alternatives did not, however, shake the resolution of the Commons, and the practice of note-taking was put a stop to by a peremptory order of the House. [439] "Next to religion," he says in his "Autobiography" (i. 309), "my chief aim is to enrich my posterity with good blood, knowing it to be the greatest honour that can betide a family, to be often linked with the female inheritrices of ancient stock." [440] Forster's "Grand Remonstrance," p. 124 n. Sir Symonds' peculiar knowledge of parliamentary precedents resulted in his perpetual interference with the procedure of the House. His frequent attempts to set the Speaker right upon various points of order at length irritated the Commons to the verge of madness, and it was with a sigh of relief that his colleagues bade him farewell when he reluctantly retired into private life to continue uninterrupted his antiquarian pursuits. Rushworth, who was Assistant Clerk of the Commons at the time of the Long Parliament, proved almost as energetic a reporter as D'Ewes, and thereby repeatedly got himself into trouble. In 1642, he was forbidden to take any notes without the sanction of the House, and a Committee was appointed to look through his manuscripts and settle how much of them was worthy of preservation. The result of Rushworth's passion for reporting is the "Historical Collections," which Carlyle has called a "rag-fair of a book; the mournfullest torpedo rubbish-heap of jewels buried under sordid wreck and dust and dead ashes, one jewel to the waggon-load."[441] One of the undoubted gems from this dust-heap is a full account of the proceedings in Parliament on the famous occasion of Charles I.'s violent attempt to arrest the five members. This dramatic incident does not appear to have deprived Rushworth of his presence of mind. While the Commons sat openmouthed and aghast, the Assistant Clerk calmly continued to take notes of every word that fell from the royal lips. For this posterity owes him a debt of the deepest gratitude. [441] Cromwell's "Letters and Speeches," vol. i. p. 79. The right of Parliament to deliberate in secret was long jealously guarded, any breach of that privilege being punished with extreme severity. In 1641, an oration delivered by Lord Digby on the Bill for Strafford's attainder, and circulated on his own initiative, was ordered to be burnt by the common hangman. At the same time it was formally resolved that no member should publish any speech without the express permission of the House.