(With those of some of the Regicides have been prepared for the 31st
volume of the _Family Library_. We suspect the editor to be M.
D'Israeli, who has been poring over the records and fingering the dust
of the Royal "martyr" for many years past. Our honourable friend,
Clavering, of the _Metropolitan_, in his recollections of the British
Museum, long since, says, "there sat D'Israeli, daily extracting from
the voluminous M.S. letters of James I. and Charles I." Whoever the
compiler of this volume may be, it must be allowed that, in the form of
notes and biographies, he has brought into less than 350 pages a greater
collection of interesting incidents connected with his main subject than
many writers would have cared to assemble; and he has accordingly
produced a work, in every respect, fitted for popular reading. We quote
passages from the Execution to the Interment of Charles, but we have not
room for the Editor's very pertinent "Remarks on the Trial.")
On the morning of his death, Charles, according to the relation of his
faithful attendant, Sir Thos. Herbert, awoke about two hours before
daybreak, after a sound sleep of four hours. He called to Herbert, who
lay on a pallet, by his bedside, and bade him rise; "for," said the
King, "I will get up, I have a great work to do this day." He then gave
orders what clothes he would wear, and said to his attendant, "Let me
have a shirt on more than ordinary, by reason the season is so sharp[4]
as probably may make me shake, which some observers will imagine
proceeds from fear. I would have no such imputation. I fear not
death--death is not terrible to me. I bless God, I am prepared." Soon
after the King was dressed, Bishop Juxon came to him, according to his
appointment the night before. He remained an hour in private with him,
when Herbert was called in, and the Bishop prayed with the King, using
the prayers of the church, and then read the 27th chapter of St.
Matthew, which so beautifully describes the passion of our Saviour. The
King thanked the Bishop for his choice of the lesson; but he was
surprised and gratified to learn that it was the lesson for the day
according to the calendar.
[4] The day was so piercing that the king, at the persuasion of
Bishop Juxon, wore a cloak till the moment of his death.
About ten o'clock Colonel Hacker knocked at the King's chamber door,
and, being admitted by Herbert, came in trembling, and announced to the
King that it was time to go to Whitehall, where he might have further
time to rest; and soon afterwards the King, taking the Bishop by the
hand proposed to go. Charles then walked out through the garden of the
palace into the Park, where several companies of foot waited as his
guard; and, attended by the Bishop on one side, and Colonel Tomlinson on
the other, both bare-headed, he walked fast down the Park, sometimes
cheerfully calling on the guard to "march apace." As he went along, he
said, "he now went to strive for an heavenly crown, with less solicitude
than he had often encouraged his soldiers to fight for an earthly
diadem."
At the end of the Park, the King[5] went up the stairs leading to the
long gallery, and so into the Cabinet Chamber of the Palace of
Whitehall. Being delayed here in consequence of the scaffold not being
ready, he offered up several prayers, and entered into religious
discourse with the Bishop. About twelve he ate some bread, and drank a
glass of claret, declining to dine after he had received the sacrament.
[5] The late Sir Henry Englefield related a traditional
anecdote, that Charles, in passing through the Park, pointed out
a tree near the entrance from Spring Gardens (where the cows at
present stand,) saying, "That tree was planted by brother
Henry."
When Charles arrived at Whitehall, the Colonels Hacker, Huncks, and
Phayer produced to Tomlinson the warrant for his execution; and in the
Horn Chamber the King was delivered by Tomlinson into the custody of
those officers; Charles requested Tomlinson, however, to remain with him
to the last, and acknowledged his kind and respectful conduct by
presenting to him a gold toothpicker and case which he carried in his
pocket. Tomlinson also introduced to him Mr. Seymour, who brought a
letter from the Prince to his father, with whom the King conversed, and
charged him with various messages for the Prince.
In the mean time a different scene was passing in Ireton's chamber, a
small room in another part of the palace. Ireton and Harrison were here
in bed; and Cromwell, Axtell, Huncks, Hacker, and Phayer were present.
Cromwell commanded Huncks to draw up an order to the executioner
pursuant to the warrant for the King's execution. Huncks refused;
whereupon Cromwell was highly incensed, and called him a peevish,
froward fellow; and Axtell exclaimed, "Colonel Huncks, I am ashamed of
you:--the ship is now coming into the harbour, and will you strike sail
before we come to anchor?" Cromwell then went to a table, and, as it
would appear, wrote the order to the executioner, and then gave the pen
to Hacker, who, as one of the officers charged with the execution of the
warrant, signed it.[6] Cromwell, and the rest of the officers, then went
out of the chamber, and, in a few minutes, Hacker came and knocked at
the door of the chamber where the King was, with Tomlinson, the Bishop,
Herbert, and some of his guards. Herbert and the Bishop were deeply
affected at this signal for their final separation from their sovereign
and master. The King stretched out his hand to them, which they kissed,
falling on their knees and weeping, the King helping the aged bishop to
rise. He then bade Hacker to open the door and he would follow; and he
was conducted by Hacker, Tomlinson, and other officers and soldiers,
through the banquetting house by a passage broken through the wall,
where the centre window now is. The street now called Parliament Street
was at that time crossed by two ranges of buildings belonging to the
palace of Whitehall, with wide arched gateways crossing the street, and
forming the public thoroughfare. One gateway was opposite to Privy
Gardens; and there was a way over it from these gardens belonging to the
palace, to pass into St. James's Park. The other building traversing the
street was the sumptuous gallery of Whitehall, built by Henry VIII., the
scene of so many adventures and events of various descriptions in the
reigns of Elizabeth, James, and the two Charles's. Connected with this
gallery was "a beautiful gatehouse," over a noble archway. Lord
Leicester says, in his Journal (p. 60.),--"The scaffold was erected
between Whitehall gate and the gallery leading to St. James's." Lilly
asserts, that it was just at the spot where the blood of a citizen had
been shed at the commencement of the rebellion, when a mob were
vociferating "_No Bishop_" under the windows of the palace, and some
cavaliers sallied out to disperse them, and one was killed. A strong
guard of several regiments of horse and foot being posted about the
scaffold, so that the people could not approach near enough to hear any
discourse from the King, he addressed his last sentences chiefly to the
Bishop, Colonel Tomlinson, and the other officers who stood near him.
[6] See the evidence on the trials of Hacker, Axtell, and Hulet,
State Trials, vol. v.
"_The Bishop._ Though your Majesty's affections may be very well known
as to religion; yet it may be expected that you should say something
thereof for the world's satisfaction."
"_The King._ I thank you heartily, my Lord, for that I had almost
forgotten it. In troth, Sirs, my conscience in religion, I think, is
very well known to all the world; and therefore I declare before you all
that I die a Christian, according to the profession of the Church of
England, as I found it left me by my father; and this honest man, I
think, will witness it."
Then to Colonel Hacker he said, "Take care that they do not put me to
pain: and, Sir, this and it please you--"
But a gentleman coming near the axe, the King said, "Take heed of the
axe, pray take heed of the axe."
Then speaking unto the executioner, he said, "I shall say but very short
prayers, and when I thrust out my hands--"
Then turning to the Bishop, he said, "I have a good cause, and a
gracious God on my side."
"_The Bishop._ There is but one stage more, this stage is turbulent and
troublesome, it is a short one; but you may consider it will soon carry
you a very great way, it will carry you from earth to heaven; and there
you will find a great deal of cordial joy and comfort."
"_The King._ I go from a corruptible to an incorruptible crown, where no
disturbance can be, no disturbance in the world."
"_The Bishop._ You are exchanged from a temporary to an eternal crown; a
good exchange."
Then the King said to the executioner, "Is my hair well?" and took off
his cloak and his George, giving his George to the Bishop, saying,
"Remember." Then he put off his doublet, and being in his waistcoat, he
put on his cloak again; then looking upon the block, he said to the
executioner, "You must set it fast."
"_Executioner._ It is fast, Sir."
"_The King._ When I put out my hands this way (stretching them out),
then--" After that, having said two or three words to himself, as he
stood with his hands and eyes lift up, immediately stooping down, he
laid his neck upon the block.[7] And then the executioner again putting
his hair under his cap, the King, thinking he was going to strike, said,
"Stay for the sign."
[7] It being doubted whether the king would submit to the
executioner, staples were driven into the block, and hooks
prepared, in order, if necessary, to confine his head forcibly
to the block. On the trial of Hugh Peters in 1660, it was sworn
that this was done by his orders given on the scaffold to one
Tench, a joiner; in Houndsditch. See State Trials, vol. v.
"_Executioner._ Yes, I will, and please your Majesty."--After a little
pause, the King stretching forth his hands, the executioner at one blow
severed his head from his body, and held it up and showed it to the
people, saying, "Behold the head of a traitor!" At the instant when the
blow was given, a dismal universal groan was uttered by the people (as
if by one consent) such as was never before heard; and as soon as the
execution was over, one troop of horse marched rapidly from Charing
Cross to King Street, and another from King Street to Charing Cross, to
disperse and scatter the multitude.
Though Joyce and Hugh Peters have been suspected of inflicting the
murderous blow on Charles, and though another claimant for this infamous
distinction is put forward in the Gentleman's Magazine for 1767, there
seems little doubt that Richard Brandon, the common hangman, assisted by
his man, Ralph Jones, a ragman in Rosemary Lane, in fact perpetrated the
deed. Among the tracts relative to the Civil War presented to the
British Museum by George III., in 1762, are three on this subject, which
are fully noticed in a note to Mr. Ellis's Letters on English History,
vol. iii. (second series.) It appears, by the register of Whitechapel
Church, that Richard Brandon was buried there on the 24th of June, 1649;
and a marginal note (not in the hand of the Registrar, but bearing the
mark of antiquity), states, "This R. Brandon is supposed to have cut off
the head of Charles I."--One of the tracts, entitled "The Confession of
Richard Brandon, the Hangman, upon his Death-bed, concerning the
Beheading of his late Majesty," printed in 1649, states, "During the
time of his sickness, his conscience was much troubled, and exceedingly
perplexed in mind; and on Sunday last, a young man of his acquaintance
going to visit him, fell into discourse, asked him how he did, and
whether he was not troubled in conscience for cutting off the King's
head. He replied yes, by reason that (upon the time of his tryall) he
had taken a vow and protestation, wishing God to punish him, body and
soul, if ever he appeared on the scaffold to do the act, or lift up his
hand against him. He likewise confessed that he had 30_l_. for his
pains, all paid him in half-crowns within an hour after the blow was
given; and he had an orange stuck full with cloves, and a handkircher
out of the King's pocket, so soon as he was carried off the scaffold;
for which orange he was proffered twenty shillings by a gentleman in
Whitechapel, but refused the same, and afterwards sold it for ten
shillings in Rosemary Lane. About eight o'clock at night he returned
home to his wife, living in Rosemary Lane, and gave her the money,
saying, it was the dearest money, he earned in his life, for it would
cost him his life. About three days before he died, he lay speechless,
uttering many a sigh and heavy groan, and so in a desperate state
departed from his bed of sorrow. For the burial whereof great _store of
wines were sent in by the sheriff of the city of London_, and a great
multitude of people stood wayting to see his corpse carried to the
churchyard, some crying out, 'Hang him, rogue!'--'Bury him in the
dunghill.'--Others pressing upon him, saying they would quarter him for
executing the King, insomuch that the churchwardens and masters of the
parish were fain to come for the suppressing of them: and with great
difficulty he was at last carried to Whitechapel churchyard, having (as
it is said) a branch of rosemary at each end of the coffin, on the top
thereof, with a rope crosse from one end to the other, a merry conceited
cook, living at the sign of the Crown, having a black fan (worth the
value of 30_s_.), took a resolution to rent the same in pieces: and to
every feather tied a piece of packthread, dyed in black ink, and gave
them to divers persons, who, in derision, for a while wore them in their
hats."--See Ellis, _ubi supra_. The second tract states, that the first
victim Brandon beheaded was the Earl of Stratford.
"When the body was put into a coffin at Whitehall," says Rushworth,
"there were many sighs and weeping eyes at the scene; and divers strove
to dip their handkerchiefs in the King's blood." A general gloom and
consternation pervaded London on the day of this atrocious perpetration;
many of the chief inhabitants either shut themselves up in their houses,
or absented themselves from the city. On that day none of the courts of
justice sat; and on the next, Whitelocke, one of the commissioners of
the Great Seal, says, "The commissioners met, but did not think fit to
do any business, or seal any writs, because of the King's death."
Whitelocke says, "I went not to the House, but stayed all day at home in
my study, and at my prayers, that this day's work might not so displease
God as to bring prejudice to this poor afflicted nation."[8] Evelyn, in
his Diary, writes, "I kept the day of this martyrdom as a fast, and
would not be present at that execrable wickedness, receiving the sad
account of it from my brother George and Mr. Owen, who came to visit me
this afternoon, and recounted all the circumstances." Archbishop Usher
came out to witness the scene from his house at Whitehall; but he
fainted when the King was led out on the scaffold.
[8] There is, I am informed, a tradition in Westminster School,
that South, the celebrated divine, was the boy whose turn it was
to read prayers on the day of Charles's death; and that he read
the prayer for the king as usual. South at that time must have
been about fourteen years of age. Five years afterwards, when
the loyal and learned divine was at Christ Church, Oxford, we
find his name to a copy of Latin verses, addressed to the
Protector on his conclusion of a treaty with the States of
Holland. This, no doubt, was a mere college exercise. See _Musae
Oxoniensies_, 1654.
The Journals of the Commons show, either that nothing was done, or that
it was thought fit to enter nothing on these eventful days. On the day
of the execution there is only the following remarkable entry:--
"Ordered, _That the common post be stayed until to-morrow morning 10
o'clock_."
On the 31st, Commissary-general Ireton reports a paper of divers
particulars touching the King's body, his George, his diamond, and two
seals. The question being put, that the diamond be sent to Charles
Stuart, son of the late King, commonly called Prince of Wales, _it
passed with the negative_. The same question was then put, separately,
as to the garter, the George, and the seals: as to each, it passed in
the negative.
When the news of the decapitation of the King reached Scotland, that
loyal people were moved with horror and indignation.
Most of the gentry put on mourning; the chair of state in the parliament
house, the uppermost seats in the kirks, and almost all the pulpits,
were clothed in black.
The body of the King being embalmed, under the orders of Herbert and
bishop Juxon, was removed to St. James's. The usurpers of the government
refused permission to bury it in Henry the VII.'s Chapel, from a dread
of the indignation of the crowds who would assemble on so solemn and
interesting an occasion; but, at last, after some deliberation, the
council allowed it to be privately interred in St. George's Chapel at
Windsor, provided the expenses of the funeral should not exceed five
hundred pounds. The last duties of love and respect were (according to
Charles's express desire) paid to their sovereign's corpse by the Duke
of Richmond, the Marquess of Hertford, Lord Southampton, Lord Lindsey,
the Bishop of London, Herbert, and Mildmay, who, on producing a vote of
the Commons, were admitted by Whichcote, the Governor of Windsor Castle,
to the chapel. When the body was carried out of St. George's Hall, the
sky was serene and clear; but presently a storm of snow fell so fast,
that before it reached the chapel the pall and the mourners were
entirely whitened. When the bishop proposed to read the burial service
according to the rites of the Church of England, this fanatical governor
roughly refused, saying, "that that Common Prayer Book was put down, and
he would not suffer it to be used in that garrison where he commanded."
Clarendon thus describes, with graphic simplicity, the sad scene to its
close:--
"But when they entered into it (the chapel), which they had been so well
acquainted with, they found it so altered and transformed, all
inscriptions and those landmarks pulled down, by which all men knew
every particular place in that church, and such a dismal mutation over
the whole that they knew not where they where; nor was there one old
officer that had belonged to it, or knew where our Princes had used to
be interred. At last there was a fellow of the town who undertook to
tell them the place where, he said, 'there was a vault in which King
Harry the Eighth and Queen Jane Seymour were interred.' As near that
place as could conveniently be they caused the grave to be made.
There the King's body was laid, without any words, or other ceremonies,
than the tears and sighs of the few beholders. Upon the coffin was a
plate of silver fixed, with these words only, '_King Charles_, 1648.'
When the coffin was put in, the black velvet pall that had covered it
was thrown over it, and then the earth thrown in; which the governor
staid to see perfectly done, and then took the keys of the church.
"Owing to the privacy of this interment, doubts were at the time current
as to its having actually taken place. It was asserted that the King's
body was buried in the sand at Whitehall; and Aubrey states a report,
that the coffin carried to Windsor was filled with rubbish and
brick-bats. These doubts were entirely removed by the opening of the
coffin (which was found where Clarendon described it,) in the presence
of George the Fourth, then Prince Regent, in April, 1813--of which Sir
Henry Halford has published an interesting narrative. On removing the
black pall which Herbert described, a plain leaden coffin was found,
with the inscription 'King Charles, 1648.' Within this was a wooden
coffin, much decayed, and the body carefully wrapped in cerecloth, into
the folds of which an unctuous matter mixed with resin had been melted,
to exclude the external air. The skin was dark and discoloured--the
pointed beard perfect--the shape of the face was a long oval--many of
the teeth remained--the hair was thick at the back of the head, and in
appearance nearly black--that of the beard was of a redder brown. The
head was severed from the body. The fourth cervical vertebra was found
to be cut through transversely, leaving the surfaces of the divided
portions perfectly smooth and even;--'an appearance,' says Sir H.
Halford, 'which could have been produced only by a heavy blow inflicted
with a very sharp instrument, and which furnished the last proof wanting
to identify King Charles I.'"
(The volume is embellished with a Portrait of the King, and Outline
Prints of the Trial and Execution.)
* * * * *