The king observed that, “Very wise men and very fools do little harm; it is the mediocrity of wisdom that troubleth all the world.”—­He described, by a lively image, the differences which rise in argument:  “Men, in arguing, are often carried by the force of words farther asunder than their question was at first; like two ships going out of the same haven, their landing is many times whole countries distant.”

One of the great national grievances, as it appeared both to the government and the people, in James’s reign, was the perpetual growth of the metropolis; and the nation, like an hypochondriac, was ludicrously terrified that their head was too monstrous for their body, and drew all the moisture of life from the remoter parts.  It is amusing to observe the endless and vain precautions employed to stop all new buildings, and to force persons out of town to reside at their country mansions.  Proclamations warned and exhorted, but the very interference of prohibition rendered the crowded town more delightful.  One of its attendant calamities was the prevalent one of that day, the plague; and one of those state libels, which were early suppressed, or never printed, entitled, “Balaam’s Ass,” has this passage:  “In this deluge of new buildings, we shall be all poisoned with breathing in one another’s faces; and your Majesty has most truly said, England will shortly be London, and London, England.”  It was the popular wish, that country gentlemen should reside more on their estates, and it was on this occasion the king made that admirable allusion, which has been in our days repeated in the House of Commons:  “Gentlemen resident on their estates were like ships in port —­their value and magnitude were felt and acknowledged; but, when at a distance, as their size seemed insignificant, so their worth and importance were not duly estimated.”  The king abounded with similar observations; for he drew from life more than even from books.

James is reproached for being deficient in political sagacity; notwithstanding that he somewhat prided himself on what he denominated “king’s-craft.”  This is the fate of a pacific and domestic prince!

“A king,” said James, “ought to be a preserver of his people, as well of their fortunes as lives, and not a destroyer of his subjects.  Were I to make such a war as the King of France doth, with such tyranny on his own subjects—­with Protestants on one side, and his soldiers drawn to slaughter on the other,—­I would put myself in a monastery all my days after, and repent me that I had brought my subjects to such misery.”

That James was an adept in his “king’s-craft,” by which term he meant the science of politics, but which has been so often misinterpreted in an ill sense, even the confession of such a writer as Sir Anthony Weldon testifies; who acknowledges that “no prince living knew how to make use of men better than King James.”  He certainly foresaw the spirit of the Commons, and predicted to the prince and Buckingham,