Their miserable victims dared scarcely murmur; having
ever the terrible court of Star-Chamber before them,
which their persecutors could command, and which punished
libellers—as they would be accounted, if
they gave utterance to their wrongs, and charged their
oppressors with mis-doing,—with fine, branding,
and the pillory. Many were handled in this sort,
and held up
in terrorem to the others.
Hence it came to pass, that the Star-Chamber, from
the fearful nature of its machinery; its extraordinary
powers; the notorious corruption and venality of its
officers; the peculiarity of its practice, which always
favoured the plaintiff; and the severity with which
it punished any libelling or slanderous words uttered
against the king’s representative (as the patentees
were considered), or any conspiracy or false accusation
brought against them; it came to pass, we say, that
this terrible court became as much dreaded in Protestant
England as the Inquisition in Catholic Spain.
The punishments inflicted by the Star-Chamber were,
as we learn from a legal authority, and a counsel
in the court, “fine, imprisonment, loss of ears,
or nailing to the pillory, slitting the nose, branding
the forehead, whipping of late days, wearing of papers
in public places, or any punishment but death.”
And John Chamberlain, Esq., writing to Sir Dudley
Carlton, about the same period, observes, that “The
world is now much terrified with the Star-Chamber,
there being not so little an offence against any proclamation,
but is liable and subject to the censure of that court.
And for proclamations and patents, they are become
so ordinary that there is no end; every day bringing
forth some new project or other. As, within these
two days, here is one come forth for tobacco, wholly
engrossed by Sir Thomas Roe and his partners, which,
if they can keep and maintain against the general clamour,
will be a great commodity; unless, peradventure, indignation,
rather than all other reasons, may bring that filthy
weed out of use.” [What, would be the effect
of such a patent now-a-days? Would it, at all,
restrict the use of the “filthy weed?”]
“In truth,” proceeds Chamberlain, “the
world doth even groan under the burthen of these perpetual
patents, which are become so frequent, that whereas
at the king’s coming in there were complaints
of some eight or nine monopolies then in being, they
are now said to be multiplied to as many scores.”
From the foregoing citation, from a private letter
of the time, the state of public feeling may be gathered,
and the alarm occasioned in all classes by these oppressions
perfectly understood.
Amongst those who had obtained the largest share of
spoil were two persons destined to occupy a prominent
position in our history. They were Sir Giles
Mompesson and Sir Francis Mitchell,—both
names held in general dread and detestation, though
no man ventured to speak ill of them openly, since
they were as implacable in their animosities, as usurious
and griping in their demands; and many an ear had been
lost, many a nose slit, many a back scourged at the
cart’s tail, because the unfortunate owners
had stigmatized them according to their deserts.
Thus they enjoyed a complete immunity of wrong; and,
with the terrible court of Star-Chamber to defend
them and to punish their enemies, they set all opposition
at defiance.