On this day, in the year 1649, king Charles I. was beheaded. In the
Common Prayer Book of the Church of England, it is called “The Day of
the Martyrdom of the Blessed King Charles I.;” and there is “A Form of
Prayer, with Fasting, to be used yearly” upon its recurrence.
The sheet, which received the head of Charles I. after its decapitation,
is carefully preserved along with the communion plate in the church of
Ashburnham, in this county; the blood, with which it has been almost
entirely covered, now appears nearly black. The watch of the unfortunate
monarch is also deposited with the linen, the movements of which are
still perfect. These relics came into the possession of lord Ashburnham
immediately after the death of the king.--_Brighton Herald._
Lord Orford says, “one can scarce conceive a greater absurdity than
retaining the three holidays dedicated to the house of Stuart. Was the
preservation of James I. a greater blessing to England than the
destruction of the Spanish armada, for which no festival is established?
Are we more or less free for the execution of king Charles? Are we at
this day still guilty of his blood? When is the stain to be washed out?
What sense is there in thanking heaven for the restoration of a family,
which it so soon became necessary to expel again?”
According to the “Life of William Lilly, written by himself,” Charles I.
caused the old astrologer to be consulted for his judgment. This is
Lilly’s account: “His majesty, Charles I., having intrusted the Scots
with his person, was, for money, delivered into the hands of the English
parliament, and, by several removals, was had to Hampton-court, about
July or August, 1647; for he was there, and at that time when my house
was visited with the plague. He was desirous to escape from the
soldiery, and to obscure himself for some time near London, the citizens
whereof began now to be unruly, and alienated in affection from the
parliament, inclining wholly to his majesty, and very averse to the
army. His majesty was well informed of all this, and thought to make
good use hereof: besides, the army and parliament were at some odds, who
should be masters. Upon the king’s intention to escape, and with his
consent, madam Whorewood (whom you knew very well, worthy esquire) came
to receive my judgment, viz. In what quarter of this nation he might be
most safe, and not to be discovered until himself pleased. When she came
to my door, I told her I would not let her come into my house, for I
buried a maid-servant of the plague very lately: however, up we went.
After erection of my figure, I told her about twenty miles (or
thereabouts) from London, and in Essex, I was certain he might continue
undiscovered. She liked my judgment very well; and, being herself of a
sharp judgment, remembered a place in Essex about that distance, where
was an excellent house, and all conveniences for his reception. Away she
went, early next morning, unto Hampton-court, to acquaint his majesty;
but see the misfortune: he, either guided by his own approaching hard
fate, or misguided by Ashburnham, went away in the night-time westward,
and surrendered himself to Hammond, in the Isle of Wight. Whilst his
majesty was at Hampton-court, alderman Adams sent his majesty one
thousand pounds in gold, five hundred whereof he gave to madam
Whorewood. I believe I had twenty pieces of that very gold for my
share.” Lilly proceeds thus: “His majesty being in Carisbrook-castle, in
the Isle of Wight, the Kentish men, in great numbers, rose in arms, and
joined with the lord Goring; a considerable number of the best ships
revolted from the parliament; the citizens of London were forward to
rise against the parliament; his majesty laid his design to escape out
of prison, by sawing the iron bars of his chamber window; a small ship
was provided, and anchored not far from the castle to bring him into
Sussex; horses were provided ready to carry him through Sussex into
Kent, that so he might be at the head of the army in Kent, and from
thence to march immediately to London, where thousands then would have
armed for him. The lady Whorewood came to me, acquaints me herewith. I
got G. Farmer (who was a most ingenious locksmith, and dwelt in
Bow-lane) to make a saw to cut the iron bars in sunder, I mean to saw
them, and aqua fortis besides. His majesty in a small time did his work;
the bars gave liberty for him to go out; he was out with his body till
he came to his breast; but then his heart failing, he proceeded no
farther: when this was discovered, as soon after it was, he was narrowly
looked after, and no opportunity after that could be devised to enlarge
him.”
Lilly goes on to say, “He was beheaded January 30, 1649. After the
execution, his body was carried to Windsor, and buried with Henry
VIIIth, in the same vault where his body was lodged. Some, who saw him
embowelled, affirm, had he not come unto this untimely end, he might
have lived, according unto nature, even unto the height of old age. Many
have curiously inquired who it was that cut off his head: I have no
permission to speak of such things; only thus much I say, he that did it
is as valiant and resolute a man as lives, and one of a competent
fortune. For my part, I do believe he was not the worst, but the most
unfortunate of kings.”
Lilly elsewhere relates, “that the next Sunday but one after Charles I.
was beheaded, Robert Spavin, secretary unto lieutenant-general Cromwell
at that time, invited himself to dine with me, and brought Anthony
Pierson, and several others, along with him to dinner. Their principal
discourse all dinner-time was, who it was beheaded the king: one said it
was the common hangman; another, Hugh Peters; others also were
nominated, but none concluded. Robert Spavin, so soon as dinner was
done, took me by the hand, and carried me to the south window; saith he,
‘These are all mistaken, they have not named the man that did the fact;
it was lieutenant-colonel Joice: I was in the room when he fitted
himself for the work, stood behind him when he did it; when done, went
in again with him. There is no man knows this but my master, viz.
Cromwell, commissary Ireton, and myself.’--‘Doth not Mr. Rushworth know
it?’ said I. ‘No, he doth not know it,’ saith Spavin. The same thing
Spavin since hath often related unto me when we were alone.”