Another seceder was Lord Falkland, who though a far different man from Dering, yet possessed an amount of impetuosity which at times mastered his wisdom; for instance, when on one occasion the Speaker desired the Members of the House to concur in a vote of thanks by a movement of the hat, Falkland, with a sort of childish irritability, "clasped his hands together upon the crown of his hat, and held it close down to his head."[277] It is somewhat singular that such a man should be held up as an example of moderation--that one so impulsive and demonstrative should have won renown for calmness and caution. The truth is, that he had looked even more closely than Dering had done at the two sides of the great controversy, and by dwelling exclusively first on the one and then on the other, had incurred, like his parliamentary friend, the charge of tergiversation. He saw more strongly the objections to a question than the grounds of its support. "The present evil always seemed to him the worst--he was always going backward and forward; but it should be remembered to his honour, that it was always from the stronger to the weaker side that he deserted: while Charles was oppressing the people, Falkland was a resolute champion of liberty. He attacked Strafford, he even concurred in strong measures against Episcopacy; but the violence of his party annoyed him and drove him to the other party, to be equally annoyed there."[278] Falkland deserted his former friends in October, on the reintroduction of the Bill for taking away the bishops' votes; on the ground, that, though at first he thought it might prove an effectual compromise, and might save Episcopacy by sacrificing its political power, yet he afterwards entertained the opinion that it would have no such effect. The charge of dishonesty never can be brought against him; his character in this respect, like polished armour, could not be dimmed for more than a moment by the breath of scandal. A perfect Bayard in his chivalrous career, _sans peur et sans reproche_, however he might diverge from his previous path, he can never be justly regarded as a renegade. The persuasion of his friend Hyde, his sympathies as a tasteful and accomplished gentleman with the cavalier party, and beyond all, perhaps a sort of religious reverence for royalty, had more than anything to do with his change of policy in October, and his acceptance of office in the King's councils in January. And it does not appear, that, though he dreaded extreme measures against the Church, he had any more zeal for prelates after than before his separation from his old friends. It was for the crown rather than the mitre that he threw his weight into the royal scale. He approved of moderate Episcopacy, but for that he did not make his great sacrifice. He could not say with Sir Edward Verney, "I have eaten the King's bread, and served him near thirty years;" but he could adopt the veteran's declaration, "I will not do