Hamilton, who then obtained his liberty, returned into Scotland; and
being generously determined to remember ancient favors more than recent
injuries, he immediately embraced, with zeal and success, the protection
of the royal cause. He obtained a vote from the Scottish parliament to
arm forty thousand men in support of the king's authority, and to call
over a considerable body under Monro, who commanded the Scottish forces
in Ulster. And though he openly protested that the covenant was the
foundation of all his measures, he secretly entered into correspondence
with the English royalists, Sir Marmaduke Langdale and Sir Philip
Musgrave, who had levied considerable forces in the north of England.
The general assembly, who sat at the same time, and was guided by
Argyle, dreaded the consequences of these measures; and foresaw that the
opposite party, if successful, would effect the restoration of monarchy,
without the establishment of Presbytery in England. To join the king
before he had subscribed the covenant, was, in their eyes, to restore
him to his honor before Christ had obtained his;[*] and they thundered
out anathemas against every one who paid obedience to the parliament.
* Whitlocke, p. 300.
Two supreme independent judicatures were erected in the kingdom; one
threatening the people with damnation and eternal torments, the other
with imprisonment, banishment, and military execution. The people were
distracted in their choice; and the armament of Hamilton's party, though
seconded by all the civil power, went on but slowly. The royalists he
would not as yet allow to join him, lest he might give offence to
the ecclesiastical party; though he secretly promised them trust and
preferment as soon as his army should advance into England.
While the Scots were making preparations for the invasion of England,
every part of that kingdom was agitated with tumults, insurrections,
conspiracies, discontents. It is seldom that the people gain any thing
by revolutions in government; because the new settlement, jealous and
insecure, must commonly be supported with more expense and severity than
the old: but on no occasion was the truth of this maxim more sensibly
felt, than in the present situation of England. Complaints against the
oppression of ship money, against the tyranny of the star chamber, had
roused the people to arms: and having gained a complete victory over
the crown, they found themselves loaded with a multiplicity of taxes,
formerly unknown; and scarcely an appearance of law and liberty remained
in the administration. The Presbyterians, who had chiefly supported the
war, were enraged to find the prize, just when it seemed within their
reach, snatched by violence from them. The royalists, disappointed in
their expectations by the cruel treatment which the king now received
from the army, were strongly animated to restore him to liberty, and to
recover the advantages which they had unfortunately lost. All orders of
men were inflamed with indignation at seeing the military prevail over
the civil power, and king and parliament at once reduced to subjection
by a mercenary army. Many persons of family and distinction had, from
the beginning of the war, adhered to the parliament: but all these were,
by the new party, deprived of authority; and every office was intrusted
to the most ignoble part of the nation. A base populace, exalted above
their superiors; hypocrites, exercising iniquity under the visor of
religion: these circumstances promised not much liberty or lenity to the
people; and these were now found united in the same usurped and illegal
administration.
Though the whole nation seemed to combine in their hatred of military
tyranny, the ends which the several parties pursued were so different,
that little concert was observed in their insurrections. Langhorne,
Poyer, and Powel, Presbyterian officers, who commanded bodies of
troops in Wales, were the first that declared themselves; and they
drew together a considerable army in those parts, which were extremely
devoted to the royal cause. An insurrection was raised in Kent by young
Hales and the earl of Norwich. Lord Capel, Sir Charles Lucas, Sir George
Lisle, excited commotions in Essex. The earl of Holland, who had several
times changed sides since the commencement of the civil wars, endeavored
to assemble forces in Surrey. Pomfret Castle, in Yorkshire, was
surprised by Morrice. Langdale and Musgrave were in arms, and masters of
Berwick and Carlisle in the north.
What seemed the most dangerous circumstance, the general spirit of
discontent had seized the fleet. Seventeen ships, lying in the mouth of
the river, declared for the king; and putting Rainsborow, their admiral,
ashore, sailed over to Holland, where the prince of Wales took the
command of them.[*]
* Clarendon, vol. v. p. 137.
The English royalists exclaimed loudly against Hamilton's delays, which
they attributed to a refined policy in the Scots as if their intentions
were, that all the king's party should first be suppressed, and the
victory remain solely to the Presbyterians. Hamilton, with better
reason, complained of the precipitate humor of the English royalists,
who, by their ill-timed insurrections, forced him to march his
army before his levies were completed, or his preparations in any
forwardness.
No commotions beyond a tumult of the apprentices, which was soon
suppressed, were raised in London: the terror of the army kept the
citizens in subjection. The parliament was so overawed, that they
declared the Scots to be enemies, and all who joined them traitors.
Ninety members, however, of the lower house had the courage to dissent
from this vote.
Cromwell and the military council prepared themselves with vigor and
conduct for defence. The establishment of the army was at this time
twenty-six thousand men; but by enlisting supernumeraries the regiments
were greatly augmented, and commonly consisted of more than double their
stated complement.[*]
* Whitlocke, p. 284.
Colonel Horton first attacked the revolted troops in Wales, and gave
them a considerable defeat. The remnants of the vanquished threw
themselves into Pembroke, and were there closely besieged, and soon
after taken by Cromwell. Lambert was opposed to Langdale and Musgrave in
the north, and gained advantages over them. Sir Michael Livesey defeated
the earl of Holland at Kingston, and pursuing his victory, took him
prisoner at St. Neots. Fairfax, having routed the Kentish royalists at
Maidstone, followed the broken army; and when they joined the royalists
of Essex, and threw themselves into Colchester, he laid siege to that
place, which defended itself to the last extremity. A new fleet was
manned, and sent out under the command of War wick, to oppose the
revolted ships, of which the prince had taken the command.
While the forces were employed in all quarters, the parliament regained
its liberty, and began to act with its wonted courage and spirit.
The members who had withdrawn from terror of the army, returned; and
infusing boldness into their companions, restored to the Presbyterian
party the ascendant which it had formerly lost. The eleven impeached
members were recalled, and the vote by which they were expelled
was reversed. The vote, too, of non-addresses was repealed; and
commissioners, five peers and ten commoners, were sent to Newport in
the Isle of Wight, in order to treat with the king.[*] He was allowed
to summon several of his friends and old counsellors, that he might have
their advice in this important transaction.[**] The theologians on
both sides, armed with their syllogisms and quotations, attended as
auxiliaries.[***] By them the flame had first been raised; and their
appearance was but a bad prognostic of its extinction. Any other
instruments seemed better adapted for a treaty of pacification.
When the king presented himself to this company, a great and sensible
alteration was remarked in his aspect, from what it appeared the year
before, when he resided at Hampton Court. The moment his servants had
been removed, he had laid aside all care of his person, and had allowed
his beard and hair to grow, and to hang dishevelled and neglected. His
hair was become almost entirely gray, either from the decline of years,
or from that load of sorrows under which he labored; and which, though
borne with constancy, preyed inwardly on his sensible and tender mind.
His friends beheld with compassion, and perhaps even his enemies, "that
gray and discrowned head," as he himself terms it, in a copy of
verses, which the truth of the sentiment, rather than any elegance of
expression, renders very pathetic.[****] Having in vain endeavored by
courage to defend his throne from his armed adversaries, it now behoved
him, by reasoning and persuasion, to save some fragments of it from
these peaceful, and no less implacable negotiators.
The vigor of the king's mind, notwithstanding the seeming decline of
his body, here appeared unbroken and undecayed. The parliamentary
commissioners would allow none of his council to be present, and refused
to enter into reasoning with any but himself. He alone, during the
transactions of two months, was obliged to maintain the argument against
fifteen men of the greatest parts and capacity in both houses; and no
advantage was ever obtained over him,[v] This was the scene above
all others in which he was qualified to excel. A quick conception, a
cultivated understanding, a chaste conclusion, a dignified manner;
by these accomplishments he triumphed in all discussions of cool and
temperate reasoning.
* Clarendon, vol. v. p. 180. Sir Edward Walker's Perfect
Copies p. 6.
** Sir Edward Walker's Perfect Copies, p. 8.
*** Sir Edward Walker's Perfect Copies, p. 8, 38.
**** Burnet's Memoirs of Hamilton.
v Herbert's Memoirs, p. 72.
"The king is much changed," said the earl of Salisbury to Sir Philip
Warwick: "he is extremely improved of late." "No," replied Sir Philip,
"he was always so: but you are now at last sensible of it."[*] Sir Henry
Vane, discoursing with his fellow-commissioners, drew an argument from
the king's uncommon abilities, why the terms of pacification must be
rendered more strict and rigid.[**] But Charles's capacity shone not
equally in action as in reasoning.
The first point insisted on by the parliamentary commissioners, was
the king's recalling all his proclamations and declarations against the
parliament, and the acknowledging that they had taken arms in their own
defence. He frankly offered the former concession, but long scrupled
the latter. The falsehood, as well as indignity of that acknowledgment,
begat in his breast an extreme reluctance against it. The king had, no
doubt, in some particulars of moment, invaded, from a seeming necessity,
the privileges of his people: but having renounced all claim to these
usurped powers, having confessed his errors, and having repaired every
breach in the constitution, and even erected new ramparts in order
to secure it, he could no longer, at the commencement of the war, be
represented as the aggressor. However it might be pretended, that the
former display of his arbitrary inclinations, or rather his monarchical
principles, rendered an offensive or preventive war in the parliament
prudent and reasonable, it could never in any propriety of speech, make
it be termed a defensive one. But the parliament, sensible that the
letter of the law condemned them as rebels and traitors, deemed this
point absolutely necessary for their future security; and the king,
finding that peace could be obtained on no other terms, at last yielded
to it. He only entered a protest, which was admitted, that no concession
made by him should be valid, unless the whole treaty of pacification
were concluded.[***]
* Warwick, p. 324.
** Clarendon. Sir Edward Walker, p. 319
*** Walker, p. 11, 12, 24.
He agreed that the parliament should retain, during the term of twenty
years, the power over the militia and army, and that of levying what
money they pleased for their support. He even yielded to them the right
of resuming, at any time afterwards, this authority, whenever they
should declare such a resumption necessary for public safety. In effect,
the important power of the sword was forever ravished from him and his
successors.[*]
He agreed that all the great offices, during twenty years should be
filled by both houses of parliament.[**] He relinquished to them the
entire government of Ireland, and the conduct of the war there.[***] He
renounced the power of the wards, and accepted of one hundred thousand
pounds a year in lieu of it.[****] He acknowledged the validity of their
great seal, and gave up his own.[v] He abandoned the power of creating
peers without consent of parliament. And he agreed, that all the debts
contracted in order to support the war against him, should be paid by
the people.
So great were the alterations made on the English constitution by this
treaty, that the king said, not without reason, that he had been more an
enemy to his people by these concessions, could he have prevented them,
than by any other action of his life.
Of all the demands of the parliament, Charles refused only two. Though
he relinquished almost every power of the crown, he would neither give
up his friends to punishment, nor desert what he esteemed his religious
duty. The severe repentance which he had undergone for abandoning
Strafford, had no doubt confirmed him in the resolution never again to
be guilty of a like error. His long solitude and severe afflictions had
contributed to rivet him the more in those religious principles which
had ever a considerable influence over him. His desire, however, of
finishing an accommodation, induced him to go as far in both these
particulars as he thought any wise consistent with his duty.
The estates of the royalists being at that time almost entirely under
sequestration, Charles who could give them no protection, consented
that they should pay such compositions as they and the parliament
should agree on; and only begged that they might be made as moderate as
possible. He had not the disposal of offices; and it seemed but a small
sacrifice to consent, that a certain number of his friends should be
rendered incapable of public employments.[v*]
* Walker, p. 51.
** Walker, p. 78.
*** Walker, p. 45.
**** Walker, p. 69, 77
v Walker, p. 56, 68
v* Walker, p. 61
But when the parliament demanded a bill of attainder and banishment
against _seven_ persons, the marquis of Newcastle, Lord Digby, Lord
Biron, Sir Marmaduke Langdale, Sir Richard Granville, Sir Francis
Doddington, and Judge Jenkins, the king absolutely refused compliance;
their banishment for a limited time he was willing to agree to.[*]
Religion was the fatal point about which the differences had arisen; and
of all others, it was the least susceptible of composition or moderation
between the contending parties. The parliament insisted on the
establishment of Presbytery, the sale of the chapter lands, the
abolition of all forms of prayer, and strict laws against Catholics.
The king offered to retrench every thing which he did not esteem of
apostolicat institution: he was willing to abolish archbishops, deans
prebends, canons: he offered that the chapter lands should be let at low
leases during ninety-nine years; he consented, that the present church
government should continue during three years:[*] after that time, he
required not that any thing should be restored to bishops but the power
of ordination, and even that power to be exercised by advice of the
presbyters.[**] If the parliament, upon the expiration of that period,
still insisted on their demand, all other branches of episcopal
jurisdiction were abolished, and a new form of church government must,
by common consent, be established. The Book of Common Prayer he was
willing to renounce, but required the liberty of using some other
liturgy in his own chapel; [***] a demand, which, though seemingly
reasonable, was positively refused by the parliament.
In the dispute on these articles, one is not surprised that two of the
parliamentary theologians should tell the king, "that if he did not
consent to the utter abolition of Episcopacy he would be damned." But it
is not without some indignation that we read the following vote of
the lords and commons: "The houses, out of their detestation to that
abominable idolatry used in the mass, do declare, that they cannot admit
of, or consent unto, any such indulgence in any law, as is desired by
his majesty, for exempting the queen and her family from the penalties
to be enacted against the exercise of the mass."****
* Walker, p. 91, 93. * Walker, p. 29, 35, 49
** Walker, p. 65.
*** Walker, p. 75, 82. Rush. vol. viii. p. 1323
**** Walker, p. 71.
The treaty of marriage, the regard to the queen's sex and high station,
even common humanity; all considerations were undervalued, in comparison
of their bigoted prejudices.[*] [19]
* See note S, at the end of the volume.
It was evidently the interest, both of king and parliament, to finish
their treaty with all expedition; and endeavor by their combined force
to resist, if possible, the usurping fury of the army. It seemed
even the interest of the parliament to leave in the king's hand a
considerable share of authority, by which he might be enabled to protect
them and himself from so dangerous an enemy. But the terms on which they
insisted were so rigorous, that the king, fearing no worse from the
most implacable enemies, was in no haste to come to a conclusion. And so
great was the bigotry on both sides, that they were willing to sacrifice
the greatest civil interests, rather than relinquish the most minute
of their theological contentions. From these causes, assisted by the
artifice of the Independents, the treaty was spun out to such a length,
that the invasions and insurrections were every where subdued; and the
army had leisure to execute their violent and sanguinary purposes.
Hamilton, having entered England with a numerous though undisciplined
army, durst not unite his forces with those of Langdale; because the
English royalists had refused to take the covenant; and the Scottish
Presbyterians, though engaged for the king, refused to join them on any
other terms. The two armies marched together, though at some distance;
nor could even the approach of the parliamentary army under Cromwell,
oblige the Covenanters to consult their own safety, by a close union
with the royalists. When principles are so absurd and so destructive of
human society, it may safely be averred, that the more sincere and the
more disinterested they are, they only become the more ridiculous and
the more odious.
Cromwell feared not to oppose eight thousand men to the numerous armies
of twenty thousand commanded by Hamilton and Langdale. He attacked the
latter by surprise near Preston, in Lancashire; and though the royalists
made a brave resistance, yet, not being succored in time by their
confederates, they were almost entirely cut in pieces. Hamilton was next
attacked, put to rout, and pursued to Utoxeter, where he surrendered
himself prisoner. Cromwell followed his advantage; and, marching into
Scotland with a considerable body joined Argyle, who was also in arms;
and having suppressed Laneric, Monro, and other moderate Presbyterians
he placed the power entirely in the hands of the violent party. The
ecclesiastical authority, exalted above the civil, exercised the
severest vengeance on all who had a share in Hamilton's engagement, as
it was called; nor could any of that party recover trust, or even live
in safety, but by doing solemn and public penance for taking arms, by
authority of parliament in defence of their lawful sovereign.
The chancellor, Loudon, who had at first countenanced Hamilton's
enterprise, being terrified with the menaces of the clergy, had some
time before gone over to the other party; and he now openly in the
church, though invested with the highest civil character in the kingdom,
did penance for his obedience to the parliament, which he termed a
"carnal self-seeking." He accompanied his penance with so many tears,
and such pathetical addresses to the people for their prayers in
this his uttermost sorrow and distress, that a universal weeping and
lamentation took place among the deluded audience.[*]
The loan of great sums of money, often to the ruin of families, was
exacted from all such as lay under any suspicion of favoring the king's
party, though their conduct had been ever so inoffensive. This was a
device fallen upon by the ruling party, in order, as they said, to reach
"heart malignants."[**] Never in this island was known a more severe
and arbitrary government, than was generally exercised by the patrons of
liberty in both kingdoms.
* Whitlocke, p. 360.
** Guthrey. Lucas and Sir George Lisle.
The siege of Colchester terminated in a manner no less unfortunate than
Hamilton's engagement for the royal cause. After suffering the utmost
extremities of famine, after feeding on the vilest aliments, the
garrison desired at last to capitulate. Fairfax required them to
surrender at discretion; and he gave such an explanation to these terms,
as to reserve to himself power, if he pleased, to put them all instantly
to the sword. The officers endeavored, though in vain, to persuade the
soldiers, by making a vigorous sally, to break through, at least to
sell their lives as dear as possible. They were obliged to accept of the
conditions offered; and Fairfax, instigated by Ireton, to whom Cromwell
in his absence had consigned over the government of the passive general,
seized Sir Charles and resolved to make them instant sacrifices to
military justice. This unusual severity was loudly exclaimed against
by all the prisoners. Lord Capel, fearless of danger, reproached Ireton
with it; and challenged him, as they were all engaged in the same
honorable cause, to exercise the same impartial vengeance on all of
them. Lucas was first shot; and he himself gave orders to fire, with
the same alacrity as if he had commanded a platoon of his own soldiers.
Lisle instantly ran and kissed the dead body, then cheerfully presented
himself to a like fate. Thinking that the soldiers destined for his
execution stood at too great a distance, he called to them to come
nearer: one of them replied, "I'll warrant you, sir, we'll hit you:"
he answered, smiling, "Friends, I have been nearer you, when you have
missed me." Thus perished this generous spirit, not less beloved for
his modesty and humanity, than esteemed for his courage and military
conduct.
Soon after, a gentleman appearing in the king's presence clothed
in mourning for Sir Charles Lucas, that humane prince, suddenly
recollecting the hard fate of his friends, paid them a tribute which
none of his own unparalleled misfortunes ever extorted from him: he
dissolved into a flood of tears.[*]
* Whitlocke.
By these multiplied successes of the army, they had subdued all their
enemies; and none remained but the helpless king and parliament
to oppose their violent measures. From Cromwell's suggestion, a
remonstrance was drawn by the council of general officers, and sent to
the parliament. They there complain of the treaty with the king; demand
his punishment for the blood spilt during the war; require a dissolution
of the present parliament, and a more equal representative for the
future; and assert that, though servants, they are entitled to represent
these important points to their masters, who are themselves no better
than servants and trustees of the people. At the same time, they
advanced with the army to Windsor, and sent Colonel Eure to seize
the king's person at Newport, and convey him to Hurst Castle, in the
neighborhood, where he was detained in strict confinement.
[Illustration: 1-705-hurst-castle.jpg HURST CASTLE]
This measure being foreseen some time before, the king was exhorted to
make his escape, which was conceived to be very easy: but having given
his word to the parliament not to attempt the recovery of his liberty
during the treaty, and three weeks after, he would not, by any
persuasion, be induced to hazard the reproach of violating that promise.
In vain was it urged, that a promise given to the parliament could no
longer be binding; since they could no longer afford him protection from
violence threatened him by other persons, to whom he was bound by no
tie or engagement. The king would indulge no refinements of casuistry,
however plausible, in such delicate subjects; and was resolved that,
what depredations soever fortune should commit upon him, she never
should bereave him of his honor.[*]
* Colonel Cooke's Memoirs, p. 174. Rush. vol. viii. p. 1347.
The parliament lost not courage, notwithstanding the danger with which
they were so nearly menaced. Though without any plan for resisting
military usurpations, they resolved to withstand them to the uttermost;
and rather to bring on a violent and visible subversion of government,
than lend their authority to those illegal and sanguinary measures which
were projected. They set aside the remonstrance of the army, without
deigning to answer it; they voted the seizing of the king's person to
be without their consent, and sent a message to the general, to know by
what authority that enterprise had been executed; and they issued orders
that the army should advance no nearer to London.
Hollis, the present leader of the Presbyterians, was a man of
unconquerable intrepidity; and many others of that party seconded his
magnanimous spirit. It was proposed by them, that the generals and
principal officers should, for their disobedience and usurpations, be
proclaimed traitors by the parliament.
But the parliament was dealing with men who would not be frightened by
words, nor retarded by any scrupulous delicacy. The generals, under the
name of Fairfax, (for he still allowed them to employ his name,) marched
the army to London, and placing guards in Whitehall, the Mews, St.
James's, Durham House, Covent Garden, and Palace Yard, surrounded the
parliament with their hostile armaments.
The parliament, destitute of all hopes of prevailing, retained, however,
courage to resist. They attempted, in the face of the army, to close
their treaty with the king; and, though they had formerly voted
his concessions with regard to the church and delinquents to be
unsatisfactory, they now took into consideration the final resolution
with regard to the whole.
After a violent debate of three days, it was carried, by a majority
of one hundred and twenty-nine against eighty-three, in the house of
commons, that the king's concessions were a foundation for the houses to
proceed upon in the settlement of the kingdom.
Next day, when the commons were to meet, Colonel Pride formerly a
drayman, had environed the house with two regiments; and, directed by
Lord Grey of Groby, he seized in the passage forty-one members of the
Presbyterian party, and sent them to a low room, which passed by the
appellation of "hell;" whence they were afterwards carried to several
inns. Above one hundred and sixty members more were excluded, and none
were allowed to enter but the most furious and the most determined of
the Independents; and these exceeded not the number of fifty or sixty.
This invasion of the parliament commonly passed under the name of
"Colonel Pride's Purge;" so much disposed was the nation to make merry
with the dethroning of those members who had violently arrogated the
whole authority of government, and deprived the king of his legal
prerogatives.
The subsequent proceedings of the parliament, if this diminutive
assembly deserve that honorable name, retain not the least appearance
of law, equity, or freedom. They instantly reversed the former vote, and
declared the king's concessions unsatisfactory. They determined that no
member absent at this last vote should be received till he subscribed
it, as agree able to his judgment. They renewed their former vote of
non-addresses. And they committed to prison Sir William Waller, Sir John
Clotworthy, the generals Massey, Brown, Copley, and other leaders of the
Presbyterians. These men, by their credit and authority, which was
then very high, had, at the commencement of the war, supported the
parliament; and thereby prepared the way for the greatness of the
present leaders, who at that time were of small account in the nation.
The secluded members having published a paper, containing a narrative
of the violence which had been exercised upon them, and a protestation,
that all acts were void, which from that time had been transacted in
the house of commons, the remaining members encountered it with a
declaration, in which they pronounced it false, scandalous, seditious,
and tending to the destruction of the visible and fundamental government
of the kingdom.
These sudden and violent revolutions held the whole nation in terror
and astonishment. Every man dreaded to be trampled under foot, in
the contention between those mighty powers which disputed for the
sovereignty of the state. Many began to withdraw their effects beyond
sea: foreigners scrupled to give any credit to a people so torn by
domestic faction, and oppressed by military usurpation: even the
internal commerce of the kingdom began to stagnate: and in order to
remedy these growing evils, the generals, in the name of the army,
published a declaration, in which they expressed their resolution of
supporting law and justice.[*]
The more to quiet the minds of men, the council of officers took into
consideration a scheme called "the agreement of the people;" being the
plan of a republic, to be substituted in the place of that government
which they so violently pulled in pieces. Many parts of this scheme for
correcting the inequalities of the representative, are plausible; had
the nation been disposed to receive it, or had the army intended to
impose it. Other parts are too perfect for human nature, and savor
strongly of that fanatical spirit so prevalent throughout the kingdom.
The height of all iniquity and fanatical extravagance yet remained--the
public trial and execution of their sovereign. To this period was every
measure precipitated by the zealous Independents. The parliamentary
leaders of that party had intended, that the army themselves should
execute that daring enterprise; and they deemed so irregular and lawless
a deed best fitted to such irregular and lawless instruments.[**] But
the generals were too wise to load themselves singly with the infamy
which, they knew, must attend an action so shocking to the general
sentiments of mankind. The parliament, they were resolved, should share
with them the reproach of a measure which was thought requisite for the
advancement of their common ends of safety and ambition. In the house
of commons, therefore, a committee was appointed to bring in a charge
against the king. On their report a vote passed, declaring it treason in
a king to levy war against his parliament, and appointing a high court
of justice to try Charles for this new-invented treason. This vote was
sent up to the house of peers.
* Rush. vol. viii. p. 1364.
** Whitlocke.
The house of peers, during the civil wars, had all along been of small
account; but it had lately, since the king's fall, become totally
contemptible; and very few members would submit to the mortification
of attending it. It happened that day to be fuller than usual, and they
were assembled to the number of sixteen. Without one dissenting voice,
and almost without deliberation, they instantly rejected the vote of
the lower house, and adjourned themselves for ten days, hoping that this
delay would be able to retard the furious career of the commons.
{1649.} The commons were not to be stopped by so small an obstacle.
Having first established a principle which is noble in itself, and seems
specious, but is belied by all history and experience, "that the people
are the origin of all just power;" they next declared, that the commons
of England, assembled in parliament, being chosen by the people, and
representing them, are the supreme authority of the nation, and that
whatever is enacted and declared to be law by the commons, hath the
force of law, without the consent of king or house of peers. The
ordinance for the trial of Charles Stuart, king of England, (so they
called him,) was again read, and unanimously assented to.
In proportion to the enormity of the violences and usurpations, were
augmented the pretences of sanctity, among those regicides. "Should any
one have voluntarily proposed," said Cromwell in the house, "to bring
the king to punishment, I should have regarded him as the greatest
traitor; but since Providence and necessity have cast us upon it, I will
pray to God for a blessing on your counsels; though I am not prepared
to give you any advice on this important occasion. Even I myself,"
subjoined he, "when I was lately offering up petitions for his majesty's
restoration, felt my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth, and
considered this preternatural movement as the answer which Heaven,
having rejected the king, had sent to my supplications."
A woman of Hertfordshire, illuminated by prophetical visions, desired
admittance into the military council, and communicated to the officers a
revelation, which assured them that their measures were consecrated from
above, and ratified by a heavenly sanction. This intelligence gave them
great comfort, and much confirmed them in their present resolutions.[*]
* Whitlocke, p. 360.
Colonel Harrison, the son of a butcher, and the most furious enthusiast
in the army, was sent with a strong party to conduct the king to London.
At Windsor, Hamilton, who was there detained a prisoner, was admitted
into the king's presence: and falling on his knees, passionately
exclaimed, "My dear master!"---"I have indeed been so to you," replied
Charles, embracing him. No further intercourse was allowed between them,
The king was instantly hurried away. Hamilton long followed him with
his eyes all suffused in tears, and prognosticated, that in this short
salutation, he had given the last adieu to his sovereign and his friend.
Charles himself was assured that the period of his life was now
approaching; but notwithstanding all the preparations which were making,
and the intelligence which he received, he could not even yet believe
that his enemies really meant to conclude their violences by a public
trial and execution. A private assassination he every moment looked for;
and though Harrison assured him that his apprehensions were entirely
groundless, it was by that catastrophe, so frequent with dethroned
princes, that he expected to terminate his life. In appearance, as well
as in reality, the king was now dethroned. All the exterior symbols of
sovereignty were withdrawn, and his attendants had orders to serve him
without ceremony. At first, he was shocked with instances of rudeness
and familiarity, to which he had been so little accustomed. "Nothing
so contemptible as a despised prince!" was the reflection which they
suggested to him. But he soon reconciled his mind to this, as he had
done to his other calamities.
All the circumstances of the trial were now adjusted, and the high
court of justice fully constituted. It consisted of one hundred and
thirty-three persons, as named by the commons; but there scarcely ever
sat above seventy: so difficult was it, notwithstanding the blindness of
prejudice and the allurements of interest, to engage men of any name or
character in that criminal measure. Cromwell, Ireton, Harrison, and the
chief officers of the army, most of them of mean birth, were members,
together with some of the lower house, and some citizens of London. The
twelve judges were at first appointed in the number: but as they had
affirmed, that it was contrary to all the ideas of English law to try
the king for treason, by whose authority all accusations for treason
must necessarily be conducted, their names, as well as those of some
peers, were afterwards struck out. Bradshaw, a lawyer, was chosen
president. Coke was appointed solicitor for the people of England.
Dorislaus, Steele, and Arke, were named assistants. The court sat in
Westminster Hall.
It is remarkable, that in calling over the court, when the crier
pronounced the name of Fairfax, which had been inserted in the number, a
voice came from one of the spectators, and cried, "He has more wit than
to be here." When the charge was read against the king, "In the name of
the people of England," the same voice exclaimed, "Not a tenth part of
them." Axtel, the officer who guarded the court, giving orders to fire
into the box whence these insolent speeches came, it was discovered that
Lady Fairfax was there, and that it was she who had had the courage to
utter them. She was a person of noble extraction, daughter of Horace
Lord Vere of Tilbury; but being seduced by the violence of the times,
she had long seconded her husband's zeal against the royal cause,
and was now, as well as he, struck with abhorrence at the fatal and
unexpected consequence of all his boasted victories.
The pomp, the dignity, the ceremony of this transaction corresponded to
the greatest conception that is suggested in the annals of human kind;
the delegates of a great people sitting in judgment upon their supreme
magistrate, and trying him for his misgovernment and breach of trust.
The solicitor, in the name of the commons, represented, that Charles
Stuart, being admitted king of England, and intrusted with a limited
power, yet nevertheless, from a wicked design to erect an unlimited
and tyrannical government, had traitorously and maliciously levied war
against the present parliament, and the people, whom they represented,
and was therefore impeached as a tyrant, traitor, murderer, and a public
and implacable enemy to the commonwealth. After the charge was finished,
the president directed his discourse to the king, and told him that the
court expected his answer.
The king, though long detained a prisoner, and now produced as a
criminal, sustained, by his magnanimous courage, the majesty of a
monarch. With great temper and dignity, he declined the authority of
the court, and refused to submit himself to their jurisdiction. He
represented, that having been engaged in treaty with his two houses of
parliament, and having finished almost every article, he had expected to
be brought to his capital in another manner, and ere this time to have
been restored to his power, dignity, revenue, as well as to his personal
liberty: that he could not now perceive any appearance of the upper
house, so essential a member of the constitution; and had learned, that
even the commons, whose authority was pretended, were subdued by lawless
force, and were bereaved of their liberty: that he himself was their
"native, hereditary king;" nor was the whole authority of the state,
though free and united, entitled to try him, who derived his dignity
from the Supreme Majesty of heaven: that, admitting those extravagant
principles which levelled all orders of men, the court could plead no
power delegated by the people; unless the consent of every individual,
down to the meanest and most ignorant peasant, had been previously asked
and obtained: that he acknowledged, without scruple, that he had a trust
committed to him, and one most sacred and inviolable; he was intrusted
with the liberties of his people, and would not now betray them
by recognizing a power founded on the most atrocious violence and
usurpation: that having taken arms, and frequently exposed his life in
defence of public liberty, of the constitution, of the fundamental laws
of the kingdom, he was willing in this last and most solemn scene, to
seal with his blood those precious rights for which, though in vain, he
had so long contended: that those who arrogated a title to sit as his
judges, were born his subjects, and born subjects to those laws which
determined "that the king can do no wrong:" that he was not reduced
to the necessity of sheltering himself under this general maxim which
guards every English monarch, even the least deserving; but was able, by
the most satisfactory reasons, to justify those measures in which he had
been engaged: that to the whole world, and even to them, his pretended
judges, he was desirous, if called upon in another manner, to prove the
integrity of his conduct, and assert the justice of those defensive arms
to which, unwillingly and unfortunately, he had had recourse; but that,
in order to preserve a uniformity of conduct, he must at present forego
the apology of his innocence lest, by ratifying an authority no better
founded than that of robbers and pirates, he be justly branded as the
betrayer instead of being applauded as the martyr, of the constitution.
The president, in order to support the majesty of the people, and
maintain the superiority of his court above the prisoner still
inculcated, that he must not decline the authority of his judges; that
they overruled his objections; that they were delegated by the people,
the only source of every lawful power; and that kings themselves acted
but in trust from that community which had invested this high court
of justice with its jurisdiction. Even according to those principles,
which, in his present situation, he was perhaps obliged to adopt, his
behavior in general will appear not a little harsh and barbarous; but
when we consider him as a subject, and one too of no high character,
addressing himself to his unfortunate sovereign, his style will be
esteemed to the last degree audacious and insolent.
[Illustration: 1_706_charles1.jpg CHARLES I.]
Three times was Charles produced before the court, and as often declined
their jurisdiction. On the fourth, the judges having examined some
witnesses, by whom it was proved that the king had appeared in arms
against the forces commissioned by the parliament, they pronounced
sentence against him. He seemed very anxious at this time to be admitted
to a conference with the two houses; and it was supposed, that
he intended to resign the crown to his son: but the court refused
compliance, and considered that request as nothing but a delay of
justice.
It is confessed, that the king's behavior during this last scene of his
life does honor to his memory; and that, in all appearances before his
judges, he never forgot his part, either as a prince or as a man. Firm
and intrepid, he maintained, in each reply, the utmost perspicuity and
justness both of thought and expression; mild and equable, he rose into
no passion at that unusual authority which was assumed over him. His
soul, without effort or affectation, seemed only to remain in the
situation familiar to it, and to look down with contempt on all the
efforts of human malice and iniquity. The soldiers, instigated by
their superiors, were brought, though with difficulty, to cry aloud for
justice. "Poor souls!" said the king to one of his attendants, "for a
little money they would do as much against their commanders."[*] Some of
them were permitted to go the utmost length of brutal insolence, and to
spit in his face, as he was conducted along the passage to the court. To
excite a sentiment of pity was the only effect which this inhuman insult
was able to produce upon him.
* Rush. vol. viii. p. 1425.
The people, though under the rod of lawless, unlimited power, could not
forbear, with the most ardent prayers, pouring forth their wishes for
his preservation; and in his present distress, they avowed him, by their
generous tears, for their monarch, whom, in their misguided fury, they
had before so violently rejected. The king was softened at this moving
scene, and expressed his gratitude for their dutiful affection. One
soldier, too, seized by contagious sympathy, demanded from Heaven a
blessing on oppressed and fallen majesty: his officer, overhearing the
prayer, beat him to the ground in the king's presence. "The punishment,
methinks, exceeds the offence:" this was the reflection which Charles
formed on that occasion.[*]
As soon as the intention of trying the king was known in foreign
countries, so enormous an action was exclaimed against by the general
voice of reason and humanity; and all men, under whatever form of
government they were born, rejected the example, as the utmost effort of
undisguised usurpation, and the most heinous insult on law and justice.
The French ambassador, by orders from his court, interposed in the
king's behalf: the Dutch employed their good offices: the Scots
exclaimed and protested against the violence: the queen, the prince,
wrote pathetic letters to the parliament. All solicitations were found
fruitless with men whose resolutions were fixed and irrevocable.
Four of Charles's friends, persons of virtue and dignity, Richmond,
Hertford, Southampton, Lindesey, applied to the commons. They
represented, that they were the king's counsellors, and had concurred by
their advice in all those measures which were now imputed as crimes to
their royal master: that, in the eye of the law, and according to
the dictates of common reason, they alone were guilty, and were alone
exposed to censure for every blamable action of the prince; and
that they now presented themselves, in order to save, by their own
punishment, that precious life which it became the commons themselves,
and every subject, with the utmost hazard to protect and defend.[**]
Such a generous effort tended to their honor, but contributed nothing
towards the king's safety.
* Warwick, p. 339.
** Perinchef, p, 85. Lloyde, p. 319.
The people remained in that silence and astonishment, which all great
passions, when they have not an opportunity of exerting themselves,
naturally produce in the human mind. The soldiers, being incessantly
plied with prayers, sermons and exhortations, were wrought up to a
degree of fury, and imagined, that in the acts of the most extreme
disloyalty towards their prince consisted their greatest merit in the
eye of Heaven.[*]
Three days were allowed the king between his sentence and his execution.
This interval he passed with great tranquillity, chiefly in reading and
devotion. All his family that remained in England were allowed access
to him. It consisted only of the princess Elizabeth and the duke of
Gloucester; for the duke of York had made his escape. Gloucester was
little more than an infant: the princess, notwithstanding her tender
years, showed an advanced judgment; and the calamities of her family
had made a deep impression upon her. After many pious consolations and
advices, the king gave her in charge to tell the queen, that during the
whole course of his life, he had never once, even in thought, failed in
his fidelity towards her; and that his conjugal tenderness and his life
should have an equal duration.
To the young duke, too, he could not forbear giving some advice, in
order to season his mind with early principles of loyalty and obedience
towards his brother, who was so soon to be his sovereign. Holding him on
his knee, he said, "Now they will cut off thy father's head." At these
words, the child looked very steadfastly upon him. "Mark, child! what I
say: they will cut off my head! and perhaps make thee a king: but mark
what I say: thou must not be a king as long as thy brothers Charles and
James are alive. They will cut off thy brothers' heads, when they can
catch them! And thy head, too they will cut off at last! Therefore I
charge thee, do not be made a king by them!" The duke, sighing, replied,
"I will be torn in pieces first!" So determined an answer, from one
of such tender years, filled the king's eyes with tears of joy and
admiration.
Every night during this interval the king slept as sound as usual;
though the noise of workmen employed in framing the scaffold, and other
preparations for his execution, continually resounded in his ears.[**]
* Burnet's History of his Own Times.
** Clement Walker's History of Independency.
The morning of the fatal day he rose early, and calling Herbert, one of
his attendants, he bade him employ more than usual care in dressing him,
and preparing him for so great and joyful a solemnity. Bishop Juxon,
a man endowed with the same mild and steady virtues by which the king
himself was so much distinguished, assisted him in his devotions, and
paid the last melancholy duties to his friend and sovereign.
The street before Whitehall was the place destined for the execution;
for it was intended, by choosing that very place, in sight of his own
palace, to display more evidently the triumph of popular justice over
royal majesty. When the king came upon the scaffold, he found it so
surrounded with soldiers, that he could not expect to be heard by any
of the people: he addressed, therefore, his discourse to the few persons
who were about him; particularly Colonel Tomlinson, to whose care he had
lately been committed, and upon whom, as upon many others, his amiable
deportment had wrought an entire conversion. He justified his own
innocence in the late fatal wars; and observed, that he had not taken
arms till after the parliament had enlisted forces; nor had he any other
object in his warlike operations, than to preserve that authority entire
which his predecessors had transmitted to him. He threw not, however,
the blame upon the parliament, but was more inclined to think, that ill
instruments had interposed, and raised in them fears and jealousies
with regard to his intentions. Though innocent towards his people, he
acknowledged the equity of his execution in the eyes of his Maker; and
observed, that an unjust sentence which he had suffered to take effect,
was now punished by an unjust sentence upon himself. He forgave all his
enemies, even the chief instruments of his death; but exhorted them and
the whole nation to return to the ways of peace, by paying obedience
to their lawful sovereign, his son and successor. When he was preparing
himself for the block, Bishop Juxon called to him: "There is, sir, but
one stage more, which, though turbulent and troublesome, is yet a very
short one. Consider, it will soon carry you a great way; it will carry
you from earth to heaven; and there you shall find, to your great joy,
the prize to which you hasten, a crown of glory." "I go," replied
the king, "from a corruptible to an incorruptible crown; where no
disturbance can have place." At one blow was his head severed from his
body. A man in a visor performed the office of executioner: another,
in a like disguise, held up to the spectators the head, streaming with
blood, and cried aloud, "This is the head of a traitor!"
It is impossible to describe the grief, indignation, and astonishment
which took place, not only among the spectators, who were overwhelmed
with a flood of sorrow, but throughout the whole nation, as soon as the
report of this fatal execution was conveyed to them. Never monarch, in
the full triumph of success and victory, was more dear to his people,
than his misfortunes and magnanimity, his patience and piety, had
rendered this unhappy prince. In proportion to their former delusions,
which had animated them against him, was the violence of their return
to duty and affection; while each reproached himself either with active
disloyalty towards him, or with too indolent defence of his oppressed
cause. On weaker minds, the effect of these complicated passions was
prodigious. Women are said to have cast forth the untimely fruit of
their womb: others fell into convulsions, or sunk into such a melancholy
as attended them to their grave: nay, some, unmindful of themselves, as
though they could not or would not survive their beloved prince, it is
reported, suddenly fell down dead. The very pulpits were bedewed with
unsuborned tears; those pulpits, which had formerly thundered out the
most violent imprecations and anathemas against him. And all men
united in their detestation of those hypocritical parricides, who, by
sanctified pretences, had so long disguised their treasons, and in this
last act of iniquity had thrown an indelible stain upon the nation.
A fresh instance of hypocrisy was displayed the very day of the king's
death. The generous Fairfax, not content with being absent from the
trial, had used all the interest which he yet retained to prevent the
execution of the fatal sentence; and had even employed persuasion with
his own regiment, though none else should follow him, to rescue the
king from his disloyal murderers. Cromwell and Ireton, informed of this
intention, endeavored to convince him that the Lord had rejected the
king; and they exhorted him to seek by prayer some direction from Heaven
on this important occasion: but they concealed from him that they had
already signed the warrant for the execution. Harrison was the person
appointed to join in prayer with the unwary general. By agreement, he
prolonged his doleful cant till intelligence arrived, that the fatal
blow was struck. He then rose from his knees, and insisted with Fairfax,
that this event was a miraculous and providential answer which Heaven
had sent to their devout supplications.[*]
* Herbert, p. 135.
It being remarked, that the king, the moment before he stretched out his
neck to the executioner, had said to Juxon with a very earnest accent,
the single word "Remember," great mysteries were supposed to be
concealed under that expression; and the generals vehemently insisted
with the prelate, that he should inform them of the king's meaning,
Juxon told them that the king, having frequently charged him to
inculcate on his son the forgiveness of his murderers, had taken this
opportunity, in the last moment of his life, when his commands, he
supposed would be regarded as sacred and inviolable, to reiterate that
desire; and that his mild spirit thus terminated its present course by
an act of benevolence towards his greatest enemies.
The character of this prince, as that of most men, if not of all men,
was mixed; but his virtues predominated extremely above his vices, or,
more properly speaking, his imperfections; for scarce any of his faults
rose to that pitch as to merit the appellation of vices. To consider him
in the most favorable light, it may be affirmed, that his dignity was
free from pride, his humanity from weakness, his bravery from rashness,
his temperance from austerity, his frugality from avarice; all these
virtues in him maintained their proper bounds, and merited unreserved
praise. To speak the most harshly of him, we may affirm, that many of
his good qualities were attended with some latent frailty, which,
though seemingly inconsiderable was able, when seconded by the extreme
malevolence of his fortune, to disappoint them of all their influence:
his beneficent disposition was clouded by a manner not very gracious;
his virtue was tinctured with superstition; his good sense was
disfigured by a deference to persons of a capacity inferior to his own;
and his moderate temper exempted him not from hasty and precipitate
resolutions. He deserves the epithet of a good, rather than of a great
man: and was more fitted to rule in a regular established government,
than either to give way to the encroachments of a popular assembly, or
finally to subdue their pretensions. He wanted suppleness and dexterity
sufficient for the first measure; he was nor endowed with the vigor
requisite for the second. Had he been born an absolute prince, his
humanity and good sense had rendered his reign happy and his memory
precious; had the limitations on prerogative been in his time quite
fixed and certain, his integrity had made him regard as sacred the
boundaries of the constitution. Unhappily, his fate threw him into a
period, when the precedents of many former reigns savored strongly of
arbitrary power, and the genius of the people ran violently towards
liberty. And if his political prudence was not sufficient to extricate
him from so perilous a situation, he may be excused; since, even after
the event, when it is commonly easy to correct all errors, one is at
a loss to determine what conduct, in his circumstances, could have
maintained the authority of the crown, and preserved the peace of
the nation. Exposed, without revenue, without arms, to the assault of
furious, implacable, and bigoted factions, it was never permitted him,
but with the most fatal consequences, to commit the smallest mistake; a
condition too rigorous to be imposed on the greatest human capacity.
Some historians have rashly questioned the good faith of this prince;
but, for this reproach, the most malignant scrutiny of his conduct,
which in every circumstance is now thoroughly known, affords not any
reasonable foundation. On the contrary, if we consider the extreme
difficulties to which he was so frequently reduced, and compare the
sincerity of his professions and declarations, we shall avow, that
probity and honor ought justly to be numbered among his most shining
qualities. In every treaty, those concessions which he thought he could
not in conscience maintain, he never could, by any motive or persuasion,
be induced to make. And though some violations of the petition of right
may perhaps be imputed to him, these are more to be ascribed to the
necessity of his situation, and to the lofty ideas of royal prerogative,
which, from former established precedents, he had imbibed, than to any
failure in the integrity of his principles.[*] [20]
* See note T, at the end of the volume.
This prince was of a comely presence; of a sweet, but melancholy aspect.
His face was regular, handsome, and well complexioned; his body strong,
healthy, and justly proportioned; and being of a middle stature, he was
capable of enduring the greatest fatigues. He excelled in horsemanship
and other exercises; and he possessed all the exterior, as well as many
of the essential qualities which form an accomplished prince.
The tragical death of Charles begat a question, whether the people, in
any case, were entitled to judge and to punish their sovereign; and most
men, regarding chiefly the atrocious usurpation of the pretended judges,
and the merit of the virtuous prince who suffered, were inclined to
condemn the republican principle, as highly seditious and extravagant:
but there still were a few who, abstracting from the particular
circumstances of this case, were able to consider the question in
general, and were inclined to moderate, not contradict, the prevailing
sentiment. Such might have been their reasoning. If ever, on any
occasion, it were laudable to conceal truth from the populace, it must
be confessed, that the doctrine of resistance affords such an example;
and that all speculative reasoners ought to observe, with regard to this
principle, the same cautious silence which the laws, in every species of
government, have ever prescribed to themselves. Government is instituted
in order to restrain the fury and injustice of the people; and being
always founded on opinion, not on force, it is dangerous to weaken, by
these speculations, the reverence which the multitude owe to authority,
and to instruct them beforehand, that the case can ever happen when
they may be freed from their duty of allegiance. Or should it be found
impossible to restrain the license of human disquisitions, it must
be acknowledged, that the doctrine of obedience ought alone to be
inculcated; and that the exceptions, which are rare, ought seldom or
never to be mentioned in popular reasonings and discourses. Nor is there
any danger that mankind, by this prudent reserve, should universally
degenerate into a state of abject servitude. When the exception really
occurs, even though it be not previously expected and descanted on, it
must, from its very nature, be so obvious and undisputed, as to remove
all doubt, and overpower the restraint, however great, imposed by
teaching the general doctrine of obedience. But between resisting a
prince and dethroning him, there is a wide interval; and the abuses
of power which can warrant the latter violence, are greater and more
enormous than those which will justify the former. History, however,
supplies us with examples even of this kind; and the reality of the
supposition, though for the future it ought ever to be little looked
for, must, by all candid inquirers, be acknowledged in the past. But
between dethroning a prince and punishing him, there is another very
wide interval; and it were not strange, if even men of the most enlarged
thought should question, whether human nature could ever, in any
monarch, reach that height of depravity, as to warrant, in revolted
subjects, this last act of extraordinary jurisdiction. That illusion,
if it be an illusion, which teaches us to pay a sacred regard to the
persona of princes, is so salutary, that to dissipate it by the formal
trial and punishment of a sovereign, will have more pernicious effects
upon the people, than the example of justice can be supposed to have a
beneficial influence upon princes, by checking their career of tyranny.
It is dangerous also, by these examples, to reduce princes to despair,
or bring matters to such extremities against persons endowed with great
power as to leave them no resource, but in the most violent and most
sanguinary counsels. This general position being established, it must,
however, be observed, that no reader, almost of any party or principle,
was ever shocked, when he read in ancient history, that the Roman senate
voted Nero, their absolute sovereign, to be a public enemy, and, even
without trial, condemned him to the severest and most ignominious
punishment; a punishment from which the meanest Roman citizen was, by
the laws, exempted. The crimes of that bloody tyrant are so enormous,
that they break through all rules; and extort a confession, that such a
dethroned prince is no longer superior to his people, and can no longer
plead, in his own defence, laws which were established for conducting
the ordinary course of administration. But when we pass from the case
of Nero to that of Charles, the great disproportion, or rather
total contrariety, of character immediately strikes us; and we stand
astonished, that, among a civilized people, so much virtue could ever
meet with so fatal a catastrophe. History, the great mistress of wisdom,
furnishes examples of all kinds; and every prudential, as well as moral
precept, may be authorized by those events which her enlarged mirror is
able to present to us. From the memorable revolutions which passed in
England during this period, we may naturally deduce the same useful
lesson which Charles himself, in his later years, inferred; that it is
dangerous for princes, even from the appearance of necessity, to
assume more authority than the laws have allowed them. But it must be
confessed, that these events furnish us with another instruction, no
less natural and no less useful, concerning the madness of the people,
the furies of fanaticism, and the danger of mercenary armies.
In order to close this part of British history, it is also necessary
to relate the dissolution of the monarchy in England: that event soon
followed upon the death of the monarch. When the peers met, on the day
appointed in their adjournment, they entered upon business, and sent
down some votes to the commons, of which the latter deigned not to take
the least notice. In a few days, the lower house passed a vote, that
they would make no more addresses to the house of peers nor receive
any front them; and that that house was useless and dangerous, and
was therefore to be abolished. A like vote passed with regard to the
monarchy; and it is remarkable, that Martin, a zealous republican, in
the debate on this question, confessed, that if they desired a king, the
last was as proper as any gentleman in England.[*] The commons ordered
a new great seal to be engraved, on which that assembly was represented,
with this legend, "On the first year of freedom, by God's blessing,
restored, 1648." The forms of all public business were changed, from the
king's name, to that of the keepers of the liberties of England.[**] And
it was declared high treason to proclaim, or any otherwise acknowledge
Charles Stuart, commonly called prince of Wales.
* Walker's History of Independency, part ii.
* The court of king's bench was called the court of public
bench. So cautious on this head were some of the
republicans, that, it is pretended, in reciting the Lord's
prayer, they would not say, "thy kingdom come," but always,
"thy commonwealth come."
The commons intended, it is said, to bind the princess Elizabeth
apprentice to a button-maker: the duke of Gloucester was to be taught
some other mechanical employment. But the former soon died; of grief, as
is supposed, for her father's tragical end: the latter was, by Cromwell,
sent beyond sea.
The king's statue, in the exchange, was thrown down; and on the pedestal
these words were inscribed: "Exit tyrannus, regum ultimus;" The tyrant
is gone, the last of the kings.
Duke Hamilton was tried by a new high court of justice, as earl of
Cambridge, in England; and condemned for treason. This sentence,
which was certainly hard, but which ought to save his memory from all
imputations of treachery to his master, was executed on a scaffold
erected before Westminster Hall. Lord Capel underwent the same fate.
Both these noblemen had escaped from prison, but were afterwards
discovered and taken. To all the solicitations of their friends for
pardon, the generals and parliamentary leaders still replied, that it
was certainly the intention of Providence they should suffer; since it
had permitted them to fall into the hands of their enemies, after they
had once recovered their liberty.
The earl of Holland lost his life by a like sentence. Though of a polite
and courtly behavior, he died lamented by no party. His ingratitude to
the king, and his frequent changing of sides, were regarded as great
stains on his memory. The earl of Norwich and Sir John Owen, being
condemned by the same court, were pardoned by the commons.
The king left six children--three males: Charles, born in 1630;
James, duke of York, born in 1633; Henry, duke of Gloucester, born
in 1641;--and three females: Mary, princess of Orange, born 1631;
Elizabeth, born 1635; and Henrietta, afterwards duchess of Orleans, born
at Exeter, 1644.
The archbishops of Canterbury in this reign were Abbot and Laud; the
lord keepers, Williams bishop of Lincoln, Lord Coventry, Lord Finch,
Lord Littleton, and Sir Richard Lane; the high admirals, the duke of
Buckingham and the earl of Northumberland; the treasurers, the earl
of Marlborough, the earl of Portland, Juxon bishop of London, and Lord
Cottington; the secretaries of state, Lord Conway, Sir Albertus
Moreton, Coke, Sir Henry Vane, Lord Falkland, Lord Digby, and Sir Edward
Nicholas.
It may be expected that we should here mention the Icon Basiliké, a work
published in the king's name a few days after his execution. It seems
almost impossible, in the controverted parts of history, to say any
thing which will satisfy the zealots of both parties: but with regard to
the genuineness of that production, it is not easy for an historian
to fix any opinion which will be entirely to his own satisfaction. The
proofs brought to evince that this work is or is not the king's, are so
convincing, that if an impartial reader peruse any one side apart,[*] he
will think it impossible that arguments could be produced, sufficient to
counterbalance so strong an evidence: and when he compares both sides,
he will be some time at a loss to fix any determination. Should an
absolute suspense of judgment be found difficult or disagreeable in so
interesting a question, I must confess, that I much incline to give
the preference to the arguments of the royalists. The testimonies which
prove that performance to be the king's, are more numerous, certain,
and direct, than those on the other side. This is the case, even if we
consider the external evidence: but when we weigh the internal, derived
from the style and composition, there is no manner of comparison. These
meditations resemble, in elegance, purity, neatness, and simplicity, the
genius of those performances which we know with certainty to have
flowed from the royal pen; but are so unlike the bombast, perplexed,
rhetorical, and corrupt style of Dr. Gauden, to whom they are ascribed,
that no human testimony seems sufficient to convince us that he was the
author. Yet all the evidences which would rob the king of that honor,
tend to prove that Dr. Gauden had the merit of writing so fine a
performance, and the infamy of imposing it on the world for the king's.
* See, on the one hand, Toland's Amyntor, and on the other,
Wagataffe's Vindication of the Royal Martyr, with Young's
Addition. We may remark, that Lord Clarendon's total silence
with regard to this subject, in so full of history, composed
in vindication of the king's measures and character, forms a
presumption on Toland's side, and a presumption of which
that author was ignorant; the works of the noble historian
not being then published. Bishop Burnet's testimony, too,
must be allowed of some weight against the Icon.
It is not easy to conceive the general compassion excited towards the
king, by the publishing, at so critical a juncture, a work so full of
piety, meekness, and humanity. Many have not scrupled to ascribe to that
book the subsequent restoration of the royal family. Milton compares
its effects to those which were wrought on the tumultuous Romans by
Anthony's reading to them the will of Cæsar. The Icon passed through
fifty editions in a twelvemonth; and, independent of the great interest
taken in it by the nation, as the supposed production of their murdered
sovereign, it must be acknowledged the best prose composition which, at
the time of its publication, was to be found in the English language.