches depend; of necessity the protestant religion must be in great jeopardy, if not upon the brink of destruction. On the other side, if the whole protestant name would but observe perpetual peace among themselves with that same brotherly union as becomes their profession, there would be no occasion to fear, what all the artifices or puissance of our enemies could do to hurt us, which our fraternal concord and harmony alone would easily repel and frustrate. And therefore we most earnestly request and beseech your majesty, to harbour in your mind propitious thoughts of peace, and inclinations ready bent to repair the breaches of your pristine friendship with the United Provinces, if in any part it may have accidentally suffered the decays of mistakes or misconstruction. If there be any thing wherein our labour, our fidelity, and diligence may be useful toward this composure, we offer and devote all to your service. And may the God of heaven favour and prosper your noble and pious resolutions, which together with all felicity, and a perpetual course of victory, we cordially wish your majesty.
Your majesty’s most affectionate,
From our Palace at Westminster, Aug. —, 1656.
OLIVER, Protector of the Commonwealth of England, &c.
Oliver,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland, &c., To the States ofHolland.
Most High and Mighty Lords, our dearest Friends—It has been represented to us, by William Cooper, a minister of London, and our countryman, that John le Maire of Amsterdam, his father-in-law, about three and thirty years ago devised a project, by which the revenues of your republic might be very much advanced without any burden to the people, and made an agreement with John Vandenbrook, to share between them the reward, which they should obtain for their invention; which was the settling of a little seal to be made use of in all the provinces of your territories, and for which your High and Mightinesses promised to pay the said Vandenbrook and his heirs the yearly sum of three thousand gilders, or three hundred English pounds. Now although the use and method of this little seal has been found very easy and expeditious, and that ever since great incomes have thereby accrued to your High and Mightinesses, and some of your provinces, nevertheless nothing of the said reward, though with much importunity demanded, has been paid to this day; so that the said Vandenbrook and le Maire being tired out with long delays, the right of the said grant is devolved to the foresaid William Cooper our countryman; who, desirous to reap the fruit of his father-in-law’s industry, has petitioned us, that we would recommend his just demands to your High and Mightinesses, which we thought not reasonable to deny him. Wherefore, in most friendly wise, we request your High and Mightinesses favourably to hear the petition of the said William Cooper, and to take such care, that the reward and stipend, so well deserved, and by contract agreed and granted, may be paid him annually from this time forward, together with the arrears of the years already passed. Which not doubting but your High and Mightinesses will vouchsafe to perform, as what is no more than just and becoming your magnificence, we shall be ready to show the same favour to the petitions of your countrymen upon any occasion of the same nature, whenever presented to us.
Your High and Mightinesses most affectionate,
From our palace at Whitehall, September —, 1656.
OLIVER, Protector of the Commonmonwealth of England, &c.
Oliver,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland,&c., To the most Serene Prince,Lewis,King ofFrance.
Most Serene King, our dearest Friend and Confederate—Against our will it is, that we so often trouble your majesty with the wrongs done by your subjects after a peace so lately renewed. But as we are fully persuaded, that your majesty disapproves their being committed, so neither can we be wanting to the complaints of our people. That the ship Anthony of Dieppe was legally taken before the league, manifestly appears by the sentence of the judges of our admiralty court. Part of the lading, that is to say, four thousand hides, Robert Brown, a merchant of London, fairly bought of those who were entrusted with the sale, as they themselves testify. The same merchant, after the peace was confirmed, carried to Dieppe about two hundred of the same hides, and there having sold them to a currier, thought to have received his money, but found it stopped and attached in the hands of his factor; and a suit being commenced against him, he could obtain no favour in that court; wherefore, we thought it proper to request your majesty, that the whole matter may be referred to your council, that so the said money may be discharged from an unjust and vexatious action. For if acts done and adjudged before the peace shall after peace renewed be called into question and controversy, we must look upon assurance of treaties to be a thing of little moment. Nor will there be any end of these complaints, if some of these violators of leagues be not made severe and timely examples to others. Which we hope your majesty will speedily take into your care. To whom God Almighty in the mean time vouchsafe his most holy protection.
Your majesty’s most affectionate,
From our palace at Whitehall, September —, 1656.
OLIVER, Protector of the Commonwealth of England, &c.
Oliver,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland,&c., To the most Serene Prince,John,King ofPortugal.
Most Serene King—The peace being happily concluded between this republic and the kingdom of Portugal, and what refers to trade being duly provided for and ratified, we deemed it necessary to send to your majesty Thomas Maynard, from whom you will receive these letters, to reside in your dominions, under the character and employment of a consul, and to take care of the estates and interests of our merchants. Now in regard it may frequently so fall out, that he may be enforced to desire the privilege of free admission to your majesty, as well in matters of trade, as upon other occasions for the interest of our republic, we make it our request to your majesty, that you will vouchsafe him favourable access and audience, which we shall acknowledge as a singular demonstration and testimony of your majesty’s goodwill towards us. In the mean time we beseech Almighty God to bless your majesty with all prosperity.
Your majesty’s most affectionate,
From our court at Westminster, October —, 1656.
OLIVER, Protector of the Commonwealth of England, &c.
To the King of theSwedes.
Most Serene and Potent King—Although your majesty’s wonted and spontaneous favour and goodwill toward all deserving men be such, that all recommendations in their behalf may seem superfluous, yet we were unwilling to dismiss without our letters to your majesty this noble person, William Vavassour, knight, serving under your banners, and now returning to your majesty: which we have done so much the more willingly, being informed, that formerly following your majesty’s fortunate conduct, he had lost his blood in several combats, to assert the noble cause for which you fight. Insomuch, that the succeeding kings of Swedeland, in remuneration of his military skill, and bold achievements in war, rewarded him with lands and annual pensions, as the guerdons of his prowess. Nor do we question, but that he may be of great use to your majesty in your present wars, who has been so long conspicuous for his fidelity and experience in military affairs. It is our desire therefore, that he may be recommended to your majesty according to his merits; and we also further request, that he may be paid the arrears due to him. This, as it will be most acceptable to us, so we shall be ready upon the like occasion, whenever offered, to gratify your majesty, to whom we wish all happiness and prosperity.
Your majesty’s most affectionate,
OLIVER, Protector of the Commonwealth of England, &c.
Oliver,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland,&c., To the most Serene Prince,John,King ofPortugal.
Most Serene King, our dearest Friend and Confederate—Thomas Evans, a master of a ship and our countryman, has presented to us a petition, wherein he sets forth, that in the years 1649 and 1650 he served the Brasile company with his ship the Scipio, being a vessel of four hundred tons, and of which he was master; that the said ship was taken from him, with all the lading and furniture, by your majesty’s command; by which he has received great damage, besides the loss of six years gain arising out of such a stock. The commissioners by the league appointed on both sides for the deciding controversies valued the whole at seven thousand of our pounds, or twice as many milreys of Portugal money, as they made their report to us. Which loss falling so heavy upon the foresaid Thomas, and being constrained to make a voyage to Lisbon for the recovory of his estate, he humbly besought us, that we would grant him our letters to your majesty in favour of his demands.—We, therefore, (although we wrote the last year in the behalf of our merchants in general to whom the Brasile company was indebted, nevertheless that we may not be wanting to any that implore our aid,) request your majesty, in regard to that friendship which is between us, that consideration may be had of this man in particular, and that your majesty would give such orders to all your ministers and officers, that no obstacle may hinder him from demanding and recovering without delay what is owing to him from the Brasile company, or anytother persons. God Almighty bless your majesty with perpetual felicity, and grant that our friendship may long endure.
Your majesty’s most affectionate,
From our Palace at Westminster, October —, 1656.
OLIVER, Protector of the Commonwealth of England, &c.
Oliver,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland,&c., To the Illustrious and Magnificent Senate ofHamborough.
Most Noble, Magnificent, and Right Worshipful—James and Patrick Hays, subjects of this commonwealth, have made grievous complaint before us, That they, being lawful heirs of their brother Alexander who died intestate, were so declared by a sentence of your court pronounced in their behalf against their brother’s widow; and the estates of their deceased brother, together with the profits, only the widow’s dowry excepted, being adjudged to them by virtue of that sentence; nevertheless, to this very day they could never reap any benefit of their pains and expenses in obtaining the said judgment, notwithstanding their own declared right, and letters formerly written by King Charles in their behalf; for that the great power and wealth of Albert Van Eyzen, one of your chief magistrates, and with whom the greatest part of the goods was deposited, was an opposition too potent for them to surmount, while he strove all that in him lay that the goods might not be restored to the heirs. Thus disappointed and tired out with delays, and at length reduced to utmost poverty, they are become suppliants to us, that we would not forsake them, wronged and oppressed as they are in a confederated city. We therefore, believing it to be a chief part of our duty, not to suffer any countryman of ours in vain to desire our patronage and succour in distress, make this request to your lordships, which we are apt to think we may easily obtain from your city, That the sentence pronounced in behalf of the two brothers may be ratified and duly executed, according to the intents and purposes for which it was given; and that you will not suffer any longer delay of justice, by an appeal to the chamber of Spire, upon any pretence whatever: for we have required the opinions of our lawyers, which we have sent to your lordships fairly written and signed. But if entreaty and fair means will nothing avail, of necessity (and which is no more than according to the customary law of nations, though we are unwilling to come to that extremity) the severity of retaliation must take its course; which we hope your prudence will take care to prevent.
From our Palace at Westminster, October 16, 1656.
OLIVER, Protector of the Commonwealth of England, &c.
Oliver,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland,&c., To the most Serene and PotentLewis,King ofFrance.
Most Serene and Potent King, our dearest Friend and Confederate—We are apt to believe, that your majesty received our letters dated the 14th of May, of the last year, wherein we wrote that John Dethic, mayor of London that year, and William Waterford, merchant, had by their petition set forth, That a certain vessel called the Jonas, freighted with goods upon their account, and bound for Dunkirk, then under the jurisdiction of the French, was taken at the very mouth of the Thames, by a searover, pretending a commission from the son of the late King Charles: which being directly contrary to your edicts and the decrees of your council, that no English ship, taken by the enemies of the parliament, should be admitted into any of your ports, and there put to sale, they demanded restitution of the said ship and goods from M. Lestrade, then governor of the town, who returned them an answer no way becoming a person of his quality, or who pretended obedience to his sovereign; That the government was conferred upon him for his good service in the wars, and therefore he would make his best advantage of it, that is to say, by right or wrong; for that he seemed to drive at: as if he had received that government of your majesty’s free gift, to authorize him in the robbing your confederates, and contemning your edicts set forth in their favour. For what the King of France forbids his subjects any way to have a hand in, that the king’s governor has not only suffered to be committed in your ports, but he himself becomes the pirate, seizes the prey, and openly avouches the fact. With this answer therefore the merchants departed, altogether baffled and disappointed; and this we signified by our letters to your majesty the last year with little better success; for as yet we have received no reply to those letters. Of which we are apt to believe the reason was, because the governor was with the army in Flanders; but now he resides at Paris, or rather flutters unpunished about the city, and at court, enriched with the spoils of our merchants.—Once more therefore we make it our request to your majesty, which it is your majesty’s interest in the first place to take care of, that no person whatever may dare to justify the wrongs done to your majesty’s confederates by the contempt of your royal edicts. Nor can this cause be properly referred to the commissioners appointed for deciding common controversies on both sides; since in this case not only the rights of confederates, but your authority itself, and the veneration due to the royal name, are chiefly in dispute. And it would be a wonder, that merchants should be more troubled for their losses, than your majesty provoked at encroachments upon your honour. Which while you disdain to brook, with the same labour you will demonstrate, that you neither repent of your friendly edicts in favour of our republic, nor connived at the injuries done by your subjects, nor neglected to give due respect to our demands.
Your majesty’s most bounden by goodwill, by friendship and solemn league,
OLIVER, Protector of the Commonwealth, &c.
From our court at Westminster, Novemb. —, 1656.
Oliver,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland,&c., To the most Serene and Potent Prince,Frederic III., King ofDenmark, Norway,theVandals,andGoths;Duke ofSleswic, Holsatia, Stormatia,andDithmarsh;Count inOldenburghandDelmenhorst; &c.
Most Serene and Potent King, our dearest Friend and Confederate—We received your majesty’s letters dated the 16th of February, from Copenhagen, by the most worthy Simon de Pitkum, your majesty’s agent here residing. Which when we had perused, the demonstrations of your majesty’s goodwill towards us, and the importance of the matter concerning which you write, affected us to that degree, that we designed forthwith to send to your majesty some person, who being furnished with ample instructions from us, might more at large declare to your majesty our counsels in that affair. And though we have still the same resolutions, yet hitherto we have not been at leisure to think of a person proper to be entrusted with those commands, which the weight of the matter requires; though in a short time we hope to be more at liberty. In the mean while we thought it not convenient any longer to delay the letting your majesty understand, that the present condition of affairs in Europe has employed the greatest part of our care and thoughts; while for some years, to our great grief, we have beheld the protestant princes, and supreme magistrates of the reformed republics, (whom it rather behoves, as being engaged by the common tie of religion and safety, to combine and study all the ways imaginable conducing to mutual defence,) more and more at weakening variance among themselves, and jealous of each other’s actions and designs; putting their friends in fear, their enemies in hope, that the posture of affairs bodes rather enmity and discord, than a firm agreement of mind to defend and assist each other. And this solicitude has fixed itself so much the deeper in our thoughts, in regard there seems to appear some sparks of jealousy between your majesty and the king of Sweden; at least that there is not that conjunction of affections, which our love and goodwill in general toward the orthodox religion so importunately requires: your majesty, perhaps, suspecting that the trade of your dominions will be prejudiced by the king of Sweden; and on the other side, the king of Sweden being jealous, that by your means the war which he now wages is made more difficult, and that you oppose him in his contracting those alliances which he seeks. It is not unknown to your majesty, so eminent for your profound wisdom, how great the danger is that threatens the protestant religion, should such suspicions long continue between two such potent monarchs; more especially which God avert, if any symptom of hostility should break forth. However it be, for our parts, as we have earnestly exhorted the king of Sweden, and the states of the United Provinces to peace, and moderate counsels, (and are beyond expression glad to behold peace and concord renewed between them, for that the heads of that league are transmitted to us by their lordships the states-general,) so we thought it our duty, and chiefly becoming our friendship, not to conceal from your majesty what our sentiments are concerning these matters, (more especially being affectionately invited so to do by your majesty’s most friendly letters, which we look upon, and embrace, as a most singular testimony of your goodwill towards us,) but to lay before your eyes how great a necessity Divine Providence has imposed upon us all that profess the protestant religion, to study peace among ourselves, and that chiefly at this time, when our most embittered enemies seem to have on every side conspired our destruction. There is no necessity of calling to remembrance the valleys of Piedmont still besmeared with the blood and slaughter of the miserable inhabitants; nor Austria, tormented at the same time with the emperor’s decrees and proscriptions; nor the impetuous onsets of the popish upon the protestant Switzers. Who can be ignorant, that the artifices and machinations of the Spaniards, for some years last past, have filled all these places with the confused and blended havoc of fire and sword? To which unfortunate pile of miseries, if once the reformed brethren should come to add their own dissensions among themselves, and more especially two such potent monarchs, the chiefest part of our strength, and among whom so large a provision of the protestant security and puissance lies stored and hoarded up against times of danger, most certainly the interests of the protestants must go to ruin, and suffer a total and irrecoverable eclipse. On the other side, if peace continue firmly fixed between two such powerful neighbours, and the rest of the orthodox princes; if we would but make it our main study, to abide in brotherly concord, there would be no cause, by God’s assistance, to fear neither the force nor the subtilty of our enemies; all whose endeavours and laborious toils our union alone would be able to dissipate and frustrate. Nor do we question, but that your majesty, as you are freely willing, so your willingness will be constant in contributing your utmost assistance, to procure this blessed peace. To which purpose we shall be most ready to communicate and join our counsels with your majesty; professing a real and cordial friendship, and not only determined inviolably to observe the amity so auspiciously contracted between us, but, as God shall enable us, to bind our present alliance with a more strict and fraternal bond. In the mean time, the same eternal God grant all things prosperous and successful to your majesty.
Your majesty’s most closely united by friendship, alliance, and goodwill,
From our court at Whitehall, Dec. —, 1656.
OLIVER, Protector of the Commonwealth of England, &c.
Oliver,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland,&c. To the most Serene and Illustrious Prince and Lord, the LordWilliam,Landgrave ofHesse,Prince ofHerefeldt,Count inCutzenellebogen,DeciaLigenhain, Widda,andSchaunburg, &c.
Most Serene Prince—We had returned an answer to your letters sent us now near a twelve month since, for which we beg your highness’s pardon, had not many, and those the most important affairs of the republic under our care, constrained us to this unwilling silence. For what letters could be more grateful to us, than those which are written from a most religious prince, descended from religious ancestors, in order to settle the peace of religion and the harmony of the church? which letters attribute to us the same inclinations, the same zeal to promote the peace of Christendom, not only in your own but in the opinion and judgment of almost all the Christian world, and which we are most highly glad to find so universally ascribed to ourselves. And how far our endeavours have been signal formerly throughout these three kingdoms, and what we have effected by our exhortations, by our sufferings, by our conduct, but chiefly by divine assistance, the greatest part of our people both well know, and are sensible of, in a deep tranquillity of their consciences. The same peace we have wished to the churches of Germany, whose dissensions have been too sharp, and of too long endurance; and by our agent Dury for many years in vain endeavouring the same reconciliation, we have cordially offered whatever might conduce on our part to the same purpose. We still persevere in the same determinations, and wish the same fraternal charity one among another, to those churches. But how difficult a task it is to settle peace among those sons of peace, as they give out themselves to be, to our extreme grief we more than abundantly understand. For that the reformed, and those of the Augustan confession, should cement together in a communion of one church, is hardly ever to be expected: it is impossible by force to prohibit either from defending their opinions, whether in private disputes, or by public writings; for force can never consist with ecclesiastical tranquillity. This only were to be wished, that they who differ, would suffer themselves to be entreated, that they would disagree more civilly, and with more moderation; and notwithstanding their disputes, love one another; not embittered against each other as enemies, but as brethren dissenting only in trifles, though in the fundamentals of faith most cordially agreeing. With inculcating and persuading these things, we shall never be wearied; beyond that, there is nothing allowed to human force or counsels: God will accomplish his own work in his own time. In the mean while, you, most serene prince, have left behind you a noble testimony of your affection to the churches, an eternal monument becoming the virtue of your ancestors, and an exemplar worthy to be followed by all princes. It only then remains for us to implore the merciful and great God to crown your highness with all the prosperity in other things which you can wish for; but not to change your mind, than which you cannot have a better, since a better cannot be, nor more piously devoted to his glory.
Westminster, March —, 1656.
Oliver,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland,&c., To the most Serene Prince, the Duke ofCourland.
Most Serene Prince—We have been abundantly satisfied of your affection to us, as well at other times, as when you kindly entertained our embassador in his journey to the duke of Muscovy, for some days together making a stop in your territories: now we are no less confident, that your highness will give us no less obliging testimonies of your justice and equity, as well out of your own goodnature, as at our request. For we are given to understand, that one John Johnson, a Scotsman, and master of a certain ship of yours, having faithfully discharged his duty for seven years together in the service of your highness, as to your highness is well known, at length delivered the said ship, called the Whale, in the mouth of the river, according as the custom is, to one of your pilots, by him to be carried safe into harbour. But it so fell out, that the pilot, being ignorant of his duty, though frequently warned and admonished by the said Johnson, as he has proved by several witnesses, the said ship ran aground and split to pieces, not through any fault of the master, but through the want of skill, or obstinacy of the pilot. Which being so, we make it our earnest request to your highness, that neither the said shipwreck may be imputed to the forementioned Johnson the master, nor that he may upon that account be deprived of the wages due to him; by the only enjoyment of which, he having lately suffered another misfortune at sea, he hopes however to support and comfort himself in the extremity of his wants.
From our court at Westminster, March —, 1657.
Oliver,Protector of the Republic ofEngland,&c., To the most Noble the Consuls and Senators of the Republic ofDantzick.
Most Noble and Magnificent, our dearest Friends—We have always esteemed your city flourishing in industry, wealth, and studious care to promote all useful arts and sciences, fit to be compared with any the most noble cities of Europe. Now in regard that in this war, that has been long hovering about your confines, you have rather chosen to side with the Polanders, than with the Swedes; we are most heartily desirous, that for the sake of that religion which you embrace, and of your ancient commerce with the English, you would chiefly adhere to those counsels, which may prove most agreeable to the glory of God, and the dignity and splendour of your city. Wherefore we entreat ye, for the sake of that friendship which has been long established between yourselves and the English nation, and if our reputation have obtained any favour or esteem among ye, to set at liberty Count Conismark, conspicuous among the principal of the Swedish captains, and a person singularly famed for his conduct in war, but by the treachery of his own people surprised at sea; wherein you will do no more than what the laws of war, not yet exasperated to the height, allow; or if you think this is not so agreeable to your interests, that you will however deem him worthy a more easy and less severe confinement. Which of these two favours soever you shall determine to grant us, you will certainly perform an act becoming the reputation of your city, and highly oblige besides the most famous warriors and most eminent captains of all parties: and lastly, lay upon ourselves an obligation not the meanest; and perhaps it may be worth your interest to gratify us.
Your lordship’s affectionate,
OLIVER, &c.
Oliver,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland, Scotland,andIreland,&c., To the most Serene and Potent Prince and Lord, Emperor and Great Duke of allRussia;sole Lord ofVolodomaria, MoscowandNovograge;King ofCazan, Astracan,andSiberia;Lord ofVobscow,Great Duke ofSmolensko, Tuerscoy,and other Places; Lord and Great Duke ofNovogrod,and the Lower Provinces ofChernigoy, Rezansco,and others; Lord of all theNorthern Climes;also Lord ofEversco, Cartalinsca,and many other Places.
All men know how ancient the friendship, and how vast the trade has been for a long train of years between the English nation and the people of your empire: but that singular virtue, most August Emperor, which in your majesty far outshines the glory of your ancestors, and the high opinion which all the neighbouring princes have of it, more especially moves us to pay a more than ordinary veneration and affection to your majesty, and to desire the imparting of some things to your consideration, which may conduce to the good of Christendom and your own interests. Wherefore, we have sent the most accomplished Richard Bradshaw, a person of whose fidelity, integrity, prudence, and experience in affairs, we are well assured, as having been employed by us in several other negotiations of this nature, under the character of our agent to your majesty; to the end he may more at large make known to your majesty our singular goodwill and high respect toward so puissant a monarch, and transact with your majesty concerning the matters above mentioned. Him therefore we request your majesty favourably to receive in our name, and as often as shall be requisite to grant him free access to your person, and no less gracious audience; and lastly, to give the same credit to him in all things which he shall propose or negotiate, as to ourselves, if we were personally present. And so we beseech Almighty God to bless your majesty and the Russian empire with all prosperity.
Your majesty’s most affectionate,
From our court at Westminster, April —, 1657.
OLIVER, Protector of the Commonwealth of England, &c.
Oliver,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland,&c., To the most Serene and Potent Prince,Charles Gustavus,King of theSwedes, Goths,andVandals,&c.
Most Serene and Potent King, our dearest Friend and Confederate—The most honourable William Jepson, colonel of horse, and a senator in our parliament, who will have the honour to deliver these letters to your majesty, will make known to your majesty, with what disturbance and grief of mind we received the news of the fatal war broke out between your majesty and the King of Denmark, and how much it is our cordial and real endeavour, not to neglect any labour or duty of ours, as far as God enables us, that some speedy remedy may be applied to this growing mischief, and those calamities averted, which of necessity this war will bring upon the common cause of religion; more especially at this time, now that our adversaries unite their forces and pernicious counsels against the profession and professors of the orthodox faith. These and some other considerations of great importance to the benefit and public interest of both nations, have induced us to send this gentleman to your majesty, under the character of our extraordinary envoy. Whom we therefore desire your majesty kindly to receive, and to give credit to him in all things, which he shall have to impart to your majesty in our name; as being a person in whose fidelity and prudence we very much confide. We also farther request, That your majesty will be pleased fully to assure yourself of our goodwill and most undoubted zeal, as well toward your majesty, as for the prosperity of your affairs. Of which we shall be readily prepared with all imaginable willingness of mind to give unquestionable testimonies upon all occasions.
Your majesty’s friend, and most strictly counited confederate,
From our court at Westminster, August —, 1657.
OLIVER, Protector of the Commonwealth of England, &c.
Oliver,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland,&c., To the most Serene Prince, the LordFrederic William,Marquis ofBrandenburgh,High Chamberlain of the Imperial Empire, and Prince Elector, Duke ofMagdeburg, Prussia, Juliers, Cleves, Monts, Stettin, Pomerania,of theCassiubiansandVandals,as also ofSilesia, Crosna,andCarnovia,Burgrave ofNorrinburg,Prince ofHalberstadtandMinda,Count ofMarkandRavensberg,Lord inRavenstein.
Most Serene Prince, our dearest Friend and Confederate—Such is the fame of your highness’s virtue and prudence both in peace and war, and so loudly spread through all the world, that all the princes round about are ambitious of your friendship; nor does any one desire a more faithful or constant friend and associate: therefore to the end your highness may know, that we are also in the number of those that have the highest and most honourable thoughts of your person and merits, so well deserving of the commonwealth of Christendom; we have sent the most worthy colonel William Jepson, a senator in our parliament, in our name to kiss your highness’s hands; and withal to wish the continuance of all prosperity to your affairs, and in words at large to express our goodwill and affection to your serenity; and therefore make it our request, That you will vouchsafe to give him credit in those matters concerning which he has instructions to treat with your highness, as if all things were attested and confirmed by our personal presence.
From our court at Whitehall, August —, 1657.
Oliver,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland,&c., To the most Noble the Consuls and Senators of the City ofHamborough.
Most Noble, most Magnificent, and Worthy—The most accomplished colonel William Jepson, a senator in our parliament, being sent by us to the most serene king of Sweden, is to travel through your city; and therefore we have given him in command, not to pass by your lordships unsaluted in our name; and withal to make it our request, That you will be ready to assist him upon whatsoever occasion he shall think it requisite to crave the aid of your authority and counsel. Which the more willingly you shall do, the more you shall find you have acquired our favour.
From our court at Westminster, Aug. —, 1657.
To the most Noble, the Consuls and Senators of the City ofBreme.
How great our affection is toward your city, how particular our goodwill, as well upon the account of your religion, as for the celebrated splendour of your city, as formerly you have found; so when occasion offers, you shall be further sensible. At present, in regard the most accomplished colonel William Jepson, a senator in our parliament, is to travel through Bremen with the character of our envoy extraordinary to the king of Sweden, it is our pleasure that he salute your lordships lovingly and friendly in our name; and that if any accident fall out, wherein your assistance and friendship may be serviceable to him, that he may have free admission to desire it, upon the score of our alliance. Wherein we are confident you will the less be wanting, by how much the more reason you will have to be assured of our singular love and kindness for your lordships.
From our court at Whitehall, Aug. —, 1657.
Oliver,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland,&c., To the most Noble the Senators and Consuls of the City ofLubeck.
Most noble, Magnificent, and Right Worshipful, our dearest Friends—Colonel William Jepson, a person of great honour, and a senator in our parliament, is to pass with the character of a public minister from your city to the king of Sweden, encamping not far from it. Wherefore we desire your lordships, that if occasion require, upon the account of the friendship and commerce between us, you will be assistant to him in his journey through your city, and the territories under your jurisdiction. As to what remains, it is our farther pleasure, that you be saluted in our name, and that you be assured of our goodwill and ready inclinations to serve your lordships.
From our court at Westminster, August —, 1657.
Oliver,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland,&c., To the City ofHamborough.
Most Noble, Magnificent, and Right Worshipful—Philip Meadows, who brings these letters to your lordships, is to travel through your city with the character of our agent to the king of Denmark. Therefore we most earnestly recommend him to your lordships, that if any occasion should happen for him to desire it, you would be ready to aid him with your authority and assistance: and we desire that this our recommendation may have the same weight at present with your lordships as formerly it wont to have; nor shall we be wanting to your lordships upon the same opportunities.
From our court at Whitehall, August —, 1657.
Oliver,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland,&c., To the most Serene Prince,Frederic,Heir ofNorway,Duke ofSleswick, Holsatia,andDitmarsh,Count inOldenburghandDelmenhorst.
Most Serene Prince, our dearest Friend—Colonel William Jepson, a person truly noble in his country, and a senator in our parliament, is sent by us, as our envoy extraordinary to the most serene king of Sweden; and may it prove happy and prosperous for the common peace and interests of Christendom! We have given him instructions, among other things, that in his journey, after he has kissed your serenity’s hands in our name, and declared our former goodwill and constant zeal for your welfare, to request of your serenity also, that being guarded with your authority, he may travel with safety and convenience through your territories. By which kind act of civility, your highness will in a greater measure oblige us to returns of answerable kindness.
From our court at Westminster, August —, 1657.
Oliver,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland,&c., To the most Serene Prince,Ferdinand,Great Duke ofTuscany.
Most Serene Great Duke, our dearest Friend—The company of our merchants trading to the eastern coasts of the Mediterranean sea, by their petition to us, have set forth, that William Ellis, master of a ship called the Little Lewis, being at Alexandria in Egypt, was hired by the Basha of Memphis, to carry rice, sugar, and coffee, either to Constantinople or Smyrna, for the use of the Grand Seignior; but that contrary to his faith and promise given, he bore away privately from the Ottoman fleet, and brought his ship and lading to Leghorn, where now he lives in possession of his prey. Which villanous act being of dangerous example, as exposing the Christian name to scandal, and the fortunes of our merchants living under the Turks to violence and ransac; we therefore make it our request to your highness, that you will give command, that the said master be apprehended and imprisoned, and that the vessel and goods may remain under seizure, till we shall have given notice of our care for the restitution of those goods to the sultan: assuring your highness of our readiness to make suitable returns of gratitude, whenever opportunity presents itself.
Your highness’s most affectionate,
From our court at Westminster, Sept. —, 1657.
OLIVER, Protector of the Commonwealth of England, &c.
Oliver,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland,&c., To the most Serene Prince, the LordFrederic William,Marquis ofBrandenburgh,&c.
Most Serene Prince, our most dear Friend and Confederate—By our last letters to your highness, either already or shortly to be delivered by our embassador William Jepson, we have imparted the substance of our embassy to your highness; which we could not do without some mention of your great virtues, and demonstration of our good will and affection. Nevertheless, that we may not seem too superficially to have gilded over your transcending deservings of the protestant interests; we thought it proper to resume the same subject, and pay our respect and veneration, not more willingly, or with a greater fervency of mind, but somewhat more at large to your highness: and truly most deservedly, when daily information reaches our ears, that your faith and conscience, by all manner of artifices tempted and assailed, by all manner of arts and devices solicited, yet cannot be shaken, or by any violence be rent from your friendship and alliance with a most magnanimous prince and your confederate: and this, when the affairs of the Swedes are now reduced to that condition, that in adhering to their alliance, it is manifest, that your highness rather consults the common cause of the reformed religion, than your own advantage. And when your highness is almost surrounded and besieged by enemies either privately lurking, or almost at your gates; yet such is your constancy and resolution of mind, such your conduct and prowess becoming a great general, that the burthen and massy bulk of the whole affair, and the event of this important war, seems to rest and depend upon your sole determination. Wherefore your highness has no reason to question, but that you may rely upon our friendship and unfeigned affection; who should think ourselves worthy to be forsaken of all men’s good word, should we seem careless in the least of your unblemished fidelity, your constancy, and the rest of your applauded virtues; or should we pay less respect to your highness upon the common score of religion. As to those matters propounded by the most accomplished John Frederic Schlever, your counsellor and agent here residing, if hitherto we could not return an answer, such as we desired to do, though with all assiduity and diligence laboured by your agent; we entreat your highness to impute it to the present condition of our affairs, and to be assured, that there is nothing which we account more sacred, or more earnestly desire, than to be serviceable and assisting to your interests, so bound up with the cause of religion. In the mean time we beseech the God of mercy and power, that so signal a prowess and fortitude may never languish or be oppressed, nor be deprived the fruit and due applause of all your pious undertakings.
Your highness’s most affectionate,
From our court at Westminster, Sept. —, 1657.
OLIVER, Protector of the Commonwealth of England, &c.
To the most Excellent Lord, M. De Bordeaux,Extraordinary Embassador from the Most Serene King ofFrance.
Most Excellent Lord—Lucas Lucie, merchant of London, has made his complaint to the most serene lord protector, concerning a certain ship of his, called the Mary; which in her voyage from Ireland to Bayonne, being driven by tempest into the port of St. John de Luz, was there detained by virtue of an arrest, at the suit of one Martin de Lazan: nor could she be discharged till the merchants had given security to stand a trial for the property of the said ship and lading. For Martin pretended to have a great sum of money owing to him by the parliament for several goods of his, which in the year 1642 were seized by authority of parliament, in a certain ship called the Sancta Clara. But it is manifest, that Martin was not the owner of the said goods, only that he prosecuted the claim of the true owner Richald and Iriat, together with his partner, whose name was Antonio Fernandez; and that upon the said Martin and Antonio’s falling out among themselves, the parliament decreed, that the said goods should be stopped till the law should decide to which of the two they were to be restored. Upon this, Anthony was desirous, that the action should proceed; on the other side, neither Martin, nor any body for him, has hitherto appeared in court: all which is evidently apparent by Lucas’s petition hereto annexed. So that it seems most unreasonable, that he who refused to try his pretended title with Antonio, to other men’s goods, in our own courts, should compel our people, and the true owners, to go to law for their own in a foreign dominion. And that the same is apparent to your excellency’s equity and prudence, the most serene lord protector makes no question; by whom I am therefore commanded in a particular manner, to recommend this fair and honest cause of Lucas Lucie to your excellency’s consideration; to the end that Martin, who neglects to try his pretended right here, may not under that pretence have an opportunity in the French dominions to deprive others of their rightful claims.
Your excellency’s most affectionate.
Westminster, Oct. —, 1657.
Oliver,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland,&c., To the most Serene Duke and Senate of the Republic ofVenice.
Most Serene Duke and Senate, our dearest Friends—So numerous are the tidings brought us from your fortunate successes against the Turks, that there is nothing wherein we have more frequent occasion to employ our pens, than in congratulating your serenities for some signal victory. For this so recently obtained, we give ye joy, as being not only most auspicious and seasonable to your republic; but, which is more glorious, so greatly tending to the deliverance of all the Christians groaning under Turkish servitude. More particularly we recommend to your serenity and the senate Thomas Galily, formerly master of the ship called the Relief, who for these five years together has been a slave; though this be not the first time we have interceded in his behalf, yet now we do it the more freely, as in a time of more than ordinary exultation. He having received your commands, to serve your republic with his ship, and engaging alone with several of the enemies’ galleys, sunk some, and made a great havoc among the rest: but at length his ship being burnt, the brave commander, and so well deserving of the Venetian republic, was taken, and ever since for five years together has endured a miserable bondage among the barbarians. To redeem himself he had not wherewithal; for whatsoever he had, that he makes out was owing to him by your highness and the senate, upon the account either of his ship, his goods, or for his wages. Now in regard he may not want relief, and for that the enemy refuses to discharge him upon any other condition, than by exchange of some other person of equal value and reputation to himself; we most earnestly entreat your highness, and the most serene senate; and the afflicted old man, father of the said Thomas, full of grief and tears, which not a little moved us, by our intercession begs, that in regard so many prosperous combats have made ye masters of so many Turkish prisoners, you will exchange some one of their number, whom the enemy will accept for so stout a seaman taken in your service, our countryman, and the only son of a most sorrowful father. Lastly, that whatsoever is due to him from the republic, upon the score of wages, or upon any other account, you will take care to see it paid to his father, or to whom he shall appoint to receive it.
The effect of our first request, or rather of your equity, was this, that the whole matter was examined, and upon an exact stating of the accounts the debt was agreed; but perhaps by reason of more important business intervening, no payment ensued upon it. Now the condition of the miserable creature admits of no longer delay; and therefore some endeavour must be used, if it be worth your while to desire his welfare, that he may speedily be delivered from the noisome stench of imprisonment. Which, as you flourish no less in justice, moderation, and prudence, than in military fame and victorious success, we are confident you will see done, of your own innate humanity and freewill, without any hesitation, without any incitement of ours. Now that you may long flourish, after a most potent enemy subdued, our daily prayers implore of the Almighty.
Your highness’s most affectionate,
From our court at Westminster, Oct. —, 1657.
OLIVER, Protector of the Commonwealth of England, &c.
Oliver,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland,&c. To the High and Mighty Lords, the States of theUnited Provinces.
Most High and Mighty Lords, our dearest Friends and Confederates—The most illustrious William Nuport, your extraordinary embassador for some years residing with us, is now returning to your lordships; but with this condition, that after this respite obtained from your lordships, he shall return again in a short time. For he has remained among us, in the discharge of his trust, with that fidelity, vigilance, prudence, and equity, that neither you nor we could desire greater virtue and probity in an embassador, and a person of unblemished reputation; with those inclinations and endeavours to preserve peace and friendship between us, without any fraud or dissimulation, that while he officiates the duty of your embassador, we do not find what occasion of scruple or offence can arise in either nation. And we should brook his departure with so much the more anxiety of mind, considering the present juncture of times and affairs, were we not assured, that no man can better or more faithfully declare and represent to your lordships, either the present condition of affairs, or our goodwill and affection to your government. Being therefore every way so excellent a person, and so very deserving both of yours and our republic, we request your lordships to receive him returning, such as we unwillingly dismiss him, laden with the real testimonials of our applauses. Almighty God grant all prosperity to your affairs, and perpetuate our friendship, to his glory, and the support of his orthodox church.
Your high and mightinesses most devoted.
From our court at Westminster, Nov. —, 1657.
Oliver,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland,&c., To the High and Mighty Lords, the States of theUnited Provinces.
Most High and Mighty Lords, our dearest Friends and Confederates—George Downing is a person of eminent quality, and after a long trial of his fidelity, probity, and diligence, in several and various negotiations, well approved and valued by us. Him we have thought fitting to send to your lordships, dignified with the character of our agent, and amply furnished with our instructions. We therefore desire your lordships, to receive him kindly, and that so often as he shall signify that he has any thing to impart in our name to your lordships, you will admit him free audience, and give the same credit to him, and entrust him with whatsoever you have to communicate to us, which you may safely do, as if ourselves were personally present. And so we beseech Almighty God to bless your lordships, and your republic with all prosperity, to the glory of God and the support of his church.
Your high and mightinesses most affectionate,
From our court at Whitehall, December —, 1657.
OLIVER, &c.
To the States ofHolland.
There being an alliance between our republic and yours, and those affairs to be transacted on both sides that without an agent and interpreter, sent either by yourselves, or from us, matters of such great moment can hardly be adjusted to the advantage of both nations, we thought it conducing to the common good of both republics, to send George Downing, a person of eminent quality, and long in our knowledge and esteem for his undoubted fidelity, probity and diligence, in many and various negotiations, dignified with the character of our agent, to reside with your lordships, and chiefly to take care of those things, by which the peace between us may be preserved entire and diuturnal. Concerning which we have not only written to the States, but also thought it requisite to give notice also of the same to your lordships, supreme in the government of your province, and who make so considerable a part of the United Provinces; to the end you may give that reception to our resident which becomes him, and that whatever he transacts with your High and Mighty States, you may assure yourselves, shall be as firm and irrevocable, as if ourselves had been present in the negotiation. Now the most merciful God direct all your counsels and actions to his glory, and the peace of his church.
Westminster, December —, 1657.
Oliver,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland,&c., To the most Serene Prince,Ferdinand,Great Duke ofTuscany.
Most Serene Great Duke, our much honoured Friend—Your highness’s letters, bearing date from Florence the 10th of November, gave us no small occasion of content and satisfaction; finding therein your good will towards us, so much the more conspicuous, by how much deeds than words, performances than promises, are the more certain marks of a cordial affection. For what we requested of your highness, that you would command the master of the Little Lewis, William Ellis, (who most ignominiously broke his faith with the Turks,) and the ship and goods to be seized and detained, till restitution should be made to the Turks, lest the Christian name should receive any blemish by thieveries of the like nature; all those things, and that too with an extraordinary zeal, as we most gladly understood before, your highness writes that you have seen diligently performed. We therefore return our thanks for the kindness received, and make it our farther request, that when the merchants have given security to satisfy the Turks, the master may be discharged, and the ship, together with her lading, be forthwith dismissed, to the end we may not seem to have had more care perhaps of the Turks’ interest, than our own countrymen. In the mean time, we take so kindly this surpassing favour done us by your highness, and most acceptable to us, that we should not refuse to be branded with ingratitude, if we should not ardently desire a speedy opportunity, with the same promtitude of mind, to gratify your highness, whereby we might be enabled to demonstrate our readiness to return the same good offices to so noble a benefactor upon all occasions.
Your highness’s most affectionate,
From our court at Westminster, December —, 1657.
OLIVER, &c.
Oliver,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland,&c., To the most Serene and Potent Prince,Charles Gustavus,King of theSwedes, Goths,andVandals,&c.
Most Serene and Potent Prince, our most Invincible Friend and Confederate—By your majesty’s letters, dated the 21st of February from your camp in Seland, we found many reasons to be affected with no small joy, as well for our own particular, as in regard of the whole Christian republic in general. In the first place, because the King of Denmark, being become an enemy, not induced thereto, as we are apt to believe, by his own inclinations or interests, but deluded by the artifices of our common adversaries, is reduced to that condition by your sudden eruption into the very heart of his kingdom, with very little bloodshed on either side, that, what was really true, he will at length be persuaded, that peace would have been more beneficial to him, than the war which he has entered into against your majesty. Then again, when he shall consider with himself, that he cannot obtain it by any more speedy means, than by making use of our assistance, long since offered him to procure a reconciliation, in regard your majesty so readily entreated by the letters only delivered by our agent, by such an easy concession of peace, most clearly made it apparent how highly you esteemed the intercession of our friendship, he will certainly apply himself to us; and then our interposition in so pious a work will chiefly require, that we should be the sole reconciler and almost author of that peace, so beneficial to the interests of the protestants; which, as we hope, will suddenly be accomplished. For when the enemies of religion shall despair of breaking your united forces by any other means than setting both your majesties at variance, then their own fears will overtake them, lest this unexpected conjunction, which we ardently desire, of your arms and minds, should turn to the destruction of them that were the kindlers of the war.—In the mean time, most magnanimous king, may your prowess go on and prosper; and the same felicity which the enemies of the church have admired in the progress of your achievements, and the steady career of your victories against a prince, now your confederate, the same by God’s assistance, may you enforce them to behold once more in their subversion.
From our Palace at Westminster, March 30, 1658.
Oliver,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland,&c., To the most Serene Prince,Ferdinand,Great Duke ofTuscany.
Most Serene Prince—The answer which we have given to your agent here residing, we believe, will fully satisfy your highness as to our admiral, who but lately put into your ports. In the mean time, John Hosier, master of a ship called the Owner, has set forth in a petition to us, that in April, 1656, he hired out his ship by a charty-party agreement, to one Joseph Arman, an Italian, who manifestly broke all the covenants therein contained; so that he was enforced, lest he should lose his ship and lading, together with his whole principal stock, openly to set forth the fraud of his freighter, after the manner of merchants; and when he had caused it to be registered by a public notary, to sue him at Leghorn. Joseph, on the other side, that he might make good one fraud by another, combining with two other litigious traders, upon a feigned pretence, by perjury, seized upon six thousand pieces of eight, the money of one Thomas Clutterbuck. But as for his part, the said Hosier, after great expenses and loss of time, could never obtain his right and due at Leghorn: nor durst he there appear in court, being threatened as he was, and waylaid by his adversaries. We therefore request your highness, that you would vouchsafe your assistance to this poor oppressed man, and according to your wonted justice, restrain the insolence of his adversary. For in vain are laws ordained for the government of cities by the authority of princes, if wrong and violence, when they cannot abrogate, shall be able by threats and terror to frustrate the refuge and sanctuary of the laws. However, we make no doubt, but that your highness will speedily take care to punish a daring boldness of this nature; beseeching Almighty God to bless your highness with peace and prosperity.
From our court at Westminster, April 7, 1658.
To the most Serene and Potent Prince,Lewis,King ofFrance.
Most Serene and Potent King, and most August Friend and Confederate—Your majesty may call to mind, that at the same time, when the renewing the league between us was in agitation, and no less auspiciously concluded, as the many advantages from thence accruing to both nations, and the many annoyances thence attending the common enemy, sufficiently testify; those dreadful butcheries befel the Piedmontois, and that we recommended, with great fervency of mind and compassion, their cause, on all sides forsaken and afflicted, to your commiseration and protection. Nor do we believe that your majesty of yourself, was wanting in a duty so pious, that we may not say, beseeming common humanity, as far as your authority, and the veneration due to your person, could prevail with the duke of Savoy. Certain we are, that neither ourselves, nor many other princes and cities, were wanting in our performances, by the interposition of embassies, letters, and entreaties. After a most bloody butchery of both sexes, and all ages, at length peace was granted, or rather a certain clandestine hostility covered over with the name of peace. The conditions of peace were agreed in your town of Pignerol; severe and hard, but such as those miserable and indigent creatures, after they had suffered all that could be endured that was oppressive and barbarous, would have been glad of, had they been but observed, as hard and unjust as they were. But by false constructions, and various evasions, the assurances of all these articles are eluded and violated; many are thrust out from their ancient abodes; many are forbid the exercise of their religion, new tributes are exacted, a new citadel is imposed upon them; from whence the soldiers frequently making excursions, either plunder or murder all they meet. Add to all this, that new levies are privately preparing against them, and all that embrace the protestant religion are commanded to depart by a prefixed day; so that all things seem to threaten the utter extermination of those deplorable wretches, whom the former massacre spared. Which I most earnestly beseech and conjure ye, most Christian king, by that Right Hand which signed the league and friendship between us, by that same goodly ornament of your title of MOST CHRISTIAN, by no means to suffer, nor to permit such liberty of rage and fury uncontrolled, we will not say, in any prince, (for certainly such barbarous severity could never enter the breast of any prince, much less so tender in years, nor into the female thoughts of his mother,) but in those sanctified cut-throats, who, professing themselves to be the servants and disciples of our Saviour Christ, who came into the world to save sinners, abuse his meek and peaceful name and precepts to the most cruel slaughter of the innocent. Rescue, you that are able in your towering station, worthy to be able, rescue so many suppliants prostrate at your feet, from the hands of ruffians, who, lately drunk with blood, again thirst after it, and think it their safest way to throw the odium of their cruelty upon princes. But as for you, great prince, suffer not, while you reign, your titles, nor the confines of your kingdom, to be contaminated with this same Heaven-offending scandal, nor the peaceful gospel of Christ to be defiled with such abominable cruelty. Remember, that they submitted themselves to your grandfather Henry, most friendly to the protestants, when the victorious Lesdiguieres pursued the retreating Savoyard over the Alps. There is also an instrument of that submission registered among the public acts of your kingdom, wherein it is excepted and provided among other things, that from that time forward the Piedmontois should not be delivered over into the power of any ruler, but upon the same condition upon which your invincible grandfather received them into his protection. This protection of your grandfather these suppliants now implore from you as grandchild. It is your majesty’s part, to whom those people now belong, to give them that protection which they have chosen, by some exchange of habitation, if they desire it, and it may be done: or if that be a labour too difficult, at least to succour them with your patronage, your commiseration, and your admittance into sanctuary. And there are some reasons of state, to encourage your majesty not to refuse the Piedmontois a safe asylum in your kingdom: but I am unwilling that you, so great a king, should be induced to the defence and succour of the miserable by any other arguments than those of your ancestor’s pledged faith, your own piety, royal benignity, and magnanimity. Thus the immaculate and entire glory of a most egregious act will be your own, and you will find the Father of mercy, and his Son, King Christ, whose name and doctrine you have vindicated from nefarious inhumanity, so much the more favourable and propitious to your majesty, all your days. The God of mercy and power infuse into your majesty’s heart a resolution, to defend and save so many innocent Christians, and maintain your own honour.
Westminster, May —, 1658.
To the Evangelic Cities of theSwitzers.
Illustrious and most Noble Lords, our dearest Friends—How heavy and intolerable the sufferings of the Piedmontois, your most afflicted neighbours, have been, and how unmercifully they have been dealt with by their own prince, for the sake of their religion, by reason of the fellness of the cruelties, we almost tremble to remember, and thought it superfluous to put you in mind of those things, which are much better known to your lordships. We have also seen copies of the letters which your embassadors, promoters and witnesses of the peace concluded at Pignerol, wrote to the duke of Savoy, and the president of his council at Turin; wherein they set forth, and make it out, that all the conditions of the said peace are broken, and were rather a snare than a security to those miserable people. Which violation continued from the conclusion of the peace till this very moment, and still growing more heavy every day than other; unless they patiently endure, unless they lay themselves down to be trampled under foot, plashed like mortar, or abjure their religion, the same calamities, the same slaughters hang over their heads, which three years since made such a dreadful havoc of them, their wives and children; and which, if it must be undergone once more, will certainly prove the utter extirpation of their whole race. What shall such miserable creatures do? in whose behalf no intercession will avail, to whom no breathing time is allowed, nor any certain place of refuge. They have to do with wild beasts, or furies rather, upon whom the remembrance of their former murders has wrought no compassion upon their countrymen, no sense of humanity, nor satiated their ravenous thirst after blood. Most certainly these things are not to be endured, if we desire the safety of our brethren the Piedmontois, most ancient professors of the orthodox faith, or the welfare of our religion itself. As for ourselves so far remote, we have not been wanting to assist them as far as in us lay, nor shall we cease our future aid. But you, who not only lie so near adjoining, as to behold the butcheries, and to hear the outcries and shrieks of the distressed, but are also next exposed to the fury of the same enemies; consider for the sake of the immortal God, and that in time, what it behoves ye now to do: consult your prudence, your piety, and your fortitude; what succour, what relief and safeguard you are able, and are bound to afford your neighbours and brethren, who must else undoubtedly and speedily perish. Certainly the same religion is the cause, why the same enemies also seek your perdition; why, at the same time the last year, they meditated your ruin, by intestine broils among yourselves. It seems to be only in your power next under God, to prevent the extirpation of this most ancient scion of the purer religion, in those remainders of the primitive believers; whose preservation, now reduced to the very brink of utter ruin, if you neglect, beware that the next turn be not your own. These admonitions while we give ye freely, and out of brotherly love, we are not quite as yet cast down: for what lies only in our power so far distant, as we have hitherto, so shall we still employ our utmost endeavours, not only to procure the safety of our brethren upon the precipice of danger, but also to relieve their wants. May the Almighty God vouchsafe to both of us, that peace and tranquillity at home, that settlement of times and affairs, that we may be able to employ all our wealth and force, all our studies and counsels in the defence of his church against the rage and fury of her enemies.
From our court at Whitehall, May —, 1658.
To his Eminency CardinalMazarine.
Most Eminent Lord—The late grievous cruelties, and most bloody slaughters perpetrated upon the inhabitants of the valleys of Piedmont, within the duke of Savoy’s dominions, occasioned the writing of the enclosed letters to his majesty, and these other to your eminency. And as we make no doubt but that such tyranny, and inhumanities, so rigorously inflicted upon harmless and indigent people, are highly displeasing and offensive to the most serene king; so we readily persuade ourselves, that what we request from his majesty in behalf of those unfortunate creatures, your eminency will employ your endeavour and your favour to obtain, as an accumulation to our intercessions. Seeing there is nothing which has acquired more goodwill and affection to the French nation, among all the neighbouring professors of the reformed religion, than that liberty and those privileges, which by public acts and edicts are granted in that kingdom to the protestants. And this among others was one main reason why this republic so ardently desired the friendship and alliance of the French people. For the settling of which we are now treating with the king’s embassador, and have made those progresses, that the treaty is almost brought to a conclusion. Besides that, your eminency’s singular benignity and moderation, which in the management of the most important affairs of the kingdom you have always testified to the protestants of France, encourages us to expect what we promise to ourselves from your prudence and generosity; whereby you will not only lay the foundations of a stricter alliance between this republic and the kingdom of France, but oblige us in particular to returns of all good offices of civility and kindness: and of this we desire your eminency to rest assured.
Your eminency’s most affectionate.
Oliver,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland,&c., To the most Serene and Potent Prince,Lewis,King ofFrance.
Most Serene and Mighty King, our most August Friend and Confederate—It being the intention of Thomas viscount Falconbridge, our son-in-law, to travel into France, and no less his desire, out of his profound respect and veneration to your majesty, to be admitted to kiss your royal hands; though by reason of his pleasing conversation we are unwilling to part with him, nevertheless not doubting but he will in a short time return from the court of so great a prince, celebrated for the resort of so many prudent and courageous persons, more nobly prepared for great performances, and fully accomplished in whatsoever may be thought most laudable and virtuous, we did not think it fit to put a stop to his generous resolutions. And though he be a person, who, unless we deceive ourselves, carries his own recommendations about him, wheresoever he goes; yet if he shall find himself somewhat the more favoured by your majesty for our sake, we shall think ourselves honoured and obliged by the same kindness. God Almighty long preserve your majesty in safety, and continue a lasting peace between us, to the common good of the Christian world.
From our court at Whitehall, May —, 1658.
Oliver,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland,&c., To the most Eminent Lord, CardinalMazarine.
Most Eminent Lord—Having recommended to the most serene king Thomas viscount Falconbridge our son-in-law, desirous to see France; we could not but acquaint your eminency with it, and recommend him in like manner to yourself, not ignorant of what moment and importance it will be to our recommendation first given him. For certainly, what benefit or advantage he shall reap by residing in your country, which he hopes will not be small, he cannot but be beholden for the greatest part of it to your favour and goodwill; whose single prudence and vigilancy supports and manages the grand affairs of that kingdom. Whatever therefore grateful obligation your eminency shall lay upon him, you may be assured you lay upon ourselves, and that we shall number it among your many kindnesses and civilities already shown us.
Westminster, May —, 1658.
Oliver,Protector, &c., To the most Eminent Lord, CardinalMazarine.
Most Eminent Lord—Having sent the most illustrious Thomas Bellasis, viscount Falconbridge, our son-in-law, to congratulate the king upon his arrival in the camp at Dunkirk; I gave him order to attend and wish your eminency long life and health in our name, and to return thanks to your eminency, by whose fidelity, prudence, and vigilancy, it chiefly comes to pass, that the affairs of France are carried on with such success in several parts, but more especially in near adjoining Flanders, against our common enemy the Spaniard; from whom we hope that open and armed courage now will soon exact a rigorous account of all his frauds and treacheries. Which that it may be speedily done, we shall not be wanting, either with our forces, as far as in us lies, or with our prayers to Heaven.
From our court at Whitehall, May —, 1658.
Oliver,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland,&c., To the most Serene and Potent Prince,Lewis,King ofFrance.
Most Serene and Potent Prince, our most August Friend and Confederate—So soon as the news was brought us, that your majesty was arrived in your camp, and was sate down with so considerable an army before Dunkirk, that infamous nest of pirates, and place of refuge for searobbers, we were greatly overjoyed, in certain assurance that in a short time now, with God’s assistance, the seas will be more open and less infested by those plundering rovers; and that your majesty, by your military prowess, will now take speedy vengeance of the Spanish frauds; by whom one captain was by gold corrupted to the betraying of Hesden, another treacherously surprised at Ostend. We therefore send the most noble Thomas viscount Falconbridge, our son-in-law, to congratulate your majesty’s arrival in your camp so near us, and that your majesty may understand from his own lips, with what affection we labour the prosperity of your achievements, not only with our united forces, but our cordial prayers, that God would long preserve your majesty, and perpetuate our established friendship, to the common good of the Christian world.
From our court at Westminster, May —, 1658.
To the most Serene Prince,Ferdinand,Grand Duke ofTuscany.
Most Serene Great Duke—In regard your highness in your letters has ever signified your extraordinary affection toward us, we are not a little grieved, that either it should be so obscurely imparted to your governors and ministers, or by them so ill interpreted, that we can reap no benefit or sign of it in your port of Leghorn, where your friendship towards us ought to be most clearly and truly understood: rather, that we should find the minds of your subjects daily more averse and hostile in their demeanour toward us. For how unkindly our fleet was lately treated at Leghorn, how little accommodated with necessary supplies, in what a hostile manner twice constrained to depart the harbour, we are sufficiently given to understand, as well from undoubted witnesses upon the place, as from our admiral himself, to whose relation we cannot but give credit, when we have thought him worthy to command our fleet. Upon his first arrival in January, after he had caused our letters to be delivered to your highness, and all offices of civility had passed between our people and yours; when he desired the accommodation of Porto Ferraro; answer was made, it could not be granted, lest the king of Spain, that is to say our enemy, should be offended. And yet what is there which a prince in friendship more frequently allows to his confederate, than free entrance into his ports and harbours? Or what is there that we can expect from a friendship of this nature, more ready to do us unkindness than befriend us, or aid us with the smallest assistance, for fear of provoking the displeasure of our enemies? At first indeed, prattic was allowed, though only to two or three of our seamen out of every ship, who had the favour to go ashore. But soon after, it being noised in the town, that our ships had taken a Dutch vessel laden with corn for Spain, that little prattic we had was prohibited; Longland the English consul was not permitted to go aboard the fleet; the liberty of taking in fresh water, which is ever free to all that are not open enemies, was not suffered, but under armed guards, at a severe rate; and our merchants, which reside in the town to the vast emolument of your people, were forbid to visit their countrymen, or assist them in the least. Upon his last arrival, toward the latter end of March, nobody was suffered to come ashore. The fifth day after, when our admiral had taken a small Neapolitan vessel, which fell into our hands by chance, above two hundred great shot were made at our fleet from the town, though without any damage to us. Which was an argument, that what provoked your governors without a cause, as if the rights of your harbour had been violated, was done out at sea, at a great distance from your town, or the jurisdiction of your castle. Presently our long boats, sent to take in fresh water, were assailed in the port, and one taken and detained; which being redemanded, answer was made, that neither the skiff nor the seamen should be restored, unless the Neapolitan vessel were dismissed; though certain it is, that she was taken in the open sea, where it was lawful to seize her. So that ours, after many inconveniences suffered, were forced at length to set sail, and leave behind them the provision, for which they had paid ready money. These things if they were not done by your highness’s consent and command, as we hope they were not, we desire you would make it appear by the punishment of the governor, who so easily presumed to violate his master’s alliances; but if they were done with your highness’s approbation and order, we would have your highness understand, that as we always had a singular value for your friendship, so we have learnt to distinguish between injuries and acts of kindness.
Your good friend, so far as we may,
From our court at Whitehall, May —, 1658.
OLIVER, Protector of the Commonwealth of England, &c.
Oliver,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland,&c., To the most Serene and Potent Prince,Lewis,King ofFrance.
Most Serene and Potent Prince, our most August Confederate and Friend—By so speedily repaying our profound respect to your majesty, with an accumulation of honour, by such an illustrious embassy to our court; you have not only made known to us, but to all the people of England, your singular benignity and generosity of mind, but also how much you favour our reputation and dignity: for which we return our most cordial thanks to your majesty, as justly you have merited from us. As for the victory which God has given, most fortunate, to our united forces against our enemies, we rejoice with your majesty for it; and that our people in that battle were not wanting to your assistance, nor the military glory of their ancestors, nor their own pristine fortitude, is most grateful to us. As for Dunkirk, which, as your majesty wrote, you were in hopes was near surrender: it is a great addition to our joy, to hear from your majesty such speedy tidings, that it is absolutely now in your victorious hands; and we hope moreover, that the loss of one city will not suffice to repay the twofold treachery of the Spaniard, but that your majesty will in a short time write us the welcome news of the surrender also of the other town. As to your promise, that you will take care of our interest, we mistrust it not in the least, upon the word of a most excellent king, and our most assured friend, confirmed withal by your embassador, the most accomplished duke of Crequi. Lastly, we beseech Almighty God to prosper your majesty and the affairs of France, both in peace and war.
Westminster, June —, 1658.
Oliver,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland,&c., To the most Eminent Lord, CardinalMazarine.
Most Eminent Lord—While we are returning thanks to the most serene king, who to honour and congratulate us, as also to intermix his joy with ours for the late glorious victory, has sent a splendid embassy to our court; we should be ungrateful, should we not also by our letters pay our due acknowledgments to your eminency; who, to testify your goodwill towards us, and how much you make it your study to do us all the honour which lies within your power, have sent your nephew to us, a most excellent and most accomplished young gentleman; and if you had any nearer relation, or any person whom you valued more, would have sent him more especially to us, as you declare in your letters; adding withal the reason, which, coming from so great a personage, we deem no small advantage to our praise and ornament; that is to say, to the end that they, who are most nearly related to your eminency in blood, might learn to imitate your eminency, in showing respect and honour to our person. And we would have it not to be their meanest strife to follow your example of civility, candour, and friendship to us; since there are not more conspicuous examples of extraordinary prudence and virtue to be imitated than in your eminency; from whence they may learn with equal renown to govern kingdoms, and manage the most important affairs of the world. Which that your eminency may long and happily administer, to the prosperity of the whole realm of France, to the common good of the whole Christian republic, and your own glory, we shall never be wanting in our prayers to implore.
Your excellency’s most affectionate.
From our court at Whitehall, June —, 1658.
Oliver,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland,&c., To the most Serene and Potent Prince,Charles Gustavus,King of theSwedes, Goths,andVandals,&c.
Most Serene and Potent Prince, our dearest Confederate and Friend—As often as we behold the busy counsels, and various artifices of the common enemies of religion, so often do we revolve in our minds how necessary it would be, and how much for the safety of the Christian world, that the protestant princes, and most especially your majesty, should be united with our republic in a most strict and solemn confederacy. Which how ardently and zealously it has been sought by ourselves, how acceptable it would have been to us, if ours, and the affairs of Swedeland, had been in that posture and condition, if the said league could have been sacredly concluded to the good liking of both, and that the one could have been a seasonable succour to the other, we declared to your embassadors, when first they entered into treaty with us upon this subject. Nor were they wanting in their duty; but the same prudence which they were wont to show in other things, the same wisdom and sedulity they made known in this affair. But such was the perfidiousness of our wicked and restless countrymen at home, who, being often received into our protection, ceased not however to machinate new disturbances, and to resume their formerly often frustrated and dissipated conspiracies with our enemies the Spaniards, that being altogether taken up with the preservation of ourselves from surrounding dangers, we could not bend our whole care, and our entire forces, as we wished we could have done, to defend the common cause of religion. Nevertheless what lay in our power we have already zealously performed: and whatever for the future may conduce to your majesty’s interests, we shall not only show ourselves willing, but industrious to carry on, in union with your majesty, upon all occasions. In the mean time we most gladly congratulate your majesty’s victories, most prudently and courageously achieved, and in our daily prayers implore Almighty God long to continue to your majesty a steady course of conquest and felicity, to the glory of his name.
From our court at Whitehall, June —, 1658.
Oliver,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland,&c., To the most Serene and Potent Prince, the King ofPortugal.
Most Serene King, our Friend and Confederate—John Buffield, of London, merchant, hath set forth in a petition to us, that in the year 1649, he delivered certain goods to Anthony, John, and Manuel Ferdinando Castaneo, merchants in Tamira, to the end that after they had sold them, they might give him a just account, according to the custom of merchants; after which, in his voyage for England, he fell into the hands of pirates; and being plundered by them, received no small damage. Upon this news, Anthony and Manuel, believing he had been killed, presently looked upon the goods as their own, and still detain them in their hands, refusing to come to any account; covering this fraud of theirs with a sequestration of English goods, that soon after ensued. So that he was forced the last year, in the middle of winter, to return to Portugal and demand his goods, but all in vain. For that the said John and Anthony could by no fair means be persuaded, either to deliver the said goods or come to any account; and which is more to be admired, justified their private detention of the goods by the public attainder. Finding therefore that being a stranger, he should get nothing by contending with the inhabitants of Tamira in their own country, he betook himself for justice to your majesty: humbly demanded the judgment of the conservator, appointed to determine the causes of the English; but was sent back to the cognizance of that court, from which he had appealed. Which though in itself not unjust, yet seeing it is evident, that the merchants of Tamira make an ill use of your public edict to justify their own private cozenage, we make it our earnest request to your majesty, that according to your wonted clemency you would rather refer to the conservator, being the proper judge in these cases, the cause of this poor man afflicted by many casualties, and reduced to utmost poverty; to the end he may recover the remainder of his fortunes from the faithless partnership of those people. Which when you rightly understand the business, we make no question, but will be no less pleasing to your majesty to see done, than to ourselves.
From our court at Westminster, Aug. 1658.
To the most Serene Prince,Leopold,Archduke ofAustria,Governor of the Law Countries underPhilipKing ofSpain.
Most Serene Lord—Charles Harbord, knight, has set forth in his petition to us, that having sent certain goods and household-stuff out of Holland to Bruges under your jurisdiction, he is in great danger of having them arrested out of his hands by force and violence. For that those goods were sent him out of England in the year 1643, by the earl of Suffolk, for whom he stood bound in a great sum of money, to the end he might have wherewithal to satisfy himself, should he be compelled to pay the debt. Which goods are now in the possession of Richard Greenville, knight, who broke open the doors of the place where they were in custody, and made a violent seizure of the same, under pretence of we know not what due to him from Theophilus earl of Suffolk, by virtue of a certain decree of our court of chancery, to which those goods, as being the earl’s, were justly liable; whereas by our laws, neither the earl now living, whose goods they are, is bound by that decree, neither ought the goods to be seized or detained; which the sentence of that court, now sent to your serenity, together with these letters, positively declares and proves. Which letters the said Charles Harbord has desired of us, to the end we would make it our request to your highness, that the said goods may be forthwith discharged from the violent seizure, and no less unjust action of the said Richard Greenville, in regard it is apparently against the custom and law of nations, that any person should be allowed the liberties to sue in a foreign jurisdiction upon a plaint, wherein he can have no relief in the country where the cause of action first arose. Therefore the reason of justice itself, and your far celebrated equanimity encouraged us to recommend this cause to your highness; assuring your highness, that whenever any dispute shall happen in our courts concerning the rights and properties of your people, you shall ever find us ready and quick in our returns of favour.
Your highness’s most affectionate,
Westminster.
OLIVER, Protector of the Commonwealth of England, &c.
LETTERS WRITTEN IN THE NAME OF RICHARD, PROTECTOR.
Richard,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland,&c., To the most Serene and Potent Prince,Lewis,King ofFrance.
Most Serene and Potent King, our Friend and Confederate—So soon as our most serene father, Oliver, Protector of the Commonwealth of England, by the will of God so ordaining, departed this life upon the third of September, we being lawfully declared his successor in the supreme magistracy, though in the extremity of tears and sadness, could do no less than with the first opportunity by these our letters make known a matter of this concernment to your majesty; by whom, as you have been a most cordial friend to our father and this republic, we are confident the mournful and unexpected tidings will be as sorrowfully received. Our business now is, to request your majesty, that you would have such an opinion of us, as of one who has determined nothing more religiously and constantly, than to observe the friendship and confederacy contracted between your majesty and our renowned father: and with the same zeal and goodwill to confirm and establish the leagues by him concluded, and to carry on the same counsels and interests with your majesty. To which intent it is our pleasure that our embassador, residing at your court, be empowered by the same commission as formerly; that you will give the same credit to what he transacts in our name, as if it had been done by ourselves. In the mean time we wish your majesty all prosperity.
From our court at Whitehall, Sept. 5, 1658.
To the most Eminent Lord CardinalMazarine.
Though nothing could fall out more bitter and grievous to us, than to write the mournful news of our most serene and most renowned father’s death; nevertheless, in regard we cannot be ignorant of the high esteem which he had for your eminency, and the great value which you had for him; nor have any reason to doubt but that your eminency, upon whose care the prosperity of France depends, will no less bewail the loss of your constant friend, and most united confederate; we thought it of great moment, by these our letters, to make known this accident so deeply to be lamented, as well to your eminency as to the king; and to assure your eminency, which is but reason, that we shall most religiously observe all those things which our father of most serene memory was bound by the league to see confirmed and ratified: and shall make it our business, that in the midst of your mourning for a friend so faithful and flourishing in all virtuous applause, there may be nothing wanting to preserve the faith of our confederacy. For the conservation of which on your part also, to the good of both nations, may God Almighty long preserve your eminency.
Westminster, Sept. 1658.
Richard,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland,&c., to the most Serene Prince,Charles Gustavus,King of theSwedes, Goths,andVandals,&c.
Most Serene and Potent King, our Friend and Confederate—When we consider with ourselves that it will be a difficult matter for us to be imitators of our father’s virtues, unless we should observe and endeavour to hold the same confederacies which he by his prowess acquired, and out of his singular judgment thought most worthy to be embraced and observed; your majesty has no reason to doubt, that it behoves us to pay the same tribute of affection and goodwill, which our father of most serene memory always paid to your majesty. Therefore, although in this beginning of our government and dignity I may not find our affairs in that condition, as at present to answer to some particulars which your embassadors have proposed, yet it is our resolution to continue the league concluded by our father with your majesty, and to enter ourselves into a stricter engagement; and so soon as we shall rightly understand the state of affairs on both sides, we shall always be ready on our part to treat of those things, which shall be most chiefly for the united benefit of both republics. In the mean time, God long preserve your majesty to his glory, and the defence and safeguard of his orthodox church.
From our court at Westminster, October, 1658.
Richard,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland,&c., To the most Serene and Potent Prince,Charles Gustavus,King of theSwedes, Goths,andVandals,&c.
Most Serene and Potent King, our Friend and Confederate—We have received two letters from your majesty, the one by your envoy, the other transmitted to us from our resident Philip Meadows, whereby we not only understood your majesty’s unfeigned grief for the death of our most serene father, in expressions setting forth the real thoughts of your mind, and how highly your majesty esteemed his prowess and friendship, but also what great hopes your majesty conceived of ourselves advanced in his room. And certainly, as an accumulation of paternal honour in deeming us worthy to succeed him, nothing more noble, more illustrious, could befall us than the judgment of such a prince; nothing more fortunately auspicious could happen to us, at our first entrance upon the government, than such a congratulator; nothing, lastly, that could more vehemently incite us to take possession of our father’s virtues, as our lawful inheritance, than the encouragement of so great a king. As to what concerns your majesty’s interests, already under consideration between us, in reference to the common cause of the protestants, we would have your majesty have those thoughts of us, that since, we came to the helm of this republic, though the condition of our affairs be such at present, that they chiefly require our utmost diligence, care, and vigilancy at home, yet that we hold nothing more sacred, and that there is not any thing more determined by us, than, as much as in us lies, never to be wanting to the league concluded by our father with your majesty. To that end we have taken care to send a fleet into the Baltic sea, with those instructions which our agent, to that purpose empowered by us, will communicate to your majesty; whom God preserve in long safety, and prosper with success in defence of his orthodox religion.
From our court at Westminster, October 13, 1658.
Richard,Protector, To the most Serene and Potent Prince,Charles Gustavus,King of theSwedes, Goths,andVandals,&c.
Most Serene and Potent King, our Friend and Confederate—We send to your majesty, nor could we send a present more worthy or more excellent, the truly brave and truly noble Sir George Ascue, knight, not only famed in war, and more especially for his experience in sea-affairs, approved and tried in many desperate engagements; but also endued with singular probity, modesty, ingenuity, learning, and for the sweetness of his disposition caressed by all men; and which is the sum of all, now desirous to serve under the banners of your majesty, so renowned over all the world for your military prowess. And we would have your majesty be fully assured, that whatsoever high employment you confer upon him, wherein fidelity, fortitude, experience, may shine forth in their true lustre, you cannot entrust a person more faithful, more courageous, nor easily more skilful. Moreover, as to those things we have given him in charge to communicate to your majesty, we request that he may have quick access, and favourable audience, and that you will vouchsafe the same credit to him as to ourselves if personally present: lastly that you will give him that honour as you shall judge becoming a person dignified with his own merits and our recommendation. Now God Almighty prosper all your affairs with happy success to his own glory, and the safeguard of his orthodox church.
From our court at Whitehall, October, 1658.
Richard,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland,&c., To the most Serene and Potent Prince,Charles Gustavus,King of theSwedes, Goths,andVandals,&c.
Most Serene and Potent King, our dearest Friend and Confederate—Samuel Piggot of London, merchant, in a petition to us, sets forth, that he lately sent from London into France, upon the account of trade, two vessels, the one called the Post, Tiddie Jacob master, the other the Water-Dog, Garbrand Peters master. That from France, being laden with salt, they sailed for Amsterdam; at Amsterdam the one took in ballast only; the other laden with herrings, in copartnership with one Peter Heinbergh, sailed away for Stettin in Pomerania, which is under your jurisdiction, there to unlade her freight; but now he hears that both those vessels are detained somewhere in the Baltic sea by your forces; notwithstanding that he took care to send a writing with both those ships, sealed with the seal of the admiralty-court, by which it appeared that he alone was the lawful owner of both the vessels and goods, that part excepted which belonged to Heinbergh. Of all which, in regard he has made full proof before us, we make it our request to your majesty, (to prevent the ruin and utter shipwreck of the poor man’s estate, by the loss of two ships at one time,) that you would command your officers to take care for the speedy discharge of the said vessels. God long preserve your majesty to his own glory, and the safeguard of his orthodox church.
Richard,Protector of the Commonwealth of England, &c., To the high and mighty Lords, the States ofWestfriezland.
Most High and Mighty Lords, our dearest Friends and Confederates—Mary Grinder, widow, in a petition presented to us, has made a most grievous complaint, that whereas Thomas Killegrew, a commander in your service, has owed her for these eighteen years a considerable sum of money, she can by her agents neither bring him to pay the said money, nor to try his title at law to the same, if he has any. Which that he may not be compelled to do by the widow’s attorney, he has petitioned your highnesses, that nobody may be suffered to sue him for any money that he owes in England. But should we signify no more than only this to your highnesses, that she is a widow, that she is in great want, the mother of many small children, which her creditor endeavours to deprive of almost all that little support they have in this world, we cannot believe we need make use of any greater arguments to your lordships, so well acquainted with those divine precepts forbidding the oppression of the widow and the fatherless, to persuade ye not to grant any such privilege, upon a bare petition, to the fraudulent subverter of the widow’s right; and which for the same reason we assure ourselves you will never admit.
From our court at Westminster, January 27, 1659.
Richard,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland,&c., To the most Serene Prince,Lewis,King ofFrance.
Most Serene and Potent Prince, our most August Confederate and Friend—We have been given to understand, and that to our no small grief, that several protestant churches in Provence were so maliciously affronted and disturbed by a certain turbulent humourist, that the magistrates at Grenoble, who are the proper judges of such causes, thought him worthy of exemplary punishment; but that the convention of the clergy, which was held not far from those places, obtained of your majesty, that the whole matter should be removed up to Paris, there to be heard before your royal council. But they not having as yet made any determination in the business, those churches, and more especially that of Yvoire, are forbid to meet for the worship of God. Most earnestly therefore we request your majesty, that in the first place you would not prohibit those from preaching in public, whose prayers to God for your safety and the prosperity of your kingdom you are so free to suffer; then, that the sentence given against that impertinent disturber of divine service, by the proper judges of those causes at Grenoble, may be duly put in execution. God long preserve your majesty in safety and prosperity; to the end that, if you have any good opinion of our prayers, or think them prevalent with God, you may be speedily induced to suffer the same to be publicly put up to heaven by those churches, now forbid their wonted meetings.
Westminster, Feb. 18, 1659.
To the most Eminent Lord CardinalMazarine.
Most Eminent Lord Cardinal—The most illustrious lady, late wife of the deceased duke of Richmond, is now going into France, together with the young duke, her son, with an intention to reside there for some time. We therefore most earnestly request your eminency, that if any thing fall out, wherein your authority, favour, and patronage may be assisting to them, as strangers, you would vouchsafe to protect their dignity, and to indulge the recommendation of it not the meanest, in such a manner, that if any addition can be made to your civility towards all people, especially of illustrious descent, we may be sensible our letters have obtained it. Withal, your excellency may assure yourself, your recommendation, whenever you require the like from us, shall be of equal force and value in our esteem and care.
Westminster, Feb. 29, 1659.
Richard,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland,&c., To the most Serene Prince,John,King ofPortugal.
Most Serene and Potent Prince, our Friend and Confederate—Although there are many things which we are bound to impart by writing to a king our friend, and in strict confederacy with our republic, yet there is nothing which we ever did more willingly, than what we do at this present, by these our letters to congratulate this last victory, so glorious to the kingdom of Portugal, obtained against our common enemy the Spaniard. By which, how great an advantage will accrue not only to your own but to the peace and repose of all Europe, and that perhaps for many years, there is nobody but understands. But there is one thing more, wherein we must acknowledge your majesty’s justice, the most certain pledge of victory; that satisfaction has been given by the commissioners appointed at London, according to the 24th article of the league, to our merchants, whose vessels were hired by the Brazil company. Only there is one among them still remaining, Alexander Bence of London, merchant, whose ship called the Three Brothers, John Wilks master, being hired and laden, and having performed two voyages for the said company, yet still they refuse to pay him his wages according to their covenants; when the rest that only performed single voyages are already paid. Which why it should be done, we cannot understand, unless those people think, in their judgment, that person more worthy of his hire, who did them only single service, than he who earned his wages twice. We therefore earnestly request your majesty, that satisfaction may be given, for his service truly performed, to this same single Alexander, to whom a double stipend is due; and that, by virtue of your royal authority, you would prefix the Brazil company as short a day as may be, for the payment of his just due, and repairing his losses; seeing that their delays have been the occasion, that the loss sustained by the merchant has very near exceeded the money itself which is owing for his wages. So God continue your majesty’s prosperous successes against the common enemy.
From our court at Westminster, Feb. 23, 1659.
Richard,Protector of the Commonwealth ofEngland,&c., To the most Eminent Lord CardinalMazarine.
Most Eminent Lord—By letters to your eminency, about eight months since, dated June 13, we recommended to your eminency the cause of Peter Pet, a person of singular probity, and in all naval sciences most useful both to us and our republic. His ship called the Edward, in the year 1646, as we formerly wrote, was taken in the mouth of the Thames by one Bascon, and sold in the port of Boulogne; and though the king in his royal council the 4th of November, 1647, decreed, that what money the council should think fitting to be given in recompense of the loss, should be forthwith paid in satisfaction to the owner; nevertheless, as he sets forth, he could never reap the benefit of that order. Now in regard we make no question but that your eminency, at our desire, gave strict command for the speedy execution of that decree; we make it therefore our renewed request, that you would vouchsafe to examine where the impediment lies, or through whose neglect or contumacy it came to pass, that in ten years time the king’s decree was not obeyed; and employ your authority so effectually, that the money then decreed, which we thought long since satisfied, may be speedily demanded and paid to our petitioner. Thus your eminency will perform an act most grateful to justice, and lay moreover a singular obligation upon ourselves.
From our court at Westminster, Feb. 25, 1659.
The two following Letters, after the Deposal of Richard, were written in the Name of the Parliament Restored.
The Parliament of the Commonwealth ofEngland,&c., To the most Serene and Potent Prince,Charles Gustavus,King of theSwedes, Goths,andVandals,&c.
Most Serene and Potent King, our dearest Friend—Since it has pleased the most merciful and omnipotent God, at whose disposal only the revolutions of all kingdoms and republics are, to restore us to our pristine authority, and the supreme administration of the English affairs; we thought it convenient in the first place to make it known to your majesty; and to signify moreover as well our extraordinary affection to your majesty, so potent a protestant prince, as also our most fervent zeal to promote the peace between your majesty and the king of Denmark, another most powerful protestant king, not to be reconciled without our assistance, and the good offices of our affection. Our pleasure therefore is, that our extraordinary envoy, Philip Meadows, be continued in the same employment with your majesty, with which he has been hitherto intrusted from this republic. To which end we empower him by these our letters to make proposals, act, and negotiate with your majesty, in the same manner as was granted him by his last recommendations: and whatsoever he shall transact and conclude in our name, we faithfully promise and engage, by God’s assistance, to confirm and ratify. The same God long support your majesty, the pillar and support of the protestant interests.
Speaker of the Parliament of the Commonwealth of England.
Westminster, May 15, 1659.
The Parliament of the Commonwealth ofEngland,&c., To the most Serene Prince,Frederick,King ofDenmark.
Most Serene King, and most dear Friend—Seeing it now is come to pass, that by the will and pleasure of the most merciful and powerful God, the supreme moderator of all things, we are restored to our pristine place and dignity, in the administration of the public affairs, we thought it convenient in the first place, that a revolution of this government should not be concealed from your majesty’s notice, a prince both our neighbour and confederate; and withal to signify how much we lay to heart your ill success: which you will easily perceive by our zeal and diligence, that never shall be wanting in us to promote and accomplish a reconciliation between your majesty and the king of Sweden. And therefore we have commanded our extraordinary envoy with the most serene king of Sweden, Philip Meadows, to attend your majesty, in our name, in order to these matters, and to impart, propound, act, and negotiate such things as we have given him in charge to communicate to your majesty: and what credit you shall give to him in this his employment, we request your majesty to believe it given to ourselves. God Almighty grant your majesty a happy and joyful deliverance out of all your difficulties and afflicting troubles, under which you stand so undauntedly supported by your fortitude and magnanimity.
Speaker of the Parliament of the Commonwealth of England.
Westminster, May 15, 1659.
A MANIFESTO OF THE LORD PROTECTOR OF THE COMMONWEALTH OF ENGLAND, SCOTLAND, IRELAND, &c.
PUBLISHED BY CONSENT AND ADVICE OF HIS COUNCIL.
WHEREIN IS SHOWN THE REASONABLENESS OF THE CAUSE OF THIS REPUBLIC AGAINST THE DEPREDATIONS OF THE SPANIARDS.
[written in latin by john milton, and first printed in 1655: translated into english in 1738.]
That the motives whereby we have been lately induced to make an attack upon certain islands in the West Indies, which have been now for some time in the hands of the Spaniards, are exceeding just and reasonable, every one will easily see, who considers in what a hostile manner that king and his subjects have all along, in those parts of America, treated the English nation; which behaviour of theirs as it was very unjust at the beginning, so ever since with the same injustice they have persevered in it, in a direct contrariety to the common law of nations, and to particular articles of alliance made betwixt the two kingdoms.
It must indeed be acknowledged, the English for some years past have either patiently borne with these injuries, or only defended themselves; which may possibly give occasion to some to look upon that late expedition of our fleet to the West Indies, as a war voluntarily begun by us, instead of considering that this war was first begun and raised by the Spaniards themselves, as in reality it will be found to be, and (though this republic have done all that lay in their power to establish peace and commerce in those parts) hitherto kept up and carried on by them with the greatest eagerness.
That the Spaniards themselves are the occasion of this war, will evidently appear to every one who considers how, as oft as they find opportunity, without any just cause, and without being provoked to it by any injury received, they are continually murdering, and sometimes even in cold blood butchering, any of our countrymen in America they think fit; while in the mean time they seize upon their goods and fortunes, demolish their houses and plantations, take any of their ships they happen to meet with in those seas, and treat the sailors as enemies, nay, even as pirates. For they give that opprobious name to all, except those of their own nation, who venture to sail in those seas. Nor do they pretend any other or better right for so doing, than a certain ridiculous gift of the pope on which they rely, and because they were the first discoverers of some parts of that western region: by virtue of which name and title, which they arrogate to themselves, they maintain that the whole power and government of that western world is lodged only in their hands. Of which very absurd title we shall have occasion to speak more fully, when we come to consider the causes assigned by the Spaniards for their thinking themselves at liberty to exercise all sorts of hostilities against our countrymen in America, to such a degree, that whoever are driven upon those coasts by stress of weather or shipwreck, or any other accident, are not only clapt in chains by them as prisoners, but are even made slaves; while they, notwithstanding all this, are so unreasonable as to think, that the peace is broken, and very much violated by the English; and that even in Europe, if they attempt any thing against them in those parts, with a view to make reprisals, and to demand restitution of their goods.
But though the king of Spain’s embassadors in our country, depending on a Spanish faction which had always a very considerable influence in the last king’s council, as well as his father’s, did not scruple to make a great many unreasonable complaints and ridiculous demands upon the most trivial accounts, whenever the English did any thing of this kind; yet those princes, though too much attached to the Spaniards, would by no means have the hands of their subjects bound up, when the Spaniards thought they should have the free use of theirs. On the contrary, they allowed their subjects to repel force by force, and to consider such of the Spaniards, as could not be brought at any rate to keep the peace in those parts, as enemies. So that about the year 1640, when this affair was debated in the last king’s council, and when the Spanish embassador desired that some ships bound for America, lying in the mouth of the river, and just ready to weigh anchor, should be stopt, as being capable of doing mischief to the Spaniards in that part of the world; and when at the same time he refused the English, who asked it of him by some members of the council appointed for that purpose, the privilege of trading to the West Indies, it was nevertheless resolved upon, that these ships should pursue their intended voyage, which accordingly they did.
Thus far the aforesaid princes were not wanting to their subjects, when they made war in those places privately for their own interest, though, by reason of the power of the above-mentioned Spanish faction, they would not espouse their cause publicly, in the way they ought to have done, and in a manner suitable to the ancient glory of the English nation. And certainly, it would have been the most unbecoming and disgraceful thing in the world for us, who by the kind providence of God had in our possession so many ships equipped and furnished with every thing requisite to a war by sea, to have suffered these ships rather to have grown worm-eaten and rot at home for want of use, than to have been employed in avenging the blood of the English, as well as that of the poor Indians, which in those places has been so unjustly, so cruelly, and so often shed by the hands of the Spaniards: since God has made of one blood all nations of men for to dwell on all the face of the earth, having determined the times before appointed, and the bounds of their habitation. And surely God will one time or other take vengeance on the Spaniards, who have shed so much innocent blood, who have made such terrible havoc among the poor Indians, slain so many thousands of them with the utmost barbarity, done them so many injuries, and harassed and persecuted them in such a miserable manner, whatever time that may happen, and by whose hand soever it may be executed.
But in order to justify our conduct, there is no need of having recourse to the common relation that men have to one another, which is no other than that of brethren, whereby all great and extraordinary wrongs done to particular persons ought to be considered as in a manner done to all the rest of the human race; since their having so often robbed and murdered our own countrymen was cause sufficient of itself, for our having undertaken that late expedition, and has given us abundant reason to avenge ourselves on that people; to pass by at present a great many other reasons, and to take into consideration our own safety for the future, and likewise that of our allies, especially those among them who are of the orthodox religion; and to omit several other causes, whereby we were prompted to this expedition, of which we have no need at present to give a particular enumeration, since our principal design at this time is to declare and show to the world the justice and equity of the thing itself, and not to reckon up all the particular causes of it. And that we may do this with the greater perspicuity, and explain generals by particulars, we must cast our eyes back a little upon things that are past, and strictly examine all the transactions betwixt the English and Spaniards, consider what has been the state of affairs on both sides, so far as may respect the mutual relation of the two kingdoms, both since the first discovery of America, and since the reformation: which two great events, as they happened much about the same time, so they produced every where vast changes and revolutions, especially among the English and Spaniards, who since that time have conducted and managed their affairs in a very different, if not quite contrary, way to what they did formerly. For though the last king and his father, against the will of almost all their subjects, patched up any way two leagues with the Spaniards; yet the different turns of the two nations, proceeding from the difference of their religious principles, and the perpetual dissensions that were in the West Indies, together with the jealousies and suspicions which the Spaniards had all along of the English, (being always mightily afraid of losing their treasures in America,) have not only frustrated all the late attempts made by this commonwealth to obtain a peace upon reasonable and honourable terms, but were likewise the principal reasons why Philip II., in Queen Elizabeth’s reign, broke that ancient league, that had subsisted so long, without any violation, betwixt this nation and his ancestors of the house of Burgundy and Castile; and having made war upon that queen, proposed to subdue this whole nation: which very thing in the year 1588 he attempted with all his might, while in the mean time he was treating about the establishment of a peace; which certainly cannot but be still deeply rooted in the minds of the English, and will not easily be extirpated. And though after that there was some kind of peace and commerce in Europe, (and it was of such sort that no Englishman durst profess his own religion within any part of the Spanish dominions, or have the Holy Bible in his house, or even aboard a ship,) yet in the West Indies the Spaniard from that time has never allowed them either to enjoy peace, or to have the privilege of trading; contrary to what was expressly stipulated concerning both these things in that league of the year 1542, concluded between Henry VIII. king of England, and the emperor Charles V., in which peace and free commerce were expressly established between these two princes and their people, through every part of their respective dominions, through all their ports and territories, without any exception of the West Indies, which was then subject to that emperor.
But as to that article, of a peace to be maintained on the part of both nations through all the countries of the world; this is indeed plainly contained in all the treaties of peace that were ever betwixt them, nor is there any exception relating to commerce in any of these treaties, till that which was made in the year 1604, with which that in the year 1630 does perfectly agree. In which two last treaties it was resolved upon, that both nations should have a privilege of trading in every part of one another’s dominions, in all those places, where, before the war between Philip II. king of Spain, and Elizabeth queen of England, there was any commerce, according to what was usual and customary in ancient alliances and treaties made before that time. These are the very individual words of those treaties, which do plainly leave the matter dubious and uncertain, and so King James was satisfied to make peace with Spain any how, since he only renewed the very same treaty which had been concluded a little before the death of Queen Elizabeth, who charged her deputies when it was in agitation, among other things, to insist warmly on having a privilege of trading to the West Indies.
But King James, who was mightily desirous of making peace with the Spaniards, was content to leave that clause so expressed, as both parties might explain it their own way, and as they judged would be most for their own advantage; though these words, “According to what is usual and customary in ancient alliances and treaties,” are so to be understood as it is reasonable they should, according to what in justice ought to be done, and not according to what has been done on the part of the Spaniards, to their manifest violation, (which has afforded perpetual matter of complaint to the English, and has been an occasion of continual quarrels betwixt the two nations,) it is most evident from the express words of ancient treaties, that the English had a privilege both of peace and commerce, through all the Spanish dominions.
Moreover, if the way of observing ancient treaties and agreements is to be taken from their manifest violation, the Spaniards have some pretence for explaining that clause, in the last treaties, as debarring the English from all manner of commerce in these parts. And for all that, during one half the time that intervened betwixt the foresaid treaty in the year 1542, and the beginning of the war betwixt Philip II, and Elizabeth, so far as we can judge from the manner in which things were carried on, it would appear that trading in these places was as much allowed as prohibited. But when the Spaniards would permit no commerce at all, they and the English came from the exchange of goods to that of blows and wounds; and this not only before the war broke out betwixt Philip and Elizabeth, but likewise after a peace was made in the year 1604 by King James, and another by his son in 1630, and yet so as not to stop the course of trade through Europe. However, the king of Spain, after this late interruption of our trade, has now judged that the contests in America may be extended to Europe itself.
But we neither insist on the interpretation of treaties, nor the right of commerce by virtue of these treaties, or on any other account, as if this contest of ours with Spain were necessarily to be founded on these. This is built on the clearest and most evident reasons in the world, as will presently appear. Nevertheless, there are some things of such a nature, that though it be not so necessary to found a war upon them, yet they may very justly be obstacles to the establishing of a peace, or at least to the renewing of an alliance, in which these things are not granted, which have either been granted in former pactions, or may reasonably be requested. And this may serve as an answer to that question; Why, since we have renewed the ancient treaties we had formerly made with all other nations, we have not done the same with Spain? And may serve to convince the world, that in the articles of alliance we have not, as is objected, demanded his right eye, far less both eyes, by our refusing to be liable to the cruel and bloody inquisition in those places where we have been allowed to traffic, but have only insisted upon having such a privilege of carrying on trade, as we were not to be deprived of, either by ancient treaties, or the law of nature. For though the king of Spain has assumed to himself a power of prescribing us the laws and bounds of commerce, by authority of a law made by the pope, whereby he discharges all traffic with Turks, Jews, and other infidels:* and though under this pretence, even in time of peace, his ships of war, in other places besides the West Indies, have taken and plundered our ships; and though by the same authority of the pope, and under pretence of a certain gift he has from him, he claims the Indians for his subjects, as if forsooth they also were subject unto him, who are neither under his authority nor protection: yet we maintain, that neither the pope nor the king of Spain is invested with any such power, as either to rob them of their liberty, or us of the privilege of conversing and trading with them, which we have by the law of nature and nations, but especially with those who, as we formerly observed, are not under the power and government of the king of Spain.
Another obstacle to our renewing an alliance with Spain is sufficiently manifest, and at the same time very remarkable; which is this, that any of our embassadors and public ministers who are sent into that kingdom, either for the sake of cultivating a good understanding, or about any other business, betwixt the two commonwealths, are altogether uncertain of their lives, the king being tied down to such opinions, as hinder him from providing for their safety against murderers, so as they may not be always in the most imminent danger; whose privileges, in order to keep up and preserve friendship between princes and commonwealths, have by the law of nations been always considered as inviolable, and as a thing much more sacred than those altars of refuge, whose privileges, built on the authority of the pope and the church of Rome, have been hitherto applied to elude the force of laws and justice, which we demanded should be put in execution against the murderers of Mr. Anthony Ascham, who was sent by this republic into Spain, to procure and establish friendship betwixt the two nations. For which barbarous murder there has never yet been any satisfaction made, nor punishment inflicted on the authors of it, nor could this ever be obtained, though it was demanded by the parliament;† and in their name several times urged with the greatest warmth by the council of state. And this has been hitherto one continued obstacle, and a very just one too, to the renewing of an alliance betwixt the two nations; nay, if we consider how other nations have frequently acted in like cases, it may be considered as a very just cause for a war.
But as to the disputes that have arisen in the West Indies, though we, both in the continent itself, and in the islands, have plantations as well as they, and have as good, nay, a better right to possess them, than the Spaniards have to possess theirs, and though we have a right to trade in those seas, equally good with theirs; yet without any reason, or any damage sustained, and that when there was not the least dispute about commerce, they have been continually invading our colonies in a hostile way, killing our men, taking our ships, robbing us of our goods, laying waste our houses and fields, imprisoning and enslaving our people: this they have been doing all along till these present times, wherein they have of late engaged in an expedition against them.
For which reason, contrary to what used to be done formerly in the like case, they have detained our ships and merchants, and confiscated their goods almost every where through the Spanish dominions: so that whether we turn our eyes to America or Europe, they alone are undoubtedly to be considered as the authors of the war, and the cause of all the inconveniences and all the bloodshed with which it may possibly be attended.
There are a great many instances of the most cruel and barbarous treatment, the English have perpetually met with from the Spaniards in the West Indies; and that even in time of peace, both since the year 1604, when the peace was patched up by King James, till the time that the war broke out again, and since that last peace, which was concluded in the year 1630, to this very day. We shall only mention a few of them.*
After a peace was concluded in the year 1605, a ship called the Mary, Ambrose Birch commander, was trading on the north coast of Hispaniola: the master being allured with promises of a safe and free commerce, by one father John and six of his accomplices, to go ashore to see some goods, twelve Spaniards in the mean time while going aboard to see the English goods, while the English suspecting no frauds were showing them their wares, the priest giving a signal from the shore, the Spaniards every man drew his dagger, and stabbed all the English that were in the ship, except two who leaped into the sea, and the rest ashore were put to death with an unparalleled cruelty; the master himself stript of his clothes, and fastened to a tree, was exposed naked to be bit by the flies and vermin. And after he had continued in this miserable case for the space of twenty hours, a negro hearing his groans came to the place, and as he was just on the point of expiring, stabbed him with a spear. This ship with her goods was valued at £5400.
Another ship called the Archer was taken at St. Domingo, and all the sailors put to death. She was reckoned worth £1300.
Another ship, called the Friendship of London, with her loading, was taken by Lodowic Fajard, admiral of the Spanish fleet, all her goods confiscated, and the merchants and mariners thrown into the sea, except one boy who was reserved for a slave. This ship with her loading was estimated at £1500.
The sailors going ashore out of another ship, called the Scorn, (the Spaniards having solemnly sworn they would do them no prejudice,) were all nevertheless bound to trees, and strangled. The ship with all her goods was seized, and the merchants, to whom she belonged, lost at this time £1500.
In the year 1606, a ship called the Neptune, was taken at Tortuga, by the Spanish guarda costas, valued at £4300.*
The same year, another ship, called the Lark, was taken by Lodowic Fajard, and confiscated with all her loading, valued at £4570.
Another, called the Castor and Pollux, was taken by the Spaniards at Florida, by whom she was confiscated, and all her sailors either killed or made slaves; for they were never heard of afterwards. This vessel with her loading was valued at £15000.†
In the year 1608, a Plymouth ship called the Richard, commanded by Henry Challins, fitted out at the expense of Lord Popham, lord chief justice of England, Ferdinand Gorges knight, and others, to go to Virginia, happening to be driven by stress of weather upon the southern part of the Canary islands, in her way from thence to the coast of Virginia, she chanced to fall in with eleven Spanish ships returning from St. Domingo, who seized her; and though the captain, to rescue himself out of their hands, produced a royal passport, yet the ship with all her goods was confiscated, the captain himself barbarously used by them and sent to the galleys. This was a damage of more than £2500.
A ship, called the Aid, was served much the same way by Lodowic Fajard, having been taken under pretence of friendship; she too with her goods was confiscated, and all the sailors sent to the galleys, where some were cudgelled to death for refusing to ply the oars. Which vessel with her goods, by the Spaniards’ own estimation, was worth £7000.
The same year another ship, called the Gallant Anne, William Curry commander, as she was trading at Hispaniola, was likewise confiscated with all her goods, and all the sailors hanged; each of them, by way of ridicule, having a piece of paper sewed to his coat, which had these words written upon it, “Why came ye hither?” This ship with her burden was valued at £8000. These instances do sufficiently show what kind of peace the Spaniards maintained with us during the reign of King James, who was always very much afraid of breaking the peace with them. And we may also plainly discover the same acts of hostility and barbarous treatment ever since the last peace, which was made in the year 1630, to this very day. For this end we will first speak a little of those colonies, that were planted by some noblemen of this nation, in the isle of Catelina, which they call the isle of Providence, and the island of Tortuga, by them called the island of Association. These islands about the year 1629, being then quite uninhabited, having neither men nor cattle in them, were seized by the English, who at that time were at war with the Spaniards. The year following, when peace was established betwixt the two nations, the Spaniards having made no exception about these islands, King Charles, in a charter under the great seal of England, declared himself master of the isle of Providence and some other islands adjacent to it, which he thought no way inconsistent with his peace, and gave them in possession to some noblemen and their heirs, and next year he extended this grant to the isle of Tortuga.
And though the above-mentioned planters had got possession of these islands by the king’s grant, and though this grant was exceeding well founded, first on the law of nature, since neither the Spaniards, nor any other people whatever, were in possession of these places when they seized them; and secondly, on the right of war, since they were taken possession of in time of war, and were not excepted in the articles of peace, whence it follows from the second article of the last treaty, that the title of the Spaniards to these islands (even supposing they had had one) was made null by their own consent: and though likewise, neither the aforesaid company of planters in general, nor any one of them in particular by any action of theirs, had given any just cause of offence, either to the king of Spain or to any of his subjects, till they had first in a violent manner attacked our ships and colonies, and had slain several of the English, and set fire to their houses: yet the Spaniards, being firmly resolved to break the peace in these places, about the twenty-second of January 1632, without any the least provocation, betwixt the isle of Tortuga and the cape of Florida, in a hostile manner fell upon a certain ship belonging to the company, called the Sea-Flower, on her return from the isle of Providence, in which engagement they slew some of the men aboard that ship, and wounded others.
After this, about the year 1634, the isle of Tortuga was attacked by four ships belonging to the Spaniards, without any injury done on the part of the English, in which attack upwards of sixty were slain, many wounded and taken prisoners, their houses burnt down and quite demolished, their most valuable goods carried off by the Spaniards, and the English almost wholly driven out of that island; of whom some were hanged, others carried to the Havanna, and detained in the most abject slavery. One Grymes, who had been a gunner in Tortuga, was distinguished from the rest, by a death remarkably cruel. Some of them flying for refuge to a certain desert island called Santa Cruz, were again set upon by the Spaniards, who even pursued them thither with three galleys in the month of March 1636, of whom forty were killed, and the rest taken prisoners, and used with the utmost barbarity.
In the year 1635, July 24th, the Spaniards, with two great ships and one galley, made likewise an attack upon the isle of Providence, and they fought for several hours, but at that time they were repulsed and forced to give over their enterprise. However, they attempted the same thing a second time, about the year 1640, with twelve ships, some large, and some of a lesser size, whereof the admiral’s ship was called the Armadillo of Carthagena, one of the greater galleys of the royal plate-fleet, and having sent a great number of soldiers ashore, they were confident of making themselves masters of the whole island; but yet were repulsed with a great deal of damage, and forced to retreat. Nevertheless, having equipped another fleet, they returned a little after, when the planters, at variance among themselves, did not so much employ their thoughts about what method they should take to defend themselves, as about the terms upon which they might most advantageously surrender; which terms, upon their giving up the island, they found no difficulty to obtain. But the island was by this means wrested out of the hands both of the planters and the commonwealth, of whom the former sustained the loss of more than £80,000, and the latter, besides the loss of the island, hereby received a very open and public affront. After the Spaniards had thus made themselves masters of the isle of Providence, a ship bringing some passengers hither, who wanted to transport themselves to this place from New-England, the Spaniards by stratagem having found means to get her brought within gun-shot, (the people in the ship knowing nothing of their late conquest of that island,) she was in great danger of being taken, and with very much difficulty rescued herself; the master of the ship, a very honest and worthy man, was killed by a bullet-shot from the island.
Nor were the Spaniards content to confine the acts of hostility, which they have exercised upon the people of that colony, within the boundaries of America, but have also treated them in the same hostile manner in Europe. For in the year 1638, December 25th, a ship belonging to that same company, called the Providence, Thomas Newman commander, two leagues from Dungeness on the very coast of England, was assaulted and taken by Sprengfeld, captain of a privateer belonging to Dunkirk, to which place this ship was brought, and her cargo detained, which even by the computation of many persons in that place, was reckoned to amount to the sum of £30,000. As for the sailors, some were slain, some wounded, and the rest, after having been treated with the greatest inhumanity in their own ship, were hurried away to Dunkirk, where they met with much the same usage, till they found some way to make their escape; and though the owners demanded satisfaction in the most earnest manner, and the last king by his resident Mr. Balthaser Gerber, and both by letters written with his own hand, and the hand of secretary Coke, asked reparation on their behalf; yet they could neither procure the restitution of their goods, nor the least compensation for these losses.
But there are other examples of the Spanish cruelty, which are of a later date, and still more shocking; such as that of their coming from Porto-Rico and attacking Santa Cruz about the year 1651, an island that was not formerly inhabited, but at that time possessed by an English colony governed by Nicol. Philips, who with about an hundred more of the colony was barbarously murdered by the hands of the Spaniards, who besides this attacked the ships in the harbour, plundered their houses and razed them from the very foundation; and when they could find no more to sacrifice to their fury, (the rest of the inhabitants having fled to the woods,) returning to Porto-Rico, they gave the miserable remnant, who were well nigh famished, time to remove from Santa Cruz, and to betake themselves to some other neighbouring islands. But a little time thereafter, they returned in quest and pursuit of those who skulked in the woods; but they had the good fortune to find a way of making their escape, and stealing away privately to other islands.
In the same year 1631, a ship belonging to John Turner being driven into the harbour of Cumanagola by tempestuous winds, was seized by the governor of that place, and confiscated with all her lading.
The same was done to captain Cranley’s ship and her goods.*
And in the year 1650, a certain vessel pertaining to Samuel Wilson, loaden with horses, was taken on the high seas in her way to Barbadoes, and carried to the Havanna. Both the ship and her goods were confiscated, most of the sailors imprisoned, and like slaves obliged to work at the fortifications.
The same hardships were endured by the sailors aboard a certain ship of Barnstable about two years since, which in her return from some of our plantations in the Carribee islands, springing a leak hard by Hispaniola, the sailors to save themselves, being obliged to get into the long boat, got ashore, where they were all made slaves, and obliged to work at the fortications.
By these, and many more examples of the same kind too long to be reckoned up, it is abundantly evident, the king of Spain and his subjects think they are no way bound by any condition of peace to be performed to us on their part in these places, since they have habitually exercised all sorts of hostilities against us, nay have even done such things as are more insufferable, and more grievous, than open acts of hostility; and since that cruelty, with which they usually treat the English in America, is so contrary to the articles of peace, that it does not so much as seem suitable to the laws of the most bloody war: however, in that embargo of the king of Spain, by which he orders our merchant ships and their goods to be seized and confiscated, the whole blame is laid upon the English, whom he brands with the odious names of treaty-breakers and violators of the most sacred peace, and likewise of free commerce, which he pretends to have so religiously maintained on his part, and gives out that we have violated the laws of peace and commerce with such strange and professed hostility, that we attempted to besiege the town of St. Domingo in the isle of Hispaniola. Which is the only cause he offers, why the goods of the English are confiscated in Spain, and the trading people confined; though this is likewise aggravated by his boasted humanity; for he maintains that he in the most friendly way received our fleets into his harbours,† where it could be of any advantage for them to enter, and that his ministers did not at all require of us a strict observance of the articles of peace, that were agreed to by the two crowns, which forbid both parties to enter a harbour with more than six or eight ships of war.
But as he, by talking in this strain, acquits our fleets of all trespasses and violations of treaty in these harbours, since if any such thing as is objected has been done and passed over, it has been done by the allowance of himself and his ministers; and as it is exceeding manifest, that he has not been so favourable for nought, if he will but reflect with himself what vast profits he has received from our fleets, so on the other hand, that the king and his ministers have not at all in fact observed the agreements he speaks of, in the twenty-third article of which, the following provision is made in the most express terms; “That if any differences should happen to arise betwixt the two commonwealths, the subjects on both sides should be advertised, that they should have six months from the time of the advertisement to transport their effects, during which time there should be no arrest, interrupting, or damaging, of any man’s person or goods.” In which affair, the king truly has shown but very little regard to those contracts, which he charges us with having broken, as appears from that late confiscation of our goods. But what he declares in that edict concerning the acts of hostility committed in the West Indies, their being to be considered as a violation of peace and free commerce in these parts, is a new and quite different explanation from what has ever been propounded hitherto by either of the two republics, though both parties have frequently had occasions to declare their judgment about this matter.
But seeing the king of Spain has declared both by word and deed, that the articles of peace ought to be thus understood, it follows, that by so many acts of hostility committed against the English in these parts, and which first began on his side, and have been continued from the very time of the last concluded treaty, as was formerly observed, to this very day; hence I say it follows, that he seems to be convinced, that the sacred bonds of friendship have been first broken on his side. Which thing is so clear and manifest, that our adversaries themselves in this controversy are ashamed to deny the fact, and choose rather to dispute with us concerning the right of possession; which must be in the following manner: as the king of Spain, among his other titles, has assumed that of king of the Indies, so they affirm, that the whole Indies and Indian sea, both south and north, belong to him, and that they are all enemies and pirates, who approach these places without his commission. Which if it were true, both we and all other nations ought to leave and restore to him all our possessions there, and having brought back whatever colonies we have sent thither, should beg his pardon for the injury we have done him; but if we consider a little more narrowly the truth and reasonableness of this title, we shall find that it is built upon a very slender and weak foundation, to have such a vast pile of war and contentions erected upon it, as the present is likely to be. They pretend to have a double title, one founded upon the pope’s gift, and another upon their having first discovered those places. As to the first, we know the pope has been always very liberal in his gifts of kingdoms and countries, but in the mean time we cannot but think, that in so doing, he acts in a very different manner from him, whose vicar he professes himself, who would not so much as allow himself to be appointed a judge in the dividing of inheritances, far less give any one whole kingdoms at his pleasure, like the pope, who has thought fit to make a present of England, Ireland, and some other kingdoms.
But we deny his being invested with any such authority, nor do we think there is any nation so void of understanding, as to think that so great power is lodged in him, or that the Spaniards would believe this or acquiesce in it, if he should require them to yield up as much as he has bestowed. But if the French and others, who acknowledge the pope’s authority in ecclesiastical matters, have no regard to this title of the Spaniards, it cannot be expected we should think of it any other wise. And so we leave this point, as not deserving a fuller answer.
Nor is the other title of any greater weight, as if the Spaniards in consequence of their having first discovered some few parts of America, and given names to some islands, rivers, and promontories, had for this reason lawfully acquired the government and dominion of that new world. But such an imaginary title founded on such a silly pretence, without being in possession, cannot possibly create any true and lawful right. The best right of possession in America is that which is founded on one’s having planted colonies there, and settled in such places as had either no inhabitants, or by the consent of the inhabitants, if there were any; or at least, in some of the wild and uncultivated places of their country, which they were not numerous enough to replenish and improve; since God has created this earth for the use of men, and ordered them to replenish it throughout.
If this be true, as the Spaniards will be found to hold their possessions there very unjustly, having purchased all of them against the will of the inhabitants, and as it were plucked them out of their very bowels, having laid the foundations of their empire in that place, in the blood of the poor natives, and rendered several large islands and countries, that were in a tolerable case when they found them, so many barren desarts, and rooted out all the inhabitants there; so the English hold their possessions there by the best right imaginable, especially those islands where the Spaniards have fallen upon their colonies, and quite demolished them; which islands had no other inhabitants at all, or if they had, they were all slain by the Spaniards who had likewise deserted these places, and left them without any to improve or cultivate them: so that by the law of nature and nations they belong to any who think fit to take possession of them, according to that common and well-known maxim in law, “Such things as belong to none, and such as are abandoned by their former possessors, become his property who first seizes them.” Although, granting that we had beat the Spaniards out of those places where we have planted our colonies, out of which they had at first expelled the inhabitants, we should have possessed them with better right, as the avengers of the murder of that people, and of the injuries sustained by them, than the Spaniards their oppressors and murderers. But since we have settled our colonies in such places as were neither possessed by the natives nor the Spaniards, they having left behind them neither houses nor cattle, nor any thing that could by any means keep up the right of possession, the justness of our title to these places was so much the more evident, and the injuries done us by the Spaniards so much the more manifest, especially our right to those places that were seized while the two nations were at war with each other, such as the isles of Providence and Tortuga, which if the Spaniards could have shown to be theirs by any former title which they have not yet produced, yet since they have not done it in the last treaty of peace, by the second article of this treaty, they have for the future cut themselves off from all such pretence, and if they had any right, have now lost it. It is unnecessary to talk any further upon this argument.
There is no intelligent person but will easily see how empty and weak those reasons are, that the Spaniard has for claiming to himself alone an empire of such a vast and prodigious extent. But we have said this much, in order to show the weakness of those pretences, whereby the Spaniards endeavour to justify themselves for having treated us with so much cruelty and barbarity in the West Indies, for having enslaved, hanged, drowned, tortured, and put to death our countrymen, robbed them of their ships and goods, and demolished our colonies, even in the time of profound peace, and that without any injury received on their part: which cruel usage and havoc, made among our people, and such as were of the same orthodox faith with them, as oft as the English call to remembrance, they cannot miss to think that their former glory is quite gone, and their ships of war become entirely useless, if they suffer themselves to be any longer treated in such a disgraceful manner: and moreover, to be not only excluded from all free commerce in so great and opulent a part of the world, but likewise to be looked upon as pirates and robbers, and punished in the same manner as they, if they presume to sail those seas, or so much as look that way: or, in fine, have any intercourse or dealing even with their own colonies that are settled there.
Concerning the bloody Spanish inquisition we shall say nothing, this being a controversy common to all protestants, nor shall we speak of the many seminaries of English priests and Jesuits nestling under the protection of the Spaniards, which is a perpetual cause of stumbling, and very great danger to the commonwealth; since what we principally propose is, to show the grounds and reasons of the controversies in the West Indies, and we are confident we have made it plain to all, who weigh things fairly and impartially, that necessity, honour, and justice, have prompted us to undertake this late expedition. First, we have been prompted to it by necessity; it being absolutely necessary to go to war with the Spaniards, since they will not allow us to be at peace with them: and then honour, and justice, seeing we cannot pretend to either of these, if we sit still and suffer such unsufferable injuries to be done our countrymen, as those we have shown to have been done them in the West Indies.
And truly they see but a very little way, who form their notion of the designs and intentions of the Spaniards, according to that friendly aspect, with which the present declension of their affairs has obliged them to look upon us in these parts of the world, (that face which they have put on being only a false one,) for it is certain they have the same mind, and the very same desires, which they had in the year 1588, when they endeavoured to subdue this whole island; nay, it is certain their hatred is more inflamed, and their jealousies and suspicions more increased by this change of the state of our affairs, and of the form of our republic. But if we omit this opportunity, which by reason of some things that have lately happened, may perhaps give us an occasion to fall upon some way, whereby through the assistance of God we may provide for our safety, against this old and implacable enemy of our religion and country; it may happen, he will recover such a degree of strength, as will render him as formidable and hard to be endured as before. One thing is certain, he always will and cannot but have the greatest indignation against us. Meanwhile, if we suffer such grievous injuries to be done our countrymen in the West Indies, without any satisfaction or revenge; if we suffer ourselves to be wholly excluded from that so considerable a part of the world; if we suffer our malicious and inveterate enemy (especially now, after he has made peace with the Dutch) to carry off without molestation, from the West Indies, those prodigious treasures, whereby he may repair his present damages, and again bring his affairs to such a prosperous and happy condition, as to deliberate with himself a second time, what he was thinking upon in the year 1588; namely, whether it would be more adviseable to begin with subduing England, in order to recover the United Provinces, or with them, in order to reduce England under his subjection: without doubt he will not find fewer, but more, causes why he should begin with England. And if God should at any time permit those intentions of his to have their desired effect, we have good ground to expect, that the residue of that cruel havoc, he made among our brethren at the foot of the Alps, will be first exercised upon us, and after that upon all protestants; which, if we may give credit to the complaints that were made by those poor orthodox Christians, was first designed and contrived in the court of Spain, by those friars whom they call missionaries.
All these things being considered, we hope the time will come, when all, but especially true Englishmen, will rather lay aside their private animosities among themselves, and renounce their own proper advantages, than through an excessive desire of that small profit to be made by trading to Spain, (which cannot be obtained but upon such conditions as are dishonourable and in some sort unlawful, and which may likewise be got some other way,) expose, as they now do, to the utmost danger, the souls of many young traders, by those terms upon which they now live and trade there, and suffer the lives and fortunes of many Christian brethren in America, and in fine, the honour of this whole nation, to be exposed, and, what of all is the most momentous and important, let slip out of their hands the most notable opportunities of promoting the glory of God, and enlarging the bounds of Christ’s kingdom: which, we do not doubt, will appear to be the chief end of our late expedition into the West Indies against the Spaniards, to all who are free of those prejudices which hinder people from clearly discerning the truth.
THE SECOND DEFENCE OF THE PEOPLE OF ENGLAND, AGAINST AN ANONYMOUS LIBEL
ENTITLED “THE ROYAL BLOOD CRYING TO HEAVEN FOR VENGEANCE ON THE ENGLISH PARRICIDES.”
translated from the latin,
BY ROBERT FELLOWES, A. M. OXON.
A grateful recollection of the divine goodness, is the first of human obligations; and extraordinary favours demand more solemn and devout acknowledgments; with such acknowledgments I feel it my duty to begin this work. First, because I was born at a time, when the virtue of my fellow-citizens, far exceeding that of their progenitors in greatness of soul and vigour of enterprise, having invoked heaven to witness the justice of their cause, and been clearly governed by its directions, has succeeded in delivering the commonwealth from the most grievous tyranny, and religion from the most ignominious degradation. And next, because when there suddenly arose many who, as is usual with the vulgar, basely calumniated the most illustrious achievements, and when one eminent above the rest, inflated with literary pride, and the zealous applauses of his partisans, had in a scandalous publication, which was particularly levelled against me, nefariously undertaken to plead the cause of despotism, I who was neither deemed unequal to so renowned an adversary, nor to so great a subject, was particularly selected by the deliverers of our country, and by the general suffrage of the public, openly to vindicate the rights of the English nation, and consequently of liberty itself. Lastly, because in a matter of so much moment, and which excited such ardent expectations, I did not disappoint the hopes nor the opinions of my fellow-citizens; while men of learning and eminence abroad honoured me with unmingled approbation; while I obtained such a victory over my opponent, that notwithstanding his unparalleled assurance, he was obliged to quit the field with his courage broken and his reputation lost; and for the three years which he lived afterwards, much as he menaced and furiously as he raved, he gave me no further trouble, except that he procured the paltry aid of some despicable hirelings, and suborned some of his silly and extravagant admirers, to support him under the weight of the unexpected and recent disgrace which he had experienced. This will immediately appear. Such are the signal favours which I ascribe to the divine beneficence, and which I thought it right devoutly to commemorate, not only that I might discharge a debt of gratitude, but particularly because they seem auspicious to the success of my present undertaking. For who is there, who does not identify the honour of his country with his own? And what can conduce more to the beauty or glory of one’s country, than the recovery, not only of its civil but its religious liberty? And what nation or state ever obtained both, by more successful or more valorous exertion? For fortitude is seen resplendent, not only in the field of battle and amid the clash of arms, but displays its energy under every difficulty and against every assailant. Those Greeks and Romans, who are the objects of our admiration, employed hardly any other virtue in the extirpation of tyrants, than that love of liberty which made them prompt in seizing the sword, and gave them strength to use it. With facility they accomplished the undertaking, amid the general shout of praise and joy; nor did they engage in the attempt so much as an enterprise of perilous and doubtful issue, as in a contest the most glorious in which virtue could be signalized; which infallibly led to present recompence; which bound their brows with wreaths of laurel, and consigned their memories to immortal fame. For as yet, tyrants were not beheld with a superstitious reverence; as yet they were not regarded with tenderness and complacency, as the vicegerents or deputies of Christ, as they have suddenly professed to be; as yet the vulgar, stupified by the subtle casuistry of the priest, had not degenerated into a state of barbarism, more gross than that which disgraces the most senseless natives of Hindostan. For these make mischievous demons, whose malice they cannot resist, the objects of their religious adoration; while those elevate impotent tyrants, in order to shield them from destruction, into the rank of gods; and to their own cost, consecrate the pests of the human race. But against this dark array of long received opinions, superstitions, obloquy, and fears, which some dread even more than the enemy himself, the English had to contend; and all this, under the light of better information, and favoured by an impulse from above, they overcame with such singular enthusiasm and bravery, that, great as were the numbers engaged in the contest, the grandeur of conception, and loftiness of spirit which were universally displayed, merited for each individual more than a mediocrity of fame; and Britain, which was formerly styled the hotbed of tyranny, will hereafter deserve to be celebrated for endless ages, as a soil most genial to the growth of liberty. During the mighty struggle, no anarchy, no licentiousness was seen; no illusions of glory, no extravagant emulation of the ancients inflamed them with a thirst for ideal liberty; but the rectitude of their lives, and the sobriety of their habits, taught them the only true and safe road to real liberty; and they took up arms only to defend the sanctity of the laws, and the rights of conscience. Relying on the divine assistance, they used every honourable exertion to break the yoke of slavery; of the praise of which, though I claim no share to myself, yet I can easily repel any charge which may be adduced against me, either of want of courage, or want of zeal. For though I did not participate in the toils or dangers of the war, yet I was at the same time engaged in a service not less hazardous to myself, and more beneficial to my fellow-citizens; nor, in the adverse turns of our affairs, did I ever betray any symptoms of pusillanimity and dejection; or show myself more afraid than became me, of malice or of death: for since from my youth I was devoted to the pursuits of literature, and my mind had always been stronger than my body, I did not court the labours of a camp, in which any common person would have been of more service than myself, but resorted to that employment in which my exertions were likely to be of most avail. Thus, with the better part of my frame, I contributed as much as possible to the good of my country, and to the success of the glorious cause in which we were engaged; and I thought, that if God willed the success of such glorious achievements, it was equally agreeable to his will, that there should be others by whom those achievements should be recorded with dignity and elegance; and that the truth, which had been defended by arms, should also be defended by reason; which is the best and only legitimate means of defending it. Hence, while I applaud those who were victorious in the field, I will not complain of the province which was assigned me; but rather congratulate myself upon it, and thank the author of all good for having placed me in a station, which may be an object of envy to others, rather than of regret to myself. I am far from wishing to make any vain or arrogant comparisons, or to speak ostentatiously of myself, but, in a cause so great and glorious, and particularly on an occasion when I am called by the general suffrage to defend the very defenders of that cause; I can hardly refrain from assuming a more lofty and swelling tone, than the simplicity of an exordium may seem to justify: and much as I may be surpassed in the powers of eloquence, and copiousness of diction, by the illustrious orators of antiquity; yet the subject of which I treat, was never surpassed in any age, in dignity or in interest. It has excited such general and such ardent expectation, that I imagine myself not in the forum or on the rostra, surrounded only by the people of Athens or of Rome; but about to address in this as I did in my former defence, the whole collective body of people, cities, states, and councils of the wise and eminent, through the wide expanse of anxious and listening Europe. I seem to survey as from a towering height, the far extended tracts of sea and land, and innumerable crowds of spectators, betraying in their looks the liveliest interest, and sensations the most congenial with my own. Here I behold the stout and manly prowess of the Germans, disdaining servitude; there the generous and lively impetuosity of the French; on this side, the calm and stately valour of the Spaniard; on that, the composed and wary magnanimity of the Italian. Of all the lovers of liberty and virtue, the magnanimous and the wise, in whatever quarter they may be found, some secretly favour, others openly approve; some greet me with congratulations and applause; others, who had long been proof against conviction, at last yield themselves captive to the force of truth. Surrounded by congregated multitudes, I now imagine, that, from the columns of Hercules to the Indian ocean, I behold the nations of the earth recovering that liberty which they so long had lost; and that the people of this island are transporting to other countries a plant of more beneficial qualities, and more noble growth, than that which Triptolemus is reported to have carried from region to region; that they are disseminating the blessings of civilization and freedom among cities, kingdoms and nations. Nor shall I approach unknown, nor perhaps unloved, if it be told that I am the same person who engaged in single combat that fierce advocate of despotism; till then reputed invincible in the opinion of many, and in his own conceit; who insolently challenged us and our armies to the combat; but whom, while I repelled his virulence, I silenced with his own weapons; and over whom, if I may trust to the opinions of impartial judges, I gained a complete and glorious victory. That this is the plain unvarnished fact appears from this; that, after the most noble queen of Sweden, than whom there neither is nor ever was a personage more attached to literature and to learned men, had invited Salmasius or Salmasia (for to which sex he belonged is a matter of uncertainty) to her court, where he was received with great distinction, my defence suddenly surprized him in the midst of his security. It was generally read, and by the queen among the rest, who, attentive to the dignity of her station, let the stranger experience no diminution of her former kindness and munificence.
But, with respect to the rest, if I may assert what has been often told, and was matter of public notoriety, such a change was instantly effected in the public sentiment, that he, who but yesterday flourished in the highest degree of favour, seemed to day to wither in neglect; and soon after receiving permission to depart, he left it doubtful among many, whether he were more honoured when he came, or more disgraced when he went away; and even in other places it is clear, that it occasioned no small loss to his reputation; and all this I have mentioned, not from any futile motives of vanity or ostentation, but that I might clearly show, as I proposed in the beginning, what momentous reasons I had for commencing this work with an effusion of gratitude to the Father of the universe. Such a preface was most honourable and appropriate, in which I might prove, by an enumeration of particulars, that I had not been without my share of human misery; but that I had, at the same time, experienced singular marks of the divine regard; that in topics of the highest concern, the most connected with the exigencies of my country, and the most beneficial to civil and religious liberty; the supreme wisdom and beneficence had invigorated and enlarged my faculties, to defend the dearest interests, not merely of one people, but of the whole human race, against the enemies of human liberty; as it were in a full concourse of all the nations on the earth: And I again invoke the same Almighty Being, that I may still be able with the same integrity, the same diligence, and the same success, to defend those actions which have been so gloriously achieved; while I vindicate the authors as well as myself, whose name has been associated with theirs, not so much for the sake of honour as disgrace, from unmerited ignominy and reproach; but if there are any, who think that it would have been better to have passed over these in silent contempt, I should agree with them, if they had been dispersed only among those who were thoroughly acquainted with our principles and our conduct; but, how were strangers to discover the false assertions of our adversaries? When proper pains have been taken to make the vindication as extensive as the calumny, I think that they will cease to think ill of us, and that he will be ashamed of the falsehoods which he has promulgated; but, if he be past the feeling of shame, we may then well leave him to contempt. I should sooner have prepared an answer to his invective, if he had not entrenched himself in unfounded rumours and frequent denunciations that Salmasius was labouring at the anvil, and fabricating new libels against us, which would soon make their appearance; by which he obtained only a short delay of vengeance and of punishment; for I thought it right to reserve my whole strength unimpaired against the more potent adversary. But the conflict between me and Salmasius is now finally terminated by his death; and I will not write against the dead; nor will I reproach him with the loss of life as he did me with the loss of sight; though there are some, who impute his death to the penetrating severity of my strictures, which he rendered only the more sharp by his endeavours to resist. When he saw the work which he had in hand proceed slowly on, the time of reply elapsed, the public curiosity subsided, his fame marred, and his reputation lost; the favour of the princes, whose cause he had so ill-defended, alienated, he was destroyed after three years of grief rather by the force of depression than disease. However this may be, if I must wage even a posthumous war with an enemy whose strength I so well know, whose most vigorous and impetuous attacks I so easily sustained, there seems no reason why I should dread the languid exertions of his dying hour.
But now, at last, let us come to this thing, whatever it may be, that provokes us to the combat; though I hear, indeed, the cry not of the royal blood, as the title pretends, but that of some skulking and drivelling miscreant. Well, I beseech, who are you? a man, or nobody at all? Certainly one of the dregs of men, for even slaves are not without a name. Shall I always have to contend with anonymous scribblers? though they would willingly indeed pass for kings’ men, but I much doubt whether they can make kings believe that they are. The followers and friends of kings are not ashamed of kings. How then are these the friends of kings? They make no contributions; they more willingly receive them; they will not even lend their names to the support of the royal cause. What then? they support it by their pen; but even this service they have not sufficient liberality to render gratuitously to their kings; nor have they the courage to affix their names to their productions. But though, O anonymous Sirs! I might plead the example of your Claudius, who composed a plausible work concerning the rights of kings, but without having respect enough either for me or for the subject to put his name to the production. I should think it scandalous to undertake the discussion of so weighty a subject, while I concealed my name. What I, in a republic, openly attempt against kings, why do you in a monarchy, and under the patronage of kings, not dare to do except clandestinely and by stealth? Why do you, trembling with apprehension in the midst of security, and seeking darkness in the midst of light, depreciate the power and the majesty of sovereigns by a cowardice, which must excite both hatred and distrust? Do you suspect that you have no protection in the power of kings? But surely, thus skulking in obscurity and prowling in disguise, you seem to have come not so much as advocates to maintain the right of kings as thieves to rob the treasury. What I am, I ingenuously profess to be. The prerogative which I deny to kings, I would persist in denying in any legitimate monarchy; for no sovereign could injure me without first condemning himself by a confession of his despotism. If I inveigh against tyrants, what is this to kings? whom I am far from associating with tyrants. As much as an honest man differs from a rogue, so much I contend that a king differs from a tyrant. Whence it is clear, that a tyrant is so far from being a king, that he is always in direct opposition to a king. And he who peruses the records of history, will find that more kings have been subverted by tyrants than by their subjects. He, therefore, who would authorise the destruction of tyrants, does not authorise the destruction of kings, but of the most inveterate enemies to kings. But that right, which you concede to kings, the right of doing what they please, is not justice, but injustice, ruin and despair. By that envenomed present you yourselves destroy those, whom you extol as if they were above the reach of danger and oppression; and you quite obliterate the difference between a king and a tyrant, if you invest both with the same arbitrary power. For, if a king does not exercise that power, (and no king will exercise it as long as he is not a tyrant,) the power must be ascribed, not to the king, but to the individual. For, what can be imagined more absurd than that regal prerogative, which, if any one uses, as often as he wishes to act the king, so often he ceases to be an honest man; and as often as he chooses to be an honest man, so often he must evince that he is not a king? Can any more bitter reproach be cast upon kings? He who maintains this prerogative, must himself be a monster of injustice and iniquity; for how can there be a worse person than him, who must himself first verify the exaggerated picture of atrocity which he delineates.” But if every good man, as an ancient sect of philosophers magnificently taught, is a king, it follows that every bad one is, according to his capacity, a tyrant; nor does the name of tyrant signify any thing soaring or illustrious, but the meanest reptile on the earth; for in proportion as he is great, he is contemptible and abject. Others are vicious only for themselves: but tyrants are vicious, not only for themselves, but are even involuntarily obliged to participate in the crimes of their importunate menials and favourites, and to entrust certain portions of their despotism to the vilest of their dependants. Tyrants are thus the most abject of slaves, for they are the servants of those who are themselves in servitude. This name therefore may be rightly applied to the most insignificant pugilist of tyranny, or even to this brawler; who, why he should strenuously clamour for the interests of despotism, will sufficiently appear from what has been said already, and what will be said in the sequel; as also why this hireling chooses to conceal his name. Treading in the steps of Salmasius, he has prostituted his cry for the royal blood, and either blushing for the disgrace of his erudition, or the flagitiousness of his life, it is not strange that he should wish to be concealed; or perhaps he is watching an opportunity, wherever he may scent some richer odours of emolument, to desert the cause of kings, and transfer his services to some future republic. This was the manner of Salmasius, who, captivated by the love of gain, apostatised, even when sinking in years, from the orthodox to the episcopalians, from the popular party to the royalists. Thou brawler, then, from the stews, who thou art thou in vain endeavourest to conceal; believe me, you will be dragged to light, nor will the helmet of Pluto any longer serve you for a disguise. And you will swear downright, as long as you live, either that I am not blind, or that I was quicksighted enough to detect you in the labyrinth of imposture. Attend then, while I relate who he is, from whom descended, by what expectations he was led, or by what blandishments soothed to advocate the royal cause.
There is one More, part Frenchman and part Scot, so that one country, or one people, cannot be quite overwhelmed with the whole infamy of his extraction; an unprincipled miscreant, and proved not only by the general testimony of his enemies, but even by that of his dearest friends, whom he has alienated by his insincerity, to be a monster of perfidy, falsehood, ingratitude, and malevolence, the perpetual slanderer, not only of men, but of women, whose chastity he is no more accustomed to regard than their reputation. To pass over the more obscure transactions of his youth, he first made his appearance as a teacher of the Greek language at Geneva; where he could not divest himself either of the knave or fool; but where, even while secretly conscious, though perhaps not yet publicly convicted of so many enormities, he had the audacity to solicit the office of pastor in the church, and to profane the character by his crimes. But his debaucheries, his pride, and the general profligacies of his conduct, could not long escape the censure of the Presbyters; after being condemned for many heresies, which he basely recanted, and to which he still as impiously adhered, he was at last openly found guilty of adultery. He had conceived a violent passion for the maid-servant of his host, and even after she was married to another, did not cease to solicit the gratification of his lust. The neighbours often observed them together in close converse under a shed in the garden. But you will say this might have no reference to any criminal amours; he might have conversed upon horticulture, and have read lectures on the art, to the untutored and curious girl; he might one while have praised the beauty of the parterres, or regretted the absence of shade; he might have inserted a mulberry in a fig, and thence have rapidly raised a progeny of sycamores; a cooling bower; and might then have taught the art of grafting to the fair. All this and more he might, no doubt, have done. But all this would not satisfy the Presbyters, who passed sentence on him as an adulterer, and judged him unworthy of the ecclesiastical functions. The heads of those, and other accusations of the like kind, are still preserved in the public library at Geneva. But, even after this had become matter of public notoriety, he was invited, at the instance of Salmasius, to officiate in the French church at Middleburgh. This gave great offence to Spanheim, a man of singular erudition and integrity; who was well acquainted with his character at Geneva, though at last, but not without the most violent opposition, he succeeded in obtaining letters testimonial from the Genevese, but these only on the condition that he should leave the place, and couched in expressions rather bordering on censure than on praise. As soon as he arrived in Holland, he went to pay his respects to Salmasius; where he immediately cast his libidinous looks on his wife’s maid, whose name was Pontia; for the fellow’s lust is always inflamed by cooks and waiting-maids; hence he began to pay assiduous court to Salmasius, and, as often as he had opportunity, to Pontia. I know not whether Salmasius, taken by the busy attentions and unintermitted adulation of More, or More thinking that it would favour his purpose of meeting Pontia, which first caused their conversation to turn on the answer of Milton to Salmasius. But, however this might be, More undertook to defend Salmasius, and Salmasius promises to obtain for More the divinity-chair in that city. Besides this, More promises himself other sweets in his clandestine amour with Pontia; for, under pretext of consulting Salmasius in the prosecution of this work, he had free admission to the house at all hours of the night or day. And, as formerly Pyramus was changed into a mulberry tree, so More* seems suddenly transformed into Pyramus; but in proportion as he was more criminal, so he was more fortunate than that youth. He had no occasion to seek for a chink in the wall; he had every facility for carrying on his intrigue with his Thisbe under the same roof. He promises her marriage; and, under the lure of this promise, violates her chastity. O shame! a minister of the gospel abuses the confidence of friendship to commit this atrocious crime. From this amour no common prodigy accrued; for both man and woman suffered the pains of parturition: Pontia conceived a morill,* which long afforded employment to the natural disquisitions of Salmasius; More, the barren and windy egg; from which issued that flatulent cry of the royal blood. The sight of this egg indeed, at first, caused our monarchy-men, who were famishing in Belgium, to lick their chops; but the shell was no sooner broken, than they loathed the addle and putrid contents; for More, not a little elated with his conception, and thinking that he had obliged the whole Orange faction, had begun to anticipate a new accession of professorships and chairs, when he deserted his poor pregnant Pontia, as beneath his notice, to indigence and misfortune. She complained to the synod and the magistrates, of the injuries and the treachery which she had experienced. Thus the matter was brought to light, and afforded subject for merriment and observation in almost all places and companies. Hence some ingenious person wrote this distich,
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- Galli ex concubitu gravidam te, Pontia, Mori,
- Quis bene moratam morigeramque negat?†
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- O Pontia, teeming with More’s Gallic seed,
- You have been Mor’d enough, and no more need.
Pontia alone was not seen to smile; but she gained nothing by complaint; for the cry of the royal blood soon overwhelmed the clamour about the rape, and the cries of the ruined fair. Salmasius deeply resented the injury and insult which were thus offered to himself and his family; and the derision to which he was exposed by his courteous and admiring friend; and perhaps this misfortune, added to his other mishaps in the royal causes, might have contributed to accelerate his end. But on this hereafter. In the mean time, Salmasius, with the fate of Salmasia, (for the fable is as appropriate as the name,) little thinking that in More he had got an hermaphrodite associate, as incapable of parturition as of procreation, without knowing what he had begot for him in the house, fondles the fruit of his travail, the book in which he was styled Great; justly perhaps in his own opinion, but very unfitly and ridiculously in that of other people. He hastens to the printer; and, in vain endeavouring to keep possession of the fame which was vanishing from his grasp, he anxiously attends as a midwife the public delivery of those praises, or rather vile flatteries, which he had so rapaciously sought this fellow and others to bestow. For this purpose Flaccus seemed the most proper person that could be found; him he readily persuades, not only to print the book, which nobody would have blamed, but also publicly to profess himself the author of a letter to Charles, filled with the most calumnious aspersions against me, whom he had never known. But when I show, as I can from good authority, how he has acted towards others, it will be the less astonishing why he should so readily be prevailed on to commence such a wanton and unprovoked attack upon me; and with so little consideration, to father another’s extravagance of slander and invective. Flaccus, whose country is unknown, was an itinerant bookseller, a notorious prodigal and cheat; for a long time he carried on a clandestine trade in London; from which city, after practising innumerable frauds, he ran away in debt. He afterwards lived at Paris, during the whole reign of James, an object of distrust and a monster of extortion. From this place he made his escape; and now does not dare to approach within many miles; at present he makes his appearance as a regenerated bookseller at the Hague, ready to perform any nefarious and dirty work to which he may be invited. And as a proof how little he cares what he says or what he does, there is nothing so sacred which a trifling bribe would not tempt him to betray; and I shall bring forward his own confession to show that his virulence against me was not prompted, as might be supposed, by any zeal for the public good. When he found that what I had written against Salmasius had a considerable sale, he writes to some of my friends to persuade me to let any future publication of mine issue from his press; and promises a great degree of elegance in the typographical execution. I replied, that I had, at that time, no work by me ready for the press. But lo! he, who had lately made me such an officious proffer of his services, soon appears, not only as the printer, but the (suborned) author of a most scandalous libel upon my character. My friends express their indignation; he replies with unabashed effrontery, that he is quite astonished at their simplicity and ignorance of the world, in supposing that he should suffer any notions of right or wrong to disturb his calculations of profit, and his speculations of gain: that he had received that letter from Salmasius, together with the book; that he begged him to publish it on his own account, in the way he had done; and that, if Milton or any other person thought fit to write an answer, he should have no hesitation in printing it, if they would employ him in the business. This was nothing else than to say that he would readily publish an invective against Salmasius, or King Charles; for the reply could relate to no other persons. It is needless to say more. I have unmasked the man; I proceed to others; for he is not the only one who has served to embellish this tragic cry of the royal blood. Here then are the actors in the drama. The brawling prolocutor, the profligate Flaccus, or, if you had rather, Salmasius, habited in the mask and cloak of Flaccus, two poetasters drunk with stale beer, and More famed for adultery and rape. A marvellous company of tragedians! and an honest set for me to engage! But as such a cause was not likely to procure adversaries of a different stamp; let us now proceed to the attack of the individuals, such as they are; only first premising that, if any one think my refutation wanting in gravity, he should recollect, that I have not to contend with a weighty foe, but only a merry-andrew host; and that in such a work, instead of labouring to give it throughout the highest polish of elegance, it was right to consider what diction might be most appropriate to such a crew.
The Royal Blood crying to heaven for vengeance on the English parricides.
Your narrative, O More, would have had a greater appearance of truth, if you had first shown that his blood was not justly shed. But as in the first dawn of the reformation, the monks, from their dearth of argument, had recourse to spectres and other impositions, so you, when nothing else will stand you in any stead, call in the aid of voices which were never heard, and superstitious tricks that have long been out of date. You would not readily give any of us credit for having heard a voice from heaven; but I could with little difficulty believe that you did actually hear a voice from hell. Yet, I beseech you, who heard this cry of the royal blood? Yourself? Mere trash; for first you never hear any thing good.* But that cry which mounts to heaven, if any but God hear, it can only be the upright and the pure; who, themselves, unstained with crimes, may well denounce the divine vengeance against the guilty. But how could you possibly hear it? or, as a catamite, would you write a satire against lust? For you seem, at the same time, to have fabricated this miraculous cry to heaven, and to have consummated your amour with Pontia. There are not only many impediments in your sense, but many evil incrustations about your heart, which would for ever prevent such cries from reaching your ears: and if nothing else did, the many cries which are continually ascending to heaven against your own enormities would be sufficient for the purpose. The voice of that harlot, whom you debauched in the garden, and who complains that you, her religious teacher, was the author of her seduction, demands vengeance against you. Vengeance is demanded against you by the husband, whose nuptial bed you defiled; it is demanded by Pontia, to whom you perjured your nuptial vow; it is demanded by that little innocent whom you caused to be born in shame, and then left to perish without support.—All these different cries for vengeance on your guilty head are continually ascending to the throne of God; which if you do not hear, it is certain that the cry of the royal blood you could never have heard. Thus your book, instead of the royal blood crying to heaven, might more fitly be entitled “More’s lascivious neighing for his Pontia.” Of that tiresome and addle epistle which follows, part is devoted to Charles, part to Milton, to exalt the one, and to vilify the other. Take a specimen from the beginning: “The dominions of Charles,” he says, “were thrown into the sacrilegious hands of parricides and Deicides.” I shall not stay to consider whether this rant be the product of Salmasius, of More, or of Flaccus. But this, which makes others laugh, may well make Charles rave; for a little after he says that “no one was more devoted to the interests of Charles.” What truly! was there no one more devoted to his interests than you, who offered to publish and to circulate the invectives of his enemies? How wretched and forlorn must be the situation of Charles, if a scoundrel of a printer dare to rank himself among his most confidential friends? Wretched indeed must he be, if the perfidious Flaccus equal his dearest friends in fidelity and affection! But could the fellow have spoken any thing either more arrogantly of himself, or more contemptuously of the king and the king’s friends? Nor is it less ridiculous that a low-lived mechanic should be brought upon the stage to philosophise on the principles of government, and the virtues of kings; and to speak in a tone as lofty as even Salmasius or More. But indeed on this as well as other occasions I have discovered evident indications that Salmasius, notwithstanding the multiplicity of his reading, was a man of puerile judgment, and without any knowledge of the world; for though he must have read that the chief magistrates, in the well-arranged government of Sparta, were always wont to ascribe to some virtuous citizen the merit of every good saying which the worthless and the profligate might occasionally pronounce, he has shown himself so utterly ignorant of all that is called propriety, as to ascribe to the vilest of men, sentiments which could become only the good and wise. Keep up your spirits, Charles; for the old rogue Flaccus, whose faith in providence is so great, tells you not to be depressed. Do not succumb under so many sufferings. Flaccus, the most unprincipled prodigal, who so soon lost all that he ever had, tells you not to despond when all is lost. Make the best of your ill-starred fortune. And can you help making the best of it, when he advises, who, for so many years, by every species of peculation and iniquity, has been wont to subsist on the fortunes of others? “Drink deep of wisdom, for you are plunged in wisdom’s pool.” So counsels, so directs jolly Flaccus, the unrivalled preceptor of kings, who, seizing the leathern flaggon with his ink-smeared hands, drinks among his fellow workmen a huge draught to the success of your philosophy. This dares Flaccus, your incomparable partizan, who signs his name to admonitions, which Salmasius, which More, and your other advocates, have too little courage, or too much pride, to own. For, as often as you have any need of admonition or defence, they are always anonymously wise or brave; and at another’s hazard rather than their own.
Let this fellow therefore, whoever he may be, cease to make a barren boast of his vigorous and animated eloquence; for the author truly “fears to divulge his name, which has become so renowned by the exertions of his genius.” But he had not the courage, even in that work which was to avenge the royal blood, to prefix a dedication to Charles without the vicarious aid of Flaccus, in whose words he was contented to say that, “if it might be permitted, he would dedicate the book to his majesty without a name.” Thus having done with Charles, he next puts himself in a menacing posture against me. “After this proæmium” the wonderful “Salmasius will make the trumpet blow a deadly blast.” You announce a new kind of harmony; for to the terrors of that loud-sounding instrument no symphony bears so close a resemblance as that which is produced by accumulated flatulency. But I advise Salmasius not to raise the notes of this trumpet to too high a pitch; for, the louder the tones, the more he will expose himself to a slap on the chops; which while both his cheeks ring, will give a delightful flow to his well-proportioned melodies. You chatter on, “who has not his equal, nor near his equal, in the whole literary and scientific world.” What assurance! Ye men of erudition, scattered over the world, can you think it possible that a preference over you all should be given to a grammatical louse, whose only treasure of merit, and hope of fame, consisted in a glossary; and who would at last be found to deserve nothing but contempt, if a comparison were instituted between him and men really learned. But this would not be affirmed by any except the lowest driveller, more destitute of understanding than even Flaccus himself. “And who has now employed in the service of your majesty, a stupendous mass of erudition, illuminated by a genius quite divine.” If you recollect what I said above, that Salmasius took this letter which was either written by himself or one of his creatures, to the printer, and intreated the servile artificer to affix his own name to the publication, you will discover the indisputable marks of a mind truly grovelling and contemptible; basely wooing a panegyrick on itself, and sedulously procuring, even from a fool, an unbounded prodigality of praise. “An incomparable and immortal work, which it is fruitless to revile, and in which it must astonish even the regular practitioners of the law, how a Frenchman should so soon bring himself to understand and to explain the English history, the laws, statutes, records, &c.” Indeed how little he understood our laws, and how much he spoke at random on the subject, we have produced abundant evidence to show. “But he will soon, in another impression which he is preparing against the rebels, stop the mouths of revilers, and chastise Milton according to his deserts.” You, therefore, as that little avant courier of a fish, run before the Salmasian whale, which threatens an attack upon our coast; we sharpen our harpoons to elicit any oil or gall which his impetuous vengeance may contain. In the mean time we admire the more than Pythagorean tenderness of this prodigy of a man, who compassionating animals, and particularly fish, to whose flesh even Lent shows no indulgence, destined so many volumes to the decent apparelling of myriads of poor sprats and herrings, and bequeathed by will a paper coat to each.
- Rejoice, ye herrings, and ye ocean fry,
- Who, in cold winter, shiver in the sea;
- The knight, Salmasius, pitying your hard lot,
- Bounteous intends your nakedness to clothe.
- And, lavish of his paper, is preparing
- Chartaceous jackets to invest you all.
- Jackets resplendent with his arms and fame,
- Exultingly parade the fishy mart,
- And sing his praise with checquered livery,
- That well might serve to grace the letter’d store
- Of those, who pick their noses and ne’er read.
This I wrote on the long expected edition of his far-famed work; in printing which he was strenuously engaged, while you, sir, were polluting his house by your scandalous amour with Pontia. And Salmasius appears to have long and industriously applied himself to the execution; for only a few days before his death, when a learned person, from whom I received the information, sent to ask him when he would publish the second part of his argument against the supremacy of the pope; he replied, that he should not return to that work till he had completed his labours against Milton. Thus I was preferred before the pope; and that supremacy which he denied to him in the church, he gratuitously bestowed on me in his resentment.—Thus I seem to have furnished a timely succour against his subversion of the papacy; and to have saved the Roman capital from the irruption of a second Catiline, not indeed like the Consul Tully, by the fasces of office, or the premonitions of a dream, but by very different means. Surely many cardinals’ caps will be due to me on this account; and I fear lest the Roman Pontiff, by the transfer of a title, which lately belonged to our kings, should salute me with the appellation of Defender of the Faith. You see under what a cloud of disgrace Salmasius laboured to depress me. But ought he to have relinquished a post of honourable exertion to mingle in foreign controversies, or to have deserted the service of the church for political and external discussions, in which he had no knowledge and no concern? Ought he to have made a truce with the pope? and, what was most base of all, after the utmost bitterness of hostility, to have sought a reconciliation with the bishops? Let us now come to the charges which were brought against myself. Is there any thing reprehensible in my manners or my conduct? Surely nothing. What no one, not totally divested of all generous sensibility, would have done, he reproaches me with want of beauty and loss of sight.
A monster huge and hideous, void of sight.
I certainly never supposed that I should have been obliged to enter into a competition for beauty with the Cyclops; but he immediately corrects himself, and says, “though not indeed huge, for there cannot be a more spare, shrivelled and bloodless form.” It is of no moment to say any thing of personal appearance, yet lest (as the Spanish vulgar, implicitly confiding in the relations of their priests, believe of heretics) any one, from the representations of my enemies, should be let to imagine that I have either the head of a dog, or the horn of a rhinoceros, I will say something on the subject, that I may have an opportunity of paying my grateful acknowledgments to the Deity, and of refuting the most shameless lies. I do not believe that I was ever once noted for deformity, by any one who ever saw me; but the praise of beauty I am not anxious to obtain. My stature certainly is not tall; but it rather approaches the middle than the diminutive. Yet what if it were diminutive, when so many men, illustrious both in peace and war, have been the same? And how can that be called diminutive, which is great enough for every virtuous achievement? Nor, though very thin, was I ever deficient in courage or in strength; and I was wont constantly to exercise myself in the use of the sword, as long as it comported with my habits and my years. Armed with this weapon, as I usually was, I should have thought myself quite a match for any one, though much stronger than myself; and I felt perfectly secure against the assault of any open enemy. At this moment I have the same courage, the same strength, though not the same eyes; yet so little do they betray any external appearance of injury, that they are as unclouded and bright as the eyes of those who most distinctly see. In this instance alone I am a dissembler against my will. My face, which is said to indicate a total privation of blood, is of a complexion entirely opposite to the pale and cadaverous; so that, though I am more than forty years old, there is scarcely any one to whom I do not appear ten years younger than I am; and the smoothness of my skin is not, in the least, affected by the wrinkles of age. If there be one particle of falsehood in this relation, I should deservedly incur the ridicule of many thousands of my countrymen, and even many foreigners to whom I am personally known. But if he, in a matter so foreign to his purpose, shall be found to have asserted so many shameless and gratuitous falsehoods, you may the more readily estimate the quantity of his veracity on other topics. Thus much necessity compelled me to assert concerning my personal appearance. Respecting yours, though I have been informed that it is most insignificant and contemptible, a perfect mirror of the worthlessness of your character and the malevolence of your heart, I say nothing, and no one will be anxious that any thing should be said. I wish that I could with equal facility refute what this barbarous opponent has said of my blindness; but I cannot do it; and I must submit to the affliction. It is not so wretched to be blind, as it is not to be capable of enduring blindness. But why should I not endure a misfortune, which it behoves every one to be prepared to endure if it should happen; which may, in the common course of things, happen to any man; and which has been known to happen to the most distinguished and virtuous persons in history. Shall I mention those wise and ancient bards, whose misfortunes the gods are said to have compensated by superior endowments, and whom men so much revered, that they chose rather to impute their want of sight to the injustice of heaven than to their own want of innocence or virtue? What is reported of the Augur Tiregias is well known; of whom Apollonius sung thus in his Argonauts;
- To men he dar’d the will divine disclose,
- Nor fear’d what Jove might in his wrath impose.
- The gods assigned him age, without decay,
- But snatch’d the blessing of his sight away.
But God himself is truth; in propagating which, as men display a greater integrity and zeal, they approach nearer to the similitude of God, and possess a greater portion of his love. We cannot suppose the Deity envious of truth, or unwilling that it should be freely communicated to mankind.—The loss of sight, therefore, which this inspired sage, who was so eager in promoting knowledge among men, sustained, cannot be considered as a judicial punishment. Or shall I mention those worthies who were as distinguished for wisdom in the cabinet, as for valour in the field? And first, Timoleon of Corinth, who delivered his city and all Sicily from the yoke of slavery; than whom there never lived, in any age, a more virtuous man, or a more incorrupt statesman. Next Appius Claudius, whose discreet counsels in the senate, though they could not restore sight to his own eyes, saved Italy from the formidable inroads of Pyrrhus: then Cæcilius Metellus the high priest, who lost his sight, while he saved, not only the city, but the palladium, the protection of the city, and the most sacred relics, from the destruction of the flames. On other occasions Providence has indeed given conspicuous proofs of its regard for such singular exertions of patriotism and virtue; what, therefore, happened to so great and so good a man, I can hardly place in the catalogue of misfortunes. Why should I mention others of later times, as Dandolo of Venice, the incomparable Doge; or Boemar Zisca, the bravest of generals, and the champion of the cross; or Jerome Zanchius, and some other theologians of the highest reputation?—For it is evident that the Patriarch Isaac, than whom no man ever enjoyed more of the divine regard, lived blind for many years; and perhaps also his son Jacob, who was equally an object of the divine benevolence. And in short, did not our Saviour himself clearly declare that that poor man whom he restored to sight, had not been born blind, either on account of his own sins or those of his progenitors? And with respect to myself, though I have accurately examined my conduct, and scrutinized my soul, I call thee, O God, the searcher of hearts, to witness, that I am not conscious, either in the more early or in the later periods of my life, of having committed any enormity, which might deservedly have marked me out as a fit object for such a calamitous visitation.
But since my enemies boast that this affliction is only a retribution for the transgressions of my pen, I again invoke the Almighty to witness, that I never, at any time, wrote any thing which I did not think agreeable to truth, to justice, and to piety. This was my persuasion then, and I feel the same persuasion now. Nor was I ever prompted to such exertions by the influence of ambition, by the lust of lucre or of praise; it was only by the conviction of duty and the feeling of patriotism, a disinterested passion for the extension of civil and religious liberty.
Thus, therefore, when I was publicly solicited to write a reply to the defence of the royal cause, when I had to contend with the pressure of sickness, and with the apprehension of soon losing the sight of my remaining eye, and when my medical attendants clearly announced, that if I did engage in the work, it would be irreparably lost, their premonitions caused no hesitation, and inspired no dismay. I would not have listened to the voice even of Esculapius himself from the shrine of Epidauris, in preference to the suggestions of the heavenly monitor within my breast; my resolution was unshaken, though the alternative was either the loss of my sight or the desertion of my duty; and I called to mind those two destinies, which the oracle of Delphi announced to the son of Thetis.
- Two fates may lead me to the realms of night;
- If staying here, around Troy’s wall I fight,
- To my dear home no more must I return;
- But lasting glory will adorn my urn.
- But, if I withdraw from the martial strife,
- Short is my fame, but long will be my life.
—Il. ix.
I considered that many had purchased a less good by a greater evil, the meed of glory by the loss of life; but that I might procure great good by little suffering; that though I am blind, I might still discharge the most honourable duties, the performance of which, as it is something more durable than glory, ought to be an object of superior admiration and esteem; I resolved, therefore, to make the short interval of sight, which was left me to enjoy, as beneficial as possible to the public interest. Thus it is clear, by what motives I was governed in the measures which I took, and the losses which I sustained. Let then the calumniators of the divine goodness cease to revile, or to make me the object of their superstitious imaginations. Let them consider, that my situation, such as it is, is neither an object of my shame or my regret, that my resolutions are too firm to be shaken, that I am not depressed by any sense of the divine displeasure; that, on the other hand, in the most momentous periods, I have had full experience of the divine favour and protection; and that, in the solace and the strength which have been infused into me from above, I have been enabled to do the will of God; that I may oftener think on what he has bestowed, than on what he has withheld; that, in short, I am unwilling to exchange my consciousness of rectitude with that of any other person; and that I feel the recollection a treasured store of tranquillity and delight. But, if the choice were necessary, I would, Sir, prefer my blindness to yours: yours is a cloud spread over the mind, which darkens both the light of reason and of conscience; mine keeps from my view only the coloured surfaces of things, while it leaves me at liberty to contemplate the beauty and stability of virtue and of truth. How many things are there besides, which I would not willingly see; how many which I must see against my will; and how few which I feel any anxiety to see! There is, as the apostle has remarked, a way to strength through weakness. Let me then be the most feeble creature alive, as long as that feebleness serves to invigorate the energies of my rational and immortal spirit; as long as in that obscurity, in which I am enveloped, the light of the divine presence more clearly shines; then, in the proportion as I am weak, I shall be invincibly strong; and in proportion as I am blind, I shall more clearly see. O! that I may thus be perfected by feebleness, and irradiated by obscurity! And, indeed, in my blindness, I enjoy in no inconsiderable degree the favour of the Deity; who regards me with more tenderness and compassion in proportion as I am able to behold nothing but himself. Alas! for him who insults me, who maligns and merits public execration! For the divine law not only shields me from injury, but almost renders me too sacred to attack; not indeed so much from the privation of my sight, as from the overshadowing of those heavenly wings, which seem to have occasioned this obscurity; and which, when occasioned, he is wont to illuminate with an interior light, more precious and more pure. To this I ascribe the more tender assiduities of my friends, their soothing attentions, their kind visits, their reverential observances; among whom there are some with whom I may interchange the Pyladean and Thesian dialogue of inseparable friends.
Orest. Proceed, and be rudder of my feet, by showing me the most endearing love.
Eurip. in Orest.
You say that “all the protestants, particularly those in the Low Countries and France, are struck with horror at the crime which we have committed;” and immediately after, that “good men would every where think and speak differently on the subject.” That you should be at variance with yourself is a matter of little moment; but what follows is of a more shocking and atrocious cast. You say that “the wickedness of the Jews, who crucified Christ, was nothing compared with ours, whether you regard the intentions of the parties, or the effects of the crime.” Maniac; do you, a minister of Jesus, think so lightly of his crucifixion, as to have the audacity to assert, that the destruction of any king, whatever might be the intentions, or the effect, is equally atrocious? The Jews had the clearest and most convincing proofs that Jesus was the Son of God; but how could we possibly be led to believe, that Charles was not a tyrant? To diminish the enormity of the guilt, you very absurdly make mention of the effect; but I always observe, that the royalists, in proportion to their bigotry, are ready to depreciate the sufferings of Christ, in order to exalt those of their king; yet as they assert, that we ought principally to obey him for Christ’s sake, they show that they cherish no sincere regard either for Christ or for the king; and that they make their irrational and superstitious devotion to kings, only a pretext to conceal their ambitious, their sinister and interested views. “Salmasius, therefore, that great sovereign of literature, advanced to the combat!” Cease, Sir, I beseech you, to disgust us with the application of such an epithet as “great” to Salmasius; which you may repeat a thousand times, without ever persuading any one that Salmasius was great; though you may, that More was little; a worthless scribbler, who, quite ignorant of propriety, lavished the appellation of great without any fitness or discrimination. To grammarians and critics, who are principally occupied in editing the works of others, or in correcting the errors of copyists, we willingly concede the palm of industry and erudition; but we never bestow on them the surname of great. He alone is worthy of the appellation, who either does great things, or teaches how they may be done, or describes them with a suitable majesty when they have been done; but those only are great things, which tend to render life more happy, which increase the innocent enjoyments and comforts of existence, or which pave the way to a state of future bliss more permament and more pure. But has Salmasius done any thing like this? Nothing at all; what, that is great, has he ever either taught or related? unless perhaps you except his writings against the bishops, and the supremacy of the pope; the merit of which he entirely effaced by his subsequent recantations; by the habits of his life, and his vindications of episcopacy. He, therefore, cannot fitly be termed a great writer, who either never wrote any thing great, or who basely recanted the best work that he ever wrote. He is welcome for me, to be “the sovereign of literature,” and of the A, B, C; but you are not content with having him the “sovereign of literature,” but must exalt him to be “the patron of kings;” and a patron well fitted to adorn such a station of sublimity. You have certainly shown yourself very solicitous to promote the honour of kings, when in addition to their other illustrious titles, you would subjoin that of “the clients of Claud Salmasius.” On this condition, O sovereigns of the world, you may be released from every restraint upon your power; if you will but do homage to Salmasius the grammarian, and make your sceptres bend beneath his rod. “To him kings will be indebted, as long as the world lasts, for the vindication of their honour, and the existence of their power.” Attend, ye sovereigns! he who composes for you his beggarly defence, and who defends what no one attacked, has the arrogance to impute to himself the continuance of your dignity and your power. Such has been the effect of provoking this insolent grammarian from his cabinet of worms and moth, to support the cause of kings. “To whom the altar will be as much indebted as the throne;” not indeed for the protection, but for the scandalous desertion of its interests. Now, you lavish your panegyric in the defence of the royal cause; “you admire the genius, the erudition, the boundless diversity of matter, the intimate acquaintance with sacred and profane usages and laws, the impetuous volubility of diction, the limpid eloquence, which characterise that golden work.” Though I contend that the work is deficient in all these qualities; (for what has Salmasius to do with eloquence?) yet that it was a truly golden composition, I am willing a hundred times to acknowledge; for it cost Charles as many guineas, without mentioning the sums which the author received from the Prince of Orange. “The great man never appeared more mighty in his strength; Salmasius was never more himself.” He was truly so great that he burst; for we have seen how great he was in his former work; and shall perhaps see in what he may have left behind him on the same subject. I do not deny that Salmasius, on the first appearance of his book, was the general topic of conversation, and that he was in high favour with the royalists; that he was invited by the most august queen of Sweden, and received the most munificent presents; and, in short, that in the whole dispute, every circumstance was favourable to Salmasius and hostile to me. Men in general entertained the highest opinion of his erudition, the celebrity of which, he had been accumulating for many years, by many voluminous and massy publications, not indeed of any practical utility, but relating to the most abtruse discussions, and crammed with quotations from the most illustrious authors. Nothing is so apt as this to excite the astonishment of the literary vulgar. Who I was, no one in that country had ever known; his work had excited an impatient curiosity, which was increased by the magnitude of the subject. I had no means of exciting a similar interest, or a like ardour of expectation. Many indeed endeavoured to dissuade me from engaging with such a veteran; some from envy, lest I should, at any rate, gather some glory from the conflict with so mighty an adversary; others from fear, lest my defeat should prove injurious to myself, and to the acuse which I have undertaken to defend. Salmasius was invigorated and cheered by the specious plausibility of his subject, by the inveterate prejudices, or rather rooted superstitions, of the vulgar, in favour of kingly power. All these were adverse to my undertaking, and impediments to my success; and it is the less surprising, that my answer, on its first appearance, should be less eagerly read, except by those who were anxious to learn, who had the inconsiderate audacity to enter the lists with Salmasius.
But the work soon excited general approbation and delight; the author was lost sight of in the blaze of truth; and Salmasius, who had so lately been towering on the pinnacle of distinction, stripped of the mask which he had worn, soon dwindled into insignificance and contempt; from which, as long as he lived, he could never afterwards emerge, or recover his former consequence. But your penetrating mind, O! Serene queen of Sweden, soon detected his imposture; and, with a magnanimity almost above human, you taught sovereigns and the world to prefer truth to the interested clamours of faction. For though the splendour of his erudition, and the celebrity which he had acquired in the defence of the royal cause, had induced you to honour him with many marks of distinction, yet, when my answer appeared, which you perused with singular equanimity, you perceived that he had been convicted of the most palpable effrontery and misrepresentation; that he had betrayed the utmost indiscretion and intemperance, that he had uttered many falsehoods, many inconsistencies and contradictions. On this account as it is said, you had him called into your presence; but when he was unable to vindicate himself, you were so visibly offended, that from that time, you neither showed him the same attentions, nor held his talents nor his learning in the same esteem; and, what was entirely unexpected, you manifested a disposition to favour his adversary. You denied that what I had written against tyrants could have any reference to you; whence, in your own breast you enjoyed the sweets, and among others the fame, of a good conscience. For, since the whole tenor of your conduct sufficiently proves, that you are no tyrant, this unreserved expression of your sentiments makes it still more clear, that you are not even conscious to yourself of being one. How happy am I beyond my utmost expectations! (for to the praise of eloquence, except as far as eloquence consists in the force of truth, I lay no claim,) that, when the critical exigences of my country demanded that I should undertake the arduous and invidious task of impugning the rights of kings, I should meet with so illustrious, so truly a royal evidence to my integrity, and to this truth, that I had not written a word against kings, but only against tyrants, the spots and the pests of royalty! But you, O Augusta, possessed not only so much magnanimity, but were so irradiated by the glorious beams of wisdom and of virtue, that you not only read with patience, with incredible impartiality, with a serene complacency of countenance, what might seem to be levelled against your rights and dignity; but expressed such an opinion of the defender of those rights, as may well be considered an application of the palm of victory to his opponent. You, O queen! will for ever be the object of my homage, my veneration, and my love; for it was your greatness of soul, so honourable to yourself and so auspicious to me, which served to efface the unfavourable impression against me at other courts, and to rescue me from the evil surmises of other sovereigns. What a high and favourable opinion must foreigners conceive, and your own subject forever entertain, of your impartiality and justice, when, in a matter which so nearly interested the fate of sovereigns and the rights of your crown, they saw you sit down to the discussion, with as much equanimity and composure, as you would to determine a dispute between two private individuals. It was not in vain that you made such large collections of books, and so many monuments of learning; not indeed, that they could contribute much to your instruction, but because they so well teach your subjects to appreciate the merits of your reign, and the rare excellence of your virtue and your wisdom. For the Divinity himself seems to have inspired you with a love of wisdom, and a thirst for improvement, beyond what any books ever could have produced. It excites our astonishment to see a force of intellect so truly divine, a particle of celestial flame so resplendently pure, in a region so remote; of which an atmosphere, so darkened with clouds, and so chilled with frosts, could not extinguish the light, nor repress the operations. The rocky and barren soil, which is often as unfavourable to the growth of genius as of plants, has not impeded the maturation of your faculties; and that country, so rich in metallic ore, which appears like a cruel step-mother to others, seems to have been a fostering parent to you; and after the most strenuous attempts to have at last produced a progeny of pure gold. I would invoke you, Christina! as the only child of the renowned and victorious Adolphus, if your merit did not as much eclipse his, as wisdom excels strength, and the arts of peace the havoc of war. Henceforth, the queen of the south will not be alone renowned in history; for there is a queen of the north, who would not only be worthy to appear in the court of the wise king of the Jews, or any king of equal wisdom; but to whose court others may from all parts repair, to behold so fair a heroine, so bright a pattern of all the royal virtues; and to the crown of whose praise this may well be added, that neither in her conduct nor her appearance, is there any of the forbidding reserve, or the ostentatious parade of royalty. She herself seems the least conscious of her own attributes of sovereignty; and her thoughts are always fixed on something greater and more sublime than the glitter of a crown. In this respect, her example may well make innumerable kings hide their diminished heads. She may, if such is the fatality of the Swedish nation, abdicate the sovereignty, but she can never lay aside the queen; for her reign has proved, that she is fit to govern, not only Sweden, but the world.
This tribute of praise, to so highly meritorious a queen, there is, I trust, no one who will not applaud; and which if others did not pay, I could not have withheld, without the imputation of the most heinous ingratitude. For, whether it be owing to the benign aspects of the planets, or to the secret sympathies and affinities of things, I cannot too much extol my good fortune, in having found, in a region so remote, a patron so impartial and so kind, whom of all I least expected, but of all the most desired. But now we will return, from this digression, to a quite different theme. You say, that “we were thrown into the most furious commotion on hearing of the royal defence, and that we looked around for some servile pedagogue, who might employ his venal pen in the vindication of the parricides.” This is the mere effusion of your spite; for you must recollect, that, when the royalists were in search of a hawker for their lies, and a retailer of their malice, they applied to the grammarian Salmasius, who if he were not a menial, could never resist a bribe; who not only readily sold them his present work, but his good intentions for the future. And you must remember, that when Salmasius was anxiously ruminating, how he might re-establish his ruined character, and obliterate his shame, he was, by a certain retributive fatality, directed to you, who were then not officiating as a minister at Geneva, from which place you had been expelled, but as a worshipper of Priapus, of whose lascivious rites you made his house the shrine. Hence, nauseating those praises, which you had bestowed with so much extravagance, and which he had purchased with so much disgrace, his friendship was converted into the most inveterate hostility, and he cursed his panegyrist even in his dying hour. “They fixed upon one John Milton, a great hero truly, to oppose Salmasius.” I did not know that I was a hero, though you perchance may be the progeny of some frail heroine, for you are nothing but a compound of iniquity. When I consider the good of the commonwealth, I may indeed lament, that I alone was selected to defend the people of England, though I could not readily have endured an associate in the fame. You say, that it is a matter of uncertainty who and whence I am. The same uncertainty attached to Homer and Demosthenes. Indeed, I had been early taught to hold my tongue and to say nothing; which Salmasius never could; and I accordingly buried those things within my breast, which if I had pleased to disclose, I could then have obtained as much celebrity as I now possess. But I was not eager to hasten the tardy steps of fame; nor willing to appear in public till a proper opportunity offered. For I did not regard the fame of any thing so much, as the proper time for the execution. Hence it happened, that I had not long been known to many, before Salmasius begun to know himself. “Whether he be a man or a worm!” Truly, I would rather be a worm in the way that David expresses it (“I am a worm and no man,”) than that my bosom, like yours, should be the seat of a never-dying worm. You say, that “the fellow, having been expelled from the University of Cambridge, on account of his atrocities, had fled his country in disgrace and travelled into Italy.” Hence we may discern what little reliance can be placed on the veracity of those, from whom you derived your information; for all, who know me, know, that in this place, both you and they have uttered the most abominable falsehoods; as I shall soon make more fully appear. But, when I was expelled from Cambridge, why should I rather travel into Italy, than into France or Holland? where you, though a minister of the Gospel, and yet so vile a miscreant, not only enjoy impunity, but, to the great scandal of the church, pollute the pulpit and the altar by your presence. But why, Sir, into Italy? Was it that, like another Saturn, I might find a hiding-place in Latium? No, it was because I well knew, and have since experienced, that Italy, instead of being, as you suppose, the general receptacle of vice, was the seat of civilization and the hospitable domicile of every species of erudition. “When he returned, he wrote his book on divorce.” I wrote nothing more than what Bucer on the Kingdom of Christ, Fagius on Deuteronomy, and Erasmus on the First Epistle to the Corinthians, which was more particularly designed for the instruction of the English, had written before me, for the most useful purposes and with the most disinterested views. Why what was not reprehensible in them, should constitute a charge of criminality against me, I cannot understand; though I regret that I published this work in English; for then it would not have been exposed to the view of those common readers, who are wont to be as ignorant of their own blessings, as they are insensible to others’ sufferings. But shall you, base miscreant, set up a cry about divorce, who, having debauched Pontia, under the most solemn assurances of marriage, afterwards divorced her in a manner the most unprincipled and inhuman? And yet this servant of Salmasius is said to have been an Englishwoman, and a staunch royalist; so that you seem to have wooed her as a piece of royalty, and to have deserted her as the image of a republic (res publica,) though you were the author of her degradation to that state of publicity, and, after having allured her from the service of Salmasius, reduced her to the condition of a public prostitute. In this manner, devotedly attached as you are to royalty, you are said to have founded many republics (res publicas) in one city, or to have undertaken the management of their concerns, after they have been founded by others. Such have been your divorces, or rather diversions, after which you proceed, as a ruffian, to attack my character. You now return to the invention of fresh lies. “When the conspirators were debating on the capital punishment of the king, he wrote to them, and, while they were wavering and irresolute, brought them over to determine on his death.” But I neither wrote to them, nor could I have influenced the execution; for they had previously determined on the measure, without consulting me. But I will say more on this subject hereafter, as also on the publication of the Iconoclast.
The fellow, (shall I call him a man, or only the excrement of a man,) next proceeding from his adulteries with servant maids and scullions, to the adulteration of the truth, endeavoured, by artfully fabricating a series of lies, to render me infamous abroad. I must therefore crave the indulgence of the reader, if I have said already, or shall say hereafter, more of myself than I wish to say; that, if I cannot prevent the blindness of my eyes, the oblivion or the defamation of my name, I may at least rescue my life from that species of obscurity, which is the associate of unprincipled depravity. This it will be necessary for me to do on more accounts than one; first, that so many good and learned men among the neighbouring nations, who read my works, may not be induced by this fellow’s calumnies, to alter the favourable opinion which they have formed of me; but may be persuaded that I am not one who ever disgraced beauty of sentiment by deformity of conduct, or the maxims of a free-man by the actions of a slave; and that the whole tenor of my life has, by the grace of God, hitherto been unsullied by enormity or crime.
Next that those illustrious worthies, who are the objects of my praise, may know that nothing could afflict me with more shame than to have any vices of mine diminish the force or lessen the value of my panegyric upon them; and lastly, that the people of England, whom fate, or duty, or their own virtues, have incited me to defend, may be convinced from the purity and integrity of my life, that my defence, if it do not redound to their honour, can never be considered as their disgrace. I will now mention who and whence I am. I was born at London, of an honest family; my father was distinguished by the undeviating integrity of his life; my mother by the esteem in which she was held, and the alms which she bestowed. My father destined me from a child to the pursuits of literature; and my appetite for knowledge was so voracious, that from twelve years of age, I hardly ever left my studies, or went to bed before midnight. This primarily led to my loss of sight. My eyes were naturally weak, and I was subject to frequent head-aches; which, however, could not chill the ardour of my curiosity, or retard the progress of my improvement. My father had me daily instructed in the grammar school, and by other masters at home. He then, after I had acquired a proficiency in various languages, and had made a considerable progress in philosophy, sent me to the University of Cambridge. Here I passed seven years in the usual course of instruction and study, with the approbation of the good, and without any stain upon my character, till I took the degree of Master of Arts. After this I did not, as this miscreant feigns, run away into Italy, but of my own accord retired to my father’s house, whither I was accompanied by the regrets of most of the fellows of the college, who showed me no common marks of friendship and esteem.
On my father’s estate, where he had determined to pass the remainder of his days, I enjoyed an interval of uninterrupted leisure, which I entirely devoted to the perusal of the Greek and Latin classics; though I occasionally visited the metropolis, either for the sake of purchasing books, or of learning something new in mathematics or in music, in which I, at that time, found a source of pleasure and amusement. In this manner I spent five years till my mother’s death, I then became anxious to visit foreign parts, and particularly Italy. My father gave me his permission, and I left home with one servant. On my departure the celebrated Henry Wootton, who had been King James’s embassador at Venice, gave me a signal proof of his regard, in an elegant letter which he wrote, breathing not only the warmest friendship, but containing some maxims of conduct which I found very useful in my travels. The noble Thomas Scudamore, King Charles’s embassador, to whom I carried letters of recommendation, received me most courteously at Paris. His lordship gave me a card of introduction to the learned Hugo Grotius, at that time embassador from the queen of Sweden to the French court; whose acquaintance I anxiously desired, and to whose house I was accompanied by some of his lordship’s friends. A few days after, when I set out for Italy, he gave me letters to the English merchants on my route, that they might show me any civilities in their power. Taking ship at Nice, I arrived at Genoa, and afterwards visited Leghorn, Pisa, and Florence. In the latter city, which I have always more particularly esteemed for the elegance of its dialect, its genius, and its taste, I stopped about two months; when I contracted an intimacy with many persons of rank and learning; and was a constant attendant at their literary parties; a practice which prevails there, and tends so much to the diffusion of knowledge and the preservation of friendship. No time will ever abolish the agreeable recollections which I cherish of Jacob Gaddi, Carolo Dati, Frescobaldo, Cultellero, Bonomatthai, Clementillo, Francisco, and many others. From Florence I went to Siena, thence to Rome, where, after I had spent about two months in viewing the antiquities of that renowned city, where I experienced the most friendly attentions from Lucas Holstein, and other learned and ingenious men, I continued my route to Naples. There I was introduced by a certain recluse, with whom I had travelled from Rome, to John Baptista Manso, Marquis of Villa, a nobleman of distinguished rank and authority, to whom Torquato Tasso, the illustrious poet, inscribed his book on friendship. During my stay, he gave me singular proofs of his regard; he himself conducted me round the city and to the palace of the viceroy; and more than once paid me a visit at my lodgings. On my departure he gravely apologized for not having shown me more civility, which he said he had been restrained from doing, because I had spoken with so little reserve on matters of religion.
When I was preparing to pass over into Sicily and Greece, the melancholy intelligence which I received, of the civil commotions in England, made me alter my purpose; for I thought it base to be travelling for amusement abroad, while my fellow-citizens were fighting for liberty at home.—While I was on my way back to Rome, some merchants informed me that the English Jesuits had formed a plot against me if I returned to Rome, because I had spoken too freely on religion; for it was a rule which I laid down to myself in those places, never to be the first to begin any conversation on religion; but if any questions were put to me concerning my faith, to declare it without any reserve or fear. I nevertheless returned to Rome. I took no steps to conceal either my person or my character; and for about the space of two months, I again openly defended, as I had done before, the reformed religion in the very metropolis of popery. By the favour of God, I got safe back to Florence, where I was received with as much affection as if I had returned to my native country. There I stopped as many months as I had done before, except that I made an excursion for a few days to Lucca; and crossing the Apennines, passed through Bologna and Ferrara to Venice. After I had spent a month in surveying the curiosities of this city, and had put on board a ship the books which I had collected in Italy, I proceeded through Verona and Milan, and along the Leman lake to Geneva. The mention of this city brings to my recollection the slandering More, and makes me again call the Deity to witness, that in all those places, in which vice meets with so little discouragement, and is practised with so little shame, I never once deviated from the paths of integrity and virtue, and perpetually reflected that, though my conduct might escape the notice of men, it could not elude the inspection of God.
At Geneva I held daily conferences with John Deodati, the learned professor of Theology. Then pursuing my former route through France, I returned to my native country, after an absence of one year and about three months; at the time when Charles, having broken the peace, was renewing what is called the episcopal war with the Scots; in which the royalists being routed in the first encounter, and the English being universally and justly disaffected, the necessity of his affairs at last obliged him to convene a parliament. As soon as I was able, I hired a spacious house in the city for myself and my books; where I again with rapture renewed my literary pursuits, and where I calmly awaited the issue of the contest, which I trusted to the wise conduct of Providence, and to the courage of the people. The vigor of the parliament had begun to humble the pride of the bishops. As long as the liberty of speech was no longer subject to control, all mouths began to be opened against the bishops; some complained of the vices of the individuals, others of those of the order. They said that it was unjust that they alone should differ from the model of other reformed churches; that the government of the church should be according to the pattern of other churches, and particularly the word of God. This awakened all my attention and my zeal—I saw that a way was opening for the establishment of real liberty; that the foundation was laying for the deliverance of man from the yoke of slavery and superstition; that the principles of religion, which were the first objects of our care, would exert a salutary influence on the manners and constitution of the republic; and as I had from my youth studied the distinctions between religious and civil rights, I perceived that if I ever wished to be of use, I ought at least not to be wanting to my country, to the church, and to so many of my fellow Christians, in a crisis of so much danger; I therefore determined to relinquish the other pursuits in which I was engaged, and to transfer the whole force of my talents and my industry to this one important object. I accordingly wrote two books to a friend concerning the reformation of the church of England. Afterwards, when two bishops of superior distinction vindicated their privileges against some principal ministers, I thought that on those topics, to the consideration of which I was led solely by my love of truth, and my reverence for Christianity, I should not probably write worse than those, who were contending only for their own emoluments and usurpations. I therefore answered the one in two books, of which the first is inscribed, Concerning Prelatical Episcopacy, and the other Concerning the Mode of Ecclesiastical Government; and I replied to the other in some Animadversions, and soon after in an Apology. On this occasion it was supposed that I brought a timely succour to the ministers, who were hardly a match for the eloquence of their opponents; and from that time I was actively employed in refuting any answers that appeared. When the bishops could no longer resist the multitude of their assailants, I had leisure to turn my thoughts to other subjects; to the promotion of real and substantial liberty; which is rather to be sought from within than from without; and whose existence depends, not so much on the terror of the sword, as on sobriety of conduct and integrity of life.
When, therefore, I perceived that there were three species of liberty which are essential to the happiness of social life; religious, domestic, and civil; and as I had already written concerning the first, and the magistrates were strenuously active in obtaining the third, I determined to turn my attention to the second, or the domestic species. As this seemed to involve three material questions, the conditions of the conjugal tie, the education of the children, and the free publication of the thoughts, I made them objects of distinct consideration. I explained my sentiments, not only concerning the solemnization of the marriage, but the dissolution, if circumstances rendered it necessary; and I drew my arguments from the divine law, which Christ did not abolish, or publish another more grievous than that of Moses. I stated my own opinions, and those of others, concerning the exclusive exception of fornication, which our illustrious Selden has since, in his Hebrew Wife, more copiously discussed; for he in vain makes a vaunt of liberty in the senate or in the forum, who languishes under the vilest servitude, to an inferior at home. On this subject, therefore, I published some books which were more particularly necessary at that time when man and wife were often the most inveterate foes, when the man often staid to take care of his children at home, while the mother of the family was seen in the camp of the enemy, threatening death and destruction to her husband. I then discussed the principles of education in a summary manner, but sufficiently copious for those who attend seriously to the subject; than which nothing can be more necessary to principle the minds of men in virtue, the only genuine source of political and individual liberty, the only true safeguard of states, the bulwark of their prosperity and renown. Lastly, I wrote my Areopagitica, in order to deliver the press from the restraints with which it was encumbered; that the power of determining what was true and what was false, what ought to be published and what to be suppressed, might no longer be entrusted to a few illiterate and illiberal individuals, who refused their sanction to any work, which contained views or sentiments at all above the level of the vulgar superstition.
On the last species of civil liberty, I said nothing; because I saw that sufficient attention was paid to it by the magistrates; nor did I write any thing on the prerogative of the crown, till the king, voted an enemy by the parliament, and vanquished in the field, was summoned before the tribunal which condemned him to lose his head. But when, at length, some presbyterian ministers, who had formerly been the most bitter enemies to Charles, became jealous of the growth of the Independents, and of their ascendancy in the parliament, most tumultuously clamoured against the sentence, and did all in their power to prevent the execution, though they were not angry, so much on account of the act itself, as because it was not the act of their party; and when they dared to affirm, that the doctrine of the protestants, and of all the reformed churches, was abhorrent to such an atrocious proceeding against kings; I thought, that it became me to oppose such a glaring falsehood; and accordingly, without any immediate or personal application to Charles, I showed, in an abstract consideration of the question, what might lawfully be done against tyrants; and in support of what I advanced, produced the opinions of the most celebrated divines, while I vehemently inveighed against the egregious ignorance or effrontery of men, who professed better things, and from whom better things might have been expected. That book did not make its appearance till after the death of Charles, and was written rather to reconcile the minds of the people to the event, than to discuss the legitimacy of that particular sentence which concerned the magistrates, and which was already executed.
Such were the fruits of my private studies, which I gratuitously presented to the church and to the state; and for which I was recompensed by nothing but impunity; though the actions themselves procured me peace of conscience; and the approbation of the good; while I exercised that freedom of discussion which I loved. Others, without labour or desert, got possession of honours and emoluments; but no one ever knew me, either soliciting any thing myself, or through the medium of my friends; ever beheld me in a supplicating posture at the doors of the senate, or the levees of the great. I usually kept myself secluded at home, where my own property, part of which had been withheld during the civil commotions, and part of which had been absorbed in the oppressive contributions which I had to sustain, afforded me a scanty subsistence. When I was released from these engagements, and thought that I was about to enjoy an interval of uninterrupted ease, I turned my thoughts to a continued history of my country, from the earliest times to the present period. I had already finished four books, when after the subversion of the monarchy, and the establishment of a republic, I was surprised by an invitation from the council of state, who desired my services in the office for foreign affairs. A book appeared soon after, which was ascribed to the king, and contained the most invidious charges against the parliament. I was ordered to answer it; and opposed the Iconoclast to his Icon. I did not insult over fallen majesty as is pretended; I only preferred Queen Truth to King Charles. The charge of insult, which I saw that the malevolent would urge, I was at some pains to remove in the beginning of the work; and as often as possible in other places. Salmasius then appeared, to whom they were not, as More says, long in looking about for an opponent, but immediately appointed me, who happened at the time to be present in the council. I have thus, Sir, given some account of myself, in order to stop your mouth, and to remove any prejudices which your falsehoods and misrepresentations might cause even good men to entertain against me. I tell thee then, thou mass of corruption, to hold thy peace; for the more you malign, the more you will compel me to confute; which will only serve to render your iniquity more glaring, and my integrity more manifest. I had reproved Salmasius, because he was a foreigner, for meddling with our affairs; but you exclaim “that the defence intimately concerns those who are not English.” Why? you say, that “the English may be supposed to be governed more by the spirit of party; but that the French will naturally pay more attention to the measures than the men.” To which I retort, as before, that no remote foreigner, as you are, would have interfered in the distractions of our country, if he were not influenced by the most sinister considerations.
I have already proved, that Salmasius was bribed; it is evident that you obtained the professional chair through the interest of Salmasius, and the Orange faction; and what is worse, you were debauching Pontia, at the same moment that you were defaming the parliament.
But the reason which you assign, why foreigners are the best judges in this business, is quite ridiculous; for if the English are carried away by party zeal, you, who make them your only guides, must certainly be infected by their antipathies. And if the English deserve no credit in their own cause, you must deserve much less, who have no knowledge whatever of our affairs, except what you derive from them, who, according to your own confession, ought not to be believed. Here again you launch out into the praises of the great Salmasius. Great he certainly was, whom you employed as a sort of pimp, to procure his servant girl. You praise him nevertheless: but he saw reason to curse you before his death, and a thousand times blamed himself for not giving more credit to the account of your atrocities, which he had received from Spanheim, a venerable divine. You are now worked into a fury, and assert, that Salmasius had long lost the use of his reason. You demand the first post in clamour and in rage, and yet assign the precedence in obloquy and abuse to Salmasius; “not because he is violent in his language, but because he is Salmasius.” O trifler! you, I suppose, learned this casuistry when you courted Pontia. Hence your clamour is taught to quibble and to whine; hence, foaming with menace, “you shall experience at last,” you say, “O base brutes, what my pen can do.” Shall we dread you, O libidinous adulterer, or your pen, which is an object of dread only to cooks and chambermaids? For if any one should hold up only his finger when he detects you in your criminal amours, you would think it well if you escaped without your back being broken, or your body dismembered. “I am not so foolish,” you say, “as to attempt the execution of a work, that was begun by Salmasius,” but such a work, if he had not been void of understanding, he would never have attempted; you therefore seem jocosely to give the preference to Salmasius over yourself in want of brains.
But you say, that “it is your province to invoke the vengeance of heaven on the murderers of the king;” which may be done by persons without any great share of erudition. Cry, shout, and brawl; continue to act the hypocrite, mouth religion, and practise lust. This God of vengeance whom you implore, will, believe me, one day arise in wrath, when he will begin with exterminating you, who are the servant of the devil, and the disgrace and pest of the reformed religion. To many, who blame the bitter invectives of Salmasius, you reply, that “this was the right way to deal with parricides, and such monsters of deformity.” I am obliged to you for thus teaching me in what manner yourself and your associate friends ought to be treated; and for furnishing me with so fair a pretext for severity. Now since you have no argument to produce, and the rights of kings, with whatever show of argument, had been already defended by Salmasius, your contumely and your rage evaporate in some miserable tales, some of which you have new-modelled from Salmasius, and interpolated others from that most confutable “confutation” of some anonymous scribbler who deserted not only his country but his name; and to the principal points of which, as I have already replied in my Iconoclast and my answers to Salmasius, no further reply can be necessary. Shall I always be compelled to go the same round, and answer every tautology of slanderous abuse? I will not do it; nor will I so misemploy my labour or my time. If any one think that his prostituted cries, his venal lamentations and frivolous declamation, deserve any credit, he is welcome for me to think so; for I have nothing to fear from such precipitate credulity. But I will just touch on a few of his points of attack, which may serve as a specimen of the rest, and give some insight into the character of the man and of the work. After having babbled a good deal of his exotic ignorance about the incorporation of the House of Commons and the House of Peers in one assembly, (a measure which no one in his senses would disapprove,) he says, that “this equality, introduced into the state, would naturally lead to the introduction of the same into the church; for episcopacy still remained, and if this be not downright anabaptism, I don’t know what is.” Who would have expected this from a Gallic minister and divine? I should hardly think that he knew what baptism is, who did not know what anabaptism is, if this were not. But if we will call things by their proper names, equality in the state is not anabaptism, but democracy, a far more ancient thing; and equality in the church is the practice of the apostles. But “episcopacy still remained.” We confess that it did; and Geneva still remained, though that city had consulted the interests of religion, in expelling both her bishop and her lawful chief; and why should we be condemned for what they are approved? But you wish, Sir, to take vengeance upon the Genevese, by whom it is uncertain whether you were dismissed with ignominy, or openly excommunicated on account of your impieties. It is clear that you, with your friend Salmasius, apostatized from this evangelical form of church-government, and took refuge among the episcopalians. “Then,” you say, “the republic passed into the hands of our levelling crew, so that it is evident that the same spirit prevailed at that time, which in the eighth year had perpetrated the impious murder of the king. Therefore the same spirit, as it seems, constituted your ministers, and perpetrated the parricide.” Go on, as you have begun, to eructate the rage of your apostacy. You say that “there were not more than three petitions which demanded the punishment of the king.” This is notoriously false. Those who have written an account of these transactions, mention not only three petitions of the kind, but many from different counties and from the armies in the course of one month; and three were presented in one day. You know how deliberately the matter was discussed in the senate, and that the people, suspecting them of too much lenity, resorted to petitioning, in order to put an end to their delays. How many thousands were there of the same opinion, who considered it to be either officious or superfluous to instigate the determination of the senate? I was one of these, though I made no secret of my sentiments. But suppose that the high rank of the accused had awed every tongue into silence, ought the parliament to have abstained from a decision, or have awaited the assent of the people, on which depended the issue of such momentous deliberations? For the supreme council of the nation was appointed by the people to curb the despotism of the king: and if on his capture, after the savage war which he had made, they had referred the question of his punishment to the decision of the people, and if they had acquitted him, what would those, who had so courageously restored our liberties, seem to have done, but to have furnished the king with the means of effecting their own destruction? Or if, after having been invested with full power to act as they thought best on the most momentous points, they should be compelled to refer to the multitude a question which far exceeded their capacity, and which they, conscious of their ignorance, had previously referred to the determination of the senate, where could this alternation of references and appeals have stopped? Where could we have found a place of rest in this turbulent eddy? How could we have procured any stability amid so much inconstancy, any security amid so much distraction? What if they had demanded the restoration of Charles to the crown? And such was the drift of some menaces, rather than petitions, which were presented by a few seditious persons, whose hatred one while, and whose compassion another, was wont to be equally senseless and malicious. Were we to make any account of these? “Who,” as you say, “in order to set on foot a conference with the king, flocked from all parts of the country to the doors of the parliament-house, where many of them were put to death by the soldiery, according to the order of the senators.”
Some inhabitants of Surry, either incited by the malicious suggestions of others, or by their own disorderly inclinations, paraded the city with a petition, in a state of tumult and intoxication. They proceeded in a body to assail the doors of the house; they beat off the guard, and, without the smallest provocation, killed one man who was stationed at the door. Hence they were deservedly driven by violence; and two or three of their number were slain, breathing the fumes of intemperance more than the love of liberty. You every where concede, that “the Independents were superior, not in numbers, but in discipline and in courage.” Hence I contend that they well deserved the superiority which they acquired; for nothing is more agreeable to the order of nature, or more for the interest of mankind, than that the less should yield to the greater, not in numbers, but in wisdom and in virtue. Those who excel in prudence, in experience, in industry and courage, however few they may be, will in my opinion finally constitute the majority, and every where have the ascendant. You intersperse many remarks on Cromwell, which I shall examine below; the rest I have replied to in my answer to Salmasius. Nor do you omit to mention the trial of the king, though your great rhetorician had made that the theme of his miserable declamation. You say that the peers, that is, in a great measure the pageants and courtiers of the king, were averse to the trial. I have shown in the other work the futility of this remark. “Then that the judges were erased, because they had given it as their opinion, that a king of England could not, by the law of England, be put upon his trial.” I know not what they then answered; I only know what they approve and vindicate. It is no uncommon, though a disreputable thing, for judges to be swayed by fear. “An obscure and insolent scoundrel was accordingly placed at the head of the base and iniquitous commission.” It is not surprising that you, who are contaminated by so many vices and crimes, who are a compound of whatever is most impure and vile, whose conscience has become a sort of fungus utterly devoid of sensibility, who are so notorious for atheism, for sacrilege and cruelty, should dare to vent your calumnies on the most worthy and illustrious names. But, though your abuse is the highest praise, yet I will never seem to abandon the excellent personage, the friend whom I most revere, to the torrent of your defamation. I will vindicate him from the unprincipled and intemperate obloquy of the fugitives and the Mores, which he would never have incurred, if he had not shown so much zeal for the good of the commonwealth. John Bradshaw (a name, which will be repeated with applause wherever liberty is cherished or is known) was sprung from a noble family. All his early life he sedulously employed in making himself acquainted with the laws of his country; he then practised with singular success and reputation at the bar; he showed himself an intrepid and unwearied advocate for the liberties of the people: he took an active part in the most momentous affairs of the state, and occasionally discharged the functions of a judge with the most inviolable integrity. At last when he was intreated by the parliament to preside in the trial of the king, he did not refuse the dangerous office. To a profound knowledge of the law, he added the most comprehensive views, the most generous sentiments, manners the most obliging and the most pure. Hence he discharged that office with a propriety almost without a parallel; he inspired both respect and awe; and, though menaced by the daggers of so many assassins, he conducted himself with so much consistency and gravity, with so much presence of mind and so much dignity of demeanour, that he seems to have been purposely destined by Providence for that part which he so nobly acted on the theatre of the world. And his glory is as much exalted above that of all other tyrannicides, as it is both more humane, more just, and more strikingly grand, judicially to condemn a tyrant, than to put him to death without a trial. In other respects, there was no forbidding austerity, no moroseness in his manner; he was courteous and benign; but the great character, which he then sustained, he with perfect consistency still sustains, so that you would suppose that, not only then, but in every future period of his life, he was sitting in judgment upon the king. In the public business his activity is unwearied; and he alone is equal to a host. At home his hospitality is as splendid as his fortune will permit; in his friendships there is the most inflexible fidelity; and no one more readily discerns merit, or more liberally rewards it. Men of piety and learning, ingenious persons in all professions, those who have been distinguished by their courage or their misfortunes, are free to participate his bounty; and if they want not his bounty, they are sure to share his friendship and esteem. He never ceases to extol the merits of others, or to conceal his own; and no one was ever more ready to accept the excuses, or to pardon the hostility, of his political opponents. If he undertake to plead the cause of the oppressed, to solicit the favour or deprecate the resentment of the powerful, to reprove the public ingratitude towards any particular individual, his address and his perseverance are beyond all praise. On such occasions no one could desire a patron or a friend more able, more zealous, or more eloquent. No menace could divert him from his purpose; no intimidation on the one hand, and no promise of emolument or promotion on the other, could alter the serenity of his countenance, or shake the firmness of his soul. By these virtues, which endeared him to his friends and commanded the respect even of his enemies, he, Sir, has acquired a name, which, while you and such as you are mouldering in oblivion, will flourish in every age and in every country in the world. But I must proceed; the king was condemned to lose his head. “Against this atrocity almost all the pulpits in London thundered out their censures.” We are not to be so easily scared by that thunder upon wood. We remember the fate of Salmoneous, and trust that these persons will one day see cause to repent of their fulminating temerity. These were the very persons, who so lately, and with such vehemence, fulminated their censures against pluralists and non-residents. But some of these persons having grasped three, and others four, of the livings, from which they had fulminated the episcopal clergy, they hence became non-residents themselves, guilty of the very sin against which they had inveighed, and the victims of their own fulminating rage. Nor have they any longer a spark of shame; they are now grown zealous abettors of the divine right of tythes; and truly as their thirst for tythes is so insatiable, they should be quite gorged with the commodity, and ordered to have, not only a tenth part of the fruits of the earth, but of the waves of the sea. They were the first to counsel a war of extermination against the king; but when the king was made prisoner, after having been convicted, according to their own repeated declarations, as the author of so much misery and bloodshed, they affected to compassionate his situation. Thus, in their pulpits, as in an auction room, they retail what wares and trumpery they please to the people; and what is worse, they reclaim what they have already sold. But “the Scots demanded that the king should be restored to them, and mention the promises of the parliament, when they delivered up the king to the English.” But I can prove, from the confession of the Scots themselves, that no such promise was given when the king was delivered up; and it would have been disgraceful for the English to have entered into any such stipulations with the Scotch troops, who were mercenaries in their pay. Why? Because the answer of the parliament to the representations of the Scotch, which was published on the fifteenth of March, clearly denies, that any assurances whatever were given respecting the treatment of the king; for they would have disdained to have submitted to such limitations of their right. But “they demanded that the king should be restored to them.” These tender-hearted persons, I suppose, were melted with compassion, and could no longer endure the regrets of royalty; though on several occasions, in which the subject had been discussed in parliament, they had unanimously agreed that the king might be deprived of his crown for three principal reasons; the despotism of his government, his alienation of the royal domains, and the desertion of his subjects. In the parliament, which was held at Perth, it was asked, Is the king, who is evidently an enemy to the saints, to be excommunicated from the society of the faithful? But before they could come to any decision on this question, Montrose advanced with his troops and dispersed the convention. The same persons, in their answer to General Cromwell, 1650, confess that he was justly punished, but that there was an informality in the proceedings, because they had no share in the commission which condemned him. This transaction, therefore, which was so atrocious, without their participation, would have been highly patriotic with it; as if the distinctions of right and wrong, of justice and injustice, depend on their arbitrary disposition, or their capricious inclinations. If the king had been restored to them, would he have experienced greater clemency and moderation? But “the Scotch Delegates had first brought this answer from the English Parliament, that they were unwilling to alter the form of the English Government; though they afterwards answered that they had changed their former determination, and would adopt such measures as the public interest seemed to require:” and this answer was discreet and wise. What do you infer from hence? “This change of sentiment,” you say, “was contrary to every engagement, to every stipulation, and to common sense.” To such common sense as yours it may be adverse, who do not know the difference between a gratuitous promise and a solemn and positive engagement. The English freely state to the Scots, what they were under no obligation to do, the sentiments which they then entertained respecting the future form of their government; but the safety of the state soon persuaded them to embrace a different policy, if they would not violate the solemn assurances which they had given to the people. And which, do you think, was most binding on their consciences; their gratuitous reply to the Scotch Delegates, concerning the future form of their constitution, or the necessary oath which they had taken, the solemn engagement into which they had entered with the people, to establish the liberties of their country? But that a parliament or a senate may alter their resolutions according to circumstances, as you deem whatever I assert to be mere anabaptistical extravagance, I shall endeavour to show you from the authority of Cicero in his oration for Plancius. “We should all stand, as it were, in some circular section of the commonwealth; in which since it is liable to a rotatory motion, we should choose that position to which the public interest seems to direct us: and this immediately, for I do not think it a mark of inconstancy to accomodate our measures, as we do the course which we steer at sea, to the winds and storms of the political horizon.” It is a maxim, which I have found justified by observation, by experience, and by books, by the examples of the wisest and most illustrious characters in this and in other countries, “that the same men are not always bound to defend the same opinions, but only such as the circumstances of the country, the current of popular opinion, and the preservation of peace, seem to render necessary.” Such were the sentiments of Tully; though you, Sir, would rather prefer those of Hortensius; such were the sentiments of those ages in which political wisdom flourished most; and which I deem it wise in the anabaptists to adopt. I could mention many other practices which are condemned as anabaptistical by these stripling teachers, and their chief Salmasius, who must be regarded as an illiterate dunce, if we look to things rather than to words. But you say that “the high and mighty chiefs of the United States of Holland most strenuously laboured, though to no purpose, both by supplications and by the offer of a ransom, to save the sacred life of the king.” Thus to wish to buy off justice was the same as not to will the safety of the king; but they soon learned that we were not all merchants, and that the parliament of England was not a venal crew.
With respect to the condemnation of the king, you say that “in order that the sufferings of Charles might be more nearly assimilated to those of Christ, he was exposed to the redoubled mockery of the soldiery.” The sufferings of Christ were indeed more like those of malefactors, than the sufferings of Christ were like those of Christ; though many comparisons of this kind were hawked about by those who were zealous in forging any lie, or devising any imposture that might tend to excite the popular indignation. But suppose that some of the common soldiers did behave with a little too much insolence, that consideration does not constitute the demerit of the execution. I never before heard, nor did I ever meet with any person who had heard, that “a person, who implored God to have mercy on the king as he was passing to the scaffold, was instantly put to death in the presence of the monarch.” I caused inquiries on the subject to be made of the officer who had the command of the guard during the whole time of the execution, and who hardly ever lost sight of the king’s person for a moment; and he positively declared that he had never heard this before, and that he knew it to be utterly destitute of foundation. Hence we may learn what credit is due to your narrative in other particulars; for you will be found not to discover much more veracity in your endeavours to procure affection and respect for Charles after his death, than in your exertions to make us objects of general and unmerited detestation. You say that “on the fatal scaffold, the king was heard twice to sigh out to the bishop of London, remember! remember!” The judges were all in anxiety to know what the words, so emphatically repeated, meant; the bishop, according to your account, was sent for, and with a menace ordered to declare to what the reiterated admonition might allude. He, at first, with a preconcerted dissimulation, pleaded his sense of delicacy, and refused to divulge the secret. When they became more impatient, he at last disclosed, as if by constraint, and under the influence of fear, what he would not for the world have had unknown. “The king,” said he, “ordered me, if I could gain access to his son, to inform him that it was the last injunction of his dying father, that, if he were ever restored to his power and crown, he should pardon you, the authors of his death. This was what his majesty again and again commanded me to remember.” Which shall I say? that the king discovered most piety, or the bishop most deceit? who with so little difficulty consented to disclose a secret, which on the very scaffold was so mysteriously entrusted to him, for the purpose of disclosure? But O! model of taciturnity! Charles had long since left this injunction, among others, to his son, in his “Icon Basilicon,” a book which was evidently written for this express purpose, that this secret, which had been so ostentatiously enveloped in obscurity, might be divulged with the utmost dispatch, and circulated with the utmost diligence. But I clearly see that you are determined to obtrude upon the ignorant some paragon of perfection, if not quite like Charles Stuart, at least some hyperborean and fabled hero, decorated with all the showy varnish of imposture; and that you tricked out this fiction, and embellished it with the effusions of sensibility, in order to entrap the attention of the populace. But though I do not deny but that one or two of the commissioners might perhaps have briefly interrogated the bishop on this subject, I do not find that he was either purposely called before them, or deliberately and scrupulously interrogated, as if it were a matter of their general solicitude and care. But let us grant that Charles, on the scaffold, did deliver to the bishop these dying injunctions to his son to pardon the authors of his death; what did he do more than others have done in similar situations? How few persons are there about to die upon a scaffold, and to close for ever the tragedy of life, when they must forcibly feel that vanity of every thing human, who would not do the same; who would not, when on the point of leaving the stage of life, cheerfully lay aside their animosities, their resentments, their aversions, or at least, pretend to do it, in order to excite compassion, or to leave behind them an opinion of their innocence? That Charles acted the hypocrite on this occasion, and that he never did sincerely, and from his heart, deliver any injunction to his son to pardon the authors of his death, or that his private were at variance with his public admonitions, may be proved by arguments of no small weight. For otherwise the son, who, in other respects was sufficiently obsequious to his father, would doubtlessly have obeyed this his most momentous and dying injunction, so religiously conveyed to him by the bishop. But how did he obey it, when two of our embassadors, the one in Holland, the other in Spain, neither of whom had any share in the destruction of the king, were put to death by his orders or his influence? And has he not indeed more than once openly declared in his public memorials, that nothing should induce him to pardon the murderers of his father? Consider, therefore, whether this narrative of yours be likely to be true, which, the more it commends the father, reviles the son. Next, digressing from your purpose, you not only make the royal blood invoke the vengeance of heaven, but the people clamour against the parliament. You forget your own enormities at home, to engage in foreign considerations, in which you have no concern. Vile wretch, would the people ever employ you to plead their cause, whose breath is steaming with the effluvia of venereal putrescence? You ascribe to the people the clamours of fugitives and profligates; and, like a juggler on a stage, you imitate the shrieks and cries of the most hideous brutes. Who denies, that there may be times, in which the vicious may constitute the majority of the citizens, who would rather follow Cataline or Antony, than the more virtuous part of the senate? But are not good citizens on this account to oppose the bad with vigour and decision? Ought they not to be less deterred by the smallness of their numbers, than they are animated by the goodness of their cause? Your beautiful scrap of declamation for the people of England, that it may not perish beyond recovery, I would advise you to insert in the Annals of Volusius; we do not want the savoury effusions of such a lecherous rhetorician. Next we are called to account for our injuries to the church. “The army is a Hydra-headed monster of accumulated heresies.” Those who speak the truth, acknowledge that our army excels all others, not only in courage, but in virtue and in piety. Other camps are the scenes of gambling, swearing, riot, and debauchery; in ours, the troops employ what leisure they have in searching the Scriptures and hearing the word; nor is there one, who thinks it more honourable to vanquish the enemy than to propagate the truth; and they not only carry on a military warfare against their enemies, but an evangelical one against themselves. And indeed if we consider the proper objects of war, what employment can be more becoming soldiers, who are raised to defend the laws, to be the support of our political and religious institutions? Ought they not then to be less conspicuous for ferocity than for the civil and the softer virtues, and to consider it as their true and proper destination, not merely to sow the seeds of strife, and reap the harvest of destruction, but to procure peace and security for the whole human race? If there be any, who either from the mistakes of others, or the infirmities of their own minds, deviate from these noble ends, we ought not to punish them with the sword, but rather labour to reform them by reason, by admonition, by pious supplications to God, to whom alone it belongs to dispel all the errors of the mind, and to impart to whom he will the celestial light of truth. We approve no heresies which are truly such; we do not even tolerate some; we wish them extirpated, but by those means which are best suited to the purpose; by reason and instruction, the only safe remedies for disorders of the mind; and not by the knife or the scourge, as if they were seated in the body. You say that “we have done another and equal injury to the temporal property of the church.” Ask the protestants of Holland, and even of Upper Germany, whether they ever spared the possessions of the church, against whom the Austrian Prince, as often as he makes war, hardly ever seeks for any other pretext than the restitution of the ecclesiastical domains. But that property did not belong to the church so much as the ecclesiastics, who, in this sense, might most justly be denominated church-men; indeed they might have been more fully termed wolves than any thing else; but could there be any impiety in applying to the necessary exigencies of a war which they themselves had occasioned, and which we had no other resource for carrying on, the property of these wolves, or rather the accumulated ravages of so many ages of ignorance and superstition? But it was expected that the wealth which was ravished from the bishops would be distributed among the parochial clergy. They expected, I know, and they desired, that the whole should be diffused among them; for there is no abyss so deep which it is not more easy to fill, than it is to satiate the rapacity of the clergy. In other places there may be an incompetent provision for the clergy; but ours have an abundant maintenance; they ought to be called sheep, rather than shepherds; they themselves are fed more than they feed others; every thing is fat around them, so that even their heads seem to swim in fat. They are stuffed with tythes in a way disapproved by the rest of the reformed churches; and they have so little trust in God, that they choose to extort a maintenance, rather by judicial force, and magisterial authority, than to owe it to divine providence, or the gratitude and benevolence of their congregations. And, besides all this, they are so frequently entertained by their pious auditors of both sexes, that they hardly know what it is to dine or sup at home. Hence they luxuriate in superfluities, rather than languish in want; their wives and children vie with the wives and children of the rich in luxury and refinement; and to have increased this tendency to prodigality, by an addition to their revenue, would have been the same as to infuse new poison into the church; a sort of pestilential malady, the introduction of which a voice from heaven lamented under Constantine. We have next to give an account of our enormities towards God, which principally concern our trust in the divine assistance, our prayers and fasts. But, vile miscreant! I will refute you out of your own mouth; and retort upon you that text of the apostle, “Who art thou that judgest another man’s servant?” Before our own master let us stand or fall. I will add also that saying of the prophet, “When I afflict my soul with fasting, this is turned to my reproach.” The rest of your delirious effusions on this subject, which no one will take the trouble to read twice, I should do wrong to detail. Nor are those things more to the purpose, which you brawl out concerning our successes. Beware, Sir, beware, lest, after your Pontian toils, you should swell into a polypus of corpulency; and we need be under apprehensions, lest as the great Salmasius lately did, you should chill the baths. On the nature of success I will say a few words. Success neither proves a cause to be good, nor indicates it to be bad; and we demand that our cause should not be judged by the event, but the event by the cause. You now enter on political discussions, the injuries which we have done to all kings, and to all people. What injuries? for we never intended any; the affairs of our own government alone occupied our attention, we neglected those of others; we do not envy the good that may have accrued from our example, and we can ascribe the evil only to the abuse or misapplication of our principles. But, what kings or people ever appointed you to proclaim their injuries? Indeed others have heard their orators and embassadors in the senate, and I have often heard them in the council, not only not complaining of any grievances, but voluntarily suing for our friendship and alliance. In the name of their kings and princes, they have often congratulated us on the state of our affairs, praying for the stability of our government, and the continuance of our prosperity. This was not the language of hostility or hatred, as you assert; and you must either necessarily be convicted of falsehood, at which you never stick, or kings themselves of an insincerity and dissimulation, the most humiliating and most base. But you object to our confession, that we had set a salutary example to all people, and a formidable one to all tyrants. This is surely as heinous a crime as if any one were to say,
Advis’d, learn Justice, and revere the gods.
Could any thing be uttered more pernicious? This was the language of Cromwell to the Scots after the battle of Dunbar. And worthy indeed was it of him and of that noble victory. “The infamous pages of Milton abound with the same noisome ingredients.” You always associate me with some illustrious colleague; and, on this occasion, you make me his equal, if not his superior; so that I might on this account think myself most honoured by you, if any thing honourable could proceed from you. “But those pages,” you say, “were burnt at Paris by the hands of the common hangman, and by the orders of the parliament.” I find that this was by no means done by the senate, but by one of the city officers, of what description I know not, but at the instigation of the clergy, those indolent vermin, who saw at a distance the fate which menaced, and which, I pray, may one day overtake their gluttony and extravagance. Do you imagine that we, in our turn, could not have burnt Salmasius’s defence of the king? I could myself easily have obtained this permission from the magistrates, if I had thought that it merited any thing but contempt. You, in your endeavours to extinguish one fire by another, have only erected an Herculean pile, from which I shall rise with more lustre and renown; we with more discretion, did not think it right to communicate any animating heat to the icy chilliness of the royal vindication. But I wonder that the Thoulousians should have become so degenerate, that a defence of religion and of liberty should be burnt in a city, in which, under the Counts of Raymond, religion and liberty were formerly so nobly defended. “And I wish,” you say, “that the writer had been burned as well.” Is this your disposition, slave? But you have taken good care that I should not indulge a similar wish towards you; for you have been long wasting in blacker flames. Your conscience is scorched by the flames of adultery and rape, and of those perjuries, by the help of which you debauched an unsuspecting girl, to whom you promised marriage, and then abandoned to despair. You are writhing under the flames of that mercenary passion, which impelled you, though covered with crimes, to lust after the functions of the priesthood, and to pollute the consecrated elements with your incestuous touch. While you are acting the hypocrite, you utter the most horrid imprecations against hypocrisy; and every sentence of condemnation only serves to condemn yourself. Such are the atrocities, such the infamy, with which you are all on fire; these are the infuriated flames, by which you are tormented night and day; and you suffer a punishment, than which even your bitterest foe could not invoke one more severe. In the mean time, not one hair of my head is singed by the conflagrations which you kindle; but those affronts are balanced by much delight, and many sweets. One tribunal perhaps, or a single Parisian executioner, under some unlucky bias, burnt my book; but nevertheless, how many good and wise men through all France read it, cherished and admired it? How many, through the spacious tracts of Germany, the domicile of freedom, and wherever any traces of freedom yet remain? Moreover Greece itself, and Athens, the eye of Greece, mingles its applause in the voice of its noble Philyras. And this I can truly say, that, as soon as my defence appeared, and had begun to excite the public curiosity, there was no public functionary of any prince or state then in the city, who did not congratulate me when we accidentally met, who did not desire my company at his house or visit me at mine. But it would be wrong not to mention you, O Adrian Paul, the honour and the ornament of Holland, who, dispatched on a splendid embassy to us, though I had never the pleasure of seeing you, sent me frequent assurances of your extraordinary predilection and regard. This it often delights me to recollect, and which could never have happened without the special appointment of the Deity, that royalty itself courteously favoured me, who had apparently written against kings; and afforded to my integrity and veracity, a testimony next to the divine. For, why should I fear to say this, when I consider how zealously and how highly all persons extol that illustrious queen? Nor do I think, that he who was the wisest of the Athenians, and with whom I by no means wish to compare myself, was more honoured by the testimony of the Pythian oracle, than I am by the approbation of such a queen. If this had happened to me, when a young man, and orators might have taken the same liberties as poets, I should not have hesitated to prefer my fate to that of some of the gods themselves; for, while they contended for the prize of beauty or harmony before a human judge, I, in the most glorious of all contests, had the palm of victory adjudged to me by the voice of an immortal. Thus honoured and caressed, no one but a common hangman would dare to treat me with disrespect; and such an one has both done it and caused it to be done. Here you take great pains, as Salmasius had done before, to prevent us from justifying our struggles for liberty by the example of the Dutch; but the same answer will serve for both. They are mistaken who think that we want any example to direct us. We often found it necessary to cherish and support, but never to rival, the Dutch in their struggles for liberty. If any extraordinary courage in the defence of liberty be requisite, we are wont, not to follow others, but to go before them and to lead the way. But you also employ the most paltry oratory, and the most flimsy argument, to induce the French to go to war with us. “The spirit of the French,” you say, “will never deign to receive our embassadors.” It has deigned, which is much more, voluntarily to send embassadors three or four times to us. The French, therefore, are as noble minded as usual; but you are degenerate and spurious, and your politics betray as much ignorance as falsehood. Hence you attempt to demonstrate that “the negotiation of the United States was purposely protracted, because they wished neither to treat with us, nor to go to war with us.” But it certainly behoves their High Mightinesses not to suffer their counsels to be thus exposed, and, I may say, traduced by a Genevese fugitive; who, if they suffer him any longer to remain among them, will not only debauch their women but their counsels. For they profess the most unfeigned amity; and have lately renewed a peace with us, of which it is the wish of all good men that it may be perpetual. “It was pleasant,” he says, “to see how those ruffian embassadors,” he means the English, “had to contend with the mockery and the menace of the English royalists, but chiefly of the Dutch.” If we had not thoroughly known to whom the murder of our former embassador, Dorislaus, and the affronts which were offered to our two other embassadors are to be ascribed, we might well exclaim, lo! a slanderous informant, who falsely accuses the very persons by whose bounty he is fed! Will you any longer, O Batavians! cherish and support a man, who, not contented with practising the most infamous debaucheries in the church, wishes to introduce the most sanguinary butchery into the state; who not only exposes you to violate the laws of nations, but falsely imputes to you the guilt of such violations?
The last head of his accusations is, “our injuries to the reformed churches.” But how our injuries towards them, rather than theirs towards us? For if you recur to examples, and turn over the annals of history from the Waldenses and the Thoulousians to the famine of Rochelle, you will find that we, of all churches, have been the last to take up arms against tyranny; but the first “to bring the tyrant to a scaffold.” Truly, because we were the first who had it in our power; and I think that they hardly know what they would have done if they had experienced similar opportunities. Indeed I am of opinion, that he against whom we wage war, must necessarily, and as long as we have any use of reason, be judged an enemy; but it has always been as lawful to put an enemy to death, as to attack him with the sword. Since then a tyrant is not only our enemy, but the public enemy of mankind; he may certainly be put to death with as much justice on the scaffold, as he is opposed with arms in the field. Nor is this only my opinion, or one of recent date; for common sense has long since dictated the same to others. Hence Tully, in his oration for Rabirius, declares, “If it were criminal to put Saturninus to death, arms could not, without a crime, have been taken up against Saturninus; but if you allow the justice of taking up arms against him, you must allow the justice of putting him to death.” I have said a good deal on this subject at other times and in other places, and the thing is clear enough in itself; from which you may conjecture what the French would have done if they had the power. I add, moreover, that those who oppose a tyrant in the field, do all in their power to put him to death; indeed, whatever sophistry they may use, they have already morally put him to death. But this doctrine is not to be imputed to us more than to the French, whom you wish to exempt from the imputation. For whence issued that work of “Franco Gallia,” except from Gaul, or “the defence against tyranny?” A book which is commonly ascribed to Beza. Whence others which Thaunus mentions? But as if I were the only author of the doctrine, you say, “Milton makes a pother about that, whose raving spirit I would have chastised as it deserves.”—You would have chastised, miscreant? You, whose atrocious proceedings, if the church of Middleburgh, which was disgraced by your impieties, had punished as they deserved, it would long since have committed you to the keeping of the devil; and if the civil power had rewarded you according to your desert, you would long ago have expiated your adulteries on a gibbet. And the hour of expiation seems on the point of arriving; for, as I hear, the church of Middleburgh, awakening to a right sense of your enormities and of its own disgrace, has expelled such a priest of lechery from her communion, and devoted you to perdition. Hence, the magistrates of Amsterdam have excluded you from the pulpit, that pious ears may no longer be scandalized, by hearing the sounds of your profligate effrontery in the bosom of the sanctuary. Your Greek professorship is now all that is left you; and this you will soon lose, except one single letter, of which you will not be the professor, but the pupil, pensile from the top [Editor: illegible character]. Nor do I omen this in rage; I express only the truth; for I am so far from being offended with such revilers as you, that I would always wish for such persons to revile me; and I esteem it a mark of the divine benevolence, that those, who have most bitterly inveighed against me, have usually been persons whose abuse is praise, and whose praise is infamy. But what served to restrain the irruption of such impotence of rage? “Unless,” you say, “I have been fearful of encroaching on the province of the great Salmasius, to whom I relinquish the undivided praise of victory over his great antagonist.”—Since indeed you now profess to consider me great, as well as him, you will find the difficulties of your undertaking increased, particularly since his death; though I feel very little solicitude about the victory, as long as truth prevails. In the mean time you exclaim, that “we are converting parricide into an article of faith, to which they secretly desire, though they do not openly dare to ascribe, the unanimous consent of the reformed churches; and Milton says, that it was the doctrine of the greatest theologians, who were the principal authors of the reformation.” It was, I say; as I have more fully shown in the tenure of kings and magistrates, and in other places. But now we are become scrupulous about doing what has been so often done. In that work, I have cited passages from Luther, Zuinglius, Calvin, Bucer, Martyr, Paræus, and lastly, from that Knox, who you say alone countenances the doctrine which all the reformed churches at that time, and particularly those of France, condemned. And he himself affirms, as I have there explained, that he derived the doctrine from Calvin and other eminent theologians at that time, with whom he was in habits of familiarity and friendship. And in the same work you will find the same opinions supported by the authorities of some of our more pure and disinterested divines, during the reigns of Mary and Elizabeth. You conclude your work with a prolix effusion of your devotional abominations to the Deity. You dare to lift up your adulterous eyes and your obdurate heart to heaven! I will throw no impediments in your way, but leave you to yourself; for your impiety is great beyond the possibility of increase.
I now return, as I promised, to produce the principal accusations against Cromwell, that I may show what little consideration particulars deserve, when the whole taken together is so frivolous and absurd. “He declared in the presence of many witnesses, that it was his intention to subvert every monarchy, and exterminate every king.” We have often seen before what credit is due to your assertions; perhaps one of the emigrants ascribed this saying to Cromwell. Of the many witnesses, you do not mention the name of a single one; but aspersions, so destitute of proof, must be destitute of permanence. Cromwell was never found to be boastful of his actual exploits: and much less is he wont to employ any ostentatiousness of promise or arrogance of menace respecting achievements which were never performed, and the performance of which would be so difficult. Those, therefore, who furnished you with this piece of information, must have been liars rather from a spontaneous impulse or a constitutional propensity, than from deliberate intention, or they would never have invented a saying so contrary to his character and disposition. But the kings, whose trembling apprehensions and vigilant precautions you labour to excite, instead of accommodating their policy to the opinions which may be casually uttered in the street, had better enter on the consideration of the subject in a manner more suitable to its dignity, and more likely to throw light upon their interests. Another accusation is, that Cromwell had persuaded “the king secretly to withdraw himself into the Isle of Wight.” It is well known that the affairs of Charles were often rendered desperate in other ways, and thrice by flight; first, when he fled from London to York, next, when he took refuge among the Scotch in the pay of England, and lastly, when he retired to the Isle of Wight. But “Cromwell persuaded this last measure.” This is to be sure beyond all possibility of doubt; but I wonder that the royalists should lavish such an abundance of praise respecting the prudence of Charles, who seems scarce ever to have had a will of his own. For whether he was among his friends or his enemies, in the court or in the camp, he was generally the mere puppet of others; at one time of his wife, at another of his bishops, now of his nobles, then of his troops, and last of all, of the enemy. And he seems, for the most part, to have followed the worst counsels, and those too of the worst advisers. Charles is the victim of persuasion, Charles the dupe of imposition, Charles the pageant of delusion; he is intimidated by fear or dazzled by hope; and carried about here and there, the common prey of every faction, whether they be friends or foes. Let them either erase these facts from their writings, or cease to extol the sagacity of Charles. Though therefore a superior degree of penetration is an honourable distinction, yet when a country is torn with factions, it is not without its inconveniences; and the most discreet and cautious are most exposed to the calumnies of opposite factions. This often proved an obstacle in the way of Cromwell. Hence the presbyterians, and hence the enemy, impute every harsh treatment which they experience, not to the parliament but to Cromwell alone. They do not even hesitate to ascribe their own indiscretions and miscarriages to the fraud and treachery of Cromwell; against him every invective is levelled, and every censure passed. Indeed the flight of Charles to the Isle of Wight, which took place while Cromwell was at a distance, and was so sudden and unexpected, that he acquainted by letter every member then in the metropolis with the extraordinary occurrence. But this was the state of the case. The king, alarmed by the clamours of the whole army, which, neither softened by his intreaties nor his promises, had begun to demand his punishment, he determined to make his escape in the night with two trusty followers. But more determined to fly, than rightly knowing where to fly, he was induced, either by the ignorance or the cowardice of his attendants, to surrender himself to Hammond, governor of the Isle of Wight, whence he thought that he might easily be conveyed by ship into France or Holland. This is what I have learned concerning the king’s flight to the Isle of Wight, from those who possessed the readiest means of obtaining information. This is also one of the criminal charges; that “the English under Cromwell procured a great victory over the Scots.” Not “procured,” Sir, but, without any solecism, gloriously achieved. But consider how sanguinary that battle must have been, the mere idea of which excited such trembling apprehensions, that you could not mention it without striking your head against Priscian’s pate. But let us see what was the great crime in Cromwell in having gained such a complete victory over the Scots, who were menacing England with invasion, with the loss of her independence. “During this confusion, while Cromwell is absent with the army:” yes, while he was engaged in subduing an enemy, who had marched into the very heart of the kingdom, and menaced the safety of the parliament: while he was employed in reducing the revolted Welsh to their obedience, whom he vanquished wherever he could overtake, and dispersed wherever he could find; the presbyterians “began to conceive a disgust against Cromwell.” Here you speak the truth. While he is repelling the common enemy at the hazard of his life, and bravely defending their interests abroad, they are conspiring to ruin his reputation at home, and suborn one Huntington to take away his life. Does not this atrocious instance of ingratitude excite our abhorrence and our rage? By their instigation a mob of worthless people, reeking from the taverns and the stews, besieges the doors of the parliament, and (O indignity) compels them by clamour and intimidation, to vote such measures as they chose to dictate. And we should now have seen our Camillus, on his return from Scotland, after all his triumphs, and all his toils, either driven into exile, or put to an ignominious death, if General Fairfax had not openly remonstrated against the disgrace of his invincible lieutenant; if the whole army, which had itself experienced a good deal of ill-treatment, had not interposed to prevent such atrocious proceedings. Entering the metropolis, they quelled the citizens without much difficulty; they deservedly expelled from the senate those members who favoured the hostile Scotch; the rest, delivered from the insolence of the rabble, broke off the conference which had begun with the king in the Isle of Wight, contrary to the express orders of the parliament. But Huntington the accuser was left to himself; and at last, struck with remorse, solicited the forgiveness of Cromwell, and confessed by whom he had been suborned. These are the principal charges, except those to which I have replied above, which are brought forward against this noble deliverer of his country. Of how little force they are, is very apparent. But, in speaking of such a man, who has merited so well of his country, I should do nothing, if I only exculpated him from crimes; particularly since it not only so nearly concerns the country, but even myself, who am so closely implicated in the same disgrace, to evince to all nations, and as far as I can, to all ages, the excellence of his character, and the splendour of his renown. Oliver Cromwell was sprung from a line of illustrious ancestors, who were distinguished for the civil functions which they sustained under the monarchy, and still more for the part which they took in restoring and establishing true religion in this country. In the vigour and maturity of his life, which he passed in retirement, he was conspicuous for nothing more than for the strictness of his religious habits and the innocence of his life; and he had tacitly cherished in his breast that flame of piety which was afterwards to stand him in so much stead on the greatest occasions, and in the most critical exigencies. In the last parliament which was called by the king, he was elected to represent his native town; when he soon became distinguished by the justness of his opinions, and the vigour and decision of his counsels. When the sword was drawn, he offered his services, and was appointed to a troop of horse, whose numbers were soon increased by the pious and the good, who flocked from all quarters to his standard; and in a short time he almost surpassed the greatest generals in the magnitude and the rapidity of his achievements. Nor is this surprising; for he was a soldier disciplined to perfection in the knowledge of himself. He had either extinguished, or by habit had learned to subdue, the whole host of vain hopes, fears, and passions, which infest the soul. He first acquired the government of himself, and over himself acquired the most signal victories; so that on the first day he took the field against the external enemy, he was a veteran in arms, consummately practised in the toils and exigencies of war. It is not possible for me in the narrow limits in which I circumscribe myself on this occasion, to enumerate the many towns which he has taken, the many battles which he has won. The whole surface of the British empire has been the scene of his exploits, and the theatre of his triumphs; which alone would furnish ample materials for a history, and want a copiousness of narration not inferior to the magnitude and diversity of the transactions. This alone seems to be a sufficient proof of his extraordinary and almost supernatural virtue, that by the vigour of his genius, or the excellence of his discipline, adapted, not more to the necessities of war, than to the precepts of Christianity, the good and the brave were from all quarters attracted to his camp, not only as to the best school of military talents, but of piety and virtue; and that during the whole war, and the occasional intervals of peace, amid so many vicissitudes of faction and of events, he retained and still retains the obedience of his troops, not by largesses or indulgence, but by his sole authority, and the regularity of his pay. In this instance his fame may rival that of Cyrus, of Epaminondas, or any of the great generals of antiquity. Hence he collected an army as numerous and as well equipped as any one ever did in so short a time; which was uniformly obedient to his orders, and dear to the affections of the citizens; which was formidable to the enemy in the field, but never cruel to those who laid down their arms; which committed no lawless ravages on the persons or the property of the inhabitants; who, when they compared their conduct with the turbulence, the intemperance, the impiety, and the debauchery of the royalists, were wont to salute them as friends, and to consider them as guests. They were a stay to the good, a terror to the evil, and the warmest advocates for every exertion of piety and virtue. Nor would it be right to pass over the name of Fairfax, who united the utmost fortitude with the utmost courage; and the spotless innocence of whose life seemed to point him out as the peculiar favourite of heaven. Justly indeed may you be excited to receive this wreath of praise; though you have retired as much as possible from the world, and seek those shades of privacy which were the delight of Scipio. Nor was it only the enemy whom you subdued; but you have triumphed over that flame of ambition and that lust of glory, which are wont to make the best and the greatest of men their slaves. The purity of your virtues and the splendour of your actions consecrate those sweets of ease which you enjoy; and which constitute the wished for haven of the toils of man. Such was the ease which, when the heroes of antiquity possessed, after a life of exertion and glory, not greater than yours, the poets, in despair of finding ideas or expressions better suited to the subject, feigned that they were received into heaven, and invited to recline at the tables of the gods. But whether it were your health, which I principally believe, or any other motive which caused you to retire, of this I am convinced, that nothing could have induced you to relinquish the service of your country, if you had not known that in your successor liberty would meet with a protector, and England with a stay to its safety, and a pillar to its glory. For, while you, O Cromwell, are left among us, he hardly shows a proper confidence in the Supreme, who distrusts the security of England; when he sees that you are in so special a manner the favoured object of the divine regard. But there was another department of the war, which was destined for your exclusive exertions.
Without entering into any length of detail, I will, if possible, describe some of the most memorable actions, with as much brevity as you performed them with celerity. After the loss of all Ireland, with the exception of one city, you in one battle immediately discomfited the forces of the rebels: and were busily employed in settling the country, when you were suddenly recalled to the war in Scotland. Hence you proceeded with unwearied diligence against the Scots, who were on the point of making an irruption into England with the king in their train: and in about the space of one year you entirely subdued, and added to the English dominion, that kingdom which all our monarchs, during a period of 800 years, had in vain struggled to subject. In one battle you almost annihilated the remainder of their forces, who in a fit of desperation, had made a sudden incursion into England, then almost destitute of garrisons, and got as far as Worcester; where you came up with them by forced marches, and captured almost the whole of their nobility. A profound peace ensued; when we found, though indeed not then for the first time, that you was as wise in the cabinet as valiant in the field. It was your constant endeavour in the senate either to induce them to adhere to those treaties which they had entered into with the enemy, or speedily to adjust others which promised to be beneficial to the country. But when you saw that the business was artfully procrastinated, that every one was more intent on his own selfish interest than on the public good, that the people complained of the disappointments which they had experienced, and the fallacious promises by which they had been gulled, that they were the dupes of a few overbearing individuals, you put an end to their domination. A new parliament is summoned: and the right of election given to those to whom it was expedient. They meet; but do nothing; and, after having wearied themselves by their mutual dissensions, and fully exposed their incapacity to the observation of the country, they consent to a voluntary dissolution. In this state of desolation, to which we were reduced, you, O Cromwell! alone remained to conduct the government, and to save the country. We all willingly yield the palm of sovereignty to your unrivalled ability and virtue, except the few among us, who, either ambitious of honours which they have not the capacity to sustain, or who envy those which are conferred on one more worthy than themselves, or else who do not know that nothing in the world is more pleasing to God, more agreeable to reason, more politically just, or more generally useful, than that the supreme power should be vested in the best and the wisest of men. Such, O Cromwell, all acknowledge you to be; such are the services which you have rendered, as the leader of our councils, the general of our armies, and the father of your country. For this is the tender appellation by which all the good among us salute you from the very soul. Other names you neither have nor could endure; and you deservedly reject that pomp of title which attracts the gaze and admiration of the multitude. For what is a title but a certain definite mode of dignity; but actions such as yours surpass, not only the bounds of our admiration, but our titles; and like the points of pyramids, which are lost in the clouds, they soar above the possibilities of titular commendation. But since, though it be not fit, it may be expedient, that the highest pitch of virtue should be circumscribed within the bounds of some human appellation, you endured to receive, for the public good, a title most like to that of the father of your country; not to exalt, but rather to bring you nearer to the level of ordinary men; the title of king was unworthy the transcendant majesty of your character. For if you had been captivated by a name over which, as a private man, you had so completely triumphed and crumbled into dust, you would have been doing the same thing as if, after having subdued some idolatrous nation by the help of the true God, you should afterwards fall down and worship the gods which you had vanquished. Do you then, Sir, continue your course with the same unrivalled magnanimity; it sits well upon you;—to you our country owes its liberties, nor can you sustain a character at once more momentous and more august than that of the author, the guardian, and the preserver of our liberties; and hence you have not only eclipsed the achievements of all our kings, but even those which have been fabled of our heroes. Often reflect what a dear pledge the beloved land of your nativity has entrusted to your care; and that liberty which she once expected only from the chosen flower of her talents and her virtues, she now expects from you only, and by you only hopes to obtain. Revere the fond expectations which we cherish, the solicitudes of your anxious country; revere the looks and the wounds of your brave companions in arms, who, under your banners, have so strenuously fought for liberty; revere the shades of those who perished in the contest; revere also the opinions and the hopes which foreign states entertain concerning us, who promise to themselves so many advantages from that liberty, which we have so bravely acquired, from the establishment of that new government, which has begun to shed its splendour on the world, which, if it be suffered to vanish like a dream, would involve us in the deepest abyss of shame; and lastly, revere yourself; and, after having endured so many sufferings and encountered so many perils for the sake of liberty, do not suffer it, now it is obtained, either to be violated by yourself, or in any one instance impaired by others. You cannot be truly free, unless we are free too; for such is the nature of things, that he, who entrenches on the liberty of others, is the first to lose his own and become a slave. But, if you, who have hitherto been the patron and tutelary genius of liberty, if you, who are exceeded by no one in justice, in piety, and goodness, should hereafter invade that liberty, which you have defended, your conduct must be fatally operative, not only against the cause of liberty, but the general interests of piety and virtue. Your integrity and virtue will appear to have evaporated, your faith in religion to have been small; your character with posterity will dwindle into insignificance, by which a most destructive blow will be levelled against the happiness of mankind. The work which you have undertaken is of incalculable moment, which will thoroughly sift and expose every principle and sensation of your heart, which will fully display the vigour and genius of your character, which will evince whether you really possess those great qualities of piety, fidelity, justice, and self-denial, which made us believe that you were elevated by the special direction of the Deity to the highest pinnacle of power. At once wisely and discreetly to hold the sceptre over three powerful nations, to persuade people to relinquish inveterate and corrupt for new and more beneficial maxims and institutions, to penetrate into the remotest parts of the country, to have the mind present and operative in every quarter, to watch against surprise, to provide against danger, to reject the blandishments of pleasure and the pomp of power;—these are exertions compared with which the labour of war is mere pastime; which will require every energy and employ every faculty that you possess; which demand a man supported from above, and almost instructed by immediate inspiration. These and more than these are, no doubt, the objects which occupy your attention and engross your soul; as well as the means by which you may accomplish these important ends, and render our liberty at once more ample and more secure. And this you can, in my opinion, in no other way so readily effect, as by associating in your councils the companions of your dangers and your toils; men of exemplary modesty, integrity, and courage; whose hearts have not been hardened in cruelty, and rendered insensible to pity by the sight of so much ravage and so much death, but whom it has rather inspired with the love of justice, with a respect for religion, and with the feeling of compassion, and who are more zealously interested in the preservation of liberty, in proportion as they have encountered more perils in its defence. They are not strangers or foreigners, a hireling rout scraped together from the dregs of the people, but for the most part, men of the better conditions in life, of families not disgraced, if not ennobled, of fortunes either ample or moderate; and what if some among them are recommended by their poverty? for it was not the lust of ravage which brought them into the field; it was the calamitous aspect of the times, which, in the most critical circumstances, and often amid the most disastrous turns of fortune, roused them to attempt the deliverance of their country from the fangs of despotism. They were men prepared, not only to debate, but to fight; not only to argue in the senate, but to engage the enemy in the field. But unless we will continually cherish indefinite and illusory expectations, I see not in whom we can place any confidence, if not in these men and such as these. We have the surest and most indubitable pledge of their fidelity in this, that they have already exposed themselves to death in the service of their country; of their piety in this, that they have been always wont to ascribe the whole glory of their successes to the favour of the Deity, whose help they have so suppliantly implored, and so conspicuously obtained; of their justice in this, that they even brought the king to trial, and when his guilt was proved, refused to save his life; of their moderation in our own uniform experience of its effects, and because, if by any outrage, they should disturb the peace which they have procured, they themselves will be the first to feel the miseries which it will occasion, the first to meet the havoc of the sword, and the first again to risk their lives for all those comforts and distinctions which they have so happily acquired; and lastly, of their fortitude in this, that there is no instance of any people who ever recovered their liberty with so much courage and success; and therefore let us not suppose, that there can be any persons who will be more zealous in preserving it. I now feel myself irresistibly compelled to commemorate the names of some of those who have most conspicuously signalized themselves in these times: and first thine, O Fleetwood! whom I have known from a boy, to the present blooming maturity of your military fame, to have been inferior to none in humanity, in gentleness, in benignity of disposition, whose intrepidity in the combat, and whose clemency in victory, have been acknowledged even by the enemy: next thine, O Lambert! who, with a mere handful of men, checked the progress, and sustained the attack, of the duke of Hamilton, who was attended with the whole flower and vigour of the Scottish youth: next thine, O Desborough! and thine, O Hawley! who wast always conspicuous in the heat of the combat, and the thickest of the fight; thine, O Overton! who hast been most endeared to me now for so many years by the similitude of our studies, the suavity of your manners, and the more than fraternal sympathy of our hearts; you, who in the memorable battle of Marston Moor, when our left wing was put to the rout, were beheld with admiration, making head against the enemy with your infantry and repelling his attack, amid the thickest of the carnage; and lastly, you, who in the Scotch war, when under the auspices of Cromwell, occupied the coast of Fife, opened a passage beyond Sterling, and made the Scotch of the west, and of the north, and even the remotest Orkneys, confess your humanity, and submit to your power. Besides these, I will mention some as celebrated for their political wisdom and their civil virtues, whom you, Sir, have admitted into your councils, and who are known to me by friendship or by fame. Whitlocke, Pickering, Strickland, Sydenham, Sydney, (a name indissolubly attached to the interests of liberty,) Montacute, Laurence, both of highly cultivated minds and polished taste; besides many other citizens of singular merit, some of whom were distinguished by their exertions in the senate, and others in the field. To these men, whose talents are so splendid, and whose worth has been so thoroughly tried, you would without doubt do right to trust the protection of our liberties; nor would it be easy to say to whom they might more safely be entrusted.
Then, if you leave the church to its own government, and relieve yourself and the other public functionaries from a charge so onerous, and so incompatible with your functions; and will no longer suffer two powers, so different as the civil and the ecclesiastical, to commit fornication together, and by their mutual and delusive aids in appearance to strengthen, but in reality to weaken and finally to subvert, each other; if you shall remove all power of persecution out of the church, (but persecution will never cease, so long as men are bribed to preach the gospel by a mercenary salary, which is forcibly extorted rather than gratuitously bestowed, which serves only to poison religion, and to strangle truth,) you will then effectually have cast those money-changers out of the temple, who do not merely truckle with doves, but with the dove itself, with the Spirit of the Most High. Then since there are often in a republic men who have the same itch for making a multiplicity of laws, as some poetasters have for making many verses; and since laws are usually worse in proportion as they are more numerous, if you shall not enact so many new laws as you abolish old, which do not operate so much as warnings against evil, as impediments in the way of good; and if you shall retain only those which are necessary, which do not confound the distinctions of good and evil, which, while they prevent the frauds of the wicked, do not prohibit the innocent freedoms of the good, which punish crimes, without interdicting those things which are lawful, only on account of the abuses to which they may occasionally be exposed. For the intention of laws is to check the commission of vice, but liberty is the best school of virtue, and affords the strongest encouragements to the practice. Then if you make a better provision for the education of our youth than has hitherto been made, if you prevent the promiscuous instruction of the docile and the indocile, of the idle and the diligent, at the public cost, but reserve the rewards of learning for the learned, and of merit for the meritorious. If you permit the free discussion of truth without any hazard to the author, or any subjection to the caprice of an individual, which is the best way to make truth flourish and knowledge abound, the censure of the half-learned, the envy, the pusillanimity, or the prejudice which measures the discoveries of others, and in short every degree of wisdom, by the measure of its own capacity, will be prevented from doling out information to us according to their own arbitrary choice. Lastly, if you shall not dread to hear any truth, or any falsehood, whatever it may be, but if you shall least of all listen to those, who think that they can never be free, till the liberties of others depend on their caprice, and who attempt nothing with so much zeal and vehemence, as to fetter, not only the bodies but the minds of men, who labour to introduce into the state the worst of all tyrannies, the tyranny of their own depraved habits and pernicious opinions; you will always be dear to those who think not merely that their own sect or faction, but that all citizens of all descriptions should enjoy equal rights and equal laws. If there be any one who thinks that this is not liberty enough, he appears to me to be rather inflamed with the lust of ambition, or of anarchy, than with the love of a genuine and well regulated liberty; and particularly since the circumstances of the country, which has been so convulsed by the storms of faction, which are yet hardly still, do not permit us to adopt a more perfect or desirable form of government.
For it is of no little consequence, O citizens, by what principles you are governed, either in acquiring liberty, or in retaining it when acquired. And unless that liberty, which is of such a kind as arms can neither procure nor take away, which alone is the fruit of piety, of justice, of temperance, and unadulterated virtue, shall have taken deep root in your minds and hearts, there will not long be wanting one who will snatch from you by treachery what you have acquired by arms. War has made many great whom peace makes small. If after being released from the toils of war, you neglect the arts of peace, if your peace and your liberty be a state of warfare, if war be your only virtue, the summit of your praise, you will, believe me, soon find peace the most adverse to your interests. Your peace will be only a more distressing war; and that which you imagined liberty will prove the worst of slavery. Unless by the means of piety, not frothy and loquacious, but operative, unadulterated, and sincere, you clear the horizon of the mind from those mists of superstition, which arise from the ignorance of true religion, you will always have those who will bend your necks to the yoke as if you were brutes, who notwithstanding all your triumphs will put you up to the highest bidder, as if you were mere booty made in war; and will find an exuberant source of wealth in your ignorance and superstition. Unless you will subjugate the propensity to avarice, to ambition, and sensuality, and expel all luxury from yourselves and from your families, you will find that you have cherished a more stubborn and intractable despot at home, than you ever encountered in the field; and even your very bowels will be continually teeming with an intolerable progeny of tyrants. Let these be the first enemies whom you subdue; this constitutes the campaign of peace; these are triumphs, difficult indeed, but bloodless, and far more honourable than those trophies, which are purchased only by slaughter and by rapine. Unless you are victors in this service, it is in vain that you have been victorious over the despotic enemy in the field. For if you think that it is a more grand, a more beneficial, or a more wise policy, to invent subtle expedients for increasing the revenue, to multiply our naval and military force, to rival in craft the ambassadors of foreign states, to form skilful treaties and alliances, than to administer unpolluted justice to the people, to redress the injured, and to succour the distressed, and speedily to restore to every one his own, you are involved in a cloud of error; and too late will you perceive, when the illusion of those mighty benefits has vanished, that in neglecting these, which you now think inferior considerations, you have only been precipitating your own ruin and despair. The fidelity of enemies and allies is frail and perishing, unless it be cemented by the principles of justice; that wealth and those honours, which most covet, readily change masters; they forsake the idle and repair where virtue, where industry, where patience flourish most. Thus nation precipitates the downfall of nation; thus the more sound part of one people subverts the more corrupt; thus you obtained the ascendant over the royalists. If you plunge into the same depravity, if you imitate their excesses, and hanker after the same vanities, you will become royalists as well as they, and liable to be subdued by the same enemies, or by others in your turn; who, placing their reliance on the same religious principles, the same patience, the same integrity and discretion which made you strong, will deservedly triumph over you, who are immersed in debauchery, in the luxury and the sloth of kings. Then, as if God was weary of protecting you, you will be seen to have passed through the fire that you might perish in the smoke; the contempt which you will then experience will be great as the admiration which you now enjoy; and, what may in future profit others, but cannot benefit yourselves, you will leave a salutary proof what great things the solid reality of virtue and of piety might have effected, when the mere counterfeit and varnished resemblance could attempt such mighty achievements, and make such considerable advances towards the execution. For if, either through your want of knowledge, your want of constancy, or your want of virtue, attempts so noble, and actions so glorious, have had an issue so unfortunate, it does not therefore follow, that better men should be either less daring in their projects or less sanguine in their hopes. But from such an abyss of corruption into which you so readily fall, no one, not even Cromwell himself, nor a whole nation of Brutuses, if they were alive, could deliver you if they would, or would deliver you if they could. For who would vindicate your right of unrestrained suffrage, or of choosing what representatives you liked best, merely that you might elect the creatures of your own faction, whoever they might be, or him, however small might be his worth, who would give you the most lavish feasts, and enable you to drink to the greatest excess? Thus not wisdom and authority, but turbulence and gluttony, would soon exalt the vilest miscreants from our taverns and our brothels, from our towns and villages, to the rank and dignity of senators. For, should the management of the republic be entrusted to persons to whom no one would willingly entrust the management of his private concerns; and the treasury of the state be left to the care of those who had lavished their own fortunes in an infamous prodigality? Should they have the charge of the public purse, which they would soon convert into a private, by their unprincipled peculations? Are they fit to be the legislators of a whole people who themselves know not what law, what reason, what right and wrong, what crooked and straight, what licit and illicit means? who think that all power consists in outrage, all dignity in the parade of insolence? who neglect every other consideration for the corrupt gratification of their friendships, or the prosecution of their resentments? who disperse their own relations and creatures through the provinces, for the sake of levying taxes and confiscating goods; men, for the greater part the most profligate and vile, who buy up for themselves what they pretend to expose to sale, who thence collect an exorbitant mass of wealth, which they fraudulently divert from the public service; who thus spread their pillage through the country, and in a moment emerge from penury and rags, to a state of splendour and of wealth? Who could endure such thievish servants, such vicegerents of their lords? Who could believe that the masters and the patrons of a banditti could be the proper guardians of liberty? or who would suppose that he should ever be made one hair more free by such a set of public functionaries, (though they might amount to five hundred elected in this manner from the counties and boroughs,) when among them who are the very guardians of liberty, and to whose custody it is committed, there must be so many, who know not either how to use or to enjoy liberty, who either understand the principles or merit the possession? But what is worthy of remark, those who are the most unworthy of liberty, are wont to behave most ungratefully towards their deliverers. Among such persons, who would be willing either to fight for liberty, or to encounter the least peril in its defence? It is not agreeable to the nature of things, that such persons ever should be free. However much they may brawl about liberty, they are slaves, both at home and abroad, but without perceiving it; and when they do perceive it, like unruly horses that are impatient of the bit, they will endeavour to throw off the yoke, not from the love of genuine liberty, (which a good man only loves and knows how to obtain,) but from the impulses of pride and little passions. But though they often attempt it by arms, they will make no advances to the execution; they may change their masters, but will never be able to get rid of their servitude. This often happened to the ancient Romans, wasted by excess, and enervated by luxury: and it has still more so been the fate of the moderns; when after a long interval of years they aspired under the auspices of Crescentius, Nomentanus, and afterwards of Nicolas Rentius, who had assumed the title of Tribune of the People, to restore the splendour and re-establish the government of ancient Rome. For, instead of fretting with vexation, or thinking that you can lay the blame on any one but yourselves, know that to be free is the same thing as to be pious, to be wise, to be temperate and just, to be frugal and abstinent, and lastly, to be magnanimous and brave; so to be the opposite of all these is the same as to be a slave; and it usually happens by the appointment, and as it were retributive justice, of the Deity, that that people which cannot govern themselves, and moderate their passions, but crouch under the slavery of their lusts, should be delivered up to the sway of those whom they abhor, and made to submit to an involuntary servitude.
It is also sanctioned by the dictates of justice and by the constitution of nature, that he, who from the imbecility or derangement of his intellect is incapable of governing himself, should, like a minor, be committed to the government of another; and least of all, should he be appointed to superintend the affairs of others or the interest of the state. You therefore, who wish to remain free, either instantly be wise, or, as soon as possible, cease to be fools; if you think slavery an intolerable evil, learn obedience to reason and the government of yourselves; and finally bid adieu to your dissensions, your jealousies, your superstitions, your outrages, your rapine, and your lusts. Unless you will spare no pains to effect this, you must be judged unfit, both by God and mankind, to be entrusted with the possession of liberty and the administration of the government; but will rather, like a nation in a state of pupillage, want some active and courageous guardian to undertake the management of your affairs. With respect to myself, whatever turn things may take, I thought that my exertions on the present occasion would be serviceable to my country, and as they have been cheerfully bestowed, I hope that they have not been bestowed in vain. And I have not circumscribed my defence of liberty within any petty circle around me, but have made it so general and comprehensive, that the justice and the reasonableness of such uncommon occurrences explained and defended, both among my countrymen and among foreigners, and which all good men cannot but approve, may serve to exalt the glory of my country, and to excite the imitation of posterity. If the conclusion do not answer to the beginning, that is their concern; I have delivered my testimony, I would almost say, have erected a monument, that will not readily be destroyed, to the reality of those singular and mighty achievements, which were above all praise. As the Epic Poet, who adheres at all to the rules of that species of composition, does not profess to describe the whole life of the hero whom he celebrates, but only some particular action of his life, as the resentment of Achilles at Troy, the return of Ulysses, or the coming of Æneas into Italy; so it will be sufficient, either for my justification or apology, that I have heroically celebrated at least one exploit of my countrymen; I pass by the rest, for who could recite the achievements of a whole people? If after such a display of courage and of vigor, you basely relinquish the path of virtue, if you do any thing unworthy of yourselves, posterity will sit in judgment on your conduct. They will see that the foundations were well laid; that the beginning (nay it was more than a beginning) was glorious; but, with deep emotions of concern will they regret, that those were wanting who might have completed the structure. They will lament that perseverance was not conjoined with such exertions and such virtues. They will see that there was a rich harvest of glory, and an opportunity afforded for the greatest achievements, but that men only were wanting for the execution; while they were not wanting who could rightly counsel, exhort, inspire, and bind an unfading wreath of praise round the brows of the illustrious actors in so glorious a scene.
FAMILIAR EPISTLES,
TRANSLATED FROM THE LATIN, BY ROBERT FELLOWES, A. M. OXON.
[† ]Hac. vol. i. 243, 234.
[* ]Hac. 235.
[† ]Ibid. 464.
[* ]Hack. 258, 263, 465.
[† ]Ibid. 286.
[‡ ]Ibid. 310, &c.
[§ ]Ibid. 317.
[* ]Hack. 311.
[† ]Ibid. 373
[‡ ]Ibid. vol. i. 458.
[* ]Hack. 508.
[* ]The horses which threw him out of the coach-box.
[* ]William Stephens of Bristol and some other London merchants, in the years 1606 and 1607, trading with those people who live on the coast of Morocco, with three vessels, some ships belonging to the king of Spain that were pirating along these coasts, having come upon them in the bay of Saffia and the harbour of Santa Cruz, while they were lying at anchor, plundered them, without giving any other reason for their doing it, than this, that the king their master would not allow of any commerce with infidels: and the loss these merchants sustained at that time was computed at more than £2000.
[† ]This is evident from the parliament’s letter, signed by the hand of the Speaker, to the King of Spain, in the month of January, 1650, the words whereof are as follow—“We demand of your majesty, and insist upon it, that public justice be at length satisfied for the barbarous murder of Anthony Ascham our resident at your court, and the rather, that after we have seen condign punishment inflicted on the authors of such a detestable crime, we may be in no fear hereafter to send our embassador to your royal court, to lay before you such things as may be equally advantageous to your majesty and our commonwealth. On the contrary, if we should suffer that blood, the shedding whereof was a thing in many respects so remarkably horrible, to pass unrevenged, we must of necessity be partakers in that detestable crime in the sight of God, our only deliverer and the eternal fountain of our mercies, and in the eye of the whole English nation; especially if ever we should send any other of our countrymen into that kingdom, where murder is allowed to go quite unpunished. But we have so great an opinion of your majesty, that we will not easily be brought to believe that your royal authority is subjected to any other power superior to it within your own dominions.”
[* ]As a ship called the Ulysses was trading along the coast of Guiana, the merchants and sailors happened to go ashore, by the persuasion of Berry, governor of that place, who had promised, nay, even sworn that they should receive no hurt; nevertheless there were thirty of them taken and committed to prison. Upon which the governor writes a letter to the merchant, acquainting him, that he had indeed taken thirty of his men, and that because some foreigners, who had come there to trade with them, had defrauded him of 20,000 ducats, which, if he would send him, he swore he would restore all his men, and allow him the liberty of commerce. The merchant sent him the sum he demanded, part in ready money, part in goods, which after the governor had received, he ordered all the thirty men to be fastened to trees and strangled, except the chirurgeon, who was reserved, to cure the governor of a certain disease. This ransom, together with other damages sustained there, was computed at £7000.
[* ]John Davis lost two ships with all their goods, and the Spaniards slew all the men that were aboard of them, to the entire loss of that voyage, and this was computed at £3500.
[† ]Another ship belonging to some London merchants, John Lock commander, was taken by the Spanish fleet, at the isle of Tortuga, because she had been trading there, and had felled some trees; for this she was confiscated, most of the sailors put to death and the rest condemned to the galleys. This was esteemed a loss of £5300.
[* ]And also to one belonging to John Bland, commanded by Nichol. Philips, in the very same harbour.
[† ]But Swanley, our admiral, was not so civilly treated in Sicily, in the harbour of Drepano, when in the year 1653, about the month of June, his ship called the Henry Bonaventure, together with a large and very rich Dutch ship called the Peter, which he had taken, was by the treachery of the Spanish governor in that place, taken by seven Dutch ships, under the command of the younger Trump in the very harbour, no further than a small gun’s shot from the bulwarks, whereby the merchants, to whom that ship belonged, lost more than £63,000.
[* ]Morus, the Latin name for mulberry.
[* ]A little More, or mulberry.
[† ]It is impossible to give a literally exact rendering of this; I have played upon the name as well as I could in English.—R. F.
[* ]Latin, male audis. There is a play upon the words.

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