palace, and I pledge you my word that we are highest respectability, merchants and country amusing ourselves just as delightfully as when gentlemen, have already refused to pay the the great duke still lived. Poor Buckingham! | ship-money and tonnage-impost, because it is Who would have thought that you would meet raised without the consent of Parliament. If with so premature an end at the hands of an their example should be imitated by many assassin? No sooner were your remains in others, the king would have to yield. Unthe grave, than you were already forgotten. fortunately, he could do so then only by lowerSuch is the course of the world." ing his dignity. Parliament would act only the more boldly, and demand new privileges besides those which it has already, whereby additional bounds would be set to the power of his majesty." "God grant him eternal peace!" replied the pious lord president, clasping his hands. "He is most to blame for the present confusion and troubles, but death atones for a great many things. Had the king listened less readily to the advice of his favorite, and had he not always defended him so obstinately, he would have been on better terms with Parliament, and it would have been unnecessary for him to dissolve it." "Amen!" exclaimed his guest, with a sneer. "However, the king gets along very well without Parliament. As yet he has plenty of money; the revenue raised by the soap-tax, and the ship and tonnage money, is sufficient to defray all royal expenses. The Star-Chamber also sees to it that the penalties and fines imposed on the dissenters keep the royal exchequer well filled. A thousand pounds more or less do not startle it at all, and when a poor devil is unable to pay his fine, he is imprisoned at the pleasure of his majesty. He may deem himself happy if his ears are not cut off at the pillory, as was justly done in the case of that impudent fellow Prynne. I myself witnessed the scene, and admired the courage which the rascal displayed on that trying occasion. During the bloody operation he made a violent speech to the people, and even the executioner was unable to shut his mouth. I tell you the scoundrel acted like a martyr, and stood there as though he expected every moment to be proclaimed patron saint of England." "All you tell me only adds to my fears. I have been told that a great many men of the "It is true, where there is no money, there is no courage either. 'Point d'argent, point de Suisses,' say the French. For the time being, however, those who refuse to pay taxes are imprisoned until they do pay. A jail is the best means in the world to make such obstinate persons pliable and submissive. In it blows an air well calculated to quiet and cool down such hot-headed fellows. A few days' sojourn in the Tower or at Newgate is often amply sufficient to tame the wildest of them. Hitherto the remedy has never failed in effecting a speedy cure." แ "But suppose the judges should refuse to lend their hands to such persecutions; suppose there should yet be in England men who value justice higher than the good graces of the court, what would happen then?" "Pshaw! The king will get along in spite of them. They will be deposed in the most unceremonious manner. With some energy all such obstacles are easily surmounted. Our minister, Lord Wentworth, showed us very handsomely how true this is. He is a man of great energy, strikes terror into the hearts of the rebels, and maintains law and order in the country. He knows how to do so, for he himself was formerly one of the rebellious members of the dissolved Parliament; hence, he is most familiar with the tricks, devices, and weaknesses of his former colleagues. In India, I have been told, they use trained ele "I do not deny it, but I should think that, between a Christian king and a despotic tyrant, there is as much difference as between a ploughshare and a sword. One spreads blessings and prosperity, the other ruin and destruction. Our fathers were wise enough to perceive this, and therefore divested royalty of its phants for the purpose of catching wild ones. Believe me, apostates are the wood out of which the most relentless persecutors of men of their own class may be carved. A former democrat may be transformed immediately into an adherent of the government, provided the latter knows how to arouse and satisfy his ambition. They are all venal, and Wentworth | arbitrary character, without detracting from is governing now with a rigor and recklessness upon which none of the old adherents of the king would have ventured. It is said he intends even to organize a standing army. If this master-stroke should prove successful, it would be unnecessary for the king to convene Parliament." "But in that case all the liberties of the people would be lost, and none of us would be better off than the slaves in Turkey. The nobility, which is at the head of society, will feel the change first. We shall become nothing but tools and servants of the crown, while at present the King of England is only chief among equals, the peer of his peers. Just look at France, where Richelieu is governing despotically in the name of King Louis! Are you desirous of having a similar state of affairs brought about in our own country? The proud cardinal is putting his foot on the necks of the noblest families, and cuts off the most aristocratic heads whenever he pleases." “The vigorous rule of one is by far preferable to the many-headed government of the people. You know that I am a naturalist; well, then, I have learned from Nature that the members of a whole must be subject to the will of the head. The stronger one coerces the weaker, that is a law which cannot be overthrown. In chemistry the various powers struggle with each other until one is in the ascendent, whereupon the others submit to it willingly. Even among metals a certain system like this is to be found. Gold is king, iron is servant. It was so from the beginning, and will always be so." its dignity. Parliament is the natural bulwark against royal tyranny. Are we ourselves to aid in tearing down this bulwark? Tell me, what protection would be left to us in that event?" "The Church!" replied Sir Kenelm Digby, emphatically. "It always was the best counterpoise to the encroachments of the temporal power. The popes always protected the nations from the oppressions of their rulers. It is the greatest bane of the Reformation that it broke the power of the Church and took from it the weapons with which it always effectually opposed the encroachments of tyranny. The thunderbolts of Rome caused the kings to tremble on their thrones." "One who hears you talk in this strain cannot but believe that you have really turned Catholic, as a great many persons have asserted from time to time. I have hitherto refused to credit these rumors." "Can one not be a good Protestant, then, and yet not shut his eyes against the great advantages of the Roman Church? Will you deny that Catholicism was a bulwark to the nations? I do not think you are one of those prejudiced men who break into imprecations as soon as Rome and the Pope are mentioned. You always seemed to me destitute of prejudice. Hence, you will be obliged to admit that the Reformation was by far more advantageous to the princes than to the people. The Catholic Church was free and independent. Its clergy formed a consecrated army, a state within the state, with almost a republican constitution. Its head, the pope himself, is elect ed to his office, and the lowest priest can reach | tacks of the wolf, in order to shear and kill them when he desires to get their wool or their meat. Now, mankind is not an irrational flock of sheep; it rebelled against this spiritual servitude, the worst of all tyrannies. Even though the present state of affairs may not be the happiest, it is much better for us to suffer in our property and lives than our salvation. The protection which Rome granted to the nations had to be purchased too dearly. The price was freedom of conscience and thought." this exalted position, if he possesses the necessary talents. This secures at once the supremacy of the mind over brute force. In this sense Rome always resisted the encroachments of the princes, and its dreaded thunderbolts deterred the most powerful monarchs from highhanded violence. What did the Reformation bring us for all this? It enriched the kings and impoverished the people. The clergy lost its independence, and thereby its influence; from being a free order, it sank to the low condition of servitude. The property of the Church fell into the hands of the princes, and not into those of the people, and added greatly to their power. Who is to shield the people now from the arbitrary proceedings of the princes, sincę they have lost their best protector? Brute force has taken the place of intellectual and spiritual supremacy, and the justly odious Inquisition has been replaced by a far worse one. Or do you think that the religious tyranny of the Star-Chamber is milder, that the fines and penalties which it imposes are less painful, and that its dungeons are not as deep and cruel? I repeat it, the Reformation is the real source of our present evils and troubles." “Hush, for God's sake, hush!” cried the anxious earl. "If any one heard you talk thus, you yourself might have to appear before the dreaded Star-Chamber, and, as a secret Catholic, suffer the most severe penalties. Even though you may be right in some respects, you must not forget that the Reformation was the very event that brought spiritual freedom to the people. It gave to the people the Bible, the unadulterated word of salvation. We have learned to read and think. The Roman Church is like the miser who starves his children and keeps his riches locked up in his strong box. It is true, it often protected the people from the tyranny of the princes, but it did so only in its own interest, like the shepherd who protects his sheep from the at "And whither has this much-vaunted freedom led us! All England is split up into hostile sects, hating and persecuting each other with the utmost ferocity. The most absurd teachings find every day more adherents and mouth-pieces. We are like degenerate sons who are unable to agree upon the division of their father's inheritance, and lacerate and murder each other, until no one is left to enjoy the inheritance. I see farther, a great deal farther, than you think. Behind these religious dissensions I behold already the Gorgon head of civil war, of a bloody struggle threatening to overwhelm all existing institutions. The teachings of the so-called primitive Christianity begin already to bear fruit, and fanatical enthusiasts and cunning hypocrites derive from the Bible the justification of the most infamous attacks on property and the government. Have you not heard of the Anabaptists who infested parts of Germany? They demanded nothing less than the abolition of all privileges and a division of property. Our Puritans bear the greatest resemblance to their German brethren. They are said to dream of a millennium, and of the rule of the chosen people. They mean thereby neither more nor less than the unlimited rule of the rabble, the abolition of nobility, and the confiscation of our property. The chosen people of the Lord are intent on beheading us and taking our places. They consider us only a host of accursed heathens, Moabites, Edomites, etc., who deserve no mercy, and whose property, lands, pastures, gardens, ¡ same remedies as the diseases of the human and forests, God has assigned to His true chil- body. First, try lenity, and, if it proves inefdren as rewards of their merits and piety. See,fectual, resort to vigorous, and even harsh that is what we owe to your Bible and freedom measures. The sore limb must be removed of conscience. Let the uneducated people get before mortification seizes the whole body. It hold of this two-edged sword, and you will soon is better that a putrid part be lost than the see your own life menaced." whole. This is my sincere opinion. I believe it is the only way for us to save ourselves, and preserve, as loyal subjects, our king from injury and danger. But excuse me, if I leave you now. I have not yet waited upon the ladies of the house. If you permit, I will go to them now." It was with great reluctance that the earl dismissed his guest, with whom he would have "Unfortunately I am obliged to admit that you are right, although I do not know how the evil is to be counteracted. For this reason I should like to hear your views. You are known to me not only as a profound scholar, but as an experienced statesman. What do you advise us to do in the present state of affairs? I believe I am not mistaken in venturing upon the surmise that your journey con-liked to converse further on the affairs of the ceals some other than its ostensible object, and that a secret mission is probably coupled with your visit. You enjoy the implicit confidence of his majesty, and are the confidential friend and adviser of the queen. Archbishop Laud was formerly your guardian, and is now your intimate friend. Be frank with me, and disclose your mission to me." Sir Kenelm Digby kept the earl some time waiting for a positive reply. He deemed it prudent to veil himself in mysterious silence. He neither contradicted nor confirmed the surmises of his host. "You are mistaken," he said, with a significant smile, "if you think my royal master has intrusted me with a special mission. Is any other motive for a visit to your house needed, then, than our long friendship and the bonds of relationship, which, instead of loosening, I should like to draw closer? In truth, I have communicated to you only my individual views on the condition of our country. Possibly I may be mistaken. But as you seem to attach some importance to my advice, I will not withhold it. Hippocrates says that iron cures what medicine does not heal; and where iron proves ineffectual, fire should be resorted to. In my opinion, the ills of the state require the country. He himself had hitherto been unable to form a definite opinion in regard to them, and he was hesitating and vacillating between his innate mildness and the fear of dangerous events. His eminent position imposed grave responsibilities upon him. He remained in his study, absorbed in his reflections, without coming to a definite resolution. Even the doubts which his visitor had aroused in his soul concerning the salutary influence of the Catholic Church had made a marked impression on his mind; and, although the Protestant convictions of the lord president revolted at the idea of Roman supremacy, he had to admit to himself that his guest had uttered some irrefutable truths. Meanwhile Sir Kenelm Digby was walking with an air of great satisfaction through the gallery toward the apartments of the ladies. He had attained his object by the interview he had just had with the earl, and perhaps gained over another irresolute mind to his plans. He hated the Reformation from the bottom of his soul, as it had caused the death of his father. For the time being, however, he deemed it prudent not to throw off the mask and to secretly enlist friends and adherents for the Catholic Church. CHAPTER XI. MILTON AND DIGBY. THE room in which the ladies were seated was sumptuously furnished in the style of that period. Mythological scenes adorned the gilded ceiling. Venus rode in a car drawn by doves and surrounded by little Cupids, who carried, with ludicrous faces, the arms of Mars, his helmet, shield, and lance. Costly hangings of crimson silk covered the walls; heavy curtains of the same stuff flowed down over the doors and windows. The high-backed chairs were carved in the most artistic manner. Near one of the arched windows stood a small table beautifully inlaid with pearl and ivory. Its upper part consisted of curiously - wrought wood, ivory, and metal, forming the most attractive figures, butterflies, flowers, and birds. A small bureau, of the same materials and workmanship, stood close by. The ladies kept in it their jewelry and similar toilet articles. Alice and her mother were seated on low chairs, occupied with needlework and embroidery; opposite them sat Milton and his friend Edward King. At some distance from them Lawes, the musician, had seated himself at the organ, then an indispensable article in the house of every aristocratic family. He had just finished a song, which he had composed at the request of the countess, and for which he was enthusiastically applauded by his whole audience. Scarcely had the conversation, interrupted by his performance, been resumed, when Sir Kenelm Digby came in and paid his respects to the ladies. His attitude and bearing indicated at once the well-bred and accomplished gentleman, who had moved with so much distinction at the prominent courts of Europe. As, in his interview with the earl, he had so advantageously displayed his statesmanship as to excite the admiration of his host, so he now delighted the ladies by his refined wit and his surpassing accomplishments. He made an especially favorable impression on the countess, who was a very handsome lady yet, and to whom he seemed to devote particular attention, without neglecting Alice even for a moment. He took part in the conversation with his habitual ease and gracefulness. Milton, without knowing the reason why, felt a most decided aversion to the guest who had come in so unexpectedly. It was not envy, not even jealousy, that arose in his bosom, and filled him with distrust of the stranger. The poet, perhaps, was displeased with the superiority and ill-concealed egotism of the new-comer; or, maybe, the mysterious atmosphere surrounding Sir Kenelm Digby made such a disagreeable impression upon him. There was something demoniacal in his appearance and bearing. Milton could not help thinking of those magnificent but poisonous flowers, which exhale narcotic odors, and, notwithstanding their beauty, make an unpleasant impression on the beholder. The dissimilitude of the two characters, destitute of a single point of contact, was probably the principal cause of this aversion. Alice perceived, first of all, with the keen eye of young love, the poet's aversion to Sir Kenelm Digby, and she tried to draw him again into the conversation, after he had been silent for some time. "Well, Mr. Milton,” she said, playfully, “ you are probably reflecting at this moment on the promise you gave me and your friend Lawes." "What promise?" asked the poet, absently, starting up from his reverie. "Why, I should not have thought you so forgetful. Do you no longer remember that you consented to immortalize our adventure in Haywood Forest?" "I do, indeed," faltered out Milton, in great confusion, "and I shall redeem my promise." "Loquacious Fame," interposed Sir Kenelm, "has informed me of your adventure, noble |