In the first Parliament of Charles I., Hampden sat for Wendover, an ancient borough of Buckinghamshire, which with two others had lately regained their dormant privilege of returning members, chiefly by his exertions, and at his expense. In this and in the following Parliament, summoned in February, 1627, Hampden still appears to have taken no leading part. After the dissolution of the latter, he was called upon to contribute to a general loan, which he refused, and was in consequence imprisoned for a time in the Gate House, and then sent still under restraint to reside in Hampshire. The order for his release, with many others, is dated March, 1627–8. On this occasion, he made the remarkable reply to the demand, why he would not contribute to the king’s necessities, that “he could be content to lend as well as others, but feared to draw upon himself that curse in Magna Charta, which should be read twice a year against those who infringe it.” In the new Parliament which met in March, 1628, Hampden again sat for Wendover, and having become more generally known by the part which he had taken in resisting the demands of the crown, from this time forward, says Lord Nugent, “scarcely was a bill prepared, or an inquiry begun, upon any subject, however remotely affecting any one of the three great matters at issue—privilege, religion, or the supplies—but he was thought fit to be associated with St. John, Selden, Coke and Pym, on the committee.” That Parliament, after framing the Petition of Right, voting supplies, and taking resolute steps towards procuring a redress of grievances, was hastily and angrily dissolved in May, 1629. Previous to this, Hampden, “although retaining his seat for Wendover, had retired to his estate in Buckinghamshire, to live in entire privacy, without display, but not inactive; contemplating from a distance, the madness of the Government, the luxury and insolence of the courtiers, and the portentous apathy of the people, who, amazed by the late measures, and by the prospect of uninterruptedly increasing violence, saw no hope from petition or complaint, and watched, in confusion and silence, the inevitable advance of an open rupture between the King and the Parliament. The literary acquirements of his youth he now carefully improved; increasing that stock of general knowledge which had already gained him the reputation of being one of the most learned and accomplished men of his age: and directing his attention chiefly to writers on history and politics. Davila’s History of the Civil Wars of France became his favourite study, his vade mecum, as Sir Philip Warwick styles it; as if forecasting from afar the course of the storm which hung over his own country, he already saw the sad parallel it was likely to afford to the story of that work. In his retirement, he bent the whole force of his capacious mind to the most effectual means by which the abuses of ecclesiastical authority