r
the disposition to perform this historical duty, involved as it is in
the history of our passions. If ever the man shall be viewed, as well as
the monarch, the private history of Charles the First will form one of
the most pathetic of biographies.[319]

All the foreign expeditions of Charles the First were alike disastrous:
the vast genius of Richelieu, at its meridian, had paled our ineffectual
star! The dreadful surrender of Rochelle had sent back our army and navy
baffled and disgraced; and Buckingham had timely perished, to save one
more reproach, one more political crime, attached to his name. Such
failures did not improve the temper of the times; but the most brilliant
victory would not have changed the fate of Charles, nor allayed the
fiery spirits in the commons, who, as Charles said, "not satisfied in
hearing complainers, had erected themselves into inquisitors after
complaints."

Parliament met. The king's speech was conciliatory. He acknowledged that
the exaction of the duties of the customs was not a right which he
derived from his hereditary prerogative, but one which he enjoyed as the
gift of his people. These duties as yet had not indeed been formally
confirmed by parliament, but they had never been refused to the
sovereign. The king closed with a fervent ejaculation that the session,
begun with confidence, might end with a mutual good understanding.[320]

The shade of Buckingham was no longer cast between Charles the First and
the commons. And yet we find that "their dread and dear sovereign" was
not allowed any repose on the throne.

A new demon of national discord, Religion, in a metaphysical garb,
reared its distracted head. This evil spirit had been raised by the
conduct of the court divines, whose political sermons, with their
attempts to return to the more solemn ceremonies of the Romish church,
alarmed some tender consciences; it served as a masked battery for the
patriotic party to change their ground at will, without slackening their
fire. When the king urged for the duties of his customs, he found that
he was addressing a committee sitting for religion. Sir John Eliot threw
out a singular expression. Alluding to some of the bishops, whom he
called "masters of ceremonies," he confessed that some ceremonies were
commendable, such as "that we should stand up at the repetition of the
creed, to testify the resolution of our hearts to defend the religion we
profess, and in some churches they di