n, called from its extreme brevity the Short Parliament,
ended in May. In November met that memorable assembly, destined not to
separate till it had outlived a monarchy and a hierarchy, and seen a
brewer's son take the sceptre instead of the descendant of a hundred
kings, the Long Parliament. Waller, again member for Agmondesham, had
made himself popular by his speech in the beginning of the year, and was
chosen by the Commons to manage the prosecution of Judge Crawley for
advising the levy of ship-money. He conducted the case with talent,
acuteness, and moderation. Soon after, however, as the gulph widened
between the king and the parliament, his position became extremely
awkward. His understanding on the whole was with the parliament,
although he did not approve of some of their measures, but his heart was
with the royal cause. He first of all, along with a others (whose
example was imitated by Fox and his party during the French Revolution),
retired from parliament, but in consequence of the permission or request
of the king, he speedily resumed his seat. When Charles put himself in a
warlike attitude in August 1642, Waller sent him a present of a thousand
broad pieces. Still his plausible language, the tone of moderation which
he preserved, and his connexion with Cromwell and Hampden, rendered the
popular party unwilling to believe him a traitor to their cause, and he
was appointed, after the battle at Edgehill, one of the commissioners
who met at Oxford to treat of peace. Here, it is said, that one of those
compliments which cost the subtle Charles so little (Waller was last in
being presented to the king, and his Majesty told him, "Though last, you
are not the lowest nor the least in my favour"), gained over Waller, and
suggested to him the scheme of his famous plot. We do not think so
little of our hero's intellect, or so much of his heart, as to credit
this story. Though not aged, he was by far too old to be caught with
such chaff. He knew, too, before, Charles' private sentiments towards
him, and we incline with some of his biographers to suppose that these
words of royalty were simply the signal to Waller to fire the train
which the king knew right well had already been prepared.

Poets are in general poor politicians and miserable plotters. They
seldom, even in verse or fiction, manage a state plot well. Scott, at
least, has completely failed in his treatment of the Popish plot in
"Peveril," and they always bu