The reader will recollect the pusillanimous conduct of the Presbyterian members on the approach of the army in the year 1646.[b] On the present occasion they resolved to redeem their character. They betrayed no symptom of fear, no disposition to retire, or to submit. Amidst the din of arms and the menaces of the soldiers, they daily attended their duty in parliament, declared that the seizure of the royal person had been, made without their knowledge or consent, and proceeded to consider the tendency of the concessions made by Charles in the treaty of Newport. This produced the longest and most animated debate hitherto known in the history of parliament. Vane drew a most unfavourable portrait of the king, and represented all his promises and professions as hollow and insincere; Fiennes became for the first time the royal apologist, and refuted the charges brought by his fellow commissioner; and Prynne, the celebrated adversary of Laud, seemed to forget his antipathy to the court, that he might lash the presumption and perfidy of the army. The debate continued by successive adjournments three days and a whole night; and on the last division in the morning a resolution was carried by a majority of thirty-six, that the offers of the sovereign furnished a sufficient ground for the future settlement of the kingdom.[2][c]
[Footnote 1: Rushworth, vii. 1341, 1350. Whitelock, 358.]
[Footnote 2: Journals, Dec. 1, 2, 3, 5. Clarendon Papers, ii. App, xlviii. Cobbett, Parl. Hist. 1152. In some of the previous divisions, the house consisted of two hundred and forty members; but several seem to have retired during the night; at the conclusion there were only two hundred and twelve.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1648. Dec. 2.][Sidenote b: A.D. 1648. Dec. 5]
But the victors were not suffered to enjoy their triumph. The next day Skippon discharged the guards of the two houses, and their place was supplied by a regiment of horse and another of foot from the[a] army. Colonel Pride, while Fairfax, the commander-in-chief, was purposely employed in a conference with some of the members, stationed himself in the lobby: in his hand he held a list of names, while the Lord Grey stood by his side to point out the persons of the members; and two-and-fifty Presbyterians, the most distinguished of the party by their talents or influence, were taken into custody and conducted to different places of confinement. Many of those who passed the ordeal on this, met with a similar treatment on the following day; numbers embraced the opportunity to retire into the country; and the house was found, after repeated purifications, to consist of about fifty individuals, who, in the quaint language of the time, were afterwards dignified with the honourable appellation of the "Rump."[1]
Whether it were through policy or accident, Cromwell was not present to take any share in these extraordinary proceedings. After his victory at Preston he had marched in pursuit of Monroe, and had besieged the important town of Berwick. But his real views were not confined to England. The defeat of the Scottish royalists had raised the hopes of their opponents in their own country. In the western shires the curse of Meroz had been denounced from
[Footnote 1: Whitelock, 358, 359. Commons' Journals, Dec. 6, 7. This was called Pride's purge. Forty-seven members were imprisoned, and ninety-six excluded.—Parl. Hist. iii. 1248.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1648. Dec. 6.]
the pulpit against all who refused to arm in defence of the covenant; the fanatical peasants marshalled themselves under their respective ministers; and Loudon and Eglington, assuming the command, led them to Edinburgh.[1] This tumultuary mass, though joined by Argyle and his Highlanders, and by Cassilis with the people of Carrick and Galloway, was no match for the disciplined army under Lanark and Monroe; but Cromwell offered to advance to their support, and the[a] two parties hastened to reconcile their differences by a treaty, which secured to the royalists their lives and[b] property, on condition that they should disband their forces. Argyle with his associates assumed the name and the office of the committee of the estates; Berwick and Carlisle were delivered to the English[c] general; and he himself with his army was invited to the capital. Amidst the public rejoicing, private conferences of which the subject never transpired, were repeatedly held; and Cromwell returning to[d] England, left Lambeth with two regiments of horse, to support the government of his friends till they could raise a sufficient force among their own party.[2] His progress through the northern counties was slow;[e] nor did he reach the capital till the day after the exclusion of the Presbyterian members. His late victory had rendered him the idol of the soldiers: he was conducted with acclamations of joy to the
[Footnote 1: This was called the inroad of the Whiggamores; a name given to these peasants either from whiggam, a word employed by them in driving their horses, or from whig (Anglicè whey), a beverage of sour milk, which formed one of the principal articles of their meals.—Burnet's History of his Own Times, i. 43. It soon came to designate an enemy of the king, and in the next reign was transferred, under the abbreviated form of whig, to the opponents of the court.]
[Footnote 2: Memoirs of the Hamiltons, 367-377. Guthrie, 283-299.Rushworth, vii. 1273, 1282, 1286, 1296, 1325.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1648. Sept. 26.][Sidenote b: A.D. 1648. Sept. 30.][Sidenote c: A.D. 1648. Oct. 4.][Sidenote d: A.D. 1648. Oct. 11.][Sidenote e: A.D. 1648. Dec. 7.]
royal apartments in Whitehall, and received the next day the thanks of the House of Commons for his distinguished services to the two kingdoms. Of his sentiments with respect to the late proceedings no doubt was entertained. If he had not suggested, he had at least been careful to applaud the conduct of the officers, and in a letter to Fairfax he blasphemously attributed it to the inspiration of the Almighty.[1]
The government of the kingdom had now devolved in reality on the army. There were two military councils, the one select, consisting of the grandees, or principal commanders, the other general, to which the inferior officers, most of them men of levelling principles, were admitted. A suspicion existed that the former aimed at the establishment of an oligarchy: whence their advice was frequently received with jealousy and distrust, and their resolutions were sometimes negatived by the greater number of their inferiors. When any measure had received the approbation of the general council, it was carried to the House of Commons, who were expected to impart to it the sanction of their authority. With ready obedience[a] they renewed the vote of non-addresses, resolved that the re-admission of the eleven expelled members was dangerous in its consequences, and contrary to the usages of the house, and declared that the treaty in the Isle of Wight, and the approbation given to the[b] royal concessions, were dishonourable to parliament, destructive of the common good, and a breach of the public faith.[2] But these were only preparatory measures:
[Footnote 1: Journals, Dec. 8. Whitelock, 362. Rushworth, vii. 1339.]
[Footnote 2: Journals, Dec. 3, 13, 14, 20. Whitelock, 362, 363. ClarendonPapers, ii. App. xlix.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1648. Dec. 12.][Sidenote b: A.D. 1648. Dec. 13.]
they were soon called upon to pass a vote, the very mention of which a few years before would have struck the boldest among them with astonishment and terror.
It had long been the conviction of the officers that the life of the king was incompatible with their safety. If he were restored, they would become the objects of royal vengeance; if he were detained in prison, the public tranquillity would be disturbed by a succession of plots in his favour. In private assassination there was something base and cowardly from which the majority revolted; but to bring him to public justice, was to act openly and boldly; it was to proclaim their confidence in the goodness of their cause; to give to the world a splendid proof of the sovereignty of the people and of the responsibility of kings.[1][a] When the motion was made in the Commons, a few ventured to oppose it, not so much with the hope of saving the life of Charles, as for the purpose of transferring the odium of his death on its real authors. They suggested that the person of the king was sacred; that history afforded no precedent of a sovereign compelled to plead before a court of judicature composed of his own subjects; that measures of vengeance could only serve to widen the bleeding wounds of the country; that it was idle to fear any re-action in favour of the monarch, and it was now time to settle on a permanent basis the liberties of the country. But their opponents were clamorous, obstinate, and menacing. The king, they maintained, was the capital delinquent; justice required that he should suffer as well as the minor offenders. He had been guilty of treason against the people, it remained fortheirrepresentatives to bring
[Footnote 1: Clarendon, Hist. iii. 249.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1648. Dec. 29.]
him to punishment; he had shed the blood of man, God made it a duty to demand his blood in return. The opposition was silenced; and a committee of thirty-eight members was appointed to receive information and to devise the most eligible manner of proceeding. Among the more influential names were those of Widdrington and Whitelock, Scot and Marten. But the first two declined to attend; and, when the clerk brought them a summons, retired into the country.[1]
[a]At the recommendation of this committee, the house passed a vote declaratory of the law, that it was high treason in the king of England, for the time being, to levy war against the parliament and kingdom of England; and this was followed up with an ordinance erecting a high court of justice to try the question of fact, whether Charles Stuart, king of England, had or had not been guilty of the treason described in the preceding vote. But the subserviency of the Commons was not imitated by the Lords. They saw the approaching ruin of their own order in the fall of the sovereign; and when the vote and ordinance were transmitted to their house, they rejected both without a dissentient voice, and then adjourned for a week.[b] This unexpected effort surprised, but did not disconcert, the Independents.[c] They prevailed on the Commons to vote that the people are the origin of all just power, and from this theoretical truth proceeded to deduce two practical falsehoods. As if no portion of that power had been delegated to the king and the lords, they determined that "the Commons of England assembled in parliament, being chosen by and representing the people, have the supreme authority:" and thence inferred
[Footnote 1: Journals, Dec. 23. Whitelock, 363.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1649. Jan. 1.][Sidenote b: A.D. 1649. Jan. 2.][Sidenote c: A.D. 1649. Jan. 4.]
that "whatsoever is enacted and declared for law by the Commons in parliament hath force of law, and concludes all the people of the nation, although the consent and concurrence of the king and the House of Peers be not had thereunto." But even in that hypothesis, how could the house, constituted as it then was, claim to be the representative of the people? It was in fact the representative of the army only, and not a free but an enslaved representative, bound to speak with the voice, and to enregister the decrees of its masters.[1] Two days later an act for the trial of the king was passed by the authority of the Commons only.
In the mean while Cromwell continued to act his accustomed part. Whenever he rose in the house, it was to recommend moderation, to express the doubts which agitated his mind, to protest that, if he assented to harsh and ungracious measures, he did it with reluctance, and solely in obedience to the will of the Almighty. Of his conduct during the debate on the king's trial we have no account; but when it was suggested to dissolve the upper house, and transfer its members to that of the Commons, he characterized the proposal as originating in revolutionary phrensy; and, on the introduction of a bill to alter the form of the great seal, adopted a language which strongly marks the hypocrisy of the man, though it was calculated to make impression on the fanatical minds of his hearers.[a] "Sir," said he, addressing the speaker, "if any man whatsoever have carried on this design of deposing the king, and disinheriting his posterity, or if any man have still such a design, he must be the greatest
[Footnote 1: Journals, x. 641. Commons, Jan. 1, 2, 4, 6. Hitherto the Lords had seldom exceeded seven in number; but on this occasion they amounted to fourteen—Leicester's Journal, 47.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1649. Jan. 9.]
traitor and rebel in the world; but since the providence of God has cast this upon us, I cannot but submit to Providence, though I am not yet prepared to give you my advice."[1]
The lord general, on the contrary, began to assume a more open and a bolder tone. Hitherto, instead of leading, he had been led. That he disapproved of much that had been done, we may readily believe; but he only records his own weakness, where he alleges in excuse of his conduct that his name had been subscribed to the resolves of the council, whether he consented or not. He had lately shed the blood of two gallant officers at Colchester, but no solicitations could induce him to concur in shedding the blood of the king. His name stood at the head of the commissioners: he attended at the first meeting, in which no business was transacted, but he constantly refused to be present at their subsequent sittings, or to subscribe his name to their resolutions.[A] This conduct surprised and mortified the Independents: it probably arose from the influence of his wife, whose desperate
[Footnote 1: For Cromwell's conduct see the letters in the Appendix to the second volume of the Clarendon Papers, 1. li. The authenticity of this speech has been questioned, as resting solely on the treacherous credit of Perrinchiefe; but it occurs in a letter written on the 11th of January, which describes the proceedings of the 9th, and therefore cannot, I think, be questioned. By turning to the Journals, it will be found that on that day the house had divided on a question whether any more messages should be received from the Lords, which was carried, in opposition to Ludlow and Marten. "Then," says the letter, "they fell on the business of the king's trial." On this head nothing is mentioned in the Journals; but a motion which would cause frequent allusions to it, was made and carried. It was for a new great seal, on which should be engraven the House of Commons, with this inscription:—"In the first year of freedom, by God's blessing restored, 1648." Such a motion would naturally introduce Cromwell's speech respecting the deposition of the king and the disherison of his posterity.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1649. Jan. 3.]
loyalty will soon challenge the attention of the reader.[1]
Before this the king, in anticipation of his subsequent trial, had been removed to the palace of St.[a] James's. In the third week of his confinement in Hurst Castle, he was suddenly roused out of his sleep at midnight by the fall of the drawbridge and the trampling of horses. A thousand frightful ideas rushed on his mind, and at an early hour in the morning, he desired his servant Herbert to ascertain the cause; but every mouth was closed, and Herbert returned with the scanty information that a Colonel Harrison had arrived. At the name the king turned pale, hastened into the closet, and sought to relieve his terrors by private devotion. In a letter which he had received at Newport, Harrison had been pointed out to him as a man engaged to take his life. His alarm, however, was unfounded. Harrison was a fanatic, but no murderer: he sought, indeed, the blood of the king, but it was his wish that it should be shed by the axe of the executioner, not by the dagger of the assassin. He had been appointed to superintend the removal of the royal captive, and had come to arrange matters with the governor, of whose fidelity some suspicion existed. Keeping himself private during the days he departed in the night; and two days later Charles was conducted with a numerous[b] escort to the royal palace of Windsor.[2]
Hitherto, notwithstanding his confinement, the king had always been served with the usual state; but at Windsor his meat was brought to table uncovered and[c] by the hands of the soldiers; no say was given; no
[Footnote 1: Nalson, Trial of Charles I. Clarendon Papers, ii. App. ii.]
[Footnote 2: Herbert, 131-136, Rushworth, vii. 1375.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1648. Dec. 18.][Sidenote b: A.D. 1648. Dec. 23.][Sidenote c: A.D. 1648. Dec. 27.]
cup presented on the knee. This absence of ceremony made on the unfortunate monarch a deeper impression than could have been expected. It was, he said, the denial of that to him, which by ancient custom was due to many of his subjects; and rather than submit to the humiliation, he chose to diminish the number of the dishes, and to take his meals in private. Of the proceedings against him he received no official intelligence; but he gleaned the chief particulars through the inquiries of Herbert, and in casual conversation with Witchcott the governor. The information was sufficient to appal the stoutest heart; but Charles was of a most sanguine temperament, and though he sought to fortify his mind against the worst, he still cherished a hope that these menacing preparations were only intended to extort from him the resignation of his crown. He relied on the interposition of the Scots, the intercession of foreign powers, and the attachment of many of his English subjects. He persuaded himself that his very enemies would blush to shed the blood of their sovereign; and that their revenge would be appeased, and their ambition sufficiently gratified, by the substitution in his place of one of his younger children on the throne.[1]
But these were the dreams of a man who sought to allay his fears by voluntary delusions. The princes of Europe looked with cold indifference on his fate. The king of Spain during the whole contest had maintained a friendly correspondence with the parliament. Frederic III. king of Denmark, though he was his
[Footnote 1: Herbert, 155, 157. Whitelock, 365. Sir John Temple attributed his tranquillity "to a strange conceit of Ormond's working for him in Ireland. He still hangs upon that twigg; and by the enquireys he made after his and Inchiquin's conjunction, I see he will not be beaten off it."—In Leicester's Journal, 48.]
cousin-german, made no effort to save his life; and Henrietta could obtain for him no interposition from France, where the infant king had been driven from his capital by civil dissension, and she herself depended for subsistence on the charity of the Cardinal de Retz, the leader of the Fronde.[1] The Scottish parliament, indeed, made a feeble effort in his favour. The commissioners subscribed a protest against the proceedings of the Commons, by whom it was never answered; and argued the case with Cromwell, who referred them to the covenant, and maintained, that if it was their duty to punish the malignants in general, it was still more so to punish him who was the chief of the malignants.[2]
As the day of trial approached, Charles resigned the hopes which he had hitherto indulged; and his removal to Whitehall admonished him to prepare for that important scene on which he was soon to appear. Without information or advice, he could only resolve to maintain the port and dignity of a king, to refuse the authority of his judges, and to commit no act unworthy of his exalted rank and that of his ancestors.[a] On the 20th of January the commissioners appointed by the act assembled in the painted chamber, and proceeded in state to the upper end of Westminster Hall.[b] A chair of crimson velvet had been placed for the lord president, John Bradshaw, serjeant-at-law; the others, to the number of sixty-six, ranged themselves on either side, on benches covered with scarlet; at the feet of the president sat two clerks at a table on which lay the sword and the mace; and directly opposite stood a chair intended for the king. After the preliminary
[Footnote 1: Memoirs of Retz, i. 261.]
[Footnote 2: Journals, Jan. 6, 22, 23. Parl. Hist. iii. 1277. Burnett's OwnTimes, i. 42.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1649. Jan 19][Sidenote b: A.D. 1649. Jan 20]
formalities of reading the commission, and calling over the members, Bradshaw ordered the prisoner to be introduced.[1]
Charles was received at the door by the serjeant-at-arms, and conducted by him within the bar. His step was firm, his countenance erect and unmoved. He did not uncover; but first seated himself, then rose, and surveyed the court with an air of superiority, which abashed and irritated his enemies. While the clerk read the charge, he appeared to listen with indifference; but a smile of contempt was seen to quiver on his lips at the passage which described him as a "tyrant, traitor, murderer, and public and implacable enemy to the commonwealth of England." At the conclusion Bradshaw called on him to answer; but he demanded by what lawful authority he had been brought thither. He was king of England; he acknowledged no superior upon earth; and the crown, which he had received from his ancestors, he would transmit unimpaired by any act of his to his posterity. His case, moreover, was the case of all the people of England; for if force without law could alter the fundamental laws of the kingdom, there was no man who could be secure of his life or liberty for an hour. He was told that the court sat by the authority of the House of
[Footnote 1: The commissioners according to the act (for bills passed by the Commons alone were now denominated acts), were in number 133, chosen out of the lower house, the inns of court, the city, and the army. In one of their first meetings they chose Bradshaw for their president. He was a native of Cheshire, bred to the bar, had long practised in the Guildhall, and had lately before been made serjeant. In the first list of commissioners his name did not occur; but on the rejection of the ordinance by the upper house, the names of six lords were erased, and his name with those of five others was substituted. He obtained for the reward of his services the estate of Lord Cottington, the chancellorship of the duchy of Lancaster, and the office of president of the council.]
Commons. But where, he asked, were the Lords? Were the Commons the whole legislature? Were they free? Were they a court of judicature? Could they confer on others a jurisdiction which they did not possess themselves? He would never acknowledge an usurped authority. It was a duty imposed upon him by the Almighty to disown every lawless power, that invaded either the rights of the crown or the liberties of the subject. Such was the substance of his discourse, delivered on three different days, and amidst innumerable interruptions from the president, who would not suffer the jurisdiction of the court to be questioned, and at last ordered the "default and contempt of the prisoner" to be recorded.
The two following days the court sat in private, to receive evidence that the king had commanded in several engagements, and to deliberate on the form of judgment to be pronounced.[a] On the third Bradshaw took his seat, dressed in scarlet; and Charles immediately demanded to be heard. He did not mean, he said, on this occasion either to acknowledge or deny the authority of the court; his object was to ask a favour, which would spare them the commission of a great crime, and restore the blessing of tranquillity to his people. He asked permission to confer with a joint committee of the Lords and Commons. The president replied that the proposal was not altogether new, though it was now made for the first time by the king himself; that it pre-supposed the existence of an authority co-ordinate with that of the Commons, which could not be admitted; that its object could only be to delay the proceedings of the court, now that judgment was to be pronounced. Here he was interrupted by the earnest expostulation of Colonel Downes, one of the members. The king was immediately
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1649. Jan. 27.]
removed; the commissioners adjourned into a neighbouring apartment, and almost an hour was spent in private and animated debate. Had the conference been granted, Charles would have proposed (so at least it was understood) to resign the crown in favour of the prince of Wales.
When the court resumed, Bradshaw announced to him the refusal of his request, and proceeded to animadvert in harsh and unfeeling language on the principal events of his reign. The meek spirit of the prisoner was roused; he made an attempt to speak, but was immediately silenced with the remark, that the time for his defence was past; that he had spurned the numerous opportunities offered to him by the indulgence of the court; and that nothing remained for his judges but to pronounce sentence; for they had learned from holy writ that "to acquit the guilty was of equal abomination as to condemn the innocent." The charge was again read, and was followed by the judgment, "that the court, being satisfied in conscience that he, the said Charles Stuart, was guilty of the crimes of which he had been accused, did adjudge him as a tyrant, traitor, murderer, and public enemy to the good people of the nation, to be put to death by severing his head from his body." The king heard it in silence, sometimes smiling with contempt, sometimes raising his eyes to heaven, as if he appealed from the malice of men to the justice of the Almighty. At the conclusion the commissioners rose in a body to testify their assent, and Charles made a last and more earnest effort to speak; but Bradshaw ordered him to be removed, and the guards hurried him out of the hall.[1]
[Footnote 1: See the Trial of Charles Stuart, with additions by Nalson, folio, London, 1735.]
During this trial a strong military force had been kept under arms to suppress any demonstration of popular feeling in favour of the king. On the first day, when the name of Fairfax, as one of the commissioners, was called, a female voice cried from the gallery, "He has more wit than to be here." On another occasion, when Bradshaw attributed the charge against the king to the consentient voice of the people of England, the same female voice exclaimed, "No, not one-tenth of the people." A faint murmur of approbation followed, but was instantly suppressed by the military. The speaker was recognised to be Lady Fairfax, the wife of the commander-in-chief; and these affronts, probably on that account, were suffered to pass unnoticed.[1]
When Coke, the solicitor-general, opened the pleadings, the king gently tapped him on the shoulder with his cane, crying, "Hold, hold." At the same moment the silver head of the cane fell off, and rolled on the floor. It was an accident which might have happened at any time; but in this superstitions age it could not fail to be taken for an omen. Both his friends and enemies interpreted it as a presage of his approaching decapitation.[2]
On one day, as the king entered the court, he heard behind him the cry of "Justice, justice;" on another, as he passed between two lines of soldiers, the word "execution" was repeatedly sounded in his ears. He bore these affronts with patience, and on
[Footnote 1: Nalson's Trial. Clarendon, iii. 254. State Trials, 366, 367, 368, folio, 1730.]
[Footnote 2: Nalson. Herbert, 165. "He seemed unconcerned; yet told the bishop, it really made a great impression on him; and to this hour, says he, I know not possibly how it should come."—Warwick, 340.]
his return said to Herbert, "I am well assured that the soldiers bear me no malice. The cry was suggested by their officers, for whom they would do the like if there were occasion."[1]
On his return from the hall, men and women crowded behind the guards, and called aloud, "God preserve your majesty." But one of the soldiers venturing to say, "God bless you, Sir," received a stroke on the head from an officer with his cane. "Truly," observed the king, "I think the punishment exceeded the offence."[2]
By his conduct during these proceedings, Charles had exalted his character even in the estimation of his enemies: he had now to prepare himself for a still more trying scene, to nerve his mind against the terrors of a public and ignominious death. But he was no longer the man he had been before the civil war. Affliction had chastened his mind; he had learned from experience to submit to the visitations of Providence; and he sought and found strength and relief in the consolations of religion. The next day, the Sunday, was spent by him at St. James's, by the commissioners at Whitehall.[a]Theyobserved a fast, preached on the judgments of God, and prayed for a blessing on the commonwealth.Hedevoted his time to devotional exercises in the company of Herbert and of Dr. Juxon, bishop of London, who at the request of Hugh Peters (and it should be recorded to the honour of that fanatical preacher) had been permitted to attended the monarch. His nephew the prince elector, the duke of Richmond, the marquess of Hertford, and several other noblemen, came to the door of his bedchamber, to pay their last respects to
[Footnote 1: Herbert, 163, 164.]
[Footnote 2: Ibid. 163, 165.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1649. Jan. 28.]
their sovereign; but they were told in his name that he thanked them for their attachment, and desired their prayers; that the shortness of his time admonished him to think of another world; and that the only moments which he could spare must be given to his children. These were two, the Princess Elizabeth and the duke of Gloucester, the former wept for her father's fate; the latter, too young to understand the cause, joined his tears through sympathy. Charles placed them on his knees, gave them such advice as was adapted to their years, and seemed to derive pleasure from the pertinency of their answers. In conclusion, he divided a few jewels between them, kissed them, gave them his blessings and hastily retired to his devotions.[1]
On the last night of his life he slept soundly about four hours, and early in the morning[a] awakened Herbert, who lay on a pallet by his bed-side. "This," he said, "is my second marriage-day. I would be as trim as may be; for before night I hope to be espoused to my blessed Jesus." He then pointed out the clothes which he meant to wear, and ordered two shirts, on account of the severity of the weather; "For," he observed, "were I to shake through cold, my enemies would attribute it to fear, I would have no such imputation. I fear not death. Death is not terrible to me. I bless my God I am prepared."[2]
[Footnote 1: Herbert, 169-180. State Trials, 357-360.]
[Footnote 2: Herbert, 183-185, I may here insert an anecdote, which seems to prove that Charles attributed his misfortunes in a great measure to the counsels of Archbishop Laud. On the last night of his life, he had observed that Herbert was restless during his sleep, and in the morning insisted on knowing the cause. Herbert answered that he was dreaming. He saw Laud enter the room; the king took him aside, and spoke to him with a pensive countenance; the archbishop sighed, retired, and fell prostrate on the ground. Charles replied, "It is very remarkable; but he is dead. Yet had we conferred together during life, 'tis very likely (albeit I loved him well) I should have said something to him, might have occasioned his sigh."—Herbert's Letter to Dr. Samways, published at the end of his Memoirs, p. 220.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1649. Jan. 30.]
The king spent an hour in privacy with the bishop; Herbert was afterwards admitted; and about ten o'clock Colonel Hacker announced that it was time to proceed to Whitehall. He obeyed, was conducted on foot, between two detachments of military, across the park, and received permission to repose himself in his former bedchamber. Dinner had been prepared for him; but he refused to eat, though afterwards, at the solicitation of the bishop, he took the half of a manchet and a glass of wine. Here he remained almost two hours, in constant expectation of the last summons, spending his time partly in prayer and partly in discourse with Dr. Juxon. There might have been nothing mysterious in the delay; if there was, it may perhaps be explained from the following circumstances.
Four days had now elapsed since the arrival of ambassadors from the Hague to intercede in his favour. It was only on the preceding evening that they had obtained audiences of the two houses, and hitherto no answer had been returned. In their company came Seymour, the bearer of two letters from the prince of Wales, one addressed to the king, the other to the Lord Fairfax. He had already delivered the letter, and with it a sheet of blank paper subscribed with the name and sealed with the arms of the prince. It was the price which he offered to the grandees of the army for the life of his father. Let them fill it up with the conditions: whatever they might be, they were already granted; his seal and signature were affixed.[1] It is not improbable that this offer may have induced the leaders to pause. That Fairfax laboured to postpone the execution, was always asserted by his friends; and we have evidence to prove that, though he was at Whitehall, he knew not, or at least pretend not to know, what was passing.[2]
In the mean while Charles enjoyed the consolation of learning that his son had not forgotten him in his distress. By the indulgence of Colonel Tomlinson, Seymour was admitted, delivered the letter, and received the royal instructions for the prince. He was hardly gone, when Hacker arrived with the fatal summons. About two o'clock the king proceeded through the long gallery, lined on each side with soldiers, who, far from insulting the fallen monarch, appeared by their sorrowful looks to sympathize with his fate. At the end an aperture had been made in the wall, through which he stepped at once upon the scaffold. It was hung with black; at the farther end were seen the two executioners, the block, and the axe; below
[Footnote 1: For the arrival of the ambassadors see the Journals of theHouse of Commons on the 26th. A fac-simile of the carte-blanche, with thesignature of the prince, graces the title-page of the third volume of theOriginal Letters, published by Mr. Ellis.]
[Footnote 2: "Mean time they went into the long gallery, where, chancing to meet the general, he ask'd Mr. Herbert how the king did? Which he thought strange…. His question being answered, the general seem'd much surprised."—Herbert, 194. It is difficult to believe that Herbert could have mistaken or fabricated such a question, or that Fairfax would have asked it, had he known what had taken place. To his assertion that Fairfax was with the officers in Harrison's room, employed in "prayer or discourse," it has been objected that his name does not occur among the names of those who were proved to have been there at the trial of the regicides. But that is no contradiction. The witnesses speak of what happened before, Herbert of what happened during, the execution. See also Ellis, 2nd series, iii. 345.]
appeared in arms several regiments of horse and foot; and beyond, as far as the eye was permitted to reach, waved a dense and countless crowd of spectators. The king stood collected and undismayed amidst the apparatus of death. There was in his countenance that cheerful intrepidity, in his demeanour that dignified calmness, which had characterized, in the hall of Fotheringay, his royal grandmother, Mary Stuart. It was his wish to address the people; but they were kept beyond the reach of his voice by the swords of the military; and therefore confining his discourse to the few persons standing with him on the scaffold, he took, he said, that opportunity of denying in the presence of his God the crimes of which he had been accused. It was not to him, but to the houses of parliament, that the war and all its evils should be charged. The parliament had first invaded the rights of the crown by claiming the command of the army; and had provoked hostilities by issuing commissions for the levy of forces, before he had raised a single man. But he had forgiven all, even those, whoever they were (for he did not desire to know their names), who had brought him to his death. He did more than forgive them, he prayed that they might repent. But for that purpose they must do three things; they must render to God his due, by settling the church according to the Scripture; they must restore to the crown those rights which belonged to it by law; and they must teach the people the distinction between the sovereign and the subject; those persons could not be governors who were to be governed,theycould not rule, whose duty it was to obey. Then, in allusion to the offers formerly made to him by the army, he concluded with, these words:—"Sirs, it was for the liberties of the people that I am come here. If I would have assented to an arbitrary sway, to have all things changed according to the power of the sword, I needed not to have come hither; and therefore, I tell you (and I pray God it be not laid to your charge), that I am the martyr of the people."
Having added, at the suggestion of Dr. Juxon, "I die a Christian according to the profession of the church of England, as I found it left me by my father," he said, addressing himself to the prelate, "I have on my side a good cause, and a gracious God."
BISHOP.—There is but one stage more; it is turbulent and troublesome, but a short one. It will carry you from earth to heaven, and there you will find joy and comfort.
KING.—I go from a corruptible to an incorruptible Crown.
BISHOP.—You exchange an earthly for an eternal crown—a good exchange.
Being ready, he bent his neck on the block, and after a short pause, stretched out his hand as a signal. At that instant the axe descended; the head rolled from the body; and a deep groan burst from the multitude of the spectators. But they had no leisure to testify their feelings; two troops of horse dispersed them in different directions.[1]
[Footnote 1: Herbert, 189-194. Warwick, 344. Nalson, Trial of Charles Stuart. The royal corpse, having been embalmed, was after some days delivered to the earl of Richmond for private interment at Windsor. That nobleman, accompanied by the marquess of Hertford, the earls of Southampton and Lindsey, Dr. Juxon, and a few of the king's attendants, deposited it in a vault in the choir of St. George's chapel, which already contained the remains of Henry VIII. and of his third queen, Jane Seymour.—Herbert, 203. Blencowe, Sydney Papers, 64. Notwithstanding such authority, the assertion of Clarendon that the place could not be discovered threw some doubt upon the subject. But in 1813 it chanced that the workmen made an aperture in a vault corresponding in situation, and occupied by three coffins; and the prince-regent ordered an investigation to ascertain the truth. One of the coffins, in conformity with the account of Herbert, was of lead, with a leaden scroll in which were cut the words "King Charles." In the upper lid of this an opening was made; and when the cerecloth and unctuous matter were removed, the features of the face, as far as they could be distinguished, bore a strong resemblance to the portraits of Charles I. To complete the proof, the head was found to have been separated from the trunk by some sharp instrument, which had cut through the fourth, vertebra of the neck.—See "An Account of what appeared on opening the coffin of King Charles I. by Sir Henry Halford, bart." 1813. It was observed at the same time, that "the lead coffin of Henry VIII. had been beaten in about the middle, and a considerable opening in that part exposed a mere skeleton of the king." This may, perhaps, be accounted for from a passage in Herbert, who tells us that while the workmen were employed about the inscription, the chapel was cleared, but a soldier contrived to conceal himself, descended into the vault, cut off some of the velvet pall, and "wimbled a hole into the largest coffin." He was caught, and "a bone was found about him, which, he said, he would haft a knife with."—Herbert 204. See note (C).]
Such was the end of the unfortunate Charles Stuart; an awful lesson to the possessors of royalty, to watch the growth of public opinion, and to moderate their pretensions in conformity with the reasonable desires of their subjects. Had he lived at a more early period, when the sense of wrong was quickly subdued by the habit of submission, his reign would probably have been marked with fewer violations of the national liberties. It was resistance that made him a tyrant. The spirit of the people refused to yield to the encroachments of authority; and one act of oppression placed him under the necessity of committing another, till he had revived and enforced all those odious prerogatives, which, though usually claimed, were but sparingly exercised, by his predecessors. For some years his efforts seemed successful; but the Scottish insurrection revealed the delusion; he had parted with the real authority of a king, when he forfeited the confidence and affection of his subjects.
But while we blame the illegal measures of Charles, we ought not to screen from censure the subsequent conduct of his principal opponents. From the moment that war seemed inevitable, they acted as if they thought themselves absolved from all obligations of honour and honesty. They never ceased to inflame the passions of the people by misrepresentation and calumny; they exercised a power far more arbitrary and formidable than had ever been claimed by the king; they punished summarily, on mere suspicion, and without attention to the forms of law; and by their committees they established in every county a knot of petty tyrants, who disposed at will of the liberty and property of the inhabitants. Such anomalies may, perhaps, be inseparable from the jealousies, the resentments, and the heart-burnings, which are engendered in civil commotions; but certain it is that right and justice had seldom been more wantonly outraged, than they were by those who professed to have drawn the sword in the defence of right and justice.
Neither should the death of Charles be attributed to the vengeance of the people. They, for the most part, declared themselves satisfied with their victory; they sought not the blood of the captive monarch; they were even, willing to replace him on the throne, under those limitations which they deemed necessary for the preservation of their rights. The men who hurried him to the scaffold were a small faction of bold and ambitious spirits, who had the address to guide the passions and fanaticism of their followers, and were enabled through them to control the real sentiments of the nation. Even of the commissioners appointed to sit in judgment on the king, scarcely one-half could be induced to attend at his trial; and many of those who concurred in his condemnation subscribed the sentence with feelings of shame and remorse. But so it always happens in revolutions: the most violent put themselves forward; their vigilance and activity seem to multiply their number; and the daring of the few wins the ascendancy over the indolence or the pusillanimity of the many.
Establishment Of The Commonwealth—Punishment Of The Royalists—Mutiny AndSuppression Of The Levellers—Charles Ii Proclaimed In Scotland—AscendancyOf His Adherents In Ireland—Their Defeat At Rathmines—Success Of CromwellIn Ireland—Defeat Of Montrose, And Landing Of Charles In Scotland-CromwellIs Sent Against Him—He Gains A Victory At Dunbar—The King Marches IntoEngland—Loses The Battle Of Worcester—His Subsequent Adventures AndEscape.
When the two houses first placed themselves in opposition to the sovereign, their demands were limited to the redress of existing grievances; now that the struggle was over, the triumphant party refused to be content with anything less than the abolition of the old, and the establishment of a new and more popular form of government. Some, indeed, still ventured to raise their voices in favour of monarchy, on the plea that it was an institution the most congenial to the habits and feelings of Englishmen. By these it was proposed that the two elder sons of Charles should be passed by, because their notions were already formed, and their resentments already kindled; that the young duke of Gloucester, or his sister Elizabeth, should be placed on the throne; and that, under the infant sovereign, the royal prerogative should be circumscribed by law, so as to secure from future encroachment the just liberties of the people. But the majority warmly contended for the establishment of a commonwealth. Why, they asked, should they spontaneously set up again the idol which it had cost them so much blood and treasure to pull down? Laws would prove but feeble restraints on the passions of a proud and powerful monarch. If they sought an insuperable barrier to the restoration of despotism, it could be found only in some of those institutions which lodge the supreme power with the representatives of the people. That they spoke their real sentiments is not improbable, though we are assured, by one who was present at their meetings, that personal interest had no small influence in their final determination. They had sinned too deeply against royalty to trust themselves to the mercy, or the moderation, of a king. A republic was their choice, because it promised to shelter them from the vengeance of their enemies, and offered to them the additional advantage of sharing among themselves all the power, the patronage, and the emoluments of office.[1]
In accordance with this decision, the moment the head of the royal victim fell[a] on the scaffold at Whitehall, a proclamation was read in Cheapside, declaring it treason to give to any person the title of king without the authority of parliament; and at the same time was published the vote of the 4th of January, that the supreme authority in the nation resided in the representatives of the people. The peers, though aware of their approaching fate, continued to sit; but, after a pause of a few days, the Commons resolved: first,[b] that the House of Lords, and, next,[c] that the office of king, ought to be abolished. These votes, though the acts
[Footnote 1: Whitelock, 391.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1649. Jan. 30.][Sidenote b: A.D. 1649. Feb. 6.][Sidenote c: A.D. 1649. Feb. 7.]
to be ingrafted on them were postponed, proved sufficient; from that hour the kingship (the word by which the royal dignity was now designated), with the legislative and judicial authority of the peers, was considered extinct, and the lower house, under the name of the parliament of England, concentrated within itself all the powers of government.[1]
The next measure was the appointment, by the Commons, of a council of state, to consist of forty-one members, with powers limited in duration to twelve months. They were charged[a] with the preservation of domestic tranquillity, the care and disposal of the military and naval force, the superintendence of internal and external trade, and the negotiation of treaties with foreign powers. Of the persons selected[b] for this office, three-fourths possessed seats in the house; and they reckoned among them the heads of the law, the chief officers in the army, and five peers, the earls of Denbigh, Mulgrave, Pembroke, and Salisbury, with the Lord Grey of Werke, who condescended to accept the appointment, either through attachment to the cause, or as a compensation for the loss of their hereditary rights.[2] But at the very outset a schism appeared among the new counsellors. The oath required of them by the parliament contained an approval of the king's trial, of the vote against the Scots and their English associates, and of the abolition of monarchy and of the House of Lords. By Cromwell and
[Footnote 1: Journals, 1649, Jan. 30, Feb. 6, 7. Cromwell voted in favour of the House of Lords.—Ludlow, i. 246. Could he be sincere? I think not.]
[Footnote 2: The earl of Pembroke had the meanness to solicit and accept the place of representative for Berkshire; and his example was imitated by two other peers, the earl of Salisbury and Lord Howard of Escrick, who sat for Lynn and Carlisle.—Journals, April 16, May 5 Sept. 18. Leicester's Journal, 72.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1649. Feb. 13.][Sidenote b: A.D. 1649. Feb. 14.]
eighteen others, it was taken cheerfully, and without comment; by the remaining twenty-two, with Fairfax at their head, it was firmly but respectfully refused.[a] The peers alleged that it stood not with their honour to approve upon oath of that which had been done in opposition to their vote; the commoners, that it was not for them to pronounce an opinion on judicial proceedings of which they had no official information. But their doubts respecting transactions that were past formed no objection to the authority of the existing government. The House of Commons was in actual possession of the supreme power. From that house they derived protection, to it they owed obedience, and with it they were ready to live and die. Cromwell and his friends had the wisdom to yield; the retrospective clauses were expunged,[b] and in their place was substituted a general promise of adhesion to the parliament, both with respect to the existing form of public liberty, and the future government of the nation, "by way of a republic without king or house of peers."[1]
This important revolution drew with it several other alterations. A representation of the House of Commons superseded the royal effigy on the great seal, which was intrusted to three lords-commissioners, Lysle, Keble, and Whitelock; the writs no longer ran in the name of the king, but of "the keepers of the liberty of England by authority of parliament;" new commissions were issued to the judges, sheriffs, and magistrates; and in lieu of the oaths of allegiance and supremacy, was required an engagement to be true to the commonwealth of England. Of the
[Footnote 1: Journals, Feb. 7, 13, 14, 15, 19, 22. Whitelock, 378, 382, 383. The amended oath is in Walker, part ii. 130.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1649. Feb. 17.][Sidenote b: A.D. 1649. Feb. 22.]
judges, six resigned; the other six consented to retain their situations, if parliament would issue a proclamation declaratory of its intention to maintain the fundamental laws of the kingdom. The condition was accepted and fulfilled;[1] the courts proceeded to hear and determine causes after the ancient manner; and the great body of the people scarcely felt the important change which had been made in the government of the country. For several years past the supreme authority had been administered in the name of the king by the two houses at Westminster, with the aid of the committee at Derby House; now the same authority was equally administered in the name of the people by one house only, and with the advice of a council of state.
The merit or demerit of thus erecting a commonwealth on the ruins of the monarchy chiefly belongs to Cromwell, Ireton, Bradshaw, and Marten, who by their superior influence guided and controlled the opinions and passions of their associates in the senate and the army. After the king's death they derived much valuable aid from the talents of Vane,[2] Whitelock, and St. John; and a feeble lustre was shed on their cause by the accession of the five peers
[Footnote 1: Journals, Feb. 8. Yet neither this declaration nor the frequent remonstrances of the lawyers could prevent the house from usurping the office of the judges, or from inflicting illegal punishments. Thus, for example, on the report of a committee, detailing the discovery of a conspiracy to extort money by a false charge of delinquency, the house, without hearing the accused, or sending them before a court of justice, proceeded to inflict on some the penalties of the pillory, fine, and imprisonment, and adjudged Mrs. Samford, as the principal, to be whipped the next day from Newgate to the Old Exchange, and to be kept to hard labour for three months.—Journals, 1650, Feb. 2, Aug. 13.]
[Footnote 2: Immediately after Pride's purge, Vane, disgusted at the intolerance of his own party, left London, and retired to Raby Castle; he was now induced to rejoin them, and resumed his seat on Feb. 26.]
from the abolished House of Lords. But, after all, what right could this handful of men have to impose a new constitution on the kingdom? Ought they not, in consistency with their own principles, to have ascertained the sense of the nation by calling a new parliament? The question was raised, but the leaders, aware that their power was based on the sword of the military, shrunk from the experiment; and, to elude the demands of their opponents, appointed a committee to regulate the succession of parliaments and the election of members; a committee, which repeatedly met and deliberated, but never brought the question to any definitive conclusion. Still, when the new authorities looked around the house, and observed the empty benches, they were admonished of their own insignificance, and of the hollowness of their pretensions. They claimed the sovereign authority, as the representatives of the people; but the majority of those representatives had been excluded by successive acts of military violence; and the house had been reduced from more than five hundred members, to less than one-seventh of that number. For the credit and security of the government it was necessary both to supply the deficiency, and, at the same time, to oppose a bar to the introduction of men of opposite principles. With this view, they resolved[a] to continue the exclusion of those who had on the 5th of December assented to the vote, that the king's "concessions were a sufficient ground to proceed to a settlement;" but to open the house to all others who should previously enter on the journals their dissent from that resolution.[1] By this expedient, and by occasional writs for elections in those places where
[Footnote 1: Journ. Feb. 1. Walker, part ii. 115. Whitelock, 376.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1649. Feb. 1.]
the influence of the party was irresistible, the number of members gradually rose to one hundred and fifty, though it was seldom that the attendance of one-half, or even of one-third, could be procured.
During the war, the dread of retaliation had taught the two parties to temper with moderation the license of victory. Little blood had been shed except in the field of battle. But now that check was removed. The fanatics, not satisfied with the death of the king, demanded, with the Bible in their hands, additional victims; and the politicians deemed it prudent by the display of punishment to restrain the machinations of their enemies. Among the royalists in custody were the duke of Hamilton (who was also earl of Cambridge in England), the earl of Holland, Goring, earl of Norwich, the Lord Capel, and Sir John Owen, all engaged in the last attempt for the restoration of Charles to the throne. By a resolution of the House of Commons in November, Hamilton had been adjudged to pay a fine of one hundred thousand pounds, and the other four to remain in perpetual imprisonment; but after the triumph of the Independents, this vote had been rescinded,[a] and a high court of justice was now established to try the same persons on a charge of high treason. It was in vain that Hamilton pleaded[b] the order of the Scottish parliament under which he had acted; that Capel demanded to be brought before his peers, or a jury of his countrymen, according to those fundamental laws which the parliament had promised to maintain; that all invoked the national faith in favour of that quarter which they had obtained at the time of their surrender. Bradshaw, the president, delivered the opinions of the court. To Hamilton, he replied,
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1649. Feb. 1.][Sidenote b: A.D. 1649. Feb. 10.]
that, as an English earl, he was amenable to the justice of the country; to Capel, that the court had been established by the parliament, the supreme authority to which all must submit; to each, that quarter given on the field of battle insured protection from the sword of the conqueror, but not from the vengeance of the law. All five were condemned[a] to lose their heads; but the rigour of the judgment was softened[b] by a reference to the mercy of parliament. The next day the wives of Holland and Capel, accompanied by a long train of females in mourning, appeared at the bar, to solicit the pardon of the condemned. Though their petitions were rejected, a respite for two days was granted. This favour awakened new hopes; recourse was had to flattery and entreaty; bribes were offered and accepted; and the following morning[c] new petitions were presented. The fate of Holland occupied a debate of considerable interest. Among the Independents he had many personal friends, and the Presbyterians exerted all their influence in his favour. But the saints expatiated on his repeated apostasy from the cause; and, after a sharp contest, Cromwell and Ireton obtained a majority of a single voice for his death. The case of Goring was next considered. No man during the war had treated his opponents with more bitter contumely, no one had inflicted on them deeper injuries; and yet, on an equal division, his life was saved by the casting voice of the speaker. The sentences of Hamilton and Capel were affirmed by the unanimous vote of the house; but, to the surprise of all men, Owen, a stranger, without friends or interest, had the good fortune to escape. His forlorn condition moved the pity of Colonel Hutchinson; the efforts of Hutchinson
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1649. March 6.][Sidenote b: A.D. 1649. March 7.][Sidenote c: A.D. 1649. March 8.]
were seconded by Ireton; and so powerful was their united influence, that they obtained a majority of five in his favour. Hamilton, Holland, and Capel died[a] on the scaffold, the first martyrs of loyalty after the establishment of the commonwealth.[1]
But, though the avowed enemies of the cause crouched before their conquerors, there was much in the internal state of the country to awaken apprehension in the breasts of Cromwell and his friends. There could be no doubt that the ancient royalists longed for the opportunity of avenging the blood of the king; or that the new royalists, the Presbyterians, who sought to re-establish the throne on the conditions stipulated by the treaty in the Isle of Wight, bore with impatience the superiority of their rivals. Throughout the kingdom the lower classes loudly complained of the burthen of taxation; in several parts they suffered under the pressure of penury and famine. In Lancashire and Westmoreland numbers perished through want; and it was certified by the magistrates of Cumberland that thirty thousand families in that county "had neither seed nor bread corn, nor the means of procuring either."[2] But that which chiefly created alarm was the progress made among the military by the "Levellers," men of consistent principles and uncompromising conduct under the guidance of Colonel John Lilburne, an officer distinguished by his talents, his eloquence, and
[Footnote 1: If the reader compares the detailed narrative of these proceedings by Clarendon (iii. 265-270), with the official account in the Journals (March 7, 8), he will be surprised at the numerous inaccuracies of the historian. See also the State Trials; England's Bloody Tribunal; Whitelock, 386; Burnet's Hamiltons, 385; Leicester's Journal, 70; Ludlow, i. 247; and Hutchinson, 310.]
[Footnote 2: Whitelock, 398, 399.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1649. Mar. 9.]
his courage.[1] Lilburne, with his friends, had long cherished a suspicion that Cromwell, Ireton, and Harrison sought only their private aggrandizement under the mantle of patriotism; and the recent changes had converted this suspicion into conviction. They observed that the same men ruled without control in the general council of officers, in the parliament, and in the council of state. They contended that every question was first debated and settled in the council of officers, and that, if their determination was afterwards adopted by the house, it was only that it might go forth to the public under the pretended sanction of the representatives of the nation; that the council of state had been vested with powers more absolute and oppressive than had ever been exercised by the late king; and that the High Court of Justice had been established by the party for the purpose of depriving their victims of those remedies which would be afforded by the ordinary courts of law. In some of their publications they went further. They maintained that the council of state was employed as an experiment on the patience of the nation; that it was intended to pass from the tyranny of a few to the tyranny of one; and that Oliver Cromwell was the man who aspired to that high but dangerous pre-eminence.[2]
A plan of the intended constitution, entitled "the
[Footnote 1: Lilburne in his youth had been a partisan of Bastwick, and had printed one of his tracts in Holland. Before the Star-chamber he refused to take the oathex officio, or to answer interrogatories, and in consequence was condemned to stand in the pillory, was whipped from the Fleet-prison to Westminster, receiving five hundred lashes with knotted cords, and was imprisoned with double irons on his hands and legs. Three years later (1641), the House of Commons voted the punishment illegal, bloody, barbarous, and tyrannical.—Burton's Diary, iii. 503, note.]
[Footnote 2: See England's New Chains Discovered, and the Hunting of theFoxes, passim; the King's Pamphlets, No. 411, xxi.; 414, xii. xvi.]
agreement of the people," had been sanctioned by the council of officers, and presented[a] by Fairfax to the House of Commons, that it might be transmitted to the several counties, and there receive the approbation of the inhabitants. As a sop to shut the mouth of Cerberus, the sum of three thousand pounds, to be raised from the estates of delinquents in the county of Durham, had been voted[b] to Lilburne; but the moment he returned from the north, he appeared at the bar of the house, and petitioned against "the agreement," objecting in particular to one of the provisions by which the parliament was to sit but six months, every two years, and the government of the nation during the other eighteen months was to be intrusted to the council of state. His example was quickly followed; and the table was covered with a succession of petitions from officers and soldiers, and "the well-affected" in different counties, who demanded that a new parliament should be holden every year; that during the intervals the supreme power should be exercised by a committee of the house; that no member of the last should sit in the succeeding parliament; that the self-denying ordinance should be enforced; that no officer should retain his command in the army for more than a certain period; that the High Court of Justice should be abolished as contrary to law, and the council of state, as likely to become an engine of tyranny; that the proceedings in the courts should be in the English language, the number of lawyers diminished, and their fees reduced; that the excise and customs should be taken away, and the lands of delinquents sold for compensation to the well-affected; that religion should be "reformed according to the mind of God;" that no one should be molested or incapacitated
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1649. Jan. 20.][Sidenote b: A.D. 1649. Feb. 26.]
on account of conscience; that tithes should be abolished; and that the income of each minister should be fixed at one hundred pounds per annum, to be raised by a rate on his parishioners.[1]
Aware of the necessity of crushing the spirit of opposition in the military, general orders were issued[a] by Fairfax, prohibiting private meetings of officers or soldiers "to the disturbance of the army;" and on the receipt[b] of a letter of remonstrance from several regiments, four of the five troopers by whom it was signed were condemned[c] by a court-martial to ride the wooden horse with their faces to the tail, to have their swords broken over their heads, and to be afterwards cashiered. Lilburne, on the other hand, laboured to inflame the general discontent by a succession of pamphlets, entitled, "England's New Chains Discovered," "The Hunting of the Foxes from Newmarket and Triploe Heath to Whitehall by five small Beagles" (in allusion to the five troopers), and the second part of "England's New Chains." The last he read[d] to a numerous assembly at Winchester House; by the parliament it was voted[e] a seditious and traitorous libel, and the author, with his associates, Walwyn, Prince, and Overton; was committed,[f] by order of the council, to close custody in the Tower.[2]
It had been determined to send to Ireland a division of twelve thousand men; and the regiments to be employed were selected by ballot, apparently in the fairest manner. The men, however, avowed a resolution not to march. It was not, they said, that they
[Footnote 1: Walker, 133. Whitelock, 388, 393, 396, 398, 399. Carte,Letters, i. 229.]
[Footnote 2: Whitelock, 385, 386, 392. Council Book in the State-paperOffice, March 27, No. 17; March 29, No. 27. Carte, Letters, i. 273, 276.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1649. Feb. 22.][Sidenote b: A.D. 1649. March 1.][Sidenote c: A.D. 1649. March 3.][Sidenote d: A.D. 1649. March 25.][Sidenote e: A.D. 1649. March 27.][Sidenote f: A.D. 1649. March 29.]
refused the service; but they believed the expedition to be a mere artifice to send the discontented out of the kingdom; and they asserted that by their engagement on Triploe Heath they could not conscientiously move a step till the liberties of the nation were settled on a permanent basis. The first act of mutiny occurred in Bishopsgate. A troop of horse refused to obey their colonel; and, instead of marching out of the city, took possession of the colours. Of these, five were condemned to be shot; but one only, by name Lockyer, suffered. At his burial a thousand men, in files, preceded the corpse, which was adorned with bunches of rosemary dipped in blood; on each side rode three trumpeters, and behind was led the trooper's horse, covered with mourning; some thousands of men and women followed with black and green ribbons on their heads and breasts, and were received at the grave by a numerous crowd of the inhabitants of London and Westminster. This extraordinary funeral convinced the leaders how widely the discontent was spread, and urged them to the immediate adoption of the most decisive measures.[1]
The regiments of Scrope, Ireton, Harrison, Ingoldsby, Skippon, Reynolds, and Horton, though quartered in different places, had already[a] elected their agents, and published their resolution to adhere to each other, when the house commissioned Fairfax to reduce the mutineers, ordered Skippon to secure the capital from surprise, and declared it treason for soldiers to conspire the death of the general or lieutenant-general, or for any person to endeavour to alter the government, or to affirm that the parliament or council of state was either tyrannical or unlawful.[2]
[Footnote 1: Walker, 161. Whitelock, 399.]
[Footnote 2: Journals, May 1, 14. Whitelock, 399.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1649. May 7.]
At Banbury, in Oxfordshire, a Captain Thompson, at the head of two hundred men, published a manifesto, entitled "England's Standard Advanced," in which he declared that, if Lilburne, or his fellow-prisoners, were ill-treated, their sufferings should he avenged seventy times seven-fold upon their persecutors. His object was to unite some of the discontented regiments; but Colonel Reynolds surprised him at Banbury, and prevailed on his followers to surrender without loss of blood.[1] Another party, consisting of ten troops of horse, and more than a thousand strong, proceeded from Salisbury to Burford, augmenting their numbers as they advanced. Fairfax and Cromwell, after a march of more than forty miles during the day, arrived soon afterwards,[a] and ordered their followers to take refreshment. White had been sent to the insurgents with an offer of pardon on their submission; whether he meant to deceive them or not, is uncertain; he represented the pause on the part of the general as time allowed them to consult and frame their demands; and at the hour of midnight, while they slept in security, Cromwell forced his way into the town, with two thousand men, at one entrance, while Colonel Reynolds, with a strong body, opposed their exit by the other. Four hundred of the mutineers were made prisoners, and the arms and horses of double that number were taken. One cornet and two corporals suffered death; the others, after a short imprisonment, were restored to their former regiments.[2]
This decisive advantage disconcerted all the plans of the mutineers. Some partial risings in the
[Footnote 1: Walker, ii. 168. Whitelock, 401.]
[Footnote 2: King's Pamphlets, No. 421, xxii.; 422, i. Whitelock, 402.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1649. May 14.]
counties of Hants, Devon, and Somerset were quickly suppressed; and Thompson, who had escaped[a] from Banbury and retired to Wellingborough, being deserted by his followers, refused quarter, and fell[b] fighting singly against a host of enemies.[1] To express the national gratitude for this signal deliverance, a day of thanksgiving was appointed; the parliament, the council of State, and the council of the army assembled[c] at Christ-church; and, after the religious service of the day, consisting of two long sermons and appropriate prayers, proceeded to Grocer's Hall, where they dined by invitation from the city. The speaker Lenthall, the organ of the supreme authority, like former kings, received the sword of state from the mayor, and delivered it to him again. At table, he was seated at the head, supported on his right hand by the lord general, and on the left by Bradshaw, the president of the council; thus exhibiting to the guests the representatives of the three bodies by which the nation was actually governed. At the conclusion of the dinner, the lord mayor presented one thousand pounds in gold to Fairfax in a basin and ewer of the same metal, and five hundred pounds, with a complete service of plate, to Cromwell.[2]
The suppression of the mutiny afforded leisure to the council to direct its attention to the proceedings in Scotland and Ireland. In the first of these kingdoms, after the departure of Cromwell, the supreme authority had been exercised by Argyle and his party, who were supported, and at the same time controlled, by the paramount influence of the kirk. The forfeiture
[Footnote 1: Whitelock, 403.]
[Footnote 2: Leicester's Journal, 74. Whitelock (406) places the guests in a different order.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1649. May 20.][Sidenote b: A.D. 1649. May 31.][Sidenote c: A.D. 1649. June 7.]
and excommunication of the "Engagers" left to their opponents the undisputed superiority in the parliament and all the great offices of the state. From the part which Argyle had formerly taken in the surrender of the king, his recent connection with Cromwell, and his hostility to the engagement, it was generally believed that he had acted in concert with the English Independents. But he was wary, and subtle, and flexible. At the approach of danger he could dissemble; and, whenever it suited his views, could change his measures without changing his object. At the beginning of January the fate with which Charles was menaced revived the languid affection of the Scots. A cry of indignation burst from every part of the country: he was their native king—would they suffer him to be arraigned as a criminal before a foreign tribunal? By delivering him to his enemies, they had sullied the fair fame of the nation—would they confirm this disgrace by tamely acquiescing in his death? Argyle deemed it prudent to go with the current of national feeling;[1] he suffered a committee to be appointed in parliament, and the commissioners in London received instructions to protest against the trial and condemnation of the king. But these instructions disclose the timid fluctuating policy of the man by whom they were dictated. It is vain to look in them for those warm and generous sentiments which the case demanded. They are framed with hesitation and caution; they betray a