3 CO

ICO
'CO

foo

;LO

ICO

CO

HANDBOUND
AT THE

UNIVERSITY OF

COMMENTARIES

ON

THE LIFE AND REIGN

OF

CHARLES THE FIRST.

VOL. V.

LONDON :
PRINTED BY SAMUEL BENTLEY,

Dorset Street, Fleet Street.

COMMENTARIES

THE LIFE AND REIGN

OF

CHARLES THE FIRST.

KING OF ENGLAND.

BY I. D'ISRAELI,

VOL. V.

LONDON :

HENRY COLBURN AND RICHARD BENTLEY,

NEW BURLINGTON STREET.

1831.

D57

CONTENTS

OF THE

FIFTH VOLUME.

CHAPTEK I.

Page
THE CIVIL WARS . . . .1

CHAPTER II.

" WHO BEGAN THE WAR, THE KING OR THE PARLIA-
MENT ?" ..... 26

CHAPTER III.

THE FIRST BATTLE BETWEEN THE KING AND THE PAR-
LIAMENT ..... 48

CHAPTER IV.

THE MILITARY LIFE OF CHARLES THE FIRST . 74

CHAPTER V.

JUDGE JENKINS AND "THE LAW OF THE LAND" 110

IV CONTENTS.

CHAPTER VI.

Page
SECRET ANECDOTES OF THE YEARS 1644 AND 1645 133

CHAPTER VII.

THE TWO FRENCH RESIDENTS . . . 167

CHAPTER VIII.

FLIGHT FROM OXFORD TO THE SCOTTISH CAMP 190

CHAPTER IX.

THE KING IN THE PRESBYTERIAN CAMP . 207

CHAPTER X.

THE ARMY ..... 229

CHAPTER XI.

THE KING'S PROGRESS WITH THE ARMY . 264

CHAPTER XII.

CROMWELL AND CHARLES THE FIRST AT HAMPTON
COURT . . . . . 287

CHAPTER XIII.

ON THE LETTER SUPPOSED TO HAVE BEEN INTERCEPTED
BY CROMWELL AND IRETON . . 323

CONTENTS. V

CHAPTER XIV.

Page

THE SINGULAR NEGOTIATION OF BERKLEY AND ASH-
BURNHAM WITH THE GOVERNOR OF THE ISLE OF
WIGHT ...... 331

CHAPTER XV.

IMPRISONMENT AT THE ISLE OF WIGHT . 348

CHAPTER XVI.

TREATY AT THE ISLE OF WIGHT . . 372

CHAPTER XVII.

HAMMOND ..... 393

CHAPTER XVIII.

HURST BLOCK-HOUSE, AND WINDSOR CASTLE . 404

CHAPTER XIX.

THE TRIAL AND THE DECAPITATION . . 418

CHAPTER XX.

CONCLUSION ..... 462

APPENDIX . . . 473

LIFE AND REIGN

OF

CHARLES THE FIRST

CHAPTER I.
THE CIVIL WARS.

As late as in my youth, the Civil Wars of
Charles the First were still a domestic tale, as
well as a public history. Their local traditions
are scattered over the land, and many an
achievement of chivalric loyalty, or of Com-
monwealth intrepidity, are commemorated in
our County-histories ; for the Kingdom of
England, as the poet May, the Parliamentary
historian, expresses it, was divided into more
wars than counties.* We may listen to such
narratives on the very spots of their occur-
rence. We may linger amid the scenes of
some forlorn hope, or some strange and mo-

* A Breviary of the History of the Parliament. 71.
VOL. V. B

2 THE CIVIL WARS.

mentary stratagem ; of the obdurate siege,
where Famine was more murderous than the
sword, af.d the dread surrender to an enemy as
obdurate— as at the siege of Colchester ; or some
sanguinary storming as at Leicester, where
they found a war in every street ; or some
triumphant repulse as at Lyme ; some mid-
night surprise as at Dover Castle. Many an
obscure village like Chagford in Devonshire
where Sydney Godolphin fell, or Chalgravefield
where Hampden shed his blood, or the Close
at Litchfield where Lord Brooke, the great
adversary of the Church, pledged his solemn
vow and perished, were places, which as Lord
Clarendon has said of one of them, " would
never otherwise have a mention to the World."
The Civil Wars of Charles the First, ere the
Revolutions among our neighbours, formed an
unparalleled story of the struggles and the
passions of a great people. It was then pecu-
liar to Englishmen, that there were few, who
had not derived from their very birth-place the
most elevated feelings, though associated with
obscure incidents and the names of unknown
persons : for however obscure might be the in-
cident, and however unknown the person, the
interest excited was not local but national;
and the man, of whom the tale was told, whe-

THE CIVIL WAKS. 3

ther Monarchist or Parliamentarian, was a Hero
or a Martyr. Thus it has happened that some
whose name has only received a single men-
tion, known but by a single act, are still chro-
nicled in the memory of their townsmen, and we
find their descendants among the old families
of the place. Heroes have died unsung among
these civil wars, and more noble blood has been
shed in an obscure field of action than have
cost some victories of renown.

Struck by so many ennobling and so many
affecting scenes, in the variable contest, an Art-
ist of some eminence, a few years ago, designed
a series of pictures to perpetuate the most re-
markable incidents. He had loitered through
many a summer day in their scenes : he had
stood on the broken town's wall where the
enemy had forced an entrance, now concealed
beneath the tall grass, and on which no Cor-
poration would bestow an useless repair. From
such a spot he had traced the combatants to
the stand made at the market-place, or where
the steeple of the church opposed the inroad
like a fort. There the townsmen, too brave
and too simple in their rude warfare to cry for
or to give quarter, " not from cruelty but from
ignorance," a contemporary narrative mourn-
fully records, would fight after the surrender

B 2

4 THE CIVIL WARS.

of the place, maddening the vindictive soldiery.
Our Artist had pondered over the memoirs of
contemporaries who had themselves been actors
in the scenes which they described, and often
discovered incidents which are still attested by
the records of the town—by the evidence re-
tained among ancient families, in diaries, let-
ters, and other domestic memorials ;* and may

* Among other curious circumstances of this nature which
have happened to me, I shall mention one concerning a
gentleman of the time of Charles the First. In a summer-
residence at Lyme Regis, it was my good fortune to become
acquainted with a very amiable gentleman of the name of
Pyne. I discovered that he was a descendant of John Pyne,
whose name has been commemorated by Clarendon, v. 68.
Mr. Pyne obligingly showed me some family papers.

This John Pyne in the time of Charles the First was " a
gentleman well known and of a fair estate" in Somersetshire.
He was of " a passionate and virulent temper, of the Inde-
pendent party." A letter of his was intercepted during the
treaty of Uxbridge which showed " a great detestation of
the peace," inveighing against the Earl of Essex and the
Scots. The effect on the pending negotiation produced by
this letter, which exposed the secret intentions of the Inde-
pendents, is noticed by Clarendon. I have also discovered
at the British Museum an original letter of this Mr. Pyne,
which warmly congratulates that worthy, Colonel Pride, for
his famous " Purge." But the history of Pyne has not yet
closed. This ardent Independent and country gentleman
lived to witness the Restoration — and I discovered among
the family papers, that, after a considerable imprisonment,

THE CIVIL WAHS. 5

still be verified by an inspection of the very
places : spots for the dreaming fancies of the
painter's graphical imagination !

The halls of ancient mansions are often hung
with the antique gorget and the petronel ;* the
steel-basket-hilted sword common in the Par-
liamentary wars, the ponderous brass spurs and
the military gloves, which have not yet moul-
dered away. There they hang, and with them
often " hangs many a tale." The hero himself,
who either defended, or retook his own man-
sion, or perished in the field, no unwilling vic-
tim to martyred Honour or to holy Freedom,
still awes us with his peaked beard and shining
corslet among his obscure cousins in the por-
trait-gallery. Often in these aboriginal fami-
lies, the domestic circle has its private anec-
dotes— they show the secret apartment where

means were used that the Attorney-General came down with
a non prosequitur — and one day John Pyne travelling in " a
coach and four" returned to his " fair seat ;" but the means
practised with the Ministers of Charles the Second, and
most probably with Clarendon, are still felt by his descend-
ants, and " the fair estate" was sadly " shorn of its beams."
I suspect that we have few anecdotes of the corrupt prac-
tices at the Restoration.

* A " petronel is a kind of harquebuss or horseman's gun,
so called because it is hanged on the breast." — Kersey's
"New World of Words."

6 THE CIVIL AVARS.

the sliding pannel concealed all entrance ; there
some hero lay secreted from his pursuers, even
from his family ;* and there once the wealth of
the family, hastily thrown together, was buried
from the irruption of a predatory soldiery.
They too have their affectionate or their proud
traditions of devoted fidelity, and of sequestra-
tions and imprisonments, which at the time,
only concealed family feuds under the cloak
of Patriotism ; and of many a tender alliance,
through more than one generation, crossed, by
the heirs of the courtly Cavalier and the un-
compromising Cromwellian.

Foreigners sometimes reproach our insular

* The history of these interior and secret apartments in
old mansions is curious. They were long used, and often
built by our Roman Catholics to conceal the celebration of
their mass, and as an asylum for their priests. In the Civil
Wars they were of great service in secreting persons, whose
lives have been saved by half an hour from the soldiers sent
after them. Many have lived in their own houses, for many
months, unknown to their own family, save the single mem-
ber who was trusted to procure their meal with the most
cautious secrecy. Sir Henry Slingsby seems to allude to
such an apartment in his own house. " Since they have
from York laid wait for me to take me, I take myself to one
room in my house scarce known of by my servants, where
I spend my days in great silence, scarce daring to speak or
walk, but with great heed lest I be discovered. Et jam
veniet tacito, curia senectus pede."— Memoirs, p. 92.

THE CIVIL WARS. 7

English for deficient sympathy with the mise-
ries of war, estranged as they are from its ac-
tual scenes. The history of no people however
has been more abundant with the calamities of
that most cruel of all wars — Civil War ! The
scroll of British history unfolds little but a
barbarous and tragic tale. The blood of the
English people was not consumed only by the
two Roses, the protracted war of several years
of the Sovereign and the Parliament was a ma-
lediction of Heaven, and so recently, as in the
days of our Fathers, how many domestic feuds
survived the battles of the Stuart and the
Brunswick !

Civil, or intestine wars, are distinguishable
from external, or foreign wars, by the personal
hatreds of the actors. They are neither com-
bating for ancient glory, nor for new conquests.
It is the despair of their passions which in-
volves these fraternal enemies in one common
vengeance. Even conquests in Civil Wars
render the victors fearful. Whitelocke was
deeply impressed by this sorrowful observa-
tion. " Thus," says he, " we may see that
even after almost a conquest, yet they (the
Parliament) apprehended no safety ; such are
the issues and miseries of a Civil War, that the
victors are full of fears from those they have

8 THE CIVIL WARS.

subdued ; no quiet, no security !"* Where vic-
tories are painful as defeats, dark cypress and
not laurels must be gathered. What can two
armies of fellow-countrymen, sometimes two
rival counties, opposed to each other with pro-
vincial malignity,! destroy, but that which was
their own ? Him who so bravely assaults and
him who so bravely repels, the country might
bless had they the hearts to be recreants !
What scenes are shifted in this tragic drama !
The plundered mansion — the village in flames
— the farmer's homestead ravaged ! Whose
property has the hero of Civil War plundered ?

* Whitelocke, 219.

t I fear that in the Civil Wars of Charles the First, when
whole regiments were composed of men raised from a parti-
cular county, and came in contact with a similar one of an-
other, the struggle became more obstinate and malignant.
The men of Herefordshire encountering the men of Glouces-
tershire ; the Lancastrians engaging with the Northumbrians;
even the inhabitants of one town with those of a neighbour-
ing town, would slash each other with the malice of pro-
vincial rivalry, and to the miseries of war add the paltry pride
of the jealousy of a whole county. In the Memoirs of Cap-
tain John Hodgson, an active Commonwealth officer, in the
Lancashire infantry, we detect this sort of feeling. Allud-
ing to the bravery of his regiment, he says " They were brave
firemen — I have often told them they were as good fighters
and as great plunderers as ever went to a field."— Memoirs of
Captain Hodgson, 119.

THE CIVIL WARS. 9

— his neighbour's ! Whom has he routed? —
his friends ! Who appear in the returns of the
wounded and killed of the enemy ? — his rela-
tives ! The sanctity of social life once violated,
family is ranged against family ; parents re-
nounce their children ; the brother is struck by
the arm of his brother ; even the affection of
the wife is alienated ; and finally they leave
the sad inheritance of their unnatural animo-
sities from generation to generation. In civil
wars not small is the number of those, whose
names appear in no list of the sufferers, whose
wounds are not seen by any human eye, but
whose deaths are as certain as any which flies
with the bullet. These are they who retreat
into the silence of horror and despair, and die
heart-broken — or linger on with sorrows unas-
suaged, or unutterable griefs.

But all are not Patriots who combat for Pa-
triotism. All sorts of adventurers looking up
to all sorts of hopes, take their station under
opposing banners. There shall we find Ambi-
tion and Avarice, often Revenge and Ingra-
titude ; so many are the passions civil war in-
dulges and conceals !

The sufferings of the common people seem
beneath the dignity of the historical pen, and
the sympathy of abstract reasoners. Every

10 THE CIVIL WARS.

scene in History is to be something which may
be acted in a theatre, by the privileged actors.
It is the story of a few hundred persons in a
nation. But of the tens of thousands who are
hourly to be immolated to the Demon, who
hears their shrieks, or notices their tears ?

In a civil war not only men change their
principles, but towns and cities are disordered
by sudden phrenzies. During the wars of
Charles the First and the Parliament, many a
town, sometimes a whole county, were com-
pelled to take a new side, at the approach, or
on the retreat of an army. And this concus-
sion of their passions, or clash of their interests,
was again to be suffered as the place was lost,
or was recovered. A civil war is more than
one war, for it conceals enemies within, while
it combats the enemy without. In the wars of
Charles the First, often on the day the Parlia-
ment's warrant to enlist men was read, a mes-
senger hastened to the Sheriff with the King's
proclamation. If the people opposed the Par-
liament, they heard themselves lauded for their
due allegiance to their Sovereign ; if they sided
with the Parliament, they were flattered as the
faithful servants of the State. The people thus
seemed always in the right ; but whatever was
the principle, they discovered that the result

THE CIVIL WARS. 11

was ever the same. The people were to be
plundered ! The friend they must not deny ;
the foe they dared not. Political confusion,
nourished Anarchy and Tyranny — political
confusion, like the Wolf-Nurse of the two rival
founders of Rome, sent her progeny forth
raging uncontrolled from Dover to Berwick.

Military marauders, for such in civil wars
even disciplined troops become, living at free-
quarters, making war as their holiday, and en-
riching themselves by impoverishing others,
would often reproach their fellow-countrymen
to their faces that " They were conquered
slaves!" Who now was to maintain Laws,
when Lawlessness was itself the Law, and the
Swordsman sate as the Lord-Chief-Justice?
A contemporary Bard has energetically de-
scribed this unhappy crisis :

" The eyeless sword 's unable to decide ;
But with its two-edged skill it doth divide
The Client, not the Cause."

The enormities of the Military on both sides
tyrannized through the land. Often in vain was
the white flag hung out and a parley prayed
for, as the soldier, eager for pillage, rejected a
capitulation, and took by storm, and sack, the
place ready to open its gates. This intolerable
state of suffering gave rise to a very extraordi-

12 THE CIVIL WARS.

'nary attempt at self-defence. In the West of
England many country-gentlemen were per-
suaded to raise up a third party in the country,
which should neither be Royalist, nor Parlia-
mentarian. It was to consist of an army with-
out soldiers, for they were neither to wear
swords nor carry fire-arms. Suddenly appeared
many thousand men, who it is said at one pe-
riod amounted to a body of fourteen thousand,
armed with clubs and flails, scythes and
sickles laid on long poles ; it was an agricul-
tural war, and the agrestic weapons no longer
wounding the fertile bosom of Nature, direct-
ed the whole rural war against Man himself.
Announcing that they would allow no armies
to quarter within their bounds, they called
themselves Club-men, and decided all matters
by their own Club-Law. They professed only
to defend their harvests and their granaries.
At any given point they assembled in con-
siderable force, and their ensign bore a motto
in rhimes, rude, but plain —

" If you offer to PLUNDER and take our cattle,
You may be sure we '11 give you battle."

This third party in the Civil Wars at first were
so strange, that neither of the two great Par-
ties knew whether to consider them hostile or
friendly. The Club-men grew to be so formi-

THE CIVIL WARS. 13

dable as to be courted by both for timely com-
pliances and temporary aid. Cromwell, too
decided a General to allow of any independent
force, or of ambiguous favours, attacked this
unsoldierly army, and so completely routed the
rural troops, that they no longer appear in our
History.*

It is remarkable that the term PLUNDER, for
military spoliations and robberies, which we
find in the rhiming motto of the Club-men,
was now first introduced into our language —
it was brought from Germany by some of these
Soldiers of fortune, whose deeds here were the
clearest comments on a foreign term which

* This novel insurrection of the CLUB- MEN, Locke has
ascribed to the prolific brain of Shaftesbury when a young
man. The fantastic invention of an army without soldiers
was not ill-suited to his plotting and fanciful genius. Mr.
Godwin concludes that it was a rhodomontade. The argu-
ment Mr. Godwin raises, which depends on the date of the
end of the year 1644 and the beginning of 1645 — though a
close argument, will neither prove nor disprove. Mr. God-
win must be sensible that should we adopt his ingenious sur-
mise, that Shaftesbury was flamming the philosopher, we must
necessarily lowly rate the discernment of the author of "The
Human Understanding," who was not only well acquainted
with the domestic history of Shaftesbury, but was shrewdly
inquisitive and not apt to take up a rhodomontade for " a
piece of grave history." It is difficult to satisfy the world
that Locke was quite the blockhead some make him out.

14 THE CIVIL WARS.

Time has by no means rendered obsolete.* It
is curious to observe the latitude which the
partisans of that day, and of all days whenever
such of the Mobocracy are in power, chose to
affix to the term, which was by no means li-
mited to Military Execution. An unlucky
"Malignant" indicted several of the Mob-
worthies for " plundering his house." The pri-
soners did not deny the fact, so that there were
the fact and the law alike against them. The
petty-jury, however, persisted in returning Ig-
noramus. The Bench asked how they could
go against such clear evidence ? The Foreman
would return no other answer than this —
"Because we do not think Plundering to be
Felony by the Law." f Such was the magic
of a new name for most ancient Thievery !
But the truth was, that the men at the bar
were all " honest men," being all Parliamen-
tarians.

The Civil Wars of Charles the First were
accompanied by one of the most distressful
emotions which an honourable mind can ex-
perience. On both sides men were induced to

* May's History of the Parliament, Lib. iii. 3.

t Bruno Ryves in his " Mercurius Rusticus, or the Coun-
try's Complaint," which exhibits a weekly series of scenes of
the Mobocracy Government.

THE CIVIL WARS. 15

combat for a cause, in the justice of which they
were not over-confident. Neither the object,
nor the conduct of the Patriots, was always so
evident to the contending parties as they may
appear to later times. After the deaths of
Hampden and Pym, new factions rose, who as-
suredly were not combating for the freedom of
the English nation. Opinions sometimes wa-
vered, as points of law admitted of a novel
exposition, or as the last arguments were per-
plexed by the more recent confutation ; even
the warm apologists of each party were often
disconcerted at unexpected circumstances, which
too often betrayed the errors or the violence of
their own.

In this ambiguous state there necessarily re-
sulted the most confused notions, distracting
their consciences and paralysing their acts.
Many eminent persons fell victims to these
mutable and contradictory proceedings.

Neither the Royalist, nor the Common-
wealth-man, who were so on system, would he-
sitate in their decision ; and both alike perished
in the field or suffered on the scaffold. But
these formed, perhaps, not the greater, nor al-
ways the most estimable part of the nation.
Many great and good men acted they scarcely
knew how ; they fluctuated in their opinions,

16 THE CIVIL WARS.

for which they had too often reason* — and
what sometimes proved more fatal, they aban-
doned their friends — or if in their despair they
concealed their private sentiments, these self-
tormentors lived in the agony of their con-
sciences.

Essex and Manchester obeyed the Parlia-
ment, but they were not enemies to the King ;
Falkland, and many others in the royal army,
obeyed the King, but were not enemies to the
Parliament. Sir Edward Varney, the Standard-
bearer of the King, who perished at Edge-hill,
marched in the royal ranks, from a principle of
honour, but not from any conviction of the jus-
tice of his master's cause ; on the other side, Sir
Alexander Carew, who had distinguished him-
self among the hottest of the Patriotic party in
the prosecution of the Earl of Strafford, and
was in the full confidence of the Parliament,
was beheaded— it is said at the instigation of
his brother, such a hellish brood a Revolution
hatches ! — for his design of giving up Plymouth

* Sir Philip Warwick tells an anecdote of a Dr. Farrar, a
physician, whom he describes as " a man of a pious heart
but fanciful brain, for this was he that would have had the
King and Parliament have decided their business by lot."
Many points which cost so much blood, might as well have
been decided by the dice. The physician was the philoso-
pher.

THE CIVIL WARS. 17

to the King. Sir Hugh Cholmley, long a
patriot of the highest reputation, and one of
their active Commissioners, passed over to the
King. In the Lord-Keeper Littleton we see a
sage of the law, and a man of unblemished in-
tegrity, siding with the Parliament, and at last
delivering up the great seal, and himself too, to
the King. This was an immediate sacrifice of
his own considerable fortune and his condition
— but it closed within him the solitary strug-
gles that rankled in his mind. Unhappy
men ! The party they desert never forgive
them, and those to whom they go, never forget
from whence they come.

This numerous class of honourable persons
were not apostates from caprice nor faithless-
ness ; neither present nor prospective views in-
fluenced them. They were offering the great-
est personal sacrifices in going over to the
King, for they left behind them their estates
to an eager and sequestrating Parliament. The
virtuous and sensitive Falkland, amidst those
reveries, in which since the opening of the
Civil War, his melancholy had indulged, was
often heard to exclaim " Peace ! Peace ! Peace !"
It was to escape from that prostration of his
spirits, which had of late clouded over his
countenance, deranged his manners, and sharp-

VOL. v. c

18 THE CIVIL WARS.

ened his language, that Falkland, to end this
war of his feelings, rushed to the death he
sought in the field.

It may be suspected that even thorough-
paced Partisans were haunted with many lurk-
ing doubts which at times darkened their con-
victions. Lord Brooke, that fiercest assailant
of the National Church, who on looking on
St. Paul's, hoped " to see the day when not one
stone of that edifice should lie on another,"
appears to me, notwithstanding his enthusiasm,
to have stood in this comfortless predicament.
To storm the Close at Litchfield he chose Saint
Chad's day, to whom the Cathedral was dedi-
cated. His Lordship meant to give the most
public affront he could imagine to the Saint ;
this was a remaining feeling of the old supersti-
tion, as if dubious whether his Saintship were,
as he believed, a mere nonentity. Farther, he
solemnly invoked Heaven, for some signal tes-
timony of its approbation ; or if his cause were
not right and just, that he might perish ! It is
quite evident that he had contemplated on a
possibility that his cause was not right and just,
otherwise he had not implored for a signal tes-
timony. Lord Brooke however seemed hardly
to have trusted Heaven with his life ; for his
invulnerable Lordship was armed at all points

THE CIVIL WARS. 19

in stubborn mail, and the only part of him un-
covered with iron, was that " evil eye" which
he had cast on St. Paul's. Great Churchmen,
Laud and South, and the historian Clarendon,
fancied that St. Chad himself had rolled the
bullet which pierced the eye and confused for
ever the metaphysical brain of the renowned
adversary of Episcopacy, whom Milton has im-
mortalized. It is more evident that had Lord
Brooke's final conviction been freed from every
doubt in that offuscating controversy, he had
never so solemnly appealed to Heaven to con-
firm the verity of his positions and the justice
of his violence.

If elevated characters, such as these, could
not elude the severity of their fate, it was still
more disastrous with the weak and the timid.
" The two unfortunate Hothams, the father
and the son," as May pathetically designates
them, offer a memorable history in our Civil
Wars. They were both ostensibly on the Par-
liament's side. It fell to the lot of the hapless
father to bear the dread exigency of opening the
Civil War. As Governor of Hull he had been
compelled by a strong party among the towns-
men to close the gates against the King. The
Governor appeared on the walls, on his knees,
and with distracted looks, a pitiable object, so-

c 2

20 THE CIVIL WARS.

lemnly protesting his loyalty to the King and
his duty to the Parliament. The man before his
own face was proclaimed a Traitor by the King —
the secret lay in his heart, for he was a Royalist.
The Parliament dispatched the son to watch
over the father — at length both came to betray
each other ! The father was inveigled by the
miserable hope of saving himself, to aggravate
the delinquency of the son ; and the son in-
veighed against the father as an enemy of the
Parliament. The father and the son, destitute
of affection and fortitude, on that day cast a
blot on a name ancient and honourable, and
both were hurried to the scaffold.*

A warm and genuine picture of the conflict-
ing emotions at this period, we find in a letter
from Sir William Waller, the Parliamentary
General, to Sir Ralph Hopton, his former com-
panion, and now one of the King's most zealous
commanders. Waller feelingly dwells on that
cruel situation in which the most intimate
friends were now to be torn away from each

* " The woeful tragedy" of the Hothams is told by Cla-
rendon, v. 116. We now find by a suppressed passage that
" the vile artifice " which had been practised on them was
the contrivance of Hugh Peters, who was the chaplain sent
to them to prepare them for death, and took that oppor-
tunity to wrest from them mutually arguments one against
the other.

THE CIVIL WARS. 21

other, and not only divided, but opposed in
arms. Waller confesses, too, the fears which
harassed a delicate mind not yet brutalized
by war; and is sorrowfully conscious, that he
could not communicate that conviction, which
he hardly seems to have felt himself.

" My affections to you are so unchange-
able that Hostility itself cannot violate my
friendship to your person ; but I must be
true to the cause wherein I serve. — I should
wait on you, according to your desire, but that
I look on you as engaged in that party beyond
the possibility of retreat, and consequently, in-
capable of being wrought upon by any persua-
sion. That Great God who is the searcher of
all hearts, knows with what a sad fear I go upon
this service, and with what perfect hate I detest a
War without an Enemy. But I look upon it as
Opus Domini ! We are both on the Stage, and
must act those parts that are assigned to us in
this Tragedy ; but let us do it in the way of
honour, and without personal animosity."

This extraordinary state of affairs often pro-
duced a singular effect both on persons and on
events. The most enlightened men of the age,
and the most free from suspicion of any crimi-
nal selfishness, could not avoid alternately, to
gratify and to offend the two great Parties,

22 THE CIVIL WARS.

Selden, in his firm integrity, had condemned
" the Commission of Array" issued by the King,
on a point of Law; the King remonstrated
with him ; the Parliament professed to be go-
verned by the most learned of lawyers and the
most forcible of reasoners, whose decision in
this instance contributed to their own designs.
Selden had flattered himself that he should
equally guide their measures when he delivered
his judgment against the Parliamentary ordi-
nance to possess themselves of the militia or the
army. On that occasion he raised his admira-
ble faculties to their highest pitch, and he de-
monstrated as positively, as he had done in the
case of " the Array," that it was " without pre-
cedent and without law." It must have mor-
tified that erudite scholar and that profound
lawyer, when he discovered that his legal know-
ledge was only to be consulted, and his argu-
ments were only to be valid, when they con-
curred with the purposes of those whom he ad-
dressed; and were weak, and of no authority,
when they came in contact with their passions.
Such a severe judge of truth would not have
been accepted as an arbiter either by the King
or the Parliament. But Time has conse-
crated the decisions of Selden ; and Posterity
acknowledges the rectitude of that wisdom

THE CIVIL WARS. 23

which was censured by both parties for muta-
bility of conduct.

All in the ranks of the King were not insen-
ble to the voice of the Parliament, and knew
to appreciate as dearly, their laws, their liber-
ties and their properties, as the Patriotic leaders
in the Commons. There was a period when
the Loyalists would plead in favour of their
cause, that the King had long earnestly concur-
red in many popular acts ; had of late more
cautiously governed himself by law ; and they
might have pointed out at least one energetic
passage in which Charles absolutely recanted
his past political errors, tenderly reproaching
those who persisted in reverting to them, and
warning his censurers that they themselves
might fall into the like errors from the same
suggestion of NECESSITY, which had led him
into these errors.*

On the side of the Patriots were many, who
without the views of ambitious men, had taken
up arms neither to dethrone the Monarch, nor
to change the Constitution, but they suspected
the sincerity of the royal concessions. Rapin,
with great candour and equal shrewdness, has

* This remarkable passage is in the King's answer to the
Parliament's petition presented at York in 1642. — Husband's
Collections, 127.

24 THE CIVIL WA11S.

stated this nice point of the distrust of the Par-
liament : a distrust on which revolved the ca-
lamities of the nation ! " I do believe it to be
something rash to affirm that Charles the First
was not sincere in his promises. But then I
am of opinion his sincerity may be doubted,
since he had never an opportunity to demon-
strate it by effects."

And thus it was, that the People were now
driven into this cruel alternative, to combat
against, or to defend the Sovereign, with equal
reason to do one, or the other !

It was necessary to develope this obscure
point in the history of our great Civil War, by
showing how it happened, that such frequent
defections occurred to both parties alike.

It may also correct the popular notion, which
so conveniently decides, that it was necessary
that our civil liberty should be the fruits of vio-
lence and injustice; raised up by the passions and
not by the wisdom of men. Many who were
the actors in the solemn scenes of our Revolu-
tion, when they beheld the Nation opposed to
the Nation ; laws violated and authority usurp-
ed ; a Presbytery raised on the ruins of a Hier-
archy ; the destruction of the Monarch and
the dominion of Demagogues — did not con-
clude that the constitutional freedom of Eng-

THE CIVIL WARS. 25

land had become more vigorous or looked more
beautiful — They did not conceive that Charles
the First was that absolute tyrant, and that the
Parliament were so absolutely patriotic, as we
are apt to imagine — They did not assert that
nothing more was necessary than to pursue a
direct course, without fear and without doubts,
without honour and without conviction.

26 "WHO BEGAN THE WAR,

CHAPTER II.

" WHO BEGAN THE WAR, THE KING OR THE
PARLIAMENT ?"

SUCH is the title of a grave chapter in the
favourite " Essay " of a Party, " towards obtain-
ing a true idea of the real character of Charles
the First."* With the Parliament in their last

* This Essay professes to be " extracted from and deli-
vered in the very words of some of the most authentic his-
torians." It was first printed in 1748 anonymously. The
compiler was Micaiah Towgood, a dissenting Minister. A
third edition appeared as recently as in 1811. It is there-
fore appreciated, nor is it the least curious of the pamphlets
concerning Charles the First.

This sort of works, pretending to offer nothing from the
writer himself, but merely the opinions of others, has an
appearance of candour and impartiality which is often very
deceptive. The choice of the extracts, and the class of the
originals, are made by the prepossessions of the compiler.
Among " the most authentic historians" here quoted, we
find chiefly warm party-writers, as Neal, Burnet, and Lud-
low, till we sink down to the infamous Oldmixon.

THE KING OR THE PARLIAMENT ?" 27

Treaty of Newport, it was an important point
to clear themselves of the charge of Rebellion
by the acknowledgment that they only had
recourse to arms in their own defence ; but to
do this they necessarily criminated the King.
The King urged them to agree to an act of
oblivion on both sides. Charles was willing
to grant them security, but not justification.
When the Earl of Northumberland was in-
treated to spare the distress of his old friend
and master, in conceding such a condemnatory
proposition on the King and all his friends, it
was declared to be a sine qua non in the Treaty
— the Earl observing, " The King in this point
is safe as King ; but we cannot be so."

It seems to have afforded a melancholy sa-
tisfaction to the sufferers from the Civil Wars
to imagine that their party were not the au-
thors of the protracted miseries of the country.
The inquiry has been a legacy left from one
historian to another, and we find it a subject of
acrimonious discussion with the most recent.*
All these writers, in the march of their narra-
tive, pause, to fling back the reproach on the
adverse party, while both with equal triumph
assign some insulated circumstance, or some
subtle argument, whence to date the origin of

* Brodie, Hist, of the British Empire, iii. 335.

28 " WHO BEGAN THE WAR,

the Civil War. To remove the odium from
their own heads of having first opened those
calamitous scenes, each party has always been
anxious to charge the other with the first ag-
gressions, and to infer that their own side,
whether Royalist or Parliamentary, persevered
in all the simplicity of innocence, and to the
last hour of their exemplary patience, testified
their utter repugnance to appeal to the sword.
In detecting the artifices and perplexities of
the advocates of both the great parties which
were now about to divide the nation between
them, we may smile at their strenuous invec-
tives to criminate each other.

The day of debate had closed. The cry of
conspiracy and treason on the side of the Royal-
ists, and of suspicions and fears from that of
the Patriots had ceased. This terribly-tedious
paper-war of Remonstrances and Resolutions,
of Protestations and of Messages, of Declara-
tions and of Votes, of Replies and Rejoinders,
had outwearied the vigour of their pens. Lit-
tle sincerity appears in these public appeals,
dictated as they are often by their fears and
jealousies. Here they attack, and there they
retort ; here there are evasions, and there, mis-
representations. Both parties perfectly under-
stood one another, but it was alike their inte-

THE KING OR THE PARLIAMENT?" 29

rest that the people should not learn, that the
struggle was for the actual Sovereignty. The
one thundered against arbitrary government,
the other against those who had assumed it.
Both disguised their real intentions, for both
dreaded to become odious to the people by
afflicting them with the horrors of an unna-
tural war.

The People, distracted by law, and by logic,
by dusty precedents and involved arguments,
each persisting that the law was on their side,
and no one seeming to care what the law was,
or whether there existed any law at all for
their own acts, were also divided among them-
selves by contrary interests and heart-burning
bickerings. The People, at this moment, were
to be the Umpires between the Sovereign and
the Parliament — Alas ! the Umpires them-
selves required an Umpire ! These rotatory
Manifestoes succeeded one another in ceaseless
perplexity, designed to create a public opinion
by winning over the affections, or impelling
the passions of their adherents, through the
slow gradations of Sympathy.

Their arguments, while arguments served
their purpose, being framed on opposite prin-
ciples, like two parallel lines, might have run
on to " the crack of doom." And as they at-

30 "WHO BEGAN THE WAR,

tached to the same terms, very different senses,
by this equivocal and ambiguous style, they
had only to ring the changes on " Fundamental
Law"—" The Parliament"— and "Peace," as
triumphantly at the fiftieth time as at the

first*

In this war of Papers the King obtained

* Rapin shrewdly observes that the King and the Parlia-
ment played with the term Fundamental Law — The Parlia-
ment gave the name to the trust which the people placed in
the two Houses— and when it came to the last push — to the
single House of Commons ! The King would recognise no^
thing fundamental, but positive and particular Laws. Hobbes
in his Behemoth, a work in dialogue, inquires, " What did
they mean by the Fundamental Laws of the Nation ? Nothing
but to abuse the People/' 260. Oldmixon more curiously
explains, that by Fundamental Law Charles interpreted the
Laws of the Land, meaning his own corrupt Sovereign power,
but not that Sovereign power under which the kingdom has
been so glorious since the last male Monarch of the House
of Stuart! 198. The phrase Fundamental Law is still a
marketable article among the great political traders as
" sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal."

The Parliament, meant for some time, the two Houses and
the King's name, separated from his Person — Charles in-
sisted that a Parliament included both Houses and Himself.

Peace, with the Parliament, had as many different senses,
as the propositions for Peace varied. Clarendon has well
described it : " Both sides entertained each other with dis-
courses of Peace which always carried a sharpness with
them that whetted their appetite to War !"

THE KING OR THE PARLIAMENT?" 31

many splendid victories. Charles had called in
for aid the pens of the enlightened Lord Falk-
land, and the adroit Sir John Culpepper, but
more usually exercised the eloquent and keen
genius of Clarendon. A Statesman however
remarked at the time, that Wit and Elegance,
delightful as they were, could not long last
useful, and he dreaded lest " their fine pen
would hurt them." It was indeed evident that
in a contest, which had in it all the elements
of civil war, though they had showered their
words against each other as hard as the flowers
of Rhetoric can hit, the Parties would seize on
weapons more decisive than arguments, con-
vincing only those who required none, and
with truths whose denials were persisted in,
till the truths seemed to be fictions. While
the battle was to be urged by the force of
words, there was not an Athlete in the King-
dom who could wield the club of Hercules,
but Hercules himself. The profound thought
— the deep insight into human concerns — the
sharp and irresistible irony of the fertile genius
of Clarendon poised the whole force of the
Commons, who could only surpass him in the
practical politics of their own House. Claren-
don, whose dexterity in style was such, that he
could inimitably imitate the style of any man,

32 " WHO BEGAN THE WAR,

never yet found one who dared to imitate the
deep solemnity of his periods, and the vigorous
redundance of his own style. Charles, con-
fident in the masterly skill of his Replies, al-
ways accompanied his own by the papers of
Parliament. The Parliament discovered their
own inferiority, and were so utterly discon-
certed, that at length, when they sent forth any
of their own Manifestoes, they strictly prohi-
bited the publication of the King's Answers.

In vain the Royalist Echard, following his
Coryphaeus Clarendon, struggles to show " the
King's backwardness as to war," and as vainly
the venal Oldmixon echoes his oracle Acherley
in denouncing the King for having originated
the Civil War. At York, Charles raised what
he called a guard for his person : it consisted of
a single troop of Cavalry, composed of Volun-
teers from " the Prime Gentry," of which the
young Prince of Wales was the Captain, and a
single regiment of six hundred train-bands, the
ordinary militia of the county. Doubtless this
was a nest-egg for some future brood. At this
moment Charles had no other force than the
influence of his name. He was without any
means to maintain an army had he possessed
one ; he was in extreme necessity, not having
yet received the moderate supplies which he

THE KING OR THE PARLIAMENT?" 33

was awaiting from the Queen in Holland. He
had neither ships, nor harbours, nor arms, nor
monies. The Parliament had deprived him
" of bread," as Clarendon pathetically expressed
it, and the whole Regal establishment was re-
duced to a single table for himself, and the
Princes. So far from Charles being considered
in the least formidable, or even able to enter
on a civil war, Hampden and Pym assured
Sir Benjamin Rudyard, as that honest Patriot
declared on his death-bed, tha.t they considered
that the King was so ill-beloved by his sub-
jects, that he would never be able to raise an
army to oppose them. And even when the
King had raised this very Guard for his person,
as he called these Volunteers, the Secretary and
historian of the Parliament in alluding to this
particular event, confesses that " the kingdom
was not much affrighted with any forces the
King could so raise."*

Yet it is on this very circumstance of raising
this guard for his person, that Charles is de-
nounced as the real author of all the miseries
of the Civil War. The Parliament voted that
it was the King's intention to make war. The
words of Acherley are triumphantly quoted by
Oldmixon, and the passage is important, for it
* May's Hist, of the Parliament, lib. ii. 58.

VOL. V. D

34 "WHO BEGAN THE WAR,

will serve to detect one of those artful misre-
presentations where a party-writer, to colour an
extravagant charge, gives a fictitious appear-
ance of the real state of affairs.

" Such a body of men," says this historian,
" might by an expeditious march, easily have
entered the House of Commons, and dispersed
the UNARMED Parliament, who looked on that
proceeding as a clear evidence of his Majesty's
intentions to make war upon them."*

Will not an innocent reader be surprised
when he is informed that this " Unarmed Par-
liament" was the most WARLIKE imaginable?

The Parliament had already possessed them-
selves of the great dep6t of arms and ammuni-
tion in the Tower of London, and the Arsenal
at Hull. They were the sole Sovereigns of the

* The verbose title of the Lawyer Acherley's work con-
veys some idea of its character. " The Britannic Constitu-
tion, or the fundamental form of government in Britain,
demonstrating the original contract entered into by King
and People ; wherein is proved that the placing on the
Throne King William HI. was the natural fruit and effect
of the original Constitution." It is a folio, and has passed
through three editions. Yet this Whig production, appa-
rently theoretical, seems to have been famous in its day, and
now is cast into oblivion. I do not recollect this work as
referred to, by any late writer on the Constitution. Acher-
ley is a source of inspiration to Oldmixon.

THE KING OR THE PARLIAMENT?" 35

entire naval force of England, and twice dur-
ing the last year, in February and March 1641,
they had passed their Ordinance to place the
Militia, that is, the whole military force of the
Kingdom, under their own officers and at their
sole command. This is energetically stated in
one of the King's answers. " All those pikes
and protestations, that army on one side and
that navy on the other, must work us in an
opinion that you appeared to levy war against
us."* Their devoted train-bands of the City,
and even the recruits presumed to be raised for
Ireland, were themselves an army ready to be
called out. They had an unlimited power over
all the wealth of the Capital, the royal revenues
were now their own, and from the large sub-
scriptions raised for the Irish War, they bor-
rowed what sums they willed, "for the supply
of the public necessity."-)- They parcelled out
that unhappy land, in lots of a thousand acres,
to adventurers, and a good citizen's patriotism
was rated according to the quantity of his Irish

* Husband's Collections, 261. The King's Answer, 20th
May, 1642.

•f- Rush worth, iv. 778. The Parliament borrowed at once
£100,000 of " the Treasurie for Subscription." The forced
loans of Charles himself yielded nothing like those " for the
Public Necessity."

D 2

36 "WHO BEGAN THE WAR,

purchases.* Thus this " UNARMED Parlia-
ment" were nerved by the true sinews of War
— money and the materiel.

We shall often find that the chronology of
Facts is something in the history of the Pas-
sions, and a simple statement of the movements
of these Parties at this critical period, will save
much of their mutual declamation.

1642— April 23.— The King made his inef-
ficient attempt to seize Hull ; it contained the
only dep6t of arms which he could call his

* They were selling the skin before they had caught the
bear. The lands were not yet their own, but they presumed
that in the Irish Rebellion, many millions of acres would be
confiscated, and they were anticipating the sales! The
value of the land varied in different counties, for 200/. was
the price of one thousand acres in Ulster, 300/. in Con-
naught, 450/. in Munster, and 600/. in Leinster — the value
was probably rated by the neighbourhood. — Rushworth, iv.

The King, at a moment he was not master to refuse, had
given an unwilling assent to these desperate grants, relying
on " the wisdom of his Parliament, without taking time to
consider whether this course may not retard the reducing of
that Kingdom, by exasperating the Rebels, and rendering
them desperate."

Noy had flattered the Monarch that he had discovered in
'* the Ship Money," " a purse without a bottom, never to be
emptied" — but the Commons were perfect Fortunatuses in
their public purse, while they held the Sovereign power.

THE KING OR THE PARLIAMENT?" 37

own. Oldmixon considers this attempt on
Hull as the first overt act of the Civil War.
But it must be candidly acknowledged that if
the affair of Hull is to be deemed an act of
civil war, the Parliament had anticipated the
King, for they had ordered that its entrance
should be closed against him ; besides, the King
could not yet be said to levy war who had not
yet an army. At the end of April the Lords
began to desert the Parliament, which doubt-
less occasioned some surprise and some uneasi-
ness. Not that these Lords withdrew from
Parliament with any intention of raising a civil
war. They had retired from the violent mea-
sures of Parliament, but they did not pass over
to the King to encourage any on his side.
They thought that the Parliament durst not
make a war, lest the people should rise for the
King, while they impressed on the King that
should he raise forces, the Parliament would
easily persuade the people that their liberties
and religion would be overthrown.* So intri-
cate were the feelings and the events of that
critical hour, that even honourable men with
tortured consciences and confused heads, de-
signed secret purposes entirely the reverse of
their actions. Those who wished to keep

* Clarendon, iii. 66.

38 "WHO BEGAN THE WAR,

themselves, as Lord Clarendon expresses it,
" negatively innocent," were the unhappiest
men in the Kingdom. The crimes of a Nation
suffer no man to be innocent.

May 5.— The Parliament declare their reso-
lution to put their Ordinance for the Militia in
execution, u warranted by the Fundamental
Laws of the Land."

May 12.— The King summons the Gentry
of York, and it was on this occasion that the
Guard for the King's person was raised, for
which, observed the Commons, " there can be
no use, considering the fidelity and care of
your Parliament."* There was at times some-
thing exquisitely ludicrous in the Parliament-
ary style whenever the King was to be men-
tioned.

May 20. — The Parliament declare the King
intends to levy war, and they call out the Mi-
litia throughout the Kingdom.

June 2. — The Parliament present those me-
morable nineteen dethroning propositions, which
the King indignantly rejected. On this day
arrived from Holland a ship with arms for the
King.

June 10. — Troops and monies are openly
raised by the Parliament in a new and extra-
* Husband's Collections, 259.

THE KING OR THE PARLIAMENT?" 39

ordinary manner, " on Public Faith." They
issued an order for bringing in money and
plate, horse and horsemen, and arms. They
fixed a premium for Patriotism, an interest of
" Eight in the hundred, on the Public Faith."
The Treasurers found that place was wanting
to store the treasure — the Commissaries were
incompetent to appraise the horses and the
arms, and hand the acquittances to the fortu-
nate Patriots. Even the City dames hastened
to the Mint to melt down their thimbles and
bodkins, for they who had neither money nor
horse were desired to subscribe.* We are as-
sured several millions were thus raised — all for
the maintenance of the Protestant religion,
" the Fundamental Laws," " the safety of the
King's person," and " Eight in the hundred !"

June 15. — As late as this day Charles was
professing that he had no intention of war, but
against this general arming the King sent forth
his Commission of Array. The most remark-
able circumstance in these equal movements is,
that the King in his Commission of Array em-
ployed the very same reasons, in the identical
words the Parliament had done in their Decla-
ration, as May tells us : " Thus did the Parlia-
liament's prologue to their Ordinance, serve the

* May's History of the Parliament, lib. ii. 83.

40 " WHO BEGAN THE WAR,

King's turn for his Commission of Array toti-
dem verbis" In this game of political chess,
which both Parties were now so cautiously
playing, move against move, check-mate oc-
curred.

It is evident that the movements were per-
fectly regular on both sides. Who then began
the Civil War ? It is not by assigning some
insulated circumstance, as so many historians
have done, that we shall ascertain either Who
first intended the war, or Who first began it ?
I would not dispute who were the warlike
party. Yet we need not express our surprise
with the sage Whitelocke, that " It is strange
to note how we have insensibly slid into this
beginning of a civil war, by one unexpected
accident after another, as waves of the sea
which hath brought us thus far."* The ine-
vitable war had been mutually determined on,
long ere any period which has been assigned
by historians, biassed by their own party views.
From the moment the Parliament assumed the
Sovereignty over the Militia — that is, the Army,
the only difficulty the Parties found, was to
conceal their intentions.

When the Commons passed their resolutions

* Rushworth, iv. 754.

THE KING OR THE PARLIAMENT?" 41

that the King intended to make war upon them,
Charles complained much of this Vote in regard
to his intention, declaring that God knew his
heart abhorred it. " And to such a height did
he and his counsellors carry their hypocrisy,"
proceeds Mr. Brodie, " that even on the 15th of
June, when arms had been purchased in Hol-
land, the King repeated his professions," ap-
pealing to the Lords whether they saw any
preparations or counsels that might beget a be-
lief of any such design ; and whether they were
not fully persuaded that his Majesty had no
such intention, but that all his endeavours tend-
ed to Peace. The Lords at York unanimously
signed a declaration to this purpose. "It is
impossible," again exclaims Mr. Brodie, " to
conceive a more melancholy picture of insince-
rity, nay downright perfidy, than Charles and
his advisers exhibited on this occasion."

Mr. Brodie argues, as if the purchase of arms
in Holland was still a secret which the King
and his Council were reserving to themselves.
If so, "the hypocrisy and perfidy" were ludi-
crous, for they were concealing what was as
notorious at London as at York. The Decla-
ration animadverted on by Mr. Brodie, occurred
on the 15th of June. Already on the 2nd of
June the Parliament had issued their order

42 " WHO BEGAN THE WAR,

against the pawning of the jewels of the
Crown,* and on the llth of June, two letters
were openly read in Parliament from their
spies at Amsterdam, handing over an inventory
of the arms and of all the military stores.|
Nor should the intention of making war be con-
founded with actual war. Warlike prepara-
tions are no proof that war is designed or de-
sired; they may be preventive, or defensive.
Charles without violence to his conscience, and
certainly with the prudence of a statesman,
might solemnly protest that he intended no
War, though at the same time he should be
levying troops.

Clarendon tells us that " that when the Par-
liament accused the King of intending to make
war, they were so far from apprehending that
he would be able to get an army to disturb
them, that they were most assured he would
not be able to get bread to sustain himself for
three months, without submitting all his coun-
sels to their conduct and control." — " Claren-
don says this," exclaims Mr. Brodie, " who only
in the seventh page preceding this one, relates
that War of the most rancorous kind " (the epi-
thet is gratuitous !) " had been determined on
before the Queen left England. Such is the
* Rushworth, iv. 736. t Rushworth, iv. 745.

THE KING OR THE PARLIAMENT?" 43

veracity of Lord Clarendon, that individual pa-
negyrized and followed by Mr. Hume, who
says that he was too honest a man to falsify
facts." Are we now to decree Mr. Brodie a
triumph for aspersing Clarendon, and an ova-
tion for the lesser insult offered to the memory
of the Philosopher ?

Since war had been decided on by the King
before the Queen's departure for Holland, Mr.
Brodie argues, it settles the long-disputed point
of who began the war, in favour of Parliament,
and it shows the faithless narrative of Claren-
don, who at the moment he represents the Par-
liament accusing the King of intending war,
while they had really no such apprehensions
themselves, knew himself that war had been
resolved on by the King. Clarendon, we are
told, had "inadvertently" dropped the import-
ant fact, which Mr. Brodie ungenerously fancies
that his Lordship would not have confessed on
reflection.

The modern historian, in his eagerness to
assert the innocence of Parliament on this oc-
casion, exults in discovering that the King in-
tended war at a period, previous to the Accu-
sation of the Commons, and that Clarendon
knowing this, for he has himself told it, has
reproached the Parliament as accusing the King

44 "WHO BEGAN THE WAK,

of an intention of war, when they were per-
suaded that he could not even raise an army.

The question as it respects " the veracity " of
Clarendon, in this instance, is not what had
been decided on by the King, previous to the
Parliament's declaration, but whether the Par-
liament declared the King's intention of war, at
the very time that they had no apprehensions
of that nature, and that the King was precisely
in the forlorn state which Clarendon has de-
scribed ?

This is easily answered, for there is not a
passage in Clarendon's whole history more au-
thentic than the present one so unreservedly
stigmatised by his accuser. The "veracity" of
the noble writer is fully confirmed by May, the
Parliamentary historian, who on this very inci-
dent of the King raising a Guard at York,
which induced the Parliament's declaration,
observes, " But the kingdom was not much af-
frighted with any forces which the King could
so raise." And shortly after, even when the
King had received some supply of arms and
ammunition from Holland, the same historian
remarks that " He wanted hands to wield those
arms." This was their opinion, and as we have
seen, it was the opinion of Hampden and Pym.
The narrative of Clarendon has neither exagge- •

THE KING OR THE PARLIAMENT?" 45

rated, nor misrepresented, the motives and the
conduct of the Parliament at the moment they
declared the King's intention of war. It was
indeed not long after, in the defection of their
House, that the Commons might have felt the
fears which at first they had feigned. " So
much for the veracity of Clarendon," as Mr.
Brodie exclaims, and so much was due to this
fallacious arraignment.

With Mr. Brodie, the crime of Charles is
the King's disobedience to the Commons, in
not subscribing the Nineteen Dethroning Pro-
positions they shortly afterwards proffered.
With Lord Clarendon the crime of the Par-
liament was their invasion of the Monarchy.
The Scottish Advocate contracts his views by
the narrow standard of a legal case, and would
often by some subtile point, a quibble or a
flaw, put an end to the action. But the lan-
guage and the acts of political men, placed in
the most critical circumstances, are best judged
by the statesman in his prudential wisdom,
and are best explained by the philosopher,
conversant with human nature.

Two of the most illustrious men in our His-
tory convey to us the feelings which actuated
their contemporaries, in this perpetual discus-
sion of who began the Civil War : one is

46 " WHO BEGAN THE WAR,

the Monarch himself, the other is the immortal
Milton.

The torturing reproach of having first begun
the Civil War haunted Charles to the Scaffold
— and in the few last minutes which separated
Life from Death, solemnly the King declared,
appealing to those who could hear him, " All
the world knows that I never did begin a War
first with the two Houses of Parliament — I
call God to witness they began upon Me — It is
the Militia they began upon — They confessed
that the Militia was mine, but they thought it
fit to have it from Me."

Milton after alluding to the warlike appear-
ance of some disbanded officers at Kingston,
the Queen's packing the Crown Jewels, the
attempt on Hull, Charles sending over for
Arms, and calling out Yorkshire and other
Counties, has delivered as a fact to Posterity
that Charles " raised actual forces while the
Parliament were yet petitioning in peace, and
had not one man listed."* Hence, probably,
Acherley derived his " Unarmed Parliament !"
Harris in quoting the statement of Milton,
observed that " there was some truth in these
assertions ;" an extraordinary sort of Historical
Evidence ! However Chronology often corrects
* Iconoclastes, 41.

THE KING OR THE PARLIAMENT?" 47

the anachronisms of Party. The Ordinance for
calling the Militia preceded the Commission of
Array, and the levies of the Earl of Essex took
place when the King had yet only his guard of
Volunteers. The disturbed politics of Milton,
were fraught with all the popular rumours and
passions of that day. On the present occasion,
to me, the Monarch on the Scaffold, appears
superior to the Poet, in the dignity of solemn
truth, and the loftier emotions which appealed
to it.

Thus it happened that two Parties, dated
the same reproachful Event at different Epochs,
to hold themselves guiltless, while they mutu-
ally recriminated for having done that, which
both alike, had long contemplated to do.

48 THE FIRST BATTLE BETWEEN

CHAPTER III.

THE FIRST BATTLE BETWEEN THE KING
AND THE PARLIAMENT.

THE battle of Edge-hill is one of the most
singular recorded in Military history ; it was
the first battle of the Civil Wars, when the
Nation was yet strange to these unnatural
hostilities.

The honest and the honourable men of both
parties dreaded nothing so much as a battle ;
and the people at large had never considered
that the pending discussions of Privilege and
Prerogative were ever to be terminated in a
field of blood ; even the parade of two armies
they flattered themselves would ,only hasten
on a Treaty which might finally set so many
troubles at rest.

It was a war which however instigated
by their leaders in the Metropolis, was not
prompted by the Nation, divided as they were

THE KING AND THE PARLIAMENT. 49

in opinions on new doctrines and influenced by
very opposite interests. One half of England
remained in so neutral a state that some fami-
lies never suspecting a war, had warily distri-
buted their members on both sides, often per-
haps with a view of protecting their estates,
whatever party prevailed, and whole Counties
were so little concerned that they mutually
agreed to sit still and not take up arms against
their neighbours. A curious anecdote of the
times strikingly shows that those who had
neither abilities nor disposition for fighting
were left undisturbed, and seem to have taken
little interest in the battles between King and
Parliament. In the journal of a Yorkshire
Squire who lived in the immediate neighbour-
hood of Mars ton-Moor, it appears that he went
out hunting on the very day of that memo-
rable engagement, but our Sportsman in the
details of his chace has not made even an
allusion to the battle, though the roar of the
Cannon must have echoed to his " Tally-ho !"
This Anecdote I think is told by Horace Wai-
pole ; and a congenial one, evincing the dispo-
sition of some of the common people, to cast a
ludicrous air over the heroes of the Civil War,
of both sides, has been recorded by De Foe
as having happened in his own family. The
VOL. v. E

50 THE FIRST BATTLE BETWEEN

Huntsman of his Grandfather called his pack
by the names of the Roundheads and the
Cavaliers ; Goring and Waller ; so that the
Generals of both armies were hounds in his
pack. When the times turned, too serious for
jesting, it became necessary to scatter the
whole pack, and make them up with more
canine surnames.

It is possible that even the secret instigators
of the Civil War had never contemplated on
those protracted scenes of misery which were
opening for their Father-land. A show of war
might end in a bloodless victory, and at the
worst they had no higher conception of a battle
between their own countrymen, than what
they called " a civil bout." A contemporary
anecdote conveys this idea. On the first
breach between the King and the Parliament,
one deploring the fatal change about to ensue,
another observed " The King and the Subject
must e'en have one civil bout, as we say, and
then we shall all be very good friends again."*
In vain the prudential sagacity of Whitelocke
had presciently warned, that probably few of
them would live to see the end of such a War ;
that they who draw the Sword against the So-
vereign must throw away the Scabbard ; " and

* Harl. MSS, 6395, (503.)

THE KING AND THE PARLIAMENT. 51

that such commotions, like deep seas once
stirred, will be long ere they are again calmed."
The sage Whitelocke voted to provide for
War, but not for War itself. It was however
the unhappiness of both parties to imagine that
a single battle would terminate the conflict,
and when that battle had been fought, it was
as easily imagined that the next would be de-
cisive. But in Civil Wars the first battle is
usually the prognostic of many ; for among its
other calamities, is that of setting up the power
of the Military, particularly when foreign Sol-
diers of fortune are invited, who always studi-
ously prolong the season of their fatal pros-
perity.

The Parliament had recourse to military
men who had seen service in the Netherlands,
to discipline their raw levies. Among these
were many Germans. In some accounts from
the country we find noticed " the honest Ger-
man" who drilled them. Recruits drawn from
the shop, or the wharf, or the manufactory, had
hitherto more ably served them in mobs, than
they could in rank and file. The Parliamen-
tary Colonels who had regiments appointed to
them, were generally country -gentlemen, and
students from the Inns of Court. They were
so inexperienced in their Tactics that they had

52 THE FIRST BATTLE BETWEEN

not yet acquired the technical style. General
Ludlow, that honourable Commonwealth-man,
was evidently something jealous of these im-
ported officers, the mercenaries of Royalty,
some of whom were foreigners, and even sus-
pected of Popery, for he alludes to these Ve-
terans " as a generation of men much cried up
at that time." But Ludlow has himself fur-
nished an anecdote which shows how men who
had never been in action, when once in the
field are but apprentices in their new craft.
In the battle of Edge-hill, among other similar
disasters of the day, one of these Veterans
having drawn up his men into an open space to
make an advantageous charge, gave the word
of command to " Wheel about !" " Our gentle-
men," proceeds Ludlow, " not well understand-
ing the difference between wheeling about, and
shifting for themselves, their backs being now
towards the Enemy, whom they thought to be
close in their rear, flew back to the army in a
very dishonourable manner, and received the
next morning but a cold welcome from the
General."

Even the common precautions of military
discipline had not been practised, and the offi-
cers appear to have been as negligent as the
soldiers. In the Royal army they had the field-

THE KING AND THE PARLIAMENT. 53

word given to know their friends in the heat
of battle, " For God and the King !" but the
Parliamentarians had no word to recognise
their fellows from the enemy, and several in-
stances occurred of their firing on each other.
This error was no doubt soon corrected. At
the sanguinary battle of Mars ton -Moor, the
Field-word of the Parliamentarians, in contra-
distinction of the King's, was " God with us !"
In that day the soldiers seemed to have de-
pended on the colour of their coats as a signal
of recognition ; these however were as various
as their regiments, and it sometimes happened
that both parties wore the same colour. The
King had a red regiment, held to be " The In-
vincible Regiment," consisting of 1200 men.
Among the Parliamentarians they had also a
regiment of Red-coats. There were regiments
of purple, of gray, and of blue.* It required
some recollection when two encountered to as-
certain the friend from the foe, which might de-
pend on the colour, or even the cut of his coat.f
The simple citizens of a provincial town on

* Vicars' Parliamentary Chronicle, second part, 200.

f The Marquis of Newcastle had a regiment composed of
Northumberland Men, called from their dress White Coats.
These Veterans behaved with the utmost gallantry, and
though deserted at Marston-Moor by all their friends, they
formed a ring to oppose Cromwell, and the White Coats fell in

54 THE FIRST BATTLE BETWEEN

a sudden attack, would be startled by the pomp
and glory of an army, which seemed terrible
to those fearful spirits who were hurried from
their quiet labours to defend the avenue, or to
stand at the breach, in the very throat of war.
The siege of Bradford has been described by
one of its own townsmen. In his naive narra-
tive, there is a passage so true to nature, and
withal so forcible in expression, that a higher
genius might not have disdained it. " Every
man was now ordered to his post, armed with
such weapons as he was beforehand provided
withal ; the Church and Steeple were secured in
the best manner we possibly could. They ap-
proached us with the sound of warlike music
and their streamers flying in the air — tremen-
dous sight! enough to make the stoutest heart
to tremble ! to shake the nerves and loose the
joints of every beholder ! Amazing to see the
different effects it had upon others, who were
fired with rage even to madness, and filled with
revenge almost to enthusiasm !" We were at
that time, after twenty years of luxurious peace,
little skilled in military affairs. The French
Resident Sabran, alluding to the critical state of

their ranks without the flight of one man. Whether, from
the colour of their Coats, or their desperate courage, they
also obtained the title of Newcastle's " Lambs."

THE KING AND THE PARLIAMENT. 55

Essex in Cornwall, who must be lost, he said, if
the King seizes on the advantage he has now
over him, and the reinforcements of Waller,
dispatched too late, observed on both parties in
the Civil Wars, " Mais Us font touts si mal la
guerre queje doute sil Taura combat tu, ce qu'il
ne pourra faire si avantageusement, et si ce se-
cours arrive a terns le mettre lui-m^me entre deux
feux? As it happened, Charles on this occa-
sion escaped from Waller by deceiving him in
altering his march.

The truth is, Sabran, accustomed to the mili-
tary tactics of a Continental campaign, was not
aware that in our Civil Wars it was not always
deficient skill which occasioned our bad gene-
ralship. A general was not always in earnest,
and the pursuer in his career would often pause,
to spare the massacre of his fellow-citizens.
Essex, inclined to Peace, seemed always to
have avoided coming to extremities with the
King. His name was untainted by fear, and
his military reputation was the highest in
the kingdom. By his dexterity in raising
the siege of Gloucester he did the Parlia-
ment the greatest service. Essex, at a mo-
ment when he, disliking their proceedings,
felt weary of his new masters, and was himself
in a most critical position, nobly refused the

56 THE FIRST BATTLE BETWEEN

unlimited offer made by the King, in a letter
written by the royal hand, sternly and honour-
ably referring to his Commission, which he said
was " to defend the King's person and his pos-
terity, but for the rest he counselled his Ma-
jesty to apply to his Parliament." On many
occasions indeed, with these mixed feelings, he
seems to have been cautious in pursuing his
advantages. On the King's side they often
deliberated long without coming to any reso-
lution, and as often resolved without delibera-
tion.* The King's most able general, Colonel
Goring, was an airy bacchanalian, who on the
most critical emergency could not be enticed
from the jollities of the table, slighting every
alarmist, till the carouse was concluded. His
rapid genius often repaired his neglect, but on
one great occasion he suffered the Earl of Essex
to escape, not to interrupt the harmony of a
convivial party which he had engaged.

The Parliament had the appearance of an
army before the King could complete a single
regiment, but it was chiefly composed of citi-
zens, and this undisciplined soldiery now saw
themselves opposed to the volunteers in the
King's ranks, men of name, of condition, and
of wealth, while they themselves were so un-
* Bulstrode's Memoirs, 113.

THE KING AND THE PARLIAMENT. 57

known to the world, that, afterwards their loss
was unperceived. Those who fell on the King's
side were too eminent to be passed over. Many
now beheld themselves in arms against those
from whom they were accustomed to solicit
commands, more were marching against those
old companions with whom they had shared
in their common labours. The brother saw his
brother in the ranks he was led on to attack.
A Parliamentary soldier dying of his wounds,
declared that his deepest grief was having re-
ceived his death from the hand of his brother.
Him he had recognised among the royal troops,
and turned aside, but the carabine was impetu-
ously discharged by the hand which had never
before been raised but in affection.

A spirit of chivalric loyalty animated the
slender ranks of the King's army. A spirit so
strange to the political party in the Commons,
that they had not calculated on that awakening
force which had supplied the deserted Monarch,
left as he was without other resources than his
standard and his name, with an army maintain-
ed by the nobility and gentry. The noblemen
and gentlemen who crowded to ride in the
King's own Regiment, commanded by Lord
Bernard Stuart his kinsman, and brother to the
Duke of Richmond, were so wealthy a body of

58 THE FIRST BATTLE BETWEEN

the Aristocracy, that Charles observed, " the re-
venues of those in that single troop would buy
the estates of my Lord of Essex and of all the
officers in his army." Wealth ! has always
been considered by the infirmity of civilized
Man, as the permanent standard of Power ; but
in great Revolutions, where the passions, more
even than the interests of the actors are con-
cerned, the artificial potency of wealth, shrinks
before loftier motives and mightier principles.
The Royal army was inspired by HONOUR,
and the Parliamentary army was led on by
LIBERTY. These are national virtues, more
permanent in their operations and less liable to
consume themselves than that which " maketh
itself wings, and flieth away."

But there was a fatality in the character of
Charles the First, a fatality which arose from
that propensity to favour those who stood most
near to him. Though of cold and retired habits,
his social affections were excessive, and deprived
him of all power of judgment. It is unques-
tionable that this Monarch was deficient in the
acute discernment of the real talents and capa-
city of those persons who were most closely at-
tached to him, a weakness which repeatedly
betrayed him into errors on some of the most
important events of his life. It is observed in

THE KING AND THE PARLIAMENT. 59

one of the suppressed passages of Clarendon,
that " the King always loved his family immo-
derately, and with notable partiality, and was
willing to believe that their high quality could
not be without all those qualities and qualifica-
tions which were equal to it, if they had an
opportunity to manifest those endowments."*
Charles credited them for that which he him-
self possessed. There was a romantic tinge in
the character of Charles the First, it showed
itself in that day -break of his active life, the
stolen voyage of love to Madrid, to its setting-
sun — his long imprisonments. All men about
him witnessed in this Monarch that greatness
of spirit which he was prone to contemplate in
those who were allied to him, or those who
were closest in his intimacy.

This domestic weakness was the first ruinous
error in the Civil Wars of this hapless Monarch.
Charles in exempting Prince Rupert, because
the Prince was his nephew, from receiving or-
ders from any one but himself, and by adopt-
ing the Prince's plans, was confiding his for-
tunes to a juvenile soldier, whose rash spirit and
intolerable haughtiness made his courage his
greatest defect. The Earl of Lindsay, who ac-
tually bore the commission of Commander-in-

* Clarendon, iv. 603.

60 THE FIRST BATTLE BETWEEN

chief, thus became subordinate in power ; and
besides suffering this indignity, that veteran
entirely disagreed with the royal boy's orders
and plans. Unskilled in the military science,
the Prince delighted solely in the impetuosity
of his charge, and in the pursuit of the fugitive.
He would rush on the enemy in view, but
never at any time reflected on those he left be-
hind, and was sure on his victorious return to
find that the battle was lost. Prince Rupert
could never correct his natural deficiencies for
warlike enterprizes, for he repeated the same
error in the three great battles which decided
the fate of Charles. Rupert had great courage,
but neither science nor genius ; he depended
on his impetuous charge and never failed in it.
But it seems that the Military genius, like the
genius of Poetry, requires to be reminded by
that critical verse of Pope, as it was originally
plainly given —

" There are whom Heaven has blest with store of Wit,
Yet want as much again to manage it."

The worse characteristic of this German soldier
was his disposition for plunder, and pillaging
the waggons, which occasioned Prince Rupert
to be called " Prince Robber," being, as Vicars
says, "thievishly wise."* The noble-minded
* Vicars' Parl. Chronicle, Second part, 200.

THE KING AND THE PARLIAMENT. 61

Lindsay would not desert the King for the
error of the royal judgment. Considering
himself however no longer as his General, but
as a private Colonel, he took his station at the
head of his own regiment, to manifest that he
was willing to die for the Sovereign whom he
could not serve.

The Parliament had selected for their Com-
mander-in-chief one who yielded to none in
reputation. The Earl of Essex, whose unfor-
tunate history seems to have occasioned him
the displeasure of the ladies at Court, had been
unaccountably neglected by the King. Essex
had felt the coldness of that neglect, but he
was of a temper which made him but half an
enemy. The royal person was still reverenced
as inviolable in the Constitution, and Essex
looked on the Sovereign with more awe than
on his new masters. The Earl indeed had been
perplexed by the novel doctrine which distin-
guished his allegiance to the King in his corpo-
rate, from his personal capacity ; but stronger
heads than his own, had satisfactorily decided
to arm in the King's name against the King.
Invested with the distinguished title of " His
Excellency," Essex was not insensible to its
gloriole. We may often use the Abbe St.
Pierre's felicitous diminutive of Glory, when

62 THE FIRST BATTLE BETWEEN

the personal vanity of the Egotist predominates
over the more elevated feeling. But there
seems to have been a better motive in the con-
duct of the Earl of Essex, He had flattered
himself, for his new masters had flattered him,
that he should stand in the breach to allay the
passions of the Parliament, and even to direct
their councils, and thus to preserve the nation
in its extremities. Men of middling capa-
city often indulge those bold designs to which
only the greatest are competent.

It was in a state of such vacillating opinions
and afflicted feelings that the two armies met ;
their animosities had not yet fleshed their
swords, and their reluctant spirits weakened at
the onset. Many on both sides alike dreaded
a defeat or a victory.

The battle of Edge-hill is a memorable in-
stance of one of those indecisive actions in
which both parties alike imagined that they
were defeated.

It was on an October morning that suddenly
on the heights of Edge-hill in Warwickshire
was discerned a body of cavalry. It was the
horse of the impetuous Rupert, who had pre-
ceded the Royal troops ; they at intervals were
hastening to rejoin him. Beneath in the plain,

THE KING AND THE PARLIAMENT. 63

called the Vale of the Red Horse,* stood the
Earl of Essex, who had chosen his ground and
arranged his order of battle, awaiting the at-
tack. During several hours the Royalists were
allowed to wind down the steep, without suf-
fering any interruption.

Before the battle Charles severally addressed
his Lords and Colonels in his tent — his soldiers
and his whole army. His speeches on this re-
markable occasion are animated. To the Lords,
Charles rejects with disdain the odious term of
" Malignant," and explains to the soldiers that
of " Cavalier," which had been degraded into
infamy, while the plain republican rudeness
had prided itself on that of " Trooper."

" My Lords, and the rest here present," said
Charles, " your King is both your cause, your
quarrel, and your Captain. The foe is in sight,
now show yourselves no malignant parties, but
with your swords declare what courage and
fidelity is within you. I have written and
declared that I intended always to maintain
the Protestant religion, the privileges of the

* One Brightman on the Revelations, chap. vi. in this
name which the inhabitants of Keinton gave the Meadow
between Stratford-on-Avon and Banbury, " cleared up a
terrible mystery."

64 THE FIRST BATTLE BETWEEN

Parliament, and the liberties of the subject.
Let Heaven show his power by this day's vic-
tory ! Come life and death, your King will
bear you company, and ever keep this field,
this place, and this day's service in his grateful
remembrance !"

" Friends and Soldiers !" exclaimed the Mo-
narch, " you are called Cavaliers and Royalists
in a disgraceful manner. If I suffer in my
fame, needs must you do also. Now show
yourselves my Friends and not Malignants,
fight for your King, the peace of the Kingdom,
and the Protestant religion. The valour of
Cavaliers hath honoured that name both in
France and other countries, and now let it be
known in England, as well as Horseman or
Trooper. The name of Cavalier signifies no-
thing more than a gentleman serving his King
on horseback. Show yourselves therefore now
courageous Cavaliers, and beat back all oppro-
brious aspersions cast upon you.

" Friends and Soldiers ! I look upon you
with joy to behold so great an army as ever
King of England had in these later times. I
thank your loves offered to your King to ha-
zard your lives and fortunes with me, in my
urgent necessity. I see by you that no father
can leave his son, no subject his lawful King.

THE KING AND THE PARLIAMENT. 65

We have marched so long in hope to meet no
enemy, unknowing any at whose hands we de-
serve any opposition. But matters are not to
be declared by words, but by swords. You all
think our thoughts while I reign over your
affections, as well as persons. My resolution is
to try the doubtful chance of war, while with
much grief I must stand to and endure the
hazards. I desire not the effusion of blood,
but since Heaven hath so decreed, and that so
much preparation hath been made, we must
need accept of the present occasion for an ho-
nourable victory and glory to our Crown, since
reputation is that which gilds over the richest
gold, and shall ever be the endeavour of Our
whole reign. Your King bids you all be cou-
rageous, and Heaven make ye victorious !"*

The King gave the solemn word, " Go in
the name of God, and I'll lay my bones with
yours." With his own hand he fired the first
piece, that first shot, the predecessor of years of
national misery! Prince Rupert impetuously
charged the right wing of the Parliamentarians,
who dispersed in all directions, many of these
fugitives never stopping till they reached the
Metropolis, where they brought the first news
of a total defeat. There was also a defection
* Somers' Tracts, Sir Walter Scott's Edition, iv. 478.

VOL. v. r

66 THE FIRST BATTLE BETWEEN

in the army of the Parliament ; an entire re-
giment passed over to the King. Fortune
seemed favourable to the Royalists, and when
Lord Falkland repeatedly pressed Wilmot, who
commanded the King's left wing, to charge on
Sir William Balfour, who with a small un-
broken body of the reserve of Essex's army
was roving about and doing fatal execution,
this General replied, " My Lord, we have got
the day, and let us live to enjoy the fruit."
Yet here the Earl of Lindsay fell, and the
Standard-bearer Sir Edward Varney was killed.
The King himself was in imminent danger, as
well as the Princes ; the bullets dropped near
them, or passed over their heads. Every one
trembled for the King, and Charles was im-
portuned to draw off from the midst of the
action ; but no intreaties availed, and the King
rode into the head-ranks encouraging them to
maintain their ground, by the valour with
which he himself set the example. At length
perceiving the doubtful aspect of the field, he
commanded the Princes to retire. Charles
himself still lingered on the field with some of
his Lords and Officers, but they knew not
what had become of their horse, and their
ranks had visibly thinned.

When Rupert with his cavalry returned

THE KING AND THE PARLIAMENT. 67

from his imprudent victory, and a pursuit
which had been protracted by the plunder of
the baggage of the enemy, he saw the wide
mischief which his rash conduct had occa-
sioned. He found the King in distress with
few attendants ; the officers could not rally
their scattered regiments, and the men were
roving about without their officers. Thus in-
stead of the victory which Rupert had so rash-
ly anticipated, the Prince saw " the hope of so
glorious a day quite vanished." It seems pro-
bable that had Prince Rupert not pursued the
enemy too far, and lost so much time in plun-
dering their waggons, he would have returned
in triumph to annihilate the Parliament's forces,
and it might have been doubtful whether a se-
cond army could ever have been collected. It
is remarkable of this battle between disciplined
and undisciplined troops, of military men and
civic volunteers, that the greatest slaughter on
the side of the Parliament was of such as run
away, and on the Royalist, of those who stood
and fell in their ranks.*

The day was closing, and the King was ad-
vised to abandon the field, but on this, his first
martial exploit, Charles displayed that intre-
pid decision and that prodigal gallantry which
* Ludlow, an unexceptionable witness, i. 44.
F 2

68 THE FIRST BATTLE BETWEEN

afterwards he had so many occasions to show to
the world. Charles was sensible that the soul
of his little army lay in his own conduct, as the
raising of it had been by his own person ; and
he thought as he declared, to use the words of
Clarendon, that " it was unprincely to forsake
them who had forsaken all they had to serve
him." The King perceived, and perhaps he
wondered, that the Parliamentarians did not
look as if they considered themselves as victors.
Those spiritless troops of Citizen-soldiers seem-
ed to place their safety in keeping close toge-
ther in an immoveable position.

At this moment whoever had offered to ad-
vance, had probably struck a panic in his ad-
versary, and had obtained an instant victory.
Charles attempted to rally the cavalry for a
fresh charge on Balfour, who since the return
of Prince Rupert had ceased his active opera-
tions ; but the troopers declared that their
horses were so tired that they could not ven-
ture on a charge. Both parties were satisfied
to look on each other.

The night parted them, " that common friend
to wearied and dismayed armies." It was a cold
October night with a sharp frost on the ground,
and piercing northerly winds, trying the strength
of men on the King's side, who had not tasted

THE KING AND THE PARLIAMENT. 69

food for forty-eight hours. The condition of
the Royal army was far worse than the other.
The King would not leave the open field, sit-
ting by a scanty fire kindled by bushes and
brushwood. Charles dreaded the morning,
when his thinned ranks would expose his weak-
ness to the observation of the enemy. Some-
times they flattered themselves, while all seem-
ed quiet, that the Parliamentarians had re-
treated ; but at break of day they were found
standing on the same spot. It is said that Es-
sex could not venture to retreat, lest his men
should disperse and run away ; but he had pro-
vided his honest citizens with plentiful provi-
sions, which, invested with the plenary Parlia-
mentary power, he had levied on towns and
villages, while the King's party, who the pea-
santry had been told consisted of those terrible
Papists of whom they had heard so much, found
no friends, but were forsaken to perish with
cold and hunger.

Thus the King kept the field, and Essex did
not lose his ground. The Parliamentarians
were not conquered, nor were the Royalists
defeated. Both armies continued looking on
each other the whole day.

At length the King, to rest his wearied men,
commanded them back to their old quarters,

70 THE FIRST BATTLE BETWEEN

and Essex withdrew to Warwick Castle with
his prisoners, yet not without marks of trepi-
dation, for in his haste, he left behind his
wounded, and many carriages, and his rear suf-
fered themselves to tie chased by some of the
King's horse. The loss on Essex's side trebled
the King's, but the great names which had pe-
rished, or which were included among the pri-
soners, made the Earl's claim to this disputed
victory more apparent to the world ; while the
Royalists, when shortly after Banbury surren-
dered to the King, appealed to the pursuit of
their retreating enemy, as an evidence of the
victory of Edge-hill. It signified little who
were the conquerors, when both armies were
equally desirous of leaving the other.

The singular circumstance of both parties,
after the battle, refusing either to fly, or to
renew the attack, Clarendon considered incom-
prehensible. The Duke of Argyle and Lord
Cobham in a conversation with Warburton,
deciding as military men, insisted that Essex
should have pressed on the King, or followed
him up closely. When the King saw Essex
neglect this advantage, and retreat northwards,
the King should have marched to London and
ended the war at a blow. But Warburton,
looking more narrowly into moral causes and

THE KING AND THE PARLIAMENT. 71

the hidden passions of the leaders, as a pro-
found politician, solved the incomprehensible
problem of Clarendon. Essex's views and prin-
ciples would not suffer him to destroy the King,
no more than some of Charles's friends wished
the King to take the Metropolis by conquest,
and had therefore, in council, dissuaded him
from the march to London. It is certain that
many Royalists dreaded a victory on their
own side, lest Charles should imagine that he
had conquered the nation. They cherished a
hope that the Parliament, if prevented from
obtaining a victory over the King, would stand
as a perpetual barrier against any future arbi-
trary measures. Both parties dreaded to con-
quer the other as much as to be conquered.
Such is the distracted state of a Civil War !

While this memorable action was proceed-
ing, the terror of the Metropolis was not less
than that experienced in the field. It is cu-
rious to observe the nature of those rumours
and the panic of those flights which a great
battle produces on a Capital whose safety de-
pends on the results. The first fugitives, who
had been broken and dispersed by Prince Ru-
pert's cavalry, had hurried on in breathless
agony, to declare that all was lost, that the
King's army was terrible; and as their fears

72 THE FIRST BATTLE BETWEEN

multiplied, some imagined a number of inci-
dents which appear not to have occurred. The
Earl of Essex had fallen in the field, and with
his dying words bade every one shift for him-
self! The whole of Monday the City was in
terror. Late in the afternoon, dispatches from
the Earl of Essex himself, acknowledged the
impression made on his horse, but that the
conclusion was prosperous. Yet, so far beyond
their hopes went their fears, that the dispatches
of the Earl were not credited. The Lord Has-
tings entering the House with ghastly looks,
had declared that he himself had witnessed the
destruction of the army. His Lordship indeed
had been among the foremost of the fugitives,
and seemed scarcely to know how he had es-
caped. In the horror and consternation of
eight-and-forty hours, every man paid and un-
derwent a full penance and mortification for
the hopes and insolence of three months before
— sarcastically observes Clarendon.

At length two Members arrived from the
army, and their statements being as favour-
ably drawn up as affairs admitted, the House
voted that their army had obtained a victory,
and appointed a solemn thanksgiving. It was
declared in Parliament and it was announced
in Guildhall. Still many who were returning

THE KING AND THE PARLIAMENT. 73

from the scene of action spread the most con-
tradictory accounts, some asserting that the two
Members themselves had seen little or nothing
of that horrible day's business. The King im-
mediately after the action having taken Ban-
bury, confirmed the more disastrous accounts,
nor could his uninterrupted march to Oxford,
while the Earl had retreated to Warwick, be
denied. At length the Parliament committed
every one to prison who reported that the King
had the better in the field. An arbitrary mea-
sure which increased the suspicions of the poli-
tical sceptics of a victory which seemed to de-
pend on the Votes of the Commons.

The battle of Edge-hill was in truth neither
a victory nor a defeat, but it was the first battle
of the Civil Wars, the seed of six years of na-
tional affliction !

74 THE MILITARY LIFE OF

CHAPTER IV.

THE MILITARY LIFE OF CHARLES THE FIRST.

MILITARY heroism excites the admiration
of the world, more than any other virtue. It
seems to be the original sin of our nature to
be more interested by action than by repose.
Power which destroys, astonishes mankind more
than Power which perpetuates. A philoso-
pher once inquired into the cause of that
restlessness and disorder in man which he
could not discover in any other animal. He
might have recollected, that no other animal
is endowed with that proud Reason which is
doomed to be tormented by glory, and never
satiated by self-love. As a Captain, the King
is not considered to have been among the in-
ferior Generals of his own country. He was
unquestionably the bravest of his age. Our
Commanders in the Civil War seem to have
had little experience in their Art, till the genius

CHARLES THE FIRST. 75

of Cromwell showed that he combated for Vic-
tory. The fearlessness and intrepidity of the
King have even extorted the applause of his
bitterest enemies, so bewitching is personal cou-
rage ! But his, too, was that nobler moral
courage which could sustain defeat, unmoved
by despair ; a quality which does not always ac-
company the animal energy and dashing spirit
of brutish heroes.

One of our most popular authors has con-
veyed to some readers an erroneous impression
of Charles the First when amidst his army, in
the well-known " Memoirs of a Cavalier." The
animated narrative of this fiction is wrought
with such dexterity, and the events are detailed
with such precision, that the great Lord Chat-
ham mistook it for an authentic history, recom-
mending it as the best account of the Civil
Wars. He was not a little mortified when that
illusion was dissipated. More than once I have
seen copious extracts from this suppositions
narrative given as authorities by grave writers
of history.* It is one of those historical Ro-

* De Foe's " Cavalier" has been printed under four dif-
ferent titles, probably adapted to the different designs of the
Editors. One is called "The History of the Civil Wars in
Germany, from 1630 to 1635 ; also genuine Memoirs of the
Wars of England in the unhappy reign of Charles the First.
Written by a Shropshire Gentleman, who personally sined on

76 THE MILITARY LIFE OF

mances which are very like Truth, and there-
fore the worse for the likeness, for it is

" A false Duessa, seeming Lady faire I" *

" The Cavalier " pretends that he had " fre-
quent discourses with his Majesty," and on one
occasion satisfactorily showed the King how
the battle which he had lost might have been
gained. From this presumed intimacy, we
should have expected to have learnt some-

tke Royal side during the unhappy contests in England." New-
ark, 1782. The late Mr. John Nichols, whose bibliographi-
cal knowledge of English books was considerable, in his
costly History of Leicestershire, was so fascinated by a pro-
vincial edition, and by the " Shropshire Gentleman who per-
sonally served," that he has largely transcribed from this
Romance for an authentic narrative of the siege of Leicester,
without being aware that he was alloying his antiquarian
metal with a modern brass. Nichols' Leicestershire, iii. app.
41. — It is a curious fact, that a similar error to that of Lord
Chatham's happened to Jackson of Exeter, who had some
claims to literary distinction as well as to musical celebrity.
He always considered that De Foe's " History of the Plague"
was written by a contemporary, from its minute details, and
the many natural incidents so forcibly invented. Nor is this
surprising, since a learned physician, I think Dr. Mead, writ-
ing on " the Plague," refers to that extraordinary historical
Romance by the same writer. All this is highly honourable
to the genius of De Foe, but by no means to historical Ro-
mances, for the dangerous deception successfully practised
even on enlightened men.

* Spenser.

CHARLES THE FIRST. 77

thing of the habits and character of Charles
the First, when amidst his camp — in the hour
of battle — and on his constant marches.
These omissions were not forborne from any
purpose which many have had of depreciating
the personal character of Charles, for De Foe
has vindicated the Monarch from the re-
proaches of the public libels of the times,
which denounce him for a Tyrant reckless of
the blood of his subjects: "The Cavalier"
acknowledging that " He never saw any in-
clination in his Majesty to cruelty, or to act
any thing not practised by men of honour in
all nations." On one occasion, the Cavalier
had told us that " When he was in Germany
with the King of Sweden, we used to see
the King with the General Officers every
morning on horseback viewing his men, his
artillery, his horses, and always something
going forwards ;" but that he had the least di-
version in the English army, where, he pro-
ceeds, " The King was seldom seen among us,
and seldom without Courtiers and Clergymen,
Parsons and Bishops, always about him." This
happened when the English army was at York,
on the first invasion of the Scots. That Ex-
pedition, we have already shown, was a mere
parade of War, and as Charles himself acknow-

78 THE MILITARY LIFE OF

ledged, that Army was never designed for
fighting. The reader who views Charles once
placed in this ridiculous attitude, and hears no-
thing farther of his conduct during these Civil
Wars at which our Cavalier assures us he was
present, cannot avoid receiving a very ordinary
impression of the military life of this Monarch.
Had De Foe known what we could tell him,
that picturesque artist amidst his inventions
had sketched a prominent figure of Charles
during many years, unwearied, unsubdued by
Calamity, and wrestling with Fate.

We have several addresses of the King to
his army, or to the inhabitants of places whom
he summoned to meet him. They are not
formal orations. Having addressed the Somer-
setshire Men, he concludes — " Your cheerful-
ness in this service I shall requite if it be in
my power ; if I live not to do it, I hope this
young man, my Son, your fellow-soldier in
this expedition, will, to whom I shall particu-
larly give it in charge."* In pointing to the
Prince who was by, and in uttering the lan-
guage of the heart, " this young man, my Son,
and your fellow-soldier," was an appeal to the
social feelings of the multitude which must
* Rushworth, v. 690.

CHARLES THE FIRST. 79

have found a response in the breast of every
man.

Sabran, the French Resident, had several in-
terviews with Charles the First, passing over
to the King at different times from the Metro-
polis. The Frenchman was little prepossessed
in favour of the King ; his " Instructions " had
hinted to him that Charles had never returned
" the affectionate offers " of France.

He is surprised to find that " The King is
prodigal of his exertions, and astonishingly
laborious. He is more frequently on his horse
than in his coach, from morning till night
marching with his infantry. The soldiers
seem conscious of all the cares and the wants
of their King, satisfying themselves gaily with
the little he can do for them, and marching
with all their hearts (marchant de coeur), as it
appears to me, to another battle, to which the
troops of the Parliament, better armed, seem to
be leading them. I have seen them all, and
considered them well." In another passage
Sabran is more deeply affected by the conduct
of Charles. " I can assure you that he is to
my mind a King the most laborious, the most
judicious, and the least rash (empresse) in such
bad affairs, personally giving and directing all

80 THE MILITARY LIFE OF

his orders, even to the least ; never signing a
paper without a strict consideration ; and the
King is as often on foot as on horseback at the
head of his army. His Britannic Majesty de-
sires Peace, but from his knowledge of the
contempt with which his inclination is re-
ceived, he is bent on War. Although the
King in my opinion will open the Campaign
with advantage rather than loss, (this was in
April 1645,) yet he has such inadequate re-
sources that one cannot hope for him long."
Not two months afterwards, Fairfax, the new
Commander-in-Chief, gave a total overthrow
to the King's army, and the reverses of Charles
fast followed.

At Naseby, where, as Clarendon so mourn-
fully tells, " The King and the Kingdom were
lost," a sentiment, says Warburton, dictated
by a generous despair and as nobly expressed,
Fortune for ever deserted the Royal Standard.
The self-possession and the dauntless intre-
pidity of the King in the hour of action was
on that day put to trial. Charles would have
reconquered the lost battle. The King rode
encouraging with voice and hand the men, often
exclaiming, " One charge more, and we recover
the day !" Twice, Sabran notices, the King
rallied the infantry, but suddenly the cavalry

CHARLES THE FIRST. 81

turned, and were all in flight. The infantry
perceiving themselves abandoned, whole bat-
talions flung down their arms. Charles, re-
gardless of his person, was rushing into the
midst of the Enemy, when the Scotch Earl
of Carneworth suddenly laid his hand on the
bridle of the King's horse, exclaiming with
two or three broad Scottish oaths, " Will you
go upon your death in an instant ?" From one
who was present at this action, we learn that
the King hardly escaped by charging with his
own troop of horse solely, through the body of
the Enemy.*

It is remarkable, that in this the most im-
portant battle, where the parties met with equal
desires and hopes, the action was the least san-
guinary of all in the Civil Wars. The killed
were few, and the prisoners very many. The
number of standards taken astonished Sabran,
who observed as the prisoners passed by his
window, that among three thousand of Charles's
infantry there were not more than two or three
carts of the wounded, and not more than eight
or ten Cavaliers, prisoners. This account is
confirmed by Ludlow, who calculates the total
of the prisoners at six thousand. " This vic-
tory," adds the Republican General, " was ob-

* Iter Carolinum, Gutch's Miscellanea Curiosa, ii. 442.
VOL. V. G

82 THE MILITARY LIFE OF

tained with the loss of a very few on our side,
and not above three or four hundred of the
Enemy.*

What then occasioned such a complete dis-
comfiture on the side of the Royalists ? It is
evident that a panic had seized on the cavalry.
Clarendon is the only writer who has ventured

* Hume has taken up some account of this battle, which
differs from the present. " The slain on the side of the Par-
liament exceeded those on the side of the King. They lost
a thousand men, He not above eight hundred." The ac-
counts of the killed in battles are very suppositious ; each .
party lessening their own and multiplying those of the
Enemy ; but as all agree in the present case, to the immense
crowd of prisoners, we may be certain it was occasioned by
some uncommon accident.

As a specimen of the lying accounts which were bolstered
up even by the Parliament to deceive the people, Josiah
Ricraft, who has exerted his pen in commemorating " Eng-
land's Champions" and " Truth's faithful Patriots," pretends
to give an exact account of the loss incurred by both the
King and the Parliament, in these Civil Wars. He counts
over the slain in every place, and every action, and the total
is, as he intended before he began to count, that the com-
mon soldiers slain on the King's side amount to 21,560,
while the total on the Parliament's is only 2533. He seems
not to have been aware that this very statement proves how
greatly the King divided the common people with the Par-
liament, notwithstanding the immense resources they held
in their hands, and that the King had little more than his
name.

CHARLES THE FIRST. 83

to account for this extraordinary panic, and he
does this, by alluding to the trivial incident
of the Earl of Carneworth suddenly turning
round the King's horse by snatching the bri-
dle ! Instantly the word ran through the troops
" to march to the right," which " led them
from charging the Enemy, turning their horses
all rode away upon the spur" — Sauve qui se
pent. On a panic terror, even on an accident
as inconsiderable as the one alleged by the
noble historian, have doubtless turned the for-
tunes of battles ; but in the present case, it is
evident that the imminent peril in which the
King stood was equally participated by his
cavalry, and the single cry to " march to the
right," that is, to march away ! was not un-
willingly obeyed simultaneously by all. The
astonishment of Sabran that there were only
" eight or ten Cavaliers" among the prisoners,
implies that the panic-stricken cavalry and the
infantry who laid down their arms, were form-
ed of raw recruits, or ordinary soldiery. The
Cavaliers, that is, the men of rank and honour,
fell in their ranks, maintaining their gallantry
on the ground which they covered when dead.
Of three or four hundred killed of the Roy-
alists, as Ludlow tells us, we learn from Cla-
rendon, that " there were above one hundred

G 2

84 THE MILITARY LIFE OF

and fifty officers and gentlemen of prime qua-
lity dead upon the spot, whose memories
ought to be preserved."

It is a curious fact that a great reverse had
occurred in the state of the two armies during
the Civil Wars. The spirit of Loyalty was sur-
rounded by illusions. The Royalists believed
their cause to be the only lawful one ; that the
name of the King was itself " more than thirty
thousand ;" and that the people would fight
for the Crown, as they expressed it, " though
it hung but on a hawthorn hedge." Their
deeds vouched their honour ; but their con-
fidence betrayed their presumption ; Presump-
tion which is only Hope run mad. They
seemed not sensible that a part of the nation
had become another people. It was not only
that Sovereignty was contemned, but that new
interests had risen in opposition to the old.
Deprived of their estates, the Royalists ac-
quired nothing by a fugitive victory ; it was a
blaze which extinguished itself. Careless, gay
and dissipated, the Royalists rarely acted in
concert ; they attacked but in hope. Vigilant
to preserve their pay and their spoil, and for
ever lost if they could not save themselves, the
Parliamentarians combated in despair. The
moral force of the parties became every year

CHARLES THE FIRST. 85

more unequal. There was also another cause
of the unprosperous state of the Royalist army.
From the difficulty which the King had found
both in paying and subsisting his men, his
levies were often raised suddenly, and neces-
sarily were now composed of raw undisciplined
recruits. The Commissariat, which the greatest
captain of our times has described as the soul
of an army, seems then to have been as un-
known as the term. There was no want of
men, had Charles the means to subsist them.
Sir Henry Slingsby notices that having once
collected three hundred men who flocked to
his summons, having not the means of pro-
viding for them, he was compelled to disband,
and send them back to their homes. They
were ready to fight for the King, but they
required also to be fed.

On the Parliament's side, under Cromwell
and Fairfax, the troops had not only greatly
improved in the strictness of their discipline,
and the quality of the men, but they were now
acting under the influence of a principle which
worked in the field, greater miracles than the
whole military art. Under Cromwell his Par-
liamentarians were no longer as he described
them to have been, " decayed serving-men,
broken tapsters, and these without religion."

86 THE MILITARY LIFE OF

That extraordinary man, who had long witness-
ed the noble sacrifices of the Cavaliers, now
meditated to oppose the spirit of Religion to
the principle of Honour. It is his own avowal
in a speech to Parliament. We have some-
times smiled at his army halting to sing a
psalm — it was as exciting as the Marseillois
hymn.* Cromwell was a vast genius, because
he derived his greatness, not merely from his
deeds, but from a higher source, from a prin-
ciple which in the present instance unfolds the
philosophy of a Montesquieu. With Crom-
well's turn of mind, like another Mahomet, he
might have founded a new religion. He
prayed, and wept, and had all the unction of
inspiration. He rarely disputed on doctrinal
points, but he poured himself out on Free-
Grace. Baxter who well knew Cromwell, con-
veys a very lively notion of his art of oratory.
" Of a sanguine complexion, naturally of such
a vivacity, hilarity, and alacrity, as another
man hath when he hath drunken a cup too
much. "I But the man who was not hardy
enough to make himself king, dreading the
pistols of a few of his brothers in arms, was
too wary in his enthusiasm, acting with others,

* See note at the end of the chapter,
t Baxter's Life, 57, fo.

CHARLES THE FIRST. 87

rather than doing that in which he must have
stood alone, unguarded by the sympathies of
those who surrounded him.

The character of a commander is not only
displayed in a campaign, but in its vicissitudes,
in the trying hour of his defeat, when the col-
lectedness of his thoughts is to retrieve the past,
and in the presence of mind when defection, or
open mutiny, are to be repressed by courageous
castigation. Charles, the retired Charles adapt-
ed to adorn the interior of a palace by the arts
he loved, and the seclusion he courted, now
wearing out his robust frame in hard campaigns
by night and day, even when lowest in fortune,
preserved the same unalterable spirit. It is
certain that few have possessed such an entire
self-control as this Monarch; this was pro-
bably a constitutional virtue ; it would be of a
higher rank if we conceive it to have been the
acquirement of his philosophy — whatever it
was, it originated however in no deficiency of
sympathy. We may recollect the extraordi-
nary manner in which he received, to him the
most afflicting intelligence, the catastrophe of
the Duke of Buckingham, which was secretly
communicated to him while at chapel — he re-
mained unmoved ! He showed the same un-
disturbed magnanimity when standing in the

88 THE MILITARY LIFE OF

tower of the wall of Chester he saw his troops
in a sally defeated, and his friend Lord Litch-
field slain at a moment when such a loss was
irretrievable. Sir Henry Slingsby who was
about the King, has noticed the imperturbable
character of Charles. " Here," says this honest
memorialist, "I do wonder at the admirable
temper of the King, whose constancy was such
that no perils never so unavoidable could move
him to astonishment, but that still he set the
same face and settled countenance upon what-
soever adverse fortune befell him, and neither
was he exalted by prosperity nor dejected in
adversity, which was the more admirable in
him, seeing he had no other to have recourse
unto, but must bear the whole burthen upon
his own shoulders."* Indeed the self-command
of Charles the First finds hardly a parallel in
the history of man. When this Monarch re-
ceived the fatal intelligence that the Scots had
resolved to deliver him up to the English Par-
liament, he was engaged at chess ; his companion
struck with amazement stopped his play; the
King desired him to proceed, preserved silence,
and won the game ! Such a revolution of fortune
might have startled one of Plutarch's heroes.
I shall now furnish an extraordinary instance

* Memoirs of Sir Henry Slingsby, 82.

CHARLES THE FIRST. 89

of the King's spirited and firm conduct in a
mutiny which was not known to our historians.
After the battle of Naseby, at Welbeck the
King held one of the most important councils
of war which occurred during his fugitive
reign. Should he march for Scotland to join
Montrose, or return to Oxford to attempt a
treaty with the Parliament ? The council were
equally divided in their opinions ; the King
inclined to those who were for marching to
Scotland. It was sometime after that one
morning orders had actually been issued to
rendezvous in Worksop Park, when an express
arrived announcing the defeat of Montrose, and
the face of war, in an instant, changed !

The King retreated to Newark as the near-
est place of safety. At this moment Charles
the First seemed at the lowest ebb of his for-
tunes. Bristol had most unexpectedly capitu-
lated under Prince Rupert, by which the King
suffered the immediate loss of many towns, and
shortly after all the West of England. Lord
Digby too had been just routed at Sherborne.
Misfortune trod on the heels of Misfortune.
Factions and disagreements and personal jea-
lousies, the usual consequences attendant on
discomfited troops, were dividing into parties
the fragments of the Royal army.

90 THE MILITARY LIFE OF

The astonishing surrender of Bristol, on terms
not honourable to the Prince, was hardly for-
given, after his assurance of keeping that city
for four months. The King addressed two
energetic letters to his nephews, which in a
view of his character deserve our notice. The
agony of his despair appears in a remarkable
postscript to a letter the King wrote to Secre-
tary Nicholas. " Tell my son that I shall less
grieve to hear that he is knocked on the head,
than that he should do so mean an action as is
the rendering of Bristol Castle and Fort upon
the terms it was."

That fatal blow reversed all his hopes ; he
calls it " the greatest trial of my constancy that
hath yet befallen me;" the depth and bitter-
ness of this feeling can only appear by the letter
which the King addressed to Prince Rupert.
I have transcribed it from the original in a
private collection, preserving in this instance
the peculiarity of the Royal orthography.
Charles had never been taught to spell his
words, but wrote them down by the ear.*

* From the Autograph Collection of W. BENET, Esq.
M.P. This gentleman informed me that he is the possessor
of near two thousand letters of the times of Charles the
First, in which are included a number of Royal letters, and
an entire journal of Prince Rupert, during his maritime life

CHARLES THE FIRST. 91

TO PRINCE RUPERT.

Hereford, 14th Sept. 16-15.
" NEPHEU,

" THOUGH the loss of Bristol be a great blow
to me, yet your surrendring it as you did, is
of so much affliction to me, that it makes me
forget not only the consideration of that place,
but is lykewaies the greatest tryall of my con-
stancy that hath yet befalen me ; for, what is
to be done ? After one, that is so neer me as
you ar both in blood and frendship, submits
himself to so meane an action (I give it the
easiest terme) such, I have so much to say,
that I will say no more of it, only least rashness
of judgement be layed to my charge, I must
remember you of your letter of the 12th of
Aug. whereby you assured me (that if no mu-

when he took with him some remaining ships of the English
navy, on his leaving our shores. The Prince was not heard
of for some years. He had taken with him great treasure,
but he returned only with some worm-eaten ships, and by
accidents at sea had lost his treasure (and his brother Mau-
rice.) It would be curious to learn how Rupert passed away
these years floating on the ocean, and whether the Prince
ever turned Buccaneer ? The tale remains untold. As Mr.
Benet's collection is at his residence in Wiltshire, I had only
an opportunity of transcribing the present letter, which I have
since found in Clarendon, with the orthography modernised.

92 THE MILITARY LIFE OF

tiny hapned) you would keepe Bristol for fower
monthes ; did you keep it fower dayes ? Was
there any thing like mutiny ? More questions
might be asked, but now I confesse to little
purpose. My conclusion is to desyre you to
seek your subsistence (untill it shall please God
to determine my condition) somewhere beyond
seas, to which end I send you herewith a passe,
and I pray God to make you sensible of your
present condition, and give you means to re-
deme what you have lost : for I shall have no
greater joy in a victory than a just occasion
without blushing, to assure you of my being
your loving oncle and most faithful friend,

" CHARLES B,."

A week had hardly elapsed ere the mortified
feelings of Charles somewhat subdued by sor-
row, awakened his domestic affections for his
other nephew Maurice. The youth of this
Prince required exhortations for the future^
and consolation for the past, but neither could
he receive, save from the encouragement of his
Sovereign and his Relative. If we take both
these remarkable letters together, they will dis-
play such tenderness for the younger Prince,
and such a majestic correction of the elder, that

CHARLES THE FIRST. 93

perhaps on no occasion does the character of
the man break out in a more trying hour. We
view Charles in a light assuredly in which
others have studied to avoid placing him. The
letter to Prince Maurice I have transcribed from
the original in the Harleian Collection.

TO PRINCE MAURICE.

Newtoune, 20th Sept. 1645.
" NEPHEW,

" WHAT through want of time or unwill-
ingness to speak to you of so unpleasant a
subject, I have not yet (which now I must
supply) spoken to you freely of your brother
Rupert's present condition : the truth is, that
his unhandsome quitting the Castle and Fort
of Bristol, hath inforced me to put him off
those commands which he had in my army, and
have sent him a pass to go beyond sea. Now
though I could do no less than this, for which
believe me, I have too much .reason upon strict
examination, yet I assure you that I am most
confident that this great error of his, which in-
deed hath given me more grief than any mis-
fortune since this damnable Rebellion, hath no
way proceeded from his change of affection to
me or my cause, but merely by having his

94 THE MILITARY LIFE OF

judgment seduced by some (rotten-hearted*)
villains making fair pretensions to him, and I
am resolved so little to forget his former services,
that whensoever it shall please God to enable
me to look upon my friends like a King, he shall
thank God for the pains he hath spent in my
armies. So much for him, now for yourself.
I know you to be so free from his present mis-
fortune, that it no ways staggers me in that
good opinion which I have ever had of you,
and so long as you shall not be weary of your
employments under me, I will give you all the
encouragement and contentment that lies in
my power ; however, you shall always find me
Your loving uncle and most assured friend,

" CHARLES R."f

It was after the reception of these letters,
that Prince Rupert with his accustomed im-
petuosity proceeded towards the King, and
reached Belvoir Castle with his brother and
about two hundred of his officers. The King

* This in the original is an interlineation; the forcible
expression was recollected by Charles ; he had formerly heard
it from the mobs, who on one occasion, we find, alluded to
"rotten-hearted Lords." It was probably no unusual term
at that day.

f Harleian MSS. 6988. 115.

CHARLES THE FIRST. 95

required him not to advance till farther orders.
The next day, however, Rupert proceeded, and
Sir Richard Willis the Governor of Newark,
one of the Prince's party in that fugitive Court,
now torn by the factions of the army, went out
with a company of cavalry to meet the con-
tumacious Prince, a ceremony which he had
never paid to the King himself. Accompanied
by this train, Rupert, regardless of any usual
ceremony, came into the presence, and came,
he said, to justify himself. The King spoke
with cold reserve, occasionally addressed him-
self to Prince Maurice : rose early from supper,
and retired, to close any farther intercourse. On
the following day Rupert was allowed to make
his defence, and after a day or two of debate,
the Prince was absolved from any treason in
the surrender of Bristol, but he was not cleared
from the charge of indiscretion.

The Governor of Newark, Sir Richard Wil-
lis, who had sided with the Prince, was living
on ill terms with the King's resident Commis-
sioners, who had proved themselves zealous in
their master's cause. To put an end to these
feuds, the King appointed Lord Bellasis Go-
vernor of Newark, but previously had privately
communicated his intention to Willis, and ap-
pointed him to be Captain of his Horse-guards

96 THE MILITARY LIFE OF

in the place of the Earl of Litchfield, who had
recently fallen before Chester. It was a com-
mand, says Clarendon, fit for any subject.
Charles used the most gracious expressions, and
without censuring the conduct of the Gover-
nor, observed it was easier to remove one per-
son, than to reform the complainants. Willis
seemed troubled, and desired to be excused
from serving in a place of too great honour, ill
adapted to his means. Willis added that his
enemies would triumph at his expense, and the
King promised to take care of his support, and
insisted that no one could be considered as dis-
graced who was placed so near his person.
When the King was at dinner, Sir Richard
Willis, with both the Princes, Lord Gerrard
and twenty officers, entered into the presence-
chamber. Willis addressing the King, declared
that he was dishonoured! Prince Rupert af-
firmed that Willis had been removed from his
Government for no fault but that of being his
friend. Lord Gerrard asserted that the whole
was a plot of Lord Digby, whom he would
prove to be a traitor. At this the King rose in
disorder from table, and would have had Sir
Richard Willis withdraw with him to more
privacy, but Willis insolently replied that " he
had received a public injury, and expected a

CHARLES THE FIRST. 97

public satisfaction." The King was startled at
this hardihood, and indignantly commanded
them all to depart from his presence, and to
come no more into it. The looks and gestures
of the King were unusually agitated, and the
party themselves seemed at least confounded —
if not repentant. I have here followed the
narrative of Clarendon, who however has tran-
scribed the whole from the pages of Sir Ed-
ward Walker, which had been written under
the King's eye. Clarendon concludes his nar-
rative thus. " They departed the room asham-
ed of what they had done, YET as soon as they
came to the Governor's house, they sounded to
horse, intending to be presently gone."

Here the narrative of Clarendon abruptly
closes, though by that remarkable yet, it is evident
that if they departed with " shame," they con-
tinued to be refractory when " they reached the
Governor's house, and sounded to horse." Cla-
rendon only farther tells us that this-" unheard-
of insolence quickly brought the Lords who
were absent and all the gentlemen in the town
to the King with expressions full of duty, and a
very tender sense of the usage he had endured ;"
and we only discover by Sir Edward Walker's
original narrative, that " in a consultation on
what was to be done, it was resolved to let

VOL. v. H

98 THE MILITARY LIFE OF

them go, and not to take any more notice of
their madness. " This resolution," continues
Walker, " proceeded rather from his Majesty's
mercy than justice, for if he had pleased he
might have punished them at his pleasure for
this insolency, all the foot, and most of the gen-
tlemen in town expecting orders what to do"
Why " all the foot ?" Here is an extraordinary
bustle among the troops and no adequate cause
assigned.

It seems to me that Charles in this narrative
which he had himself corrected, as appears by
his own hand-writing, purposely obscured a
painful incident, which his feelings were too
poignant to detail, and which his delicacy from
being himself personally concerned and the
honour of his nephew involved in it, prevented
him from perpetuating, though in suppressing
it, the narrative betrays " a tale half-told."

The incident, which is here given to illus-
trate the military character of Charles the First
now occurred. I have drawn it from the manu-
script Memoirs of Lord Belasyse or Bellasis,
written by his Secretary Joshua Moore.

As soon as the parties had left the King,
and reached the Governor's house, where they
" sounded to horse," Prince Rupert with all his
Officers drew up their cavalry in the Market-

CHARLES THE FIRST. 99

place at Newark ; the town was thrown into a
state of mutiny. The Prince then accompa-
nied by most of the Officers waited on his Ma-
jesty, with a declaration that finding themselves
no longer trusted, they desired to have passes
granted to go beyond the seas. The King
with much surprise, but with more courage and
scorn, told them that " The passes to leave his
service should be granted, not only to leave the
kingdom, but never more to make use of their
swords." I have transcribed the King's spirit-
ed and prompt reply from the manuscript.
Charles, however, did not conclude by the mere
severity of the sarcasm. On the return of
these officers to their men, Charles called for
his horse, and immediately marched with sword
and pistols, to the Market-place, having given
orders to change the Prince in case of any re-
sistance from the mutineers. The King, sword
in hand, advanced from the ranks, calling on
the Prince — " Nephew ! why are you thus in
arms?" — " To defend ourselves against our ene-
mies."— " I command you," said the King, " to
march out immediately to Belvoir Castle, and
stay there till the passes be sent you to go be-
yond the seas." The Prince submitted, and
marched off his troops." *

* Sloane MSS. 4162. Art. 16.
H 2

100 THE MILITARY LIFE OF

This extraordinary adventure at the Market-
place, it is evident, has been entirely passed
over in the Narrative sent down to us. How
that affair was considered by the King, appears
by " a petition of Prince Rupert and his Of-
ficers," wherein the subscribers observe, that
" having met to make their several grievances
known, we find we have drawn upon us some
misconstruction by the manner, by reason your
Majesty thought that appeared as a mutiny"*
Charles observed, that " He would not christen
it, but it looked very like one."f

* It is preserved in Evelyn, ii. 109,

t This affair terminated in Prince Rupert " freely ac-
knowledging his errors," and in the family quarrel the Ne-
phew was reconciled to the Uncle. Clarendon's State Pa-
pers, ii. 195. Willis was however never suffered to come
again into the King's presence, and Lord Gerrard was the
bearer of a challenge from this Ex-Governor to Lord Bel-
lasis, which the King forebade his Lordship to accept.

The Editor of Evelyn was sadly perplexed at the strange
inconsistency in the account given of this affair by the vari-
ous contemporary writers. Burton, in his History of the
Civil Wars, declares Prince Rupert's party actually threw up
their Commissions, yet this " petition" which the Editor
found among Evelyn's papers, startles him, as it implies
positively that their Commissions were taken from them. I
suspect this to be the fact by Sabran's notice, that as soon as
the Prince had retreated to Oxford, the King sent his orders
to arrest the Prince in his house, and commanded him to leave

CHARLES THE FIRST. 101

The military life of Charles the First exhi-
bits a singular series of personal exertions, often
in a state of miserable deprivation, hardly to be
paralleled in the history of any other Monarch
or man. His painful marches, and his fugitive
life, were a tribulation of nearly four laborious
and afflicted years — and his two last were passed
in the awful repose of his imprisonments. A
curious record, the zealous labour of one who
had been his daily attendant,* has been left us,

the kingdom. This circumstance originated a rumour that
the Prince had been bribed by Parliament, to surrender Bris-
tol at the price of eight thousand Jacobuses, which were
secured at Amsterdam. The Editor of Evelyn refers to Sir
Richard Bulstrode's Memoirs, and to Clarendon, where " the
reader will find much amusement." The Editor did not know,
what he may now depend on, that Clarendon's account is a
mere transcript of Sir Edward Walker's Narrative, and far-
ther, that Bulstrode's is a mere transcript of Clarendon's !
Some of our Editors do not appear to have meditated on —
or even to have compared together the materials which lay
before them.

* The Iter Carolinum in Gutch's Miscellanea Curiosa.
Some of these entries may amuse the reader. " The King
and his party sometimes lodged in a Bishop's Palace, or
at the seat of a Lord, or a Country Gentleman, and at a
Merchant's abode, but not unusually at a Yeoman's house,"
— and " a very poor man's house." " Dinner in the field,"
is an usual entry, but the melancholy one of " No dinner
this day" — is repeated for successive days. "Sunday no
dinner, supper at Worcester, a cruel day." This march

102 THE MILITARY LIFE OF

wherein from the day he quitted Whitehall, to
that of the King's transportation to Holmby,
the marches, the retreats, and the battles were
registered by nights and miles. Many an af-
fecting incident is cursorily noticed. A supper
and a bed, or a dinner in the field, seem not
always to have been had, as these are parti-
cularly Specified among the happier days of
these perpetual marches. The King had not
always bread for his table, and one night has
been recorded which had not the night's meal.

It was an extraordinary fate that a King of
England, at the head of an army, was reduced
at times to such shifts and miseries, that the
story of Alfred with the good-wife was not a
scene more ludicrous than Charles the First
had sometimes to pass through; and that the
satire of Voltaire of the assembled Monarchs
who had not wherewithal to pay their quota
for a scurvy supper, was actually realized in
the history of Charles the First. When Charles
with his tired troops was a fugitive among the
mountains of Wales, Sir Henry Slingsby has

lasted from six in the morning till midnight" — " a long
march over the mountains"—" His Majesty lay in the field
all night, in -his coach, on Boconnock Down " — " The King
had his meat and drink dressed at a poor widow's." Such
was the life of Charles the First during several years.

CHARLES THE FIRST. 103

told a simple narrative of this kind, which the
naivete of his own style will best represent.
" When the King was at supper eating a
pullet and a piece of cheese, the room without
was full, but the men's stomachs were empty
for want of meat. The good-wife troubled
with the continual calling upon her for vic-
tuals, and having, it seems, but that one cheese,
comes into the room where the King was, and
very soberly asks if the King had done with
the cheese, for that the gentlemen without de-
sired it." Charles once complained that " His
rebel subjects had not left him out of his Re-
venue, enough to preserve him from starving."
In the trial of Rosewell, a Dissenting Minister,
a curious circumstance was disclosed. When
a lad, in travelling, he chanced to see King
Charles the First in the fields, sitting with a
few followers to a sorry dinner under a tree,
and from the King's conduct on that occasion
he received such deep impressions of the man,
that he retained ever after an awful recollection
of the Monarch. A tree indeed was often the
canopy of state under which the King gave
audience and held councils.

Often the King rode hard through the night,
and saw the break of day, which only recalled
the wearied fugitive to the anxious cares of a

104 THE MILITARY LIFE OF

retreat, or a pursuit. Once, late in the evening,
the King summoned several gentlemen toge-
ther, and after their conference he dismissed
them to their beds with this pathetic address,
" Gentlemen ! go you and take your rest, for
you have houses and homes, and beds to lodge
in, and families to love and live with — but I
have none! My horse is waiting for me to
travel all this night, and return to the place
whence I came." The King had long been like
a hunted partridge, flitting from one ground
to another — this is an affecting image given of
his erratic and anxious courses. In his strange
condition, destitute, not merely of the house-
hold wants of men, but of those still more
poignant, the bereavement of his wife — his
children — his friends — the suffering Monarch
once observed, " As God hath given me afflic-
tions to exercise my patience, so hath he given
me patience to bear my afflictions."

On the present subject, of the military life of
Charles the First, we may notice the difficulty
of communicating with the distant localities
of his scattered followers, the messengers fre-
quently passing through the quarters of the
enemy. The modes contrived for conveying
secret intelligence were as extraordinary as any
recorded among the stratagems of war by the

CHARLES THE FIRST. 105

ancients. Bruno Ryves details the corporal
persecution which a Dr. Cox, a Royalist, with a
King's trumpeter who had waited on the Doc-
tor, endured from the Earl of Stamford at
Exeter. Among other personal injuries, they
were not only most narrowly searched, then
stripped naked, and the fists of a serjeant-
major crammed into their mouths, and even
down their throats — but the Earl turned phy-
sician on this occasion, and forced the Doctor
and the Trumpeter to swallow two, we may
add, too powerful emetics, the Earl standing
sentinel by the two bowls in expectation of
getting at the secret intelligence which it was
imagined one of them had swallowed. Inhu-
man as this treatment appeared to Bruno Ryves,
it is not improbable that the Earl of Stamford
was well aware of this novel mode of convey-
ing secret intelligence. In the Manuscript Me-
moirs already quoted, I discovered the fact.
During the siege of Newark, the King neglect-
ed not to inform Lord Bellasis of his condition,
and wrote with his own hand some of these
short dispatches. The last of these, in the
words of the Manuscript, " was brought to his
Lordship in a man's belly, written in cyphers
and put in lead, which the man swallowed lest
he should be taken in attempting to pass the

106 THE MILITARY LIFE OF

Scots' army." Charles opens this very letter to
Lord Bellasis in a style which evidently be-
trays the agitation of the Royal writer.

" BELAYSE,

" If you discover the secret I now impart to
you by this extraordinary way of conveyance,
I wish you as ill, as you have had hitherto good
fortune in my service — "

History seems to afford no parallel to the
variable exigencies into which this Monarch
was thrown, abandoned by Fortune more than
by his friends. Among Sovereigns, the life of
Charles the First appears as singular, as its
close was once to all the world. Urgent emer-
gencies, when the business depended on him-
self, were uniformly met by a firmness in ac-
tion, or by a force of language, which equally
prove the excess of injustice which has depre-
ciated his capacity, and that meanness which
has calumniated, to fit the character of the Mo-
narch to a system of politics.

CHARLES THE FIRST. 107

NOTE FOR PAGE 86.
Of the Parliamentary Army, combining military and spiritual

movements.

The peculiar feature of the Civil War of Charles the First
was the extraordinary mixture of religious fanaticism with
the ordinary affairs of life. The cant of Cromwell in his ad-
dresses to the soldiers was not his own invention, when men

Fought like mad or drunk

For Dame Religion as for Punk.

The Parliamentary forces when in full march, would have
offered many a groupe for Hogarth's pencil. The regiments
on marching were chanting different Psalms; once a party
of Royalists having passed by another party at dusk, the lat-
ter breaking out into Psalm-singing, it provoked a battle,
from which the darkness had otherwise spared them. Their
standards bore Scriptural mottoes and devices ; of these se-
veral are still preserved in the Dissenters' Library of Dr.
Williams, in Red-cross Street. Some of these bore " If God
be for us, who can be against us ?" or " As a Captain of the
Lord am I now come." One standard bore " an arm painted
thrusting a bloody sword through a crown." They adopted
Scriptural names ; Cleaveland alludes to this by a stroke of
humour, " With what face can they object to the King the
bringing in of foreigners, when themselves entertain such an
army of Hebrews. One of them beat up his drums clean
through the Old Testament ; we may learn the genealogy of
our Saviour by the names in his regiment. The muster-man
uses no other list but the first chapter of Matthew."

There are several publications intended for military ser-
vice, penned by Ministers. " The Soldier's Catechism, by
Robert Ram, Minister, published by Authority." Another is,

108 THE MILITARY LIFE OF

" A Spiritual Knapsack for the Parliament's Soldiers, 1644."
The most extraordinary of these specimens of the temper of
the times is, one entitled " Military and Spiritual Motions
for Foot-Companies, with the Exercise of a single Company
as they now ought to be taught, and no otherwise. By
Captain Lazarus Haward, 1645."

Some innovations in the military discipline had been re-
cently attempted, which Captain Lazarus asserts were only
adapted to amuse the Spectators, but were dangerous to
the Soldiers in service. He is desirous of rejecting these
" whimsies" altogether, nor does the honest Captain appear
sensible that he had a portentous one of his cut. It was a
project of Drilling and Exercising a company of Infantry, at
the same time by " a double motion of Soul and Body," —
" This full and whole exercise of a foot-company, spiritual
and temporal, may make us like the Israelites to go up as
one man, with one heart and in one form, a Soldier of that
great Captain, Christ Jesus."

His scheme is to give the word of command to produce
the military movement — and to every letter in that word he
affixes some pithy and j^'.ous sentence to produce the ac-
companying spiritual one. He forms acrostics of

" To the Right About !" — " As You Were !"— as thus :•— ,

T he Devil is let loose for a season to try the patience of

God's church.
O ur Enemies, O Lord, are near to hurt us, but Thou art

near to help us.

T he sword never prevailed but Sin set an edge upon it.
H asten from the company of the wicked.
E very man shall sit under his own vine, nor hear any
news or noises to affright us.

CHARLES THE FIRST. 109

R eligion made a stalking-horse for politics is odious.

1 1 is a grievous judgment upon a nation, when teachers

sent for man's salvation shall become means of their

confusion, &c. &c. &c.

How the spiritual motion which depended on the letters
could accompany the military movement which was given by
the word, this driller of Saints has not explained ; but no
doubt Captain Lazarus was admired for the ingenious impos-
sibility of executing military movements, which if his men
at the same time respected their spiritual ones, must have
equally perplexed " both their Body and Soul."

His Manual is still curious to a military antiquary, as
giving a correct representation of " the full and whole exer-
cise of a foot-company," and bearing also a very exact print
of a foot-soldier in his accoutrements of the age of Charles
the First.

110 JUDGE JENKINS AND

CHAPTER V.

JUDGE JENKINS AND " THE LAW OF THE

IN times of political agitation, sincerity is a
rare virtue ; for often has the spirit of Party
been its substitute, to hold men together in the
same iron bond. This principle explains the
apparent anomaly of persons acting in public
with a body to whom they do not naturally
cohere. Personal views, above all love for
those with whom they are joined, or hostility
against those they oppose, and even minuter
accidents, have induced many characters who
figure in our History, to adopt a Party with
whose principles they did not sympathise. No
unreasonable suspicions therefore have some-
times been raised, whether such persons were
not more influenced by Party-motives, what-
ever that Party may be, than by their private
sentiments. Whoever joins a Party, begins a

" THE LAW OF THE LAND." Ill

race, and like men running down a steep hill,
the point at which they would have stopped
has long been passed by.

But when we discover men, whose force of
character scorns every disguise, and rejects
every compromising principle, and who at the
cost of fortune, and even at the price of life, keep
their unswerving rectitude, we are struck by
this unpopular virtue of sincerity. In every
political man it bears a charm. We admire it
even in him whose feelings we may not parti-
cipate, nor to whose judgment we may not
assent. We appreciate its generous nature,
even in an enemy, and though this unpliant
morality be intractable to the hand of the most
subtle leader, still the man who adheres to his
Party though it be discomfited, and to his
principles though they be exploded, evinces
a force of character which may well awe the
more flexible and weaker dispositions. It is a
giant-mind, disdaining every artifice to deceive
us by feigning a sympathy it utterly abhors,
and it stands before us, in the strength which
has been the growth of its age, like some lofty
Ilex spread into magnitude, and glorying in
the same eternal verdure through all the change-
ful seasons.

The times of Charles the First formed the

JUDGE JENKINS AND

primitive state of modern political revolutions.
The minds of men placed in the most conflict-
ing opposition, amidst ambiguous and unsettled
notions, experienced an equal conviction of the
truth of their own different principles. It was
a rough unbroken soil, the better perhaps adapt-
ed for the roots of that hardy virtue, political
sincerity. The great actors in the reign of
Charles the First were not always a knot of
petty intriguers. There were some inflexible
men individually exhibiting an unity of con-
duct and a decision of purpose. Such charac-
ters have not been properly estimated by His-
torians ; beatified by one party, they have been
branded as Fanatics by another, and the enthu-
siasm of their sincerity has been dusked by the
opprobrium of bigotry. Their political sin-
cerity casts a grandeur over their memories.

We may at times suspect the pure disinte-
rested Patriotism of Eliot, of Pym, and even
of Hampden, busied as they were among the
whole machinery of Revolutions ; but who will
doubt the sincerity of the chivalric Arthur
Lord Capel, who issuing from his beloved pri-
vacy, when all around was despair, would only
live to perish with his Sovereign ; or even of
President Bradshaw, who on his death-bed so-
lemnly avowed as an act of justice the con-

" THE LAW OF THE LAND." 113

damnation to death of that Sovereign ?* Who
suspects the monarchical devotion of Lord
Falkland, the Earl of Derby, and 'the Marquis
of Newcastle, or the anti-monarchical spirit of
Milton, of Ludlow, and of him who desired no
other epitaph than " Here lies Thomas Scot who
adjudged the late King to die ?" All these men
worshipped the cause which they had hallowed
on their own hearths ; sometimes like Gideon
they had made an Ephod of their own — till " it
became a snare to Gideon and his house." We
must not judge of these men by the philoso-
phical spirit of our own age ; it had not yet
arisen. Men must suffer, before they can phi-
losophise. The wisdom of nations must be
the bitter fruit of extinct follies and obsolete
crimes.

A mighty Athlet, in the vast arena of the

* I confess I have doubts of the character of this obscure
talking Serjeant, eminent only for one bold determined act,
notwithstanding his death-bed declaration. His acceptance
of the estates of Lord Cottington, amounting to 4000/. per
annum, a great household to maintain his rank as Lord
President, and other sources of emolument and offices, con-
vey no favourable impressions of the purity of his patriotism.
Whitelocke gives no advantageous view of his ability. — " In
the Council of State, President Bradshaw spent much of
their time in urging his own long arguments, which are in-
convenient in state-matters." — 380.
VOL. V. I

114 JUDGE JENKINS AND

first English Revolution, was one of our great-
est Lawyers, whose moral intrepidity exceeded
even his profound erudition in the Laws of our
Constitution. There was indeed a singularity
in his remarkable actions, but they were not
more eccentric than they were bold, original,
and even great. Judge Jenkins takes no sta-
tion in the page of our Historians, yet he is a
statue which should be placed in a niche.

During half a century had Judge Jenkins
been the luminary of Gray's Inn. In his youth
Lord Bacon had often consulted the papers of
the hard Student, and successively all the At-
torneys-General had referred to this oracle of
Law. He met the Revolution much past his
middle age, with confirmed legal habits, and
the most perfect knowledge of that " Lex
Terras," the Law of the Land, which his stern
portrait represents him firmly grasping in his
hand.

Judge Jenkins had never been an obsequious
Courtier. A Welsh Judgeship had been forced
upon him, which the Judge, with all his fru-
gality, found that every year he served, the ex-
penses exceeded the salary. He has nobly ap-
pealed to all the Inns of Court to bear witness
that he had never aimed at personal aggran-
disement, well satisfied in his chamber to ex-

115

pound those laws on which he religiously me-
ditated. " How far I have been from Ambi-
tion, my life past and your own knowledge of
me can abundantly inform you. Many of you
well know how I ever detested the Ship-
Money and Monopolies ; and that in the be-
ginning of this Parliament, for opposing the
excesses of one of the Bishops, I lay under
three Excommunications, and the examination
of seventy-seven articles in the High Commis-
sion Court." Surely our lantern at length shines
on an honest man ! This Judge would re-
trench the Royal prerogative, and the power of
the Church, when stretching themselves be-
yond the Law, but when the King was to be
stripped of his whole Prerogative and the en-
tire Hierarchy was to fall, with the same reso-
lution he vindicated the violated Law of Eng-
land.*

i

* Arguing as an English Lawyer, he maintained that
much misunderstood Law-Maxim, like so many others which
are paradoxical in their words but not in their meaning, that
" The King can do no wrong." — The reason is, that no-
thing can be done in this Commonwealth by the King's
grant, or any other act of his, as to the subject's person,
goods, lands, or liberties, but must first be according to
established Laws, which the Judges are sworn to observe and
deliver between the King and his people, impartially to rich
and poor, high and low, and therefore the Judges and the

I 2

116 JUDGE JENKINS AND

The eminent reputation of Judge Jenkins
nearly rivalled the celebrity of Coke, whom, in
alluding to the Parliament, he has called " Their
Oracle !" we know not whether in jealousy or
in anger ! The name of Judge Jenkins pos-
sibly may not be inserted in a legal bibliogra-
phy, for " the works of that grave and learned
Lawyer Judge Jenkins, a prisoner in New-
gate," consist of a microscopical volume, where,
as if it were designed for a satire on all other
Law books, is compressed the erudition of a
folio. They are all dated from the Tower or
Newgate. Suggested by the occasions of the
time, they first appeared in fugitive leaves,
which were rapidly dispersed, and often gra-
tuitously distributed among the people. By
" the Law of the Land" they were thus in-
structed, that they were existing undW no form
of government ; that there was no Parliament
where there was no King; with many other
confutations of " the erroneous positions of the
Commons," and a variety of their acts of " trea-

Ministers of Justice must be questioned and punished if the
Laws be violated, and no reflection to be made on the King."
All this is very legal, but when the Judges depended on the
favour of the Crown for their seats, there is reason to be-
lieve, that they would lean too far in favour of the Preroga-
tive. Judge Berkley was a remarkable instance.

" THE LAW OF THE LAND." 117

son." He dedicates his "Lex Terrae" to the
Societies of the Inns of Court, and to all the
Professors of the Law. His concise opinions,
with an admirable frugality of words, are how-
ever luxuriant in their marginal references to
Statutes and to Records, to Magna Charta, and
to their own " Petition of Right ;" while Brae-
ton, and Plowden, and Coke, and even St. John,
their own Solicitor- General, are the authorities
which echo the solemn denunciations of Judge
Jenkins. " Nothing is delivered for Law in
my book but what the House of Commons
have averred to be Law, in books of Law pub-
lished by their commands, agreeable to the
books of Law and Statutes of this Realm in all
former times and ages."

This eminent lawyer was more active than
gowns-men usually are. He was not only the
great Chamber- Counsel of every one who op-
posed the Parliament ; but this Welsh Judge
not only on his circuit imprisoned whomever
he deemed to be Rebels, but in Lord Goring's
army in Pembrokeshire was taken with his
long rapier drawn, courageously leading the
forlorn hope. This Judge was now singled
out to be a victim, or a confederate, at his own
choice, with the ruling party in the Commons.
The authority of his name on all legal points

118 JUDGE JENKINS AND

would have consecrated even a public sanc-
tion.

A suit was instituted in the Court of Chan-
cery against this learned Judge, of irreproach-
able integrity, for " a foul cheat and breach of
trust, as some alleged." Thus the cautious
Whitelocke enters it on the day, in his Diary.
It was a vexatious suit merely got up to cast
an imputation without the colour of a charge.*
He refused to answer, not to decline, he said,
the jurisdiction of Chancery, but to decline the
power of the House of Commons to examine
him. In the King's Bench he alike persisted
in warning the people that the present Parlia-
ment was a mere delusion, for all they did was
illegal and extra-judicial, and liable to be re-
voked. Once he was fined a thousand pounds,
and at another time committed to Newgate for
high-treason. No one could daunt the legal
culprit. Miles Corbet insisting on his close
confinement, the Judge now himself placed at
the Bar, retorted, that " Some of them might be
prisoners ere long themselves if they did not
run away in time." The political prophet lived
to verify his own predictions, and might have
triumphantly appealed to the correctness of that

* Judge Jenkins has himself stated the case, and its
secret history, in his little volume.

" THE LAW OF THE LAND." 119

judgment, which at the time, passed for absur-
dity and inveterate obstinacy. Firm in his
style, he was yet so moderate, that " the Re-
formers," as the Judge calls them, every where
declared that Judge Jenkins had made his
" Recantation." He published a keen and bit-
ter retort, to refute the lie they had published.

At length, in February 1648, the Judge with
another Royalist, one Sir Francis Butler, was
brought to the Bar of the Commons to be
attainted.

Lenthal the Speaker addressed the prisoners,
as two intolerable malignants and traitors to
that Honourable House, who now would pro-
ceed against them as men convicted of treason.
The Speaker more particularly reproached the
ancient Welsh Judge for his contumacious con-
duct, which had not passed unnoticed by the
House, in omitting to pay that obeisance to the
Chair when placed at their Bar, which was the
greater fault in him, knowing as he pretended
to be in the Laws of the Land. Judge Jen-
kins had refused to kneel as is usual before
that Honourable House.*

While the Speaker was addressing Judge
Jenkins, the old man in a low voice requested
his companion not to reply — " Let all the

* Whitelocke, 293.

120 JUDGE JENKINS AND

malice fall upon me, my years can better bear
it." The Speaker having ended, Judge Jen-
kins asked whether they would now give him
liberty to speak ?

" Yes ! so you be not very long."
" No ! I will not trouble either myself or you
with many words. Mr. Speaker ! you said
the House was offended at my behaviour in
not making" my obeisance to you when they
brought me here, and this was the more won-
dered at, because I pretended to be knowing
in the Laws of the Land. I answer, that I not
only pretend to be, but am knowing in the
Laws of the Land, having made them my study
for these five-and-forty years, and it is because
I am so, is the reason of my behaviour. As
long as you had the King's arms engraven on
your mace, and that your great seal was no
counterfeit, and acting under his authority, I
would have bowed in obedience to his writ, by
which you were first called. But, Mr. Speaker,
since you and this House have renounced your
allegiance to your Sovereign and are become a
den of thieves, should I bow myself in this
House of Rimmon, the Lord would not pardon
me!"

The whole House were electrified — all rose
in uproar and confusion ! it was long ere order

" THE LAW OF THE LAND."

could be obtained, or their fury could exhaust
itself. It seemed as if every Member shrunk
from a personal attack. The House voted the
Prisoners guilty of high treason, without any
trial, and should suffer as in case of condem-
nation for treason. They called in the Keeper
of Newgate to learn the usual days of exe-
cution, which were Wednesdays and Fridays.
The day to be appointed then became the sub-
ject of their debate.

At this critical moment, when it seemed to
be out of all human chances to spare the life of

" This greatest Clerk but not the wisest Man,"

the facetious and dissolute Harry Martin, who
had not yet spoken, rose, not to dissent from
the Vote of the House, he observed, but he had
something to say about the time of the exe-
cution. " Mr. Speaker ! every one must be-
lieve that this old gentleman here is fully pos-
sessed in his head, resolved to die a martyr in
his cause, for otherwise he would never have
provoked the House by such biting expres-
sions. If you execute him, you do precisely
that which he hopes for, and his execution will
have a great influence over the people, since he
is condemned without a jury; I therefore move
that we should suspend the day of execution,

JUDGE JENKINS AND

and in the meantime force him to live in spite
of his teeth." The drollery of the motion put
the House into better humour, and the State-
prisoners were remanded.

The day after the re-commitment, a remark-
able conversation took place between the old
Welsh Judge and his fellow-prisoner, which
clearly confirmed the sagacity of the witty
Harry Martin.

The unfortunate companion of the Judge
somewhat querulously asked if he had not been
too hardy in his language to the House ?

" Not at all !" replied this venerable Deems.
" Rebellion has been so successful in the king-
dom, and has gotten such a head that the weak-
ness of many loyal men will be allured to com-
pliance should not some vigorous and brave
resistance be made in public, and to their very
faces ! This was the cause why I said such
home things to them yesterday. And I am
now so wrapped up in the thought of my exe-
cution that 1 hope they will not long suspend
the day, for I think that like Sampson I shall
destroy more Philistines on the day of my
death, than I have ever yet done all my
life."

Curiosity was excited — it was evident that
the old man had some scheme, difficult to com-

"THE LAW OF THE LAND." 123

prehend, when he should be placed by the side
of the gallows.

" I will tell you all that I intend to do and
say at that time. First I will eat much liquor-
ish and gingerbread to strengthen my lungs
that I may extend my voice near" and far.
Multitudes no doubt will come to see the old
Welsh Judge hanged. I shall go with vene-
rable Bracton's book hung on my left shoulder,
and the Statutes at Large on my right ; I will
have the Bible with a ribbon put round my
neck, hanging on my breast. I will tell the
people that I am brought there to die for being
a traitor, and in the words of a dying man I
will tell them that I wish that all the traitors
in the kingdom would come to my fate. But
the House of Commons never thought me a
traitor, else they would have tried me for such,
in a legal manner by a jury, according to the
customs of this kingdom for a thousand years.
They have indeed debarred me from my birth-
right, a trial by my Peers, that is, a Jury ; but
they knew that I am not guilty according to
law. But since they will ha\e me a traitor,
right or wrong, I thought it was just to bring
my counsellors with me, for they ought to be
hanged as well as I, for they all along advised
me in what I have done. Then shall I open

124 JUDGE JENKINS AND

Bracton to show them that the supreme power
is in the King — the Statute-book to read the
oath of allegiance — and the Bible to show them
their duties.* All these were my civil coun-
sellors, and they must be hanged with me ! So
when they shall see me die, affirming such
things," continued this romantic brother of the
Coif, " thousands will inquire into these mat-
ters, and having found all I told them to be
true, they will come to loath and detest the
present tyranny."

No day of execution so fondly dwelt on by
the Welsh Judge was ever appointed, and the
patriotic Royalist was defrauded of offering his
country that extraordinary lesson, which his
imagination had cherished in his reveries.

The policy of hanging an old Welsh Judge
for stubbornness, and without a jury, was
doubtful. The decisions of such a venerable
Member of the Law, in truth, were fully valued
by the House, and though they menaced him
with death at the Bar, they proffered him, more
than life, in the privacy of his cell. Several
Members of the Committee visited Judge Jen-
kins in Newgate, and offered, that " If he

* He repeated these doctrines, referring to the volume and
the page.

"THE LAW OF THE LAND." 125

would acknowledge the power of the Par-
liament for lawful, they would not only take
off the sequestrations from his estate, which
was about 500/. per annum, but that they
would settle a pension on him for life of a
WOOL a year." " Never can I own Rebel-
lion, however successful, to be lawful ; I
would rather therefore see your backs than
your faces," sternly replied the old Judge.
The spokesman repeated the same offer, " if
he would only suffer them to print that he
acknowledged their power to be lawful." In-
dignantly replied the Judge, " I will con-
nive at no such doings for all the money you
have robbed the kingdom of; and should you
impudently print such matter, I will sell my
doublet and coat to buy pens, ink and paper,
to set forth the House of Commons in their
proper colours."

Still Seduction had not exhausted all its
arts, they touched a finer nerve in his domestic
feelings. " You have a wife and nine children
who all will starve if you refuse our offer ; they
make up ten pressing arguments for your com-
pliance."

"What!" exclaimed the Judge, "did they
desire you to press me in this matter ?"

126 JUDGE JENKINS AND

" I will not say they did," replied the Com-
mittee-man, " but I think they press you to it
without speaking at all."

The old man's anger was kindled ; he cried
out, " Had my wife and children petitioned
you in this matter, I would have looked on her
as a whore, and them as bastards !" The ho-
nourable Committee of the House of Commons
finally retreated.*

After this time Judge Jenkins was removed
to various confinements, from castle to castle,
and gaol to gaol. He suffered eleven years of
durance, with the same constancy with which
he persisted in expounding the Laws of Eng-
land. It is a curious fact that this Judge in
prison furnished Lilburne with all the legal
points which led to his famous triumph by
jury, and stirred up that restless bold man to
the prosecution of Cromwell,f yet it would

* These interesting conversations with the romantic pro-
ject of the Judge for the day of his execution, we find in a
curious pamphlet. They were drawn " from the mouth and
notes of Sir Francis Butler." It is entitled " True and Just
Account of what was transacted in the Commons House at
Westminster, Anno Dom. 1648, when that House voted
David Jenkins, Esq. a Welsh Judge, and Sir Francis Butler,
to be guilty of High Treason against themselves, without any
Trial." 1719.

t Godwin's Hist, of the Commonwealth, ii. 425.

"THE LAW OF THE LAKD." 127

seem that it was to Cromwell the Judge after-
wards owed his freedom.* He lived to wit-
ness the Restoration, and this was that Judge
Jenkins who on that surprising Revolution was
expected by all men, and would himself have
accepted the appointment of one of the Judges
in Westminster Hall, as the sole but proud re-
ward of a long life of arduous trials and trium-
phant inflexibility. Jenkins said that he was re-
presented at Court as superannuated and unfit
for such a place, but Sir Phineas Pett who knew
him, describes the Judge then, as a very acute
man, of infinitely quicker parts than Judge
Mallet, who was at that time made Lord Chief
Justice of England. There is reason to be-
lieve that another enemy to Jenkins, greater
than his age, thwarted him at Court in not
obtaining this judgeship. " So he might have
been, would he have given money to the then
Lord Chancellor," said honest Anthony Wood.
It was for this casual stricture that the Uni-
versity of Oxford, at the instigation of Henry
the son of Lord Clarendon, heavily fined our
great literary Antiquary, for the pretended libel.

* In the Gesta Britannorum of Sir George Wharton, I
find this entry. " Jan. 14, 16&7, Judge Jenkins, that
constant sufferer, ordered his liberty, yet continues he stil}
in Windsor Castle."

128 JUDGE JENKINS AND

The two statues of Charles the first and the
Earl of Danby were raised at the entrance of
the Physic Garden by the produce of this cruel
fine. They stand in perpetual memory, that
the passions of men may raise statues to sup-
press Truth, but ere the statues have moul-
dered away, Truth unexpectedly rises in all
her freshness and immortality.*

Judge Jenkins was the Cato of Lucan,

" Fortune chose the side of the Conquerors, but He,
the Conquered."

Some may smile at a Judge Jenkins' tena-
ciousness of the Laws of the Land ; at the ner-
vous integrity which foiled a golden bribery,

* Anthony Wood declared that he was ready to prove
what he had asserted by written and printed evidence. I
find Wood in his own copy of the Athense Oxonienses altered
the suppressed passage by rendering it much stronger; thus,
" would he have given money to the then corrupt Lord Chan-
cellor Hyde" Pepys' Diary, recently published, confirms the
charge against Clarendon. The Hon. George A gar Ellis, on
these authorities, has disserted on the corruption of this old
Statesman. It is mortifying to detect this tergiversation in
such a moraliser as this great genius, but it is very instructive.
Clarendon after many years of melancholy abstinence from
power and profit, often wanting the value of a dinner, when
in office was a famished man. Whoever in haste would raise
a fortune and found a family, will hardly escape the fate of
Lord Clarendon.

"THE LAW OF THE LAND." 129

turning aside to enter into eleven years of du-
rance, and deem, but as the dotage of a bewil-
dered brain, the romantic dream of his execution,
had it occurred. Yet whoever smile, must return
to more solemn thoughts, when they discover
in Judge Jenkins one of our greatest constitu-
tional Lawyers, and a Patriot at Court or in
Prison. The eccentricity of Judge Jenkins,
for wisdom and patriotism out of season are
deemed eccentric, arose not from the singu-
larity or caprice of a whimsical humorist like
the crouching Noy, or the headstrong stubborn-
ness which drove on the honest and volumi-
nous Prynne. Jenkins advanced no point of law
which rested not on the custom of the Realm,
judicial Records, and Acts of Parliament. At
a time when men appealed to the laws as they
pleased, and rejected them as they willed, Judge
Jenkins only knew the laws to obey them. Ad-
mirably has he said, " So long as men manage
the laws, they will be broken more or less, as
appears by the Story of every Age."

In truth, the opinions of Judge Jenkins were
perfectly sane, in all his opposition to the Par-
liament as it was then constituted. The Par-
liament was at that time placed in a very
anomalous position. Even Mrs. Macaulay has
not attempted their defence on what she calls

VOL. v. K

130 JUDGE JENKINS AND

" the narrow bottom of constitutional forms."
She confesses that " on the side of the Cava-
lier faction were in general the forms of Law,
on that of their opponents, Magnanimity, Jus-
tice, Sense, and Reason." This female advocate
of the Levellers, never alludes to the price
which her Heroes exacted for so many and
such great virtues. That price was, all the
wealth of the kingdom, and the incessant dona-
tions so reciprocally conferred, of all the estates
of the Royalists.

Yet among these Levellers, or even among
the Commonwealth-men, a more honourable
class, was there one who surpassed in " Mag-
nanimity and Justice" this venerable Judge ?
In " Sense and Reason," that is, in compliance
with the times, in floating down the stream,
there were many indeed who were more dex-
terous than our old Welsh Judge. In law-
less days, Judge Jenkins bore himself up re-
joicing, and even dreaming at the abandonment
of Self, in the proud vindication of the Lex
Terrce : A profound Lawyer and an English
Patriot, endowed with that physical courage
rare among retired men, which asserts their
own unchangeable nature by active Heroism.*

* There is a singularly curious dialogue between Hugh
Peters, the army chaplain, and " Free-born John" (Lilburne)

" THE LAW OF THE LAND." 131

in prison. Hugh Peters was the mouton, to use the French
revolutionary style of former days, of Cromwell ; we have
already seen him in this character in the history of the
Hothams.

Cromwell would not release " Free-born John" even after
his triumphant trial by jury, when he was so gloriously ac-
quitted. Peters visited him in the Tower, when the follow-
ing dialogue took place.

Hugh Peters introduced himself as merely on a visit, with-
out any other design than to see John.

John. — " I know you well enough. You are one of the
setting-dogs of the Grandees of the army, who come with
fair and plausible pretences to insinuate into men when they
have wronged them, and work out their designs when they
are on a strait, and cover over the blots which they have
made." Then John complained of the illegal seizing of him
by soldiers carrying him before that new erected thing called
a Council of State, who committed him without an Accuser,
Accusation, Prosecution, or Witness.

Peters taking up a volume of Coke's Institutes, assured
John, that he was only gulled in reading or trusting to such
books, for there were no Laws in England.

John answered that he did believe him, for that his good
masters Cromwell, Fairfax, &c. had destroyed them all.

" Nay," quoth Hugh, *•' there never were any in Eng-
land !"

John showed him the Petition of Right, asking ** whether
that were Law ?"

Peters had the impudence to deny it, and asked " what
Law was ?"

John replied by that admirable definition of Law in one
of the Declarations of Parliament, which I have before
quoted, as the composition of Pym : a passage which

K 2

132 JUDGE JENKINS.

can never be read too often. " This," exclaimed John, " is
a definition of Law by the Parliament in their days of their
primitive purity, before they had corrupted themselves with
the Commonwealth money."

To this the comic Priest replied. " I tell you', for all this,
there is no Law in this nation but the sword and what it
gives; neither was there any Law or Government in the
world but what the sword gave."

" Then," replied honest John, " if six thieves meet three
honest men and rob them, that act is righteous because they
are the stronger party. And if there be no Laws in England
and never were, then your masters are a pack of bloody
rogues who set the people on to murder one another for the
preservation of their Laws. I thought I had been safe when
I made the known Laws the rule of my actions which you
have all sworn to defend."

" Ay ! but," retorted Hugh, " I will show that your
safety lies not in the Laws. Their minds may change, and
then where are you ?"

But John still persisted in blowing against the wind. " I
cannot notice what is in their minds, but in their Declara-
tions— that they will maintain the Laws of the Land."

At this moment the new system was broached by Rouse
and Goodwin, and even the philosopher Hobbes, that sub-
mission to the present power, was all that was necessary to
constitute " the Laws of the Land."

SECRET ANECDOTES, &C. 133

CHAPTER VI.

SECRET ANECDOTES OF THE YEARS
1644 AND 1645.

THE manuscript dispatches of the French
Resident at London at a critical period are
authentically written from week to week, and
are precious, as the personal observations of a
Foreigner who was intimately acquainted with
the busy actors of the time. As is usual with
the French, the writer could not contrive to
write down their names, but by trusting to his
own Gallic ear. It required some ingenuity to
discover in Le Comte d'Orgueil, the Earl of Ar-
gyle ; in Le Comte de la Dredayle, Lord Lau-
derdale ; Milord Canouel, Lord Kinnoul ;
Colonel Guaiche, Goring ; and it required some
time to unmask Milord Ausbrick, to detect
Lord Uxbridge.

During the years 1644 and 1645 Monsieur
Melchior de Sabran was the French Resident

134 SECRET ANECDOTES OF

in England, under the administration of Car-
dinal Mazarine. The personage of this French
Minister has not exhibited itself in our His-
tory, though two years of residence,. and two
folio volumes of his Dispatches, attest his daily
diligence, and also its inefficacy.

The fault was not in Monsieur Sabran, for
in the technical style of modern French diplo-
macy, this luckless Envoy was thrust into " a
false position." Never in the vast manufactory
of Legation has a forlorn workman more pa-
tiently and more piteously sate down to disen-
tangle so ravelled a clue, never was thread more
twisted, never spindle so twirled. All was per-
plexed ! All was irretrievable ! Monsieur Sa-
bran so benevolent — so courteous — so tremulous
with delicacy, would have been the friend of
all — And every individual opposed him ! " I
am sent," sorrowfully he opens his negotiations,
" to untie a knot which the English themselves
acknowledge can only be dissolved as was the
Gordian by Alexander." " I am destined,"
exclaims the baffled negotiator in his agony,
" to the most delicate employment, and the
most uneasy and untoward in result."

The situation of the French Resident was
this. Sabran had been sent by Mazarine, in his
public character, as a privileged Spy, to dis-

THE YEARS 1644 AND 1645. 135

cover by his own observations the existing state
of affairs between Charles and the Parliament,
to review silently the military force of the
King, aad estimate the real influence of the
Parliament over the people, and on the spot
to contrive by his own judgment for those
opportunities of a minute, which, Allegorists
have revealed, require us to snatch Time by
his solitary forelock.

Public affairs were still equiponderant. Sa-
bran found that the forces of the Parliament,
often raw levies, amounted to above 50,000
men, but then Charles had 36,000 good troops.
The King was yet formidable; and during this
period, once Essex in Cornwall seemed lost,
and once Waller at Cropredy-bridge was out-
witted. The loyalists were flushed with their
success at Newark and Pontefract. " God save
the King !" (Vive le Hoi !) was once echoed on
the Thames, by a forced levy of men by Par-
liament, reluctantly going down to head-quar-
ters. The sanguinary storming of Leicester
had struck a terror among the Parliamenta-
rians. Wales was offering men who only
called for arms, and Ireland was deemed to be
loyal. All these at times exhilarated the
French Resident in his solitary cabinet. The
reverses of the King had not yet opened on

336 SECRET ANECDOTES OF

him, Fairfax and Cromwell were only on the
point of appearing.

Mazarine and his administration, at bottom,
were desirous of reinstating the English Sove-
reign with a limited power, not probably from
any sympathy with the liberties of the English
nation. In the " Instructions" of the French
Resident, it is observed that " It is equitable to
maintain the cause of the King of Great Bri-
tain, without however attempting to elevate
his power so high, that from King he should
become Lord and Monarch of England, for the
Laws of that Country balancing the absolute
power of their Monarchs, must be maintained
in their entireness, to appease men's minds, and
lull their troubles to rest." This probably was
an ostensible argument which might safely be
urged on both parties, but there are shadow-
ings in diplomacy, and we detect a more secret
hint to moderate the zeal of the discreet Nego-
tiator, from gaining too many advantages for
the King. Charles, " it is noted in the Instruc-
tions," has never corresponded with all our
affectionate offers, ever inclining more to the
Spaniard. Still, however graduated the scale
of mediation the French Cabinet proposed,
they were not disposed to side with the Par-
liament, as we gather from this prudential

THE YE AllS 1644 AND 1645. 137

State- motive. " The conformity of Religion,
and the disposition to form and maintain a
Republic which is prevalent in the minds of
the English and the Dutch, will unavoidably
establish a very strict union between them, and
it is for the benefit of these States, as well as
for the good of France, that this should be tra-
versed." Sabran is moreover particularly cau-
tioned against " the Puritans," English, Scotch,
or Irish ; " for these persons nourishing a hatred
of Royalty and all just government, not only
will attempt to pull down that of their King,
but to ally themselves with the neighbouring
Republics, and this it may be useful to impress
on the mind of the King."

It was a critical difficulty with our forlorn
Resident in pursuance of his Instructions, that
he should not acknowledge the independence
of the Parliament, separated from the Sove-
reign, which would have put an end to any
intercourse with Charles. And on the other
hand, he was not to appear to the Parliament
as one at all too partial to the interests of the
King, which might instantly have terminated
his negotiations at London. But assuredly the
invincible difficulty was, that our dexterous
negotiator found himself equally disregarded
by Charles, and by the Parliament ; both alike

138 SECRET ANECDOTES OF

avoided his proffered friendship, and looked on
the French Resident with equal distrust. In
a word, Sabran discovers that in all England
there was not a more suspicious-looking per-
son, in the whole corps diplomatique, than the
luckless new-comer.

This soon appeared to our Resident. " That
eternal suspicion of England, that France must
be more gratified by its troubles, than by its
quiet, is as great as ever. They judge of us by
their own defects, and their own ill-will, and by
the evil which they would have done us, rather
than by any proofs of the bad designs of
France, or of any deceptions practised contrary
to the sincerity of the Queen and Cardinal
Mazarine."*

Sabran had not been long in London ere a
bitter " Discours" from " An English Gentle-
man" appeared on " French Charity." The
kindness of France was ridiculed, because " this
kindness was so excessive that it becomes in-
credible. What makes this dangerous neigh-
bour in an instant turn into so kind a friend ?"
This pamphlet detailed evidence of a circum-

* I find by these dispatches that this famous Cardinal, at
first, retained the name of Mazarini ; afterwards, to disguise
his Italian origin and to become a Frenchman, he gave his
name a French termination.

THE YEAES 1644 AND 1645. 139

stance little known, which I have noticed in
my former volume. It is what Sabran calls,
and therefore does not deny, " les pratiques
secrettes de Blainville," one of the former
French Ambassadors.* Sabran somewhat con-
soles himself, though his too feeling antennas
once touched, shrink with all the sensitiveness
of a snail's — that this production is the labour
of some Spanish agent under the guise of " an
English Gentleman."

The Parliament, as he had foreseen, would
not receive him as a public Minister, unless he
came prepared fully to recognise their inde-
pendent power. He was therefore compelled
to preserve his private character. This de-
barred all intercourse with a Member of the
House of Commons, as a Member. Hollis and
Vane regretted that they could not visit him
without leave of Parliament. He freely com-
municated with the Peers, because the Lords,
whether in or out of their House, always re-
tain the same rank.

After some time had elapsed, during which
our Resident had been actively employed,
having taken more than one journey to Ox-
ford, reviewed the army of Charles with his
own eyes, and held an interview with the

* In the Second volume of these Commentaries, p. 204.

140 SECRET ANECDOTES OF

Monarch, the day arrived when Sabran was
to be admitted to an audience with the Par-
liament. Previously he had sent a copy of
his prepared Harangue to Count de Brienne,
the Secretary of State. A paragraph in it, in-
duced a remarkable observation— " Your speech
to the Parliament is composed with great dis-
cretion. One thing only has astonished me.
You exhort them not to suffer in the* kingdom
other religion than the one established. If this
admit of explanation and excuse, namely, that
this is meant to report to them what has been
confided to you by the King, consider how the
Spaniard will reproach us, while every Catho-
lic will imagine that we have abandoned their
protection. Soften this term, I pray you. It
will be prudent ever to avoid the subject of
religion. It will be said that we have no re-
ligion ourselves."

Sabran acknowledges that the offending ex-
hortation had been inserted in consequence of
a note received from Charles. The ticklish
paragraph was expunged from the speech.

The Parliament had not yet disdained the
ceremonials of Royalty, and Sabran was to be
conducted to the House by the " Sieur Flem-
ing," the Master of Ceremonies. The Parlia-
ment insisted that at his audience the French

THE YEARS 1644 AND 1645. 141

Resident should be uncovered. He replied,
" I can only stand uncovered when I am in
the King's presence." They insisted that the
King's throne being there was the same as his
Majesty's presence among them. They alleged
that the English Resident at Paris was always
uncovered. — " True," replied Sabran, " but it
is before their Majesties, and here I see no
King ! I can only acknowledge royal Majesty
in the person of the Monarch." The discus-
sion might have proved interminable — particu-
larly as Sabran declared that he would not
stand — but both parties being equally desirous
of an audience, the Master of the Ceremonies
— that Deity of Horace who usually descends
to adjust a fortunate catastrophe in political eti-
quette— suggested that mutual honours should
be balanced. It was accorded that an arm-chair
should be placed for the French Resident who
after his speech might cover. Sabran having
addressed the House with his hat in hand, im-
mediately clapped his beaver on a head whose
pulsations might have required the arm-chair
into which the Representative of his most
Christian Majesty flung himself. Wa are apt
to ridicule the mysteries of Court-etiquette,
but the Ceremonial constitutes conventional
signs— an alphabet of honours, and in that in-

142 SECRET ANECDOTES Otf

telligible style, individuals have asserted their
independence, and Nations have kept their
state. Sabran had politically disputed the pre-
sent punctilio. The Representative of France
would not have himself held too cheap, and his
allusion to the absence of the English Monarch,
was in furtherance of the grand design of unit-
ing the separated Parliament with the Sove-
reign.*

Count de Brienne, the Secretary of State,
who had more than once visited England, had
wide views of the State of the Nation. In
June 1644, he penetrated into the Revolution
of that day to its extent, then but in the birth

* A passage in Clarendon shows that the Parliament were
yet excessively tenacious of the punctilios of etiquette.
When the King sent the Duke of Richmond and the Earl of
Southampton with a message for a treaty, " the Houses did
not presently agree upon the manner of their reception, how
they should deliver their message." The Scottish Commis-
sioners were to join the two Houses in the painted chamber,
" sitting on one side of the table ;" the Royal messengers
at the upper end, where there was a seat provided for them ;
all the rest being bare, and expecting that they would be so
too, for though the Lords used to be covered whilst the
Commons were bare, yet the Commons would not be bare
before the Scotch Commissioners, and so none were covered.
But as soon as the two Lords came thither they covered, to
the trouble of the others, but being presently to speak they
were quickly forced from that eye-sore. — Clarendon, v. 28.

THE YEARS 1644 AND 1645. 143

and labour of Time. He writes, " The King
of England is pressed hard by persons who will
not cease till they have stricken down his au-
thority. The Puritans are incapable of any
moderation, and I am persuaded that the Great
of the Kingdom (les grands du Royaume) will
fall from their pre-eminence, and if the Royal
authority shall no longer subsist, then a Re-
public will be formed, such as will consort with
the religion of the Puritans. I mean to say,
that not only the people will possess the power,
but the most insolent will be the only ones
in consideration. The remedy of these evils,
without falling into another, which would be
the establishment of an absolute Seigneurie,
would be to accommodate matters — but what
difficulties start up ! If the Sword is to
decide the question, the danger is equally
great; the Conqueror will assume all his ad-
vantages."

This Statesman assuredly had taken the
most comprehensive view. He saw distinctly
what hovered in the distance — from principles
he had deduced consequences ; his fears, or his
sagacity amounted to prediction.

It is however curious to observe that the
Prime Minister of France, Cardinal Mazarine,
who perhaps did not much care to disorder his

144 SECRET ANECDOTES OF

epicurean enjoyments, by busying himself with
the troubles of England, had formed a very
contracted notion of the great events whose
proximity might have alarmed a more active
Minister. Mazarine only twice wrote to Sa-
bran. One of these cabinet dispatches was
curt. " Pray let me know exactly what pic-
tures, statues, or furniture can be procured of
the late Duke of Buckingham." In 1645 the
Cardinal's deepest policy advanced no farther
than in telling Sabran, " to impress on both
the Parliament and the King, that they are
only shedding their own blood and wasting
their own wealth, and that at last they must
come to some agreement — this was unavoid-
able." The Italian -French man had no idea
that their affairs could only be finally termi-
nated by coming to no agreement at all. He
foresaw no Revolution of the nature which
was opening before him a Revolution which
had evidently disturbed the imagination of
Count de Brienne.

In these dispatches we discover several secret
conferences, and circumstances partially known
in our history, are more completely disclosed.
The distracted councils of Charles appear,
when Sabran, Spy all over, opened letters con-
fided to him, by the great Stateswoman, the

THE YEARS 1644 AND 1645. 145

ambiguous Countess of Carlisle, who expedites
letters from her brother Percy, a devoted Loy-
alist. " My Lord Percy, brother to the Earl
of Northumberland, has sent three or four
notes to the Queen of Great Britain, or rather
to Mr. Jermyn, which were delivered to me
by the Countess of Carlisle, his sister. I open-
ed one of these, which sufficiently betrays the
schism of those who are about the King, and
that the Queen, or rather those who are with
her, have not the same sentiments of those who
govern his Majesty her husband." This is one,
among many other proofs, that Charles did not
servilely act under the influence of the Queen,
as he*is perpetually represented to have done.
Her opinions, or rather those of her party, he
frequently opposed, and on some trying occa-
sions it is known that he acted in opposition
to their suggestions.

At a secret conference at the house of the
Countess of Carlisle, Sabran by appointment
met with Lord Holland, Hollis, and the Earl
of Essex, all inclined to the Presbyterian party,
and enjoying, at that moment, the highest
reputation with the Commons. They were
willing that the French Resident should me-
diate between the King and the Parliament.

They assured Sabran that it was a sine qua

VOL. v. L

146 SECRET ANECDOTES OF

non condition, that the alliance with the Scotch
should be preserved. Those of the Higher
House, and many of the Lower, who would
maintain Royalty against those persons who of
late were seizing on the whole authority of
Parliament to extinguish Royalty, (the Inde-
pendents, the Army, in a word our Jacobins,)
unless they were seconded by the Scotch, would
not venture to act. They wished me, adds
Sabran, to persuade his Majesty that the Scotch
may be depended on, although they confessed
that the King could not accept such hard terms,
but if he promised to take them into consider-
ation, till in some future conference at more
peaceful times with both parties — whflt was
deemed most reasonable might be accepted,
and in the mean while his Majesty should de-
clare that he would consent to put aside the
Bishops, and reduce the Ecclesiastical govern-
ment to Ministers — to an uniform puritanic
system.

To this Sabran replied — " You then would
have his Majesty renounce his Religion ; this
you will find difficult, and more so, by holding
the knife to his throat without giving him any
assurance that his affairs shall be re-establish-
ed, and his authority restored. To me, the
matter is wholly indifferent, believing neither

THE YEARS 1644 AND 1645. 147

in one religion nor the other ; but it is this
very circumstance which enables me to think
more freely, and less passionately to distin-
guish that Reason by which one of the parties
should more legitimately remain in his own.
After I shall have held a consultation with the
Scottish Gentlemen, I will then consent to dis-
patch my Secretary to the King. But should
I now do this, those in Parliament whom you
tell me are so potent, so violent, and so sus-
picious, would imagine that I am only acting
for the King, which would greatly prejudice
my Neutrality.

"All this I said," proceeds the dexterous
Negotiator in his dispatch to the Secretary, " to
persuade them that I had nothing to write to
the King but what was agreeable to them, and
also to get time to learn whether I should do
it, or in doing it what advice I should offer
the King. Besides, in this manner I shall get
sought after by them, and dive into the real
divisions so prevalent among them all.

" It would be quite ridiculous to make me
the author, that the King of England, who is
of a Religion which still retains some ceremo-
nies, should be brought into one which believes
nothing, the enemy of every thing which re-
minds one of God and of Sovereignty, and

L 2

148 SECRET ANECDOTES OF

common with that of our Huguenots. Never-
theless I shall charge myself with their com-
missions to detect their designs, and enter into
negotiations if advisable. They would take
the King by surprise, and lose himself, his chil-
dren and his crown. But how can his Majesty,
who has printed a public profession of the Pro-
.testant religion, attach himself to the Puritan ?
It would not afford a reasonable Peace."

This Conference with these great personages
of the English Presbyterian party does not
elsewhere appear. It is curious to detect the
bad faith of secret political intrigue, to botch
what cannot hold together. In the present
instance we discover that the party, perfectly
aware that Charles would not accede to the
establishment of a National Kirk in England,
suggest the mean artifice of an apparent compli-
ance, by " the promise to take the subject into
consideration." In the future proposed con-
ference between the parties, it seemed left to
the King, who should decide " what was most
reasonable." But while they thus seemed to
leave a door open for escape, they would have
first entrapped the King by extorting his tem-
porary consent " to put aside the Bishops" and
institute the Church government by " Minis-
ters." It is evident that this consent once

THE YEARS 1644 AND 1645. 149

publicly granted, " what was most reasonable"
would never afterwards have admitted of a dis-
cussion. Monsieur de Sabran probably com-
prehended the whole dark manoeuvre. At all
events, that " ter Catholicus," thorough-grained
as he was, on that day must have crossed him-
self all the way on his return home, and washed
his hands of them in an ewer of eau benite, for
surely on that day Monsieur displayed what
his friend the Secretary would deem une poli-
tiquefine et cachee.

We are informed by Sabran that " In a con-
versation with the Chancellor of Scotland and
his adjunct, I told him that the Parliament be-
lieved that the Scots, displeased with the refu-
sal of his Majesty to change the form of his
religion, would be glad to avenge themselves,
provided that the Royalty should in some
shape be maintained in the person of a de-
scendant. It is thought, I told them, that
they would not mind the weakness of age in
the young Prince, for now they talk of the
little Duke of Gloucester to authorize this
change in the Government. For an unity of
persons is necessary for the administration of
affairs, whether it be for the Duke of a Re-
public, or a Chef-general, as in the Prince of
Orange ; but all this was the visible ruin of the

150 SECRET ANECDOTES OF

Sovereign authority, for the purpose of their
remaining free, and enjoying the revenues of
the King and the Church, and once masters,
subject the Crown wholly to the form of the
new Government." Sabran here took a French
Statesman's view, considering the restoration
of the Monarchy as a first object, this argu-
ment could not have had much force with
them. He proceeds, " They replied that they
wished for a King, and for King Charles, but
they looked and spoke very confusedly when
I assured them that the King really wished for
peace, but would no longer ask for one, dread-
ing a contemptuous refusal after all that I had
done. I had left the King in the best dispo-
sition for Peace, but more willing to consent
to one than to seek it."

Sabran conveys a notion of the secret mo-
tives of the Scotch in their transactions with
the King and the Parliament, which I have not
elsewhere found. He considers them merely
as a mercenary soldiery, like the Swiss, often at
a loss how to act with the conflicting parties
to secure their stipends. Their's was a war for
the Purse.

He writes, " Though the Scotch are consi-
dered to be more reasonable, it is only from an
opinion that they would not consent absolutely

THE YEARS 1644 AND 1645. 151

to the extinction of Royalty, dreading to be-
come at last a province of England, but not
from any other cause, for they still persist with
the English in the first resolutions, uncon-
vinced that these go entirely to the destruction
of the Royal authority. The truth is, that they
are blinded by an opinion that the heavy sub-
sidies now due to them, amounting to more
than all the wealth of their country, which by
various treaties, the King of England and the
Parliament agreed to pay them for their levies
of men, as well as the sums which the Parlia-
ment have since promised for their present
movements, would all be in jeopardy should
the Parliament not remain obstinate, and in-
terest itself to extinguish these debts. It is on
this pretext that the present Parliament has
secured the Scotch on its side, and bewilders
their reason, which in them is not so refined as
to perceive that the protraction of the war,
though it will increase their claims, by the ge-
neral inconvenience which it occasions will
postpone the payments, or possibly annihilate
at once all their claims."

This was a profound reflection, and may be
said to have been verified by the subsequent
events, notwithstanding that by a strange acci-
dent, and by the most dishonourable of all pub-

152 SECRET ANECDOTES OF

lie acts, the Scots posted away with their bag.
They had to endure the slights of the predomi-
nating party,* who treated with contempt even
their idolized Covenant. When the unexpected
incident of the King taking refuge in the Scot-
tish camp occurred, it altered the face of affairs
— the game was then in their hands. At Top-
cliffe House the Covenanters huckstered for
the person of their Sovereign, the bargain was
struck — it was for ready money, and the rest in
promissory notes. The treachery exceeds the
treason, and Charles was delivered up into the
hands of his personal enemies. The Covenant-
ers having sold all they had which the English
would buy, for themselves for some time had
been of no value, in returning homewards, left a
canting recommendation that their purchasers
should be careful of " the Lord's Anointed !"
Well might the French Secretary of State
when alluding to a proposed bribery for the

* Sabran affords a curious anecdote of the day, which
shows how the Scots were regarded by the Independents.
The Scottish Deputies sore at the suspicions, and at the
affront they had received in having their letters opened,
complained to the Committee. The younger Vane rose and
insolently reproached them for having little contributed to
the war, and the service of the Parliament ; but what was
more certain, they had drawn from England great sums, and
had always taken too much care of themselves."

THE YEARS 1644 AND 1645. 153

Chancellor of Scotland, assign as one reason
that his Lordship would not be offended, —
" parcequ'il est Ecossois qui vaut autant a dire
qu'interesse." — The poverty of Scotland at that
time is but a poor plea for this dereliction of
Honour and of Morality ; but these were the
Covenanters of that brave and shrewd people !
The Scottish nation have redeemed this abject-
ness of spirit, and this gross avarice, even by the
most romantic sensibility. The immolation of
their persons, the forfeiture of their lands, and
a perpetual exile from their beloved mountains
and valleys, were as fatally, as unworthily be-
stowed on the race of the very Monarch whom
they had betrayed, with an infamy which has
passed through the world. What a history is
this of the Stuarts ! of their devoted Enemies,
and their devoted Friends !

An event in France now occurred which the
Secretary of State imagined might produce a
sinister effect in England,

One of the Parliaments of France had re-
cently ventured to present " A Remonstrance"
to the French Monarch, for which four of the
Members were cast into prison, and the rest
submitted. The Secretary of State, intimately
acquainted with the feelings of the English
people, is anxious that the Resident should

154 SECRET ANECDOTES OF

explain to them that " a French Parliament is
only a Court of Magistrates, who are solely to
administer the Laws. It is not an English
Parliament to which they will compare it."
Sabran in reply observes, " They have not
failed here to reflect on the equivocal term of
Parliament, asserting that it is to this point the
King of Great Britain would reduce their own.
They express their surprise at the punishment
of the refractory members. They will not
acknowledge the difference of the nature and
quality of the two Parliaments. I tell them
that the English Parliament conjointly with
their King makes the Laws, which being
settled by their common consent, neither he
nor they can violate them ; but that our Par-
liament consisted merely of a body of Law-
officers from whom the King solely requires
the administration of justice, invested as they
are with no other power than what they derive
from the King's grant. Our King himself is
above the Law, and in the spirit of Equity the
royal authority can alter the Law."

At this distant day, it is important to ob-
serve, that it was these very French Parlia-
ments which kindled the first sparks on the
altar of civil freedom in France. This com-
pany of Magistrates had often resisted the

THE YEARS 1644 AND 1645. 155

arbitrary decrees of Richelieu ; under the ad-
ministration of Mazarine, they caught a new
spirit, and in their close imitation of the poli-
tical scenes which had passed in our country,
they composed " Remonstrances " to the French
Monarch. The Frondeurs of Cardinal de Retz
was even an attempt at a Revolution, but the
people being neither invited nor conducted,
took little interest in the discontents of a few
Grandees, and the Aristocratic Insurrection
concluded by a surprising reverse of the per-
sonal interests of the Parties. It was the co-
medy of a Revolution, and the only disturb-
ance it occasioned was, that the Cardinal took
a short journey, and one of the noble Insur-
rectionists married his niece. All was silence,
pride, and servitude under the splendid reign of
Louis XIV. The French Parliaments under
his successor often raised their voice, and were
sometimes suspended, and sometimes exiled.
Humiliated by the Court, they rose in the
popular regard. The eloquence of these ad-
vocates of civil freedom was echoed in the
land, and men got by rote whole passages of
their addresses or apologies. The benevolent
Louis XVI. ever desirous of his people's well-
fare, reinstated the Parliaments which his pre-
decessor had interrupted. The grateful people

156 SECRET ANECDOTES OF

rejoiced, and found the first Champions of the
rights of Citizens, among the magistrates and
advocates composing their Parliaments. Our
neighbours, in the first sober hours of their re-
volutions have often appealed to those of Eng-
land ; they have even servilely fallen into our
errors. The reaction of public opinion among
the two influential nations in Europe will in-
evitably operate on the political state of the
Continent; and should each accept from the
other, what may be found of public good in
either, the neighbours will cease to be rivals.
May we indulge the hope that the future
historian shall chronicle that astonishing event
which has never yet happened — of two great
neighbouring nations, without jealousies, with-
out envy, and without fear ?

Our Resident was fully convinced that a
powerful party in the Parliament was intent
to abolish Monarchy. But as this faction had
not yet openly declared their designs, it be-
came an anxious subject of inquiry not only
how to remove Charles the First, but to avoid
a dissension with the Monarchists and the
Scots, by transferring the regal authority to
another branch of the royal blood. The Prince
Palatine, the nephew of Charles, a very hum-
ble pensioner of the Parliament, was considered

THE YEARS 1644 AND 1645. 157

by some as a pliant creature, who would accept
the Crown on any prescribed terms. This
Prince, who was of a mean character, on a pre-
text to solicit farther charity from the Parlia-
ment, pleading for the mere necessities of his
family, was now in London, and his Mother
the Queen of Bohemia, and himself, both of
whom had, observes Sabran, never been on
good terms with their Majesties of England,
would be glad to repair the loss of their Pala-
tinate. Should this plan fail, Sabran continues,
the Parliament doubt not that the Scots would
be contented to fix the Royalty on the little
Duke of Gloucester, who is not above four
years old, and who, having him in their hands,
would be brought up in their own way, and
submit the Government to a perpetual Parlia-
ment. The French Secretary and the Resi-
dent alike concluded, that if the Parliament
transferred the Crown to a Stranger, as some
proposed, or a junior branch of the family, it
would only be reviving the domestic feuds of
York and Lancaster. Brienne adds, "Their
history for future ages will be as full of tra-
gical deeds as that of the Past."

I have given this extract for more than one
reason. It is impossible in discovering these
critical difficulties in settling the Monarchy,

158 SECRET ANECDOTES OF

not to detect parallel circumstances, which are
not so strange to ourselves. History is a per-
petual detection of the circumscribed sphere
of all human actions, and the repetition of all
human events.

We learn here on unquestionable authority,
from the interviews between Sabran and the
King, that Charles the First was so earnest
to settle a Peace, that the French Resident
deemed it advisable to keep back the commu-
nication of the King's proposals, as giving the
Parliament too great an advantage over him,
in discovering his facility, and his submission.
In truth the prevalent faction in the Commons
wanted not Peace ; they had in view a far diffe-
rent object than participating that power and
authority which they had usurped. And this
appears by what Sabran particularly notices.
«' The Parliament have concealed from the
people the King's desire of an Accommoda-
tion, and suppress, as well as they can, a know-
ledge of the Royal letter sent by a Herald,
passing off the trumpet as coming for an ex-
change of prisoners."

The French Resident and the Secretary of
State had long suffered from a mutual infusion
of reciprocal terrors, and in December 1644
they imagined themselves to be two Jeremiahs.

THE YEARS 1644 AND 1645. 159

The singular project of " the Self-denying Or-
dinance" was now first broached ; that mar-
vellous expedient of the Independents, who
under the popular pretext that the Members
of both Houses should " give up all their time
to their country's service without reward or
gratuity," and to secure their uninterrupted
service in Parliament, and as Cromwell said,
" to vindicate the Parliament from all partiali-
ty to their own Members, it should be unlaw-
ful for any Member of either House to hold
any office in the army, or any place in the
State." This political manoeuvre was opened
by the elder Vane, who was made to resign
the Treasurership of the Navy, and by Cromwell
offering his commission of Lieutenant-General .
The real object was not only to gull the people
but to eject at one blow all moderate men, and
particularly their present noble commanders,
while they new-modelled the army with their
own more thorough-paced creatures. It is
known how Cromwell offered to lay down his
military command, and how he contrived to be
petitioned to retain it, and by his absence from
the House, while at the head of his troops,
avoided any risk of being reminded of his pa-
triotic offer — What Mouse would bell the Cat ?
" All power," exclaims the agitated Resident,

160 SECRET ANECDOTES OF

" is now fast going to the House of Commons,
and the people : the design, no longer admit-
ting of dissimulation, of abolishing the Monarch
and Monarchy, the Peers and their dignity,
and thus will they spread among their neigh-
bours all that fury which looks for support
from all of their Religion, We have already
come in for our share of the evil, for the Swedes
have now sent a Deputy." (France had long
been alarmed at secret intrigues with Sweden.)
" This novel alliance, even the Dutch in their
prudence abhor, and foresee the peril in which
themselves stand, as well as from the monstrous
power which this Parliament assumes, whose
aliment, henceforth, must be flames and blood."
On the arrival of this Swedish " Deputy" as
Sabran calls this Envoy, the French Resident
held a secret conference with the Hollanders,
who appear to have been as jealous of this new
political union, in which they contemplated a
powerful rival, as Sabran was alarmed at the
loss of this ancient ally of France, at the union
of all the Protestant Powers, and above all at
the example now openly held out to the Hu-
guenots of France by their dangerous neigh-
bour. The Dutch seem to have been only
terrified at the loss of trade, and the indifferent
footing they were on with the Parliament, who

THE YEARS 1644 AND 1645. 161

treated them with disdain, suspecting a me-
diation from the Prince of Orange from his
family alliance with the King.

The irreconcilable breach between the Earl
of Manchester and Cromwell was the prelimi-
nary to the introduction of the famous Self-
denying Ordinance. The recriminations be-
tween these two great personages openly oc-
curred in the House ; they are noticed by
Clarendon. Cromwell had accused the Earl of
Manchester of betraying the Parliament, by
checking his pursuit when the King retreated
from Newbury. The Earl in assigning some
extraordinary reasons for this apparent ill-
conduct disclosed a remarkable communication
made by Cromwell to him. Cromwell told
the Earl, " My Lord, if you will stick firm to
honest men, you shall find yourself at the head of
an Army 'that shall give the Law to King and
Parliament" "This discourse," proceeded his
Lordship, " had made great impression in him,
for he knew the Lieutenant-General to be a
man of very deep designs, and therefore he
was the more careful to preserve an Army
which he yet thought was very faithful to the
Parliament."

The brief report which Sabran sends to
his Cabinet of this memorable clash, has

VOL. v. M *

162 SECRET ANECDOTES OF

probably preserved ah expression of Cromwell
more explicit than we find in Clarendon.
" The Earl of Manchester is accused of not
having willingly fought the Royal Army, and
of having said that it ought not to be done,
for that this had been the real cause of the
resources and the strength which his Majesty
had acquired ; Cromwell, on the other hand, is
accused of having said that ' he hoped to see
the day when there should not be a King nor a
Peer in England' This speech is most im-
portant, for it is really the point they drive at."
Sabran seems here to have preserved the un-
guarded language of Cromwell. It is evident
that the intimation which Cromwell gave to
the Earl, as we find it in Clarendon, was thrown
out in the warmth of confidence ; the tone was
that of invitation. When the arch -plotter dis-
covered that the Earl started at the seduction,
and possibly an involuntary gesture might have
betrayed Manchester to the scrutinizing and
watchful eye of him who was apt in reading
men's thoughts, Cromwell raised his tone to de-
fiance and menace ; and at that moment reveal-
ed an important secret hitherto closely confined
to his own party. Sabran describes the agita-
tion at the moment of this occurrence. " The
Lords understanding that the other House

THE YEARS 1644 AND 1645. 163

were discussing the accusation against Crom-
well wherein they took so deep an interest, they
were desirous of hearing Cromwell, and of
being informed of the whole matter ; but the
Commons kicked (s'est cabre"e) — declaring that
the Higher House must not know of any pro-
ceedings of the Lower till they were conclud-
ed, and then only by their Messenger." The
truth is, this moment was a critical trial of
the strength of both Factions. The peace-
party, who already dreaded the fierceness of
Cromwell, were desirous of having the matter
thoroughly investigated, but the Cromwellites,
we may now give the Independents that title,
Clarendon observes, put all obstructions in the
way, and rather chose to lose the advantage
they had against the Earl than to have some
unavoidable discoveries they were not yet ready
to produce.

Alluding to the Self-denying Ordinance, Sa-
bran proceeds — " This is the most cunning arti-
fice the Commons have yet practised, to fill all
offices with popular persons, and manifest to
the Londoners that the War would have finish-
ed, and Liberty had been secured, had Man-
chester fought. In this way this House gets
credit with the people, and by the power which
it confers on them will have the entire com-

M 2

164 SECRET ANECDOTES OF

maud of all offices civil and military." Sabran
had not penetrated into the deeper designs of
new-modelling the Army with Cromwellites.
He observes, however, that they have already
begun a new Government, by calling them-
selves " the States" (Les Etats). In the hur-
ried change through the whole fabric of the
Constitution, many absurd proceedings occur-
red which at the instant they were not aware
of ; among these was this new title to the Eng-
lish Government. A long debate ensued when
they sent out the Fleet, to decide what it should
be called, and at last resolved on " The State's
Fleet." Cromwell coming to the House at
the close smiled, and facetiously asked the
Speaker, " Whether they had got another
Hogen Mogen ?" It is remarkable of Crom-
well that he often turned off the most solemn
matters with a jocular air, as he did at the mo-
ment of signing the Death-warrant of Charles.
It was the art of getting over difficulties by
diverting attention from them.

Lord Herbert, son of the Earl of Pembroke,
told Sabran that such was the intolerable op-
pression of the men who had now the power
in their own hands, having gained over the
people to their side by their pretended disin-
terestedness, that they conceal their secret de-
signs, and every day grow more violent and

THE YEARS 1644 AND 1645. 165

absolute. The brother of the Earl of Argyle,
who served the Parliament in Scotland, assured
him that the Parliament had taken their final
resolution. They held the mediation of foreign
powers as too partial for the King of England,
and particularly that of France. They would
not endure those who were about the King.
On this Sabran makes this extraordinary ob-
servation. Un secours d'Etr angers seroit in-
compatible avec les Anglois, et ne pent etrepropre
que pour conquerir cet Etat, a quoy une Croi-
sade seroit mieux employee quen Sarbarie, tant
je prevois extremes leursfins. The embarrass-
ments of European Cabinets have been mutual
on those parallel events which have succeeded
each other in the modern history of England
and France. It would have dismayed the
working brain of Sabran, could he have ima-
gined that his " Crusade" was ever to be con-
ducted into his own Capital.

The Independents surely meditated to open
their Rule by a reign of terror. Suddenly we
see sanguinary executions fast following on one
another. The State-prisoners who had been
long left in durance, and seemed to have been
forgotten, are hurried to their fate. The Irish
Lord Maquire in vain pleaded his privilege, peti-
tioning to be beheaded, and was with an Irish
gentleman hanged at Tyburn. Sir Alexander

166 SECRET ANECDOTES, &C.

Carew, who bad remarkably expressed himself
against the Earl of StrafFord, now himself felt
the sharpness of that axe for which he had so
vehemently called. The two Hothams, Father
and Son, though opposed to each other, expi-
ated their political tergiversations. The vener-
able Archbishop Laud, after a confinement of
four years, was dragged forth to leave his old
bones on the scaffold, — an inhuman triumph
which Sabran forcibly describes. This ancient
Archbishop was thrown as prey or garbage, the
fee of the Hounds, to satiate the Scots. " C'est
pour dormer curee aux Ecossois que Ton a
aujourd'hui condamn^ a mort le viel Arche-
veque de Canterbury, et les deux Seigneurs
d'Irlande." In all respects the Independents
were the Jacobins of France ; and the Level-
lers, the worser of the worse, openly declared
that " the Kingdom was theirs by conquest,"
and proposed " a free Election" by universal
suffrage for not only freeholders, but all men
living, even beggars should have a vote in
choosing their Representatives, servants only
were excepted.* There are crimes and follies
which we vainly flatter ourselves can never be
repeated.

* Clarendon's State-papers, ii. xl. I imagine that the
votes of "the Beggars" could only have been a satirical
rumour.

THE TWO FRENCH RESIDENTS. 167

CHAPTER VII.

THE TWO FRENCH RESIDENTS.

MINISTERS of State, in the removal of their
Ambassadors or the choice of their temporary
envoys, act on the principle of those who call
in a second physician whose practice is dia-
metrically the reverse of the first. The in-
effective system of his predecessor having suf-
fered the disorder to increase, the other earnest-
ly proceeds with his own ; and though neither
save the patient, who is dissolving in his own
weakness, his intractable state, which may
evince the despair, does not necessarily prove
the unskilfulness of his physicians.

Such was the case with Cardinal Mazarine,
when he dispatched Sabran as the French " Re-
sident" at London during the years 1644 and
1645, and having recalled him supplied his
place by Monsieur De Montreuil in 1646.

168 THE TWO FRENCH RESIDENTS.

For two years had Sabran been busied in
England, and yet so entirely ineffective were
his operations, that I never could trace his
name standing in connection with the King
or the Parliament. Accident alone brought
the bulky tomes of his inedited negotiations
under my inspection. This state of singular
obscurity for a public Minister, was not how-
ever occasioned by any torpid listlessness in the
Envoy himself, nor from any deficient sympa-
thy amidst the awful scenes which were rising
around him. On the contrary, Sabran was a
close observer of every event, a listener to
much secret intelligence; very subdolous in
intrigues, and on an intimate footing with the
leading personages of the day. We must look
for some cause which may satisfactorily ac-
count for the extraordinary circumstances of
an Envoy being nullified during two complete
years of incessant activity.
• There is great truth in the reflection of
Clarendon, which he has expressed with the
accustomed vigour of his conceptions, that
" the unexpected calamity which befell this
Kingdom was not in grateful to its neigh-
bours on all sides, who were willing to see it
weakened and chastised by its own strokes."
I shall confirm this observation by a inanu-

THE TWO FRENCH RESIDENTS. 169

script letter which I found among the Conway
Papers, which exhibits a genuine representa-
tion of the nation and the feelings of our
European neighbours at the opening of our
civil dissensions, and more particularly of the
French nation. It contains passages which
might be imagined to be written in our own
times.

" MR. BAN DOMVILLE TO LORD CONWAY.

Paris, Sept. 21, 1640.

SINCE Paris hath begun to entertain itself
with the affairs of England, it seems to have
shut out all other news to make room for this.
All sides seem to be well pleased in our mis-
fortunes; those that sit at the helm, add boldness
to their designs, having buried their fears and
doubts in the distractions of that State. The
Catholics despair not to find a way opened to
their cause by these confusions, and those of
the Religion (the Huguenots or the foreign
Protestants and Presbyterians) hope to reap
an advancement of their discipline. As in the
beginning all forms how contrary soever took
their matter from a general confusion, so from
the present troubles the most inconsistent in-
terests seem to borrow their support and hope.
Neither is France free from all inward troubles ;

170 THE TWO FRENCH RESIDENTS.

she hath so long wrestled with an enemy that
in some parts she hath cast herself into a fever.
The French fleet at this time gives the law to
the Mediterranean and braves the Spaniard in
his own ports.

" The desolation which is found all over the
Kingdom of Naples much defames the Spanish
Government, and with no small injury to the
rule of Princes gives too great a reputation to
that of Commonwealths."

We discover at this early period, that in the
fall of Monarchies, men imagined that they
should find relief under Republican Govern-
ments. Man flies to the extremes of the cir-
cumference of the circle which Nature has
drawn around him, till he settles in quiet at the
centre, being removed at equal distances from
Despotism and from Anarchy.

We have already had occasion to show that
Richelieu, long provoked by former aggressions
of England, and latterly refused that co-part-
nership in European power, with which the
wily Cardinal had tempted the English Mo-
narch, had vindictively proceeded, with the
hoarded hatreds of many years. His intrigues
had blown into a flame the embers of insur-
rection in Scotland, and he had even thrown

THE TWO FRENCH RESIDENTS. 171

off the mask, when the French Ambassador
kept up no unfriendly intercourse with the
English Parliament. Clarendon denounces
" the Great Cardinal" for " the haughtiness of
his own nature and immoderate appetite of
revenge, under the disguise of being jealous of
the honour of his Master." The noble histo-
rian did not know that this profound States-
man lived to regret some of his measures, for
his confidential Secretary has informed us, that
matters had gone farther than the Cardinal had
designed, or than he desired.

Mazarine, the pupil of Richelieu, inherited
all the advantages which the more vigorous
genius of his great master had created. The
character of this Minister is finely touched by
the most refined judge of all Statesmen. " This
Cardinal," says Clarendon, " was a man rather
of different than contrary parts from his pre-
decessor ; and fitter to build upon the founda-
tions which he had laid, than to have laid those
foundations, and to- cultivate by artifice, dex-
terity, and dissimulation, in which his nature
and parts excelled, what the other had begun
with great resolution and vigour, and even
gone through with invincible constancy and
courage."

The Italian Epicurean, not instigated by the

172 THE TWO FRENCH RESIDENTS.

passions of the native Frenchman, bore no per-
sonal animosity to Charles or to the English
Nation. Adopting however .the system of the
Cabinet of the Louvre, Mazarine moderately
entered into its designs. This Minister was
no otherwise delighted by the troubles of Eng-
land than as they kept the nation from forming
any active alliance with the Spaniard, intent as
he was in prosecuting the war with the rival
powers of France. " The Cardinal," says Cla-
rendon, " did not yet think the King's condition
low enough, and rather desired by administer-
ing little and ordinary supplies, to enable him
to continue the struggle, than to see him vic-
torious over his enemies."

The whole of " the Negotiations" or the dis-
patches of Sabran confirm this observation, as
likewise his first cautious instructions, which
were to serve the Envoy as the basis of his
Negotiations. Sabran was sent to England,
doubtless to communicate whatever he could
learn, and to discriminate with his own eyes.
But with any other power he appears never to
have been invested. He could not by any
positive act of his own do that, by which either
party could be benefited. He was not to com-
promise himself in his intercourse with the Par-
liament lest the King might find occasion to

THE TWO FRENCH RESIDENTS. 173

be jealous, and he was to play the same part
with the King, that the Parliament might not
suspect him of any predilection for Royalty.
A more neutralised being could not have been
contrived by the mechanism of politics. It
happened, however, that Sabran became so fre-
quently alarmed, that he felt his situation des-
perately irksome, and the human Puppet at
times, in the exercise of his faculties, seemed
ready to burst his secret pulleys.

When Sabran was told that a moderate sup-
ply in money from France would be of essen-
tial service to the King, both for his own sub-
sistence and to enable him to open the Cam-
paign with an army of sufficient force to ap-
proach the Capital, Sabran warily regretted
that France had no monies to spare in her
present position ! He offered arms, but Charles
observed that those already received from
France were found to be utterly worthless !
He suggested the aid of Foreign Volunteers,
Charles refused to receive any foreign soldiers,
observing that men were not wanted, but the
means of subsisting them. Charles having ex-
pressed his satisfaction on the arrival of the
Queen in France for the honours she had re-
ceived, which had made a deep impression on
the minds of the Londoners, suggested that

174 THE TWO FRENCH RESIDENTS.

the fear of France might bring the Parliament
to reasonable conditions, and should France
propose such, provided she was cautious not to
incur a suspicion that she acted from any sinis-
ter motive, it would be the only means to ter-
minate his affairs. This too was Sabran's own
opinion, but he only replied by " acquainting
the King with the present state of our affairs
through Europe." No attempt at mediation
was made, except the under plot of an intrigue
carried on with the Scots to separate them from
the Parliament of England, and to play one
against another with the King between the
two ! In a word, after two years of espionage
and persiflage, Sabran, who from the first was
a suspected person by both parties, never im-
proved in their confidence. He was actually
worn out by his inefficient neutrality, and as-
sisting neither, he left them to themselves, and
they apparently left the French Resident to
his own contemplations. This Envoy was ap-
pointed to do nothing, and after many hard
trials with both parties, succeeded in that diffi-
cult employment.

When the fate of Charles after the disas-
trous battle of Naseby seemed fast approaching
on him, and the Parliament assumed " the su-
preme dominion," Mazarine started from his

THE TWO FRENCH RESIDENTS. 175

slumbers of neutrality, more alarmed at the
appearance of a monstrous novel Common-
wealth rising up in Europe, than touched by
the ancient jealousy of the former greatness of
the Crown of England. The French Minister
now dispatched another Envoy in earnest, to
save the sinking Monarch. Monsieur Mon-
treuil was sent, as Clarendon observes, " with
some formal address to the Parliament, but in-
tentionally to negotiate between the King and
the Scots." Montreuil came better provided
than Sabran, to acquire the full confidence of
the Parties to whom he chiefly addressed him-
self. The Queen Regent of France, or Maza-
rine, had invested the new Envoy with ample
authority to treat with the Scots, and Henri-
etta had solemnly impressed on Charles the
decision of France to serve him.

The new Envoy proceeded without dissimu-
lation in all his communications with the King.
He felt a personal regard for the Monarch,
whom he earnestly sought to extricate from
one of his most trying situations. At this cri-
tical moment Charles was meditating his escape
from Oxford, but agitated by doubts and by
despair, he knew not whither to fly, nor what
measures to pursue. Montreuil, unlike Sabran,
soon obtained all the confidence of Charles, for

176 THE TWO FRENCH RESIDENTS.

he was acting with an honourable sincerity.
This however did not alter the situation of
Charles. Montreuil was zealous to accomplish
the object of his Mission, but he had come on
an erroneous principle, and had to encounter a
difficulty which no human power could over-
come, since Religion itself, as well as Monarchy,
according to the notions and the feelings of
Charles, were to form the dark and self-sacri-
fice. The Queen had signed a sort of engage-
ment with a subtile Scotch Agent, Sir Robert
Murray, that the King should consent to the
establishment of the Presbyterial government
in England ; Jermyn and Culpepper at Paris
had confirmed the proposal, and pressed it on
the King as his last resource.

This immolation of an heretical Episcopacy
in favour of another heretical Church-govern-
ment was a change perfectly indifferent to a
Roman Catholic Queen, as was Henrietta ; to
the thoughtless Jermyn, the silken creature of
a Court ; and to Culpepper, a military man,
shrewd and bold in his measures, but who
Charles declared knew nothing of "Religion."
To them all it appeared a simple concession,
by which the powerless Monarch might secure
his Throne.

Charles alluding to the paper signed by the

THE TWO FRENCH RESIDENTS. 177

Queen, observed to Montreuil, that it was void,
for " the Queen his dear consort, in the par-
ticular of the Church was a little mistaken, by
her not so full knowledge of the Constitution
of the English Government." He freely con-
sented to allow the Presbyterial government in
Scotland, " but if the Scots will never declare
for me unless I should make such concessions for
the destruction of Monarchy, by the grace of
God I never will do it." Charles said, " That
their doctrine is Anti-Monarchical, I bolted
out of Mr. Henderson." Charles used a more
forcible argument when he observed, that should
he consent to the terms the Scots prescribed, he
would only be securing that party which in
England had become the weakest in the State,
and would only exasperate the Independents,
whose ascendancy already appeared, both against
them and himself.

The candour of Montreuil is admirable.
Having stated his argument to Charles in fa-
vour of the Scots, he fairly concludes, " This
time your Majesty will think me quite Scot-
ticised, but I believe you will do me the honour
not to think ill of me for representing affairs
without any disguise, which we do only to
intelligent Monarchs :" (Aux Hois bien s$a-
vants.) On another occasion, this honest Ne-

VOL. v. N

178 THE TWO FRENCH RESIDENTS.

gotiator addressed the reverse arguments, those
which Charles himself had supplied him with,
to bring the Scots to terms. Montreuil now
reminded them that their great enemy the
Independents were of late far more powerful
than they. " I showed them that they ought
to feel but little interest in establishing their
Church government in England, and for ruling
over the consciences of their neighbours, com-
pared with the more pressing necessity of pre-
serving their lives, their property, and their
liberty, all which they would lose whenever
they abandoned your Majesty." To the frank
Negotiator, Charles replied as frankly. His
decision was invariable, but with a gracefulness
not always accompanying his clear and busi-
ness-like style* he adds, " To answer your free-
dom with the like, I plainly tell you that
already you have from me all that I can do,
and you may believe me that no necessity shall
compel me to do that, which I have refused
to do at the desire of two Queens, either of
them having power enough to make me do
what is possible, sans marchander. In a word,
you have all that my shop can afford, it is
your part to make the best bargain you
may," alluding to the Presbyterian party at
London.

THE TWO FRENCH RESIDENTS. 179

Montreuil, with a generous zeal to accom-
plish this perplexed negotiation, finding the
Scots Commissioners at London and the King
alike unalterable, determined on journeying
himself to the Scottish army at Newark, tak-
ing the King at Oxford in his way. He resolv-
ed to try whether the heads of the army were
as intractable as their party at Westminster.
Montreuil discovered that the Scottish Officers
were more moderate in their councils, and not
unwilling to listen to any expedient which
might serve them to recede from the rigour
of their demands. The honest Negotiator was
sanguine that he should now accommodate
the more difficult points. The Scots were gra-
tified to learn that it was the King's design
to come among them. The difficulty was now
to contrive a method for this extraordinary
removal, so that they should not offend their
masters — the English Parliament. They pro-
posed sending a body of cavalry to Harbo-
rough, a place which the King could safely
reach, and when he met those troops, as it were
accidentally, he should declare that he was pro-
ceeding to Scotland, and command their attend-
ance. By this subterfuge the Scots had warily
planned to avoid the appearance of having in-
vited the King, their object being to show that

N 2

180 THE TWO FRENCH RESIDENTS.

the King had voluntarily taken refuge with
their army.

On April the 1st, Montreuil, to give assur-
ance to the King, drew up an Engagement ex-
pressive of their earnest desire to receive their
natural Sovereign, and to offer him every per-
sonal security.* It is curious to observe the
shifts to which all parties are put to botch an
insincere, or a difficult treaty. Montreuil who
could not extract from the Scots any but a
verbal agreement, had drawn up one with his
own hand, to satisfy the impatient King, who
was still counting the hours for his escape from
Oxford ; and though not one of the party would
venture to subscribe the Engagement, plead-
ing the critical position in which their friends
stood with the powerful Independents at Lon-
don, yet they pledge their oaths with Mon-
treuil, that his signature shall be as valid as if
it bore the names of those who never signed it !

The encouragement the King had received
from Montreuil hastened his decision for this
famous transportation of himself. Impatient to
pass over to the Scots, Charles deemed it, how-
ever, prudent to ascertain the promised arrival
of their cavalry. The King sent for Dr. Hud-
son, whom he called his " plain-dealing Chap-

* This document may be found in Clarendon, v. 387.

THE TWO FRENCH RESIDENTS. 181

lain." This Dr. Hudson was one of those rare
energetic characters, who seem born to wres-
tle with the Fate they cannot conquer. This
remarkable person was a devoted Royalist, who
had never forsaken the fortunes of his Master,
and had always opened his mind with the most
unrestrained freedom when others would not, or
dared not. But his practice was not restricted
to the studies of Divinity, he had greatly dis-
tinguished himself in the Field, and for his
hardy activity held the office of Scout-Master-
General in the North, and by this means was
well conversant with the bad roads and cross-
cuts, which were the annoyance of our ances-
tors, more particularly when a secret journey
was to be contrived.

The King desired Dr. Hudson to prepare for
a journey, without however informing him of
his destination. The Doctor however knew it.
The King expressed his astonishment, declaring
that he had confided the secret only to Prince
Rupert and the Duke of Richmond. The
Duke of Richmond had been weak enough to
trust the secret to the Duchess, and she to her
Maid, and the Maid had communicated it to the
Doctor, and however silent the last receiver of
the secret intelligence might have been, there
was alreadv a rumour afloat at Oxford.

182 THE TWO FRENCH RESIDENTS.

On April 8th, Dr. Hudson posted to Har-
borough, and there neither found Montreuil
nor the Scottish cavalry. He pushed on to
Southwell, where Montreuil lodged, who ap-
peared disconcerted at his appearance, perplex-
ed in his opinions, and very ill-pleased with the
Scots. On the 10th of April, Hudson return-
ed to the King, with a very discouraging pros-
pect, and gloomily presaged that the Scots were
designing to make a bargain with the King's
person.*

Clarendon will now supply that part of the
narrative which the noble writer drew from the
actual correspondence of Montreuil with the
King and Secretary Nicholas.f " Many days
had not passed after the sending that express"
(the express which carried the Engagement
written by Montreuil and assented to by the
Scots) " when he found such chagrin^: and ter-

* Manuscript account of the King's Escape by Dr. Stuke-
ley. Cole's MSS. xiv. Though Harborough was only a dis-
tance of forty miles from Oxford, it is remarked that it was
in " a bad season and bad roads." A morning ride of forty
miles was then an expedition in roads without turnpikes.

f We have the interesting correspondence of the French
Resident from two sources, the Clarendon, and also the
Thurloe State-papers.

J Cole, who in his Manuscript has quoted this passage
from Clarendon, writes — " Chicane," so it ought to be read

THE TWO FRENCH RESIDENTS. 183

giversation in some of those he had treated
with, one man denying what he had said to
himself, and another disclaiming the having
given such a man authority to say that from
him, which the other still avowed he had done,
that Montreuil thought himself obliged with
all speed to advertise his Majesty of the foul
change, and to dissuade him from venturing
his person in the power of such men ; but the
express who carried that letter was taken pri-
soner, and though he escaped and preserved his
letter, he could not proceed in his journey."
Had this letter reached Charles, Montreuil
imagined it would have deterred him from
venturing his person with the Scots, but an
alteration again occurred, which induced the
King to keep to his resolution, having no other
resource left him.

The honest Mediator, probably after Doctor
Hudson had returned to the King, indignantly

in Clarendon instead of ct Chagrine." As Cole was a mere
matter-of-fact-man one would suppose that he did not ven-
ture on so ingenious a reading without some authority.
The sense and the truth would not suffer by its adoption. I
looked eagerly into the last accurate and uncastrated edition
of Clarendon, where the Rev. Dr. Bandinel has closely watch-
ed the autograph of Clarendon himself, even to a syllable ;
but the conjecture of Cole has only its own merit, being un-
warranted by the original Manuscript.

184 THE TWO FRENCH RESIDENTS.

remonstrated with these equivocating Scots,
He insisted that they were insulting the ho-
nour of his own Sovereign by their perpetual
prevarications, since France stood forth to gua-
rantee whatever the King of England should
engage to perform. When Montreuil raised
his tone, he again brought them back to their
old protestations and a renewal of their former
scheme, but the conditions were made some-
what harder. A place was again appointed
mid- way between Newark and Harborough.
Montreuil opened his inmost thoughts to the
King and Secretary Nicholas. He himself had
lost all confidence in the parties.

The ardent Negotiator, out-wearied and baf-
fled by these political Jugglers, subsides into
prudential counsels and chilling warnings. He
complains that the Scots contrive every obsta-
cle to prevent him from positively advising the
King not to quit Oxford, at the same time that
they proceeded irresolutely, as if they cared not
to assist his escape. Their motives were com-
plex, and their proceedings were contradictory.
The truth is, the Scots were earnest enough
that Charles should be in their Camp, but the
difficulty was, to induce the King to come
voluntarily to them, and to conceal any ad-
vances on their part. They avoided doing any

THE TWO FRENCH RESIDENTS. 185

act on their side, or to venture their signature
to any treaty which might implicate them with
their pay-masters the English House of Com-
mons, or as they subtilely stated it, " should
they break with the English Parliament, it
would deprive them of means to preserve the
King."

Montreuil thus closes one of his dispatches ;
" I will say no more but this, that his Majesty
and you know the Scots better than I do ; I
have not taken upon me the boldness to give
any counsel to his Majesty, yet if he hath any
other refuge or means to make better condi-
tions, I think he ought not to accept of these."
His confidence did not improve — A day or two
after, he says " They tell me that they will do
more than can be expressed; but let not his
Majesty hope for any more than I send him
word of, that he may not be deceived ; for cer-
tainly the enterprise is full of danger !" And
far more than the honest Negotiator ever ima-
gined !

We shall see that shortly after the arrival of
Charles, Montreuil was not even allowed to
confer with the King. The negotiation of the
French Resident, who was an honester man
than his Master the Cardinal designed him to
be, ended most unhappily. Montreuil protested

186 THE TWO FRENCH RESIDENTS.

against their perfidy, but he could not con-
ceal from himself that he had totally failed in
his Mission, and to avoid the daily insults of
the Scots, he and Ashburnham, the confidential
companion of the King, flew to Paris, where the
late Resident in vain attempted to rouse the
indignation of the Cardinal, for the honour of
France.

The failure of this negotiation cast Maza-
rine into one of those critical dilemmas from
which a sole Minister, as was the Cardinal in
France, only extricates himself by the sacrifice
of a victim. " No unusual hard-heartedness
in such chief Ministers," says Clarendon. Had
Montreuil been permitted to publish the his-
tory ;of this important transaction, he had pro-
bably cleared himself of the imputations cast
on his disastrous negotiation ; his integrity
would not have been suspected for his too
sanguine reliance on his first interviews with
the Scottish officers, nor on the anomalous do-
cument where his own signature was to tes-
tify for others, what they themselves refused
to attest.

In this secret mission the Cardinal at first
appears to have been prevailed on by the so-
licitations of the two Queens to mediate be-
tween Charles and the Scots. The project har-

THE TWO FRENCH RESIDENTS. 187

monized with the State-policy, but since the
negotiation had concluded with a disaster, by
placing the King in the imprisonment of the
Scottish camp, Mazarine, who consulted his
ease as often as the policy of the State, cared
not to listen to the cries of a baffled Negoti-
ator. Desirous of silently wiping off the in-
dignity which his luckless agent asserted had
been offered to the Crown of France, anxious
too to conceal from the English Parliament
how deeply France had engaged herself in this
secret intrigue with the Scots, and equally
dreading lest Montreuil's " plain unvarnished
tale" should irritate the Scottish chiefs by its
exposition, the Minister condemned the luck-
less Envoy to silence, forbade his appearance
at Court, and afterwards exiled him from Paris.
Clarendon, who has commemorated his fate,
adds that Montreuil " died of grief of mind."
What is more certain in the history of this
French Resident Clarendon seems not to have
known. The discarded official man went over
to the Opposition party, accepting the Secre-
taryship of the Prince of Conti. And when
that Prince, the Duke of Longueville and the
great Conde* were imprisoned at Vincennes,
Montreuil became their active correspondent,
and their secret counsellor. When these

188 THE TWO FKENCH RESIDENTS.

Princes obtained their liberty, his death prevent-
ed the recompense of his able services, but as
this happened five years after Montreuil's un-
lucky mission to the Scots, it seems more pro-
bable that instead of " dying of grief of mind"
from that incident, the discarded Envoy expe-
rienced no little satisfaction at mortifying " the
hard-hearted Minister" by his firm and even
triumphant opposition.

After these two French Residents, Bellievre
the French Ambassador took up with his fine
needle the dropped stitch of this net-work;
proceeding on the same principle, threading
the Parliament against the King, and the
King against the Parliament. The policy of
the Cabinet of the Louvre was never designed
by Mazarine to be of any essential service to
England. And so we discover the conclusion
by a passage in one of Lord Clarendon's
letters. " I am glad the French Ambassador
hath disgusted the King, if he be enough dis-
gusted. The truth is, the cheats, and the vil-
lany of that nation is so gross that I cannot
think of it with patience, neither can the King
ever prosper till he abhors them perfectly, and
trusts none who trust them."

Such is the nature of ministerial offices and
Machiavelian politics ! But this system, how-

THE TWO FRENCH RESIDENTS. 189

ever reprobated by Clarendon, has not been pe-
culiar to the French Cabinet, the English have
had their share in this short-sighted policy.
Nations, or rather Ministers, have sought in
the domestic feuds of a neighbouring nation, a
false and hollow prosperity for themselves :
unable to build up their own strength by their
own wisdom, they often deceive themselves by
imagining they acquire stability in proportion
to the weakness of their neighbours.

190 FLIGHT FROM OXFORD

CHAPTER VIII.

FLIGHT FROM OXFORD TO THE SCOTTISH
CAMP.

AT Oxford, early in 1646, Charles was
driven to his last resource. The King had
passed through a dismal and disastrous winter.
Day after day his garrisons had vanished, his
scattered troops were defeated, or disbanded.
He was no longer the commander of an army,
while the armies of the Parliament multiplied
around him. The King, sanguine as he was
often in his worse fortunes, could not disguise
from himself the ruin which was now hasten-
ing on him.

Fairfax and the other Parliamentary Gene-
rals were gradually drawing around their ar-
mies, and his beloved Oxford, which had long
been the resort of the most eminent personages
of the nation, and was consecrated by those
treasures of literature which had often attract-

TO THE SCOTTISH CAMP. 191

ed his thoughts at intervals of quiet, was
shortly to be begirt by an implacable enemy.

Pressed still harder than by the Parliament's
armies, by their unconditional " propositions,"
and by the solicitation of his confidential ad-
visers at Paris to accept them, they strained
his religious conscience on the rack, and all
seemed to be lost, but the feeble Honour,
which he would not yield but with his life.

There was no wisdom amidst distracted coun-
sels, and no confidence among the hopeless.
On one side they pressed the King to stay at
Oxford, and surrender on honourable terms ;
for since the vote of the Independents in the
Commons had passed, that he should never
reign more, they only contemplated in the pri-
vate flight of the King inevitable calamity ; but
Ashburnham, who was usually of the King's
mind, was willing to perish in flight, rather
than to surrender at discretion.

Every hour seemed more urgent than the
last, and Charles was to decide on his instant
course. Cast into many a reverie of desperate
resolves, once Charles offered to two eminent
commanders, that if they would give their word
to conduct him to the Parliament, he would
trust himself to their hands ; but they refused
to engage themselves by so perilous a favour.

192 FLIGHT FROM OXFORD

Thrice had he solicited a personal conference
at Westminster, but the Parliament, who was
daily expecting the circumvallation of Oxford,
and had driven their game into a strong toil,
had only replied by " an insulting silence,"
"an answer, answerless," as Elizabeth once
curtly expressed herself to the Commons.
The truth is, that even in this last . reduced
state of the King, his enemies dreaded " the
royal presence" more than they had done his
armies.* That romantic fancy which on more
than one occasion had broken out, was still
clinging about his mind. It was his favourite
plan to venture himself in disguise, and un-
expectedly appear at London. Perhaps not
without some reasonable hopes, Charles ima-
gined that by an uncommon mark of generous
confidence he should secure his protection from
a grateful city.f It has been said that to end

* Dr. Lingard, x. 334, who has drawn a correct outline of
the proceedings of Charles at this critical moment. The
Parliament were so greatly alarmed at the idea of the King
coming even privately to London, that they published an
Ordinance to imprison the Sovereign should he be found
within their limits.

f I say reasonable hopes, for May, the parliamentary his-
torian, furnished a curious statement of public opinion in
the Capital, about this time, which evidently marks its va-
cillation ; and the increasing influence of the royal " Malig-

TO THE SCOTTISH CAMP. 193

this conflict of his head and his heart, his con-
science tempted even by his friends, and his
future proceedings distracted by adverse coun-
cils, Charles meditated by throwing himself
out of Oxford, with four or five thousand
men, to perish in the field, and thus exhibit in
that Aceldama the woful spectacle of a signal
immolation.*

nants" over their Conquerors. Alluding to the dissen-
sions between the Presbyterians and the Independents,
the historian tells us, " The Malignants were ready tp join
with either side, that they might ruin both. For they them-
selves, though disarmed, were now become the greatest num-
ber, especially by the inconstancy of many men, either upon
particular grievances, or on account of the burden of tax-
ations. A great number of the Citizens of London, not of
the meanest, had revolted from their former principles, inso-
much that the inhabitants of that City, all the King's gar-
risons having been by Fairfax's bloodless victories emptied
into it, came to be in such a condition of strength, as that
the Parliament without the Army's help could not safely sit
there." — May's Breviary of the History of the Parliament,
p. 122.

* I derive this fact from a Manuscript of Dr. Stukeley's
" Account of the Escape of King Charles," among the Cole
MSS. vol. xlv. 372. Such desperate decisions seem to be
indicated in a letter to Montreuil, on Charles's design to fly
to the Scots. " Exeter is to-morrow to be given up, so that
I must expect to be blocked up here within very few days,
which rather than be, I am resolved to run any hazard to come
to you." — Clarendon State Papers, ii. 221.
VOL. V. O

194> FLIGHT FROM OXFORD

At this moment the feelings of Charles were
wrought up to their highest tension ; and it
may serve as an extraordinary evidence of the
visionary turn of his mind, and the awful
superstition of his soul, that Charles entertain-
ed some wayward fancy that should he ever
re-possess his throne, he would perform a public
penance for the sin, as it seemed to him, which
lay heavy on his soul, — the death-warrant of
his great Minister. At this moment he \^rote
down a secret vow, solemnly offered to God, of
his future resolutions to restore to the Church
all the Cathedral and other Ecclesiastical lands
formerly held by the Crown, and now, as he
conceived, appropriated by sacrilegious hands.
This singular document, the effusion of some
melancholy and feverish hour, when pressed for
farther concessions for the establishment of
the Presbyterial Government in England, was
buried under ground for security, during thir-
teen years, by Archbishop Sheldon. A tran-
script, attested by several eminent persons, may
now be inspected in a very curious collection
of Autographs.*

* Mr. Upcot, of the London Institution, has formed an ex-
traordinary collection of Autographs, with the most fortunate
industry. Its abundant volumes, and its admirable classi-
fication, would furnish some authentic and original materials
for our literary and political history.

TO THE SCOTTISH CAMP. 195

The language of Charles the First was often
prompted by the most profound emotions, and
at this awful crisis, we detect the extreme
agitation of the Monarch. Among other pro-
jects of the moment, his confidant Ashburnham
was attempting to treat with the Independents,
through the medium of the younger Vane.*
The pretended principle of this Faction, as it
allowed to all men liberty of conscience, was
more favourable to Charles than the principles
of the Presbyterians, which restricted the faith
of mankind to their papistical synods and their
Israelitish excommunications. One of these
dispatches to Vane was written by the King.
We may feel the agony of his cry ! — " Be very
confident that all things shall be performed ac-
cording to my promise. By all that is good I
conjure you to despatch that courtesy for me
with all speed, or it will be too late ; I shall
perish before I receive the fruits of it. I may
not tell you my necessities, but if it were
necessary so to do, I am sure you would- lay all

* Dr. Lingard affords us an ingenious conjecture on this
extraordinary correspondence with this popular leader, who
had evidently listened to the King, and indulged the inter-
course with a view to keep " the royal bird" in his net till
the great Fowlers, his friends Fairfax and Cromwell, could
get down to the toils. They were bringing up their armies
from Cornwall to Oxford. — x. 338.

O 2

196 FLIGHT FROM OXFORD

other considerations aside, and fulfil my de-
sires. This is all ; trust me, I will repay the
favour to the full. I have done. If I have not
an answer within four days, I shall be necessi-
tated to find some other expedient. God direct
you ! I have discharged my duty."

The favour so earnestly implored was to
admit the King to come to London, with a
security of his person, observing that "the
wealth of the nation is already exhausted, and
the sufferings of the people so great, that they
are no longer to be supported. This is reason ;
'tis not to cast a bone among you !" *

Even at this moment, so humiliated in his
own regard, so humble in his supplication, and
anticipating the calamity preparing for him,
Charles, amidst his unparalleled adversity, was
borne up by the Majesty which suffered, but
knew to suffer. No Monarch has written in so
impassioned a style, for no Monarch has found
himself in a similar position, and few Kings,
even few men, have experienced such exalted
emotions, and closed a long life of trial with the
greatness with which he had borne it.

It is a beautiful reflection of Hume on this
occasion, that " As the dread of ills is com-
monly more oppressive than their real presence,
* Clarendon State Papers, ii. 326.

TO THE SCOTTISH CAMP. 197

perhaps in no period of his life was he more
justly the subject of compassion ;" and he adds
with great truth of discrimination, " His vigour
of mind, which though it sometimes failed him
in acting, never deserted him in his sufferings,
was what alone supported him."

The truth of this statement is farther display-
ed in the warmth of the noble declaration which
at this hour of awful suspense Charles wrote
to Lord Digby. Even at this critical moment,
he was still flattering himself with the delusion
of accomplishing a design which finally became
his ruin. So prone was the hapless Monarch to
exemplify his favourite motto, which he fre-
quently wrote in his books, Dum Spiro Spero.

"Since my last to you by Colonel Butler,
misfortunes have so multiplied upon me that I
have been forced to send this (to say no more)
but strange message to London, yet whatever
comes of me, I must not forget my friends
wherever they are.

" I am endeavouring to get to London, so
that the conditions may be such as a gentle-
man may own, and that the Rebels may ac-
knowledge me King ; being not without hope
that I shall be able so to draw either the Pres-
byterians or Independents to side with me for

198 FLIGHT FROM OXFORD

extirpating one or the other, that I shall be
really King again.

" Howsoever, I desire you to assure all my
Friends, that if I cannot live as King, I shall
die like a Gentleman, without doing that which
may make honest men blush for me."
" Oxford, 26 March, 1646."*
•

This was no unusual style with Charles ; this
circumstance is alluded to by Clarendon in
writing to Culpepper. " How often have you
and I heard him say, that if he could not live
a King he would die a Gentleman ; let him
wear that princely apophthegm next his heart ;
and he will yet be happy in this world, and I
am sure he will be as glorious to posterity."

When Charles decided on leaving Oxford,
accompanied by Dr. Hudson and Ashburnham,
he was irresolute where to direct his flight.
Whether to venture on to London and seek a
personal reconciliation with his Parliament, or
to get by sea into Scotland to join Montrose,
or repair to the Scottish camp before Newark,
casting himself on their protection ? Such im-
portant movements were to depend on any in-
telligence which he might procure on the road!

* Carte's Life of the Duke of Ormond, iii. Appendix,
No. 433.

TO THE SCOTTISH CAMP. 199

Dr. Hudson had an old pass for a captain,
who was to go to London about his composi-
tion. In a scarlet cloak the Doctor represent-
ed the military bearer. At midnight the King
came with the Duke of Richmond to Ash-
burnham's apartment. The scissors were then
applied to the King's tresses, and Charles's love-
lock, which was never more to float on the left
side, and to clip that peaked beard which adorns
the royal portrait. At two in the morning
Hudson went to the Governor, Sir Thomas
Glemham, who brought the keys. The clock
struck three as they went over Magdalen-bridge.
They passed the Port which opens on the Lon-
don road, where the Governor received his
orders from the King, not to suffer any Port
to be opened for five days. The Governor
took his leave with a " Farewell, Harry !" for
to that name Charles was now to answer, as
Ashburnham's servant, wearing a Montero cap,
and carrying a cloak-bag.

Hudson and Ashburnham rode with pistols.
They met several troopers ; a party of Horse
inquired to whom they belonged ? " To the
honourable House of Commons," was the an-
swer. One of Ireton's men joined them on
their way to Slough, and observing the Doc-
tor, or the Captain, repeatedly give money to

£00 FLIGHT FROM OXFORD

the soldiers, asked the King, as the servant,
whether his master was one of the Lords of
Parliament ? The King replied " No ! my
master is one of the Lower House."

They baited at an Inn at Hillingdon, a village
near Uxbridge. Here several hours were passed
in debating on their future course ; London or
Northward ? They looked over " the News-
books," from whence they gathered no comfort.
They found that the Parliament had already
notice of the King's escape, and on a prevalent
rumour both at Oxford and at London that the
King was actually in London, the Parliament
betrayed their alarm by publishing an Ordi-
nance, by beat of drum and sound of trumpet,
that whoever should harbour the King should
forfeit their whole estate.*

Those who pretend that the cares and neces-
sities of a King are not to be regarded as of
more consideration, nor should more excite our
sympathy than those of " a peasant," as one has
recently expressed it,-|~ or of any other indivi-
dual, seem to be little conversant with human

* Whitelocke, 208.

f Mr. John Towill Rutt, in his notes on Burton's Parlia-
mentary Diary, ii. 320, to whom I would do ample justice as
a most intelligent Annotator. His observation applies to the
Murder of Charles, which makes it the more cruel, unphilo-
sophical, and unjust.

TO THE SCOTTISH CAMP. 201

nature. The decision of a Monarch may be
a catastrophe in the history of a Nation, and
the emotions of a conscientious Prince may be
commensurate with the greatness of the con-
templated object. Was there no difference in
the magnitude of the feelings of Alfred in his
distresses, and his reveries, for re-conquering his
kingdom, when he took refuge in the cot of
the husbandman, than that peasant would have
experienced had he been expelled his own
hut ? We might as well conclude, by a false
analogy, an equal sympathy is excited when
some obscure skiff perishes, as when a noble
ship of war, with all its complement of men,
and its many associations of glory, sinks in the
Ocean.

Opposite and unsettled were now the mus-
ings of Charles. Should he venture to hasten
to those who had already pronounced his fate ?
Could the Sovereign in his person restore peace
to his people, whom four long years of devasta-
ting civil war had afflicted with all its miseries ?
The idea was glorious, the emotion was sub-
lime ! Charles was still balancing in his mind
to dare this desperate attempt — but what he
had seen in " the News-books," had revealed
without disguise the temper of those whom he
would vainly have conciliated. In agony the

2102! FLIGHT FROM OXFORD

King tore himself away from his favourite
scheme, and his abandoned Capital, and with
his two faithful followers, pursued their road
northward, uncertain of their destination.

Their way was beset with dangers. They
passed through fourteen garrisons of their ene-
mies. They frequently met with soldiers,
whose inquiries, as yet, were satisfied with a
few shillings thrown to them ; but trivial in-
cidents will alarm the fugitive. Once they
were hard pursued by a drunken Squire gal-
loping after them. They now heard that it
was known that the King had quitted Oxford
in the disguise of a servant, and it became
necessary to change his appearance to that of
a Clergyman. The Barber who trimmed the
King expressed his astonishment at the rough
clipping of his beard, from the hasty inexpert
scissors of Ashburnham, and he seemed too
curious in his inquiry after the dishonour of
his craft.

The King and Ashburnham were left at
Downham in Norfolk, while Dr. Hudson was
dispatched to Montreuil for information. The
French Resident declared the King had no
choice left but to put himself into the hands
of the Scots, whose Commissioners again con-
firmed their former verbal agreement to the

TO THE SCOTTISH CAMP. 203

full, though they still refused to subscribe any
paper. The Doctor, who had all along sus-
pected the intentions of the Scots, since their
former failure of sending the promised cavalry
to Harborough, now offered, with his accus-
tomed courage, to go himself to London and
ascertain if the King would be honourably
received. Montreuil pronounced the scheme
absolutely fatal.

On Hudson's return the King resolved to
repair to the Scots. He had left Oxford on
the 26th of April, and arrived on the 5th of
May where Montreuil resided. After dinner
the King passed to Kelham -bridge, the head-
quarters of General Leven. Discovering him-
self to the Scottish General, Leven raised his
hands in amazement, and expressed the most
alarming surprise. He lodged the King at
Kelham House for his security, secure as in a
prison, and gave him a guard of honour, who
also served as a sentinel over the royal Captive.

The Scots had obtained the secret object
they wished through the honourable confidence
of Montreuil in their verbal, but solemn as-
surances, and having signed no terms, and sent
no troops to receive the King, they had eluded
every appearance of being implicated in this
important movement. This affair was con-

204 FLIGHT FROM OXFORD

ducted with such caution and secrecy by the
Commissioners at the Scotch quarter, who had
held an intercourse with Montreuil, that it ap-
peared uncertain whether the Scots, under Ge-
neral Leven, were at all co-partners with their
Commissioners. The cards were shuffled, and
they were now free to play their game to per-
fection. It was a see-saw between the Scotch
Commissioners at London, who had first settled
the treaty, and the Scotch Commissioners at the
army, verbally confirming what Montreuil re-
quired on the Faith of France. It was however
pretended by the Scottish Lords, that they had
not been privy to conditions agreed at London,
or unauthenticated by any document, as if in a
transaction of this vital nature the parties had not
freely communicated. When Charles discover-
ed the extraordinary duplicity which had been
practised, he demanded " How he came to be
invited thither, and whether Lesley was not to
have met him with a troop of cavalry ?" Mon-
treuil justified what he had so often informed
the King, from themselves, to their faces ; they
could not deny these charges, but with inge-
nious effrontery they acknowledged that it was
all very true, for they approved of his Majesty's
confidence in them, and honouring their army
with his residence as the place where he intended

TO THE SCOTTISH CAMP. 205

to settle a peace;" which peace the Earl of Low-
thian informed his Majesty was to accept their
Covenant, and subscribe whatever had been re-
quired !* On the subsequent day of the King's
arrival, Lesley, the Scotch General, addressed a
letter to the Committee of both Kingdoms,
giving this strange account. " The King came
into our army yesterday in so private a way,
that after we had made search for him upon
the surmises of some persons, who pretended to
know his face, yet we could not find him out
in sundry houses. And we believe your Lord-
ships will think it was matter of much astonish-
ment to us, seeing we did not expect he would
have come in any place under our power." —
Notwithstanding the treaty which had been for
some time carried on by the Scotch Commis-
sioners ? — " We conceived it not fit to inquire
into the causes that persuaded him to come
hither, but to endeavour that hi& being here
might be improved to the best advantage for
promoting the work of Uniformity, for settling
Religion and Righteousness.-)-"

How " they improved it to the best advan-
tage " we shall see, as well as their own tariff of
their " Religion and Righteousness."

From the recent published Narrative of Ash-

* Ashburnham's Narrative, 76. f Rushworth, vi. 268.

206 FLIGHT FROM OXFORD.

burnham, I am inclined to conclude, that this
favourite companion of Charles delivered what
was not distant from the truth, when he ob-
served, " The Money due from the Parliament
to the Scots, was the design of divers in their
army inviting his Majesty to them, and proved
to be the price of his delivery to the Par-
liament." *

* Ashburnham's Narrative, 87.

THE KING IN THE PRESBYTERIAN CAMP. 207

CHAPTER IX.

THE KING IN THE PRESBYTERIAN CAMP.

THE possession of the person of the King
by the Scots inflamed the keenest jealousies on
the side of the English Parliament. The mi-
nority in the Commons was now becoming the
more powerful part. They had got the helm
of the vessel into their hands, which, as was ob-
served, though it be one of the least pieces of
timber in the ship, yet turns the whole body
at the Statesman's will. Cromwell and his
party in 1646, as Whitelocke informs us, were
carrying on their designs with much privacy
and subtility. It is equally curious and in-
structive, to place together in juxtaposition,
the scattered atoms of intelligence which we
gather from contemporaries, unconnected with
each other, indicative of the same period, and

208 THE KING IN THE

alluding to the same circumstance. Ludlow,
the honest Republican General, confirms White-
locke's suggestion. At this time, the public and
magnificent funeral of the Earl of Essex had
been procured by the Presbyterian party, and
excited the envy and indignation of the Army-
party and the Common wealth- men. Lud-
low writes, " I observed that another party was
not idle." This appeared in a remarkable con-
versation in which Cromwell tampered with
Ludlow, clearly showing that even at this pe-
riod, in 1646, that extraordinary man was con-
templating the annihilation of a Parliament, and
the erection, doubtless, of himself as a Chief, un-
der the modest assumption of General.* These
depositions from such opposite quarters, accord
with Clarendon's correct statement. " The
Presbyterian party in the Houses did what
they pleased, and were thought to govern all.
The Independents craftily letting them enjoy
that confidence of their power and interest till

* Ludlow's Memoirs, i. 160. Cromwell, with dramatic art,
first touched the filial nerve of Ludlow by an allusion to his
late father, a stern Commonwealth-man. " If thy father were
alive, he would let some of them have what they deserve."
And shortly after, " These men will never leave till the army
pull them out by the ears." 163.

PRESBYTERIAN CAMP. 209

they had dismissed their friends the Scots out
of the kingdom." *

The Army-party, that is, the Levellers, and
the party of the Commonwealth-men, were
those who were most uneasy at the disposal of
the King's person by the Presbyterians. We
learn this secret from General Ludlow. As
soon as it was known that the King had
gone to the Scottish army, "the House of
Commons, deeming it unreasonable that the
Scots' army being in their pay should assume
the authority to dispose of the King, otherwise
than by their orders, sent to demand the per-
son of the King, resolving farther that the
King should be conducted to the Castle of
Warwick.f They had decided to imprison
the King at once, which afterwards cost them
so much artifice and trouble to effect. An
army of observation, consisting of cavalry, close-
ly watched the movements of the Scots, and a
vote of the House for continuing the payment
of the army during the subsequent six months,
intimated an intelligible decision to their re-
fractory Allies.

It was only a fortnight after the King's ar-
rival in the Scottish camp in May, that the

* Clarendon, v. 421. f Ludlow's Memoirs, i. 152.

VOL. V. P

210 THE KING IN THE

Parliament voted that " This kingdom had no
farther need of the army of their brethren the
Scots in this Kingdom," and a grant of one
hundred thousand pounds was made for the
Scots, provided that " They advanced into Scot-
land." The notice which the Scots took of
their dismissal was excessively mild. They
declared that " They came into England out of
affection, and not in a mercenary way, willing
to return home, and want of pay shall be no
hindrance thereunto." *

The vote of dismission was however renewed,
July 6th, with a severe animadversion. The
Parliament declared that they had no more
need of the Scots' army, which they desired to
withdraw out of the kingdom, " which is no
longer able to bear them ;" alluding to their
heavy contributions, their free quarters, and
other considerable grievances which had ground
down the people, and almost depopulated the
northern counties. The Scots, with a happy
forgetfulness of their recent magnanimous pro-
fession of their indifference to " want of pay,"
now sent in a demand for five hundred thou-
sand pounds.

Certainly in the lexicon of political Mo-
rality, the term gratitude will not be found.
* Whitelocke, 211—219.

PRESBYTERIAN CAMP.

The instant an ally becomes useless we discover
that he is onerous. We now view the Parlia-
ment prescribing their commands, and not so-
liciting the aid of " their brethren" of Scotland,
formerly their "dear brethren." Their posi-
tion had altered. The English Parliament had
extinguished the forces of Charles, who now,
by his own hand, had voluntarily surrendered
every town he possessed. Sole Sovereigns of
the Kingdom, the Parliament, elate in conquest,
had their numerous armies at liberty to expel
an invader; and their novel and undisguised
boldness was prompted by the union of Au-
thority with Power. The Scots, on the con-
trary, who had formerly made their Paymasters
court them, now awed by the armies of Eng-
land, in their turn were become the Solicitors.
They had affected not to be considered as
"Mercenaries," but in reality, they had a
stake depending which made all Scotland se-
rious, a stake which it were hopeless to fight
for, and could only be obtained by craft and
treaty.

The secret of the great change of conduct in
the Parliament and the Scots is revealed by
a single observation of Whitelocke. "The
Houses now saw the advantages of keeping up
their army, as that which the more inclined

p 2

THE KING IN THE

the Scots to come to this offer," — that is, of de-
livering up all their garrisons in England on
the auditing and paying their arrears. But
they dealt in rounder sums than their arrears.
Those who had professed that they were " not
Mercenaries" and indifferent to " the want of
pay," at first had talked of two millions, and
the royal pi edge they held in their hands they
deemed to be an ample security.

The King's durance at Newcastle lasted nine
months, and the negotiation for the royal per-
son was a deliberate act, for it passed through
a gradual process. The adjusting the sums
the Scots claimed, combined with the disposal
of the King's person, were affairs of extreme
delicacy. At first the Scots were resolute that
"they neither would nor could compel the
King to return to the Parliament." They had
.then some hope of seeing a King in Israel, and
converting Charles to their Covenant. At the
close of the year 1646, the Scottish Commis-
sioners quitted London, but in what humour
they left their old Masters we may gather from
an extraordinary circumstance. When it was
moved in the Commons, to vote the thanks of
the House to the Scottish Lords, for civilities
and good offices, the Independent faction car-
ried an amendment to strike out the three last

PRESBYTERIAN CAMP. 213

words! The exalted characters which Par-
liament were wont to bestow on the Scotch
Commissioners on every occasion, were now
sunk into the coldest phraseology of political
etiquette. It is clear that the Scots had not
yet had their accounts passed.

At Edinburgh, however, they were probably
impatient to conclude the difficult negotiation.
The Scots pressed their Covenant on the King,
sure he would never subscribe to it ; but they
who had so long cried out against forcing their
own consciences, allowed no such tenderness to
others. The King demanded of the Scotch
Commissioners at Newcastle, whether if he
went to Scotland he should be there with
honour, freedom, and safety? To this they
returned no answer, which perhaps was suffi-
ciently explicit.*

On the 16th of January 1647, it was de-
bated in the Scottish Parliament, what should

* Whitelocke, 239, under the date 22nd January. The
accuracy of this sort of dates is difficult to ascertain. We
cannot always be certain whether this Statesman, in his most
useful diary, journalized his intelligence the day the circum-
stance occurred, or only the day on which he learnt it. It
is evident that when Charles put this important question,
either the Scottish Parliament had not yet declared their
decision, or Charles had not yet heard of it.

214 THE KING IN THE

be done with his Majesty's person? Burnet
tells us that the Parliament at Edinburgh were
all inclined to deliver the King to the English
Parliament, but it is probable that Whitelocke
more correctly informs us, that to the Scottish
honour, it was carried but by two votes for the
King not coming to Scotland.* On this occa-
sion the Hamiltons were cast into a state of
desperate affliction according to their opposite
characters. The Duke was all melancholy and
despair, the Earl of Lanerick breathed fury
and rage, f They witnessed the open defec-
tion, or the designed absence of their friends.
The Earl of Lanerick's emphatic abjuration
has come down to us, " As God shall have
mercy on my soul at the great day, I would
choose rather to have my head struck off at the
Market-Cross of Edinburgh than give my con-
sent to this Vote !" He groaned in declaring
that "it was the blackest Saturday that ever
Scotland saw !" alluding to a great eclipse which
happened many years before, and from which
that day on which the Parliament had met was
called " the black Saturday." The Hamiltons,
who kept up an active correspondence with the

* Memoirs of the Hamiltons, 311. Whitelocke, 240.
f Memoirs of the Hamiltons, 307-

PRESBYTERIAN CAMP. 215

most secret sources of intelligence at London,
with a political second-sight contemplated on
the scene which was about to open in England.
Burnet positively states that "the designs of
the Independents against the King's person
and Monarchy had been faithfully discovered
to the Scotch by some of their Commissioners
at London." This was two years before that
event which was to startle Europe occurred !
The Hamiltons seem to have had a juster con-
ception of the intentions of that Party by
whose talons the Sovereign was now to be
grasped, than had the King himself.

Hume has noticed a curious circumstance.
The Scotch Parliament, ashamed of the in-
famy of this extraordinary transaction, had
afterwards absolutely voted for the protection
and liberty of the King ; but the General As-
sembly decreed, that as Charles had refused the
Covenant, it became not the Godly to concern
themselves about his fortunes. A public Fast
and a double Sermon were ordered in the
Morning, " according to our custom at St. An-
drew's before the Execution," as the Earl of
Lanerick observed. The rest of the day was
to be employed in taking a final resolution.
But it is evident that the Resolution had been
taken before the Fast and the Sermons: it

216 THE KING IN THE

was, as usual, a mockery of Heaven to give a
religious solemnity to a predetermined design.
The Parliament in decency were now com-
pelled to retract their generous Vote. We see
that the land of Papistry is not the only land
where a nation may be priest-ridden.

The truth seems that the Scottish accounts
were now on the point of being passed. It
was bruited at London that the Scots had dis-
covered, that " should they receive his Majesty,
it would be contrary to their engagements
with England." A Scotchman, slave at once
to his worldly interest and his Israelitish Cove-
nant, when it was supposed that the Duke
of Hamilton was concerned in planning the
escape of the King, earnestly wrote to his
Grace not to concur in any such design ; " The
King getting out of their hands would ruin
all;" — that is, we presume, the four hundred
thousand pounds — "and that since God had
hardened the King's heart not to serve him
according to the Covenant, this Pharaoh him-
self ought no longer to be served." *

On the 25th of January the Scottish decla-
ration arrived at London, which communicated
to both Houses that "as the King has often

* Memoirs of the Hamjltons, 307. " So high-flown were
men at that time," observes Burnet.

PRESBYTERIAN CAMP. 217

declared his desires to be near his Parliament
of England, they had fixed on Holmby to con-
clude the bargain, provided that the money
was forthcoming." This fortunate recollection
on the side of the Scots of the King's repeated
desire to be near his Parliament was sudden,
but it served for a colourable plea.

The waggons dragged the heavy freight to
Topcliffe House, and the Scots gave " their Ac-
quittances." After chaffering through many
months, though they had allowed a heavy dis-
count for their two millions, reducing it to less
than a fourth, they had on the whole driven a
hard bargain with a niggardly Parliament, who
had at first tried to foist them by a single
hundred. The Parliament could only have
been obstinate from sheer envy of their former
"dear brethren!" for to this levy of money
no " honest man " contributed a single penny.
The Parliamentary Arithmetic at this moment
was simple. Noy imagined that he had found
" a bottomless purse " in his Ship-money, and
was mistaken. The Parliaments, however, had
on every emergency this bottomless purse in
the sale of the Church lands, Bishops' rents, Se-
questrations, and compoundings for the Estates
of that half of the Nation, the Delinquents.

The Parliament of Scotland, on the due

218 THE KING IN THE

receipt of their silver, and the acceptance of a
bill for the remainder, at one year's date, sent
" their Resolution to their General to deliver the
King to the Commissioners of England, but
to be careful to stipulate for * the safety of his
person !' " The stipulation cost a penful of ink
to balance the sum of four hundred thousand
pounds.

Charles said that " He was bought and sold,"
and the witty Republican Harry Marten, ob-
jected to the stipulation for " the safety of the
person of the King," for that "the King had
broken the peace, and why should the Par-
liament be bound for his safety?" At that
moment was the future Regicide uneasy lest
the treaty with the Scots should be inviolable ?

This sale and purchase of Royalty seems not
to have surprised Charles, who, from the day
he arrived in the Scottish Camp, discovered
that he was in the condition of a prisoner, ac-
companying the movements of an army which
he could not command. The extraordinary
anecdote related of him on this occasion con-
firms the idea that he had hoped for no better
fate. The King was playing at chess when he
received the letter giving the first account of
the Scots having decided to surrender^ him to
the English Parliament. The intelligence so

PRESBYTERIAN CAMP. 219

little disconcerted him that he finished, and
won the game without interruption, and those
who had observed him reading the letter could
not detect by any alteration in his countenance,
or manner, the importance of that communica-
tion. The truth appears to be that he was
at that very time meditating his escape from
Newcastle by sea, but as usual he knew not
whither. A disguise had even been put on,
and the backstairs had been descended, when
Charles apprehending that he could not pass
undiscovered through all the Guards, with his
accustomed romantic feeling, dreading the dis-
grace and indecency, as he imagined, to which
he exposed his person, altered his resolution
and returned to his imprisonment. *

From the 4th of May 1646, to February
1647, lasted the durance of Charles in the
Scottish Camp. During these nine months
the King experienced another civil war, in the
opinions of his confidential advisers. His mili-
tary career had closed, the arena of political
intrigue was narrowed, and the single ob-
ject of discussion was the abrogation of the
Liturgy arid the Episcopacy, and the establish-
ment, on their ruins, of the Covenant, and the
Presbytery in England.

* Memoirs of the Hamiltons, 307.

THE KING IN THE

If Scotland had vindicated her national right
to erect that Kirk establishment, which she
had erst received from Knox, on the principle
that the majority of the people were Presby-
terian, by the very same principle had she lost
all right to obtrude her Presbytery on an Epis-
copal nation. It was evidently an act of tyran-
nical usurpation on the side of the Covenanters
— and so far as regards the policy of the
English Government, we may sympathise with
the hard fate of Charles, who as an English
Monarch had to reject this Scottish yoke.

Unhappily with Charles the First, these waters
of bitterness welled from two distinct sources.
The one comprised his political independence,
for he would not be a mere titular King, and
the other involved his religious conscience,
for Episcopacy with him, as much as Presby-
tery with the Covenanters, was a Divine In-
stitution. The abolition of the Church of
England, as this Church has been emphatically
distinguished, was to him more terrible than
death : — when as the last act of his despair, he
consented to a temporary suspension of the
Episcopal order, in the agony of his spirit, tears
fell from the Monarch's eyes.

His English confidential advisers now at
Paris, the Queen, Jermyn, and Culpepper, and

PRESBYTERIAN CAMP. 221

the various Ambassadors and the Residents of
France, were incessantly pressing on Charles
the wisdom of yielding up Episcopacy. The
Parisian party dispatched Davenant to the
King. The Poet, as reckless on the subject
as his Confederates, had probably pleased his
fancy, that his elocution, his philosophical
spirit, and his poetical vein, might give a close
to the interminable discussion on the Church
of England and the Presbytery of the Kirk,
with the facility with which he was composing
the stanzas in his own " Gondibert." Courte-
ous as was Charles to Poets, the Monarch was
serious and severe before the Bard, who quit-
ting his rhymes, mingled theology with diplo-
macy.— " To part with the Church," observed
the Wit, " was the advice of all his friends."
—"What friends?" asked the King.— " The
Lord Jermyn." — " He does not understand any
thing of the Church !"— " The Lord Culpepper
was of the same mind." — " Culpepper has no
religion !" The Wit now engaged on a topic,
which probably he had little considered, and
cared less about, ventured to assign his own
ingenious reasons, and spoke slightingly of the
Church. The pious but indignant Monarch,
reproaching the trembling poet in terms of
unusual reprehension, commanded the witling

222 . THE KING IN THE

never more to presume to come into his pre-
sence.*

We should neither consider Charles the First
according to the notions of our own times, nor
of those who even in his day blamed the King
for the stiffness of his opinions. Inasmuch as
the dissensions on Church government turned
simply on a mode of worship, was the King to
have a conscience less tender for his Church,
than that which his opponents asserted their
own to be for their Kirk ? " Such religious
zeal prevailed on both sides, and had reduced to
an unhappy and distracted condition the King
and People," observes our historical philoso-
pher. These topics are now unworthy to oc-
cupy a philosophical mind, and have been long
consigned to the clashings of obscure Secta-
rians. But what we may admire is the mag-
nanimity of Charles, if not the generous tem-
per, in never forsaking for his own ease, even
for his crown, the declining and ancient reli-
gious institution of his people. Now a captive
in the Presbyterian Camp, in his solitary dis-
tresses he poured forth an energetic remon-
strance to the Parisian party, and still resisted
that unconditional submission which two depu-
tations from the Parliament had prescribed to

* Clarendon, v. 412.

PRESBYTERIAN CAMP.

a vanquished Monarch. In this agony of his
spirit, to work on it more deeply, it had been in-
sinuated by Davenant, that if the King did not
concede the great point in agitation, the Queen
had decided to retire to a Monastery. On this,
the King in reply to Jermyn and Culpepper,
stated his own case with remarkable energjr,
and touched on his more private griefs with
the most refined delicacy and with the deepest
emotion.

" I find myself condemned by all my best
friends of such a high destructive and unheard-
of kind of willfulness, that I am thought to
stand single in my opinion, and to be ignorant
of both my main foundations, to wit, Conscience
and Policy. But must I be called single, because
some are frighted out of, or others dare not
avow, these Opinions ? And who causes me to
be condemned but those who either take cou-
rage and moral honesty for Conscience, or those
who were never rightly grounded in Religion
according to the Church of England. As for
the two Queens (Anne of Austria and Hen-
rietta) and Cardinal, I should blame them if
they did not give out sentence against me,
considering the false information of those who
believe themselves to be, but are not, true
English Protestants ; nor do understand the

224 THE KING IN THE

inseparable mischiefs which the Presbyterian
doctrine brings along with it to a Kingdom.
(He alludes to their Anti-monarchical prin-
ciples.) Wherefore instruct yourselves better,
recant and undeceive those whom you have
misinformed. Davenant has threatened me of
351 (the Queen) retiring to a Monastery. I say
no more of it — my heart is too big — the rest
being fitter for your thoughts than my expres-
sion. In another way I have mentioned this
to 351 (the Queen), my grief being the only
thing I desire to conceal from her, with which
I am as full now as I can be without bursting.
Neither anger nor grief shall make me forget
my friendship to you." *

When Charles passed over to the Scottish
Camp, he repeated a former promise, that in
regard to Church Government he would be
very willing to be instructed concerning the
Presbyterian, to content them in any thing not
against his conscience.! The Scots sent to
Charles their veteran polemic, Alexander Hen-
derson. That famous disputation, which how-
ever was carried on by an exchange of Papers,
opened at the close of May, and was not ter-
minated in the midst of July, for labouring
on a fresh reply to the last received from the

* Clarendon State Papers, ii. 270. f Ibid. ii. 220.

PRESBYTERIAN CAMP.

King, the Polemic of the Kirk was compelled
to give it up either in despair or vexation
of spirit, and retiring to Edinburgh, died in
August.

It is averred by the Prelatical party that
the old man died heart-broken. Clarendon
mystifies the tale, " being so far convinced arid
converted, that he had a very deep sense of the
mischief he had himself been the author of."
The degree of " conviction and conversion,"
in the graduated scale of polemical theology,
which is assigned by Clarendon's " so far"
might form a curious enigma. It is probable
that the Presbyter left Newcastle in despair
of converting the King to the Covenant. The
reputation of the whole affair remained with
the King, unaided by his Clergy or his books.
It seems more certain that neither had con-
vinced the other. When great Polemics hap-
pen to die after an indigestible disputation, it
has been usual to imagine that they sank into
the grave under an immedicable logomachy.
But the Scottish biographers assure us that
" he was worn out with fatigue and travel."
" The fatigue" probably of the Opponent and
the Respondent, for " the travel" from London
to Newcastle and thence to Edinburgh ' was

VOL. v. Q

226 THE KING IN THE

much shorter. All the heat and weariness of
an interminable disputation about the primi-
tive origin of Bishops or of Presbyters, carried
on through a sultry season, might in its exacer-
bation end in a tympany with a grey-haired
Polemic.

The King and his Scots parted from one
another without regret. Charles received the
English Commissioners with cheerfulness.
They kissed hands, and the King in good
humour rallied the Earl of Pembroke at his
advanced age for performing " a winterly jour-
ney with such youthful companions." The
Commissioners waited on the King with the
accustomed state. The Presbyterian party in
Parliament had voted fifty pounds per diem
for the royal maintenance, and conducted the
King to one of his Palaces, instead of the im-
prisonment of Warwick Castle, as the Inde-
pendents had at first proposed. The people
flocked wherever the King appeared, many
falling on their knees before him to receive
the royal touch, from the superstition of that
day. Some with tears, some with acclama-
tions, some with fervent prayers, saluted the
Monarch, who was pleased that the troops
did not disturb these grateful salutations. On
his arrival at Holmby House, in Northamp-

PRESBYTERJAN CAMP. 227

tonshire, not distant from Althorpe, the King
found that ancient and favourite palace, built
by the Lord Chancellor Hatton, who called
it "the last and greatest monument of his
youth,"* fully prepared for his reception, and
many country gentlemen with joyful counte-
nances awaiting to receive their Sovereign,
returning after several years of such well-
known affliction. The presence of this Sove-
reign usually excited the loyalty of the Peo-
ple.')' Charles did not appear to be less a

* It was one of the miserable effects of the Civil War, that
this ancient mansion at Holmby, as well as others at Oat-
lands, Richmond, Theobalds, &c. were pulled down to raise
money to satisfy the arrears of some regiments of the army.
They all did not raise so much as any one of those royal
residences had cost when built, and they were among the
architectural curiosities and ornaments of the Nation.

t In the eyes of that sturdy Commonwealth-man Ludlow,
the image of fallen Majesty could excite no generous emo-
tion. He expresses his surprise at this zealous affection of
the people, who, he says, " notwithstanding that he (Charles)
was beaten out of the field," by the honours paid him, con-
cluded he must "certainly be in the Right though he was
guilty of the blood of many thousands." Charles is thus
reproached as a sanguinary man, which assuredly he never
was, nor is it just to charge *he King only with inflicting
the miseries of a Civil War, in which, short of life, which he
never shrank from risking, the King had participated of the
miseries more than any individual in his dominions.

Q 2

228 THE KING IN THE PRESBYTERIAN CAMP.

Sovereign than in happier days, nor was the
stately mansion of Holmby darkened by the
gloom, or restricted by the impassable circuit
of a prison. Appearances were more flatter-
ing than the reality !

THE ARMY. 229

CHAPTER X.

THE ARMY.

THE gardens of Holmby House, and the
neighbouring bowling-green of Althorpe, to
which the King was allowed to resort, to one
of his strict sobriety offered healthful recrea-
tions. The intervals, according to his custom,
whenever he resumed his tranquil habits, were
devoted to settled hours for writing and study,
to his favourite chess-board, and to conversa-
tions in his walks, accompanied by a single
companion. The Commissioners never obtrud-
ing themselves in their surveillance, still treat-
ed their captive as their King.

The Monarch, whose retired character had
formerly communicated such a cold formality
to his manners, had long mingled with his
brothers in adversity. Already the day had
arrived

" Whate'er they felt, to feel, and know himself a Man !"

THE ARMY.

Much had he suffered, and in his approaching
captivities, much remained to be endured. His
familiar graciousness charmed his attendants ;
it recovered the aged and eccentric Earl of
Pembroke from a fit of sickness, by the King's
pleasantry and personal attentions, and it melt-
ed away the Republican fierceness of a Com-
monwealth-man by one of the smallest gifts
which the magical hand of royalty ever con-
verted into a bribe to corrupt the weakness of
human nature.*

* General Ludlow, a sincere Republican with narrow views,
ascribes the apostasy of Major-General Brown, one of the
Commissioners, to a cause which suits not the gravity of His-
tory. " Col. Brown the Woodmonger, being nominated to
be a Commissioner, who sat behind me in the House, assured
me that he would ever be true to us. And truly I then be-
lieved him, having met him at the beginning of the war in
Smithfield buying horses for the Parliament, and served them
successfully. But when the King found out the ambitious
temper of the wretched man, and cast some slight favours
upon him, giving him a pair of silk stockings with his own
hand; his low and abject original and education became so
prevalent in him, as to transform him into an agent or spy
for the King." — Ludlow's Memoirs, i. 154. This " pair of
silk stockings " kept the Colonel loyal all his life, and pro-
cured him a Baronetcy at the Restoration. It was by his
personal intercourse with the Monarch, that " the Wood-
monger's" attachment rose, from his admiration of the true

THE ARMY. 2131

Amidst this apparent calm, during a period
of about four months, the rigour of the im-
prisonment was however felt, his confidential
friends were dismissed, and his chaplains de-
nied admittance. Two Presbyterian Divines
were baffled by the evasive civility of the
King, in their attempts at saying grace, and
converting the Episcopalian Monarch to the
Covenant of Israel.

The calm the royal prisoner enjoyed was not
participated by his subjects. A crisis was press-
ing- to its birth of time, and Charles was only
allowed his present tranquillity till the strug-
gle of two gigantic parties had decided whose
prisoner the King was.

It will be sufficient here to remind the reader,
that the Parliament for some time past had
quailed under " the Egyptian Slavery," as
Denzil Holies calls it, of the Army. The Army
indeed applied the identical expression to the
Parliament. The Presbyterian faction con-
sisted in great part of persons who had grown
rich on the spoils of the country. They had
shown themselves but indiscreet managers of

dignity and the magnanimous fortitude of the man. A cir-
cumstance which frequently occurred in the many years of
the adversities of this King.

232 THK ARMY.

the heavy assessments, and other sources of
revenue drawn from the public purse. Crom-
well observed that " he was as fit to rule as
Holies ;" and his faction, the Independents, or
the Army, though inferior in number, but
more powerful in reality, had portioned out
among themselves the most lucrative places,
and dispensed the most prodigal donations.
Thus the younger had deeply encroached on
the elder Faction. The Presbyterian Clement
Walker, sourly exclaims, " that our Princes
have become thieves was heretofore our com-
plaint, but now we must invert it, and cry that
our thieves are become Princes !" *

* We may turn to Denzil Holies' Memoirs, 132, for a
statement of the plunder of the public money by the Inde-
pendents; and we may farther pursue our researches in
Clement Walker's History of Independency, Part I. 143 and
167. Our Red or Black Book becomes White in compa-
rison. The Independents monopolised all the great offices,
divided the taxes, and gave daily to one another for pretend-
ed services, arrears, and losses, great sums of money. Some
secret anecdotes of these spoliations are recorded by Clement
Walker. Holies gives full rein to his lively resentment.
" They charge us with having a great power upon the trea-
sure of the kingdom, disposing of the public money, en-
riching ourselves, and would embroil the land in a new war,
that we might not be called to an account. Oh the impu-
dence ! They know that themselves only meddled in money-
matters, well-licking their fingers, for they know they shared

THE ARMY. 233

The Army originally raised for the preser-
vation of the Parliament, having accomplish-
ed that design, was now without an object.
Among other improvident acts of the Parlia-
ment, the Army was always left with heavy
arrears, which were to be drawn from each
county, and which ground down the miserable
people. An uncertain pay was usually extorted
from the terrors of the Civil government, or
like marauders, the soldiers lived at free quar-
ters. The Parliament reasonably declared that
they would be governed by known Laws, and
not by the arbitrary will of military despots.
Their secret wish was now to disband their
victorious army ; and for this purpose, having
bribed away their allies the Scots, and thus
apparently settled the peace of the kingdom,
there remained, as it seemed to them, no far-
ther excuse for the maintenance of this onerous
body. And for a prelude, a plea, and an ex-
pedient, they urged the immediate necessity of
dispatching troops to Ireland, thus to scatter,

and divided among themselves all the fat of the land, the
treasure, the offices, the King's revenue, the revenue of the
Church, the estates of so great a part of the nobility and
gentry, whom they had made Delinquents. And we not one
of us had any thing to do in all this !" Was this tone either
that of self-congratulation or self-regret ?

234 THE ARMY.

and to break that force, which they could not
dissolve.*

The Presbyterian Faction was now to meet
its fate in the creative genius of Cromwell.
By a series of the most refined intrigues, by
the most exquisite dissimulation practised both
with the King and the Parliament, and by the
most daring coups d'etat which stand in the
records of History, Cromwell was raising the
Army to be the Sovereign or supreme power
in the Nation. That artful man and great
genius has been described by Hume. " Though
one visor fell off, another still remained to
cover his natural countenance. Where delay
was requisite, he could employ the most inde-
fatigable patience ; where celerity was necessary,
he flew to a decision." The simple artifice of
Cromwell was to belong to all parties till he
had raised one for himself. Bound to no
single principle whatever, the future Protector,
as his ambition opened on him, raced with
whatever principle or whatever party was pre-

* Mrs. Macaulay, the vehement advocate for the Inde-
pendents, or the Levellers, states the case. " They were to
be transported to the wasted inhospitable country of Ire-
land, where their masters the Parliament might starve or
relieve them at pleasure." — iv. 284.

THE ARMY. 235

valent at the moment, at once in the House
a Presbyterian, in the Army an Independent,
and with the King a Royalist It was ob-
served that he was always the first to oppose a
change, but when he could not control it, he
was the first to drive it furiously on.

An extraordinary invention in the military
system, which required the daring conception
of a profound conspirator, was now displayed
by Cromwell. The new-modelling the Army,
called the Self-denying Ordinance, had already
preceded this last master-stroke, and had an-
swered a former design ; it was a congenial in-
vention. There was now instituted in the
Army itself a mimetic government of the two
Houses. A Parliament was elected among
the Military themselves : the Upper House of
the Army consisted of a Supreme Council of
Officers ; for the Lower, every Regiment fur-
nished two Representatives drawn from the
common soldiery, Ex face populi, says Holies.
The common soldier, however, assumed a new
rank, for he would no longer be called " com-
mon" but "private soldier."* These Repre-

* This assumption of individual independence in opposi-
tion to their public engagements is noticed by Ludlow. " The
chief officers pretended to keep the private Soldiers, for they

236 THE ARMY.

sentatives called Adjutators, as Ludlow names
them, from their conduct became soon known
by the more expressive variation of Agitators.*
1 do not hesitate to believe that Cromwell,
conjointly with his son-in-law Ireton, whose
powerful pen drew up the papers of the Army,
were the secret movers of this novel military
revolution. It was not only fully credited by
contemporaries, but we learn from Baxter, the
history of a former acquaintance of his, closely
connected with this formidable body. This
person, from a humble station, became Captain
Berry, and at length rose to be one of the
Lords of the Protector, though to finish his
story at once, at the Restoration he dropped
back into his original obscurity and earned his
livelihood as a gardener. This Berry was a

would no longer be called common Soldiers." i. 166. The
technical term Privates for common Soldiers seems to have
been retained, from the present obscure circumstance : it is
not, however, to be found in any of our Dictionaries.

* Mr. Godwin says, " their office being to aid the regular
Council of War, or to agitate such questions as the interest
of the Army required to have considered." This explana-
tion seems peculiar to this able writer. But it gives too
fair a face to the monster. What sort of agitation might
be expected from these Senators, " the Privates," is pretty
obvious. Lord Chesterfield justly observed that " the army
which fought for the Nation under Charles the First, fought
against it for Cromwell."

THE ARMY. 237

crony of Cromwell, and the actual President
of the Agitators.*

Here then was a Kingdom within a King-
dom, where one could not subsist with the
other. This, anomalous establishment asto-
nished their adversaries ; it had risen like a
sudden exhalation. The Soldiers at a distance
from the Capital appeared as their own work-
men, while their absent masters in Parliament
seemed engaged in opposition to their scheme.

* Baxter's folio Life, 51. In that enormous compilation,
entitled " Memoirs of the Protector Oliver Cromwell, by
Oliver Cromwell, Esq." I trace nothing but an abridgment in
a lawyer's summary of the most obvious documents of our
History — uncorrected by any discernment, and unenlightened
by any original researches. On one occasion, however, the
compiler ventures to deny that Cromwell had any influence
over the Agitators. His erroneous notion is founded on
their Mutiny, which Cromwell quelled by courageously seiz-
ing on some, and shooting another at the head of the Regi-
ment. Our compiler even asserts the improbability of Crom-
well's supposed influence over Fairfax ! And so little was
this compiler practised in the historical researches of this
period, that he actually ascribes to the Earl of Straffbrd that
manuscript found in the King's Cabinet, entitled '* Proposi-
tions for bridling-in Parliament, &c." from the Earl's name
being appended to it in Ludlow's Appendix. On such spurious
evidence he condemns StrafTord to the block ! He ought to
have known that it was a very unfair ruse of the party. I
have given the history of this manuscript, which made such
a noise at the time, in Vol. iii. p. 24.

238 THE ARMY.

Nothing was done in the Army but what had
been planned and ordered by the Officers at
London. Cromwell, however, lay concealed
by his mysterious conduct, though not unsus-
pected. On one occasion, he hastened down
to the Army and quieted the turbulent, and
on his return it was declared that this Saviour
of his Country merited the public honour of
a Statue. Still some members' were suspicious,
and one day not seeing him in his place, the
House moved to have him sent for. He had not
yet deserted them, and he appeared, to renew
his protestations. On that very evening he
stole away, and in the morning was in the
midst of the matured revolution of the Army,
in defiance of all the execrations which he had
heaped on his own head, and of that solemn
assurance by which he had pledged himself
that the Army would go with a word to any
part of the world the Parliament would choose
to command !

The two Houses in the Army, these new
Rulers, took the Government into their own
hands, censuring the Orders and Votes of Par-
liament, and issuing their own Warrants. The
observation of Hume is remarkable — " The
Army in their usurpations on the Parliament
copied exactly the model which the Parliament

THE ARMY. 239

had set them in their recent usurpations on the
Crown." And to this we must add, that those
tumultuary petitions and mobs, by which the
Parliament had driven the Sovereign from the
Capital, when they were brought to act against
the Parliament themselves, as they now were,
forced the Parliament to fly from their seats,
and to throw themselves into the merciful arms
of the Army.*

Perhaps it has not been remarked that
the great political actions of Cromwell were

* The Parliament had long been worried probably from
not regulating the pay of their Army, who seem at times to
have connected " the Liberty of the Nation" with the state
of their own arrears. A Petition or a Mutiny was sure to
send down waggon-loads of Silver — " for a fortnight," or " a
six weeks' pay," or " one month's pay more added to the two
months' pay formerly voted." When the Commons were
still farther pushed, they emitted an Ordinance " to pay
them out of the produce of the sale of the Bishops' lands/'
Still the Army, without discipline, would live " at free quar-
ters/' till Fairfax — for all passed under the General's name,
who in his Memoirs acknowledges that the army used it
officially without his privity — awfully informed the -Houses
that " they must make provision for constant pay." Then
followed " An indemnity of the Soldiers for all things done
by Sea or Land during the late Wars." It came to wearing
paper cockades, with the motto " England's Liberties, and
Soldiers' Rights." The army was a Lion, to be gorged when
it roared.

240 THE ARMY.

repeated coups d'etat; some of the greatest
which History records, with some minor ones,
turning on the same principle. Familiar as we
are with the memorable " Purge" of Colonel
Pride, which hastened on the trial of the King,
we appear not to recollect that these greater
" Purges" were four times repeated. " Purge"
was the term which was now in vogue, and
in practice. When Ireton at one time renewed
his protestations to the King that He and his
Father-in-law would stand to all their promises,
however the Parliament opposed them ; he em-
ployed this new-fashioned phraseology, declar-
ing that " They would purge and purge and
never cease purging the Houses till they had
made them of such a temper as would do his
Majesty's business.*

" Dr. Lingard, with an excess of delicacy, softens the term
to " Purifications;" but this lustral water conveys a very
erroneous impression. The act. was of too violent a nature
to be thus gently sprinkled over. The term was rife at that
day. It is often used in Manuscript letters as well as in
publications. A History of England that omits the term
altogether, is wanting in the complete History. That part
of the House which remained, consisting of about fifty mem-
bers, was also as offensively called " The Rump," and by
its sanguinary proscriptions received an epithet which ren-
dered it disgustful to the imagination. The taste of our
ancestors was gross, to us, but very strong to them. An

THE ARMY.

The first of these coups d'etat had been
" The Self-denying Ordinance," as it was most
saintly styled, by which Cromwell ejected the
great Parliamentary Generals, though it was
contrived that the principle on which they
were deprived of their seats, which included
Cromwell himself, should not reach him, and
was afterwards constantly violated by all the
members of his military faction. By this stra-
tagem he had new-modelled the Army, with
his more active spirits. Baxter gives a good
idea of his new plan. " When the brunt of the
War was over, he looked not so much at the
valour of the men as their opinions." The
second " Purge" was in frightening away by the
menace of a violent sequestration, the Eleven
Presbyterian leaders, alleging to the House
their own precedent in the case of Strafford
and Laud, to get rid at once of these Eleven
Straffords and Lauds! The third "Purge"
was that of Colonel Pride, a low and military
Bravo, who did not know the Members per-
sonally whom he was to arrest, till the Lord
Grey of Groby, and the Door-keeper standing
by him, looked over the list the Colonel held,

historian must sometimes be susceptible of considerable bad
taste, if he would reflect in his pages an image of the age,
and the persons he writes about.
VOL. V. II

THE ARMY.

and pointed out the- marked members as they
entered the House.* The fourth memorable

* This fortunate adventurer, from a drayman, it is said, rose
to be a Brewer, then a Colonel, a Baronet," and finally one
of Cromwell's Lords. He was nick-named " Cromwell's
Dray-horse," and Ludlow says was knighted by a faggot-
stick, probably in one of Cromwell's convivial fits. It is
said he was remunerated for this act by a grant of the
Queen's Manor-house, Park, and lands at Holmby, and im-
mediately cut down the woods ; he had besides an Abbey with
£3000 a year, allowed him at an easy rate of purchase. It
is curious that this Pride was the main cause that Oliver
never dared to crown himself. The Protector had always a
terrible awe of the Army. He had tampered with the Officers
repeatedly, but could not overcome their prejudices or their
envy.

The compiler of the Memoirs of the Protector Cromwell
thinks he was not concerned in this remarkable expulsion of
the Members, which he ascribes to Ireton and the Agitators,
in the absence of Cromwell, who, from accident or design,
had only returned to London the day after the business.
But we must recollect that Cromwell and Ireton, father and
son, had always a partnership in political affairs ; assuredly
they held a strict correspondence, which should it exist
would be curious in the history of this period. Cromwell
did not hesitate to approve of the measure ; and the true
author seems to be indicated, when we find that he had
long before contemplated it. Cromwell told Ludlow when
they were together in the House and the Presbyterian party
out- voted them, that "These fellows will never be quiet till
they are pulled out by the ears !" And what is still more to
the purpose, Cromwell had a rendezvous of his regiment at

THE ARMY. 243

"purgation" was, when at a single stroke Crom-
well seized on the whole House of Commons,
Speaker and mace ! Charles had fatally raised
the spirit of a Party only for demanding the
arrest of five Members to be put on their trial
for words alleged to be treasonable. So vast
is the difference between a weak government
adopting strong measures, and the great genius
who acquires secret Power before he exerts
open authority. *

The Army, conscious of their power, decided
to assume their authority ; the Parliament re-
solved to preserve their authority, found them-
selves defenceless. They acted precisely as the
King had acted. They adopted strong mea-
sures in their convulsive debility. To the
eternal disgrace of Parliaments, the Lords and

Hyde Park, resolved to put this scheme in execution, had
his party in the House not carried their point on the follow-
ing day. This anticipation of the more famous " Purge" is
noticed by Major Huntington, who was then in the post of
the Lieutenant-General.

* Dr- Lingard has anticipated a remark which I had long
made, justly observing, " The men who had so clamorously
appealed to the privileges of Parliament when the King
demanded the five Members, were silent when a similar de-
mand was made by twelve thousand men in arms/' x. 379.
There seem to be no abstract principles of Justice among
Politicians, though they are usually avowed in the opening
paragraphs of every Protocol by the Secretary of State.

R 2

244 THE ARMY.

Commons were compelled to expunge the de-
claration entered on their Journals, that the
petition of the Army was seditious.* The
Army command the Parliament, to do and
undo, to vote and unvote. At last the march
of the Army towards the Capital cast the
whole city into utter consternation. They
dreamed of the plunder of the coming Sol-
diery. A Committee of Safety sate up all
night, the Houses met on a Sunday, but not
wholly relying on the double sermon of their
Chaplain Mr. Marshall, the Presbyterian City,
lamenting the absence of their Scottish allies,
now too distant to invocate, prepared for a new
civil war — and the cry was now to be the King
and Parliament, against the King and People !
for the Army announced that they were for
the People, and the Parliament for themselves.
The effect of their terrors was ludicrous. The
Commons, to clear themselves of the odium
which their severe exactions and " their tyran-
nies," adds Mrs. Macaulay, " had provoked,
passed a second Self-denying Ordinance, that no
Member should receive any profit of any office ;
that all they received should be repaid for the

* Whitelocke, 253, who adds, " Here the Parliament began
to surrender themselves and their power into the hands of
their own Army."

THE ARMY. 245

use of the Commonwealth to the Committee
of Accounts, and that waiving their privilege,
which the Citizens had often petitioned against,
all the Members should for the future be
liable to pay their own debts!"* When the
distracted Citizens learned that men were fast
enlisting for the Parliament, the word was
" Live and die ! Live and die !" As the Army
approached, it was changed to " Treat ! Treat !"f
The agents of the Agitators, seducers, or se-
duced, were both in the Parliament and the
City. The famous Major- General Skippon,
the pride of the City Military, had accepted
the gift of a thousand pounds to encourage
him to hasten to Ireland, but after several
recent visits to the Army-quarters, was now
willing to stay at home. Himself a Presbyte-
rian, he stood up, as Gravity personified, with
a doleful countenance, a voice of lamentation,
the rueful prelude to evil intelligence, and the
proclamation of a National Fast. In no short
speech he declared that he found that "The
Army was a formed body, which would be upon
them before they were aware!" The Major-
General, during his recent visits to the Army,
had never before warned the timid Presbyte-
rian senate of Hannibal ad portas. And their

* Macaulay, iv. 302. t Ludlow, i.

246 THE ARMY.

Chaplain Marshall, now dashed them, as he
fearfully told of " the children of Anak," armed
Giants*

While these affairs were in progress, Crom-
well and his able Co-adjutor, his son-in-law
Ireton, were projecting a private plot of their
own. They were ingratiating themselves into
the royal favour. They reproached the Pres-
byterian Parliament with placing the Sove-
reign under undue restraint, depriving him of
all communication with his friends, while the
intolerant Faction was forcing the royal con-
science. All these pleas found a ready re-
sponse in the breast of the King.

Charles entered Holmby House in Febru-
ary, and in April, an officer in the name of the
Army, conveyed a petition to the King, to de-
sire him to be guarded by them at the head

* Holies' Memoirs, 105. His warm language is ingenuous.
" Instead of a generous resistance, vindicating the honours
of the Parliament, and preserving a poor people from being
enslaved to a rebellious Army, they delivered up themselves
and Kingdom, prostitute all to the lust of heady and violent
men, and suffer Mr. Cromwell to saddle, ride, switch, and
spur them at his pleasure. For we instantly fell as low as
dirt, vote the common soldier his full pay, &c. ; and what is
worst, expunge our declaration against the mutinous Peti-
tion, and cry Peccavimus, to save a whipping; but all would
not do !"

THE ARMY. 247

of the Army, " who would restore him to his
honour, Crown, and dignity." Charles in re-
turn expressed his aversion "to engage his
poor people in another war," but assured them
that whenever restored to his Throne he would
" auspiciously look on their loyal intentions."*
The intercourse thus opened paved the way
for that bold enterprize which occurred on the
4th of June. The petition had served to in-
spire the King with some confidence in the
Army-leaders, who well knew Charles's dislike
of the Presbyterian party.

One afternoon, as the King was at bowls on
the green of Althorpe, the Commissioners who
accompanied him were surprised at the appear-
ance of an unknown soldier wearing the uni-
form of Fairfax's regiment. The attention of
the Stranger to what was passing, and his
curiosity respecting the persons about him,
was remarked, and he seemed more of a spy
than a spectator. Colonel Greaves, who had
the command of the small garrison at Holmby,
inquired of the Soldier, whence he came, and
what was passing in the Army? and to en-
courage him to converse bade him not be
afraid. The Soldier bluntly replied that "he
was not afraid of him, nor of any man in the

* Clarendon State Papers, ii. 365.

248 THE ARMY.

Kingdom." He spoke with a tone of autho-
rity which startled the Colonel, and he inveigh-
ed against the Parliament, observing in the cant
of that day, " how much below the light of
Nature these men live when they will not do
good unto those that do good unto them, who
had preserved the heads of some men in the
Parliament." There was a Scotch Lord, the
Earl of Dumferling, on whom the Soldier was
casting no kindly look, who listened to the
invective against his friends. A rumour had
already circulated that a numerous body of
cavalry was in the neighbourhood ; the Colonel
inquired of the Stranger " Whether he had
heard of them?" " I have done more than
hear of them, for I saw them yesterday within
thirty miles of Holmby." A whisper circu-
lated and an alarm spread at this ominous per-
sonage,— the King suddenly quitted his bowls,
— the guards at Holmby House were doubled,
all promising to stand by their Colonel. The
Earl of Dumferling posted to the Parliament
with the news, that the King was carried away
against his will. This Scotch Earl was glad
afterwards to escape out of England.*

A numerous body of cavalry drew up before
the house. — Asked who commanded? they

* Whitelocke, 254.

THE ARMY. 249

answered, " All commanded !" The Stranger
who had recently roused their suspicions came
forwards, announcing himself as Cornet Joyce.
This Cornet was one of Cromwell's elect spirits.
Though erst but a shrewd tailor-man, the Agi-
tator, with a huge pistol and the bigger words
of authority, had shaken off all the suavity of
the craft. Joyce pretended to the Commis-
sioners that he had come for the protection of
the King, as they were informed of a design
to steal him away, which was the very design
he was himself executing. He was allowed to
set his guards, and was promised shortly to
receive the orders of the Commissioners. The
Presbyterian Colonel took his flight.

At ten at night again the cavalry and the
Cornet suddenly appeared. The Agitator de-
manded to speak with the King. " From
whom ?" was inquired by the officers of Holm-
by. "From myself!" he curtly replied. At
this they laughed. " It 's no laughing matter,"
proceeded Joyce. They advised him to draw
off his men, and in the morning speak to the
Commissioners ; " I came not hither to be ad-
vised by you, nor have I any business with
the Commissioners, my errand is with the
King ; and speak with him I must, and will
presently."

250 THE ARMY.

During this parley the soldiers within were
conferring with those without. Commanded
to stand to their arms, they on the contrary
flung open the gates, shaking hands with the
new-comers from the Army.

The Cornet, on his entrance, appears to have
held a long conversation with the Commis-
sioners, for he complains that " they held him
in discourse till the King was asleep in his
bed." He does not tell us, what we get from
Herbert, that after this conversation, he placed
sentinels at their apartments. Mounting the
back-stairs, Joyce reached the King's chamber,
and "rudely," or authoritatively knocked at
the door. The Grooms of the bed-chamber
appeared, and discovered their man in a true
military posture, well-armed, and presenting a
cocked pistol. They asked if the Commis-
sioners approved of this intrusion? Joyce
bluntly answered "No! for he had ordered a
guard to be set at their chamber-doors, and
that he had his orders from those who feared
them not." The noise of the Grooms resisting
the Cornet's entrance awoke the King, who
rung his silver bell, and refused to admit the
uncourtly visitor till the morning, according to
Herbert.

It is probable, however, that a midnight in-

THE ARMY. 251

terview did take place between the King and
the Cornet. The Agitator Joyce had been
well tutored, and was himself an apt pupil.
Blunt but shrewd, he had a part to play ; he
entered with his hat in one hand, and a pistol
in the other, and opened his business by a de-
cent apology for having disturbed the King
out of his sleep. " No matter," replied Charles,
" if you mean me no hurt. You may take
away my life if you will, having the sword in
your hands." Joyce solemnly assured the King
that he came to protect his person. Charles
stipulated for two great points — that his con-
science should not be forced, and that his
friends should have access to him. " It is not
our principle," the Independent observed, " to
force any man's conscience, much less that
of our Sovereign." All was courteously con-
ceded. This extraordinary interview was closed
by the King. " I will willingly go along with
you, if the soldiery will confirm what you
have promised," and gave his word to be ready
by six the next morning. It is evident, that
Cornet Joyce had not only allayed any fears
which the King might have reasonably enter-
tained, but had positively succeeded in per-
suading him that the Army was friendly to his
wishes.*

* See the note at the end of the Chapter.

252 THE AllMY.

However ambiguous might seem the mid-
night apparition of the " arch-agitator Joyce,"
so Fairfax designates the Cornet, he had per-
fectly succeeded in flattering the hopes of
Charles. So strongly persuaded was the King
that the Army was devoted to him, that when
Fairfax, who was never concerned in a plot,
except as the innocent and pliant instrument
of those who knew to plot, shortly afterwards
offered to see the King returned back in safety
to Holmby, Charles not only positively refused,
but significantly told the General-in-chief, on
taking leave of him, " Sir, I have as good inte-
rest in the Army as you !" Fairfax was thunder-
struck at this delusion, for the General well
knew of what materials the supreme Council
of Officers was composed, and he declared that
it gave him more grief and vexation than all
the troubles and fatigues which he had met
with during the whole war. " I now plainly
saw the broken reed he leaned on," says Fair-
fax in his Memorials.

What had passed in the midnight interview
was to be publicly repeated for the King's sa-
tisfaction before the troopers of Joyce. The
morning came, and Charles was seen on the
steps of the gate, where Joyce with a detach-
ment of fifty picked men drew up into the

THE ARMY. 253

inner court of the House. The characteristic
parts of a comic dialogue have been preserved,
although there are variations.

The King demanded of the Cornet what
commission he had to secure his person ? Joyce
replied, " The soldiery of the Army."—" That
was no lawful authority," objected the King —
" Have you nothing in writing from Sir Tho-
mas Fairfax?" The Cornet prayed his Ma-
jesty would not ask him such questions. " I
pray, Mr. Joyce, deal ingenuously with me, and
tell me what Commission you have ?" — " Here
is my Commission !" exclaimed the arch-agi-
tator. " Where?" said the King. "Behind
me !" cried the Cornet, pointing to his Troopers.
The King smiling, observed " that he had never
before read such a Commission; but it was
fairly written as any he had seen in his life,* a

* When words spoken are afterwards only repeated by
recollection, they pass through wonderful changes. It is
quite impossible to ascertain the precise words of Charles on
this occasion, though the sense has not been lost. Herbert
gives them thus ; " His instructions were in fair characters,
legible without spelling." There is a prettiness in this turn,
which might have been given by Herbert at his leisurely re-
miniscences, but not quite suitable to a spontaneous dialogue.
Echard, Hume, and Macaulay were probably pleased with it.
Warwick gives it plainly, " Believe me your instructions
are written in very fair characters." But Whitelocke, in his

254 THE ARMY.

company of as handsome, proper Gentlemen as
I have seen a long while. But what if I re-
fused to go with you ? I hope you would not
force your King. You must satisfy me that I
may be used with honour and respect, that I
may not be forced in any thing against my
conscience or honour ; though I hope that my
resolution is so fixed that no force can cause
me to do a base thing. You are masters of
my body, my soul is above your reach." The
Troopers confirmed their assent by their accla-
mations. Joyce courteously requested the King
to choose the place of his removal, and the dis-
tance he intended to ride that day. The King
smiling, observed, " I can ride as far as you,
or any man there," saluting the Company.

The officers of Holmby and the Commis-
sioners protested against the King's removal,
calling on the Troopers to maintain the au-
thority of Parliament, and it was put to them,
whether they agreed to what Cornet Joyce had

attempt to chronicle the words has, Lawyer-like, flourished —
" ' His Majesty saw their Commission !' said Joyce. His
Majesty replied, that ' It had the fairest frontispiece of any
that he ever saw, being five hundred proper men on horse-
back/" A cumbrous frontispiece at all events ; but a Commis-
sion has no frontispiece! The taste of Charles, we may be
certain, was chaster than the spurious fancy of a rhetorical
Lawyer !

THE ARMY. 255

said and done ? With one voice they cried
out " All ! all !" Major Brown observed, that
it was not the first time that he had been at
the head of a party, and that scarce two in
the company, although they cried " All ! all !"
knew what had passed. " Let all," he con-
tinued raising his voice, " who are willing the
King should stay with the Commissioners of
Parliament now speak." All the troopers ex-
claimed, " None ! None !" " Then, said the
Major, " I have done !" The Soldiers replied,
" We understand well enough what we do !"

On the astonishing seizure of the Sovereign,
Fairfax instantly dispatched two regiments of
Cavalry to attend the King back to Holmby.
Charles positively refused to return. On the
following day Fairfax, Cromwell, Ireton and
other officers, had a singular interview with the
King in the garden of Sir John Cutts at Chil-
derley. Fairfax solemnly protested that he was
not privy to this strange act, nor did he know
the Movers. " Unless you hang up Joyce,
I will not believe what you say," observed
Charles. The General-in-Chief soon disco-
vered among his officers that the Cornet would
never be brought to a Court-martial. Joyce
offered to appeal to a general rendezvous of
the Army, adding, " And if three, or even four

256 THE ARMY.

parts of the Army, did not approve of my
proceedings, I will be content to be hanged
at the head of my regiment." The King
observed, " You must have had the counte-
nance of great persons, for you could not of
yourself have ventured on this treason."

Charles, however, was evidently on no ill
terms with the Cornet, for he added — " I par-
don the treason now I have come, if you con-
vey me as you promised to Newmarket."

Fairfax, in a private interview with Charles,
made a sincere offer of his services, but the
sanguine Monarch was already entrapped. It
was on this occasion that, on Fairfax taking
leave of the King, Charles betrayed that fatal
confidence in the Army which was his final
ruin. The Cornet himself had so insidiously
ingratiated himself into the King's favour, that
afterwards, when Charles remained at New-
market, where he seemed cheerful, and daily
recreated himself at tennis, it is remarkable
that he sent a messenger to the Army at St.
Alban's desiring the company of the shrewd
Agitator.* So deeply taken was the helpless

* Rush worth, vi. 578. Possibly Charles acted from po-
licy as a means to get intelligence, or the rumour, though
preserved by Rushworth, might not be true, but adopted
advisedly. Clarendon must have been surprised at this in-

THE ARMY. 257

yet sanguine Monarch by the cajoleries of a
cunning but spirited fellow.

This seizure of the person of the King by
the Army was long a mystery to contempo-
raries, and it was so, alike to the General-in-
Chief and to the King himself. We have seen
that soon after Charles's confinement at Holmby,
the King held a secret intercourse with some
officers. Secret it must have been to have
eluded the notice of the Parliamentary Com-
missioners, and it was of a nature to induce
his sanguine temper to imagine that the Army-
leaders were desirous of uniting with him
against those, whose principles they knew were
as opposite to his views as to their own. When
the Presbyterian Parliament designed the King's
removal to the Metropolis, the audacious coup
d'etat of carrying off the King, that the Army
might remain masters of the Sovereign, was
the invention of Lieutenant-General Cromwell
and Ireton, and not communicated even to the

telligence of the Secretary of Fairfax, for his Lordship ex-
presses himself quite contrarily. " The King found himself
at Newmarket attended by greater troops and superior
officers, so that he was presently freed from any subjection
to Mr. Joyce, which was no small satisfaction to him." Such
opposite accounts are hard to reconcile ; if one party has
stated a fact, the other has given us his own feelings as a fact.
VOL. V. S

258 THE ARMY.

General-in-Chief Fairfax. On the 30th of
May, at a meeting held at Cromwell's house,
the plan was arranged,* and with the prompt
sagacity of that great adept in human nature,
four or five hundred troopers were confided to
one of those decided characters who were his
Elect Spirits on all secret expeditions. Cornet
Joyce, at first, had the whole credit of the
hardy enterprise, Cromwell protesting that it
was without his concurrence, and taking such
caution never to appear in the transaction,
that the King's friends at London ascribed to
Cromwell the sending of the two regiments of
cavalry, under his kinsman Colonel Whalley,
for the immediate protection of the King, to
see him safely returned to Holmby, which
really was done by the order of Fairfax.^

We may now develope the true situation of
Charles. When the armed Agitator, at mid-
night, authoritatively called for entrance into
the King's chamber, so formidable an appari-
tion might have reasonably alarmed the King,
unapprised as he was of any such visitor.

* Holies has stated the day of the meeting. 96. When
the Cornet was told that the General was displeased with
him for bringing the King from Holmby, he answered that
Lieutenant-General Cromwell had given him orders at Lon-
don to do all that he had done.

f Sir John Berkley's Memoirs. Echard, 638.

THE ARMY. 259

No personal fears were however indicated by
Charles, who on the contrary was gratified by
the courteousness of the language of the Sol-
dier, while he stood uncovered in the presence
of his Sovereign. The ensuing dialogue in
the morning, before the troopers, seems to
have been really designed to extract from the
Cornet, under whose orders he acted. Charles
had flattered himself that the party had been
sent by Fairfax, on whose honour he reposed,
and whose station as Commander-in-Chief,
would have been a pledge of the sanction of
the Army. But though the mystery was not
cleared up by the impenetrable Cornet, yet he
took his orders from the King in the choice of
the place of his removal, and Charles in his
mind, was satisfied that it was an act of the
Army, whom at this moment he counted on as
his friends. Charles was so far from entertain-
ing any fears on this audacious attempt on his
person, while the Commissioners and his own
Gentlemen were cast into sadness and even
terror, that Herbert tells us, "the King was
the merriest of the company, having it seems a
confidence in the Army, especially from some
of the greatest there, as it was imagined."
This indicates some late secret intercourse with
the Army, of which we know but little, and it

s 2

260 THE AIIMY.

is subsequently confirmed by Charles's positive
refusal to return to Holmby.

We only trace the secret intercourse of
Charles with the Army by a single document
accidentally preserved among the Clarendon
State-papers, but we shall see that the King
soon had his own agents amidst them. At the
critical moment of its march to the capital,
we discover that the King had his active spy
in Dean Barwick. This Divine, as was usual
in that day when the Clergy of the Anglican
Church were hunted in the streets, was dis-
guised in a lay habit, and wore a sword. He
had mixed with the Army in that expedition,
for the purpose of acquainting himself with the
feelings of the soldiery, and his report was so
favourable, that Charles was convinced that the
Army was with him. The Army indeed had
given him entire liberty to communicate with his
Friends, and when the grateful intelligence was
conveyed to Paris, Sir Edward Ford, a Royalist,
though the brother-in-law of Ireton, was dis-
patched to England more deeply to interest
his relative ; while Sir John Berkley and Ash-
burnham, the more confidential agents of
Charles, hastened, as Ashburnham expresses it,
" with their instructions in some things which
were not proper for his Majesty to appear in."

THE AUMY. 261

NOTE.

I encountered great trouble in more than one respect in
pursuing our narrative. Herbert, one of the King's Grooms
of the Bed-chamber, who though at first little known to the
King and appointed by the Presbyterian party, became most
faithfully attached to his person, asserts that " The King
would not rise nor speak with Joyce till the morning, and
though the Cornet huffed, he retired that night." This is in
direct contradiction to " The true and impartial Narrative"
sent forth by the Army, evidently to cajole the Parliament,
or the People. (Rushworth, vi. 515.) The style of this de-
position indicates its illiterate original. The use of the pro-
noun personal unskilfully interspersed in " The Narrative"
betrays the writer to have been the hero of the Thimble
himself. " The Narrative" details this midnight interview —
" All this being spoken at eleven at night, and the King
gave his word to be ready by six the next morning to hear
the Soldiers confirm what I had promised." How are we
to account for this discrepancy with the narrative of the
veracious Herbert ? Writing at a distant day, and not
having, as he has regretted, his former notes at hand, it
is yet strange that so remarkable an incident should have
escaped his recollections while he substituted one quite
the reverse. Was the Narrative of Joyce made up to
be palatable to his Masters ? and to persuade the world,
that after having heard him, the King had really con-
sented to accompany him, which we shall find Charles
certainly had ? Dr. Lingard has judiciously credited what
is called "the true Narrative" given by Joyce. "Charles
signified his consent, on the condition that what then passed
between them in private should be repeated in public."
Mrs. Macaulay adopts Herbert's account,—" On the King's
peremptorily refusing to rise and speak with Joyce, he had

THE ARMY.

the complacency to desist till morning." " The true Narra-
tive" is very confused, and probably more is delivered than
actually occurred, from the policy of treating the Commis-
sioners and the Parliament with a degree of studied respect
the Army did not feel. The account of Clarendon materi-
ally differs from that of Herbert. " His Majesty rose out of his
bed, and half dressed, caused the door to be opened, which
he knew otherwise would be quickly broken open ; they who
waited in the chamber being persons of whom he had little
knowledge and less confidence. Joyce and two or three
more came into the chamber with their hats off and pistols
in their hands." Clarendon then adds that the King in-
sisted on calling some of the Commissioners, who quickly
came to his chamber, and he adds part of the dialogue with
Joyce. Now, however natural the manner by which the
King is here described, yet the suggestion that " he had
little knowledge and less confidence of the persons who
waited in the chamber," is not accurate, for Charles had
both, and Herbert tells us that they (the four Grooms, him-
self being one) " were resolved to sacrifice their lives rather
than give Joyce admittance." Monsieur Guizot gives the
midnight conversation with the King held by Joyce " in the
presence of the Commissioners" — which ill agrees with what
Joyce told Herbert, that they were secured by a guard in
their chambers. The truth is, that " The true and impartial
Narrative" is at times a jumble. It says, " Some of the
Commissioners held the Cornet in discourse about half an
hour until the King was asleep in his bed, yet notwithstand-
ing the said Cornet could not be contented till he had spoken
with the King, and therefore offered the Commissioners to
go with them, with as much gentleness and tenderness as he
could." " The true and impartial Narrative" farther tells,
" Though the King told Cornet Joyce before the Commis-

THE ARMY. 263

sioners he was unwilling to go with us, yet such reasons
might be produced that might prevail with him ; and after-
wards (that is, after the King had listened to his reasons) the
King did protest that nothing should stay him, but he would
go whether the Commissioners would yea or no." This con-
firms the statement of Clarendon, that the King had the
Commissioners called that night, since Charles resolved to
depart with Joyce early in the morning after having heard
" his reasons." That so important an incident should have
been entirely passed over by Herbert, and that he should
have so inaccurately related that Joyce had not been ad-
mitted into the King's presence that night, is a striking
evidence of the fallibility of our after-recollections, at a
period of life too distant from the occurrence. Such are
the difficulties which happen in ascertaining the accuracy of
certain events which are sometimes transmitted to us in
vague or in contradictory narratives ; or in narratives, which
having been concocted with a latent purpose to serve a
temporary object, interpolate circumstances which did not
actually occur, or mis-state those which did.

In " The true and impartial Narrative," which is evidently
made up from the accounts of Cornet Joyce, and at times
evidently in his own words, I have no doubt .that many
after- thoughts were interwoven, that it might serve as an
organ for publishing the notions and views of the Army-
faction ; and the studied manner in which the Commissioners
and the Parliament itself are noticed in this suspicious
documents, discovers its policy. But even in Statements
fictitious in some respects, the sagacity of an historian may
unravel some truths.

264 THE KING'S PROGRESS

CHAPTER XL

THE KING'S PROGRESS WITH THE ARMY.

As the King followed the movements of
the troops, journeying under the escort of the
military, from the officers to the privates, it
seemed as if they were the attendants on his
royal person, rather than the guards of a State-
prisoner. Several of the officers, according to
Ludlow, " became converted by the splendour
of his Majesty," and adds the Commonwealth-
man, seemingly with disdain, " Sir Robert Pye,
a Colonel in the Army, as his Equerry, rode
bare-headed before him, when the King rode
abroad."

The removals, by easy marches, were ar-
ranged to enable the King to lodge at the
mansions of the Nobility, who vied in the
pride of their reception of the Sovereign. As
we pursue the King's marches from place to

WITH THE ARMY. 265

place on his way to Newmarket, and after-
wards to his Palace of Hampton- Court, we
discover that even to this day tradition has
preserved in those Mansions which still exist,
some memorial of his residence — something
which was said or done — the chamber where he
slept is still to be shown.

Wherever Charles appeared, all seemed to
congratulate themselves on beholding once
more that afflicted Monarch, whom an interval
of years had estranged from their sight — and
of whose troubles they had heard so much and
so often, that some seemed to forget their own
in the remembrance of those of their mag-
nanimous Prince. Some contemplated on him
with the deepest sympathies, others were filled
with the most awful thoughts. The friends
of the King were freely admitted, and loyalty
seemed no longer treason. The University
sent forth their Masters and Fellows with a
Vwat Rex ! The gentry and the people from
the neighbouring counties thronged about the
Presence-chamber when the King dined and
supped. There was a joy fulness in their accla-
mations. The King was never reminded of
his captivity, and as he moved with the regi-
ments which guarded him, the journey resem-
bled one of his former royal progresses.

266 THE KING'S PROGRESS

Charles, from the depths of misery, had long
been a stranger to the peaceful state of a
Court in the resort of his Nobles, the gratula-
tions of many voices, and the prayers of the
people listened to by his own ear. The feel-
ings were reciprocal. He conversed with cheer-
fulness, and his courteous looks returned the
affection which he believed he had excited.
Hume has very beautifully painted the subdued
Monarch — " His manner, which was not in
itself popular nor gracious, now appeared ami-
able, from its great meekness and equality."
The King held long and secret conferences
with the General, the Lieutenant-General, and
the Commissary-General, Fairfax, Cromwell,
and Ireton; and what passed between these
eminent personages, on which the fate of the
Nation was to revolve, was of a nature to
inspire this unhappy Prince, with a confidence
too sanguine, and with a self-flattery to which
he was too prone.

But we must now leave this outward lustre
of things to penetrate into the obscure and the
hidden. Mighty interests were now operating
one against the other. But uncertain and un-
revealed for us must remain many secret in-
trigues ; sudden changes in the condition of the

WITH THE ARMY. 26?

parties ; causes and motives which have never
been assigned, though their important results
are manifest ; ambiguous proceedings and du-
bious matters, and many which were never
told, buried in the hearts of subtile men, who
governed themselves by other maxims than
the rest of the world.

The struggle between the Presbyterian and
the Army Factions, threw the King into the
most critical dilemma which he had expe-
rienced throughout his disastrous life. Both
parties, who were now courting his support, he
considered alike his enemies. The one rigor-
ously insisting on their Covenant, and the aboli-
tion of Episcopacy, which was tantamount with
Charles to force his conscience and in part to
abjure his religion ; the other would make him
Sovereign by raising him on their shields, and
an English Monarch was to hold the tenure of
sovereignty, by the will and at the pleasure of
the Soldiery. He had now but a choice of
evils ; yet his Throne might be recovered by
the predominant party, and to either of these
Parties, his person, at this precise moment, con-
stituted authority and power. That Party
which the King adopted would be reinforced
by every Royalist in the Kingdom, who,

268 THE KING'S PROGRESS

though now an unarmed and sequestrated class,
at the King's word would form a body at least
as numerous as themselves.

When the Agitators of the Army, to the
astonishment of the Country, by a coup d'etat
had seized on the person of the Sovereign, it
was the eager desire of the Army to accom-
modate affairs with Charles, and that quickly.
Their chief officers were commissioned to treat
with the King for his restoration. The Agita-
tors were not statesmen who foresaw difficul-
ties from the very nature of complicated in-
terests, or had any delicacy for the feelings of
other men to linger on in negotiations. Brute
force respects not even human nature, and
while it exists there are no difficulties !* Even

* I need not allude any more to their " Purges/' But it
is characteristic of this sort of men, to record what one of
their favourite Agitators, Colonel Rainsborough, delivered on a
critical occasion. When Sir John Berkley inquired of the
Party, that " should they offer the King's proposals to the
Parliament, and they should refuse them, what would they
do then ? They replied, They would not tell me ! When I
appeared not fully satisfied with this reply, Rainsborough
spoke out in these words, * If they will not agree, we will
make them/ to which the whole company assented." So
that, in fact, asking the agreement of the Parliament was in
the form adopted by the beggar-bandit in Gil Bias, to peti-
tion respectfully, brandishing a cudgel.

WITH THE ARMY. 269

a single week seemed a delay, for the struggle
about to take place was momentous. The
Presbyterian Parliament were still ostensibly
the governing power, and the Scots not only
sympathised with fraternal feelings, but would,
not reluctantly, have returned once more to
their old pay-masters. On the other side, the
Army had not yet struck their final blow,
and a junction between the Presbyterians, the
Scots, and the Royalists, was yet formidable*
It is unquestionable that at this moment, — for
in a short month were to be compressed the
revolutions of a whole age, — the Army had
want of the King ; even that very party in it
which finally would concede the royal victim
no terms whatever, and would only terminate
its design by a sanguinary proscription.

Cromwell and Ireton governed the Council
of War absolutely, but the ruling power in
the Army now lay among the Agitators. The
General, Fairfax, had little influence with
either. The Agitators had become Masters of
their Masters. The phases of political inte-
rests are more inconstant than the caprices of
moody Beauty, or the treacherous mockeries of
fickle Fortune.

It is a remarkable circumstance that this very
party, who afterwards are recognised in our

270 THE KING'S PROGRESS

History as the Levellers, and who condemned
their Sovereign to the block, were at this mo-
ment suspicious that Cromwell was not sin-
cerely disposed in favour of the King, and
they even offered to Sir John Berkley, that
should Cromwell be found false to his en-
gagements, " they would set him right either
against, or with his will."

But Berkley had no reason to suspect the
duplicity of Cromwell. It was indeed neces-
sary that Cromwell and his party should
remove those prejudices against themselves
which their novel professions demanded. Crom-
well was a perfect plain-dealer with the secret
emissary of the King. He seemed to speak
with his heart on his lips. He declared that
"Whatever the world might judge of us, we
shall be found no seekers for ourselves, farther
than to live as subjects ought to do, and to
preserve their consciences. Men could not en-
joy their lives and estates quietly without the
King had his rights." And for an earnest of
their honest intentions, Charles was not to be
pressed on those ^delicate points which those
forcers of conscience, the obdurate Presbyte-
rians, even more obstinate than the King, so
inflexibly urged. Toleration was the plausible

WITH THE AKMY.

pretext of Independency, and plain-speaking
the whole art of diplomacy with the blunt Ne-
gotiator of the Agitators.

Cromwell, whose feelings, however coarse,
were always vehement as the eagerness of his
genius, at this moment seemed to have re-
ceived a new baptism of loyalty. Returning
from one of his visits to the King, he told
Berkley that " He had lately seen the ten-
derest sight that ever his eyes beheld, which
was the interview between the King and his
children, and wept plentifully at the remem-
brance of it, saying, " that never man was so
abused as himself, in his sinister opinion of
the King, who he thought was the uprightest
and most conscientious man of his three King-
doms." And concluded, that " God would be
pleased to look upon him according to the
sincerity of his heart towards his Majesty."
As it is well known that Cromwell was a
master of all the passions, this gush of plen-
tiful tears might be a very diplomatic act;
but Cromwell, in the privacy of life, was sus-
ceptible of the domestic affections. That chord
in the human heart might now have been
struck. Yet who will assert that this versatile
being acted with sincerity at a certain period,

272 THE KING'S PROGRESS

and with perfidy at another?* Was that
mysterious man, at any time single-minded,
whose excited genius was watchful of all oeca-

* The tears of Cromwell seem to have been very constitu-
tional, and must have produced a marvellous contrast on his
rough-featured and heavy countenance, his warty cheek, and
his red nose. The tale which one of the officers told of
Cromwell hardly allows us to think, as I have done in the
text, that there was any sympathy in his heart. Cromwell
once holding the King's hand between his own, and while
he made his promises washing it with his tears, on coming
out asked an officer whether he had not acted his part well?
"Were you not in earnest?" — "Not in the least," Crom-
well replied. Barren in his defence relates this anecdote.
If it be true, Cromwell did not play the hypocrite so well.
He could gain nothing by the gratuitous avowal but the
detestation of the man who heard it. I believe, however, in
"the tears of Cromwell" washing the royal hand he held,
but I much doubt the idle confession of the gross imposture.
On this subject of " the tears of Cromwell," I will add a
proof of this great man's extreme susceptibility, and on an
occasion which was free from all political artifice. This cha-
racteristic anecdote I found in a manuscript collection of
Dr. Sampson's " Day-book," where every anecdote is verified
by the name of the communicator.

Mr. Byfield, a clergyman, and Sir John Evelyn had differ-
ence about the repairs of a church, — Cromwell interposed
and made them friends. Evelyn complained that Byfield
had made personal reflections on him in his sermons, which
the other protested had never been in his mind. Cromwell,
turning to Evelyn, said, " I doubt there is something amiss ;
the word of God is penetrative and finds you out; search

WITH THE ARMY. 273

sions, and who more than other men was the
creature of circumstances which he knew to
master, not by opposing but by yielding to
them ? To serve ably the strongest party was
his simple policy ; hence his decision at a
moment of crisis when he found the Army
too strong to manage, that "if they were not
of his opinion he would go over to theirs/'

We may trace the history of the mind of
Charles from his first interview with Cromwell
and Ireton, to the night he took his flight from
Hampton Court.

On his deportation from Holmby, June 4th,
the King confirmed his hopes by the courteous
attendance of the General, and Cromwell with
Ireton usually by his side. Fairfax, unsus-
picious and honest, was always their incon-
scious instrument even to the last hour of
Charles's life, but was never of their cabal.
The more secret intercourse we obtain from the

your ways !" He spake so pathetically, with plenty of tears,
that all present fell a weeping also — the parties shook hands
and embraced. Cromwell then asked Evelyn what the re-
pairs of the church would cost? — £200. — Calling for his
Secretary Malyn, he desired him to pay £100 to Sir John
Evelyn towards the repairs. " And now, Sir," said Cromwell,
" I hope you '11 raise the other hundred." From Mr. Howe.
Sloane MSS. 4460.

VOL. V. T

274 THE KING'S PROGRESS

two confidential agents of the King.* It was
noticed at first that both Cromwell and Ireton
kept on the reserve when in the presence,
nor did they then offer to kiss hands. Crom-
well, however, as an earnest of his intentions,
restored the King to his chaplains and to his
friends. He had been long deprived of both
by the Presbyterians, and Charles was now
gratified by recognizing the old faces of faith-
ful servants, and communicating with many
devoted adherents.

After several removals, at Caversham, July
3rd, a month after his seizure, we discover
Charles losing his confidence, and troubled re-
specting the designs of the Army. It was
here that Sir Philip Warwick had a short
interview with the King. By all he could
perceive, either from himself or any other,
the King was very apprehensive in what hands
he was, but was cautious not to betray this
painful doubt.f And it was at this place,
where the King remained five days, that Sir
John Berkley tells us, that « His Majesty
discovered not only to me, but to every one
he conversed with, a total diffidence of all the

* See Note on BERKLEY and ASHBURNHAM at the end
of this chapter.

t Sir Philip Warwick's Memoirs, 301.

WITH THE ARMY. 275

Army, from the backwardness of the Officers
to treat of receiving any favour or advantage
of his Majesty."* But when Ashburnham
arrived from France, about a fortnight after,
he found Charles under the care of Colonel
Whalley, one of Cromwell's intimates, per-
fectly satisfied with his new and dangerous
friends. When Whalley required the pledge
of Ashburnham's honour that he should not
be privy to any escape of the King, Charles
also voluntarily engaged himself on the same
terms. " So confident," adds Ashburnham,
" His Majesty then was that their behaviour
towards him would be such as he should never
have occasion to desert them."f We detect
here a great alteration in the King's opinions,
which in this story of human nature it were

* Mr. Brodie, in his zeal to defend Cromwell and the
officers against Major Huntington's accusation, alleges this
passage of Sir John Berkley as a decisive proof that " they
showed a backwardness in accepting favours from the King."
This was true at a certain period ; but a fortnight after the
scene changed. Mr. Brodie, indeed, could "not know this,
since we owe the discovery to the recent publication of Ash-
burnham's Narrative, which confirms the accounts of Major
Huntington. Secret history performs miracles in favour of
Truth.

f Ashburnham's Narrative, recently published by the late
Earl of Ashburnham, p. 89.

T 2

276 THE KING'S PROGRESS

desirable to have supplied.* On the 20th of
July Ashburnham arrived at Woburn, where
he found the Treaty begun by Sir John Berk-
ley was proceeding with Cromwell and Ireton,
with proffers of honours and emoluments for
themselves " to the utmost of their expecta-
tions," and including their friends. During
the space of twenty days this negotiation
seemed to be not without hopes of success.

It is marvellous to observe how public ru-
mour has often anticipated the most secret
transactions, and assigned motives to men,
though at the time of the rumour, the trans-

* We receive no light from the delightful details of Her-
bert, the faithful Groom of the Bed-chamber, who was
never admitted into any secret conferences. While he has
correctly preserved the recollections of the King's move-
ments, he appears, in the antichamber, to have had no in-
sight into the intrigues carrying on in the interior. Jn all
these removals he sees nothing to describe but the mansions,
the gardens, the waterworks of the noble owners, and the
loyal emotion of the people. Major Huntington, an officer
in the regiment of Cromwell, and who finally threw up his
commission, and bore an extraordinary testimony, which he
offered to verify on oath, exposing the ambition and the Ma-
chiavelian avowed principles of his great Commander, passes
over the present period, and begins his narrative about the
close of July. We know, however, that much had passed
between the Major and the King ; for Berkley informs us,
he was the only officer Charles trusted.

WITH THE ARMY. 277

action had not yet occurred, and the motives
of the person were yet dormant. The fears of
jealous men are prophetic. The Army was now
so jealous of Cromwell and their Officers, that
at this very moment, when Charles was at Ca-
versham, despairing of having any personal
influence with the officers, the General found
it necessary thus early in addressing Parlia-
ment, to clear them of reports that " they were
upon some underhand Contract or Bargain
with the King, — thence occasion is taken to
slander our integrity, and endeavour a misun-
derstanding betwixt the Parliament and the
Army."* This letter is dated July 8th. " The
Contract or Bargain" had yet no existence
whatever, so that the rumour was totally un-
founded, though the result turned out as it
had been anticipated.

Throughout the whole of the present impor-
tant transactions, most difficult, very variable
and vital in their result, we may discover a
painful vacillation of opinions in Charles, but
not of conduct. He had adopted for his first
principle, which he reiterated without reserve,
that neither Party could stand without him.
This was also the opinion of others. At this
moment there could be no communication be-

* Rush worth, vi. 610.

278 THE KING'S PROGRESS

tween the King and his minister Clarendon,
now the emigrant of Jersey, yet their opinions
were the same.

Clarendon thought, perhaps truly enough,
that the Army was as odious to the People, as
the Presbyterians and the Royalists ever were.
" And to believe," he writes, " that they can
govern long by the power of the Sword, is
ridiculous. Their only security can be in the
faith and protection of the King. Sure they
have as much, or more need of the King, than
he of them."* The constitutional Lawyer and
the mere Cabinet-minister had yet no concep-
tion of military dominion.

This opinion, which the King had already
formed, was farther impressed by his renewed
intercourse with the Presbyterian Party, and
with Lord Lauderdale, the Chief Commissioner
of the Scots, who already were preparing to arm
for the Covenant, which the Independents held
in scorn.f At this moment the Presbyterian
Parliament, and the Scots, affected to contemn

* Clarendon State-papers, ii.

f Clarendon seems to have had very confined notions of
the Power of the Sword ! We see it in the manner in which
the Army rid itself of this Scotch Peer, whom one day they
would not suffer to take leave of his Majesty. " The Sol-
diers bursting into the bed-chamber of the Scotch Lord or-
dered him to depart instantly." — Lingard, x. 386.

WITH THE ARMY.

a mutinous Soldiery, and had a perfect con-
fidence in their own Presbyterian General
Fairfax. The opinion seemed still farther con-
firmed by the importunity of Cromwell and
Ireton to conclude the Treaty of the Army with
the King. They had submitted to modify it
till the terms appeared reasonable,* for as yet
the Military had not subdued the ostensible
government. The scales trembled, and Charles

* " So much so," says Baron Maseres, " that had not
the King been one of the most intractable and injudicious
men that ever lived, he must have cheerfully consented to."
Preface to Tracts, xxiv. So also Mr. Brodie ; " Never had
the misguided Monarch a better opportunity to recover his
Throne," iv. 104. I do not apologise for the insincerity
of Charles in the present transaction ; it was excruciating.
But had Charles's principles hung loosely about him, he
would have accepted the easy terms offered by the Army-
he might have been the Imperator of the Soldiers ! It is
not philosophical to decide on the character of Charles the
First of 1630 by that phantom of Charles the First of 1830,
which many raise up in their own minds. Stronger heads
than Charles might have been distracted in this choice of
evils. Who was the stronger party, had not yet been shown.
But the Army, the Baron himself acknowledges, stood in a
very exceptionable light. They had done an irregular and
unjustifiable act in the assumption of that Power which ap-
pertained solely to the Parliament. Surely Charles had
reason to dread that the Crown, which had been bestowed
by the violence of an Army, would not long exercise its in-
dependent authority.

280 THE KING'S PROGRESS

imagined that his hand held the casting-
weight.

The result of the principle which Charles
had now adopted, proved fatal, for it occa-
sioned him to reject both the proposals of the
Army and of the Parliament. Half-measures,
temporising till in despair he reverted to his
own principles, was one of the political Errors
of Charles the First, when pressed into extra-
ordinary dilemmas. In momentous difficulties,
it is only Genius which calculates, or Audacity
which risks, that strikes out a fortunate de-
cision ; for we call that fortunate to which
none at the moment could apply the epithet.

It was ddring these negotiations that the last
removal of the King had been to Hampton
Court, where Charles was allowed to maintain
his state in all the lustre of a Court. The
Nobility crowded to the presence-chamber, his
servants retained their offices, and during these
Halcyon days, as Herbert calls them — -Herbert,
whose elegant tastes and travelled mind loved
to linger amidst scenes of splendour and tran-
quillity, imagined that his royal Master was
once more happy, for the King conversed with
those he wished, hunted and rode as he pleased,
and frequently saw his children. A long and

WITH THE ARMY. 281

cruel estrangement had more deeply endeared
them to his forlorn spirit.*

NOTE ON BERKELEY AND ASHBURNHAM.

The Memoirs of Sir JOHN BERKLEY, and
the recent publication of " the Narrative " of
ASHBURNHAM, light us in some of these dark
passages of our History. These Memoirs are
written by persons of a different cast of mind,
and though actuated by the same zeal, unfor-
tunately tormented by mutual jealousies, and
taking different views.

Sir JOHN BERKLEY, afterwards Lord Berkley,
came to the King, recommended by the party
at Paris, and notwithstanding his defence of the
city of Exeter, was not much known to Charles,
who appears to have placed little confidence in
the ability or the judgment of this gentleman.
Berkley too, has the misfortune of having had
an intimate friend in a man of genius, Lord
Clarendon, who among his superior faculties,

* When the King intreated to have his children restored
to him, the rigid Presbyterian Parliament informed him that
" they could take as much care at London, both of their
bodies and souls, as could be done at Oxford." One would
imagine that when they voted this resolution, there could
not have been a single father in the whole House of
Commons !

282 THE KING'S PROGRESS

exercised with great satisfaction to himself, the
bitterest and most cutting sarcasm. Of his
friend, whom he flatters in his correspondence,
he tells in his History, that " the Officers were
well acquainted with his talent, and knew his
foible, that by flattering and commending, they
might govern him ;" and that " there was no
danger of any deep design from his contriv-
ance." Clarendon, who tells us that " Sir John
had a friend at that Court " (the party at Paris
with the Queen,) " who loved him better than
any body else did," closes by observing, that
when Sir John offered his services for England,
" they were very willing that he should make
the experiment, for he that loved him best,
was very willing to be without him." The
Memoir of Sir John, which is confined to a
Narrative of the present critical transaction, is
clear and lively, and carries evidence of prompt-
ness and ability in his difficult diplomacy, which
places him in a far more advantageous light
than he appears in the disguise of the saliric
pen of Clarendon. Sir John more than once
checked the imprudence of the King, but he
modestly acknowledges that " his counsels were
the worse for coming from himself."

ASHBURNHAM was a more courtly gentle-
man, affecting refinement in little things. He

WITH THE ARMY. 283

could not bring himself to talk " with such
senseless fellows as the Agitators," having been
always, he said, " bred in the best company."
He left them to the active Sir John, address-
ing himself entirely to Cromwell and Ireton.
He was fond of an expression of his own mint-
age, which not the entreaty of four good judges
could persuade him to alter, though its im-
policy was certain. Yet it was the conceit of
the thing, not its felicity, which fascinated his
over-weening littleness ; for he himself was
a feeble writer, with great mediocrity of ta-
lent. He was the favourite of Charles, from
whom he imbibed all his opinions ; the most
dangerous of counsellors possible, for he never
dissented : when Charles advised with him,
if he imagined that he had the benefit of
two opinions, he was fatally mistaken. The
voice of Ashburnham was only a reverberation.
His devotion to the Church and the King was
entire. All the favours and emoluments Charles
had to bestow were conferred on Ashburnham.
His fidelity, and his mediocrity of character
secured the attachment .of Charles, who rarely
evinced the smallest discernment in the charac-
ter of those who were about him. Those who
are curious in their physiognomical speculations,
may examine a beautiful three-quarters print of

284 THE KING'S PROGRESS

Ashburnham, in the recent Narrative published
by the late Lord Ashburnham, his spirited
Editor and descendant. We trace in the fea-
tures of the confidential friend of Charles the
First, the courtly air and quietness of charac-
ter which betrays a feminine weakness, and
its total incapacity for that energy and intel-
lectual courage which the critical position into
which he was cast so peremptorily required.

I suspect that there was some truth in this
insinuation of Berkley, " I had more than once
observed, that though Mr. Ashburnham was
willing enough to appropriate employments of
honour and profit, yet he was contented to
communicate those of danger unto his friends."

In both these works I have frequently la-
mented the uncertainty of their dates. The
want of dates in authentic narratives throws
into a provoking confusion the circumstances
related, or the conversations reported. In the
discovery "of historical Truth, dates are vital
things. I have sometimes recovered a date by
the public event alluded to, or the place where
the circumstance occurred. I drew up an Iti-
nerary of the removals of Charles after his de-
portation from Holmby, and was thus enabled
to fix the time by the place. But when pri-
vate incidents are thrown together as they rose

WITH THE ARMY. 285

in the recollections of the narrators, we are
liable to misplace them. Even in authentic
accounts of the same circumstances, we are
startled when we discover one party omitting
what another has made an essential part of the
narrative. In the two accounts we have of
the rendezvous of the Army at Ware, both are
from unquestionable sources ; in the one from
the General himself to the Parliament, the
name of Cromwell does not appear, while in
the other from General Ludlow, the whole
affair of putting down the Military is ascribed
to Cromwell, but no mention whatever is made
of Fairfax, as if he had been absent. We can-
not doubt the veracity of these accounts : their
difference only consists in omissions, not in con-
tradictions. This last observation is judiciously
made by Baron Maseres.

This negligence of dates in authentic writers
of memoirs of their own times, has often proved
fatal to their veracity, or cast a suspicion over
accounts, which otherwise had not occurred.
Could it be conceived, that the day when
Charles the First escaped from Hampton Court,
no slight event in the history of Clarendon, the
date was so utterly lost to the recollection of
the historian, that instead of fixing it on " the
llth of November," it stands in the original

286 THE KING'S PROGRESS.

manuscript " about the beginning of Sep-
tember !"

Major Huntington, in the curious paper of
his " Reasons for laying down his Commis-
sion" under Cromwell, positively states that
the King was continually solicited by Crom-
well and Ireton with proffers of all things,
when Charles was at Caversham." In his
former account to Dugdale, he said it was
Newmarket, nearly a month anterior, and so
much the more erroneous. I have clearly
shown, by the undoubted evidence of War-
wick and Berkley, while Charles was at Caver-
sham no offer of the kind could have been
made, from the total diffidence he had of the
Army. A fortnight after — but not at Caver-
sham, where he remained only five days — when
under the guard of Colonel Whalley, a rela-
tion of Cromwell, sucb offers were undoubt-
edly made. These inaccuracies committed in
writing at a distant day, are not only excusable,
but are perhaps unavoidable. The historian
must however examine the most authentic
narrations with more care than has been al-
ways practised; like a sagacious and cautious
lawyer, he must pinch the tenderer parts of his
brief, to be certain of what is sound in it.

CROMWELL AND CHAIILES I. 287

CHAPTER XII.

CROMWELL AND CHARLES THE FIRST AT
HAMPTON COURT.

THIS history of human nature is an intel-
lectual exercise which leads to many certain
truths and many devious researches, and will
not allow us with indolent acquiescence to take
matters in the gross. We should not confide
to the narrative repeated from a former one, or
decide on the conduct of the individual, as it
was usually actuated through life, but as it
may have been influenced by a present motive.
In the anatomy of the Passions — in the shades
of character of the human being whose story
has interested the world, it were unskilful to
conclude that the Hypocrite is never to be
separated from his Hypocrisy. Personal in-
terests there are of a deep and trying nature,
strong enough to secure even the integrity of

288 CROMWELL AND CHARLES

the Faithless, and to induce the Dissembler to
cast away his disguise.

Cromwell, mysterious being as he was, there
is no reason to suspect of having practised his
accustomed dissimulation in his first inter-
course with the King.

If while the fate of the Army and the Par-
liament were yet to be decided, and the Agita-
tors were pressing for the King's acceptance of
their Treaty, Cromwell secured to himself, by
means of this Negotiation, the highest honours
and emoluments of the State, at that moment,
his ambition could not pass beyond. The
future Protector, the enthusiast of supreme
dominion, could not, even in thought, have
grasped at the Sceptre. Vast as was the cre-
ative genius of this man, it had not yet winged
itself beyond the limits of possibility.

Ireton, his son-in-law, was indeed of a severe
temper : a man of Law and a Soldier, and
one with whom his Sword was as logical as his
pen. His Republican spirit was not liable to
those sudden meltings of Cromwell, effervescing
themselves into bursts of Loyalty. But Ireton
had made a common cause with his Father,
and was equally importunate and accommo-
dating to terminate the Treaty with the King.
Ireton was the pen-man, the Treaty lay in his

AT HAMPTON COURT. 289

own closet, and he never hesitated to moderate
the proposals of the Army at the suggestion of
Berkley. The most solemn protestations were
repeatedly renewed that they were ready to
sacrifice their lives to emancipate the King,
enslaved by a vile intolerant party. " If I am
an honest man," observed Cromwell to Ash-
burnham, " I have said enough of the sincerity
of my intentions ; if I am not, nothing is
enough !" — " We should be the veriest knaves
that ever lived," said Ireton, " if we made not
good what we have promised, because the
King, by his not declaring against us, had given
us great advantage against our adversaries."
During twenty days these eminent men ap-
peared reconciled to accept the magnificent
offers.

It was on the 2nd of August, that the King
rejected the proposals of the Army. At a
conference with the Officers, he delivered him-
self in the most unguarded language. " You
cannot be without me; You will fall to ruin
if I do not sustain you !" Thus the captive
Monarch betrayed the fatal conviction of his
own independent power. At that moment
" his Majesty seemed very much erected," as
Berkley expresses it. The fact was, that three
days before, on the 30th of July, the City had

VOL. v. u

290 CROMWELL AND CHARLES

boldly declared against the Army. At the
language of the King, Ireton, and even Berk-
ley were surprised — the Officers who appeared
to wish well to the Agreement looked on with
wonder. One of them, Colonel Rainsborough,
a furious Agitator, stole away in the midst of
the conference, and posting to the Army, carry-
ing off the King's words on his lips, with con-
siderable additions, spread a flame through the
indignant ranks. A whisper from Berkley had
reminded Charles of his imprudence, and as
the conference was closing, the King attempted
to soften the harshness of his rejection, as
Berkley tells us, " with great power of lan-
guage and behaviour." Ireton with keen dis-
cernment had once before observed, " Sir, you
have an intention to be the Arbitrator between
the Parliament and Us, and we mean to be
so between you and the Parliament." There
was always a pungency in the Republican Ire-
ton's retorts on the King. When Charles ob-
served to him, " I shall play my game as well
as I can" — Ireton replied, " If your Majesty
have a game to play, you must give us the
liberty to play ours."

The Army was now on the point of making
an important movement. It was yet to be a
secret to the world, but Cromwell knew that

AT HAMPTON COURT. 291

before two days should elapse the Army would
be masters of London. Still he courted the
King, still he deemed his name an army of
itself. But now a single hour was a crisis.
He dispatched an express to implore the King,
that if he could not bring himself to yield to
the Treaty, yet a conciliatory letter to the
General expressive of his satisfaction with the
Army, would at this moment secure those
wavering and inconstant spirits for whom they
could not answer. On a former occasion it had
been announced that the temper of the Army
had altered more than once ; and Cromwell
would often say, alluding to the chief Level-
lers, that "they were a giddy-headed party,
and that there was no trust nor truth in
them."

On the arrival of Cromwell's express, a letter
was instantly prepared. But Charles hesitated
till it had passed through three or four debates.
That single day was lost ! Berkley and Ash-
burnham were the bearers ; messengers on the
road met them to urge their speed ; they reach
Sion House, and are struck with amazement.
They could obtain no interview with Cromwell
nor Ireton. A mighty event had frustrated
the design of the royal letter. The Speakers
of both the Houses with many of their mem-

u 2

292 CROMWELL AND CHARLES

bers had taken refuge in the Army. The Sol-
diers were on their march to the City.

The event of that march was probably to
be the measure of their adoption or their aban-
donment of the King. The Agitators, already
indisposed by the King's tardy acceptance of
their Treaty, were now regardless of his fate.
The conciliatory letter to the General had been
intended to show that the King was with
them. Had the Army encountered a force
greater than their own, or even a strong op-
position, as there was an appearance of great
resistance, for men were enlisted and com-
manders were appointed, in that extreme case
they would have placed the King at their head,
and would have invited the whole Royalist
party. Such was the plotting and bold policy
of Cromwell.*

* Ashburnham's Narrative recently published, 93. This
writer is so vague that he has not noticed the incident of
«« the Letter," and evidently confused it with a different
object. He acquaints us of Berkley's and his bad reception
on their arrival at Sion House " with his Majesty's answer."
What answer ? According to his Narrative, it was " his
Majesty's consent to their proposals," i, e. the proposals of
the Army by Cromwell and Ireton. He says that these,
after having been under the care of some of his Majesty's
Counsel at Law, &c. " On the very day it was finished the
Army marched." Writing at a distant day, Ashburnham

AT HAMPTON COURT. 293

This last Revolution after so many others,
was described at the time, with as much truth
as ridicule, in a pseudonymous letter of Secre-
tary Nicholas. " All things are in England in
very great confusion. As the King called a
Parliament he could not rule, and afterwards
the Parliament raised an Army it could not
rule, so the Army have made Agitators they
cannot rule, and the Agitators are setting up
the People whom they will be as unable to
rule."*

seems entirely to have forgotten that " the King's answer"
which he and Berkley carried to the Army was " the Letter
to the General." As for " the King's consent to their pro-
posals," Charles never consented to them. His Lawyers and
Divines called together on this occasion had only discussed
them, and stated their objections ; as Berkley acutely ob-
served, " They easily answered the Proposals both in point
of Law and Reason. But we had to do with what was
stronger." It is evident that Ashburnham has sadly erred
in supposing the King ever consented to the Treaty, and
totally forgotten the incident of " the Letter," which was
the real and only object of their post-haste expedition to
Sion House.

* Clarendon State Papers, ii. Jo. Wilcocks, was the
pseudonymous signature which concealed the honest old
Secretary. I shall quote a writer unusual in historical re-
searches, the facetious Tom Brown. The confused state of
these revolutionary affairs is equally well described by a fact
the Wit has recorded. The Cavaliers in the beginning of

294 CROMWELL AND CHARLES

Notwithstanding this triumph of the mili-
tary, the Army marching through London on
the 7th of August, the Officers still declared that
" They would keep to their engagement with
the King." Probably this was a mere act of
policy, for we do not hear that the Treaty was
renewed by them, nor solicited by the King,
who secretly presaged " nothing but mischief
from this vast increase of their authority."*

The King was now at Stoke, but desirous to
be removed to one of his own houses. Ash-
burnham, in communicating with Cromwell and
Ireton, was struck by their altered tone and
repulsive air. " They told me, with very
severe countenances, that he should go if he
pleased to Oatlands." What they added ex-
plains their " very severe countenances." They
informed Ashburnham that the King had
sided with the Parliament by encouraging the
Royalists to unite with them, and farther, that
at this instant he had a treaty with the Scots.
They held the evidence in their own hands, by

the troubles used to trump up the 12th of the Romans on
the Parliament — the Parliament trumped it up on the Army
when they would not disband — the Army back again on the
Parliament when they disputed their orders. Never was
poor Chapter so unmercifully tossed to and fro again and
again ! — Tom Brown's Works, iv. 14,
* Ashburnham's Narrative, 93.

AT HAMPTON COURT. 295

his and the Queen's letters. This was a thun-
der-clap! Ashburnham defied them to pro-
duce their pretended evidence, offering that if
they did he would willingly consent that the
King should never be restored by their means.
No such letters appear to have been produced.
The King went to Oatlands on the 14th of
August.

This detection of the double manoeuvres of
the distressed and irresolute Monarch, so early
in August, embarrasses our Narrative. Ash-
burnham has fixed the time by naming the
place where it occurred, but by some confusion
in his reminiscences he seems to have ante-
dated this material circumstance. Were Ash-
burnham correct in his statement, the subse-
quent conduct of Cromwell at Hampton Court,
during his early intercourse with the King,
would exhibit a scene of unimaginable and
gratuitous perfidy. Clarendon places the ex-
postulation of Cromwell at a later and more
probable period. Dr. Lingard, following Cla-
rendon, says that Cromwell acquainted Ash-
burnham of "the incurable duplicity of his
Master," and fixes the time not early in August,
but late in October. This at once removes the
discrepancy. With Cromwell it is easy to con-
ceive that he was earnestly sincere through

296 CROMWELL AND CHARLES

September, hypocritical in October, and openly
hostile in November. This is nothing sur-
prising in the history of a man who the Par-
liament declared merited a statue for quelling
the tumults of the Army, and not many
months after, at the head of that Army, ex-
pelled that Parliament.

The King went to Hampton Court on the
24 th of August, where he resided during three
months, in the full state of Royalty and almost
of Liberty. His great and devoted friends
had even leave for a restricted period to pass
over from the Continent where they had now
retreated, to visit their Sovereign. Among
these were the heads of powerful parties, with
whom were concerted their future plans ; they
were not hopeless, but hapless. It is evident
that Cromwell was desirous of coalescing with
the Royalists by the freedom he allowed of
their access to Charles.

At first Cromwell himself was more assi-
duous than ever in his attendance on the King,
with whom he held long conferences, and
walked together in the galleries and the gar-
dens of the Palace. Many of the Officers ap-
pear to have been gained over in their personal
intercourse with Charles. The King might
still be the fountain of honour and the dis-

AT HAMPTON COURT. 297

penser of favours. Even the Citizens flocked
to Hampton Court as they had formerly been
accustomed, when their Sovereign returned
from a Progress. It was the general opinion
up to the middle of September, that the influ-
ence of Cromwell would settle the restoration
of the King.

While this scene of comparative peace and
tranquillity deluded the people, the wayward
spirits of the Army had engendered a new
Faction — a faction avowing its indomitable hos-
tility to every other party in the State. Our
political parties usually step forth with envi-
able titles, but how happens it, that they are
more generally known to Posterity, by the
nick-names conferred on them by their ene-
mies ? It is because the name they assume de-
notes their professions, and the name they re-
ceive marks their acts. The " Independents"
had described their principle in their name, and
veiled their turbulence in the mildness of Tole-
ration, or, as the bigoted Presbyterian Clement
Walker says, "to establish that chimera, Li-
berty of Conscience." * From these Common-
wealth-men sprung a specious sect, first ob-
scurely known as "Rationalists," — an early

* Hist, of Independency, Part I. 31.

298 CROMWELL AND CHARLES

indication of the straggling " March of Intel-
lect." Whatever they insisted to have done in
the State and the Church was a reason, " until
they be convinced with better." Better and
worse they had, till their fluctuating doctrines
took all the monstrous shapes of anarchy.
The age of Charles the First was the age of
Sectarianism, and no human arguments availed
with " a godly race" appealing to the Sacred
Scriptures for their Acts of Parliament, and
who, whenever they came to a decision, fasted
and prayed, to make Heaven justify their
follies and their crimes. Every age has its
character, which is derived from the circum-
stances of the period, but the principle by
which men are actuated has ever been the same.
Such vague and disturbed notions of civil
liberty were more palpable when these "Ra-
tionalists" were denominated "The Levellers."*

* " The Levellers are miscalled," says the warm Presby-
terian Clement Walker, " for they only endeavoured to level
the exorbitant usurpations of the Council of State and
Council of Officers, and it was Cromwell who falsely chris-
tened them." Hist, of Independency, Part II. 168.

Mrs. Hutchinson, in her admirable Memoirs of her
Colonel, however, describes a wider circumference of their
operations. They were " a sort of public- spirited men who
stood up in the Parliament and the Army, declaring against
the Factious, and the partiality that was in these days prac-

AT HAMPTON COURT. 299

Then was comprehended the nature of their
chimerical republics, every man choosing to
live in one of his own. Then appeared their
barbarous independence, and their ceaseless in-
novations. All the vain hopes of the eternal
restlessness of man, placed amidst the corrup-
tions of human institutions, and the conflicting
interests of society itself.

The greater peril into which a nation is cast,
is when the varied land-marks of Society are
violently removed ; then the Demagogue shows
his towering head, the reckless Adventurer
grasps at the universal spoil, and the Orator
invokes Liberty, with a heart vowed to the
wretched Slavery of flattering the passions of
the People.*

tised, by which great men were privileged to those things
which meaner men were punished for." She adds, for she
wrote in the spirit of truth — " As all virtues are mediums,
and have their extremes, there rose up after in that name a
people who endeavoured the levelling of all estates and
qualities." 288. 4to.

* I was struck by the unguarded description, as I presume
it is, by a friend of the late Benjamin Constant in his eulogy
on this Patriot. " M. Constant was in the utmost degree
jealous of his popularity ; he lost all energy when he saw
it sinking ; and the man who had disdained the favour and
the gifts of Sovereigns could not bear up against the slightest
popular disgrace." This is a miserable history of a man of
genius, however moderate, solely solicitous of a hurrah !

and

300 CROMWELL AND CHARLES

From the Rationalists and the Levellers,
sprung up a race who have received no title,
but may be designated by one, not long after
hardly earned— the Regicides ! Bands of Ty-
rannicides, each a Brutus, who abhorred all
Kings as being de genere bestiarum rapacium,
as one of them said. These were men who
would have acted like that Roman Senator,
who, when the multitude in tumult vociferated
to know who had killed their lord and master
Caligula, and called for his punishment, from
an eminence whence he could be heard by
all, exclaimed with a voice loud as his lofty
spirit, " I wish I had killed him !" Astonish-
ment stilled the populace — they paused to
think — and the tumult ceased ! The King-
killers of England were not invested with the
romantic grandeur of the Roman Tyrannicides ;
the assassins among them were ordinary as-
sassins, and the more solemn had English no-
tions of legalizing, or passing under the forms
of legality, even an illegal act.

and three cheers of the mob ! and never, on any opportunity,
of that wisdom and rectitude which might happen to be un-
popular. The vilest parasite of a court is not a more con-
temptible being than that other servile Courtier of the peo-
ple. The People at least require as often to be enlightened
as flattered.— Times, December 18th, 1830.

AT HAMPTON COURT. 301

The authority of Kings and the Rights of
the People had been often discussed during the
Civil Wars. That the People were Sovereign,
or that the origin of all just power is in the Peo-
ple, was an abstract axiom in political science,
which was now raised to oppose that principle
of the divinity of Monarchical power which
inculcated passive obedience, from the highest
authority to which Christian Europe could ap-
peal. The novel principle was developed in
the celebrated tract of Buchanan.* The Scot-
tish Republican had warded off by his apolo-
getical and subtilizing Commentary the Jewish
and Evangelical politics.f But Buchanan ad-

* De Jure Regni apud Scotos.

f In this Dialogue the Interlocutor urges the precept of
passive obedience from St. Paul in his Epistle to Titus, ch. iii.
And to show how strong was the precept, he observes what
Princes St. Paul recommended to the prayers of the Church,
Tiberius, Caligula, Claudius, Nero, for his Epistles are al-
most contemporary with them. Buchanan apologizes for
St. Paul; his command was but for a time, the church being
then in its infancy, and it was also to remove that odium
which was attached to the Christians, that they refused all
obedience to magistracy. Some of the primitive Christians
had imprudently imagined that it was unworthy of those
who were made free by the Son of God to lie under the
power of any man. But St. Paul has given his reason for
their obedience ; it was not for the King's safety, but that
the Church might live in peace and quietness. This passage

302 CROMWELL AND CHARLES

vanced beyond the mere illustration of an ob-
scure and vague position, by maintaining that
Evil Kings, like other criminals, may be brought
to judgment, by those mightier Sovereigns,
their own People. Were there no Societies
of Men, there would be no Kings, for Kings
are appointed for the good of the People, there-
fore the People are better than the King. It
follows, that whenever a King is called to
Judgment, it is the lesser power which appears
before the greater.

enraged John Knox, who has furiously declaimed against
this passage of St. Paul. He should have considered that
St. Paul was writing to men of different nations, few rich or
able to govern, most but recently emancipated, tradesmen,
servants, and all private persons. Now that Christians are
Kings, Paul would not write at this day as he wrote to the
multitude. He maintains that Monarchs may be brought
to Judgment, and it would be a false inference to conclude
the thing was unlawful because it is not to be found in
Scripture. There is however a passage in Peter, 1st. chap,
ii. 13, which positively inculcates passive obedience and ad-
mits of no gloss, though volumes have been written on St.
Paul's " divine right," and St. Peter's " Submit yourselves
to every ordinance of man."

The Covenanters alleged about ten passages from Scrip-
ture in favour of King-killing and revolting against them,
but on the side of passive obedience to Kings the express
texts are more numerous. Both sides explain or evade.
Both converted the Scriptures into a Nose of Wax.

AT HAMPTON COURT. 303

But what is this Sovereignty of the People ?
Is it like the equality of mankind, only an
Utopian babble? Is it a contradiction in
terms ? How is the Servant to be the Mas-
ter? or the governed to be the governors?
Where are we to find this Sovereignty, among
the many or the few ? Has history or human
nature ever shown a government composed of
the People, vacillating with their passions and
their interests, eager to establish and eager to
pull down ? This would be a government com-
posed of self-destroying principles. Buchanan
sees what a people can do, but he does not see
what they will do. " When shall we hope
for that happiness where the whole people
agree with that which is Right ?" demands the
interlocutor in the dialogue. Buchanan re-
sponds, " That indeed is scarce to be hoped
for, and to expect it is needless, for no Law
could be made and no Magistrate be created
which would not find some to object to the
Law or to oppose the Man. It is sufficient,"
he concludes, " that the Laws are useful, and
the Magistrate be of good repute." This spe-
culative politician surely has left the obscure
origin of government much where he found
it, and Buchanan seems to have been casting
his net into the sea to catch a whale. The

304 CROMWELL AND CHARLES

principle more particularly his own, is that
Kings may be put on their trial, but the Sove-
reignty of the People, which is to exercise
this Right with him, has no other medium
to manifest its authority than by the violence
of the Tribunes of the Roman people and
the Ephori of the Lacedaemonians. I cannot
discover in this famous work of Buchanan any
notion of a Representative government, which
at least seems the most rational of all human
Institutions.

Yet never let us forget that even a Repre-
sentative Government is liable to many pecu-
liar abuses, and all popular Assemblies are a
conflict of terrible passions. Truth is the
celestial visitant of the few and not of the
many. The Sovereignty of. the People be-
comes as ambiguous a principle as any assumed
by absolute Power. Our Rumpers, perplexed
by the Sovereignty of the People, which when
they had assumed they did not know what
to make of, separated the Power from the
Authority. They declared that " the Supreme
Power is in the People, but the Supreme Au-
thority is in the Commons, their Representa-
tives." A false assumption, which like all fal-
lacies was designed to veil evil designs. Who
were these Proclaimers of the Liberties of

AT HAMPTON COURT. 305

England? The Sovereign, the Peers, and
two-thirds of the Commons had been purged,
and purged, and purged away till nothing
remained but the fraction of a House and a
minority of its Members. The great truth
is, that no Government can exist unless it
be invested with paramount power to keep
every other down. The passions and the
sufferings of mankind in an eternal struggle
where to lodge the seat of supreme autho-
rity, have rendered them alike the victims of
a limited Monarchy which corrupts their sel-
fishness, an arbitrary despotism which degrades
the animal by exacting unconditional submis-
sion, and an anarchical democracy which erects
the vain and the daring into so many poten-
tates maddening the land by factions which
can only be destroyed by other factions. The
happiness of a People often vanishes in their
eternal cry after Liberty,— it is the despotism
of the multitude which shall always terminate
by the despotism of the single person. When
the Laws are once violated, man becomes the
tyrant or the slave of his neighbour.

A letter about this time gives an extraor-
dinary account of the excitement among the
Levellers, " who stick not in the Army to say
the Kingdom is theirs by conquest, and if the

VOL. v. x

306 CROMWELL AND CHARLES

arrears go on still unpaid it will be theirs by
purchase." To dissolve the Parliament they
insisted on a free Election, but we are startled
when we find that they voted to extend the
Elective franchise to all classes, not only to
freeholders but to beggars, who were to have
a vote for Knights and Burgesses ! Servants
only were excepted.* Those Levellers, whom
I have denominated the Regicides, were fully
convinced that the life of the Sovereign was
a continued obstacle to their wild Democracy.
It is now they meditated on the extraordinary
project of some public act in the form of
public justice on the doomed Monarch, to
exhibit to all the world a justification of the
People. The idea was now rife, and was not
even disapproved by some who had not yet the
taste of blood. Cornet Joyce, who had had no
slight personal intercourse with the King, was
desirous that the King should be brought to
trial, " Not," said he, " that I would have one
hair of his head to suffer, but that the people
might not bear the blame of the war." Those
who imagined the trial, dreamed also of the
condemnation. Even the pistol, the poniard,
or poison, should the greater novelty not be

* Clarendon State Papers, ii. xl. App. One can hardly ima-
gine this universal reform of Parliament ! Universal suffrage !

AT HAMPTON COURT. 307

obtainable, were decided on. They railed
against their Officers whom they witnessed
mingled with the throng of Cavaliers at
Hampton Court, as their betrayers. " Free-
born John Lilburne," as he called himself,
that giant of pamphleteers, whose ever-rest-
less pen never wearied, threw amidst the Army
now lying at Putney, a hand-grenado, which
burst on the head of Cromwell, entitled " Put-
ney Projects." Cromwell latterly assured Ash-
burnham that his life was not secure in his
quarters, and on this pretext desired him to
refrain from open visits, without however in-
terrupting their private communications. Nor
did Cromwell neglect to convey information
whenever he could carry a point among the
Agitators in favour of the King. " So many
shows and expressions of Realities they inter-
mingled with their discourse," Ashburnham
with great simplicity remarks.

Berkley also discovered that Cromwell was
somewhat captious. Expostulating with him for
having betrayed a state-secret, Cromwell told
him that Lady Carlisle, for her Ladyship again
steps forth amid the busy scene, had affirmed
that Sir John had informed her that Cromwell
was to be created Earl of Essex and Captain
of the King's Guards. Other rumours spread

x 3

308 CROMWELL AND CHAKLES

that Ireton was to be Lord Lieutenant of Ire-
land for life. Such reports were fatal, while
the Agitators promulgated that the Army and
the people were to be sacrificed by their Lieu-
tenant-General and their Commissary-General
to their private ambition.

Berkley assures us that he had all along cau-
tiously avoided the springes and the snares of
that paragon of States-women, not to give um-
brage to the Army. It was only after repeated
messages conveyed by the voice and smiles of
Lady Newport, that he was at last caught by
the great Sempronia. Sir John, however, on
visiting her Ladyship, enjoyed little of her
company, for he had not long entered her haunt-
ed chamber, ere an Agitator made his ominous
appearance, sent, as Sir John reasonably con-
cludes, to neutralize their conversation, which
ended in ordinary topics. Whether the expostu-
lation of Cromwell were but a feint, to warn off
Sir John from the unhallowed precinct of that
perturbed spirit — the Presbyterian Lady ; or
whether her Ladyship had maliciously surmised
the fact, though Berkley denies the communi-
cation in the present instance, we know for cer-
tain that her Ladyship's informant had furnish-
ed no ungrounded report.*

* Mr. Brodie, anxious to clear Cromwell of having ever been
seduced by the promises held out to him, refers to Berkley

AT HAMPTON COURT. 309

Of the nature of the communications which
the two eminent persons now held with the
King, we may form some notion by the ac-
knowledgment which Ireton confidentially made
to his friend Col. Hutchinson, long after all
interests had ceased to deceive the hearer. " He
gave us words, and we paid him in his own
coin, when we found that he had no real inten-
tion to the people's good, but to prevail by our
factions to regain by art what he had lost in
fight." In September the confidence of Charles

as " informing us that the story of the Earldom was an in-
vention."— Brodie, iv. 106. But since Mr. Brodie has writ-
ten we have the positive evidence of Ashburnham, which I
have before noticed, of the nature of the offers to Cromwell
and Ireton, " to their utmost expectations." We have also
a letter from Clarendon to Berkley, which approves of such
offers having been made. — Clarendon State Papers, ii. 379.
" The whole kingdom knows," says the warm Clement
Walker, " Cromwell and Ireton to be apparently guilty of
truckling with the King."— Hist, of Ind. i. 35. And I think
Cromwell himself has made the confession, on the day he
finally joined with the Army, acknowledging " that the glo-
ries of the world had so dazzled his eyes, that he could not
discern clearly the great works the Lord was doing, but that
he now desired the prayers of the Saints, that God would be
pleased to forgive him his self-seeking." To me this is an
evident allusion to what passed, as Ashburnham says, " for
the space of twenty days, not without some hopes of suc-
cess," and is an ample confirmation of the view which I have
taken.

310 CROMWELL AND CHARLES

appears to have weakened, and he seems to
have entertained doubts of the sincerity of the
parties.

Major Huntington, an officer in Cromwell's
own regiment, was the confidential messenger
from his Colonel to the King, and became zea-
lously attached to the unfortunate Monarch.
When Charles was preparing his refusal to the
proposals of the Parliament, he was desirous
of consulting Cromwell before he sent in his
answer. Taking the Major apart, the King
earnestly inquired " whether he considered
Cromwell remained the same in heart as by his
tongue he had so frequently expressed him-
self?" The Major was staggered at the sud-
den and solemn question, and comprehending
all its importance, requested to give his answer
on the following day.

The Major that night hastened to Crom-
well's quarters, and early in the morning broke
in on Cromwell, whom he found in his bed.
Raising up his colonel in his night-gown, and
apologising for the unseasonable disturbance, he
acquainted him with the urgency of the busi-
ness. On this Cromwell, striking his hand on
his breast, solemnly asseverated that he would
do whatever he had promised to restore the
King, imprecating Heaven that neither him-

AT HAMPTON COURT. 311

self, nor his wife nor children might ever pros-
per, if he failed in his word, for that he would
stand by the King were there but ten men left
to stick to him." The Major, aware of what
was passing in the Army, and with something
like suspicion in his mind, was still so cautious
as to condition with Cromwell, that should
any thing happen to hinder his intentions, he
would give the King timely warning that he
might elude the danger. This is remarkable,
for Cromwell freld this promise sacred.

Charles, like Huntington, reposed on the
honour of Cromwell. The King's answer to
the Parliament was submitted by the Major to
the perusal of Cromwell and Ireton " privately
in a garden-house at Putney," with liberty to
add or alter. The object was to obtain a per-
sonal treaty, and they promised their support
in the House. On the 18th of September the
King's answer was received by the Parliament,
and it raised a flame in the House — and we are
told that not among the least vehement were
found Cromwell and Ireton ! The astonished
Monarch sent to inquire of Cromwell the reason
of this extraordinary conduct. The ingenuity
of the answer was only equalled by its perfidy.
Cromwell alleged that " What he had done
was merely to sound the depths of those viru-

3121 CROMWELL AND CHAIILES

lent humours of the Presbyterian party whom
he knew to be no friends to his Majesty."
Cromwell indeed, whatever he might have de-
signed, lived in dread of the jealousies of the
Army, and a public support of the King's
measures might have confirmed their tales of
his intrigues.*

From this moment, however, Cromwell never
again appeared at Hampton Court.

The masks, if they had worn any, must have
suddenly dropped from their faces. The un-
happy and baffled Ashburnham seems to have
been at a loss how to proceed with such re-
luctant and suspicious negotiators, and seems
not to have been aware that a negotiation may

* It is a curious instance how imperfectly some are ac-
quainted with parts of the very transaction in which they are
engaged, or cease to deliver themselves accurately at a dis-
tant day. Sir John Berkley says, that " both Cromwell and
Ireton, with Vane, and all their friends, seconded with great
resolution, the desire of his Majesty (for a personal Treaty),
but the more it was urged by Cromwell, the more it was re-
jected by the rest, who looked on them as their betrayers."
How are we to accord this discrepancy with the narrative of
Huntington ? We must infer Cromwell's opposition from the
apologetical answer he returned to the King. The recent
Narrative of Ashburnham confirms Huntington's account,
that from this moment " Cromwell and Ireton withdrew
themselves by degrees from their wonted discourses of his
Majesty's recovery."— Ashburnham's Narrative, 98,

AT HAMPTON COURT. 313

be considered as concluded, when the negoti-
ators are so coy as never to confer. The for-
lorn emissary of Charles went about circuit-
ously among the officers to learn the resolu-
tions of the two great men ! He picked up
from Colonel Rich some astounding gossip, in
which Cromwell had enlarged " how this king-
dom would be in a happy condition if the
Government were settled as that in Holland."
This alarming intelligence Ashburnham has-
tened to communicate to the King, urging,
however, the absolute necessity of keeping up
an appearance of friendly correspondence with
these powerful men. Charles seemed troubled
and absorbed in thought. He assured Ash-
burnham that he did not partake of his sur-
prise, for that he had of late some secret hints
in his mind that they never designed any other
service to him than to advance their own,
which lay some other way than by his restora-
tion. Ashburnham took his final instructions
to sound them once more. He found that all
future negotiations would be useless.

The intention of Cromwell and Ireton now
cease to be equivocal. This remarkable change
may be ascribed to the peremptory resolutions
of the new faction in the Army. The two
great leaders were themselves in terror at the

314 CROMWELL AND CHARLES

monster they had themselves nursed. It was
a novel predominance in the State. There is
reason, however, to believe that a more pri-
vate motive also prevailed with Cromwell and
Ireton. A letter is said to have been inter-
cepted, the tenor of which, whatever it was,
put an end to their scheme of any coalition
with the King. The history of this inter-
cepted letter we reserve for the following chap-
ter, as an investigation sufficiently curious.

The communication of Cromwell, Ireton,
and Whalley with the King continued in
appearance so late as the end of October, for
their Ladies went to Court, and Ashburnham,
taking Mrs. Cromwell by the hand, introduced
her to his Majesty, and the whole family party
were entertained. Very early in November we
find that an impeachment of the Army against
Cromwell was in agitation, and a week later
Ireton opposes Rainsborough at a council of
war. The furious Leveller intimated that the
Army would not make any farther addresses
to the King. Ireton protested against this
violation of reason and justice, abruptly left
the Council, and refused to return.* To so
late a period as the %th of November, Crom-

* See the curious extracts of letters of the day, in Claren-
don's State Papers, ii. App. xl.

AT HAMPTON COURT. 315

well and Ireton still persisted in the appear-
ance of friendly dispositions. This mysterious
conduct may be ascribed to their peculiar situa-
tion ; they were wrestling with the new Faction,
with whom as yet they had not joined.

Within the space of a week the King ob-
served a sudden alteration in the civility of
the soldiers, and that the guards were doubled.
Charles desired Ashburnham to find some ex-
cuse to withdraw his parole, as the King did
himself, on the plea that his friends had been
dismissed, and his honour suspected, for that
"his word was to be his guard." He sent word
to the General that he could pledge his word no
longer, and that the General should look to him
as well as he could. Legge, of all his own
attendants, was alone suffered to remain. Let-
ters and notes were conveyed to Charles which
confirmed certain rumours of his personal
danger. The spirit of the Levellers was
now under the influence of such political
Saints as Hugh Peters, their Chaplain and buf-
foon, men whom the warm Clement Walker
designates as " the journeymen-priests." An
anonymous letter which Charles left on the
table on his flight, and which had come from
a quarter well known to Charles, informed
him of the resolution of some Agitators at

316 CROMWELL AND CHARLES

a meeting where his brother was present, "to
take his life away." Dell and Peters, two of
their preachers, offered to bear them company,
and had often Lsaid to them that " his Majesty
is but as a dead dog."* The King was cast
into terror and perplexity. Cromwell obtained
intelligence of a plot concerted by the Level-
lers to send a strong detachment of their own
party to seize on the King. He instantly
wrote to Colonel Whalley, his relative, who
had the custody of the King, to give him
timely warning, declaring that he himself
could no longer be responsible for the King's
safety. Whalley immediately confided the
pressing communication to the King.

At the close of the evening of the 12th
of November, Charles escaped from Hampton
Court, accompanied by Legge, and met Ash-
burnham and Berkley by appointment, and
the next account heard of the King was that
he remained in safety and in the custody of
Hammond the Governor of the Isle of Wight,
another confidential friend of Cromwell.

* This was no false information. Hugh Peters was a
true Regicide. Evelyn, in his Diary, " heard Peters incite
the Rebel Powers met in the Painted-Chamber to destroy his
Majesty." I am afraid Hugh Peters never forgave Charles
for absolutely forbidding him to preach before him, a circum-
stance which he has indignantly noticed.

AT HAMPTON COUHT. 317

This is one of the most mysterious inci-
dents in this history. Contemporaries and
historians have decided that the King, from
the day of his deportation from Holmby to
his escape to the Isle of Wight, was through-
out the dupe of Cromwell.

Holies and Ludlow consider the flight as
a stratagem of Cromwell's, who having cast
Charles into the terror of assassination, had
probably indicated his flight, concerting with
his creature Whalley to connive at the escape
of the King. The absurd account Whalley
gave of his measures on its discovery, and
no obstacles having impeded the Royal fugi-
tive, give some suspicion.* Charles was ad-
vised to go to the Isle of Wight, where
Cromwell had beforehand provided him with
a gaoler in Colonel Hammond, who had been
sent out as Governor only a few weeks before,

* Whalley tells of his " sending parties of horse every
where both night and day — searching over Ashburnham's
house which he found empty," and the King's Lodge, where
he might be sure the King was not. This huddled narrative
was not read in the House, as Hammond's letter arrived at
the same time with certain information. Peck thinks that
Rushworth did not publish it because it contained some
things not to the advantage of Cromwell and Whalley. If
so, it is only one among many suppressions of the kind by
Rushworth.

318 CROMWELL AND CHARLES

so that the King was made to act the whole
as from himself, and fly into the cage.

Two material objections are opposed to this
account. First, the alarm of assassination was
real, being confirmed to Charles from sources
on which he could depend. Secondly, Ham-
mond was so totally unprepared to receive the
King, that the very idea threw him into a
fright, and it was long before he could decide
how to act. Assuredly the Governor of the
Isle of Wight at this time was not of the con-
federacy with Cromwell and Whalley.

On the obscure motive of the flight of the
King to the Isle of Wight, the Royalists
assigned a very different cause. The compa-
nion of his flight, Ashburnham, either by de-
lusion or perfidy, was an instriiment of Crom-
well, and this devoted friend of the King was
calumniated for having betrayed his Master,
and vilified, like another Judas, for " a great
sum of money."* They could not by any
other way conceive what could have induced
Charles on his escape to trust himself with one

* It was reported that Ashburnham received forty thou-
sand pounds from the Army. A Clerk of the Exchequer
affirmed that he had paid him twenty thousand pounds ! and
we are assured, on being applied to, "repented for that sin."
A striking instance of popular lies !

AT HAMPTON COURT. 319

of the Army, with whom he had had no inter-
course and could have no confidence. The truth
is Charles never had designed blindly to trust
himself in any Governor's hands, and instantly
foresaw all the mischief which his inexpert
but honest agents had occasioned. Clarendon, in
his narrative, has spoken dubiously, and perhaps
with unfriendliness of the conduct of Ashburn-
ham, so that the stain on his character seemed
indelible. Yet Clarendon confesses that he had
read both the manuscript narratives of Berkley
and Ashburnham, but either he had forgotten
their contents, or could not recur to them. He
held them both much too cheap. The Editor
of Evelyn is not the only historical inquirer
who has observed that " Ashburnham was sus-
pected with great appearance of truth of hav-
ing misled the King either through treachery
or folly."* Even Hume had said that Ash-
burnham imprudently if not treacherously
brought Hammond to the King. Pere d'Or-
leans, whose elegant work on the Revolutions
of England was composed under the eye of
James the Second, and who has often profited
by information drawn from that authentic
source, at this particular period is startled at
this mysterious accusation. "How is it pos-
* Evelyn's Diary, ii. 117.

320 CROMWELL AND CHARLES

sible," he exclaims, " to suspect of treachery the
two devoted friends of the King ?" Yet how
was the Pere to account for Charles being en-
trapped in the Isle ? In straining on its tenter-
hooks, his historical curiosity, he cries in its
agony, " Cromwell par des ressorts qu'on ne
voit pas 1'avoit fait conduire a 1'isle de Wight."
But in a calmer period he more sagaciously
concludes, " Je laisse a 6claircir ce point a ceux
qui auront la-dessus des lumi&res que je n'ai
pas."*

But the critical difficulty still remains : what
motive could Cromwell have in his anxious
care of the King's life, and to what purpose
did he let loose his prisoner only to place him
in a more distant confinement ? The enigma
seems only to have been solved by the philoso-
pher Hobbes, who with some advantage as a
contemporary, but more by his profound views,
has struck out of the most reasonable statement
of affairs the most ingenious result.

Hobbes accounts for the sincerity of Crom-
well in his first professions of restoring the
King — it was a reserve against the Parliament
kept in his pocket, but which at length he had
no more need of. The King became an impe-
diment to him, a trouble in the army, and to
* Pere d'Orleans' Revolutions d'Angleterre, liv. ix. 69. 4to.

AT HAMPTON COURT. 321

have let him fall into the hands of the Presby-
terians had put a stop to the hopes of Cromwell.
To murder Charles privately would have made
the Lieutenant-General, under whose superin-
tendence he was placed, odious, and it ought
to be added, that Cromwell was not a man of
blood, nor would the death of the King have
furthered his designs. There was nothing
better for his purpose than to suffer the King
to escape, from a spot where he was placed too
near the Parliament, and too accessible to the
Scotch intriguers, and go wherever he pleased
beyond sea.*

The flight of the King was an expedient of
Cromwell to get rid of him altogether. There
was a party who had decided on assassination,
but some of the cooler heads in the Army were
of opinion that their policy was to keep the
imprisoned Father alive, by which means they
prevented the Son from any pretension to the
Crown. Cromwell ventured beyond this — he
considered that the Expatriation of the King
would relieve the embarrassments of all parties,
convinced that on the Continent no fraternal
Monarch would assist the English Sovereign,
who had long ceased to be a Member of the
European Family of political cabinets.

* Behemoth, 234.
VOL. V. Y

322 CROMWELL AND CHARLES.

This view clears up this mysterious transac-
tion. Charles was lured out of his prison at
Hampton Court, but with no intention to be
imprisoned at the Isle of Wight. When the
King sallied forth he had fixed on no place,
and was so far from trusting the Governor of
the Isle of Wight, which Charles would not
have hesitated to have done, had he followed
any previous advice of Cromwell — that he sent
forwards his unfortunate agents to negotiate
with the Governor, and considered himself as
lost when they brought Hammond with them.
The unexpected result of the King being in
the custody of Hammond, disappointed the
plotting head of Cromwell — for Charles in
the Isle of Wight was more powerful than at
Hampton Court, since he there carried on with
more security his communications, and obtained
— the constant object of his wishes, — a personal
Treaty. Nothing less than another coup d'etat
from the Army Regicides was required to close
the fate of the Monarch.

ON THE SUPPOSED LETTER. 323

CHAPTER XIII.

OF THE LETTER SUPPOSED TO HAVE BEEN
INTERCEPTED BY CROMWELL AND IRETON.

AN intercepted letter is supposed to have
decided Cromwell and Ireton to abandon the
King. Rumours and stories from the most
opposite quarters, pretending to disclose its con-
tents, refute themselves by their contradictory
intelligence, and show how every one seems at
liberty in a secret history to invent what they
choose. The existence of a document which
may possibly have existed now becomes proble-
matical.

Cromwell, in his expostulation with Ash-
burnham, furnishes one account. He affirmed,
that by this letter to the Queen they had dis-
covered that Charles had commanded all his
party to side with the Parliament, and likewise
that he had at that instant a treaty with the
Scots. Herbert gives a rumour that the great

Y 2

324 ON THE SUPPOSED LETTER

officers, or, as the Presbyterians now began to
call them, the Grandees of the Army, had car-
ried on their design to restore the King till, by
violating a seal, and opening a letter from the
Queen, they obtained intelligence of the Duke
of Hamilton's preparations in Scotland, but
this, Herbert observes, did not occur till about
a year afterwards — however, it is clear that
such a correspondence might have discovered
" the preparations" long ere that important
event. In their subsequent interview with
the King, the Officers put the question, and
the King concealed the intelligence. On this
evidence of his duplicity they decided that he
was no longer to be trusted.

There are also two extraordinary narratives.
The first may be familiar to the reader, for
it has formed the subject of a picture and
a print. Lord Orrery, when Lord Broghill,
was on terms of intimacy with Cromwell and
Ireton, and riding out together, the conversa-
tion falling on the King's death, Cromwell
observed, that " If the King had followed his
own judgment, and had been attended by none
but trusty servants, he had fooled them all."
They were jogging on, all in good-humour,
when Lord Orrery ventured to inquire, that
since they had really designed to close with

INTERCEPTED BY CROMWELL. 325

the King, what had occurred which prevented
it ? Cromwell unreservedly satisfied his Lord-
ship's curiosity. " When the Scots and the
Presbyterians began to be more powerful than
ourselves, and were likely to agree with him,
and leave us in the lurch, we offered far more
reasonable conditions. A letter came from one
of our spies who was of the King's bed-cham-
ber, acquainting us that our doom was decreed
that day, in a letter to the Queen, sewed in the
skirts of a saddle, and the bearer would arrive
about ten at night at the Blue Boar in Hoi-
born. The messenger himself knew nothing
of the letter in the saddle, but some in Dover
did." Our two great men, disguised as troopers,
went, placing a sentinel at the wicket to warn
them of the approach of their man. With
drawn swords taking him aside, they told him
their orders were to search all persons at the
inn, but as he seemed an honest man they
would only look at his saddle. They took it
into a stall, unripped the skirts, and found the
letter. In this letter, as Cromwell stated, the
King acquainted the Queen, that being court-
ed by both factions, who bid the fairest should
have him, but he imagined that he should
incline to the Scots rather than to the Army.
And was this all ? It paid them very ill

326 ON THE SUPPOSED LETTER

for their unripping the saddle ! The letter
must have contained a great deal more than
Cromwell is made to say, to colour their sud-
den desertion. Here was no proof of treachery
nor duplicity in the King's determination, in
his critical position, to prefer the better terms.
They were well assured of that before they
went to the Blue Boar.*

That nothing, however, should be wanting
to complete the history of this intercepted let-
ter, the wonderful part appears to have been
conveyed to us. Pope and Richardson the
son of the artist, conversing about this letter,
which Richardson said he had read or heard of,

* I have often been surprised at the popularity of this
story, for I never could trace it beyond Carte's Life of the
Duke of Ormond, ii. 12. where one would have imagined it
would have remained locked up in those three folios. The
Chaplain of Lord Orrery had been told it by his patron, and
possibly forgot the best of the tale. Carte extracted it from
this Chaplain's manuscript Memoirs. However, I have since
found it preserved in Hume's Notes, which will account for
it having become so popular as to have formed a subject
with an artist ambitious to illustrate our domestic history,
exhibiting portraits of Cromwell and Ireton disguised as
troopers, and the honest man and his horse in the back-
ground. Paul Veronese would have found it difficult to
have thrown his grandeur into the architecture of the stables,
and have created the illusion of the scene of his heroes un-
ripping the pack-saddle !

. INTERCEPTED BY CROMWELL. 327

Lord Bolingbroke gave them some curious in-
telligence. Lord Oxford, Harley the second
Earl, the son of the Lord Treasurer, had told
him that he had seen and had in his hand an
original letter of Charles the First, wrote to the
Queen, in reply to her reproach for "having
made those villains (Cromwell and Ireton) too
great concessions." The King replied, that " she
should leave him to manage, for that he should
know in due time how to deal with the rogues,
who instead of a silken garter should be fitted
with an hempen cord." It is added that they
waited for this answer, which they intercepted
accordingly, and it determined his fate. This
letter Lord Oxford said he had offered 500/.
for*

Here unquestionably were treachery and du-
plicity more than enough to warrant any defec-
tion. But how happened it that Cromwell,
telling the story to Lord Orrery, should have
omitted such a blazing evidence in his favour ?
We only know the anecdote through the Chap-

* Richardsoniana, 132. The writer observes that "Lord
Bolingbroke, Lord Marchmont, and Mr. Pope, all believed
that the story which I had heard or read to this purpose, had
its origin no higher than the story of Lord Oxford." So
little did all these literary men know of the secret history of
the eventful half century which had only just closed !

328 ON THE SUPPOSED LETTER

lain of Lord Orrery, writing a slight memoir of
his Lordship ; and it is possible, that though he
had it from his Lordship, he may have sadly-mar-
red it, — most unskilfully dropping the pith and
zest of his pointless tale. But the authenticity
of the extraordinary letter seen by Lord Oxford
presents some startling objections. Had the pos-
sessor of this letter been of any consideration,
his name had probably appeared to satisfy a
curious inquirer. If the person were obscure,
his romantic tenderness for the King's reputa-
tion is not credible, in rejecting a seductive five
hundred pounds for a letter which had no other
than that historical value which a Collector at-
tached to it. As the sum is printed in ciphers,
we may suppose there is a supernumerary one ;
and yet fifty pounds for an obsolete letter, which
makes the offer more reasonable, does not bring
down the obstinate refusal to tolerable credi-
bility.

The most fatal objection of all still remains.
It is not in the nature of human possibilities,
that Charles should ever have consigned to
paper such a vulgar and villainous artifice.
This entire dereliction of every moral and ho-
nourable principle is so repulsively incompa-
tible with the scrupulous and rigid notions of
honour of the man, who on one occasion would

INTERCEPTED BY CROMWELL. 329

not escape from his imprisonment till he had
first formally withdrawn the pledge of his pa-
role, and on another, when Lord Lanerick, with
a large body of his friends, had contrived to
surround him and his guards, intreating him
to fly with them, he, that his honour might
rest inviolate, voluntarily returned to his prison-
house. The project is even impracticable, since,
as we are here told, Cromwell was to be " the
Lord Lieutenant of Ireland for life, without
account, with an army which knew no head
but the Lieutenant." The Suzerain of Ireland !
How are we to decide on this intercepted
letter so frequently noticed, and of which every
account differs in its particulars ? That a letter,
whose tenor was unfavourable to the views of
Cromwell and his colleague, and even indicated
to them at the time by some spy of the King's
bed-chamber, had been intercepted, is very pro-
bable. Baron Maseres, a most candid judge,
however, can find no evidence of such a letter,
and gives no credence to the popular story ; and
Hume declares, that " the story of this intercept-
ed letter stands on no manner of foundation."
All these various rumours of an intercepted
letter look much like a clumsy expedient of
the Party to save their own honour at the cost
of the honour of Charles.

330 ON THE SUPPOSED LETTER, &C.

I can place no reliance on what the second
Earl of Oxford stated in a conversation with
Lord Bolingbroke. He was an intemperate
person with the weakest judgment. I have
looked over his own papers.* Lord Boling-
broke might have farced his well-told story, for
the relish of Pope and Richardson, and have
lardooned leanness. " The silken garter and
the hempen cord" is very antithetical, and too
much in the florid manner of Bolingbroke, to
suit Charles's unstudied style.

* In some Memoranda of this Earl's writing, he asserts
that the Duke of Marlborough was so completely illiterate
that he could not spell and hardly write. But the writing
and the orthography of the Duke were flowing and correct.
As an instance of the Duke's utter illiterateness, Lord Bo-
lingbroke told him, that when Barnes the Greek Professor
came to offer to dedicate his Anacreon to the Duke, for
twenty pounds, the Duke inquired " Who she was ?" He
remembered something about Creon in one of Dryden's plays,
but nothing about this Anna." — I suspect Lord Bolingbroke
must have delighted to play off his malicious wit on this
second Earl of Oxford, who has duly registered a number of
these ridiculous fictions.

NEGOTIATION WITH THE GOVERNOR. 331

CHAPTER XIV.

THE SINGULAR NEGOTIATION OF BERKLEY
AND ASHBURNHAM WITH THE GOVERNOR
OF THE ISLE OF WIGHT.

CHARLES, impatient to quit a place where he
hourly dreaded assassination, and where he had
just learned that Rainsborough had resolved to
destroy him, appointed the attendance of his
companions at Thames Ditton. Shutting him-
self up in his chamber, and desiring to be free
from any interruption, having letters to write,
at dusk he called for a light. His unusual
absence from evening prayers, and his pro-
longed delay of the supper-time, alarmed the
Commissioners. They rapped at his chamber-
door and were only answered by the solitary
whine of the King's greyhound.* Entering,

* The Moderate Intelligence, from Nov. 1 1th to Nov. 18th,
1647.

NEGOTIATION WITH THE

and finding his Majesty's cloak thrown on the
floor, the first idea which occurred to them was,
as they tell us, " that somewhat had been at-
tempted on his person." So rife was the ru-
mour of the projected assassination !

Letters which Charles had left on his table
removed their fears. One was an anonymous
communication which had driven the King to
flight. Three letters were written by the King
himself. One addressed to the Houses of Par-
liament, contains this remarkable passage. " I
call God to witness with what patience I have
endured a tedious restraint, which, so long as I
had any hopes that this sort of my suffering
might conduce to the peace of my kingdoms, I
did willingly undergo; but now finding by too
certain proofs that this my continued patience,
would not only turn to my personal ruin, but
likewise be of much more prejudice to the
public good, I thought I was bound, as well by
natural as political obligations, to seek my safety
by retiring myself for some time from the public
view both of my friends and enemies." And the
King concludes this dignified address — " Let
me be heard with freedom, honour, and safety,
and I shall instantly break through this cloud
of retirement, and show myself to be PATEII

GOVERNOR OF THE ISLE OF WIGHT. 333

PATRICE."* It is extraordinary that with this
clear evidence before them, historians should
have imagined that Charles was betrayed by
Cromwell, or by Ashburnham, to hasten to
Hammond. This was written the very day of
his departure, and it distinctly shows that
Charles was hurrying into a fanciful project of
his own, in unison with his melancholy mind,
a romantic concealment from all the world,
without having provided even a single chance
of some abiding spot !

One letter was addressed to Colonel Whalley,
expressive of the royal thanks for his attentive
services while the King remained in his cus-
tody ; the other was for Lord Montague, desir-
ing that a certain picture in the King's apart-
ment should be restored to its owner the Duke
of Richmond ; and in a postscript, Charles
earnestly recommended to his care the favour-
ite greyhound, which he voluntarily left be-
hind. Charles was much attached to these
mute but affectionate domestics ; in solitude the
heart needs something to be kind to. Charles
appears to have discriminated between his dogs

* The Letter to the Parliament is preserved in Rushworth,
vii. 871. The other letters are from the periodical publica-
tions of the times.

334 NEGOTIATION WITH THE

more acutely than among some of his courtiers.
Once when Gipsey his greyhound was scratch-
ing at the door of his chamber, he desired Sir
Philip Warwick to let the hound in. " I have
perceived," said Warwick to the King, " that
you love a greyhound better than a spaniel."
" Yes," replied Charles, " for they equally love
their masters, and yet do not flatter them so
much."

All these letters were published. The Level-
lers ridiculed the care of a picture, and the
sympathy for a dog. The Royalists exulted in
contemplating in the Monarch the ideal of a
gentleman. These letters not only vouched
for the collectedness of his mind, and that the
King did not fly with unmanly trepidation,
but they saw true dignity in leaving his thanks
to the Agitator Whalley, who had behaved
himself well, and something amiable in his
recollection of the picture, and his anxiety for
his domestic friend the greyhound.

The flights and the imprisonments of Charles
the First were like those of no other Monarch.
They often took the romantic turn of his
character.

It was a dark tempestuous night in Novem-
ber when Charles issued from Hampton Court
by a private door into the Park, opened with-

GOVERNOR OF THE ISLE OF WIGHT. 335

out difficulty, unguarded by a sentinel. This
looks like the connivance of Whalley to facili-
tate the King's escape. Crossing the Thames,
Charles passed over to Ditton, where his com-
panions were waiting with horses. The King
undertook to be their guide through the Forest,
more familiar with the paths than any of the
party, but their track was soon lost in the
darkness.

It appeared to Berkley that the King had
fixed on no particular place of destination.
Charles now complained of the Scotch Lords,
who having offered their services to aid his
escape, had on the following day retracted
them, by raising obstacles with hints of the
Covenant. The King was shaping his way
towards Southampton. On descending a hill,
Charles proposed that they should lead their
horses, and confer together. Berkley supposed
that the King then decided for the Isle of
Wight, for he observes, " and that for the first
time for aught that I could then discover."

The King had probably settled on no par-
ticular place in preference to another — his
flight had been sudden. He had originally de-
signed for Jersey, and still had hopes to procure
some vessel. A ship was now mentioned, but
there had been no time to prepare one. There

336 NEGOTIATION WITH THE

were however reasons to induce Charles to
direct his wanderings to the Isle of Wight
which were unknown to Berkley. Ashburn-
ham a day or two before had suggested the
Isle of Wight for its contiguity to the sea, — for
having few or no soldiers,— for the loyalty of
its few inhabitants, — for Sir John Oglander's
house there offering a safe retreat, and more-
over, from a favourable impression made on
him by Hammond the Governor, though his
personal knowledge was slight. Ashburnham
had recently met Hammond, who declared that
he was retiring to his government to be out of
the way of the Army, who he had discovered
had resolved to break all promises with the
King, and he would never bring himself to
join with such perfidious deeds. Lady Isabella
Thynne had also spoken of Hammond to Ash-
burnham. The States women were always to
be consulted. This is the simple mystery of
Charles's flying to the Isle of Wight, which has
occasioned so many misconceptions, erroneous
statements, and unjust surmises of the artful
plotting of Cromwell, of Ashburnham's incre-
dible perfidy, and of Charles's having so impru-
dently run into the trap which had been set
for him.

Charles, within twenty miles of the Island,

GOVERNOR OF THE ISLE OF WIGHT. 337

felt some prudent misgivings. He was has-
tening to cast himself into the hands of the
Governor without having ascertained his dis-
positions. Hammond, indeed, was not unknown
to the King ; he was the nephew of his favou-
rite Chaplain, and had himself formerly kissed
hands, but he had long been a Colonel in the
Parliamentary Army.

The King warily dispatched Berkley and
Ashburnham to sound Hammond, while with
Colonel Legge he retired to Titchfield, the re-
sidence of the Earl of Southampton. They
were to show the Governor the copies of the
letters from Cromwell, and an anonymous per-
son, and to tell him that the King designed to
fly not from the Army but from assassins, and
had chosen to confide in Hammond, not only
as one of good extraction, but one who, though
engaged against him in war, had never carried
any animosity to his person, to which he was
informed Hammond bore no aversion. He
asked for protection for himself and his ser-
vants, or, if he could not grant this, they should
be left to themselves. Berkley tells us, that
foreseeing the possibility of their arrest, and
" with the image of the gallows very perfectly
before him," he requested the King, that should
they delay their return beyond a reasonable

VOL. v. z

338 NEGOTIATION WITH THE

time, that he should think no more of them
but secure his own escape. Charles thanked
him for the caution. It evidently inferred that
Berkley had no idea of betraying to Hammond
the place of Charles's concealment. The King
in all appearances was to be at Hampton Court,
waiting the answer of his envoys.

If the embassy were hazardous, it was still
more difficult. If we trust to the recriminatory
narratives, it would be hard to decide who was
the most indiscreet negotiator.

It is extraordinary that Ashburnham, who
had some personal knowledge of Hammond,
instead of addressing him direct, should have
deputed Berkley, who was a stranger to the
Governor, and whom they now met, going
from Carisbrooke Castle to Newport. Sir John
at once startled the Governor by asking him
" who he thought was near him ?" and then
telling him "Even good King Charles, who
was come from Hampton Court for fear of
being privately murdered." " This was a very
unskilful entrance into our business," observes
Ashburnham. Berkley himself tells us simply
that " He delivered the King's message word
for word," but it is probable that Ashburn-
ham's account is right, by an expression in
Hammond's letter to the Parliament, that " Sir

GOVERNOR OF THE ISLE OF WIGHT. 339

John in a short discourse told him that the
King was near." We shall not attempt to
reconcile a couple of discordant narrations
drawn up by the parties to throw blame on
each other, yet be it observed, with great ten-
derness, often offering excuses for their mutual
indiscretions.

What occurred is more certain than what
was said. The abruptness of this overwhelming
intelligence raised up the most conflicting
emotions in the breast of the Governor. His
consternation betrayed itself visibly — a sudden
paleness spread over his countenance, and he
was thrown into such a state of trepidation
that with difficulty he kept his seat on his
horse. The paroxysm came and went for a
considerable time. Hammond, who had so
cautiously avoided to take any part in the
Army-measures against the King, now per-
ceived at once how his feelings and his honour
must be risked on the stake. Paramount to all
other feelings was his high responsibility as a
military Governor.

With as much sincerity as naivete '9 the dis-
tracted Colonel passionately exclaimed, " Oh,
gentlemen ! you have undone me by bringing
the King into the Island ! if you have brought
him — if you have not, pray let him not come —

z 2

340 NEGOTIATION WITH THE

for what between my duty to his Majesty, and
my gratitude for this fresh obligation of his
confidence on the one hand, and the observance
of my trust to the Army on the other, I shall
be confounded !"

There was no trick, no deception in these
first disturbed emotions of Colonel Hammond.
His case was that of many honourable men, as
we have already shown, whose sympathy for a
Monarch, after the tribulations of many years
of adversity, had not less force with them than
their principles of patriotism.

Hammond was the very character which was
most likely to fall a victim as he did to such
cruel embarrassments, where he could not act
on one side without injury to the other.
Hammond was a man of honour, and some
gracious favours once received from the King
were not obliterated in forgetfulness, but he
was also a Colonel in the service of the Parlia-
ment. He had retired from the violence of
the Agitators, but he was closely attached to
Cromwell, by whose mediation he had mar-
ried a daughter of Hampden. The Colonel
had two uncles, one a distinguished Officer
in the Civil Wars, and whose zeal, abounding
zeal, at length classed him among the Regicides ;
the other uncle was the favourite Chaplain of

GOVERNOR OF THE ISLE OF WIGHT. 341

Charles, a Divine whose loyalty and piety vied
with each other. A mind not endowed with
any original vigour, when there happens a
schism in the political principles of a family,
influenced alike by both parties to him equally
endeared, becomes pliant and irresolute, and is
thrown into a state of passiveness. The Par-
liamentarian uncle who had made Hammond a
military man, and might have converted him
into a Regicide, had found some of the work of
his hands undone by the uncle, the celebrated
Divine, who had awed by his Scripture " Para-
phrases" and those " Commentaries" which are
still famous. The result of such an incessant
action and counter-action with our Colonel was
that of holding him in an equi-ponderancy
between the Parliament and the King. From
the moment of that burst of his feelings on his
receiving the first intelligence of the proximity
of Charles, to the end of his subsequent vacil-
lating conduct towards the Monarch, when he
was himself cast into a prison, as suspected of
loyalty, we may say of Hammond, that he was
truly the Nephew of two Uncles.

As the Colonel gradually recovered his senses,
the business assumed a more tangible shape.
Hammond looked more steadily on the novel
position in which, in spite of himself, he now

342 NEGOTIATION WITH THE

stood. He invited them to dinner and a con-
ference, in which he professed his inclination to
serve the King. They could not prevail on
him to agree to a definite condition of that aid
and protection which they required. After a
long debate; Hammond pledged himself to
perform whatever should be expected from
" a person of honour and honesty." Ashburn-
ham seized on the vague indefinite offer, and
said " He would ask no more !" so eager was
this inefficient negotiator to conclude what he
had not had even the courage to begin.

A curious circumstance occurred when Ham-
mond desired that one of them should remain
in the Castle with him while the other went
to the King. Berkley declares " He embraced
the motion most readily, and immediately went
over the bridge into the Castle, though I had
the image of the gallows very perfectly before
me;" and sarcastically adds, " Mr. Ashburnham
went, I believe, with a better heart to horse."
Hammond had proposed that Ashburnham
should remain, as a more precious pledge than
Berkley ; the reason Ashburnham alleges for
preferring the imprisonment of Berkley to his
own is simple — that he thought himself more
useful to his Majesty. However, it seems that
he dropped this part of the adventure in the

GOVERNOR OF THE ISLE OF WIGHT.

account he rendered to the King, and that
Berkley took care to supply that omission, to
convince the King that he was in earnest, and
had exposed his life to vouch for it. It was
probably alluding to this and to other circum-
stances, that induced Charles at a distant day
to observe on the adventure of ihe Isle of
Wight, and the strange conduct of Ashburn-
ham, that "• He did not believe that he was un-
faithful to him, but that he thought that he
wanted courage at that time who he never
knew wanted it before."

The affair terminated unexpectedly. Ham-
mond decided to wait on the King in person.
Berkley was recalled as he was entering the
Castle, and remained astonished at Ashburn-
ham's consent to take the Governor without
apprising the King and obtaining his approval.
Ashburnham considered that it was now useless
to refuse Hammond, who, had they departed
without him, would have sent his spies. On
taking boat at Cowes Castle, Hammond called
on the Captain to accompany him, and once pro-
posed to be accompanied by a file of soldiers.*
Berkley opposed the supernumerary Captain,

* Dr. Lingard has mentioned this " file," but it is evident
by what afterwards occurred, that Hammond was solely ac-
companied by the Captain of the Castle.

344 NEGOTIATION WITH THE

but Ashburnham observed, that " They were but
two, whom they could easily secure." Berkley
replied, "You will undoubtedly surprise the
King;" Mr. Ashburnham said nothing but
"I'll warrant you" — "And so you shall," said I,
" for you know the King much better than I
do ; but I will not see him before you satis-
fy his Majesty concerning your proceedings.
Well ! He would take that upon him."

When the four arrived at Titchfield House,
Ashburnham alone went to the King to ac-
quaint him of the extraordinary visitor wait-
ing below whom he had conducted to him.
Whatever the fear of Berkley had suggested,
did not exceed the reality of the scene which
occurred. Charles started in agony, striking
his breast, and exclaiming, " What, have you
brought Hammond with you ? Oh, Jack ! you
have undone me ! for I am by this means made
fast from stirring, — the Governor will keep me
prisoner." There is reason to suspect that the
King for a moment actually thought himself
betrayed. I infer this, both from the extraor-
dinary look and language with which he re-
ceived Ashburnham, and from the monstrous
resolution Ashburnham was induced to take
on this occasion ; in utter despair, Charles spoke
" with a very severe and reserved countenance,

GOVERNOR OF THE ISLE OF WIGHT. 345

the first of that kind to me." " With the
saddest heart that certainly ever man had,"
Ashburnham proposed " an expedient" for his
fatal error. The King now told him that he
had sent to Hampton for a vessel, but how
could he now be cleared of the Governor?
Ashburnham replied that his coming had made
any other way more practicable than if he had
stayed behind ; and when the King pressed to
know how ? the feeble and heart-broken Ash-
burnham decided to dispatch the Governor and
the Captain !

Ashburnham describes the King, on hearing
this monstrous " expedient," as "walking some
few times in the room and weighing what I
had proposed to him." Surely Charles not for
a moment could u weigh " in his mind the as-
sassination of two innocent men. It could only
have been the delirium of despair in the feeble
mind of the weeping Ashburnham which could
have suggested such an unjustifiable deed.
Long afterwards some were so rash as to cen-
sure this unfortunate gentleman for not dis-
patching the Governor without acquainting the
King with it, aware as he was of the King's
great tenderness of blood. It is curious to ob-
serve an humane man apologise for not commit-
ting a horrid murder in cold blood !

346 NEGOTIATION WlTH THE

Berkley has described this remarkable scene
as he received it at the time from Ashburnham
himself, and it seems more intelligible. " Mr.
Ashburnham replied to the King, that if he
mistrusted Hammond he would undertake to
secure him." His Majesty said, " I understand
you well enough, but the world would not ex-
cuse me. Should I follow that counsel, it
would be believed that Hammond had ven-
tured his life for me, and that I had unwor-
thily taken it from him. It is too late to think
of any thing but going through the way you
have forced upon me, and so leave the issue to
God!" Mr. Ashburnham having no more to
reply wept bitterly.

The Governor of the Isle of Wight being
introduced to the King, renewed his protes-
tations with more warmth than he had done to
the two inefficient negotiators. The King,
however, desired Hammond to remember that
" He was to be judge of what was honourable
and honest." This was the best terms the
King could make, and which, if a prisoner, were
no terms at all. Charles was conducted by
Hammond to this Island, with the purest in-
tentions, to use his own words, "to preserve
with his own life the King's person from any
horrid attempt on it"— to accommodate that

GOVERNOR OF THE ISLE OF WIGHT. 347

rude residence " to his quality," for which he
appealed to the aid of Parliament.* Ham-
mond was now the nephew of his uncle the
Divine ; and in placing the King in the secu-
rity of Carisbrooke Castle, neither of them an-
ticipated that it was to be the gloomy impri-
sonment of eight tedious months.

*The expense of his Majesty's Household was in conse-
quence debated in Parliament, a Committee was to report
the state of the King's Expenses, what it would amount to
above 50/. per diem. This sum, with no court to maintain,
seems curious.— Rushworth, vii. 878.

348 IMPRISONMENT AT

CHAPTER XV.

IMPRISONMENT AT THE ISLE OF WIGHT.

CHARLES seemed to rejoice in his new abode.
Unexpectedly in a corner of the kingdom he
had found that Loyalty had not grown obsolete.
The men, women, and children of the Isle of
Wight — " this poor well-affected people," as
Berkley describes them — were in their innocent
ignorance so attached to his royal person, that
some, shortly after, when an old retired Captain
beat a drum to liberate their Sovereign, ran
after the drum, and were amazed to witness
their solitary hero hanged and quartered. The
twelve old men who formed the garrison of
the Castle, and had passed their military lives
under a Royalist General, at the sight of the
King renovated their superannuated loyalty.
Even the Governor himself clung to his loyal
sensibilities, and was still the nephew of his
uncle the Divine. He held " fervent private

THE ISLE OF WIGHT. 349

conferences" with Ashburnham. Hammond,
connected with the superior Officers, abhorred
the Agitators, or the Anarchists ; in that dis-
position he was at least immutable. He now
earnestly desired that the King should send
one of his three friends to the General with
encouraging letters, while he himself wrote
confidentially to Cromwell and Ireton, to con-
jure them by their engagement, their interest,
and their conscience, to close with the reason-
able offers of the King, and no longer expose
themselves " to the fantastic giddiness of the
Agitators."

At this moment a great event occurred.
The Terrorists themselves had become terri-
fied ; the Agitators had ceased to agitate. By
an incident parallel to that which first led on
to Napoleon's fortunate career, the prompt
resolution of Cromwell at a critical moment
saved himself and the State. By his usual
preventive policy of espionage he got into the
secrets of the Levellers. It is said that Crom-
well's life was at stake, and that the Agitators
had threatened to make him pay with his
head the forfeit of his intrigues with Charles.*
An impeachment was actually preparing, and
it is mentioned, that " if on that day Crom-
* Dr. Lingard, x. 398.

350 IMPRISONMENT AT

well did not make himself powerful to secure
his head, he must follow his predecessor Ho-
tharn." * On such a momentous incident the
fate of Cromwell similar to that of Napoleon
depended ! The flight of the King had dis-
concerted the plans of the Agitators which
they had designed to carry into execution at
Hampton Court. They met to mutiny. Un-
expectedly they beheld among themselves the
Lieutenant-General himself. Cromwell asked
some questions and received insolent answers,
on which, as Clarendon describes the action,
with " a marvellous vivacity," he knocked two
or three of them on the head with his own
hand, charged the rest with his troops, took
a number of prisoners, hanged some, and tried
others.

These formed but the forlorn -hope of the
mutineers. The heads of this party were still
the same determined spirits powerful in the
Army. To remain their masters, Cromwell and
Ireton submitted. Cromwell became one of
themselves to make them become Cromwel-
lians.

* This appears by an article of Intelligence, and the names
of the Secretary for furnishing articles, with that of the
drawer- up of the collected materials are mentioned. Cla-
rendon State Papers, App. ii. xl. and xli.

THE ISLE OF WIGHT. 351

Berkley was commissioned to bear the letters
of the King and of the Governor, which with
some apprehension of the event he cheerfully
did, much to the satisfaction, as he insinuates,
of Ashburnham and Legge. His reception is
dramatically told.

Hastening to the General's quarters, whom
he found at a meeting of the Officers, after long
waiting, an inattention not usually shown to a
royal messenger, he was called in. The Ge-
neral, looking on him with a severe counte-
nance in his cold and graceless manner, only
said that they were the Parliament's Army, to
whom they would send the King's letter.
Looking round for his acquaintance among
the Officers, Cromwell and Ireton slightly
bowed with altered countenances, such as
they had never shown before. They took
an opportunity of showing Berkley, Ham-
mond's letter, with a bitter disdainful smile.
He saw that that was no place for him, and
hurried to his lodgings. There he waited,
and was surprised that no one called on him.
In the evening he sent his servant to light
upon some of his acquaintance. A General
Officer whispered in the servant's ear that he
would meet his master at midnight in a close
behind his inn.

352 IMPRISONMENT AT

In this stolen and solemn midnight inter-
view, at the strange spot of the appointment,
Berkley learned all which he dreaded to
learn. " I told you," said this ominous sprite,
who seems to have been Watson, Cromwell's
scout-master —"that we who were zealous for
the engagement with the King would discover
if we were cozened. We mistrusted Crom-
well and Ireton, as I informed you. I come
now to tell you that we mistrust neither, but
know them, and all of us, to be the archest vil-
lains in the world. For we are resolved to
destroy the King and his posterity. Ireton
proposed that you should be sent prisoner to
the Tower, and that none should speak to you
upon pain of death, and I do hazard my life
now by doing it. It is intended to send eight
hundred of the most disaffected of the Army
to secure the King's person, which we believe
not at present to be so — then to bring him to
trial, I dare think no farther ! If the King
can escape, let him do it !" This change in the
conduct of the superior Officers, which seemed
to surprise Berkley and his secret communi-
cant, could only be ascribed, as it appeared to
them, for they knew not of any intercepted
letter of the King's, to the state of the Army
itself. Had the superior Officers refused to

THE ISLE OF WIGHT. 353

unite with the Army, two-thirds had resolved
to divide from them. Hugh Peters, the
Chaplain of the Army, who wore a sword,
and asserted that the sword contained all the
Laws of the Realm, was a fit negotiator for
Cromwell. With the accustomed dexterity
of his versatile genius, Cromwell observed,
" If we cannot bring the Army to our sense,
we must go to theirs;" acknowledging, as he
did on a former occasion, that " the glories of
the world had so dazzled his eyes, that he
could not discern clearly the great works the
Lord was doing."

Berkley sent off immediate dispatches by his
cousin ; it informed the Governor of the doubt-
ful state of the Army, and communicated to
the King, in cipher, the particulars of the
secret conference. In the morning he sent
Cornet Cooke to Cromwell to inform him that
he had letters and instructions from the King.
Cromwell told this secret messenger that he
durst not see Berkley, it being very dangerous
for both. He assured him, however, that he
would serve his Majesty as long as he could
do without his ruin, but desired that it should
not be expected that he should perish for his
sake." This deceptive style, although it ap-
pears to have been assumed to carry on a delu-

VOL. v. 2 A

354 IMPRISONMENT AT

sion, for by what had just been revealed to
Berkley the trial of the King had been defini-
tively resolved on by the coalition of the par-
ties, yet there is reason to believe that Crom-
well in his mind hesitated about the King's
trial; that monstrous injustice to Charles he
yet shrunk from. Burnet assures us that
Ireton was the person that drove it on, and
that Cromwell was all the while in some sus-
pense about it. The manner in which Crom-
well signed the death-warrant fully indicates
how he considered that " deed without a
name."

During the first six weeks of Charles's abode
at the Isle of Wight, where he arrived on the
llth of November, his old servants were re-
stored to him, and, on the whole, Hammond
was still courteous. On the 21st of December
the Parliament, then under the influence of
the Army faction, resolved on their four de-
throning Bills, without the concurrence of
their old allies the Scotch Commissioners, who
as firmly resolved to protest against the injus-
tice of the Parliament, or rather their malig-
nant enemies the Independents. It became
a post-race with the parties who should first
reach the King. The Commissioners of Scot-
land arrived a whole day before the Commis-

THE ISLE OF WIGHT. 355

sioners of the Lords and Commons,* who were
mortified at discovering that they had been
anticipated, which they were in more respects
than one. The King, during that day, had
closed in with a secret treaty,f a treaty which
had been long in agitation with the Scots.
The urgency of the present moment alone
induced both the parties to mutual and vague
concessions. The Scotch Commissioners had
also taken hold of that opportunity to confirm
to the unhappy Monarch the decision of his
enemies to leave him to languish in perpetual
imprisonment, or to destroy him publicly by
a trial, or by more silent and private means.

* Secret Transactions in relation to King Charles the
First, by Sir John Bowring, 87.

f Clarendon tells us that it was so secret that they cased
the Treaty in lead, and buried it in a garden in the island,
whence they subsequently extracted it. This is one of the
inadvertencies of this great historian, who often wrote with-
out his authorities on his desk, and often trusted to his re-
miniscence. It appears by Ashburnham's Narrative that,
alarmed at the Treaty being found in the King's possession,
he had advised Charles to provide for its instant security.
It was sent to Ashburnham, who " closed the papers in lead,
and left them in Sir George Berkley's House," probably buried
in the garden. The difference is not material from the history
of Clarendon, but it is clear that the historian was not always
exact. Inadvertencies of this kind have been lately more
severely animadverted on than they required.
2 A 2

356 . IMPRISONMENT AT

Charles refused his assent to the four Bills
which the Parliament insisted on for their
own security, without offering any for his,
protesting that "neither the desire of being
freed from his tedious and irksome condition
of life, which he had so long suffered, nor
the apprehension of something worse, should
ever prevail with him to consent to any Act
till the Peace was concluded," and previous
to a personal treaty which he had often de-
manded. The fate of Charles seemed still
more evident, when on the 10th of January
1648, the vote of non-addresses passed the
House. They had now decided to settle the
Kingdom without the King, as subsequently
they did without the Lords, and finally with-
out the Commons. These great events were
violently precipitated on each other. They
terminated by condemning Charles to a closer
imprisonment, and severing him from all in-
tercourse, as was imagined, with his many
devoted friends.

When the Commissioners left Charles after
his refusal of the four propositions, Hammond
instantly dismissed all the King's servants, and
doubled his guards. Hammond, however he
felt himself bound by " his honour and ho-
nesty" to the King, and which, had those

THE ISLE OF WIGHT. 357

excellent qualities depended on himself he
would have willingly maintained, was by his
situation and close connexions in correspon-
dence with the Army faction. The vacillating
Hammond was now the Nephew of his Uncle
the Parliamentary Colonel ! The unfortunate
Monarch could only feel the indignity he
endured from the military man, who, in truth,
was only acting in submission to the orders
of his superiors. The honour of the soldier is
involved in his passive obedience. The zeal
of Hammond seemed criminal to Charles, who
at length declared that " the Governor was as
great a rogue as any." Weak minds, placed
in the most trying situations, indulge a vehe-
mence of zeal to nerve themselves against their
natural repugnance, as some drink to intoxica-
tion to arm themselves with a blind and in-
sensible courage.

Hammond now raised the courteous tone of
his voice into insolence and reprimand, and the
personal respect to Charles changed even to a
brutal assault.

This curious circumstance in the conduct of
the Governor of the Isle of Wight has been
revealed to us by some morsels of secret his-
tory. As in these volumes, the materials which
enter into the history of human nature are not

358 IMPRISONMENT AT

their least valuable portions, some may be
gratified to find the very conversation which at
first occurred between Charles and Hammond,
on the sudden dismission of his attendants. It
is a dramatic piece full of natural touches and
characteristic of Charles the First.

The King. — " Why do you use me thus ?
Where are your orders for it ? Was it the
Spirit that moved you to it ?"

Hammond remained silent. His orders were
as yet secret. At length he laid the change of
his proceedings to the King's unsatisfactory
answer to the Commissioners.

The King. — " Did you not engage your
honour, you would take no advantage from
thence against me ?" The King had returned
his answer to the Commissioners sealed, but
they had insisted that it should be delivered to
them open, on which Charles required their
promise, that after reading his answer, it should
not make any alteration in his present state.
The Governor had been present with the Com-
missioners and was therefore included with the
party.

Hammond. — " I said nothing."

The King. — " You are an equivocating gen-
tleman. Will you allow me any chaplain?

THE ISLE OF WIGHT. 359

You pretend for liberty of conscience, shall 1
have none ?"

Hammond. — " I cannot allow you any chap-
lain."

The King. — "You use me neither like a
gentleman, nor a Christian."

Hammond. — " I '11 speak with you when you
are in better temper."

The King. — " I have slept well to-night."
Hammond. — " I have used you very civilly."
The King. — " Why do you not so now
then ?"

Hammond. — " Sir, you are too high."
The King. — " My shoemaker's fault then ;
my shoes are of the same last, &c. (twice or
thrice repeated.) Shall I have liberty to go
about and take the air ?"

Hammond. — " No ! I cannot grant it."
The King then charged him with his alle-
giance, and told him that he must answer this.
Hammond wept.* Charles was then medita-
ting another flight.

Two months afterwards Hammond's official
severity emboldened him beyond his nature.
At two in the morning he entered the King's
chamber. Charles, suspecting some treachery,

* Clarendon State Papers, xliv. Appendix.

360 IMPRISONMENT AT

hastily rose, and slipped on his gown. Ham-
mond had searched the King's cabinet, but not
finding the Scotch treaty, which he looked
for, proceeded to ransack the King's pockets.
Charles resisted, and struck him, and, as was
reported, the blow was returned. The King
then took his papers out of his pocket, and
thrust them into the flames. It was a scuffle.

Here we discover Charles the First in a rigid
and desolate imprisonment subjected to injury
and insult. At that moment, however, the in-
fluence of the name of the Sovereign of Eng-
land remained in the world from whence he
had been expelled. Friends, devoted by their
affections to his service, were nightly hovering
on the sea-shores, and watchful about the castle,
holding an invisible intercourse with the lonely
captive, who could not command a single mes-
senger ; and who, in the solitude of his cham-
ber, as he himself said, in pointing to the
singular person who at the time was passing in
the street, found in " that old little crumpling
man the best companion he had for three
months together, who made his fires in Caris-
brooke Castle."

Charles, in his various captivities, kept up a
surprising secret intercourse with his active
friends, no ordinary evidence of the strong per-

THE ISLE OF WIGHT. 361

sonal attachments which this unhappy Prince
had inspired in his adversities, when destitute
of means to bribe the sordid, or to flatter the
ambitious. He was rarely deserted or betray-
ed,* a circumstance which did not attend him

* Some underlings made advantages of their knowledge
of the secret transactions, and of some of the correspondence
of Charles the First, and probably served both parties at the
same time for double pay. Witherings of the Post-office,
and one Lowe a merchant, during the King's imprisonment
at Carisbrooke Castle, were of this description of secret
agents. Such persons are evidently alluded to by Claren-
don. " Many who did undertake to perform these offices
did not make good what they promised, which makes it
plain they were permitted to get credit, that they might
the more usefully betray. " — v. 553. Firebrace in one of
his notes to the King observes, " you keep intelligence with
somebody that betrays you, for there is a letter of yours sent
to the Governor (of the Isle of Wight) from Derby-House."
On which Charles answers, " It is possible that the rogue
Witherings hath discovered those I superscribe to my wife,
and hath sent one of my letters to the Committee. Enquire
and see if I have not guessed right. Do not send that letter
of mine for my wife to the post-house, but either to Doctor
Fraiser, or my Lady Carlisle, with a caution not to trust the
post-masters." Of Lowe the merchant, the King observes,
" If any does betray me, it must be O. (Lowe), yet he
bragged to me, in his last letter, that he furnished the Duke
of York with a hundred and fifty pounds for his journey,
but the truth is that N. for whose fidelity I will answer,
(Mrs. Whorwood) doth suspect him, and in the last packet

362 IMPRISONMENT AT

in the days of his Royalty. In every one of
his imprisonments, however close, .his commu-
nication with his faithful friends was scarcely
ever interrupted. After the civil wars his
perilous condition, sometimes disguised by the
splendour of a court, but oftener passed in the
gloom of his grated windows, was not ill-suited
to his romantic mind, as his perpetual confer-
ences and answers to Treaties of Peace were
adapted to his logical head, and his proneness
to discussion. His own ingenuity in sug-
gesting inventions in his prison, and the
patient devotion of his friends in waiting for
fit opportunities, or in contriving — extraordi-
nary incidents and guileless stratagems, were
equally uncommon. Often has a dropped
hanging, a crevice in the wall, — a hiding-
place in the chamber where a paper could be
deposited, carried on a correspondence with

hath given me warning of him. Do not dishearten him, get
what money you can of him, but do not trust him. It was
not I that acquainted him with the greater business, for I
found his name at the joint letter you sent me before ever I
imagined he knew of any such thing. I never wrote any thing
of moment to him, but only made use of him for conveyance
of letters and sending me news. Be as confident of my
discretion as honesty ; for I can justly brag that yet neither
man nor woman ever suffered by my tongue or pen for any
secret that I have been trusted withall."

THE ISLE OF WIGHT. 363

the mute person who did not dare to converse
with the royal prisoner, to whom he hardly
ventured to direct a silent look, or a meaning
gesture.* Ladies have lodged in the neighbour-
hood week after week, or disguised in some
humble character, would insinuate themselves
into the acquaintance of the domestics of the
castle. Sometimes a good-natured sentinel
might be bribed; but Mary, the assistant of
Lady Wheeler, the King's laundress, was a
more accessible person. Many who had been
placed about the King by the Parliament,
though strangers to Charles, soon formed a
deep personal attachment to this interesting
monarch. The celebrated Harrington, a Re-
publican in principle, was so forcibly affected
by the ability and dignity of the King, that Jie
was removed from his attendance. Herbert,
who seems to have adored the man in the
Monarch, was a Presbyterian ; and one Os-
borne, who assisted the King in his attempt to
escape, had been fixed as a spy near his person,

* Charles says in one of his secret daily notes to one of his
faithful attendants, Firebrace, " I hope this day at dinner
you understood my looks; for the soldier I told you of,
whose looks I like, was then there in a white night-cap, and
as I thought you took notice of him, I hope to find some-
thing from you when I come in from walking."

364 IMPRISONMENT AT

under the ostensible title of his Gentleman
Usher. His office was to hold the King's
glove during his dinner. In the fingers of the
glove he slid a note bearing the offer of his
devoted services, and an uninterrupted corre-
spondence passed by means of the King's glove.
Colonel Bosville appears to have transformed
himself into a variety of personages. Some-
times a countryman, a mariner, or a mendicant,
surprised the King when he rode out on a
bridge, or in a narrow lane. At the startling
obtrusion of the Stranger, Charles was always
prompt in hiding the note slipped into his
hand under the low obeisance which had con-
cealed it. This Colonel had several times been
committed for these treasonable manoeuvres,
but he excelled in the singular art of escaping
from his gaolers. The Warders who guarded
the King's apartment, were ordered by Ham-
mond to lay their beds close to the doors, by
which means no doors could be opened with-
out removing their beds. Even this annoy-
ance could not baffle the persevering ingenuity
of one of the King's secret friends, Mr. after-
wards, Sir Henry Firebrace. Though at Lon-
don, Firebrace contrived to get an appoint-
ment at the Castle, and offering one of the
Warders to supply his place, while the War-

THE ISLE OF WIGHT. 365

der indulged an hour at supper, the secret
friend sliding open the door of the King's
apartment, delivered a packet of letters. In
these occasional visits, when danger was appre-
hended from having the door open while they
conversed, a chink in the wainscot was perfo-
rated, behind the hanging; on the approach
of any one the aperture was covered by its
noiseless fall. Leaning to, and listening at this
small aperture, did Charles the First concert
measures for his projected escape, and through
this crevice received and delivered many an
important dispatch.*

There are more than fifty notes or letters of
a secret correspondence which the King kept
up with Sir William Hopkins, a resident at
the Isle of Wight.f They chiefly relate to an
escape which was planning for the royal pri-
soner, at the time he was allowed an intercourse
with some persons in the island. They dis-

* Several notes which passed between the King and Fire-
brace were preserved by the family. They interest us by
the striking contrast of the persons with their situations. In
one Charles says, " If you can, let me speak with you this
night at the Chink."

t This curious correspondence was given to WagstafFe by
a descendant of the family, and is preserved in the Appendix
to Wagstaffe's " Vindication of Charles the First."

366 IMPRISONMENT AT

play the King's personal character in a new
light. Many affecting circumstances, arising
out of the peculiarity of his distresses, reveal
this man of sorrows ; but the prompt sagacity
of the King, and the perspicuity of the style in
a correspondence which must have often been
written in haste, are proofs of the ability of
Charles the First, an ability which has always
been greatly undervalued.

Charles alludes to some females who were
active in his service. " I pray you commend
my service to all my feminine friends, and tell
47 that I hope she believes that I never recom-
mended 57 in earnest to her ; but it was merely
to have by her means sometimes the conversa-
tion of such honest persons as herself, and truly
for that end she shall do well, not to put him
in despair."

Often absent and perplexed with cares, Charles
at times appeared as if neglectful of, or inatten-
tive to his friends. On one of these occasions,
the King made this amiable apology, " The
friend you sent me this day gave me a chiding,
and yet I will not complain, for there was more
justice than malice in it. It was because I did
not look kind enough on 49 on Thursday last,
at your house ; for the truth is, that I had so
many things that day in my head that I won-

THE ISLE OF WIGHT. 367

der not though every one thought that I looked
doggedly on them ; wherefore I desire you to
assure 49 from me, that no sour looks was in-
tended for him, but all kindness." Even mi-
nute precautions and singular contrivances were
necessary in the course of this secret corre-
spondence. We may smile when we find the
King writing — " I have got pretty stores of
wafers ; when I want I shall take the freedom
to send to you for some. When you find
me seal with wax, you may know it is after
supper."

By Mr. Cresset's ingenuity, through his inti-
macy with the Earl of Pembroke, and without
his Lordship's privity, if not against his will,
that nobleman, who was a considerable person-
age with the Parliament, was converted into an
useful instrument of intelligence to the King.
Cresset obtained from him passports for certain
London pedlars to traffic with the Army, and
these pedlars were all Royalists, who slid under
their wares notes and letters, or even took ver-
bal messages, which they honestly delivered by
stealth in the King's quarters, when he was
immured in Oxford. Royston the loyal book-
seller, contrived a singular mode of conveyance
of letters. Women-hawkers of pamphlets tra-
velled on foot, and were ordered to loiter at

368 IMPRISONMENT AT

certain appointed places, till they had delivered
to them packages of books ; in the bindings of
those which bore a secret mark, letters were
sewed. Dean Barwick, one of the ablest of
secret agents, observed that none of his packets
had been intercepted, which he ascribes to his
choice not only of faithful messengers, but of
such as were in very humble circumstances, the
less conspicuous persons rarely attracting sus-
picion. Eminent persons betrayed themselves
by their own splendour ; their principles were
usually known, as happened to the Lady D'Au-
bigny, who carried the King's Commission of
Array twisted in the curls of her hair, which
proved fatal to some.

But danger and fatigue were endured as wil-
lingly, as ingenuity and artifice were practised.
During the dark nights of three winter months
did Ashburnham and two other gentlemen
wait on the sea-shore, keeping a boat in readi-
ness to aid Charles's escape. By such humble
expedients, and often such perilous enterprises,
the King was enabled to maintain a general
correspondence rarely interrupted, with the
Royalists in various counties, the Scottish Com-
missioners at Edinburgh, the Queen at Paris,
and even with the young Duke of York, at St.
James's. Dr. Lingard has forcibly expressed

THE ISLE OF WIGHT. 369

his admiration of this singular and undaunted
perseverance both in the royal captive and
his friends. Such was the ingenuity of the
King, so generous the devotion of those who
sought to serve him.*

The altered conduct of Hammond had not
been unperceived by the King before the arri-
val of the Commissioners, and the Scots were
repeating those rumours which had reached
him from other quarters, of something more to
be dreaded than the roughness of his State-
gaoler. Sometimes, in his musings, the impas-
sioned thoughts of his Queen, from whom he
had been estranged so many years, seem to
have overcome his wearied existence. Once
Charles had resolved, after his arrival in the Isle
of Wight, to abandon his dominions and to fly
to his Queen. Henrietta had dispatched a
French vessel to Southampton, by the advice
of Ashburnham, who had prepared all things
for the departure, of which there was no diffi-
culty while Charles was allowed the use of his
horse. The King joyfully ran to the window
to see how the wind stood by the vane ; it was
fair ! He hastily drew on his boots. On leav-
ing his apartment, once more he looked on the
vane, and in consternation beheld the vane had
* Lingard, x. 405.

VOL. V. 2 B

370 IMPRISONMENT AT

suddenly veered, standing at a contrary point,
where it fixed for six days together ! The ves-
sel could not stir. Meanwhile the Commis-
sioners had arrived, and his closer confinement
followed.

There was a fatality even in the trivial inci-
dents of the life of this unfortunate Monarch.
Charles afterwards attempted a more hazardous
flight from his imprisonment, and his friends
were waiting in different parts about the Castle
to receive him. It was a popular notion, which
now still prevails, that where the head can pass
the body may ; and Charles, through the bars
of his window, having tried the one, seemed
certain of the other. At the moment the
attempt was made, his breast and shoulders
were fixed between the bars. The struggle
was an agony, and he heavily groaned, which
he who stood beneath to receive him saw and
heard.*

* In the interesting notes which passed between the King
and Firebrace are many particulars of this baffled attempt.
Charles was aware of whatever he required. "The narrowness
of the window was the only impediment of my escape, and
therefore some instrument must be had to remove that bar,
which I believe is not hard to get ; for I have seen many,
and so portable, that a man might put them in his pocket :
I think it is called the Endless Screw, or the Great Force."
" I have now made a perfect trial, and find it impossible to be

THE ISLE OF WIGHT. 371

done, for my body is much too thick for the breadth of the
window, so that unless the middle, bar be taken away I can-
not get through. It is absolutely impossible to do any
thing to-morrow at night ; but I command you heartily and
particularly to thank in my name A (Mr. Francis Cresset,)
C (Colonel Legge,) F (Mr. Dowcett,) Z (Sir Edward Wors-
ley,) and him who stayed for me beyond the works, for their
hearty and industrious endeavours in this my service, the
which I shall always remember, being likewise confident that
they will not faint in so good a work/'

2 B

372 TREATY AT

CHAPTER XVI.

TREATY AT THE ISLE OF WIGHT.

DOOMED to the oblivion of a State-imprison-
ment, we are surprised at the sympathies which
Charles the First excited through the nation.
Was ever Tyrant beloved even in his prison ?
Was ever a vanquished Monarch dreaded by
his conquerors ? I know of no Prince whose
captivity bears any resemblance to that of
Charles the First. Few, indeed, of such Princes
have possessed his virtues, fewer his abilities,
and none have equalled his perfect equanimity
in the variableness of his fortunes. The force
of character, which we consider as the great
feature in the mind of Charles the First, was
never more apparent than during the transac-
tions at Carisbrooke Castle. After the failure
of the Treaty at the Isle of Wight, he delivered
his sentiments to Sir Philip Warwick, by this
striking allusion to his desperate situation. " I

THE ISLE OF WIGHT. 373

am like a Captain who had defended a place
well, and his superiors not being able to relieve
him, he had leave to surrender it ; but though
they cannot relieve me in the time I demand
it, I will hold it out till I make some stone in
this building my tombstone." Thus felt, thus
acted, and thus suffered his unconquered mind
in his great persecutions. But his conduct
was not less admirable towards the petty ma-
lignity which would fain have disturbed his
inherent dignity. His personal deprivations
were not inconsiderable at Carisbrooke Castle.
They did not afford him wine of a good quali-
ty, and he preferred " the better brewage made
by himself of sack and water; nay," added
the King, " whilst I have been here among
them, they kept me for two months under a
want of linen, which though I took notice of,
I scorned to give them the pleasure to tell
them of it."

Charles was now a King without kingly
power, but not without kingly influence. His
hereditary station swayed the predilections of
the people, and the majesty of his " grey
discrowned head" was not viewed without
" superstition," as Mr. Godwin expresses the
emotions of the multitude in that religious
age. But the Monarch in his afflictions was

374 TREATY AT

beloved, sometimes to adoration, by those who
were near him, for his personal virtues; and
his personal sufferings looked themselves like
virtues by the silence of his noble unrepining
nature. The chivalric spirits of the loftiest
characters of England kindled at his name;
they flew from their retreats to rejoin their bro-
thers ; they found no captivity in the bars and
grates of the prison, — their battle had been as a
pilgrimage,— their cell was as a hermitage ; they
bared their breasts with the joy of courageous
men who disdain an ungenerous enemy, when
selected as victims for a barbarous sacrifice.*
These men, actuated by the principle of ho-
nour, could only own as their Sovereign their
captive Monarch. The consolatory idea of
a King subdued and chastised by Fortune,
and who had appealed to his People as the
Father of his Country, was their idol-image,
the Lares of their hearths ! All the errors of
his calamitous years were almost forgotten
under the new tyranny of men whose obscu-

* Sir Charles Lucas and Sir George Lisle, shot, or rather
murdered, against all law, says Warburton. The affecting
scene of these two heroic friends is finely painted by Claren-
don. Some suspicion that they were condemned from per-
sonal motives, has thrown a dark shade over the reputation
of Fairfax.

THE ISLE OF WIGHT. 375

rity was undistinguished by any illustrious
acts, though famed in a wide scene of uni-
versal spoliation for dexterously transferring
the wealth and the honours of one part of
the nation to another,* — mean and fugitive
men, who solely existed in their unlicensed
freedom by the artifice of the most indirect
and crooked policy, creatures of their Military
Leaders ! The captive of Carisbrooke Castle
was still awfully remembered by the People.
He dwelt in their thoughts, and sometimes

* It cost the dispensers of Parliamentary donations
nothing but a vote to recompense their own friends. The
Trustees for the sale of Bishops' lands were security to the
soldiers for their arrears. If the estate of one of their suf-
ferers had been injured by fire or other losses, it was usually
made good out of his neighbour's estate, if he were " a Ma-
lignant." They voted 5000/. to the executors of Hampden
out of the receipts at Goldsmiths Hall, of the impositions
levied on " Delinquents." Lord Brooke's posthumous child
received 5000/. out of Lady Auckland's estate. 5000/. for
Ireland out of the Earl of Worcester's lands. Captain Yar-
rington was rewarded with 500/. to be raised out of the estate
of Sir Henry Lingen, and 3000/. for Colonel Lilburne out of
Lord Coventry's estate.

I could give some idea of the iniquitous proceedings of
those sequestrators, who were called " the Country Commit-
tees," from a curious document of the nefarious modes pur-
sued by those I denominate " the mean and fugitive per-
sons. ' Little villains in great offices !

376 TREATY AT

in their hearts. He had long ceased to be an
object of their fear, and in their despair he had
now mingled with their last hopes. Pressed
by monthly contributions for the arrears of
the soldiery, and vexed by taxations disguised
under forms and names unheard of, even
the Ship-money seemed but a light grievance.
The labourers of the harvest had found no
gleanings at the evening-hour. The giddy
multitude in the Capital burst into a com-
motion and called for " God and the King !"
The spontaneous cry was re-echoed by the
populace of distant cities. The Royal stand-
ard was unfurled in Wales, the Kentish men
flocked to the trumpet of Goring, the men of
Essex had the sad glory of suffering the last
in the miseries of our Civil War by the me-
morable siege of Colchester. The Fleet re-
volted to the Prince. The cloud of an army
gathered in the North, where the English
Royalists here and there were awaiting for
the army of Scotland led by the Duke of
Hamilton. The Cavaliers appeared in almost
every county of England, all rose in opposite
directions, too distant to communicate, too
early to be joined by the tardy, too late to
unite with the dispersed.

These various actions had called away from

THE ISLE OF WIGHT. 377

their seat of power in Westminster the chief
commanders of the Army, and in the absence of
their authority and their complicate intrigues,
the Presbyterian party had gradually reco-
vered their former predominance. The late
exiled members had returned to their seats,
and Holies, the great orator of the Presbyte-
rians, once more resumed his preponderance.
The Independents, without their chiefs, lurked
in a minority. On the 30th of June the vote for
non-addresses was annulled. The Parliament
had recovered their freedom. But it was not
long ere the scene shifted. The army of Scot-
land had dissolved as rapidly as it had been hast-
ily levied ; Colchester surrendered, the last hope
of the Royalists, and the dissolute but spirited
Goring, the chivalric Capel, and the inefficient
Hamilton were imprisoned in Windsor Castle,
and remained only to lament together the use-
less efforts of ill-concerted plans and precipi-
tated engagements. Still Cromwell was yet not
free to return from his conquests in the North,
and his absence left the Presbyterians an open
field. A personal treaty with the King was
now voted. Sir Henry Vane the son, the
head of the Independents, had shrewdly con-
sented to become a Commissioner to a Treaty
which he felt he could not successfully oppose,

378 TREATY AT

till a greater genius than his own should arrive ;
but he had dexterously contrived to delay it,
by cavils and doubts and discussions. Forty
days were fixed on for the negotiation of this
Treaty, and which were afterwards even en-
larged. The length of time allowed was con-
sidered to be an indulgence by those who
wished well to the peace ; and those who did
not, cared not how long it lasted.

This important news was instantly conveyed
to Charles, by one Sir John Bowring, an active
agent, if we may trust to his own account,
which was long afterwards addressed to Charles
the Second, evidently for the purpose of recom-
mending himself. It is remarkable that by Sir
John Bowring's own account, the King is con-
tinually regretting that he had not followed Sir
John's advice, and was now determined, as this
Knight says, " to be ruled by him in whatso-
ever he shall advise me in this Treaty" — which
however, as we shall find, the King certainly
was not ! The singular political foresight of
this Knight on every event which he records is
so wonderful, that we may suspect him to have
been one of those great predictors who enjoy
the advantage of prophecy, after the events have
been realised. The counsel and the counsellor
are equally notable.

THE ISLE OF WIGHT. 379

Bowring after first looking at the door, and
requesting to know if any one hearkened, ad-
dressed the King, " Sir, this Treaty is not ob-
tained of any intention your Majesty can pos-
sibly make your peace by it, but is designed
only of purpose to get your Majesty liberty to
go away, and to have friends to help you."
But, looking the King in the face, I found his
Majesty's countenance to alter very much, and
to grow pale as I spake. Whereupon I imme-
diately apprehended his Majesty misliked my
advice of getting away." It was indeed a me-
lancholy omen for the results of the expected
Treaty.

Bowring proceeds with his garrulous narra-
tive. " If your Majesty does think you can
make your more certain peace by treating than
by going away, then I beg of your Majesty to
make your concessions in one declaration and
in one day. I will tell your Majesty how you
may do it, and how much the Parliament will
abate your Majesty upon any one article more
or less, as well as if your Majesty should treat
out your forty days— if I mistake in any one
tittle of any one article, I will give your Ma-
jesty my life, I know and understand your
Majesty's business so well, and therefore I beg
your Majesty to do it at one instant of time by

380 TREATY AT

one declaration. Forty days was only a trick
of Cromwell's party in the House, who would
have given your Majesty for forty days, forty
months, when they found they could not pre-
vent the Treaty. They hoped your Majesty
will debate all the time, wherein they will
use all persons and parties to persuade you. In
which time Cromwell may have returned to
London with his army, and so advance his
own party in frustrating the present peace and
Treaty."

Whether this Bobadil of a politician ex-
pressly said all this to Charles, we only know
from himself; but his notion that the length of
time allowed for the conclusion of the Treaty
was a political stratagem of Cromwell's party is
confirmed by Clarendon, and it was not with-
out reason that Bowring warned the King of
his fatal proneness to discussion and debate, at
this momentous conjuncture. This conviction
was as strongly felt by the Presbyterian party,
conscious that they were holding their seats
by a very uncertain tenure, for the return of
Cromwell, as they had justly anticipated, would
eject them. But the protraction of the Treaty
was the policy of Charles, to obtain points
which he never could carry.

THE ISLE OF WIGHT. 381

Charles pledged his word not to leave the
island pending the negotiation, and was allowed
to quit the gloomy Castle, and to select the most
convenient house, which was that belonging to
a private gentleman, in the small town of New-
port, for his accommodation during the time of
the Treaty. He soon, however, discovered that
though they had removed the sentinels from
his door, they trusted so little to his word,
that a troop of horse was ever hovering ahout
him when he was abroad.* Though of late his
hopes one after the other were vanishing, and
the Treaty, about to be entered, afforded no
promise, he had resolved, as he had formerly
done, on ample concessions. Charles came to
surrender even his rights— but his honour and
his religion, as he understood them to be, he
could never yield, but with his life.

The friends and attendants of the King once
more rejoined their old master. A Lord High
Chamberlain, Gentlemen of the Bed-chamber,
Grooms of the Bed-chamber, Pages of the
Back-stairs, the Royal Chaplains, and his Se-
cretaries, all hastened and took their places
in the small house at Newport, and the delu-

* Ashmole's MSS. 800. Art. xxxvi. This was written by
Charles himself.

382 TREATY AT

sive scenery of a Court on a sudden seemed
to have crowded round the lone man, as in a
pleasant dream.

A State, too, was erected. Under a canopy
was a seat ascended by steps, at the end of the
most spacious apartment in a house of narrow
extent. Those who remembered their former
meeting at Hampton Court, were struck by
the singular contrast, and above all by the
aspect of the Monarch whom they now beheld
under that State. After eight months of rigid
confinement and protracted anxieties, the exte-
rior changes of his person deeply affected his
friends, perhaps even his enemies, pathetically
exclaims Hume. His constitution was un-
broken, his intellectual faculties were unusu-
ally vivid and vigorous, his cold manners,
though still majestic, had softened their seve-
rity, and there was a cheerfulness in his voice
and his replies which betrayed no dejection
of spirits ; but Charles could not conceal the
visible traces of those silent griefs, which
neither his deep religious resignation nor his
native magnanimity could disperse. Since
his servants had been commanded away, the
King would never suffer any attention to be
given to his person ; his beard remained un-

THE ISLE OF WIGHT. 383

trimmed, his dishevelled tresses hung in dis-
order, and his very dress was faded and worn.
It was imagined, that a premature old age of
sorrows had turned his hair almost entirely
grey. It was evident that the King had con-
demned the person whom so many scorned to
utter negligence, and that he seemed to con-
sider his whole existence to be little more than
an act of penance.

As the King had frequently demanded a
personal Treaty, the Commissioners had de-
cided that it should be strictly so, and would
not admit either Peer or Doctor to enter into
the debates. Charles was therefore compelled
to encounter singly a host of subtile diplo-
macy, and, what was worse, another of the
Rabbins of " the Assembly of Divines." The
Commissioners sate round the board, but the
Lords, the Gentlemen, and the Divines on the
King's side, stood silently about, or at the back
of his chair. When the King desired to put a
question, or when any of his friends would
offer a suggestion, he retired into a private
apartment, and it sometimes happened, as Sir
Philip Warwick, one of the secretaries, tells us,
that when the King hesitated to reply " one of
us penmen who stood at his chair would pray

384 TREATY AT

him from the Lords to do so." This was all the
prompting Charles received through a weary-
ing disputation of more than fifty days.

In the whole course of the varied career this
Monarch had passed, from the throne to the
field of battle, and thence to the castle-prison,
never had Charles the First displayed a temper
so undisturbed, never had he appeared in truer
Majesty, and never had developed his logical
faculties more to admiration than during the
whole of this trying Treaty. They met every
morning at nine, and resumed their sittings in
the afternoon. The King made minutes of
what he intended to speak, and from these
notes addressed the parties. Charles seemed
passionless. Age had matured the strength of
wisdom, and adversity had chastened the seve-
rity of his manners. Philosophy, in the large
sense of the age which had not yet arrived,
was as little known to the Monarch as to
the assembly of Divines. Two of these, on
Charles's tenacity in favour of Episcopacy,
for their last argument, had solemnly warned
the King that " He would surely be damned !"

When Charles pressed the weight of his
Coronation Oath, which bound him to the
maintenance of the Church of England, the
Lawyer Glyn used a subtile and extraordinary

THE ISLE OF WIGHT. 385

argument, the morality of which seems more
relaxed than the political expediency. Glyn
observed that his Majesty might with a good
conscience give way to the abolition of Epis-
copacy, since a clause in the Coronation Oath
says, that " he will maintain the customs of the
Land f of which an essential one is, to make
" new laws for the public good." A refined
quibble! but the Lawyer's sophism could not
soothe the tortured conscience of Charles the
First, who felt no conviction that Presby-
tery was an order of ministers more blessed
for the public good than the Hierarchy. They
were debating whether any real distinction ex-
isted between them, whether the one included
the other? and whether the whole was not a
verbal controversy, a distinction without a
difference ?

The King's felicitous illustration of the na-
ture of this Treaty, in which he could not get
one counter-proposition of his own conceded,
may be once more repeated. " Consider, Mr.
Buckley, if you call this a Treaty, whether it
be not like the fray in the comedy, where the
man comes out and says, there has been a fray
and no fray, and being asked how that could
be ? Why, says he, there hath been three blows
given, and I had them all," The Parliamentary

VOL. v. 2 c

386 TREATY AT

Commissioners were as deeply struck by this
protracted and extraordinary trial of the King's
powers as were any of his friends. The Earl
of Salisbury told Warwick, " The King is won-
derfully improved." " No, my Lord," was the
reply, " it is your Lordship who has too late
discerned what he always was."

Sir Edward Walker has preserved a curious
fact. The man most hostile to the King, that
strange compound of genius and fanaticism the
younger Vane, — acknowledged to him that they
had been much deceived in the character of the
King, whom they had considered as a weak
man, but now, he added, that we find him to
be a person of great parts and abilities, we
must the more consider our own security, for
he is only the more dangerous.* At the latter
end of the Treaty, when Charles perceived it
could never be effectual, he turned somewhat
melancholy. Charles was dictating to Sir
Philip Warwick aside at a window, when
he suddenly stopped and said, " I wish I had
consulted nobody but myself ; for then, as
where in honour or conscience I could not have
complied, I could have early been positive ;
for with Job I would willinglier have chosen
misery than sin." On which Charles shed
* Sir Edward Walker, 319.

THE ISLE OF WIGHT. 387

tears ; " the biggest drops that ever I saw fall
from an eye ; but recollecting himself he turned
presently his head away, for he was loth it
should be discerned." These were not the
only tears shed by the King at the Treaty of
the Isle of Wight. The Secretary Oudart has
commemorated in his Diary, that " This after-
noon his Majesty heard several draughts of an
answer upon the proposition for Religion : dis-
liked all : and was in a great perplexity about
the point of abolishing Episcopacy, even to
shedding of tears." What tyrant ever be-
fore shed tears ? Charles's situation was at
this moment alarmingly critical ; he had re-
ceived certain intelligence that he was to be
carried away to a closer prison, or to be assas-
sinated. He was meditating another flight.
With these thoughts in his mind, one day he
wrote down at the Treaty House these two
verses,

" A Coward 's still unsafe, but Courage knows
No other Foe but him who doth oppose." *

But the great ability and the diligence of
Charles were not wholly restricted to the la-
bours of this great assembly on the present
occasion. After every day's tedious confer-

* Oudart's Diary, Peck's Desid. Cur. Liber x.
2 c 21

388 TREATY AT

ences, every night at eight o'clock, when not
engaged in writing private letters, Charles with
his two Secretaries was employed in arranging
the notes taken that day, accompanying them
by his arguments, and dictating a dispatch
which was sent to the Prince, to inform him of
the present, and to instruct him for the future.
We possess this extraordinary testimony of the
zealous attention to the duties of the Monarch
and the Father. In the confinement of Caris-
brooke Castle, his literary leisure had drunk
more deeply of the fountains of our literature ;
the volumes he there perused, and the authors
whom he cherished, the good taste of Herbert
has noted down. The genial influence of un-
interrupted studies appears in the compression
of his thoughts and the elevation of his style.
Neither Warwick, a loose weak writer, nor
Oudart, a foreigner, though long domiciliated
here by his former patron, Sir Henry Wotton,
could possibly have terminated a single period
of this authentic production of Charles the
First.*

* Clarendon, in his History, has given some extracts from
these dispatches ; "The Journal," as Charles himself calls it,
is among- the Clarendon State-papers, ii. 425, 444, 445.
Dr. Lingard has justly acknowledged that " the best account
of the Treaty is that composed by order of the King himself,

THE ISLE OF WIGHT. 389

The subjects which are involved in the Arti-
cles of this Treaty have ceased to interest the
posterity of Charles the First, but the acute
discussion, the elevated style, the solemn coun-
sels this unhappy Monarch sent to a son, who
afterwards proved unworthy of such a father,
remain to illustrate his personal history.

Charles has moralized on his own history.
" We would willingly forget in how high a
degree some subjects have been disloyal, but
never had Prince a testimony in others of more
loyalty than we had. And however for their
and our punishment, God blessed not some of
their endeavours, surely more misguided persons
were at least reduced to their loyalty than is
almost in story to be exampled. Subjects by this
may learn, how dangerous the neglect of sea-
sonable duty is, and that men cannot fix when
they please, what they unnecessarily shake."

for the use of the Prince of Wales," x. 424. But from this
we must necessarily infer that these, like other State-papers,
were composed by another writer than the King. Charles
has been already robbed of what was his own in the " Icon
Basilike." In this Journal, who but the King himself
could infuse the paternal feeling, and the deep personal
emotion ? When will Historians learn to feel and to pause
amidst their researches, and not conceive that every docu-
ment opened to them is to be looked on only as a State-
paper ?

390 TREATY AT

'* By what hath been said, you see how long
we have laboured in the search of Peace. Do
not you be disheartened to tread in the same
steps. Use all worthy ways to restore yourself
to your Right, but prefer the way of Peace.
Show the greatness of your mind, if God bless
you, rather to conquer your enemies by par-
doning than punishing; and let us comfort
you with that which is our own comfort, that
though affliction may make us pass under the
censures of men, yet we look upon it so, as
if it procure not for us a deliverance, it will
to you a blessing. If you saw how unmanly
and unchristianly the implacable disposition is
in our ill-willers, you would avoid that spirit.
Censure us not for having parted with so
much of our own Rights ; the price is great,
but the commodity was security to us, peace
to our people. And we were confident another
Parliament would remember how useful a King's
power is to a People's Liberty. Of how much
we divested ourself that we and they might
meet once again in a due Parliamentary way
to agree the bounds for Prince and People! And
in this give belief to our experience, never to affect
more greatness or prerogative than that which is
really and intrinsically for the good of Subjects,
not satisfaction of Favourites. And if you thus

THE ISLE OF WIGHT. 391

use it, you will never want means to be a
Father to all, and a bountiful Prince to any
you would extraordinarily be gracious unto.
You may perceive all men intrust their trea-
sure when it returns them interest; and if
Princes, like the sea, receive and repay all the
fresh streams the rivers entrust with them,
they will not grudge, but pride themselves to
make them up an ocean. These considerations
may make you as great a Prince as your
Father is now a low one, and your State may
be so much the more established as mine hath
been shaken. For our subjects have learned,
we dare say, that victories over their Princes
are but triumphs over themselves, and so will
be unwilling to hearken to changes hereafter.
The English nation are a sober people, how-
ever at present infatuated.

"We know not but this may be the last
time we may speak to you or the world pub-
licly. We are sensible into what hands we
are fallen, and yet (we bless God) we have
those inward refreshments the malice of our
enemies cannot perturb. We have learned to
busy ourself in retiring into ourself, and there-
fore can the better digest what befalls.

"You are the son of our love; if God
restore you to your rights upon hard condi-

TREATY AT THE ISLE OF WIGHT.

tions, whatever you promise keep. These men,
who have forced laws which they are bound to
observe, will find their triumphs full of trou-
bles. Do not think any thing in this world
worth the obtaining by foul or unjust means."

Such was the labour of the evening-hours
of Charles the First after the mental fatigue
of each day's conference, and which was never
designed for the public eye, as the King hath
himself observed. He who has read these
Commentaries will more clearly comprehend
the importance of this developement, for such
it is, of the character of the captive of Caris-
brooke Castle ; that character only changed by
new acquirements, or modified by protracted
adversities and meditating experience. The
finest passages in the " Icon Basilike" do not
not exceed many similar ethical reflections in
these evening effusions to his son.

HAMMOND 393

CHAPTER XVII.

HAMMOND.

SOMETIMES the days seemed tranquil as
they glided away, while Charles was resigned
to his books and the bowling-green of Caris-
brooke Castle; but this tranquillity of his
spirits was often interrupted by the terror of
assassination. The King told Sir John Bow-
ring, " I have had a sad time of it ever since
the two Houses have imprisoned me in this
Castle, expecting every hour when I should
be murdered." The old rumours were still
afloat in the Army that the King was to be
brought to a public trial, nor was the result
veiled in mystery. Ere the Treaty had closed,
secret intelligence, written in a well known
hand, had been conveyed to Charles, of a de-
sign which had been communicated to Crom-

394 HAMMOND.

well of disposing of the King's person.* The
time allotted to the Treaty having expired,
the Commissioners hasten back to the Parlia-
ment. Charles bade them a sad farewell.
Though calm in his address, yet there was a
tenderness in the tones, that drew tears, at
least, from those who had attended on his
person. The Commissioners were differently
affected. Those who saw in the fast approach
of the Army towards the Capital the ruin of
their party, returned with fearful hearts ; while
the party of Vane, who had witnessed during
the protracted Treaty all the hopes of the
Royalists annihilated, were hurrying in tri-
umph and joy to meet Cromwell and the other
sovereigns of the Kingdom. Charles, alluding
in his own mind to the ominous warnings he
continued to receive, became the melancholy
predictor of his own fate. " My Lords," he
said, " I believe we shall scarce 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."t

* Wagstaffe's Appendix to his Vindication of Charles
the First.

f Evelyn's Memoirs, Appendix, ii. 127.

HAMMOND. 395

It was a few days ere the Commissioners had
departed, that one morning a breathless mes-
senger demanded an immediate interview with
the King. Sir Philip Killegrew, at the risk
of his freedom or his fortune, had stolen away
from Windsor, the head-quarters of the Army,
to impart to the King the fatal intelligence
that the Army had resolved in council to carry
him out of the Isle of Wight by force, bring
the King to London, try him for his life, and
murder him publicly. Charles hesitated to
credit his friendly intelligencer. " I must
confess," said the King, " that Sir Thomas
Fairfax is a greater soldier than I am ; yet
I think he will find it a hard matter to bring
me to London by force, having agreed with
my two Houses, and in cold blood to cut off
my head in the city of London."* Sir Philip
Killegrew bowed his obeisance, but prayed the
King to make his escape, and declaring that
he himself expected nothing less " than to go
to prison or to pot" for having made the com-
munication, hurried back to Windsor. Kille-
grew had only anticipated by a few days the
large Remonstrance of the Army which had
been agreed on in their Council of War.

* Bowring's Memorial, 150.

396 HAMMOND.

From every quarter at home the friends of
Charles were urgent for him to leave the Island,
while there remained a possibility of escape.
One day, as Bowring was reiterating his offers
of aid, and kneeling to entreat Charles to fly,
the King, " taking his handkerchief to wipe his
eyes," as the tears dropped from them, declared
that he was utterly destitute. " I have bor-
rowed all I can already, and cannot stir from
this place." Bowring adds an extraordinary
narrative of bringing the King four hundred
pounds in gold, in both of his pockets, on the
following day, for which he received the ho-
nour of Knighthood.

Hume and other historians have ascribed the
reluctance of Charles to attempt to recover his
liberty at this critical moment, from the invio-
lability in which he held his parole ; not that it
required any subtilty of casuistry to show that
no promise to the Parliament was binding,
since they could no longer protect his person
from the violence menaced by others, to whom
he was bound by no engagement. Bowring
hints at another cause which decided Charles
not to leave the Isle of Wight. The King
showed him a letter which he had just received
from " a friend beyond seas, — you guess from
whence it comes," the King added, — " who had

HAMMOND. 397

advised him not to quit the Island, that the
Army would not hurt a hair of his head."
" This friend beyond the seas," and the reason
alleged, were both of so delicate a character,
that Bowring would not trust them to his
paper, but he offers to reveal them privately to
Charles the Second, to whom he addressed his
Memoir. It is remarkable that the same mys-
terious allusion occurs in Clarendon. The pas-
sage requires attention from a remarkable in-
terpolation, which was designed for a particular
purpose. " Before the Treaty the King was
inclined to make his escape, thinking any li-
berty preferable to the restraint he had en-
dured. But he did receive some discourage-
ment from pursuing that purpose, which both
diverted him from it, and gave him great trou-
ble of mind. It cannot be imagined how won-
derfully fearful some persons in France were
that he should have made his escape, and the
dread they had of his coming." *

Here is a very remarkable instance of the
danger incurred by Interpolation. The Edi-
tors of Clarendon imagined that the honour of
Charles was involved in any attempt at escape
by violating his parole, which was to hold good
till twenty days had elapsed after the Treaty.

* Clarendon, vi. 192.

398 HAMMOND.

Finding in the manuscript a confession that
the King had really designed to fly, they
foisted in the text these words, " Before the
Treaty." This unwarrantable contrivance was
intended to fence off any accusations which
might impugn the King's honour, by the vio-
lation of his pledge. Reject the interpolation,
and then we shall obtain a veritable statement,
unknown to any of our historians, and which I
am able to substantiate by an original docu-
ment which seems not to have been known to
the noble historian himself.

It is certain, that ere the Treaty was con-
cluded, pressed on all sides by his domestic
friends, and continually warned of the despe-
rate designs on his person, Charles had decided
on another flight. To the peril to which his life
was exposed by the conspirators, he evidently
alludes in his parting address to the Commis-
sioners, " I am fully informed of the whole car-
riage of the plot against me and mine." A ves-
sel had even been prepared for the King's flight.
Bowring, whose interest lay in the Navy, had
not only an intercourse with the Vice-Admiral
lying off the coast, but had offered to bring up
a ship to a retired spot, to convey the King to
Jersey. We know, too. from another quarter,
that Charles was in correspondence with Sir

HAMMOND. 399

William Hopkins, who there commanded a
ship. Why Charles did not proceed in exe-
cuting this plan, can only be accounted for by
the mysterious allusion to " that friend be-
yond seas," as Bowring designates that person,
and from whom, as Clarendon observes, Charles
" received some discouragement from pursuing
that purpose, which both diverted him from it,
and gave him great trouble of mind."

The singular document which I have men-
tioned, I discovered in the Ashmolean Library
at Oxford. Charles having decided to effect
his escape from the Island, even before the
Treaty was concluded, with the same deco-
rum he had formerly quitted Hampton Court,
drew up a paper containing his reasons,
addressed not only " to the Lords and Gen-
tlemen," but " To all my People." As this
paper remains in edited, the curious reader
will find it preserved in an Appendix to
the present volume.

The Remonstrance of the Army, of which
Killegrew had anticipated the report, was pre-
sented to the House on the 20th of November.
The Treaty ended on the 27th, and the Army
advanced towards London on the 30th. The
King was forcibly carried from the Isle of
Wight on the 1st of December. On the 5th,

400 HAMMOND.

in despair, the Presbyterian party voted that
" the King's concessions were satisfactory." On
the following day, the 6th, the famous Purge
of Colonel Pride imprisoned and secluded the
Presbyterian Members, and Cromwell arrived
in London, with what he called " Providence
and Necessity," his inexorable allies, ready to
sanctify any deed.

During these rapid events, Hammond had be-
come from his situation, having the guard of the
King's person, a more important personage than
his real character would have made him. The
Parliament suspected the integrity of Ham-
mond, for which, however, they had no reason,
as Charles observed that " the Governor had
grown as great a rogue as the rest," alluding to
more than one attempt at searching his papers.
Yet Hammond was not so wholly " the Rogue"
as Charles conceived. The Parliament, aware
that Hammond's connexions lay with Crom-
well and Ireton, and the Army faction, were
not at their ease respecting his integrity, and
they would have been less so, had they known
the extraordinary correspondence which now
occurred between these two eminent persons
and the Governor of the Isle of Wight.

Hammond received two remarkable letters
from Ireton and Cromwell, the one dated 23rd

HAMMOND. 401

and the other the 25th of November, a few
days preparatory to their great coup d'etat.

" Dear Robin," as in the familiarity of friend-
ship both style Hammond, Ireton assured of
" the tenderness that we have (in the Army) to-
wards him." He would remove "the ground
of his scruples." Robin considered that he
held the King "as a servant under trust"
for the Parliament. This Ireton does not
deny, and proceeds, " The Lord forbid that I
should tempt thee." But asks Ireton, Who put
him in the trust ? The Parliament merely as a
form, or the Army in effect ? Who made him
Governor ? Was he such from any affection
of that sort or generation of men, which now
through accident bear the sway and name ? or
rather of those whose judgment and affections
are most opposite to them ? It was for public
ends the Governor had received his trust, and
Ireton appealed to his conscience to whom he
owed his faith. He hoped that he would not
give himself up to the delusion of an air of
honour, and mere form or shadow of faithful-
ness, to the neglect of the reality or substance.
God had better endued Robin with truth and
judgment in the inner parts. The subtle Ire-
ton thus worked at " the grounds of his scru-
ples," and the serpent at the ear of Eve had

VOL. v. 2 D

402 HAMMOND.

never whispered more seductive treason. The
effusions of Cromwell were more voluminous ;
they flow with all the unction of his " Expe-
riences," and all the demonstrations of his
" Providences." He sympathises with the com-
plaints of Hammond of " his sad and heavy
burthen." Hammond maintained that " God
hath appointed authorities among the nations ;"
he had been taught this by his uncle the
Divine ; and that " the authority resides in Eng-
land in the Parliament," this had been inculca-
ted by his uncle the Parliamentary Colonel.
Cromwell puts up his prayer after his sermon,
that Dear Robin " would not swerve, nor lose
any glorious opportunity the Lord puts into
his hand."*

The deliverance of the King's person to the
Army, was the object of the writers with the
Governor of the Isle of Wight. The con-
science of Hammond was pure. The whole of
Hammond's life, from the moment Charles
entered the Island, offers a singular exhibition
of an honest man embarrassed by opposite prin-
ciples. In the present great temptation, even
his powerful friends had not succeeded to in-
duce him to act as they desired, but they

* Letters between Colonel Robert Hammond, Cromwell,
Ireton, &c, 1764.

HAMMOND. 403

verified what this unhappy man had from his
spontaneous emotions exclaimed at his first
meeting with Berkley and Ashburnham. — They
perplexed him. When these subtile men had
ascertained that their friend could not be their
creature, they conjured him away from his
Government, and after suffering an imprison-
ment, Colonel Hammond got shelved.

2! I)

404 HURST BLOCK-HOUSE,

CHAPTER XVIII.

HURST BLOCK-HOUSE, AND WINDSOR CASTLE.

THE King still remained at Newport, amidst
these constant alarms. One day, as Charles sate
at dinner, there came a tall man, " with his
spanner and scarf," and therefore supposed to
be an officer of the Army, but whom no one
knew. The Stranger placed himself fronting
the King, fixing his eyes on him. The silence
of this unknown, and his "funereal" counte-
nance, were ominous ; there was a deep melan-
choly in his looks, but his confidential manner
marked him as " one of the ill-spirits of the
Army." The King in vain secretly inquired
after the mysterious man. Bowring got him
away by an invitation to dinner. The Stranger
inquired for Hammond the Governor; and in
the style of the Evil Spirit, coming for the

* " The funereal air" of this officer is noticed in the Nar-
rative of the Siege of Colchester.

AND WINDSOlt CASTLE. 405

human being whose soul was to be surrendered
in the final hour of perdition, he declared " I
am come for Hammond this night !" When it
was hinted that the Governor would hardly
quit his quarters — the demon, raising his voice,
exclaimed, " I '11 warrant ye he goes with me
this night ! for Hammond is my prisoner !"
Bowring, terrified, stole away to prepare the
King for1 some sudden change. When Ham-
mond entered, the Stranger did not know his
person till he had declared himself. "I am
commanded to bring you a prisoner to Wind-
sor."— " What force have you in the Island ?"
said Hammond. — " Myself only !" sternly re-
plied the Stranger. — "It is my choice," said
Hammond. — " You had better obey my orders,"
menaced the authoritative voice.

This stranger was Colonel Isaac Ewer, whose
name appears in the death-warrant of Charles
the First. He accomplished his mission ; for
though the King protested against Hammond's
quitting the Island, and Hammond promised
to return on the following day, on his arri-
val at Windsor the Governor was confined.
Such was the mysterious influence of the
Army, which could hold a Governor amidst his
own troops in such subjection as instantly to
submit himself to their single messenger. It

406 HURST BLOCK-HOUSE,

might however not have been unknown to him
that two regiments were arriving at South-
ampton, from whence Colonel Ewer had passed
over, that he might take a closer inspection of
his more noble prisoner about to be ; " Moritura
Puella !" as the Poet exclaimed when the mai-
den's foot was on the snake.

This was the prelude of carrying off the
King. In the evening a servant of Charles
was called out by a disguised person, who
having desired him to acquaint the King that
the Army would seize on him that night, ab-
ruptly withdrew. As yet no one knew of the
arrival of any soldiers in the Island. That
•evening Mr. Firebrace had orders to wait on
the King for a packet at eight o'clock, when he
discovered soldiers with pistols about the house
where the King lodged. He alarmed the King,
who desired him to calm his fears-; "Ham-
mond's deputies may put a treble guard on me."
" It were better to commit yourself to the seas
than to these men," rejoined Firebrace, offering
a boat and a faithful guide, both ready. Charles
said, " He had passed his word to Hammond."
He retired to seal his letters. It was now re-
ported that two thousand foot were drawn
about Carisbrooke Castle. The Lords and gen-
tlemen urge the King to attempt his escape.

AND WINDSOR CASTLE. 407

Charles resumed his accustomed mode of rea-
soning. "A successful attempt was next to
an impossibility, and if the Army seized on
him, they would preserve him for their own
sakes." A debate was held. The Earl of
Lindsay observed, " All will not steer by such
rules of policy. Your Majesty's escape from
Hampton Court was your best security." After
a pause, the King positively declared, " They
have promised me, and I will* not break first."
So bidding them a good night, he said he
would retire to his rest. " Which," said one,
" I fear will not be long."

At break of day, on a loud knocking at the
King's outer door, the Duke of Richmond
demanding what it meant, was informed that
some Gentlemen of the Army were desirous of
speaking with the King. They rushed into the
chamber, and abruptly told the King that they
had orders to remove him.

" From whom ?" asked the King. — " From
the Army !" — " To what place?"—" The Cas-
tle !"— « To what Castle ?"— " To the Castle !"

« The Castle is no Castle. I am prepared

for any Castle, but tell me the name."—" Hurst

Castle." " Indeed ! you could not have named

a worse !"

The King was hurried into a coach. Major

408 HURST BLOCK-HOUSE,

Rolfe,— an officer who had been accused of tam-
pering with the Clerk of the Kitchen to dis-
patch the King by poison, —with his hat on,
insolently and uninvited, was stepping into the
coach, when Charles, placing his foot before the
door, courageously pushed away the armed ruf-
fian— " Go you out! We have not yet come
to that !" and called in Herbert and Harring-
ton, his Grooms of the Bed-chamber. Rolfe,
repulsed and mortified amidst his own troop,
mounted the King's led horse, and rode by the
coach-side, reviling the King. Charles betray-
ed no discomposure, and already knowing whi-
ther he was going, amused himself with the
conjectures of his gentlemen. Charles had cer-
tainly a delight in perilous adventures ; he
seems rather to have taken a pleasure in such
romantic incidents, than to have feared them.

Hurst Castle was in reality a Block-house, in
a desolate spot projecting into the sea, and
united to the mainland by a narrow neck of
sand covered with stones and pebbles, and
washed on both sides by the waves. The Cap-
tain at the Block-house appeared a suitable
accompaniment to this drear abode. He was
one of the lowest of the Army faction ; and
his figure was that of a bandit. His grim
aspect, his stern looks, his wild shaggy locks

AND WINDSOR CASTLE. 409

and black beard, a heavy partisan in his hand,
and a huge basket-hilted sword at his side, be-
trayed a man designed for mischief. He va-
poured and thundered ! the King's attendants
were alarmed ; but at the reprimand of the
Lieutenant-Colonel, it turned out that the Cap-
tain of the Block-house had only blustered
to assume an importance equal to the pride
which he could not conceal, that his base
hands should hold the King of England as his
prisoner !

Every thing here was dismal, the apart-
ments, the air, and the fort. The stony walk
was but a few paces broad, yet in length two
miles;— the uninterrupted view of the opposite
Isle of Wight, and the ships of all dimensions
daily under sail, formed the solitary amusement
of the King. It was here that Harrington,
having been deeply affected by the King's con-
duct and ability during the Treaty, had ex-
pressed his admiration of Charles with such fer-
vour, that his conversation having been report-
ed, the philosopher was instantly dismissed
from his attendance on the King. Charles
deeply resented this, for he was sensible of the
fine genius of Harrington, with whom he de-
lighted to converse on the freedom under a
Monarchy, and the freedom under a Common-

410 HURST BLOCK-HOUSE,

wealth, — the model, probably, of Harrington's
own political romance, the " Oceana !"

Herbert remained the solitary and the faith-
ful servant of Charles ; but as he observes, in
motu trepidationis. Three weeks had now
elapsed. Charles had of late received some
dark intimations respecting certain officers, and
more than ever felt the horror of an ignoble
termination of his life. This sequestered spot,
jutting out amidst the ocean, and almost sever-
ed from the land, seemed to have been selected
for some dreadful deed ; and every new Com-
mander appeared to the King as the person
designed to be his executioner.

It was in the stillness of midnight, that
Charles was startled by the rattling fall of the
draw-bridge and the tramp of horses. The
King rose, and Herbert stole out to learn his
Master's fate. Major Harrison had arrived !
The King seemed troubled, desired to be dress-
ed, and retired to his prayers. Herbert noticed
his unusual concern, and could not avoid shed-
ding tears. Charles told him, " I am not afraid,
but do not you know that this is the man who
intended to assassinate me, as by letter I was
informed, during the late Treaty ? This is a
place fit for such a purpose."

It was for some time difficult to obtain the

AND WINDSOR CASTLE. 411

secret of Major Harrison's midnight expedi-
tion. The King was agreeably surprised to
learn that he was only to be removed to Wind-
sor ; to quit the most dismal castle in England
for the one in which he most delighted.

The King, on leaving Hurst Castle, mounted
his horse. At Winchester, notwithstanding
the times, observes Herbert, the city, the
clergy, and the gentry flocked to welcome their
unhappy Sovereign. On the road, the King
fixed his eyes earnestly on Major Harrison,
who, somewhat abashed, fell back among his
troops. Charles declared that he looked like a
soldier, and that his aspect was good ; so that
he doubted if he had not been misrepresented.
"I have some judgment in faces," said the
King, " for ofttimes the spirit and disposition
may be discerned in the countenance; yet in
that we may be deceived." The royal physio-
gnomist was more candid than Lavater ; and
in the present case had vainly flattered himself
with having found a Royalist in a Repub-
lican.

It was observed that the King had not for a
long time been so cheerful — a transitory happi-
ness seemed to come over him; the visions of
the antique regal castle flattered his imagina-
tion with a change of fortune. He was es-

412 HURST BLOCK-HOUSE,

caping, as it seemed to him, from dreary
solitudes, dark treacheries, and petty inso-
lence. His companions caught, for a moment,
the exhilaration of his spirits ; but still wonder-
ed, says Herbert, " considering his condition."
At supper, in a crowded room of the Army-
officers and people who came to view the King,
Charles beckoned to Major Harrison, who ap-
proached with due respect ; the King took him
aside at a window for half an hour, and among
other things told him of the information con-
cerning him, which rendered him an enemy in
the worst sense to his person. The Major vin-
dicated himself, and repeated what he had said,
that " The Law was equally obliging to great
and small, and that Justice had no respect to
persons." The tone and manner of Harrison,
whom Mrs. Macauley calls " an honest fanatic,"
were as explicit as the axiom he had uttered ;
and Charles, detecting his physiognomical blun-
der, ceased any farther communication.

In the delights of Windsor Castle, Charles
appeared to have lost in forgetfulness the tribu-
lations of many years. It had been long since
he had viewed Nature in repose. He had his
liberty to walk where he pleased within the
Castle. He loved to linger on the length-
ened terrace, to gaze on the spires of learned
Eton— to pursue the winding Thames —and

AND WINDSOR CASTLE. 413

dwell on the pleasant hills and valleys, spotted
with villages, and adorned with many a villa.
The scene only wanted his children and his
consort, to perfect the passing hour of his fugi-
tive happiness.

At Windsor Castle the King and his party
were not yet convinced that the Court of Ju-
dicature, which now began to be rumoured,
was any thing more than an unsubstantial
pageant. The case was unprecedented. The
profoundest politician might be allowed to
doubt the possibility of that public act, which
was called national, yet in which the nation
took no part, and which was sanctioned as
Parliamentary, though at the time there was,
in truth, no Parliament. I read in the Manu-
script Journal of the Earl of Leicester, that
while the King was at Windsor, he gave orders
for saving the seeds of some Spanish melons,
which he would have set at the Queen's house
at Wimbledon. On this little incident, com-
bined with more important ones, the noble
diarist concludes, that " he hangs still upon
the twig," — it was then the state of the drown-
ing man.

The true comment on this expression of
Lord Leicester's, who was himself somewhat
of a Parliamentarian, may be collected from
the intelligence daily dispatched from Windsor,

414 HURST BLOCK-HOUSE,

and published to prepare the public for the
great and approaching event. These privi-
leged spies express astonishment at the King's
unaltered habits and careless endurance of his
persecutions. " The King," they say, " con-
tinues indifferent merry ;" " yet," adds an-
other, " not without fear and apprehension
of danger from new faces/' In fact, Charles
always doubted of an open tribunal of justice ;
that scheme seemed preposterous. It was not
a trial which he dreaded ; he always conceived
he should suffer a private death. One of these
intelligencers says, " He makes the business
talked on of questioning of him a jest." The
following extract is a curious specimen of the
malignity of these revolutionary scribes, as
vulgar as were most of their patrons.

" The King is cunningly merry for the most part, though
he hears of the Parliament's proceeding against him. He
asked who came from London, how his young Princess did ?
He was answered she was very melancholy. The King re-
plied, ' And well she may be so, when she hears what death
her old father is coming unto/ We find his discourse of
late very effeminate, and talking much of women, which he is
sure for the most part to bring in at the end of every sub-
ject. On telling him that the Parliament intended to pro-
ceed in justice against him, he answered, most simply and
tyrannically , * Who can question me for my life?'"*

* The Moderate, impartially communicating Martial af-
fairs to the Kingdom of England; January 9 to 16, 1649.

The

AND WINDSOR CASTLE. 415

This is a curious example of party writing
from the Government paper of a vile Govern-
ment. Here are as many lies as lines. When
Charles alluded to that

" Child of Misery, baptized in tears,"

who pined away in melancholy at the age of
fifteen years in that Castle where her father
had suffered a long durance, and where she
shortly after found her vault, how could
Charles call himself "her old father?" He
died in the prime of life. How was it pos-
sible that he should talk at Windsor of " the
death her father was coming to," when he was
convinced that " no one could question him
for his life ?" Why were all these lies raised ?
It was an artifice of the wretched scribe, who
forged the words he puts in the King's mouth,
to prepare the public mind for the medi-
tated catastrophe. Could it be believed that
Charles's " discourse of late so effeminate," and
" talking of women" was his domestic tender-
ness? the voice of the father and the hus-
band? the excruciating feelings for his hap-
less daughter and his exiled Queen, who at
this time was soliciting the Parliament for a
safe conduct to approach once more the un-

The writer was Gilbert Mabbott, or Mabbold, the new Li-
censer!— in this first year of" Freedom restored !"

416 HURST BLOCK-HOUSE,

happiest of men and of monarchs ? In truth,
the novel barbarism of the age had already
thrown back society into its rudest element.

After a short month the King with regret
was compelled to quit Windsor Castle. It
was in the Court-yard, passing by the Keep,
that occurred the extraordinary meeting, per-
mitted but for a minute, — a single minute —
deeply implored and hardly conceded, — that
the Duke of Hamilton, who remained a pri-
soner at the Castle, cast himself on his knees
before the King: — "My dear Master!" was
all he could say. " I have, indeed," replied
Charles, " been a dear master to you !" Both
parted to go to the same fate.

The King was removed to the Palace of St.
James's. Hitherto the King had been served
with the usual ceremonies of State. He dined
in the Presence-chamber ; the Carver, the
Sewer, the Cup-bearer, and the Gentleman-
usher officiated ; the cup was presented on
the knee, and the Say was given out.* At
St. James's Charles first endured the petty
indignity from the wretched faction, who or-
dered that all regal ceremonies should be abo-
lished, and that the accustomed respect to his

* The Say is an abbreviation of Assay, or trial ; the cere-
mony of tasting the King's food when presented.

AND WINDSOR CASTLE. 417

Majesty at his meals should be forborne.
Soldiers now were his rough attendants, and
brought in the dishes uncovered. The King
felt the degradation, ate little, and in private.
" Is there any thing more contemptible than
a despised Prince ?" said Charles to his faithful
Thomas Herbert.

The story of Charles the First's imprison-
ments at Holmby, and at Hampton Court ; his
long confinement at Carisbrooke Castle; his
immurement at the dismal Block-house of
Hurst; his return to regal Windsor; and, his
final removal to Whitehall and St. James's,
open a series of pathetic scenes which the in-
ventions of a Shakspeare could hardly surpass
in dramatic : effect, or noble pathos — Scenes,
however, which " the Malignants" of Party
have affected to pass by as ordinary incidents,
throwing a veil over that grandeur of mind
which their brutalized spirits could never wear
down to their own level.

So truly did Charles say of himself, "We
have learned to busy ourself in retiring into
ourself, and therefore the better digest what
befalls."

VOL. V. 2 E

418 THE TRIAL AND

CHAPTER XIX.

THE TRIAL AND THE DECAPITATION.

THE Commons voted themselves " the Su-
preme Authority of the Nation," and what-
ever they declared to be Law was Law* with-
out the consent of the King and the Peers.
Shortly after, when they had rid themselves
of the Sovereign, they voted the Lords " to
be dangerous and useless." Harry Marten,
as reckless in his wit as in his life, with the
same tolerant good-humour which he had
evinced on a former occasion with Judge Jen-
kins, proposed an amendment in favour of
the Lords, that " they were useless but not
dangerous." By this felicitous humour this
Commonwealth-man had often relieved the
Royalists in their most critical circumstances,
and though a Regicide, his life was afterwards
spared by the grateful mediation of the nume-

THE DECAPITATION. 419

rous friends whom his facetious genius had so
timely served.

An ardent critic has recently said of the
trial of Charles the First, that " He was ar-
raigned, sentenced, and executed in the face
of Heaven and Earth." This is the poetry of
the fiction ! In what manner the erection of
" the High-Court of Justice," a court never
before heard of, stood in connexion with " Hea-
ven and Earth," a plainer narrative may suffice
to expose.

A judicial trial of the Sovereign, I have
shown, was the favourite scheme of the Army-
faction, contemplated at a much earlier period
than our historians have traced, at least two
years before it occurred.* It was often drop-

* This important fact I have alluded to at page 215. See
Baillie's Letters, ii. 209. May 1646. u I abhor to think of
it, what they speak of execution," p. 213. In June he writes,
alluding to the King, " Had it not been that he foresaw he
was ready to be taken at Oxford, and either to have been
executed, which is the mind of too many here, or to be clap-
ped up in perpetual prison, he had never come near us."
Again, at p. 225, in August of the same year. "The Sec-
taries are the extremely malicious enemies of the blinded
Prince, burning for the day to cast him and all his posterity
out of England." Baillie was himself an honest intolerant
Presbyterian, and Charles the First, with him, was " the
2 E 2

420 THE TRIAL AND

ped and resumed. When Charles had closed
with the Treaty of Newport, the struggle be-
came momentous between the two great fac-
tions. The Army advanced on London. On
December 1st, 1648, they carried off the King
to Hurst Castle. On the 5th the House sate
through the whole night, and after a fierce
debate, in the morning they carried the ques-
tion, that the King's concessions were satis-
factory for a settlement. The Army -faction
seemed mastered. What then happens ?

One of themselves has told us. " The Par-
liament was fallen into such factions and divi-
sions, that any one who usually attended and
observed the business of the House, could after
a debate upon any question, easily number the
votes that would be on each side, before the
question was put." This curious circumstance
had never been gravely recorded by the present
historiographer, had his friends not constituted
the forlorn minority. It was therefore " a
resolution," so Ludlow expresses it, that the
minority should be changed into a majority. It
was " resolved by three of the Members of the
House and three of the Officers of the Army,

blinded Prince," because he could not as an English Mo-
narch, and in conscience as a religionist, subscribe the Cove-
nant of the Kirk of Scotland !

THE DECAPITATION.

who withdrew into a private room to consider
of the best means." In truth there were nor best
nor worst! When "the Tyrant" Charles had
required that five Members should be put on
their trial, that abrupt arrest of their persons —
that feeble coup d'etat went far to lose him
his throne. The present six " Tyrants" in " a
private room" had the list of the whole House
placed before them in luxuriance, to pick and
choose. " We went over the names of all the
Members, one by one, giving the truest cha-
racters we could of their inclinations, wherein
I presume we were not mistaken in many." —
No matter ! the hour presses and the business
is not nice ! "The Army being ordered" — By
whom? apparently by the six "tyrants" in
the " private room" — " to be drawn up the
next morning, with guards placed in West-
minster Hall, the Court of Requests, and the
Lobby" — On what business? — "That none
might be permitted to pass into the House but
such as had continued faithful to the public
interest !" By this mode, " the Minority" of
" the public interest" triumphed over " the
Majority." Such is the honest history of Colo-
nel Pride's famed " Purge," delivered by their
own authentic historian.*

* Ludlow, i. 233.

THE TRIAL AND

This coup d'etat was struck on December 6th,
the very next day after their discomfiture in
the House. On January the 4th the Com-
mons invested themselves with "the Supreme
Authority," and on the 9th the High-Court of
Justice to try the King was proclaimed.

Such is the simple story of the High Court
of Justice on " the face of the Earth ;" for their
acts in " the face of Heaven" we must look
to their Chaplain and Buffoon Hugh Peters.
He himself tells us that the fate of the King
too deeply affected the public mind. " The
public interest" out of the House was so far
from an agreement with " the public interest"
in it, that the Members of the High Court of
Justice sate in pretended Fasts, and at State
Sermons, acted by their gesticulator and come-
dian in the pulpit. They were edified and
diverted by many a drolling tale, a gibe and
a quip, or an ecstasy kneeling or weeping, now
hiding his head, now clapping his hands for
a new revelation. — All for " the Red Coats !"
"Moses was now to lead the people out of
Egyptian bondage ! but how ? that was not yet
revealed to me !" Shrugging his shoulders,
covering his eyes with his hands, burying his
head in the cushion, resounding laughter pol-
luted the choir of St. Margaret's Chapel. The

THE DECAPITATION. 423

grotesque Seer starting up suddenly, cried out,
" Now I have it by Revelation ! This Army
must root up Monarchy, not only here, but
in France, and other Kingdoms round about —
this is to bring you out of Egypt!" But it
seems that there were " foolish citizens in our
Jerusalem, who for a little trading and profit
would have Christ crucified (pointing to the
red coats crowding on the pulpit-stairs), and
that great Barabbas of Windsor released." It
was before Cromwell, and Bradshaw the Lord
President of the novel Court, on the Sunday
preceding the execution on the Tuesday, that
the High Priest of the Revolution took for
his text, "Bind your Kings with chains, and
your Nobles with fetters of Iron." It delight-
ed them to hear of " the Rabble of Princes,"
and Cromwell was observed to laugh.

Hugh Peters is a name covered with odium ;
the moral habits of this carnal prophet have
been so frequently aspersed by the Royalists,
that had Hugh Peters not made his own con-
fessions, we could never have formed any cor-
rect notion of the vile and ridiculous man
himself. In this political history of human
nature, he serves greatly to instruct us. He
was one of those characters who are engendered
in the excitement of a Revolutionary period,

424 THE TRIAL AND

persons easily tempted to go all lengths with
a triumphant party, and contribute to more
mischief than they would of themselves in-
cline to.

This merry- Andrew in the pulpit, and this
advocate for the Sword in Law, was at bot-
tom a grave and earnest Divine, neither want-
ing in learning nor in ability. By the de-
position of a servant at his Trial, it appears
that he was usually " melancholy sick." Ori-
ginally an exile for his Non-conformity, under
the severe administration of Laud, he had pass-
ed over into New England, and on his return
home, after fourteen years of absence, found the
nation plunged in Civil War. His patrons were
the Parliamentary Generals. Minister, Mes-
senger, and Minion of the Army, in his politi-
cal fanaticism he maintained that all Govern-
ment depended on the Sword.* Yet this reck-
less Being in his cell, awaiting his trial, could
consider, as he tells us, that, " A good govern-
ment is, where men may be as good as they
can, and not so bad as they would." He grew
wealthy under his Masters, who bestowed on
him an estate, loaded him with frequent dona-

* See Note at the end of Chapter V. for his dialogue
with Lalburne.

THE DECAPITATION. 425

tions, one of which was Laud's library, and his
conscience, now the fatal tree was in his con-
templation, was troubled about some parts of
Lord Craven's estate, of which he had evidently
shared in the pillage with the infamous Lord
Grey, whom he says, " as I had time," (for in
truth Peters was too busy to sermonise in pri-
vate,) " I ever advised against that spirit of
Levelling then stirring." He who lives on
rapine is usually improvident. Peters " lived
in debt ; for what I had, others shared in." He
would ascribe to himself the splendour of gene-
rosity, while he conceals the vulgar prodigality
of the mean adventurer. This was one of the
men appointed to be the Reformers of the Law.
In his tract "Good Work for a Good Magistrate,
or a Short Cut to Great Quiet," he proposed
the extirpation of the whole system of our Laws,
and recommended that the records in the Tower
should be burnt as the monuments of Tyranny.
For this suggestion he craves pardon, as his
project appears to have given offence ; his only
design in Law, was for " Ease, Expedition, and
Cheapness ;" but he owns, " When I was called
about mending Laws, I confess I might as well
have been spared." He asserted on his trial
that he had done many good offices to the
Royalists when he was in power, and wore a

426 THE TKIAL, AND

ring which Goring had given him for having
saved his life. But when he wrote in his Con-
fessions, before his trial had come on, that " He
never had a hand in contriving or acting the
death of the King, as I am scandalised," he
seems to have thought that his memorable ser-
mon on " the Barabbas of Windsor," and its
Text, had been utterly forgotten. He had de-
clared that the Commonwealth would never be
at peace till they got rid of the three L's, Lords,
Levites, and Lawyers. In the hour of contri-
tion he wrote in prison " A dying father's last
legacy to an only child," his daughter. Then
he mourned that " ever he had been popular,
and known better to others than to myself."
When the cruel death which he was to suffer
approached, then he cried that " Life was
sweet, and Death was terrible." Thus is a
man two men ! a wide interval separates the
highflyer Hugh Peters at the Army, and the
Hugh Peters, as he himself expresses it, " shortly
going where Time shall be no more, nor cock
nor clock distinguish hours !"

When this pageant of the High Court of
Justice assembled, it was discovered that in
reality, two-thirds of the Members had been
drawn out of the Army. There were some
adventurers who looked not for their fortunes

THE DECAPITATION. 42?

by their sword, but by their compliance. And
there were a few, " the honest Fanatics," as
Mrs. Macaulay designates Major Harrison, who
subscribed the death-warrant of Charles the
First, on motives and principles by which they
would have expounded the Apocalypse, and
by which they calculated the approach of the
Millennium, or demonstrated the Anti-Christ
of Rome.

When the Commissioners were preparing for
the Trial of the King, they debated whether
they should have in Court both a Sword and a
Mace ; for this huddled government, not having
yet had time to order a Commonwealth-mace,
the one in use bore the royal arms. There was
something antithetical in the present process of
displaying the regal authority in the moment
of the abolition of Monarchy. They resolved to
have both, the Sword alone looking too terrible.

They had been more diligent in fixing in full
view the newly-manufactured arms of the Com-
monwealth of England, bearing this inscription,
suggested by the witty and dissolute Henry
Marten. " The first year of Freedom by God's
blessing RESTORED 1648." This singular ex-
pression Restored he used on another occasion.
In drawing up the Remonstrance of the Army,
which changed the Monarchy into a Common-

428 THE TRIAL AND

wealth, this Sheridan of his day, had said
" RESTORED to its ancient government of
Commonwealth." A Member rose to repri-
mand, and to wonder at the impudence of
Harry Marten, asserting the antiquity of Com-
monwealth, of which he had never before
heard. The Wit rejoined by a whimsical
illustration of the propriety of the term, and
the peculiar condition of the man who had now
heard it for the first time. " There was," said
Harry, " a text which had often troubled his
spirit concerning the man who was blind from
his mother's womb, but at length whose sight
was restored to the sight which he should have
had." The witticism was keen, though almost
as abstruse as the antiquity of an English Com-
monwealth.*

* I found this anecdote in the Aubrey Papers at the Ash-
molean Museum. It may receive some elucidation from a
passage in the trial of the great Regicide, Thomas Scott.
This party maintained that the English Government origi-
nally consisted of the Commons, which Scott urged as a
plea for his defence in having obeyed the Parliament, con-
sisting solely of the Commons. The Court having observed
to Scott, that he could not give one instance that ever the
House of Commons did assume the King's authority ; the
Prisoner replied, " I can many, where there was nothing but
a House of Commons !" The Court. " When was that ?"—
Scott. " In the Saxons' time." This, no doubt, puzzled the

THE DECAPITATION. 429

Charles, on his entrance before the Tribunal
which had now usurped the Supreme Autho-
rity of the State, beheld Cromwell and Harry
Marten sitting on each side of this escutcheon,
and might have read, by that " hand- writing
on the wall," how his days were numbered,
and that he had already outlived the Mo-
narchy.

Amidst all their public insolence to the
King, the feeling was still novel and awkward
among them in their familiar approach to his
person. The Commonwealth's new Mace-
bearer, overcome by the awfulness of conduct-
ing Charles to the Bar, excessively trembled,
and could scarcely support the Mace, or hold

Court, as it has many a more profound antiquary than either
the Court or Scott himself. The Court, however, were not
to be baffled ; they had not sufficient erudition to contradict
the assertion, — they waived the argument. Court. " You
do not come to any time within six hundred years, you
speak of times wherein things were obscure." The late
David Williams, in the days of revolutionary Reforms, printed
a diagram of the English Constitution, wherein the rude
times of Alfred, or the Wittenagemot, (I do not recollect
which,) were shown to the eye, as its perfection. According
to such theories, the Anti-monarchists would throw back a
nation in the highest state of civilization to barbarous pe-
riods, when the people were often slaves attached to the
soil. This, then, was to be the Constitution " restored to its
ancient government of Commonwealth !"

430 THE TRIAL AND

up the bar to admit the King to his chair
within it.

There was in the common people at large
a deep veneration for the Royal person. Their
weeping eyes witnessed his long afflictions ; the
misfortunes and the grievances of the early part
of the reign of this hapless Prince hardly lived
in their recollections. They had more recently
listened to tales of his gallantry in the field,
and of his magnanimous spirit in his prisons.
Admitted into his presence, all were struck
by the gravity and stateliness of him, whom
Nature and habit alike formed for Sove-
reignty. While the prevailing Faction, small
but terrible, for it lay among the Officers, was
proclaiming Charles the First " A Tyrant !" the
generous nature of the uncontaminated Many
was ever betraying itself, not only by a mourn-
ful silence, but often by spontaneous bursts of
" God save the King !" Hume has beautifully
touched this part of the story. " The King
was softened at this moving scene, and ex-
pressed his gratitude for their dutiful affec-
tion." An unfortunate Monarch, in the depth
of his misery, could find brothers among the
People. These were no hirelings, for Charles's
party was now silenced, dispersed, or in terror,

THE DECAPITATION. 431

suffered to exist only by their inactivity or
their concealment.

The personal respect for the King was felt
in every class. Some of the soldiers alone
were compelled, by two or three of their com-
manders, to raise a forced shout or obtrude an
insult. When the King was rowed to West-
minster, a great concourse of boats collected;
the soldiers, commanded by Major Harrison,
were covered, but the watermen insisted on
rowing the King bare-headed. Colonel Tom-
linson, although his Party had passed their
sentence on the King as a Traitor, would con-
duct the King to the scaffold with hat in
hand. Even the unknown executioners deem-
ed it advisable to wear masks. As for the
High Court themselves, they seem to have
sat in terror. They ordered the vaults to be
searched, they barred and locked themselves
in at every entrance, they set guards on the
leads and other places that had windows, and
all back-doors. Ten companies of foot were
constantly on guard, the people were beat back
by the soldiers. The famed broad-brimmed
hat, beneath which their Lord President scowl-
ed on the hapless Monarch, was cased with
iron. These self-styled Representatives of the

432 THE TRIAL AND

People were carrying on a cause in the name
of the People ; but how happened it that the
counsel for the Plaintiffs appear to have heen
most fearful of the Plaintiffs themselves ?

Charles the First, on his trial, at no time
found his presence of mind fail, nor the firm-
ness of his pulse, nor the aptness of his lan-
guage. From early life he had a defective
utterance, but at his trial, the intensity of his
feelings carried on his voice without faltering.
The King had resolved not to acknowledge by
any salute the present High Court, and for
this purpose would not uncover. They had
anticipated this resolution, for this minute cir-
cumstance was actually debated among them.
It was ordered, that " in case the Prisoner shall
in language or carriage towards the Court
be contemptuous, &c. it is left to the Lord
President to admonish, or to command the
taking away of the Prisoner; but, as to the
Prisoner's taking off his hat, the Court will
not insist upon it this day." Nor, indeed, did
they on any one day of the Trial. An ex-
pression of public contempt for the Royal pre-
sence was yet so much of a novelty, that even
these Commissioners, who had dared to try
him for his life, did not venture once to offer
him a public indignity, notwithstanding that the

THE DECAPITATION. 433

more violent of the Faction reduced his desig-
nation to "The Man." Bradshaw, though he
never addressed the King by the style of roy-
alty, and spoke to Charles as to an ordinary
prisoner, often applied the title of " Sir !"
which was as freely bestowed by the King,
the only equality which could exist between
them. The State of his Royalty though
dimmed, was not yet lost. Bradshaw, a Ser-
jeant of obscure reputation, suddenly elevated
into the office of the Chief Magistrate of the
Land, affected an equality of pomp with Roy-
alty itself ; yet as the same preparations had
been allowed the King, it betrayed in these
novices in the arts of degrading the person of
the Sovereign, the involuntary concession of a
tribute to public opinion. The King at the
Bar was still the King. Charles never suffered
himself to be hurried ; he took his chair with
stateliness, he sat down leisurely, or looked about
him with curiosity, often with many an enquir-
ing glance. A paper of the day describes the
King. " With a quick eye and nimble gesture
he turned himself oftentimes about, casting an
eye not only on those who were on each side of
the Court, but even on the spectators in the
midst of the Hall." Was there yet a lingering
hope in that firm though subdued spirit, for
VOL. v. 2 F

434 THE TRIAL AND

the appearance of some unknown friend ? Or
did Charles imagine that the very person of
Majesty might create anew expiring Loyalty ?
Four Noblemen, it is said, had indeed offered
themselves to be tried for the imputed crimes
of their Royal Master. They declared that
they had concurred by their counsels, and alone
should be deemed guilty. Honour and Patri-
otism emulated each other in that proffered
immolation. But from the Court before him
the King could receive no generous sympathy.
The Solicitor for the People, a very poor but
not unskilful lawyer, and who a few days be-
fore the Trial had never had any expectation
of the office, with his two Republican Counsel,
one of whom was the Dutchman, Dorislaus,
were only separated from the King by a slight
partition, and the soldiers surrounding the
Court filled the intermediate passage between
the King and the people. Charles the First
was there as if he had stood alone in the uni-
verse. Once a solitary voice reminded him
that there was in that Court one who recog-
nized the King, and proclaimed who was the
traitor ; but that voice was a female's ! *

* It is well known who this lady was. When the charge
against the King was made, in the name of the Commons
and People of England, a lady exclaimed with a loud voice,

THE DECAPITATION. 435

Charles carried a cane, or in the style of the
day " a staff." When Cooke, the Solicitor, was
delivering himself with insolence, the King
two or three times gently touched his shoulder.
While the charge was being read, the King
rose again to look around, and resumed his seat
with a stern look, but at the passage where he
was accused of being " a tyrant, a traitor," &c.
he scornfully laughed in the face of the Court.
A remarkable circumstance occurred. As the
King was leaning on his cane the head broke
off on a sudden, and rolled on the ground.
This seemed for a moment to affect the King,
as it did many who saw, or heard of it. This
momentary surprise did not however derange
his ideas. Not that Charles did not partake of
the prevalent superstitions of omens at this
time ; he afterwards confessed to Bishop Juxon
that " it really made a great impression on
him." It has been supposed that this was a
malicious contrivance of Hugh Peters, who was

" It was a lie ! not a quarter of the people ! Oliver Cromwell
is a Rogue and a Traitor !" The lady was masked. Colonel
Axtell ordered his musketeers to present their muskets
to the box and fire on the woman, using an opprobrious
term. This produced a dreadful silence. The lady retired.
The evidence of Sir Purbeck Temple ascertains that it was
the Lady Fairfax.

2 F 2

436 THE TRIAL AND

then " the King's gaoler," and who had " artifi-
cially tampered upon his staff," for the purpose
of throwing a sudden dismay into the mind
of the King. In an age when our Sages still
expounded omens and chronicled their dreams,
a mischance so timed before the eyes of the
Public was no inconsiderable one. If it were
a trick, it was the triumph of a little villain
or the disgrace of a great one. It was, how-
ever, with that headless cane, that in retiring
from the bar, Charles pointed to the Sword
lying on the table, and scornfully said, " I do
not fear that." But Charles had to endure the
insolence of the vile, and it is said he smiled
when some soldiers spat in his face, and a lady
of rank who was already infamous by her loose
conduct, fiercely exulted in the same honour.
The prostitute could rival the bully of her
faction.

The trial of the King, its chief points and
the arguments, have been conveyed to the
reader in our popular histories, but too many
traits are lost in those summaries. Bradshaw
assumes that " the supreme jurisdiction lies
with the Commons of England ;" the King in-
sists, that " the House of Commons was never
a Court of Judicature." The words of " The

THE DECAPITATION. 437

Tyrant" may still be quoted for their simplicity
and their force. " If Power without Law may
make Laws, may alter the fundamental laws of
the Kingdom, I do not know what subject he
is in England that can be sure of his life,
or any thing that he calls his own." Brad-
shaw would not allow the King to dispute the
authority of this self-elected Court, insisting on
his submission to it. Charles admirably re-
plied to the " Serjeant" — " Sir, by your favour,
I do not know the forms of Law. I do know
Law and Reason, though I am no lawyer pro-
fessed. I know as much law as any gentleman
in England, and therefore, under your favour,
I do plead for the liberties of the people of
England more than you do." Bradshaw, press-
ed hard by the King's argument, who said " I
require that I do give in my reasons why I do
not answer," with rude insolence replied, " Sir,
'tis not for prisoners to require !" The indig-
nant Monarch for a moment gave way to his
natural hastiness of temper — " Prisoner, Sir ! I
am not an ordinary Prisoner !" But if Charles
by an instantaneous emotion lost his temper,
the Lord President lost his presence of mind
or command of language, for when the King
said, " Show me that jurisdiction where Reason

438 THE TRIAL AND

is not to be heard?" The Serjeant unwittingly
replied, " Sir ! we show it you here, the Com-
mons of England."*

On the last day there was a more subdued
spirit on the King. He now perceived that
no argument would avail. He would not ac-
knowledge their authority, but he did not
deny their power. We will listen to the King,
" Sir ! I know it is in vain for me to dispute ;
I am no sceptic, for to deny the power you
have ; I know that you have power enough 1 —
Sir ! I must confess I think it would have been
for the Kingdom's peace if you would have
taken the pains to have shown the lawful-
ness of your power." Charles now conde-
scended almost to implore for a little delay of
a day or two, to be heard by the Lords and
Commons to avoid a hasty judgment. When
the King declared " I have nothing more to
say, but I shall desire that this may be entered
what I have said," the vulgar triumph of the
pert and petulant lawyer seems barbarously

* These " Reasons" which the King was not suffered to
deliver, and which if he had, would have been to no pur-
pose, he, as was his laborious custom, left behind him in
writing. He has even noted down when he was interrupted
in speaking, adding " Against reason I was hindered to show
my reasons/'

THE DECAPITATION. 439

marked in the retort — " The Court then, Sir,
hath something to say unto you, which al-
though I know will be very unacceptable, yet,
notwithstanding, they are resolved to discharge
their duty." The scarlet gown worn on this
day had already pronounced sentence to the
eyes of all present, but the wounded pride it
concealed betrayed itself when Bradshaw told
the King, " Sir ! you have not owned us as a
Court, and you look upon us as a sort of people
met together"

While the sentence of death was pronounc-
ing, the King was observed to smile, and then
to lift his eyes in silently appealing to Heaven.
After the condemnation this extraordinary dia-
logue ensued.

The King addressed Bradshaw. " Will you
hear me a word, Sir ?"

Bradshaw.— " Sir, you are not to be heard
after the sentence."

The King.—" No, Sir !"

Bradshaw.—" No, Sir ! by your favour, Sir !
Guard ! withdraw your prisoner !"

King.—" I may speak after the sentence, by
your favour, Sir ! I may speak after sentence,
EVER I By your favour, Hold ! The sen-
tence, ;Sir! I say^Sir! 1 do— I am not suf-

440 THE TRIAL AND

fered to speak — -expect what justice other people
will have!"

Violently hurried from the Bar, in the
broken words and the struggle of contemned
Majesty, we still mark the unalterable forti-
tude of Charles the First. He commanded
while he implored. In the dramas of Shaks-
peare is there a touch more natural than
Charles's EVER ? In this tragical agitation, we
catch from the last words which fell from his
lips, a prediction of political wisdom. Hume,
in one of those inimitable passages his fine
genius often cast, has exquisitely touched the
picture of Charles the First at these moments.
" His soul, without effort or affectation, seemed
only to remain in the situation familiar to it,
and to look down with contempt on all the
efforts of human malice and iniquity."

Dragged from the bar, the King passed
through a rabble of soldiers, brutal indignities
were cast on him, but his spirit was constant to
itself. Some soldiers were reviling him, others
blowing tobacco-whiffs in his face, or throwing
their broken pipes in his way ; — one honest sol-
dier exclaiming, " God bless you, Sir !" his
Captain caned him. The King observed, that
" the punishment exceeded the offence." In a
conversation with Herbert, shortly afterwards,

THE DECAPITATION. 441

the King asked if he had remarked the cry of
the soldiers for " Justice and Execution !" Her-
bert answered that he did, and wondered at it.
" So did not I," said Charles, " for I am well
assured the soldiers bear no malice to me. The
cry was, no doubt, given by their Officers, for
whom the soldiers would do the like were
there occasion.

This observation is an evidence of the cor-
rect judgment of the King. We know that
once Hugh Peters hurried out of Court to in-
stigate a Colonel to command his men to give
out a cry for Justice ! and that after sentence,
Colonel Axtell having first caned his men to it,
forced them to cry out for Execution ! as the
King passed. The real persecutors of Charles
were restricted to this narrow circle, nor would
the King have had many even among these,
had that party not imagined, and several of
them declared it, that had Charles lived, their
own lives were in peril.

Three days intervened between the sentence
and the execution. Charles, in requesting the
absence of his friends, admitted his two chil-
dren, the only ones left in England. It was
not possible to be with his children, and not
remember their mother. His least agony was
not that of bidding them a last farewell; for

442 THE TUIAL AND

having done this, and withdrawn to the win-
dow to conceal his sufferings, he broke again
into a violence of grief, he returned to the door
of the apartment, and once more lingered in
their embrace.

A domestic incident which occurred the pre-
ceding evening, gives a touching representation
of the man. Charles taking off an emerald
ring from his finger, seemed anxious that Her-
bert, if possible, should hasten immediately and
deliver it to a Lady without saying a word.
Herbert by great favour procured the parole,
and not with little difficulty threaded his way
by the numerous sentinels, at that late hour.
At the sight of the ring, the Lady, who resided
in the neighbourhood, desired Herbert to wait.
She returned with a little cabinet, closed with
three seals, praying that it might be delivered
to the hand which sent that ring, and which
was left with her. In the morning the mys-
terious cabinet was opened, it contained dia-
monds and jewels, and for the most part broken
Georges and Garters. " You see," said Charles,
"all the wealth now in my power to give my two
children/' The person with whom the cabinet
had been deposited by the provident Monarch
was Lady Wheeler, the royal Laundress.

In the last pathetic interview with his chil-

THE DECAPITATION. 443

dren, Charles told the Princess Elizabeth, among
other things, that " His death was glorious, for
he should die for the Laws and Liberties of
the Land. He should die a Martyr." On the
scaffold he declared that " He was the Martyr
of the People/'

This style from the lips of " a Tyrant" is
strange and unexpected, and the title of " Mar-
tyr," which Charles proudly professed, was long
disputed by his enemies. The great genius of
Milton could condescend to cavil, restricting
the sense of the term to those who died for per-
severing in their faith ; but that, since Charles
had consented to suspend, or abolish, the Epis-
copacy in England, he could not be held to be
a Martyr to religion. The fact is, that the
martyrdom of Charles was a civil and political
one. Charles need not have ascended the scaf-
fold, would he have betrayed the liberties and
plundered the wealth of the nation. The King
alluded to this extraordinary fact on his trial.
Once turning himself to Bradshaw, and fixing
his eyes on some persons near him, Charles
said, " There are some sitting here that well
know, that if I would have forfeited or betray-
ed the liberties and rights of the people, I need
not have come hither."* This last of his acts

* Trials of the Regicides, 190. 4to. Edition.

444 THE TRIAL AND

seems an expiation of the errors and infirmities
of the early years of his reign.

The Grandees of the Army paused to the
last hour of the execution of the King; that
unparalleled event, for ancient Egypt had only
in their wisdom brought their Monarchs on
their decease to a judicial trial, was almost
counteracted by the fears, the offers, and the
interference of great parties, both at home and
abroad. On the Sunday preceding the decol-
lation written proposals were tendered to the
King to restore him to his shadowy throne, on
terms which a pusillanimous and dishonoured
Prince would have subscribed. The Council
of War proposed to be the sole government of
England, and this military force was to be
maintained by a heavy land-rate, to be levied
by the Army. A close committee held a pri-
vate meeting. Rushworth was concerned in
procuring a house among his friends for this
secret purpose. Charles, at the first articles, in-
dignantly threw aside the paper which might
have given him an ignoble existence, and ex-
claimed, " I will rather become a sacrifice for my
people, than endure this intolerable bondage
of an armed Faction!"* Charles would not be

* Clement Walker, Hist, of Independency, ii. 109, gives
many particulars. The meeting for which Rushworth was

THE DECAPITATION. 445

a Slave-king. It was from this circumstance
that Charles the First deemed himself to be
" a Martyr for the People."

Halberdiers and musqueteers, who were
hourly changed, for they mistrusted their own
men, were instigated by some of their officers
to perpetual intrusions into the privacy of the
King, on the pretext to watch over their pri-
soner ; this occasioned Charles to sigh. It has
been suggested that a diabolical device con-
demned the mortified Monarch to listen for two
successive nights to the heavy strokes of the
workmen in the erection of the scaffold.*

employed to fix on a private place, where the persons assem-
bled came singly, is told in a manuscript narrative from the
daughter of the friend, who lent the use of his house on this
occasion. Echard, B. ii. 659. Neither Hume nor Dr. Lin-
gard have attended to these facts, which surely throw light
on what Charles afterwards alluded to when on the scaffold.

* All our writers have censured Hume for recording this
affecting circumstance. The curious reader, I warn off any
other, will take some interest in details which discover how
numerous writers may err, either by echoing the first opinion
promulgated, or by not being in possession of a material
fact.

Mrs. Macauley reprobates the story as " a calumny on the
Parliament and the Army, propagated by the petulant Pres-
byterian Clement Walker. Whereas," she says, "the King
remained at St. James's till the morning of his execution."

The judicious Laing considers it as " an injudicious fiction

446 THE TRIAL AND

The night preceding the execution, Her-
bert, his faithful attendant, lay on a pallet by

invented by Clement Walker, in order to aggravate the deed,
and Hume, though Herbert lay open before him, on this
occasion wrote too much for dramatic effect."

Charles Fox, who in the decline of life was but an ardent
novice in historical research, exults that " He had detected
the trick of Hume's theatrical and false representation of
Charles the First hearing the noise of the scaffold."

Last, but not least, to close the reverberation of historical
echoes, Mr. Brodie takes the very copy of Herbert, from the
Advocates' Library, which may still be viewed, with all the
marks and remarks of the simple-minded philosopher, and
Mr. Brodie shows that Hume's thumb had scratched where
Herbert says, that the King on his last return from the
Court passed to his bed-chamber at Whitehall, whence after
two hours space he was removed to St. James's. Mr. Brodie
attacks more fatally than his predecessors, Clement Walker
himself, for he makes Clement apparently refute himself.
Clement after stating that the King having been disturbed
all Saturday and Sunday night by the strokes of the workmen
proceeds thus — " Tuesday 30th of January was the day ap-
pointed for the King's death. He came on foot from St.
James's to Whitehall that morning."

Who could have conceived that after so much searching
evidence and against the positive, but inaccurate statement
of Herbert, the account given by Clement Walker, notwith-
standing that by his careless mode of writing, Mr. Brodie
ingeniously made Clement refute Clement, is however the
veracious account, and that Hume stands perfectly excul-
pated from any attempt at a " theatrical representation ?"

It now appears from Lord" Leicester's journal, recently

THE DECAPITATION. 447

the King's side, and " took small rest." The
King slept soundly for four hours. Two hours

published, that Charles lay at Whitehall, the two nights fol-
lowing his sentence, and that he was only removed to St.
James's the night preceding his execution. The fact is con-
firmed by this entry in the useful Gesta Britannorum among
the works of Sir George Wharton, who kept a chronological
Diary.

" January .—The scaffold was erected before the Banquet-
ting House at Whitehall." By an omission in the printing,
the date is not clear, but we find that on the

" 29th. (Monday) King removed to St. James's, whither
his children come from Sion House.

" 30th. King Charles beheaded."

No reason has been given for the King's removal from
Whitehall to St. James's on the last day. Clement Walker,
in mentioning the fact of the disturbance occasioned by the
erection of the scaffold at Whitehall to Charles, omitted no-
ticing the removal of the King on Monday^ to St. James's.
The more remarkable passage in Herbert, that Charles, on
his return to Whitehall after the sentence, " whence after
two hours space, he was removed to St. James's," can only
be accounted for, either as a defective reminiscence of Her-
bert, who wrote many years after the event, as happened to
Ashburnham and others, or by a false reading of the manu-
script, or a careless misprint, " two hours" for " two days."
A circumstance which has often occurred with the careless
readers, and the negligent printers of those days.

This may be considered as a curious history of the falli-
bility of written evidence, even from authentic quarters,
whenever a material circumstance has been accidentally omit-
ted, or comes to us in a mutilated shape.

448 THE TRIAL AND

before the dawn, he opened his curtains, and
by the light of " a great cake of wax, set in a
silver basin, which burned all night," observed
Herbert disturbed in sleep. The King arous-
ing him, discovered that he was suffering from
a very painful dream. It was indeed a very
extraordinary one, at that moment. Herbert,
doubtless under the agitation of that direful
night, had dreamed that Laud, in his pontifical
habit, had entered the apartment — had knelt
down to the King — that they conversed — that
the King looked pensive, and the Archbishop
sighed — and on retiring from the King fell
prostrate. Charles said "The dream was re-
markable ; but he is dead ; had we now con-
ferred together, 'tis very likely, albeit I loved
him well, I should have said something might
have occasioned his sigh."

Charles said he would rise, " for I have a great
work to do this day." Herbert trembled in
combing the King's hair. Charles observing
that it was not done with his usual care, said,
" Though it be not long to stand on my
shoulders, take the same pains with it, as you
were wont to do. Herbert, this is my second
marriage-day ; I would be as trim to-day as
may be." The weather was cold. The King
desired to have a shirt on more than ordinary ;

THE DECAPITATION. 449

for " the season is sharp, and probably may
make me shake, which some will imagine pro-
ceeds from fear. I would have no such impu-
tation. I fear not death — death is not terrible
to me ! I bless my God, I am prepared. Let
the Rogues come !"

By a paper of the day, it appears that
Charles declared that he was glad that the act
was to be done before Whitehall, rather than
at St. James's, where he now was, as the wea-
ther was keen and cold, and without a little
motion he should be indisposed to what he
intended to say. He walked through the
Park, as his former use was, very fast, and
called to his guard in a pleasant manner,
" March on apace !" A sorry fellow, " a mean
citizen," as Fuller describes him, was allowed
for some time to walk close to the King, fixing
on him the genuine cannibal stare of the lowest
of the populace. The King only turned his
face from him. The ruffian was at length
shoved aside. One of the Officers, surely to
disturb him, had the audacity to ask him,
whether he had not consented to his father's
death ? His chief conversation was with Colo-
nel Tomlinson on his burial — he wished it
not to be sudden, as he dwelt on the thought
that his son would do that last office. On

VOL. v. 2 G

450 THE TRIAL AND

leaving the Park, an affectionate domestic re-
miniscence occurred. Charles suddenly stopped,
and pointing to a tree, observed, " That tree
was planted by my brother Henry !"*

At Whitehall a repast had been prepared.
The religious emotions of Charles had consecra-
ted the Sacrament, which he refused to mingle
with human food. The Bishop, whose mind
was unequal to conceive the intrepid spirit of the
King, dreading lest the magnanimous Monarch,
overcome by the severity of the cold, might
faint on the scaffold, prevailed on him to
eat half a manchet of bread and taste some
claret. But the more consolatory refreshment
of Charles had been just imparted to him in
that singular testimony from his son, who had
sent a carte blanche to save the life of his
father at any price. This was a thought on
which his affections could dwell in face of the
scaffold which he was now to ascend.

Charles had arrived at Whitehall about ten
o'clock, and was not led to the scaffold till past
one. It was said that the scaffold was not com-

* The late Sir Henry Englefield, in conversation, told this
anecdote ; it is probably traditional. He indicated the spot,
as that where the cows usually stand, near the passage from
Spring-Gardens. They have often been attached to the
trunk of a tree, which possibly was the one in question.

THE DECAPITATION. 451

pleted; it might have been more truly said,
that the conspirators were not ready. There
was a mystery in this delay. The fate of
Charles the First, to the very last moment, was
in suspense ! Fairfax, though at the time in
the Palace, inquired of Herbert how the King
was, when the King was no more ! and express-
ed his astonishment on hearing that the execu-
tion had just taken place. This extraordinary
simplicity and abstraction from the present
scene of affairs has been imputed to the Gene-
ral as an act of refined dissimulation, yet this
seems uncertain. The Prince's carte blanche
had been that morning confided to his hands,
and he surely must have laid it before " the
Grandees of the Army," as this new order of
the Rulers of England were called. Fairfax,
whose personal feelings respecting the King
were congenial with those his Lady had so me-
morably evinced, laboured to defer for a few
days the terrible catastrophe ; not without the
hope of being able, by his own regiment and
others in the Army, to prevent the deed alto-
gether. It is probable, — inexplicable as it may
seem to us, — that the execution of Charles the
First really took place unknown to the General.
Fairfax was not unaccustomed to discover that

452 THE TRIAL AND

his colleagues first acted, and afterwards trusted
to his own discernment.*

* No historical character is so darkly veiled as that of
the General-in-Chief. Our historians make Fairfax a mere
senseless instrument of Cromwell and Ireton. Fairfax has
himself confessed that his name was put to papers to which
he had never given his consent, and merely for the form's
sake. Charles the First once called him "the brutish
General," alluding either to his ardour in fighting, or to the
gracelessness of his manners. Warburton calls him " the
stupid General," from the idea that he was entirely passive
under Cromwell. Clement Walker curiously describes him
as " a gentleman of an irrational and brutish valour, fitter to
follow another man's counsel than his own." It is extraor-
dinary, that on repeated important occasions he professed
not to know what was doing in his own name. The Gene-
ral, it is certain, was excessively modest, spoke little, and his
manners were abrupt ; but he had opinions of his own and
acted up to them. " I have observed him at Councils of
War," says the sage Whitelocke, " that he hath said little,
but hath ordered things expressly contrary to the judgment
of his Council ; and in action on the field I have seen him so
highly transported, that scarce any one durst speak a word
to him, and he would seem more like a man distracted and
furious, than of his ordinary mildness and so far different
temper." The Duke of Buckingham, who married Fairfax's
only daughter, composed a noble epitaph on this military
character, " one born for victory."

" He had the fierceness of the manliest mind,
And all the meekness too, of womankind."

Fairfax was a literary man. Although none of his writings
have been published, except his " Short Memorials ;" he

THE DECAPITATION. 453

Secret history has not revealed all that passed
in those three awful hours. We know, how-
ever, that the warrant for the execution was
not signed till within a few minutes before the
King was led to the scaffold. In an apartment
in the palace, Ireton and Harrison were in bed
tbgether, and Cromwell, with four Colonels,
assembled in it. Colonel Huncks refused to
sign the^varrant — Cromwell would have no
farther delay, reproaching the Colonel as " a
peevish, cowardly fellow," and Colonel Axtell
declared that he was ashamed for his friend
Huncks, remonstrating with him, that " The
ship is coming into the harbour, and now would
he strike sail before we come to anchor ?" Crom-
well stepped to a table, and wrote what he had
proposed to Huncks ; Colonel Hacker supplying

composed several treatises and translations of Military and
other Authors ; versified the Psalms ; wrote a History of the
Church to the Reformation, in a large folio, all ,in his own
hand ; A System of Divinity ; and this laborious student
left besides numerous opuscula. It is to be regretted, that the
immense collection of all the papers, public and private, which
Fairfax had received as General -in-Chief, and which must
necessarily have thrown some light on the secret history of this
extraordinary period, have been for ever lost to the Nation.
After selling much as waste paper, a recent auction has dis-
persed the papers among different persons, — so reckless were
the heirs of Fairfax !

454 THE TRIAL AND

his place, signed it, and with the ink hardly
dry, carried the warrant in his hand, and called
for the King *

At the fatal summons Charles rose with ala-
crity. The King passed through the long gal-
lery by a line of soldiers. Awe and sorrow
seemed now to have mingled in their coun-
tenances ; their barbarous Commanders were
intent on their own triumph, and ^o farther
required the forced cry of " Justice and Execu-
tion." Charles stepped out of an enlarged
window of the Banqueting-house, where a
new opening levelled it with the scaffold.
Charles came forwards with the same indiffer-
ence as " he would have entered Whitehall on
a masque-night/' as an intelligent observer de-
scribed. The King looked towards St. James's
and smiled ! Curious eyes were watchful of his
slightest motions ; and the Commonwealth pa-
pers of the day express their surprise, perhaps
their vexation, at the unaltered aspect and the
firm step of the Monarch. These mean spirits
had flattered themselves, that He who had been
cradled in Royalty, who had lived years in the
fields of Honour, and was now, they presumed,
a Recreant in imprisonment, " the grand Delin-
quent of England," as they called him, would
start in horror at the block.

* Trial of the Regicides, 221.

THE DECAPITATION. 455

This last triumph, at least, was not reserved
for them, — it was for the King. Charles, daunt-
less, strode " the floor of Death," to use Fuller's
peculiar, but expressive phraseology. He look-
ed on the block, with the axe lying upon it,
with attention ; his only anxiety was that the
block seemed not sufficiently raised, and that
the edge of the axe might be turned by being
swept by the flappings of cloaks, or blunted by
the feet of some moving about the scaffold.
" Take care they do not put me to pain !" —
" Take heed of the axe ! take heed of the axe !"
exclaimed the King to a gentleman passing
by. — " Hurt not the axe ; that may hurt me !"
His continued anxiety concerning these circum-
stances, proves that he felt not the terror of
death, solely anxious to avoid the pain, for he
had an idea of their cruelty. With that sedate
thoughtfulness which was in all his actions, he
only looked at the business of the hour. One
circumstance Charles observed with a smile.
They had a notion that the King would resist
the executioner ; on the suggestion of Hugh
Peters, it is said, they had driven iron staples and
ropes into the scaffold, that their victim, if ne-
cessary, might be bound down upon the block.

The King's Speech has many remarkable
points ; but certainly nothing so remarkable as
the place where it was delivered. This was the

456 THE TRIAL AND

first " King's Speech" spoken from a scaffold.
Time shall confirm, as History has demon-
strated, his principle, that " They mistook the
nature of Government; for People are free
under a Government, not by being sharers
in it, but by the due administration of the
Laws. It was for this," said Charles, " that now
I am come here. If I could have given way
to an arbitrary Sway, for to have all Laws chang-
ed according to the power of the Sword, I need
not have come here, and therefore, I tell you
that I am the Martyr of the People!"

In his last preparations, the same remarkable
indifference to death appeared. He took off
his cloak and George, and delivered the George
to the Bishop, but he would not suffer decapi-
tation till he had drawn a white satin cap on
his head, and had put on his cloak again. Still
he was casting a watchful eye on the block,
which he thought should have been a little
higher. He seems to have had some suspicion
of a cruel massacre, for the executioner and his
assistant were disguised in the dress of sailors,
and wore frightful vizors.

The Bishop was insensible to the inspiration
of that awful hour : cold, formal, trivial in all
he did or said, we may credit the sarcastic
representation of the simplicity of the man in

THE DECAPITATION. 457

the Memoir of Ludlow.* Juxon closed his
last address by the frigid conceit of the parts
and stages of human life ; that " the present
was a very short stage, but it would carry him
a great way — from Earth to Heaven ! the prize
you hasten to, a crown of glory." The King
caught this trite image, and more nobly rejoined,
with deeper emotion — " I go from a corrupt-
ible to an incorruptible crown, where no dis-
turbance can be, no disturbance in the world !"

To which the Bishop frigidly rejoined, "You
are exchanged from a temporal to an eternal
crown. A good exchange !"

Addressing the Headsman, the King said,
" When I put out my hands this way, then !"
As soon as he laid his head on the block, the
executioner thrust his hair under his cap ; and
Charles, thinking that he had been going to
strike, commanded him to " Stay for the Sign !"

* " When Juxon, late Bishop of London," says the Anti-
Episcopal Memorialist, " had notice of the King's desire to
attend him, he broke out into these expressions. * God
save me ! what a trick is this, that I should have no more
warning, and I have nothing ready !' He went to the King,
when having read one of his old sermons, he did not forget
to use the words set down in the Liturgy, inviting all to
confess before the Congregation gathered together, though
there was no one present but the King and himself/'
i. 244.

458 THE TRIAL AND

On the uttermost verge of life, men could
discover in the King no indecent haste, no flurry
of spirits, no trembling of limbs, no disorder
of speech, no start in horror — his eyes were ob-
served by an eminent physician to be as lively
and quick as ever, as his head lay on the block.
The blow was struck — an universal groan, as it
were a supernatural voice, the like never before
heard, broke forth from the dense and count-
less multitude. All near the scaffold pressed
forwards to gratify their opposite feelings, by
some memorial of his blood — the blood of a
Tyrant or a Martyr.* The Troops immedi-

* The Relics of Charles seem to have, been numerous —
the very chips of the block, — the sand stained with his blood,
and some of his hair, were sold. Some washed their hands
in his blood. A Poem in " Parnassus Biceps" is " Upon the
King's Book (the Icon Basilike) bound up in a cover
coloured with his blood."

" Thus closed, go forth, blessed book, and yield to none
But to the Gospel and Christ's blood alone."

Could this volume ever escape the eye of the Biblio-
maniac ?

A more curious anecdote of the Relics of Charles the
First has been handed down. The fine equestrian figure of
the King by Le Soeur, was ordered to be taken down, and
was purchased by a brazier, to be broken up, and converted
into a variety of domestic utensils ; Cavalier and Common -
wealthmen being equally eager to be supplied, and the

THE DECAPITATION. 459

ately dispersed on all sides the mournful, or the
agitated people.

CHARLES THE FIRST received the axe with
the same collectedness of thought, and died
with the Majesty with which he had lived.
We may forgive the mean sarcasm of the
scribes of those days, of " the King's head being
sewed on, but must not be kept embalmed till
Prince Charles comes to the Crown ;" and we
may pass over the stern, but not enlightened
Republican Ludlow, who coldly notices the
execution of the King by a single line; but
there is one person, whose part in this business
will for ever attest that there is no greatness of
mind that may not be degraded by the ani-
mosity of Faction, into the mere creature of
an age. Had the heart of MILTON beat as
coldly on the death of CHARLES THE FIRST as
Ludlow 's, his democratic feelings might be
respected ; but that this great tragic genius,

supply was as endless as the demand. The brazier counted
gold for brass. At the Restoration, he proudly produced
to the eyes of all the lovers of Art, and more particularly to
his customers, this beautiful production perfect and unin-
jured. His ingenuity was again rewarded — the equestrian
statue was restored to its place — and the Relics were
reduced to their intrinsic value of old brass.

460 THE TRIAL AND

having witnessed this solemn scene of Majesty
in its last affliction, should have ridiculed and
calumniated, and belied it, as the meanest of
the Mob — who could credit this, had it been
a secret anecdote hitherto concealed from the
public eye ? Milton, in his celebrated " De-
fence of the People," treats Charles the First as
a mere actor, stooping " Veluti poetce aut histri-
ones deterrimi plausum in ipso exitlo ambitiosissime
captare /" In the Kingly calmness of Charles's
death he sees but a player's exit — a paltry
Mime's ambition to be clapped in retiring
from the stage — the artificial decency of a
theatrical Cassar's fall !

The strength of character of Charles the
First was derived from that intense and con-
centrated conception of Sovereignty which
was always before him, and was at once
his good and his evil genius. Once, and
perhaps but once, Milton conceived the ideal
of A KING.

" A Crown,

Golden in show, is but a wreath of thorns ;

Brings dangers, troubles, cares, and sleepless nights

To him who wears the Regal diadem,

When on his shoulders each man's burden lies.

For therein stands the office of a King,

That for the Public all this weight he bears.

Yet HE WHO REIGNS WITHIN HIMSELF, and rules

THE DECAPITATION. 461

Passions, desires, and fears, is more a King —
And who attains not, ill aspires to rule
Cities of men, or head-strong Multitudes,
Subject himself to Anarchy within."

This ideal Sovereign of the great Poet, we
may at least conceive to have been CHARLES
THE FIRST, for, amidst his variable fortunes,
his hopes or his despair,

" HE REIGNED WITHIN HlMSELF !"

462 CONCLUSION.

CHAPTER XX.

CONCLUSION.

THE English Revolution under Charles the
First was unlike any preceding one ; it is not
the story of a single event, nor of a few
persons where a dynasty was changed in a
day ; and though it may be considered as the
origin of a series of national innovations not
yet closed, it was even dissimilar to the first
great Revolution of our neighbours, in which
a rapid succession of events was driven on by
the Demagogues of the People. A different
spectacle is -exhibited in our own Revolution.
The Constitution even in the days of Charles
the First, however unsettled and indefinite in
particular points, cast its venerable shade over
the contending parties ; both alike were cling-
ing to the hallowed structure of National Free-
dom, and both equally confident, appealed to
the Laws within its sanctuary. If the Par-

CONCLUSION. 463

liament rose against the King, the act was to
be legalized in the King's name ; if the King
in his distresses violated the Constitution, the
act received the form of legality in the opinions
of the Judges. The Remonstrances, the Re-
plies, the Rejoinders, and all the voluminous
Manifestoes remain singular monuments of their
reason, their views, and the difficulties which
both parties had to encounter. The Nation
was revolutionizing itself through a great
variety of human interests, and often by a
noble display of the Passions, but with many
errors, and many miseries, hastening, or re-
tarding the protracted and the dubious cata-
strophe.

From the age of Charles the First we con-
template in our history the phases of Revo-
lution—in a Monarchy, a Republic, a Despot-
ism, and an anomalous government of the
People. Having acquired neither wisdom
from the past, nor honesty for the future,
by a disorderly return to an unsettled Mon-
archy, we derived not our constitutional rights
from the ambiguous virtues, the undoubted
crimes, and the ludicrous follies which the
Nation had passed through in all these political
changes. Another Revolution became neces-
sary; another which, when the gloss of novelty

464 CONCLUSION.

had worn off, was discovered to be neither so
just, so efficient, nor so comprehensive as it
seemed.

These subjects yet demand the studies of
philosophical inquirers. Hereafter, it is proba-
ble that some happier genius, the Montes-
quieu, or the Locke of another order of events,
shall deduce new results in the policy of go-
vernments, of which we are yet unskilled in
the practice, and for which the experience of
History supplies no prototype.

Mine has been a humbler task — to look more
closely into the interesting period of the first
great Revolution of Modern History, without
fear or flattery. Should these volumes be ac-
ceptable as a critical supplement to our pre-
ceding historians ; should some popular errors
have been corrected, and some novel researches
have been opened, the developement of this
political history, will reveal to us a history of
human nature, as a philosopher, not as a parti-
san, would observe it. That an historian of
Charles the First must necessarily be condemn-
ed as an apologist of arbitrary power, is a pain-
ful evidence of the degradation of our popular
criticism. More than one of those Scribes, who
exercise their universal powers, weekly or
monthly, and who often imagine that they con-

CONCLUSION. 465

ceal their ignorance by their insolence, have
denounced the present writer as a Jacobite!
Light, indeed, is the offence of comparing a
man with a non-entity. It is but a trick of the
craft, an ingenious art of calling names without
incurring damages, for the law of Libel, it
seems, does not include Chimasras !

My aim was directed by no narrow view,
nor personal motive ; a great subject was open-
ed, and an extraordinary character contributed
to give an unity to its diversified scenes.

There are no characters which more power-
fully address our sympathies than those of a
mixed nature, when, by the peculiarity of their
situation, and the singularity of the events in
which they were actors, we trace with curiosity
their greatness or their infirmities alternately
prevalent. Such was the personal character of
Charles the First. This King occupied a posi-
tion, perhaps unparalleled in the history of Mo-
narchs ; it was one of those awful epochs when
an empire is to be subverted. Charles the
First was placed in the shock of a past and a
future age.

Charles the First has descended to us from
writers who have the advantage of standing
forth as the advocates of popular liberty, as a
Tyrant heartless as Nero, and perfidious as

VOL. v. 2 H

466 CONCLUSION.

Tiberius.* The Master-spirits in the school of
Democracy have saturated their pages with their
vindictive declamations. The contemporaries
of this Monarch found, that to have done justice
to the King, even when they could have done
it with security, would often have been to crimi-
nate themselves, and their successors, the King-
haters, felt it would have been injurious to the
glory of Republicans. But the story of Charles
the First was more involved and ambiguous than

* Two heavy charges have often been raised against Charles
the First— that he was a cruel and heartless man, and so ut-
terly void of sincerity, that his word was never to be trust-
ed. Mrs. Macaulay and Mr. Brodie, evidently with some
perplexity, have attempted to mention a circumstance or two,
ludicrously trivial, to show that Charles was very unfeeling ;
and Mr. Brodie sneers at Charles's " tears," i. 291. The
notion of his " cruelty" arose from the calamity of Civil War ;
but this " cruelty" was equally shared by the Parliament;
both were combating for their cause. It is unjust to ac-
cuse Charles of sanguinary dispositions, who seems to have
had more tenderness of disposition, than those who have been
forced to dwell on such trivial incidents as the King abruptly
turning away his horse when Fairfax presented a petition,
and trampling on Fairfax's foot, as the marks of a predomi-
nant character. That he was not naturally of a cruel tem-
per, numerous facts attest ; while not a single one to show
his inhumanity, has the industry of his malignants been able
to allege. Charles was not a man of blood.

In respect to his sincerity, and " the mental reservation,"

CONCLUSION. 467

the Democratic writers have ventured to dis-
close.

The timid loiterer, Truth, comes after a long
delay, and comes veiled, but the veil is lifted
by her devoted servants. " The Tyrant " of
the Commonwealth was then acknowledged to
have been an accomplished Prince ; his personal
virtues were not disputable ; and, as Harris, in
his degrading style describes it, " his under-
standing was far enough from being despicable."
This was a new concession ; but then it was
urged, that the character of the Monarch was
not to be decided on by that of the Man.

The Prince, accomplished and virtuous, when
viewed on one side, and the faithless and mon-
strous Tyrant, when seen on the other, exhibited

of which he is accused, we must place ourselves in his situa-
tion fairly to decide. He was tortured by his perplexities.
Often forced to act contrary to his conviction. Slow to con-
cede, yet his concessions had been greater and greater, in
proportion as the Parliament rose in their demands. To sub-
scribe dethroning propositions, and the abolition of Episco-
pacy, was a suicidal civil death. Charles had translated
Bishop Sanderson's " De Juramenti Obligatione." Extort-
ed oaths, entered into his casuistical studies. The very cir-
cumstance that he had thought long and deeply of the na-
ture of Oaths, shows at least a disposition to preserve his in-
tegrity. It is well known that Charles, on more than one
occasion, refused to violate the honour of his word.

2 H 2

468 CONCLUSION.

a solecism in human nature. It was difficult to
accord this discordance ; it was hard to make this
incongruity cohere. And it is remarkable that
this conflicting feeling has always been a stum-
bling-block among the open adversaries of this
Monarch. It was so from the earliest period.
John Cooke, the Commonwealth's Solicitor, — he
who had been hired to perform in that charac-
ter only a few days before he made his appear-
ance, anxiously prefixed as a motto to his State-
ment of the King's case,

" Womanish pity to mourn for a Tyrant
Is a deceitful cruelty to a City."

The disparity of the motto with the case is
striking ; and how it happened that such " a
monstrous Tyrant " should excite even " Wo-
manish pity," might have perplexed the Revo-
lutionary Solicitor-General to have explained.*

* Cooke's " King Charles's Case," by the circumstance of
the King not choosing to plead at his trial, was not delivered
in Court, but was published as a pamphlet. Charles was
spared the mortification of one of the most vehement invec-
tives. The intentions of the King are assumed as some of
his crimes. It is a shrewd work, composed without dignity,
but well fitted for those whom he flattered as " his honour-
able clients, the people of England." It remains a striking
example of the terrible exaggerations of a factious period,
and of remorseless men. Some of its sophisms were exposed

CONCLUSION. 469

But later, and more philosophical writers,
such as the judicious Malcolm Laing, and our
contemporary Mr. Hallam, have sometimes been
startled at this phantom of " a Tyrant," whom
they often discovered to have been more deeply
occupied by his troubles, his sufferings, and
his inextricable distresses, than by his tyrannies.
These writers are no light censurers of the King ;
and sometimes they have judged of Charles,
imbued with the feelings and the knowledge
of a later age. Amidst their accusatory charges
often a painful truth flashes on their sight —
embarrasses their conscientious pen — and has
often occasioned a discrepancy in their state-
ments, and an involved apologetical parenthesis
for Charles the First, which has spoiled the in-
tegrity of their sentences.*

by the immortal Butler, with all his force, his learning,
and his inimitable genius. Both these tracts are preserved
in Somers' Collection, v. 214. The most distinguished of
all Editors doubts whether Butler or Sir John Birkenhead
were the author of this noble Reply. The internal evidence
would have been sufficient to ascribe it to the great writer;
but it is placed beyond a doubt, for it was printed from a
manuscript in Butler's hand-writing.

* Laing, when censuring the arbitrary conduct of Charles,
alludes in this manner to its cause—" Whether his exalted
notion of the Prerogative in England were derived from esta-
blished or irregular precedents of an unsettled Constitution, is

470 CONCLUSION.

We perceive that these historians, in the
fulness of their knowledge, could not avoid
indicating those truths which, though vital
in the history of human nature, might be
extraneous in the history of the Constitu-
tion.

The story of this Monarch may be said
never yet to have been written ; for hitherto
it has only served as the organ of the Mo-
narchical and Democratic parties. There is
something in the subject which seems intract-
able, and the historian himself occupies a po-
sition as peculiar as that of the unfortunate
Monarch. All things seem to fluctuate in the

an inquiry foreign to the design of this history." Thus ho-
nestly, though awkwardly, the historian indicates the expla-
nation in respect to Charles, which he avoids to give. Mr.
Hallam, on the same topic — *'He had shown himself possessed
with such notions of his own prerogative, no matter how de-
rived." Here we find the same truth crossing the historian's
mind, and as cautiously passed over. Many similar notices
might be furnished. The Presbyterian Harris, irritated by
Charles's theological logomachy with Henderson, censures
the King as " a trifler, showing a debasement of character
beyond example, in his critical situation ;" but after this de-
grading charge comes forth the limping apology, " 'Tis true
these were the Controversies of the Age." I could find even
in Mr. Brodie explanations favourable to Charles, by the side
of some of the heaviest charges.

CONCLUSION. 471

very act of contemplation. Justice is allied to
injustice, great virtues are not freed from great
passions, ambiguous conduct leads to dubious
results, and even Wisdom errs. There are
moments in the study of the reign of Charles
the First, when we almost suspect that " the
tyranny" of Charles may be as fictitious as
"the Rebellion" by which Clarendon desig-
nates the Civil War.

We had to disclose the history of a spi-
rited young Prince, the victim of that sys-
tem of Favouritism which was then practised
in European Courts - - ungenerously desert-
ed by his Parliaments — surrounded by con-
spiracies, and involved in dark intrigues-
devoted to maintain the established institu-
tions of his country against an invading
Church, and a Faction clad in the enchanted
armour of Patriotism — deprived of his crown,
yet still potent by his name — a Wanderer
and a Hero in his own Kingdom — and greater
in his adversities than on his throne.

Charles the First could not avoid being the
very man he was — his errors, his prejudices,
his devotion to the institutions of his country,
were those of his times and of his station, but
his calamities, his magnanimity, and the unsub-

472 CONCLUSION.

dued spirit, were more peculiarly his own.
There is not in human nature a more noble
spectacle than the man long wrestling with
his fate, like the (Edipus of the Grecian Muse.
His inevitable errors, and his involuntary
guilt, seem not to be his — his virtues and his
genius alone triumphed over his Fate.

APPENDIX.

The following Manuscript has been referred to at page 399.

ASHMOLE'S MSS. 800. Art. XXXVI.

Newport, November 1648.

WHEN the Commissioners themselves confess that Reason
cannot be accepted by them though clearly offered by me ;
when close imprisonment (or worse) is threatened to me if I
yield not to all that is demanded ; when my propositions
(which are neither many nor extravagant) are not so much
as answered ; I leave all the world to judge what freedom,
honour, or safety there is in this Treaty. And certainly my
condition in point of freedom is farre different from what it was.
at Hampton Court. Witness the strict guard round about
this Island, and the troop of horse always attending, or
rather watching me when I go abroad.

Since therefore none of the conditions are kept to me
upon which I gave my word, I cannot be truely said to break
it, though I seek my freedom. Besides, the Governor made
me declare before the Commissioners, that continuation of
guards upon me freed me from my word, whereupon he took
away the sentinels at my door, but never moved those of
more importance, which was enough to confess the truth of
what I declared, but not sufficient to take away the justness

474 APPENDIX.

of my plea which cannot be avoided, except by the total
taking away my guards, the difference of a few paces posi-
tion, nearer or farther off, not making me the less a
prisoner.

Nor will I make a question of that which is none, by
setting down the particular reasons of my absenting my-
self at this time ; yet this I must say, that in order to
the present quiet and future peace of this Kingdom my
libertie, tho' at a distance, is much more conduceable than
my restraint, whether more or less strict. For my freedom
takes away the pretence of those who by their endeavours to
set me at liberty might continue the old, or make new dis-
turbances in the Kingdom. Also I shall be able to temper
the more youthful and impatient resolution of those who
possibly may rather aim at glorious actions than a quiet life,
my chief intention being so to make use of this my escape
(in case God shall bless me herein according to my desire)
as to come to a personal treaty with my two Houses, that so
I may be truly heard. Arid even all the world shall see that
no change of condicion or place shall alter or lessen my
earnest endeavours of procuring a firm and well-grounded
Peace, (and in a peaceable way) to these my dominions.
To all my People of what soever station,
quality or condicion.

My Lords and Gentlemen,

If my stay here could have happily finished this Treaty,
or given you the least protection, I would not have thought
of absenting myself, nor had I taken the resolution without
your advice, if it were not evident that your knowledge
thereof would have prejudiced you, and hindered the course
I have taken for my own preservation, the necessity of which
I will make plainly appear how soon I shall be in a place of

APPENDIX. 475

freedom, this being one of those kind of actions which is
fitter for a servant's praise than advice. However, I cannot
but leave you this assurance that I am no less satisfied with
your industrious services to me at this time, than I am dis-
pleased with my own misfortunes, and desiring you to be
confident that I am

Your most asseured real constant frend,

C. R.

To all the Lords, Bishops, Clergy, and other Gentlemen,
whose assistance I have had since I came hither.

Newport, November 1648.

I cannot but add this. It being evident that I must either
shipwreck my conscience, or retourne to close prison ; none
that loves conscience or freedom, but must approve of my
resolution of absenting myselfe.

THE END.

LONDON :

PRINTED BY SAMUEL BENTLEY,
Dorset Street, Fleet Street.

STANDARD WORKS

RECENTLY PUBLISHED BY COLBURN AND BENTLEY.

1. MEMOIRS of the LIFE and TIMES of LORD BURGH-
LEY, Lord High Treasurer of England in the Reign of QUEEN ELI-
ZABETH. With Extracts from his Private and Official Correspondence, and
other Papers, now first published from the Originals. By the Rev. Dr. NARES,
Regius Professor of Modern History in the University of Oxford. Complete
in 3 vols. With Portraits and other Plates.

2. THE CORRESPONDENCE and DIARIES of HENRY
HYDE, EARL of CLARENDON, and LAWRENCE HYDE, EARL of
ROCHESTER ; comprising curious particulars of the events attending the
Revolution, &c. &c. ; published from the Original Manuscripts, with Notes.
In 2 vols. 4to. Illustrated with Portraits, copied from the Originals, by per-
mission of the Right Hon. the Earl of Clarendon ; and other Engravings. 51. 5s.

3. MEMOIRS and CORRESPONDENCE of SAMUEL
PEPYS, Esq. F.R.S. Secretary to the Admiralty in the Reigns of Charles II.
and James II. and the intimate friend of the celebrated John Evelyn. Edited
by LORD BRAYBROOKE. New Edition, in 5 vols. 8vo. embellished with
Portraits and other Engravings, by the first Artists. 21. 12s. 6d.

4. MEMOIRS and CORRESPONDENCE of JOHN EVELYN,

Esq. the celebrated Author of " Sylva," &c. ; with the Private Correspondence
between Charles I., Sir Edward Nicholas, the Earl of Clarendon, Sir Richard
Browne, &c. &c. Edited by W. BRAY, Esq. F.S.A. &c. New Edition, in
5 vols. 8vo. with Portraits and other Plates. 21. 12s. 6d.

5. The THIRD VOLUME of EVELYN'S MEMOIRS, in
QUARTO, comprising his MISCELLANEOUS WRITINGS ; now first col-
lected and edited, with Notes. Printed uniformly, with the two former
Volumes. 21. 2s. boards.

6. The DIARY of THOMAS BURTON, Esq. MEMBER in the
PARLIAMENTS of the PROTECTORS OLIVER and RICHARD
CROMWELL, from 1656 to 1659, now first published from the original
Autograph Manuscript ; with an Introduction, containing AN ACCOUNT OF
THE PARLIAMENT OF 1654, from the Journal of GUIBON GODDARD, Esq.
M.P. ALSO NOW FIRST PRINTED; and several other curious Documents
and Notices, Historical and Biographical. Edited by JOHN TOWILL RUTT,
Esq. In 4 large vols. 8vo. with Plates. 21. 16s.

7. The LIVES of the Right Hon. FRANCIS NORTH, BARON

GUILFORD, Lord Keeper of \he Great Seal under King Charles II. and
King James II. ; the Hon. SIR DUDLEY NORTH, Commissioner of the
Customs, and afterwards of the Treasury, to King Charles II. ; and of the
Hon. and Rev. Dr. JOHN NORTH, Master of Trinity College, Cambridge,
and Clerk of the Closet to King Charles II. By the Hon. ROGER NORTH ;
with Notes and Illustrations, Historical and Biographical. A New Edition,
in 3 vols. 8vo. with Portraits. II. 7s.

8. GODWIN'S HISTORY of the COMMONWEALTH of
ENGLAND, from its COMMENCEMENT to the RESTORATION of CHARLES
II. Complete in 4 vols. 8vo. 21. 16s.

9. MEMOIRS of LADY FANSHAWE, wife of the Right

Hon. Sir Richard Fanshawe, Bart., Ambassador from Charles II. to the Court
of Madrid. Written by Herself, now first published from the original Manu-
script. To which are added, Extracts from the Correspondence of Sir Richard
Fanshawe. Second Edition, post 8vo, with Portrait. 9s.

10. The CORRESPONDENCE and DIARY of DR. DOD-

DRIDGE ; including many Particulars in his Life hitherto unknown, with
Notices of many of his Contemporaries, and a Sketch of the Times in which he
lived. In 5 large vols. 8vo. with fine Portrait. Price 31. 15s.

BINDING SECT. OC1 5 -

Disraeli, Isaac

Commentaries on the life
D57 and reign of Charles the F3

PLEASE DO NOT REMOVE
CARDS OR SLIPS FROM THIS POCKET

UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO LIBRARY