The cry of the multitude has a way of taking on the forms of stupidity.  The multitude in this case cried out against Vermuyden.  They objected to a foreigner being given so much freehold.  “In an anguish of despair”—­to use one chronicler’s words—­they threw themselves under the protection of a leader.  “That leader was, of course, Francis, Earl of Bedford, surnamed ‘the Incomparable.’  He could not hear unmoved the cry of his fellow-citizens.  He yielded to their petition, took means to oust the Dutchmen, and immediately obtained for himself the grant of the 95,000 acres, by a royal order of 13 January, 1630/1, known as ‘the Lynn Law.’”

When he saw the extent of the land and of the water upon it, even his tenacious spirit was alarmed.  He therefore associated with himself in the expenses thirteen others, all persons of rank and fortune, as was fitting:  alone of the fourteen he preserved his fortune.

The fourteen, then, began the digging of nine drains (if we include the repair of Morton’s Leam); the largest was that fine twenty-one miles called the old Bedford River, and Charles I, though all in favour of so great a work, was all in dread of the power it might give to the class which—­as his prophetic conscience told him—­was destined to be his ruin.

There was a contract that the work should be finished in six years:  when the six years were ended it was very far from finished.  The King grumbled; but Francis, Earl of Bedford, belonged to a clique already half as powerful as the Crown.  He threatened, and a new royal order gave him an extension of time.  It was the second of his many victories.

The King refused to forget his defeat, and Francis, Earl of Bedford, began to show that hatred of absolute government which has made of his kind the leaders of a happy England.  The King did a Stuart thing—­he lost his temper.  He said, “You may keep your 95,000 acres, but I shall tax them”; and he did.  Francis, Earl of Bedford, felt in him a growing passion for just government.  He already spoke of freedom; but he had no leisure wherein to enjoy it, for within two years he departed this life, of the smallpox, leaving to his son William the legacy of the great battle for liberty and for the public land.

This change in the Bedford dynasty coincided with the Civil Wars.  William Russell, having led some of the Parliamentary forces at Edge Hill, was so uncertain which side might ultimately be victorious as to open secret negotiations with the King.  Nothing happened to him, nor even to his brother, who intrigued later against Cromwell’s life.  He was at liberty to return once more and to survey from the walls of the old abbey the drowned land upon which he had set his heart.

The work of digging could not be carried on during the turmoil of the time; William, Earl of Bedford, filled his leisure in the framing of an elaborate bill of costs.  It was dated 20 May, 1646, and showed the sums which he had spent and which had been wasted in the failure to reclaim the Fens.  He stated them at over L90,000, and to this he added, like a good business man, interest at the rate of 8 per cent, for so many years as to amount to more than another L30,000.