While the King was in Scotland, the Irish rebellion broke out.  The suddenness and violence of this terrible explosion excited a strange suspicion in the public mind.  The Queen was a professed Papist.  The King and the Archbishop of Canterbury had not indeed been reconciled to the See of Rome; but they had, while acting towards the Puritan party with the utmost rigour, and speaking of that party with the utmost contempt, shown great tenderness and respect towards the Catholic religion and its professors.  In spite of the wishes of successive Parliaments, the Protestant separatists had been cruelly persecuted.  And at the same time, in spite of the wishes of those very Parliaments, laws which were in force against the Papists, and which, unjustifiable as they were, suited the temper of that age, had not been carried into execution.  The Protestant nonconformists had not yet learned toleration in the school of suffering.  They reprobated the partial lenity which the government showed towards idolaters; and, with some show of reason, ascribed to bad motives conduct which, in such a king as Charles, and such a prelate as Laud, could not possibly be ascribed to humanity or to liberality of sentiment.  The violent Arminianism of the Archbishop, his childish attachment to ceremonies, his superstitious veneration for altars, vestments, and painted windows, his bigoted zeal for the constitution and the privileges of his order, his known opinions respecting the celibacy of the clergy, had excited great disgust throughout that large party which was every day becoming more and more hostile to Rome, and more and more inclined to the doctrines and the discipline of Geneva.  It was believed by many that the Irish rebellion had been secretly encouraged by the Court; and, when the Parliament met again in November, after a short recess, the Puritans were more intractable than ever.

But that which Hampden had feared had come to pass.  A reaction had taken place.  A large body of moderate and well-meaning men, who had heartily concurred in the strong measures adopted before the recess, were inclined to pause.  Their opinion was that, during many years the country had been grievously misgoverned, and that a great reform had been necessary; but that a great reform had been made, that the grievances of the nation had been fully redressed, that sufficient vengeance had been exacted for the past, that sufficient security had been provided for the future, and that it would, therefore, be both ungrateful and unwise to make any further attacks on the royal prerogative.  In support of this opinion many plausible arguments have been used.  But to all these arguments there is one short answer.  The King could not be trusted.