But in his views on Church questions he differed fundamentally from the Puritans, and when the question came to be discussed as to the abolition of the bishops, Falkland drew back among the staunch Churchmen.

Hampden blamed him as a deserter, but he defended himself by showing how wide the differences had grown since he first took a share in the debate.

His view as to the Episcopacy was that it was not a Divine institution, but one of ancient ecclesiastical establishment, and therefore one to be retained in the Church.

He gradually drew further from the Parliamentary leaders, and the King encouraged him and his friend Colepeper in their adherence to the Royal cause by offering them both public posts. Colepeper was made Chancellor of the Exchequer, and Falkland, after some hesitation, accepted the office of Secretary of State.

With Clarendon, Falkland, and Colepeper on his side, Charles had now his best chance of forming a national Church party, but by his fatal indecision and obstinacy he lost the opportunity, and it never recurred.

Falkland was firm in his desire to retain the bishops, although he was willing that their incomes and their temporal rights should, if

necessary, be reduced. There is a wisdom beyond that of either Laud or Pym in his words upon the subject: "Since all great mutations in government are dangerous (even where what is introduced by that mutation is such as would have been profitable upon a primary foundation), and since no wise man will undergo great danger but for great necessity, my opinion is that we should not root up this ancient tree, as dead as it appears, till we have tried whether by this or the like topping of the branches, the sap, which was unable to feed the whole, may not serve to make what is left both grow and flourish." And, in his first speech on the Episcopal question, he urges wistfully "that bishops may be good men; and let us give but good men good rules, we shall have both good governors and good times."

But the good times were not for him. He had hoped to reconcile the two parties, and by his moderation to serve as a link between them, but instead of this being the case he saw the parties separating further day by day, and the shadow of civil war already beginning to darken the land.

He could not bear the strain. He lacked the moral fibre which might have enabled him to fight, as did Pym and Cromwell, with head and hands and heart, all concentrated on the one

task. As the debates in Parliament became those of two hostile parties he seemed to lose his very nature, and to droop and wither as a too sensitive plant beneath the cruel blast of war.

He grew sad and pale, silent and unsociable; his very dress lost its wonted neatness, and he grew into a perfect habit of uncheerfulness." Only "when there was any overture or hope of peace he would be more erect and vigorous, and exceedingly solicitous to press anything which he thought might promote it; and sitting among his friends, often, after a deep silence and frequent sighs, would, with a shrill and sad accent, ingeminate the word 'Peace, peace'; and would passionately profess that the very agony of the war, and the view of the calamities and desolation the kingdom did and must endure, took his sleep from him and would shortly break his heart."

So wrote his friend Lord Clarendon, and with only too much truth.

There is no doubt that Falkland ceased to care for life when the hope of peace was over. At the battle of Edge Hill he exposed himself with reckless gallantry, which drew forth a friendly rebuke from Clarendon, urging him "not to engage his person to those dangers which were not incumbent to him."

But the warning had no effect, and the end came at the battle of Newbury, on September the 20th, 1643.

Different tales are told of his behaviour on the morning of the fight.

Whitelock says that he "called for a clean shirt" on rising, saying that "if he were slain he should not be found in foul linen"; and that as he went forth he cried to his companions that "he was weary of the times, and foresaw much misery to his own country, and did believe he should be out of it ere night." His friend Clarendon describes him as very "cheerful" when, "as he was naturally inquisitive after danger," he "put himself into the head of Sir John Byron's regiment, which he believed was like to be in the hottest service."

But all authorities agree that he charged with his men, between two hedges lined with the musketeers of the enemy, and fell almost at once, mortally wounded in the body.

He was buried the next morning, in the churchyard at Great Tew, with such military haste that the exact spot is not known; but could a stone be placed above his broken heart it could bear no fitter inscription than the terse remark of his friend Clarendon : "He died as much of the Time as of the Bullet."

CHAPTER X

TWO PROSE WRITERS: LORD CLARENDON

AND SIR THOMAS BROWNE

FALKLAND was mourned by many friends, but by none more sincerely or more faithfully than Edward Hyde, afterwards Lord Clarendon, the famous historian of the times in which they both lived.

The parish register of Dinton, in the county of Wiltshire, contains this entry: "The sixth year of the reign of our most gracious sovereign Lord King James, Ann. Dom. 1608. In this year, the two and twentye day of February, Henry Hide of Dinton, Gent., had a son christened named Edward." According to the

present mode of dating, this is the year 1609, though the older notation was used in the parish register.

Henry Hyde was a man of some learning, and he sent his son Edward to Magdalen Hall, Oxford, where, as he tells us himself, he was regarded "rather with the opinion of a young man of