fanatics had discovered in the Bible, that the government of kings was
odious in the sight of God,[1] and contended that in fact Charles had now
no claim to the sceptre. Protection and allegiance were reciprocal. At his
accession he had bound himself by oath to protect the liberties of his
subjects, and by the violation of that oath he had released the people from
the obligation of allegiance to him. For the decision of the question he
had appealed to the God of battles, who, by the result, had decided against
his pretensions. He therefore was answerable for the blood which had been
shed; and it was the duty of the representatives of the nation to call
him to justice for the crimes and, in order to prevent the recurrence of
similar mischiefs, to provide for the liberties of all, by founding an
equal commonwealth on the general consent. Cromwell invited the patrons of
this doctrine to meet at his house the grandees (so they were called) of
the parliament and army. The question was argued; but both he and his
colleagues were careful to conceal their real sentiments. They did not
openly contradict the principles laid down by the Levellers, but they
affected to doubt the possibility of reducing them to practice. The truth
was, that they wished not to commit themselves by too explicit an avowal
before they could see their way plainly before them.[2]
In this feverish state of the public mind in England, every eye was turned
towards the proceedings in Scotland. For some time a notion had been
cherished by the Scottish clergy, that the king at Carisbrook had not only
subscribed the covenant, but had solemnly
[Footnote 1: 1 Kings, viii. 8.]
[Footnote 2: Ludlow, i. 206. Whitelock, 317.]
engaged to enforce it throughout his dominions; and the prospect of a
speedy triumph over the Independents induced them to preach a crusade from
the pulpit in favour of the kirk and the throne. But the return of the
commissioners, and the publication of "the agreement" with the king,
bitterly disappointed their hopes. It was found that Charles had indeed
consented to the establishment of Presbyterianism in England, but only as
an experiment for three years, and with the liberty of dissent both for
himself, and for those who might choose to follow his example. Their
invectives were no longer pointed against the Independents; "the agreement"
and its advocates became the objects of their fiercest attacks. Its
provisions were said to be unwarranted by the powers of the commissioners,
and its purpose was pronounced an act of apostasy from the covenant, an
impious attempt to erect the throne of the king in preference to the
throne of Christ. Their vehemence intimidated the Scottish parliament, and
admonished the duke of Hamilton to proceed with caution. That nobleman,
whose imprisonment ended with the surrender of Pendennis, had waited on the
king in Newcastle; a reconciliation followed; and he was now become the
avowed leader of the royalists and moderate Presbyterians. That he might
not irritate the religious prejudices of his countrymen, he sought to mask
his real object, the restoration of the monarch, under the pretence of
suppressing heresy and schism; he professed the deepest veneration for the
covenant, and the most implicit deference to the authority of the kirk;
he listened with apparent respect to the remonstrances of the clerical
commission, and openly solicited its members to aid the parliament with
their wisdom, and to state their desires. But these were mere words
intended to lull suspicion. By dint of numbers (for his party comprised
two-thirds of the convention), he obtained the appointment of a committee
of danger; this was followed by a vote to place the kingdom in a posture
of defence; and the consequence of that vote was the immediate levy of
reinforcements for the army. But his opponents under the earl of Argyle
threw every obstacle in his way. They protested in parliament against the
war; the commissioners of the kirk demanded that their objections should be
previously removed; the women cursed the duke as he passed, and pelted
him with stones from their windows; and the ministers from their pulpits
denounced the curse of God on all who should take a share in the unholy
enterprise. Forty thousand men had been voted; but though force was
frequently employed, and blood occasionally shed, the levy proceeded so
slowly, that even in the month of July the grand army hardly exceeded
one-fourth of that number.[1]
By the original plan devised at Hampton Court, it had been arranged
that the entrance of the Scots into England should be the signal for a
simultaneous rising of the royalists in every quarter of the kingdom. But
the former did not keep their time, and the zeal of the latter could not
brook delay.[a] The first who proclaimed the king, was a parliamentary
officer, Colonel Poyer, mayor of the town, and governor of the castle, of
Pembroke. He refused to resign his military appointment at the command of
Fairfax, and, to justify
[Footnote 1: Memoirs of the Hamiltons, 339, 347, 353. Thurloe, i. 94.
Rushworth, vii. 1031, 48, 52, 67, 114, 132. Two circumstantial and
interesting letters from Baillie, ii. 280-297. Whitelock, 305. Turner, 52.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1648. March 3.]
his refusal, unfurled the royal standard. Poyer was joined by Langherne and
Powel, two officers whose forces had lately been disbanded. Several of the
men hastened to the aid of their former leaders; the Cavaliers ran to arms
in both divisions of the principality; a force of eight thousand men was
formed; Chepstow was surprised, Carnarvon besieged, and Colonel Fleming
defeated.[a] By these petty successes the unfortunate men were lured on
to their ruin. Horton checked their progress; Cromwell followed with five
regiments to punish their presumption. The tide immediately changed.
Langherne was defeated; Chepstow was recovered; the besiegers of Carnarvon
were cut to pieces.[b] On the refusal of Poyer to surrender, the
lieutenant-general assembled his corps after sunset, and the fanatical Hugh
Peters foretold that the ramparts of Pembroke, like those of Jericho, would
fall before the army of the living God. From prayer and sermon the men
hastened to the assault; the ditch was passed, the walls were scaled; but
they found the garrison at its post, and, after a short but sanguinary
contest, Cromwell ordered a retreat. A regular siege was now formed; and
the Independent general, notwithstanding his impatience to proceed to
the north, was detained more than six weeks before this insignificant
fortress.[1]
Scarcely a day passed, which was not marked by some new occurrence
indicative of the approaching contest.[c] An alarming tumult in the city,
in which the apprentices forced the guard, and ventured to engage the
military under the command of the general, was quickly followed by similar
disturbances in
[Footnote 1: Lords' Journals, x. 88, 253. Rushworth, vii. 1016, 38, 66, 97,
129. Heath, 171. Whitelock, 303, 305. May, 116.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1648. May 1.]
[Sidenote b: A.D. 1648. May 20.]
[Sidenote c: A.D. 1648. April 9.]
Norwich, Thetford, Canterbury, Exeter, and several towns.[a] They were,
indeed, suppressed by the vigilance of Fairfax and the county committees;
but the cry of "God and the king," echoed and re-echoed by the rioters on
these occasions, sufficiently proved that the popular feeling was setting
fast in favour of royalty. At the same time petitions from different public
bodies poured into the two houses, all concurring in the same prayer, that
the army should be disbanded, and the king brought back to his capital.[1]
The Independent leaders, aware that it would not be in their power to
control the city while their forces were employed in the field, sought
a reconciliation.[b] The parliament was suffered to vote that no change
should be made in the fundamental government of the realm by king, lords,
and commons; and the citizens in return engaged themselves to live and die
with the parliament. Though the promises on both sides were known to be
insincere, it was the interest of each to dissemble. Fairfax withdrew his
troops from Whitehall and the Mews; the charge of the militia was once more
intrusted to the lord mayor and the aldermen; and the chief command was
conferred on Skippon, who, if he did not on every subject agree with the
Independents, was yet distinguished by his marked opposition to the policy
of their opponents.[c]
The inhabitants of Surrey and Essex felt dissatisfied with the answers
given to their petitions; those of Kent repeatedly assembled to consider
their grievances, and to consult on the means of redress. These meetings,
which originated with a private gentleman of the name of Hales, soon
assumed the character of
[Footnote 1: Journals, 243, 260, 267, 272. Commons', April 13, 27, May 16.
Whitelock, 299, 302, 303, 305, 306.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1648. April 28.]
[Sidenote b: A.D. 1648. May 2.]
loyalty and defiance. Associations were formed, arms were collected, and on
an appointed day[a] a general rising took place. The inhabitants of
Deal distinguished themselves on this occasion; and Rainsborowe, the
parliamentarian admiral, prepared to chastise their presumption. Leaving
orders for the fleet to follow, he proceeded[b] in his barge to reconnoitre
the town; but the men, several of whom had families and relatives in it,
began to murmur, and Lindale, a boatswain in the admiral's ship, proposed
to declare for the king. He was answered with acclamations; the officers
were instantly arrested; the crews of the other ships followed the example;
the arguments and entreaties of Rainsborowe himself, and of the earl of
Warwick, who addressed them in the character of lord high admiral, were
disregarded, and the whole fleet, consisting of six men-of-war fully
equipped for the summer service, sailed under the royal colours to
Helvoetsluys, in search of the young duke of York, whom they chose for
their commander-in-chief.[1] But the alarm excited by this revolt at sea
was quieted by the success of Fairfax against the insurgents on land. The
Cavaliers had ventured to oppose him[c] in the town of Maidstone, and for
six hours, aided by the advantage of their position, they resisted the
efforts of the enemy; but their loss was proportionate to their valour, and
two hundred fell in the streets, four hundred were made prisoners. Many
of the countrymen, discouraged by this defeat, hastened to their homes.
Goring, earl of Newport, putting himself at the head of a different body,
advanced[d] to Blackheath, and solicited admission into the city. It was a
moment big with the most important consequences. The king's friends formed
a
[Footnote 1: Life of James II. i. 41.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1648. May 23.]
[Sidenote b: A.D. 1648. May 27.]
[Sidenote c: A.D. 1648. June 1.]
[Sidenote d: A.D. 1648. June 2.]
numerous party; the common council wavered; and the parliament possessed no
armed force to support its authority. The leaders saw that they had but one
resource, to win by conciliation. The aldermen imprisoned at the request of
the army were set[a] at liberty; the impeachment against the six lords was
discharged; and the excluded members were permitted to resume their seats.
These concessions, aided by the terror which the victory at Maidstone
inspired, and by the vigilance of Skippon, who intercepted all
communication between the royalists, and the party at Blackheath, defeated
the project of Goring. That commander, having received a refusal,
crossed[b] the river, with five thousand horse, was joined by Lord Capel
with the royalists from Hertfordshire, and by Sir Charles Lucas with a body
of horse from Chelmsford, and assuming the command of the whole, fixed his
head-quarters in Colchester. The town had no other fortification than a low
rampart of earth; but, relying on his own resources and the constancy of
his followers, he resolved to defend it against the enemy, that he might
detain Fairfax and his army in the south, and keep the north open to the
advance of the Scots. This plan succeeded; Colchester was assailed and
defended with equal resolution; nor was its fate decided till the failure
of the Scottish invasion had proved the utter hopelessness of the royal
cause.[1]
It soon appeared that the restoration of the impeached and excluded
members, combined with the departure of the officers to their commands in
the army, had imparted a new tone to the proceedings in
[Footnote 1: Journals, x. 276, 278, 279, 283, 289, 297, 301, 304. Commons,
May 24, 25, June 4, 8. Whitelock, 307, 308, 309, 310. Clarendon, iii. 133,
151, 154.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1648. June 3.]
[Sidenote b: A.D. 1648. June 4.]
parliament. Holles resumed not only his seat, but his preponderance in the
lower house. The measures which his party had formerly approved were again
adopted; and a vote was passed to open a new treaty with the king, on
condition that he should previously engage to give the royal assent to
three bills, revoking all declarations against the parliament, establishing
the Presbyterian discipline for the term of three, and vesting the command
of the army and navy in certain persons during that of ten years. But among
the lords a more liberal spirit prevailed. The imprisonment of the six
peers had taught them a salutary lesson. Aware that their own privileges
would infallibly fall with the throne, they rejected the three bills of
the Commons, voted a personal treaty without any previous conditions,
and received from the common council an assurance that, if the king were
suffered to come to London, the city would guarantee both the royal person
and the two houses from insult and danger. But Holles and his adherents
refused to yield; conference after conference was held; and the two parties
continued for more than a month to debate the subject without interruption
from the Independents. These had no leisure to attend to such disputes.
Their object was to fight and conquer, under the persuasion that victory in
the field would restore to them the ascendancy in the senate.[1]
It was now the month of July, and the English royalists had almost
abandoned themselves to despair, when they received the cheering
intelligence that the duke of Hamilton had at last redeemed his promise,
and entered[a] England at the head of a numerous army.[a]
[Footnote 1: Journals, 308, 349, 351, 362, 364, 367. Commons, July 5.
Whitelock, 315, 316, 318, 319. Ludlow, i. 251.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1648. April 28.]
The king's adherents in the northern counties had already surprised Berwick
and Carlisle; and, to facilitate his entry, had for two months awaited
with impatience his arrival on the borders. The approach of Lambeth, the
parliamentary general, compelled them to seek shelter within the walls of
Carlisle, and the necessity of saving that important place compelled the
duke to despatch a part of his army to its relief. Soon afterwards[a] he
arrived himself. Report exaggerated his force to thirty thousand men,
though it did not in fact amount to more than half that number; but he
was closely followed by Monroe, who led three thousand veterans from the
Scottish army in Ireland, and was accompanied or preceded by Sir Marmaduke
Langdale, the commander of four thousand Cavaliers, men of approved valour,
who had staked their all on the result. With such an army a general of
talent and enterprise might have replaced the king on his throne; but
Hamilton, though possessed of personal courage, was diffident of his own
powers, and resigned himself to the guidance of men who sacrificed the
interests of the service to their private jealousies and feuds. Forty days
were consumed in a short march of eighty miles; and when the decisive
battle was fought, though the main body had reached the left bank of the
Ribble near Preston, the rear-guard, under Monroe, slept in security at
Kirkby Lonsdale. Lambert had retired slowly before the advance of the
Scots, closely followed by Langdale and his Cavaliers; but in Otley Park he
was joined by Cromwell, with several regiments which had been employed in
the reduction of Pembroke. Their united force did not exceed nine thousand
men; but the impetuosity of the general despised inequality of numbers; and
the
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1648. July 8.]
ardour of his men induced him to lead them without delay against the enemy.
From Clithero, Langdale fell back on the Scottish army near Preston, and
warned the duke to prepare for battle on the following day.[a] Of the
disasters which followed, it is impossible to form any consistent notion
from the discordant statements of the Scottish officers, each of whom,
anxious to exculpate himself, laid the chief blame on some of his
colleagues. This only is certain, that the Cavaliers fought with the
obstinacy of despair; that for six hours they bore the whole brunt of the
battle; that as they retired from hedge to hedge they solicited from the
Scots a reinforcement of men and a supply of ammunition; and that, unable
to obtain either, they retreated into the town, where they discovered that
their allies had crossed to the opposite bank, and were contending with
the enemy for the possession of the bridge. Langdale, in this extremity,
ordered his infantry to disperse, and, with the cavalry and the duke,
who had refused to abandon his English friends, swam across the Ribble.
Cromwell won the bridge, and the royalists fled in the night toward Wigan.
Of the Scottish forces, none but the regiments under Monroe and the
stragglers who rejoined him returned to their native country. Two-thirds
of the infantry, in their eagerness to escape, fell into the hands of
the neighbouring inhabitants; nor did Baillie, their general, when he
surrendered at Warrington, number more than three thousand men under their
colours. The duke wandered as far as Uttoxeter with the cavalry; there his
followers mutinied,[b] and he yielded himself a prisoner to General Lambert
and the Lord Grey of Groby. The Cavaliers disbanded[c] themselves in
Derbyshire; their gallant leader, who travelled in
[Sidenote: A.D. 1648. Aug. 17.]
[Sidenote: A.D. 1648. Aug. 20.]
[Sidenote: A.D. 1648. Aug. 25.]
the disguise of a female, was discovered and taken in the vicinity of
Nottingham: but Lady Savile bribed his keeper: dressed in a clergyman's
cassock he escaped to the capital; and remained there in safety with Dr.
Barwick, being taken for an Irish minister driven from his cure by the
Irish Catholics.[1]
On the very day on which the Scots began their march, a feeble attempt had
been made to assist their advance by raising the city of London. Its author
was one who by his inconstancy had deservedly earned the contempt of every
party,--the earl of Holland. He had during the contest passed from the king
to the parliament, and from the parliament to the king. His ungracious
reception by the royalists induced him to return to their opponents, by
whom he was at first treated with severity, afterwards with neglect.
Whether it were resentment or policy, he now professed himself a true
penitent, offered to redeem his past errors by future services, and
obtained from the prince of Wales a commission to raise forces. As it had
been concerted between him and Hamilton, on the 5th of July, he marched[a]
at the head of five hundred
[Footnote 1: Lords' Journals, x. 455-458. Rushworth, vii. 1227, 1242.
Barwicci Vita, 66. The narrative in Burnet's Memoirs of the Hamiltons
(355-365) should be checked by that in Clarendon (iii. 150, 160). The
first was derived from Sir James Turner (Turner's Memoirs, 63), who held
a command in the Scottish army; the second from Sir Marmaduke Langdale.
According to Turner, Langdale was ignorant, or kept the Scots in ignorance,
of the arrival of Cromwell and his army; according to Langdale, he
repeatedly informed them of it, but they refused to give credit to the
information. Langdale's statement is confirmed by Dachmont, who affirmed to
Burnet, that "on fryday before Preston the duke read to Douchel and him
a letter he had from Langdale, telling how the enemy had rendesvoused at
Oatley and Oatley Park, wher Cromwell was,"--See a letter from Burnet to
Turner in App. to Turner's Memoirs, 251. Monroe also informed the duke,
probably by Dachmont, of Cromwell's arrival at Skipton.--Ibid, 249.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1648. July 5.]
horse, in warlike array from his house in the city, and having fixed his
quarters in the vicinity of Kingston, sent messages to the parliament and
the common council, calling on them to join with him in putting an end to
the calamities of the nation. On the second day,[a] through the negligence,
it was said, of Dalbier, his military confidant, he was surprised, and
after a short conflict, fled with a few attendants to St. Neots; there a
second action followed,[b] and the earl surrendered at discretion to his
pursuers. His misfortune excited little interest; but every heart felt
compassion for two young noblemen whom he had persuaded to engage in this
rash enterprise, the duke of Buckingham and his brother the Lord Francis
Villiers. The latter was slain at Kingston; the former, after many
hair-breadth escapes, found an asylum on the continent.[1]
The discomfiture of the Scottish army was followed by the surrender
of Colchester. While there was an object to fight for, Goring and his
companions had cheerfully submitted to every privation; now that not a hope
remained, they offered to capitulate, and received for answer that quarter
would be granted to the privates, but that the officers had been declared
traitors by the parliament, and must surrender at discretion. These terms
were accepted;[c] the council deliberated on the fate of the captives;
Goring, Capel, and Hastings, brother to the earl of Huntingdon, were
reserved for the judgment of the parliament; but two, Sir George Lisle and
Sir Charles Lucas, because they were not men of family, but soldiers of
fortune,[2] were
[Footnote 1: Clarendon, iii. 121, 176. Whitelock, 317, 318, 320. Lords'
Journals, 367. Commons, July 7, 12. Leicester's Journal, 35.]
[Footnote 2: This is the reason assigned by Fairfax himself. Memoirs, 50.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1648. July 7.]
[Sidenote b: A.D. 1648. July 10.]
[Sidenote c: A.D. 1648. August 29.]
selected for immediate execution. Both had been distinguished by their
bravery, and were reckoned among the first commanders in the royal service.
Lucas, tearing open his doublet, exclaimed, "Fire, rebels!" and instantly
fell. Lisle ran to him, kissed his dead body, and turning to the soldiers,
desired them to advance nearer. One replied, "Fear not, sir, we shall hit
you." "My friends," he answered, "I have been nearer when you have missed
me." The blood of these brave men impressed a deep stain on the character
of Fairfax, nor was it wiped away by the efforts of his friends, who
attributed their death to the revengeful counsels of Ireton.[1]
At this time the prince of Wales had been more than six weeks in the Downs.
As soon as he heard of the revolt of the fleet, he repaired to the Hague,
and taking upon himself the command, hastened with nineteen sail to the
English coast. Had he appeared before the Isle of Wight, there can be
little doubt that Charles would have recovered his liberty; but the council
with the prince decided[a] that it was more for the royal interest to sail
to the month of the river, where they long continued to solicit by letters
the wavering disposition of the parliament and the city. While Hamilton
advanced, there seemed a prospect of success; the destruction of his army
extinguished their hopes. The king, by a private message, suggested that
before their departure from the coast, they should free him from his
captivity. But the mariners proved that they were the masters. They
demanded to fight the hostile fleet under the earl of
[Footnote 1: Journals, x. 477. Rushworth, vii. 1242, 1244. Clarendon, iii,
177. Fairfax says in his vindication that they surrendered "at _mercy_,
which means that some are to suffer, some to be spared."--Memoirs, p. 540.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1648. July 20.]
Warwick, who studiously avoided an engagement, that he might be joined by
a squadron from Portsmouth. During two days the royalists offered[a] him
battle; by different manoeuvres he eluded their attempts; and on the third
day the want of provisions compelled the prince to steer for the coast
of Holland, without paying attention to the request of his royal father.
Warwick, who had received his reinforcements, followed at a considerable
distance; but, though he defended his conduct on motives of prudence, he
did not escape the severe censure of the Independents and Levellers, who
maintained that the cause had always been betrayed when it was intrusted to
the cowardice or disaffection of noble commanders.[1]
It is now time to revert to the contest between the two houses respecting
the proposed treaty with the king. Towards the end of July the Commons had
yielded[b] to the obstinacy of the Lords; the preliminary conditions on
which they had insisted were abandoned,[c] and the vote of non-addresses
was repealed. Hitherto these proceedings had been marked with the
characteristic slowness of every parliamentary measure; but the victory of
Cromwell over Hamilton, and the danger of interference on the part of the
army, alarmed the Presbyterian leaders; and fifteen commissioners, five
lords and ten commoners, were appointed[d] to conduct the negotiation.[2]
At length they arrived;[e] Charles repaired[f] from his prison in
Carisbrook Castle to the neighbouring town of Newport;
[Footnote 1: Lords' Journals, x. 399, 414, 417, 426, 444, 483, 488, 494.
Clarendon Papers, ii. 412, 414.]
[Footnote 2: They were the earls of Northumberland, Salisbury, Pembroke,
and Middlesex, the lords Say and Seale, Lord Wenman, Sir Henry Vane,
junior, Sir Harbottle Grimstone, and Holles, Pierrepoint, Brown, Crew,
Glyn, Potts, and Bulkely.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1648. August 30.]
[Sidenote b: A.D. 1648. July 28.]
[Sidenote c: A.D. 1648. August 3.]
[Sidenote d: A.D. 1648. Sept. 1.]
[Sidenote e: A.D. 1648. Sept. 15.]
[Sidenote f: A.D. 1648. Sept. 18.]
he was suffered to call around him his servants, his chaplains, and such
of his counsellors as had taken no part in the war; and, as far as outward
appearances might be trusted, he had at length obtained the free and
honourable treaty which he had so often solicited. Still he felt that he
was a captive, under promise not to leave the island till twenty days after
the conclusion of the treaty, and he soon found, in addition, that he was
not expected to treat, but merely to submit. How far the two houses might
have yielded in other circumstances is uncertain; but, under the present
superiority of the army, they dared not descend from the lofty pretensions
which they had previously put forth. The commissioners were permitted to
argue, to advise, to entreat; but they had no power to concede; their
instructions bound them to insist on the king's assent to every proposition
which had been submitted to his consideration at Hampton Court. To many of
these demands Charles made no objection; in lieu of those which he
refused, he substituted proposals of his own, which were forwarded to
the parliament, and voted unsatisfactory. He offered new expedients and
modifications; but the same answer was invariably returned, till the
necessity of his situation wrung from the unfortunate prince his
unqualified assent to most of the articles in debate. On four points only
he remained inflexible. Though he agreed to suspend for three years, he
refused to abolish entirely, the functions of the bishops; he objected to
the perpetual alienation of the episcopal lands, but proposed to grant
leases of them for lives, or for ninety-nine years, in favour of the
present purchasers; he contended that all his followers, without any
exception, should be admitted to compound for their delinquency; and he
protested that, till his conscience were satisfied of the lawfulness of the
covenant, he would neither swear to it himself, nor impose it upon others.
Such was the state of the negotiation, when the time allotted by the
parliament expired;[a] and a prolongation for twenty days was voted.[1]
The Independents from the very beginning had disapproved of the treaty. In
a petition presented[b] by "thousands of well-affected persons in and near
London," they enumerated the objects for which they had fought, and which
they now claimed as the fruit of their victory. Of these the principal
were, that the supremacy of the people should be established against the
negative voice of the king and of the lords; that to prevent civil wars,
the office of the king and the privileges of the peers should be clearly
defined; that a new parliament, to be elected of course and without writs,
should assemble every year, but never for a longer time than forty or fifty
days; that religious belief and worship should be free from restraint
[Footnote 1: The papers given in during this treaty may be seen in the
Lords' Journals, x. 474-618. The best account is that composed by order of
the king himself, for the use of the prince of Wales.--Clarendon Papers,
ii. 425-449. I should add, that a new subject of discussion arose
incidentally during the conferences. The lord Inchiquin had abandoned the
cause of the parliament in Ireland, and, at his request, Ormond had been
sent from Paris by the queen and the prince, to resume the government, with
a commission to make peace with the Catholic party. Charles wrote to him
two letters (Oct. 10, 28.--Carte, ii. App. xxxi. xxxii.), ordering him to
follow the queen's instructions, to obey no commands from himself as long
as he should be under restraint, and not to be startled at his concessions
respecting Ireland, for they would come to nothing. Of these letters the
houses were ignorant; but they got possession of one from Ormond to the
Irish Catholics, and insisted that Charles should order the lord lieutenant
to desist. This he eluded for some time, alleging that if the treaty took
effect, their desire was already granted by his previous concessions; if it
did not, no order of his would be obeyed. At last he consented, and wrote
the letter required.--Journals, x. 576-578, 597, 618. Clarendon Papers, ii.
441, 445, 452.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1648. Nov. 5.]
[Sidenote b: A.D. 1648. Sept. 11.]
or compulsion; that the proceedings in law should be shortened, and the
charges ascertained; that tithes for the support of the clergy, and
perpetual imprisonment for debt, should be abolished; and that the
parliament "should lay to heart the blood spilt, and the rapine perpetrated
by commission from the king, and consider whether the justice of God could
be satisfied, or his wrath be appeased, by an act of oblivion." This
instrument is the more deserving of attention, because it points out the
political views which actuated the leaders of the party.[1]
In the army, flushed as it was with victory, and longing for revenge,
maxims began to prevail of the most dangerous tendency in respect of the
royal captive. The politicians maintained that no treaty could be safely
made with the king, because if he were under restraint, he could not be
bound by his consent; if he were restored to liberty, he could not be
expected to make any concessions. The fanatics went still further. They had
read in the book of Numbers that "blood defileth the land, and the land
cannot be cleansed of the blood that is shed therein, but by the blood of
him that shed it;" and hence they inferred that it was a duty, imposed
on them by the God who had given them the victory, to call the king to a
strict account for all the blood which had been shed during the civil
war. Among these, one of the most eminent was Colonel Ludlow, a member of
parliament, who, having persuaded himself that the anger of God could be
appeased only by the death of Charles, laboured, though in vain, to make
Fairfax a convert to his opinion. He proved more successful with Ireton,
whose regiment petitioned[a] the commander-in-chief,
[Footnote 1: Whitelock, 335.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1648. Oct. 18.]
that crime might be impartially punished without any distinction of high or
low, rich or poor; that all who had contrived or abetted the late war might
receive their just deserts; and that whosoever should speak or act in
favour of Charles, before that prince had been acquitted of shedding
innocent blood, should incur the penalties of treason. The immediate object
of this paper was to try the general disposition of the army. Though it did
not openly express, it evidently contemplated the future trial of the
king, and was followed by another petition[a] from the regiment of Colonel
Ingoldsby, which, in plainer and bolder terms, demanded that the monarch
and his adherents should be brought to justice; condemned the treaty
between him and the parliament as dangerous and unjust; and required the
appointment of a council of war to discover an adequate remedy for the
national evils. Fairfax had not the courage to oppose what, in his own
judgment, he disapproved; the petitions were laid before an assembly of
officers; and the result of their deliberation was a remonstrance[b] of
enormous length, which, in a tone of menace and asperity, proclaimed the
whole plan of the reformers. It required that "the capital and grand author
of all the troubles and woes which the kingdom had endured, should be
speedily brought to justice for the treason, blood, and mischief of which
he had been guilty;" that a period should be fixed for the dissolution of
the parliament; that a more equal representation of the people should be
devised; that the representative body should possess the supreme power, and
elect every future king; and that the prince so elected should be bound to
disclaim all pretentions to a negative voice in the passing of laws, and to
subscribe to that form of government which he
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1648. Oct. 30.]
[Sidenote b: A.D. 1648. Nov. 16.]
should find established by the present parliament. This remonstrance
was addressed to the lower house alone, for the reformers declared
themselves[a] unable to understand on what ground the lords could claim
co-equal power with the representatives of the people, in whom alone the
sovereignty resided.[1] It provoked a long and animated debate; but the
Presbyterians met its advocates without fear, and silenced them[b] by an
overwhelming majority. They felt that they were supported by the general
wish of the nation, and trusted that if peace were once established
by agreement with the king, the officers would act dare to urge their
pretensions. With this view they appointed a distant day for the
consideration of the remonstrance, and instructed the commissioners at
Newport to hasten the treaty to a speedy conclusion.[2]
The king now found himself driven to the last extremity. The threats of the
army resounded in his ears; his friends conjured him to recede from his
former answers; and the commissioners declared their conviction, that
without full satisfaction, the two houses could not save him from the
vengeance of his enemies. To add to his alarm, Hammond, the governor of the
island, had received a message from Fairfax to repair without delay to the
head-quarters at Windsor. This was followed by the arrival[c] of Colonel
Eure, with orders to seize the king, and confine[d] him again in Carisbrook
Castle, or, if he met with opposition, "to act as God should direct him."
Hammond replied with firmness, that in military matters he would obey his
general; but as to the royal person, he had received
[Footnote 1: Whitelock, 343, 346, 355. Rushworth, vii. 1298, 1311, 1331.]
[Footnote 2: Journals of Commons, Nov. 20, 24, 30. There were two divisions
relating to this question; in the first the majority was 94 to 60, in the
second 125 to 58.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1648. Nov. 18.]
[Sidenote b: A.D. 1648. Nov. 20.]
[Sidenote c: A.D. 1648. Nov. 25.]
[Sidenote d: A.D. 1648. Nov. 26.]
the charge from the parliament, and would not suffer the interference of
any other authority. Eure departed; but Charles could no longer conceal
from himself the danger which stared him in the face; his constancy or
obstinacy relented; and he agreed,[a] after a most painful struggle, and
when the time was run to the last minute, to remit the compositions of his
followers to the mercy of parliament; to consent to the trial of the seven
individuals excepted from pardon, provided they were allowed the benefit of
the ancient laws; and to suspend the functions and vest in the crown the
lands of the bishops, till religion should be settled, and the support of
its ministers determined by common consent of the king and the two houses.
By this last expedient it was hoped that both parties would be satisfied;
the monarch, because the order was not abolished, nor its lands alienated
_for ever_; the parliament, because neither one nor the other could be
restored without its previous consent.[1]
[Footnote 1: Clarendon Papers, 449-454. Journals, x. 620-622. The royalists
excepted from mercy were the marquess of Newcastle, Sir Marmaduke Langdale,
Lord Digby, Sir Richard Grenville, Mr. Justice Jenkins, Sir Francis
Dorrington, and Lord Byron. It appears to me difficult to read the letters
written by Charles during the treaty to his son the prince of Wales
(Clarendon Papers, ii. 425-454), and yet believe that he acted with
insincerity. But how then, asks Mr. Laing (Hist. of Scotland, iii. 411),
are we to account for his assertion to Ormond, that the treaty would come
to nothing, and for his anxiety to escape manifested by his correspondence
with Hopkins?--Wagstaff's Vindication of the Royal Martyr, 142-161. 1.
Charles knew that, besides the parliament, there was the army, which had
both the will and the power to set aside any agreement which might be made
between him and the parliament; and hence arose his conviction that "the
treaty would come to nothing." 2. He was acquainted with all that passed
in the private councils of his enemies; with their design to bring him to
trial and to the scaffold; and he had also received a letter, informing him
of an intention to assassinate him during the treaty.--Herbert, 134. Can we
be surprised, if, under such circumstances, he sought to escape? Nor
was his parole an objection. He conceived himself released from it by
misconduct on the part of Hammond, who, at last, aware of that persuasion,
prevailed on him, though with considerable difficulty, to renew his
pledge.--Journals, x. 598. After this renewal he refused to escape even
when every facility was offered him.--Rushworth, vii. 1344.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1648. Nov. 27.]
In the morning, when the commissioners took their leave,[a] Charles
addressed them with a sadness of countenance and in a tone of voice which
drew tears from all his attendants. "My lords," said he, "I believe we
shall scarce ever see each other again. But God's will be done! I have made
my peace with him, and shall undergo without fear whatever he may suffer
men to do to me. My lords, you cannot but know that in my fall and ruin you
see your own, and that also near you. I pray God send you better friends
than I have found. I am fully informed of the carriage of them who plot
against me and mine; but nothing affects me so much as the feeling I have
of the sufferings of my subjects, and the mischief that hangs over my three
kingdoms, drawn upon them by those who, upon pretences of good, violently
pursue their own interests and ends." Hammond departed at the same time
with the commissioners, and the command at Carisbrook devolved on Boreman,
an officer of the militia, at Newport on Rolfe, a major in the army. To
both he gave a copy of his instructions from the parliament for the safety
of the royal person; but the character of Rolfe was known; he had been
charged with a design to take the king's life six months before, and had
escaped a trial by the indulgence of the grand jury, who ignored the bill,
because the main fact was attested by the oath of only one witness.[2]
The next morning[b] a person in disguise ordered one
[Footnote 1: Appendix to Eveyln's Memoirs, ii. 128.]
[Footnote 2: Journals, x. 615, 345, 349, 358, 370, 390. Clarendon, iii.
234.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1648. Nov. 28.]
[Sidenote b: A.D. 1648. Nov. 29.]
of the royal attendants to inform the king that a military force was on
its way to make him prisoner. Charles immediately consulted the duke of
Richmond, the earl of Lindsey, and Colonel Coke, who joined in conjuring
him to save his life by an immediate escape. The night was dark and stormy;
they were acquainted with the watchword; and Coke offered him horses and a
boat. But the king objected, that he was bound in honour to remain twenty
days after the treaty, nor would he admit of the distinction which
they suggested, that his parole was given not to the army, but to the
parliament. It was in vain that they argued and entreated: Charles, with
his characteristic obstinacy,[a] retired to rest about midnight; and in a
short time Lieutenant-Colonel Cobbett arrived with a troop of horse and a
company of foot. Boreman refused to admit him into Carisbrook. But Rolfe
offered him aid at Newport; at five the king was awakened by a message that
he must prepare to depart; and about noon he was safely lodged in Hurst
Castle, situate on a solitary rock, and connected by a narrow causeway, two
miles in length, with the opposite coast of Hampshire.[1]
The same day the council of officers published a menacing declaration
against the House of Commons. It charged the majority with apostasy
from their former principles, and appealed from their authority to "the
extraordinary judgment of God and of all good people;" called on the
faithful members to protest against the past conduct of their colleagues,
and to place themselves under the protection of the army; and asserted that
since God had given to the officers the power, he had also made it their
duty, to
[Footnote 1: Rushworth, vii. 1344-1348, 1351. Herbert, 113, 124.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1648. Nov. 30.]
provide for the settlement of the kingdom and the punishment of the
guilty.[a] In the pursuit of these objects, Fairfax marched several
regiments to London, and quartered them at Whitehall, York House, the Mews,
and in the skirts of the city.[1]
The reader will recollect the pusillanimous conduct of the Presbyterian
members on the approach of the army in the year 1646.[b] On the present
occasion they resolved to redeem their character. They betrayed no symptom
of fear, no disposition to retire, or to submit. Amidst the din of arms and
the menaces of the soldiers, they daily attended their duty in parliament,
declared that the seizure of the royal person had been, made without
their knowledge or consent, and proceeded to consider the tendency of the
concessions made by Charles in the treaty of Newport. This produced
the longest and most animated debate hitherto known in the history of
parliament. Vane drew a most unfavourable portrait of the king, and
represented all his promises and professions as hollow and insincere;
Fiennes became for the first time the royal apologist, and refuted the
charges brought by his fellow commissioner; and Prynne, the celebrated
adversary of Laud, seemed to forget his antipathy to the court, that he
might lash the presumption and perfidy of the army. The debate continued
by successive adjournments three days and a whole night; and on the
last division in the morning a resolution was carried by a majority of
thirty-six, that the offers of the sovereign furnished a sufficient ground
for the future settlement of the kingdom.[2][c]
[Footnote 1: Rushworth, vii. 1341, 1350. Whitelock, 358.]
[Footnote 2: Journals, Dec. 1, 2, 3, 5. Clarendon Papers, ii. App, xlviii.
Cobbett, Parl. Hist. 1152. In some of the previous divisions, the house
consisted of two hundred and forty members; but several seem to have
retired during the night; at the conclusion there were only two hundred and
twelve.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1648. Dec. 2.]
[Sidenote b: A.D. 1648. Dec. 5]
But the victors were not suffered to enjoy their triumph. The next day
Skippon discharged the guards of the two houses, and their place was
supplied by a regiment of horse and another of foot from the[a] army.
Colonel Pride, while Fairfax, the commander-in-chief, was purposely
employed in a conference with some of the members, stationed himself in the
lobby: in his hand he held a list of names, while the Lord Grey stood
by his side to point out the persons of the members; and two-and-fifty
Presbyterians, the most distinguished of the party by their talents or
influence, were taken into custody and conducted to different places of
confinement. Many of those who passed the ordeal on this, met with a
similar treatment on the following day; numbers embraced the opportunity
to retire into the country; and the house was found, after repeated
purifications, to consist of about fifty individuals, who, in the quaint
language of the time, were afterwards dignified with the honourable
appellation of the "Rump."[1]
Whether it were through policy or accident, Cromwell was not present to
take any share in these extraordinary proceedings. After his victory at
Preston he had marched in pursuit of Monroe, and had besieged the important
town of Berwick. But his real views were not confined to England. The
defeat of the Scottish royalists had raised the hopes of their opponents
in their own country. In the western shires the curse of Meroz had been
denounced from
[Footnote 1: Whitelock, 358, 359. Commons' Journals, Dec. 6, 7. This was
called Pride's purge. Forty-seven members were imprisoned, and ninety-six
excluded.--Parl. Hist. iii. 1248.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1648. Dec. 6.]
the pulpit against all who refused to arm in defence of the covenant; the
fanatical peasants marshalled themselves under their respective ministers;
and Loudon and Eglington, assuming the command, led them to Edinburgh.[1]
This tumultuary mass, though joined by Argyle and his Highlanders, and by
Cassilis with the people of Carrick and Galloway, was no match for the
disciplined army under Lanark and Monroe; but Cromwell offered to advance
to their support, and the[a] two parties hastened to reconcile their
differences by a treaty, which secured to the royalists their lives and[b]
property, on condition that they should disband their forces. Argyle with
his associates assumed the name and the office of the committee of the
estates; Berwick and Carlisle were delivered to the English[c] general;
and he himself with his army was invited to the capital. Amidst the public
rejoicing, private conferences of which the subject never transpired, were
repeatedly held; and Cromwell returning to[d] England, left Lambeth with
two regiments of horse, to support the government of his friends till they
could raise a sufficient force among their own party.[2] His progress
through the northern counties was slow;[e] nor did he reach the capital
till the day after the exclusion of the Presbyterian members. His late
victory had rendered him the idol of the soldiers: he was conducted with
acclamations of joy to the
[Footnote 1: This was called the inroad of the Whiggamores; a name given
to these peasants either from whiggam, a word employed by them in driving
their horses, or from whig (Anglicè whey), a beverage of sour milk, which
formed one of the principal articles of their meals.--Burnet's History of
his Own Times, i. 43. It soon came to designate an enemy of the king, and
in the next reign was transferred, under the abbreviated form of whig, to
the opponents of the court.]
[Footnote 2: Memoirs of the Hamiltons, 367-377. Guthrie, 283-299.
Rushworth, vii. 1273, 1282, 1286, 1296, 1325.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1648. Sept. 26.]
[Sidenote b: A.D. 1648. Sept. 30.]
[Sidenote c: A.D. 1648. Oct. 4.]
[Sidenote d: A.D. 1648. Oct. 11.]
[Sidenote e: A.D. 1648. Dec. 7.]
royal apartments in Whitehall, and received the next day the thanks of the
House of Commons for his distinguished services to the two kingdoms. Of his
sentiments with respect to the late proceedings no doubt was entertained.
If he had not suggested, he had at least been careful to applaud the
conduct of the officers, and in a letter to Fairfax he blasphemously
attributed it to the inspiration of the Almighty.[1]
The government of the kingdom had now devolved in reality on the army.
There were two military councils, the one select, consisting of the
grandees, or principal commanders, the other general, to which the inferior
officers, most of them men of levelling principles, were admitted. A
suspicion existed that the former aimed at the establishment of an
oligarchy: whence their advice was frequently received with jealousy and
distrust, and their resolutions were sometimes negatived by the greater
number of their inferiors. When any measure had received the approbation
of the general council, it was carried to the House of Commons, who were
expected to impart to it the sanction of their authority. With ready
obedience[a] they renewed the vote of non-addresses, resolved that
the re-admission of the eleven expelled members was dangerous in its
consequences, and contrary to the usages of the house, and declared that
the treaty in the Isle of Wight, and the approbation given to the[b] royal
concessions, were dishonourable to parliament, destructive of the common
good, and a breach of the public faith.[2] But these were only preparatory
measures:
[Footnote 1: Journals, Dec. 8. Whitelock, 362. Rushworth, vii. 1339.]
[Footnote 2: Journals, Dec. 3, 13, 14, 20. Whitelock, 362, 363. Clarendon
Papers, ii. App. xlix.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1648. Dec. 12.]
[Sidenote b: A.D. 1648. Dec. 13.]
they were soon called upon to pass a vote, the very mention of which a few
years before would have struck the boldest among them with astonishment and
terror.
It had long been the conviction of the officers that the life of the king
was incompatible with their safety. If he were restored, they would become
the objects of royal vengeance; if he were detained in prison, the public
tranquillity would be disturbed by a succession of plots in his favour. In
private assassination there was something base and cowardly from which the
majority revolted; but to bring him to public justice, was to act openly
and boldly; it was to proclaim their confidence in the goodness of their
cause; to give to the world a splendid proof of the sovereignty of the
people and of the responsibility of kings.[1][a] When the motion was made
in the Commons, a few ventured to oppose it, not so much with the hope of
saving the life of Charles, as for the purpose of transferring the odium of
his death on its real authors. They suggested that the person of the king
was sacred; that history afforded no precedent of a sovereign compelled
to plead before a court of judicature composed of his own subjects; that
measures of vengeance could only serve to widen the bleeding wounds of the
country; that it was idle to fear any re-action in favour of the monarch,
and it was now time to settle on a permanent basis the liberties of the
country. But their opponents were clamorous, obstinate, and menacing. The
king, they maintained, was the capital delinquent; justice required that he
should suffer as well as the minor offenders. He had been guilty of treason
against the people, it remained for _their_ representatives to bring
[Footnote 1: Clarendon, Hist. iii. 249.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1648. Dec. 29.]
him to punishment; he had shed the blood of man, God made it a duty to
demand his blood in return. The opposition was silenced; and a committee of
thirty-eight members was appointed to receive information and to devise the
most eligible manner of proceeding. Among the more influential names were
those of Widdrington and Whitelock, Scot and Marten. But the first two
declined to attend; and, when the clerk brought them a summons, retired
into the country.[1]
[a]At the recommendation of this committee, the house passed a vote
declaratory of the law, that it was high treason in the king of England,
for the time being, to levy war against the parliament and kingdom of
England; and this was followed up with an ordinance erecting a high court
of justice to try the question of fact, whether Charles Stuart, king
of England, had or had not been guilty of the treason described in the
preceding vote. But the subserviency of the Commons was not imitated by the
Lords. They saw the approaching ruin of their own order in the fall of the
sovereign; and when the vote and ordinance were transmitted to their house,
they rejected both without a dissentient voice, and then adjourned for a
week.[b] This unexpected effort surprised, but did not disconcert, the
Independents.[c] They prevailed on the Commons to vote that the people are
the origin of all just power, and from this theoretical truth proceeded to
deduce two practical falsehoods. As if no portion of that power had been
delegated to the king and the lords, they determined that "the Commons
of England assembled in parliament, being chosen by and representing the
people, have the supreme authority:" and thence inferred
[Footnote 1: Journals, Dec. 23. Whitelock, 363.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1649. Jan. 1.]
[Sidenote b: A.D. 1649. Jan. 2.]
[Sidenote c: A.D. 1649. Jan. 4.]
that "whatsoever is enacted and declared for law by the Commons in
parliament hath force of law, and concludes all the people of the nation,
although the consent and concurrence of the king and the House of Peers
be not had thereunto." But even in that hypothesis, how could the house,
constituted as it then was, claim to be the representative of the people?
It was in fact the representative of the army only, and not a free but an
enslaved representative, bound to speak with the voice, and to enregister
the decrees of its masters.[1] Two days later an act for the trial of the
king was passed by the authority of the Commons only.
In the mean while Cromwell continued to act his accustomed part. Whenever
he rose in the house, it was to recommend moderation, to express the doubts
which agitated his mind, to protest that, if he assented to harsh and
ungracious measures, he did it with reluctance, and solely in obedience to
the will of the Almighty. Of his conduct during the debate on the king's
trial we have no account; but when it was suggested to dissolve the upper
house, and transfer its members to that of the Commons, he characterized
the proposal as originating in revolutionary phrensy; and, on the
introduction of a bill to alter the form of the great seal, adopted a
language which strongly marks the hypocrisy of the man, though it was
calculated to make impression on the fanatical minds of his hearers.[a]
"Sir," said he, addressing the speaker, "if any man whatsoever have carried
on this design of deposing the king, and disinheriting his posterity, or if
any man have still such a design, he must be the greatest
[Footnote 1: Journals, x. 641. Commons, Jan. 1, 2, 4, 6. Hitherto the Lords
had seldom exceeded seven in number; but on this occasion they amounted to
fourteen--Leicester's Journal, 47.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1649. Jan. 9.]
traitor and rebel in the world; but since the providence of God has cast
this upon us, I cannot but submit to Providence, though I am not yet
prepared to give you my advice."[1]
The lord general, on the contrary, began to assume a more open and a bolder
tone. Hitherto, instead of leading, he had been led. That he disapproved of
much that had been done, we may readily believe; but he only records his
own weakness, where he alleges in excuse of his conduct that his name had
been subscribed to the resolves of the council, whether he consented or
not. He had lately shed the blood of two gallant officers at Colchester,
but no solicitations could induce him to concur in shedding the blood of
the king. His name stood at the head of the commissioners: he attended at
the first meeting, in which no business was transacted, but he constantly
refused to be present at their subsequent sittings, or to subscribe his
name to their resolutions.[A] This conduct surprised and mortified the
Independents: it probably arose from the influence of his wife, whose
desperate
[Footnote 1: For Cromwell's conduct see the letters in the Appendix to the
second volume of the Clarendon Papers, 1. li. The authenticity of this
speech has been questioned, as resting solely on the treacherous credit of
Perrinchiefe; but it occurs in a letter written on the 11th of January,
which describes the proceedings of the 9th, and therefore cannot, I think,
be questioned. By turning to the Journals, it will be found that on that
day the house had divided on a question whether any more messages should
be received from the Lords, which was carried, in opposition to Ludlow and
Marten. "Then," says the letter, "they fell on the business of the king's
trial." On this head nothing is mentioned in the Journals; but a motion
which would cause frequent allusions to it, was made and carried. It was
for a new great seal, on which should be engraven the House of Commons,
with this inscription:--"In the first year of freedom, by God's blessing
restored, 1648." Such a motion would naturally introduce Cromwell's speech
respecting the deposition of the king and the disherison of his posterity.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1649. Jan. 3.]
loyalty will soon challenge the attention of the reader.[1]
Before this the king, in anticipation of his subsequent trial, had
been removed to the palace of St.[a] James's. In the third week of his
confinement in Hurst Castle, he was suddenly roused out of his sleep at
midnight by the fall of the drawbridge and the trampling of horses. A
thousand frightful ideas rushed on his mind, and at an early hour in the
morning, he desired his servant Herbert to ascertain the cause; but every
mouth was closed, and Herbert returned with the scanty information that a
Colonel Harrison had arrived. At the name the king turned pale, hastened
into the closet, and sought to relieve his terrors by private devotion. In
a letter which he had received at Newport, Harrison had been pointed out to
him as a man engaged to take his life. His alarm, however, was unfounded.
Harrison was a fanatic, but no murderer: he sought, indeed, the blood of
the king, but it was his wish that it should be shed by the axe of the
executioner, not by the dagger of the assassin. He had been appointed to
superintend the removal of the royal captive, and had come to arrange
matters with the governor, of whose fidelity some suspicion existed.
Keeping himself private during the days he departed in the night; and two
days later Charles was conducted with a numerous[b] escort to the royal
palace of Windsor.[2]
Hitherto, notwithstanding his confinement, the king had always been
served with the usual state; but at Windsor his meat was brought to table
uncovered and[c] by the hands of the soldiers; no say was given; no
[Footnote 1: Nalson, Trial of Charles I. Clarendon Papers, ii. App. ii.]
[Footnote 2: Herbert, 131-136, Rushworth, vii. 1375.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1648. Dec. 18.]
[Sidenote b: A.D. 1648. Dec. 23.]
[Sidenote c: A.D. 1648. Dec. 27.]
cup presented on the knee. This absence of ceremony made on the unfortunate
monarch a deeper impression than could have been expected. It was, he said,
the denial of that to him, which by ancient custom was due to many of his
subjects; and rather than submit to the humiliation, he chose to diminish
the number of the dishes, and to take his meals in private. Of the
proceedings against him he received no official intelligence; but he
gleaned the chief particulars through the inquiries of Herbert, and in
casual conversation with Witchcott the governor. The information was
sufficient to appal the stoutest heart; but Charles was of a most sanguine
temperament, and though he sought to fortify his mind against the worst, he
still cherished a hope that these menacing preparations were only intended
to extort from him the resignation of his crown. He relied on the
interposition of the Scots, the intercession of foreign powers, and the
attachment of many of his English subjects. He persuaded himself that his
very enemies would blush to shed the blood of their sovereign; and that
their revenge would be appeased, and their ambition sufficiently gratified,
by the substitution in his place of one of his younger children on the
throne.[1]
But these were the dreams of a man who sought to allay his fears by
voluntary delusions. The princes of Europe looked with cold indifference
on his fate. The king of Spain during the whole contest had maintained a
friendly correspondence with the parliament. Frederic III. king of Denmark,
though he was his
[Footnote 1: Herbert, 155, 157. Whitelock, 365. Sir John Temple attributed
his tranquillity "to a strange conceit of Ormond's working for him in
Ireland. He still hangs upon that twigg; and by the enquireys he made after
his and Inchiquin's conjunction, I see he will not be beaten off it."--In
Leicester's Journal, 48.]
cousin-german, made no effort to save his life; and Henrietta could obtain
for him no interposition from France, where the infant king had been
driven from his capital by civil dissension, and she herself depended for
subsistence on the charity of the Cardinal de Retz, the leader of the
Fronde.[1] The Scottish parliament, indeed, made a feeble effort in his
favour. The commissioners subscribed a protest against the proceedings
of the Commons, by whom it was never answered; and argued the case with
Cromwell, who referred them to the covenant, and maintained, that if it was
their duty to punish the malignants in general, it was still more so to
punish him who was the chief of the malignants.[2]
As the day of trial approached, Charles resigned the hopes which he had
hitherto indulged; and his removal to Whitehall admonished him to
prepare for that important scene on which he was soon to appear. Without
information or advice, he could only resolve to maintain the port and
dignity of a king, to refuse the authority of his judges, and to commit no
act unworthy of his exalted rank and that of his ancestors.[a] On the 20th
of January the commissioners appointed by the act assembled in the painted
chamber, and proceeded in state to the upper end of Westminster Hall.[b]
A chair of crimson velvet had been placed for the lord president, John
Bradshaw, serjeant-at-law; the others, to the number of sixty-six, ranged
themselves on either side, on benches covered with scarlet; at the feet
of the president sat two clerks at a table on which lay the sword and the
mace; and directly opposite stood a chair intended for the king. After the
preliminary
[Footnote 1: Memoirs of Retz, i. 261.]
[Footnote 2: Journals, Jan. 6, 22, 23. Parl. Hist. iii. 1277. Burnett's Own
Times, i. 42.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1649. Jan 19]
[Sidenote b: A.D. 1649. Jan 20]
formalities of reading the commission, and calling over the members,
Bradshaw ordered the prisoner to be introduced.[1]
Charles was received at the door by the serjeant-at-arms, and conducted by
him within the bar. His step was firm, his countenance erect and unmoved.
He did not uncover; but first seated himself, then rose, and surveyed the
court with an air of superiority, which abashed and irritated his enemies.
While the clerk read the charge, he appeared to listen with indifference;
but a smile of contempt was seen to quiver on his lips at the passage which
described him as a "tyrant, traitor, murderer, and public and implacable
enemy to the commonwealth of England." At the conclusion Bradshaw called on
him to answer; but he demanded by what lawful authority he had been brought
thither. He was king of England; he acknowledged no superior upon earth;
and the crown, which he had received from his ancestors, he would transmit
unimpaired by any act of his to his posterity. His case, moreover, was the
case of all the people of England; for if force without law could alter the
fundamental laws of the kingdom, there was no man who could be secure of
his life or liberty for an hour. He was told that the court sat by the
authority of the House of
[Footnote 1: The commissioners according to the act (for bills passed by
the Commons alone were now denominated acts), were in number 133, chosen
out of the lower house, the inns of court, the city, and the army. In one
of their first meetings they chose Bradshaw for their president. He was a
native of Cheshire, bred to the bar, had long practised in the Guildhall,
and had lately before been made serjeant. In the first list of
commissioners his name did not occur; but on the rejection of the ordinance
by the upper house, the names of six lords were erased, and his name with
those of five others was substituted. He obtained for the reward of his
services the estate of Lord Cottington, the chancellorship of the duchy of
Lancaster, and the office of president of the council.]
Commons. But where, he asked, were the Lords? Were the Commons the whole
legislature? Were they free? Were they a court of judicature? Could they
confer on others a jurisdiction which they did not possess themselves? He
would never acknowledge an usurped authority. It was a duty imposed upon
him by the Almighty to disown every lawless power, that invaded either the
rights of the crown or the liberties of the subject. Such was the substance
of his discourse, delivered on three different days, and amidst innumerable
interruptions from the president, who would not suffer the jurisdiction of
the court to be questioned, and at last ordered the "default and contempt
of the prisoner" to be recorded.
The two following days the court sat in private, to receive evidence that
the king had commanded in several engagements, and to deliberate on the
form of judgment to be pronounced.[a] On the third Bradshaw took his seat,
dressed in scarlet; and Charles immediately demanded to be heard. He did
not mean, he said, on this occasion either to acknowledge or deny the
authority of the court; his object was to ask a favour, which would
spare them the commission of a great crime, and restore the blessing of
tranquillity to his people. He asked permission to confer with a joint
committee of the Lords and Commons. The president replied that the proposal
was not altogether new, though it was now made for the first time by
the king himself; that it pre-supposed the existence of an authority
co-ordinate with that of the Commons, which could not be admitted; that
its object could only be to delay the proceedings of the court, now that
judgment was to be pronounced. Here he was interrupted by the earnest
expostulation of Colonel Downes, one of the members. The king was
immediately
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1649. Jan. 27.]
removed; the commissioners adjourned into a neighbouring apartment, and
almost an hour was spent in private and animated debate. Had the conference
been granted, Charles would have proposed (so at least it was understood)
to resign the crown in favour of the prince of Wales.
When the court resumed, Bradshaw announced to him the refusal of his
request, and proceeded to animadvert in harsh and unfeeling language on the
principal events of his reign. The meek spirit of the prisoner was roused;
he made an attempt to speak, but was immediately silenced with the remark,
that the time for his defence was past; that he had spurned the numerous
opportunities offered to him by the indulgence of the court; and that
nothing remained for his judges but to pronounce sentence; for they had
learned from holy writ that "to acquit the guilty was of equal abomination
as to condemn the innocent." The charge was again read, and was followed by
the judgment, "that the court, being satisfied in conscience that he, the
said Charles Stuart, was guilty of the crimes of which he had been accused,
did adjudge him as a tyrant, traitor, murderer, and public enemy to the
good people of the nation, to be put to death by severing his head from
his body." The king heard it in silence, sometimes smiling with contempt,
sometimes raising his eyes to heaven, as if he appealed from the malice of
men to the justice of the Almighty. At the conclusion the commissioners
rose in a body to testify their assent, and Charles made a last and more
earnest effort to speak; but Bradshaw ordered him to be removed, and the
guards hurried him out of the hall.[1]
[Footnote 1: See the Trial of Charles Stuart, with additions by Nalson,
folio, London, 1735.]
During this trial a strong military force had been kept under arms to
suppress any demonstration of popular feeling in favour of the king. On
the first day, when the name of Fairfax, as one of the commissioners, was
called, a female voice cried from the gallery, "He has more wit than to be
here." On another occasion, when Bradshaw attributed the charge against the
king to the consentient voice of the people of England, the same female
voice exclaimed, "No, not one-tenth of the people." A faint murmur of
approbation followed, but was instantly suppressed by the military.
The speaker was recognised to be Lady Fairfax, the wife of the
commander-in-chief; and these affronts, probably on that account, were
suffered to pass unnoticed.[1]
When Coke, the solicitor-general, opened the pleadings, the king gently
tapped him on the shoulder with his cane, crying, "Hold, hold." At the same
moment the silver head of the cane fell off, and rolled on the floor.
It was an accident which might have happened at any time; but in this
superstitions age it could not fail to be taken for an omen. Both his
friends and enemies interpreted it as a presage of his approaching
decapitation.[2]
On one day, as the king entered the court, he heard behind him the cry of
"Justice, justice;" on another, as he passed between two lines of soldiers,
the word "execution" was repeatedly sounded in his ears. He bore these
affronts with patience, and on
[Footnote 1: Nalson's Trial. Clarendon, iii. 254. State Trials, 366, 367,
368, folio, 1730.]
[Footnote 2: Nalson. Herbert, 165. "He seemed unconcerned; yet told the
bishop, it really made a great impression on him; and to this hour, says
he, I know not possibly how it should come."--Warwick, 340.]
his return said to Herbert, "I am well assured that the soldiers bear me no
malice. The cry was suggested by their officers, for whom they would do the
like if there were occasion."[1]
On his return from the hall, men and women crowded behind the guards,
and called aloud, "God preserve your majesty." But one of the soldiers
venturing to say, "God bless you, Sir," received a stroke on the head
from an officer with his cane. "Truly," observed the king, "I think the
punishment exceeded the offence."[2]
By his conduct during these proceedings, Charles had exalted his character
even in the estimation of his enemies: he had now to prepare himself for a
still more trying scene, to nerve his mind against the terrors of a public
and ignominious death. But he was no longer the man he had been before
the civil war. Affliction had chastened his mind; he had learned from
experience to submit to the visitations of Providence; and he sought and
found strength and relief in the consolations of religion. The next day,
the Sunday, was spent by him at St. James's, by the commissioners at
Whitehall.[a] _They_ observed a fast, preached on the judgments of God,
and prayed for a blessing on the commonwealth. _He_ devoted his time to
devotional exercises in the company of Herbert and of Dr. Juxon, bishop of
London, who at the request of Hugh Peters (and it should be recorded to
the honour of that fanatical preacher) had been permitted to attended the
monarch. His nephew the prince elector, the duke of Richmond, the
marquess of Hertford, and several other noblemen, came to the door of his
bedchamber, to pay their last respects to
[Footnote 1: Herbert, 163, 164.]
[Footnote 2: Ibid. 163, 165.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1649. Jan. 28.]
their sovereign; but they were told in his name that he thanked them for
their attachment, and desired their prayers; that the shortness of his time
admonished him to think of another world; and that the only moments which
he could spare must be given to his children. These were two, the Princess
Elizabeth and the duke of Gloucester, the former wept for her father's
fate; the latter, too young to understand the cause, joined his tears
through sympathy. Charles placed them on his knees, gave them such advice
as was adapted to their years, and seemed to derive pleasure from the
pertinency of their answers. In conclusion, he divided a few jewels between
them, kissed them, gave them his blessings and hastily retired to his
devotions.[1]
On the last night of his life he slept soundly about four hours, and early
in the morning[a] awakened Herbert, who lay on a pallet by his bed-side.
"This," he said, "is my second marriage-day. I would be as trim as may
be; for before night I hope to be espoused to my blessed Jesus." He then
pointed out the clothes which he meant to wear, and ordered two shirts,
on account of the severity of the weather; "For," he observed, "were I to
shake through cold, my enemies would attribute it to fear, I would have no
such imputation. I fear not death. Death is not terrible to me. I bless my
God I am prepared."[2]
[Footnote 1: Herbert, 169-180. State Trials, 357-360.]
[Footnote 2: Herbert, 183-185, I may here insert an anecdote, which seems
to prove that Charles attributed his misfortunes in a great measure to the
counsels of Archbishop Laud. On the last night of his life, he had observed
that Herbert was restless during his sleep, and in the morning insisted on
knowing the cause. Herbert answered that he was dreaming. He saw Laud
enter the room; the king took him aside, and spoke to him with a pensive
countenance; the archbishop sighed, retired, and fell prostrate on the
ground. Charles replied, "It is very remarkable; but he is dead. Yet had we
conferred together during life, 'tis very likely (albeit I loved him
well) I should have said something to him, might have occasioned his
sigh."--Herbert's Letter to Dr. Samways, published at the end of his
Memoirs, p. 220.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1649. Jan. 30.]
The king spent an hour in privacy with the bishop; Herbert was afterwards
admitted; and about ten o'clock Colonel Hacker announced that it was time
to proceed to Whitehall. He obeyed, was conducted on foot, between two
detachments of military, across the park, and received permission to repose
himself in his former bedchamber. Dinner had been prepared for him; but he
refused to eat, though afterwards, at the solicitation of the bishop, he
took the half of a manchet and a glass of wine. Here he remained almost
two hours, in constant expectation of the last summons, spending his time
partly in prayer and partly in discourse with Dr. Juxon. There might have
been nothing mysterious in the delay; if there was, it may perhaps be
explained from the following circumstances.
Four days had now elapsed since the arrival of ambassadors from the Hague
to intercede in his favour. It was only on the preceding evening that they
had obtained audiences of the two houses, and hitherto no answer had been
returned. In their company came Seymour, the bearer of two letters from the
prince of Wales, one addressed to the king, the other to the Lord Fairfax.
He had already delivered the letter, and with it a sheet of blank paper
subscribed with the name and sealed with the arms of the prince. It was
the price which he offered to the grandees of the army for the life of his
father. Let them fill it up with the conditions: whatever they might be,
they were already granted; his seal and signature were affixed.[1] It is
not improbable that this offer may have induced the leaders to pause. That
Fairfax laboured to postpone the execution, was always asserted by his
friends; and we have evidence to prove that, though he was at Whitehall, he
knew not, or at least pretend not to know, what was passing.[2]
In the mean while Charles enjoyed the consolation of learning that his
son had not forgotten him in his distress. By the indulgence of Colonel
Tomlinson, Seymour was admitted, delivered the letter, and received the
royal instructions for the prince. He was hardly gone, when Hacker arrived
with the fatal summons. About two o'clock the king proceeded through the
long gallery, lined on each side with soldiers, who, far from insulting the
fallen monarch, appeared by their sorrowful looks to sympathize with his
fate. At the end an aperture had been made in the wall, through which he
stepped at once upon the scaffold. It was hung with black; at the farther
end were seen the two executioners, the block, and the axe; below
[Footnote 1: For the arrival of the ambassadors see the Journals of the
House of Commons on the 26th. A fac-simile of the carte-blanche, with the
signature of the prince, graces the title-page of the third volume of the
Original Letters, published by Mr. Ellis.]
[Footnote 2: "Mean time they went into the long gallery, where, chancing to
meet the general, he ask'd Mr. Herbert how the king did? Which he
thought strange.... His question being answered, the general seem'd much
surprised."--Herbert, 194. It is difficult to believe that Herbert could
have mistaken or fabricated such a question, or that Fairfax would have
asked it, had he known what had taken place. To his assertion that
Fairfax was with the officers in Harrison's room, employed in "prayer or
discourse," it has been objected that his name does not occur among the
names of those who were proved to have been there at the trial of the
regicides. But that is no contradiction. The witnesses speak of what
happened before, Herbert of what happened during, the execution. See also
Ellis, 2nd series, iii. 345.]
appeared in arms several regiments of horse and foot; and beyond, as far
as the eye was permitted to reach, waved a dense and countless crowd of
spectators. The king stood collected and undismayed amidst the apparatus
of death. There was in his countenance that cheerful intrepidity, in his
demeanour that dignified calmness, which had characterized, in the hall of
Fotheringay, his royal grandmother, Mary Stuart. It was his wish to address
the people; but they were kept beyond the reach of his voice by the swords
of the military; and therefore confining his discourse to the few persons
standing with him on the scaffold, he took, he said, that opportunity of
denying in the presence of his God the crimes of which he had been accused.
It was not to him, but to the houses of parliament, that the war and all
its evils should be charged. The parliament had first invaded the rights of
the crown by claiming the command of the army; and had provoked hostilities
by issuing commissions for the levy of forces, before he had raised a
single man. But he had forgiven all, even those, whoever they were (for he
did not desire to know their names), who had brought him to his death. He
did more than forgive them, he prayed that they might repent. But for that
purpose they must do three things; they must render to God his due, by
settling the church according to the Scripture; they must restore to the
crown those rights which belonged to it by law; and they must teach the
people the distinction between the sovereign and the subject; those persons
could not be governors who were to be governed, _they_ could not rule,
whose duty it was to obey. Then, in allusion to the offers formerly made
to him by the army, he concluded with, these words:--"Sirs, it was for the
liberties of the people that I am come here. If I would have assented to an
arbitrary sway, to have all things changed according to the power of the
sword, I needed not to have come hither; and therefore, I tell you (and
I pray God it be not laid to your charge), that I am the martyr of the
people."
Having added, at the suggestion of Dr. Juxon, "I die a Christian according
to the profession of the church of England, as I found it left me by my
father," he said, addressing himself to the prelate, "I have on my side a
good cause, and a gracious God."
BISHOP.--There is but one stage more; it is turbulent and troublesome, but
a short one. It will carry you from earth to heaven, and there you will
find joy and comfort.
KING.--I go from a corruptible to an incorruptible Crown.
BISHOP.--You exchange an earthly for an eternal crown--a good exchange.
Being ready, he bent his neck on the block, and after a short pause,
stretched out his hand as a signal. At that instant the axe descended; the
head rolled from the body; and a deep groan burst from the multitude of the
spectators. But they had no leisure to testify their feelings; two troops
of horse dispersed them in different directions.[1]
[Footnote 1: Herbert, 189-194. Warwick, 344. Nalson, Trial of Charles
Stuart. The royal corpse, having been embalmed, was after some days
delivered to the earl of Richmond for private interment at Windsor. That
nobleman, accompanied by the marquess of Hertford, the earls of Southampton
and Lindsey, Dr. Juxon, and a few of the king's attendants, deposited it in
a vault in the choir of St. George's chapel, which already contained the
remains of Henry VIII. and of his third queen, Jane Seymour.--Herbert, 203.
Blencowe, Sydney Papers, 64. Notwithstanding such authority, the assertion
of Clarendon that the place could not be discovered threw some doubt upon
the subject. But in 1813 it chanced that the workmen made an aperture in a
vault corresponding in situation, and occupied by three coffins; and the
prince-regent ordered an investigation to ascertain the truth. One of the
coffins, in conformity with the account of Herbert, was of lead, with a
leaden scroll in which were cut the words "King Charles." In the upper lid
of this an opening was made; and when the cerecloth and unctuous
matter were removed, the features of the face, as far as they could be
distinguished, bore a strong resemblance to the portraits of Charles I.
To complete the proof, the head was found to have been separated from the
trunk by some sharp instrument, which had cut through the fourth, vertebra
of the neck.--See "An Account of what appeared on opening the coffin of
King Charles I. by Sir Henry Halford, bart." 1813. It was observed at the
same time, that "the lead coffin of Henry VIII. had been beaten in about
the middle, and a considerable opening in that part exposed a mere skeleton
of the king." This may, perhaps, be accounted for from a passage in
Herbert, who tells us that while the workmen were employed about the
inscription, the chapel was cleared, but a soldier contrived to conceal
himself, descended into the vault, cut off some of the velvet pall, and
"wimbled a hole into the largest coffin." He was caught, and "a bone was
found about him, which, he said, he would haft a knife with."--Herbert 204.
See note (C).]
Such was the end of the unfortunate Charles Stuart; an awful lesson to
the possessors of royalty, to watch the growth of public opinion, and to
moderate their pretensions in conformity with the reasonable desires of
their subjects. Had he lived at a more early period, when the sense of
wrong was quickly subdued by the habit of submission, his reign would
probably have been marked with fewer violations of the national liberties.
It was resistance that made him a tyrant. The spirit of the people refused
to yield to the encroachments of authority; and one act of oppression
placed him under the necessity of committing another, till he had revived
and enforced all those odious prerogatives, which, though usually claimed,
were but sparingly exercised, by his predecessors. For some years his
efforts seemed successful; but the Scottish insurrection revealed the
delusion; he had parted with the real authority of a king, when he
forfeited the confidence and affection of his subjects.
But while we blame the illegal measures of Charles, we ought not to screen
from censure the subsequent conduct of his principal opponents. From the
moment that war seemed inevitable, they acted as if they thought themselves
absolved from all obligations of honour and honesty. They never ceased to
inflame the passions of the people by misrepresentation and calumny; they
exercised a power far more arbitrary and formidable than had ever been
claimed by the king; they punished summarily, on mere suspicion, and
without attention to the forms of law; and by their committees they
established in every county a knot of petty tyrants, who disposed at
will of the liberty and property of the inhabitants. Such anomalies may,
perhaps, be inseparable from the jealousies, the resentments, and the
heart-burnings, which are engendered in civil commotions; but certain it is
that right and justice had seldom been more wantonly outraged, than they
were by those who professed to have drawn the sword in the defence of right
and justice.
Neither should the death of Charles be attributed to the vengeance of the
people. They, for the most part, declared themselves satisfied with their
victory; they sought not the blood of the captive monarch; they were even,
willing to replace him on the throne, under those limitations which they
deemed necessary for the preservation of their rights. The men who hurried
him to the scaffold were a small faction of bold and ambitious spirits, who
had the address to guide the passions and fanaticism of their followers,
and were enabled through them to control the real sentiments of the nation.
Even of the commissioners appointed to sit in judgment on the king,
scarcely one-half could be induced to attend at his trial; and many of
those who concurred in his condemnation subscribed the sentence with
feelings of shame and remorse. But so it always happens in revolutions: the
most violent put themselves forward; their vigilance and activity seem to
multiply their number; and the daring of the few wins the ascendancy over
the indolence or the pusillanimity of the many.