It is somewhat curious that the admirers of Strafford should also be, without a single exception, the admirers of Charles; for, whatever we may think of the conduct of the Parliament towards the unhappy favourite, there can be no doubt that the treatment which he received from his master was disgraceful.  Faithless alike to his people and to his tools, the King did not scruple to play the part of the cowardly approver, who hangs his accomplice.  It is good that there should be such men as Charles in every league of villainy.  It is for such men that the offer of pardon and reward which appears after a murder is intended.  They are indemnified, remunerated and despised.  The very magistrate who avails himself of their assistance looks on them as more contemptible than the criminal whom they betray.  Was Strafford innocent?  Was he a meritorious servant of the Crown?  If so, what shall we think of the Prince, who having solemnly promised him that not a hair of his head should be hurt, and possessing an unquestioned constitutional right to save him, gave him up to the vengeance of his enemies?  There were some points which we know that Charles would not concede, and for which he was willing to risk the chances of the civil war.  Ought not a King, who will make a stand for anything, to make a stand for the innocent blood?  Was Strafford guilty?  Even on this supposition, it is difficult not to feel disdain for the partner of his guilt, the tempter turned punisher.  If, indeed, from that time forth, the conduct of Charles had been blameless, it might have been said that his eyes were at last opened to the errors of his former conduct, and that, in sacrificing to the wishes of his Parliament a minister whose crime had been a devotion too zealous to the interests of his prerogative, he gave a painful and deeply humiliating proof of the sincerity of his repentance.  We may describe the King’s behaviour on this occasion in terms resembling those which Hume has employed when speaking of the conduct of Churchill at the Revolution.  It required ever after the most rigid justice and sincerity in the dealings of Charles with his people to vindicate his conduct towards his friend.  His subsequent dealings with his people, however, clearly showed, that it was not from any respect for the Constitution, or from any sense of the deep criminality of the plans in which Strafford and himself had been engaged, that he gave up his minister to the axe.  It became evident that he had abandoned a servant who, deeply guilty as to all others, was guiltless to him alone, solely in order to gain time for maturing other schemes of tyranny, and purchasing the aid of the other Wentworths.  He, who would not avail himself of the power which the laws gave him to save an adherent to whom his honour was pledged, soon showed that he did not scruple to break every law and forfeit every pledge, in order to work the ruin of his opponents.

“Put not your trust in princes!” was the expression of the fallen minister, when he heard that Charles had consented to his death.  The whole history of the times is a sermon on that bitter text.  The defence of the Long Parliament is comprised in the dying words of its victim.