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COMMENTARIES

ON THE

LIFE AND REIGN

or

CHARLES THE FIRST,

KING or ENGLAND.

BY ISAAC DISRAELI.

A NEW EDITION, REVISED BY THE AUTHOE,

AND EDITED

BY HIS SON.

IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. 11.

LONDON :
HENRY COLBURN, PUBLISHER,

GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.
1851.

i.oNnon:

BKADBI'RT *KD KTARS PRINTERS, WHITKrBHRS.

CONTENTS OF VOL. II.

CHAPTER I.

PAGB

OF THE SABBATICAL INSTITUTIONS . . ... 1

CHAPTER II.

OBSEHVATION OF THE SABBATH UPON SUNDAYS .... 8

CHAPTER III.

THE CAUSE OF THE EEVIVAL BY CHARLES THE FIRST OF " THE

BOOK OF sports" FOR RECREATION ON SUNDAYS . . 23

CHAPTER IV.

THE SOVEREIGNTY OF THE SEAS 35

CHAPTER V.

CAUSES OF THE INACTION OF THE ENGLISH FLEETS ... 47

CHAPTER VI.

OF THE COMMOTIONS OF SCOTLAND 61

CHAPTER VII.

OF THE CONSPIRACIES OF THE SCOTS AGAINST CHARLES THE FIRST 77

CHAPTER VIII.

THE DIFFICULTIES OF CHARLES THE FIRST IN THE FIRST INVASION

OF THE SCOTS 90

i.

IV

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER IX.

PAUK

CHABLbS THE FIRST RESISTS THE SEDUCTIONS OF CARDINAL

RICHEUEU 110

CHAPTER X.

OF THE INFLUENCE OF CARDINAL RICHELIEU ON THE FATE OF

CHARLES THE FIRST 115

CHAPTER XI.

HISTORY AND TRIAL OF THE EARL OF STRAFFORD . . . . 121

CHAPTER XII.

THE ARTS OF INSURGENCY . . . . . .151

CHAPTER XIII.

THE DEATH OF STRAFFORD . . 165

CHAPTER XIV.

ARMY PLOT. — HISTORY OF COLONEL GORING. — PYM's MANAGEMENT

OF THE I'LOT. — DEFENCE OF LORD CLARENDON AND HUME . 107

CHAPTER XV.

■mi. MARQUFS OK HAMILTON . . . . . .215

CHAPTER XVI.

THE INCIDENT 242

CHAPTER XVII.

THE LETTER OF THE SCOTS TO THE FRENCH KING. A DESIGN

OF THEIR SEPARATION FROM ENGLAND. BURNET's ANECDOTE

OK LORD LOUDON EXAMINED 252

CONTENTS. V

CHAPTER XVIII.

PAGE

THE SECRET MOTIVE OF CHARLES THE FIRSTS SECOND JOURNEY

TO SCOTLAND. THE FORGED LETTER OF LORD SAVILLE . . 265

CHAPTER XIX.

THE IRISH REBELLION 376

CHAPTER XX.

THE COMMONS PERSIST IN NOT RELIEVING IRELAND . . . 288

CHAPTER XXI.

THE GRAND REMONSTRANCE . 2&3

CHAPTER XXII.

THE HISTORY OF LORD DIGBY 298

CHAPTER XXIII.

THE FLIGHT FROM THE CAPITAL 315

CHAPTER XXIV.

THE CIVIL WARS 338

CHAPTER XXV.

"WHO BEGAN THE WAR, THE KING OR THE PARLIAMENT? ' . 351

CHAPTER XXVI.

THE FIRST BATTLE BETWEEN THE KING AND THE PARLIAMENT . 362

CHAPTER XXVII.

THE MILITARY LIFE OF CHARLES THE FIRST . . . .376

vi CONTENTS.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

PAGB

JUDGE JENKINS AND THE " LAW OF THE LAND " . . . . 395

CHAPTER XXIX.

SECRET ANECDOTES OF THE YEARS 1644 AND 1645 . . H)<>

CHAPTER XXX.

THE TWO FRENCH RESIDENTS 424

CHAPTER XXXI.

FUGHT FROM OXFORD TO THE SCOTTISH CAMP .... 436

CHAPTER XXXII.

THE KING IN THE PRESBYTERIAN CAMP . . ... 445

CHAPTER XXXIII.

THE ARMY 456

CHAPTER XXXIV.

THE king's PROGRESS WITH THE ARMY 474

CHAPTER XXXV.

CROMWELL AND CHARLES THE FIRST AT HAMFTON COURT . . 486

CHAPTER XXXVI.

OF THE LETTER SUPPOSED TO HAVE BEEN INTERCEPTED BY

CROMWELL AND IRETON 504

CHAPTER XXXVII.

THE SINGULAR NEGOTIATION OF HERKLKY AND ASHBURNHAM WITH

THE GOVERNOR OF THE ISLE OF WIGHT .... 5 OS

CONTENTS. vii

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

PAGE

IMPRISONMENT AT THE ISLE OF WIGHT . . . . . 517

CHAPTER XXXIX.

TREATY AT THE ISLE OF WIGHT . . . , . .529

CHAPTER XL.

HAMMOND 540

CHAPTER XLI.

HURST BLOCK-HOUSE AND WINDSOR CASTLE . . . .545

CHAPTER XLII.

THE TRIAL AND THE DECAPITATION . . . . . 663

CHAPTER XLIII.
CONCLUSION 575

APPKNDIX 581

LIFE AND REIGN

CHARLES THE FIRST.

CHAPTER I.

ON THE SABBATICAL INSTITUTIONS.

We have now arrived at the investigation of one of the most
curious, one of the most delicate, and one of the most miscon-
ceived points in the history of Charles the First — the custom of
performing, at Court, plays and masques on Sundays, or, as
the spirit of party afterwards emphatically designated them, on
" Sabbaths." Sunday was usually fixed on for these recreations
as the festival day of the week — and the revival of the memora-
ble declaration of James the First for promoting lawful sports
on that day, such as bowling, wrestling, dancing, distinguished
from bear-baiting, cock-fighting, &c., was not one of the least
causes of the civil war among the populace.

The memory of Charles is still loaded by some persons, as well
as by the Puritans of this day, with the popular obloquy of
irreligion and profaneness in violating the Sabbath. Even his
friends, startled by a profaneness, which certainly never entered
into the mind of the monarch, eluded the torturing inquiry.

But it is our business to enter more particularly into the
motives and conduct of Charles the First; to trace out the
opinions of himself and his predecessors upon this misconceived
subject ; to ascertain, we should rather say, the notions and the
practice of the whole Christian world with regard to it, since the
establishment of the Christian faith.

VOL. II. B

4 ON THE SABBATICAL INSTITUTIONS.

of a Jewish Sabbath. It was a strange abandonment of all the
avocations of life. They saw the fields of the Hebrews forsaken
by the labourer; the ass unsaddled; the oar laid up in the
boat ; tlicy marked a dead stillness pervading the habitation of
the Israelite ; the fires all extinguished; the accustomed meal
unprepared ; the man-servant and the maiden leave their work,
and the trafficker, at least one day in the week, refusing the
offered coin. The most scrupulous superstitions had long been
superadded to the observance of the Mosaic institution, by the
corrupting artifices of the rabbinical Pharisees. The female
was not allowed to observe herself in a mirror, lest she might
be tempted to pluck a hair; the Israelite might not even
scrape ofl:' the dirt on his shoes, he must not lift a weight, or
touch money, or ride, or bathe, or play on an instrument ; the
most trivial act of domestic life connected with labour or busi-
ness, was a violation of the Sabbath. Even the distance of a
Sabbath-walk was not to exceed that space which lies between
Jerusalem and the Mount of Olives; this was the distance
between the Temple and the Tabernacle; it had been nicely
measured, and the Hebrew in Rome on his Sabbath was still
counting his steps on a Sabbath-day's journey. The llomans
too might have heard that these Hebrews, when they had armies
of their own, would halt in the midst of victory, on the eve of
the Sabbath ; and that on the Sabbath-day they ceased even to
defend their walls from the incursions of an enemy. Had not
the llomans profited by this custom in their last memorable
triumph over Jerusalem ?

But the interior delights of the habitation of the Hebrew
were invisible to the Polytheist. He heard not the domestic
greeting which cheerfully announced " the good Sabbath," nor
the paternal benediction for the sons, and that of the masters
for his pupils. He could not behold, in the twilight hour of the
Sabbath, the female covering the fresh loaves, prepared for that
sanctified day, with her whitest napkins, in perpetual remem-
brance of that miraculous food which had fallen from Heaven
on every day, save the Sabbath. He could not behold the
mistress of the house watching the sun set, and then lighting
up the seven wicks of the lamp of the Sabbath, suspended
during its consecration ; a servile office performed by her own

ON THE SABBATICAL INSTITUTIONS. 5

hand in atonement of the great mother of mankind. For oil to
fill the Sabbath-lamp the mendicant implored an alms, which
was as religiously given as it was religiously used. But the
more secret illumination of the law on the Sabbath eve, as the
Rabbins expressed it, bestowed a supernumerary soul on every
Israelite. The sanctity felt through the Jewish abode on that
day, was an unfailing renewal of the religious emotions of this
pious race. Thus, in the busy circle of life, w^as there one
immoveable point, where the weary rested, and the wealthy
enjoyed a heavenly repose ; and it was not without some truth
that Leo of Modena, a philosophical Hebrew, called this day
" the Festival of the Sabbath."

It is beautiful to trace the expansion of an original and vast
idea in the mind of a rare character, who seems born to govern
the human race. Such an awful and severe genius was the
legislator of the Hebrews ! The Sabbatical institution he boldly
extended to a seventh year, as well as he had appointed a
seventh day. At that periodical return, the earth itself was
suffered to lie fallow and at rest. In this " Sabbath of the
land," the Hebrews were not permitted to plant, or to prune,
to sow, or to reap ; of the spontaneous growth, no proprietor
at those seasons was allowed to gather more than sufficed for
the bare maintenance of his household.* In this seventh year
all debtors were to be released, a law which would naturally
check the facility of increasing debts at the approach of the
periodical release. But what was the design of this great
legislator in the extraordinary ordinance of ceasing agricultural
labours ?

We may conjecture that in the infant state of cultivation he
considered, that in the confined territory which the Israelites
occupied, far inland, among woods, and mountains, and rocks,
and without any commercial intercourse with surrounding
nations, for they sought none, and none came to them, their
incessant industry might exhaust their soil. This law seems
to have originated' in a local necessity, but the foresight which
would have prevented the evil of famine, erred even in its
wisdom ; for though Israel had been promised that " the sixth
year should bring forth fruit for three years," and Moses would

* Levit. XXV. 3, 7.

6 ON THE SABBATICAL INSTITUTIONS.

calculate on that surplus to supply the Sabbatical year, yet this
refractory horde too often forfeited the Divine favour. This
Ordinance impoverished the wealth of this agricultural people,
and the Sabbatical year was usually followed by one of scarcity
and distress. Thus it happened when Alexander, on a very
singular occasion,* was desirous of conceding to the Hebrews
some substantial mark of his royal favour, none seemed to them
of more national importance than a dispensation to pay tribute
in the seventh year.

A more obvious wisdom, and a more beautiful moral influence,
appear in the still greater Sabbatical institution of every fifty
years. Seven Sabbaths of years closed in their Jubilee, or the
great year of release ; a name and a ceremony still retained in
the mimicry of Judaism by Papal Christianity, though it de-
generates into a ludicrous and unmeaning parade. On the
eventful day which hallowed a fiftieth year, at the blowing of
the horn in the Synagogue, and the horn is still blown, though
no longer heard in Judea, the poor man once more ceased to
want, all pledges were returned, and all lands reverted to their
original proprietors. On that day the slave was emancipated !
The Lord had decreed, " The land shall not be sold, for the
land is mine !"t By this Sabbatical institution of the Jubilee,
no demoralised parent could entirely deprive his off'spring of
the inheritance of their ancestors ; the curse of destitution no
man could entail on his posterity. Equality of fortunes in the
conditions of men, a political reverie in all other governments,
seemed to have been realised in the small sacerdotal and agricul-
tural Kcpublic of Israel ; and perhaps served as the model of
that famous government which the Jesuits attempted to esta-
blish in Paraguay. The sublime legislator of the Hebrews, to
prevent the oppressive accumulation of wealth in individuals,
and the multiplication of debts without limit, and the perpetuity
of slavery, decreed that nothing should be perpetual but the
religious Republic itself! This greater Sabbatical institution
was an expedient to check the disorders which flow from the
monopoly of property. It produced a kind of community of
goods among the people, and in some respects combined the

• The story is delightfully told by Josephus in his History, lib. xi., c. 8.
t Levit. XXV, 23.

ON THE SABBATICAL INSTITUTIONS. 7

theoretical politics of Plato and Socrates with the more practical
systems of real property and personal possessions of Aristotle
and Cicero. Too exquisitely benevolent for the selfishness, and
the pride, and the indolence of man, the passions of mankind
would revolt against this code of philanthropy, adapted to a
smaller community ; it was an Agrarian law without its violence,
and an Ostracism without its malignity. While Israel possessed
their Holy Land, all the Sabbatical institutions were religiously
observed, till the destruction of the first Temple by the
Assyrians. When the captive Jews, returning from Babylon,
sought their father-land, they beheld their tribes confused
together, and many of their brethren were wanderers in far-
distant regions. The glory of their Temple had for ever passed
away, the feelings of patriotism were cold in a desolated country,
— the magic had dissolved — and the Seven Sabbaths of Years
for ever vanished !

Such is the history of the Sabbatic institutions of Moses.
The seventh day, consecrated to the universal repose of all
nature, may be said to have entirely disappeared, except among
this ancient people, who still preserve it with all its rigours.
Even Mahomet, iu perpetuating it among his Moslems, changed
it to a weekly feast-day, and " the most excellent day on which
the sun rises," as it is described, is the sixth of the week. The
Mohammedans esteem it a peculiar honour to Islam that
Friday has been appointed for them, and that they alone enjoy
the blessing of having first observed it.*

The observance of the Sabbath-day became a subject of con-
troversy only among the religious of the Protestants of our
country; a subject which requires oiu* investigation.

* Sale's Preliminary Discourse to the Koran, 197. Lander recently, when in
Africa, thus noticed this weekly festival. " Friday is the Mahommedan Sabbath,
which is constantly kept as a holiday by the inhabitants for public recreation and
festivities." — ii. 114.

OBSERVATION OF THE

CHAPTER II.

OF THE OBSERVATION OF THE SABBATH UPON SUNDAYS.

The superstitious discipline of the Jewish Sabbath, as practised
by the tyrannical Pharisees, was one of those burthens of the
okl law wliich tlic new removed.

The Founder of the Christian Religion in the severe repri-
mands to his rabbinical persecutors, by his words and by his
actions, testified that with the abrogation of the Mosaic ritual,
the ceremonial performance of the Sabbath was dissolved.
Jesus announced himself to be " Lord of the Sabbath," and
declared that " the Sabbath was made for man, not man for the
Sabbath," doubtless alluding to its arbitrary superstitions.
" This man is not of God, because he keepeth not the Sabbath
day," said the haughty Pharisees of Jesus ; and when Jesus was
accused of a breach of the Sabbath, according to the pharisaical
strictness, by healing a sick man on that day, Jesus replied,
" My Father worketh hitherto, and I also work." * The Apostles
comprehended the intention of their Lord, otherwise they would
have preferred enduring the keenest hunger rather than have
plucked the ears of corn in passing through a field on the Sab-
bath. This was the point of time, at which the ceremonial of
the Sabb«ath was manifestly dissolved — or as Lightfoot, deep in
Hebraic lore, that " Christian Rabbi " as Gibbon happily desig-
nates this prodigy of erudition, quaintly expressed it, this was
"the shaking of the Sabbath."

Christianity was not established at once : this miracle was
denied the world ; and the children of the Gospel required the
indulgence of tender converts, whose consciences, and customs
and imaginations could not be weaned on the sudden from those
Mosaic rites which for so many ages they held as imprescrip-
tible. The hfibits of these innovators, known in ecclesiastical

A strong light is thrown on this expression of Jesus, as well as on our present
subject, by Justin Martyr in his eccentric dialogue with Trypho the Jew—" You see
that the heavens are not idle, nor do ihnj observe the Salbatlis. If before Abraham
there was no need of circumcision, nor the Sabbaths, &c., so now in like manner
tlicre is no need of them since Jesus Christ." Sect, xxiii.

i

SABBATH UPON SUNDAYS. 9

history as Judaising Christians, were still clin gin g to the ancient
faith, while their convictions had embraced the new. These
Jewish proselytes, who are described as " certain of the sect of
Pharisees which believe" * were indulged for the first half
century, in Levitical ceremonies. To these Judaising Christians
the antiquated Sabbath and even the rite of circumcision was
still allowed. St. Paul attended Synagogues on the Sabbath,
and joined in the ceremonial part, with a view to obtain prose-
lytes, and this great assertor of the Christian Faith, who had
inculcated " the circumcision made without hands,^^ himself cir-
cumcised Timothy to humour the rooted prejudices of these
wavering Jews.f There was a moment even when the Judaising
Christians attempted to reconcile the Code of Moses with the
Gospel of Christ. These held a conference with the Apostles,
which, like all such conferences, produced " much disputing,"
till Peter rising up, and having announced his successful con-
version of the Gentiles, protested against a return to their
obsolete rites. The Apostle rested his salvation, not on a Eitual,
but " on the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ." Proceeding as
they now were, with such great success, the Apostle exclaimed,
" Now therefore why tempt ye God to put a yoke upon the neck
of the disciples which neither our fathers nor ive are able to bear?"
This open confession of the Apostle is remarkable. The rites,
or rather the ceremonies of Judaism, had sunk into an inextri-
cable mass of the minutest and most harassing superstitions.
Religion looked like witchcraft — ^d the Pharisees, ostenta-
tiously austere, with inquisitorial terror, had inflicted on their
people the brutallsing bondage of passive obedience. The
attempt to renew these multiplied ceremonies was thwarting the
spirit of the mighty Reformation of Judaism, and would have

* Acts XV. 5.
t The intolerant Knox was so greatly confounded at the compliance of St. Paul
with the advice of St. James, in conforming with the Jewish customs, that he might
not offend the converts of that nation — that Knox inveighs against what he calls " a
worldly-wise council " of both the Apostles, and hardily doubts whether the com-
mand of the one and the obedience of the other proceeded from the Holy Ghost,
Knox discovered that the Apostolical toleration was pointed against his own un-
relenting conduct to those who, however inclined to the new Reformation, yet still
looked on the mass with religious emotions. How true is it that men in parallel
situations necessarily move on similar principles. — Knox, Hist. Ref. of Scotland,
i. 143. (Ed. 1814.)

10 OBSERVATION OF THE

contracted the influence of that more beautiful system which
initiated its votaries on far easier terms. A baptism of blood was
changed to a baptism of water : mercy and not sacrifice was now
the hope of man ; the Revelation which had remained incomplete
was now accomplished by "the Saviour who had abolished
death, and brought life and immortality to light." The early
proselytes to Christianity unquestionably would have been
diminished in number, had they been compelled to return to the
old Jewish bondage.

The leading object of St. PauFs reform was to do away " all
the differences of days and times," such as " SabbatJis, new
moons, circumcision, with distinctions of meat and drink." The
whole code of Moses was repealed, the rites and ceremonies
were declared to be but " a shadow of things to come," * types
of the new Revelation ; Judaism was but an adumbration of
Christianity.

In the East, Christians chiefly of Hebrew descent still lingered
in their old customs ; the Jewish Sabbath, and even the rite of
circumcision were permitted as indifferent matters, that, as we
are told, " the Mother Synagogue might be laid to sleep with
the greater honour." f But in the West the Christian Church
condemned as heretical the celebration of the Sabbath of the
Hebrews ; it was mingling the Jewish leaven with the bread of
life. As the Eastern Christians had been indulged with Judaic
ceremonies, so the Western, consisting chiefly of Pagan converts,
were favoured with more exhilarating festivals, instituted on a
mythological model, for the heathen proselytes experienced the
same reluctance in abandoning their own ancient ceremonies
as had the Hebrews.^ Those opposite rites and ceremonies of
the earliest proselytes to Christianity were imperceptibly intro-
duced into the Church ; they have been deemed its corruptions ;
and the famous letter on the "Conformity of Popery with
Paganism " requires as large a supplement on the conformity of
Popery with Judaism.

• Colossians, ii. 1 7.

t All expression from one of the Councils. Heylins History of the Sabbath,
part ii. 21.

X Moshcim's Eccles. Hist. ii. 141. Grotius, in his « Truth of Christianity," has
noticed the toleration of Jewish rites by the primitive teachers of the Christiuu
faith, book v. ch. 12.

SABBATH UPON SUNDAYS. 11

When the Sabbath departed, no new one was substituted ; no
apostolical precept enforces it; no practice of the primitive
Christians warrants it.

As the religious observance of the seventh day of the week
declined, the first day gradually grew into some repute.*

Of customs, whose beginnings only glimmer in the obscurity
of ages, it is hopeless to feel about for any palpable evidence.
Paley has taken an enlightened view of this subject, aware as
he was of the historical difiiculties of affixing the Sabbatical
character to our Sunday, or even the appellative by which it is
honoured, as " The Lord^s day." St. Paul and St. Luke only
call it " the first day of the week," evidently from the acknow-
ledgment that the Sabbath was the seventh and last day. At
first it appears to have been fixed on as a day on which Chris-
tians assembled to unite in solemn prayer, perhaps as being in
direct opposition to the Jewish seventh day. St. Paul distin-
guished the first day of the week, and opposed the observance
of the Jewish Sabbath, and it was for this reason that those
Jndaising Christians, the Ebionites, rejected his writings, ac-
counting the Saint to be an apostate, as we are informed by
Irenseus and Epiphanius.f The primitive Christians abhorred
the observance of the Jewish Sabbath, which they held was
only practised by the contemners of " the Lord^s day." Justin
Martyr tells Trypho the Jew, in the full spirit of the times,
that " they would gladly endure thej^nost horrible tortures that
men and devils could devise to inflict on them, rather than keep
your Sabbath, and observe your solemn days."

It is probable that Sunday, being considered as the day of
the Redeemer's resurrection, was hence called "the Lord's
day." The first account we find of this impressive term is in
the Apocalypse, chap. i. v. 10, "I was in the spirit on the
Lord's day." This was written so late as the ninety-fourth
year of the Christian era. The Lord's day can only be pre-
sumed to designate Sunday. The term is frequent among the

* See Selden de jure naturali et Gentium juxta disciplinare Hebrceorum, lib. iii. in
the 13th and following chapter. Prideaux," The Doctrine of the Sabbath, deUvered
in the Act at Oxon, 1622. 4°.» Heyliu's " Hist, of the Sabbath," part ii. 30— and
also " Paley's Moral and Political Philosophy," ii. 94.

t Sunday no Sabbath. A sermon by John Pocklington, Doctor of Divinity,
Chaplain to the Lord Bishop of Lincoln, 1636, p. 10.

12 OBSERVATION OF THE

prophetical writers, as Cruden's Concordance will show at a
single glance. "But," observed Paley, "we find no footsteps
of any distinction of days, which could entitle any other to
that appellation." So obscure is even the first introduction of
the elevated designation which hallows that day.

The Jewish Sabbath and the Lord's day were long wrestling
for the mastery ; but while the first day in the week received
the honours of the Sabbath, it bred some confusion among those
whose faith lay in the seventh. The Judaising Christian, the
mild Nazarene, and the fierce Ebionite, sabbathised both days ;
the Saturday as the day of Creation, when all nature began to
live, and the Sunday as the day of the Resurrection, when man
was blessed with such certain evidence of a future existence.

About the middle of the second century Justin Martyr
noticed, that " upon the day called Sunday they met together
to pray." He styles the first day of the week the day of the
Sun, and assigns the reason for the selecting of that day for
religious worship, that in it God began the work of creation,
and Christ rose from the dead ; this was evidently a confused
mixture of the Jewish and the Christian creeds. It was these
Sunday assemblies which induced the Pagans to imagine that
the Christians were worshippers of the Sun, from whom that
dedicated day was named. Tertullian, who lived much later
than this Father, calls Sunday Dies Soils, and considered it as
a festival-day dedicated to mirth and festivity, and not wholly
to devotion. He sometimes calls it "the Eighth day," and
sometimes Dies Dominicus, the Lord's day. After divine service
every one returned to his occupations. The apostles had never
enjoined their followers to refrain from labour. Paul, who was
a tent maker, must be inferred, from a passage in the New
Testament, to have worked at his tents on a Sunday.

During the three first centuries, the Lord's day was not con-
sidered as a Sabbath, nor was it held as such in the fourth.
At this period, indeed, a remarkable circumstance occurred.
Constantine, called the Great, whom Eusebius characterises by
a single stroke, as " making a church of his palace," enacted
laws for the equal observance of Sundays and Saturdays. But
Sunday became a more favourite day, for his mingled army of
Christians and Pagans would willingly address on the same

SABBATH UPON SUNDAYS. 13

day, the one in their Church, the Saviour Jesus ; the other in
the open field, Phoebus, the god of light. No cessation from
the business of life had hitherto attended "the Lord's day."
Constantino for the first time closed the courts of law, but the
peasant and the artisan were seen at their work. After prayers,
Sunday was held as a day of recreation, and on Wednesdays
and Fridays they equally communicated together by the order
of this Prince, half-Christian and half-Pagan.

In the fifth and sixth centuries, when Christianity began to
triumph over those anomalous sects into which Paganism had
split, "the Lord's day" rose in the same esteem as other
festival days. Still, however, through these and six succeeding
centuries, we discover some Judaising Christians. Gregory
the Great, who adopted so many popular ceremonies into the
Church, yet strenuously opposed those who refused to attend
to their occupations on the Saturdays or the Sundays. In
their Judaising strictness, they refrained even from their baths
on Sundays, on which the Pontiff observed, " If bathing be
sinful, why then wash the face on that day ? "

Under the Gaulish and the Northern monarchs, the barbarous
Christian became more and more Judaical in the strict observ-
ance of the Sabbath. The writers of these times abound with
legends of miraculous punishments happening to the violators
of the Sabbath, or Sundays. We seem suddenly to enter on a
history of Israelites composed by doting Kabbins, rather than
on the annals of Christianity, dictated by an Apostolical spirit.
The Rabbinical genius, in its minute tyrannies, among their
Sabbatical superstitions had forbidden their Jews even making
so small a noise as that of rapping their knuckles on a table to
still a child ; or tracing a letter even in sand, or cutting a cord,
or breaking a stick. These pitiful superstitions appear to have
been revived in the spurious Christianity of the middle ages,
and were actually practised by those Puritans who emigrated to
America. In 1028, Olaus, King of Norway, having one Sunday
notched and whittled a stick, was reminded that he had tres-
passed on the Sabbath ; the pious King gathered the chips in
the palm of his hand^ and burnt them on it, that thus he might
punish the member which had, as he supposed, offended the
divine precept. A miller, for mending his mill on the Lord's

14 OBSERVATION OP THE

day, found his hand cleaving to the hatchet. Such superstitious
legends prove that the grossest Judaism was a weed not easily
to be extirpated from the soil.

For three hundred years after Christ, the most erudite re-
searches have shown that the Christian was bound by no law to
the strict Sabbatic observance of the Lord's day, nor was any
sort of labour interdicted on Sundays. In a Council held at
Paris in 829, it was determined that " Keeping of the Lord's
day had no other ground but merely custom.''* More than a
thousand years after Christ elapsed before the Lord's day became
distinguished from the usual festivals appointed by the Church.
In 1244, in the Synod of Lyons it was included among the
holidays.

At the Reformation, Calvin and Beza were anxious that the
Sabbatical- Sunday, as a rest of Judaism, should be considered
merely as an ecclesiastical day, originating in the appointment
of the Church, but not of Divine institution. The Swiss Church
in their Confession declare that one day is not more holy than
another, nor do they think that a cessation from all labour is
any way grateful to the Divinity. To show the world that the
Church had authority to transfer the day, it was proposed to
change the seventh day to Thursday ; a change which certainly
would have occurred in the Church of Geneva, had the Thurs-
day voters not formed the minority. This proposition, by
assuming that there was no distinction of days, was designed to
mark their contempt of the Romanist's crowded Calendar.
Calvin and Beza accused the Church of Rome of having imbued
the minds of the people with Judaism by their frequent festivals
and their saints' days.

At length we land at home. What had occurred on the
Continent had been reflected here. The first account we find
of any restraint from labour is in the reign of Edward the
Third. The same argument then prevailed for establishing
Sunday as a Hebrew Sabbath, and met with the same opposi-
tion ; for markets were opened, public recreations allowed, and
trades carried on, after the hours of prayer. At the Reforma-
tion, Tyndale remarkably expresses his sentiments to Sir Thomas

• Heylin, part ii. r v. p. 143, who frequently profits by the learned inquiry of
Prideaux.

SABBATH UPON SUNDAYS. 15

More, " As for the Sabbath we be lords over the Sabbath and
may yet change it into Monday, or into any other day, as we
see need ; or may make every tenth day holy-day only, if we
see cause why/' — " All days are Sabbath days ! " said Bishop
Hooper. Edward the Sixth, our infant Protestant, in the
infancy of Protestantism, appointed Sundays among other holi-
days on which the people are to refrain from their business, yet
when necessity shall require, the husbandman, the fisherman,
the labourer may work in harvest, or ride or fish at free will.
This was but a half-measure. Elizabeth unquestionably never
considered Sunday as a Sabbath, for she enjoins labour on that,
as well as on other festival-days, after their common prayer —
her language is observable by its indicating that we still har-
boured some Judaising Christians. " And if for any scrupu-
losity or grudge of conscience some should superstitiously abstain
from working on those days, they shall grievously ofl'end.'' I
find Elizabeth granting a licence to one John Seconton to use
certain plays and games upon nine several Sundays"^

It was however in the reign of Elizabeth, during the unsettled
state of the national religion, that a sect arose among those
reformers of the reformed, the first Puritans, who were known
by the name of Sabbatarians, These held the Decalogue as of
perpetual obligation ; and according to their new creed, if the
Sabbath-day had been changed, which they doubted, the Judaic
rigours of its strict observance were still to sanctify it. Labour
and recreation, with those persons, equally profaned the silence
and the repose of the Sabbath. John Knox, the great Reformer
of Scotland, was the true father of this new doctrine in England,
although Knox was the bosom friend of Calvin.

Calvin deemed the Sabbath to have been a Jewish ordinance,
limited to that sacred people with their other ceremonial laws,
and only typical of the spiritual repose of the advent of Christ,
which abolished the grosser, rejected its rigours, and reproaches
those whose Sabbatical superstitions were carnal and gross as
the Jewish. t At Geneva a tradition exists, that when John

* See T. Hearne's Preface to Camden's Elizabeth,
t The passage is in the Institutes, lib. ii., c. viii., sect. 34. " Crassa, carnalique
Sabbatismi Superstition e, Ter Judeos superant," or, as he has given it in his own
translation of the Institute, « Ceux qui la suivent surmontent les Juifs en opinion

16 OBSERVATION OF THE

Knox visited Calviu on a Sunday, he found his austere coadjutor
bowhng on a green. At this day, and in that place, a Calvinist
preacher after his Sunday sermon will take his seat at the card-
table. Some of our early Puritans who had taken refuge in
Holland, after ten years in vain pressing for the observance of
the Sabbatic Sunday, resolved to leave the country where they
had been kindly received and went " to the ends of the earth,''
among the wildernesses of America, to observe ''^the Lord's
day " with the Jewish rigours.* When Laud was charged on
his trial for the revival of the Book of Sports allowed on that
day, he thought it prudent to deny that he had been the sug-
gester ; he however professed his judgment in its favour, alleging
the practice of their own favourite church of Geneva, t

It may surprise us that two of the great friends of Calvin,
closely connected with him, and with his system, should have
espoused a very opposite doctrine. Knox in Scotland after
Sunday having been 1554 years classed among the festival
days, both in the Greek and the Latin churches, as the Anti-
sabbatarians maintain, Knox no longer calling this day the
Lord's day J but taking some Jew for its god-father, named it

cliamello du Sabbath." Calvin would observe Sunday as a fixed day for assembling
for religious communion, but divested of all Judaism ; not that there is any distinc-
tion between days, but the appointment of a particular one is convenient, that all
may meet together. After divine service all are free, and he reprobates those who
have imbued the poor populace with Judaic opinions, and deprived the working
claases of their recreations.
, • Cotton Mather, Magnaha Christi Americana, fol. 5.

t Thomas Wartou, in his first edition of " Milton's Juvenile Poems," observed,
in a note ou tlie La<ly's speech in Comus, verso 177, that" It is owing to the Puritans
ever since Cromwell's time that Sunday has been made in England a day of gravity
and severity ; and many a staunch observer of the rites of the Church of England
little suspects that he is conforming to the Calvinism of an English Sunday." In
Warton's second edition this note was wholly cancelled. It had probably given
offence to heads unfurnished witii their own natural history ; thus are popular errors
fostered. There was too an error, and one our critic and poet, not versed probably
in Ecclesiastical history, might have easily fallen into, when he ascribed to Calviu
tlie melancholy institution of Knox's Sabbath. Calvin himself was adverse to it.
The Scottish Presbyterian who so eagerly embraced the horrible theology of Calvin,
as if that were not sufficiently mortifying to man, dropped the only part which might
soften the cares of human life, and added to the gloom of Calvinism the ascetism of
the most rigorous Sabbath. Warton, having discovei-ed himself surrounded l)y so
many diffictilties, and having unintentionally offended the false delicacy of some, in
despair seems to have given up the note altogether, which, however, only required
a very minute correction.

SABBATH UPON SUNDAYS. 17

the Sabhathy and thus disguised its nature and custom.* Knox
acquired many advocates in England. Whittingham^ tlie Puritan
Dean of Durham, who had resided at Geneva and had married
the sister of Calvin, likewise differed with his brother, and on
his return home appears to have had his mind imbued with a
full portion of the spirit of his Scottish friend. This redoubtable
Puritan evinced his zeal by defacing the antique monuments
in Durham Cathedral, and converting the stone coffins of the
Priors of Durham into horse -troughs. Whittingham was a
rigid Sabbatarian, and these doctrines must have spread at
London from a circumstance which Strype has recorded. At
Paris-garden, where public amusements were performed on
Sundays, a crowded scaffold gave way, and by this accident
some were killed and many wounded. The Lord Mayor sent
notice of it to Lord Burleigh as a judgment of Heaven for the
violation of the Sabbath ; and the Recorder chronicled the event
in his Diary under the head of " a punishment of the violators
of the Sabbath." This doctrine therefore must have been
general in 1582. t

The nation was therefore prepared in 1595 to receive these
Sabbatic doctrines in a systematic form by a Dr. Bound. The
book excited a ferment among the people; the Archbishop
called in the copies, and the Lord Chief Justice forbade the
printing, as inculcating doctrines not acknowledged by the
Church and the laws of the kingdom. The suppressed work,
however, continued to circulate in manuscript, and, being pro-
hibited, was the more eagerly read. When Whitgift was no
more, an enlarged edition appeared in 1606. This book has
hitherto eluded all my enquiries ; yet it may be considered as
the source of those conflicting opinions, which in the subsequent
reigns of James and Charles, so long agitated the nation, re-
specting the mode in which Sunday should be observed, whether
with the rigour of a Jewish Sabbath, or with the recreations of
a Christian holiday ?

* Pocklington's Sermon " Sunday no Sabbath," 1636.
t Strype's Annals, iii. 140. The Puritan Neal, who alludes to this transaction,
profoundly observes that " the Court paid no regard to such remonstrances, and the
Queen had her ends in encouraging the sports, pastimes, and revellings of the people
on Sundays and holidays." — i. 262. 4to.

VOL. 11. C

18 OBSERVATION OP THE

Dr. Bound's doctrine of the Sabbath reigned paramount for
several years, and as our quaint Fuller expresses it, "not so
much as the feather of a quill in print did wag against him ; "
and Heylin more elegantly confesses that " in very little time it
grew the most bewitching error, the most popular deceit, that
ever had been set on foot in the Church of England." The
pious could not reasonably object to an act which at least bears
the appearance of morality and religion, though it may stand
unconnected with either ; but a serpent was imagined to have
folded itself under this " Rose of Sharon." The Puritans having
failed in their open attacks to subvert the hierarchy, and even
the monarchy, from the time of the Mar-prelate faction, it was
now supposed to be striking more covertly, and that Dr. Bound's
doctrine was an arrow drawn out of their quiver.* This Doctor
was a root-and-branch Reformer, for he had thrown out a broad
hint that all other holidays might be safely put down as Papistical
institutions which arbitrarily had raised ordinary days to an
equality with the Sabbath.

On Dr. Bound's Sabbath, scholars were forbid opening their
books, lawyers to peruse briefs, justices to officiate, and even
the throne itself was rebuked, for it enjoyed no privilege to be
occupied on that day with temporal concerns or idle pleasures.
The whole kingdom was thrown into this bondage of Jerusalem.
Nor did this " bewitching error " end here. Some stood up for
abrogating the Lord's day by a positive return to the perpetual
Sabbath-day, the Judaic Saturday ; while others, in their dis-
turbed zeal, equally observed both days.

This novelty was too well adapted to seize on the imagina-
tions of the unthinking multitude, who, naturally religious, are
awed by the ascetic forms of religion ; they imagine that they
become more spiritual in the degree that they remove them-
selves from all corporeal humanity ; as if mortals were born to
be as if they had not been born, so dead to all the affections of
their nature ! In transferring the rigours of the Jewish Sab-

• Ck)inparo Collier's Ecclesiastical History of Great Britain, ii. 643, with Neal,
the historian of the Puritans, i. 386, 4to edition. Collier indicates Dr. Bound's
opinions in his Index, as " singularities touching the morality of the Sabbath." The
learned Heqry Wharton, in a marginal note on Laud's Diary, on the term « Sab-
bath," says, « For so these PuriUns styled and accounted the Sunday."— 214.

SABBATH UPON SUNDAYS. 19

bath to the Lord^s day, the contrast among the people was not
only melancholy but even ridiculous ! All the business and the
recreations of life suddenly ceased ; no cattle were led to the
water, no provender was procured for the horse, no wine was to
be sold, and if a '^ godly " servant could be prevailed on to pre-
pare the Sunday dinner, she saved herself from the sin of wash-
ing the dishes. A Sabbatarian lady had all her days longed to
bless her eyes with the sight of royalty; when Charles and
Henrietta were on a progress, Heylin offered to procure her
this favour ; but the lady refused seeing a King and Queen on
" a Sabbath-day." Dr. Bound had proscribed all feasts and
wedding dinners, but he inserted a clause which does no honour
to the integrity of his piety, for he absolves '^ Lords, knights,
and gentlemen of quality."* To cast a bowl, to ring even
church bells more than by a single toll, even to talk of news or
business, were sins, and ranked with murder, and adultery, and
even at a later period, a Sabbath-breaker became as an excom-
municated man.

A gloomy and anti-social spirit was fast prevailing among the
people in their " preciseness," as this new system was termed.
Puritanic persons had deprived the populace of their accus-
tomed festivals and pastimes on the Sunday afternoons after
divine service ; festivals and pastimes are the poor man's inheri-
tance, his unbought enjoyments, the leisure of his servitude, the
common solace of the ancient friendships of the village ! At a
period when the papal Christians still maintained some political
influence, the Catholic priests were busily insinuating among
the lower orders that the Protestant religion was nothing more
than a sullen deprivation of innocent enjoyments, and we are
told, that this argument was not unintelligible, and had some-
times succeeded in " turning the people's hearts." Scotland
had already put down " Pasche " and " Yule " and other cheer-
ful holidays as " superstitious times." James the First, in one
of his progresses, found the people of Lancashire discontented,
by the austerity of their puritanical Sundays ; and on his return
home the King issued his " declaration " for " liberty on the

* Fuller's Church History, book ix. 227. Dr. Bound's notions are accurately
referred to by Fuller, whose impartial narrative and citations are a substitute for
the original.

c 2

£0 OBSERVATION OP THE

Lord's day." " With our own ears we have heard the general
complaint of our people." His native good-humour and his
deep policy combined to sympathise with the querulous multi-
tude, and to ward off this popular shape of Puritanism. The
Royal declaration is usually known as " the Book of Sports,"
but . it was soon contemptuously nick-named " the Dancing
Book." James had heretofore learned a lesson in Scotland,
from these sour Sabbatarians ; and when he cast his eyes over
Christian Europe, that monarch could not discover any reason
why in his kingdom alone the Sundays after church-time, should
become a day of tribulation and self-denial — the people being
prohibited from their pastimes of archery, leaping. May-games,
and morris-dances, which encouraged the common people to a
common amity, and inured the bodies of sedentary artificers by
athletic exercises.

Scarcely was the memorable and unlucky " Book of Sports "
thrown among the people, than in their inquiry after the nature
of the Sabbath, they discovered, to their amazement, that every
thing concerning the nature of a Christian Sabbath was uncer-
tain and questionable. The Sabbatarian controversy then
re-opened.

The difficulties of the investigation rose in proportion to the
number of learned tractates which appeared, either in favour or
against the strict observance of the ancient Sabbath. What
day is the Seventh ? It is any day after six days. Which is
the beginning and the end of the Sabbath ? Does it open at
cock-crowing, or does it last from even to even ? It was con-
sidered that neither the day, nor the hour were material ; for
Time having a circular motion, and its divisions being them-
selves but artificial, it was sufficient, if the due proportion of
the Sabbath be completed. There were who asserted, that
Sunday was a working-day, for that Saturday was the perpetual
Sabbath ; while, in this controversy, some disturbed at counting
the first day for a seventh, persevered in hallowing both days
as Sabbaths. It was on the occasion of a bill " for the better
observance of the Sabbath called Sunday," we learn from a
private letter of the day, that a Member of the House pre-
suming to sneer at the Puritans, observed that if Saturday was
dies Sabbati, it might be entitled a bill " for the observance of

SABBATH UPON SUNDAYS. 21

Saturday commonly called Sunday." Our unlucky wit had the
good fortune to be only expelled the House, whose proneness
to Judaism, at a later period, might have led them to renew the
Mosaic lapidation.

The opinions of the Sabbatic- Sunday were so unsettled, that
when Fuller wrote his Church history of Britain, that honest
historian shrank from the Sabbatarian controversy, and has
curiously arranged his history on this subject into three columns,
of" Sabbatarians, of moderate men, and of Anti-Sabbatarians,"
without interposing any opinions of his own.

James and Charles were alike condemned by the popular pre-
judice; and though the present was one of their least political errors,
if truly it were an error, heavily was it visited on the last sovereign.
The Parhament's armies usually chose Sundays for their battles,
that the profanation of that day might be expiated by a field-sacri-
fice, and that the Sabbath-breakers, the Royalists, might suffer
a signal punishment ! James the First would have started with"
horror at his " Book of Sports," could he have presciently con-
templated on the Archbishop and the Sovereign who persisted
in its revival, being dragged to the block. By what invisible
threads does fate suspend together the most remote events ! It
was not to be imagined that the consciences were to be dis-
turbed, and the opinions distracted of the English people,
because they had fallen into a peculiar practice when compared
with their European neighbours. Even to a much later period,
the prejudice against these monarchs had lost none of its bitter-
ness, none of its unrelenting hatred, for the presumed impiety
of sparing the people the melancholy indolence of a Puritanic
Sunday. So late as in 1711, a writer in his strictures on the
Lower House of Convocation's representation on the growth of
Infidelity, Heresy, and Profaneness, maintains that " this deluge
of impiety and licentiousness must be traced to the wicked
^Book of Sports' of James and Charles. Charles the First
renewed that war against Heaven which his father had im-
piously begun," and he discovers no other cause in " the rebel-
lion " but that of "the Sabbath-breakers ! "*

But this became no dispute of a mere theological dogma;

* See a folio pamphlet entitled " The Representation examined, being Remarks on
the State of Religion in England."— 171 1.

22 CAUSE OF THE REVIVAL OF THE

" the Sabbath" was now a party-term taken up in opposition
to the term " Sunday" to distinguish the Court from the
popular party; and it seemed no longer to involve a case of
Ecclesiastical judicature, when it raised up a banner under
which was to be fought the terrible contest of civil and political
power, and to which flocked the subverters of the government.*

CHAPTER III.

THE CAUSE OF THE REVIVAL BY CHARLES THE FIRST OF « THE
BOOK OF SPORTS" FOR RECREATIONS ON SUNDAYS.

We must consider the Puritanism that was spreading among
all ranks as that counteraction which usually occurs in human
affairs. The prevalent jealousy and dread of Papistry had
forced scrupulous minds to become what was sometimes termed
"precise." This new mode of opposing superstitions had,
however, many of its own. Some good men, but far more
fantastic and conceited persons, imagined that it was wise to be
" righteous over much" rather than to revert to the Romish
ceremonials, as "the dog returneth to his vomit;" yet these
very persons were fast restoring the corruptions of rabbinical
Judaism.

The Prelacy had been openly attacked ; a more covert blow
was now aimed, by affecting a Judaic strictness in the observance
of " the Lord's day," which the Puritanic now began to style
emphatically " The Sabbath."

* In a suppressed passage of Hume, of his first quarto edition, p. 151, he treats
with some philosophical levity the change of the term Sunday to the Sabbath.
" This is a difference about a few unmeaning syllables, but as the controversy
betwixt the Church and the Puritans did not altogether regard theological dogmas,
but involved a dispute concerning ecclesiastical as well as civil power and govern-
ment, that controversy must be allowed, in some of its articles, to have been of much
greater importance," Perhaps he erased this passage on maturer consideration,
when he found that it is impossible to separate the theological part of the contest
from the political ; the theological being often the ostensible, but not always the real
of the civil war.

BOOK OP SPORTS. 23

The divinity of the Lord^s day was new divinity at Court,
says a contemporary historian,* and, it may be added, it was
so throughout England. At Court, so far were they from
practising any austerities on Sundays, that it was their custom,
'^ Time sans memorie," not only to hold privy councils, but to
reserve this very day for their more splendid amusements, the
Masque — the Pastoral — and the Play. Even among the lowest
orders, Sunday had long been held the most convenient fes-
tival day for the pastimes of the people ; and more particularly
for the celebration of those numerous Church, or parochial
holidays, whose traces still linger among our northern counties,
and were then held to commemorate the dedications of churches
to their patron saint, or to consecrate the memory of some
munificent founder. That many of these festivals of the people
were the remains of old Pagan and Hebrew customs, was better
known to a later age of inquiry than the age of Charles the
First. They had, however, long been converted to Christian
purposes. The profane erudition of the Puritans of that day
was not very extensive, and their authorities were usually
limited to the old and the new law, which they appear to have
sadly confused between the literal and the typical meaning.
They had, it is true, a due abhorrence of the Saints which
crowded the Romish calendar, and grudged even to bestow on
Paul and Peter their titular honour. They now attempted to
abolish these parochial festivals, on the plea that they were
profanations of "the Sabbath."

From time immemorial our rude and religious ancestors had
preserved their country wakes, festivals held throughout the
night, and which in fact, as their title imports, were the ancient
vigils. To strew rushes on the floors, and to hang fresh gar-
lands in the church, were offices pleasing to the maidens ; the
swains encountered each other in their athletic recreations of
wrestling, cudgelling, and leaping, or melted the hearts of their
mistresses, by their Morris-dances and their May-games ; above
all, they feasted liberally, the rich spared not their hospitality,
all doors were opened, all comers welcomed ; all looked forward
to their wake-day, and old friendships were renewed, and little
enmities were reconciled at a joyous wake. Some of these

* Hamon L'Estrange, Reign of Charles the First.

24 CAUSE OP THE REVIVAL OP THE

festivals were called Church-ales. The people, after divine ser-
vice on Sundays, resorted to the churchyard, and after partaking
in the same common enjoyments, and copious potations of a
subscription ale brewed by all the strength and care of the
district, they left some token of their honest piety for the
service of their parish church, to cast a bell, or to repair a
tower, and dropped their mite into the alms-box. There were
Clerk-ales where the parishioners sent in their provisions to the
Clerk's house, and came to feast with him. The Clerk was the
vendor of his own brewings, his profit and his reputation were
at stake, and by the zealous libations of his friends, a half-
starved Clerk eked out his lean quarterage by these merry
perquisites. There was also a Bid-ale, a feast of charity, where
a man decayed in his fortunes gathered the generous bounties
of his neighbours at this Sunday holiday. All these holy fes-
tivals and public spectacles, well provided with good fare and
barmy ale, concluded with rural games in May, and a Yule-
block at Christmas. These Wakes and Ales were long a sin-
gular mixture of piety, benevolence, and mirth. The delightful
poet, the happy painter of our by-gone manners, and the
faithful recorder of our once country-customs, has described the
Wake in verse as exhilarating as these rural revels themselves.
1 will not forbear their transcription.

" Come Anthca ! let us two
Go to feast as others do.
Tarts and custards, creams and cakes
Are the junketts still at Wakes,
Unto which the tribes resort
Where the business is the sport.
Morris-dancers thou shalt see,
Marian too in pageantrie ;
And a mimick, to devise
Many grinning properties.
Players there will be, and those
Base in action as in clothes ;
Yet with strutting they will please
The incurious villages.
Near the dying of the day
There will bo a cudgel play,

When a coxcomb will be broke ».

Ere a good word can be spoke.
But the anger ends all here
Drencht in ale, or drowned in bcere.

BOOK OF SPORTS. 25

Happy Rustics ! best content
With the cheapest merriment,
And possess no other fear
Than to want the Wake next year." *

That these village Saturnalia were not always associated with
the innocent simplicity which the Devonshire poet fancied,
could only be an inevitable consequence of the revelries of an
English populace. Swains were too fortunate, and maidens too
tender; the ales were too potent, and the wrestlers too pug-
nacious. Our own people may yet learn something from the
decencies of the populace of the continent. It is still a remnant
of our insular rudeness, that our rustics imagine that their
boisterous freedom is never freedom till it is proclaimed by the
Riot Act, and till the general carouse is concluded by man-
slaughter ? The commemorations of these festivals were
charged with such licentious acts; the charge seems to
have been aggravated, and these disorders were but local and "
occasional.

It is certainly a singular circumstance, strangely discordant
with the after-conduct of Charles the First, that in the first
and in the third year of his reign, two statutes passed, the one
entitled " An Act for punishing divers abuses committed on the
Lord's day called Sunday ;'* and another for "the further
reformation of sundry abuses committed on the Lord's day
commonly called Sunday." No unlawful pastimes were to be
allowed, carriers are not to travel, nor butchers sell their meat,
&c., customs certainly which had heretofore been practised.
It is also expressly laid, that " the holy keeping of the Lord^s
day is a principal part of the true service of God, which is now
profaned and neglected." In no part of these statutes can I
find the term " Sabbath," otherwise this last sentence is a
remarkable specification, perfectly accordant with the notions,
and delivered in the style of the Puritans.

This would seem inexplicable, unless we conjecture that when
Charles the First held his Parliaments, these statutes were con-
trived by that party. Heylin declares as much ; he says that
"the Commons had gained these acts."t As they did not go
so far as to abolish these Ecclesiastical festivals, but only

* Herrick's Hesperides. t Cyprianus AngUcus, p. 241.

26 CAUSE OF THE REVIVAL OP THE

professed their better regiilation, at that moment no objection was
started from the Government side. It is probable that the
remarkable specification of "the holy keeping of the Lord's
day," was designed by those who drew up these statutes, as a
preliminary to the future introduction of the novel term " Sab-
bath." That term was not yet to be found in the laws of
England.

It is curious to observe, that when James the First composed
his advice to his son Prince Henry, touching on the present
topic, he provides that " the Sabbothes be kept holie." This
was his style in the land of John Knox. In his new dominions
of England that term was entirely thrown aside. The Puritanic
rigours of a Sunday were, however, gaining ground even in the
reign of the father of Charles the First, and more particularly
among the civic corporations, as the son lived to experience.
The conduct of a Lord Mayor under James the First has been
recorded as an example of his piety, and it may be added of his
prudence. The King's carriages removing to Theobalds on a
Sunday morning, raised a clatter in the time of divine service.
The Lord Mayor commanded them to be stopped ; the officers
returning to his Majesty made vehement complaints. The
King warmed and swore he thought there had been no more
kings in England than himself, and dispatched a warrant to the
Lord Mayor to let them pass. The Puritanic chief magistrate
obeyed, observing, " While it was in my power I did my duty ;
but that being taken away by a higher power, it is my duty to
obey." The shrewd sense of this Lord Mayor produced a
compliment from the King.

The doctrine of the rigid Sabbath was rife when Laud was
Bishop of London. A circumstance will show the character of
these city Sabbatarians. Sir Nicholas Rainton, the Lord Mayor,
prosecuted a poor old apple-woman for retailing her small stores
on Sundays in Paul's Church-yard; Laud insisted that she
should continue her harmless living on Sundays in the Church-
yard, threatening, that should the Lord Mayor again interfere
in his jurisdiction, he would complain of him to the King and
council. Another Lord Mayor in 1629 issued his warrant
against those " who profane the Sabbath day by buying and
selling." Laud excepted against it, as intruding on his Episcopal

BOOK OF SPORTS. 27

jurisdiction. These anecdotes are maliciously given by Prynne,
who concludes, " Such was this profane Archbishop.'^ *

The land seemed threatened with that renovated Judaism
which, not many years after, triumphantly rabbinised the whole
realm. Judaical opinions had been broached by one John
Thraske,t who among other absurdities had insisted that the
Levitical ritual, relative to meats, &c. was also of perpetual
ordinance. Now one Theophilus Bradbourn dedicated a trea-
tise to Charles the First, in which he demonstrated that the
Jewish Sabbath was to be kept with the rigid observances of
the Hebrews, being a perpetual and moral obligation for man-
kind, while Sunday was an ordinary working-day. These
Judaising Christians, whose Bibles had disordered their heads,
had their followers ; and Heylin tells us that there was a ten-
dency in the people to "downright Judaism." J All these
theological reveries were fostered by the novel doctrines of the
Sabbatarians. Bradbourn, however, when brought into the
Court of High-Commission submitted to a conference, where
he had the good fortune to discover that his arguments were
untenable, and to conform himself to quiet and orthodoxy.

As profanations of " the Sabbath," the Puritanic party had
often protested against the Ecclesiastical festivals which we
have described. It was now attempted to sanction their opinions.
At the request of several country magistrates, at an assize in
Somersetshire, Lord Chief-Justice Richardson issued an order
for the utter suppression of these popular festivals, and further
ordered that all ministers should publish his order from their
pulpits.

The Bishop of London, startled at this usurpation of the
jurisdiction of the Church, and this abolishment of days of
ecclesiastical appointment, complained to the King. The Chief-
Justice summoned to the Council-board, argued as a sound
lawyer"; appealed to the recent statutes, and alleged many
precedents of such assize-orders, for the suppression of these
festivals from the reign of Elizabeth. § Law was babble, when

* Canterbury's Doom, p. 132. f In 1618. Fuller's Church History, x. 76.

J Cyprianus AngUcus, 243.
§ Prynne, in his " Canterbury's Doom," has collected a number of these assize-
orders, which sufficiently vindicate the proceedings of the judge. — 152.

28 CAUSE OP THE REVIVAL OF THE

divinity was jealous. The Judge was severely reprimanded by
the Bishop for having assumed a power over ministers, without
the consent of the Bishop of the diocese ; and commanded him
to revoke that order at the next assizes, in the same public
manner in which he had given it, as he would answer the con-
trary at his peril. On leaving the Council-board the indignant
Judge, as much in rage as in dejection, shed tears, and when
asked by Lord Dorset how he did ? replied, " Very ill, my Lord,
for I have been almost choked with a pair of lawn sleeves."*

Laud desired the Bishop of Bath and Wells to inquire con-
cerning " the late noise in Somersetshire about wakes." The
conduct of the Lord Chief-Justice, acting without the Bishop's
consent in pretence of reformation, said Laud, had gone on a
principle that " any thing that is abused may quite be taken
away ; " that disorders which might have broken out in those
feasts instituted for good purposes ought to be prevented by the
Justices of Peace themselves. Laud hints that "the Humourists
were increasing much in those parts, and unite themselves
in banding against the feasts, as his Majesty has been lately
informed."

That the suppression of these rural festivals was considered
as an affair of the anti-prelatic or Puritan party, appears by the
reply of the Bishop of Bath and Wells. Having dispatched his
missives through all the deaneries of the diocese, the Bishop
received the testimonials of his numerous clergy, from distant
parts of the county, protesting against these suppressions ; they
were desirable for the people ; the wealthy maintaining hospi-
tality, and the poor being cheered by these feasts of religion
and charity, where the differences between neighbours were
often happily composed by this meeting of their common friends,
and alleging other reasons for their continuauce.f The dis-

• Heylm's Cyprianus Anglicus, 243. Prynne had already furnished the anecdote.

t The correspondeuce between Laud and Pierce, the Bishop of Bath and Wells,
is interesting. The Bishop has described these « Counti-y feasts." When Prynne
ransacked the cabinet of Laud, he found these letters, and published them in his
" Canterbury's Doom," signature V : they were indorsed by Laud « My Lord of
Bath's certificates about wakes in Somersetshire." They reflect no discredit on
either party ; one earnestly inquired after the truth, and the other laboriously
furnished Uic information. Prynne, according to his notions, notes on the Clergy,
seventy-two in number, who signed the certificates which they sent from their

BOOK OF SPORTS. 29

orders complained of had been greatly exaggerated, and worse
occurred in fairs and markets, where a constable was sufficient
to put them down.

After the reprimand of Laud at the Council-board, the Chief-
Justice at the next assize, without acknowledging any error,
revoked what he called "the good orders" which he had formerly
issued. The country magistrates troubled at the revocation,
prepared a petition. They were evidently of the Puritanic
party, for the petition was sent up to London to be secretly
submitted to " Master Prynne," that head of all " the Humou-
rists ! " Prynne was waiting the arrival in town of the Lord-
Lieutenant of the County, to have it presented to the King ;
but early intelligence had been sent to Laud ; and it was during
this interval of twelve days, that Laud by a vigorous measure
induced the King to revive his father^s " Book of Sports " to be
allowed on Sundays.

The ostensible object of these dissensions was not the real
one. With some it was not so much the suppression of the
Wakes as the establishing the Sabbatic- Sunday; there were
others with whom it was not so much the establishing the
Sabbatic- Sunday as the political opposition to the Government,
of which this served as one of the most popular pretexts. So
human affairs are strangely combined together ! All religion
seemed now to exist in the rigid observance of " the Sabbath : "
the rising party rung this alarum, and the nation was artfully
divided into Sabbatarians, and Sabbath-breakers.

Neal, the historian of the Puritans, at this point of his his-
tory, makes this reflection. " Here we observe the laity petition-
ing for the religious observation of the Lord's day, and the
Bishop with his clergy pleading for the profanation of it." This
was a conclusive argument for whoever had not entered into the
history of the Sabbatic- Sunday in England. The people would
have wondered to have learnt that Archbishop Laud accused
them of superstition !

The motives which urged the revival of the royal declaration
concerning lawful sports on Sundays, appear by some artless

different residences, that "they were the deboystest (the most debauched) and
worst in the county." We perceive the bitterness which this party-afFair was
beginning to stir up.

80 CAUSE OF THE REVIVAL OP THE

memoranda which Laud never suspected would have seen the
light. They are these : " A general and superstitious opinion
conceived of that day — a book set out by Theophilus Bradbourn
'Judaism upon Christian Principles' — which had perverted
many — a great distemper (disorder) in Somersetshire upon the
forbidding of the wakes in the sourness of this opinion — an act
of a Judge that rid that circuit — ^his Majesty troubled with
petitions by some of that county — his royal father's example
upon the like occasions in Lancashire."*

Laud could not as a prescient statesman foresee the result of
approaching events — that the times had altered, Laud had yet
hardly discovered — and that at a crisis, it is not always wise to
be looking for a precedent, was a philosophy too comprehensive
as yet to have been recognised. In the narrow limits of his
political experience, he did not act without premeditation. He
sought for an authority for the measure he adopted by referring
Charles to his royal father's example on a similar occasion, and
he was certain that the precedent would prevail ; for Charles on
many critical occasions seems rarely to have acted from his own
suggestions. In the great struggle in which Laud was now
engaged in the religious commonwealth with the rising power of
Non-conformity, he probably contemplated on a deeper object.
By commanding that the edict should be read by the parochial
ministers, he was numbering the dutiful sons of the Church,
and marking out her disaffected members. The " Declaration"
would be a test of concealed Puritanism. It was a strong
measure ; but the zealous Laud, as his old master James the First
had said, was at all times " tossing about " for strong measures,
and it has been his ill-fortune to be judged of by their result.

On the issue of " the Declaration," a consternation spread
among the clergy ; Laud seems not to have been aware that the
opinions of the clergy themselves had of late fluctuated between
the prevalent sectarian notions and the former customs of the
country, and indeed of all Christian Europe, except the land of
John Knox. Some imagined that they saved the violation of
their own consciences by deputing the clerk to promulgate the
obnoxious act ; one having read it, and afterwards the fourth
commandment, told his parishioners that " they had now heard

* Prjnne's Canterbury's Doom, numbered, p. 418.

BOOK OF SPORTS. 31

the word of God and the injunction of man, and they were to
obey which they pleased/^ If Laud by this test of Uniformity
discovered the obedient subjects of the Church, he might have
been alarmed at the considerable number of ministers ejected,
or suspended by his authority, and against their will thrown into
the ranks of the Non-conformists.

Many extraordinary works were now sent forth to enlighten
the pubhc mind on this obscure or misconceived topic of the
Sabbatarian controversy. The most curious for their erudition
were on the side of the court ; indeed, the investigation could
only be carried on by the most extensive researches ; it was to
ascertain the customs and practices of different ages since the
foundation of Christianity. The inquirers, who deemed the
Sabbath an abrogated institution, considered it was supersti-
tious to observe the extinct Sabbath of the Hebrews, which
distinguished the Jews from other nations. They assumed that
in its own nature it was neither moral nor perpetual; Jesus
" had nailed all the ceremonial law to the cross," and the old
law, which had begun with Moses, had ceased with Christ.
The moment the controversy turned on the sentiment or the
opinion of the writer, it became fanciful and contradictory.
The most absurd reasonings were alleged to extricate themselves
from the perplexities in which they were involved. Those who
appealed to the fourth commandment for perpetuating the
Jewish Sabbath, yet had changed the hallowed seventh day into
the first of the week ; this was a perplexing objection. If the
first day of the week, as the Lord's day, had been appointed by
the Church as a fe^^tival day, by what authority was it to be
regulated by the rigid observance of the Sabbath ?

The short history of Pr. Pocklington, an eminent divine, is a
part of that of the Sabbatarian controversy, and his fate may
serve as its close.

Dr. Pocklington had published a sermon which had excited
great attention, entitled " Sunday no Sabbath," in 1636. Here
he had sharpened many keen passages against the prevailing
Puritanism. Five years afterwards, in 1641, when Puritanism
became parliamentary, he was selected as the first victim. He
had articles exhibited against him, drawn from his own writings.
There is " a petition to the Lords by J. H., of Cardington, in

32 CAUSE OP THE REVIVAL OF THE

the county of Bedford, Gent." This puritan gentleman had
also undertaken the office of controverting what he calls the
Doctor's "Jewish and popish superstitions and anti-christian
doctrines." It is curious, that both parties recriminate on one
another their tendency to Judaism.

Pocklington having affirmed that the day which they nick-
named the Sabbath is either no day at all, or not the day which
they mean, the Puritan replies to this ; " Sabbatum signifies a
day of sacred rest consecrated to God, whence all such days are
in Scripture called Sabbaths, as well as the Seventh day. There-
fore the Lord's day may be so termed, without any danger of
Judaism, as well as Easter is still called Pasca, and Whitsunday
Pentecost, the Jewish words and institutions." The ingenuity
of the answer is superior to its logic. By changing its first
position he eludes the question altogether. He does not prove
Sunday to be the Sabbath, otherwise than as any other day
may be, according to his assumption. The retention of the
Israelitish terms and festivals in the Christian system was a
remarkable circumstance ; they were the remains of the early
Judaising Christians.

At a committee of many lords in the painted chamber, the
unfortunate Pocklington had to defend his theological opinions
in the articles now brought forth in judgment against him.
Our Puritan, of this trial both publisher and commentator,
assures us that " The man was not able to make any reasonable
defence, for his parts and learning had quite forsaken him, and
he had nothing left in him but anger and passion to manage
his cause, which provoked all good Christians to praise God,
who had given his truth such a weak enemy, and error such a
foolish patron."

Pocklington, before this committee of peers, who were sitting
to decide on nice and obscure points of historical theology,
might have been both impatient and indignant. Their sentence
deprived him not only of all his ecclesiastical livings, dignities,
and preferments, but held him incapable hereafter of holding
any place or dignity in the Church or in the Commonwealth.
The last critic who was to take in hand his unlucky " Sunday
no Sabbath" was to be the common executioner, and the last
copy was to flutter in the flames. The Puritan " Gentleman

I

BOOK OF SPORTS. 33

who has sent down to us the discomfiture of the learned Doctor,
has not noticed the discomfiture of the Committee of Peers,
who were now doing the drudge-work of the Puritanic Com-
moners. It is from another quarter I discover that when Dr.
PockUngton was accused and censured, he was also to perform
the penance of a Recantation. Persisting in his former opinion,
he gave his Recantation a quaint and novel form. He said,
"If Canto be to sing, Recanto is to sing again;"* that is, he
would only repeat what he had first said. So that the man
whose " parts and learning" had so suddenly deserted him, at
the last recovered all their energy. It is said that the party
designed to have further punii^hed his contumacy ; but as
Pocklington died in the following year, his death has afibrded
Walker, in his sufi*erings of the Clergy, another victim, whom
he describes as dying " in a manner heart-broken." But the
honourable courage which marked the learned Doctor when
before the Committee of the House of Lords, though they had
cruelly deprived him of the means of existence, would hardly
have forsaken him in so short a period.

When the strength and glory of England were placed in the
hands of the Puritans, their extravagant conduct on many
national objects was never more visible than on their Sabbatic
regulations. It seemed as if religion chiefly consisted of the
Sabbatarian rigours, and that a British senate had been trans-
formed into a company of Hebrew Rabbins. In 1650 an act
was passed for inflicting penalties for breach of the Sabbath,
some of which included dancing and singing, or travelling in a
boat, on horseback, or in a coach or sedan, except to church.
This exception occurred on the remonstrance of one of the
members of the House of Commons complaining that " in their
zeal they had tied the Godly from going to Church by water or
coach, for that he coming from Westminster to Somerset-house
to sermon, had his boat and waterman seized for the penalty."
The perverted feeling and the misconception of this race, in
respect to the Sabbath, had appeared as early in the reign of
Charles as in 1637, when many emigrated to New England.

* This curious anecdote may be found in " Lowth's Letter to Edward Stilling-

fleet," p. 56. 4to. 1687. Neal has acknowledged that Pocklington refused to
recant.

VOL. II. D

34 CAUSE OP THE REVIVAL OF THE BOOK OF SPORTS.

In their code of laws, among the Sabbatic prohibitions under
severe penalties are these, " No one shall run on the Sabbath-
day, or walk in his garden, cook victuals, make beds, sweep
house, cut hair or shave." " No woman shall kiss her child."
These were the grossest Rabbinical superstitions.

At length having prohibited Sundays as days of recreation,
and abolished all Saints' days, or festivals, the common people
evidently murmured at the deprivation of their periodical holi-
days. The feelings of the people were more natural than their
Parliament, even in the gloomy land of Puritanism. This must
have been the occasion of a remarkable ordinance issued in
1647 concerning " days of recreation allowed unto scholars,
apprentices, &c." The second Tuesday in every month was set
apart for the hohday of these persons, when it was ordered, that
" all windows of shops and warehouses shall be kept shut on the
said day of recreation."

Our kingdom of the Godly must have been the scorn and
ridicule of other nations, while they were regulating the police
of an empire as if they were dwellers in the land of Canaan.
What was the result of this spurious sanctity, this fantastic
renovation of the Israelite's Sabbaths? When Sectarianism
bred all monstrous shapes, and irreligion so easily assumed the
garb of piety, after having observed the Lord's day with these
Judaic rigours, a re-action took place among those who now
rejected the observance altogether, pretending to that elevated
holiness which kept all days as Lord's days. A popular preacher
at the Temple, who was disposed to foster a cheerful spirit
among the common people, yet desirous that the Lord's day
should not pass undistinguished, declared that "those whose
hands are ever working whilst their eyes are waking, through
the whole week, need their recreations on the Lord's day," but
that Sundays should be observed with strictness and an absti-
nence from all recreations, only by " persons of quality " who
had the whole week for their amusements.

Such were the opinions and practices of the Sabbatic Sunday
of the Government of Charles the First, and of the Puritans.

THE SOVEREIGNTY OF THE SEAS. 35

CHAPTER IV.

THE SOVEREIGNTY OF THE SEAS.

In every history of England, the reader may find what I
shall now quote from Hume, that in 1636 "a formidable fleet
of sixty sail, the greatest that England had ever known, was
equipped under the Earl of Northumberland, who had orders
to attack'^ — what, with the greatest fleet England had ever
known ? — " the herring busses of the Dutch which fished in what
was called the British seas."

Sixty sail equipped to claim " the tenth herring ! " and which
when the afi'righted fishermen, and the States of Holland at
length agreed to compound for, by a duty or tribute for license
to fish, amounted to thirty thousand pounds. This truly had
been a wanton prodigality of the hard- wrung ship-money, for as
a financial speculation the British Cabinet must have been con-
vinced prima facie, that they were securing a heavy loss to the
Royal treasury.

In political transactions, it is a very rare absurdity, as runs
the proverbial phrase, "to break an egg with an axe;" but
what is not rare is, that the public are accustomed to decide
on public events by their obvious pretext. The real motives,
and the secret occasion which induced Charles the First to put
forth these formidable preparations against these Dutch fisher-
men, were not comprehended by the writers who have calculated
the profits of the herring-fishery to the Dutch, and envied their
happier success in the art of curing them, and still less have
they been understood by those depredators of the unfortunate
monarch, shortly to be noticed, who have cast a malignant
obscurity over the magnanimity of Charles the First in a
momentous trial of the character of a British monarch.

This trivial incident of the herring-fishery is connected with
one of the most important subjects of our foreign relations, that
of the English monarches claim to the sovereignty of the sea —
a claim then disputed, and often since resisted.

d2

86 THE SOVEREIGNTY OF THE SEAS.

The dispute about the herring-fishery occurred in. 1636, but,
to take in the subject in all its true bearings, we must look for
its beginning, two years preceding that event. Dates are often
the most positive arguments in history.

It was in July, 1634, that from intercepted letters in Flan-
ders, the Spanish Resident in London furnished very important
information to Charles the First. In this correspondence of the
Prince of Orange with the Dutch Ambassador in France, there
was transmitted a copy of proposals by Cardinal Richelieu to the
States. That enterprising minister had projected to combine the
French armies with the fleet of Holland, in order to surprise
Dunkirk and Gravelines, two ports which Spain retained in the
Austrian Netherlands. The plan was to be effected with such
secrecy as to be concealed from the English monarch, lest he
should not consent to it, and to be so sudden that the Cabinet
of Madrid should not have time to frame a league with that of
Whitehall.

Charles, on this information, acknowledged without reserve,
that these secret practices and confederacies of the French and
the Hollander were dangerous to both Crowns — and that the
Dutch had grown more insolent since they had become victorious.
At this moment these new States were powerful at sea, they
had recently taken an English merchant-ship, and had openly
declared that they would confiscate any which traded with the
subjects of Spain, Charles was therefore ready to join with
Spain to frustrate their designs, but it was hinted that he w^s
yet unprovided with the means of fitting out a great naval arma-
ment, and the danger, however imminent for Spain, did not press
immediately on England. The Spanish Resident having, by
this acknowledgment, felt his ground, now showed that he was
furnished with ample powers both to supply monies and to con-
clude on articles.

Of this secret treaty we have three papers, as these passed
through several variations, in their progressive stages. They
off'er a striking specimen of Charles's application to business.
In each careful revision, the King with his own hand made
several material interlineations, and he has distinctly endorsed
these three papers as " Old — New — Newest."

The treaty was concluded in August, 1634, but the armament

THE SOVEREIGNTY OP THE SEAS. 37

was not to put to sea till the spring of the following year. In
order not to arouse the vigilant observation of their neighbours,
this great fleet was to be gradually increased — and at first only
twenty sail were contemplated. It was agreed that the pretext
of this arming should be to free the coasts of Great Britain and
Ireland from the pirates of Barbary, and to protect the fishery.
There was a secret article that his Majesty of Great Britain
should give secret instructions to the commanders of his ships,
that should they meet Spanish ships in an action with their
enemies at open sea, the English should aid them, in case the
Spaniards were overmatched, and, to use the words of the
treaty, " taking some convenient pretext to justify it, that the
Hollanders may not hold it for an act of hostility."* Such is
the mysticism of politics ! This article must have strained on
tenter-hooks the understandings of our most dexterous diplo-
matists, who, when called on to explain, were to convince the
Hollanders that, while we were their assailants, we were, notwith-
standing, at peace with them.

There was still a more remarkable article. In " the Old "
paper, it was mentioned that " the English ships shall use their
best means that the subjects of the King of Spain shall receive
no wrong, and that Ms Majesty's sovereignty and dominion in
these his seas, shall be preserved from violence and insolencies
on both sides.'' The English, in fact, were conscious that their
" Sovereignty of the Sea" was equally disputable with their old
ally and their new rival. The Spaniards thus objected to the
offensive phrase: — " It is certain Kings do enjoy their Sovereignty
in whatever is their' s, and do not acquire it, where they have it
not, though they use the word; but in treaties such terms are
commonly avoided." It is curious to observe, that, in this
instance, treating on equal terms with his ally, Charles the First
struck out the words " his Majesty^s sovereignty and dominion
in these his seas shall be preserved," and, with political courtesy,
reduced the regal assumption to " his Majesty's subjects shall be
preserved." Thus, while the Government was insisting on " the
sovereignty of the sea," from one part of the world, and was
sending forth a vast armament '' to scour the seas, and to sink,
or to be sunk, if any strike not sail to the English Admiral in

* Clarendon Papers, i. 215.

88 THE SOVEREIGNTY OP THE SEAS.

the narrow seas,"* in the silence and wisdom of the Cabinet,
such was the delicacy of the claim that it was waived in a treaty
of alliance with a friendly power ; a remarkable instance of the
accommodating style of politics.

But claims of this nature, though they are suffered to lie in
abeyance, are in fact never yielded. Three years afterwards,
when the state-policy of the two Courts was again suffering a
change, that on the complaint of the Hollanders, who refused to
pay the English for a protection which the Spaniards did not
regard, when the Ambassador of Spain would have replied to
these complaints, " his Majesty," writes Secretary Windebank,
" fairly and roundly answered the Ambassador that he will main-
tain his sovereignty of the seas, and defend those who acknow-
ledge his sovereignty against any power or prince whatsoever." f

This, then, was the true cause of equipping one of the most
formidable fleets which ever issued from our ports since the reign
of Elizabeth, and that this was the great object of Charles the
First is confirmed by a variety of very interesting circumstances.

The subject, indeed, at this moment so deeply engaged the
thoughts of Charles the First, that, having learned that Selden
had formerly composed a work to vindicate the maritime rights
of the English monarchy, the King desired the author to revise
it for publication, and so highly approved of the erudition and
the authority of that illustrious antiquary, that the King com-
manded that three copies of the work should be perpetually
preserved in the Council-chest, the Court of Admiralty, and the
Court of Exchequer, to be valued as a record.

Such was the origin of the famous Mare Clausum (the Closed
Sea) of Selden. The title is an evidence that Selden had in his
mind the Mare Liberum (the Free Sea) of Grotius. But though
it was an answer to the general principles of that other great
heir of fame, the object of Grotius was entirely different. We
are astonished to find that Whitelocke, a great lawyer and even
a statesman, has fallen into the inconceivable error that Grotius
published his treatise of the " Mare Liberum," on the affair of
the herring-fishery, when in fact it was published nearly thirty

♦ Such were the instructions which the Lord General declared he had received,
as appears Vy a letter from James Howcl to the Earl of Strafford,
t Clarendon Papers, ii. 4 and 9.

THE SOVEREIGNTY OP THE SEAS. 39

years before, and for a very difiPerent purpose. Whitelocke pro-
bably only recollected the title of the treatise of Grotius ; as a
patriotic Briton, he would confidently appeal to the book in
" the Council-chest/^ or at " the Admiralty." Our Memorialist
has, however, sadly misled several modern writers, who, doubt-
less, either on his authority, or trusting to the contrasted titles
of the two works, have committed the same anachronism, and
thus repeating that the disputes on the herring-fishery had pro-
duced the treatise of Grotius, they have ventured to perpetuate
a fact which had never occurred.

We may smile that the subject of the sovereignty of the sea
should have so long formed an intricate discussion among
jealous nations and philosophical jurists, since that knotty point
has long been cut by the sword. An exclusive dominion
mutable as the winds and the waves — a desert of waters where
occupancy only could give possession, ceasing in the liquid road
with the wake of the ship — was by some presumed to be but a
chimerical empire. That which we cannot keep is not ours,
and that which all men can possess without our consent, cannot
be appropriated to any one. The power which only begins with
our presence and ceases in our absence, can never be deemed
sovereign. Others have asserted that we may remain masters
of the sea even when we do not actually possess it. On the
plea of maritime rights, the circumfluent waves constitute a part
of their own shores, and maintain the security of a kingdom.
" But whether the law of nations warrant any further pretensions
may be questioned," observes Hume. The Duke of Somerset,
the Protector, declaied that Britain was surrounded on all sides
by the ocean, as the securest rampart against her enemies ; hence
we may infer that an insular nation has its own policy, distinct
from its neighbours.

Our maritime dominion was protested against by those whose
national interests induced them to claim the universal freedom
of the seas. When Holland was rising into an independent
empire, she became indignant at the exclusive navigation of the
Indies by the Spaniards and the Portuguese, and aspired to
divide that world, which her old masters concealed as it were in
darkness from Europe. Grotius, then the Attorney- general of
Holland and Zeland, vindicated the liberty of the seas, and the

40 THE SOVEREIGNTY OF THE SEAS.

" Mare Liberura" appeared in 1609. The property of the sea
he declared was a violation of the law of nature and of nations
— the sea and the air, like the light of the sun, could not, as
the earth, be appropriated, for their divisions were impossible.
To contest the freedom of navigation was to destroy navigation
itself, breaking a tie which should unite all nations, and throw-
ing the universe into confusion. The treatise of Grotius was
an appeal to the feelings of those nations whose superiority at
sea remained doubtful. They are still employed in refuting
Selden. A memoir in the French Institute, in the days of
Napoleon, revived the controversy, and accorded the palm to
the declamatory Hollander, resisting the colossal erudition of
Great Britain's antiquary, whom Grotius, so honourably to
himself, distinguishes as the glory of England.*

The Mare Clausum of Selden remains among the monuments
of the human mind. Profound in disquisitions on the nature
of dominion, and stored with the inexhaustible researches of all
human learning, Selden explored for his principles his own
mind, and for his precedents the history of nations. In his
patriotism he gave England the sovereignty of the four seas,
while his erudition furnished them with a less disputable pos-
session than that ideal sovereignty in the work itself; where,
in the many- coloured languages of his page, we discover the
Hebrew of Solomon Jarchi and the Talmud, with the Arabic
characters of the Koran.

The Dutch Ambassador Joachimi appears to have obtained
an early copy of Selden's book, which was dispatched by a
courier to the States-General. It was considered tantamount
to a declaration of war, and Joachimi received secret orders
instantly to return home on pretence of attending his wife's
funeral, but really in order to confer on a point too delicate to
confide to paper. Already the English fleet was at sea, and the
affrighted Dutch busses were flying in all directions. Many
distracted councils were now held, and the pride of the new
Republic painfully contended with their prudence. It was

* The memoir which I read at the time is, I presume, that which the Biographic
Universelle ascribes to Gerard de Rayneval, published in 1811, who we are told
has invincibly refuted the arguments of Selden. One would imagine that the
French Diplomate had sent forth a French marine greater than the fleets of
England !

I

THE SOVEREIGNTY OF THE SEAS. 41

proposed to send out a Dutch fleet to escort their fishermen,
which long after was done, and refuse the florin duty levied for
every two barrels, — but it was considered that negotiation might
be a wiser method than battle. They resolved on seizing a
favourable opportunity which now presented itself — the birth
of a Princess — to dispatch an Ambassador Extraordinary to the
British Court with royal gifts, not only to congratulate the
father, but to engage the monarch, if possible, to desist from
his imaginary property over the seas.* On this occasion the
States- General displayed a more refined manner than usual in
flattering the elegant tastes of the English monarch, probably
prompted by the suggestions of their resident Ambassador from
his personal knowledge of Charles the First. Mr. Cornelius
Beveren, the Lord of Stravelshock, came over to England, and
entered Whitehall, not as a stern Republican, but as a discreet
courtier, offering the amicable presents of his masters. Precious
amber, transparent china vases, a chest of the finest linen, the
unrivalled manufacture of Holland, and the mechanical wonder
of a curious clock, which the King of Sweden had found in the
cabinet of the Duke of Bavaria when he took Munich, and had
sent to the Prince of Orange — were trivial elegancies, which
Charles instantly consigned to the Queen. But several fine
horses, and above all, four inappreciable pictures — not from
their own native and depreciated school, but from the more
classical easels of Italy — the master-pieces of Titian and Tin-
toret, were gifts no man more highly valued than the King.
Whitelocke, who has noticed a part of this little anecdote,
remarks, " It is supposed they did this to ingratiate the more
with our King, in regard his fleet was so powerful at sea, and
they saw him resolved to maintain his dominion there."

James the First had proclaimed his right "to restrain
foreigners from the fishery on his own coasts without his
licence," but a proclamation had never induced a foreigner to
pay for a licence, yet as James always liked a book, he had read
over and approved the manuscript of the Mare Clausum, but he
lost the glory of its publication, for either his pacific measures,
or some other cause, suffered the manuscript to lie neglected

• Gerard Van Loon, in his voluminous Histoire Metallique des dix-sept Provinces
Unies, has furnished some details of this critical state of affairs.

42 THB SOVEREIGNTY OP THE SEAS.

many years in Selden's study. Charles declared the fishery to
be " a right and royalty of inheritance incident to our Crown/'*
and his fleet had more expHcitly asserted the sovereignty of the
sea. The States had remonstrated; but the English cannon
pealed ! The Lord of Stravelshock was therefore but partly
successful in his solemn and courteous embassy, and if he could
not get rid of the sovereignty of the seas, he, however, adjusted
an annual contribution from the States of thirty thousand
pounds for the Hberty of the fishery. The naval dominion of
England was established.

There was, however, no peace among the Jurisconsults, and
Selden was not allowed to partake of the triumph of his royal
master. Graswinkel, the pupil of Grotius, had displayed so
much learning and such consummate ability in a manuscript
treatise on these contested points, that he was pensioned for it
by the States-General, and a new office was created for him
under the title of Advocate-General of the Marine, but these
honours were acquired on a very singular condition ; that some
of the Deputies of the State should carefully examine his work,
and that it should not be published ! So desirous was the
Republic at that moment of terminating a discussion which had
already occasioned the annihilation of their fishing fleet, and a
tributary treaty. It was a subject, as a statesman among them,
wiser than the Jurisconsults, observed, which the pen could
never decide, but which the sword would.

It is, however, a curious circumstance in the history of the
human mind, that though every judicious person was convinced
of the inefficacy of a volume to maintain, or to abrogate, the
sovereignty of the sea, still each nation looked with a fond eye
on the book which cherished their own prejudices, and supported
their own interests. Neither the doctrines of Selden, nor those
of the suppressed Graswinkel, were neglected at an after-period
by their respective nations. When the Commonwealth of Eng-
land went to war with the States of Holland, Marchmont
Needham published a translation of the "Mare Clausum,"
castrating the dignified dedication to Charles and substituting
his own servile adulation of the Commonwealth. On this occa-

• Clarendon State Papers, ii. .9. The language of Charles used foi' tlie same
purpose, but on a diflFercnt occasion.

J

THE SOVEREIGNTY OF THE SEAS. 43

sion the States-General altered their former opinion respecting
the publication of the manuscript of their Advocate-General of
the Marine ; Graswinkel was now sent forth to oppose Selden,
as well as the fleet of Holland to encounter the fleet of England,
— their fates were alike, for Selden answered, and our cannon
was fatal to Van Tromp. It may seem strange that when two
powerful nations have decided on war, they should look to
philosophical theories, or the inky combats of closet-idlers, as
auxiliaries in their cause ; but practised statesmen know how
susceptible are the imaginations of the people, who not always
knowing what they fight for, sharpen their patriotism by intri-
cate discussions, and carry on a war with great spirit, when it is
the result of a system of thinking, — that is an assumption of
arbitrary principles, equally passionate and temporary.

The conduct of Charles the First in vindicating the British
power in the dominion of the British seas, by requiring the
foreigner to strike his flag to the flag of England, avowing the
sovereignty of the sea as his principle and maintaining the
principle by the deed, is one of the most magnanimous acts of
his reign, and one which must ever constitute the peculiar cha-
racteristic of an English monarch. In this great incident in
our history from his first step to his last, we may justly com-
mend his inviolable honour, and his unalterable decision; his
inviolable honour, because the moderate, if not the scanty supply
which Charles the First had drawn from ship-money had been
sacredly set apart for its great national object : his unalterable
decision, because the mind of Charles the First had been fully
impressed both by the greatness and the necessity of this
enterprise. The seas were swept by our friends as well as by
our foes, and even the distant pirates of Barbary had dared
repeatedly to descend on the Irish coast.

England may sometimes wisely relinquish a military position
on the Continent, but when may she yield the royalty of her
seas ? When Venice dropped her nuptial ring into the Adriatic,
who smiled not at the pageant hero, who slunk away from
his ravished bride ? but England is embraced by the ocean
itself — or, as one of her admirals said in Charles the Second's
reign, married to the sea. It is our triumphant navies which
have extended a narrow insular dominion, till England has

44 THE SOVEREIGNTY OF THE SEAS.

risen the arbiter of her neighbours, and, as it were, become
herself the neighbour of the most distant powers.

This great naval enterprise was therefore no wild scheme of
ambition, no capricious act of power. It adjusted the political
balance of Europe, while it was achieving the secret wish of the
people who were murmuring at the ship-money. Besides the
volume of Selden, which Charles the First held as the record of
his title to his maritime dominions, the King had shown his
earnestness to improve the state of his navy, and to display to
the world a model of naval architecture, worthy of him who
claimed the sovereignty of the seas. He called forth the genius
of Phiueas Pett, the great shipwright who had been patronised
by his father, and particularly by his brother Prince Henry.
Charles frequently visited the dock-yard at Woolwich. It was
during one of these visits that the King in a private conference
with Pett, himself projected the plan of this great ship of war,
and Pett travelled to the north to obtain timbers of an extraor-
dinary dimension, and manufactured materials expressly adapted
to this marine citadel. In the great dock at Woolwich at length
appeared " that miracle of ships," as Lilly calls it. It exceeded
in its magnitude, its workmanship, and its magnificence, any
ship which England had put to sea, or, as it is said, in the
world. It became a popular object of curiosity, and not only
their Majesties, but multitudes flocked to wonder at this float-
ing castle. This ship of war was a favourite object with Charles
the First, and the cost was more than royal, of which when
reminded, he gave that noble but severe answer, which, though
I have already noticed it, deserves here to be repeated. " While
some nobles prodigally spent their patrimony in luxurious
courses, nothing either to their credit, or their reputations, or
beneficial to the kingdom, as King, he might be allowed to build
that ship for his pleasure, which might be useful for the service
of the kingdom."*

• This ship of war is minutely described in Strafford's Letters, ii. 116. It was of
1637 tons, whicli by an accidental coincidence was the very year in which it was
finished. In respect to the name of the ship, some difficulties have occurred. It
has been erroneously called « The Royal Sovereign," and in a passage in Strafford's
Letters I find « My Lord of Northumberland had the happiness to light on the name
which most pleased tlie King, * The Sovereign.' " Even contemporaries differed
about the name of this ship. Later writers call it « The Sovereign." The right

THE SOVEREIGNTY OF THE SEAS. 45

Two other remarkable memorials which the King has left his
country, attest his own sense of the glory and the patriotic pride
of his own claims. Charles the First struck several medals to
commemorate the glorious event after the treaty with Holland,
which may still be seen in the cabinets of the curious ; * and in
St. James's park, there stood, and doubtless now stands, a can-
non which was emphatically called "the gun;" it was cast in
the year 1638, bearing this inscription —

Carolus Edgceri sceptrutn stabUivit A quarv/m.
« The sceptre of Edgar established on the waters by Charles."

Such was the venerable antiquity of the regal claim. A cannon
which bears an argument is royal logic, and would seem, in more
than one respect, irrefragable. It is possibly a delicate allusion
to the work of the great master of our antiquities, who had
deduced our maritime dominion from the first Sovereign of

England.f

The pirates of Sallee, who had revolted from the Emperor of
Morocco, headed by a rebel who was called the Saint, by their
descents and depredations on the Irish coasts, among other
disgraceful evils had carried off into captivity numbers of our
countrymen. These pirates were now extirpated. Charles was
anxious to confer particular honours on Captain Eainsborough,
the commander in this successful expedition, and when this
" experienced and worthy seaman," as Secretary Coke describes
him, declined the honour of knighthood which the King himself
offered, Charles ordered that his naval hero should be presented

name is extremely important on the present subject, to show what was passing in
the mind of Charles. And now it may be finally ascertained, for the builder him-
self, in his autobiography, has preserved the expressive appellative. The King
himself commanded she should bear the name of " The Sovereign of the Seas." I
recollect, in an evening lecture at the Royal Institution, Mr. Knowles, F.R.S., of
the Navy Office, favoui'ing us with an interesting view of our Naval architecture,
and exhibiting a draught of " The Sovereign of the Seas," which ship for that period
he considered a master-piece of the art. Of Phineas Pett, the great Naval archi-
tect, there are some memoirs in the Archseologia, xii. 217, and the MS. of his life
is preserved at the British Museum.

* It is an extraordinary omission in Evelyn's rambling work on Medals, that he
should not have noticed these testimonies of the triumph of Charles the First, and
of England. Nor are they in Pinkerton's MedalHc History of England. I have
seen some in the collection of British Medals at the British Museum.
+ Mare Clausum, lib. ii. cap. xii.

46 THE SOVEREIGNTY OF THE SEAS.

with a costly gold chain, and with a medal of not less value than
three hundred pounds. This memorial of loyal service may
perhaps still exist, should not very opposite family feelings have
melted it down in the days of the Rump.

The Moorish Ambassador appeared mounted on horseback ;
in his train four grooms led four Barbary horses, which showed
their mettle in their paces, richly caparisoned, the saddles stud-
ded ; and the captives mostly clad in white who now had returned
free men to England, passed through the city, where it was also
known that the Ambassador was the bearer of a treaty of alliance
and commerce. Even Strafford imagined that " this action of
Sallee is so full of honour that it will bring great content to the
subject, and help much towards the ready cheerful payment of
the shipping monies.*'* But doubtless there were many, now
that the expedition was successful, finding out reasons why it
ought not to have succeeded. Ancient is the cry of what we
modems call the Opposition ! f The poet Waller may soothe
the manes of Charles the First for the insults he is doomed to
receive. Waller has composed a poem on the taking of Sallee.
The poet, like most persons, was attracted by the novel spectacle
of the Moor — the mettled palfreys — the Christian captives : —

Morocco sends the Chief among his Peers
Who in his bark proportioned presents bears.
To the renowned for piety and force
Poor captives manumised, and matchless horse.

Alluding to the lawless democracy of these pirates, a couplet
more happily applies to our present purpose : —

Safely they might on other nations prey ;
Fools to provoke the Sovereign of tite sea /

* Strafford's Letters, ii. 129—132.

t " The success of the measure arose entirely from an accidental event," ob-
serves Mr. Brodie ; " it is said that intestine commotions opportunely assisted the
attack."

The plan was concerted with the Emperor of Morocco, who in the preceding
year liad sent over to England an envoy with a proposal that he should attack tlie
place by land, while the English assailed it at sea. By what licence of style can a
preconcerted measure be said to have terminated in " an accidental event ? "

CAUSES OF THE INACTION OF THE ENGLISH FLEETS. 47

CHAPTER V.

CAUSES OF THE INACTION OF THE ENGLISH FLEETS.

Charles the First was doomed to war with Fate ! The nar-
rative of his glory must ever terminate with that of his misfor-
tunes. This monarch had first set that noble example which his
successors in government have scrupulously followed^ whether
a Cromwell, a Stuart, or a Guelph. The sovereignty of our
seas will ever remain a part of our insular policy, yet Charles the
First was himself to witness the reverse of all his hopes. The
humiliated Sovereign of the Seas was to sniffer a national insult
even from those whom he had subjected.

It is worthy the curiosity of Englishmen to become acquainted
with the complicated events by which this great naval design
became utterly frustrated. It often happens in the history of
Charles the First that his accusers have not developed the pecu-
liarity of his position, while they have reproached his conduct.
Even when their reproaches may not be unjust, truth has re-
quired a different statement than they have afforded us. The
subject of the sovereignty of the sea is a remarkable instance of
this.

We have shown the exertions which were required to equip
the most formidable fleet which England had ever put to sea,
and the scrupulous honour of Charles in employing the mode-
rate revenue of the ship-money to this great national object.
Yet, notwithstanding these efforts, in the course of three years
we find this great fleet inactive ; our flag no longer honoured by
the French, the Hollander, and the Spaniard, and, to reach the
climax of national disgrace, the English Sovereign received the
European affront of witnessing the neutrahty of his ports violated
by two nations, in defiance of his express command. It is only
a mind most perverted in its political feelings which can imagine
for an instant, that Charles was tamely insensible to this national
outrage— he who had maintained with such elevation, not only
this sovereignty of the sea, but at the same critical moment, as

48 CAUSES OP THE INACTION OF

we shall shortly show, was asserting the independence of his
government against the foreigner. It is evident that causes
which have not been explored by our historical writers, must
have been secretly operating to have occasioned such a fatal
reverse.

At this period two strong parties, equally balanced, divided
the Cabinet. Lord Holland and Secretary Coke had adopted
the French interest, in opposition to Lord Cottington and Secre-
tary Windebank, who were warmly attached to the Spanish. A
personage of no inferior importance in the naval history of this
period must also be considered. This was the Lord High
Admiral of England, Algernon, Earl of Northumberland.

An idea of the condition of our naval affairs we obtain by
some letters of the Earl of Northumberland. In February,
1636-7, two querulous letters to Strafford represent the mise-
rable state in which the business of the Admiralty was conducted,
which was then in commission. Northumberland had been
appointed Admiral of the summer fleet. " It is not declared
who shall command the King^s fleet. If that charge be com-
mitted to any other body, I shall not envy him that hath the
honour of it ; for I profess to your Lordship, to whom I shall
ever speak freely, that, as it is now managed, it is not an em-
ployment fit for any person of honour .^^

A few days after we find, " the King hath this day told me
privately that he is so well satisfied with my carriage in his
service the last summer, that he intends again to employ me this
y^ar, which I should willingly have declined had I known hand-
somely how to avoid it. I perceive some others, of whom the
King is not very confident, have been suitors for the employ-
ment ; and if four pounds a-day whilst I am abroad be the only
reward for my service, truly I would have wished it in another
hand."

This is no heroic strain ! However, we learn, two months
afterwards, that the King in person, at a Committee of the Ad-
miralty, called together the officers of the Navy, to answer the
abuses alleged against them by the principal commanders, but
little was said by them in their own defence. Some reform was
agreed on^ and, after admonition from the King on " hope of
their amendment," he graciously dismissed them.

THE ENGLISH FLEETS. 49

Again, " If the King Lave not more use of his fleet than is
yet known, he may well save one half of the charge, and give
me leave to stay at home/'

Three months after, July, 1637, a letter dated on board the
Triumph in the Downs, prolongs the same desponding tone.
They were extremely idle, no directions for the disposing of the
fleets. "When men go several ways and are led by private
ends, they are not only long in coming to resolutions, but do
often destroy public designs." He continues in a nobler strain
than the former one of " four pounds a-day when on board."
" To ride in this place at anchor a whole summer together
without hope of action, to see daily disorders in the fleet, and
not to have means to remedy them, and to be in an employ-
ment, where a man can neither do service to the State, gain
honour to himself, nor do courtesies to his friends, is a condition
that I think nobody will be ambitious of."*

How much may be abstracted from the amount of these
querulous dispatches, or how far they may originate in a youth-
ful nobleman who had not yet reached the point of his ambition,
who shall say? One thing appears, that there was a strange
unaccountable inaction in the fleet. However disorderly was
the general conduct of the navy, and tedious and mysterious its
inaction, a bright beam is suddenly thrown over the late dark-
ened picture, in the mind of Northumberland, when in March
1638, " his Majesty confeiTcd on him an honour beyond his
expectation," by creating him the Lord High Admiral. This
royal grace, Northumberland ascribes to a friendly conversa-
tion which Strafi'ord had formerly had with him in Sion Gallery.
We are now told that "the King taking into consideration the
inconveniences of having his navy and sea-affairs governed in
this conjuncture by a commission, is pleased to think me worthy
to be trusted with that charge, and declared in Council that
hereafter he purposed to make his son the Duke of York
Admiral of England when he should be fit for the execution of
the place." The Earl indicates the parties which then divided
the Court. "Till all was resolved and concluded, very few
but the Queen knew any thing of it ; one presently retired to

* Strafford's Letters, ii. 51, 67, 71.
VOL. II. E

50 CAUSES OF THE INACTION OP

Kensington (Lord Holland ?) and other pretenders are nothing
well pleased to see this office thus disposed of."

But the navy was no longer sovereign ! The Cabinet was
involved in the same mystery, and the same indecision of
measures left the navy of England idling in its harbours.
Sometimes we hear that the summer fleet was in movement,
dispersing here and there; or a squadron under the Prince
Elector is gone, God knows whither ! till it returned, after a
cruise. The only real expedition was the squadron sent against
Sallee. Meanwhile the French were increasing their naval
force, were preying on our commerce, and returning apologies
for our remonstrances, till Lord Leicester, our Ambassador at
Paris, strongly urged more offensive measures on our side to
balance our complaints — " Let us complain and redress on both
sides, but while we are doing one and not the other, we shall
get no relief here." Licenses for the fishery were now consi-
dered as superfluous by the Hollander. The British fleet might
have exacted the tribute, but when the Dutch busses found
twenty sail of their own stout men-of-war by their side, who
was to be the tax-gatherer ? One of our captains offered, but
they fired a salute in the air, and afterwards pretended that
they had asked for licenses. At length in 1039 the honour of
the British flag was openly insulted.

Spain by a desperate and exhausting effort to preserve her
expiring dominion in tbe Netherlands, unexpectedly sent forth
an Armada, carrying an army of twenty-six thousand soldiers.
iTiis formidable expedition gave rise to the most extravagant
rumours : it could, however, only have been designed to rein-
force their army in Flanders and to encounter the fleets of
France and Holland. As was their usual custom, they consi-
dered that the magnitude of their galleons would have rendered
them irresistible against the lighter vessels of their enemies;
but when they met with a Dutch fleet off the Downs, not a
fourth in number, and the Hollanders, active in their move-
ments, got the wind in their favour, these bulky sailers were
found unmanageable. At the sound of the cannon. Van Tromp
hastened to join his countrymen, and after a furious fight, when
ships had been sunk on both sides, the shattered Spaniard
retreated to the Downs, and anchored in that road of Dover

THE ENGLISH FLEETS. 51

which in the diplomatic style is called " The King of England's
Imperial Chamber/' whose protection and security is to be kept
inviolate from the inroads of hostile nations. At this moment
the weaker Dutch respected it, but having been abundantly
supplied at Calais with powder by their good friends of France,
they anchored at a convenient distance.

The Spaniards showed no disposition to quit their retreat,
secure in the protection of England, while the Hollanders were
receiving hourly reinforcements. Each fleet was watching the
other, while the ministers of the two nations were not less
anxiously engaged in presenting their memorials at Whitehall :
the Spaniard imploring the King to keep off the Dutch for two
tides, and the Hollander protesting against any aid being
afforded to the Spaniard.

The case was critical — and the agitation was extreme on all
sides. Charles was only anxious to preserve the neutrality of his
own harbours. Bound as the King was in one common amity
with these powers, he sometimes exclaimed, " Would to Heaven
that I were well rid of both ! " The distress of the monarch
was of a singular nature. If Charles drove out the Spaniard
from his port, he hurried them to an unequal combat and
inevitable destruction — if he assisted the weaker party, he was
himself the violator of that sacred neutrality he claimed. Mean-
while Charles was about incurring the disgrace which he at
length received, for if he commanded them both to quit the Downs
and neither would obey, his honour was not less blemished than
when they at length openly violated the neutrality of his port,
and insulted the protection of the King in his chamber.

Another perplexity, originating in the suspicions of party,
had no little influence on the King, who, as Warwick expresses
it, was " harassed by his own subjects and the Admiral favour-
ing the popular party." The most malicious rumours had been
spread by the discontented party here, of the pretended design
of this Spanish fleet. These rumours must have been very-
general, for the sage Whitelocke has chronicled them. " This
armada was believed by many to have been designed for an
invasion of England, and many discourses pro and con were
vented about it." It was even said, as Nalson tells us, that
Charles was in a secret confederacy with the Spaniard to establish

E 2

52 CAUSES OF THE INACTION OF

the Romish religion and arbitrary government, which terrified
the common people out of their wits and their allegiance. When
now we read the State Correspondence of the times, we are
struck by the strong delusion of such factious inventions. The
Spaniards who could not defend themselves from a Dutch fleet,
were imagined to invade that kingdom in whose ports they
were imploring a refuge. Nonsense, although a base metal,
soon becomes a current coin, when the people stamp it with
their passions.

At this critical hour, the Lord High Admiral seems not to
have viewed as a statesman the pecuhar political position into
which his royal master was thrown. Northumberland, indeed,
was by no means averse to immolate the Spaniard to the
Hollander, who, he acknowledges, was hourly expected "to
assault the Dons." We have seen what he, and the party to
whom the Earl belonged, felt on this extraordinary occasion.
The scheme he suggested to the* King evinces little zeal, or
deficient ability. While he seems aware of the indignity which
Charles was likely to receive from the decision of both parties,
he advises the King to command both fleets out of the Downs,
The Earl writes, " his Majesty's designs are a little to be won-
dered at, that he should endanger the receiving an aff'ront, and
expose his ships to much hazard, rather than command both the
Spaniard and the Holland fleets out of the Downs. He saith
now, that at his return to London on Saturday next, he will
appoint a time for them to depart out of this road." It was
probably on this advice that the King dispatched the Earl of
Arundel to the Spanish Admiral, to desire that he would retire
on the first fair wind, while Vice- Admiral Sir John Pennington,
who lay in the Downs with thirty-four men of war, informed
the Dutch Admiral that he had orders to act in defence of either
of the two parties who should be first attacked.*

But when the Spaniard was bid to be gone, as Northumber-
land suggested, did he go ? He delayed his departure with new
excuses day after day. If the wind were favourable, they wanted

• Durinfj the three weeks of this extraordinary conjunction of affairs, a treaty
had been concluded between Charles and the Infant Cardinal at Brussels, that for
the sura of >50,000^., to be paid instantly, the English monarch would protect the
Spanish fleet to its destination, till it was moored in some port in Spain.

THE ENGLISH FLEETS. 58

powder — or masts from the King's stores, before they could
stand out at sea, while the Hollander grew more insolent as
they increased in number. They had now a hundred sail,
besides fire-ships. When the Spaniards pleaded, as one excuse
for their delay, their want of powder, that great naval hero Van
Tromp sent them an offer to supply them with five hundred
barrels, to be paid for at the usual rate, and if they wanted
masts from Chatham, he would send his own frigates to tow
them, if they would weigh and stand out to sea ! Once,
favoured by the darkness of the night, and, it was supposed,
under an English pilot, the Spaniards succeeded in sending off
to Dunkirk fifteen vessels with three thousand men, which
raised a clamour both in France and Holland, as if Charles had
violated his neutrality in this instance. On this occasion Van
Tromp, who appears often to have expressed himself in language
as original and fiery, as was his action in combat, said that
" having his hands full of flies, it was impossible but some of
them would escape through his fingers.^' Secretary Windebank,
who records this anecdote as a rhodomontade greater than any
of the Spaniards, little knew then that the man who had
delivered it could not use ideas too great to express the energy
of his own deeds, and his lofty scorn of his enemy. Van
Tromp was so popular with us, that several English gentlemen,
no doubt of the discontented party at home, went abroad as
volunteers. The Dutch Admiral told them that he imagined
the Spaniards were waiting for the stormy weather, to get that
by running which they despaired by fighting, and in that case,
" if they keep lying so near the shore the King of England
would have their guns, the country their wreck, and the devil
their men.'^

Such an extraordinary state of affairs could not last ; the
crisis was looked for at every hour. The Dutch asserted that a
shot from a sentinel, possibly accidental, had been fired by the
Spaniards at the barge of Van Tromp, and a dead body was
sent to the English Admiral, as evidence that the neutrality of
the King of England^s harbour had been violated. The attack
soon after commenced ; few escaped of the Spanish fleet. It is
said Van Tromp appointed a squadron to keep the English at a
distance. The plea of the Dutch that they waited till their

54 CAUSES OF THE INACTION OF

patience was exhausted, and the reluctant apology of theii-
ambassador, made for the sake of form, were mere pretexts, to
conceal what had been resolved on by the States- General, for
we now know that Van Tromp had orders not to attack the
Spaniards till he had been joined by various squadrons, and
then in case the English would not remain neuter, he had
positive commands to fight both one and the other. This poli-
tical revelation we draw from D^Estrades' correspondence with
Cardinal Richelieu. The Cardinal had desired the Prince of
Orange " to give orders to his admirals to engage the Spanish
fleet in the Downs, notwithstanding the protection which the
King of England seemed inclined to give them."

It has been a question how the English conducted themselves
at that moment. Dr. Lingard says, " Pennington remained a
quiet spectator." Was the Vice-Admiral kept off by the ships
sent towards him? Our people seemed to have been more
earnestly employed in seizing on the sinking Spaniards and
saving their wrecks from the Hollanders. They, however, actu-
ally fired on the Dutch from their batteries and their ships, for
Van Tromp, writing to the Comte de Charost, adds, " but as far
as we can judge, the fire of the EngHsh was intended rather for
a feint than from passion." *

Thus ingloriously for Charles terminated this singular inci-
dent, which the exulting negotiator of France describes as " the
most illustrious action which could be thought of, that of de-
feating the fleet of Spain in an English port, though assisted by
English ships." And the Infant Cardinal at Brussels told Sir
Balthazar Gerbier that his Majesty of Great Britain, by this
attempt of the Hollanders, had received a greater blow than the
King of Spain. So lofty was the sense of Castilian honour ! In
the Council of the States-General, when some objected to attack
the Spaniards in an English port, whence might ensue a rupture
between England and Holland, it was insolently answered that
the King durst not break with them, and if he durst, they feared
him not, and rather than suffer the Spanish fleet to escape, they
would attack it thougli it were placed upon his Majesty's beard !
In their ancient style the States-General had formerly sued for
the protection of England, under the humble designation of

♦ Griffet, xxi. 233.

THE ENGLISH FLEETS. 55

" the poor distressed States/' but they had recently titled them-
selves " High and Mighty/'

What causes had thus fatally operated on our maritime
affairs? How happened it that the great fleet of England,
which had showed itself in triumph, was paralysed by inaction ?
This mighty navy, which had vindicated the sovereignty of the
seas, in the short period of two years we find directed to no
single point, ingloriously lying in its harbours. To know these
causes, we must attempt to trace what was silently operating on
the mind of Charles.

Early in 1637, 1 find Charles, in a confidential communication
to Strafford, alluding to an approaching alteration in his foreign
politics. The object is always the same eternal dream of the
restoration of the Palatinate. Lord Arundel had returned from
his inefficient embassy to Vienna. Charles was now convinced
that all negotiations were useless. From Austria he got only
civility, and from Spain promises, but from the Duke of Bavaria
himself, who had taken possession of the Palatinate, the plain
stern language of a soldier, who swore that what the sword had
gained the sword should preserve. An English monarch who
would acquire conquests on the Continent by the eloquence or
the high rank of his ambassadors, without an army, is liable to
incur the insults of even the petty military powers of Germany.
The noble Arundel, who assumed a princely state in his embassy,
was so little considered, that he thought proper to leave Vienna
without taking leave, and an envoy of one of those petty princes
scornfully observed, that " our English ambassadors were fit
only to pick poultry.''

Our Cabinet, divided as it was into two opposite parties, was
now more than ever convulsed by its fluctuating measures. A
league was proposed with the Protestant Princes, the allies of
France ; these coalescing with Holland, Denmark, and Sweden,
were to reinstate the sister and the nephew of Charles the First
in the Palatinate. But Charles acknowledges to Strafford
that he is quite incompetent to join his new allies with troops.
" I have professed that all my warfare must be by sea, not by
land."

The King proceeds, " what likelihood there is that upon this
I should fall foul with Spain you now may see as well as I, and

56 CAUSES OF THE INACTION OF

what great inconvenience tliis war may bring to me, now that
my sea-contribution is settled, and that I am resolved not to
meddle with land armies , I cannot imagine, except it be in Ire-
land, and there, too, I fear not much, since I find the country so
well settled as it is by your diligent care. Yet I thought it
necessary to give you this watch- word, both to have the more
vigilant eye over the discontented party, as also to assure you
that / am as far from a Parliament as when you left me."

This confidential dispatch was sent in February, 1636-7. I
do not know whether we are to read the last lines as a patriotic
regret, or a confirmation.of unalterable decision. Why were they
written? They are not set down in passion. Strafford, as
well as other ministers, we know was friendly to Parliament.
Were they in reply to a suggestion of Strafford's to call a Par-
liament ? I incline to think they were dictated by a sorrowful
conviction according to his own notions, or from more recent
knowledge, that Charles could discover no relenting animosity
in the party who he concluded were his personal enemies. One
point is here proved, that Parliaments at least were not utterly
dismissed from the mind of Charles.

From this period we may trace the indecisive measures of
Charles the First. He was not yet the open friend of his new
allies, nor was he yet hostile to the ally whom he was quitting ;
for the treaties were sometimes retarded by the Cabinet of the
Louvre, and the States- General or the Prince of Orange had
conflicting interests with England. Spain was indeed alarmed
at this awful conjunction, and her ambassador hastened to
Charles with offers to restore the Lower Palatinate, and with a
promise to procure the Upper, from the Duke of Bavaria, for a
compensation in money. He further proposed that if England
would join his master with twenty thousand men and her fleet,
the Spaniards would take the field with as many Brabanters, and
their combined army should place Languedoc and Normandy in
the hands of the British monarch. This rhodomontade of the
affrighted Don was an artifice intended to decompose the ele-
ments of this perilous combination. The projected league of the
various parties had become the subject of public attention two
months after the King had written to Strafford. A famous
news-letter writer of the day thus describes the state of affairs : —

THE ENGLISH FLEETS. 57

" Our new patriots and statesmen here cry out, ' Let England,
France, and the Low Countries join together, they will quickly
bring the Spaniard on his belly/ 'Tis true these truly conjoined
would do much, but upon what terms doth England stand yet
with either of them ? Farther off with the Low Countries than
we have been a long time, and for France things come on much
slower than we expected/' This was a true statement of politi-
cal affairs. Another season was suffered to elapse, which, how-
ever, was interrupted by the beginning of the troubles in Scotland
in July and October, 1637. It was in November of that year
that Cardinal Richelieu attempted to seduce Charles by his offers
to aid the King against those of his subjects whom the Cardinal
called '^his rebels."

But Charles's attention was now roused to his own domestic
affairs. Our fleet, however, still existed, and in 1638 the
sovereignty of the sea was still present in the anxious minds of
the English. A well-informed writer of the day observed,
" The long treaties between the French and the Spanish are
now near a conclusion ; the Dutch will not be left out ; then
liave at England for the dominion of the seas."^

But rapid was the approaching change, and the state of affairs
is strongly painted by the Lord High Admiral in January,
1638-9 — "I assure your lordship we are altogether in as ill a
posture to invade others as to defend ourselves — the discontents
here at home do rather increase than lessen — the King's coffers
were never emptier than at this time, and to us that, have the
honour to be near about him, no way is yet known how he will
find means either to maintain or begin a war without the help
of his people." t

One cause of the inactivity of the fleet may be traced to the
change in the foreign policy of the Cabinet, which prevented
any decisive measures from being adopted ; and when at length
it became necessary to chastise the indignities which England
was daily incurring from the encroaching Gaul, the insolent
Hollander, and the haughty Spaniard, the monarch, seeing his
honour was compromised, was glad to accept the futile apologies
of the foreign aggressors. He who in politics accepts apologies
for wrongs, only acquiesces in the evidence of his weakness.

■^ Strafford's Letters, ii. 181. + Ibid. 267.

53 CAUSES OF THE INACTION OF THE ENGLISH FLEETS.

Harris on this exclaims, " A spirited prince would have had a
satisfaction as puhhc as the injury itself, and thereby have shown
the world that he was worthy of the sovereignty of those seas
which he claimed."

Thus Charles has sometimes incurred reproaches where he
might rather move our sympathy. The inextricable dilemma
into which Charles was now cast, by the course of events, never
occurred to this writer of common-place declamation, and whose
genius in all respects is mean as his style. The personal dis-
tresses of the King were fast gathering on him, but the historian
who does not investigate cannot perceive them. The state of
his aflfairs no longer admitted of an expostulation by his own
navy ; what was just and glorious in 1637 was no longer so in
1639. The mind of Charles was now too deeply engaged in
military preparations against his own revolting subjects, while
his Exchequer was so utterly exhausted that it became for him
a direful necessity to look to the help of his people, to gather
the reluctant alms of their loyalty, or to submit once more to
the dubious results of those new masters of sovereignty — the
Parliament !

The troubles in Scotland were pressing on the mind of the
King, and to reduce that kingdom to obedience, Charles had
resolved to raise an army of thirty thousand men. All foreign
aflfairs became matters of secondary importance, a circumstance
fatal to his character as a sovereign, and which the Cabinets of
Europe soon discovered. The unpopularity of the ship-money
continued a source of general discontent, although that tax was
neither onerous nor useless. Even those who wished no ill to
the King, allowed themselves the utmost freedom in protesting
against the decree of the Judges which had legalised it. Waller,
who addressed so many loyal poems to Charles, and who when
the civil wars broke out, for his adherence to the King, only
saved his life by the sacrifice of his fortune, delivered a very
impressive speech against this obnoxious tax. Sir William
Monson in his " Naval Tracts " has noticed the many factious
and scandalous rumours which were invented at the time to
persuade the people that aU the naval preparations were only an
artifice to draw money from the subject. Those who were fined
and imprisoned for their contumacy looked for revenge in the

NOTE ON SHIP-MONEY. 59

North ; and the cry against ship-money, cherished and inflamed
by faction, was always greatest when the monarch was in his
extreme distress.

A NOTE ON SHIP-MONEY AND ON THE SOVEREIGNTY OF

THE SEAS.

Dh. Lingard has done justice to Charles the First in the particular
instance of the King's disposal of the Ship-money. " By this contrivance
the King obtained a yearly supply of 218,500^., and it should be observed
that he carefully devoted it to the purposes for which it was demanded."
(Lingard, x., 29.)

The careful direction of that tax, Hume has justly urged as a plea for
Charles the First ; even the cold Presbyter Harris nods his acquiescence.
Sir Philip Warwick had stated a fact, " The King so sincerely employed
the Ship-money that it was never mingled with that of his own Exche-
quer, but kept apart with their accounts, and yet adding considerably of
his own treasures to it."

But other more popular history may show how the history of this period
has often been written. Oldmixon, who has degraded history into
ribaldry, and whose folio volume on the Stuarts at the day, and with a
party, seems to have passed for authentic history, condemns the great
enterprise of Charles as sheer foUy. Sir Philip Warwick, a distinguished
gentleman and actor in the events of his time, he criticises as " a writer
below reflection ; his matter, his style, and integrity are all of a piece, and
'tis ridiculous to be serious about him." ** The Critical Historian," as
Oldmixon styles himself, therefore ridicules the notion that " The King
kept aU the Ship-money in a bag by itself." AU the service done by the
revenue from the Ship-money was " clearing the Channel of a few Turkish
rovers, and the frighting our Protestant allies, the Hollanders." The
great State-principle of the Sovereignty of the Sea — the tributary treaty —
and the retreat of the combined fleets of France and Holland — are wholly
dropped in this faithless narrative.

Mrs. Macaulay was somewhat sensible to the firm and intrepid con-
duct of the King ; but the meed of glory she awards is mildewed by a
sneer ! Listen to her ! " Charles now seems to l3e in the meridian of
what he termed glory ; he had fairly placed the yoke on the neck of his
own subjects, and by the seizure of their purse had found means to humble
the Hollanders, whose independent flourishing state had ever been an eye-
sore to the Stuarts."

With SmoUet, all these transactions, the historian sagaciously discovers,
were founded on mere p'etences ! He ascribes the levying the Ship-

60 NOTE ON SHIP-MONEY.

money " to ?l pretence of the nation's being in danger of a leagiie concluded
between France and the United Provinces," which we have shown, and
still have to show, assuredly existed. And further, " that & pretejice va\^i
not be wanting for levying the tax of Ship-money all over the kingdom,
Charles published a proclamation forbidding all foreigners to fish on the
coasts of Britain." Doubtless the historian and his readers were satisfied
that in these " pretences " they had discovered the whole secret history of
these public events !

At length we reach the illumination of Mr. Brodie's history, our own
contemporary, who knows far better than any of his predecessors how the
Ship-money was disposed of. " The English had not the consolation of
thinking that the money extorted from them was destined to any useful
purpose; luxury, hungry courtiers, and the Queen's French attendants
consumed the greater part of this ill-acquired treasure, while a portion of it
was applied towards overturning the liberties and religion of Scotland."
(ii. 401.) Had we not known the moderate supply of the Ship-money,
and the heavy charges of fitting out the most formidable fleet which Eng-
land had ever put to sea, and farther, on the authority of Sir Philip
Warwick — though this obvious fact required no authority — that the King
was often compelled to supply its deficiencies from his own Exchequer,
had we not known all this, we might have congratulated Mr. Brodie on
the secret sources of his history of the disposal of the Ship-money. But
Mr. Brodie is only mistaken in his arithmetic ! Let Mr. Brodie deduct
from the gross receipts of the Ship-money, so much for " luxury," — so
much for *' hungry courtiers " — so much for " French attendants " — and
place contra — " sixty ships of war " — and he will find that not an obolus
will remain for *' overturning the liberties and religion of Scotland." All
this is serious truth — and every item which Mr. Brodie has here enume-
rated as having been furnished by Ship-money is chimerical. I cannot
help adding one of Mr. Oldmixon's phrases when alluding to Clarendon,
Warwick, and others — " You see what history they give us ! "

Mr. Hallam will pardon the notice of an expression of his, somewhat
inaccurate in regard to the subject. " There wanted not reasons in the
Cabinet of Charles for placing the navy at times on a respectable footing "
(i. 165.) Thus, all that I have written on the Sovereignty of the Sea;
all that Selden has sent down to posterity in his immortal " Mare
Clausum ; " and that miracle of our fleet, ** the Sovereign of the Seas " —
the inscribed cannon — and those legacies of fame — the medals of Charles
the First, with all the greatness of the noble emprise, is clouded over by
" a respectable footing."

It is amusing to turn to the recent Biographic Universelle,* where we

* Biog. Univ. xli. 502.

OF THE COMMOTIONS OF SCOTLAND. 61

may collect some instruction relative to the systematic perseverance of our
Government from the days of Charles the First to those of George the
Third, in maintaining the Sovereignty of the Sea.

Our Gallic contemporary tells us that " the principles v/hich diaries the
First avowed, were also those of Cromwell, and produced the Dutch war."
Here I find an omission in his chronological view, which I shall supply.
He has not told us that Charles the Second was once patriotic enough in
1675 to declare that he would risk his crown rather than his Sovereignty
at Sea, and when a French squadron refused to strike to the British flag
in the English Channel, the French Captain who had ofiered the insult
was sent over to implore the pardon of the English monarch.* This
writer proceeds with William the Third, who in a manifesto reproaches
Louis the Fourteenth for having allowed his subjects to violate the rights
of the sovereignty of the English crown in the Britannic seas — and George
the Third in the last wars appears fully to have followed up the system of
his predecessors. From these facts, which we are very ftir from denying,
the result discovered by the French diplomate, is " that these facts sufii-
ciently prove how these monarchs had not abandoned the doctrine of
Selden ! " Our critic henceforward wHl, I hope, do us islanders the
justice to observe our consistency in attending to our own interests, and
commend us for the fearlessness which has defended them — it has cost
more Dutch than French blood.

CHAPTER VI.

OF THE COMMOTIONS OF SCOTLAND.

The insurrection of Scotland might have proved to Charles
the First an extraordinary source of political instruction; but
the limited policy of this monarch, the policy of the times, was
preservative, not creative. It was to support what was estab-
lished, and not to discover what was remedial.

In the government of the Church and the State his principle
was immutable conformity ; a principle which naturally repulsed
strange innovations which to the King appeared secretly sub-
verting the monarchy, while they offered no substitute for that
Episcopacy which they would abolish, but another Prelacy of a
meaner character, yet of a more audacious and turbulent genius.

The time was at hand when this fated monarch was about to

* Ralph's History of England, i. 284.

62 OF THE COMMOTIONS OP SCOTLAND.

be hurried on through a dark labyrinth of factions and revolu-
tions. It was to be a struggle to which the genius of the man
was incompetent, uncongenial to his temper, and novel to his
experience. The second Stuart was not one of those rare
minds who create an epoch in the history of nations, and who,
anticipating a distant posterity, discover a wisdom not of their
own age. Charles the First could not, like Henry the Eighth,
have passionately struck out a great revolution, or have termi-
nated one with the cautious decision of Elizabeth ; in the one
case Charles would have looked in vain, for a precedent of
Reformation, and in the other by some hastiness of conduct he
would have been thrown into situations whence he could only
have extricated himself by retraction or concession.

The commotions of Scotland are a prototype of the Civil War
which afterwards broke out in England, and corresponded
closely with all the great points of our greater struggle. From
an early period the movements of the Covenanters were regulated
by their confederates among the patriotic party in England.
Our patriots in that secret alliance not only adopted the prin-
ciples, but even the mode of proceedings of the Covenanters ;
in a word the English Revolution was modelled by the Scottish
Insurrection. In the complicated question of the progress of our
Revolution under Charles the First, this becomes an important
position, which has not fixed the attention of our historians.

The Scots were our tutors in the artifices of popular de-
mocracy, and those mysteries of insurgency, which afterwards
were systematised by ourselves. They were the contrivers of
that terrific revolutionary engine — a mobocracy; and it was
from them that we learnt how to organise a people in vast
masses, so as to assemble or disperse them at will. Their peti-
tions and remonstrances served as our models when, in a similar
submissive style of loyalty, they kept drilling throughout the
whole kingdom. This subtile party even practised the arts of
political flattery; at the moment they were insolent in the
success of their arms, they apologised for their invasion : and
his Majesty's loyal subjects of Scotland were only rebellious in
their acts. In the fall of the Hierarchy, through all its stages,
the English Commons were but the servile imitators of the
Scottish Covenanters. The leaders of faction, both at home

OF THE COMMOTIONS OP SCOTLAND. 63

and in Scotland, were indeed but few; they had, however,
engaged the whole people on their side by covering their own
design, which was a subversion of the government, and making
religion their ostensible and national object. Fanaticism has
all the characteristics which faction delights in; undismayed
by peril, and most triumphant when opposed, it hurries on
without sense to discover its folly, and without remorse to avert
its crimes. Private interests and personal jealousies were often
disguised by the Scottish insurgents in the parties which they
formed. In this vast and confused struggle the principles of
constitutional liberty were sometimes developed and asserted ;
the first statute for triennial Parliaments originated in Scot-
land: and thus the independence of Parliaments was secured
by the prevention of their disuse.* Both parties alike in Eng-
land and in Scotland finally succeeded in objects more concealed ;
the national avarice of the Covenanters sold their Sovereign,
and the remorseless republicanism of the other murdered him —
and both the Presbyter and the Eepublican finally sank with
their victim !

The King^s conduct, from first to last, in the Scottish Revolu-
tion, was precisely similar to that which governed him in
England. We discover in his first commands the same regal
tone of authority ; in his measures the same indecision ; and at
length in their result the same entire concessions, but all
granted, however, to no purpose ! Inflexible, or yielding, the
fortune of the King was alike malignant. Baillie, the able
Scotch Covenanter, who possessed a personal knowledge of the
Court, and of the leaders of the parties when the last great
scene was approaching, has thrown out an observation which,
properly understood, conveys a great truth. " It has been the
King^s perpetual fault to grant his people's desires by bits, and
so late he ever lost his thanks.'' We must remember, however,
that "the people's desires," in the eyes of a partisan, always
mean the system of that partisan. With Baillie " the people's

* Laing's Hist, of Scotland, iii. Rushworth, iv. 188, where we find the Kmg's
speech on passing the act for triennial Parliaments, Feb. 15, 1640. The speech
in many respects is remarkable ; the King observes " This is the greatest expres-
sion of my triist in Tjour affections to me, that before you do any thing for me I do
put such a confidence in you."

64 OF THE COMMOTIONS OF SCOTLAND.

desires" meant the unbishoping of bishops, and a Covenanting
King of England !

Had Charles the First proved to be such a creature of circum-
stance as to have subscribed himself a Covenanter, all Scotland,
and half of England, might have been too strong for the ruling
party in Parliament. The English Parliament were, indeed,
early jealous of the King^s intercourse with the Scots, and
Charles in his mind seems to have had some latent design of
winning over his countrymen to his side ; but when the Scots
insisted that the royal hand should be set to their famous
national covenant, whatever might be the policy of his nego-
tiations, their real object became unattainable. Charles con-
ceded often reluctantly. Forced to act against his will, he
could not be always sincere; but it is not less true, that his
inflexibility sprang oftener from principle than from policy.

The history of the Scottish commotions is neither a digrgi-
sion, nor an episode, in the history of Charles the First, or in
that of the causes of the revolutionary measures of his reign.
The character of the monarch developed itself in its progress,
as well as the arts and practices of the insurgents, till at length
we discover how the Scottish insurrection terminated in the
great revolution of England.

To comprehend the secret motives, and the dark intrigues
which prevailed in the Scottish affairs, we must rapidly review
the state of Scotland from the Reformation ; the descendants
of the first actors in that busy era of reform and spoliation
were still performing their hereditary parts, and the same
principles were operating on their conduct.

The Reformation in Scotland had been mainly effected by
those friars who were the popular preachers, in opposition to the
regular clergy. These divine orators of the multitude at the
same time instigated the people from their pulpits, and engaged
in their cause those noble reformers who were first called " The
Lords of the Congregation," by pandering to their passions of
ambition or of avarice. These preachers were a rabid swarm
of public disturbers engendered by the heat and fury of the
times ; Knox himself acknowledges that they were blamed as
" indiscreet persons ; yea, some called them railers, and worse. —
Amongst others, peradventure, my rude plainness displeased, for

OF THE COMMOTIONS OF SCOTLAND. 65

some complained that rashly I spoke of men^s faults. But
alas ! my conscience accuseth me that I spoke not so plainly as
my duty was to have done ; for I ought to have said to the
wicked man expressly by his name, ' Thou shalt die the death ! '
For I find Jeremiah the prophet to have done so to Pashur the
high-priest, and to Zedekiah the king. And not only he, but
Elijah, Elisha, Micah, Amos, Daniel, Christ Jesus himself, and
after him his apostles, expressly to name the blood-thirsty
tyrants and abominable idolaters.^' Here we have the full-
length of a saint, armed with all the terrors, if not the daggers
of his " Godliness" — and a nation was to be revolutionised by
a horde of fanatics, who imagined themselves to be "more
pure" than their brother Protestants ; or who, as Knox himself
declares, were " appointed by God to be the salt of the earth.''
In the warmth of his simplicity, Knox reproaches himself with
his mildness, which he ascribes " to the bhnd love that I did
bear to this my wicked carcase."*

These fanatical preachers, aided by the nobles, were hurrying
on the eventful revolution. The wealth and lands of the church
lay before these parties, an enormous body and an easy prey I
The rapacious aristocracy, profiting by the disordered state of
the government, became sole masters of the soil, sharing among
themselves the rich spoliations of abbeys, and monasteries, and
cathedrals; and what they had found no difficulty to grasp,
their arm was potent to retain.

Andrew Melville brought from Geneva that model of eccle-
siastical polity which Calvin had suited to his parochial republic.
Knox was disposed at first to have bishops, under the novel title
of Superintendents. By the revelations of these apostles of
democracy the Scottish people, however, soon discovered that
Episcopacy was " a great chip of the old block. Popery ;" and
they were taught to exult, in the words of Knox, that in
regard to " the primitive and apostolic church — no realm
this day upon the face of the earth hath the like purity —
for all others retain in their churches some footsteps of Anti-
Christ and dregs of Popery." f And the mob of " the Kirk
brake down the altars and the images ;" the lands of the

* The Admonition of John Knox to the true professors of the Gospel of England,
t Knox's History of the Reformation, in the opening of his fourth Boolf.
VOL II. p

66 OF THE COMMOTIONS OF SCOTLAND.

Ecclesiastics were reserved for the zeal of " the Lords of the
Cougregation/'

Gratified at first by that reforming spirit which had ejected
their ancient masters, " the godly ministers " possibly did not
imagine that they themselves were not to partake of that tem-
poral spoil they had so spiritually spread, or, as Knox plainly
ciilled it, "the rents of the Church/' The fierce disciple of
Calvin lived to discover this error ; for he has himself told us
that whenever he remonstrated with " the Lords of the Congre-
gation," suggesting some reformation among themselves, such
as more leniency in the slavery of their serfs, and more bounti-
fulness for the maintenance of " the poore ministers," the gripers
of abbeys and cathedrals mocked their own fiery apostle by
treating these rebukes as nothing but " devout imaginations."
Knox has libelled for posterity a certain Lord Erskine, '^ who
had a very evil woman to his wife, and if the poor, the schools,
and the ministry of the Church had their own, his kitchen would
lack two parts and more of that which he unjustly possesseth."

The nobility were in truth exercising the most arbitrary
power ; the peasant was crushed by vassalage ; and, during the
minority of James, the unprincipled conduct of one ambitious,
and one avaricious Regent, had wrested from the Crown its
inalienable rights in regalities and tithes which Parliament had
annexed to it ; all which this usurping aristocracy had silently
shared among themselves. It was observed that these lords
exacted the tithes with a rigour and wantonness of oppression
to which the people had never been exposed from the Catholic
clergy.*

The Scottish nobles considered that it was their great interest
to continue their patronage to the popular preachers; and,
indeed, neither party could exist, with any security, independently
of the other. While Presbytery flourished, it kept out the
claims of the ancient owners of the church-land's, whose present
possessors dreaded the horror of a returning Hierarchy ; and the
Mar-prelates themselves, although they had resigned to the no-
bility the spoils of the Church, because they were not suffered to
be partakers, were not, however, insensible that they possessed no

* Even by the Confession of Mr. Brodie, Hist, of the British Empire, ii. 409. See
Malcohn Laing's luminous statement, iii. 89—04.

OF THE COMMOTIONS OP SCOTLAND. 67

inferior dominion in leading the understandings, and rousing at
will the passions of a people, whose rudeness, just emerging from
the blindest superstition, was so favourable to the wildest impulses
of the fanatical spiiit.

This democracy of priests assumed a power, absolute as that
Papal supremacy which, while it formed the perpetual object of
their clamorous invectives, they secretly aspired to transfer to
themselves. These denunciators of Popery were themselves
Popes to a man. It was the dangerous principle of this novel
community that the Ecclesiastical was totally separated from, and
independent of, the Civil power; and that these oracles of Heaven
were not accountable for any treason which they preached before
the tribunals of man, but only to an ecclesiastical judicature,
where the most obnoxious were sure to receive only a gentle
rebuke. Nor were these the only tenets which they held, incon-
sistent with good government ; all which, though but a vulgar
mimicry of the system which they had abrogated, the rude people
looked on with indulgence, or rather with pleasure, as excesses
of holy zeal.* We have shown, in the history of the Puritans,
that there were among these political Rabbins some whose doc-
trines soared even much higher, and who secretly aimed at esta-
blishing no less than the supremacy of the ecclesiastical power
over the civil magistrate.

These men of Parity, the Ministers of Scotland, continued to
be a turbulent race, and particularly the junior apostles of sedi-
tion. These dehghted the populace with their juvenile audacity ;
their stinging personahties were libels on the Court ; and while
they were ringing alarums of Popery, they were rebuking the
Royal Council. James the First seems to have known their
designs as well as their pride. His naive description of these
demagogues was thrown out in the warmth of his feelings at the
famous conference at Hampton Court, where, assuming his rank
as sovereign, James reiterated to the political rabble of " Jack
and Tom, and Will and Dick," that '' Le Hoy s'avisera."

This government the Scottish monarch had patiently endured
through his minority, and his early reign — the sovereign power
rested among the aristocracy; the people remained under the
influence of their ministers ; the monarchy itself was but a

* ]5urnet's Memoirs of the Hamiltons, 28.

f2

68 OF THE COMMOTIONS OF SCOTLAND.

shadow in this half-feudal and half-popular government. Hence
James, at a later day, exclaimed " No Bishop ! No King ! "
Episcopacy had been condemned, as contrary to the word of
God, in 1580, and when James discovered some disposition to
restore it, the party raised an army, and the King, to preserve
peace, established Presbyterianism by law in 1592.

By one of those eruptions to which democracy is perpetually
inclining, the genius of its followers betrayed itself. A minister
had been prosecuted, and the privileges of their " discipline "
they insisted had been violated. An armed multitude congre-
gated, and these warlike apostles, impatient at the absence of
their generals, for they had their elected commanders, had furi-
ously leaped to their weapons with the fanatical cry of " The
sword of the Lord and of Gideon ! It shall be either theirs or
ours ! " This mob streamed along the streets, and surrounding
the Sessions House, where the young King sat in council, had
nearly forced the gates. A company of musketeers secretly
introduced by the ba^k stairs, protected the King and the
Council in their escape to the palace of Holyrood. On the fol-
lowing day the King left Edinburgh. This headless multitude
dispersed at the intreaty of the Provost, in the same confused
way they had assembled.

This open violence gave a fatal blow to the audacity of these
democratic assemblies ; they were even deserted by their former
patrons, the nobles, who cared not to espouse a quarrel which
tended to strengthen a licentious predominance in the state.*
James, on his side, again attempted to break down this over-
grown power of the people by taking advantage of the odium the
party had incurred.

This rebellion, as many considered it to be, was somewhat
favourable to the revival of Episcopacy. When James ascended
the throne of England, he found many of their own party, to
curb the insolence of these pugnacious saints, ready to admit the
establishment of Episcopacy, without, however, abolishing the
Presbytery itself. Two opposing parties thus divided the coun-
try ; the one maintaining the Presbytcrial Kirk of Scotland, and
the other advocating the Episcopal Church of England.

* Bishop 'Guthry»8ay8, in hia Scottish Gallic idiom, that "this meschant business "
was called " the seventeenth of December,'" to mai'k their detestation of the day.

OF THE COMMOTIONS OF SCOTLAND. 69

An uniformity in religion prompted James the First to
require an uniformity in worship, that both the great Churches
of his two nations might constitute an unity in their govern-
ment. The Marquis of Hamilton, father to him who is soon to
come forward on the scene, with greater prudence and greater
dexterity, consequently procured the passing of the five articles
of Perth : these turned on certain customs, or Eites of the
Anglican Church, as innocent as may be, and the sole object of
which was to produce an uniformity in the Church service.
These acts of Parliament did not, however, pass without consi-
derable opposition, and were accompanied by the protests of
the Presbyters. James was still anxious to press on the Scots
a Liturgy on the model of the Church of England ; but Hamilton
deemed it more prudent to secure what he had already obtained,
by assuring the Scottish Parliament that " the King would not
in his days press any more change, or alteration, without their
consent.^^

In all this the pacific monarch had acted with cautious
policy ; he had exercised no severity, and had adopted a legal
form in wrestling with the stubborn Kirk. James relinquished
the future attempt at conformity, a favourite object with the
statesmen of that age. Bishop Guthry, a warm votary for
Episcopacy, seems surprised that the Bishops waived the royal
motion, and proceeded no further in establishing the uniformity
of their ecclesiastical discipline; but this Bishop was not so
well acquainted as ourselves with the King's feelings on this
occasion. James, convinced that he could not obtain all that
was desirable, with prescient sagacity observed on Laud, who
was urging him to a stricter union of the two Churches, by
introducing the Anglican Liturgy and drawing up the Canons,
that " he was a restless spirit who could not see when matters
are well, but loves to toss and change, and to bring things to a
pitch of reformation floating in his own brain, which may en-
danger the steadfastness of that which is in a good pass, God
be praised ! I speak not at random, for he hath made himself
known to me." "When three years since,'' continued the
King, " I had obtained of the Assembly of Perth to consent to
five articles of order and decency in correspondence with this
Church of England, I promised that I would try their obedience

70 OF THE COMMOTIONS OF SCOTLAND.

no farther anent ecclesiastical affairs, nor put them out of their
own way which custom has made pleasing unto them." A
second project of Laud, was equally resisted by the prudential
policy of James, who observed, " Laud knows not the stomach
of that people, but I ken the story of my grandmother, the
Queen Regent, that, after she was inveigled to break her pro-
mise made at Perth meeting, never saw good day, and being
much beloved before, was despised by all the people."*

Charles renewed his father's scheme, and listened to Laud,
urged on by his conscience — his policy — or his fate. To plant
the Hierarchy in a land of Presbyters ; to establish that mo-
narchical institution among a fierce democracy; to exact con-
formity with the Anglican Church from the sullen sons of
Calvin, proud of their opposition to England, not only from a
religious but a national feeling, was now to be the perilous
labour of Charles the First. The King does not appear to have
been aware that he had to extirpate the nation, ere he could
abrogate its Presbytery, and he proceeded unconscious of the
conspiracies and disaffections around him.

On his first visit to Scotland, Charles had left no doubts of
his adherence to Episcopacy. The Presbyters, baffled in their
last hopes, propagated their discontents, backed by a jealous
nobility, who looked on the Bishops either as encroachers on
their aristocratic power in the State, or as possible reclaimers
of their ancient patrimonies.

Charles, as he had done in England, to aggrandise the
Bishops in dignity and power, conferred on them offices in the
administration, which the nobility had considered as the appor-
tioned objects of their ambition. Those who had sought and
missed preferment, saw themselves supplanted by a new race of
intruders ; and those who occupied the highest places cast an
evil eye on the Churchmen who were designing their fall. The
Lord of Lorn, afterwards the famous Argyle who became the
head of the Covenanters, had largely partaken of honours and

* This remarkable conversation of James the First with the Lord Keeper
Williams discovers that shrewdness and sagacity were often prevalent in his
thoughtful hours. His prediction of Laud's own character is a very remarkable
instance of political foresight. When solicited for his promotion — " Take him,"
said James, « since you will have him, but ye will surely repent it." — Hacket's Life
of Archbishop Williams, 64.

OF THE COMMOTIONS OF SCOTLAND. 71

emoluments ; yet lie was long a secret Covenanter, till at length
lie threw off the mask, either from displeasure at the King's
refusal of the Chancellorship conferred on the Archbishop of
St. Andrews, or from a knowledge that his wiles had been
detected, and that it had been resolved by the Court, that the
Earl of Antrim should be allowed his claims on some of Argyle^s
lands. At the bottom of this burst of patriotism, as is too
usual, there lies no small share of private feeling.* The Earl
of Traquair, though openly professing friendship for the Bishops,
and conforming himself to the schemes of his royal master, was
also their secret enemy. Traquair imagined that these ecclesi-
astics were colleaguing with Maxwell the Bishop of Ross, and
that this person, the most able of the order, and the most
ambitious, was grasping at the Treasurer's staff which the Earl
held.

The Bishops, however, were divided among themselves; the
body was composed of an old and new party, acting on contrary"
principles. The election of the Scottish Bishops had been
wisely managed by James, who had appointed the Archbishop of
St. Andrew's to convene the Bishops, and name three or four,
from whom the King reserved to himself the power of nomi-
nating to the vacant see, and during his reign, according to
Bishop Guthry, none but men well qualified were advanced.
Charles had changed this system, and transferred to his own
Court at London the seat of Scottish preferment. Bishops were
now the children of court-favour, the creatures of patronage;
and it is not surprising that, in the day of trial, several of these,
when patronage wa^^ to be sought elsewhere, hurried to apostasy.
Buckingham's recommendation made Lesley a Bishop of the
Isles; Maxwell of the bed-chamber procured his relative the
bishopric of Boss. Archbishop Laud made others, and the
Earl of Sterling, Secretary of Scotland, had a mitre for his
friend. These younger Bishops, not being indebted to their
elder brethren for their preferment, kept themselves apart,

* Bishop Guthry, p. 12, assigns the one motive, but whether "ill-naturedly," as
the Presbyter Woodrow would say, who shall determine ? The other we positively
discover in a letter of the Earl of Strafford, ii. 325. It had been resolved in council
in England before Argyle declared for the Covenanters. It was probably not un-
known to Argyle. Malcolm Laing inclines to this supposition. It is probable that
both motives combined with an equal impulse.

72 OP THE COMMOTIONS OF SCOTLAND.

more constant in their correspondence "wdth Laud, than in con-
certing measures among themselves, their sole object being to
keep up their interest at Court. More fiery, being young in
office, than the elder Bishops, they were prompt at any enter-
prise suggested to them; and with the impolicy of heedless
authority, were irritating the Presbyterian Ministry with a
haughtiness which the elder Bishops had ever avoided. Laud
at Court was easily misled by the ardent correspondence of the
younger Bishops. The prudent Archbishop of St. Andrew^s
and the elder ecclesiastics persisted in their advice to suppress
" the Buke," as the Scotch called the Liturgy, till a happier
juncture ; a counsel which probably would have been accepted
had the Scotch Bishops been unanimous in their opinion ; but
the younger mitres were more stirring and more sanguine.
When a corporate body differ so widely in their sentiments, it
is only a great minister whose penetrating genius can discern
the secret motives of the men; the statesman of routine will
usually adopt the opinion suitable to his own design.

The great coming evil was chiefly accomplished, as it appears,
by the malicious manoeuvre of the Earl of Traquair, who, intent
on the ruin of the Scottish Hierarchy, concurred with Laud and
his party in promoting the most decisive measures ; talking to
them in their own language ; blaming the phlegmatic Bishops
as timorous creatures, whose sees required to be filled by more
active spirits, and pledging " his life " to carry them through
the business were he entrusted with its execution. Laud con-
fided in his young Bishops ; the young Bishops in the Earl of
Traquair. The Earl was appointed ; and finally the Earl him-
self actually signed the Covenant which abolished Episcopacy !

During the preparations for the approaching day, the public
mind was heated by the most malicious reports respecting the
Bishops. Tales flew about from all quarters against their
worldly spirit. — It was said that they were heaping estates for
their children; that they dealt in simoniacal practices; and
that these remnants of Popery were furbishing up the old mass.
These were the rumours of Presbyters ; there were others from
another class ; the Bishops, it seems, were not only trampling
on the Church, but they were domineering in the State.

An ecclesiastical spy, in gathering the secret intelligence

OF THE COMMOTIONS OF SCOTLAND. 73

which occupies such men, seems to have opened one of the
great sources of the enmity of the majority of the nobihty who
had now concluded on the removal of Bishops from the third
order of the State. It appears that these ecclesiastics had
obtained a singular predominance in Parliament ; eight being
Lords of the Articles, chose eight of the nobility known to be
friendly to the Crown, and these sixteen the rest ; so that all
depended on them, and they upon the King.*

The same spirit had travelled from England, and was cordially
embraced by the Scottish malcontents. The recent prosecutions
in the Star-Chamber against Prynne, Bastwick, and Burton, and
the Declaration of the Book of Sports, had at this unlucky
moment kindled new flames of discord. There was an active
Scotch party at London in close connection with the great one
at Edinburgh; and their sagacious and active agent, on his
return from England, in giving an account of his successful
negotiations with the English Nonconformists, in politics as
much as in Church discipline, assured his masters that "the
English had the same design of reformation in their Church,"
— he might have added in their State—" as soon as the work
should begin here." f

At length approached the evil day. It had been deferred by
the advice of the Earl of Traquair, on the plea that some pre-
paratory methods might render the people more cheerful on
this eventful occasion; this had also furnished the Opposition
with full time to concert their measures. It was proclaimed
from all the pulpits, that on Sunday the 23rd of July "the
Service-Book " wonld be read in all the churches.

But surely it never was ! though for that reading came in
solemn procession the Chancellor, the Prelates, the Lords of the
Sessions, the Provost, and the whole Council of the city. Scarcely
had the Dean of Edinburgh opened " The Buke," than opened
that memorable scene in which the confusion was so sudden,
and so various, that all the accounts give different particulars.^
The universal hubbub may be imagined, but the language of

*■ Sir David Dalrymple, 47, observes that this is very rational and intelligible,
and yet it seems to have escaped the observation of eminent historians,

t Bishop Guthry, i. 3.

J The memorable scene has been more minutely related by Mr. Brodie in a col-
lection of curious extracts from contemporary vouchers.

74 OF THE COMMOTIONS OF SCOTLAND.

the individuals can only be conceived in its Doric naivete,
which best shows the sort of people here congregated. The
popular axiom, that the voice of the people is the voice of God,
was happily illustrated on the present occasion of this mobocrac}^,
when they were afterwards compared to Balaam's ass; an
animal in itself stupid and senseless, but whose mouth had been
opened by the Lord.

A terrible yelling and clapping, intermingled with curses and
groans, and when they could be heard, the sobbings of the soft-
hearted gentlewomen as they sighed that "Baal was in the
Church,'' and the broad nicknames of the insolent viragos,
calling the Dean " One of the witches' breeding, and the De'il's
gette (child)" shook the church, in vain designed to be raised
into a cathedral !

Fearless awhile, the stout-hearted Dean, suddenly panic-
struck, slipped through his surplice, leaving behind this white
trophy of the future Covenanters. Then the Bishop showed
himself in the pulpit; a portly personage, who might have
urged a better excuse than the Dean for an " alacrity in sink-
ing." The vocabulary of the mob, prompt as it is copious,
instantly saluted the Anti-Christian wolf — "the beastly belly-god
— the crafty fox ! " The echo reverberated " a Pape ! a Pape ! "
to be stoned — or " to get the thrapple out of him," — that is,
to cut his wind-pipe. Hardly escaped the Bishop with a tremu-
lous life, conveyed away in the coach of the Earl of Roxburgh,
himself suspected of raising this mobocracy ; showers of stones
we're flung, and the Bishop narrowly escaped the martyrdom of
St. Stephen.*

This revolutionary outrage originated with females. The
High-Church, now presumed to be a cathedral, it was observed
was crowded with women, chiefly of the lower orders; old
wives and servant-lasses, otherwise " the godly females," were
the indomitable champions of the Kirk. Of these an irascible
crone — more heroine than she who damaged her Bible by
thumping " the false thief," as she called the young man who
unluckily responded " Amen" to " the Buke" — launched from
her withered hand " the thunderbolt of her zeal," in the stool

* This tumult was called in Scotland " Stony Sunday," and Sir James Balfour
has entitled his narrative " Stoniefield Day."

OF THE COMMOTIONS OP SCOTLAND. 73

she sate on. Averted by some friendly hand, it flew whizzing
by the Bishop's ear. This set the example of an universal rout.
After a conflict, the insurgents were dislodged from the interior
— the service was hurried over — amidst the rapping of the
doors, the stones flying in at the windows, and the reverberating
shouts of an infuriated multitude storming the High-Church.

It seems that this old wife, Janet Geddes, has secured her
respectabiUty in Scottish history ; and she who the week before,
as tells the scandalous chronicle, had sate upon the stool of
repentance, is sainted by throwing one at the Bishop's head.
Her name has been immortalised by Burns, and the glorious
attitude of this testy crone, hurling her stool at the Bishop in
the pulpit, is triumphantly perpetuated in a vignette of one of
the volumes of the magician of the north. For the strength of
the patriotism, we may forgive the grossness of the taste, which
by a rhyme and a print thus gratifies the passions of the
populace, which it demoralises, by confounding an act of inso-
lence, done by a base hand, with a deed which merits the
admiration of a people.

The story of a furious beldame beginning the fray, by casting
her stool at the Bishop's head, who then retreated from the
pulpit, Mr. Brodie seems to doubt, for he could only trace it to
De Foe's memorial of the Scottish Church, and surmises that
the tale originated in the woman who beat " the false thief"
with her Bible. I have, however, discovered a manuscript
document of the time — it is a warrant from Secretary Winde-
bank to Rushworth riding post to Berwick, authorising him to
procure horses on the road. On this warrant our great noter
of the history of his times has set down various memoranda, as
seems to have been his habit. The present is one. — " Md'"- I
was born at Edenborough presently after the first disturbance
by the woman throwing a stoole at the Bishop's head ; a small
thing to be the beginning of a war."*

This reflection of our great historical collector conveys to us
no favourable idea of his poHtical sagacity. It was, however,
the prevalent notion of the times.

The truth, however, is, that this was no unpremeditated riot
— it was a concerted measure — and the names of the plotters of

* Sloane MSB. 1519.

70 OF THE COMMOTIONS OF SCOTLAND.

this memorable scene have been recorded with particulars which
sufficiently authenticate the fact.

So early as in April, the famous Alexander Henderson, and
another minister, schemed the whole, and having consulted
Lord Balmerino, a zealous Scotch patriot, whose zeal had once
put his head in peril, and Sir Thomas Hope, who was the King's
advocate by office, but much more the Kirk's advocate in heart,
the whole affair was arranged at a house in the Cowgate among
a senate of matrons. To encourage these heroines and their
associates to this valorous onset, they were assured that the
men would afterwards take the business out of their hands.*
Having organised this odd conspiracy, the plotters themselves
left the city, and their interference escaped detection by their
cunning absence. No one seemed to countenance this unex-
pected sedition, which was considered as a mere ebullition of
the rabble — ceasing with the hour it passed away. It, however,
excited surprise, that not even a single person of the lower
orders was brought forward to undergo even a mockery of
punishment; and such was the silent understanding of the
parties, that when the Bishops were in personal danger, they
knew to what popular nobleman to apply for protection, at
whose presence they were conscious these raging waves of the
people would ebb and subside. To us, who are better ac-
quainted with the secret history of the times than contem-
poraries, this tumult assumes a higher importance than to those
who witnessed it.

Some of these women had been tutored by persons of superior
rank and intelligence. When one of these viragos, worthy to
have flourished in the sanguinary streets of Paris or Lyons,
expressed her ardent wish to cut the Bishop's wind-pipe, and
was told that a much worse man might come in his stead,
" No ! " she exclaimed, " when Cardinal Beaton was sticked, we
had never another Cardinal sin syne.f" Such an incident and
such a reflection could not have sprung from the mind of the
lowest of the rabble, particularly of those times.

That such a memorable scene of an universal movement of

• Guthry, 20.
t This curious fact is given by Mr. Brodie, from Sir James Balfour's " Stonie-
field Day," ii. 455.

CONSPIRACIES AGAINST CHARLES THE FIRST. 77

public opiniou should have passed away as a transient ebullition
of popular feeling may surprise us, who view in it the awful pre-
lude to the great insurrection, when "the four tables," of
nobility, of gentry, of ministers, and of burghers, were to con-
vulse the whole Government with a democracy, and the shout of
rebellion was to be echoed as a hundred thousand hands were
to be lifted to Heaven to ratify " the Covenant." But when we
consider the complicated intrigues which had been silently pre-
paring, unmarked and unsuspected by the Scottish Bishops, we
find how men in power are not the most lively observers, and
often stand insulated and unconnected with the more active
spirits of the times. One only among them saw at once the
results ; the Archbishop of St. Andrew's, Primate and Chancel-
lor, wofully exclaimed, " The labour of thirty years is lost for
ever in one day ! " The Bishops reposed on the wisdom and
the strength of the King's far distant Council, writing up to
London for advice, and never advising themselves. They only
discovered the true state of affairs at the moment of their con-
sternation and their flight, when they were summoned to "the
Tables," not to take their equal seats, but to hear their con-
demnation, and to learn their perpetual ejection from the
State.

CHAPTER VII.

OF THE CONSPIRACIES OF THE SCOTS AGAINST CHARLES
THE FIRST.

Hume closes a luminous view of the discontents in Scotland
by a philosophical observation on the King's inflexibility in this
great revolution. " In his whole conduct of this affair there
appeared no mark of the good sense with which he was endowed;
a lively instance of that species of character so frequently to be
met with, where there are found parts and judgment in every
discourse and opinion ; in many actions, indiscretion and im-
prudence. Men's views of things are the result of their under-
standings alone ; their conduct is regulated by their understand-
ing, their temper, and their passions."

The almost daily correspondence of Charles with the Marquis

78 CONSPIRACIES OP THE SCOTS

of Hamilton, during the Scottish commotions, betrays no
deficient energy of mind at this period ; indeed the reverse is
true. These numerous letters are a striking evidence not only
of the unwearied activity of the monarch, but of the prompt
acuteness of the man. These are not official dispatches, under-
signed by a secretary, where mechanical forms often cover a
vacuity of thought ; but with the conciseness of a man of busi-
ness, regardless of all ornament, Charles often expresses himself
with great force, and with too much earnestness to indulge in
an idle page.*

Doubtlessly the strangely concerted opposition which burst
out at the reading of the Liturgy came unexpected to Charles,
who seems never to have suspected the existence of that public
opinion which so long had been creating in the Scottish metro-
polis, that it had reached even to the remoter provinces. Per-
suaded that he could accomplish that national conformity which
his father had perhaps designed, but had avoided with prudence,
in the establishment of Episcopacy in his native kingdom, and
amidst delusions raised up by the interests and passions of so
many, when Hamilton once imparted his fears and his doubts,
Charles replied that his information led him to conclude that

* Since writing this, we have the opinion of one whose practised skill in the con-
struction of artificial periods is too apparent in his criticism on the Letters of
Charles the First. Mr. Godwin has recently thus described them : " They are
written in royal style ; no attention is afforded by the writer to what are regarded
as the artifices of composition. They have nothing in them of circumlocution or
ceremony ; no colouring of the craft of authorship. The sceptered penman pro-
ceeds somewhat impatiently to his point ; he is blunt and brief : we see plainly that
he thinks it would be some sacrifice of his dignity, if he were careful of auxiliaries
and expletives, and used words other than were barely necessary to convey an
unambiguous meaning." This criticism is the most imjust, and therefore tlic most
erroneous, that ever a partisan adopted in order to depreciate what in itself is
commendable. We have many hundreds of letters of Charles the First. The King
was his own secretary, but it was not therefore incumbent on " the sceptered pen-
man " to use a secretary's style. He was to command, not to discuss. Most of his
letters were written on urgent and even immediate occasions — not always in the
calm of his cabinet, but often in the hurry of a moveable camp — more frequently in
vexation and trouble ; with the cares of Sovereignty weighing on the spirits, in-
volved in the most complex intrigues, and at times distracted by opposite interests.
Wliatever may have been the extent of his capacity, it was always in a state of
tension, and perhaps there are few men who could have written with the promptness
of thought and the earnestness of feeling which mark the correspondence of Charles
the First.

AGAINST CHARLES THE FIRST. 79

the Episcopalians did not constitute the inferior party in
Scotland.

In the Scottish affairs Charles always proceeded unconscious
of the conspiracies and disaffection around, him ; could he sus-
pect the creatures of his favour, or the associates of his leisure ?
Many who were not with him, were known to be his friends,
and more who had largely participated of his favours, he had a
right to imagine were such. And indeed it is only by a due
observation of this very circumstance of their personal regard
for the King, that we can lift the veil which hangs over every
part of the conduct of the mysterious ministers of Charles
throughout the whole of the Scottish transactions. To this
personal regard was often opposed their national feeling. In
the degree that their loyalty executed their master^s design,
they felt that they were betraying their own cause ; and when
they sacrificed the royal interests for that cause, they were
hurried into popular compliances which threatened even a greater
danger.

,The father and the son, from affection or from policy, had
studied to reconcile their ancient and native kingdom, to the
absence of their Court, by every royal indulgence. That the
national pride of Scotia, too often wounded by the gibes and
taunts of their Southern brethren, should not be further morti-
fied by any sense of dependance on England, Charles had placed
the whole conduct of affairs among two or three Scotchmen who
attended at the Court for this purpose. There they held their
councils, so that the affairs of Scotland were never brought
before the Privy Council.* But the consequence of this tender-
ness for their privileges was, that Scotland and its affairs excited
no curiosity in the English public ; and while the Court and
country were alive to any weekly news they received from Ger-
many and Poland, no one ever inquired after any event which
occurred in so considerable a portion of their own kingdom.
The result of the system which the Stuart dynasty had adopted
was unfortunate also in another point. The numerous Scottish
residents at the English Court, on whom these monarchs doubt-
less relied for their zealous exertions with their countrymen,
entirely lost their personal influence over their distant brothers,

* This fact is ascertained by Clarendon, i. 195.

80 CONSPIRACIES OP THE SCOTS

nor were the honours lavished on these absentees valued by the
Scottish people at large. These absentees, however, remained
Scottish in their hearts, and found as little compunction in
betraying the secrets of their master, as the nation afterwards
experienced in selling him. Nor did the English people sym-
pathise with their new friends, whom they looked on as intruders
on their interests, and who perpetually were the burthen of a
ballad, or the jest of a tale. Thirty years could not indeed
allay the ancient prejudices of two nations, since even a century
and a half have not extinguished them ; so long can last the
idiosyncrasy of manners, and so long it is ere popular malice
becomes obsolete.

The presence-chamber, and the privy-chamber, and the bed-
chamber, were crowded with Scotchmen, who formed a vast
disproportion to the Englishmen at Court. Carte has given a
list of officers of state all Scotch. The Marquis of Hamilton
was Master of the Horse, and had filled the stables with Scots ;
the Earl of Morton was Captain of the Band of Pensioners ; the
Duke of Lennox was Warden of the Cinque Ports ; the Earl of
Ancram, Keeper of the Privy-purse; Sir William Balfour,
Keeper of the Tower; Wemyss, Master-gunner of the Navy,
and in the Civil War " Master-gunner of England," a consider-
able employment.* Numberless were the gentlemen ushers,
the grooms, and the carvers, and the cup-bearers — who, creatures
of the bounties of the father and the son, and prospering in the
wealth of England, were betraying their sovereign in continued
intelligence with their distant compatriots, and with malcontents
nearer at hand.

There existed a Scottish faction at Court closely connected
with the nobility, and with the commoners, Puritans or Patriots.
The Earl of Haddington, brother-in-law to the Earl of Rothes,
who was the first conspicuous leader of the Covenanters, and
whom Haddington afterwards joined — remained at Whitehall.
This lord was busily intriguing with some of our peers, such as
the Earl of Holland, who was the visible head of the Puritans in

* Of this Scotchman a remarkable anecdote is recorded by Sir Richard Bulstrode.
At Cropredy bridge, Wemyss, once a sworn servant of the King's, was taken prisoner,
and being bi-ought before Charles the First, the fawning and impudent Scot, in his
broad tone, told the King, "In gude faitli, my heart was always towai-ds your
Majesty !"

AGAINST CHARLES THE FIRST. 81

London, as his brother, the Earl of Warwick, afterwards the
High Admiral of the Parliamentarians, was considered the chief
of the Oppositionists in the country, and with Lords Say, Brook,
and Wharton ; while Mr. Eleazer Borthwick, the able and states-
manlike agent of the Covenanters, and who passed twelve years
in London, held daily communication with the good citizens of
the Puritanic party, and with Hampden, Pym, and other patriots.
The intercourse seems to have been mutual. There is a remark-
able passage in the preface to Burnet's Memoir of the Hamil-
tons, where he tells us that " a gentleman of quality of the English
nation, who was afterwards a great Parliament-man, went and
lived some time in Scotland before the troubles broke out, and
represented to the men that had then the greatest interest there,
that the business of the ship-money and the habeas corpus, &c.
had so irritated the English nation, that if they made sure work
at home they needed fear nothing from England." Burnet, it
is to be regretted, has not preserved the name of this " English
gentleman of quahty." This " great Parliament-man" appears
to have been Hampden ; Echard mentions that he paid an annual
visit to Scotland to concert measures with his friends. We find
by Nalson that this celebrated person alluded to, whoever he was,
and " other principal men of the faction," as Nalson calls them,
" made frequent journeys into Scotland, and had many meetings
and consultations how to carry on their combinations."* Waris-
ton, in CromwelFs time, valued himself on these intrigues, which
had confused the counsels and nullified the actions of the
King, and ruined the Stuarts. The recent publication of Secre-
tary Nicholas's letters to the King confirms these accounts of the

* Nalson, ii. 427. Dalrymple, 124, on this very point observes, on the confession
of Wariston, that the Scots had kept up an intelligence with the English. " This is
a very remarkable circumstance," he adds ; " it cannot be fully explained unless we
were certain what persons of the English nation corresponded with the Scots and
incited and encouraged their measures. He who can explain and illustrate this
particular from ox'igiual papers, will greatly serve the cause of truth." We are not
so entirely deprived of this knowledge as Dalrymple supposed, but we still want
more original papers, which in this age of unburying manuscripts may yet be dis-
covered, I have sometimes fancied that Hampden and Pym must have left some
manuscripts and correspondence ; but as no trace remains in the library at Hamp-
den, it has been suggested that on the Restoration it was considered prudent to
destroy any memorial of the past which might implicate their possessors. Pym
must necessarily have received a number of State-papers.

VOL. II. G

82 CONSPIRACIES OP THE SCOTS

private meetings of the Opposition to concert measures ; and in
writing to the King, then at Edinburgh, he remarkably observes,
that " they were of late very jocund and cheerful by some adver-
tisements out of Scotland, from whose actions and successes they
intend, as I hear, to take a pattern for their proceedings here."*
In fact, the party were holding a little parliament of their own,
with their own lords and their own commoners. At London,
and in the country, they had their committees. Accounts have
reached us of what passed at the seat of Lord Say, in Oxford-
shire, where company, unobserved by the house, often assembled
in a particular apartment, which they entered by a secret passage
in which no servant was allowed to appear, but their discussions
were often loud. The same secret assemblies were held at Mr.
Knightley's, in Northamptonshire. In these and other places,
the party had their council-chambers and leading speakers. In
the metropolis some places have been particularised where they
met to terminate their more important decisions ; Secretary
Nicholas has noticed Lord Mandeville's house at Chelsea ; Echard
one in Gray's-inn-lane ;t and Clarendon indicates a kind of fra-
ternity where the members of this party seem to have lived and
boarded as in a private family. J We are told that Pym rode
through different counties, and others did the same, to procure
elections of members, and for other purposes. We may at least
admire their diligence, but we rather perceive its spirit when the
Earl of Warwick wrote from York to his friends in Essex " that
the game was well begun ; " and another leader, whose name has
not come down to us, observed that " their party was then strong
enough to pull the King's crown from his head, but the Gospel
would not suffer them." It is lamentable to observe that patriots
should be constrained to assume the characters of conspirators,
and to leave the open and honourable path for dark and intricate
plots ; the mind becomes degraded by the artifices it practises,
and cunning and subtlety are substituted for those generous emo-
tions and that nobler wisdom, which separate at a vast interval
the true patriot from the intriguing partisan.

We know too little of the secret history of the parties who were
so conspicuous in the Civil War. Such active spirits as Hampden

* Evelyn, ii. 28. + Echanl, 485. + Clarendon, i. 319.

AGAINST CHARLES THE FIRST. 83

and Pym, though they lived in the age of diaries, appear to have
left no memorial of themselves, or of their transactions. They
were probably too deeply busied in the plans and schemes of the
day. One great man among them. Lord Kimbolton, afterwards
Viscount Mandeville, and, finally, the second Earl of Manches-
ter, wrote memoirs relating to this very party with whom he had
acted many years. Even this authentic source of secret history
remains imperfect, and is only known by a few important extracts
in Nalson^s collection.* The simultaneous movements of these
parties, the Scotch and the English, sometimes betrayed their
secret connection. On the day the King received the Scottish
petition, there was also presented another, signed by twelve
English peers, for calling a Parliament, and the shrewd politi-
cians of Edinburgh on this occasion surmised that Haddington
and Borthwick had not laboured in vain, and that " the work
would shortly begin in that kingdom.^'t

There is not wanting certain evidence that the King was
surrounded by spies, prying into his movements, watching his
unguarded hours, and chronicling his accidental expressions.
Even in his sleep the King could not elude their scrutiny ; his
pockets were ransacked for letters to transmit copies to the
Covenanters. This treachery was so well known, that Arch-
bishop Laud, on delivering some important communications,
requested the King not to trust the papers to his pocket. J We
find Secretary Nicholas complaining that his own letters are
seen by other eyes than the King's ; and, on one occasion, that
the secret orders which he received from the King were known
before he could convey them to the Lord Keeper. §

This low degradation of eminent men betraying the secret
councils of their royal master by such humiliating means, is not
so rare a circumstance in secret history as one might imagine.
The difficulty of procuring a private audience with James the
First induced the Spanish ambassador to watch his opportunity

* Nalson acknowledges receiving from " Sir Francis North, now Lord Keeper of
the great seal of England, a transcript of some memoirs of the late Earl of Man-
chester, the originals being written with the Earl's own hand," ii. 206. May not
these memoirs be recovered ?

t Bishop Guthry's Memoirs, 74. See the Petition in Nalson, ii. 437.

t L'Estrange, Charles I., 196. § Evelyn, 42, Correspondence.

g2

84 CONSPIRACIES OP THE SCOTS

of slipping into his Majesty's pocket those extraordinary charges
against Buckingham, which alarmed the King, and probal)ly
would have ended in the ruin of the favourite. Anecdotes are
related of the Jesuits, respecting their discoveries, picked out of
the very foulest papers which a great personage used, and
which when he had used he imagined that he had destroyed.
A remarkable fact of this kind has not, as far as I know, been
published ; and as it relates to two illustrious personages, and
the transaction is itself as ingenious as it appears authentic, the
reader may be interested by its preservation.

De Witt, having taken the Prince of Orange (our William
the Third) under his government and tuition, in order to be
master of all his actions and motions, surrounded him by his
own creatures. A valet de chambre, who had constantly at-
tended the Prince from a child, was, at the Prince's earnest
request, suffered to continue in his service. The Prince had
then a constant and very secret correspondence with the Eng-
lish Court ; and on the receipt of these letters, usually put them
in his waistcoat pocket. One day De Witt in conversation
with the Prince, warning him against intrigues dangerous to
his highness, let fall expressions, from which the Prince inferred
that the pensioner had seen some of his secret letters from
England.

The Prince, however, with his usual caution, took no notice
to any one of his embarrassment, but pondering on the circum-
stance, when he went to bed feigned sleep \ and after due time,
detected the faithful operations of his valet, who taking out the
letters, copied them for the pensionary, and then carefully re-
placed the originals. The Prince still continued to conceal the
discovery, but took care in his subsequent letters from England
to receive such answers as he wished to have conveyed to De
Witt. These by degrees changed the face of affairs, removed
the pensioner's jealousies, and ever after kept him in a false
security with regard to his pupil's transactions and correspon-
dences. When the Prince had overcome all his difficulties,
and was made Stadt-holder, he confounded his valet by revealing
one secret of the English correspondence which he had not yet
copied ; and complimenting him on the great service he had so
unintentionally done his master, by his dexterous secretaryship

AGAINST CHAKLES THE FIRST. 85

of the waistcoat-pocket, he dismissed the traitor, not without
the charity of a small pension.*

The Marquis of Hamilton was a person not less illustrious
than the Pensionary De Witt, and he stands accused of prac-
tices not less insidious, actuated perhaps, too, by a less pardonable
motive, the ruin of a rival, and that rival one as great as him-
self. The famous Earl of Montrose, whom we at first find
among the Covenanters, himself acquainted the King with
the real occasion of his having joined them. On his return
from the Court of France, where he had been a Captain in the
Scottish guards, Montrose intended to enter into the King's
service, and was advised to make his way through the means of
his countryman, the Marquis of Hamilton. Hamilton professed
every good will, admiring that romantic gallantry which Cardinal
de Retz has so forcibly and so classically described ; but Hamil-
ton cunningly insinuated, that the King was so wholly attached
to the English, and so systematically slighted the Scotch, that
were it not for his country, he himself would not longer submit
to the indignities he endured. To the King, Hamilton, in
noticing the return of Montrose, and his purpose to wait on his
Majesty, insinuated that this Earl was so popular among the
Scots by an ancient descent from the royal family, that if he
were not nipped in the bud, he was one who might occasion
much future trouble. When the Earl of Montrose was intro-
duced to the King by Hamilton with great demonstration of
affection, Charles, too recently tutored to forget his lesson,
gave Montrose his hand formally to kiss, but ungraciously
turned away in silence. The slighted and romantic hero, indig-
nant at the coldness of that royalty which best suited his
spirit, hastened to Scotland, and threw himself in anger and
despair into the hands of the Covenanters.t But the heart of
Montrose remained secretly attached to his sovereign — and at
length he opened a correspondence with Charles. A letter of
Montrose was taken out of the King's pocket, and the copy

* This anecdote was told by D'Allone, Secretary to Queen Mary, and long in the

confidence of King William, to Lord , " the great friend " of the Rev. Henry

Etough, who communicated it in a letter to Dr. Birch.

+ This story is told by Heylin in his little curious volume of ^' Observations on
the Histoi'y of King Charles, by Hamon L'Estrange," p. 205. It is confii'med from
other quarters. The subsequent conduct of Hamilton is itself a confirmation.

86 CONSPIRACIES OF THE SCOTS

transmitted to the Covenanters, which put an end to his influ-
ence with that party. The report was current, and the fact has
been sanctioned by history, that the Marquis of Hamilton had
done, or procured to be done, this " foul and midnight deed."
Burnet, in whose folio Memoir of the Hamiltons we never dis-
cover a single ambiguous act, or one political tergiversation —
has attempted to strike out even this blot from the scutcheon
of his hero. He tells us that the letter to the King was inclosed
by Montrose in one he addressed to Sir Richard Graham, who,
opening the letter, carelessly dropped the inclosure, when Sir
James Mercer, the bearer of these letters from Scotland, civilly
stooping to take up the letter, silently marked the royal address,
and hastened to the Scottish camp to tell the tale. This acci-
dent, resting on Sir James Mercer's testimony, may be true,
but it would not account for the knowledge of the contents of
the letter. For this purpose Burnet adds, on his own authority,
for I find none given, that the council of war insisted that
Montrose himself should furnish a copy of his own letter. If
this were done, we may be sure it contained no treason. Mont-
rose in his defence showed that others were corresponding with
the Court, and when Lesley accused him of having corresponded
with the enemy, the dauntless Montrose in his chivalric manner
asked, "Who is he who durst reckon the King an enemy?"
The affair at that moment had no result. Investigation would
have implicated other leaders of the Covenanters. From other
quarters, indeed, we learn that copies of letters addressed by
Montrose to the King were transmitted to the Scotch by some
bed-chamber men, who searched the King's pockets when he was
asleep.* It is probable that the Marquis of Hamilton w^as not
the only Scotchman who thus served his country's cause at the
cost of his honour.

Whether it were love of country, or concealed ambition, or
some motive less honourable, the insincerity of the Scotch about
the person of Charles is very remarkable, from the nobleman to
the domestic. The loyal Earl of Argyle advised Charles to keep
his son, the Earl of Lorn (afterwards the famous Argyle), at
Court, and not allow him to return to Scotland, predicting to
the King, with an honest naivete, that if Lorn once left him " he

• Bishop Guthry, p. 75, This circumstance rests on other authorities.

AGAINST CHARLES THE FIKST. 87

would wind him a pin." Charles thanked the father for the
counsel, but, as the son had been called up by his warrant, he
considered that he ought not forcibly to retain him, for Charles
added that it behoved him " to be a king of his word." * Charles,
it appears, had conferred many substantial honours on Argyle —
in places — in titles — and even in donations of money. As we
advance in the investigation of the Scottish affairs, and particu-
larly in a following chapter on the Hamiltons, we shall find an
unparalleled scene of involved intrigues, of which many can never
be elucidated. But hardly any surpasses the faithlessness of the
son of Argyle, who, on more than one occasion, displayed an
absolute recklessness of his honour and his word. It was in one
of those ebullitions when the heart of the perfidious, from its
fulness, utters what it would at another time conceal, and gains
nothing by the avowal, that we discover his profound dissimula-
tion. When at length the Earl openly joined the Covenanters,
in his maiden speech he assured them that " from the beginning
he had been theirs — and would have held to the cause as soon
as any did, had it not been that he conceived that, by attach-
ing himself to the King, and going along with his Council, he
was more useful to them than had he from the first declared
himself." f

Of the loose notions of Scottish gratitude, and of the solemn
asseverations of its perpetuity, we have a remarkable instance in
the great Scotch general, Lesley, who was created Earl of Leven,
by the favour or the policy of Charles. At this unexpected
honour the old soldier was so transported that once on his knees
he swore " that he would not only never bear arms against the
King, but would serve him without asking the cause." This was
the inebriation of his loyalty, for in less than two years after, he
led the Scotch army against the creator of his honours.

Charles offended his English subjects by conferring on a
Scotchman, Sir William Balfour, the Lieutenancy of the Tower.
The Parliamentary party were not certain that this hardy Scot
was staunch to their cause, and once obtained his removal. They
needed not to have been jealous of the passive obedience of the
devoted Lieutenant-Governor of the Tower; for Sir William
Balfour took an early part with the Parliament; zealously

* Bishop Guthry, 31. f Bishop Guthry's Memoirs, 41.

88 CONSPIRACIES OF THE SCOTS

rendered the captivity of Strafford inexorably severe, and resisted
the most considerable bribe ever oftered to a Governor, to con-
nive at the escape of a State-prisoner. Having thus manifested
himself to be worthy of the confidence of the party, he became
one of their ablest commanders, when he had the satisfaction of
encountering his royal master in arms.

Among the inferior Scots we find frequent notices of this
personal ingratitude to the monarch. Even the menials of
Whitehall defamed the Sovereign and the Court. Even the
common feelings of humanity were ahen to the hearts of Scotch-
men ; for they had all drawn from the breasts of their nnrses
the sour milk of Presbytery and democracy. " Little William
Murray," as Charles aftectionately called him, of the bed-
chamber, had from his childhood enjoyed the particular confi-
dence of Charles, and transacted his most delicate affairs. Yet
on several occasions this mysterious man raised suspicions of his
conduct. It is not only from Clarendon that we learn the faith-
lessness of this domestic companion and confidential agent of the
manhood of the monarch ; we draw it from an impartial witness
in De Montreuil, the French Ambassador, who accompanied
Charles in the last critical period of his life. At a moment when
the unhappy monarch was meditating to emigrate, the plan was
entirely left to the care of AVilliam Murray, who was ever flat-
tering the King of its safety ; yet, adds De Montreuil, Murray
is very careful to hinder the King from employing those who
certainly are as able as himself, and far more sincere. Murray
persisted in reiterating his doubts that Ashburnham would
deceive the King. The impartial Frenchman sarcastically con-
cludes, " Thus I perceive that these honest persons, as zealous for
their Prince, had two displeasures ; the one, that their master is
betrayed, and the other that it is not they who betray him." *

The Scottish Archbishop, Spotiswood, was so sensible of the
infidelity of his countrymen, that he oflfered himself as a personal
sacrifice, advising Charles to have a list prepared of all his coun-
sellors, his household officers and domestic servants, and with his
own pen expunge all the Scots, beginning with the Archbishop
himself, which at least would prevent any complaint of partiality.
The State secrets of the privy-councils of Charles were betrayed.

* Thurloe's State Papere, i. 85, B8, 92.

AGAINST CHARLES THE FIRST. 89

A Royal Commission for " the discovery of revealers of secrets
in council" is surely an anomalous State paper. One such^
however, we have from Charles, when the dissolution or con-
tinuance of Parliament was agitated in May, 1640, with the
simple confession that *^by what ways or means they were
revealed and disclosed, is not yet manifested to us."*

In Scotland, the Scotch were even less to be trusted. The
King^s Advocate, Sir Thomas Hope, was much more the advo-
cate of the Covenanters. This subtle lawyer had great command
over Charles. Having undertaken the restitution of those
Church lands of which the nobles had formerly defrauded the
Crown, none doubted that by his delays and evasions he was
acting in concert with the nobility.t Hamilton, when High
Commissioner, complained that all the skill of the King^s AdvO"
cate only perplexed his resolutions. The King's Advocate could
not appear openly in the cause he had secretly espoused, but he
failed not to supply the legal points on which Lord Balmerino
and Henderson proceeded in their opposition. Most of the
Lords of the Council, and Officers of State, were unques-
tionably Covenanters, though openly acting contrary to their
principles.

The faithlessness of the Scots in their own country may not
be difficult to account for — " The Cause," as it was emphati-
cally called, was national ; and the appearance of liberty was on
their side — though often disgraced by the mutual intrigues of
rivals, and above all by that religious fanaticism which enabled
the crafty insurgents to kindle a war which can never terminate
by a peace — a holy war !

It is more difficult to satisfy our curiosity on the infidelity of
the Scots about the person of the King, and who were residents
at the Court of Whitehall. Their ingratitude or their treachery
could not originate in any contemptuous or unkind treatment of
Charles, for we discover only his entire confidence and his con-
firmed partialities — and the best we can say in favour of these
domestic treasons is, that the Scots at London were the same
as the Scots at Edinburgh. Malcolm Laing, enlightened and
acute, acknowledged that " seldom were the Scotch distinguished

* This singular commission is preserved in Nalson's collection, i. 344.
t Burnet's History of his own Time, i. 39. Guthrys Memoirs, 71 — 89.

90 DIFFICULTIES OF CHARLES THE FIRST

for their loyalty." * Did the feudal tyranny of their haughty
aristocracy seem more tolerable than the rule of a sovereign ?
Was not the establishment of the Presbytery the true origin of
the spirit of their modern democracy ?

There remains a paradox in this history. The devotion of the
following generations of Scotchmen to their Stuarts has been as
romantic as that conduct which we have noticed was crafty and
treacherous ; it seems a problem in human nature and in Scottish
history.

Thus surrounded by great and by minor conspiracies, and
betrayed in his most secret councils — we shall hereafter see how
the King himself became the secret object of the contests between
the rival and involved intrigues of Scotchmen. The unfortunate
King of England now proceeded on principles of State which
appeared to him irrefragable — and for some time imagined that
the show of his regal authority would put down the insurgency
of a whole people.

CHAPTER VIII.

THE DIFFICULTIES OF CHARLES THE FIRST IN THE FIRST
INVASION OF THE SCOTS.

The system of these commentaries is to pursue our inquiries,
independent of the chronological arrangement of events, with
which every history of England will furnish the reader. It
therefore sometimes happens that we have not only to allude to
incidents already noticed, but must necessarily anticipate others
which have not yet been told. One art of discovering Truth in
history is that of joining its dispersed, but connected facts ;
facts which were furnished at the time by those who were often
unconscious of this secret relation. Thus the horizon of history
expands, and a brighter gleam darts through that hazy atmo-
sphere in which past events are necessarily enveloped.

We have shown how the Scottish intrigues were closely con-
nected with those in England ; we shall find that our own revolu-

• Laing, iii. 187.

IN THE FIRST INVASION OF THE SCOTS. 91

tionary measures were entirely modelled on those of the Scots.
This principle of discovery is of the utmost importance for the
proper comprehension of the history of this period ; and it is
surprising, that none of the writers of our history have yet struck
into this vein. In detecting the secret intercourse which existed
between the parties at Edinburgh and at London, we shall
obtain the most striking evidence of the true origin of many
obscure and mysterious incidents in the reign of Charles the
First ; and in comparing the proceedings of the Commons in
England with those of the Scottish leaders, we shall find that the
same designs became their common object. When we come to
develope the character of the Marquis of Hamilton we shall
allude to those great events in the Scottish commotions in which
he bore so conspicuous a part ; at present we turn our attention
to the King himself, from the beginning and through the pro-
gress of that great revolution, for such indeed it was, and the
model which a party at home servilely copied. His motives and
his perplexities may sometimes be ascertained ; and some inci-
dents which historians have erroneously denied, or have miscon-
ceived, and others which time only has revealed, become
revelations of Truth. The personal character of Charles the
First, accompanied by all his misfortunes and his errors, is of
itself a study for the painter of man. The inextricable dilem-
mas, the delusive designs, the wavering hopes and fears in
which this unhappy sovereign was inclosed as in a magical circle,
may excite the sympathy of those who wish not to extenuate
the errors of his policy, and yet who would not at the same
time be ignorant of tha passions of his age. The history of the
man is not less interesting than the history of the monarch,
and a tale of human nature is not less precious than a history of
England.

The moment the solemn " Covenant" was taken, a term drawn
from the inspiration of the Judaic history, and every true Scotch-
man became a good Israelite — the moment that "the Tables,"
as the Scots meanly called their assemblies of the four great
classes of their people, or, as they are ably dignified in the
Mercure Franqois, perhaps by Eichelieu himself, "the four
Chambers," constituted a national Convention, holding itself
independent of the Royal Council, and assuming the office of

92 DIFFICULTIES OF CHARLES THE FIRST

Sovereignty, the revolution became necessarily political. This
moment had been anticipated by the Marquis of Hamilton in the
preceding year. Addressing the King, he observed, " Probably
this people have somewhat else in their thoughts than religion.
But that must serve for a cloak to rebellion, wherein for a time
they may prevail ; but to make them miserable, and bring them
again to a dutiful obedience, I am confident your Majesty will
not find it a work of long time, nor of great difficulty, as they
have foolishly fancied to themselves."*

In July, 1637, the Liturgy was first read at Edinburgh, and
six months afterwards, in February, 1638, the Scots entered into
their Covenant. We detect in the warm historian of the great
Presbyterial revolution all the triumph and exultation of the
mihtant saint. " Our second and glorious Reformation in 1638,
when this Church was again settled upon her own base, and the
rights she claimed from the time of the Reformation, were
restored, so that she became ' fair as the moon, clear as the sun,
and terrible as an army with banners.' It is hard to manage a
full cup, and I shall not take upon me to defend every step in that
happy period." t

In January, 1639, orders were issued by the Covenanters for
a general drilling throughout the kingdom. " Terrible as an
army with banners," which appears only a metaphorical expres-
sion in the zealot, was in truth a simple historical fact. They
divided and subdivided the kingdom. The Earl of Traquair
writes from Edinburgh : — " The writers and advocates are the
only men busy here, in this time of drilling ; and of the writers
I dare say the most of them spend more upon powder than they
have gained these six months bygone with the pen." % They
had secretly supplied themselves abroad by the purchase of
ammunition and arms, and had engaged experienced officers
and commanders, from their absent countrymen Avho had been
trained to arms in the school of the great military genius of the
age. A small sum, and busy agents from Richelieu, had served
to kindle the flame of insurgency, but such was the national

* Lord Ilardwicke's State Papers, ii. 1 1 8.

+ Wodrow's Introduction to History of the Sufferings of the Church of Scotland,
p. ii.

X The Earl of Traquair to the Mai'quis of Hamilton. Hardwicke State Papers,
ii. 125.

IN THE FIRST INVASION OF THE SCOTS. 93

poverty that it could never have maintained its army. The
spirit of the people, long unused to war, was roused by those
great leaders of democracy, the Presbyters in their pulpits, who
pronounced the curse of Meros on those who came not to the
help of the Lord against the mighty. The enthusiasm flew from
rank to rank ; all men pressed forward as volunteers. When
the Marquis of Hamilton anchored before Leith, he witnessed
the gentry labouring on a bastion, and ladies of the first condi-
tion busied in the trenches.

But if this enthusiasm had been caught by the people, the
leaders of the Covenant, and their wary general, Alexander
Lesley, were proceeding with a more human policy. Conscious
of their feeble resources in case of a defeat, or, what would have
proved as fatal, a prolonged campaign, they studied to avoid the
appearance of an offensive war. They held out no menace, but
they urged a plea ; they had armed, not to invade England, but
to defend themselves from an English invasion. When the King
issued a proclamation that they should not approach nearer the
royal camp than ten miles, it was dexterously obeyed. Such was
the infant strength of the Rebellion ! The Scots had taken the
precaution to disperse by their pedlars in their packs " an
Information to all good Christians,^^ about '^the true Religion"
and " the Lord's own cause,'' which were made palatable to the
English Puritans with sprinklings of Scriptural allusions, where
the Sanballats " and such like " were pointed at, who opposed
the building of the New Jerusalem by Ezra and Nehemiah.*
Such was the style of those Scotch patriots, and such, not long
afterwards, was to be that of the English. Letters had also
been dispatched to some at Court vindicating their proceedings,
solemnly protesting that they designed no harm to England, and
expecting no hostility from them ; letters not ill received among
some eminent persons at Court.f

The Scots, in their first invasion, were long influenced by
motives of delicacy from venturing to cross the Tweed. The
insurgents contented themselves in exercising their tactics at
home, possessing themselves of the forts of their own country.

* This State paper is preserved in Frankland, 739.
t Burnet's Memoirs of the Hamiltons, 1 1 6.

94 DTPPICULTIES OF CHARLES THE FIRST

They only made war by acts of peace, and renewed their " humble
desires" only by petitions, armed at once to strike or to sign.

An unpublished letter, which is in the State-paper oflSce, from
Edward Norgate, who followed the English army, exhibits the
misery of the country, and the consequent confusion which pre-
vailed in a disorderly army : —

" Barwick, 29th May, 1639.

" The King made a halt at Alnwick, upon some alarm that
was in the camp, whereof he received information from my Lord
General, so that persons of great quality lay in their coaches,
carts from the town being little and company great. So at
Morpeth I staid, but the next day went on to Alnwick, whence
the King was gone that morning to the army at Gaswick, five
miles short of Barwick, for the alarm was false.

" The next morning passing through Belfort (nothing like the
name either in strength or beauty, it being the most miserable
beggarly sodden town, or town of sods, that ever was made in an
afternoon of loam and sticks), there I stumbled upon Mr. Mur-
ray, one of the cup-bearers to his Majesty, who had taken up
the very and only room in the only alehouse. Thither he kindly
invited me, to a place as good as a death's head or memento for
mortality, top and sides being all earth, and the beds no bigger
than so many coffins. Indeed, it was for beauty and conveniency
like a covered saw-pit. Our host was a moving uncleanly skele-
ton ; I asked him who had condemned him thither. He said,
durum telum necessitas : that he, with fourscore other gentle-
men of quality (a horse troop), being billeted the night before at
a little village three miles further, coming to the place after a
long and weary march, found no other accommodation than a
dark and rainy night ; in all the town not one loaf of bread nor
quart of beer, not a lock of hay nor peck of oats, and little shelter
for horse or man ; only a few hens they roasted and eat without
bread, but not without water. Their horses had nothing. He
told me I should find the army in little better condition, the first
companies having stood in water up to the ancles by reason of
the rain ; that in forty-eight hours they had no bread, nor other
lodging but on the wet ground, the camp being low near the
sea-side, nor any shelter but the fair heavens. After dinner I

IN THE FIRST INVASION OF THE SCOTS. 95

rode to the army, where I think there was not above seven
thousand foot ; the horse elsewhere dispersed into villages, about
three thousand. Here I found the cause of the late want was
for want of carriages to bring bread to the army, but now they
were better accommodated, yet lay sub dio. The King was in
his tent, about where some of the Lords had pitched theirs. I
think none that loves him but must wish the army ten times
doubled, and those ten fifteen times better accommodated ; espe-
cially seeing this town as ill provided as the other, and the hourly
reports of the Scots advancing ten thousand in one place and
fifteen thousand in another to second their fellows. Yet are we
told they come with a petition, but it seems they mean to dic-
tate the reference to themselves, wherein I believe Sir Edward
Powell will have little to do.

" To this town (Barwick) I came last night, when Sir John
Borrowes and I could hardly get a loaf of bread to our supper ;
a black cake we got scarce edible. I went to Mr. Secretary's
(Sir John Coke) to beg one, and had it given me with much
difficulty, Mr. May protesting that his master was glad to send
to my Lord Governor for bread for him and his, the day before,
and that he got but two half-penny loaves. This day our host
fetching us some dinner, had it snatched from him by a soldier,
who much complain. The people here say, that if some present
and speedy order be not taken, they shall want bread for their
families, the soldiers devouring what can be got, and the Scots,
by whom it seems the town was formerly supplied with victual
of all kinds, and that in a plentiful manner and cheap, having
declared they fear e:itremely the want of provisions, the country
in Northumberland side being very barren, but plentiful beyond
the boundary towards Scotland.^' *

Both the armies at length were encamped opposite to each
other, and found themselves in an extraordinary situation. At
the time, the causes of the unexpected results of this formidable
appearance on both sides were not known, and were therefore
misrepresented.

The royal army had been hastily formed by the King ;

* The writer, Edward Norgate, was secretary to Windebank. Birch transcribed
this letter from one in the State-paper office. Sloane MSS. 4176.

90 DIFFICULTIES OF CHARLES THE FIRST

Charles relied on the imposing pomp of his splendid cavalry, the
flower of the English nobility and gentry, and on the number
of his troops, to awe the Scots into submission. Ludlow aptly
describes this army as " raised rather out of compliment than
affection;" and Clarendon, evidently with pain to himself, has
confirmed tliis opinion. " The King summoned most of the
nobility of the kingdom, without any consideration of their
affections, how they stood disposed to that service, presuming
that the glory of such a visible appearance of the whole nobility
would at once terrify and reduce the Scots." Clarendon adds
one of those profound reflections, which we rarely find but in
this " Lord Chancellor of Human Nature," that " such kinds
of uniting do often produce the greatest confusions ; when more
and greater men are called together than can be united in
affections or interests in the necessary differences which arise
from thence, they quickly come to know each other so well, as
they rather break into several divisions than join any one public
interest, and from hence have always arisen the most dangerous
factions."* But a royal care, unknown to Clarendon, lay
hidden in the King^s breast. Charles was aware of the moral
condition of his army. The Marquis of Hamilton had in the
gallery at Whitehall confidentially revealed to the King the
fatal secret, that the English nobility and general officers were
far from being heartily engaged in this war. They were not to
be trusted ; the Scots at Court had succeeded in impressing on
the minds of some that they were little interested in a helium
Bpiscopale ; nor was it probably unknown to Charles, that the
officers and privates in his army on their march had openly
declared that they would not fight to maintain the pride and
power of the Bishops.f Many also, who took no interest in
the factions of the day, but consulted their own quiet and the
King's happiness, vented their contempt on the poverty of
Scotland ; and as May tell us, the young courtiers were usually
heard to wish Scotland under water, or that the old wall of
Severus was re-edified. Others of graver thoughts, as Comines
was then a favourite historian, pointed out the story of Charles
the Duke of Burgundy's war with the Swiss, who, had he taken
them all prisoners, could not have paid a ransom to the value of

* Clarendon, i. 206. t Whitelocke's Memorials, 33.

IN THE FIRST INVASION OF THE SCOTS. 97

the spurs and bridles in his camp. And a verse of Juvenal was
frequent in their mouths :

Curandum in primis ne magna injuria fiat
Fortibus et miseris.*

It is certain that Charles was aware of the neutrality of
some, and of the treachery of others of his commanders ; for when
the infidelity of the Earl of Holland, at a subsequent day, was
noticed to him, the King replied, " Had that army been in
earnest, he would have chosen other commanders. ^^ It is evi-
dent, therefore, that the King depended entirely on " the glory
of such a visible appearance." Charles, in fact, was leading
only the phantom of an army. Charles betrayed his alarm at
the distempered condition of his army when he was reduced to
the extraordinary expedient of requiring a Sacramentum militare.
This was a subscription to a solemn profession of loyalty and
obedience, and at the same time disclaiming any correspondence,
with the insurgents. '' The Scots," sarcastically observes Lord
Clarendon, " took it to a man without grieving their conscience,
or reforming their manners." But an open refusal came from
a quarter whence, perhaps, it was not expected, however it might
be suspected. Two English noblemen, afterwards well known
in the Civil War, Lord Say and Sele and Lord Brooke, in the
King^s presence, sullenly refused their signatures. These lords
ingeniously averred that it was against law to impose oaths not
enjoined by law; and further, being ignorant of the laws of
Scotland, neither could they decide whether the Covenanters
were rebels. The King, indignant at this studied insult, ofifered
in the face of his whole army, and doubtless dreading that the
example of these lords might prove infectious, immediately
ordered them to be put under restraint. Charles desired that
the Attorney and the Solicitor should be privately consulted,
whether these lords could be proceeded against criminally, but
the King found that " the cunning and Jesuitical answers," as
Secretary Windebank calls them, " only concealed their malig-
nity and aversion to his Majesty^s service." The sturdy refusal
of these lords threatened alarming consequences at that critical
moment — they, indeed, had only anticipated the unhappy day

* Sat. 8—121.
VOL. II. H

98 DIFFICULTIES OF CHARLES THE FIRST

that was shortly to befall England ; and their conduct had
instantly operated, for those who had willingly subscribed this
bond of loyalty now signed another paper, declaring the. sense
in which they had accepted it. This vain expedient of securing
the fidelity of the faithless was thrown aside.

While the mind of the perplexed monarch was suspended
between doubt and fear, amidst the disaffection and reluctant
duty which prevailed in the royal camp, a far different scene
broke forth among the joyous tents of a people, who once more
beheld their native hills covered with a national army. There a
veteran and unlettered soldier, aged and weather-beaten, de-
formed and diminutive in his person, but renowned for his skill
in aU military affairs, was recalled from foreign campaigns to
the land of his fathers. His sagacity was prompt to master
difficulties, and his enterprise was too prudent, ever to have
failed in good fortune. But the mihtary virtue now most to be
valued — the knowledge of the human heart — was eminently his
own. Lesley was a Scotchman who in foreign lands had never
forgotten the native humours of his countrymen, and now
marched with them as if he had long been their neighbour and
their companion. In the plain simplicity of his language, he
told the noble and the meanest gentleman, that "volunteers
were not to be commanded like soldiers of fortune. Brothers
they were all, and engaged in one cause." He flattered to
command. Even the haughty nobles, whose rivalries had been
dreaded, loved the wisdom and authority of "the old little
crooked soldier," as Baillie naturally paints him — and his undis-
ciplined levies acquired at least that great result of all discipline,
a love of obedience. The gentleman was nothing the worse
lying weeks together on the ground, or standing all night in
arms in the storm, and the lusty peasantry raised their hearts
as they mingled with the nobles of the land, and their own
" Men of God." Their eyes watched this " Captain of Israel."
Lesley had called on his country in the name of God, and the
Scottish camp seemed the tabernacle of the Lord of Hosts.
Crowded with spiritual pastors, these sent forth their heralds to
all their Presbyteries, exhorting the absent, or reproaching the
loiterer. . As the army advanced, its numbers multiplied. Every
company had a new banner waving before the tent-door of its

I

m THE FIRST INVASION OF THE SCOTS. 99

captain, blazoned by the Scottish arms, and inscribed "For
Christ's Crown and Covenant/' The reveil called them to
solemn prayer at the dawn ; the drum beat to a sermon under
the roof of Heaven, which twice a-day convinced them of the
righteousness of their cause ; and as the sun went down in the
still repose of evening, the melody of psalmody — the extem-
poraneous inspiration of some prophesying pietist, or exhorta-
tions from some folded page of the sacred volume, refreshed
the spirits of these patriotic enthusiasts, who, in combating on
earth, seemed to be possessing themselves of Heaven itself.
"True," says Baillie, "there was swearing and cursing and
brawling, whereat we grieved,'' but as the good Principal walked
through their tents, he caught the contagious fervour of this
singular union of insurrection and religion. "I found the
favour of God shining upon me, and a sweet, meek, humble,
yet strong and vehement spirit leading me all along." The^
valiant Saint was ready either to start to battle, or to chorus a
psalm.

The assumed humility in the supplications of the Covenanters
induced Charles to imagine that they were intimidated at the
view of the English army. A second proclamation more autho-
ritatively commanded their submission ; but one day when a
very inferior Scotch force put to a shameful flight the whole
cavalry of Lord Holland, the determined spirit of the Scots was
confirmed, as well as the suspicions and the dread of the King
of the disposition of his own troops. The Marquis of Hamilton
lay inactive at sea, and Lord Holland was a fugitive on land.
At London the King was censured for not more vigorously
quelling the Scotch revolt. Those indeed who were distant
from the scene, and knew little or nothing of the state of both
armies, wondered at the King losing this opportunity of chas-
tising his rebels. Contemporaries rarely possess the secrets
reserved for their posterity. The Covenanters were alike sur-
prised at the inactivity of the English, which they ascribed to a
refined policy designed to waste by delay their limited resources.
They were acquainted at that moment neither with the indif-
ference of the whole army, nor the disappointments of Charles
in a foreign negotiation for Spanish troops, who, it was
rumoured, had landed in England, and also in some expected

H 2

100 DIFFICULTIES OF CHARLES THE FIRST

levies from Ireland. The Scots in this first excursion were
awed, too, by the fear of rousing the jealousy of the English
people. A secret intercourse indeed had already been opened
with some English friends, but no party, however, had yet risen
in strength openly to espouse their cause. We learn this from
Baillie — " the hope of England's conjunction is but small, for
all the good words we heard long ago from our friends." This
is a pointed allusion to the earliest intercourse of the Covenanters
with some of our own patriots. He proceeds — " all this time when
the occasion was great to have kythed their affections both to
us and their own liberties, there was nought among them but
either a deep sleep or silence.''* They knew they wanted not
for friends at Court, nor among the citizens, who were not dis-
pleased to see the Scots in arms against the King, and who were
not desirous of an English victory, supposing, says May, that
*' the sword which subdued the Scots must destroy their own
liberties." But these friendships of the parties were yet callow,
and not to be too roughly handled. So jealous was our Parlia-
ment at times of their invading friends, that when the Scottish
army, after the pacification of Berwick, intended to march
through this garrison town, a wooden bridge was ordered to be
thrown over the Tweed at some distance from the town, that
they might be separated from the townsmen. The day had not
yet come, although it was fast approaching, when the English
Parliamentarians were to vote their Scottish invaders " a friendly
assistance," and that the Scots were to return their solemn
thanks for the style of " brethren " given to them in the vote of
the House.t

As the King from the first had never contemplated a war, and
as the Scots did not know whether they might begin one, both
armies were precisely at that point which would admit of a
treaty. Lesley decided on a great movement. " He gave out
obscurely his purpose to approach the English camp," says
Baillie. The enthusiasm of the people had daily augmented
his forces, but, destitute of the resources to support a defensive
war, this sagacious general foresaw that his forces would have
dispersed as rapidly as they had assembled, in the inactivity of
a prolonged campaign ; and that even his numerical strength

• BaUlie, i. 183. t Rushworth, iv. 152.

IN THE FIRST INVASION OF THE SCOTS. 101

might be fatal in an impoverished land. The approach of
Lesley excited an alarm in the royal camp. At this critical
moment an ancient page of the King^s was permitted to pass
over to the Scottish camp on a visit to his friends. There he
hinted that if they would please to supplicate the King, the
happiness of peace might yet be obtained. This light motion was
not neglected — an intercourse was granted, and the King^s
honour was thus saved. Some English historians have pre-
sumed that the Scots were the first who solicited the peace, but
Baillie has preserved the name of the old page who doubtless
was the messenger of the pacific overture.

Four Scotch Commissioners, among whom was the Earl of
Rothes, a voluptuary, and Lord Loudon, an able intriguer and
necessitous man, both long afterwards gained over by Charles —
met in the tent of the Earl of Arundel, the English general, to
confer on the adjustment of the minuter points in dispute. An
extraordinary scene opened. Unexpectedly, at least to the^
Scottish Commissioners, the King himself entered — and taking
his seat at the end of the table, the others then standing up, a
remarkable conversation ensued. It was taken down at the
time in notes, and sent by the Earl of Arundel to Laud.

This is a very dramatic narrative, and in some respects leads
us to an intimate acquaintance with the manners of Charles the
First. The propriety of the King's appearance at this confer-
ence may be doubtful ; it would check the necessary freedom of
discussion ; but Charles on various critical occasions too easily
flattered himself that he could compose all differences by his
own presence ; his sincerity might be greater than his prudence.
On the present occasion the King seems not to have been more
peremptory than a man who delivers himself without reserve,
patient though dignified ; and since we know that this meeting
was not concerted, the spontaneous language of the King will
show that his capacity was no ordinary one, and that his earnest-
ness was not a mere form and show of obtruding royalty,
designed more to gratify its own vanity than inspired by any
deeper interest in the affairs of the people.

Dr. Lingard truly observes that " Charles for several days
debated every point with an earnestness of argument and a tone
of superiority which seems to have imposed on the hearers of

102 DIFFICULTIES OF CHARLES THE FIRST

both nations." This penurious commendation hardly does
justice to Charles. We have a warmer account from Baillie.
" The King was very sober, meek and patient to hear all. The
King missed Henderson " — (with whom Charles at a distant
day was to hold a famous controversy on ecclesiastical polity) —
" and Johnston " — (afterwards the hot Covenanter Wariston.)
" The King was much delighted with Henderson's discourse, but
not so with Johnston's. Much and most free communing there
was of the highest matters of State. It is likely his Majesty's
ears had never been tickled with such discourses, yet he was
most patient of them all, and loving of clear reason. His
Majesty was ever the longer the better loved of all that heard
him, as one of the most just, reasonable, sweet persons they
ever had seen." Of this remarkable conference which occurred
on the first day, unknown to Clarendon and Hume, I shall
select such passages as most enter into the character of Charles
the First: —

The King. — ^My Lords, you cannot but wonder at my unex-
pected coming hither ; which I would myself have spared, were
it not to clear myself of that notorious slander laid upon me, that
I shut my ears from the just complaints of my people in Scot-
land, which I never did, nor shall. But, on the other side, I
shall expect from them, to do as subjects ought ; and upon these
terms I shall never be wanting to them.

Rothes. — The Earl of Rothes answered but with a low voice,
that his sentences could hardly at any distance be understood.
The effect of his speech was a justification of all their actions.

The King. — My Lord, you go the wrong way in seeking
to justify yourselves and actions; for though I am not come
hither with any purpose to aggravate your ofi'ences, but to make
the fairest construction of them that they may bear, and lay
aside all differences, yet if you stand on your justification, 1
shall not command but where I am sure to be obeyed.

Rothes. — Our coming is not to justify our actions, or to capitu-
late, but to submit ourselves to the censure (judgment) of your
Majesty, if so be we have committed any thing contrary to the
laws and customs of our country.

The King. — I never took upon me to give end to any differ-

m THE FIRST INVASION OF THE SCOTS. 103

ence, but where both parties first submitted themselves unto my
censure ( judgment), which if you will do, I shall do you justice
to the utmost of my knowledge, without partiality.

Rothes. — Our religion and conscience is now in question,
which ought to receive another trial. Besides, neither have we
power of ourselves to conclude any thing, but to represent it to
our fellows.

The King. — If you have no power to submit it to my judg-
ment, go on with your justification.

Rothes. — This is it which we desired, that thereby the sub-
jects of both kingdoms may come to the truth of our actions ;
for ye know not the reason of our actions, nor we of yours.

The Kino. — Sure I am, you are never able to justify all your
actions ; the best way, therefore, were to take my word, and to
submit all to my judgment.

Rothes. — We have reason to desire liberty for our pubHc
justification, seeing our cause hath received so much wrong,
both in the foundation, relation, and the whole carriage of the
business.

Loudon. — Since your Majesty is pleased to dislike the way of
justification, we therefore will desert it; for our purpose is no
other but to enjoy the freedom of that religion which we know
your Majesty and your kingdom do profess ; and to prevent all
alterations of that religion which we profess, which, finding our-
selves likely to be deprived of, we have taken this course, wherein
we have not behaved ourselves any otherwise than becometh loyal
subjects. Our sole desires are, that what is point of religion
may be judged by the practice of the church established in that
kingdom.

The King. — Here his Majesty interrupted this long intended
declaration, saying that he would not answer any proposition
which they made, nor receive any, but in writing. They with-
drew themselves to a side-table, and wrote a supplication — to
ratify the acts of the assembly at Glasgow, that all ecclesiastical
matters be determined by the Kirk, and that a peace be granted,
and all incendiaries suffer punishment.

This supplication having been read, his Majesty said he could
give no sudden answer to it ; in fact, it included the great point
of the abolishment of Episcopacy.

104 DIFFICULTIES OP CHARLES THE FIRST

The King. — Here you have presented your desires, as much
as to say, "Give us all we desire;" which, if no other than set-
tling of your religion and laws established, I never had other
intentions than to settle them. His Majesty withal told them
that their propositions were a little too rude at the first. (Charles
alluded to the ratifying the democratic acts of the Glasgow
assembly.)

Loudon. — We desire your Majesty that our grounds laid down
may receive the most favourable construction.

The King. — I protest I have no intention to surprise you, but
I withal desire you to consider how you stand too strictly upon
your propositions. I intend not to alter any thing in your laws
or religion which has been settled by sovereign authority.
Neither will I at all encroach upon your laws by my preroga-
tive ; but the question will be at last, Who shall be the judge of
the meaning of those laws ? His Majesty then further told them
that their pretences were fair, but their actions otherwise.

Rothes. — We desire to be judged by the written word of
the laws. (Here he proceeded in justifying the assembly at
Glasgow.)

The King. — You cannot expect the ratification of that assem-
bly, seeing the election of the members of it was not lawful, nOr
was there any free choice of them.

E-othes. — There is no other way for settling differences in
religion but by such an assembly of the Kirk.

The King. — That assembly was neither free nor lawful, and
so, consequently, the proceedings could not be lawful. But when
I say one thing, and you another, who shall judge ?

The Earl of Rothes offered to bring the book of the assembly
to the King, to prove its legality. — Lord Loudon explained the
nature of the Presbyterial government by the book of discipline —
the work of the earlier Puritans.

The King. — The book of discipline was never ratified by King
or Parliament ; but ever rejected by them. Besides this, there
were never in any assembly so many lay elders as in this.

Rothes. — In some assemblies there have been more lay elders
than of the clergy. In this assembly every lay elder was so well
instructed as that he could give judgment of any one point which
should be called in question before them.

IN THE FIRST INVASION OF THE SCOTS. 105

The King. — To affirm thus much in truth, seems very ridicu-
lous ; namely, that every illiterate person should be able to be a
fit judge of faith and religion. This, indeed, is very convenient
and agreeable to their disposition, for, by that means, they might
choose their own religion.

The King, in closing the present conference, observed — " I
have all this while discoursed with disadvantage, seeing what I
say I am obliged to make good ; but ye are men of honour too,
and therefore whatever ye assent unto, if others refuse, ye are
also obliged to make it good.^'

Lord Loudon once affirmed the power of the Glasgow assem-
bly to punish any offences. Rothes, at a later conference, in
plain terms affirmed the power of the assembly to be so great
that, were he the King, it had authority to excommunicate him
also.* Against this principle, perfectly papal, the note-writer
observes that his Majesty excellently disputed, could reason have
satisfied them. Charles here had certainly the strongest argu-
ment. It is curious to observe the advocates for popular free-
dom, eagerly contending for passive obedience ; and a monarch,
supposed to be a stickler for arbitrary government, exposing the
absurdity and injustice of a dangerous despotism. So contra-
dictory" seems human nature, when man acts on his own tempo-
rary views or individual interests. We may regret that we have
no notes of the conference of the fierce Republican, Wariston,
with Charles, though at a distant day we have the King's senti-
ments on Republics in a conversation with Harrington, the
author of the " Oceana," and which at the time impressed that
singular Commonwealth's man with a high notion of the King's
character.

The peculiarity of this state of warfare was terminated by a
treaty as peculiar ; a treaty consisting more of verbal explana-
tions in vague conversations, than of written agreements, or
articles afterwards ratified. The Scots desired to have their

* This was no oratorical flourish of the Earl of Rothes, but the avowed prmciple
of the Presbytery. Our first English Puritans under Cartwright had maintained,
not only that " the Church could inflict its censures on Royalty," but that it pos-
sessed a supremacy of power. Calvm's policy was to make the Church an inde-
pendent power in the state, but this seems to have been but a first step ; there are
passages in his " Institution " which have an evident tendency to Cai'twright's and
Knox's system.

106 DIFFICULTIES OF CHARLES THE FIRST

religion and liberty according to the laws of the kingdom —
intending those that were in force before James's accession to
the crown of England, and Charles, such as had been enacted
since that time. Both sides must have perceived the ambiguity,
but both were desirous of not coming to extremities. The
Scots, with twelve thousand men, had not imagined that Charles
could have raised an army of twenty thousand; but Charles
was in no less perplexity than themselves, as he feared treachery
among his own troops. The Scots wished delay in their nego-
tiation, and the King hoped the day would come when he could
explain the terms. The Scots would only swear to the true
religion of 1580 ; Charles insisted that the true religion was in
160G, and was more manifest in the present year of 1638.
The King would not acknowledge, and the Scots would not
disclaim, the Glasgow assembly. This difficulty was obviated
by the King consenting to call another assembly to decide on
ecclesiastical affairs. From that tender subject, the removal of
Episcopacy, Charles convulsively shrunk; while the Scottish
Commissioners on their knees in vain implored that great boon,
it was evaded on the plea that the King would not forestall the
decision of the future assembly. Some harsh expressions in
the King's declaration were softened, but when the Scots com-
plained that it represented them as if they had struck at the
monarchy, they were answered that so much was due to the
royal honour, and that the King's reputation abroad required
that his style should preserve the regal authority. Ambiguous
sentences were explained in conference, and the Scots on their
return to their camp set them down in writing, which in due
time, says Baillie, " shall see the light in their own royal and
noble phrase." " There were not two present," says Clarendon,
" who did agree in the same relation of what was said and
done, and which was worse, not in the same interpretation. An
agreement was made, in which nobody meant what others
believed he did."

Malcolm Laing has severely charged the King with dissimula-
tion in this treaty ;* but he does not lay the same charge on
his own countrymen. When the treaty was signed, if treaty it
can be called, an intercourse took place between all parties, and

♦ Laing's History of Scotland, iii. 171.

IN THE FIRST INVASION OF THE SCOTS. 107

the result shortly appeared on both sides. The Scots cemented
their secret friendships, and excited the sympathy of many new
ones ; and under the tents where they had signed the peace,
they concerted future plans of more successful invasion; a
clearer understanding between some of the English and them-
selves appeared to all the world on their second incursion.
Nor was the King less active in his accessions ; Montrose now
first discovered himself to Charles ; several of the Scottish lords
were mollified by royal condescensions, and the ambiguous
Hamilton had so adroitly insinuated himself into the favour of
the Covenanters, that he had slid into their secrets, and with
admirable fidelity betrayed them to the King.

It is evident that the pacification of Berwick was as little
sincere on one side as on the other ; and as is not uncommon,
the parties with great truth reciprocally accuse each other.
Equally impatient for peace, both dreaded the dubious issue of
a battle, and both were alike unprovided with the means of
maintaining their strength, even at the cost of a victory. The
exhausted exchequer of Charles had levelled him to the poverty
of the Scots. The determination to combat, rather than to
retreat, was probably as strong on one side as the other. The
language of the ingenuous Baillie is afl'ecting, — though a
Covenanter, he had a great reverence for Majesty. "Many
secret motives there were on all hands that spurred on to this
quick peace. What to have done when we came to Tweeffl-side
we were very uncertain. The King would rather have hazarded
his person than have raised his camp. Had he incurred any
skaith (harm), or been disgraced with a shameful flight, our
hearts had been broken for it ; and likely all England behoved
to have risen in revenge.^^ The Scots, it is evident, at that
moment feared the English nation as much as the King.

This " quick peace" leaving unsettled the great contending
points, and every condition ambiguous or indefinite, could only
be one of those delusive treaties which serve to prepare the
strongest party for war. It was a breathing space for two
armies who could not separate without a determination to con-
quer ; it was a pacification, but it was not a peace. A treaty
in which more was explained verbally than was written could
be but a patched-up peace, not made to hold long together.

108 DIFFICULTIES OF CHARLES THE FIKST

The ink was scarce dry ere the treaty was broken. At Edin-
burgh they reproached their chiefs with apostasy; at London
they lamented the disgrace incurred by an inglorious campaign.

At this moment we may be curious to discover the real
feelings of Charles. They may be deemed romantic ! Pleased
probably with his partial interviews with Montrose and other
Scottish lords, he fancied that the presence of Majesty had not
lost its charm over the people. In the warmth of his emotions,
Charles, often hasty in his resolves, proposed to accompany his
Scottish subjects on their return to Edinburgh — to hold the
Parliament in person. He imagined a popular triumph to
awaken the affections of a whole people. Charles becomes a
self-painter in writing to Went worth from Berwick.

" As for my affairs here, I am far from thinking that at this
time I shall get half of my will, though I mean, by the grace
of God, to be in person both at Assembly and Parliament ; for
which I know many wise men blame me, and it may be you
among the rest. And I confess not without many weighty and
considerable arguments, which I have neither time to repeat
or to confute — only this believe me, nothing but my presence
at this time in that country can save it from irreparable con-
fusion ; yet I will not be so vain as absolutely to say that I can.
Wherefore my conclusion is, that if I see a great probability,
I go ; otherwise not, but return to London, or take other
counsels." *

There is no dissimulation in this confidential communication.
The sorrowful and perplexed state of a mind so variously agi-
tated ; the impulse that hurries him in his own person to pacify
the troubles of a people, and above all the modest check which
his own judgment imposes on his sanguine hopes, are the cha-
racteristics of the man — and when we pause on many similar
effusions, we may at least wonder how it was possible for such a
man ever to have been the absolute despot, which the injustice
of party and historical calumnies so often set before us.

Charles did not pursue his romantic progress to fill Fergus*
chair in the palace of his ancestors. A fresh revolt had broken
out in the streets of Edinburgh on the surrender of the Castle
to the former royalist governor. "The devout wives," as

* Stmfford's Lcttei-s, ii. 362.

m THE FIRST INVASION OF THE SCOTS. 109

Guthry calls them, who were not apt to go on these messages
without being sent, again opened their campaign of Presbytery,
by an onset upon the E-oyal Commissioner, the Earl of Traquair,
with " their neaves" (fists). They broke my Lord Treasurer's
white staff in pieces before his face ; a circumstance which more
endeared him to the King, says Baillie, at the moment his
credit was cracking. When the representative of Majesty
appealed for the chastisement of the ringleaders, the magistracy
solemnly voted the Treasurer a new staff! — thus estimating
the indignity the Crown had suffered — at the damage of
sixpence !

The King, still intent to open the Scottish Parliament in
person, required fourteen of the Scottish leaders to attend him
at Berwick. Rothes, Montrose, and Johnston came, but the
rest with Argyle contrived to raise a mob at the moment of their
pretended departure. At the water-gate they were stopped on
the pretence that the King would detain them. The King
repeated his summons, but he foimd himself distrusted. These
Lords feared that Charles knew more of them than probably at
this moment the King did.

The ministers of Charles were alarmed at these continued
tumults ; Secretary Windebank could not think without horror
of the King exposing himself to the mercy of a people weary
of monarchical Government, " who know your Majesty's sacred
person is the only impediment to" the Republic, liberty, and con-
fusion which they have designed themselves." Went worth's
caution had perhaps more weight. " So total a defection in that
people is not to be trusted with your sacred person over early,
if at all." The distrust of the Scottish Lords was indignantly
felt, and Charles could no longer confide in them who had no
confidence in him. The King returned home from the dream
of the pacification of Berwick, melancholy and unsatisfied, con-
vinced that he had carried no single point, while from Hamilton
and Montrose he was but too well informed of the dark designs
of his enemies. The triumphal march which he had once pro-
mised himself had only closed in an interview of two hostile
armies ; but it had shown the world, at home and abroad, that
the Scottish insurgents were a nation.

Charles seems to have vented his disappointment in the

no CHARLES THE FIRST RESISTS THE

graceless manner with which he disbanded his own army ; he
suddenly dismissed the gentry without any acknowledgment of
their loyalty in leaving their homes at his call ; nor did he
scatter honours on those who had aspired to them. This
impolitic conduct of the King was not forgotten when in the
following year he had another army to collect — few cared to
attend, and many abandoned him in the Civil War. If Charles
be often accused of dissimulation, it must also be acknowledged
that he too often acted from spontaneous feelings, hasty and
undisguised.

CHAPTER IX.

CHARLES THE FIRST RESISTS THE SEDUCTIONS OF CARDINAL
RICHELIEU.

The vindication of the maritime rights of England formed
the most glorious period in the reign of Charles the First. The
King seems to have found himself more master of events, fol-
lowing only his own dispositions in asserting the independence
of the British Crown and the security of his people. From 1630
to 1637 he probably anticipated none of those dark evils which
lay brooding among his northern subjects and his dismissed
Parliamentarians. Before the troubles broke out in Scotland,
perhaps the most secret agents in the approaching revolu-
tion possessed as little foresight as Charles the First and his
ministers.

It was at this period, in 1637, that another political event
occurred of not inferior importance than the sovereignty of the
sea; it was an event in which Charles the First maintained the
independence of his Crown among foreign powers, guided by
the true interests of England. Those State-interests, I pre-
sume, must ever be an unremitting watchfulness over the growth
of her neighbour's influence, and the secret intrigues of their
Cabinets ; hence to keep down the stronger, and to strengthen
the weaker, but above all things to preserve England from
becoming a passive instrument of the dangerous projects of an
ambitious rival, or a seductive enemy.

SEDUCTIONS OP CARDINAL RICHELIEU. Ill

In the present case, Charles the First performed the duty of
an EngHsh monarch, however fatally the event terminated for
his own happiness.

Our popular historians, some of whom, it must be granted,
were not supplied with the copious materials we now possess,
and some of whom would certainly have wanted both the neces-
sary diligence and candour, had they possessed them, have
accused Charles the First of a blind and sometimes of a '^Popish"
inclination towards Spain. On this prejudiced principle, they
have not hesitated to charge as " a mere pretence" the danger
into which Charles considered the nation was thrown by a secret
league between France and the United Provinces. Of the
reality of this secret league we can no longer doubt. We find
it was discovered to Charles by the Spanish resident in Jidy,
1634. France, however, had been busily intriguing with the
States-General two years earlier, in 1632.

It was, however, not before five years afterwards, in 1637, that
the project matured by Cardinal Richelieu assumed a tangible
shape, presenting itself openly to the English King. The ges-
tation of a great political design is sometimes painfully slow, the
birth is delayed by its secresy, and the pangs seem proportioned
to its magnitude.

The plan of Richelieu, which we saw at work by the inter-
cepted dispatches in 1634, and which was now settled in 1637,
was, in concert with the Prince of Orange, to seize the maritime
towns of the Spanish Netherlands, the last remains of the
ancient dominion of Spain, from which important conquest
resulted nothing short of the annihilation of the Spanish name
and influence among the Flemings. But before this bold enter-
prise could be opened, and even before it could be well resolved
by the Prince of Orange, the Cardinal deemed it necessary to
secure the neutrality of England ; and to ascertain the disposi-
tion of the Cabinet of Whitehall, the Cardinal dispatched the
Count D^Estrades with very particular instructions.

Richelieu, aware that he stood not in the good graces of the
Queen of England, whose mother, Mary of Medicis, he had
abandoned to her destiny, commissioned the Count D^Estrades
to offer Henrietta every possible proof of his devotion to her,
and entreating immediately to be put to the test, he desired the

112 CHARLES THE FIRST RESISTS THE

honour of being made acquainted with her wishes, that they
might be instantly accomplished. Should the Count find the
Queen favourable, he was to deliver the CardinaFs letter written
by his own hand — but should Henrietta continue unfriendly to
the Cardinal, D'Estrades in that case was to present the letter
of her brother, the King of France.

D'Estrades, who on his arrival in England had to execute with
the utmost promptitude, as we shall see, affairs of the most
opposite nature, hastened without a day's loss to the Queen.
He found Henrietta greatly indisposed against the Cardinal.
The letter of his Eminence was therefore suppressed, but her
brother's referred her to Count D'Estrades, who acquainted her
with the object of his mission, requesting the Queen would use
all her influence to persuade her royal husband to preserve a
strict neutrality. Henrietta declared that "she never inter-
meddled in affairs of this nature," but in compliance with her
brother's wish she would mention the subject to the King her
husband, appointing the ambassador, who pressed for time, to
return at five o'clock.

When D'Estrades came, he found the Queen in ill-humour ;
she complained that he had been the occasion of her suffering
a severe reprimand for having proposed to the King to remain
neuter while the sea-ports of Flanders were to be attacked, but
the King himself would expect the Count at six o'clock.

The Queen's reception was no favourable prognostic. The
Ambassador was, however, graciously received by Charles.
D'Estrades having opened his negotiation, laid great stress on
the numerous advantages the King of England would derive
from preserving a rigid neutrality. Masters of the sea, the
English would have the whole commerce of Flanders at their
disposal, and the supply of all the armies, both the Allied and
the Spanish, which could only be carried on by English shipping.
But his Eminence offered apparently a less resistible seduction ;
for the Cardinal not only assured Charles that he was most
desirous of preserving an union of interests with the two Courts,
but that his Eminence would pledge himself to persuade his royal
master to aid and support Charles against any of his rebellious
subjects.

Charles's reply to the French Ambassador was prompt and

SEDUCTIONS OF CARDINAL RICHELIEU. 113

decisive. " He wished for the friendship of his brother, but
friendship there could be none if it were prejudicial to his honour,
or injurious to the interest of his people. Should the ports of
Planders be attacked by France and Holland, the English fleet
would be in the Downs ready for action, and with an army of
fifteen thousand men.^^ Charles thanked his Eminence for the
offer of his aid, " but he required no other assistance to punish
rebels, than his own regal authority and the laws of England ! "

Such was the noble answer of Charles the First to the political
seduction of E-ichelieu ; such was the strength of character which
at critical conjunctures he invariably displayed ; and such was
his fortune and his fate that the greater his personal distresses
rose on him, the greater the energy which he seemed to derive
from their excitement. On this incident even the sullen Pres-
byter, Harris, felt a transient glow, exclaiming, " This answer
was worthy a British monarch ! ^' We must also recollect that
this off'er from the Cardinal was made in November, and that
Charles had already in June been menaced by the rising troubles
in Scotland. His own personal condition strangely contrasted
with his magnanimity; to be plunged into a war with France
while he was preparing a northern army to act against his own
malcontents, required in the spirited monarch that fortitude and
moral courage, which in truth never failed him in his " hour of
need."

But Charles probably did not know that D'Estrades, who
remained here but a few weeks, and then hastened to the Prince
of Orange, had a double commission in coming to England. He
was to offer the King of England the aid of France, or rather of
Cardinal Bichelieu, should Charles be disposed to act as his
Eminence desired; but should Charles prove adverse to his
scheme, the ambidextrous agent was to address himself secretly
to the heads of the Scotch party. The fact is, that D'Estrades
had not been five days in London, ere he had already opened a
commimication with two Scotchmen, and in his dispatches con-
gratulates the Cardinal on "this favourable conjuncture for
embarrassing the King of England's affairs.'^ Such, then, was
the great coup d'etat. The neutrality of the King was to be
bribed by the destruction of the rebellious Scots, or enforced by
the necessity of devoting his whole powers to their suppression.

VOL. II. I

114 CHARLES THE FIRST RESISTS RICHELIEU.

The reply of the Cardinal to D'Estrades is very remarkable.
Sarcastically approving of the openness of the King and Queen
of England in their conduct towards him, he owns " that France
might have been embarrassed, had- the royal couple had the
address of concealing their sentiments — but now the year should
not close before both should repent of their refusal of his pro-
posals. It shall soon be known that I am not to be despised."
He desired D'Estrades to assure the two Scotch deputies of his
friendship and protection, and that in a few days he will dispatch
one of his chaplains, the Abbe Chambres, who was their fellow-
countryman, to hasten to Edinburgh and open a negotiation with
their party. This wily statesman would have Scotchmen appear
to govern Scotchmen. The Abbe Chambres, whom Whitelocke
calls Chamberlain, and who had probably Gallicised his name,
was accompanied by a confidential page of his Eminence, also a
Scot, of the name of Hepburn — and probably serving, in the
present instance, in the capacity of a spy on the other spy. To
mortify the haughty Henrietta, and to inconvenience Charles,
by rendering the English Court stiU more unpopular, the vindic-
tive Cardinal, within a few months of the interview of D'Estrades
with Henrietta, drove, by his persecutions, the exiled Mary of
Medicis to her daughter. In vain had Charles repeatedly urged
his foreign agents to prevent the Queen-mother directing her
flight to England — there seemed to be no other resting-place
for the royal fugitive. The fortunes of Richelieu had been the
creation of this hapless princess; but he never forgave, as is
usual with great politicians, the patroness, who was herself
alarmed at the mighty being her own feeble hand had formed.

Mary of Medicis was the weakest of women, but she was a
Queen of sorrows ; the daughter of Tuscany, the wife of Henry
the Fourth, the mother of Louis the Thirteenth and of the
Queens of England and Spain, and the Duchess of Savoy. She
it was whom, on her landing in England, Waller addressed —

" Great Queen of Europe ! where thy offspring wears
All the chief crowns ; whose Princes are thy heirs."

This eminent personage, the victim of political intrigue, was
now, whejever she came, a wandering spectacle of melancholy, —
the presence of the ill-starred woman was looked on as a prog-

- INFLUENCE OP EICHELIEU. 115

nostic of public calamity. Here the sight of her person inflamed
the popular prejudice against her daughter, and the season in
which she arrived turning out wet and stormy, the common
people called it " Queen-mother weather/^

Charles the First thus incurred the vindictive artifices of
Richelieu ; and it is unquestionable that the royal fortunes were
greatly influenced by the mysterious policy of this hardy and
inventive statesman.

The Cardinal accomplished his prediction or malediction on
Charleses head about the period assigned. We have found
Richelieu instigating the Hollanders to violate the neutrality of
the British ports, at the very moment Richelieu was holding a
secret intercourse with the Scottish Covenanters, and, subse-
quently, with the English Parliamentarians. Thus, by an extra-
ordinary combination in his Cabinet, the hand of Richelieu was
directing the fate of Charles the First at once in his maritime
sovereignty and his Scottish dominions.

It would seem that Charles the First had yet no notion that
the disgrace of having incurred an insult in his own ports was
the work of the Cardinal, nor did he probably imagine that the
Papistical prelate could ever coalesce with the Calvinistical Pres-
byters, or that the Minister of an absolute monarchy could ever
cordially blend with the Commonwealth-men of England in the
abolition of monarchy itself.

The influence of Cardinal Richelieu over the fortunes of
Charles the First is a subject not unworthy of our inquiry.

CHAPTER X.

OF THE INFLUENCE OF CARDINAL RICHELIEU ON THE FATE
OF CHARLES THE FIRST.

The famous Cardinal-Duke de Richelieu was one of those
great ministers on whom panegyrics and satires equally abound.
It is hard to say of Richelieu, that in his passion for glory he
would have sacrificed his own France to that of Europe, if by
that fatal pledge Europe had prostrated herself to the Cardinal-
Duke. In his political imagination he had contemplated on

i2

116 INFLUENCE OP RICHELIEU ON THE

vast designs, which the ordinary date of human life only had
interrupted, for when Richelieu was no more, a youthful
monarch and a minister trained in Richelieu's schools, asto-
nished and alarmed the world by the sparks which had fallen
from his forge.

The master-genius of Richelieu had wrestled with domestic
factions, and trodden down rivals. His mightier despotism had
annihilated the multiplied tyrannies of a haughty aristocracy,
who had usurped an authority over the laws.

Richelieu must not be classed among those rare and patriotic
statesmen, who are the fathers of their country. He first con-
quered his own people — crushed his own nobility — and concen-
trated in his sovereign the despotism he himself required.
Louis XIII. was jealous even of the minister, in the absence of
whose genius he would probably have ceased to reign; but
though the Prince was weak, the majesty of the throne was
greater than it had ever been. It was indeed an iron rule —
state-prisons, scaffolds, and garrisoned towns deformed the fair
face of " pleasant France."

It is said to have been a state-maxim of this famed politician,
who we must candidly remember lived in troubled times, that
to keep the people in subjection it is necessary to depress them.
An anecdote has come down to us, which in some respects
describes the actual state of the French people during his for-
midable ministry. An Englishman was declaiming against the
tyranny of this minister. " Don't talk so loud,'' said his friend,
" lest some of his creatures there should hear you" — pointing
to a crowd of beggars in their sabots. At his death there were
public rejoicings in the more distant provinces, and the people
by their fireworks, and their dances, proclaimed to the world that
the death of the tyrannical ruler gives a holiday to the people.
Yet when the Czar Peter the Great visited the magnificent
tomb of Richelieu, contemplating the statue, he enthusiastically
exclaimed, " Great man ! wert thou living I would give thee
half of my empire, wouldst thou teach me to govern the other."
Must we therefore consider that one of the arts of government
may consist in making a nation great, at the cost of its
happiness ?

By the strength and unity of his government, Richelieu

PATE OF CHARLES THE FIRST. 117

made the nation tremble, while he secured its power. A
general rumour prevailed, and it was the favourite topic of con-
versation, as I learn by a manuscript letter of the times, with
*^ the brave Monsieurs in France," that "their King must be
Emperor," and it appears that to have ventured to contradict
them would have been at the hazard of a duel. So early had
the national egotism anticipated its glorious infirmity ! * Thus
while France bowed under its severe master, with secret pride
she looked on her ascendancy in the great family of European
governments. A nation, like an individual, has often sacrificed
its happiness to its splendour.

Eichelieu conquered France — the greater conquest was in
view. Force, remorseless force had mastered his native land;
subtle intrigues were to awaken every other European king-
dom. This great minister was now to strike out, amidst the
most complicate obstacles and cabals, the elements of grandeur
and prosperity, to create a political Cabinet, which was to survive
its creator, and to hold Europe itself in an equilibrium, to be
guided by the arm of France. His recruited armies were to
encounter the Imperialist and the Spaniard, his miserable
marine was one day to meet the fleets of England and Holland :
and his silent genius was at the same time busied in Spain, till
he struck out from its dominion an independent kingdom in
Portugal; and in England, whose alliance with the French
Huguenots, and whose invasion of Rhe were indelible on his
implacable memory, till he subdued its independent monarch
by a revolution which he lived to witness, and, we are told, long
enough to regret ; foi De Brienne, his confidential secretary of
state, acknowledges that matters went further than the Cardinal
had designed, and than he desired.

The confession of Brienne was sincere. Pere d'Orleans, who
had access to the papers of the Marquis de la Ferte-Imbault,
who was the French ambassador in England in 1642, informs
us " that Bichelieu began to be alarmed at the consequences of
his own successful intrigues, which menaced the destruction of
a monarch whom France was only desirous of embarrassing, to
wean him from his inclination to unite with Spain. The
French monarch off'ered to become a mediator between the

* Haxl. MSS. From a letter of the times.

118 INFLUENCE OF RICHELIEU ON THE

parties; after three or four journeys to Windsor, the French
ambassador found that the offer of the French Cabinet was
received with equal suspicion by the King and by the Parlia-
ment/^* Cardinal Mazarine, in his correspondence with
Sabran, the French agent in England in 1644, whose papers I
have examined, was earnestly desirous of pacifying the English
troubles. This is confirmed, too, by a conversation of Mazarine
with Lord Digby, in which the Cardinal told him that " France
found too late their own error, that they had been well content
to see the King's great puissance weakened by his domestic
troubles, which they wished only should keep him from being
able to hurt his neighbours/' f Such has ever been the human
policy of political Cabinets, who have sought for their own
security by inflaming the intestine disorders of their neighbour ;
or, to obtain some temporary advantage, provoked a lasting evil.
Eichelieu, by the Covenanters of Scotland and the Parliament-
arians of England, recruited his armies against Austria, and
neutralised the ally Spain possessed in Charles. When the
revolution burst forth, it was too late to undo the web of his
own subtle work. How far, or if at all, the conduct of England
towards the French Revolution in its early stage affords a
parallel case, I know not. Accusations were raised by some of the
French against Pitt. Pitt, like Richelieu, had his recollections,
and our American Colonies might have been to Louis the
Sixteenth what the Isle of Rhe and La Rochelle were to Charles
the First.

The politics of Richelieu may be paralleled with the system
of Napoleon. Richelieu was forming an invisible alliance with
the disaffected of every government ; thus his own genius pre-
sided in their councils, and all the members of his diplomacy
served as the active agents of the revolutions of his age. We
are struck by the parallel of Richelieu and Napoleon in their
secret principles. Pliant, as well as unbending, the Prelate of
the Papacy could confirm the edict of Nantes for his own
Huguenots, granting toleration at the moment he meditated
their extermination; J to check the House of Austria, the

* Pere d'Orleans, Kdvolutiona d'Angleterro, iii. 34.
f Clarendon's State Papera, Suppt. iii. lix.
X It is a curious fact exhibiting tlie awkward dilemma into which great politicians
sometimes tlirust themselves, that at the moment the articles of peace with the

FATE OF CHARLES THE FIRST. 119

Eomish Cardinal could confederate with the Protestant princes
to maintain the Protestant cause; and the minister of an
absolute monarchy was the faithful ally of the new Republicans
of Holland.

The intrigues of this politic statesman could not pass untraced
amidst the gathering troubles of Charles the First — the serpent,,
however wary, still leaves the trail of his crooked motions in the
dust he passes over. The Irish insurgents were supplied with
arms by the Cardinal ; the agents of the Covenanters were at
Paris, as well as the agents of the French at Edinburgh.

Besides the political influence of Cardinal Richelieu over the
fortunes of Charles the First, I think there was a more latent
one, the result of which was not less important in the affairs of
the English monarch. Charles admired Richelieu, and many of
the interior transactions which had occurred in France, the dis-
orders composed, the difficulties overcome, often presented an
image of the state of England. The disaffected princes appeared,
to Charles, greatly to resemble some of our Patriots; the
remonstrances of the French Parliaments, though these are but
courts of law, had sometimes approached the lofty tone of our
Commons, and the strong republican party of the Huguenots
could not well be separated in their conduct and their principles
from our own Puritans. Charles had a mind too reflective, and
too personally interested in these events, to pass over regard-
lessly the conduct and success of the great French minister.
Charles the First, and Strafford, and possibly Laud, who has
been idly compared with Richelieu, were close observers of the
Cardinal-Duke ; and Richelieu, unquestionably, of them. Minis-
ters, like jealous traders, keep an observant eye on each other.
Olivarez, the great Spanish minister, when some Frenchmen
complained of the libels and satires on Richelieu profusely
spread in Flanders, declared that as a Minister of State it was
his own interest not to countenance such unworthy methods,

French Protestants were to be signed at the council-table, both the Cardinals
RicheUeu and de la Rochefoucault withdrew, that they might not appear publicly to
sanction a truce with heretics — although this very peace was the favourite work of
the great Cardinal himself. It may possibly be alleged that the departure of the
Cardinals at signing this treaty with heretics might have been a mere form which
grew out of their priestly character. Le Clerc unquestionably gives the anecdote in
the spirit of a Protestant. It was certainly a dilemma.

120 INFLUENCE OP RICHELIEU.

but he had himself often told his master that his greatest mis-
fortune was that the King of France possessed the most skilful
minister who for a thousand years had appeared in Christendom;
as for himself he would willingly submit to have whole libraries
printed every day against himself, provided that the affairs of his
master were as well conducted as those of France !

This secret sympathy, or this mutual influence among these
great parties, was often indicated by circumstances accidentally
preserved. That Charles the First had long admired the genius
of Richelieu, appeared on the famous day of the Dupes, when
news arrived of the dismission and fall of the French minister.
Henrietta rejoicing at the CardinaFs removal from power, which
had been so long desired by the Queen-Mother, Charles the
First checked the feminine petulance, expressing his highest
admiration of the unrivalled capacity of the minister. " Your
mother is wrong,'^ he observed to the Queen ; " the Cardinal
has performed the greatest services for his master. Had I been
the Cardinal I would have listened tranquilly to the accusations
of the Queen your mother, and remembered those against
Scipio before the Roman people, who, instead of replying, led
them to the Capitol to return thanks to the gods, for having
defeated the Carthaginians. The Cardinal might have told the
King, within these two years Rochelle has been taken, more
than thirty towns of the Huguenots have submitted, and their
fortifications arc demolished; Cazal has been twice succoured.
Savoy and a great part of Piedmont are in your hands : these
advantages which your arms have acquired by my cares, answer
for my industry and my fidelity .^^*

That Strafford was attentive to the proceedings of the French
minister, appears by his alleging the conduct of the Cardinal in
appointing commissioners to enter the merchants' houses at
Paris to examine their accounts and to cess every man accord-
ing to his ability to furnish the King^s army. And that Richelieu

* Griffet, Hist, de Louis XIII. ii. 77. From Richelieu's Journal. That Charles
had expressed himself to this purpose we cannot well doubt ; it would not otherwise
have been entered into the Cardinal's Journal. But I suspect that the latter part,
where the Cardinal enumerates such a variety of his own memoi'able acts, was added
by himself as an illustration. Had Charles detailed such a sei'ies of events, it would
show a more particular attention than was necessary ; in speaking to the Queen he
would mcrel}* have alluded to the general results of Richelieu's administration.

HISTOEY AND TEIAL OF THE EAEL OF STEAFFOED. 121

was well acquainted with English affairs is evident from the
remarkable circumstance mentioned in our previous volume, of
the minute and secret correspondence the French minister held
with some courtiers at Whitehall. Had the political personages
of the Court of England not been well known to Richelieu, he
would not have thrown out that striking observation, when,
hearing of the fate of Strafford, he remarked that " the Eng-
lish had been foolish enough to take off the ablest head among
them/'*

Charles the Eirst, driven by his necessities and the perpetual
opposition of his Parliaments, could hardly avoid admiring the
energies, which for some time he seems to me to have fatally
imitated. English lawyers, in their vague and florid style, had
declared that no monarch was so absolute as an English sove-
reign, and " the right divine " of kings was not only upheld by
kings themselves, but by the divines of Christian Europe. I
have often thought that by the vain struggle and confusion of
the principles of the absolute monarchy of France under
Richelieu, with those of the constitutional forms of England,
Charles the First fell a victim to strong measures in a weak
Government.

CHAPTER XI.

HISTORY AND TRIAL OF THE EARL OF STRAFFORD.

Sir Thomas Wentworth, as we have already noticed, was an
independent country-gentleman, who opened his political career
by a patriotic opposition to the measures of Buckingham ; he
spoke seldom, but always with effect, and the ability which awed
the minister taught him also the strength of its support. Severe
scrutinisers into Wentworth's conduct have considered that there
was a political coquetry in his patriotism, which rather sought to
be won than cared to be obdurate.

Wentworth, however, endured with magnanimity the petty
persecutions of the day. He suffered confinement as a loan-
recusant, but when, having enlisted in the ranks of Opposition,

* Trial of Strafford, pp. 30, 592.

122 HISTORY AND TRIAL OP

lie suddenly hesitated in the march, when his opinions wavered,
and he began to discuss rather than to act with those whose
confidence he possessed, whose designs he comprehended, and
whose artifices of faction were not unknown to him, in a word,
when Wentworth gave signs of what in the modern political
cant is called ratting, he incurred the hatred of the impetuous
and the sorrows of the gentle. Noy had deserted the popular
cause, but he had crept out like a groveling lawyer, calculating
on the most advantageous client ; but Strafford (for the Earl is
best known in history by his title), great and independent, what-
ever might be his motive, was about to devote the most elevated
efforts of his nature, and ascend into the highest sphere of
action ; his wisdom was to govern the royal councils, and his
heroism to maintain the public safety.

Pym, in parting from Strafford, did not shed the generous
tear which Eox is reported to have let fall for Burke. The
enraged leader of Opposition vowed perpetual enmity, and, as if
he had already contemplated, in the long perspective of his
political vision, that axe which was so often to be raised, declared
that " he would never quit him while Strafford kept a head on
his shoulders." And when the fatal hour arrived, Pym, the
Patriot, indulged his personal rancour, and flew with indecent
haste to denounce Strafford as " the apostate who was the
greatest enemy to the liberties of his country that any age had
produced."

Charles at first urged his new minister to take his seat in the
House. The presence of Strafford in Parliament inspired the
King with confidence, but the Earl himself foresaw that it would
irritate the Parliamentary party, and their secret allies the Scots;
out of their sight he would less occupy their thoughts, and should
they persecute the Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, at that safe dis-
tance he would be found at the head of his army. The states-
man observed, prescient of his fate, " If any difference should
happen between your Majesty and the ParHament, it would
disturb your Majesty's affairs, and in that case I should prefer
suffering myself than them." But Charles professed that " as
King of England he was able to protect his minister ; whatever
danger might happen, not a hair of his head should be touched."
At that moment, Chai'les the Eirst unquestionably deemed

THE EARL OF STRAFFOJRD. 123

himself possessing more independent power tlian by the sequel
appeared. It is no rare case in political history, that when men
are reduced to great weakness, they exist on the remembrance
of the power they once possessed.

The magnanimous Strafford resigned the army, who were
devoted to him, to attend in Parliament. Warned, indeed, by
his friends at Whitehall, of some impending design, he came not
unprepared with evidence to impeach some of " the Scotising-
English^^ in both houses of Parliament, whose intrigues with
the Covenanters had already brought an invading army into
England. Strafford particularly intended to impeach Lord Say.
But the party more vigilant than he, who yet had never failed
in vigilance, hurried to strike the first blow.* This act, at least,
would exhaust the talents, the temper, and the industry of
their dreaded adversary. Buckingham had crushed his enemy,
Bristol, by the great advantage of reducing his accuser first to
defend himself.

Whenever a political storm happens, an observer often recol-
lects the prognostics of the horizon. Some days before the
meeting of Parliament, " Mr. Hyde " (as Clarendon then de-
signates himself) noticed " a marvellous elated countenance in
many of the members.^^ The conversation of Pym startled the
young politician. Now Pym avowed that "they must be of
another temper — they must not only sweep the House clean
below, but must pull down all the cobwebs which hung in the
top and corners — and, to remove all grievances, they must pull
up the causes of them by the roots." A radical reform hardly
seems the coinage of our own days.

On the first day of the opening of Parliament, Pym, preluding
with an awful solemnity, declared that he had a business of great
weight to impart, and desired that the lobby should be cleared.

* There is no doubt that it depended but on the turn of a moment that the
pohtical game would have been reversed. I shall quote, as a proof, the most partial
and uncandid of all our historical writers, Oldmixon, whose style debases even his
perpetual misrepresentations. He makes the avowal. " Strafford had prepared
matters for an impeachment against those Lords and gentlemen who had encouraged
the Scots to march into England, but Mr. Pym was beforehand with him, and not
many hours after he arrived in town, carried up to the House of Lords an accusation
of high treason against Strafford," 157. This is a material fact, to which we shall
again have occasion to allude. It is authenticated by Rush worth in his Introduction
to Strafford's Trial, 2.

124 HISTORY AND TRIAL OF

This unusual proceeding in tlie Commons reached the Lords,
who dispatched a message to desire a meeting in the painted
chamber to consult on the Scotch treaty. The messengers appear
to have been sent on an errand of discovery respecting the
impending debate. The House returned an answer by the same
messengers, that they were in agitation of very weighty and
important affairs, and they doubted whether they could give a
meeting to the Lords as early as was desired.

The debate proceeded with closed doors. The key of the
House was ordered to be laid on the table. Pym, whose educa-
tion had been chiefly in the office of the Exchequer, accustomed
to business, with nervous compressed sense, and acute argu-
ment, displayed an austere eloquence in his invective, different
from the elevated appeals to their imagination with which the
Ciceronian Eliot had formerly thundered in the Senate against
the favourite Buckingham. Our orator had discovered the
cause of the calamities which had fallen upon the nation in
" the reign of a pious and virtuous King who loved his people."
He opened the fountain whence flowed these waters of bitter-
ness— the very person who had perverted the King's excellent
judgment — he named ! But surely the declared enemy of
Strafford sunk from the dignity of the patriot into the malice
of the libeller when a British Senate listened to the volatile
rumours of a scandalous chronicle, and personal malignity
touched on the lighter vanities of a great man, and even on his
secret amours ! The party orator aggrandised his victim into
colossal power to alarm the true patriot — while he shrunk him
into a diminutive object of familiar contempt to gratify the
meaner spirits. But the plot was concerted — the parts were
prepared — the actors followed each other. A knight who had
posted from Ireland, delivered a confused tale of the tyrannical
measures of the Lord-Lieutenant; another from Yorkshire
alleged an arbitrary expression which had fallen from the Earl,
that " they should find the little finger of the King's preroga-
tive heavier than the loins of the law." At this, the flame burst
around — passion, prejudice, and patriotism spoke but with one
voice, and raised but one hand ! An instant impeachment was
moved and carried. Even " Mr. Hyde " did not oppose it, and
when the immaculate Lord Falkland, who felt no personal

THE EAEL OF STRAFFORD. 125

kindness for the Earl, and who agreed on the propriety of the
measure, conceived, however, that they should pause till they had
digested the articles against the accused, his lordship was
silenced by an argument of Pym, that were the moment lost,
a dissolution would follow. To those who were doubtful whether
the charges could amount to high treason, Pym replied that the
House of Commons were not judges, but simply accusers. It
proved, however, in the result that they were to be both. But
the principle itself, that they were not judges but merely
accusers, seems to expose any individual to sequestration on the
charge of any party who are bold enough to lay the imputation..
Was not the impeachment of Hastings a persecution of many
years ?

Pym, that ^' ancient gentleman of great experience in parlia-
mentary affairs and no less fidelity to his country," as " the
Secretary of the Parliament " describes him ; Pym, the declared
enemy of Strafford, accompanied by his friends, hurried to the '
Lords, and abruptly " in the name of all the Commons of Eng-
land accused Thomas Earl of Strafford, Lord-Lieutenant of
Ireland, of high treason." The Lords, it appears, were startled
by this unexpected intelligence, unexpected at least by most of
them. The indecent haste which Pym betrayed on this occa-
sion is said to have been occasioned by some knowledge that
Strafford would have anticipated him in an impeachment, and
we shall find hereafter that the subsequent attempted arrest of
the five members of the Commons, which proved so fatal to
Charles, was probably connected with the presumed con-
spiracy of which Strafford imagined that he possessed sufficient
evidence.

The impeachment having been communicated to the Earl,
who was at that moment with the King, he hastened to the
House : finding the doors closed, he struck it impetuously, and
inattentive to the remonstrance of Maxwell, the Usher of the
Black Rod, Strafford passed on to his seat. At his entrance his
eye glanced around with the accustomed haughty contraction of
his brow — but his fate was before him ! A clamour rose " which
suited not the gravity of that supreme Court." The Earl was
already a fallen minister ! Called on to withdraw, Strafford
in confusion retreated to the door, and there awaited their

120 IIISTOEY .OD TRIAL OF

summons to learn their decision. Wlien recalled, lie stood before
them, but was commanded to the bar of the House to kneel as
an accused man. The Earl protested against a general charge
without the specification of a single act of treason. He was
silenced, till he should clear himself of the charges laid on him,
and was consigned to the custody of the Usher of the Black
Rod.

The impeachment originally consisted of nine articles, but
their eager diligence set to work in every obscure corner, and
their encouraging invitation of grievances made to every mal-
content, had accumulated twenty-eight charges, involving the
conduct of the accused minister during the long interval of
fourteen years.*

The trial of the Earl of Strafford presented a more imposing
spectacle than had ever been exhibited to the nation. Never
had a greater actor appeared on the stage of public justice.
" The pompous circumstances and stately manner of the trial,"
as May describes them, were not here the only awful splendour;
it was not merely the outward solemnity of judicial forms which
affected the public imagination ; the passions of every class of
citizens, from the sovereign himself to the humblest of the
people, were alike agitated in the cause of this great minister.
The trial of the Earl of Strafford seemed no longer the trial of
an individual — it was the trial of the sovereign's affections, and
the sovereign's influence — it was the trial of the kindled spirits
of three rival nations — it was the trial of a great man, whose

• After the charges had been delivered to the House of Lords, Strafford was con-
scious that they contained no act of treason. This appears by a letter which the
Earl addressed to his lady on that occasion. This letter having fallen into the
hands of a print-seller, he engraved a facsimile, and sold the original to some col-
lector, and no doubt it still exists. I shall preserve it here, both as an historical
document, and as a remarkable evidence of the sagacity and the feelings of the
eminent personage : —

" SwEKT IIarte,
" It 18 long since I writt unto you, for I am here in such a trouble, as gives me
little or no respett (respite). The charge is now cum in, and I am now able, I
prayse God, to tell you, that I conceave ther is nothing capital!, and for the rest I
knowc at the worste his Ma*?" will pardon all, without hurting my fortune, and then
we shall be happy by God's grace. Therefore comfort your self, for I trust thes
cloudes will away, and that wee shall have faire weather afterwardes. Farewell.

" Your lovinge husband,
« T<w€r of London, Uh Feb. 1 6^f « Stbafforde."

THE EARL OF STRAFFORD. 127

very virtues were his defects^ and whose defects were to be his
crimes.

Westminster Hall was the scene. Scaffolds nearly reaching
the roof were erected on either side, eleven stages high, divided
by rails ; in the upper ranks were the Commissioners of Scot-
land, and the Lords of Ireland, who were joined with the Com-
moners of England in their accusations. The Members of the
Lower House sate uncovered ; but that punctilio of etiquette
had passed through a stiff debate and had been conceded with
great difficulty. In the centre sate the Peers in their Parlia-
ment robes, and the Lord Keeper and the Judges in their
scarlet robes were on the woolsacks. At the upper end beyond
the Peers, was a chair raised under a cloth of state for the King,
and another for the Prince. The sovereign did not occupy this
throne ; for he was supposed not to be present, and reasons were
alleged for this legal fiction. Two cabinets or galleries with
trellis-work were on each side of the cloth of state. One the
King, the Queen, and their Court occupied during the whole
trial ; the other was filled with the French nobility and other
foreigners. At the foot of the State was a, scaffold for ladies of
quality ; and at the lower end was a place with partitions and
an apartment to retire to, for the convenience of the managers
of the trial, to hold their consultations ; opposite to them entered
the witnesses ; and between was a small desk where the prisoner
stood or sate, the Lieutenant of the Tower beside him ; at his
back stood his four secretaries carrying papers and assisting him
in writing and reading. Strafford, in the midst of noise and
confusion, was compelled to draw up his answers instanter, and
was allowed but short intervals.

" It was daily the most glorious assembly the isle could
afford ; yet the gravity was not such as I expected," observes
the grave and zealous Principal of the University of Glasgow.
The coarseness of our national manners at this period was not
concealed by their magnificence, and when compared with the
conveniences, the decorum and the refinement to which a more
polished state of society has given rise, it has occasioned some
misconceptions of the grossness of the court, and of the habits
of Charles himself — even with the philosopher, and far more
with those whose minds are but ill constituted to enter into

12S HISTORY AIh^D TRIAL OF

distant times and strange manners, with the feelings of a
contemporary.

This awful solemnity, except at the moment the prosecution
was proceeding, exhibited such a noisy and indecorous scene,
that had it not been detailed by the faithful memorialist, we
could not have suspected such degrading occurrences while
turning over the copious folio which Rushworth has devoted to
this famous trial. There was always a great clamour about the
doors ; but at those intervals when the illustrious prisoner was
busied in preparing his answers, a distracting hubbub broke
out; the lords were walking and chatting— the Commons,
whose apology must rest on their multitude and their zeal, were
more offensively loud. They ate "flesh andbread,^' and "bottles
of beer and wine were going thick from mouth to mouth.''
The aristocracy of England were not yet delicate enough to
procure drinking-cups ; their indelicacy indeed was extraor-
dinary, such as had never been witnessed within Westminster
Hall, and would not have been pardoned in an assembly without.
From eight in the morning till sometimes late in the night,
they were not allowed to retire, and " the bottles were going
thick,'' Baillie, Covenanter as he was, had very elevated notions
of ancestry as a Scot, and he treats contemptuously this senate
of English Peers, for he says of the single Marquis we then had,
the Marquis of Winchester, "England hath no more Mar-
quises, and he but a late upstart, a creature of Queen Elizabeth !
Hamilton goes here, but among the Earls, and that a late one ;
l!)ukes they have none in Parliament ; York, Richmond, and
Buckingham are but boys."

When it was proposed that the axe should be carried before
the prisoner, the King expressly forbade it, assigning a legal
distinction.

The illustrious prisoner appeared in deep mourning, wearing
his George. His dark countenance, with its heavy brows, re-
tained the habitual commanding look, but the gracefulness of
his gestures, and solemn thought, softened his stern dignity.
There was a sickly hue in his countenance ; for his complicated
disorders were of a nature to be greatly increased by the anxiety
and the labours of his mind ; his body slightly bowed down, not
by age, but by infirmity and care. This was so evident, that

THE EARL OF STEAFFOED. 129

lie alluded to it in one of his pathetic appeals, when he drew
the attention of the spectators to his person. " They had here,
he said, this rag of mortality before them, worn out with
numerous infirmities, which if they tore into shreds there was
no great loss -, only in the spilling of his, they would open a
way to the blood of all the nobility in the land."

The physiognomy of Strafford may afford a triumph to the
votaries of Lavater; we have all contemplated its masculine
spirit in some admired portraits; even the prints retain the
dauntless austerity, the deep solemn thought, and the lofty air
of this great man — in his full and contracted brows, his ample
forehead, his dark thick hair, worn short, which added one
more stern characteristic to his countenance.* Although
without a handsome feature, his person was not disagreeable —
the dark physiognomy of Strafford, or as Whitelocke calls it,
" the countenance manly black," did not prevent the Earl from
being admired by the fair sex, especially at his trial. A woman's
eye could detect some graces in his air, and the volatile Hen-
rietta noticed that " he had the finest hands of any man in the
world." t The grace of his action was in harmony with the

* A poet of the day, who had doubtless viewed the great deputy of Ireland at the
bar, has poetically delineated his noble physiognomy :

On thy brow

Sate Terror mixt with Wisdom, and at once
Saturn and Hermes in thy countenance.

Shepherd's Epigrams, lib. iv. ep. 39. 1651.

f It could, however, hardly have been the personal attractions of Strafford which
fascinated the women — it must have been their own sensibility in the high concep-
tion they had formed of his character, his awful magnanimity, and the superiority
of his genius among all his accusers. The women were enchanted. The once
courtly and refined May tells us, that " They were all of his side, whether moved by
pity, proper to their sex, or by ambition of being thought able to judge of the parts
of the prisoner," and with all the elegance of a poetical mind happily applies these
verses : —

Non formosus erat, sed erat facundus Ulysses
Et tamen aequoreas torsit amore Deas.

Ulysses, though not beautiful, the love
Of Goddesses by eloquence could move.

And the rough covenanting Principal of the University of Glasgow, alluding to
Strafford's eloquence, confesses that " With the more simple sort, especially the
ladies, he gained daily much." May and Baillie, excellent judges of human nature,
VOL II. K

130 HISTORY AND TKIAL OP

eloquence which melted his auditors, and even disturbed the
hearts of those who were watchful over their prey, and contem-
plated on the axe they had prepared for their victim.

A writer of that day, no admirer of Strafford, was so deeply
agitated at the EarPs last powerful appeal to his peers, and to
the pubhc, that he acknowledges that Strafford was one of the
most wonderful actors he had ever seen ; he ascribes the affect-
ing breaks in his speech, all the tenderness of his domestic
emotions, and the confusions of his thoughts in the pause and
forgetfulness of what he had to say — all this he ascribes to the
arts and practices of an accomplished orator. Few orators,
however, have drawn reluctant tears down the cheeks of their
persecutors. When this " great actor" threw out these pathetic
appeals to the domestic feelings of his auditors, they flowed
from that sacred fountain of all true feelings, the heart of the
man who uttered them — his lips trembled, and his eyes moistened
with his own eloquence.

We may indeed ascribe to that discipline of the mind which
Strafford had habitually practised, the promptness of his replies,
his luminous statements, the force of his arguments, and that
imperturbable calm amidst the distractions of the crowd and
the malignity of lawyers, when his life at times seemed to be
hanging on the thread he himself was to weave. This self-
possession, those " gathered thoughts" and government of his
mind, we may indeed consider as the practical results of his
former studies.

Some modern statesmen may smile at the previous studies of
this great minister. Certainly, the Earl of Strafford did not
derive his greatness from the mere exercise of his power. Unre-
mitting industry in his ofl&cial duties was one of his characteris-
tics, but he had once practised another sort of diligence, in
disciplining his mind by severe studies. He had long accus-
tomed himself, before perusing some eloquent writer in English,
French, or Latin, to compose on the subject in his own manner,
and then, by comparing his own production with the one which
had suggested it, to fertilise his own barrenness, or to prune his

whose own bosoms were heated by political passions, seem to have forgot that these
had not yet contaminated the softer bosoms open to more generous emotions than
their own. ,

THE EAEL OP STRAPFOED. 131

own luxuriances by the more perfect production of tliat writer
who had composed more at leisure and for glory.

At this moment, the Archbishop, who lay in the Tower, was
forgotten ! The result of every day's trial furnished the preva-
lent conversation, or controversy, in every company; and the
Court ladies were not less deeply engaged than their grave lords
in taking notes, and arguing in the confusion of words, whether
the fundamental laws of the kingdom had been subverted, or
only diverted in their course, by the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland.
Another party would maintain that misdemeanours, though
never so many, could not make one treason, unless one of them
had been treason in its own nature ; and a third would assert, as
Strafford did, that a hundred misdemeanours could not make
one felony, nor a hundred felonies one treason, being a crime of
a different kind. Others would ask, as Pym asked, what use
were his Parliaments without Parliamentary freedom ? "What
praise was due to him for making good laws in Ireland, if he
made his own will above all law ?

The trial of the Earl of Strafford is well known, by the folio
volume of Rushworth. Among many heavy charges of severe
measures and arbitrary rule,* many were drawn from hasty and
unqualified language ; many expressions were asserted to have
been misconceived; some were reports of reports, and, as the
honest Scotchman in his journal describes them, " chamber and

* The most arbitrary persecution was that of Lord Mountnorris, to whom
evidently Strafford bore a strong personal dislike, though he had formerly indulged
a close intercourse with him. Mountnorris from a very humble station rose to be
a Viscount, but his manners were sordid, petulant, and troublesome. For these he
suffered too heavily. It is not the object cf this note to enter into any inquiry con-
cerning this affair. It may be worth a word to defend our illustrious Hume from
one of the unjust and hasty strictures of Mr. Brodie. Hume notices that Mount-
non-is was a man of infamom character. Mr. Brodie observes that Hume " gives
no authority whatever, and that it is perfectly clear to me that he had no other than
the character from Lord Clarendon, and the reader will be able to judge how far he
has kept to it," iii. 69. It is indeed true that no such term as " infamous " is
applied to Mountnorr-is by Clarendon. But Hume recollected that Mountnorris is
also described by Strafford in a letter " as one extremely given to good fellowship,
who sat up all night to play for large sums, very meanly pursuing his advantage
upon young noblemen and gentlemen not so good gamesters as himself," i. 403.
Mr. Brodie, who appears at times to have written in haste, has himself furnished
this very passage in his following page. There is a comfort in Mr. Brodie's work,
if carefully read ; it is, that many parts will be found to correct others.

K 2

133 HISTORY AND TRIAL OP

table-discourse, flim-flams, and fearie-fairies." The remarkable
language which, when it was first delivered to the House of
Commons, had kindled their spirit, that " they should find the
little finger of the King's prerogative heavier than the loins of
the law,'' was asserted by the prisoner to have been inverted ;
Straff'ord declaring that the little finger of the law would be
heavier than the loins of the prerogative — besides that the
observation applied to a circumstance of itself innocent, while
the witness had placed it to another which might seem criminal.
Incidents long passed — conversations forgotten — and the equity,
or the iniquity, of many of his acts of government called in
question, were so many charges heaped on the head of this
poHtical victim. To all these he was compelled to find an imme-
diate answer. Sometimes he implored leave to retire to recollect
himself, but this was denied, and half an hour only was allowed
in the open Court, amidst the incessant din of voices and the
tumultuous movements of a crowd. As soon as his adversary
had closed his charge, Straff'ord would turn his back to the
Lords, and abstracting himself from the confusion around,
assisted by his secretaries, read his notes, and wrote or dictated
his observations. Composed of such hasty materials, Straftbrd
delivered his eloquent defence. Baillie acknowledges that " he
oft triumphed that they alleged crimes against him which they
were not able to make good."

As the trial proceeded, the life of Straff'ord seemed in no peril
from his accusers.* The great object of the Earl was to ward
off the blow of treason ; and that he succeeded in this respect is
evident by the extraordinary and desperate conduct the enemies
of Straff'ord afterwards adopted to obtain their purpose. There
are eloquent passages in his defence, which perpetuate the sym-
pathy which they excited in the hour of his agony. It is said
that at some of our public schools parts of his speech have served
for the practice of declamation. f He has described the cruelty

• It evidently was the public opinion that Strafford would clear himself from all
the heavy charges. This we gather from an impartial witness, the illustrious
Grotius, who gives this intelligence to his brother, in a letter dated March 30, 1641.

+ It is to be regretted that we do not possess a corrected copy of this far-famed
speech or oration. It appears differently in Whitelocke, Rushworth, and in the
State Trials, Does a well-authenticated copy exist ? A critical editor, blessed with
the right feeling, might still supply a more genuine copy than any, by melting the

THE EARL OF STRAFFORD. 133

of retailing familiar conversations, accidental expressions, and
idle rumours to criminate a man : —

" If words spoken to friends in familiar discourse, spoken in
one's chamber, spoken at one's table, spoken in one's sick bed,
spoken, perhaps, to gain better reason, to give himself more
clear light and judgment, by reasoning ; if these things shall be
brought against a man as treason, this, under favour, takes away
the comfort of all human society ; by this means we shall be
debarred from speaking, the principal joy and comfort of society,
with wise and good men, to become wiser, and better our lives.
If these things be strained to take away life and honour, and all
that is desirable, it will be a silent world ; a city will become a
hermitage, and sheep will be found amongst a crowd and press
of people, and no man shall dare to impart his solitary thoughts
or opinions to his friend and neighbour/'

Thus he who was accused of straining an inquisitorial power
to silence the free thoughts of others, could pathetically plead
for that liberty which he himself had denied; and now a
criminal at the bar, in his own person offered a terrible example
of the remorseless cruelty of misinterpreting, misquoting, and
misapplying the words of another, to torture them into treason.

When the business was proceeding unfavourably to the real
purpose of the prosecutors, a considerable difference arose be-
tween the two Houses. The Committee of the Lower House,
in order to render one of their charges more effectual than it
turned out to be, were desirous of procuring additional evidence
• — while the Earl craved the same liberty for himself, having
other testimonies in his favour. This, Glyn the lawyer loudly
protested against, inferring from this request that " the prisoner
at the bar presumed to prescribe to the Commons." The Lords
deemed it reasonable. On this they shouted, " Withdraw !
withdraw!" The Commons furiously rose, and standing up
with their hats on, " they cocked their beavers in the King's
sight." The House broke up in tumult and dismay, without
even adjourning the Court. Strafford sHpped away in his barge,

present copies into one, taking from each the most felicitous expressions and the
most forcible conceptions. We may be certain that such must be the most genuine,
for the reporters of that day had neither the talent nor the disposition to improve
the speeches they imperfectly took down.

134 HISTORY AND TEIAL OF

glad to be gone lest lie should be torn to pieces — the Lords
withdrew — and the King went home in sadness and silence.
In the afternoon the Commons violently resolved to bring in a
bill of Attainder. This was on a Saturday ; Sunday was passed
in terror by the town, who augured a final separation between
the two Houses ; and it cannot be denied that the public feeling
was a sort of political second-sight, whose melancholy vision
was hastening the sad catastrophe on which they were medi-
tating. Some of the Members of the Commons declared they
would draw up a bill of Attainder against the Earl as well as
every lord who adhered to his cause — they would not pause till
they had obtained his execution. Monday was spent in a con-
ference between both Houses, for this discussion had suspended
the trial in Westminster-hall. On this occasion there were yet
remaining some of the nobility, who addressed the Commons
in the lofty spirit of the aristocracy. These, it is said, told the
Members of the Lower House that '' it was an unnatural motion
for the head to be governed by the tail ; that rebellion was as
hateful as treason; that the same blood that ennobled their
ancestors ran still in their veins, and therefore they would not
be suppressed by a popular faction.^^* Probably, for the last
time, the Committee of the House of Commons seemed to give
way to the Lords ; or rather in the present case were not hardy
enough to maintain the glaring injustice of denying the prisoner
the power of self-defence.

The evidence indeed had fallen far short of involving Strafford
in a capital crime, as he himself had anticipated. It was also
clear that the Lords would not join in pronouncing an illegal
condemnation of death. The Commons dreaded that their great
victim of state should escape from their grasp, whose immola-
tion they had vowed to their Scottish friends, and by whose
blood they proposed to open their meditated revolution.

It was then that an extraordinary incident, the subtle con-
trivance of Pym, practising on the dormant vengeance of the
Vanes, took all parties by surprise. The Secretary of State,

* Thus Echard in his useful compilation. Though he usually does little more
than transcribe from his originals, yet he never gives his authorities. I have not
discovered whence he drew this lofty style of the aristocracy. Baillie is my authority
for the picturesque passions of the Commons.

THE EAEL OP STKAFFOKD. 135

Sir Henry Vane, the father, had long been irreconcileably
indisposed against the Earl. Among minor causes of personal
dislike, Strafford in assuming the title of the Barony of Rabr,
the castle being the seat of the Vanes, had inflicted a wanton
insult on the Secretary, who had not been without hopes himself
of acquiring that cherished title.* There existed other irrita-
tions against Strafford, who had treated Vane with levity. But
the caution and fears of a weak man had taught Sir Henry to
suppress his indignation while Strafford was in power. Even
after. Vane hesitated to be an informer, or an accuser against
the great man, for the Secretary's views did not extend beyond
the horizon of the Court. This personal antipathy, however,
probably influenced the evidence he gave. Some advice of the
Earl at a Cabinet-councU for the transport of the Irish army,
Sir Henry understood was designed for England, to reduce the
country to obedience. No other Privy-Counsellor present con-
firmed this deposition. The subject of discussion was, whether ^
to maintain an offensive or a defensive war, and related to
Scotland, and not England ; his ear, as he declared, had caught
the relative that kingdom, referring to Scotland, for this king-
dom, which would have referred to England. His first recol-
lection was, however, so imperfect, that he declined to accuse
Strafford with the charge in hand. At another time, on a
second recollection, preluding with a formal declaration of his
love of truth, he rather improved the meaning — ^but it required
a third opportunity for Pym to extract from no unwilKng wit-
ness what he desired. Strafford argued against this heavy
charge, that Sir Henry Vane was an incompetent witness —
that he could not remember the words but at the third time —
that words might be like in sound and differ in sense — ^that no
such project which he had supposed had ever been proposed, for
which Strafford appealed to the whole Council — and finally the

* This assamption of a title which gave such offence to another person, is clearly
stated by Heylin in his anonymous observations on Hamon L'Estrange's " Reign of
King Charles," a small volume curious and scarce. ** Sir Henrj- Vane had obtained
of the King not long before the Manor of Raby in the Bishoprick of Durham, not
without hope of being made Baron of that place. The Lord Lieutenant deriving
his descent from the Nevils, Earls of Westmoreland, whose honorary- seat that was,
procured hunself to be created Baron of Raby in those letters patent by which he
was invested with the Earldom of Strafford," p. 228. Heylin.

136 HISTORY AND TRIAL OF

Earl took a legal exception, that no one could be arraigned for
the crime of treason on a single testimony, which the law
required to be attested by two sufficient witnesses.

It was then Pym broached a dangerous legal paradox, that
" several concurring circumstances make one witness as eflfectual
as two." And, therefore, to give Sir Henry Vane's single evi-
dence the competency of two witnesses, Pym opened a piece of
secret history, that he might be enabled to produce as compe-
tent evidence a certain document, which bore on it$ face the
ugly feature of violated confidence.

Sir Henry Vane the younger was of a bolder temper than his
father ; he had long been in close intercourse with Pym and the
patriotic party. On the occasion of the son's marriage — so was
the tale told to the Commons — the father being absent, sent the
son the keys of his secret drawers at Whitehall to look for some
title-deeds. The young patriot and the future mystic, indulged
his statesman-like curiosity in ransacking all the state-secrets so
carelessly confided by the Secretary, and in a red velvet cabinet
he found, so he said, a paper of rough notes which his father had
taken of a Cabinet Council. They were entitled " Notes taken
at the Juncto,'' or as elsewhere marked, " No danger of a war
with Scotland if offensive, not defensive."* These were in fact
rough heads of notes of a debate in Council, consisting of frag-

* How are we to account for the difference between these notes, as they appear
in the Earl of Manchester's Memoirs, in Nalson,ii. 208, and in Whitelocke's Memo-
rials. It is more remarkable that such an extraordinary incident as the scene
between the Vanes should not have been preserved by Rushworth, that assiduous
collector. Did he consider the absurdity as well as cruelty of Pym's argument, as
not honourable to his masters the Commons ? Rushworth has also silently passed
over the case of Lord Loftus, which we only know from Clarendon, and where cer-
tain private letters of Strafford to his lady, not designed for the eyes of a third
person, were brought into Court. These are but a few of the castrations and volun-
tary omissions of the Clerk of the Commons.

I have had frequent occasions to detect the incorrect state of many of our his-
torical documents, or State-papers as they are called, owing, 1 suppose, to the hasty
carelessness of our early transcribers, who gave them rather in their own way than
in the exact state in which they found them. I took great pains to copy from the
autograph letter of Lord Carleton the paper found in Fulton's hat, and which had
been variously given to the world. I lis Lordship's letter was sent to the Queen,
and yet he gave this paper, which ho pretends to have transcribed, very incorrectly,
as now appears by the identical paper itself, which I have examined in the autograph
collections of Mr. Upcott, and which Dr. Lingard has recently pubhshed.

THE EAEL OF STRAFFOED. 137

ments of sentences. It was doubted by some whether the
Secretary ever did take notes at the board, the King having
desired that all notes of Cabinet Councils should be destroyed,
that opinions not adopted should never appear against their
advisers. " This paper," as the Earl of Manchester notices in
his memoirs, " either from his own curiosity, or his father^s
direction, he opens and reads, and hastens to Pym with great
expressions of a troubled mind, not knowing what way to clear
himself betwixt the discharge of his duty to the* Commonwealth
and his faithfulness to his father." * The younger Vane could
not have applied to any one who with greater facility could ease
his scruples, Pym takes a copy of the notes, and promising a
tender care for the son^s reputation and the father^s security,
the original is replaced in the velvet cabinet, and the father
knows nothing of the late abstraction. To complete the imper-
fect and confused evidence of the elder Vane, Pym unexpectedly
brings forward a transcript of these notes which concurred with
the particular charge the Secretary had after his two former
hesitations Avitnessed against Strafford. No originals could be
produced, as they were declared by the father to have been
destroyed in pursuance of the King's desire. At the same time
the father considered that the copy which Pym had just delivered
in, was " like those notes." f The point now pressed was that

* Such pieces of secret history are often told differently by the parties concerned ;
there is gi-eat art in turning a tale. In the present instance, to infer that there was
no premeditated plot, it is stated that Pym visited the younger Vane during a
severe indisposition, when the paper of notes was produced ; that Pym insisted on
taking a copy. It was some time afterwards, when the elder Vane's testimony was
considered incomplete, that Pym then produced this copy as a substitute for the
original. Mr. Brodie is my sole authority for this statement respecting « the severe
indisposition " of the yoimger Vane, and his " reluctance " in suffering Pym to take
a copy. (Brodie, iii. 91.) Even Oldmixon doubts not that " all this was theatrical,
and the notes were taken to do Strafford a good turn some time or other, and the
key was sent on purpose to have this paper found among others." And concludes,
"it is no matter how we came by them," (166, 167.) It would have been scarce
credible that history in our own times could have been composed in this manner,
had not Oldmixon furnished his extraordinary specimen of party-writing, and his
fierce vulgarity, through all the solemnity of a large folio.

t Sir Philip Warwick calls these notes, what probably the original was, " Sir
Henry Vane's blotting and blundering paper." We see even by Sir Henry's third
extorted testimony, that he only considered Pym's copy " hke those notes," a most
vague mode of authenticating it ! Mr. Brodie, here the advocate of a very wealj
cause, labours to colour the want of recollection in Vane by recriminating on " the

138 HISTORY AND TRIAL OP

since Sir Henry Vane believed that the present was a true
copy, his former written testimony, and his present evidence
amounted to the validity of two witnesses, which are legally
required to prove an act of treason. This extravagant position,
that one person could become two witnesses, was not rejected by
the Commons !

A remarkable scene now opened between the father and the
son. The younger Vane rose apparently in great trouble, as if
this discovery had for ever lost him his father's confidence, and
with that air of earnest enthusiasm, which afterwards stamped
such a singularity on all his proceedings, he cast himself on the
compassion of the House to pardon this trespass on his natural
parent, and to recollect that he had acted from his abundant
zeal for their common cause. All this while the father sternly
looking on his son, declared that he now too clearly saw the
unhappy object who had been the source of his troubles in those
pressing interrogatories to which he had been put to the torture.
However, he did not deny that the copy was as good as the
original. The House, thus taken by surprise, admiring this
conflict of feeling between the father and the son, and more the
conscience of the youthful patriot, " a very gracious youth,'' as
the Scottish Covenanter designates him, they interfered to
reconcile them. But long after, in public, they appeared to act
separately and in opposition to each other. The old courtier,
the Secretary, retained his office, lifting up his hands and his
voice against the hardier proceedings of his son, who proved
afterwards so remarkable a personage in the approaching revo-
lution ; but we cannot doubt that he secretly hugged himself
that the Vanes at last had struck their vindictive blow at the
great man in whose presence he had not dared even to imagine
those thoughts of revenge, which lay rankling in his soul, for
contempt so long endured.

memories of the other witnesses of the Privy Council, which continued incurable to
the last." How could the other members recollect what Vane had misconceived,
namely, that the Irish army was dcsigiicd to bo transported to England, and not to
Scotland. I do not deny that when the Irish army had conquered the Scottish, the
patriots in England would have been endangered. Mr. Brodie also urges that " the
previous want of recollection in Vane proves that he had no understanding with tiie
prosecutors." It is very possible that Vane the father might have found himself
entrapped by the infidelity of bis son, and the subtilty of Pym.

THE EAEL OF STRAFFOKD. 139

We have every reason to believe with. Clarendon that the
whole scene had been preconcerted between the Vanes and
Pym — and the political juggle was played off with all the delu-
sion so grateful to those who look to be deceived. Vane the
father^ on various occasions, proved to be a faithless or an inept
servant to Charles, and was at last expelled. He went over a
proselyte to that party among whom his son was to act so con-
spicuous a part, but no change of party could elevate his spirit.
His natural abjectness having crept into a bolder line of conduct,
quite alien from his character, through the instigation of his
aspiring son, the Secretary lived at last to be contemned by all
men, and to endure that heaviest curse of bustling ineptitude
and unprincipled selfishness — ^the contempt of his own child.

Strafford was still reserved before he withdrew from the bar
to the block, to listen to the two speeches of Pym and St. John.
These are both memorable. Baillie considered that "the King
never heard a lecture of so free language against his idolised
prerogative :" yet the speech of Pym, divested of its personal
rancour, is not so democratic but that every constitutional Eng-
lishman at this moment would assent to many passages of its
condensed and masculine eloquence. It is worthy of our obser-
vation that the orators of every party, when laying down the
principles of the British Constitution, agree in substance, and
even in words. The Earl of Strafford delivered himself in a style
as constitutional as Pym. It is only in the application of the
principles, or in that mental reservation which party advocates
permit themselves, or in the different associations of ideas on
general terms, that we discover the fallacy of principles and the
ambiguity of words.

An interesting incident occurred which interrupted the
speech of Pym, but which does not appear as the speech is
printed in Eushworth. The close of Pym's speech is a cruel
personal invective ; he labours from the depth of his imagina-
tion to aggravate the pretended crime of treason — he says,
alluding to Strafford, his death '^will not be a new way of
blood ; there are marks enough to trace this law to the very
original of this kingdom, and if it hath not been put into execu-
tion, as he (Strafford) allegeth, these two hundred and forty
years, it was not for want of law, but that, all that time hath not

140 HISTORY AND TRIAL OF

bred a man bold enough to commit such crimes as these — he i
the only man that in so long a time hath ventured upon such :
treason as this."

It must have been, we may imagine, at this passage that thi
illustrious prisoner, raising his head, fixed his disdainful an*
indignant glance on the orator — and it convulsed the speaker'
whole frame. Pym betrayed a sudden confusion — his memor
deserted him — his hands trembled over his papers — he could n
longer find either ideas or notes* — and he abruptly closed hi
speech. " To humble the man, God let his memory fail him i
little before the end,'* observes Pym's warm eulogist the Scottisl
Covenanter.

Strafford indeed often displayed all the silent expression o
eloquent gesture. His glance quickly discovered what wa
passing in his mind ; and his motions seemed often a commen
on the living text.

Unquestionably Strafford had obtained the secret suffrages o
the Lords by his forceful appeals to their better feelings, and b;
enlightening their political wisdom; and the party who wen
athirst for his blood, were more than once in despair. Th(
great lawyers, such illustrious names as Selden, Holbom, an(
Bridgeman, had declared that there was no law of treason whicl
could reach Strafford. The Commons basely degraded them
selves in a debate by menacing those lawyers who dared t(
plead for that person whom they accused of high treason. f The^
actually prosecuted and sent to the Tower the Counsellor Jeffrey
Palmer, some time afterwards, not for not urging his points witl
all possible force, but for the decency and respect with which h(
had treated " the wicked Earl," as Pym called Strafford. Sucl

* It is maliciously observed by Nalson that the famous reply of Tym to the Earl'
defence was " not an extempore product of his parts and abilities." Nalson t0(
notices that Pym " fell into a great disorder and confusion, and pulled out a pape
to refresh his memory, which occasioned one of the noblest auditors to smile." I
certainly does not detract from the merits of a speech to be delivered to the publii
that the speaker had premeditated it : it would be better that many were so. Wi
may wish that Nalson had been more explicit on the cause of the confusion of ideai
and the abrupt close of Pym's speech.

t Clarendon, in noticing this fact, adds, " This matter was too gross to receivi
any public order, and so the debate ended — but it was no doubt their intention t(
let those gentlemen know how warily they incurred the anger of that terrible con
gregation." i. 394.

THE EAEL OP STRAFFORD. 141

are the passions of Parliament ! The revolutionary tribunal of
France hardly offers an act of more injustice.

The dark and the sullen St. John, in opposition to his more
eminent brothers, now came forward with his "Argument of
Law," to satisfy the scruples of those members, for many had
actually left them, who might oppose the fatal bill of attainder.
In a speech of three hours, replete with the curious erudition of
cases of treason, as if still doubtful whether the dusty volumes
of a law-library might fail in convincing his auditors, our lawyer
argued from the Lex talionis, and introduced his famous bar-
barous comparison — " He that would not have others to have a
law, why should he have any himself ? It 's true we give law to
hares and deer because they be beasts of chase, but it was never
accounted either cruelty or foul play to knock foxes and wolves
on the headj as they can be found, because these be beasts of
prey." Such was the spirit that hunted down the fallen Minister !
Strafford silently betrayed his deep attention, and often, by the
solemn elevation of his hands and eyes to Heaven, he appealed
against the merciless State-Advocate. The indignant emotions
of the great man were the only reply the Court could not refuse
him, to the invective of this " Law-Argument," which lasted so
long, that nothing more was heard on that day. These emotions
were not the less dignified nor the less affecting ; the auditors of
St. John were the spectators of Strafford ; his silent gestures had
so deeply penetrated their hearts, that a contemporary historian
regrets that the pathos of his action could not be preserved from
oblivion, as well as that other eloquence whose immortality
makes posterity the auditors of Strafford.

The Commons hurried the ferocious bill of attainder through
their House, by a second reading in one day. On the third
reading. Lord Digby forcibly opposed it, and some of the most
illustrious names in our legal history protested against it. Lord
Digby, the son of the Earl of Bristol — that extraordinary and
accomplished man, who had all along proceeded with the popular
party, and had wound himself into all the secrets of its leaders —
on a sudden, and as Clarendon tells us, " before he was so much
as suspected," * left them, as Digby said, " at the final sentence
unto death or life of a great Minister of State." He did not

* Clarendon Papers, iii. Suppt. liii.

142 HISTOllY AND TRIAL OP

hesitate to declare that he contiDued the same in his opinions
that the Earl of StraflPord was a most dangerous minister, insup-
portable to free subjects — his rare abilities had only aggravated
his practices — Strafford was the grand Apostate of the Common-
wealth, who must expect no pardon in this world till he be
dispatched to the other — but, " as my conscience stands/' added
I^igby, " my hand must not be to that dispatch."

Digby, when he consented to Strafford's accusation, had been
assured by Pym that the notes of Sir Henry Vane would prove
his treason ; but a transcript of disjointed fragments, of which
even the original did not exist, containing only " the venomous
parts of speech,'' could be of no use but to bring men into danger.
At first the Secretary positively denied the charge about the
Irish army — pressed a second time, he seemed doubttul — yet
he who upon oath would not remember, might well on the third
time misremember, where the difference of a letter, here for
there, and that for this, quite alters the case.

" God keep me from giving judgment of death on any man
upon a law made a posteriori ; let the mark be set on the door
where the plague is, and then let him that would enter, die.

" Let every man lay his hand upon his heart, and sadly con-
sider what we are going to do — with a breath either justice or
murder — the danger being so great, and the cause so doubtful,
that I see the best lawyers in diametrical opposition concerning
it. Let every man wipe his heart as he does his eyes when he
-would judge of a nice and subtle subject.

" Away with personal animosities, away with all flatteries to
the people, in being the sharper against him because he is odious
to them ; away with all fears lest, by the sparing of his blood,
they may be incensed ; away with all such considerations as that
it is not fit for a Parliament that one accused by it of treason
should escape with life."

Digby is accused of volatility of character, but he surely
delivered himself on this occasion with earnestness. As for
the speaker and the speech, the one with difficulty escaped
being sent to the Tower, and the other was honoured by being
condemned to the flames. His old party was so enraged, that
they would gladly have prepared a block for his head as deter-
minedly as they had decided on one for Strafford. The House

THE EAKL OF STRAFFORD. 143

expelled Digby. Those who had intimidated the lawyers who
offered to plead for the prisoner, and at last would not reply to
the legal argument of Lane, the EarFs Advocate, assigning this
curt reason, that " it was below their dignity to contend with a
private lawyer,^^ in the same " public spirit^* decided that none
of their own Members should be allowed to differ from them-
selves ! It must be confessed that those who were advocating
the cause of public Kberty, were violating all personal freedom ;
and, to say the least, were as partial to the practices of arbitrary
government^ and even to tyranny itself, as he whom they had
condemned.

This memorable trial, which had opened on the 22nd of
March, closed, as far as the evidence, on the 13th of April, but
these charges not amounting to a capital conviction, it became
necessary to urge their arguments on legal points, but on the
30th of April the trial was abruptly interrupted by the bill of
Attainder.

One party asserts that the Commons suddenly declined the
prosecution by Trial from a failure in the evidence, but the
Parliamentarians insist that the votes of the Lords on two par-
ticular charges, that of billeting soldiers and another, had suffi-
ciently convicted the Earl of treason without any need of their
bill of Attainder. Thus, on their own showing, their illegal
and anomalous violence was a gratuitous exercise of the worst
tyranny. To obviate the odium of this conduct, an artful reason
has been alleged. The Commons resolved to make the King
as judge a party in it ; and though the common way of process
would have convicted Strafford capitally, as they assume, yet
then the King would have been passive only in his punishment ;
but they had resolved that he should be a participator in the
condemnation of death, in terror to all future evil counsellors.*
Such is one of those insolent avowals of a party, when, to extri-
cate themselves from being implicated in one heavy charge,
they have the effrontery to assign another motive, which, though
it gives a different turn to the circumstance, is not inferior to
it in baseness. Were that true, which is denied, that the
Commons could have convicted Strafford capitally, without
having recourse to their bill of Attainder, their present

* Oldmixon, 169.

i41< niSTOllY AND TlllAL OF

proceeding was only a personal persecution of their unfortunate
monarch.

The truth is more manifest than the evidence of party- writers
on either side. Long before this trial a formidable party in the
Commons had decided on the public execution of the Minister.
The Scots were implacable, for Strafford's decision respecting
them was well known ; and their army was now maintained by
'* the brotherly assistance" of the Scottised English, who were
at once their masters and servants. So intimate was the mutual
dependance ! The immolation of their arch-adversary, the
Minister of Charles, was a bond of blood which was to seal this
dark and secret alliance.

That this public execution had been resolved on appears as
early as the 2nd of April, long before the first part of this trial
had closed. The famous Wariston confided to his Scottish
correspondent. Lord Balmerino, the settled scheme. Wariston,
the great head of the Covenanters, was deep in the secrets
of his English friends. The whole passage is remarkable.
" Strafford's business is but yet in the fifteenth article. The
Lower House, if they see that the King gains many of the
Upper House not to condemn him, will make a bill of teinturej^
and condemnation formally in their own House, and send it up
to their House as any other Act of Parliament, to be voiced
(voted) formally." Twenty days afterwards, on the 22nd of
April, he writes exultingly, " The Lower House has given up
their bill (delivered) — grown in daily strength — We have
Strafford's life ! They are thinking on monies for us. Lord,
encourage and direct them ! "

During the progress of the trial, the Commons appear to have
discovered that public opinion, when not under the guidance of
party, and even that of their own supporters, was more divided
than ever. A month had elapsed, and little had been gained
by their " accumulative evidence" and their " constructive trea-
son j" and now, since their proofs did not amount to legal
evidence, they determined on a legislative power; at once
decreeing Strafford guilty of treason, every one might eagerly

* Dah'ymple's Memorials, 117. So Wariston ^t^gW^ Attainder ; a plain proof that
tliough he relished the thing, the Scotch lawyer was not acquainted with the word.
Or is this the term in Scotch law ?

THE EAKL OF STEAFFOKD. 145

vote for the execution of tlie~ attainted man, without requiring
any further testimony than his own vote.

This doubtless hastened the bill of Attainder, which bears
the indelible stamp of that perturbation with which it was
framed. After it was brought to the Lords, it languished in
the Upper House, for few of the Peers were disposed to consent
to a verdict of death on the illustrious state-prisoner, who,
though not blessed with many friends among his Peers, stood,
however, strangely condemned for a capital crime of a novel
and uncertain treason ; the unheard-of treason of a post-facto
law, so that that was made treason in the case of Strafford
which could not have been treason at the time it was done ;
and whose conviction was considered so anomalous, even by the
Commons themselves, that they had providently introduced a
proviso that their act should not be held as a precedent in after- ^
times.

This extraordinary clause has proved a sore point with the
Anti-Straffordians. From the first it was considered by most
persons who trusted to their common sense, that it must stand
as a perpetual evidence of their injustice. It is obvious that
the Commons never intended to have stigmatised their own bill
— and it has, therefore, been attempted to explain away the
monstrous absurdity of the declaration, that the Act of one
Parliament should never be a precedent for another. I shall
throw into a note a remarkable specimen of the length to
which party-purposes may drive some who dishonour any which
they join.*

* The present instance of literary depravity would be difficult to parallel unless
we search for others in the same writer of history. Oldmixon gives as from Rush-
worth the following passage : « This Proviso hath occasioned the common discourse
and opinion that the judgment against the Earl was enacted never to be drawn into
precedent in Parliament, whereas it expressly respects only judges in inferior courts."
Rushvvorth by a marginal note marked the mysterious proviso, but he offered no
explanation whatever. All that here appears in italics is an interpolation of Old-
mixon, who, blending his own explanation with Rushworth's note, to a careless
reader it becomes authenticated. Oldmixon took the notion from Wellwood, who
affects to call the general opinion " a silly mistake, which has gained some credit in
the world, but it relates only to Judges and inferior courts, who, notwithstanding
the present act, shall not adjudge or interpret any treason in any other manner than
they should have done before the making of this act." It is extraordinary that this
explanation, which explains nothing, could be adopted by successive writers of the
same political school. The state of the question remains unaltered : they, the Com-
VOL. II. I^

146 HISTORY AND TRIAL OP

Hitherto the King throughout the trial of Strafford had pre-
served a silence as deep as his sorrows. Every morning was
Charles seen in the trellised cabinet reserved for him half an
hour earher than the Lords. There sate the pensive and dejected
monarch often occupied in taking notes. Though constitu-
tionally absent, the idea that his personal presence would ani-
mate his unfortunate minister, or at least testify to him the
deep anxiety of his royal master, probably led to this unremit-
ting attention. Charles and the Queen never returned to their
palace, as Henrietta assured Madame de Motteville, without
aching hearts, and often in tears.

At this crisis, Charles for the first time in this eventful cause
was induced to appear openly in it. The King addressed the
Parhament from the throne. He confided to them his secret
and oppressed feelings. He implored them to spare his con-
science in this awful trial. He had never intended to have
spoken on this business, and had they proceeded according to law,

mons, declared that the act which themselves had done should not be considered as
a precedent. Yet this mystifying explanation has been repeated by Mrs. Macaulay ;
but as if she were not quite satisfied with it) she draws from her alembic a more
rectified spirit, asserting that " this decree of the Commons shows a very laudable
attention to;[the preservation of public liberty." (ii. 454.) Mr. Brodie tells us that
*' it is an unusual clause in a bill pro re natd, that it should not be drawn into a
precedent, as a proper restraint upon the ordinary courts, to which alone it is
applicable." (ii. 130.) Mr. Brodie, no doubt, is a skilful lawyer, and may solve
historical and moral enigmas technically ; but to those who are apt, as Wellwood
says, to fall into " a silly mistake," or as Oldmixon explicitly calls it, " tliis general
error in the histories of disaffected authors," that is, authors who are not for striking
off people's heads for a party-purpose — our difficulties remain as great as ever.
Wo do not contemplate on two kinds of justice— the one for the nonce. Are there
two kinds of justice as well as courts ? Is that which is proclaimed to be treason in
the Higher Court not allowed to be so in the Inferior i

Our last philosophical historian on this topic has more deeply penetrated into the
designs of the actors in the present scene. Mr. Ilallam has said nothing on Well-
wood's explanation, but I believe he has assigned the real motive of this obscure
and ridiculous proviso in the bill of Attainder. " It seems to have been introduced
in order to quiet the apprehensions of some among the Peers who had gone gi-eat
lengths with the Government, and were astonished to find that their obedience to
the King could be turned into treason against him." (i. 566.)

The truth seems to be, that the Commons, determined to accomplish their great
deed, in the heat of passion were entangled in difficulties — and got over them as well
as they could. Historians who write in the calm of leisure, appear sometimes to
forget that many important events have been transacted, not with the wisdom of
Legislators, or the purity of Patriots, but with the heated haste of Partisans.

THE EARL OP STEAFFORD. 147

the law should have taken its course, but by adopting the way
of attainder they had forced him to become a party in his quality
of judge. They well knew that he had been present from the
opening to the close of this great affair, and therefore he could
not pretend ignorance of what had occurred. He assured them
what no one could know so well as himself, that never had
Strafford suggested bringing over an Irish army into England
— nor to alter in the least any of the laws of England, much less
to alter all law itself. " I must tell you this, that I think no
body durst be ever so impudent to move me in it ; for if they
had, I should have put a mark upon them, and made them an
example to all posterity.

" I desire to be rightly understood. I cannot condemn him
of high treason, but I cannot say I can clear him of his misde-
meanour.— I do think my lord of Strafford is not fit hereafter
to serve me, or the commonwealth, in any place of trust, no not
so much as to be a constable.

" Find a way to satisfy justice and your own fears, but do not
press on my conscience. I have not so ill-deserved of the Par-
liament at this time that they should press me on this tender
point. I leave it to you, my Lords, to find some such way as to
bring me out of this great strait. Certainly he that thinks him
guilty of high-treason, may condemn him of misdemeanour.^^

Such was the speech Charles the First was induced to deliver
either to relieve his long harassed feelings or deceived by the
advice of others ; but whether he was mistaken, or had been
deceived, it is quite certain that he was in earnest. The apolo-
gists of Charles tell us that it was either a sinister project of the
enemies of Strafford, Bristol and Saville, to hasten the catas-
trophe, which is not probable, for neither of these lords were
present when it was voted, or the treacherous counsel of Lord
Say, who the King was now weak enough to imagine had become
his friend since his recent admission into place and power.*
Strafford himself protested against the King^s interposition, and
at once saw through all the mischief.

* Clarendon, sarcastically alluding to Lord Say, observes, " Those who believed
his will to be much worse than his understanding, had the uncharitableness to think
that he intended to betray his master, and put the ruin of the Earl out of question."
Father PhiUps, the Queen's Confessor, who was likely to be informed, also alludes
to Lord Say.

L 2

i

148 HISTORY AWD TRIAL OP

The Commons, who had already counted on their own tri-
umph when they saw the King still doubtful to act, were in no
temper to retrace their steps, but raising a more violent clamour
insisted that the royal interference, during the progress of a bill
in Parliament, forejudging their councils, had more openly
violated their privilege than ever !

All historians have censured, or lamented, the ill-timed
interposition of the King. In the humbled tone of supplication,
we perceive only the language of the heart, and all those dis-
tracted emotions which were still more evident in those two
fatal concessions, immediately to follow, when Charles, as if
insensible by despair, with an utter carelessness of self-preserva-
tion, signed the commission for the execution of Strafford against
" his conscience," * and that famous bill which hurried in a few
hours through the House, perpetuated the Parliament inde-
pendent of the King. An act by which the sovereign virtually
dethroned himself.

There was no political wisdom in the King's address from the
throne ; but whether he had delivered that speech, or remained
mute in despair, the result had been the same. The trial of the
Earl of Strafford, either from matter of fact, or matter of law,
was only assuming the forms of justice to perform an unjust act.
Ere his conviction was recorded, his doom had been sealed, for
the execution had been pronounced before the arraignment.

The secret history of this momentous period more deeply
interests us than almost any in our domestic annals ; the trial
of the King himself hardly exceeded it. The execution of
Strafford was but the precursor of that mighty and yet distant
event.

Here let us pause, to view the state of men's minds on the
trial of Strafford, and the secret causes which were at work,
hastening on his fate. Ireland had been ruled, and she called

* The remembrance of that act embittered his after days with the most melancholy
contrition. In a letter among the Harleian MSS. 6988, fol. 106, to the Queen,
Charles writes that " He had sinned against his conscience, for the truth is I was
surprised with it instantly after I made that base sinful concession concerning the
Earl of Strafford. I hope that God will accept of my hearty repentance." I quote
this as I have shown that Henrietta could not herself have advised Charles
an act which he has noticed to her in this manner, and which evidently shows that
the advice came from a different quarter.

THE EARL OF STEAFFORD. 149

that rule tyranny ; Scotland would have been conquered, and
she called it treason; England beheld a minister whom she
dreaded, as the vast instrument of the regal prerogative. The
fate of the great minister, whether he was to be snatched out of
the hands of the merciless who stood athirst for his blood, or
whether the state-victim was to bleed on the altar of the nation,
involved so many principles of policy, so many duties of moral
justice, and such sympathies of our common humanity, that it
was not only the King and his minister and the leaders of
Opposition who were at variance, the intense interest pervaded
the recesses of domestic life, and the opposite views of individuals
separated for ever in opinion and in act, the most ancient friend-
ships. Anecdotes recorded of independent men reveal the feel-
ings of the times. The members for Cornwall, neighbours and
friends, acting usually in concert, are an instance. Sir Bevil
Grenville begged his colleague. Sir Alexander Carew, not to
have a hand in this ominous business of the death of the Earl
of Strafford. Carew fiercely replied, " was I sure to be the next
man that should suffer upon the same scaffold, and with the
same axe, I would give my consent to the passing of the bill."
The Earl of Essex complained that he was weary of arguments.
After listening to Mr. Hyde, who would have saved the life of
the minister but have deprived him of all political power, the
Earl waived any farther discussion, and shaking his head,
exclaimed, " stone-dead hath no fellow." We may believe that
such honourable men were perfectly free on this occasion from
all participation of mere party -purposes, and yet we see how
opposite were their consciences. But this was an unhappy time
for consciences, since they talked much of a public and a private
one. There was a new doctrine, that the King is obliged to
conform himself and his own understanding to the advice and
conscience of his Parliaments ; or as Warburton clearly discri-
minates this invasion of the sovereign's veto, "it was taking
away the King's negative voice, and therefore this public con-
science was as absurd an idea as it was a wicked one."

The King had pleaded for his " conscience," but in that day
of political passion, and in that dark struggle of Prerogative and
Privilege, even men of the purest principles dreaded the one, and
feared to lose the other.

150 HISTORY AND TRIAL OF THE EARL OP STRAFFORD.

Could we enter into the Palace of Whitehall, observe its dis-
turbed movements, and penetrate into the cabinet of the afflicted
monarch, wavering in doubt and dismay; could we see the
House of Lords resisting the popular clamour till they flew from
their seats in terror; could we pass into the City and discover
a sudden irritation in the public mind, acted on by artifices till
then unpractised ; could we join the party of Pym, under his
secreting roof, where the Scottish Covenanters, Hampden among
them, held their conclaves and ratified their indissoluble covenant
— ^we should contemplate an unparalleled scene of the disturbed
state of a whole nation.

In some respects we are not unfurnished with certain outhnes
of these intrigues and manoeuvres on both sides ; and by con-
necting so many distinct but simultaneous movements, we may
form a tolerable conception of that secret history of this period
which otherwise we do not possess.

It is remarkable that when the Earl of Straff'ord, at the begin-
ning of his persecution, appeared among the people, this fallen
Minister was looked on with awe, and was courteously saluted,
both on his landing from the Tower and on his return.* As the
trial proceeded, the public opinion was oftener in favour of this
State-prisoner than against him; and, as we see by Grotius's
letter and by many other authorities,t candid and honourable
men had concluded that the Earl must stand acquitted of the
high charges of acts of treason. It is evident that the people
had not yet caught the contagious feelings of the ruling party.
In a few short weeks we discover the populace pushed on by
some unknown impulses, barbarously clamouring for Strafford's

* Some writers, and others, liad reported that at first the crowd had betrayed
their inveterate hatred of the Earl, and had declared that " if Strafford passed the
stroke of justice, they would tear him to pieces." This is positively denied by
Rushworth. « In this report, as in all others of this nature, more is thrust upon
the vulgar than they did justly deserve at this time." (viii. 42.)

t Very many, were it necessary to produce them. I shall however quote tiie
words of Baxter, a contemporary ; they take a comprehensive view of an important
topic. " Those that connived at these tumults were glad to see the people of their
mind in the main, and thought it would do much to facilitate their work and hold
the lower members to their cause ; for though the House was unanimous enough in
condemning ship-money and the Bishop's innovations, &c., yet it was long dmihtful
which side would have the major vote in tJi€ matter of the Earl of Strafford's death.
Baxter's Nan'ative, fol. 19.

i

THE ARTS OF INSURGENCY. 151

execution, and marcliing in open insurrection under the eye
of the Sovereign. We cannot account for this extraordinary-
change, unless we suppose that very extraordinary means had
been adopted to organise this mobocracy.

CHAPTEH XII.

THE ARTS OF INSURGENCY.

Lord Clarendon, in a curious narrative concerning that
extraordinary genius. Lord Digby, would insinuate that his
Lordship abandoned the party of Pym not only for " their des-
perate designs," as Clarendon stigmatises them, but from his
indignation at the artifices of faction which they practised. On
these his Lordship has taken this general view ; " The uninge-
nuity of their proceedings, and the foul arts they could give
themselves leave to use, to compass any thing they proposed to
do ', their method was first to consider what was necessary to be
done for some public end which might reasonably enough be
wished for that public end, and then to make no scruple of doing
any thing which might probably bring it to pass, let it be of what
nature it would.* This charge is heavy, and Clarendon is an
adversary; but justly has Dr. Lingard observed that ^^his asser-
tion seems to be fully supported by the facts." The description
of Clarendon may be considered as the secret principle of those
arts of insurgency tv hich we must ever regret were so ignobly
practised by the lofty advocates of freedom. It is this which has
sometimes clouded over with suspicion their integrity, and pol-
luted their patriotism with artifices which we only afterwards
discovered among the criminals of France. The political doc-
trine that the end sanctifies the means, is the casuistry of the
worst part of mankind, and is a principle which, while it allows
of every base and dishonourable act, will also include the bar-
barous crime of assassination.

The arts of insurgency practised by the popular party under
Pym, were very various, and, by the skill of their practice, seem

* Clarendon's State Papers, iii., Suppt. liii.

152 THE ARTS OE mSURGENCY.

to have been refined into a system. Their Scottish masters had
taught more than one successful lesson to their imitative pupils.
One of the most dexterous of these arts is that of marshalling a
troubled multitude, and inflaming the passions of the people whom
yet they control. Whenever the heats of the House seemed to
abatCj and patriotism loitered in the ardent course it had to run,
to strike a new terror in the Government, and spread dismay
among the members who had not embraced the designs of the
prevalent party, the mob which had triumphed at Edinburgh
seemed to have been transferred to the English metropolis. The
system was adapted to a larger scale, suitable to the magni-
tude of the theatre where the political drama was now to be
acted.

The PRESS no longer being under restraint, a people unac-
customed to its freedom would naturally riot in its licentious-
ness, and it swarmed with portentous pamphlets. Pamphlets
and tracts are the production of pohtical freedom and of an
agitated people. They never are more abundant than in dis-
turbed times, when men think what they list, and write what
they think, and all seem ready to govern, and none to obey. Of
the nations of Europe, our country long stood unrivalled for the
rapid succession of these busy records of men's thoughts — these
suggestions of their opposite interests and their eternal differences.
Of these leaves of the hour and volumes of the week, the labours
of the passions, the wisdom, or the folly of our countrymen, during
the Revolution of Charles the First, in that single period of twenty
years, from 1640 to 1660, about thirty thousand appear to have
started up. We have been a nation of pamphleteers. The
French, in their lie volution, which so often resembled our own
in its principles and its devices, could not avoid the same im-
pulse of instructing or corrupting their fellow-citizens ; but the
practice seemed to them so novel that a recent French biographer
designates an early period in the French Revolution as that one
when " the art of pamphlets had not yet reached perfection." *
The collection of the French revolutionary pamphlets now stands
by the side of the English tracts of the age of Charles the First ;
as abundant in number and as fierce in passion; rival monuments
which exist together, for the astonishment and the instruction of

• Mirabeau, Biog. Universelle, xxiv. 96.

I

THE AKTS OP INSURGENCY. 153

posterity, for whom they reveal so many suppressed secrets in the
history of man.*

The pamphlets of this time were usually directed to prepare
men's minds to the impending changes in the Church and State.
Charles the First, by his constant notice of these ensnaring
pamphlets, appears to have been most sensitive to these " poison-
ers of the minds of his weak subjects; — amazed by what eyea
these things are seen, and by what ears they are heard." He
answered the mightier pamphlets published by the Parliament
itself. " We are contented to let ourself fall to any oflBice that
may undeceive our people, and to take more pains this way by
our pen than ever king hath done." Charles was such an atten..
live observer of these pamphlets, that he once paid ten pounds
only for the perusal of one, which could not otherwise be pro^
cured. The custom now began of printing the speeches of the
leading members in the Commons, and sometimes by the order
of the House. Some of the speakers avowedly printed their own
speeches-t These fugitive leaves were every where dispersed and
every where eagerly read. Baxter, in the curious folio of his
autobiography, tells us they were " greedily bought up through^
out the land, which greatly increased the people's apprehension
of their danger." J I have seen some which doubtless recom-
mended themselves by bearing the authentic stamp of the well-
cut portrait in wood of the portly Pym, who then reigning with
absolute power, bore the nick-name of " King Pym." But it
seems that more were written than were pubhshed. Many
Royalist tracts remain in their manuscript state, no one caring
to print books out oi fashion, or having the courage to brave the
authority of the men in power ; and Nalson complains that the
speeches in favour of Episcopacy were so completely suppressed
or discouraged, that when he made his collection, but a few
years after, they were utterly lost, while those on the other side,
by passing into so many hands, were easily procured.

The Pulpit was a State-engine of not inferior magnitude to

* Most of the thirty thousand Enghsh tracts were collected by the order of
Charles the First, and became the gift of George the Third to our national library.
The French collection has been a recent acquisition.

f " Five speeches by Sir Benjamin Rudyard, printed according to his own true
copies, the former being absurdly false."

± Baxter's Narrative of his Life, fol. 18—1696.

154» THE AETS OP INSURGENCY.

the Press. The Presbyter and the Puritan had not always com-
plained unjustly of what they styled " Court-Divinity," incul-
cating, in the indissoluble alliance of devotion and politics, the
strictest conformity and the most passive obedience. In truth,
however, they themselves did not find these servile principles
irreconcilable with their own. Our Non-conformists only
aspired to change their direction ; for they insisted on as strict
conformity and as passive an obedience to themselves, in re-
modelling the mighty fabric of the Hierarchy and the Kingdom,
by the petty Calvinistical republic of their own Presbytery.

In London a new scene opened. Here the Scotch divines,
with rigid sanctified looks, talking in Scriptural phrases of
every-day occurrences, and with gestures, as of men in ecstacy,
disordered, but impressive, thundered their novel doctrines in
St. Antholine^s church, the first which was assigned in England
for the Covenanters. The Puritans, who had long held them-
selves as their cousins in insurrection, but had lived in secrecy
and seclusion, now acknowledged a closer affinity, and in their
fraternal embrace gave precedence to their more active and
triumphant elder. The patriotic party had often denounced the
clergy for meddling in temporal affairs ; but their own clergy,
for such now the Presbyterian may be called, were in fact their
chief agents in acting on the people. They sermonized like the
venal " leading articles " of the present day, trumpeting forth
the most desperate alarms, and vomiting the most violent menaces.
These persons, like the retainers of our party-papers, we are told
in one of the royal declarations, " were all the week attending
the doors of both Houses to be employed in their errands ; '' and
in their " lectures," or seven-hours^ sermons, all the news of the
week was divinely commented on from their pulpits. These
their personal invectives, and their heated imagination, made
palatable, bewitching " the corner creepers " — the secret mal-
content— the straying lounger — and all that disaffected populace
which hang loosely on society, and among whom the seditious
will always obtain a majority. Their religion inflamed their
politics. The convulsed bosoms of the crowd were electrified by
the new saints ; then was seen the mob without, clinging to the
doors and windows, when excluded by the mob within, catching
the barbarous accents of a provincial messenger of heaven.

THE ARTS OP mSURGENCY. 155

" We pray, preach, and print against them what we are able
most freely. Many a sore thrust got both men and women
thronging into our sermons ^^ — says Baillie. The voice of the
Covenant no longer cried in the wilderness. " We hope a har-
vest of fruits are coming," exclaims our covenanting zealot.
The extirpation, "root and branch," of the bishops, and the
ominous spectacle of a headless Lord Lieutenant of Ireland,
were to anticipate the planting of that " Rose of Sharon," and
those " lilies of the valley," the sour intolerant Scotch Presbytery.
Arts of more subtle nature even than this combination of
pamphlets, speeches, and preachings, were practised in those
fugitive chimeras — rumours and reports. These shook with
their hot and cold fits an aguish populace. The calumny which
was either too vague to grapple with, or which took long to
remove, always left something sticking behind it, which repeated
till believed, has, I fear, sometimes become history for all parties.
Assuredly there are historical calumnies ! The lie which pros-
pered through its morning was forgotten at eve only to be sup-
plied by another. In distempered times, that which is not intel-
ligible every one interprets for himself; and such bruited news
by their very extravagance are rendered the more effective, for
the ignorance of the people often exceeding their credulity, every
one in imaginary dangers is prone to think the very worst that
is possible. It was news that the Papists, with cavalry, burrowed
under ground in Surrey, but were more openly gathering toge-
ther in Lancashire ; it was news that there was a plot to blow
up the river with gunpowder in order to drown the City ;* it was

* Mr. Brodie, almost ashamed of these artful rumours spread abroad by a party,
says " they were cunningly exaggerated," and particularly censures Clarendon, as
retailing " stories which appear to be pure fiction ; " undoubtedly he would consider

e present ludicrous" one as such. I find it, however, confirmed by Fuller. He
assures us that one of the most prevailing dangers among the Londoners was " a
design laid for a mine of powder under the Thames to cause the river to drown the

I City." The people had a public thanksgiving on its discovery. The plot, in truth,
■was not so much at the bottom of the Thames, as at the bottom of their purses,
which the Scots long drained. The tincks of this nature which were practised, were
more numerous than we care to trouble the reader with. Could it be imagined that
the House of Commons, I would rather say a party in it, sent forth an order to the
Justices of Peace at Dorchester, *' to make diligent search for a barrel of gunpowder
which had been sent down for a barrel of soap," and «to send an account of the

156 THE ARTS OF INSURGENCY.

news that the French and even the Danes were preparing for a
descent, though the Covenanters had reason to be certain that
the Cabinet of the Louvre were in no mood to lend their aid to
that of Whitehall. A sanctified tailor sitting under a hedge,
" mending the notes he had taken of some sermon," informs the
Commons that he had listened to two soldier-like men, who were
acquainting one another with a settled employment of some of
their comrades, to dispatch several members of both Houses ;
the Commoners at the rate of forty shillings, and the Lords at
ten pounds ! This worthy^s name has even been chronicled ;
and his notable discovery enters into English history, for on this
occasion the Commons emitted several orders for the security of
the Houses, as well as the Members. It was still worse when a
midnight alarm shook the city that the King was coming down
with horse and foot, and all the citizens started up in their warm
night-caps and rushed to arms.

The people were cast into political delusions, and self-tor-
mented by imaginary horrors. A ludicrous, but authentic, inci-
dent of the times is scarcely credible. So susceptible was this
diseased state of the public mind, that Sir Walter Earle, one of
the zealous but weakest adversaries of Strafford, and a creature
of Pym's— rose to make a report of a design to blow up the
House of Commons ! The news acted as if the explosion had
taken eflfect. In the pressure some alarmed listeners suddenly
leaning forward, part of the flooring in the gallery gave way —
at the cracking many hurried out— Sir John Wray, an honest
Lincolnshire patriot, exclaiming that "he smelt gunpowder,"
and another leaving the House, saying " There was hot work,
and a great fire within" — the simple words of the panic-struck
knight, and the metaphorical orator, were too literally caught
up by the persons in the lobby, who sent them to the people on
the river. Before carriages were in general use, the river was
a great thoroughfare ; boats were used ere hackney-coaches were
projected; a considerable portion of the busy populace were
always on the Thames — these re-echoed the report to the City —
the drums beat, the train-bands marched, " a world of people

affected many panics which they did not experience, — she will not, however, confess
that the mobs of five and six thousand citizens in arms, was anything more than
the « Vox Populi."

II

THE ARTS OF INSURGENCY. 157

in arms" flew to Westminster, and this ridiculous incident*
satisfactorily confirmed to the Commons their own absolute
power over the people.

These rumours, indeed, as Clarendon describes them, " upon
examination always vanished ; but for the time, and they were
always applied as useful articles of time, served to transport
common minds with fears and apprehensions, and so induced
them to comply in sense with those who ever like soonest to
find remedies for those diseases which none but themselves could
discover."

The source of these rumours must be traced to that surveil-
lance, to use a Prench term for a French practice, under which
the town seems to have been placed, and the patriot Pym must
now figure in the degraded form of a Lieutenant de Police.
Spies and informers were daily conveying to Pym the table-
talk of taverns, and even of private society; by such secret
intelligence, perpetually renewed, his sleepless vigilance pre-
served his ascendancy in the House of Commons. There he
ruled so despotically, that the royalists at length nick-named
the man they most dreaded, " King Pym." The art of raising
these popular commotions, and the greater art of regulating
them, depended on a double contrivance. The people were to
terrify the Government, but they were themselves to be thrown
into an occasional panic, for the affrighted are the most docile
to be led.

But pamphlets, speeches, preachings and rumours, had not
exhausted the invention of these agitators of the people ; they
were to be taught something more hideous, in the cry for

* I hesitated for some time to record this incredible incident, though I found it
in Nalson, very exactly dated with the names of persons. The particulars I after-
wards discovered amply confiiroed by a contemporary and a Covenanter present in
London. — Baillie, i. 296. It is equal to any of those retailed by Clarendon, which
Mr. Brodie must have known, as well as myself, were not " cunningly exaggerated "
and " pure fictions." In two or three months these " treasons " amounted to thirty-
nine, according to the account of a venerable member of the House of Commons. —
History of the English and Scotch Presbytery, Villa Franca, 1659.

Since writing this note, in examining " the Diurnal Occurrences," I find that so
far from this gunpowder-plot being considered as too extravagant for the popular
credulity, that five days afterwards " the Commons appointed a committee to search
about the Parliament-house lest any plot should be in agitation against them."
Either they had really frightened themselves, or they forgot to stow in the cellar
some barrels of powder.

158 THE ARTS OF INSURGENCY.

blood ! One more deadly arrow lay in their quiver — it was
their petitions !

The most humble petitions had always preceded the most
decisive acts of the insubordination of the Covenanters. Here
again we discover how closely Pym's party copied their model.
The first striking evidence of the manoeuvres of the Scottish
party in the House of Commons, as far as appears publicly, —
for what passed in private has been only partially detected — was
a petition of the citizens to both Houses for justice to be
executed on the Earl of Strafford. This petition was presented
on the 23rd of April, immediately after Lord Digby had
offended them by the reasons he alleged for his desertion of
their cause. The Aldermen and Common-council, who after-
wards were so alert on these occasions, here only make their
chief lament on the decay of trade, and the difficulty with
which country tradesmen pay their debts in London, — in con-
sequence of the delay in sending Strafford to the block. This
petition is said to have been subscribed by twenty thousand of
good rank and quality.

Improving on the art of petitioning, in time we come to
petitions of " the Apprentices," and " those whose apprentice-
ship had lately expired." In that day, when there existed
no police in the City, and no regular military environed the
Court, not the least formidable part of his Majesty's liege sub-
jects were those " Operatives," as they have since styled them-
selves,— the apprentices of London. An insurrection of " the
London boys," as the Spanish Ambassador called them, fre-
quently alarmed Whitehall ; nor were their number, at least,
contemptible, for when they once offered to attend on the Par-
liament, they were said to amount " to ten thousand who offered
their services with warlike weapons."* It was a militia for
insurgency, ready at all seasons, and might be depended on for
any work of destruction, at the cheapest rate.f

* Nalson, ii. 831.
t We have the deposition and an information of some of these apprentices.
When one of these had boastingly returned from Whitehall, and was asked the
reason of his joining with the mob, he said that " They were sent for by some
Parliament-men," — that " his master was a constable, who gave him a sword and
bid him go," and that other apprentices had received the same directions from their
masters. One Captain Ven, of the City, appears to have been their Marechal-de-

i

THE AETS OP INSURGENCY. 159

The number of the present subscribers from the City is so
considerable; and as these shortly after sallied forth with
daggers and bludgeons, the inference is obvious, that this train
of explosion must have been long laid, else the combustible
line could not have ignited at a touch.

Clarendon has related an extraordinary artifice in getting up
these addresses* A petition was first prepared, modest in its
form, and not unreasonable in its matter. Such a petition was
certain of being well received at a public meeting, and a few
hands instantly filled the paper. As numbers multiplied, many
sheets were required to be tacked to the petition. The original
petition was then cut off and supplied by a new one, framed
more suitable to the design in hand, and the long list of names
was annexed to the amended address. Persons saw their
names appended to petitions they had never heard of, and when
they complained, were engaged by threats or promises to sit
still, and trust to those who, they were told, knew better than
they which petition should have been preferred.

Such invidious practices sometimes betrayed themselves. A
petition was presented to the House from Herefordshire, which
referred to certain matters which had been debated on the pre-
ceding night, signed by many thousand hands. It is evident
that this petition must have been one of those which were sub-
stituted for the original ; and was presented in their hurry some
days before it was intended that it should make its appearance.*
These petitions thus were often the single work of a faction, in
the name of the county, whose real subscriptions were put to
that which they had never subscribed. Scenes of petitioners
more ludicrous occurred when the porters, said to be many
thousands in number, with great eloquence protested against " a
malignant, blood-seeking, rebellious party, insulting the privi-
leges of Parliament, which, if not punished, they should be
forced to make good the saying, that necessity has no law."
The climax of petitioning was, however, all the beggars, who

Camp, for one evening he issued his ofders to apprentices to repair to Westminster
with arms, for there was an uproar in the Parliament-house. " Mr. Lavender's
man," who was at that moment " taking tobacco with a party," instantly threw his
pipe away, to the surprise of the honest citizens, who had not been awai'e of the
military genius of " Mr. Lavender's man."

* Husband's Collections, 537.

IGO THE ARTS OF INSURGENCY.

declared that by means of the Bishops and Popish Lords they
knew not where to get bread — their religion and their lives
were in danger; "but as they never doubted the House of
Commons, and understood that all stuck in the Lords' House,
they wished to learn the names of those Peers who opposed the
Commons." A deputation of tradesmen's wives, headed by
Mrs. Stagg, a brewer's wife, was as courteously received ; Pym
came to the door of the Commons, and at last with great politi-
cal gallantry, told the " good women " that it had come " at a
seasonable time," requesting them now " to turn their petition
into prayers, for the members of the House, who were ready to
relieve their husbands and children." A people are sometimes
excited into follies, which, when they are once forgotten by
themselves, their historian incurs the risk of being suspected of
gross credulity. When the day arrived that the ruling faction
of the Independents found the petitions of the people trouble-
some, although they allowed of all which suited their measures,
according to Lord HoUis, they fined and committed the peti-
tioners of whom they disapproved ; and on a petition for peace,
some horse were sent out to run over the people, and the Trained
Bands fired among the petitioners.*

Minuter artifices were the usual practices of Pym, for to his
adroit management the more subtle manoeuvres must be traced.
One was the impeachment of persons whose evidence, it was
suspected, might favour Strafi*ord, not one of whom were after-
wards prosecuted. This remarkably appeared in the case of Sir
George Radcliffe : no charge was afterwards brought forward ;
it was sufficient that the Earl lost the benefit of the aid of his
confidential friend. On the same principle, the Irish Chancellor,
the Chief-Justice, the Bishop of Derry, and others were alike
impeached, which disq\ialified them as witnesses at Straff'ord's
trial, but the impeachments themselves were all dropped. When
we recollect that on one occasion, when an Irish witness was so
mean a personage that Pym, ashamed to bring him forward
before the Committee, had him dressed up for the occasion in a
satin suit, we may at least regret that such cunning was resorted
to by him who, advocating the high cause of civil freedom,
stamped on its face the ugly features of a conspiracy, and

HoUis' Memoirs, 179.

A

THE ARTS OF INSURGENCY. 161

degraded acts, which should spring from a nobler source, to
vulgar trickery. On these Irish impeachments Hume has truly
observed, that " this step, which was an exact counterpart to the
proceedings in England, served also the same purposes.^' We
trace the same management in the Scottish affairs.

The ministers of Charles at Edinburgh were held out to public
odium as " incendiaries ; " this new art of calumny seems to
have afforded a hint to the English party to apply political
nicknames. An early invention of this kind, about this very
time, was the term " Delinquents.^^ The Commons, who were
then usurping a power far more extensive than a Star-chamber
tyranny, spread a general terror by this expedient. They
declared any persons to be delinquents on the slightest petition,
and as such they were to be prosecuted. Many were so stig-
matised, of whom afterwards nothing more was heard, but the
dreadful sentence was always suspended over their heads.
They who would have opposed their more violent measures
were silenced, and they who were thus branded knew that their
fate depended on their acquiescence. In this novel tyranny no
one could be brought forward as a witness in any case the Com-
mons disliked to hear. On one occasion we find Sir Walter
Earle, the creature of Pym, giving information of some
dangerous words spoken by persons whom he did not name ; on
which the Speaker was directed to issue a warrant to apprehend
such persons as Sir Walter shall nominate. The whole king-
dom seemed at the mercy of Sir Walter Earle, or any other
whisperer in the Speaker's ear. The Catholic Lords were so
appalled, that Clarendon tells us they early withdrew themselves
from the House of Peers, which was the drift of the powerful
party. The reign of Pym was a reign of terror. Judges in
open court were dragged from their bench, and hurried to
prison, and a troop of horse struck a panic through the learned
brotherhood of Westminster-Hall. " The barbarous curiosity
of opening letters " was also revived. We hardly can forgive
these rapid demolishers of Star-chambers and High Commission
Courts for reviving them in a more fearful shape, and advocating
the cause of civil freedom by the very means which annihilated
it. To whom but to one great organising head can we ascribe
such a systematic conduct, and such an unity of design ? The

VOL. II. M

162 THE ARTS OF INSURGENCY.

purity of the patriotism of Pym, however plausible its pretexts,
and however able his talents, it must at least be confessed, was
directed against Strafford with every appearance of personal
malignity.

When the King addressed the Houses from the throne, sup-
plicating for the life of Strafford, and pleading for his own
conscience, the party, enraged at discovering that they had not
yet, as they had imagined, sufficiently intimidated the Sovereign,
now took the more certain means. The King^s address was on
Saturday. On Sunday the pulpiteers in the City were thun-
dering with "the necessity of justice upon some great delin-
quents;" and on Monday morning a rabble of six thousand
streamed forth from the City, armed and accoutred mth all the
hasty weapons they could snatch up ;* these, thronging down
to the Palace-yard, hideously clamoured for " justice and execu-
tion \" The King spoke to them from a balcony, and desired
they would go home and mind their business. The life of the
Sovereign was menaced under his own windows, and Charles
the First was more degraded as a monarch at that moment,
than when on the same spot a few years after he ascended the
scaffold.

Whose hand behind the curtain played the strings which gave
such regulated motions to these wooden actors of insurgency ?
This rabble of themselves might, as they did, find some sign-
painter to hang by the heels certain rude figures to represent
, members who had voted against the bill of Attainder, but it
required more intelligence and a deeper malignity to post up a
correct list of fifty-nine Commoners, branding them with the
odious title of "Straffordians, or betrayers of their country."
This was indeed a violation of the privileges of the House, greater
than any they complained of, and to a vindictive populace it was

* There is a curious instance of i)arty-paragraphs in " the Diurnal Occurrences,"
May 3rd. We are there told of this very mob that they were " a great number of
citizens, five thousand or thereabouts, being for the most part men of good fashion,"
who having stopped the Lords, &c,, complained that " they were undone for the
want of execution on Strafford ; trading was so decayed thereby." The writer, in
his notice that these citizens " for the most part were men of good fashion," and no
doubt they wore their holiday array, which they had not put off since the preceding
« Sabbath " Lectures, has entirely omitted the more material information, that they
were all armed with rapiers, dags, and clubs.

I

THE ARTS OF INSURGENCY. 163

writing their names in characters of blood. We shortly after find
a petition of Sir John Strangeways, in behalf of himself and the
fifty-nine members^ declaring that though he had been absent
at his house in Dorsetshire during the voting of the bill of
Attainder, yet by having his name inserted in that black list his
person had been rendered odious, and his life was in danger.*

All the while these commotions were going on, the Commons
were proceeding uninterruptedly with their own designs. The
King sent down a message for the prevention of these tumults,
but the Commons could only see " the City petitioning." The
King complained that no Court of Judicature had been left the
power to punish tumults, for they suddenly seemed to have lost
the skill to define " what tumults are !"t The Lords affright-
ened — we are told they were '^fearful of having their brains
knocked out" — were no longer free to act; — the Commons,
however, were — and were silent — for they required tumults.
Several members of the House of Commons resorted to clubs of
apprentices, who being distributed into fraternities, vast bodies
of all the crafts, shoemakers, tailors, porters, watermen, and
others, were ever at hand " to petition," or do any other job,
by the order of some unknown master. This exhibits a parallel
scene to revolutionary France, when the hired mobs were ruling
the city of Paris — afterwards the parallel may extend, when the
meanest classes were legislators and executioners ! The peti-
tions were now echoing the resolutions of " Master Pym," and
the organised rabble were put over to the care of an approved
ringleader, the Puritan divine Cornelius Burgess, who called
them out at his beck, or dispersed them by the motion of his
hand. Exultingly pointing at his rabble-patriots, he would
exclaim, " These be my band-dogs ! I can set them on, and
take them off again as I please." J When the Lords were slow
and reluctant in passing the bill of Attainder, the mobs were
let loose, and the terrified Peers immediately declared that they
were drawing to a conclusion, and to manifest their passive

* Rushworth, iv. 279.
+ A jury in South war k, impanelled to examine one of these tumults, were super-
seded, and the Sheriff enjoined not to proceed, by an order of the House of Com-
mons.— Husband's Collections, 251.

J This anecdote is well known, though I cannot recover the original authority.
It is mentioned by Echard.

M 2

164 THE ARTS or INSURGENCY.

obedience, subscribed the famous " Protestation" of the Com-
mons, which at first they had declined. At the same time they
declared that they were so encompassed with multitudes of
people, that it was the only hindrance to the dispatch of the
bill.* The Commons ordered Dr. Burgess to read this '^ Pro-
testation" to the people, and tell them they might return home.
At the voice of this political Neptune, the waves of this rabbi o
of rebellion rolled away.

When the cry against the bishops was to be given, we find
Dr. Burgess still more active; a tumultuous mob even broke
into Westminster Abbey, threatening to return in greater
numbers to pull down not only Prelacy, but the Abbey itself.
They clamoured to deface the monuments of the kings ; the
dilapidations of St. Denis had nearly occurred among our own
sepulchres of royalty ; those venerable and glorious remains of
antiquity escaped, but by a moment, from becoming a heap of
ruins. The Abbey endured a sort of siege for some hours.
The Dean beat the populace ofi" with stones thrown from the
leads. We know what these Puritanic barbarians afterwards
did with all the cathedrals through the kingdom. At this
moment the mob met by day, and even at night, summoned by
the sound of a bell, or other signal, in the fields, or some other
spot of assignation, in order to concert their measures, and to
be directed by their conductors. At this Parisian scene of
revolutionary terror, Pym said, "God forbid that the people
should be disheartened from obtaining their just desires!"
This violent scene was concerted at the alarm of Pym^s party
on the King's return from Scotland, when the warm loyalty of
Sir Robert Gournay, the Lord Mayor, had received the King in
great splendour at the Guildhall.

How timidly Truth shows herself to him who first ventures
to lift her veil ! In the days of honest Rapin it was little short
of treason to breathe a suspicion on the cruel arts practised by
the popular party. Our historian apologises for having dis-
covered the truth ! '^ I am very sensible some will take it ill
that I positively affirm the tumults I am going to speak of^ere
the effect of the practices of the party against the King, and
that several pretend it was aU owing to accident and the

• Rushworth, viii. 743.

i

THE DEATH OF STRAFFORD. 165

discontents of the people."* The same defence is still reiterated,
but Truth is now not only bold but strong.

By such artifices as these, the industrious party of Pym and
his colleagues not only struck a panic in the Court and among
the Lords, but, what they did not consider of inferior conse-
quence, they impressed on the public mind a strong sense of
their own power. It was from this time that the people began
to be more regardful of Parliament ; and as Baxter, an impartial
contemporary, tells us, in the curious folio of his life, " sided
with them not only for their cause and their own interest, but
also supposing them the stronger side, which the vulgar are
still apt to follow."

CHAPTER XIII.

THE DEATH OF STRAFFORD.

At this crisis two important events hastened the catastrophe
of Strafford^s story — the army-plot and the sudden death of the
Earl of Bedford.

The discovery of a plot in the army, who were, however, distant
in the north, to march direct to Westminster to overawe the
Parliament, whatever the plot was, now was opportunely revealed
by Pym. Instantly he struck through all parties the terror he
delighted in, and probably he was himself alarmed. The peti-
tions of an army are a mutiny, and too well resembled his own —
they were the commands of those who knew how to be obeyed.
Were the army to form the mob, instead of the mob the army,
even Pym had found a master.

The secret history of the army-plot, as it was called, is obscure
in many parts, but sufficiently clear in others. Its detail, and
its important results, shall be the subject of our following chapter.
By the adroit management of Pym, whose vigorous conceptions
could create mighty consequences from slight events, and on
whose bold designs now revolved the fate of an empire, the
army-plot gave rise to that famous " Protestation " of the Com-
mons, which was ordered by themselves to be subscribed by the

I

Rapin, xi. 293.

166 THE DEATH OF STRAFFORD.

whole nation. The tumults still paraded Westminster, crying
out for " justice" in the blood of Strafford.

At this critical moment, too, the unlooked-for death of the
Earl of Bedford had broken off that new administration of the
leaders of the Opposition which had nearly been formed. Lord
Say had already dislodged Lord Cottington from the Mastership
of the Wards; Bishop Juxon had resigned the Treasurer's staff;
St. John was made Solicitor- General, the sullen enemy of his
master; and Pym was prepared to be the Chancellor of the
Exchequer, where formerly he had been one of the clerks. In
full view of the places before them, the patriots, now the place-
hunters, had bribed the King with a pledge to spare the life of
Strafford, and to settle the royal revenues as amply as any which
his predecessors had enjoyed. So compliant, so meek is Faction,
when, in changing its position, it would wish to lose its name.

These halcyon politics were now removed for ever from the
hapless monarch by the death of the Earl of Bedford, who, though
he had been the opposer of Strafford, lamented the passions of
his party, and, looking into futurity, predicted on his death-bed
that their violence would bring greater mischief on the kingdom
than it had ever sustained by the long intermissions of the Par-
liaments. The Earl of Bedford, though a wise and moderate
man, would not, however, desert his party, as Strafford had done,
and devote himself to the Court ; it is therefore uncertain, as
Warburton acutely observes, whether this proceeded from a
point of honour to his party, or a point of duty to his country.
Unhappy times ! when the wise and the moderate are constrained
to act with those whose principles they would willingly disavow !

The death of the Minister of Charles had been irrevocably
decided on by the prevalent party in the Commons. Whitelocke
was certainly well informed of the state of the politics of his
day ; he ascribes the more than violent proceedings of some of
'* the great men " to a most humiliating cause. As the change
of ministers, which had been accepted by the King, had only
partially occurred, being interrupted by the death of the Earl
of Bedford, and as Charles afterwards felt no inclination to
receive Hampden, Pym, and others, though he had received full
as evil counsellors in Lord Say and St. John his Solicitor-
General, those who were left out were " baffled, and became the

THE DEATH OF STRAFFORD. 167

more incensed and violent against the Earl, joining with the
Scotch Commissioners, who were implacable against him/'*
Could we have imagined that our patriots had been thus actuated
by personal malignity, and that their ruthless ambition could
only be appeased by the blood of a great man ? It is too sad
an apology for the rancour of their persecution to allege that
supreme of human motives — self-preservation — conscious, as
they were, that Strafford must fall, or that they must perish.
Were the Minister suffered to live, there could be no safety for
them ; for it was known, at least to themselves, that Strafford
could attach acts of treason to some of their leaders, less dubious
than any of those "constructive or accumulative treasons'' by
which they had now succeeded in attainting him ; nor could they
trust the life of their victim in the hands of the King, who from
his throne had so humbly supplicated for it. And, however
Charles the First had pledged the dismission of his ill-fated
servant, no degradation of the man could lessen the wisdom of
the statesman ; and, perhaps, they dreaded more than ever the
influence of councils, whose sagacity had been schooled by recent
experience, and whose haughty impetuosity had been tempered
by adversity. All that can be alleged to palliate the guilt of
Strafford's execution by this party is, that he perished from
expediency and not by justice. This at once separates politics
from morality, a violation too often practised by the Achitophels
of all parties.

The bill of Attainder even in the Commons did not pass with-
out the opposition of nearly a fourth part of the House; and
with the Lords, Strafford was condemned only by the majority of
seven votes. Of eighty Peers who had constantly attended, only
forty-five had the courage to assemble when the bill passed, so
intimidated was the noble Aristocracy amidst the y el lings of a
menacing Mobocracy. The Bishops had been deprived of their
votes, the old canon being urged, which prohibited them from
deciding in causa sanguinis; a piece of ecclesiastical mockery
which never spared the life of a victim from the grasp of the
ecclesiastical talons.f It is evident that a full and free House

* Whitelocke's Memorials, 40.
+ The Inquisition condemned their living victims to the flames — on the plea that
by this means they shed no blood ! Bishop Williams prepared a speech to assert

168 THE DEATH OF STRAFFORD.

would have saved the head of Strafford at that moment; but
what excesses of the party the rejection of their bill would have
led to, in that terrifying hour of commotion, was a question they
dared not ask themselves.

The bill of Attainder passed the Lords on a Saturday, the 8th
of May, with its memorable accompaniment of a bill for not dis-
solving the Parliament without their own consent ; hence called
" the perpetual Parliament.^' Both Houses immediately waited
on the King to move his assent. Monday was fixed on to receive
his Majesty's resolution.

That hour was more than painful when the Peers retiring
from their audience abandoned the sovereign to himself ! The
agony of Charles was more poignant than perhaps he ever
experienced on any other occasion. His conscience — his policy
— his affections — were opposed to the tyrannical necessity of
dragging a great minister to the scaffold which the hands of his
enemies had prepared. Through this awful Sunday the King
struggled with himself: he might still listen to the cries of the
populace scattered under the windows at Whitehall, in the
Palace-yard, and in Westminster Hall. And five days only had
elapsed since his barge was waiting at the Privy stairs to carry
him to the House of Lords, when the tumult raged, and it was
considered that his life was insecure had he left the palace. At
times his natural magnanimity, the promise " on the word of a
king," which he had within the last fortnight renewed to Straf-
ford, that "he should not suffer in life, honour, or fortune,"*
seemed to prevail over his great facility of yielding up his own
judgment to that of others. His Privy Council, sitting in the
midst of a general commotion, urged an entire submission to
the will of the Parliament to preserve himself and his posterity;
it was a principle of State that the safety of the kingdom was to
be preferred before the life of an innocent man. They laid
some stress on the generous letter of Strafford himself, which
had absolved the King from all his scruples, and released him
from the inviolability of his promise. This trivial counsel,

the rights of the Bishops to vote on cases of life and death, replete with the most
curious erudition. It has been preserved by his faithful biographer Hacket. (ii, 1 52.)
* The letter Charles the First addressed to Scotland, by its peculiar orthography,
evidently by his own hand, is in Strafford's Letters, ii. 416.

THE DEATH OF STRAFFORD. 169

which showed that their argument did not exceed their courage,
would have satisfied a colder heart and a meaner understanding
than those of Charles, and eagerly would it have been embraced
by the terror of a trembling despot, or the selfishness of the
weak prince who flies from all the cares of royalty — but it could
not enter into the restless emotions of Charles the First. When
the King consulted the Bishops, they referred him to the
Judges to satisfy him of the legality ; but in this extremity, the
solemn bench was deserted by the lofty magistracy of Justice.
They had abeady withdrawn their first opinions, and had given
way to the popular cry ; terror had laid down a new commentary
fitted to the novel doctrines of constructive or accumulative
treasons, where no one particular act being treasonable, yet
collectively the whole amounted to treason. They delivered
their opinions with a vague unanimity ; and the King com-
plained that such dubious answers and critical distinctions
served to confuse his thoughts without allaying his scruples.
The Judges finally advised the King to confer with the Bishops,
to tranquillise that compunction and remorse, where no law
cases could afford even the authority of a poor precedent ; and
which a juggle of words, the offuscating jargon of sophistical
lawyers, could never appease.

On this occasion again appears in the scene that subtle poli-
tician Bishop Williams. This eminent man had been recently
liberated by his peers from the petty persecutions of Laud, after
having been more than three years immured in the Tower.
Williams had slided once more into the royal favour ; and not
long after, was inaugurated into the See of York. It is said
that his political foresight had predicted his own restoration to
•the royal councils ; but Williams, in this second sight, hardly
I contemplated among its phantoms the shade of his rival,
iLaud, fixed in the prison-chamber where he himself had been
I barred.

The capacity of this learned man was equal to his time-
, serving spirit. He had prodigally wasted a genius of the first
order in political life, in complicate intrigues, and expedients of
the day, with a versatility of principles betraying that subtle
wisdom of the serpent, which is scarcely compatible with the
harmlessness of the dove. This politic and refining statesman.

170 THE DEATH OF STRAFFORD.

with a Machiavelian casuistry, now distinguished betwixt a
PRIVATE and a public conscience. He told Charles that the
public conscience of a king must dispense with his private con-
science as a man. The conscience of a king to preserve his
kingdom was greater than that of a master or a friend for the
preservation of a servant or a friend. The question was not
whether he should serve Strafford, but whether he should perish
with him — and therefore the corollary of this logic of politics
being deduced, the astute Archbishop, between his greater and
his lesser consciences, counselled even for conscience' -sake to
act against conscience.*

The conduct of the prelates in this torturing hour has been
sharply arraigned by those who are inveterately hostile to the
order of Episcopacy, and it has even been lamented by Lord
Clarendon. The misery of these learned men must have equalled
the conviction of their impotence. A remedj'^ was asked for the
remediless. They sadly knew their weakness. Already they
were degraded in the eyes of their country — they were about to
be rejected from the rights of free men, to give an equal vote
with their fellow-citizens; nor could they be insensible, while their
chief lay in the dungeons of the Tower, and the screams of a

* Clarendon indignantly brands the argument as " unprelatical and ignominious.
Such was this Bishop's prodigious boldness and impiety ! " The argument is odious
to our moral sense. As Clarendon appears to have had a rooted dislike to Bishop
Williams, and as the gi'eat adversary of Laud is rather a favovu-ite with the Repub-
lican party, pains have been taken to palliate what offends in its morality, and to
explain what is enlightened in its policy. Mrs. Macaulay at once calls it " a sensible
state of the question," — she resolves the condemnation to death of Strafford by
Charles into " a point of honour with the King, and not of conscience. A king of
England is never to interpose his private opinion against the Legislature. Laws of
honour are only laudable among a licentious banditti." We may perceive that Mrs.
Macaulay wrote at the era of that new morality of which we afterwards witnessed
such marvellous results. I will abandon to her all " the Laws of Honour," for what
they are worth ; but not the King's veto. How far the King of England is bound
to submit his private opinion to that of the Legislature, on a point on which the
oracles of law differ among themselves, is a nice and delicate question.

Mr. Brodie insists that Clarendon, while he so strongly condemns Williams here,
has done it unjustly, since the other Bishops acquiesced. But it does not appear
that they acquiesced in the principles of the casuistical Bishop, as the reader will
shortly find in a note or two farther. The argument is so perfectly characteristic of
the subtilising manner of this extraordinary personage, that Clarendon cannot be
accused of purposely rendering the sophistry more odious than it is — he has cer-
tainly stated it with a malicious perspicacity.

I

THE DEATH OF STEAEEORD. 171

maddened populace were echoing " No Bishops ! '' that heads
more able to contrive mischief than their own, and hands more
skilful in the arts of destruction, were fast undermining the
foundations of their own Hierarchy. In that day of derehction
and terror, could the Bishops be more exempt from the common
infirmities of our nature than were all the Eight Honourable
Privy Councillors ? These already had bowed with " hat in hand
giving them good words ^' to the insolent citizens, as these Lords
going to their House tremblingly passed through their sullen lines,
promising, provided they would be quiet, the blood of Strafford !
Or were the Bishops to be less terrified than those oracles of the
law, who in the sanctuary of justice, sitting at the tribunal of
life and death, had revoked their decrees, and vacillated, till they
echoed the cry of the populace around them ?

Two Prelates, at least, of the five consulted by Charles, should
not participate in the odium, if it be an odium, cast on their
brothers. The learned Usher, indeed, as all the bishops did,
referred the King to the opinions of the Judges, who by their
office and their oath were to expound the law ; but Usher still
referred to the monarch himself the more delicate and more
difficult conclusion, whether, after all that had passed during
the trial, he considered that Strafford was a guilty man. Arch-
bishop Usher was not less perplexed than he who in his per-
plexity had consulted the resolver of his doubts — but there are
sufficient testimonies to show that Usher never persuaded
Charles, as has been said, to consent to the execution of the
state victim.* Juxon, the good Bishop of London, exhorted
the King to do nothing against his conscience, but more par-
ticularly reprobated the extraordinary piece of political casuistry
of Bishop Williams. On the second meeting in the evening,
Juxon seems to have stood in silence ; a silence not unintelligible
to the feelings of the desponding monarch. f

* The circumstance of Usher's attendance on the Earl, in his last minutes, is a
strong confirmation of the nature of his advice to the King ; but the authorities
which are stated in the Biog. Brit., p. 4075, are conclusive.

t I have spared no pains to combine my researches relative to Juxon, because
his conduct has been strangely misrepresented. Oldmixon reproaches Juxon for
" having acted cunningly and said nothing at all ;" and ridicules Echard for telling
us what I have written above. Saunderson is referred to for the authority that
" on the last meeting " (for there were two on that Sunday, a circumstance not

172 THE DEATH OP STRAFFORD.

Thus the day was wearing away in debates and council, and
the King still remained irresolute and miserable. In the even-
ing Charles called for a second meeting of the Bishops. His
councillors had offered no council to which his heart could
assent. Every one seemed to suppress his own thoughts by
appealing to others for that fatal decision, which by being made
together in a body, seemed to save the individual from its
responsibility or its injustice.*

Charles stood as it were alone in the universe, about to do an
act which the universe itself would wonder at, or would condemn.
It was a tale which his elevated spirit felt was to be reserved
for posterity, and which posterity alone could decide on. At
this moment, it would seem, the Queen came in dismay, sup-
plicating for her children in tears and grief, and with her sad
voice importuning the King to avert the momentous danger,
urged on as she was by the councils of all around tliem.f
Clarendon has feelingly observed, that "the part which the
King had to act was not only harder than any Prince, but than
any private gentleman had been exposed to." It is said that

noticed by our writer) " the Bishop of London spoke not a syllable." Mr. Brodio
quotes Nalson, who says that Juxon dissuaded his master from passing the Bill,
« but other authorities," adds Mr. Brodie, « do not support the statement," (iii. 181.)

We may accord these opposite accounts of his speech and of his silence ; and it
is rather a curious instance of what sometimes happens in historical researches, that
contradictory facts may both at the same time be equally true.

That Juxon spoke what I have said is amply confirmed by Sir Edward Walker,
who had it direct from the King. At the evening meeting he was silent, having
already spoken and having nothing more to say.

The passage from Sir Edward Walker the reader may like to see. Having
ascribed the opinion that the King had a double capacity, of a public and a private
man, &c. to Usher, who he understood had made that distinction, « the King re-
plied, < No, I assure you it was not he ! ' whence I infer it was either York or
Durham, for at the same time the King fully justified the Bishop of London for his
stout opinion against it." (3G0.) This, with the recollection that there were two
meetings in one day, prove that all the accounts, however they differ, are correct.

* Whether from a loyalist, or a parliamentary partisan, as a warning or a deri-
sion, a paper was this night fixed on the gates at Whitehall, announcmg that on the
morrow there would be acted in the House of Peers a famous Tragy-Comedy, called
" A King and no King." — Observations on L'Estrange, 244.

+ It is probably true that the Queen might, late in the day, have joined in the
intreaty of so many others for the death of Strafford, as a means of appeasing the
popular cry. Many writers have repeated the fact ; but how greatly they have
erred in assigning to her certain motives, is shown in our inquiry of Henrietta's
influence over Charles the First.

i

THE DEATH OP STRAFFOED. 173

no man doubted that the King^ without any scruple of con-
science^ might have granted the Earl his pardon^ had not other
reasons of state hindered him.* In truth, Charles was no longer
himself free.

Importunity and necessity were the two evil geniuses which
stood by the side of Charles, till he could no longer wrestle with
them. After the second interview in the evening with the bishops,
still wavering, the King seems to have delayed the last act till the
morning. t With one pen full of ink, we are told, he hastily
signed the Commission granted to three noblemen for passing
the two fateful Bills, which had been extorted from him. It
was imagined that they offered some miserable comfort to the
desponding monarch when they told him, that as his will had
not consented to the deed, so neither by the medium of this
Commission had his own hand signed the warrant for death.
But even this heartless subterfuge was denied for his consola-
tion when Archbishop Usher, after the Commission was signed,
bursting into tears, lamented the fatal signature, praying that
the King might not suffer from a wounded conscience !

Charles, who had more than once left the trial of Strafford,
which he had constantly attended, with tears in his eyes, in
signing the Commission bitterly wept, exclaiming that " Lord
Strafford was more happy than he ! ^^ The various and con-
tending feelings in his breast Charles himself showed when he
charged Archbishop Usher, on the next morning, to assure
Strafford, that '^ If the King's own life only were hazarded by
saving his, he would never have consented to his death." %

But the disturbed state of his mind, and the utter reckless-
ness of his own existence, Charles surely betrayed when he
allowed that bill to pass, which had been violently carried in the
course of a single day through the two Houses, and by which
the Parliament deprived the King of that last remaining
authority of the Sovereign — the power of dissolving them.

* This is said in Abp. Usher's Life, by Parr.
t Hamond L'Estrange, 258. On this contemporary authority, I have fixed on
le morning of Tuesday, but it may have been late in the preceding night, as Echard
ives it.

X From the notes of Archbishop Usher, found in his almanack, containing the
leads or memorandums of what the King desired him to communicate to Strafford.
Jtrafford's Letters, ii. 418.

174 THE DEATH OP STRAFFORD.

This Bill was of far greater importance to himself than the
Earl of Strafford's life; it was virtually signing his own de-
thronement, as in conclusion it proved to be his own execution.
So completely overpowered was Charles the First by the fate of
Strafford, that he cared no longer for his own.

To the last moment it was doubtful whether Charles would
consent to issue the Commission. Whitelocke gives us a report
that the King was at length brought to it by a promise before
he had signed, that the life of Strafford should be spared. If the
King had been practised on by some such artifice, we are not
furnished with the knowledge. In the manuscript letter to the
Queen, which I have quoted, written at a distant day, Charles says
himself, that " He was surprised with it, instantly after he made
that base sinful concession.^' Did the mystifying casuistry of the
double royal consciences of Bishop Williams prove so unanswer-
able at the moment, as to have silenced the compunctions
which Charles never ceased to feel all the rest of his days ?
"That he should ever have been brought to it," observes
Whitelocke, "was admired by most of his subjects as well as
by foreigners." The world indeed wondered, and none more
than the great master of plots and counter-plots, Pym himself.
After all his industrious ingenuity, his fertility of invention,
the arduous conduct of that awful trial ; after all the terror he
had spread through the country, all the artifices he had prac-
tised in an insurrectionary metropolis ; all the breathless labours
his Epicurean habits had endured* — still the demagogue doubted
of his own success, and to the last dreaded to be foiled by
the magnanimity of Charles. When Pym first learned that
the Commission was signed, he lifted his hands in ecstasy,

* We know so little of the private characters and habits of our early patriots,
that we despair ever of forming a more intimate ac<iuaintance with these great and
able men. Ilacket has characterised Pym, m his curious though often pedantic
manner, Homo ex argilM, et lufo facUus Epicurtvo, as Tully said of Piso, that is in
Christian English "a painted sepulchre, a hdly-god.''^ (ii. 149.) His translation is a
comment. It is evident that the last image does not refer to merely philosophical
doctrines, but to the more vulgar Epicurean habits. The wooden cut, which
authenticates his speeches, to which I have before alluded, conveys to us the
appearance of a votary to Bacchus and Ceres. Since the publication of these
volumes, the portrait of Pym has been presented to us in Lord Nugent's " Memo-
rials." All accounts agree that his anxious labours exhausted him and produced
his death.

A

THE DEATH OP STRAFFORD. 175

exclaiming, " Has he given ns the head of Strafford ! then he
will refuse ns nothing ! "

On Monday, Maxwell, the Gentleman Usher to the Lords,
hurried to acquaint the Commons with the good news of the
royal assent by commission to the two bills, bearing also a mes-
sage from the Lords that they were waiting for the Speaker and
the House of Commons to join them. So transported was this
officer by the amazing intelligence, that he precipitated himself
at once into the House, without the usual form of first demanding
entrance, and he appeared without that insignia of office, his
black rod. Exceptions were made at this unofficial and abrupt
violation of the dignity of the House, but as most of the mem-
bers soon shared in the wild joy of the informal and hasty Usher,
he was favoured by escaping from a committal.

But the struggle in the royal breast had not passed away with
the agony of the horrible concession. Still Charles ruminated
in the solitude of his own conscience, and still he seemed to be
hanging on some frail hope that yet one more attempt remained,
at least, to save shedding the blood of the condemned victim.

On the following morning, Tuesday, the King addressed a
letter, written with his own hand, to the Lords, and which was
delivered with unusual solemnity by the hand of the Prince of
"Wales. As solemnly and as mournfully was it received. Twice
it was read amidst the deepest silence. " After serious and sad
consideration," says Uushworth, twelve Peers were deputed as
messengers to the King, humbly to signify that his intentions
could not be advised by them, without danger to himself, his
Queen, and his children. So dreaded was the alarm at that
moment of the popular fury, by the Lords as well as the King,
that even Charles had only proposed to spare the blood of Straf-
ford, as the King himself now observed to the Lords, by an If —
"If it may be done without discontenting my people" — more he
cared not to say, and was retiring, when the Lords observed that
they were suitors for his royal favour to the innocent children of
Strafford. This last mark of attention bestowed on the unhappy
man, touched the sorrowful monarch, who seemed grateful. The
Lords then offered to return into his own hands the letter which
he himself had written; this Charles waived, observing, "My
Lords, what I have written to you, I shall be content if it be

I

176 THE DEATH OP STRAFFORD.

registered by you in your House. In it you may see my mind ;
I hope you will use it to my honour."

The pathetic letter of Charles the First, written on this trying
occasion, betrays his deep emotions with the simplicity of nature.
It implores, as the humblest suitor might implore, to have the
liberty of extending the royal prerogative of mercy ; mercy which
the King as much required for himself, from the hands of Par-
liament, as the victim on whom he wished to bestow it. In the
history of his life it deserves to be perpetuated for posterity.
Charles evidently designed it to stand on the Records of the
House of Lords, if not in the form of a protest, at least as a
perpetual testimony that however they had obtained a forced
acquiescence, he had not otherwise consented to the execution of
Strafford : —

" My Lords,

" I did yesterday satisfy the justice of the kingdom by passing
the Bill of Attainder against the Earl of Strafford. But mercy
being as inherent and inseparable to a king as justice, I desire
in some measure to show that likewise, by suffering that unfor-
tunate man to fulfil the natural course of his life in close impri-
sonment ; yet so, that if ever he make the least offer to escape,
or offer directly or indirectly to meddle in any sort of public
business, especially with me, either by message or letter, it shall
cost him his life, without farther process. This, if it may be
done without the discontentment of my people, will be an
unspeakable contentment to me.

" To which end, as, in the first place, I by this letter do
earnestly desire your approbation, and, to endear it the more,
have chosen him to carry it, who is of all your House most dear
unto me, so I desire that, by conference, you will endeavour to
give the House of Commons contentment likewise, assuring you
that the exercise of mercy is no more pleasing to me, than to
see both Houses of Parliament consent, for my sake, that I
should moderate the severity of the law in so important a case.

" I will not say that your complying with me in this my
intended mercy, shall make me more willing, but certainly it
will make me more cheerful in granting your just grievances.
But if no less than his life will satisfy my people, I must say

J

THE DEATH OP STRAFFORD. 177

Fiat Justitia. Thus, again recommending the consideration of
my intentions to you, I rest,

" Your unalterable and affectionate friend,
" Charles R."
" If he must die, it were charity to reprieve him till Saturday."

At this day, removed from the prejudices and the passions of
the cotemporaries of Charles the First, will the unadorned sim-
plicity of this letter be passed over without emotion ? Not a
sentence but is impressed with the deep feeling which dictated
it. The unusual form of the letter, as well as the infant mes-
senger who presented it, gave it the air of a domestic, rather
than a royal communication, and betrayed all the tenderness of
a sorrowing friend seeking for an equal affection.

Yet at the time, this letter was censured with severity by the
ultra-royalists. In their eyes royalty was degraded by becoming
a suppHant to the people by the mediation of the Peers. For
what purpose should the King write to annul, or to alter that
sentence which he had himself just passed, and which they had
gained with so much danger and many artifices? Could he
rationally expect that they would undo what he himself had
failed in the com'age not to have done ? Could the King expect
aught but a second repulse ? And to have sent on this forlorn
hope the young Prince, was it to accustom the heir of the Crown
from his very childhood to the denials of his subjects ? And to
desire the respite of two or three days for the condemned pri-
soner, was begging for a power and authority with which he had
not parted by conceding the act of attainder. Even the form of
the letter was objected to ; it was not kingly. A court-missive
to the Peers bears the King's signature at its head, and is never
subscribed with the equality of private friendship. Such were
some of the discourses of the day. Unhappy monarchs ! who
so often, when they act in conformity to State-interests, are
condemned as heartless men ; and when they descend from the
throne are scorned at for the strong sympathies inspired by the
devotion and despondency of friendship.

The pitiable postscript of this letter, " cette froide prierej' as
the vivacious M. Guizot exclaims, is remarkable, as it has been
said that this graceless addition was the suggestion of the Queen,

VOL. II, N

178 THE DEATH OF STRAFFORD.

for a very sinister design. Burnet relates an anecdote which he
had from Lord Hollis himself, whose sister Strafford had mar-
ried. The King sent for Hollis to consult on means to save his
relative's life. Hollis observed that the King might legally
reprieve this condemned prisoner, but this he would not advise.
Hollis drew up a petition for Strafford for a short respite to
settle his affairs, and a speech for the King, who was to come
down to the House holding the petition in his hand. Hollis
had persuaded many, by a sort of political logic, of the expe-
diency of saving Strafford's life, who, as he assured them, in that
case, reverting to his former principles, would become wholly
theirs. His preservation thus would be more serviceable than
if made an example on such new and doubtful points. In the
mean while it had been intimated to the Queen that Hollis had
engaged Strafford to accuse her ; of what we are not told. On
this the Queen not only hindered the King from going to the
House, changing the speech into a message writ with the King's
own hand and carried by the Prince of Wales, which Hollis
observed would " perhaps have done as well, the King being
apt to spoil things by an unacceptable manner." '^But to the
wonder of the whole world," continues Burnet, "the Queen
prevailed with him to add that mean postscript, ' If he must die,
it were charity to reprieve him till Saturday,' which was a very
unhandsome giving up of the whole message. When it was
communicated to both Houses, the whole Court-party was
plainly against it ; and so he fell truly by the Queen's means."
This was one of those anecdotes which are sometimes cited as
historical; and even Mr. Hallam has recently repeated it.
Burnet, long after he had heard it in the looseness of conversa-
tion, records the reminiscence in his lively manner. Let us
take the story as we find it. The secret anecdote concerning
the postscript Hollis could hardly have known but from another.
Had the Queen dreaded every hour an accuser in this state-
prisoner, and for what crime we are never told, she would not
have been urgent to impede the course of law, even for a day.
She would not have exerted her fascinating influence to add the
postscript, but rather to have suppressed the letter. What
Hollis related of himself may be deemed correct ; what he told
after another can only be suppositious. The mystery in which

J

THE DEATH OF STE AFFORD. 179

some have involved this humble postscript, and Burnet's
malicious intention, were designed to cast a fresh odium on an
unpopular Queen. Henrietta, after all, never suggested this
postscript, which has attracted so much criticism. The King,
in his audience with the Lords, assigned the simple and natural
motive. Charles said, "my other intention proceeding out of
charity for a few days' respite was upon certain information, that
his estate was so distracted that it necessarily required some few
days for settlement."* And this fact is even confirmed by
Hollis himself, who, in his proposed petition, which had been
submitted to the King, urged this very motive as its plea ; the
real suggester of this humble intreaty was Strafford himself,
merely for a domestic purpose, as we find in Laud's Diary.f

The extraordinary letter which Strafford addressed to the
King to free him from his promise of saving his life, and to
relieve the agony of his conscience in consenting to his death,
accords not with that surprise and disappointment which he
showed on learning his fate. It is said that the Earl on hearing
of his fate, suddenly rising from his seat, and looking up to
Heaven, exclaimed, " Put not your trust in Princes nor in the
sons of men, for in them there is no salvation." There is a
mystery in this conduct now perhaps too late to clear away ; and
more than one reason has been assigned. Carte has even ques-
tioned the authenticity of the printed letter. To have reproached
Charles with the sentence of death which Strafford knew was
inevitable, is so utterly inconsistent with the magnanimity which
had dictated the noble letter, that we must believe we know the
story too imperfectly lo comprehend it.

I do not like to leave the reader without preserving some
particulars, which exhibit the magnanimity of this great
minister.

The death of Strafford was as dignified as his life. Unsub-
dued by the stroke of fortune, he was yet overcome by the
tenderness of domestic life — his friends and his family occupied
his last thoughts.

On the night before the execution, the Earl sent for the
Lieutenant of the Tower, to ask whether it were possible for
him to speak with the Archbishop now in the Tower. " Master

* Rushworth, iv. 266. f Laud's History of his Troubles, 177.

N 2

180 THE DEATH OP STRAFFORD.

Lieutenant," said StraflFord, " you shall hear what passes betwixt
us ; it is not a time either for him to plot heresy, or me to plot
treason." This seems to have been said with playful irony.
The Lieutenant desired his Lordship would petition Parliament
for that favour. " No," replied Strafford, " I have gotten my
dispatch from them, and will trouble them no more ; I am now
petitioning a higher court, where neither partiality can be
expected, nor error feared." A sharp and indignant reprimand
of them — he deigned not to be querulous. Strafford then
requested Archbishop Usher to desire Laud "to be at his
window, when I shall go abroad to-morrow, for a last farewell."

Not seeing Laud, he begged to approach nearer to his apart-
ment, but the old man was now hastening to the window of his
cell. Thus met the two great ministers of Charles, and the
scene was ominous of the fate of their master ! The aged Laud
lifted up his feeble hands to bestow the blessing he could not
speak, fainting in the arms of his attendant. Laud who could
not suffer the sight of his great friend led to the scaffold, yet
himself soon mounted that scaffold with no disturbance of mind.
When Laud was reproached by the Puritans for that womanly
softness, he said that when he should come to his own execution
they would see that he was more sensible of the death of the
great Earl than of his own.

The Lieutenant desired Strafford to take coach for fear the
people should rush in upon him and tear him to pieces. The
Scotch Balfour imagined that he was at Edinburgh. Strafford
firmly replied, " No ! Master Lieutenant, I dare look death in
the face and the people too." He pleasantly added, " Have you
a care that I do not escape — I care not how I die, whether by
the stroke of the executioner, or the madness of the people, if
that may give them better content ; it is all one to me ! " Not
less than a hundred thousand persons, for many had arrived
from all parts, were viewed in a long perspective on Tower-hill.
They witnessed his death in silence, offering neither insults nor
reproaches. Whether many sympathised with the fate of the
great statesman may be doubtful, certainly many rejoiced at it.
It was not the criminality of the man, which the populace might
have misconceived, but could never have comprehended, which
probably touched them, but it was a Minister of State submitted

Jl

THE DEATH OF STEAPEORD. 181

to a criminal's fate ; it was the first public execution of the kind
which the populace had ever beheld. At first their awe chastised
their joy — but the secret satisfaction betrayed itself when the
head of Strafi'ord fell from the block. Most who returned home
waving their hats, shouted through the towns they passed,
" His head is off ! His head is off ! " and bonfires blazed, or
windows were broken, for all did not join in the popular accla-
mations. Some departed in silence and musing, and as Monsieur
Guizot has happily expressed it, full of doubts and uneasiness as
to the justice of that wish which they came from witnessing
accomplished.

Strafford, in walking from the Tower, took off his hat fre-
quently, saluting the people. His firm step and lofty air are
described by a contemporary account to have been like that of a
general marching in a triumph, rather than to a scaffold.* This
self-possession in the grace of his motions, and the ease of his
language to the' last moment of life on the scaffold, evinced the
undaunted spirit of the man. The pang of bidding a last
farewell to some friends on the scaffold softened his accus-
tomed severity; but when Strafford beheld his brother. Sir
George Wentworth, weeping excessively, "Brother," said the
Earl, with a vivacious cheerfulness, " what do you see in me to
cause these tears ? Does any indecent fear betray in me guilt,
— or my innocent boldness, Atheism ? Think that you are now
accompanying me the third time to my marriage-bed. That
block must be my pillow, — and here shall I rest from all my
labours. No thoughts of envy, no dreams of treason, nor
jealousies nor cares for the King, the State, or myself, shall
interrupt this easy sleep." f While undressing himself and
winding his hair under the cap, looking on the block, he said,
" I do as cheerfully put off my doublet at this time, as ever I
did when I went to bed." This sentiment may to some appear

Echard repeated this simile, as he did some others in his compilation, on which
>ldmixon, not at all aware that they are not the property of the laborious compiler,
"attacks them with ferocious criticism. " Mr. Echard's similes are extremely natural :
nothing in the world is so like a triumph as to have one's head cut off." The Arch-
deacon had stolen another on Laud's fainting in taking leave of Straflford, " as if his
soul would have forced its way to have joined the Earl's in its passage to eternity."
Oldmixon exclaims, " He plays with eternity as flies do with the flame."
t Nalson, ii. 195.

I

182 THE DEATH OF STEAFFORD.

unnatural; but if we reflect what of late he had undergone,
and what, had he lived, he could not escape from, Death
offered a relief to such a man which life could no longer afford.
There are some remarkable passages in his speech. Strafford
doubtless had meditated in his imprisonment on the fate of
other illustrious men — and some, too, Ministers of State, who
like him had been cast forth as a sacrifice to the people, and
not always more criminal than himself. To these he seems to
have alluded. " Although it be my ill-hap to be misconstrued,
I am not the first man that hath suffered in this kind ; it is a
common portion that befalls men in this life. Righteous judg-
ments shall be hereafter. Here we are subject to error, and
misjudging one another. I was so far from being against Par-
liaments, that I did always think Parliaments in England to
be the happy constitution of the kingdom, and the best means
to make the King and his people happy.'' Strafford, kneeling
down, made a solemn protestation — " I am now in the very
door, going out, and my next step must be from time to eternity,
either of peace or pain — I solemnly call God to witness I am
not guilty, so far as I can understand, of the great crime laid
to my charge, nor ever had the least inclinatioif to injure the
King, the State, the Laws, or the Religion of this kingdom."
This solemn acknowledgment, this address to the God whom he
feared, at the moment of death, seems intolerable to some ; yet
there may be much more truth in the confession than they
, choose to allow, or with their prejudices are capable to conceive.
Strafford, in the legacy of his words to the people, paid a tribute
to the Constitution :* — that " he was ignorant of the nature of

* Mr. Brodie informs us that certain draughts of speeches of the Earl are not
genuine. Ceiiainly those are not which are full of contrition for his past conduct.
Mr. Brodie perceived that they were at variance with that which Ilushworth took
from his lips on the scaffold, — *' though charity," continues Mr. Brodie, " would
induce all who arc acquainted with his correspondence, &c., to wish that it had
been otherwise, or at all events that tliat portion at least of the speech actually
delivered on the scaffold, in which he declares himself to have been always a friend
to Parliaments were not authentic, for it is deplorable to believe that his last
moments were polluted with an untruth." Brodie, Brit. Empire, iii. 124.

Who is polluted with an untruth ? Those passages which Mr. Brodie might point
out as inimical to Parliaments, the Earl would probably have defended as being
only hostile, not to Parliaments, for which he was an advocate, but to EUot, to Pym
to Prynne, to Hampden, to Vane and their friends, whom he marked out as a faction.

THE DEATH OF STRAFFORD. 183

that Constition," as Mrs. Macaulay asserts^ was no ignorance
peculiar to Strafford.

With the prescience of a statesman, Strafford professed his
apprehension of future evils, recommending to every man to
lay his hand on his heart, and seriously consider whether the
beginning of the people^s happiness should be written in letters
of blood ? "I fear," he added, '^ they are in a wrong way ! "
Strafford foresaw the approaching ruin of the Church, and
solemnly forbade his son, from a religious motive, ever to pur-
chase Church-lands. It was Strafford^s notion that the revenues
of the Church would be seized on by the nobility and the
gentry. He was not far from the truth in the result ; but he
could not yet have imagined that a baser class of adventurers
were to become lords over lords, and masters over gentlemen.

He passed half an hour at prayers. In rising to approach
the block he gave his last reminiscences to his family — naming
them endearingly to his brother. He concluded, " Now I have
nigh done; one stroke will make my wife husbandless, my
dear children fatherless, my poor servants masterless, and sepa-
rate me from my dear brother, and all my friends ; but let God
be to you and them all in all." He took his solemn leave of
the noblemen and others about him, offering his hand.

There was a copy of the heads of notes for his speech written
by his own hand, and found on the scaffold ; among them were
these — " Submit to what is voted justice, but my intentions
innocent from subverting, &c. ; acquit the King constrained —
strange way to write the beginning of Keformation and settle-
ment of a Kingdom in blood."

When Archbishop Usher gave an account to the King of
the calm majesty of Strafford^s death, adding that he had seen
many die, but never so white a soul return to its Maker,
Charles, turning aside, could not forbear those emotions of ten-
derness, of grief, and of remorse, which his tears could not
efface, and which haunted his memory, and embittered his last
hour.

In the whole compass of English history, no incident offers
more critical difficulties in its narrative, than the trial of Straf-
ford, and no character seems more tender to touch on than that
of this able minister. Even among his own contemporaries the

I

184 THE DEATH OP STRAFFORD.

opinions of men were strongly opposed, and more particularly
on the mortal sentence. The passions of those days being
involved in the principles of a free constitution, have been trans-
ferred to our own, and Strafford remains still a name which
kindles the vindictive spirit of those who view nothing but un-
deviating despotism on one side, and nothing but the holiest
devotion of patriotism on the other. One of the most acute
investigators of legal evidence, in his elaborate review of the
present subject, after the keenest scrutiny, to bring Strafford
within the letter of the law, has ingenuously confessed that
these legal points may be still open to every sort of legal objec-
tion. In truth, those writers who have denounced this minister,
hardly pretend that he was amenable to any existing law ; it was
for this reason that the baffled Commons desisted from the trial
of a man, whose presumed and undefinable crime of an intention
to subvert the fundamental laws of the realm had yet never en-
tered into the code of our jurisprudence. Yet the philosophical
historian to whom we have referred, has not hesitated to pro-
nounce that "he died justly before God and man;" but Mr.
Hallam adds — so strong is his love of truth, and so firm is his
attachment to party — " In condemning the bill of attainder we
cannot look upon it as a crime." Such was the hard fate of
Strafford ! He was tried for a supposititious crime, and stands
condemned by a paradox ! This is in the nature of things where
party is prevalent and justice is violated.

Were it possible to discover a philosopher so ignorant and so
innocent of traditional prejudices and vulgar opinions as first to
have learnt the tale of Strafford only by his trial, he would hardly
hesitate to acquit the illustrious prisoner ; but surely he would
be confirmed in his sentiments or his suspicions when he had
further meditated on the voluminous discussions of those who
advocate the justice of the bill of attainder. He might wonder
at that anxiety and that perplexity which they betray by their
legal subtleties; he would find himself involved in the most
abstruse arguments, as if the crimes of Strafford were rather of
a metaphysical nature than overt acts of treason which even
some dormant law might be imagined to reach ; he might smile
at the preliminary questions they have sometimes been com-
pelled to resort to before they venture to deduce their inferences ;

J

THE DEATH OP STRAFFOED. 185

he might be startled at the monstrous ingenuity of the incom-
prehensible charges of constructive or accumulative treason, and
at the solution of that enigma which explains that, however
there was no established law for Strafford^ s condemnation to
death, yet was he justly condemned by the Legislature, though
he would have been unjustly condemned by an ordinary Court
of Law.* And, finally, after all the tedious sophistry of lawyers,
he might be surprised that these writers have usually wound up
their vindication of the anomalous proceedings and the violation
of public justice, by pleas of necessity, and apologies to palliate,
what they had found to be so troublesome to explain f Yet, let
us not forget the illustrious names at the bar who opposed the
heartless St. John, and the inveterate advocates, Glynn and
Maynard — the bar at least was honourably divided.

We escape from the intricate and tenebrous labyrinth of the
lawyers, emerging from their cloudy arguments to the open
day-light of human nature. "We will consider Strafibrd as the
minister of Charles the First. We may not flatter ourselves
that we can penetrate into the secret recesses of his comprehen-
sive mind, but it is the privilege of the passionless historian,
with a wider scope of information than contemporaries possess,
to form juster views of the man. We have to offer neither
invectives nor apologies.

The poet May, who still retained some courtly reminiscences,
even in his character as the historian and the Secretary of the
Parliament, struck by the genius of the great Minister, compared
Strafford with the Roman Curio of his own Lucan : —

I

Haud alium tanta civem tulit indole Roma,
Aut cui plus leges deberent recta sequent!.
Perdita tunc Urbi nocuerunt secula, postquam

* Brodie, iii. 99.

f Brodie, iii. 104. Here is a notable instance. After having occupied several
pages in controverting the enlightened opinion of a great statesman himself, Charles
Fox, on the Commons' " departure in the case of Strafford from the sacred principles
of justice," Mr, Brodie closes thus, " There seemed every reason to conclude that
the fate of the Empire depended in a great measure upon his ; a view which even
brings the matter within Mr. Fox's idea in regard to self-defence." The ingenuity,
if not the ingenuousness, is here admirable ; as if not quite confident of all his
previous legal distinctions, this historical controversiaUst, in his last distress of
argument, offers to rest his cause by accepting the very opinion which he had been
all along contending with !

186 THE DEATH OP STRAFFORD.

Ambitus, et luxus, et opum metuenda facultas.
Transverse mentem dubiam torrente tulerunt,
Momentumque £uit mutatus Curio rerum.

In all our pregnant mother's tribes before,
A son of nobler hope she never bore ;
A soul more bright, more great, she never knew.
While to thy country's interest thou wert true.
But thy bad fate overruled thy native worth,
And in an age abandon'd brought thee forth ;
When Vice in triumph through the city pass'd,
And dreadful wrath and power laid all things waste.
The sweeping stream thy better purpose cross'd,
And in tlie headlong torrent wert thou lost.
Much to the ruin of the State was done -j

When Curio by "Ambition's bribe " was won ; l

Curio, the hope of Romie, and her most worthy Son. J

RowE.

A modern historian, to whom every respect is due for his dis-
cernment and impartiality on the general subjects of our history,
has pronounced of Strafford that " he was the most active and
formidable enemy to the liberties of the people. He laboured —
his own letters prove it — to exalt the power of the throne on the
ruin of those rights of which he once had been the most strenuous
advocate."* Such a popular opinion well merits that closer
scrutiny which gratifies the love of truth.

Was it then ambition, reckless of its means, which so wholly
contaminated this great spirit, as basely to work in enslaving his
fellow-countrymen to the tyranny of a despot ? Was an earl-
dom weighed against a baronetcy ? Few statesmen, it is suspected,
reject the seduction of political ambition, even in the private
station occupied by independent Strafford : but it may yet be a
question whether Strafford ever considered that his Sovereign
was this absolute tyrant ? Even May confesses that " he under-
stood the right way, and the liberty of his country as well as
any man ; for which in former Parliaments he stood up stiffly,
and seemed an excellent patriot." At his trial, Strafford declared
that his opinions had suffered no change, whatever they might
deem or misconceive of his conduct. Alluding to the Commons,
he said, " I am the same man in opinion that I was when I was
one of them." And some days after, with deeper emotions, " I

* Dr. Lingard, x. 136. M

THE DEATH OP STEAFFORD. 187

confess I am charged with treason by the honourable House of
Commons, and that it is my greatest grief; for if it were not an
arrow sent out of that quiver, it would not be so heavy as it is ;
but, as it comes from them, it pierces my heart, though not with
guilt, yet with grief, that in my grey hairs I should be misun-
derstood by the companions of my youth with whom I have
formerly spent so much time/^

Let us take Strafford at a moment less guarded than when he
stood at the bar of his peers, an impeached minister — let us seek
him in the secret confession of his privacy, and in the day of his
glory. Strafford flattered himself that he had triumphed over
his great adversary Pym, and that party : —

" Now I can say the King is as absolute here (Ireland) as any
prince in the whole world can be ; and may be still, if it be not
spoiled on that side (the Commons.) For so long as his Majesty
shall have here a deputy of faith and understanding, and that he
be preserved in credit, and independent upon any but the King
himself, let it be laid as a ground, it is the deputy^s fault if the
King be denied any reasonable claim."

We may assume this as the secret principle of Strafford^s
political conduct. He considered that the King was to be
invested with " absolute power," but he explains the ambiguous
phrase, and he restricts this mighty power by any " reasonable
claims." Arbitrary power, therefore, when'unreasonable, would
be illegal. Strafford had a peculiar expression to describe the
right of the King, amidst his difficulties to raise supplies. It
was to be done " candide et caste " — this appears by the evidence

Lord Cottington and others on the trial. In a curious paper
ddressed to the King on the subject of " war with Austria," he
employs the same expression ; he impresses on the King to exer-
cise '^ the power only for public and necessary uses ; to spare the
people as much and often as it is possible ; this being the only
means to preserve, as may be said, the chastity of these levies."*
In another place, alluding to the ship-money, he says, '' I am
satisfied that monies raised for setting forth a fleet, was chastely
bestowed that way." It is evident that by the chastity of levies
of money, he meant an entire application to the necessary pur-

^wa

* Strafford's Letters, ii. 62.

188 THE DEATH OP STRAFFORD.

but arbitrary notions in his head, he had never troubled himself
with such nice distinctions. But the obnoxious phrase of " abso-
lute power ^' would be construed by a Commonwealth man
odiously, passing over the fact that Strafford in his style, how-
ever high, seems always to have subdued its worst construction.
Had Charles been the Nero, which has been so artfully impressed
on us, would Strafford have laboured to render the tyrant, as he
did the King, absolute ?

Strafford, like most men of that day, could not have enter-
tained those correct notions of a popular constitution, which
required such a length of time after his own age for their
establishment. The principles of our political freedom were in
his day fluctuating, depending on precedents, and always in-
volved in controversy. He himself has more than once lamented
this cruel uncertainty, and earnestly prayed for the time when
"the prerogative and the liberty of the subject should be deter-
mined.^' So doubtful and obscure were then the conflicting
sentiments even in the capacious mind of this great statesman !
Candour requires that we should credit what his intimate friend
Sir George Radcliffe assures us ; we have no reason to suppose
that he has ascribed suppositious sentiments to his great friend.
He asserts that Strafford " disliked the abuse of regal authority,
but it appeared to him most hard and difficult to keep the
interests of the King and the people from encroaching one
upon another," that "Experience had taught him that there
was less danger to increase the regal power than that the people
should gain advantage over the King ; the one may turn to the
prejudice of some particular sufferer, the other draws on the
ruin of the whole."

This opinion betrays more the dread of a democracy than an
assent to the passive obedience of arbitrary power. On the
scaffold Strafford himself declared that " he had the ill-hap to
be miscontrucd, for that he had ever considered that the Parlia-
ment of England were the happiest constitution that any king-
dom lived under." Strafford, so late as in 1639, advised
Charles to call a Parliament; and Whitelocke observes, that
" Strafford had the honour of the people's good opinion for
promoting this resolution." In the style of his correspondence
with the King, we observe the most complete personal dcvo-

i

THE DEATH OP STRAFFOED. . 189

tion ; but we must recollect that he had to engage the affections
of a distant master, and that confident of his own ability as a
minister, which the result of his Irish administration had
shown, in the improvement of the revenue, and the quieting of
that unhappy kingdom, he was desirous to inspire the King by
the confidence he himself possessed. However ambitious of
office, with his noble spirit and his statesman-like views, and
his independence of fortune, he would not tamely stand by as
the obsequious deputy of a capricious tyrant. The phrase
" The King of absolute power," however odious in the popular
sense, would not be so in constitutional usage ; it may imply
only the obedience due to the sovereign ; a King of England,
the English lawyers have said, is the most absolute Prince in
Europe., for the executive branch of the Constitution is itself
absolute power.

Abstract propositions in the science of politics mislead,
because opposite parties in adopting identical terms affix different
associations of ideas. It is the timely, shall we say the fortunate,
application of such propositions, either in favour of the liberty
of the subject, or the maintenance of the sovereign's power,
which alone preserves the variable unity of our Constitution.
The sovereign sometimes requires protection from the people,
as well as the people from the King. Even Pym in his speech
against Strafford observed, "If the prerogative of the King
overwhelm the liberty of the people, it will be turned into
tyranny; if liberty undermine the prerogative, it will grow
into anarchy."* To such an abstract proposition we may
believe that Strafford would have willingly subscribed — yet the
conduct of the patriot Pym and the minister Strafford was in
diametrical opposition — the one in agreeing with the identical
proposition would have had "the prerogative of the King"
more strongly impressed on his mind as being " undermined ;"
the other "the liberty of the subject" as being "overwhelmed."
And should we further allow, for the sake of argument, that
neither were stimulated by personal hostility, or acted from
party motives, the one would have been alarmed at anarchy,
while the other would have abhorred tyranny. Each, perhaps,
hj false ideas was governing the public mind — and the un-

* Rush worth, viii. 662.

190 THE DEATH OF STRAFFORD.

happy nation, in that critical period of the Constitution, was
doomed to feel the successive evils of that tyranny, and that
anarchy, of which their leaders had formed such unsettled
notions.

Mr. Brodie has said, that "it cannot be disputed that the
generous tear which has been shed for Strafford might well
have been spared." And as Mr. Brodie provokingly found in
the sage and temperate Whitelocke a glowing eulogy on the
magnanimous Strafford, he at once hastily suspects that the
text has been interpolated. This noble character of Strafford,
which Hume has transcribed into his text, however, is genuine.*

At this day, when the sentence of Strafford becomes but " a
problem in political ethics," and as an iEsopian fable with its
instructive moral, truth should be dearer to us than the memories
of Strafford and of Pym — or the orgasm of a female dema-
gogue in Mrs. Macaulay, the cavils of a Scotch advocate in
Mr. Brodie, or even the liberal views of a philosophic historian
in Mr. Hallam. It is good to be jealous in the maintenance of
freedom, but in the silence of seclusion, not less dear to the
good and the wise is the sanctity of truth !

Strafford suffered execution by the decision of the Judges
whose judicial opinion may still raise a blush in their successors
on the bench: it was a huddled opinion extorted from their
personal fears, where particularising no act, they condemned a
man on the generality .f A philosophical lawyer of our own.
times, who himself would have voted for the death of Strafford,
is compelled to offer an apology for this judicial opinion,
observing that the two articles — one of which was quartering

* Brodie, iii. 94. This writer refers to the first edition of Whitelocke's Memo-
rials, (10'22,) edited by the Earl of Anglesey, who took great liberties with the text
and made important castrations. The second edition of 1732, published by sub-
scription, was printed entire from the original manuscript. This valuable edition
appears without a new preface, or the name of an Editor, which, after fi'equent
inquiries, I could never learn. The entire passage which raised Mr. Brodie'a
suspicions so unjustly, appears ad verlum in the genuine edition.

+ Sir George Radcliffe has stated the fact concerning the Judges with remark-
able simplicity. " The .Judges were asked upon what grounds they had delivered
their opinion to the Lords ; to which they would give no answer, but that as tho,
case was put to them it was treason." One of the articles voted was for having
quartered a Serjeant and four soldiers on a person, for refusing to obey his orders*
as Deputy of Ireland, and this was deemed " levying war against the King ! " —
Strafford^s Letters, ii. 432.

4

THE DEATH OF STRAFFOED. 191

troops on tlie people of Ireland, wHcli, however, "had been
enforced so seldom, that it could not be brought within the act
of treason," and another article in which the Peers had voted
him guilty, but " not on the whole matter" — may be said, to
use the words of this able writer, " at least to approach very
nearly to a substantive treason, within the statute of Edward
the Third."* So difficult it was to determine the character of
the crime — and so unconsciously might it have been com-
mitted, at a period when, as Mr. Hallam observes, " the rules
of evidence were very imperfectly recognised, or continually

Mr. Hallam rejoices at the condemnation of Strafford, but he
acknowledges that " He should rather found his conviction of
Strafford's systematic hostility to our fundamental laws, on his
correspondence since brought to light, as well as his general
conduct in administration, than on any overt acts proved on his
impeachment." t What now becomes of the justice of the
Peers, and the Judges ? since to have rendered justifiable the
death-condemnation of this minister, on clear and positive
evidence, we are told that it required that his Judges, to save
their consciences, ought to have lived one hundred and fifty
years later than they did; that is, to the time of the publication
of Strafford's private correspondence.

In regard to this private correspondence, and some uncon-
stitutional language held in Council, no one has yet thought
necessary to ascertain what might be the true meaning this
minister attached to these ambiguous expressions ; no one yet
has placed himself in the situation of the minister to comprehend
us motives, or to penetrate into his design.

What meant Strafford by recurring to " extraordinary ways "
should the Parliament refuse supplies? What when he told
the King that " having tried the affections of his people, and
being refused, he was absolved from all rule of government ? "
Why did he exult that he had conferred on the King in Ireland
" absolute power ? "

This high style may on its face admit of the most odious con-
struction. But it is harmless, if " the extraordinary ways " was
no grievance, but the suggestion of some " chaste " system of

* Hallam, i. 568. t Ibid, 5Q7.

192 THE DEATH OF STRAFFORD.

finance. "An absolved King" is a phrase which seems in
separating the executive power from the legislative, to make the
monarch independent of the laws ; the phrase was thrown out
in the heat and collision of opinions amidst a Privy Council,
and with a view of the peculiar circumstances into which the
King was then cast. It might mean as much as his enemies
could wish, or as little as his advocate might choose. " Abso-
lute power " does not necessarily include " arbitrary power ; "
absolute power may be only an efiicient power for a defined
object, and on this principle every English monarch becomes a
most absolute sovereign in his executive capacity; arbitrary
power, depending only on the caprice of the individual, is inde-
finite and unhmited. Who can ascertain the extent of Straf-
ford's devotion to the King ? Would he have crouched as the
vile creature of a brutal despot ? Would he, whatever might be
his ambition, have sacrificed the nation to the arbitrary rule of
a capricious sovereign ? Would he have stood by the side of
Charles the First had he believed the King that tyrant, which is
still the hollow echo of partisans ? This is the question which
should be resolved.

The style of the minister, indeed, is often an evidence of his
resolution to support the King against that superior force under
which Charles the First had of late succumbed. Strafford,
confident in his own powers, could fearlessly have grappled with
what he fatally deemed a chimerical faction.

If we look into some parts of Straff'ord's conduct, we may be
convinced that at least he was sensible of the value of the Con-
stitution ; he solemnly swore this, as he laid his head on the
block. He had felt as a Briton, and had been ranked among
our Patriots. But at times to Straff'ord the power of the Com-
mons seemed more evident than their authority. We know
that Charles the First in his early manhood, after the ungene-
rous treatment he had received from his first Parliament, and
repeated trials to gain their favour, abhorred, or perhaps dreaded
the very name ; and since that long-passed day he had gained
nothing by concessions but a sense of his own weakness. But
his minister was not hostile to Parliaments ; it was by his per-
suasion that they were assembled ; and he iterated his prayers
that the King and his Parliament should meet in mutual con-

iL

THE DEATH OP STEAFFORD. 193

fidence.* This fact of itself would be sufficient to discover the
limits the minister seems in his mind to have set to his devo-
tion to the King ; this is not denied by his enemies, but they
have neutralised its merit ; one, by maliciously assuring us he
only meant dependant Parliaments,t another by maintaining
that he merely prudentially referred to Parliaments at times, in
order to save himseK from the very fate he met with.J Strafford
was perhaps a superior minister who anticipated a happier era
when the monarch might find in his Parliament a source of
strength, and the Parliament in the Sovereign a source of
honour.

It was at one of those awful and opposite crises which approxi-
mate to revolution, that the minister Strafford stood forth, the
champion of his sovereign. Strafford had ruled that land of Ire
— as Fuller quaintly but expressively calls that unhappy country,
long conquered by its neighbour, and ever in war with its own
children — with firmness and wisdom. The acts for which he
was impeached chiefly relate to his Irish administration ; but we
know that that government has always been irregular from
obvious causes, and too often compelled to resort to martial law.
Mrs. Macaulay replying to those who asserted that the sentence
by which Strafford fell was not according to statute law, plau-
sibly insisted that " circumstances may arise of so peculiar and
urgent a nature as to render it necessary for the legislative
power to exceed the strict letter of the law.^' § Abstract posi-
tions like these are equally strong on either side ; Strafford might
have defended his own troubled administration in Ireland by
adopting the very argument which was pointed for his destruc-
tion. Strafford himself was so unconscious of criminality, in
^e government of Ireland, that he appealed to it as the evidence

I shall transcribe a passage on the Irish Parliament, which will at least convey
some notion of Strafford's opinion of all the Parliaments in Charles' reign.

" The Parliament is ended here ; the King, I trust, well satisfied in the service
done him, and if I be not much mistaken, his subjects infinitely satisfied in particular
regards towards them, which indeed is the happy effects of Parliaments. And yet
this is the only ripe Parliament that hath been gathered in my time, all the rest have
heen a green fruit broken from the bough, which, as you know, are never so kindly or
pleasant. Happy it were if we might see the hke in England : every thing in its
season — this time it becomes us to pray foi*, and when God sends it, to make the right
use of it."— Strafford's Letters, i. 420. t Macaulay, ii. 461.

^^ "t Brodie, iii. 82. § Macaulay, ii. 463.

I

194 THE DEATH OP STRAFFORD.

of his able administration ; nor was this entirely denied by his
adversaries. Never was this minister taken more by surprise
than when Pym, having opened his introduction to the trial, a
sealed paper was produced which appeared to be sent from the
Irish Parliament, purporting that the Commons there had voted
the Earl guilty of high-treason. Strafford was startled ; at once
he saw through the long scene which was opening on him —
exclaiming that " There was a conspiracy against him to take
his life ! " * Pym and his Committee remonstrated Avith the
Lords that he who stood impeached of treason had dared to
accuse the Parliament of a conspiracy against him. The Earl
was compelled on his knees to retract his words. Strafford,
however, here betrayed no deficient sagacity. It was indeed
one of the preliminaries of a conspiracy, by getting up an im-
peachment among the Commons at Dublin to prepare the
minds, and prejudice the passions of the Parliament at London.

The situation of the minister was surrounded by the most
thorny difficulties ; he felt them, and he pleaded for them. " Do
not, my Lords," cried the oppressed statesman when before the
tribunal of the nation — " do not put greater difficulties upon the
Ministers of State than that with cheerfulness they may serve
the King and the State, for, if you will examine them by every
grain, or every little weight, it will be so heavy that the public
affairs of the kingdom will be left waste, and no man will meddle
with them that hath wisdom and honour and fortune to lose."

A strong administration is not a popular one, and it has never
been difficult to render the commanding genius of a great minis-
ter odious to the people. In the case of Strafford, unparalleled
artifices were directed to this single purpose. "The brutish
multitude," as Sir Philip Warwick indignantly calls them, at the
decapitation of Strafford, exulted that " his head was off ! "
They had been persuaded that that was the cure for all their
grievances ; but the great statesman of France, when he heard
of the event, which in some measure he had himself promoted,
sarcastically remarked that " the English nation were so foolish
that they would not let the wisest head among them stand on its
own shoulders." The people and the minister seem to be placed
in an opposite position to each other, whenever the safety of the

* Whitelocke's Memorials, 40.

THE DEATH OF STEAFFORD. 195

State demands a severe administration ; such a hapless minister
is converting into enemies at least one portion of that kingdom
•whose stability costs him so many vigils, and whose very pros-
perity may gather strength to rise up against him. Some of the
greatest ministers, who have guided the fortunes of Europe,
would not have proved to be less criminal than Strafford, had
they encountered judges and enemies as terrible. As E-ichelieu
in France, Pombal in Portugal, and Pitt in England. Nothing
is less difficult than to make a minister, who has been long in
office, a criminal, if his enemies are his accusers. But in com-
paring Strafford with other great ministers, his situation had this
peculiarity : the party opposed to the minister had an army in
their pay ; the reverse has been more usual.

If ever a great minister could have saved a sinking State, the
mind of Strafford was competent to that awful labour ; but his
lofty spirit was to be mortified by his own personal defects, and
to succumb beneath the rising genius of the age, which was
developing its mighty limbs in the darkness of intrigue and
revolution. His imperturbable courage would have wrestled
with the daring aspirations and tumultuous force of popular
ambition ; but the crisis of a kingdom had come, and he could
not give stability to what was passing away, nor have dispersed
what was soon to overwhelm ; nor could he repair the incapacity,
the supineness, and the treachery of so many others. Imperious,
vindictive, confident in his own energy, and, above all, devoted
to the sovereign — yet could his implacable enemies only triumph
by counting up the infirmities of fourteen years !

Whatever has been alleged in diminution of the odium which
the leaders of the Patriotic party incur for the condemnation of
death passed on this minister, it must remain a perpetual exam-
ple of the passions of Parliament. If we consult the journals of
the House of Commons, we may find how even a noble cause
may terminate in an ignoble effect, whenever the end is made to
sanctify the means, and the wisdom to disguise the error. At
those moments and at such a crisis, justice may be forced down
by the ardour of numbers, and truth may vanish amidst the illu-
sions of the passions. It was quite evident that the party of
Pym had meditated on a Government of terror, and to cement
the popular cause by the blood of their governors. Laud was

o 2

I

196 THE DEATH OP STRAFFORD.

immured, and this greater victim lay in their hands — tliey had
triumphed, and the public cause which they had adopted had
consecrated that triumph. Had the Parliamentary leaders, with
ordinary humanity and higher wisdom, shown themselves to
have been honourable in their means, and dignified in their end,
they would have been the great moral masters of the nation —
and of Europe. They could have degraded the unhappy minis-
ter, despoiled him of his power and his honours, reduced him, as
Charles offered, " to be not fit to serve even the office of a con-
stable,'^ and exiled him from his fatherland ; but they practised
the meanest artifices, and closed by that astonishing act of in-
justice, when, to condemn the minister, his prosecutors submit-
ted to become themselves criminal. He whom they despaired to
make guilty, they at once convicted.

But it is the result of evil measures which ought to teach us
to dread them. Evil measures, when they are suffered to become
popular, create " a taste for evil ; " then it is that the wicked
rejoice, and the iniquitous are never satiated with triumphs.
The undisguised dereliction of legal justice in the case of Straf-
ford, was but a prelude to the many which were to follow. An
English Marat of that day, as an apology for the present and for
future " legal murders," tells us their secret. " There is,'' says
this barbarous politician, " a necessitated policy that my Lord of
Strafford and some others should be given up, as a just sacrifice
to appease the people." * The French Revolution is abundant
in facts which confirm " the necessitated policy" of the dema-
gogues.

The most illustrious of foreigners, on these odious proscrip-
tions of individuals, which open such a wide field for intrigues
and personal hatreds, has noticed our bill of Attainder., He
classes it with those laws of Athens and of Rome, by which an
individual w^as condemned by the suffrages of thousands of the
people. The various ostracisms which have been practised by
some States, seem more akin to it ; but the people, who could
not tolerate eminent virtue or eminent genius, only betrayed
their own weakness, yet were not the less unjust and cruel — but
these ostracisms were bloodless ! Cicero would have such laws
abohshed, for this admirable reason, because the force of la\

• A pamphlet of the day, entitled " The Earl of Strafford characterised," 1641.

THE AEMY-PLOT. 197

consists in being made for the whole community. When Mon-
tesquieu delivered his own opinion, he was awed by the great
reputation of the English nation ; he conceived our Constitution
perfect, and us as men without passions. The foreigner has
done us more honour than in the example of Strafford we have
merited. He concludes his chapter thus : " I must own, not-
withstanding, that the practice of the free'st nation that ever
existed, induces me to think that there are cases in which we
must cast a veil over liberty, as formerly they concealed the sta-
tues of the gods.^^ The brilliant Montesquieu, as if he were
composing his Temple de Guide instead of L^Esprit des Loix,
gives the fancies of a poet for the severe truths of a legislator.
Beccaria is not of the opinion of Montesquieu.

The tragical history of the Earl of Strafford is among those
crimes in our history, which are only chastised by the philoso-
phical historian. The passions of contemporaries and the pre-
judices of posterity are marshalled against the magnanimous
minister, immolated to the mysterious purposes of a powerful
party, who remorselessly pleaded, to cover their shame, in the
style of Caiaphas, " It is expedient for us, that one man should
die for the people." Strafford perished for a crime which no law
recognised, and which Pym himself, when confounded by the
indignant glance of the noble prisoner at the bar, rendered inex-
plicable, by calling it " Treason far beyond the power of words ! "
Strafford might have left the bar of his peers as a guilty man —
as it was, he left it only as a persecuted one. The ferocious
iumph could only be satiated by an inglorious homicide !

CHAPTER XIV.

ARMY PLOT— HISTORY OF COLONEL GORING— PYM'S MANAGE-

KMENT OF THE PLOT— DEFENCE OF LORD CLARENDON AND
HUME.
'he Army-plot, as it is called, spread a consternation through
the kingdom, and is still more remarkable for its immense
consequences, not only as it hastened the catastrophe of Straf-
ford's execution, but as, at no distant day, it instigated Parlia-

I

198 TIIE ARMY-PLOT.

ment, from their jealous fears of the military, to demand the
militia ; an usurpation which fell little short of dethroning the
King, and which terminated in the civil war. So important an
incident has given rise to opposite opinions and statements
between the great parties who now divide our English history:
the aim of one is to substantiate the reality of the plot, and
criminate the King; the other deny it altogether, and insist
that it was a mere artifice of faction.

The history of this plot is involved in great obscurity, — it
changed its face more than once — and a contradictory tale has
been shaped by opposite parties, suiting it to their own purpose.
To unravel the perplexed skein of these intrigues — to analyse
the contending elements of this confused compound — has been
the labour of some of our contemporaries, and still remains to
exercise our curiosity and our candour.

All parties have agreed that the origin of this Army-plot was
a rising jealousy of the Scottish army. The arrears of the
English army had remained undischarged, and in other respects
they had of late suffered a studied neglect.* An English mili-
tary force, in truth, was no longer required by Englishmen who
had adopted a foreign policy, had invited invaders, and for the
benefits already conferred, chorused that cheering burthen to
their street-ballads, which the honest Covenanter Baillie exult-
ingly gives — " the binding word ever,'^ as he calls it, was,

* Gramercy, good Scot ! "

The English officers had witnessed convoys of monies pass by
their quarters to their northern brethren. Officers unpaid would
mutually communicate their dissatisfaction, and there was no
difficulty in agreeing that the Parliament, and not the King,
neglected them. Many of these officers were members of the
House and young men ; Wilmot, then commissary, had boldly

* Mrs. Macaulay, the perpetual advocate for the rarhament, pleads for her
party : " The English army, without attending to circumstances, or comprehending
the difficulties the Commons lay under, showed ajTnptoms of gi'eat disjileasure."
(ii. 44G.) It ia lamentable for the cause of truth, that these political advocates,
whenever reduced to frame apologies, never for once look to "the difficulties'"
which the unfortunate monarch " lay under." But what were *' these difficulties of
the Commons?" They had involved themselves in a dark labyrinth of intrigues,
and they were compelled to sacrifice even themselves to the idol which their own
hands had made.

I

THE ARMY-PLOT. 199

told the Speaker, when passing a vote of money, on the urgent
demands of the Scots, that if the Scots could get money by
sending up a piece of paper, he did not see why the English
should not use the same easy messenger. Hence seems to have
originated, in those petitioning days, the first idea of a military
petition. It is evident that the strong partialities of the ruling
party in the Commons were wholly bent towards the "dear
brethren," whom they would consider as an army far deeper
engaged in their interests than their own English, among
whom doubtless were many friends of the King. A petition
was drawn up by Percy, the brother of the Earl of Northumber-
land, subscribed by Wilmot, Ashburnham, O'Neal, and a few
others — the professed object was to settle the King's revenue,
which would include their own; without infringing on the
liberties of the subject, or on the sacredness of the laws. This
paper was shown in a secret conference with some of the con-
fidential servants of the royal party. The present subscribers
were desirous of procuring the King^s approval by some testi-
mony which might serve to engage others. More than one
draught of the petition was made, ere Charles put his initials
C. E., to one, as a mark that he had perused and approved
of it.

Percy addressed a letter to his brother, which some have
thought was concocted to exculpate himself and the King
towards the Parliament,* by criminating some of his associates.
Percy tells us that on his first interview with the King he dis-
covered that others had been treating before him ; and, as he
asserts, on principles contrary to those originally proposed,
" inclining a way more high and sharp, not having limits either
of honour or law." Already the Army-plot was assuming an
altered countenance.

Colonel Goring, afterwards Lord Goring, who became dis-
tinguished during the Civil War by his active intrigues, was now
by the King's earnest desire admitted of the party, as also was
Jermyn, the favourite of the Queen. Goring proposed the most

* The Parliamentarians, not satisfied with Percy's letter, insinuate that he sup-
pressed much which he knew, while Echard, a writer on the opposite side, asserts
that Percy was induced by Pym to send this letter that his companions might be
criminated, and thus furnish " a double evidence " preparatory to " a complete dis-
covery."

200 THE ARMY-PLOT.

daring designs, which Percy declares were positively rejected
by all present, and in his interviews with the King, more than
once forbidden by the King himself. Goring was anxious to
learn who was to be the Commander-in-chief, while he himself
refused any subordinate place. Several noblemen were men-
tioned by different persons, but no one proposed the Colonel
himself. After a great debate nothing was concluded. The
conspirators, if these petitioners can be so called, now discovered
that they consisted at least of two opposed parties ; the one
restricting themselves to moderate measures, while the other
seemed intent on nothing less than maintaining the King's
absolute power.

According to Percy's narrative, in consequence of the dis-
agreement of the parties, the whole project was laid aside — it
had vanished ! Goring seems to confirm this account of their
inconclusive debates, in his pretended confession to the Par-
liament. "Certainly, if they had stayed where I left them,
there was no conclusion at all. It appears there were two
several intentions digested by others, (he avoids to say by whom)
before they were communicated to me ; and I know not whether
my hearkening to them was a fault, but I am sure it was no
misfortune.''* According to Percy, Goring was the spokes-
man of the party who proposed "the violent courses" — the
rescue of Strafford, and the march of the army to London.
Goring on this point contrived an artful evasion. He told the
Parliament, " I endeavoured to show them that as the design
would be impious if the most desperate counsels had been
followed, so it would be the weakest that ever was undertaken
if they were omitted." By this ingenious turn Goring would
screen himself by concealing the fact of himself having pro-
posed "these desperate counsels." Probably not one of the
party could have recollected the Colonel's mention of the warm
condemning epithet, " impious."

Some time after — the precise interval which would be material
to fix on has not, however, been ascertained, — Goring reveals
the Army-plot, which no longer existed, and whose object
appears never to have been determined, to his friend the Earl
of Newport, the Governor of the Tower, who having conducted

* Nalson, ii. 275.

1

THE ARMY-PLOT. 201

him to tlie Earl of Bedford and Lord Mandeville, they, to
relieve themselves from the weight of this dangerous communi-
cation, hastened to inform the other leaders of the Parliamentary
party. Percy, Jermyn, and others of the Army-cabal, received
private notice that they were betrayed, though it was not
known by whom ; for Goring required that his name at present
should be concealed. They instantly took flight ; so suddenly,
that Jermyn had not time to change his dress, and went off
'^ in his black satin suit, and white boots," which circumstance
was adduced as evidence by the Parliament that the courtly
beau had not intended to leave England on that day which the
King^s warrant he carried with him pretended. The flight of
nearly all the party tended to confirm the deposition of Goring,
and their guilt, and struck an universal panic, which greatly
served the purposes of the anti-Straffordians.

The moment which Goring chose to divulge this Army-plot
was most favourable to the views of that party, who were in
great want of some fresh collateral aid to lay the head of
Strafford on the block; and Goring was quite certain of thus
recommending himself to their high favour. He seems to have
watched for the lucky hour.

Lord Mandeville, afterwards Lord Kimbolton> and finally
Earl of Manchester, who was so perfectly acquainted with the
history of his times, and a chief actor in them, is an authority
as unquestionable as impartial. His Lordship has in explicit
terms declared the motives of Goring's treachery, and the
dexterity and artifice with which he chose this particular moment
for his discovery. ^' Col. Goring, whose ambition was not
answered in being promised the place of Lieutenant- General
of the army, and finding others employed whose persons he
disliked, he having a full information from Mr. Percy and Mr.
Jermyn of all the design, thought it would tend most to his
security and advantage to reveal the conspiracy, and being
versed in all the methods of falsehood, he chose the time and
means which he thought would be most acceptable to the
Parliament."*

The causes which Lord Mandeville has assigned for the con-
duct of Goring, we can confirm from other sources. We have

* Nalson, ii. 273, from the MS. Memoirs of the Earl of Manchester.

20S THE ARMY-PLOT.

the remark which Jermyn privately made to Goring, on Goring's
objecting, as Goring pretends in his deposition, to marching the
army to London. "You do not," said Jermyn, " disUke the
design ; for you are as ready for any wild mad undertaking as
any man I know ; but you dislike the temper of those persons
who are engaged in the business."*

But we have another authority which Lord Mandeville could
not have seen, which confirms the motive assigned for Goring's
abandonment of the party which he had evidently joined — it is
that of the Queen herself, who informed Madame de Motteville
that Goring was enraged at the disappointment of not having
been chosen General-in-chief. However strenuously Goring
denied before Parliament that he had ever contemplated on the
desperate designs so dexterously ascribed by him to others, the
Queen's story proves quite the contrary, and confirms the
narrative of Percy.f Goring had proposed to rescue Strafford ;
but Wilmot had entertained a similar project; each unknown
to the other. The ambition, if not the zeal of both these
military adventurers was equal. The King and the Queen, to
whom these officers had separately, in confidence, communicated
their design, dared not give a preference to either, certain by
their choice of converting into a dangerous enemy the other,
and dreading at that critical moment a discovery of this secret
intercourse with the army. The perplexed monarch inclined to
give the command to Goring, and to satisfy Wilmot by the
equivalent of another splendid appointment. The courtly
Jermyn, Master of the Horse to the Queen, the suavity of whose
manners was imagined could not fail to reconcile these con-
tending interests, and who valued himself on the impossible
faculty of pleasing all and displeasing none, was dispatched to
persuade either of these officers to relinquish the chief com-
mand to the other ; but Jermyn found that his flatteries and

♦ Rushworth, iv. 254.
f Percy charges Goring with proposing " the violent courses," while Goring
asserts that he knew nothing of the plot till it was communicated to him by Percy.
Here is a palpable contradiction by the parties themselves ; but the veracity of Percy
may be trusted. Goring swore to Sir Philip Warwick, which oath, observes War-
wick, " was no great assurance," that he never revealed the plot till he knew that
the chief members of both Houses were before acquainted with it. The Earl of
Manchester's and the Queen's account agree with Percy's naii'ative.

I

THE AEMY-PLOT. 203

I

^Kajoleries were quite inefficient with these sturdy and secret

^HKvals.

It may^ perhaps, be deemed a most uncertain thing to assign
the motives of a person of the character of Goring. Bold in
enterprise, dexterous at any sudden emergency, and scornful of
danger, with considerable abilities, he was, however, dissipated
in his habits, and utterly profligate in his principles. If this
volatile man were impatient at the vacillating and timid conduct
of the King and the Queen ; if he did not much like some of his
associates, and perhaps suspected the fidelity of others ; if he

^Kirere too proud to play a subordinate part; all this might

^^account for his desertion of that party, but will hardly for his
avowed perjury, and his reckless treachery. The truth is, that
Goring, versatile in his conduct, was apparently of no party,
but dexterously and cunningly profiting by both. His whole
life was a series of such acts. He would have been willing to
have obliged both parties, would both have been satisfied to
have been betrayed. He gave a remarkable instance of this
duplicity on the present occasion. Jermyn, on his flight, ran
off" to Portsmouth to his friend Goring, who was the Governor,
and who at that moment he knew not was his betrayer.
Jermyn had a royal warrant to procure a jfrigate ; Goring had
just received an order from Parliament to arrest Jermyn. He
hurried his friend aboard, and pocketed the order from the Par-
liament, pretending afterwards that it had reached him an hour
too late. When Governor of Portsmouth, he took large sup-
plies of money from the Parliament for fortifying the place,
and at the same time from the King to admit the Royalists on
some favourable opportunity. He declared that he held the
place faithful to the King and Parliament for their use, and not
to be delivered up but by both their consents; and finally,
having first decided for himself, passed over into France with
the money he had received on both sides, without breaking his
promise to either. It was his pride to cozen, and then laugh in
the best humour at him whom he had cozened.

Goring seems always to have relied on the ingenuity of his
own duplicity, on the gracefulness of his person, and his con-
summate address; these resources he could command at all
times ; to be deceived by him was sometimes to love him, for

204. THE ARMY-PLOT.

he showed himself to be an excellent actor on the most critical
exigencies. Accused, he had always the art of persuading
others of his integrity. Lord Digby, ha\dng Hstened to his tale
of the Army-plot, where Goring, on his own unavoidable con-
fession, was guilty of a wilful perjury in consorting with persons
under the most solemn oath of secrecy, with a reserved intention
to betray them, his Lordship indignantly exclaimed, that " He
was a perjured man ! " Goring, pathetically appealing to the
Commons for having broken all former ties of amity for his
present duty as a subject, cunningly professed that the military
were to submit themselves to Parliament in passive obedience,
which he did not weakly express thus, " It belongs to an army
to maintain, not to contrive the acts of State." The Commons,
gratified by this profession of unlimited obedience, not only
voted that Colonel Goring had done nothing contrary to justice
or honour, but also voted the expulsion of Lord Digby from the
House as unworthy to continue any longer a member !

Dissimulation was the habit of the man who could be at once
a favourite with the Parliament, and at all times could ingra-
tiate himself with the King. Clarendon has given one of his
finest touches to the portrait : " He would appear with a bash-
fulness so like innocence, when in truth it was a formed
impudence to deceive; and with a disorder so like reverence,
when he had the highest contempt of them." Goring was a
man whom no oath of secrecy could bind, and whose oath on
any occasion, even by his friends, was not deemed as any proof
of evidence.* Of such a man it is as vain to conjecture the
motives, as it is difficult to comprehend the views, when we
examine his mutable actions. When he first met the Army-
confederacy, proposed the most desperate schemes and aspired
to the command, his ardent ambition might vouch for his sin-
cerity; but when he disliked to act with some of his new
associates, he cared not how soon he broke with them, and
courting the Parliament by a very timely service, in divulging
a plot which seems to have no longer existed, he secured his
own safety, and his own good fortune, — reckless of a soldier^s
honour, with a dispensation granted by the House of Commons
from all moral obligation.

* Sir Philip Warwick's Memoirs.

THE AEMY-rLOT. 205

In this little comedy of a confused plot, there was an under
one. Mrs. Macaulay tells us that " The Queen, who without
the requisite talents had more than a female propensity to
intrigue, entered with greater violence than judgment into the
extreme of the King's proposition of bringing the army up to
London, to surprise the Tower and overawe the Parliament.^'
In this great conspiracy Henrietta's confidential agents were
Davenant and Suckling, and she adds " a Mr. Jermyn.'' Why
" a Mr. ? " Our historian must have been as familiar with that
name as any other in Clarendon's History; she here betrays
that feminine disposition which she has herself so singularly
confessed. Our lady democrat, indulging not only her sexual
but her political " propensity," delighted thus to spurn at the
silken favourite of the Queen ; the future Earl of St. Alban's,
and afterward the secret consort of Henrietta. In love affairs
can a female historian grow malicious in imagination, and tinge
with the gall of jealousy or envy, the page of obsolete amours ?

The agents assigned to the Queen were certainly the sort of
counsellors quite suitable to Henrietta's profound politics of
which she has been so gravely accused. It may be easily
imagined that the plots of these gentlemen were romantic, well
adapted for one of the Queen's pastorals; they were more
expert in such denouements than they ever showed themselves
in political ones.
^fc.Pym wound up the public to the highest pitch of dismay and
^^tiriosity, by rumours, and afterwards by gradual disclosures,
for partial revelations produced more effect than would the
whole, had it been at once revealed. He first broke the alarm-
ing, though yet obscure intelligence, to the House, of " despe-
rate designs both at home and abroad." They were in a mood
to imagine more than was told. They sate from seven in the
. morning to eight at night. Indignant as much as terrified, the
Commons resolved instantly on " a Protestation," not only to
be signed by all the members, but shortly after ordered by
themselves, for the Lords first threw out the Bill, though they
afterwards subscribed it — " that the Protestation should be
subscribed by the whole nation ! " *

* Two Lords refused their signatures, alleging that they knew of no law that en-
joined it, and that the consequence of such voluntary engagements might px'oduce
effects that were not intended.

■

206 THE ARMY-PLOT.

This was in fact the Scottish Covenant — so closely they copied
in all their proceedings that model, which so long admired, was
now delightful to imitate. It had rested in their thoughts, and,
as we shall find, it now crept into their Parliamentary style. A
short time previous, that honest Covenanter Baillie had hinted
to the Presbytery of Irvine, that " the lower House is more
united than ever ; and they say not far from a Covenant J' He
was no fallible prophet, for he was in all their secrets, and a
short time after writing on this fierce debate he exclaims,
" Blessed be the name of the Lord ! They all swore and sub-
scribed the Writ. I hope in substance our Scottish Covenant.^'
And the politic Covenanter remarks, " We see now that it hath
been in a happy time that so much time hath been lost about
Strafford's liead.^' This humane man maddened by his Presby-
terial notions, loses even in his language any decent sympathy,
and notices "the head of Strafford" as the slayer would his
stalled ox. But the zealot was right enough in his notion of
the Scottish Covenant of the English Parliament ! Sir John
Wray in his anti-papistical, anti-episcopal, and choicely puri-
tanic speech, this day took care to remind them of that
Israelitish term, and he seems to have had the merit of intro-
ducing that biblical oratory which so long after illumined this
new style of the British Senate. " Let us endeavour to
become holy pilgrims (not papists) and endeavour to be loyal
COVENANTERS with God and the King; first binding ourselves
by a Parliamentary or national oath (not Straftbrdian nor a
Prelatical one) to preserve our religion entire and pure without
the least compound of superstition and idolatry, Mr. Speaker !
making Jerusalem our chiefest joy, we shall be a blessed nation.
But if we shall let go our Christian hold and lose our Parlia-
ment-proof, and old English well-tempered mettle, let us take
heed that our buckler break not, our Parliament melt not, and
our golden candlestick be not removed." Matters must have
advanced very far when such a speech in the English Parlia-
ment was not only listened to, but seemed worthy of being
recorded.*

* In the true spirit of party-writing, the wretched Oldmixon calls this " a true
English speech — how piquant and pleasing is the blunt honesty of this Lincolnshire
knight !" and contrasts it with " the long sentences, the sophistry, and affectation in
tlie Lord Clarendon's floind discourses." All that we can add of this "honest Lin-

THE ARMY-PLOT. 207

Hume has said of this famous " Protestation/^ that " in itself
it was very inoiBFensive, even insignificant, containing nothing
but general declarations." The passionless historian, in the
calm of his study, saw little more in this extraordinary act of
the Commons but an incident to be recorded. The Covenanter
of that day, however, grimly rejoiced ; and Father Philips, the
Queen^s confessor, with tremulous nerves, wrote, "The Pro-
testation is much like, but much worse, than the Scottish
Covenant."

If we now look at this State-document, we may consider it as
conveying to us a singular mixture of the two distinct parties
in the House, who were then acting for different ends, though
acting in unity — the Puritanic and the political. Hence we
find the party who had chiefly in view " the true reformed
religion," inveighing against " Papistry," while the Politicians
— they had hardly yet earned the distinction of Eepublicans —
whose theme was " tyrannical Government," did not fail to lay
great stress on " Illegal taxes." This famous Protestation was
drawn up in heat and haste, and by an expression which none
complained of at the moment, offended their friends out of the
House, and flurried the Covenanters. The Commons had de-
clared in their Protestation that they were "to protect and
defend the true reformed Protestant religion expressed in the
doctrine of the Church of England." This phrase, doubtless,
had long been Parliamentary, and they had been so accustomed
to it, that it naturally occurred in their eagerness to draw up
their national " Covenant." But the doctrine of the Church of
England included Episcopal government, which they were fast
overturning, and rites and ceremonies which they had formally
denounced as Eomish. Many pretended they could not sub-
scribe to maintain an establishment they had resolved to
destroy, and doctrines which they were perpetually disavowing.
The Commons were reduced to the humiliating necessity of
sending after their Protestation, an explanation of their
meaning, which was that, by the doctrines of the Church of
England, they meant nothing more than whatever it held con-
trary to Popery, and Popish innovations, without extending to

colnshire knight " is, that his sagacity lay as much in his nose as in his brains, when
he smelt gunpowder in the House, and spread a panic by land and water, as we have
already noticed. See p. 156.

208 THE ARMY-PLOT.

its government and ceremonies. In a word they meant nothing
more by the Church of England but what the Kirk of Scotland,
in its spiritual illumination, allowed to all Christians — viz., all
they enjoined and nothing they disliked. This is a striking
instance of the passions of Parliament ! When Charles the
First found himself compelled to publish an explanation of the
famous " Petition of Right," to prevent the country from mis-
conceiving its purport and his assent, the King heard only the
scream of insurgency, but in the present case, where the Com-
mons were fixed in the same dilemma, their time-serving and
factious Explanation was embraced by their Covenanting friends
with Hallelujahs !

Clarendon^s account of the Army-plot, Mr. Brodie, with more
than the severity of a partisan, has* charged as "exceedingly
disingenuous, and even inconsistent," and convicts Clarendon
of having, on this particular occasion as well as on another, in
both of which he (Clarendon) is mistaken,* fabricated a spurious
document. With a freedom whicli exceeds even that of his-
torical inquiry, Mr. Brodie, in more than one place, repeats his
condemnation of the noble writer as " a dexterous forger of
speeches and letters," from an ingenuous story told of himself
in his own life of his adroitness in adopting the peculiarities of
the style of others. Clarendon once displayed this faculty in
two political jeux d' esprit, in the shape of the speeches of the
eccentric Earl of Pembroke, for an accommodation with the
King ; and the Puritan Lord Brooke, for utterly rooting out all
courtiers. The contrast was amusing, and the speeches were
inserted in some of the Diurnals. The sullen gravity of our
contemporary heavily criminates these pleasantries of the day.
Charles the First, who had flattered himself that he could never
fail in discovering Clarendon by his impressive style, and who
backed his critical discernment by wagering an angel with Lord
Falkland, had only the merit of being deceived and charmed by
the adroitness of the mimetic genius of the immortal writer.f

* See Brodie, iii. 306, where in a note alluding to " the Porters' Petition," which
Clarendon has given, and which Mr. Brodie, ashamed even of his ridiculous " Radi-
cals," has " no hesitation in pronouncing a forgery by that author." Mr. Hallam
has chastised this precipitate and passionate historian, by referi'ing to the Journals
where this very petition is fully noticed.

+ Political fictions are dangerous ; for we historians, who are always grave, are
not always sagacious. Such extemporary pleasantries, and sometimes lampoons,

J

I

THE ARMY-PLOT. 209

But Lord Clarendon must be judged by our candour, as well
as by the passions of party. We must adjust our views to that
point of sight whence he contemplated the scene.

Clarendon, as far as the King stood implicated in marching the
army to London, which he says " was the chief matter alleged,^'
calls the plot " an imposture,^' and he was even warranted to
infer by the letter of Percy to his brother, the Earl of Northum-
berland, that " it is evident there was no plot at all ! "

But to turn the Army-plot into a ruse of the party, and to
show the little danger which they had attached to it. Clarendon
charges Pym and others with agitating the public mind and
raising terrifying tumults, while they never divulged the plot
till three months after the presumed discovery. Here the noble
writer supposes that the discovery was made nearly as early as
the plot was concerted ; the confederacy occurring in March,
while the plot was only publicly denounced in May. Mr.
Brodie detects, as he concludes, the inaccuracy of Clarendon.
But he should have acknowledged that the incident was obscure ;
its correctness depended on the precise date of Goring's first
communication to the party. This has not been satisfactorily
ascertained. If the Queen^s account be correct. Clarendon may
not have widely erred, for the Queen said, that on the very
night of the interview with Jermyn, when Goring found that he
was disappointed of the chief command, stung with anger, he
hurried to discover the whole design. Mr. Brodie acknow-
ledges that the plot was imperfectly known to Pym about twelve
days before the public disclosure. It was let out by parcels —
which answered the purpose better than had the whole been
known at once. Mr. Brodie concedes something still more,
when he does not deny that during this very period, while the
nature of the plot remained vague and unknown, it was,
however, carefully noised about the city, and had stirred up the

as these of Clarendon, were practised by others — it was a fashion with the wits, who
were chiefly Loyalists. Butler forged, as Mr. Brodie, a sound advocate, could prove.
Sir John Birkenhead was a clever fellow at these spurious speeches and letters.
President Bradshaw, on his death-bed, was made to recant what he never recanted :
Henderson, the polemic, was thro^vn into the same state. This was practised as
well on the other side. Two speeches are printed of Strafford's, full of contrition
for his past conduct, which he never could have spoken ; we have the authentic
speech taken by Rushworth himself when on the scaffold.

VOL. II. P

1

210 THE ARMY-PLOT.

tumults. The party, therefore, in conformity with their new
system of policy, had been providently spreading the infection
of a panic, though they were yet ignorant whether the causes of
their terror were at all adequate to the immense consequences
they were producing.

Clarendon has given "the Petition of the Officers/' whicli
has not elsewhere been preserved ; and it has excited surprise
how the noble writer obtained the copy of a petition, which
is acknowledged to have been destroyed. This "petition,"
Mr. Brodie shows, " carries on its face the most unequivocal
marks of fabrication" — ^indeed it alludes to events which did
not happen till after the time assigned to it. This strange
discordance Rapin had already detected, and justly inferred that
the petition inserted in Clarendon's history could not be the
real one, which Mr, Brodie amply confirms.

Yet must not the more recent historian be indulged in tlie
gratuitous triumph of his self-complacency, when he exclaims,
that " he has set Lord Clarendon's veracity at rest." Claren-
don, after all, was not a forger as Mr. Brodie from too warm
prepossessions hastily imagines. The fact is, that the petition
is what it professes to be, but it has been erroneously assigned
to a period to which it does not belong. To such a mistake the
collectors of historical documents, undated, are liable. Had his
Lordship attentively examined it at the moment of its insertion
into his history, he too might have discovered the error ; but
such papers were probably collected at distant periods, and
further, it appears that an Amanuensis usually transcribed these
state-papers into the manuscript of the noble writer. This
petition of the officers was drawn up several months after the
time assigned to it in Clarendon's history, by Captain O'Neale,
and other of the army royalists.* This is a curious instance
where an historian has been condemned during half a century
for an imposture on apparently the most obvious evidence, till
the sagacity of the later historian has detected the accidental
inadvertence, and vindicated the honour of the elder.

* We owe this detection to the acuteness of Mr. Hallam, who by the very docu-
ments which Mr. Brodie has printed, was enabled to discover the fact winch Mr.
Brodie had overlooked, at the very moment he was so bitterly criminating Clarendon i
for having fallen into a similar mischance.

I

THE ARMY-PLOT. 211

Mr. Brodie's observation on Hume is a specimen of unpMlo-
sopliical taste. He scolds that illustrious philosopher for ridiculing
the idea of marching the army to London; but "ridicule," adds
the graver Scotsman, " which is a species of argument that he
always uses, will never rebut the most decisive proofs that the
thing was contemplated ; and Hume overlooks the circumstance
of military assistance being expected from France — assistance
from Catholics, &c., while the metropolis would be in the power
of the army." *

The argument of Hume, however, is perfectly serious and to
me conclusive. " The King rejected the idea as foolish, because
the Scots who were in arms, and lying in their neighbourhood,
must be at London as soon as the English army. This reason
is so solid and convincing that it leaves no room to doubt of the
veracity of Percy^s evidence, and consequently acquits the King
of this terrible plot of bringing up the army, which made such
u noise at the time, and was a pretence for so many violences."
'' This terrible plot " seemed to Mr. Brodie the most exquisite
ridicule ! f

What "military assistance was to be expected from France?"
Pym indeed declared " that the French were drawing down
their army in all ' haste to the sea side. ^ " This must have been
one of his chimeras to alarm the mob. We discover no such

1^
mi

* Brodie, iii. 115.
The judicious Malcolm Laing indulges an odd fancy which Mr. Brodie has no
Tfficulty in adopting. He says that " a part of the army would have sufficed to
march against the Parliament, while the main body I'emaiued to oppose the Scots."
This might have happened had the Scots been less shrewd than they showed them-
selves to be at all times during this reign. But supposing that the English army
had marched to London from York and taken the whole Parliament prisoners, and
this is supposing an impossibility, they would still have to fight with an enemy of
undiminished strength and flushed even by a triumphant invasion. But a circum-
stance more important has been overlooked by these writers. The communications
between the Scots and their paymasters, the Parliament, were so closely kept up,
and each so entirely depended on the other, that had any part of the EngUsh army
moved towards the Metropolis, it would inevitably have produced a battle, or a pur-
suit. When Malcolm Laing refers to the petition in Clarendon, *' where the officers
say," to secure the King and Parliament from such future insolencies, &c., they
would wait upon him, " that is, to march directly to London : " Mr. Brodie eagerly
repeats this confirmation of Malcolm Laing's idea. But neither of these writers
was aware that the petition they were referring to had been drawn up at a sub-
sequent period, and by another party. Their premises, therefore, being false, their
conclusions can be no otherwise.

p 2

212 THE ARMY-PLOT.

movements in French history. Richelieu still was in the vigour
of his administration, and we are acquainted with the vindictive
policy which the great Cardinal had successfully adopted to
depress the English Monarch ; RicheUeu was at that moment
the secret ally of the Scots, and, had circumstances admitted,
would not have scrupled being the ally of the English Parlia-
ment. Charles had already sternly refused to submit to his aid.
The idea of a French invasion, particularly that Portsmouth was
to be given up to them, could only have originated in the false
rumours which were perpetually renewed by the encourager of
political panics, and which are gravely recorded by their histo-
rian as secrets of state.

The Army-plot seems to be a jumble of incidents and cross-
purposes. The first malcontents, consisting of young officers of
distinction, had confined their attempts to the prevalent mode
of redress, so freely exercised at that moment — a petition to
Parliament. Unquestionably when those eminent officers, who
were all Royalists, consulted the King on the form of their
proposed petition, it renewed the hope of Charles of recovering
his regal influence over the miHtary. The King, however, pro-
ceeded so cautiously in the style of the petition, that more than
one was destroyed before he confidentially ventured to affix his
initials.

A distinguished military adventurer, Colonel Goring, who
seems to have contemplated making his fortune in one day,
proposed the daring measure of the march of the army to the
Metropolis. "We are told by Percy, that this mad project was
instantly rejected by the first petitioners, and twice by the King
himself for its folly and impracticability. . It was indeed a scheme
suitable to the romantic notions of the Queen and the heated
fancies of her pair of poets, and her courtly Master of the
Horse, who, however, ridiculed it in private. The parties who
formed the confederacy could no longer agree — the whole pro-
ject was given up — the petition was destroyed, and the con-
federacy was dissolved. Thus the Army-plot, as it is called,!
ceased to exist, if indeed it can be said that it ever commenced.!

This was, however, a crisis, and the fate of Strafford was in
suspense. Charles may have willingly listened to many a schemCj
for the abstraction of this victim of state. To what last efl'ortl

I

THE AEMY-PLOT. 213

would not Charles have submitted in order to hold himself
guiltless of the murder of a great minister, and a faithful
servant ? The King had bowed down to his personal enemies,
as he conceived some of them to be, in the new administration
of the Earl of Bedford, — who pledged the life of Strafford for
their admission into power. In his despair he probably listened
to those adventurous spirits, who were projecting the rescue of
the noble prisoner from the Tower. A passage in Strafford's
farewell letter to his secretary. Sir Henry Slingsby, bears a
dark indication of some uncertain project.* Sir John Suckling
had procured a resolute captain, with a hundred picked men, to
be admitted into the Tower, but Sir William Balfour, the
Governor, was Scottish in heart, and afterwards showed himself
a hero in the Parliament's service. Balfour refused the bribe
of twenty- two thousand pounds, and the marriage of the daughter
of Strafford with his son — the condition of his connivance at the
meditated escape.

Pym, on the earliest communications of the army-plot, was
unquestionably frightened — but not out of his wits — for from
the first intimations, however they may have reached him, to
the deposition of Goring, and the subsequent ones which
gradually came out, this industrious master of intrigues never
turned a plot to his own advantage with more dexterity, or ever
invented one more successfully for its important results. The
conspiracy of Catiline did not shake Bome with a more general
panic, than that which now disturbed the metropolis, and
rapidly spread through the kingdom. The terror that the King
had still the military at command, dismayed the hearts of the
Commons, who seem to have felt themselves in the condition of
Belshazzar when he beheld the hand-writing on the wall — " the
joints of my loins were loosed, and my knees smote one against

,e other." And they manifested their terror by soon dispatching

rt

* After the bill of Attainder had passed, Strafford in his farewell letter myste-
riously writes — " God may yet, if it please him, deliver me — the person you were
last withal at Court sent to move that business we resolved upon, which, if rightly
handled, might perchance do something ; but you know my opinion in all, and what
niy belief is in all these things — I advise you to absent yourself till you see what
becomes of me. If I live there will be no danger for you to stay, but otherwise
keep out of the way till I be forgotten." — Rushworth, viii. 774. It is quite evident
that in his cup of adversity even its dregs were tinctured with some faint hopes.

L

214 THE ARMY-PLOT.

to the English army "four cart-loads of money, and more
was ordered suddenly to follow/^* So that the first petitioners
who had concerted a petition, which was never presented, and
who now were all in flight, are proved by the subsequent con-
duct of the Commons themselves not to have been quite so
unreasonable in raising a mutiny — for their defrauded arrears !

As the evidence is in the King's favour, that he was not
privy to " the wild mad undertaking," it has been insinuated
by those who think it makes for their cause to implicate Charles
the First, that the evidence was given by all parties in a manner
not to lose the royal favour. It is remarkable that the greater
number of those implicated in the Army-plot were Royalists,
for they afterwards showed their personal attachment to the
King. There had been nothing very strange, had Charles, con-
sidering the miserable condition to which he was now reduced,
attempted to conciliate the favour of the army — the Commons
themselves in their fright lost no time in doing it.

Such is the history of a plot which never occurred, but which
was contrived by the arts of faction, and the skill of Pym, to
produce the same results as if it had. It is the history of a
confederacy, or a conspiracy where people were not all of one
mind, and where oaths were probably taken with different inten-
tions. The evidence is contradictory ; for every one in criminating
another, was very cautious to spare himself. An oath of secrecy,
said to have been taken, is denied by others on their oath ; and
a petition bearing the royal initials, no one could produce. He
who pubhcly perjured himself, furnished most of the details;
others probably as carefully suppressed what has never reached
us. And to make the end as obscure as the beginning, the
Commons, having issued proclamations for apprehending tlic
conspirators, and having taken them, never proceeded against
one of these persons ; every one seemed ready to vindicate him-
self and to criminate others.

But Pym was astute ; he saw enough and imagined more ;
the plot which had been given up by the plotters to such a
politic partisan was as serviceable as the plot which was going
on. Clarendon might conscientiously affirm that "it was no
plot at all," and believe too little of what had passed away ;

* Rushworth, iv. 292.

i

THE MAEQUIS OF HAMILTON. 215

Brodie and Macaulay may maintain witli Pym, fbat it was a
most desperate plot, and describe that which yet never existed.
Had the army received their pay, we should have had no plot.
And had Goring not perjured himself at the moment Pym
eagerly grasped at all the benefits he knew how to derive from
a Koyalist-plot, in the pending trial of Strafford, this affair
would never have entered into our history — nor led to those
mighty results which were soon to occur.

CHAPTEE XV.

THE MARQUIS OF HAMILTON.

Mixed characters, when portrayed through all the shades of
truth, are not drawn without difficulty ; but the motives of sub-
dolous and artificial men, belonging, as it were, to two opposite
parties, yet governed by no other principle than their own pre-
servation, may be as mutable as the events of their lives. Such
persons at times may be as zealous in the cause they adopt, as
occasionally they may be equally prompt to betray it. To both
parties the integrity of these characters becomes alike pro-
blematical. Of the Duke of Hamilton and his brother the Earl
of Lanerick, Warburton has not hesitated to declare that they
were "both knaves," notwithstanding the apologies and the
eulogies of Burnet ; while Hume, as if his penetrating acuteness
were at fault, could only decide that " the numerous accusations
against Hamilton have neither been proved nor refuted."

The history of the Marquis of Hamilton affords a striking illus-
tration of the true character of Charles the First — of its better
and its infirm qualities : of that warmth in his personal attach-
ments to which this monarch was so frequently a victim, having
adopted for a principle of conduct, " never to suspect nor desert
his friends," and of that deficient discernment in human charac-
ter which seems to have operated such a disastrous influence over
his affairs.

What, indeed, is more endearing to a feeling heart than an
inherited friendship ? The constitutional temper of Charles was
susceptible of this profound impression ; and when the day came

I

216 THE MAKQUIS OP HAMILTON.

that Charles required a partner of his regal cares, he could only-
view in the son of the friend of his father, that devoted being
who is not to be found among the casualties of life.

The father of the present Marquis had distinguished himself
in the service of the late King, by his skilful conduct in the
Scottish affairs, which had required great prudence and manage-
ment. James the First had conferred on him a title which had
never before been borne but by the royal blood — that of the Earl
of Cambridge. Hamilton, indeed, was the nearest kinsman to
the royal house of Scotland. Both the fathers had encouraged
the mutual affections of the sons; and they had grown together
in their prime. When Charles was Prince, young Hamilton was
his frequent companion in " the hard chases of the stag and in
the toilsome pleasures of a racket ;"* and Hamilton was one of
the young noblemen who hastened to wait on the Prince in
Spain. Charles placed Hamilton on the same equality as Buck-
ingham ; the Prince called him by the endearing familiarity of his
baptismal name, and " James " was as usual with the Prince,
and afterwards the King, as " George.^' On the death of Buck-
ingham, the Marquis enjoyed more of the royal favour than was
even shared by his other kinsman, the Duke of Lennox, whose
devotion to the King was shown, not only during the life, but
after the death of Charles.

On the decease of his father, who died early, the Marquis of
Hamilton withdrew into privacy ; a remarkable step for a young
nobleman ; and those who have attempted to inquire into the
cause of this secession, have only clouded it over with mystery.
Burnet has always ready a favourable motive for the conduct of
the Hamiltons. The munificence of the father had so heavily
encumbered the family estates, that the son could not maintain
the same eminence at Court, and the pensive youth delighted in
the retired life he led in the isle of Arran.

We may infer that the personal affection of Hamilton for the
King was not of that nature which rendered his voluntary exile
very painful. Charles, however, never forgot the companion of
his youth, but often solicited his hermit-friend to return to

* Sir Philip Warwick sarcastically adds, " by which last he often filled his own
and emptied his master's purse," 105. So early then did the Marquis's cool con-
duct betray his love of self-preservation.

THE MARQUIS OF HAMILTON. 217

Court, and accept the favours and the honours which he designed
for him ; even Buckingham offered his prodigal friendship. On
the unexpected death of the favourite, the high office of Master
of the Horse was pressed on him ; Hamilton could no longer
refuse ; and from this day the Marquis possessed the boundless
confidence of his royal master.

A beautiful instance of that generous, if not that wise princi-
ple which Charles had adopted in the intercourse of friendship,
was shown to Hamilton. The Marquis, in his absence in
Sweden, as General of the Scottish troops, which, by the secret
orders of Charles, had joined Gustavus Adolphus, Avas accused
of treasonable designs ; it was hinted that even the life of the
King was not safe in his hands. The Lord Treasurer, Weston,
gave weight to the accusation, cautioning the King not to admit
Hamilton to his bed-chamber. Charles rejected the calumnious
insinuation, and, on the return of the Marquis, privately commu-
nicated the infamous charge. The confusion of Hamilton was
remarkable — Charles relieved him from the surprise by not
suffering him to speak in his own vindication, but, to put an end
to the vile calumny, the King commanded the Marquis that very
night to sleep in his bed-chamber ! Hamilton often declared
that he looked on this noble confidence, and the remembrance of
that night, as having obliged him more than all the honours and
bounties which he had received.*

When the troubles in Scotland broke out, it was a natural
choice in Charles the First, among the numerous Scotchmen
who formed so strong a party in his Court, to fix on the Marquis
of Hamilton for the confidential office of his High Commissioner
in Scotland. Not only was the King led to this by the strong
affection which he bore the Marquis from his early days, but
because, in some respect, Hamilton might be said to have an
hereditary claim to be the representative of Majesty. The late
Marquis had served as High Commissioner in Scotland, and
had prudently contrived a settlement, not however without
violent opposition ; this difficult adjustment of affairs had
endeared him to the monarch, but it had provoked the sullen
Presbyters and democratic Knoxites. When Charles had
decided to carry matters further than his father had ventured,

I

♦ Burnet's Memoirs of the Dukes of Hamilton, 13.

218 THE MARQUIS OP HAMILTON.

he consulted Hamilton, and when the universal explosion hurst
forth as it were at a single moment, over mitred heads, and
Episcopacy was ahout to he aboHshed, at that disastrous moment
did Charles appeal to the friendship and confide to the fidelity
of the Marquis of Hamilton, to be his sole adviser in the afi'airs
of Scotland, and to allay, or to chastise the perturbed spirits of
his countrymen.

It must be confessed that this appeal of his Royal master to
the zeal of his friend was as painful as it was critical. The
Marquis was conscious that his name was unpopular among his
Scottish compatriots ; nor was he more esteemed in England.

The liberal bounties of his Sovereign and his friend had
raised up to him enemies both in the Court and the country;
the Marquis possessed certain monopolies of wine and iron, by
which he had pressed harder on the people than any other man
durst ; all which profits reverted to Hamilton and to his pen-
sioners. This accusation, which had cast some odium on his
name, we receive from Clarendon, who could not have known
what Burnet informs us, that these monopolies, according to
the custom of the times, were only assignments of the revenue
derived from certain taxations for repayment of debts which
Hamilton had contracted by the King's secret command, when
he joined Gustavus Adolphus with six thousand Scots, in the
thirty years' war. Hamilton, too, was as little a favourite at
Court as with the people. The contrivances by which he eluded
intermeddling further in any business tlian suited his ease or
his interest, were considered as a perpetual evidence of his
dexterity in self-preservation. There was an imperturbable
calmness about Hamilton which no zeal could kindle, and whicli
gave the appearance that he was never in earnest. The truth
is, that the Marquis was a person of great reflection and fore-
sight, one of a melancholy turn, who raised objections more
easily than he could frame resolutions, and foresaw danger
much more clearly than he could predict success. He was ever
in that comfortless state of reserve, though not perhaps of indif-
ference, to which the crooked politician is doomed who dares
not entirely trust himself to any one, knowing that his friend
may become his enemy, and his enemy his friend. His eulogist,
Burnet, acknowledges that " Had not his mind been -of a great

THE MARQUIS OF HAMILTON". 219

and undaunted stayedness and calmness, the shocks he met
with had dashed him to pieces." And what was still more fatal
to the great affairs in which Hamilton was to be so eminently
engaged, was the melancholy cast in his character. This was
frequently observable even in his countenance. It induced him
to think that he was destined to be unfortunate in all his enter-
prises. At times he believed that he was acting under the
blasting influence of some inauspicious star, which was thwart-
ing all his attempts. This sad feeling appears by his frequent
requests and determination to retire from public aff'airs. This
singular state might have been the result of the extraordinary
exigencies in which this politic Marquis was so often placed.
There was a painful and secret conflict in his mind, when some-
times pursuing a conduct quite opposite to his principles, he
wavered between his allegiance to his Royal friend — his attach-
ment to his country and his countrymen — and his regard to
self-preservation. Hamilton had therefore to manage with per-
petual anxiety the oppositionists he found in both countries ;
but his views of the future were of so melancholy a cast, that
when he advised Straff*ord and Laud to retire, he also seems to
have anticipated both their fall and his own.

In the rising troubles of Scotland the unceasing torment in
the heart of Hamilton was to decide whether, to employ his own
language, " the madness of the people was to be indulged," or
" the kingly way was to be enforced ? " He had the melan-
choly sagacity to foresee from the first the future scenes which
were preparing. It was the sad and solemn second sight of his
countrymen, contempliting on the phantoms of his despair
amid the clouds and storms.

When the King communicated his determination to invest
the Marquis with the character of the High Commissioner for
Scotland, it was unfeignedly protested against by the Marquis,
who declared it to be an employment full of danger, and the
success always doubtful. Afterwards when it became necessary
to renew a second time the Commission, the same repugnance
was even more forcibly testified. He dwelt on the hatred which
the chief Covenanters bore him — on the rage and malice of the
common people against him, so that his life was in hourly peril,
which indeed he valued not for his Majesty^s service, but that

I

220 THE MARQUIS OF HAMILTON.

his violent death, knowing his Majesty's keen sense of such an
act, would hinder the business from ending quietly. "The
work, too, is of a nature," he added, "which must certainly
make me lose your Royal favour, for it is so odious, that the
actor of it must be disliked by your Majesty, for though I should
do all things by your Royal command, yet your Royal honour
would oblige your Majesty not to seem to care for me. I am
now perfectly hated by all your subjects who have withstood
your Majesty, I shall hereafter be by all who wish prosperity to
your affairs in both kingdoms."

After this enigmatical style, the Marquis suggested a very
extraordinary mode for his own self-preservation. " Where, or
how, I may be called to an account for this undertaking I know
not, it is a business of that nature that a pardon ought humbly
to be begged before it be meddled in, since it is an act so dero-
gatory to kingly authority.

" Is it fit for an honest man and a gentleman to be made the
instrument of doing that which he hath so often in public and
private condemned in so high a degree, and withstood to the
certain loss of most of my country, and many of your Majesty's
court and kingdom of England ? Nor can I ever hope to live
without perpetual accusations of such who will find themselves
grieved by that which will be done, for not dissuading your
Majesty from this course, or at least for accepting that employ*
ment and proving your instrument therein."

These were the confused and hesitating emotions, the melan-
choly prescience, and the uncertain results, which perplexed the
mind and tormented the heart of the Marquis of Hamilton, on
his acceptance of the critical office of the High Commissioner
for Scotland. It was distressful to his feelings — disastrous to
his quiet. But amidst these conflicting sentiments, we discover
that extraordinary caution for self-preservation which constitutes
the marking feature of his character. Hamilton had much fear,
through all the doublings of his winding ways, that he should
be forced into many an equivocal position, and while his am-
biguous character should raise suspicions in all men, " he could
not hope to live without perpetual accusations." The Marquis
suggests a mode of self-preservation as extraordinary as the
exigence itself — that a pardon as he calls it, or rather a private

fl

THE MARQUIS OF HAMILTON. 221

■warrant from the King, should be granted to him before be opens
his dark negotiations. This was the Royal Amulet to preserve
him from the noxious influence of his own witchcraft.

And this singular warrant, extorted from the entire confidence
and personal affection of Charles, was actually granted. Burnet,
in his Memoirs of the Hamiltons, alludes to it ; he found it
among the Hamilton papers, but as he probably did not con-
sider it as very honourable to his hero, he dropped it, among
other important suppressions which that partial, though enter-
taining biographer acknowledged, at an after-day, when from a
servile Tory, Burnet turned into a furious Whig. This private
warrant has, however, been recovered by the zealous industry of
Lord Hardwicke: it is granted to the Marquis ^^to converse
with the Covenanters," and runs thus, " for which end you will
be necessitated to speak that language which if you were called
to an account for by us, you might suffer for it. These are,
therefore, to assure you, and if need be hereafter to testify to
others, that whatsoever you shall say to them, to discover their
intentions, you shall neither be called in question for the same,
nor yet it prove any way prejudicial to you ; nay, though you
should be accused by any thereupon."

We must now notice a very curious anecdote of a private
interview of Charles the First with the Marquis of Hamilton,
told by Clarendon with all the charm and warmth of his narra-
tive genius. It is no gracious task to tell a story after Claren-
don, but I will not content myself with a cold reference.

His Lordship describes the Marquises conduct on this occasion.
" It was as great a piece of art, if it were art, as I believe will
be found amongst the modern politicians." " The Marquis
came to the King, and with some cloudiness, which was not
unnatural, and trouble in his countenance,* desired his Majesty

* It is delightful to compare contemporary writers who could have no knowledge
of each other's writings, which only posterity can possess — at distant intervals, and
when their authors are no more. Confronting these writers together, who never
before had met, often furnishes an indisputable confirmation of that truth in history
which it has been too much the fashion to depreciate. The cloudiness in the coun-
tenance of Hamilton, so expressive of his character, is also noticed by one who well
knew him — Sir Philip Warwick, " I wondered much " — when Hamilton was a
young man and an early favourite at Court under James — " that all present who
usually at a Court put the best characters upon a rising man, generally agreed in

I

222 THE MARQUIS OF HAMILTON.

to give him leave to travel." The King was surprised and trou-
bled. The IMarquis declared he foresaw a storm — and by his own
unskilfulness he might be more obnoxious than other men. The
King assured him of his protection, and bade him be confident.
The Marquis with some quickness replied, " I know your
Majesty's goodness would interpose for me to your own preju-
dice— and I will rather run any fortune from whence I may
again return to serve you." He had communicated with the
Archbishop and with the Earl of Strafford, at whom the same
fatal arrows were aimed, but he added, " the Earl was too
great-hearted to fear, and the Archbishop was too bold to fly."

Charles at that critical moment was disturbed by :his own
fears — and was silent. The Marquis resumed. " There is one
way by which I might secure myself without leaving the king-
dom, and by which your Majesty, as these times are like to go,
might receive some advantage ; but it is so contrary to my nature,
and will be so scandalous to my honour, in the opinion of men,
that for my own part I had rather run any fortune." The King
impatiently asked what that way was ? The Marquis replied,
" that he might endear himself to the other party by promising
his service to them, and concurring with them in opinions and
designs, — that his supposed interest in his Majesty's favour
might induce the principal persons to hope he might have tlic
influence they desired. But he knew this would be looked on
with so much jealousy by other men, and shortly with that
reproach, that he might by degrees be lessened even in his
Majesty's own trust ; and therefore it was a province he had no
mind to undertake," and concluded by renewing his suit for
leave to travel.

The King saw nothing in this political expedient, but what
might tend to procure him important information. With bound-
less confidence in the integrity of the friend, and the companion
of his youth, Charles was delighted to retain Hamilton in his
active service, and again assured the Marquis that " it should
not be in any body's power to infuse the least jealousy of him
into his royal breast."

this, that the air of his countenance had such a cloud on it, that Nature seems to
have impressed ahquid insigne, which I often reflected on when his future actions
led him fu'st to be suspected, then to be disclaimed against." p. 103. ,

*

THE MAEQUIS OF HAMILTON. 223

Clarendon, commenting on this secret anecdote, observes tliat
Charles was so constant in this resolution, that Hamilton enjoyed
the liberty of doing whatever he found necessary for his own
purposes; with wonderful craft and low condescensions and
seasonable insinuations to several leading men, advancing their
distinct and contrary interests ; so that he grew in no less credit
with the English Parliament than with the Scotch Commis-
sioners, and with great dexterity was preserved from any public
reproach which would have ruined any other man, nor for a long
time did he incur the jealousy of the King, to whom he con-
tinued to give the most important information, which, adds
Clarendon, if there had been persons enough who would have
concurred in prevention might have proved of great use. This
confession of Clarendon, whose prejudices strongly lie against
Hamilton, we shall find essential, as we advance in the investi-
gation of this extraordinary character.

The piece of secret history which we have from Clarendon
requires a critical examination. The drift of the conversation,
as given by the noble writer, accords with the ideas of Hamilton,
as we find in the Hamilton papers published by Burnet ; and that
extraordinary scheme of communicating with the Covenanters
is authentic. Yet to invest this remarkable conversation with
authenticity is not easy. Lord Clarendon prefaces the conver-
sation by assuring us that he received it " from a very good
hand." Was it from the King himself? We know it was not
from the Marquis, for at no time would he plead this justifica-
tion, even at the urgent moment of his trial, so tender in this
Machiavelian intrigue was he of the credit both of the King and
himself. A sceptic might reasonably object to the full details
of a conversation between two great personages at which no
one was present. He might admire the description even of their

j^stures.

^■Clarendon, though indistinctly, has fixed the time of its
occurrence. It was '' after the calling of the Council of the
Peers at York was resolved upon, and a Httle before the time of
their appearance." Now the Peers, after a summons of twenty
days' notice, met on the 24th of September, 1640 ; so that the
conversation as given by Clarendon must have taken place in
July or August of that year.

I

224! THE MARQUIS OF HAMILTON".

We can ascertain that on the 5th and 8th of July, 1639,
Hamilton delivered to the King his two papers of Advices and
of Reasons which we have noticed ; * and that Hamilton, having
succeeded in obtaining a licence to protect himself in the sub-
dolous part he was about to act, this extraordinary private
warrant is dated at Berwick nine days after, the 17th July,
1639.

The conversation, reported by Clarendon as having occurred
in 1640, could never have taken place, since its object had
already been long obtained. Hamilton at that period is repre-
sented as breaking his scheme for the first time to the King,
and as suggesting with a mixture of diffidence and aversion that
ample and singular licence which he already possessed.

Here then is a conversation which could not have taken place
at the time assigned, and yet one that on the whole exhibits a
true account of a strange* and secret incident between the
parties. The whole tenor of the conversation indeed accords
with the sentiments of Hamilton as they appear in the papers
of advice he laid before the King, and the important political
secret of his double-dealing, as given by Clarendon, is indis-
putably ascertained.

How are we to resolve this paradoxical case ? Were the
papers of Hamilton, among other papers of the King, inspected
by, or reported to Clarendon ? It is evident he knew nothing
of the warrant, for he would not have passed over in silence this
political curiosity. The great historian was right in his conclu-
sions of the unlimited confidence of the King, and the
exemption of his minister from all responsibility in his ambigu-
ous course.

The delicacy of Lord Clarendon's situation may have been
this : he could not publish these arcana of state, as he would
any public document ; but in the dramatic form of a conversa-
tion, which could never have occurred at the period assigned, he
followed up the train of ideas which we actually discover in
Hamilton's papers ; and to impress on the reader the authen-
ticity of the secret history, his lordship assures him that he
received it " from a good hand.'^ But with all the felicity of his

* Burnet's Memoirs of the Hamiltons, p. 1 44 — who furnishes the respective dates
of these papers.

I

THE MARQUIS OF HAMILTON. 225

ingenuity Clarendon could not conceal the impossibility of giving
a secret conversation between the King and the Marquis.
Whose was '' the good hand '^ which could furnish those fine
individualising touches of the two great personages, in secrecy
and privacy ? Who heard his lordship's wish to be permitted
to travel ? Who marked " the cloudiness on his lordship's
countenance ? " Who observed when " the Marquis with some
quickness replied " — or when " the King was much disturbed,"
or when " much delighted with the expedient ? " These are the
creative, yet veracious, touches of a great master, who from his
familiarity with the temper, the habits, the languages of the
personages themselves, could speak their very thoughts, and
paint their very gestures — and thus endow the men he well
knew, with the immortality of his own genius.

And thus I think we may infer that should the conversation
of Clarendon prove to be in some respects an invention, it
cannot be denied that it revealed to the world an important
truth.

Hamilton, once possessed of this secret warrant, proceeded to
act with extraordinary zeal; and when it happened, as it fre-
quently did, that his conduct and his language afforded sufficient
reason to alarm the friends of the King, and to set on watchful
informers who were thus enabled to convey certain evidence of
the prejudice to the King's service done by Hamilton, to the
amazement and incomprehensibility of the best friends of
Charles, whenever Hamilton was admitted to the King's pre-
sence, all the charges against him, however positive, were thrown
aside in silence. A private interview — a whisper in the King's
ear — the plea of the secret warrant — reinstated the Marquis in
the royal confidence, which we shall show, however startling his
conduct, he never lost. We should not therefore be surprised
at the strong conviction of many, who have denounced Hamil-
ton as a traitor, since even his perpetual eulogist Burnet does
acknowledge that, " he (Burnet) often stumbled," as he phrases
it, '' at some of his speeches, which were hard to be understood,"
but when he discovered the secret warrant, " it reconciled the
truth of these (unfavourable) reports with the innocence of the
Marquis."*

^_ * Bui'net's Memoirs of the Harailtons, 148.

It"-

226 THE MARQUIS OF HAMILTON.

There seems to be no reason to suspect the sincerity of
Hamilton on his first entrance into the ofiice of High Com-
missioner in the Scottish affairs. He warned the King of
the real intentions of the Covenanters. "It is more than
probable that these people have somewhat else in their thoughts
than religion. But that must serve for a cloak to rebellion,
wherein for a time they may prevail ; but to bring them again
to a dutiful obedience, I am confident your Majesty will not
find it a work of long time, nor of great difficulty, as they have
foolishly fancied to themselves." He put the King on his
guard, that his agents abroad might prevent any arms being
bought up by Scotchmen. He counselled Charles to hasten
with his fleet and his army, or he must yield to all the demands
of the Covenanters -, but he leaves the King to decide how far
in his justice he should punish the folly of the people, or how
far he should connive at their madness. Hamilton ever viewed
the two opposite sides of a question, dubious of both.

Something of vacillation appears in the Marquis's closing
hint. Hamilton, on his entrance into Edinburgh, was certainly
awed by having been met by the greatest number of the people
which had assembled together for many years ; sixty thousand
persons in the small city of Edinburgh formed an army,
unarmed. This concourse was headed by five hundred minis-
ters. When the Royal Commissioner attempted to elude their
oratory in public, they pursued their victim of State to his
privacy ; there, with tears in their eyes, they came to inform
him of the danger in which their religion stood.

When the King first received the encouraging news that the
reduction of the Covenanters would not be a work of difficulty,
he wrote to Hamilton a letter, of which I shall transcribe the
important passages — they conduce greatly to let us into the
character of this active, however unfortunate sovereign.

"Hamilton,

"Though I answered not yours of the 4th, yet I assure
you that I have not been idle, so that I hope by the next week
I shall send you some good assurance of the advancing of our
preparations. This I say, not to make you precipitate any
thing, for I like of all you have hitherto done, and even of that

IL

THE MARQUIS OF HAMILTON. 227

which I find you mind to do — but to show you that I mean to
stick to my grounds, and that I expect not any thing can
reduce that people to their obedience, but only force. In the
mean time your care must be how to dissolve the multitude,
and to this end I give you leave to flatter them with what hopes
you please, so you engage not me against my grounds, consent-
ing to the calling of Parliament, until the Covenant be disavowed
and given up.

^' Your chief end being now to win time, that they may not
commit public foUies until I be ready to suppress them ; and
since it is, as you well observe, my own people, which by this
means will be for a time ruined, so that the loss must be
inevitably mine, and this if I could eschew, were it not with a
greater, were well. But when I consider, that not only now
my crown, but my reputation for ever, lies at stake, I must
rather suffer the first, that time will help, than this last, which
is irreparable.

" This I have written to no other end than to show you I will
rather die than yield to those impertinent and damnable de-
mands, as you rightly call them, for it is all one as to yield to
be no King in a very short time. So wishing you better success
than I can expect, I rest. Your assured constant friend,

"Charles R."

The first instructions of Hamilton were to proclaim the
Covenanters traitors — he ventured to transgress his instructions,
as he then observed, at the hazard of his head. At that mo-
ment the Marquis had not yet obtained the private warrant of
the King, which was subsequently granted. His sole care now
was to disperse this enormous multitude; to soothe and to
wheedle, not to menace and condemn. Now he writes to the
King not to hasten his warlike preparations.
I ^fc Charles on these opposite counsels was entirely compliant:
^^th unabated confidence in his Minister, the King replies with
great sense and patience —

Hamilton,

*^ The dealing with multitudes makes diversity of
advertisement no way strange, and certainly the alteration from
worse to less ill cannot be displeasing ; wherefore you may be

q2

I

228 THE MARQUIS OF HAMILTON.

confident I cannot but approve your proceedings hitherto, for
certainly you have gained a very considerable point in making
the heavy multitude begin to disperse, without having engaged
me in any unfitting thing. I shall take your advice in staying
the public preparations for force ; but in a silent way (by your
leave) I will not leave to prepare, that I may be ready upon the
least advertisement.

" Your assured constant friend,

"Charles R.''

Now Hamilton discovers that the Covenant is not illegal, and
the bond of mutual defence which they had subscribed, and
which Charles insisted should be given up to him, would admit
of explanations. The King's Advocate in Scotland, Sir Thomas
Hope, was himself a warm Covenanter, who appears to have
silently directed their movements. The Marquis now alarms
the King with the state of his affairs, both in England and in
Scotland, where a close alliance was formed between the two
parties, both equally adverse to him. On the first rupture the
Covenanters would march into England, confident as they were
of having many good friends there : nor had France ever for-
gotten the Isle of E-lie, for her secret hand was cherishing the
malcontents of Scotland. In spite of these critical difficulties,
Hamilton craves his Majesty's pleasure, to whose service he
would willingly sacrifice his life.

At this conflicting state of affairs, Charles expresses no
wonder, no alarm; he only regrets the spirit of the dispatch,
while he informs Hamilton of the strength of his army, the
goodness of his artillery, the arms which he had procured from
Holland, his fleet ready. The King adds, "and last of all,
which is indeed most of all, the Chancellor of the Exchequer
assures me of 200,000/. for this expedition. Thus you may see
that 1 intend not to yield to the demands of those traitors the
Covenanters."

The Marquis continues disheartening the King — many of the
Council in Scotland were secret Covenanters — and certainly he
did not communicate any false intelligence when he feared that
his Majesty would be faintly followed by the English. Charles
wrote —

!

THE MARQUIS OF HAMILTON. 329

" Hamilton,

" I must needs thank you that you stand so close and
constantly to my grounds, and you deserve the more, since your
fellow counsellors do rather dishearten than help you in this
business, for which I swear I pity you much. As long as this
damnable Covenant* is in force, whether it be with, or without
explanation, I have no more power in Scotland than as a Duke
of Venice, which I will rather die than suffer. If they call a
Parliament without me, it would the more loudly call them
traitors, and the more justify my actions. My resolution is
to come myself in person, accompanied like myself; sea-forces,
nor Ireland shall be forgotten."

The Marquis now attempted to menace the Covenanters, who
not being yet ready for an open rupture, affected to talk only
of ^' their innocent intentions." The Marquis now asks leave
to return to Court, that he may personally explain the emergent
difficulties to the King. There were at least three of these
"speedy journeys." At every return of the Marquis from
Court, he found affairs more embroiled, and the " Tables," or
Committees of the four classes of the nation, more frequently
summoned. Whenever the Marquis published a royal declara-
tion at the Market-cross, right opposite, on the same day, was
V3pended their Protest.
The King is more perplexed — ^in one letter Charles tells the
Marquis, " I confess this last dispatch does more put one to
^^ek how to judge of the affairs of that kingdom than any that
^^have yet received." In another, Charles sensibly observes,
" Why I should go further, I see no reason ; for certainly those
who will not be contented with what I have done already will
be less contented if I should do more." The style of Charles is
evidently changed ; the regal tone is lowered, and as was usual

This term " damnable Covenant " doubtless appeared to Rushworth, who copied
part of the King's letter from Bvimet, excessively offensive, and strongly indicative
of the tyrannical character of Charles ; for Rushworth has distinguished the words
in the printing. The expression, however, had been first used by Hamilton, as we
learn from Charles himself, who, however, would not have hesitated to have em-
ployed the term had it occurred to him. Doubtless, however, this style inflamed
the prejudices against the King with the many, who looked on this " Covenant " as
sacred as the one in holy writ.

<k

280 THE MARQUIS OF HAMILTON.

with him, those lofty pretensions of Royalty which resulted from
the theoretical politics of ancient days are laid asleep. Even
that more than tender point — Episcopacy, is surrendered!
Charles yields all ! " The Buke/' as the Liturgy was called,
and the Church discipline of the five articles of Perth. The
King only changes an ambiguous expression in the paper which
Hamilton was to ofiPer the Assembly at Glasgow, by which
instrument the humiliated Monarch had given way to all their
demands.

The Assembly at Glasgow met, their Presbyters with their
Lay-elders, and as Hamilton describes it, "not a gown among
them, but many had swords and daggers.'^ In this curious dis-
patch the Marquis delineates the Scottish Counsellors, — per-
sonalities which Burnet could not venture to publish ; * but it
was a gallery of portraits and full-lengths of contempormes,
which struck Charles with great admiration of the skill of the
artist.

Our baffled statesman desponds — "So unfortunate have I
been in this unlucky country, that though I did prefer your
service before all worldly considerations, nay even strained my
conscience in some points, yet all hath been to small purpose ;
for I have missed my end in not being able to make your
Majesty so considerable a party as will be able to curb the
insolency of this rebellious nation, without assistance from
England, and greater charge to your Majesty than this miserable
country is worth. As I shall answer to God at the last day, I
have done my best, though the success has proven so bad as I
think myself of all men living most miserable. And seeing this
may perhaps be the last letter that ever I shall have the happi-
ness to write to your Majesty, I shall, therefore, in it discharge
my duty so far, as freely to express my thoughts in such things
as I do conceive concemeth your service. I have sent this by
a faithful servant of your Majesty's, whom I have found to be
so trusty, as he may be employed by you, even to go against his
nearest friends and dearest kindred."

If this " faithful servant " were a Scotchman, he did not find
his like among the closest intimates of Charles. The warmth
of the style, we must infer, denotes the earnestness of Hamilton.

♦ It is in Lord Hardwicke's State-papers, ii. 113.

THE MARQUIS OF HAMILTON. 231

" If I keep my life (though next hell I hate this place) if you
think me worthy of my employment I shall not weary till the
Government be again set right, and then I will forswear this
country." And he closes this most desponding dispatch by a
solemn request to the King —

'' I have only this one suit to your Majesty, that if my sons
live, they may be bred in England — I wish my daughters be
never married in Scotland — I humbly recommend my brother
to your favour. May all your intentions be crowned with a
wished success, which I hope to live to see, notwithstanding of
all the threats that is used to Your Majesty^s, &c.

" Hamilton."

The King must have been affected by the pathos ; perhaps
never before had a disappointed minister composed a cabinet
dispatch so much in the style of a last will and testament.

But while the Marquis desponds from his own personal dis-
appointments, he plans the future operations of the King;
advises what places should be secured, where the fleet was to lie
in the Frith, where the royal army was to enter Scotland. He
has not omitted noticing that the ambition of the Bishops had
been great, and their folly greater. It is evident that Hamilton,
though ministerially he protected the Bishops, and even sup-
ported them in their personal distresses, was no better friend to
the Episcopalians than other Scotchmen.

Charles was struck by the important communication of this
elaborate dispatch, and returned an answer by the same trusty
messenger —

" Hamilton,

" I have sent back this honest bearer both for safety
of my letters, and to ease me from length of writing ; therefore
in a word I thank you for your full and clear dispatch, totally
agreeing with you in every point, as well in the characters of
men, as in the way you have set down to reduce them to obe-
dience; only the time when to begin to act is considerable:
to this end I have fully instructed the bearer with the state of
my preparations, that you may govern my business accordingly.
You have given me such good satisfaction, that I mean not to
put any other in the chief trust in these affairs but yourself."

I

232 THK MARQUIS OF HAMILTON.

It was now tlie close of the year 1638. The King now
allowed of the Convention, or Assembly, as it was called, of
Glasgow, but it was carried on in such a disorderly way that
the Marquis resolved to dissolve it. The Bishops had been
insolently cited to appear; their lay-elders and their ruling
elders were in fact a cover for these democratic conventions,
exacting unlimited freedom. Hamilton, in dissolving the
Assembly of Glasgow, betrayed such visible marks of grief as
affected its members. The Assembly, though declared traitorous,
if they continued their sittings, would not disperse, but pro-
ceeded with increased rapidity and violence. Having deposed
the Bishops and excommunicated eight, the Assembly closed by
addressing a letter to the King, justifying their proceedings,
and complaining of the usage they had endured from the Royal
Commissioner. The Marquis flew back to Court, leaving the
country in confusion and revolt.

Charles, incensed at his affronted authority, resolved, though
reluctantly, for he could hardly depend on an army which had
more of the parade than the force of one, to reduce the Cove-
nanters to obedience. The saddened spirit of Hamilton we
may conceive to have been in torture ; for now his duty to his
Sovereign and his friend was to compete with his love for his
country — his affections for his relatives — and his intercourse
with his most intimate connections. One of the charges after-
wards raised against Hamilton, is, that many of his friends and
followers passed over to the Covenanters.

We may infer, in justice to Hamilton, that having evidently
reluctantly accepted the office of High Commissioner, he had
flattered himself that he should have restored tranquillity to his
unhappy country, without coming to the last extremities. In
his heart he was Scottish, and could have little sympathised with
tlie fatal predilection of Charles for Episcopacy in an unepisco-
})al land ; and to this perhaps he alludes when he declared that
'* his duty or his love to the King, had made him digest some
things which otherwise he had not borne so well. On the other
hand he perceived the rebelhous spirits of some of his country-
men, kindling through the people whom they had lured on and
inflamed by the cry of religion. Hamilton might have rejoiced
to chastise the insolence of some of the leaders of the Cove-

ii

THE MARQUIS OF HAMILTON. 233

nanters, but when he turned to them, could he strike at his
dearest connections, the followers who were to fortify his influ-
ence, the fellow-citizens who looked up for their protector in a
Hamilton ? Doubtless the patriot confessed the real sentiment
of his heart, when he owned that " the thing in the world at
which he had the greatest horror, was the engaging in a civil
war with his countrymen/^

There was still at that day an irascible national jealousy; the
Scottish man at times seemed to imagine that Scotia had sunk
into a province of Britain ; and there had been artful rumours,
and even accusations, that Hamilton aimed at the sovereignty
and independence of his father -land. This ambition, however,
no action of his life had betrayed, and those who had so confi-
dently rested their surmises on the little army Hamilton had
led to Germany, and on the intention of the Marquis, as they
conceived by his mysterious conduct, to plunge the nation into
universal confusion that he might fish in such troubled waters,
these persons knew not what is now known, that the army of
Hamilton had been raised by the secret command of Charles,
for the possible recovery of the Palatinate.

Hamilton, however the afi'ection for his native land might
prevail, could still conscientiously have acted against Scotland;
for when accused as " an incendiary " he distinguished between
the conquest of a kingdom and the suppression of u rebellion.
He declared that " he had never advised his Majesty to conquer
that kingdom, for he takes the suppressing of a party in arms
against the King, or who were rejecting his authority, to be
very difi'erent from conquering the kingdom."*

The Marquis was now to command an army and a fleet against
his countrymen. When he received orders to open hostilities,
he again urged that the issue of a battle, always dubious, was
much more so when the one side was desperate and the other
but half cordial.f The event justified the prediction.

The Marquis, General by land and sea, and always in his
military capacity remarkably inefficient, anchored his fleet in

^m. * Burnet's Memoirs of the Hamiltons, 255.

+ Burnet's Memoirs of the Hamiltons, 132 and 139, Confront the opinion of the
Marquis with Clarendon, i. 214. They arc similar. Bm-net's work was published
many years preceding Clarendon's.

I

234 THE MARQUIS OF HAMILTON.

the Frith. He had promised by frequent incursions to harass
the coasts, and by perpetual alarms to create diversions and
scatter their collected forces. The only exploit he performed
was possessing himself of an island which had been left unpro-
tected, and landing five thousand soldiers to air and exercise
themselves, from the close confinement of the ships. The
Marquis himself appears to have been more actively employed
than his army. The lady his mother,* a zealous Presbyterian
and a flaming Covenanter, and whose two daughters were the
wives of Covenanters, came down to visit her dutiful son, and
her hurtless enemy ; the Scots on shore laughed, observing that
" they knew the son of so gude a mither could ne^er harm
them." Hamilton never attempted to interrupt the fortifica-
tions of Leith, where all hands were at work, and even all ranks.
It appears that Hamilton was in communication with several of
the chiefs of the Covenant : one interview is attested in the pre-
sence of witnesses; but others were under more suspicious
circumstances : we are told of a conference at night with Lord
Loudon on the birks of Barnbougal.

Yet the Marquis could defend his own conduct in having
never betrayed the King's service, avowing that such secret con-
ferences were designed for the best purposes ; and it has farther
been alleged in his favour, that his troops were raw and undis-
ciplined, incompetent to act against Leith.

It is certain, however, that the total inactivity of the Marquis
in his military operations, and the rumours of his apparent con-
federacy, had raised strong suspicions among the King's party ;
Charles himself had none ; and the royal correspondence con-
tinued almost daily with Hamilton.

Again the King*s resolution was to be shaken by the account
the Marquis gave of the numerous force of the Scots, and a
treaty was suggested in preference to a battle. Thus aff'airs
languished, till Charles acknowledged the mortifying truth of
which the Marquis had formerly apprised him. We gather this
from a letter of Secretary Vane :

" His Majesty now doth clearly see and is fully satisfied in his
own judgment that what passed in the gallery betwixt his Majesty
and your Lordship and myself, hath been but too much verified

♦ Lady Anne Cunningham, daughter to the Earl of Glencaim.

*l

THE MARQUIS OF HAMILTON. 235

on this occasion. And therefore his Majesty would not have you
begin with them, but settle things in a safe and good posture."
Such doubts on the royal side of its own strength, and such
resolution on that of the insurgents, terminated in the hasty
pacification of Berwick.

After that event, when the Earl of Loudon, then at London
as a deputy of the Scottish Covenanters, was committed to the
Tower for having subscribed a letter to the French king, soli-
citing his aid against England, the dexterous management of
Hamilton on that occasion is remarkably displayed. The alarm-
ing situation of Loudon, imprisoned on no doubtful act of treason,
embarrassed his Scottish friends, who, it is certain, dreaded the
result. The King had designed to bring Loudon to his trial,
but a rumour seems to have spread among the Scots, that Charles
had given orders for beheading him without a trial ; that story,
such as it is, we shall shortly more critically examine. Hamil-
ton had frequent interviews with Loudon in the Tower; he
obtained his enlargement in that spacious state-prison, and found
no difficulty in convincing the King that Loudon was not formed
of that hard Scotch temper which no art could render malleable :
he would spread out and soften at the stroke of court-favour.
The man, whom some have told us the King had commanded to
lose his head, was now seen at the King's levee — and

" Kiss'd the hand just raised to shed his blood."

Loudon, in fact, was gained over by the King, and made
Chancellor ; and we are told that Hamilton, in a private con-
ference at Whitehall, vas locked up with Loudon from two in
the morning till four in the afternoon.* Such was the influence
and the mysterious conduct of the Marquis of Hamilton ; the
present was a great coup d'etat ; the crafty politician not only
appeared to have abstracted a friend for the King from his
enemies, but he had secured his own reputation with the
Covenanters, by saving the Earl of Loudon, whose head they
well knew was in jeopardy.

* Nalson's Collection, i. 376. Nalson, in preserving the information delivered to
the Secretary of State, by a physician " who suspected the Marquis to be an arch-
traitor," leaves the reader to exercise his own judgment. Nalson did not know
what we know. The information given to the Secretary is, without doubt, genuine
and cori'ect.

I

230 THE MARQUIS OF HAMILTON.

It is evident that Hamilton remarkably studied the interests
of the opposing parties, but this being serviceable to both, what-
ever good was effected by him, was always neutralised. If ever
there were a poHtician who had sagacity to dive into the secrets
of the man with whom he came in contact, we surely may fix on
Bishop Williams. When this statesman had resolved to be ser-
viceable to Charles the First at that critical moment when the
Scottish intrigues and the Scottish army were equally advancing
in England, Williams, who had always declined the acquaintance
of the Marquis, now sought his intimacy. This shrewd observer
of human nature acknowledged that he was at a loss to decide
whether Hamilton were a good or an evil genius. "I have
found him to be very opposite to the vulgar opinion formed of
him, which considers him cunning and false. I believe him not
to be false to the King, nor do I find any great cunning in him,
but rather that he wants a head-piece."* It is possible that the
mystery which involves the character of Hamilton may have
originated in the single circumstance that he had designed great
matters, without the capacity of conducting them.

Knowing, as we now do, that Hamilton carried about him the
secret warrant which held him irresponsible for his double-
dealings, it is hard for us to decide at once on his guilt or his
innocence, on his sincerity or his duplicity. Was he with the
King, or with the Covenanter? The Searcher of all human
hearts alone can detect the silent motives of man. The intelli-
gence Hamilton gave the King was always true ; his warnings
were predictions, and his counsels, as Lord Clarendon himself
acknowledges, were always useful.

But he is accused at the same time of having revealed the
King's plans ; of having told the Covenanting Lords that he had
no commission to fight, which intimation rendered them more
hardy ; and it is even said, that he advised the Covenanters not
to trust the King. At York, such was his dexterous conduct
with the Scotch Commissioners in his promises of future service,
that he secured his own indemnity with them ; and, on a later
occasion, he equally secured the favour of the English Parlia-
mentarians, from the recommendation of their allies the Scotch,
who declared that Hamilton had always been true to them.

• Hat'kct's Life of Williams, pt. ii. 143.

THE MARQUIS OF HAMILTON. 237

Once, after an elaborate address from his chair as High Com-
missioner, when he had earnestly impressed on his auditors the
severity of his duty in delivering the royal commands, he de-
scended from that chair of State, and familiarly mingling with
some of the noble leaders of the Covenant, he took them into
another apartment ; there he observed, " Before the Lords of
the Council I spoke to you as the King's Commissioner, but now
I am come among you like a kindly Scotchman." And it is
added, that he advised them to persevere, by which they would
carry every thing before them, but if they fainted, or gave way,
they were undone.*

It was therefore not only with many suspicious actions, but
with many loose speeches caught by listeners — and with private
conferences with the leaders of the Scottish and of the Parlia-
mentary parties, observed by watchful eyes, that Hamilton was
repeatedly charged by the Court-party. The unfavourable result
of all his negotiations seemed to confirm the whole tenor of his
conduct in the minds of those who did not hesitate to condemn
Hamilton as an arch-traitor. The royal confidence was hardly
ever shaken — yet once it seems to have been startled, for even
Charles could not avoid remarking that '^ Hamilton had been
very active in his own preservation."

The Earl of Lanerick, the brother of Hamilton, the King had
commended for the frankness of his speech, and the openness of
his nature, and even Clarendon distinguishes him both for his
ability and his honour ; yet by others the Earl is considered to
have adopted the same line of conduct as the Marquis. Lanerick
was selected to supply the place of his " unfortunate brother ; "
and matters were now reduced to this point, that one brother
was to be answerable for the other ! We learn this from
a communication of the Earl to some confidential friend
to whom he sent a dark account of that mysterious afi'air
which in the Scottish history took the name of "The Inci-
dent,"— an extraordinary story, of an "Incident which never

• This remarkable conversation is given by Bishop Guthry, who at the same time
furnishes his authorities. The same story had reached Montrose in the same words.
It must have staggered those who considered the Marquis of Hamilton as the King's
Commissioner. The language is so strong that one may doubt its correctness — it
was instigating the insun-ectionary spirit, and can hardly be excused on the plea
that Hamilton was covertly attempting to wind himself into their secrets.

I

238 THE MARQUIS OP HAMILTON.

occurred, and which shall form the subject of the following
chapter.

The mysterious conduct of the brothers still continued. Two
years after the affair of "The Incident," when in 1643 the Scots
had resolved to raise an army to maintain their " cause," the
Marquis sate among them, and seemed only a looker-on ; while
his brother Lanerick, who had the custody of the King^s signet,
put it to a proclamation to raise this very Scottish army. This
extraordinary act done, the ambiguous brothers hastened to
Charles, at Oxford, to justify their proceedings, and to explain
that inevitable crisis which affairs had taken. They had how-
ever been anticipated by the zealous friends of the Monarch,
and the ever-watchful and vindictive Montrose had again de-
nounced the Hamiltons for their infidelity. Yet even in the
present alarming event, Charles seems to have seen no treachery,
but only misfortune in the brothers. Had they been criminal,
would they have returned to Court — they who could have framed
apologies for their absence? The charges against Hamilton
were, however, of so high a nature, and took so wide a view of
all his proceedings, and were so positively asserted by the
Marquis of Montrose, that to satisfy the friends about him, the
King was compelled to put both brothers under arrest. The
Marquis had of late been created Duke of Hamilton, and he
who had so long deprived Charles of the zealous services of
Montrose, and whose rankhng jealousies of that aspiring genius
had induced him to pursue the meanest artifices to accomplish
Montrose's ruin, now drank himself from the poisoned chalice,
returned to his own lipsl'

The imprisonment of the Hamiltons was, however, not com-
manded without reluctance. The Duke received the assurances
of his Majesty's favour, from the first moment of his confine-
ment, by Secretary Nicholas ; and William Murray, of the bed-
chamber, the confidential agent of the King, brought repeated
messages of the King's unchangeable amity. The charges never
came to a trial; but the imprisonment of the Duke lasted
two years. His brother Lanerick escaped from his confine-
ment to London, and finally returned to Scotland. When
some advised the King to hang Lord Lanerick' s page at the
window of the apartment, for aiding his master's flight, Charles

I

I

THE MARQUIS OF HAMILTON. 239

declared that " no servant should suffer for his fidelity to his
master/'

Lanerick, pursuing the same principle of conduct, whatever
was that principle, appeared in Scotland loyal to the King in
raising a party against the proud and fierce Argyle, and at the
same time friendly to the Covenanters ; for even his eulogist
Burnet acknowledges that he was forced to comply in many
things with the public counsels.

The few at Court who pretended a semblance of friendship
for the Duke of Hamilton suggested to him that to clear himself
from the heavy imputations attached to his name, it would be
necessary to concur vigorously in his Majesty's service in Scot-
land ; but Hamilton declared that till he was legally exonerated
by a public trial, it was not fitting for him to act ; nor had he
any longer any hopes to recover Scotland, where his presence
had so often failed. When he was lying under the imputation
of having betrayed the King's service, he was at the same time
receiving letters from Scotland upbraiding him for his services
to the King, and in the style of the Covenant, assuring him that
" had he been as faithful in serving the King of Kings, he would
have been rewarded, but that now he was well served for prefer-
ring the one to the other .^' Such is the catastrophe of a worn-
out politician, — such as Frederick the Great once sarcastically
likened to " squeezed oranges," which once used are thrown away.

The Duke of Hamilton at length was relieved from his im-
prisonment in the castle of St. Michael's Mount, in Cornwall,
when it surrendered to the Parliamentary forces. This myste-
rious man had long kept up an interest with some of the leaders
of the Parliament. At the time of Strafford's trial and Laud's
fall, when a dark cloud was hanging over his head, he found a
shelter in the favour of the Scottish Covenanters, for many
personal obligations he had conferred on some of that party.
At that critical moment he pressed the Scots to intercede for
him with their English allies, which they not only did, but
bound themselves for his future good behaviour to the Enghsh
Parliament. We are told from good authority, that Hamilton
became a confidant in all their private designs against one
another, and at times obtained many concessions from the King.

The last great act of his life closes this involved scene of

2 to THE MARQUIS OP HAMILTON.

human passions, and it will leave the enigma of his life unsolved.
Hapless and hopeless, as his fortune had been, at the sight of
the imminent danger of the imprisoned Monarch, Hamilton
seemed to rouse within him a mightier spirit. He raised a
Scottish army to restore his unfortunate Sovereign. But even
in this last expedition to England, at the head of a considerable
army, his melancholy weighed down the heart that now beat
with more generous emotions. The night before he marched,
in taking leave of a friend, Hamilton not only expressed his
sense of the danger, but the conviction of its destruction to
himself. He had, however, determined to stake his life on this
last cast. The conduct of this army betrayed a fatal secret,
that the Duke of Hamilton was the most inefficient of Generals.
He had formerly shown this in Germany, where a fine army
had mouldered away under his hands — in the Frith, where in
spiritless inactivity he had not risked a single military move-
ment. And now his persecuting genius rose before him in that
very army whose precipated march had entered England,
greater in number than in strength. The Duke, as if conscious
of his own deficiency, had been persuaded to submit the conduct
to the Earl of Calander as Lieutenant-General; yet neither
were cordial to each other, and the friends of the General divided
from the friends of the Lieutenant. Some veteran Irish troops
disdained to serve under the Scotch commander, who was a
punctilious old soldier trained up in the German wars. The
army marched without unison, and often in separate divisions.
The Scots did not combat so resolutely for the King as they had
fought earnestly against him. The Kirk had not blessed Duke
Hamilton's army. Their greatest disaster was, that they had to
encounter Cromwell. Five weeks the Scots had been suffered
to advance, though perpetually harassed, till at length they were
defeated. Scorning to retreat homewards with ignominy, a
mutiny broke out, when the Earl of Calander escaped to Hol-
land, and the Duke of Hamilton was carried prisoner to Derby.
Hamilton was now so sincere, that he cared not to preserve
himself, if he could not preserve his army.

The Duke of Hamilton now had no enemy to deceive, and nO'
friend to confide in. He entered his prison and he maintainedl
his honour, which now no promises could seduce, and no per-

i

THE MAEQUIS OF HAMILTON. 241

secution could menace. In the second evening of his imprison-
ment, when a stern serjeant peremptorily commanded him to
leave the court-yard where he was sauntering, the Duke was
struck by this first mark of that great change in the condition
of him who not a few days before had commanded so many
thousands ; but he knew that his master in solitude had long
borne, as a monarch should bear, the indignities of his ill-
fortune. Never more did Hamilton imagine that he should
view that countenance of Majesty and of friendship. Yet this
happened ! At the close of the following year the Duke was
removed to Windsor Castle, where also was the King. When
Charles was leaving Windsor to hasten to his trial or execution,
Hamilton prevailed on his keepers to be allowed to speak to the
King, as he passed by, but for a minute ! The interview was
hardly suffered to last that single minute which had been so
hardly begged. As Charles was passing, the Duke hurried to
meet him, and kneeling down, had only time to say, with that
powerful emotion which is beyond all feigning — " My dear
Master ! '^ — Charles embraced the old companion of his youth —
the minister whose counsels had occupied him so many years —
the 'confident of his secret thoughts, and now the sharer of his
adversities — shortly too to be the participator of his fate. The
King embraced Hamilton, and had only time to reply — '^ I have
been so indeed to you ! '^

The confidence of Charles in the Duke of Hamilton remained
to the last uninterrupted, though the enemies of Hamilton were
ever instilling into the King^s mind the darkest suspicions, and
what to a monarch, and more particularly to Charles, was most
likely to excite his jealousy, insinuating against Hamilton the
most treasonable aspirations. When the King was confined in
the Isle of Wight, and the governor informed him of the defeat
of the Scotch army under the Duke of Hamilton, Charles ob-
served that " It was the worst news that ever came to England."
The governor thought that '' his Majesty had no reason to be of
that opinion, for had Hamilton beaten the English, he would
certainly have possessed himself of the thrones of England and
Scotland." It had long been a popular notion that such was the
concealed ambition of the Duke of Hamilton.

The King, however, was not of the opinion of the governor ;

^OL. II. R

i^bro

242 THE INCroENT.

for after a short pause, his noble confidence in Hamilton was
such, that Charles replied " You are mistaken ; I could have
commanded him back with the motion of my hand." *

CHAPTER XVI.

THE INCIDENT.

" The Incident/' as it was called, is a presumed event in the
history of the Hamiltons, which occurred on the second visit of
Charles to Scotland, and which no one could comprehend at the
time. It baffled the inquisitive Clarendon, though the King gave
him all the benefit of his knowledge.

In the mysterious intrigues at this period, the more we labour
the darker grows our work. These plotting and counter-
plotting politicians, like the silk- worm, cloud themselves over
with their own opaque web, till at length they perish by their
own ingenuity. Some recently acquired information will throw
a partial light in these dark passages.

Montrose, who had long been in the secrets of the Cove-
nanters, and had watched the ambiguous conduct of the Hamil-
tons with some of that party, and was convinced in his own
mind that the brothers were both traitors — Montrose was him-
self engaged with the Covenanters, much against his will, in
consequence of the King's first ungracious reception of him,
which had been contrived by the artifice of Hamilton.

When the King was at Edinburgh in 1641, William Murray
of the bed-chamber, at that moment an avowed enemy of the
Marquis of Hamilton, and attached to the Earl of Montrose,
became the medium of communication between Charles and bis
future hero. Montrose, since his personal interview with the
King at the pacification of Berwick, was supposed, thougli
unconquered in arms, to have been vanquished by words ; a
paper had been attached to the door of his apartment even at
that time, inscribed —

Invictus armis, verbis vincitur.

He was now under restraint in the castle by order of the Cove-

Lurllovv.

THE INCIDENT. 243

nanters. Montrose assured Murray that the proofs of treason
were ample, and sufficient to bring them home to the Hamil-
tons, who had confederated with Argyle to betray the King
through the whole of the Scottish transactions. Montrose
offered to maintain his proofs in Parliament ; the offer was
nearly tantamount to a proof — as Clarendon in a suppressed
passage informs us, that by the law of Scotland the delator who
wrongfully accused of high-treason was himself condemned to
the same punishment the convicted traitor would have suffered.
We are informed of another fact by Clarendon. The offer of
impeaching the three noblemen to break their factions, was
accompanied by a more extraordinary one — that of getting rid
of them altogether by assassination ! which, says Clarendon,
Montrose frankly undertook to do. Events of this nature the
still barbarous customs of the age had not rendered so singular
and repulsive as they appear to our more subdued manners ; the
Court of France, where Montrose had sometime resided, offers
several remarkable instances, even under the eyes of Louis the
Thirteenth, called "the Just."

At this moment the King seemed embarrassed and fluctuating
in his own opinion of the fidelity of the brothers ; other obscure
suspicions of a confederacy, which we shall have shortly to show,
also developed themselves. Forbidding with abhorrence the
horrid expedient of the military adventurer, Charles, how-
ever, consented that the proofs of treason should be laid before
Parliament.

So far we have proceeded with Clarendon's account, who
knowing nothing more, describes on a Sunday morning the
sudden flight of the Hamiltons and Argyle — the city of Edin-
bui'gh under arms — and the reports the three lords gave out of
dreadful conspiracies against them. The Hamiltons sent letters
to the King and the Parliament, " not without some reflections
on his Majesty."*

This remarkable passage, which long implicated Charles in
the rumour of the assassination, has been cleared up by the
letters of Secretary Nicholas, to which we shall shortly refer.

Lord Lanerick has addressed to some confidential friend
"A relation of the Incident." It is an episode in the history

II

* Clarendon, i. 576.

R 2

244 THE INCIDENT.

of the Hamiltons; it betrays their distracted feelings. Such
was the peculiar situation of the brothers, that both had acted
in a manner to become equally suspected even by their partial
master.

" You should blush when you remember to have owned so
much friendship for one branded with the black name of a traitor;
or to have loved a person that was capable of ingratitude to a
deserving master, for though I should have forgot his Majesty
as a subject, I could never have forgot his Majesty's particular
favours to me, who from nothing hath heaped both fortune and
honours on me. I must beg of you the trouble of reading this
paper, and shall not desire a more favourable construction of my
actions, than you would of his you never saw.

" It is true the opinion I found his Majesty had of my brother
I conceive made him in some measure ^ea/oM^ of me, which upon
divers occasions I strove to clear myself, and professed to him
that my affection to his service was such, as if I believed my
brother were not so dutiful to him as he ought to be, no man should
more willingly contribute to bring him to his deserved punishment
than myself His Majesty then, and upon divers occasions, was
pleased to say, he believed me to be an honest man, and that
he had never heard any thing to the contrary; but that
he thought my brother had been very active in his own
preservation.

" This expression of his Majesty's made me look more strictly
unto my brother's actions, to see if I could find that in any par-
ticular whereby he strove to preserve himself, he had prejudiced
the King's just designs. Possibly my blood might claim such
an interest in his as to procure a partial construction of his
actions from me ; but truly, the nearer I looked into his
thoughts, the greater affection and fidelity I found in him to liis
master; and if in this judgment I have erred, it was the brain's
fault, not the blood's, for all interest I laid aside.

" I must confess his Majesty found great opposition in this
country, yet, (as I hope for mercy, though I found myself sus-
pected by him,) I strove to do him the best service I could ; and
when all differences were coming to some accommodation, and
I in hopes his Majesty might have returned with satisfaction to i
England ; all those hopes were destroyed, by this unfortunate {

I

L

THE INCIDENT. 245

accident which now forceth this distance betwixt his Majesty
and us/'

After an account of this presumed plot, Lord Lanerick
declares, and the confession may be true, of the miserable days
of these plotting intriguers, " / was not so much troubled with
the hazard of losing a life, wherein God knows these many years
I have not taken great pleasure, as with the great prejudice I saw
this would bring to his Majesty's affairs and the peace and quiet
of this poor kingdom/'

His lordship concludes in this extraordinary style : " I was
informed his Majesty had let fall some expressions to my disad-
vantage in the Parliament House ; whereupon I again sent to
him begging him to believe that I had not a heart capable of a
disloyal thought to him; mid. t\\?it if I believed my brother had
any, he should not be troubled with thinking how to punish him,
for I had both a heart and a hand able to do it.''

Here is an offer of assassinating his own brother, should that
brother prove to be a traitor ! What extremes of passion agi-
tate politicians in their crooked course ! Lanerick offers to
return to court at the risk of his own life in the midst of his
enemies, "confident that his Majesty knows not of the base
design, though the King protects those who are accused." *
This alludes to Montrose and his party.

The narrative by Lord Lanerick of the presumed immolation
of the three lords at the feet of his Majesty, betrays such inco-
herence, that the whole pretended conspiracy was long considered
as having no foundation in reality, and by many was treated as
a subject of ridicule. The three noblemen were to be called
into the King's drawing-room on parliamentary business — two
lords were then to enter at a garden-door, followed by two or
three hundred men, when, proceeds the Earl, "they should
either have killed us, or carried us aboard a ship of his Majesty's
which then lay in the road." After all, the assassination might
have subsided into a deportation. It is quite certain that in this
novel political scene, Charles would never have endured to have
been even a spectator ; the assassination of the three lords could
never have taken place in his presence. Charles has never yet
been accused, among the calumnies heaped on his head, of this

I

• Lord Hardwicke's State-papers, ii 299.

246 THE INCIDENT.

sanguinary disposition. The stretch of his arbitrary command
was an imprisonment.

Charles, indignant at the suspicions of the Hamiltons, insisted
On a public trial of the presumed conspirators. We learn from
that faithful recorder and actor in the passing scenes, Principal
Baillie, that all parties considered it as most prudent to leave
this dark and involved affair to a private committee; and in
England it was consigned to the Privy Council. The Scotch
Committee appear to have been strangely perplexed by the con-
trary depositions ; tlie truth of some things could not be denied,
and the falsity and absurdity of others seem to have been as
evident. It was considered prudent that the original depositions
should be suppressed ; some notes of them, however, have been
preserved.* In England it was resolved that all the documents
relative to " the Incident '^ should remain under the Secretary's
care, to be inspected by any of the Peers, but not to be pub-
lished without the King's command.f The chief point with
Charles was, the vindication of his own honour, so cruelly impli-
cated by the terrified Hamiltons. That remarkable passage in
Clarendon that the Hamiltons addressed the Scottish Parlia-
ment " not without some reflections upon his Majesty," receives
a fresh light from one of Secretary Nicholas's letters to the
King, which has recently appeared in the Evelyn papers. The
Secretary writes from London to the King at Edinburgh, " The
Marquis of Hamilton's second and third letters to your Majesty,
whereby he begs your Majesty's pardon, which argues he is not
so faultless and innocent as we (the Privy Council) would here
render him." This can only allude to the Marquis having
implicated the " King in the base design," as Lord Lanerick
calls it. And therefore the Secretary congratulates the King
on the result of the examination of the Privy Council, that

* These notes or contents of the depositions are preserved by Balfour in his
Journal of Parliament ; and are in Malcolm Laing's Appendix to bis History of
Scotland, iii. 515.

t On inquiry, I do not learn that these papers are in the State-paper Office — they
remained probably with secretary Nicholas, and, if not lost, must be among his MSS.
My friend Mr. Amyott, to whom, if his modesty would allow it, I would apply the
happy designation of Sir David Dalrymple of Lord Hardwicke, as "learned in
British History," did me the favour to examine the book of the Privy Council, but
not a single entry has been made of this singular transaction, so careful wei'e they,
for the honour of the King, to bury it in impenetrable obscurity.

i

THE INCIDENT. 247

^* there was nothing which in any sort reflected on the King's
honour/' Nor has Charles been accused of any criminal act by
the party. The Secretary designates " the Incident " as " that
unhappy business " — and requests the royal command respecting
the publication. The King simply notes on the letter, " There
needs no more." *

What is more certain than "the Incident" is^ that Lord
Clarendon heard from Montrose himself that Murray, after
having been the warmest encourager to the proposed impeach-
ment of the Hamiltons, and offered himself to prove many
notable things against the suspected nobleman, was the only
man who discovered the whole " Counsel " — that is, the intended
impeachment — to the Hamiltons ; and what is as mysterious as
" the Incident " itself, Murray, the avowed enemy of the Mar-
quis of Hamilton, suddenly deserted Montrose, whom he had
courted, and whose intermediate agent he had been with the
King, and as suddenly became the intimate friend of Hamilton.
The alarm of the Hamiltons, occasioned by the dread of assas-
sination, I would ascribe to the same manoeuvres of Mr. William
Murray of the bed-chamber. In betraying the projects of
Montrose, he probably mixed up an exaggerated account of that
" frank " offer of assassination, which the daring and vindictive
Montrose would not have hesitated to have had performed by
his creatures, for he was himself then confined in the Castle by
the Covenanters. The Marquis of Hamilton, practised on by
the artful insinuations of the faithless Murray, evidently sus-
pected that the King had consented to this inexpiable crime.
Hence his regrets and requests of pardon, noticed in the letters
of Secretary Nicholas. That Hamilton had entertained this
suspicion, though he certainly ought better to have understood
the character of Charles, is confirmed by an affecting circum-
stance. Shortly after the mysterious " Incident," and at the
moment the Marquis was created a Duke, Charles tenderly
reproached him for having suffered so foul a suspicion to enter
his mind, reminding Hamilton that on a former occasion, when
a like charge had been laid against Hamilton himself, he had
instantly rejected it with scorn, and as a proof of his unchange-

* Secretary Nicholas's correspondence in Evelyn. Pym's report of the Com-
mittee in the tenth volume of the Parliamentai-y History.

I

248 THE INCIDENT.

able confidence, had commanded Hamilton that very night to
sleep in his chamber.

In a conspiracy of which we hardly know the conspirators,
and in an " Incident " which never occurred, some reasonable
conjectures may be allowed. Malcolm Laing, after an able
review of this mysterious tale, concludes that " the Incident "
was not altogether a fictitious plot, and that the proposed arrest
of the Hamiltons was probably assented to by Charles, under
the influence of the extraordinary communications of Montrose:
these, in fact, opened a scene of confederacy which extended to
London as well as Edinburgh. At this moment Charles saw
himself surrounded by conspiracies. One of his motives in
hastening to Scotland had been to obtain possession of an
engagement bearing the signatures of several English Peers, and,
as he was told, of some Commoners with the Covenanters, and
which we shall find he but " narrowly missed." If the arrest
of the three Lords had the King^s concurrence, what need was
there of the three hundred men ? That the King might have
designed to arrest them is not improbable, but the rumour of
the assassination, or the deportation, probably originated in the
artful insinuations of Murray, and in the confused accounts of
the contradictory evidence of some oflScers, who seem to have
been let into a plot, which they did not themselves understand.
The plot, whatever it was, may have been the contrivance of the
daring Montrose, who consigned the management to the Earl
of Crawford ; but even this point is difficult to conceive, for
Montrose, who was then soliciting the royal favour, would
hardly have ventured to lose it, by an assassination which had
been solemnly interdicted by the King.

There was another circumstance which had risen out of the
mysterious "Incident" not the least observable. When the
news of the flight of the three Lords from Edinburgh reached
London, it created the same consternation as in the Scotch
city : it was magnified by Pym in Parliament * into one of those
popular delusions which. they began to practise; it was said to
be a Papistical conspiracy against both the Kingdoms; and the
Lord Mayor is directed to double guards and watches in the
city and suburbs ! A simple observer might suspect the exist-

• See Pym's Speech in Cobbett's Pari. Hist. ii.. coL 915.

•i

THE INCIDENT. 249

ence of some secret cause proportioned to this strange effect.
Why were the leading members of Parliament thus panic-
struck? The revelations of Montrose evidently had affected
them — that concealed intercourse which was shortly to be made
apparent to the world, and which was yet imperfectly known to
Charles, had cast the parties into confusion and dismay.

About the time of " the Incident," Scotland was a focus of
political intrigues, — intrigues which have not entered into his-
tory, although they have left some obscure traces. The Scottish
parties were so embroiled together, that Charles insisted, as
each was ready to vent their mutual recriminations, on an act
of oblivion on all sides. The King threatened that if the Cove-
nanters accused the Earl of Traquaire and others, he would
reserve three or four of their own party. The violence of their
machinations we discover in the desperate style of the two great
leaders of both the parties. When the Covenanters were insisting
on having Traquaire tried by their Parliament, as " an incen-
diary," which was the reigning party-name for any of the royal
ministers, more than once he swore that " before he perished he
would mix heaven and earth and hell together ! " In this chaos
of his emotions, we may conjecture that the wild elements com-
bined the secret intrigues of some Englishmen with the Scots,
and of Argyle and other Covenanters with the Cabinet of the
Louvre. The desperate language of Traquaire was replied to by
the bold challenge of the Covenanter, Mr. Archibald Johnston,
who figures in Scottish history as Lord Wariston. Wariston
fiercely offered the King, as he himself expressed it, "to be
yoked in one chain with the Earl of Traquaire, and let him
accuse me, and me accuse him, then let the judgment go free,
and the nocent suffer." Treasons hung on the lips of every
one; and Wariston tells that ''these recriminations deserve
justice rather than mercy." The Covenanter asks not for blood,
but surely he desires it. What scenes were these for the unhappy
monarch ! And what a man was this Wariston, the head of the
Covenanters ! This fierce Covenanter was one who, as he de-
scribes himself, " did not weaken his hands in the work of God."
He was a terrible being — the Talus with his flail of iron, whom
we have already noticed in the history of the Puritans. He
often discovers the simplicity of his system of politics; it consisted

250 THE INCIDENT.

of the strength of the Scottish army, and his own unalterable
intrepidity. He wrote, with concise energy, from London to his
brothers in Scotland, "■ Commend us to be stout, — prepare your
armies. — The Lower House grow in strength. — They have Straf-
ford's life — are thinking on monies for ics — Lord encourage and
direct them ! " There is more dignity in his patriotism when he
declares that his only end is that " the honour of the kingdom
be preferred to the King's point of honour." * However, be it
not forgotten, that this warm patriot and inspired Covenanter
closed his life with the weakness which he said he himself feared ;
he could not resist the seduction of office. In Cromwell's time
he begged not to be sent up to London, dreading " the snares."
Encumbered by a numerous family, and having large sums not
likely to be repaid for public services, the Usurper, for so the
Presbyterians called the Protector, prevailed on Wariston to
have his accounts settled, and to serve him. The offer was
accepted, but deep was the interior conflict of conscience and
poverty. We are told that it cast the fierce yet honest Waris-
ton into a state of melancholy ; with a dejected spirit nothing
went well with him; and, finally, it cost him his life at the
Restoration.

The close of " the Incident " was as curious, though not as
mysterious, as any part of it. The projected tragedy terminated
in a perfect comedy. The Lords who should have been assassi-
nated, were elevated into higher dignities. The Marquis of
Hamilton was created a duke ; the Earl of Argyle had a mar-
quisate bestowed on him. Lesley, the Scotch general, was over-
come by an earldom ; a Scotch laird was metamorphosed into a
viscount. Even the Covenanter, Mr. Archibald Johnston, was
knighted, pensioned, and commissioned as a Lord of the Sessions,
and well known as Lord Wariston. Lanerick and Montrose
alike, lost not a shade of the royal favour. The very Presbyters,
who were triumphing over the distribution of the Bishops' lands,
which, however, were chiefly thrown to the devouring rapacity
of the aristocracy, t and who so often had tried the gravity of

* Daliymple's Memoirs of Charles the First, 1 22 and 1 36.

f I refer the reader to a curious passage in the Diary-letters of honest Baillie,

(i. 334,) for an amusing specimen of the manner in which the vultures hovered over

the great dead bodies of Episcopacy, till they were glutted by the carnage. It seema

that when they came to the grand pillage, the Presbyters were not allowed all the

Jl the ■

J

THE INCIDENT. 251

Charles by their volume of a sermon, when, like a true Scot, the
King even attended the Kirk, had their Henderson and Gilles-
pie pensioned and preferred. Charles must have considered
himself fortunate to have been permitted "to pardon" his own
friends, with an understanding, however, that he was to neglect
them ; " the incendiaries,^' as the ministers of Charles were
called, had been threatened with the recent fate of Strafford, and
they were now rewarded for their zeal by a royal pardon ! Some
of the adherents to the King sarcastically observed that should
any of them be desirous of preferment, they had only to join the
new rebellion which had just broken out in Ireland. Charles,
indeed, was now only exercising the weakness of sovereignty, for
his real power was limited to granting concessions and confer-
ring titles. Yet what availed this state-policy ? In Scotland,
Charles was only disappointing his friends without conciliating
his enemies, so transient is the feeble gratitude for extorted
favours ! It must be acknowledged that monarchs incur mis-
fortunes which are peculiarly their own.

The King, indeed, had of late been so accustomed to grant
concessions, without any return of thanks, that the lip-service of
the vehement gratitude of some cunning Scots, looked much like
that loyalty from which he had been so long estranged. Charles
mistook quiet for peace. Whatever was his design in his pre-
sent political journey, the policy proved fatal; in going in person
to Scotland, as Clarendon forcibly expresses it, he had only
" made a more perfect deed of gift of that kingdom," and what
was not less fatal, the management of the Scots indicated to their
English friends, who had watched their motions, and rejoiced
with their rejoicings, that the King must yield all to them. It
would indeed have reproached the incapacity and the enterprise
of the party, if Charles had not shown himself as weak and as
weakened a sovereign at London as he had done at Edinburgh.

portion they had calculated on. « Glasgow was pitifully crossed by the Duke, who
must needs have the temporality of that bishoprick ; the spirituahty fell to the town-
minister, which is but a small thing. But to content Glasgow, the bishoprick of
Galloway was given to the College. Aberdeen University got its bishoprick — Ross,
Murray, and Caithness are divided to North-land gentlemen of any small deserving ;
Argyle Isles, I suspect, to Argyle. The bishopricks were so quickly dilapidated,
that we were near to have made a protestation in Parhament in the Church's name "
—that is the Presbyters !

I

252 THE LETTER OP THE SCOTS

So contagious is the example of a successful insurtection, that
even the Irish nation in their atrocious rebellion, now pretended
that they were only following the example of the Scots, and
pleaded for their liberties and their religion as well as the sons
of Calvin ; but these Papalists proved to be more barbarous even
than the Covenanters !

CHAPTER XVII.

THE LETTER OF THE SCOTS TO THE FRENCH KING.— A DESIGN OF
THEIR SEPARATION FROM ENGLAND.— BURNET'S ANECDOTE
OF LORD LOUDON EXAMINED.

The Earl of Traquaire, who succeeded the Marquis of Hamil-
ton in the difficult and dangerous office of High Commissioner
for Scotland, was a person of considerable abilities, who from a
private gentleman, by name Stewart, had been raised to dis-
tinction; an adventurous intriguer unquestionably, and one
whose fate resembles that of many of this class, for according to
the calamitous list of " Scot of Scotstarvet's Staggering State
of Scots' Statesmen/' this versatile politician, after all his
shiftings, closed his career in indigence and obscurity. Traquaire
was now fixed in a dilemma, from which by no artifice could he
extricate himself — he was secretly the great enemy to Epis-
copacy, and it was now his office to protect the very order which
he sought to abolish.

The Earl of Traquaire was a favourite with Lord Clarendon,
who in a suppressed passage declares, that " He was one of the
wisest men that he had known of that nation,'' and in his text,
as formerly published, seems reluctantly to record the suspi-
cions of others, that Traquaire was privy to the conspiracy
against the Church. This his lordship at first doubted. But
in the suppressed passage the doubt seems to have disappeared,
for we find a fuller detail of his ambiguous conduct.* Traquaire
was openly accused by the Scottish Bishops before the King

♦ Compare, in the last edition of the first volume, page 192, with the Appendix,
page 512. The contrast is very striking, and the confession of Clarendon, that the
Earl designed, by an alteration in the ecclesiastical, to make more reasonable a
I'eformatiou in tlie temporal state, seems to settle the question.

1

TO THE FRENCH KING. 253

for his treacherous deportraent in the Scotch business; and
Bishop Guthry, with his strong feelings for Episcopacy, has
ranked him among the rogues and traitors.

The duplicity or the versatility of this political character is
strongly marked. Secretly hostile to Episcopacy, he had him-
self joined in ejecting the order of Bishops from the three
estates of Parliament. But when he found the King still so
tender on the point of Episcopacy, Traquaire, to help the King
out of this difficulty, cunningly suggested that " Let the Par-
liament do what it would, there were still grounds for the
restoration of Episcopacy whenever the King could carry the
point ; for Bishops, by the laws of Scotland, forming one of the
estates in Parliament, no Act whatever that passed without
them could have force in law, and much less the Act that had
abolished them, since they never appeared there, and had pro-
tested against it."* This was what a modern French statesmen
has called an " arriere pensee"

Traquaire's concealed feelings towards the Bishops, and his
Cabinet-opinion as Privy Councillor, exhibit him in those very
opposite positions into which the man of intrigue is sometimes
so painfully thrust. The worldly wisdom of these Achitophels
is to live on expedients — their only art is a trick of the
moment ; — but expedients will fail, and the deceiver is liable to
be himself deceived.

The Scottish Commissioners, to quiet the people, published
their own constructions of the articles of the late hurried treaty
of Berwick. As much had passed in loose conferences, where any
harshness in the wording was softened by the royal exposition,
but not altered, that the honour of the King might suffer no
degradation, and as these conferences were written down every
night when the Commissioners returned to their camp, different
persons would assign different results ; what was set down as
positive by one, to another would be dubious.. The concessions
which the Scots gave out were utterly disclaimed by the Eng-
hsh, and " The Scots' false paper," as it was called,t was burnt
by the hand of the common hangman as a slanderous libel,

* Burnet's Memoirs of the Hamiltons, 1 1 9.
t This paper is preserved in Frankland's Annals, 791. Malcolm Laing does not
think *' the Scots' Paper " to have been as false as the hangman proclaimed it.

254 THE LETTER OP THE SCOTS

" Everybody disavowing the contents, but nobody taking upon
him to publish a copy that they owned to be true/' A curious
instance of the absurdity of a treaty where the parties refer to
what is not contained in it !

The Scots made an appearance of disbanding their army, by
burning the tents which formed their camp, but they detained
their officers, and Scotland presented the same unchanged scene.
The Tables of democracy continued their sittings. The new
Assembly, to spare the King's prejudices, avoided every allusion
to the Assembly of Glasgow, which he had condemned as illegal,
but they were careful to reproduce all its former resolutions.

Charles, though slowly, withdrew from that last hold of his
sovereignty — the contested Episcopacy. The act of the Assembly
declared that "Episcopacy was unlawful in the Kirk;" that
term, on any explanation, Charles firmly rejected. The King
was willing to allow that Episcopacy might be declaimed to be
" contrary to the constitution of the Kirk," but he never would "
acknowledge that " Episcopacy was unlawful." " There may
be," he observed, " many several constitutions, but whatever is
absolutely unlawful in one Church, cannot be lawful in another I
of the same profession of religion."

Such was the argument of Charles, which has incurred the
censure of two able historians. Malcolm Laing considers it as
'' an immaterial difference, unworthy to form an obstacle to a
national settlement ;" and Dr. Lingard condemns it as " a
mere quibble."

The historians of Charles the First rarely place themselves in
the perplexed situation of this unfortunate monarch. History
requires its abstractions as well as poetry ; the historian, like
the poet, should personate the character he represents, placing
himself in the condition of the human being whose actions he
records. With the same fixed views before him, and with the
sympathy of the same feelings, he should penetrate, like Tacitus
or Clarendon, if blessed with their art, into the secret recesses
of the mind. The instance before us is an illustration of this
critical maxim.

When we discover the royal Episcopalian compelled to hang
his wrath on this slight thread, it serves at least to indicate the
wounded sensibility, which could not endure that the obnoxious

1

TO THE FRENCH KING. 255

term unlawful and Episcopacy should lie in such close connexion.
But in the mind of Charles there was a deeper dread of this
sweeping conclusion, for cceteris paribus, had Charles acknow-
ledged Episcopacy to be unlawful in one Church, it would, or
it ought to, extend to the other. The King was not raising a
cavil, but opposing a principle, — a principle which was striking
at the Church of England ; and it proved to be an awful antici-
pation,* nor was it unperceived by Charles himself. He indeed
was so fully aware of the perilous state into which his Anglican
Church was thrown by the establishment of his Scottish Kirk,
that he had drawn a solemn oath from the Chancellor of Scot-
land (Lord Loudon), the Earl of Argyle, and Lesley, that they
would never interfere with the religious worship of England,
and never on this subject aid the Puritans by their arms. This
circumstance, which appears in the manuscript of the Erench
Resident, was communicated by the King himself to that person
when, in 1 644, Charles expressed his indignation at the conduct
of the Scotch party at London.f

The sons of Calvin expelled the Prelates, who constituted the
third state in their Parliament, and excommunicated eight.

ley even procured three or four apostate Bishops to abjure

The argument here used I had written before I discovered the same in Malcolm
ig himself, iii. 1 72. This historian has even assigned another motive for Charles's
ibble," as Dr. Lingard calls it. It is one not less forcible ; " If Episcopacy was
lemned as unlawful in the constitution of a church, it could never be restored."
while this acute historian censures Charles for his hesitation at " an imma-
4 difference," when he comes to explain the King's views, he offers the most
sfactory apology for the King's conduct. It has been the peculiar fate of Charles,
;ed as he was frequently in the most trying positions, to be condemned in the
same page which bears its refutation, whenever the historian has taken enlarged
views. I have remarked this circumstance so often that I am provided with a
copious chapter of instances, where several of our most eminent modern writers of
the history of this period, while they condemn this hapless monarch, have in the
very same page contradicted themselves, correcting the popular notions they adopt,
by a more intimate knowledge of their subject.

+ I give the original passage. " Le Roi de la Grande Bretagne est tres malcon-
tent des Ecossois. II m'a jure que lorsque par la necessity de ses affaires il fut
contraint de consentir a ce que les Ecossois avoient fait contre la Religion, pre'voyant
que les Anglois se serviroient d'eux pour la revolte, il avoit tire serment sur leur
foi et sur leur honneur, du Chancelier d'Ecosse, du Comte d'Orgueil (Argyle) et
Lesley, que jamais ils ne se raeleroient de la religion d'Angleterre, et ne I'assiste-
roient jamais de leurs armes en ce sujet." — Sabran's manuscrit Negociations en
AngleterrCf vol. ii., fol. 148.

256 THE LETTER OP THE SCOTS

Episcopacy as " an Order as hath had sensibly many fearful and
evil consequences in many parts of Christendom." * And
doubtless they inferred, that Presbytery is "an Order" guiltless
of all crimes, and too wise to have troubled the world with any
follies of its own.

For this time, however, the obnoxious term was softened —
Charles had wholly succumbed — even his favoured Episcopacy
was surrendered to "the madness of the people." But the Scots
had yet much to labour for. Turning from their Presbytery,
they looked towards a revolution in their Government. This
was an advantage to Charles, for it convinced those of the
English nation who were free from faction, that it was no longer
"the Bishops' war," as it was termed, but a destruction of
regal authority at which some refractory spirits aimed. f

The Assembly decreed to ratify the Covenant. Traquaire
had suffered every point to be carried, and, strange as it seemed
to Charles, the Earl himself had subscribed the Revolutionary
Bond. The name of Traquaire became popular, and resounded
from the pulpits ; Scotland blazed with bonfires ! The half-
timid and half-daring Lord Commissioner hastened to Whitehall
to plead his justification, averring that he could not prevail with
the people, but by force, or by compliance. The Covenanting
Earl was coldly received by the King, and again, as Baillie
expresses it, " his credit was cracking."

Traquaire now in disgrace at Court, though popular in Scot-
land, either to redeem the royal favour which he had lost, or not
unwilling to check that political anarchy with which the nation
was threatened by the ambition of a few, contrived a new shift
by which he strengthened the King's cause, and more clearly
exposed the secret designs of the Covenanters. Traquaire had
intercepted a letter addressed by some of the Scottish nobility
" Au Roy," where the subscribers offered themselves to be sub-
jects of France ; to renew that ancient alliance, that sympathy
of common interests, which had formerly reduced the Realm of
Scotland to a dependant province of France.

Charles now discovered sufficient cause for alarm, and Lord
Leicester, our ambassador at Paris, in a private audience with

* The abjuration or renouncement of one of these apostate Bishops is preserved
in Rushworth, ii, 957. t Malcolm Laing, iii. 175.

d

li

TO THE FEENCH KING. 257

Louis the Thirteenth, sounded his Majesty's intentions. His
lordship attempted to take the King by surprise, by artfully
assuming that his Majesty had received a letter from the heads
of the Covenanters. The King declared he knew of no such
letter. His lordship then offered to read the copy of an
intercepted letter, of which the King of England retained the
original. Louis, observing that the letter was written in French,
read it himself, and then solemnly declared that he had never had
any thing to do with them, and never would. " Le Roy, mon
frere, pent etre assure que je n'aime les rebelles et seditieux^'
— Charles had desired the ambassador to say that the ground
of their rebellion was not conscience nor religion. — " Non !
e le croy, car c^est seulement une pretexte que tous les rebelles

erchent pour couvrir leur mauvais desseins.'^ — "The true
ground,^' continued the Earl, " is their hatred to royalty and
monarchical government, wherein your Majesty and every King
have a common interest.^^ — "Je le S9ais bien, cela me peut
arriver aussi bien qu'^ un autre, et comme vous dites les Rois y
ont grand interet, et quant a moi je ne favoriseray jamais les
mutins et les rebelles.^^*

When I read, many years ago, the French monarch's replies,
I was persuaded, by the naivete of such blunt sincerity, that it
was clear of all political artifice. I considered that the witchery
of the daring genius of the minister had withered the faculties
of Louis, and that the French King knew nothing of the dis-
patch of the Scotch Abbe Chambre to Edinburgh, nor the
continual intercourse with the Scottish party ; in a word, that
Louis had yet no idea that he was in reality the ally and con-
federate of the insurgents of Scotland. Moreover, the existence
of this French letter, addressed "Au Roy" by the Scottish
lords, has always been denied by our historians, from Hume to
Brodie. They have all asserted that no such letter was sent,
relying on the testimony of Lord Loudon, one of the lords who
was implicated in the treason, and sent to the Tower. He
asserted that this intercepted letter was merely a rough copy,
which, had it ever been intended, was never actually sent.

I became more intimately acquainted with the character and
habits of Louis the Thirteenth in the judicious history of Pere

* Sydney Papers, ii. Pere d' Orleans, Revolutions de I'Angleterre, iii. 19.
VOL. II. S

11.

258 THE LETTER OF THE SCOTS

Griffet. I discovered that never was there a monarch who
carried the royal vice of dissimulation farther than this King ;
incompetent himself to govern, yet jealous even of his favourites
on small matters, the sole political artifice he was capable of
practising was that of never betraying his own thoughts. The
man whom he had condemned to imprisonment, or to death, in
a last interview he would even dismiss with marks of particular
regard. Louis the Thirteenth was tutored by Richelieu, and
never failed in the humble part of a pupil. That he deceived
the Earl of Leicester by his apparent simplicity is probable, but
modern researches often throw a new light over the dark pas-
sages of history, and communicate to posterity a knowledge of
the times which no contemporary possessed. All the writers of
English history have confided on the evidence of Lord Loudon,
himself one of the conspirators. The letter in French by the
Scottish lords, addressed " Au E-oy,^' we now know was sent
and was received. Monsieur Mazure recently discovered it in
the State-paper office of France.*

It is precisely the same as the letter which Charles had read
to the Parliament. Calculating on the effect he imagined it
would have produced by exposing the designs of the Scotch
party, he was mortified to discover that the Parliament either
passed it over as a state trick, or little cared whether the French
assisted their " dearf brethren" of Scotland, to which they
probably had no objection.

* Histoire de la Revolution de 1688, par Mazure, Hi. 405.

f The letter Traquaire had intercepted was a duplicate. Modem research has
also brought to light both a brouillon and a corrected copy, different from the one
dispatched to France. Dalrymple, Memorials of Charles I., 57 — 60. It is printed
in Frankland, 810. The Scots found the French idiom difficult. Cue of the Scottish
Lords refused to sign, objecting to their use of " Raye de soleil," not because it was
treason, but because it was nonsense ; for Raye is a Thornback, and it went to say,
tliat " the glory of the French monarch shone like that fish." However, it went uw
raye de soldi, meaning rayon.

It may amuse the reader to see how party-histories have been written. Old-
mixon, in his " History of the Stuarts," frequently referred to as authority by a
party, describes in his pocuhar style the scene which occurred when Charles from
the throne acquainted Parliament of his having intercepted the letter to the French
monarch, which the Lord-Keeper read. "The Lord-Keeper-, holding the letter
folded, read the superscription Au Roy, raising his voice so very theatrically, show- ;
ing that whoever writes so, acknowledges the King they address to be their Sovereign, j
Here 's logic as well as rhetoric ! This acting is not yet over. Then the Lord

I

1^ TO THE FEENCH KING. 259

In these Scottisli transactions, an important circumstance
does not appear in our history. A party among the Scottish
nobihty seems to have designed a separation from England, and
to have resumed their rank in Europe as an independent nation.
This object was suitable to the policy of Richelieu. We may

irace all the French Ambassadors who resided in England, even
mder the administration of that Cardinal's successor, holding
ecret intelligence with Scotchmen. In the manuscript papers
f Sabran I find many such confidential interviews. A political
Qtriguer of this nation, whose name does not appear, but whose
minence is indicated by his having received a gold chain
from the King of France, and evidently some Scotchman
intimately connected with the Cabinet of the Louvre — the object
of his interview with Sabran was to point out the future danger
to France of an union of both the Parliaments of England and
Scotland in the design of establishing one form of religion. He
warned Sabran that the Parliament had already their secret
deputies in Sweden, and among all the Protestant Princes, as
also with the States of Holland. A league was ready to be
formed against the Catholic Princes. He complained that
Scotchmen were not so well received at Court under the ad-
ministration of Mazarine, as of Richelieu. He designed, how-
ever, to revisit France before he returned to his country. As
Sabran entertained suspicions of this mysterious personage, he
encouraged him to open himself more freely ; and it appeared
that this Scotchman wanted to establish the independence of
Scotland by the aid of France. He closed by a prediction.
" We shall have our Covenant and independence too at Lon-
don, so that the Scots would no longer be a province of
England."

The information given by this mysterious personage was

I shortly after confirmed. The French Cabinet was thrown into

1 a panic at the Parliament's secret intercourse with Sweden by a

concealed agent, whose lodgings they had not even been able to

Keeper read the letter, expatiating on it to prove the treason of the Lords who sub-
scribed it. The artifice of the letter stared both Houses in the face. I can't write
this incident no more than I could have seen it without laughing, to see the Lord-
Keeper gravely folding up the letter, then turning Au Roy to the Lords and Commons ;
then the King speaking to it ; then the Keeper speaking again to it ; when all the
^^ ^ while it was a farce in the opinion of that august assembly." — 146.

L

260 THE LETTER OF THE SCOTS

discover. This was not wonderful ; for lie proved to be a Scotch-
man in the service of Sweden. Brienne, the Secretary of State,
who carried on the correspondence with Sabran, and whose
views on English affairs discover the most enlightened sagacity,
having been formerly acquainted with all the parties in Eng-
land, impresses on Sabran to flatter and to gain over the Scotch,
for more than one purpose, either to be useful to the King of
England, or to oppose the Parliament in the case of their erect-
ing a Republic, which might trouble France. Sabran was to
lay great stress on the ancient alliance which had never been
interrupted between France and Scotland. If by money or by
any other recompense he could gain over the Chancellor of
Scotland to the French, there was every disposition to gratify
him. " Si vous venez a lui tater, mesurez vos parolles comme
n'ayant nuUe charge de rien offrir, mais seulement de pressentir
quelle seroit sa disposition. Deux raisons font qu'il ne s'en
offencera pas ; la premiere qu'il est Ecossois, qui vaut autant k
dire qu^interesse ; I'autre que c'est la France qui le recherche,
dont ils sont en possession de recevoir des bienfaits." This
Secretary of State was so greatly alarmed at the projected
league against the Catholic powers, and at a combination with
all the Protestants, that, as he writes to Sabran, a long dispatch
was sent to the Plenipotentiaries then assembled at Munster, to
sound the designs of the Chancellor of Sweden, (the famous
Oxenstiem), who doubtless is the prime mover of this pro-
position which threatens the oppression and ruin of the Catholic
Religion.

All these political terrors of the French Cabinet produced a
ludicrous incident. Sabran proved it as difficult as it was deli-
cate to communicate with the Scottish Chancellor, as he could
only converse with him by means of an interpreter ; and such
was the watchful jealousies of the parties, that he was hindered
from seeing him as often as he wished. Sabran contrived an
expedient. He sent an invitation for Twelfth Night to draw for
King, to the Chancellor and his intimate associates, as a pretext
for their meeting. "This was a difficult affair to manage,"
continues Sabran, " for reasons which he could not mention,
but which you may easily imagine." He probably alludes to
that feast-day, which was already condemned as " a Popish super

TO THE PKENCH KING. 261

stition." The Chancellor accepted the invitation ; but the day-
after he suddenly fell ill, as he said, so that the feast really-
intended for the Scotch, Sabran found necessary to keep, with-
out obtaining its object, by making up quite a different party,
^^^nviting the three Dutch Ambassadors and the Eesident of
^B*ortugal to assist him in celebrating a feast which had never
i^Deen intended for them, and which had balked the deep designs
of the statesman who was regulating the affairs of France and
Scotland*

From the letter which was addressed " Au Eoy," and from
the particulars we gather from Sabran^s negotiations, we infer
that there was a party among the Scottish nobles, who had
contemplated, by an alliance with France, to separate them-
selves from England, and to establish their own national
independence.

On this occasion a strange story has been told, famous among
those who would blacken Charles the First as the most arbitrary
of tyrants. The Earl of Loudon, as we have noticed, was
committed to the Tower, being the only Scottish Peer then
at London who had subscribed the treasonable letter to the
French King ; and on this circumstance we have a surprising
tale.

When Burnet was once accused of having suppressed several
things in his Memoirs of Hamilton relating to Charles the First,
from fear of offending the Court, he pleaded that " some things
could not bear telling." As an instance, he mentioned that when
the Earl of Loudon lay prisoner in the Tower, Charles, in his
passionate resentment, sent a warrant to Sir William Balfour,
Lieutenant of the Tower, to execute the prisoner for high
treason the next morning ! The Lieutenant immediately went
to the Earl, and desired his opinion how to avoid the execution.
The Earl desired Balfour to hasten to the Marquis of Hamilton,
whom, however, he could not meet with till the King had
retired to rest. The Marquis and the Lieutenant are then
represented as waiting in the outer apartment in despair, till
one told Balfour that as Lieutenant of the Tower he had a
privilege to knock at the King^s chamber-door at any hour of
the night. The Groom of the Bed-chamber announced to the

* Sabran's Manuscript Negotiations, ii. 17.

262 THE LETTER OP THE SCOTS

King that the Lieutenant of the Tower had come upon busi-
ness. He was admitted, when falling on his knees, he prayed
to know whether the warrant for the execution of Loudon was
legally obtained from his Majesty, and whether he could legally
proceed to the execution of it? The King replied, that the
warrant was his, and must be obeyed. The Marquis of Hamil-
ton, who had stood at the door, then entering, on his knees
begged the King would not insist on such an extraordinary
resolution. The King seemed peremptory. The Marquis in
despair taking leave, said that '^He would now ride post to
Scotland, for I am sure before night the whole city will be in
an uproar, and they will pull your Majesty out of your palace.
I will get as far as I can, and declare to my countrymen, that I
had no hand in it.'^ The King was struck at this, and bade the
Marquis recall the Lieutenant, when the King, taking the warrant,
tore it to pieces.

This story appeared in the shape of a memorandum made by
Bishop Kennet in a blank leaf of Burnet's Memoirs, as told to
Kennet by a Mr. Frazier, who had heard it from the vivacious
gossip of Burnet ; Frazier further added, that having once
mentioned it to that Duke of Hamilton who was killed in a duel,
his Grace said that he had often ran over the papers in his col-
lection, whence Burnet had drawn his materials, and he recol-
lected such a relation. When Birch first printed the story,* it
produced a great sensation with the Whig party of that
day, as a complete evidence of the arbitrary conduct of their
English Nero.

The correctness of this narrative must, however, be questioned.
An extraordinary story against Charles the First from Burnet,
at that day, was safe to tell and grateful to hear. The historical
integrity of this warm and vivacious memoir-writer, on the sub-
ject of Charles the First, is impeachable, when we confront his
adulative style on the unfortunate monarch in the Memoirs of
the Hamiltons, written early in life, and the depreciated cha-
racter which appears in the subsequent History of his Own
Time. Had the tale run that Charles had commanded the I
assassination of Loudon, it would have borne more probability |

* In an Appendix to the second edition of an Inquiry into the Share which King
Charles the First had in the Transactions of the Earl of Glamorgan, 372.

f

TO THE FEENCH KING. 263

than one of a private execution, which, at least, must have taken
place before witnesses.

Lord Loudon was at that moment one of the Deputies of
Scotland, confined to the Tower, where he had been examined
by the Attorney- General and Secretary Windebank ; and the
House of Lords thought fit to remand him till further evidence
was produced.* It is against all reason to conceive that Charles,
while Loudon was thus placed in security, and pending an
examination before the Lords, could have ventured to inform
his Peers, whenever they chose to call for their prisoner, that he
had been executed !

It is certain that the head of the Earl of Loudon was in
imminent peril ; for the act of treason, according to the laws of
Scotland, could not be more evident ; and the King was certain
that an open trial would have done that which he is represented
^to have sought by the most frantic impolicy ever recorded.
^^tOr. Birch and other writers seem not to have known that the
^story itself had been already more largely told by Oldmixon, who
refers for his authority to a "MS. MF.,^^ as " an authority too
noble to be called in question, and known to all the people of
the first quality in North Britain.'' But Oldmixon, as I have
frequently detected, is such an infamous interpolator, that his
history is faithless as any of the French Varillas, who referred
to manuscripts which were at length found to be the chimeras
of his own brain. He is much fuller in his story than the one
said to have descended from Burnet, and, indeed, he is remark-
able for always improving a tale by new accessories. Among his
dramatis persona, he has introduced the Queen in bed, com-
plaining of Hamilton's intrusion at two or three in the morning ;
" but the Marquis, taking her up short, let her know she was
a subject as well as himself." f Secret history wonderfully
improves under the pens of certain writers.

* Whitelocke's Memorials, 32.
+ History of the Stewarts, 140. It is amusing to observe this writer delivering
his opinion on historical composition. " One great advantage the Ancients had
over the Moderns in writing history, was the liberty of their genius ; and they had
another, which was the credit they were in with their readers : we do not find the
margeants of Thucydides and Livy crowded with authorities. The historian's own
word was taken." Yet so blind is party, that Micaiah Towgood, in his " Essay
towards attaining a true Idea of the Character and Reign of King Charles the First,"

\

264 LETTER OF THE SCOTS TO THE FRENCH KING.

Dr. Birch, a warm Whig, is very tender on the political ter-
giversation of his favourite historian, Burnet. To Bishop Burnet
we are unquestionably indebted for a mass of very curious secret
history, sometimes tinged by his prejudices, but much of which
is veracious. Birch says, " It was not to be expected that the
historian writing (the Memoirs of Hamilton) in such times and
circumstances (under Charles the Second), should venture to
relate at length the remarkable story to which he evidently
alludes in a passage of those Memoirs." The passage of Burnet
is, ''There were some ill instruments about the King, who
advised him to proceed capitally against Loudon^ which is believed
went very far. But the Marquis of Hamilton opposed this vigo-
rously, assuring the King that if it were done, Scotland was for
ever lost." If Burnet, in his loose and inaccurate style, alluded
to the story which he told twenty years afterwards, he has cer-
tainly not afforded any indication that he had such a statement
lying before him. What he says is true, as we find confirmed
by Whitelocke, that " the King was advised to proceed capitally
against Loudon."

Another circumstance, in my mind, seems fatal to the authen-
ticity of the story. When Lord Hardwicke carefully examined
this very Hamilton collection, and published the important
papers which Burnet had only alluded to, or had passed over
unnoticed, I find none of this strange history. Would Lord
Hardwicke, the zealous patron of Dr. Birch, have neglected
such a curious piece of secret history, which also would have
authenticated the fugitive and suspicious tale of this execution
before a trial ?

Would the present noble owner of this collection once more
open his archives, and inspect those family documents which
have entered into the history of the nation, it is probable that
he may have it yet in his power to inform us about Oldmixon's
manuscript MF., and Bishop Burnet's tale which " could not
bear the telling." *

The true close of this history of the Earl of Loudon we have
already given in the chapter on the Marquis of Hamilton.

accepts this party-history " as a good collection of facts; though his zeal, perhaps,
breaks forth into too frequent and warm sallies." When I shall give the history of
this writer, my readers will learn on what principle he acted and wrote.

* Since this chapter has been written, I observe with pleasure that Dr. Lingard,

CHARLES THE FIRST S SECOND JOURNEY TO SCOTLAND. 265

_ CHAPTER XVIII.

THE SECRET MOTIVE OF CHARLES THE FIRST'S SECOND JOURNEY
TO SCOTLAND.— THE FORGED LETTER OF LORD SAVILLE.

The motive of the second journey of Charles to his " ancient
and native kingdom" so late as in August, 1641, after the many-
extraordinary events of that and the preceding year, has been
variously conjectured by historians. Among the most important
of those events, the King had witnessed the imprisonment of
Laud, the execution of Strafford, and the abolition of Episcopacy
in that very kingdom to which it seemed as if the King were
flying as to a last refuge. Since the death of Strafford, the
regal power of Charles was reduced to a shadow of sovereignty ;
his personal distresses and the confusion in his councils were
such at this moment that the King could not endure to be near
Westminster, where one of the Bed-chamber said that nothing
made the King more anxious to remove from his Court and his
Council, than that variety of intelligence which at every minute

K5 brought to him, and on which every one gave the most con-
ry opinions and the most alarming comments.* Charles was
dently too sensible of the decline of his power, for he did not
conceal it from himself. In his frank confession to honest
Secretary Nicholas, who at this time, alarmed for their common
safety, was earnestly requesting the King " to protect his faith-
ful servants," there is a melancholy and pathetic feeling. " I
shall not fail to protect you according to my power, and (accord-
ing to the old English compliment) I would it were better for
your sake."t

whose unbiassed judgment is always to be highly valued, " gives no credit to Burnet's
hearsay story." He does not seem to be aware that Oldmixou had told it so long
before. I have sometimes thought that Oldmixon's mysterious manuscript MF., of
which he does not assign the place where it may be found, was some collection by
the Mr. Frazier who told Burnet's tale. Oldmixon also notices in his preface a
Dr. Eraser who had lent him pamphlets and papers ; and the name of a Dr. Frazer
occurs in the negotiations with the Hamiltons, and that he was one of the secret
correspondents of the King, appears by the Appendix to Barwick's Life, where he is
thrice mentioned. * Hackett's Life of Wilhams, ii. 163.

t Correspondence of Secretary Nicholas in Evelyn, ii. 60.

k

200 CHAKLES THE TIKSTS

A secret motive instigated Charles to hasten to Scotland ; and
his determination would suffer no impediment from friend or foe.
The rapidity with which the King performed his journey, and the
small retinue with which he entered Edinburgh, betrayed his
impatience. This was no longer a royal progress. Charles rode
from London to York in less than four days.

It is a curious fact that this royal journey to Scotland was
equally dreaded both by the friends and the enemies of Charles ;
the one imploring him not to leave England where his presence
was deemed most necessary, and the other alarmed at this closer
intercourse with Scotland. When the Scotch Commissioners at
London were consulted by both parties on the propriety or the
necessity of the King's journey to Edinburgh, they dehvered an
oracular response. " It was desirable," they said, " but the
time might be made convenient:" — too subtle to press that
which their English friends did not wish, and too prudent to
refrain from the chance of partaking of those royal favours
which they were sensible were ready to be showered on them.

At length when the King was at Edinburgh both parties were
equally anxious to urge his return home. That such similar
results should have proceeded from such opposite principles and
such contending interests, has perplexed our historians.

It was thought by those who were in the King's interest, that
he could not reasonably expect any great reverence to his per-
son from the triumphant democracy of Scotland, and that the
affairs of that kingdom could be more advantageously transacted
at a distance.* The Patriotic or County Members, and the
Presbyterian and Puritanic party in the House, at first protested
against the King's journey to Scotland, and for this purpose
even sate on a Sunday, excusing this profanation of the Sabbath
by issuing a declaration of the urgency of the occasion. And
when they found that no arts which they tried could change the
royal decision, they appointed a Committee of their own party
to attend on the King, on the plea of these gentlemen being
present at the act of pacification, to cherish tke kindly inter-
course between the two nations. It is quite evident that a
Committee of Three, consisting of Lord Howard of Escrick, a
malcontent Lord who " had delivered himself soul and body "

• Clarendon, i. 490.

i

I

SECOND JOURNEY TO SCOTLAND. 267

0 the party, and Sir Philip Stapelton, a young political adven-
turer, both under the guidance of the wary Hampden, were only
spies on the King, who in truth was thus placed en surveillance ;
and as Clarendon sarcastically observes on this Committee, and
on their new office, that " It was their first employment, and
the first that ever Parliament had of that kind." * The English
Parliamentarians were morbidly jealous of their " dear brethren,"
and they entertained some reasonable suspicions that the lead-
ers of the Scottish faction had betrayed, or might betray, their
new friends in their copartnership of Revolution. A stricter
intimacy of the King with the Scots might reverse the state of
affairs, and the more dangerous and doubtful issues seemed to

^Jhem to threaten to be the result of this political journey.

^■Unquestionably, among other expectations, the King looked
lorwards for a balancing power against his English Parliament
among the Scots ; while the Parliament itself had calculated on
their support as the only means to carry on their own measures.
Scotia was now the northern Mistress courted, alike trem-
bhngly, by the King and the Parliament. She who was the
abject creature of their favours, held their destinies in her
hand.

When the last hope had vanished that Charles could manage
his inexorable Parliament by yielding to them, humbled and
degraded as the monarch felt by the fall of Straff'ord, there is
no doubt that Charles would have leaned on the aff'ections of
his native kingdom, and by conciliating a whole people, have
resumed that monarchical independence which he had lost. The
King had already succeeded in gaining over some of the heads
of the Covenanters — the Earls of Rothes, of Montrose, and
others ; and Charles was now hastening to his Scottish throne,
thence to touch with his sceptre every act of concession to the
Scottish people, and from the fountain of honour to shower his
royal graces on their chiefs. At this moment we discover that
even the Queen " began to speak honourably and afi'ectionately
of the Scottish nation," and Henrietta, desolate in her own
palace, and trembling amidst the menaces of the Parliamenta-
rians, appears to have had a serious intention of accompanying

* Clarendon, ii.

208 LOKD SAYILLE's FORGED LETTER.

that " this hearty agreeance would be a sovereign help to the
continual harsh rencounters of the English Parliament.*

But, besides the present, there was also a more secret motive
concealed in the breast of the King. From the communica-
tions of Hamilton, and the disclosures of Montrose, Charles had
gathered many intimations, many surmises, and no dubious
conviction of a treasonable correspondence carrying on by the
popular leaders of the Parliament with those of the Scottish
party. To invite, as well as to aid foreign forces to invade
England, is treason by law ; and a great object in this political
journey was to detect this secret confederacy, and to procure
irrefragable evidence of this treasonable correspondence, of
which Charles had formerly received intimations from his late
unfortunate minister.

Charles, in the preceding year, had already heard of a written
engagement to the Scots, subscribed by several English Peers,
and, as he was told, by several leading members of the House
of Commons. On the first proposal of the treaty of Rippon, in
September, 1640, Sir Henry Vane, the Secretary, notices the
curious fact that on the morning of the 24th of that month,
when the King at York took his chair, the Lords desired justice
upon Sir William Bartley for having said that the rebels had
thirty-seven of the heads of the nobility who had invited them
to come into England. Lord Hardwicke observes, that this
was the first getting out of the story of the letter and subscrip-
tion said to be forged by the Lord Saville.

Charles had eagerly sought to possess himself of so undis-
guised a document of treason. The King appears to have
tracked it to its secret covert — it was deposited with Archibald
Johnston, afterwards the well-known Wariston; as wc learn
from Burnet, who was the nephew of Wariston, that the King
earnestly pressed his uncle to have it delivered up into his own
hands. Charles did not succeed in obtaining it, but in a
remarkable passage in the Icon Basilike the King evidently
alludes to this circumstance, and which could only have been
known to himself. " I had discovered, as I thought, the
unlawful correspondence they had used (alluding to the inci-
dent of the seizing the six members), and the engagements they

* Baillie, i. 827, who informs us of the Queen's resolution.

I

LORD SAYILLE'S FOEGED LETTER. 269

had entered into, &c._, of all which / missed but little to have
produced writings under some men^s own hands who were the
chief contrivers, &c." * During the treaty of Rippon, Charles
in vain renewed his efforts to obtain these "written engage-
ments." The stern Covenanter, Wariston, does not appear to
have denied that such a writing existed, but he pleaded the
sacredness of his oath as an apology for his refusal to betray
the trust.

"The forged letter of Lord Saville," as it is called in our
history — a document of treachery and treason, for it was com-
pounded of both — no historian, save one of no authority, pre-
tends to have seen, and the particulars concerning it vary, as
usual, in relations of obscure incidents. We have to pursue this
fictitious and invisible fugitive through an obscure labyrinth of
circumstances; but by what is known, among much which
remains unknown, we may show its reality, and even detect its
purpose. We cannot, ascertain the moment when the King
discovered the existence of the " written engagement," but we
have evidence that he did discover it ; we cannot appeal to the
document itself, for we may suspect the authenticity of that
^^hich has been given as the original. We cannot harmonise
^^pme discordant accounts from authentic writers, as Clarendon
and Burnet, yet we shall show that it would be absurd to
^Question its existence, or even to doubt the forger. We are
^Hrprised when Dr. Lingard tells us, that " he does not mention
^ine letter said to have been forged by Lord Saville and sent to
the Scots ; the assertion rests on very questionable authority :"
an historian, in his researches, must conquer difficulties, if he
loves the labour of truth.

The Scots, after their first invasion, were doubtful of their
reception in England on a second ; well might they have fal-
tered, for it was a fearful step. Uncertain how the English
people would countenance their own English friends, the Cove-
nanters had some dread of provoking the national jealousy,
which, once roused, might have sided with the King ; and the
invaders, who themselves were but ill-prepared, might have
been involved in the endless conflicts of a civil war. They
required something more palpable than advice and encourage-

* Laing's History of Scotland, iii. 520.

270 LORD SAVILLES FORGED LETTER.

ment from their English allies. During this indecision, while
hovering on the borders, they received an engagement sub-
scribed by several Lords, whose names and principles were well
known to them. These Lords dispatched an imitation to the
Scottish army to enter England; they offered unlimited pro-
mises of support, and they expressed their confidence that the
Scots were their best friends to remove their own grievances.
It is said that this written engagement decided the doubts and
quickened the march of the Scots. A rumour spread through
the Scottish camp that "they were sure of a very great and
unexpected assistance, which, though it was to be kept secret,
would appear in due time."

These English Lords, however, did not come forward to aid
their new confederates ; the Scots, who had been lured to pass
the borders, found that they had only to depend on their own
arms, and to make their own way, by fair words and meek
pretences.

When the English and Scotch Commissioners met together
to open the Treaty of Rippon, Lord Loudon and Sir Archibald
Johnston, afterwards the famous Wariston, requested a private
interview with Lord Mandeville, better known as Lord Kimbol-
ton, and finally as Earl of Manchester. The Scots opened with
severe expostulations, charging Lord Mandeville and other Lords
with a shameless breach of their promise and the violation of
their solemn engagement, declaring that never would they have
invaded England, had they not entirely confided in the faith of
those English Lords, according to the articles which they had
signed.

Lord Mandeville seemed lost in astonishment ; he solemnly
declared his perfect ignorance of any such articles. Lord
Loudon again urged it as an act of great ingratitude towards them
who had hazarded all that was dear to them, on the faith of
this solemn engagement. Loudon observed that when he was
a prisoner in the Tower, Lord Saville had treated with him in
the names of several of the nobility and gentry, and on his
return to Scotland, Saville had sent him this very agreement
subscribed by these Lords, by the hands of Mr. Henry Darley.*

* In a narrative of obscure and secret transactions, differences appear, even iu
telling the same circumstance. We may instance this in Burnet's account. Lord

LORD SAVILLE S FOEGED LETTEE. 271

And this the Lord Saville, they doubted not, would avouch to
he true. A meeting with this Lord was agreed on. Without
any knowledge of what had just occurred, Saville was taken by
surprise, and in his confusion acknowledged that he had never
acquainted those Lords with the business, whose signatures
appeared to this deceptions engagement; he openly confessed
that he had counterfeited their hands ! The apology the guilty
Saville offered was, that observing a backwardness in the Cove-
nanters to hazard an invasion, he considered those names would
have most weight with them; that since this expedient, he
added, had answered its design, and that a Scotch army in
England would serve their best purposes, he desired their silence,
that all discoveries might be prevented, exhorting them to
improve the occasion which this fictitious instrument had the

j^rit of having presented to them.

^HThe honour of the noblemen implicated in this extraordinary
transaction was thus cleared, all but that of the faithless Lord
to whom it cost no blush to own the infamous forgery. Yet at
this conjuncture it was not deemed prudent, on either side, to
express their indignation by rejecting Saville from their party.
Lord Mandeville, however, requested that he might be allowed

^HKiquaint those Lords whose names had thus been used with-
out their privity, and that the Declaration, or Engagement,
under their counterfeited names might be delivered up to them.
A few days after, the deceptive instrument was sent for from
Newcastle, where lay the Scottish camp ; and in the presence
of Lord Mandeville and the other Lords, who declared that
their signatures had been so skilfully imitated that they could
not distinguish them from their own writing,* the names were

Saville is there made to show Lord Loudon and another Scotch Lord, about the
period mentioned, an engagement under the hands of these Lords, to join with them
on their entrance into England, provided they refused any treaty but what should
be confirmed by an English Parliament. The Scotch Lords desired leave to send
this paper into Scotland, to which, after much difficulty, Saville consented. It was
inclosed in a hollow cane, and one Frost, afterwards Secretary to the Committee of
both Kingdoms, was sent down with it in the disguise of a poor traveller. It was to
be communicated only to three persons, the Earls of Rothes, of Argyle, and Wariston.
—Burnet's Own Times, i. 47. This is a detail which we cannot discover in the
authentic narrative of Lord Mandeville, yet the secret mode of the conveyance of
the Engagement is evidently alluded to.
* It is said by Oldmixon, whose authority has no other weight than the pro-

k

272 LORD SAVILLE's FORGED LETTER.

separately cut out and burnt, but the Engagement itself the
Scottish Lords insisted should be preserved. Afterwards when
the Scots laboured under difficulties and danger by the failure
of supplies for their army, and seemed to lose confidence in
their new confederates, they were once on the point of retreating
and petitioning for the King^s grace, and proposed to allege for
their excuse that invitation from the Lords which they still
retained.*

Such is the narrative of the singular political forgery by
Lord Saville, drawn from the authentic Memoirs of the Earl of
Manchester, the only one of the party who has left any memo-
rials of their more secret transactions. It establishes the exist
ence of the forged document, and even authenticates the forger,
But the very precaution which was taken to bury it in secrecy,
and to secure the supposititious subscribers from the danger
they incurred, cast into great uncertainty the very existence of
the document itself; and it even enabled the subdolous Saville,
afterwards, as it appears, when he had ingratiated himself into
the favour of Charles, to insinuate that the signatures which the
King had heard of, were the real ones of those Lords whose
names he had counterfeited.

It is said not only that Charles had nearly obtained possession
of this paper, as the King expresses himself, " of which I missed
but little," but that it was the foundation of the impeachment
which Strafford was preparing to bring against the popular
leaders in Parliament when he was himself impeached. f This
is one of the obscure points in this history of deception. If
none but certain Peers were the subscribers, Strafford could not
hope by this instrument to discover those Commoners who were
so deeply engaged in the Scottish intrigues ; nor could he have
brought forward as evidence a document so cautiously concealed,
seen by none but those whom it concerned to hide it, and which,
in fact, by the preventive care of Wariston had ceased to exist,
as soon as it was seen. The rumour which Sir William Bartley

bability of the fact, that Lord Saville wrote letters to all the supposed subseribew on
purpose to get answers to thera, and by their names to those answers he so well
counterfeited them, that when they saw their pretended hand-writing, every one of
them declared that they could not swear they did not write their names, though they
could swear they had signed no such letter. • Nalson, ii. 427.

f Laing, iii. 520, who refers to Acherly and Oldmixon.

li

(

4

LORD SAVILLE's FORGED LETTER. 273

spread at the opening of the treaty of Rippon in 1640, and the
pressing desire of Charles at that time to have the unknown
document delivered up to him, are evident proofs that this secret
instrument of treason was not unknown, but in a manner too
indistinct and uncertain to be acted on. Strafford was not
unprepared to impeach Lord Say and some of the patriots on
more certain information and correspondence, such as the King
afterwards himself obtained when in Scotland, probably through
Montrose.

It is, however, curious to observe that had we not had the
fullest account of this fictitious document from Lord Mandeville,
its existence might still have been questioned, as well as the
person who forged it. A later historian, indeed, furnishes not
only much information respecting the forgery, but drags into
open light the invisible document itself, which had hitherto
resisted all the researches of preceding historians. Oldmixon
has given it entire — ^but he is an author so utterly disingenuous
and depraved, so guilty himself of historial forgeries and inter-
polations, that we know not how to trust the man whose honour
has suffered the brand of infamy.

The extraordinary style in which he gives this historical
document raises our suspicion of its genuineness. " This," he
exclaims, " is the important letter which most authors make
mention of, but none ever saw, and all are mistaken in." Nor
less extraordinary is his mode of authenticating it ; instead of
simply assigning the place where it was deposited, he has
thrown out a cartel of defiance. " These original papers relating
to the affairs of Scotland carry with them sufficient evidence of
their truth. But if that should ever be called in question, they
will be so well vouched as will leave no room for suspicion, and
be much to the confusion of those who suspected it." Never, in
the sobriety of history, was ever a grave authority thus thrust
on us, by the bluster of a literary bravo. We may, however,
question the quality of his vaunted document. He tells us,
" Welwood says twelve noblemen signed it, Mr. Acherley puts
the Earl of Mulgrave, the Earl of Clare, and Earl of Boling-
broke^s hands to it, as also the hands of several leading
Commoners ; whereas, in fact, there were no hands but those
of the seven Lords," whose names he has subscribed to the

OL. II. T

I

274 LOUD saville's forged letter.

letter. Oldmixon is now fixed iu this dilemma. If lie tran-
scribed the original, which Wariston appears to have detained,
after having cut out the names of the pretended subscribers, ou
■what authority does Oldmixon affix the names of the seven
Lords ? If he transcribed from a presumed copy of the original,
he well knew that such a paper was no certain authority. The
truth seems, that this treacherous historian was desirous of dis-
guising the real nature of his communications, which probably
would not bear too close an inspection, as happens to some
other anecdotes of his Scottish papers.*

The intention of Lord Saville in encouraging the Scots to
march into England, and in sending besides the present forged
engagement, letters of his own invention full of illusory state-
ments, was at first to get his great rival Strafford prosecuted by
that party as an Incendiary. The implacable hatred and rank-
ling jealousies long felt by the Savilles against Straff'ord in their
rival dominion in the North, were the inherited and unextin-
guishable animosities of two great family feuds ; when Saville
was made a Lord, Wentworth placed himself in the opposition,
and when Wentworth was created a Viscount, Saville changed
sides, and left the Court to act against it.

The pre-eminent fortune of Strafford for a time had pre-
vailed over his baffled and indignant enemy, who had now no
other arts to practise than that of the most desperate malice.
Saville was, therefore, at first in earnest in his advice and
projects with the Scots, but when these had all the succe^
he desired, and the Scots entered England, and Strafford felL
Saville found himself slighted and despised among the party
whom he had flattered himself he should have led. It w;i
then he determined that the Scots and their friends in tho
turn were to be immolated to his ambition. The reckle^
double-dealer looked round for the advantages which he might
derive from betraying secrets of state of his own contrivance,^
and implicating those lords in an act of treason which he hadj

* In the recent edition of Bvirnet's History of his Own Times, is a remarkabl
though it be only a private reference by the Speaker Onslow to "a note in his co]
of Oldmixon's History of the Stuarts, p. 145." Burnet, i. 48. We regret that tl
note remains unpublished ; it may hereafter be consulted, should the volume be iii
the library of his noble descendant. I suspect that the Speaker entertained doubt I
of the authenticity of Oldmixon's commimication.

1

LORD SAVILLES FORGED LETTER. 275

himself forged. The utter worthlessness of this ignoble Peer
would render even this nefarious scheme not improbable — it is,
however, quite certain. After the fall of Strafford, Saville made
ample discoveries to Charles. He hesitated not to avow the
faithless part which he had acted, but he presumed that his
returning loyalty and contrition had survived the early days of
his conspiracy. This is explicitly told us by Lord Clarendon —
" when all the mischief was brought to pass that he desired, he
very frankly discovered the whole to the King, and who were
guilty of the same treason, when there was no way to call them
in question for it.^^ * Saville then appears to have insinuated to
Charles, as we may judge by the King's allusion to " the written
engagement" which he said " he missed but little to have pro-
cured," that the signatures which he had himself forged were
real ones. Charles, who appears to have rarely exercised any
critical judgment on the characters of those about him, not
only invested this servile traitor with the white staff, but at
length created him Earl of Sussex. But the faithless never
cease their treacheries. The day at last arrived when this
despised lord, with whom most men refused to associate, was
refused by the King himself ever to be admitted into his
presence.
Hbuch is the history of the forged letter of Lord Saville. Can
^Wnow doubt the real existence of the forged instrument, or
the person who contrived it ? Neither Clarendon nor Burnet
had seen it, but their accounts in the main are confirmed by
the Earl of Manchester, an undeniable witness of the transac-
tion. Dr. Lingard must allow us to conclude that no incident
in history, so purposely obscured, and so secretly conducted,
could rest on more substantial evidence.

* Clarendon, ii. 600.

T 2

27G THE IRISH REBELLION.

CHAPTER XIX.

THE IRISH REBELLION.

Public men have been often placed in a position quite at
variance with their real circumstances ; thus he who has been
looked on as the favourite of fortune, at that moment was its
victim. Charles the First, apparently, had even become popular
in Scotland. The King had yielded to the Presbyterial nation,
and had showered his regal favours on their great ones ; he was,
as the Scots described Charles the First, " the contented King
of a contented people.'' Yet amidst this festival of state, the
King would rather have entered into the house of mourning.
His thoughts were occupied by two events equally painful — the
Irish Rebellion, and the menaced Remonstrance of the Commons*
Charles beheld himself the monarch of three kingdoms alik
engaged in revolution, or in rebellion, from very opposi
motives, and not always from his own misgovernment.

Before the King left Scotland, he had received the first intel-
ligence of the memorable Irish revolt ; at the very moment he
had concihated the jarring interests of that divided land, on the
same principle of his present proceedings with Scotland — by
conceding to the full, the requests of the Irish deputation.
These persons were hastening home in peaceful triumph, only
to be mortified by the artifice or the incapacity of their governors ;
and to witness the greatest of national calamities, in a land of
blood.

The King had granted two bills, one for the security of lands
to their possessors, and the other for renouncing all claims on
the part of the Crown. This happy settlement, which would
have " attached the whole population of Ireland to the Royal
interest," was prevented by the extraordinary conduct of the
two Presbyterian Lords Justices of Ireland; the Lord-Lieute-
nant, the Earl of Leicester, not having yet left London. These
Lords Justices are accused of being wholly devoted to the party
in the English House of Commons ; and it is alleged, that being
aware that the passing of these bills would have secured the i
King's popularity, desperately disappointed the successful depu-

"a I

THE IRISH REBELLION. 277

ties and the whole body of Catholics by proroguing the Parlia-
ment, a few days before their return from the King at Edinburgh.*
Terror and amazement ran through the nation. The history
of the Irish massacre, as this rebellion is emphatically called, has
been officially drawn up by Sir John Temple, a Privy Councillor ;
its pathetic picture may be viewed in Hume ; its frightful details
in Mrs. Macaulay. So shocking is the representation to a deh-
cate mind, that the female historian warns her readers that
should they dwell on it, their imagination would be impressed
by images of the most horrid kind. At present more than
one terrific cause was at work ; their faith had combined with
their vengeance. A religion which has shown itself too often
sanguinary opened Heaven for them, in covering themselves
with the blood of their companions; and the eternal hatred
which the conquered had vowed to their conquerors, took no
note of the unnumbered slaughters of the helpless and the inno-
cent. The very animals in the field were deemed heretical, and
lay in heaps, untouched even by robbers ! Some fugitives,
famished and crazed, having witnessed so many inventive cruel-
ties, declared on their oaths that the ghosts of the murdered had
flitted before their eyes ! They deposed to scenes and listened
to cries which could only have been the apparitions of their own
terrified reveries. An involuntary shudder even now disturbs
us in the repulsive minuteness of such detestable scenes. What
seems most incredible in the history of these Sicilian vespers,

^^V Lingard, x. 16L Mr. Hallam inclines to think the conduct of these Lords
Justices is rather to be ascribed to the weakness of their character. They may have
been weak, and yet criminal. They had been warned by Charles as early as in
March, 1640-1, that there was a design of raising commotions in Ireland, many
Irish officers in foreign service, and others, were passing over to Ireland, by intelli-
gence which he had received from Spain : this appears by a letter many years after
discovered among the papers of Sir William Parsons, one of these Lords Justices ;
yet the intimation led to no active measures on their part. — Nalson, ii. 566. It is
said that this Irish Rebellion was at first but a spark which might have been put
out. They appear to have zealously persecuted the Romanists ; Parsons, it is said,
had declared, that " within a twelvemonth no Cathohc should be seen in Ireland." —
Nalson, ii. 567. Strange is the history of religious parties ! Scotland had risen,
and the English Parliament adopted their cause against Charles's attempt to force
Episcopacy on a Presbyterian land ; and yet this very Parliament were intent on
changing a land of Romanists to a land of Protestants. The King, who was called
a tyrant, yielded ; the Parliament, who were advocating the cause of freedom, would
not even allow a toleration !

L

278 THE IRISH REBELLION.

repeated in Ireland, is its authenticity. The Eastern tale of
the slaughter of the Innocents is less strange ; the dragonades
of the French Huguenots were more humane ; and the massacre
of St. Bartholomew seems but a single scene of this direful
tragedy.

To us who only read the history of this massacre with the
indignant emotions of outraged humanity, it is curious to
observe how coolly the politicians of both parties contemplated
this national calamity. The Royalist, Sir Philip Warwick,
tells us that "the Parliament, it was observed, were not dis-
pleased ;" and the Commonwealth-man, General Ludlow, assures
us, that "the news of the Hebellion, as I have heard from
persons of undoubted credit, was not displeasing to the King."
They both use identical words, though they could not have
had any knowledge of each other. Hardened politicians!
who thus could coldly calculate the political consequences of
such revolting barbarities, and cast aside the sympathy they
owed to a whole people of sufferers, for the malignant delight
of a party -reproach !

A successful rebellion is contagious. The revolt in Scotland
had been servilely copied by their English allies. Now Popery
claimed her freedom as well as Presbyterianism. But if the
sons of Knox had offered the Romanist the bewitching form of
triumphant revolution, the rude democracy of the Kirk seemed
contemptible to the passive obedience of the Mass-Priest.
Unhappily for Charles, the Irish, in arming against a Puri-
tanical Parliament, offered him their loyalty in the shape of
rebellion. They pretended to hold a commission from the
King, and proclaimed themselves to be the Queen's army.
The situation of Charles was as critical as it was perplexing.
He could neither countenance the loyalty, nor punish the rebel-
lion of the Irish. Should he temporise with those who had
risen in his name, it would be a confirmation of the malicious
insinuation of the Commons, that the King himself had encou-
raged the revolters ; and when he offered himself and his life,
as he did, to suppress this unnatural rebellion, he excited the
perturbed jealousies of the prevalent party in the Commons;
for of all events which they most dreaded was that of seeing
the King at the head of an army.

THE IRISH REBELLION. 279

Deprived of the power of government, amidst this conflict of
feehngs and of interests, Charles wrote to the Parliament that
to them " He committed the care of Ireland/' Charles little
suspected that in such few words he was delivering a deed of
gift of his last remaining realm.

The deeper heads of the party in the Commons grasped at
their prey with avidity — but the prey was not Ireland — it was
the King himself! Affecting to interpret a casual expression
in an unlimited sense, they at once assumed the entire manage-
ment of the war, independently of the King. '^ In this man-
ner," writes Mrs. Macaulay with an air of triumph, " they at
once disarmed the Crown of that part of the executive power,
which on this occasion had been universally apprehended."
The cunning and the quibble are at least equal to the wisdom
and the candour. It is mortifying to detect legislators and
patriots congratulating themselves on a flaw in the indictment,
and catching at subterfuges which might delight a senate of
petty lawyers. Even the panegyrical historian of their deeds
was not insensible to this artful interpretation, and this act of
violated justice ; for she apologises for their conduct, assuring
us that they were only enabled to adopt this false interpretation
by the "affections and opinion of the public."* But "the
Public" is a peculiar phrase in our political history, where we
sh^l usually find that there are at least two Publics.

I ^W^c conduct of the Commons is very remarkable. They took
^n themselves the management of a war, but studiously

j neglected it.

j It seemed unaccountable how they, who to the world seemed

! shaken by so many panics at Popish plots, now that a whole
land had proclaimed their Papistry, and a people of Protestants

I were cast into their last extremity, should remain unmoved, and
delay any efficient measures, while they were protracting the
daily miseries of devoted Ireland. The King reproached the
Parliament for their dilatory conduct, and offered to hasten in
person to quell this sanguinary rebellion. " It was a business,"
observed the King, " which one man might conclude better than
four hundred." But they would not trust the King even with
an army of Covenanters, for at Edinburgh, their Committee, who

Macaulay, iii. 93.

I

280 THE IRISH REBELLION.

served as the Parliamentary spies over the King, had advised,
that is, we presume, the only head among the party, Hampden
had advised, that "if the Parliament agreed to this, the King
would insist on the command/^ Ten thousand Scots would
have marched at a day's notice, but the Commons in Loudon
refrained from voting to send a Scottish army till Charles was
secured at Whitehall.

Meanwhile every day brought more dismal intelligence, and
miserable men who authenticated the worst. In vain the Lords
and gentlemen of Ireland, despoiled of their lands, petitioned —
in vain the ruined merchants supplicated — in vain the last of an
extirpated race invoked their vengeance. In vain they urgedt
that a three hours' sail would relieve the nation, for no longed
was required for a Scottish army to land in Ireland.

The patriotism of the stoical Commons lay not towards a land
of misery; all their sympathies were absorbed in their deep
councils, to confirm their past and to secure their future labourajj
Secretary Nicholas, writing to the King, observed that "the
preparations for Ireland go on but slowly, and may come too
late to prevent great mischief, notwithstanding the care of our
Parliament.*'* The Secretary was judging by the exterior
appearance of the language of the members and the votes of the
House ; he discovered no deficient indignation in the one, nor
resolutions in the other, nor any languor in their preparations,
but he probably wondered at the result — for Ireland was not
relieved !

Hume acutely observes of the Commons on this occasion, that
" their votes breathed nothing but death and destruction to the
Irish rebels; but no forces were sent, and little money was
remitted."

The truth is, that the Commons did not consider that the
Irish rebellion was quite inopportune, at a moment when the
King seemed to have become popular; his concessions in Scot-
land had satisfied that nation, and all those he had made in
England, had satisfied the moderate among the English, and
the Commons now discovered that their friends were falling off.
At this critical moment this new rebellion served as a pretext to j
aggrandise their own influence by throwing into their hands an J

* Evelyn, ii. Correspondence.

THE IRISH REBELLION. 281

liversal patronage; forces were raised which furnished them
ith an army of their own ; the royal depots were emptied of
eir arms, which at once strengthened their hands, and
eakened the King's. Monies were levied, which were disposed
', for their own particular purposes. In all this bustle, there
as no haste to relieve Ireland !

Some among the Commons felt a secret pleasure in viewing
e King entangled in new and more intricate diflS.culties. Had
is insurrection not broken out, Charles would have returned
in peace from Scotland. Some painful jealousies, too, the party
in the English Commons had experienced in the prodigal
caresses which had mutually passed between Charles and his
Scottish subjects. Their Committee of espionage must have
been startled at the overflowings of the old soldier Lesley, now
e Earl of Leven, on his knees consecrating his oath — with so
any others of the Covenant, who in their holiday of honours
had sung such courtly hosannas. They were somewhat fearful
at even their " dear brethren ^^ were no longer to be rebels.
The Irish rebellion by the appearance it assumed, and by the
imposture of a Royal commission, which the rebels asserted that
}hej held,* was not unfavourable to re-excite the populace, or
the Public," against the unfortunate monarch. The Commons,
appeahng to the declaration of the Irish, boldly ascribed the
^rebellion to the evil councils of the King, and even to a less
^^prdonable cause, for they insinuated that Charles himself was
^Rie concealed instigator of this unnatural rebellion. They
^■hsolently menaced that if he chose not Ministers in whom they
^Hould confide — and where those Ministers were to be found was
^^bvious — the Parliament would hold themselves absolved from
granting any aid to avert the destruction of Ireland.f

* Sir Phelim O'Neale, the head of these Insurgents, it was afterward discovered,
had torn oiF the great seal from some deed, and affixed it to a pretended Commission,

+ This undisguised avowal, at the time it was made, was checked by the more
prudent or the more moderate members. It does not appear in the Parliamentary
history, but it was conveyed to the King by his faithful Secretary. — ^Evelyn, ii. 62.
Correspondence. It was evidently thrown out at a moment when even politicians,
in their hearts, expose nakedly some of their arriere poisees, by one who was familiar
with the design of the party, which was to make the King wholly dependent on
themselves And this is amply confirmed by their subsequent conduct in this affair
of Ireland. It was about this time that a member talked of deposing princes, but

hai

■|hj
P

irr

282 THE IRISH REBELLION.

Charles was returning from Scotland with melancholy fore-
bodings ; perhaps these were somewhat diverted by the assurance
of a loyal reception by several bodies of gentlemen in the country,
who were earnest to meet the King on his way. It is certain
that many independent men sympathised with the difficulties
by which the King was surrounded, after he had concurred in
so many popular measures. At no period since his reign, was
public opinion among honourable men so strongly disposed to
protect the Eoyal honour. Among these now were also the
citizens of London ; a circumstance to which Charles had been
little accustomed.

It would seem that the loyalty of the City depends on that of
the Lord Mayor. Gournay, the present Chief Magistrate, in
his zeal had resolved on a public reception of the King on his
return, and to entertain the Sovereign at Guildhall. The Lord
Mayor consulted Secretary Nicholas to learn the day of his
Majesty^s arrival. The Secretary pressed on the King its policy,
and as Charles too much avoided these popular representations,
and was not over-gracious in his manners, the honest Secretary
found it advisable to insinuate some pretty forcible hints. " I
humbly conceive it would not be amiss to your Majesty, in
these times, to accept graciously the affections of your subjects
in that kind, and to speak a few good words to them, which will
gain their affections, especially of the vulgar, more than any
thing that hath been done for them this Parliament." The
King was docile to the sage council. But the zeal of the Lord
Mayor exasperated the party in the Commons. Was their
elaborate Remonstrance which would render the King quite
odious to the people, and which had been so long hatching, and
was now quite ready, to be preceded by the most popular testi-
mony of the loyalty of their City of London ? They would have
intimidated the Chief Magistrate, but Gournay was equally
indignant and intrepid ; a character which his subsequent con-
duct to the last maintained. He was indeed never forgiven.
They afterwards discharged him from his Mayoralty and lodged
him in the Tower, putting the gold chain round the neck of
their faithful creature Isaac Pennington.

that was premature, by some years, so this prophetic seer was sent to the Tower. —
Nalson, ii. 714.

1

ii

THE IRISH REBELLION. 283

In this reign of stormy politics, so trivial an incident as the
banquet of a Lord Mayor has become a subject which requires
even a critical investigation.

I will not detain the reader among the pomps and solemnities
of the morning procession. On the King's entrance at Moor-
gate he stopped his carriage by the side of a splendid tent,
where he was received by the Lord Mayor, and addressed by
the Recorder, to which having graciously replied, the King left
his coach, and mounted his horse. As he passed, everywhere
the streets resounded with the cries of "Long live King
Charles !'' He viewed every house adorned with tapestries.
He was accompanied by a cavalcade of five hundred citizens,
vieing in the richness of their dresses. Not a voice murmured,
not a hand was lifted in scorn. Monarchs may well be excused
if they deceive themselves, when a whole people create the
illusion. The King was feasted with unusual civic magni-
ficence.* Charles had graciously delivered " a few good words,''
and it was remarked that he took his hat off more frequently
than he was accustomed to do. It was late in November, and
" the days being short,'' the royal carriages drew up at four
o'clock, and the whole cortege returned from the city dinner;
the King, however, mounted his horse. All the attendants
carried torches, and " the night seemed to be turned into day."
" The noise of trumpets, which at their different stations in the
morning had announced the approach of the King, was now
changed for softer sackbuts, and dispersed bands of musicians
were playing their voluntaries. On passing St. Paul's, the
choir, standing in their surplices in the porch, chanted an
anthem, which extremely delighted the musical Charles, who
stopped till its close. In taking leave of the Lord Mayor,
whom, with his son-in-law, Charles had knighted, and who had
reconducted the King to his palace, warm was the royal grati-
tude, when breaking from the accustomed reserve of his manners,
Charles embraced the Lord Mayor, charging him in his name
to return the royal thanks to the whole City. The populace,

Nalson has devoted six folio pages to a minute description of this great city
feast and grand ceremonial. Some of the details might amuse those who are moi-e
experienced than myself in Lord Mayor's dinners on such Royal visits. — Nalson,
ii. 677.

L

2S4 THE IRISH REBELLION.

excepting some, perhaps, whose steps had been detained at the
great conduits of Cornhill, Cheapside, and Fleet Street, which
were " running with claret wine,^' had gone on in their attend-
ance on the King to Whitehall; that scene of their recent
tumults, and now of their hailing acclamations !

The King, in addressing Parliament, laid great stress on this
public testimony of loyalty ; and though some may lowl}^ rate
a king's speech in Parliament, yet it is probable that its sin-
cerity was the consequence of those grateful emotions which
had been so long estranged from his breast. " I cannot but
remember, to my great comfort,^' said Charles, ''the joyful
reception I had now at my entry into London. I bring as
perfect and true aflfection to my people as ever Prince did, or
as good subjects can possibly desire — I will yet grant what else
can be justly desired, for satisfaction in point of liberty."

" And yet within a month, a little month,"

shall the King, in personal danger, become a fugitive from his
palace to escape from those hailing citizens, in a state of insur-
rection. There are events incalculable by any moral arithmetic ;
and it is not strange that the most sagacious have not always
foreseen approximating events, which at the distance we view
them, appear more closely connected together than they were
to a contemporary observer.

The pubhc reception of the King was but an evanescent
scene of popularity, and the adversaries of Charles have repre-
sented it as a mere state-strick. The sudden contrast which
soon followed makes the suggestion plausible, but yet it was
not so ! The great subsequent change in the conduct of the
citizens was the consequence of that hazarded act of Charles,
when he went down to arrest the five Members in their House.

On the present occasion there required no Court influence,
since the loyalty of a courageous Lord Mayor, with his friends,
and the state of public feeling at that moment, were abundantly
sufficient to account for this public reception. But as this
notorious testimony of civic loyalty has always mortified a
certain party, and seems to call in question their general repre-
sentation of aflfairs, Mrs. Macaulay observes that " The Queen
had taken a great deal of pains that the King should be

<i

THE IRISH REBELLION. 285

received with a more than ordinary magnificence on purpose to
mortify the Parliament/'* '^The great deal of pains taken,"
however, seems to have been entirely with those who would
have put aside the reception altogether. It is curious to observe
on this ticklish affair of the public loyal reception of Charles
the First, how it sharpens the anger of our Republican lady.
She who on certain occasions appeals to " the disposition of the
public," and has said, alluding to the tumults, that " the
popular leaders had recourse to the spirit without doors to get
the better of the opposition they found within," f now irre-
verently scolds at "the majesty of the people." She concludes,
and not untruly, that " the sottish multitude are influenced by
a variety of state-tricks." As Gournay, in the language of
Mrs. Macaulay, was " a bigoted Royalist," and as his loyalty
at least was courageous, there required no Court influence, nor
the intrigues of Henrietta with this Lord Mayor, to account
for his conduct. In fact, this piece of diplomacy ascribed to
the Queen, she was in no condition at that moment to have
ventured on. Abandoned in her palace, watched by a hundred
eyes, and often terrified by the artful menaces of Parliament,
the Queen could hardly have had either influence or intercourse
with the Lord Mayor. And, indeed, in respect to the Queen's
interference with that functionary, the recent publication of
Secretary Nicholas's Correspondence with the King will set
that tale at rest. Here we discover Gournay's application,
backed by the recommendations of the honest Secretary. J

The King had been well informed of the activity of the party
in the Commons during his absence; of their secret juntos, as
well as their more open courses. His concessions, and his

* It js fair to observe that Madame de Motteville says, " The Queen endeavoured
to make the King all the friends she could. She brought over the Mayor of the
city of London." i. 212. I have only the English translation of her Memoirs, and
we cannot lay much stress on this vague style. We have other and better evidence
on this head. f Macaulay, iii. 118.

+ I give the passage to show how facts, however unauthorised, pass current in
party histories ; where one liar makes many. " If your Majesty please to give leave
to my Lord Mayor and the citizens here, to wait on you into this town, I beseech
your Majesty to command that timely notice may be given of the day, that they may
provide for it ; for the best of the citizens express a great desire to show their affec-
tion, which I humbly conceive will not be convenient to decline." — Evelyn, ii. 60.
Con-espondence.

286 THE IRISH REBELLION.

promptness to redress all grievances, had served them but for
triumphs, which they counted up only to multiply. Their dili-
gent proceedings when the Houses were but thinly attended on
some of the most important resolutions concerning both Church
and State, were not the only causes of his uneasiness — there
was something more latent, and because it was not yet brought
into shape and light, but had long been mysteriously hatching
in all the darkness of secrecy and intrigue, hung like a night-
mare in the Royal slumbers.

During Charles's stay in Scotland, his faithful Secretary was
furnishing the most alarming intelligence of '^ a Declaration,"
which afterwards appeared as the famous " Remonstrance." He
was troubled to think what would be the issue of it, for he saw
at once through the whole mischievous design, sagaciously
observing, that " if there had been in this nothing but an inten-
tion to have justified the proceedings of Parliament, they would
not have begun so high as the third year of your Majesty's
reign to the present." The Secretary then did not know that
they began much earlier, from the day Charles ascended the
throne. These communications, however alarming, were not,
however, so novel to the King as the Secretary imagined. Ere
Charles's departure from England he had received an intimation
from a quarter whose intelligence in secret affairs was well
known to him.

Before Charles went into Scotland he had been warned hf
his old and active intriguer. Bishop Williams, of the pending
grievance; for it must be confessed, that the King had his
grievances, as well as the people. Williams had been diving
into the secrets of these masters of revolution. He had turned
short on them ; and they who had been the occasion of liberat-
ing him from the Tower, naturally counting on the vindictive
spirit of an aggrieved man, to join with them, now repented
evoking a spirit of darkness who startled them, and whom they
knew not how to lay. " I wish we were well rid of him I '*
exclaimed one of the party. The future Archbishop, on his
side, was himself in terror, and had anticipated the pendiug
stroke of late repeatedly aimed at Episcopacy itself. The pohcy
ofWiUiams had ever been the most emollient; and he had
concluded, whether judging from himself, or from some in the

il

THE IRISH REBELLION. 287

ranks of public spirits, that every patriot had his price ; and that
a place, provided it did not disappoint the expectant,, was a bed
of roses for the most restless. He had all along been desirous
of postponing the King^s journey to Scotland for another
season. I give his conversation with Charles as characteristic
of this political character.

" The Scots/' said Williams, " are sear boughs, not to be bent.
Keep near to the Parliament, all the work is within these walls ;
win them man by man, inch by inch. Sir ! I wish it were not
true what I shall tell you. Some of the Commons are preparing
a Declaration to make the actions of your Government odious.
If you gallop to Scotland, they will post as fast, to draw up this
biting Remonstrance. Stir not till you have instigated the
grand contrivers with some preferments.^'
But is this credible ? " said the King.
" Judge you of that. Sir," replied Williams, "when a servant
of Pym's, in whose master's house all this is moulded, came to
me, to know in what terms I was contented to have mine own
case in Star Chamber exhibited among other irregularities.
And I had much ado to keep my name, and what concerns me,
out of these articles ; but I obtained that of the fellow, and a
promise to do me more service, to know all they have in con-
trivance, with a few sweetbreads that I gave him out of my
jmrse." *

^BSuch was the clear warning which Williams had given
^^arles. In this curious conversation, we detect not only the
place where this memorable Edict of the party was hatched, but
we are also let into the grand mystery of its incubation.

But we must now take a view of the proceedings of the
Commons, before we arrive at the history of the famous
Remonstrance; it is the symphony before the opera.

* We learn from a manuscript note of Sir Ralph Varney's, to which Mr. Hallam
refers, that " the Remonstrance " was projected in August before the King's journey,
but was then considered as unnecessary, for the King was rapidly conceding their
demands. However, it remained a favourite object with the Remonstrants, who
were only waiting for an opportunity to revive it.

288 THE COMMONS PERSIST

CHAPTER XX.

THE COMMONS PERSIST IN NOT RELIEVING IRELAND.

At this critical moment when Ireland was threatened by-
universal desolation, the Commons opened an interminable dis-
cussion with the Lords ; interminable were it to have depended
on arguments. The Upper House had of late become refractory;
it became necessary to hold up a sharper rod, and the Commons
now assumed a dictatorial tone, which must have shaken the
falling aristocracy.

In bringing in a bill for pressing, they prefixed a preamble
which declared this Royal prerogative to be illegal. This was at
least a debateable point. The King asserted " his ancient and
undoubted privilege,^' as practised by his Royal predecessors.
It was, indeed, a grievance to the subject, and liable to great
abuse. When the Crown was desirous of relieving itself of any
obnoxious member in the House, or any other person in any
rank of life, the King had the power of pressing — that is, of
appointing them to do some public service at their charge ; and
in some cases, as in a time of war, they might be sent out of
the kingdom to the army.* The Commons were secure of the
popularity of their protest, and the King was as tenacious of his
ancient rights. It was one of the great misfortunes of Charles
the First, that while the Commons were pursuing the most
popular objects, they appeared to Charles only intent, by their
encroachments, on reducing the Monarchy to the state of a
Venetian Doge. To the Lords it seemed, that under the cloak
of the urgent necessities of the state, the Commons were carry-
ing a great party-measure. The Lords already had been thrown
into some alarm for their own privileges. The style of the
Commons was authoritative, and soon became menacing. It was
to be a struggle between the two Houses.

The Lords objected to the preamble, which, to say the least,
was ill-timed ; and the bill could not pass with it, without a
deliberation and a discussion, which would impede the momentous

* I have shown some cases in Curiosities of Literature.

1

I

m NOT EELIEVING IRELAND. 289

interests at stake. They offered to pass the bill, laying aside for
the present the preamble. The Commons adhered to the preamble.
Neither House would yield — and Ireland was not relieved !

Pym, at the head of a Committee, told the Lords, that the
Commons, being the representative body of the whole kingdom,
and their Lordships being but as particular persons, and coming
to Parliament in a particular capacity, that if they shall not
be pleased to consent to the passing of those acts and others,
that this House, together with such of the Lords that are more
sensible of the safety of the kingdom, may join together.*

When we combine this menace with what we shall find
Hampden afterwards declared on passing the Remonstrance, we
discover that at this period the project of annihilating the
House of Lords was now matured. The Hierarchy was to be
rooted up ; but the Peers were in the branches. All this was
proceeding, day after day, and Ireland was not relieved !
^■pharles, as he had formerly done in the business of Strafford,
imagined that he should reconcile the parties by his fatal inter-
position ; and thus dispatch the more urgent business of Ire-
land. The King came down to the House and offered to pass
the bill with a salvo jure for King and people,t leaving the dis-
cussion to a fitter time.

This interference of the King on a bill which was still in
debate with the two Houses, and particularly an unhappy allu-
sion, that the King was " little beholding to him whoever at
this time began this dispute," was declared to have broken into
I the fundamental privileges of Parliament. Both Houses alike
I caught fire. Those Peeis who were the friends of the Commons
j did not fail to aggravate this violation of the Constitution. The
; Commons desired that an humble petition should be delivered to
I the King, that "he should take notice that the privilege of
Parliament was broken, and to desire him (the King) that it
may not be done so any more hereafter." The Lords agreed

^P * Nalson, ii. 712.

T Mr. Brodie seems to limit the salvo jure Charles proposed, as if merely for the
preservation of his own right — but this necessarily included that of the people's
claim for exemption. He says " this usurped power had already been pronounced
illegal." By whom ? As yet only by the Commons themselves. It was a subject
for future discussion.— Brodie, iii. 243.

VOL. II. U

k

290 THE COMMONS PERSIST

to this stern " humbleness." — And the King made an ample
apology, simply assuring both Houses that " he had not the
least thoughts of breaking the privilege of Parliament, which he
would protect and support."

What must the Commons have now conceived of their own
prevalent power, when, at the same time, they witnessed the
King — the Bishops — and the Peers, all apologising and all
equally submissive !

While both Houses were occupied in the common cause of
their privileges, they had proceeded with unanimity ; but when
the Commons pressed for their preamble, the struggle was
renewed, till the Lords refused to join in some petitions of the
Commons. All this while Ireland remained unrelieved !

The mobs again were called out. " No Bishops ! " was the
watchword, and they were nearly anticipating another cry, " No
King ! " for in passing Whitehall, they said " They would have
no porter^ s lodge, but would speak to the King themselves
without control, and at their discretion." The Commons would
have three fast-days appointed, and one monthly — for Ireland.
No other relief was yet held out, to use the expression in one of
their own " Petitions," for " a land weltering in blood."

The Lords, still eluding the preamble, proposed that ten
thousand English should join the same number of Scots. And
the King offered to raise the men if the House undertook to
pay them. The Commons now resented the proposal of tin
Lords as an improper interference of the Upper House. One
of the answers of the Commons to the Lords is remarkable for
its terse insolence.

"They were not used to be capitulated withal. Their action
are free as well without conditions as capitulations ; and tb>
House of Commons desire it may be so no more. Further the\
desire that their Lordships would pass the Bill for pressing, in
regard they conceive that the ten thousand English cannot go
unless that is done." *

In vain the King, again and again, urged them to put an end
to the miseries of Ireland, while the rebels were encouraged
in their barbarities by the slowness of the succours which thcN

* The " Smart answer
given in Nalson's Collections,

of the Commons " to two propositions of the Lords, in
ns, ii, 771. -^ ^

I

m NOT EELIEYma IRELAND. 291

had voted, but never sent. The Commons, on their side, again
and again, pressed the Lords to pass the Bill, with the preamble
— without which Ireland would not be saved. They noticed
the King's offer to furnish the ten thousand men, in the most
extraordinary way imaginable — for a rumour spread that the
King was coming down with his Papists to cut the throats
of the good citizens of London, and fire the City !

Thus the Commons persevered in imputing the loss of Ireland
to the obstinacy of the Lords. At length they sullenly ordered
their Committee on Irish affairs to meet no more !

Such was the conduct of the Commons on this occasion,
which requires to be explained. Even by the confession of their
ardent eulogist, Mrs. Macaulay, this endless discussion occa-
sioned a fatal pause in the military preparations.* With all
the artifice of a partisan, that lady lays the whole weight of her
censure on the heads of the Lords : them only she accuses of
the guilt of this unpardonable remissness in the suppression of
this unnatural rebellion. But, in truth, all its criminality

fnated with the Commons.
>r an Englishman nothing is more instructive in his national
ry than a calm scrutiny into the shiftings of partisans when
they are fixed in the torture of an inextricable dilemma. Mr.
Brodie affords me a remarkable instance. The Scottish Advo-
cate will not allow his clients, the Commons, should yield a
point. He declares, " Had the Commons halted now, they must
have been held to recognise it " — the privilege of pressing —
" They had, therefore, no alternative now.'' This representation
is incorrect, since the salvo jure left the discussion open at any
future day. Mr. Brodie says, the King insisted not to pass the
Bill without " a salvo jure, or preservation of his right.'' This
seems to me unfairly given ; it seems to restrict the benefit of
the salvo jure merely to the King j but in the King's speech it
is positively declared thus, " To avoid farther debate at this time,
I offer that the Bill may pass with a salvo jure both for King
and People." t Probably aware of the futility of this argument,
Mr. Brodie suddenly mystifies the simple reader by a disclosure
of certain secret motives in these transactions, on both sides :

* Macaulay, iii. Ill, f Rushworth, iv. 457.

u 2

292 THE COMMONS PERSIST IN NOT RELIEVING IRELAND.

" Considering what had occurred on former occasions," con-
tinues Mr. Brodie, "it is scarcely to be imagined that this
Prince had profited so little by experience, as not to anticipate
the result of this illegal interference with a Bill depending
before both Houses." Mr. Brodie has justly expressed his sur-
prise that Charles gained little from experience— ^but his wide
inference is quite his own. " And therefore we may conclude
that he was actuated by deeper motives than a mere desire to
have his assumed right preserved." He reveals "the deeper
motives," — "When the King proposed, as a compromise, to
raise ten thousand volunteers, provided the House would sup-
port them, and as that would have evaded what the Commons,"
as Mr. Brodie assures us, " had resolved upon," — namely, the
appointment of the officers — " it is likely to have been one view
which influenced him and his secret advisers from the beginning."
Thus it appears by Mr. Brodie that the real contest was " the
appointment of the officers," and farther, that the Commons had
resolved on this, without communicating with the King or the
Lords !

The object is changed : it was not for " the preamble," but
" the officers," which the Commons were disputing : they were
clamouring for one thing but intended another. Had the King
and Lords been as much in the secret as Mr. Brodie, it would
have fully warranted their firm resistance. But it is clear that
had the Commons first succeeded in passing their " Preamble "
against Pressing — it could have had no connexion with " tht
appointment of the officers," and " therefore," to adopt Mr.
Brodie's hypothetical style, " it is likely," that they had no such
intention in the origin of their discussion.*

The country was thrown into jeopardy by this party-question
raised by the leaders in the Commons. One of the most vitu-
perative calumniators of the King, in a rare moment of his
dispassionate politics, has acknowledged that on this occasion
"The Parliament connived at the Irish rebelhon, in order to
charge King Charles with fomenting it."t

Can we now refuse to agree in one opinion, that true patriot-
ism, undegraded by criminal intrigue, would have instantly
relieved L'eland, and left " the Preamble " as a grievance to be

* Brodie, iii. 244. f Lord Orford, Memoirs, i. 150. 4",

^

THE GRAND REMONSTRANCE. 293

resumed, as the King had said, " at a fitter time ? " The ruling-
party in the Commons on so many occasions, were alert at
similar contrivances; and by practising more artifices than
accord with the dignity of patriotism, have stamped their cha-
racter, too often, with the subtlety and cunning of Faction.

t CHAPTER XXI.

THE GRAND REMONSTRANCE.
HERE is great obscurity among our historians respecting the
origin of this memorable and elaborate party-production. It is
evident, that it could not have been drawn up in haste, for a
temporary purpose ; for in fact it is an historical memoir of all
the infelicities of the King^s reign, with a very cautious omis-
sion that all the capital grievances there commemorated had no
longer any existence.

The secret history of this anti-monarchical attack, for such it
is, and such were now a rising party in the House ; the persons

I who framed it ; the Councils which must have been held on it -,
the mode of their inquiries after some of " the grievances -" and
the time occupied in its composition, for we find that it was

I long in preparation, and even laid aside in suspense, would aU
be matter of deep interest in the history of the artifices of a
subtle party. We are at present* deprived of any memoirs of
these persons ; they appear not to have chronicled their acts of
patriotism. We can only get glimpses of them as in a dark
chamber, without light enough to see their faces, but not with-
out evidence which yields us more than suspicions of the persons
themselves. The reader has already heard some important
intelligence from that great revealer of political events. Bishop
Williams, and from the watchfulness of the vigilant Secretary
Nicholas.

The Kemonstrance at length was brought into the House.
The party was sanguine. They had numbered their votes, and

* I say « at present," for Lord Nugent has long announced a Life of the Patriot
Hampden.

I

294 THE GRAND REMONSTRANCE.

moreover had practised a trick on those Members who disliked
their violence, and deemed this act to be uncalled for at a moment
when the Sovereign had shown by so many acts of his own, and
by a recent change of councils, that wearied by opposition, he
now was only seeking for public tranquillity. The trick prac-
tised was this. They assured these moderate men that the
intention of this Remonstrance was purely prudential ; it was
to mortify the Court, and nothing more ! The Remonstrance,
after having been read, would remain in the hands of the clerk
and never afterwards be called for. When it was brought
forward, to give it the appearance of a matter of little moment,
the morning was suffered to elapse on ordinary business, and
the Remonstrance was produced late. They overshot their
mark ; the very lateness of the hour was alleged as a reason to
postpone entering on the debate, for to the surprise of one who
afterwards rose to be the most eminent person in the nation, - .
and also of some of the authors, it now appeared that the Remon- m I
strance was to be submitted to a very strong opposition.

At nine the next morning the debate opened, and several
hours past midnight it fiercely raged, with every dread of per-
sonal violence among the members.* It was a full House, and
was only carried by the feeble majority of eleven ; Clarendon
says only by nine. We find some notice of the calmness and
adroitness of Hampden during this disorderly debate. When
the Remonstrance had been carried, he moved for the printing,
that it might be dispersed among the people. According to
constitutional usage, it should first have been communicated to
the Lords, and afterwards presented to the King. But this
appeal to the people against the Sovereign, as it avowedly was,
he observed run in the sole name of the Commons — an all-
suflBcient authority ! Already this great man was meditating that

* As a curious instance how difficult it is sometimes to ascertain the plainest
matter of fact, from even those wlio were present, Rushworth says, the Debate
lasted from three in the afternoon till three in the morning : Sir Thilip Warwick
says it was three in the morning when the Remonstrance passed. Wliitcloeke differs
from both, prolonging it from three in the afternoon till ten the next morning. It
is certain that the House was debating hard at midnight, but began eai'lier than
Rushworth mentions ; for Secretary Nicholas, writing to the King, says, ** The
Commons have been in debate about their Declaration since twelve at noon, and arc
at it still, it being now near twelve at midnight."

I

THE GRAND REMONSTRANCE. 295

separation from the Lords, which in due time occurred. This
had been indicated by several signal unparliamentary courses, for
the House of Lords had of late been refractory.* Even Hamp-
den failed in the division for printing, on the first night ; but it
was a favourite measure, and his cool and determined diligence
renewed the motion three weeks after, when the printing was
carried by a considerable majority. So out-wearied, or so supine
were the Royalists, though the King was excessively anxious
that this cruel record of his disturbed reign, reflecting such an
aggravated picture of tyranny and himself the tyrant, should not
be sent forth among the people, unaccompanied by his defence,
or his apology. Thus it happened that when the King desired
that they would not print the Remonstrance till they had his
answer, Charles discovered that it had already been dispersed.

This edict of Revolution had been nearly rejected, and un-
questionably it would have been thrown out, had it not been for
an accident to which it would seem our Parliaments are liable.
The length of the debate, as much as its vehemence, exhausted
the physical condition of the elder members ; many through
utter faintness had been compelled to retire, and honest Sir
Benjamin Rudyard not unaptly compared the passing of the
Remonstrance to the verdict of a starved jury. Clarendon
complains on the present occasion, that while the party them-
selves had secured the presence of all their friends, the hour of
the night had driven home the aged and the infirm, who could
no longer await the division. Mr. Hallam has shrewdly remarked
on Clarendon^s complaint of the friends of established authority,
that " sluggish, lukewarm, and thoughtless tempers must always
exist, and that such will always belong to their side." A simple,
but important truth ! And since the wisdom, or the virtue, of
a free people, must often depend on the subtraction or the mul-
tiplication of voices, it is a curious fact in the history of an
English Parliament, that some of the most eventful changes in
our Constitution, have been carried by majorities which wear all
the appearance of minorities ; and that the majority and minority
on the same question, at different periods, have changed sides.f

I^^P' * Macaulay, iii. 99.

^r The great points of the National Religion, under Elizabeth, were carried by six,
and some say by a single vote ; the Hanover succession was voted in by a single

I

29G THE GRAND REMONSTRANCE.

Thus it happens that the age and the health of the members
become a material circumstance in the highest concerns of the
nation, and nothing seems more desirable than that even an
absent member should not be deprived of his vote, provided he
had been present at the debate. An artful party in that case
could not steal a majority from a thin House ; and the robust,
the diligent, or the juvenile, would possess no fractional advan-
tage over the infirm or the supine, in that great sum of human
■wisdom which is to appear in the numerical force of a division
of the House.

After the numerous concessions of the King, and the hu-
miliated state to which the party had reduced the Sovereign,
certain as they were that they could scarcely demand any thing
short of the throne itself, which Charles would now have denied,
what motive induced this ungenerous remonstrance of grievances
redressed ; of painful reminiscences ; of errors chastened, and of
passions subdued ? Mrs. Macaulay tells us that "this Remon-
strance was looked on by the opposers of the Court as absolutely
necessary to their farther curtailing the power of the Crown,
which was essential to the preservation of those privileges the
public had already obtained." Such is the diplomacy of revolu-
tionary democracy, and with the present party it was an irrefra-
gable argument : we will not add with Hampden and Pym,
though there is sufficient reason to suspect their designs ; but
the result proved that this party had decided on overturning the
English Constitution by setting aside the Crown altogether.

But, in truth, this was not the first motive of the present per-
sonal persecution of the monarch. " The Remonstrance " was
an act of despair. Those who have written since the day of the
female historian, with less passion and closer research, though
not with more ability, nor even with any undue sympathy for

vote ! — Calaray, ii. 2. It is certainly difficult to get at " the sense of the Nation."
On a question whether the Protestant religion was in danger under Queen Anne's
government, 256 saw no danger, and only 20R remained in a state of alarm. — Calaniy's
Life, ii. 279. But it often happens that Parliaments correct their own errors ; for
we find questions which had been frequently lost by the weakest minorities, after-
wards carried with little or no opposition. The Ncmine contradicente is always rare
How can we hope to reconcile so many opposed interests, to conceive such different
sizes of understandings, and conciliate tempers which no art of man can ever accord !
In this imperfect state of human existence, we can only ti'ust to the Ayes and the Noes/

THE GEAND EEMONSTRANCE. 297

this unfortunate prince, have agreed that a far different motive
than the one alleged in favour of the Commons, was the real
inducement of this ungenerous attack.

That motive was a conviction that their own supporters had
visibly diminished; some of the most eminent names in our
history had abandoned them; and their violent courses, con-
trasted with the sacrifices both of personal feelings and royal
authority, of which Charles, of late, had given so many striking
evidences, had affected the moderate, and alarmed the honest.
Nor was it unknown to themselves, that their clandestine prac-
tices in their intercourse with the Scots, of which Strafford had
made some discoveries, and Montrose had revealed more, were
rankling in the mind of Charles. The King had lately accepted
for his advisers some from themselves — and, under more prudent
councils than Charles had been accustomed to, the heads of the
party felt themselves in personal danger ; for the throne might
appeal to the people, and patriots might be impeached, as well
as ministers attainted. They dreaded nothing more than a
popular king. An able judge of these times has observed, that
" Their Remonstrance was put forward to stem the returning
tide of loyalty which threatened to obstruct the farther progress
of their endeavours." *

The Remonstrance was made such a point to be carried
with the Commonwealth-men, who though not yet in their
strength, were so sanguine, that Cromwell, as yet a new name
in our history, expected that it would pass with little or no
opposition ; and after it was carried with the greatest difficulty,
and by means in which the parties were not fairly balanced,
Cromwell swore, for at that time he was not half " the Preci-
sian " he turned out to be, that had it not passed, " some other
honest men would the next day have sold their estates, and
abandoned Old, for New England." It is quite clear that the
anti-monarchists considered this desperate act of theirs to be
the test and ratification of their triumph ; and some of those
"other honest men," might probably have been found among
the contrivers of this piece of political machinery.

* The same true statement occurs in Dr. Liugard, x. 157, and Mr. Hallam,i. 584.
Let me add my feeble testimony.

I

298 THE HISTORY OF LORD DIGBT.

CHAPTER XXir.

THE HISTORY OF LORD DIGBY.

The King's new private advisers were eminent for their
patriotism and their ability; the virtuous Lord Falkland, the
active Sir John Colepepper, and the sagacious Mr. Hyde. Their
names were even popular; they had gradually retreated from
the Opposition, and now stood by the side of the King, witliout
extinguishing their honourable principles. Another person,
whose councils, on more than one remarkable occasion, Charles
adopted, and who appears not to have closely connected himself
with the other ministers, was the fascinating Lord Digby. The
restless imagination and the reckless audacity of this extraor-
dinary man, made him the most dangerous adviser of a monarch,
who himself was liable to do precipitate acts, repented often as
soon as done, and whose temperament was the most sanguine
that a prince so unfortunate has ever shown.

George Digby, the second Earl of Bristol, should rather be
the hero of romance, than of history. He was himself so mucli
a creature of imagination, that an imaginative writer would
seem more happily to record the versatility of his fine genius,
and the mutability of his condition. By adding only a termi-
nation to the adventures of Lord Digby, which he himself never
could, the Romancer, in the simple narrative of his life, could
place before us an extraordinary being — and the truths he
would have to tell, would at least equal the fictions he might
invent.

Among other peculiarities in the fate of this nobleman was
the place of his nativity. Born during his father's prolonged
embassy at Madrid, he did not leave that Court before his
thirteenth year; he spoke the Spanish language with native
elegance, and stole some of the fancies of its literature. This
circumstance, scarcely noticea])le in another person, in this
Lord's romantic history becomes an incident, as we shall see, in
which the fortunes of Spain might have revolved. He acquired
the French idiom with the same vernacular felicity to the admi-
ration of the Parisians, and this too might have changed the

■I

THE HISTORY OF LORD DIGBY. 299

face of the administration of Mazarine ! But in the language
of the land of his fathers, he was neither Spaniard nor French-
man, but a Briton. Thus Lord Digby was master of the
languages of all the countries, in every one of which he was to
become so variable and so conspicuous an actor. His eloquence,
elevated and forcible, has the elegance which we imagine to be
the acquisition of our own days ; his indignant spirit, bold in
expression as in thought, sharpens his sarcasm, or stings with
scorn, often sliding into graceful pleasantry. It is not a Canning
we are listening to, it is Demosthenes ! His patriotism seems
vital; for no man in Parliament, at that troubled and critical
period, marked his way so distinctly between the conflicting
interests; just to the Sovereign, he asserted the rights of the
nation. He maintained the necessity of frequent Parliaments
without calumniating the monarch, or flattering the people ; he
could condemn Strafi'ord without becoming pn accessory in that
judicial murder ; and we shall see that he spoke in favour of the
Test Act, though he was himself a Roman Catholic.

Several years of studious residence at his father's retreat,
when the Earl, on his return home, was banished to his seat,
was a fortunate circumstance in the life of the son. Surrounded
by the learned and the ingenious, who resorted to Sherborne
Castle, Lord Digby became equally learned and skilful in the
prevalent theology and philosophy of that day, and accomplished
in elegant literature. One of the fruits of these early studies
was his letters to his relation. Sir Kenelm Digby, against the
Roman Catholic religion. When he himself chose to be con-
I verted, it is said, that he never would take upon himself to
! mswer himself, except by a subtle apology, or rather a fanciful
I iistinction, which he made between the Church of Rome and
;he Court of Rome.

Lord Digby's first step into life was strongly indicative of its
subsequent events. His impetuous passions brought him into
lotice. On a casual visit to the metropolis, from the quiet
ihades of Sherborne, he engaged in an amour, and a duel ; both
>f which were none of his inferior delights through life. He
ihastised an insolent rival, who was a favourite at Court, and it
Tas done in the purlieus of Whitehall. His Lordship was com-
laitted to prison. The severity of this treatment, with the

I

800 THE HISTORY OF LORD DIGBY.

remembrance of his father's, now qualified him, by his dis-
content, to become an able coadjutor in the patriotic band of
Opposition.

A lovely countenance, and an innate graciousness of person,
which instantaneously fascinated the beholder ; a voice, whose
tones thrilled some obdurate beauty when on his knees he
would creep, with prodigal sensibility bewailing his own want
of merit ; or which could throw an irresistible charm over his
elocution, insinuating his own confidence to the listener ; these
were the favours of Nature; and hers, too, that temperament
which courts danger, and the fearlessness which scorns death.
There was something chivalric in his courage, quick to assert
his honour by that sword which had often signalised his glory in
the field. But the utmost refinement of art had accomplished
a perfection beyond the reach of nature. With the emotions
and the imagination of a poet, he often opened views of things
as if they had a present existence, when, in truth, they were
only events which had not yet occurred ; events in which he
was himself so often disappointed, and had so often disappointed
the unreasonable hopes of others. Lord Digby was never wise
by experience and misfortune ; for his working genius was only
invigorated by the failiu-e of one event to hasten on another ;
nothing seemed lost, when so much remained to be acquired;
and in his eager restlessness, the chase after the new soon left
the old out of sight. By the peculiarity of his situation, Europe
was opened for his career, and when he had wrestled with his
fate at home, he met her as a new man, in France or in Spain.

But those who had prematurely blessed their good fortune,
for having met with a wonder of human kind, and clung to him
as their pride and their hope, were left desperate at a single
mischance ; these persons had set all their venture on his single
card; they could not repair their ruined fortunes by new
resources ; and thus it happened, that those who had been his
greatest admirers were apt to become his greatest enemies.
None so easily won admiration and esteem, none more rapidly
lost their friends. It was remarkable, as Clarendon observes,
that Lord Digby's keenest enemies had been connected Avith
him by the closest friendships. Digby accepted their esteem as
a tribute to his own virtues and transcendent genius, and, as he

-ij

THE HISTOEY OF LORD DIGBY. 301

deemed it, as an evidence of his own skill in the management of
men ; but their enmity he ascribed to their own inconstancy
and their jealousy of his superiority. Lord Digby on all occasions
was easily reconciled to himself.

Deliberation and resolution with him were hardly separable ;
and the boldness of his conceptions was only equalled by the
promptness of their execution. Digby had that hardiness of
mind which is called decision, and that hardihood of heart which
is courage ; qualities not always found in the same individual.
It was his constitutional disposition to embrace the most
hazardous exploits, not only from an impatience of repose, but
from a notion that the audacity of the peril would cast a greater
lustre on his genius and his actions. Cardinal de Retz has finely
observed on this feeling, that " the greatest dangers have their
charms if we perceive glory, though in the prospect of ill -fortune;
but middling dangers have only horrors when the loss of repu-
tation is attached to the want of success." Digby^s designs
were sometimes so hazardous that he would reserve some
important point to himself, and not confide it to those whom he
appeared to be consulting ; and this, as Clarendon observes, not
so much out of distrust that they would protest against it, for
he was very indulgent to himself in believing that what appeared
reasonable to him would appear so to every one else, but from a
persuasion that by this concealment, he was keeping up his own
reputation, by doing that which had been unthought of by
others. It was this unlucky temper in his nature which pro-
duced so many inconveniences to the King and to himself— for
Charles the First was himself too prone to sudden enterprizes,
and a counsellor so daring and so fanciful as Lord Digby was
the unfittest minister for a monarch who, though easily induced
to adopt such rash attempts, as quickly was startled at their

I^Mculties.*
^BKo man dared more than Lord Digby, and few had greater
abilities to support that daring nature ; but no man^s life, who
had entered into such a variety of fortunes, was more unpros-
perous, nor were ever such great designs left unaccomplished by
the genius which had conceived them. If Lord Digby possessed
some extraordinary qualities, he had also others which were not

* Clarendon, ii. 102.

302 THE HISTORY OF LORD DIGBY.

SO, and which worked themselves into his character only to
weaken it ; like those roots and branches which grow out of the
fractures of battlements and turrets, and come at last to loosen,
or undermine, even such solid strength. It was his fatal infir-
mity, says Clarendon, that he too often thought difficult things
very easy, and considered not possible consequences, when the
proposition administered somewhat that was delightful to his
fancy, by pursuing whereof he imagined he should reap more
considerable glory to himself, of which he was immoderately
ambitious.*

How did it happen that this extraordinary man so frequently
acted in contradiction with himself? The character of Lord
Digby has furnished some sparkling antitheses to the polished
cynicism- of the heartless Horace Walpole. Insensible to the
great passions of a mind of restless energies, but petulantly
alive to the ridiculous. Lord Orford could easily detect the
wanderings of too fanciful a genius, but he wanted the sym-
pathy, or the philosophy to penetrate to their causes. Tliis
man, who in so many respects may be deemed great, had some
fatal infirmities. He would carry his dissimulation, perhaps,
beyond the point of honour. On the trial of Strafford he
appears to have left his party from his indignation at their mea-
sures; his eloquence on that occasion has reached posterity.
But when with deep imprecations he protested that he knew
not of the abstraction of an important document, which was
long after discovered copied in his hand-writing among the
King's papers, whatever might be the policy of his solemn
oaths, and however desperate the predicament in which ho
stood, it has involved his honour. In the proposed arrest ol
the six members, when his lordship discovered how ill that
measure was resented by the House, he immediately rose, and
vehemently spoke against it, delaring that it was absolutely
necessary that the King should disclose the name of the pro-
poser of that pernicious counsel; and whispering to Lord
Kirabolton, who was intended to have been one of those State
victims, that " He now clearly saw that the King was hastening
to his own ruin.'' Yet we are told by Clarendon that it was he
only who had advised the measure, without any communication

Clarendon, ii. 101.

I

THE HISTORY OF LORD DIGBY. 303

with the Ministers. Even on this occasion his own character
rose paramount. For a moment he had been "the creeping
thing'' which has left in the dust the trail of his political
cunning, but his dauntless spirit soared as high as it had sunk,
for Digby could not dissimulate when his courage and intrepidity
were in question. He who had reprobated the dangerous and
unsuccessful design, on the next day offered the King to hasten
with a few gentlemen and seize on those very Members who
had flown to the City, and bring them, dead or ahve. Charles
was startled at this greater peril than the memorable one of
which he had already repented. In so chivalric a genius, one
could hardly have suspected a selfish being, as we shall see his
repeated deeds have stamped him to be; his feelings were con-
centrated within himself. Clarendon tell us that he was never
known to have done a single generous action, even to those who
had claims for their disappointments in their unwary depen-
dence on him. He sacrificed his Protestant daughter to a
Flemish baron for his own convenience. He was habitually
addicted to gaming and to his amours, and lived, even at a
time when in the receipt of a considerable revenue, a mean life,
unworthy of his rank and name. In his last days, after the
Restoration, he seems to have been so maddened by personal
distresses, that his violent behaviour to Charles the Second had
nearly incurred an act of treason, and it banished him from the
Court.

Such is the anatomy of the mind and genius of this accom-
phshed statesman and warrior ; his actions only exhibit him in
the motion of life.

The Commons excepted Lord Digby from pardon, in a nego-
tiation for a treaty of peace. They pursued Digby with the
same violence they had hunted down Strafford, designing that
another minister should bleed on the scaffold. Digby flew to
Holland. But he was not a man to repose in security at a
moment of great agitation. We soon find him at York, where
in a midnight interview with the King he arranged his return
to Holland to procure arms. Taken, and brought into Hull,
an adventure occurred which perfectly displays his versatile and
dauntless character.

304 THE HISTORY OF LORD DIGBY.

Parliamentarians, he appeared as a sea-sick Frenchman, and re-
tiring into the hold of the vessel, he there concealed his papers ;
their detection would have been fatal. The Governor of Hull
was Sir John Hotham, a man of a rough unfeeling nature, sordid,
and influenced entirely by his meanest interests ; moreover, he
was an enemy. Digby, in his usual way, deliberated, and
resolved. The sea-sick Frenchman opened his part, by address-
ing one of the sentinels in broken English, till, by his vivacious
gesticulations, the man at last was suff'ered to comprehend that
the foreigner had secrets of the King and Queen, which he
would communicate to the Governor. Introduced to Sir John,
the disguised Digby took him aside, asking in good English,
" Whether he knew him ?" Surprised, Hotham sternly answered
"No!" "Then," resumed Lord Digby, "I shall try whether
I know Sir John Hotham, and whether he be in truth the same
man of honour I have always taken him to be." Digby
revealed himself, and in his persuasive manner left to Sir John
the alternative of an ignoble deliverance of him to his im-
placable enemieg. Hotham was mastered by the greatness of
mind of Lord Digby, and so touched by the high compliment
to his own honour, that the stern and covetous man, who had
now in his hand whatever his interest or ambition could desire
for their ends, spontaneously declared that such a noble confi-
dence should not be deceived. The only difficulty now was to
concert the means of escape ; it was considered to be the safest
that the Frenchman should be< openly sent to York, with a
promise that he should return to Hull. Such hair-breadth
escapes were the delight and the infirmity of this romantic hero.
In the civil wars, from the first battle of Edge Hill, we trace
Lord Digby's gallant achievements, and on one signal occasion
his desperate bravery. He seemed as careless of death, as if he
had been invulnerable to bullets, which, however, he was not,
for he received many wounds very little short of life. As active
in the cabinet as in the field, he was concerting very ingenious
schemes to obtain a city by an intrigue, or to project a visionary
treaty, but he did not command success. Whatever might be
the skill of the sculptor, his marble was of too rough a grain to
take his polish. His good fortune was always of short duration.
He suffered a great defeat — quarrelled with his officers— and

i

THE HISTORY OF LORD DIGBY. 305

was sent by Charles to Ireland. There his busied brain planned
to fix the Prince on an Irish throne ; but the Queen insisting
that her son should hasten to Paris, Digby followed ; a circum-
stance which first brought him in contact with the French
minister.

On the death of Charles the First, Lord Digby at St. Ger-
main addressed Charles the Second, offering his devoted ser-
vices in a style which could only have been dictated by a
nobleman, the intimate companion of monarchs, and by a
genius even more distinguished than his rank.*

Lord Digby was now the servant of fortune. France opened
a scene favourable to the genius of the man. The commotions
of the Fronde had broken out. The insurrectionary state of
England seemed to have been reduced to a French petite piece, as
the comedians of the Theatre Italien were performing one of
their own ludicrous parodies. The French in Revolutions were
then but childish mimics.

Lord Digby, not without difiiculty, having procured a horse,
entered as a volunteer in the Royalist army. One of those
extraordinary occasions which can only happen to extraordinary
men, for others are incompetent to seize on them, made his
fortune in one day.

The two armies were drawn up against each other, at no great
distance. One of the insurgents advanced out of the ranks,
j md in a bravado offered to exchange a shot with any single
cnan who would encounter him. Lord Digby, without speaking
.'.o any one, leisurely moved his horse towards this vaunting
I jhampion, who stood still, apparently awaiting his antagonist,
it was a dishonourable feint ; for the bravo dexterously receding
l:owards his own party as Digby approached, the whole front of
v,he squadron fired. His lordship was shot in the thigh, and
though he still kept his seat, it was not without difficulty he got
back to his own side. Such intrepid gallantry, performed in
the presence of the French Monarch, Cardinal Mazarine, and
others of the Court, raised an universal inquiry. At that mo-
ment few knew more of the remarkable gentleman, than that

^^■t would be irrelevant to our subject to insert this admirable letter, which is the
'lost striking evidence that the style of the present day has degenerated in its
■ aanges. It exists in the Clarendon Papers.
I^DL. II. X

306 THE HISTORY OF LORD DIGBY.

he was an Englishman. All pressed forward to admire the
chivalrous lord, and on his recovery the King and the Cardinal
instantly gave him a regiment of horse, with the most liheral
appointments.

Every thing ahout Lord Digby was in unison with his ima-
ginative character. The impress on his standard was noticed
for the ingenuity and acuteness of its device. An Ostrich, his
own crest, was represented with a piece of iron in its mouth,
and the motto, Ferro vivendmn est tibi, quid prcBstantia plumm ?
" Thou who must live on iron, what avails the lustre of thy
feathers ?'' But the motto includes a play upon words; the
iron alluded to his sword, the feathers to his pen, to whose excel-
lence he himself was by no means insensible.

Lord Digby's troop of cavalry was chiefly composed of Eng-
lish emigrants, who flocked to the standard of their idolised
commander. He charmed them by the seduction of his imagi-
nation, the shadows of his fancy ; they flattered themselves in
flattering him. But neither the commander nor his followers
had patience and industry. Victories and promotions were
equally rare in the puny warfare ; and the adventurers gradu-
ally fell off in murmurs, abandoning the hero who, they were
induced to conclude, if he had the power, would never have
performed his prodigal promises.

But Lord Digby, at the French Court, was in the element in
which he was born, and had been trained; and there he wa
more idolised than by his military dependents. The beauty (
his person, the delightfulness of his conversation, the softnes
of his manners, his elegant literature and his political sagacitv
and, above all, his alacrity and bravery in action, put him in
full possession of all hearts and eyes. His lordship was even
admitted into the councils of the King and the Cardinal. Hi
was invested with a high command in the French army, whicl
gave him the full privileges of tolls and passes and licences over tli
river to Paris, so that his profits were considerable as his honours.
Such a prosperous state might have terminated the career cd
other men. Digby was more gratified at having attracted th<
eyes of both sexes on him, than by the honours which had n-
novelty for him, and the fortune, which, however abundant,
could never supply his invisible necessities. His revenues wen

I

THE HISTORY OF LORD DIGBY. 307

so large that it was imagined that his lordship designed to
accumulate a vast fortune, for he maintained no establishment,
was without an equipage, lived meanly, was never bountiful or
even charitable, yet ever moneyless. Deeply involved in amo-
rous intrigues and romantic exploits, more adapted for some
folio romance than for the page of grave history, he was, how-
ever, not less intent on political ones, of the boldest nature his
inexhaustible invention had ever conceived. When Cardinal
Mazarine was compelled to quit France and retire to Cologne,
while the popular clamour was at its height, that sage states-
man recommended Lord Digby to the Queen, as an able and
confidential adviser. In one of the flights of his erratic genius
his lordship projected supplanting Mazarine, and himself becom-
ing the Premier of France. He countenanced the popular cry
against Mazarine, and suggested to the Queen, Anne of Austria,
that her personal safety was concerned in keeping the Cardinal
in exile. But though this fascinating nobleman had deceived
an old statesman, he could not make a woman his dupe; for
the Queen accepting his zealous councils with complacency, was
equally cautious in informing Mazarine of his accomplished
friend^s conduct. When the Cardinal returned in triumph, it
was contrived to send his lordship on a very hazardous expedi-
tion to Italy, where success seemed next to an impossibility.
Digby surmounted the difiicult task, and returning to Paris was
highly complimented by the Cardinal, and rewarded — at the
same time that he was cashiered and ordered to depart from the
territories of France.

Here was a kingdom lost ! Digby now repaired to the obscure
Court which Charles the Second held at Bruges, and where
some of the courtiers wanted half-a-crown for a dinner. Digby
announced that he brought money which would last him a
twelvemonth, but at the end of six weeks he had drained his
treasury. As neither the monarch nor the peer could be of any
use to the other, it was not found inconvenient to part. Digby
had now to create a new scene of action, and he designed to
enter into the Spanish service. He asked for no recommenda-
tion from Charles, but depended on his own resources — half
Spaniard as he was ; for the gaiety of his disposition prevented
I him from being wholly Spanish. But here he found obstacles ;
I X 2

308 THE HISTORY OF LORD DIGBY.

his person was far from being agreeable in the Spanish army in
Planders, where about two years before, in a predatory incur-
sion, rapine and conflagration had marked the progress of his
troops through many villages and towns, and he listened to his
odious name in lampoons and ballads. The poverty of the
Spanish Court in Flanders offered no promise to a military
adventurer.

But Digby knew the character and taste of Don Juan, the
Governor of the Low Countries, who, unlike other grandees of
Spain, was addicted to universal literature, and had a passion for
judicial astrology ; and Digby was an arbiter in literature, and
an adept in the mystical and the occult.

The Spanish ministers and officers gave but a cold and reserved
reception, but they soon marvelled at the delectable Spanish
idiom from the lips of an Englishman ! He, who had been, as
it were, a native in all the Courts of Europe, was many men in
one man: one who interested all in their various stations,
according to their tempers and their pursuits. The confidential
minister of the governor, Don Alonzo di Cardinas, had per-
sonally known our mercurial genius at London, and was the
most obdurate, from " his own parched stupidity,'^ till Digby,
as Clarendon says, '^ commending his great abilities in State
affairs, in which he was invincibly ignorant, the Don suspected
that he had not known Lord Digby well enough before."
Whoever listened was lost, and none more than Don Juan
himself. No one indeed was so capable of appreciating the
luxuriant genius of this accomplished man. At every leisure
hour Don Juan sought the company of Lord Digby ; frequently
at his meals, and in the evenings, the Prince indulged in literary
conversations, and, more retiredly, in whispering the secrets of
the skies.

Nothing was now wanting to convince Don Juan that he had
by his side the greatest genius in Europe, but some signal ser-
vice, which might fix with the Spanish army the worth of
their new compatriot. The Spaniards had long been annoyed
by a fort, five miles from Brussels, which Marshal Schomburgh
had rendered impregnable. The Spanish Prince had suffered
repeated repulses in his attempts to reduce this fort. Many
Irish regiments, who had followed the fortunes of their Sove-

f

THE HISTORY OF LOED DIGBY. 309

reign, were in the service of France, and the garrison of this
fort was chiefly composed of this soldiery. Charles the Second
had lately been abandoned by Mazarine, in his terror of Crom-
well, and the King was now a fugitive in the Spanish Nether-
lands. Digby one day surprised Don Juan by an assurance
that the Spaniards should possess the fort. He had been pri-
vately negotiating with the Irish officers, and having convinced
them that as their Sovereign was no longer protected by France,
it could not but be agreeable to him that they should unite with
Spain, who had afforded him an asylum, to the Irish it was per-
fectly indifferent in whose service they engaged, and they found
no difficulty in resolving to pass over to the other side. The
great Marshal Schomburgh, who was convinced that he was
secure from all attacks, suddenly discovered that his orders were
disobeyed, and himself in the midst of unaccountable mutinies.
The Marshal was constmined to march out of his impregnable
fort, and had the mortification to witness most of his garrison
wheel about to the Spanish camp. The dexterity and secrecy
which Lord Digby had displayed in this transaction to the
Spanish Prince, looked as if he had magically changed the
scene ; and Don Juan declared that there was no reward equal
to that service. From this moment Lord Digby, who no longer
viewed any prospect of the Restoration, devoted himself to the

fanish Court.
Digby now anticipated some active part in the state ; and to
an entire Spaniard, he deemed it necessary to become, what
they call at Madrid, " a Christian.^' There was never wanting
a favourable opportunity to execute what he had resolved on.
Falling ill at a monastery where he visited his daughter. Father
Courtnay, the Provincial of the English Jesuits, converted the
able assailant of the Romish faith. This rapid conversion was
not considered miraculous, even by the Spaniards, — and yet it
seems so, for Father Courtnay was a person of no talents, and
the learned Digby must have known the arguments of the
Jesuit before he listened to them.

This step irretrievably lost him with the English. Charles
laughed at the ascendancy of Father Courtnay over the under-
standing of the great philosopher, but, with his countrymen,
Digby was not to be quit for their ridicule, and the King found

I

310 THE HISTORY OP LORD DIGBY.

it necessary to conceal his own sentiments, in pursuance of the
advice of Clarendon, in commanding Digby^s absence at all
future councils ; and moreover, ordered him to resign the signet
as Secretary of State, which, though now but a titular office,
was important, for it conferred on him a political character at
the Court of Madrid. Even Don Juan, who had not read this
portentous conversion when they had conned the stars together,
cast a cold glance on the wonderful young proselyte. The
Prince, indeed, had incurred a reprimand from the Spanish
Cabinet for suffering himself to be so powerfully influenced by
Lord Digby : the jealousy of the Ministers was at work. No
place, no pension came from Madrid; no compliment from
E/ome, but an exhortation, which relished of irony, that " since
his Lordship had been converted, it behoved him now to convert
his brothers/^

When Charles the Second was invited to be present at the
treaty between France and Spain at Fontarabia, Don Louis de
Haro, the Spanish Minister, pointedly excepted against the
King being accompanied by Lord Digby. Yet such was the
spell of Digby's genius, that Charles, though his crown might
have been at stake, could not part with his delightful com-
panion, who, leaving the negotiators with the fate of Europe
in their hands, as matters not very pressing, proposed to the
King to take a circuitous route in their way, from city to city.
His Lordship had been a curious traveller, who knew when to
post, and where to loiter; thus delighting and delaying, a
rumour reached them that the treaty had been concluded, and
the Plenipotentiaries had taken their departure. The saun-
tering monarch then discovered how far he had been carried
away by the fancies of his erratic conductor, to the detriment
of very urgent affairs. The report, however, proved premature;
but the adventure was auspicious to Lord Digby, for no sooner
had he come in contact with Don Louis de Haro and the Spanish
grandees, than that statesman was as deeply captivated by this
admirable man, as had been Don Juan. On Charles's return
to Brussels, Lord Digby was invited to Madrid, where he was
well received by the King ; his wants were amply provided for,
and he remained at that Court till the Restoration.

The Earl of Bristol, such Digby had now become, returned

THE HISTORY OF LORD DIGBY. 311

home Spanisli in heart, but he had lost an old friend in the
Chancellor ever since his adventure with Father Courtnay. He
retained, however, the personal affection of the King, who on
the Restoration had been more munificent to the Earl of Bristol
than the Eoyal forgetfulness had allowed with so many others.
As Digby could not be of the Privy Council, or hold any osten-
sible post in the administration, but had free access at all hours
to the King, he ambitioned to be the head of the English Roman
Catholics, but he found that the Jesuits would not divulge their
secrets. That he could not be the Prime Minister of England,
possessing as he did the King's ear, I suspect rankled in his spirit.
A curious incident now occurred, which shows that the genius
of the Earl of Bristol, unmitigated by age, still retained the
restless invention of his most fanciful days. The treaty of the
Portuguese match, already advanced, was confidentially revealed
by the King to the Earl, who, provoked that he had not a
greater share in foreign affairs, than his old friend the Chan-
cellor admitted him to, determined to exert his rare faculty of
puzzling, and obstructing any project which was not of his own
contrivance. He startled the King by an assurance that this
proposed political marriage must be followed by a war with
Spain; he described the critical situation of Portugal, and of
that miserable family who would shortly be compelled to ship
themselves off to their Brazils, as Spain in one year would over-
run the whole country. He caricatured the Infanta, as repulsive
in person, and known to be incapable of having any progeny,
an objection which was fully verified by the event. There were,
however, two accomplished ladies of the House of Medici, whom
he luxuriously painted forth to the voluptuous Monarch, and
whom Spain would consider as a Spanish match. He suggested
that the King should send him incognito to Italy to make his
election for a Queen of the most favoured of these two ideal
ladies. He prevailed over the weakness of the Monarch ; kissed
hands, and took his departure ; and though a letter was dis-
patched after him to stay any farther proceedings, he pretended
that he had received the communication too late, and would
have closed his secret negotiation with one of the ladies, but, as
Clarendon sarcastically observes, " he had not the good fortune
to be believed."

812 THE HISTORY OP LORD DIGBY.

The same improvidence in his domestic affairs which had
marked the wanderings of his emigrant life, ruined his happi-
ness. Jealous of Clarendon's influence, he thought that the
Chancellor had lessened his favour with the King. One day, in
a closet interview, in a state of great agitation, he upbraided the
King in unmeasured terms for " passing his life only in pleasure
and debauchery, while he left the government to the Chancellor —
but he would do that which should awaken him ! " The King
was equally surprised and confused; otherwise, as he declared,
having been personally menaced in his private closet, he had
called the guard, and sent his old companion to lodge in the
Tower.

This extravagant conduct was the prelude of the Earl of
Bristol exhibiting charges of high treason against his estranged
friend the Chancellor. When these were brought into the
House of Lords it was resolved, that by the statutes of the
realm no Peer can exhibit a charge of high treason against
another Peer in their own House; and further, that in tlie
matters alleged there was no treason. What is extraordinary,
the Earl himself fully concurred in these resolutions, but what
is still more so, he preferred the same charges a second time.
^' Follies of the wise V The King was so greatly offended, that
warrants were issued for his arrest ; and during two years, tliis
baffled and eccentric statesman was forced to live au secret, ^
But this singular man was familiar with the mutability of fo^ I
tune, for on the Chancellor's final disgrace, we find that the Earl
of Bristol came to Court and Parliament in triumph I

In the enmity of an ancient friendship, like the unnatural
feuds of civil war, the hatred is proportioned to the former
affection. In the persecution of Clarendon the Earl of Bristol
was his own victim. His vindictive passion, perhaps, on this single
occasion, blinded his luminous intellect and subdued the natural
generosity of his temper, for that was such, that tliough he loved
and hated violently, the softness of his disposition would easily
reconcile him even to those who had injured him. Digby liad
more imagination than sensibility ; his love, or his hatred, ap-
peared by the most vivacious expressions ; but it was his temper,
more than his heart, which was engaged. His friend, or his
enemy, in his own mind, was but a man, with whom he con-

il

THE HISTORY OF LOED. DIGBY. 313

sidered that a single conference would be sufficient to win over
to his own will.

His glory was now setting, when Digby was yet to show him-
self to all the world, as the most elevated of human beings.

Lord Orford, among the contradictions in his character of
Lord Digby, has sneered at his conduct on a remarkable occa-
sion. " He spoke for the Test Act, though a Roman Catholic/^
Thus an antithesis, or an epigram, can cloud over the most
glorious action of a whole life. This statesman, in the policy
of that day, and at that critical hour, above all other considera-
tions, held, that the vital independence of this country was in
the firm and jealous maintenance of the Protestant interest.
On this occasion he delivered his sentiments with his accustomed
eloquence, but above the eloquence was the patriotism.

The present work will not admit of a development of the fine
and original genius of this remarkable statesmen. From his
speech on the Test Act and his "Apology" addressed to the
Commons* might be selected passages, as important for their
deep sense, as for their splendid novelty. The noble speaker
avoided to decide, whether the boon of greater freedom to be
granted to the Romanists would be dangerous ; or whether the
unreasonable ambition of any E-oman Catholics had afforded
any just grounds for the alarm which had so violently seized on,
and distempered the major part of his Majesty^s Protestant
subjects. It is these fancies which he would now allay, and
he thus illustrates the nature of popular fancies.

"My Lords, in popular fears and apprehensions, those usually
prove most dangerous that are raised upon grounds not well
understood ; and may rightly be resembled to the fatal effects
I of panic fears in armies, where I have seldom seen great dis-
orders arise from intelligence brought in by parties and scouts,
or by advertisements to Generals, but from alarms on groundless
and capricious fears of danger, taken up we know not either how
or why. This no man of moderate experience in military affairs
but hath found the dangerous effects of, one time or other ; in
giving a stop to which mischiefs the skill of great commanders
is best seen." He closes the speech with these words :

"My Lords, however the sentiments of a Catholic of the

* It is preserved in Nalson's Collections, vol. ii.

314 THE HISTORY OF LORD DIGBY.

Church of Rome, (I still say uot of the Court of Rome,) may
oblige me, upon scruple of conscience, in some particulars of
this Bill, to give my negative to it, when it comes to passing,
yet as a member of the Protestant Parliament, my advice pru-
dentially cannot but go along with the main scope of it, the
present circumstances of time and affairs considered, and the
necessity of composing the disturbed minds of the people."

However we may be disposed to censure the eccentricity of
this singular personage, his public character was always decided,
and at the most critical moments of his political life his path
was clearly traced before him. Lord Digby, from his first
eloquent speech on the trial of Strafford to his last on the Test
Act, poured forth the feelings of a patriot with the calm sagacity
of the statesman. Had he lived in our times, it is probable that
Lord Digby would have spoken against this very Test Act, and
afforded Horace Walpole one more ungenerous sneer.

Little did Lord Digby imagine that he would only be known
to posterity by the pen of his immortal adversary, the Chan-
cellor, who in his solitude, though feeling himself personally
aggrieved, had suffered no vindictive passion to cross the seas —
a sad exile from his country and his glory ; yet in his leisure
hours at Montpellier, his great mind found a delightful task, in
commemorating the splendid accomplishments and the daring
virtues of his great enemy, which he felicitously distinguishes as
" the beautiful part of his life.'' " It is pity,'' continues the
noble writer, "that his whole life should not be exactly and
carefully written, and it would be as much pity that any body
else should do it but himself, who could only do it to the life,
and make the truest description of all his faculties, and passions,
and appetites, and the full operation of them ; and he would do
it with as much ingenuity and integrity as any man could do.''
And his Lordship finely concludes — " If a satiety in wrestling
and struggling in the world, or a despair of prospering by those
strugglings shall prevail with him to abandon those contests,
and retire at a good distance from the Court, to his books and
a contemplative life, he may live to a great and long age, and
will be able to leave such information of all kinds to posterity,
that he will be looked upon as a great mirror by which well-
disposed men may learn to dress themselves in the best orna-

I

•i

THE FLIGHT FROM THE CAPITAL. 315

ments, and to spend their lives to the best advantage of their
country/^

This had been a fortunate suggestion, had it ever reached
Lord Digby ; but this Earl of Bristol lived eight years after this
noble effusion, and though no man was more partial to his own
genius, he has left his adventurous life unwritten. We have
lost a tale of the passions, warm with all the genius which
prompted his actions. The confessions of Lord Digby might
have afforded a triumph over his vanities; Statesmen would
have been lessoned, and men of the world, through his versatile
conditions, and in his reckless life, would have contemplated a
noble and enlarged image of themselves.

CHAPTER XXIII.

THE FLIGHT FROM THE CAPITAL.

HE menaced Remonstrance had been the secret terror of
Charles the First : even in Scotland, at its first intimation, the
King had earnestly impressed on his faithful Secretary that his
irieuds should put a stop to it by any means. Heart-stricken
it its presentation, the King desired that this Remonstrance
should not be published, unaccompanied by his answer; he
earnt that it was already dispersed !

The style of the Monarch, in alluding to this Romonstrance

knd to the seditious libels of the pulpits, betray his dread. " We

are many times amazed to consider by what eyes these things

ire seen, and by what ears they are heard." With this enve-

momed satire on himself and his government, the very populace

rere now to sit in judgment over their rulers, and to comment

rith all their passions and their incompetence, on evils often

aggravated, and evils which though they had ceased to exist, by

their cruel recollections seemed to increase in number.

Rushworth has printed this memorable State paper in the

xtraordinary manner of a chapter in the Bible, consisting of

;'06 verses; every verse a grievance which had been redressed,

»r a grievance which Charles was now willing should no longer

I

S16 THE FLIGHT FROM THE CAPITAL.

exist.* He appealed to them in his replies " whether he had
not granted more than ever King had granted ? — whether of late
he had refused to pass any Bill presented by Parliament, for
redress of those grievances mentioned in the Remonstrance ? "
This Remonstrance was an elaborate volume, which might serve
as the text-book of every Revolutionist in the three realms ; and
it laid open his infirm government to the eyes of Europe ; or, as
it was described in one of the King's Declarations, "rendered
us odious to our subjects and contemptible to all foreign
Princes."

This anomalous Remonstrance was the first formidable engine
of that great Paper-war which preceded the civil, sad and wrath-
ful image of the fast-approaching conflicts ! This Remonstrance
may also be distinguished as the first of those decisive acts by
which the Commons usurped the whole Sovereignty of Govern-
ment. It was an appeal to the people against the Sovereign, by
the Commons themselves, and an actual announcement of the
separation of the Lower from the Higher House, since it had
not been deemed necessary any longer to require the concur-
rence of the Lords. " Our presumption may be very strong and
vehement, that though they have no mind to be slaves, they are
not unwilling to be tyrants ; for what is tyranny but to admit
no rule to govern by, but their own wills ? And we know th(
misery of Athens was at the highest when it suffered under tli
thirty tyrants." f

The Remonstrance received an able answer, the secret pro-
duction of Hyde, which Mr. Brodie candidly acknowledges,
"was calculated to make a great impression," but whid
Mrs. Macaulay could only perceive " was vague, and totally
deficient in justifying the King's actions." As if the King'
actions were to be justified, any more than the proceedings ot
the Commons ! It is, however, remarkable for the positive state
ment of that important circumstance in the reign of tin
calumniated Monarch, which, had it been fictitious, could hardly
have been ventured on, in such an unreserved appeal to th(
whole nation — namely, the present prosperity of the people, an*!
the national happiness during a period of sixteen years; '^uo!

* Rushworth, iv. 438.
+ His Majesty's Answer, Husband's Collect. 284 should be 283.

ii

THE FLIGHT FROM THE CAPITAL. 317

only comparatively in respect of their neighbours, but even of
those times which were justly accounted fortunate/'

The style of Charles had become more popular ; the moderate
councils of Falkland, Colepepper, and Hyde would have tended
to tranquillize the disturbed state of the public mind; and
Charles himself had evinced his own disposition for con-
ciliatory measures, by all which he had himself done in
Scotland.

The violence of the Commons now strikingly contrasts with
the subdued conduct of the King. They seemed to have ac-
quired a renovated vigour; their agitation was more intense;
their hostility more open. The sovereignty of England now
depended on the single vote of the Commons. The more the
King was driven to yield, seemed only to inflame their consci-
ousness of power. Secret motives were instigating this fiercer
activity.

One motive was their dread of a change in public opinion;
the stream which had hitherto carried them on was ebbing, or
turning from its course. Charles, left to discreeter counsels,
might win the affections of the honest and the honourable, who
were not enlisted into a party. When Hampden reproached
Lord Falkland for having changed his opinion, his Lordship
replied to the patriot, that he had been persuaded at that time
to believe many things which he had since found to be untrue ;
and therefore he had changed his opinion in many particulars,
as well as to things as persons. This, at least, was an unbiassed
opinion, for the virtuous Falkland had accepted ofiice on the
repeated entreaties of his Sovereign, but with the greatest
repugnance. The Commons were now despotic. They ridi-
culed even Parliamentary customs when these thwarted their
immediate purposes ; when on one occasion Pym declared that
the established orders were not to be considered like the laws of
the Medes and Persians. When the shadow of the House of
Lords was yet suffered to show itself, an extraordinary motion
was made by Pym, that " the major part of the House of Com-
mons, and the minor of the Lords, should be an authentic
concurrence of both Houses.* Mr. Godolphin, objecting to this

* Sir Philip Warwick, 187. Abstract propositions little influenced the conduct
of the demagogue who publicly promulgated them. He who thus violated the laws

318 THE FLIGHT FROM THE CAPITAL.

novel Parliamentary reform, observed, that, if the greater part
of the Lords went to the King with the lesser part of the Com-
mons, it would be exactly the same thing. Pym was too
resolute to be embarrassed by a dilemma. Godolphin was
instantly commanded to withdraw, and an order entered in the
Journals, that " the House should take into consideration the
words spoken by Mr. Godolphin." It ended, as usual, with
the threat, and Godolphin escaped without the treason! It
would be difficult to determine whether the King had made, or
the patriots were making, the greatest encroachments on the
Constitution.

Another secret motive was at work which instigated the vio-
lence of the Commons. It was known to some in the House,
that the King possessed from Strafford, Saville, and Montrose
many discoveries concerning themselves. The patriotic leaders
had betrayed their sensitive state on various occasions. They
had clamoured against the King's journey to Scotland, and
sent their Commissioners at his back; they had felt even a
jealousy in the King's personal communication with his Scot-
tish subjects; when the mysterious " Incident" occurred at
Edinburgh, the parties at London were struck by the sym-
pathetic terror. Charles possessed evidence for their im-
peachment, they imagined for their destruction. To maintain
the power they had usurped, it was necessary to push on to
every extremity; it was also a desperate effort for their own
self-preservation. They decided to annihilate the House of
Lords, beginning by the Bishops, and to degrade, to calumniate,
and to terrify the Sovereign ; dreading nothing so much as that
reconciliation which seemed fast approaching between the King
and the nation.

It is important to observe, that the inevitable results of these

has himself delivered for posterity one of the noblest descriptions of law which the
whole compass of our language can produce, in a passage which rivals the splendour
of one of the common-places of Cicero, and the logical force of Lord Bacon's pri
found meditations. " The law is that which puts a difference betwixt good and evil,
betwixt just and unjust. If you take away the law, all things will fall into a con.
fusion ; every man will become a law unto himself, which in the depraved conditio
of human nature must needs produce many great enormities ; lust will become a
law, and envy will become a law ; covetousness and ambition will become laws
wliat dictates, what decisions, such laws would produce, may easily be discerned.'*

THE FLIGHT FROM THE CAPITAL. 319

persevering persecutions of the Commons led to the fatally im-
prudent acts of the various parties who, on their side alike urged
by their despair, fell the victims of the Commons.

The Lords now perceived their own danger in resisting the
Commons ; the mobocracy again triumphed ! Many peers ab-
sented themselves, from disgust or from terror ; and thin houses
supplied a majority for the Commons. The cry of " No bishops"
had been for some time bellowed by the mobs, who more exph-
citly threatened " to pull the bishops in pieces." One evening,
at torch-light, the Marquis of Hertford hurried to the Bishops'
bench, and, greatly agitated, prayed them to remain all that
night in the House. The terrified bishops earnestly desired
their Lordships that some care might be taken of their persons ;
messages to the Commons were totally disregarded ; some Lords
only bestowed a smile. The Earl of Manchester at length un-
dertook to protect Williams, the Archbishop of York, and some
bishops his friends. Some escaped by secret passages, others
by staying great part of the night in the House.
^HfThe final ruin of the bishops was hastened by the rashness of
^le, who on so many critical occasions had never been deficient
in self-possession, nor in dexterous manoeuvres. The Arch-
bishop of York, the wily Williams, in this extremity, maddened
by despair, committed an act of greater imprudence than were
even some of the King's precipitate measures.
^tA.rchbishop Williams hastily drew up a protest, and by his
^Plful representations, assuring them of the legality of the act,
obtained the signatures of twelve bishops, wherein they declared
that " All laws, orders, and votes were void, and of none effect
in their absence." This protest was not to be used till it had
received the royal consent. The Lord-Keeper, Littleton, how-
ever, to ingratiate himself with the Commons, as more than one
testimony confirms, read it openly in the House, aggravating
its offence. When this protest reached the Commons, it was
instantly voted "high treason." "We, poor souls, who little
thought that we had done any thing that might deserve a chiding,
are now called to our knees at the bar — astonished at the sud-
denness of this crimination compared with the perfect innocency
of our own intentions." Such is the language of Bishop Hall
in his " Hard Measure." At night, and in a hard frost in

I

820 THE FLIGHT FROM THE CAPITAL.

January, the bishops are dragged to the Tower. The news of
their committal is announced by the ringing of bells and the
blaze of bonfires, so prevalent was now the novel passion for
Presbytery ! The infamy of the bishops was blazoned in scur-
rilous pamphlets both at home and abroad, and their " treason-
able practices" were reiterated, till some discussed what sort of
death could expiate such unheard-of crimes ? After a tedious
prosecution of these victims of state, huddling them together,
" standing the whole afternoon in no small torture, struggling
with a merciless multitude," and in that dark night sending
them all in a barge to shoot Ijondon Bridge, where the chance of
escape was doubtful — the Commons did not make out their pre-
tended treason. One of the party, to prevent involving them in
any greater crime, desired that they should only be voted " stark
mad, and sent to Bedlam." Another of their oracles being asked
for his opinion, declared that they might with as good reason
accuse these bishops of adultery, as of treason. They remanded
them for another day, which day never came. The truth is,
many in the nation did not conceal their abhorrence of their
barbarous conduct in hurrying to their dungeons these dignified
and learned personages. It is observable that in more than one
instance the party evinced the sagacity of retreating when they
discovered that they were in danger of losing ground in popular
opinion. But though the bold design of the Commous was
frustrated in condemning the bishops as traitors, they persisted
in renewing the bill for taking away their votes at the same time
with the bill for pressing, both which, as Clarendon states, had
lain so long desperate while the Lords came and sat with free-
dom in the House. Both afterwards easily passed in a very thin
House.*

Thus had the Commons signalized their triumph over the
Lords ; nor had they ceased to harass the hapless monarch ;
and the injuries and indignities offered to his person were
" scorns put upon the kingly office," degrading it in the eyes of
the very populace. The King was reduced to a state nearly of
destitution. " Beggar as I am ! " he exclaimed, when once he
pathetically reminded them of his personal deprivations ; " we
have and do patiently suff'er those extreme personal wants, as

• Bishop Hall's « Hard Measure."

THE FLIGHT FKOM THE CAPITAL. 821

our predecessors have been seldom put to, rather than we would
press on the great burdens our people have undergone, which
we hope in time will be considered on your parts/^ There was
a bitter mockery in their pretended elevation of the character of
majesty ; they sometimes promised " to make him a great and
glorious king," but they also told the Sovereign, that they had
done him no wrong, for he was not capable of receiving any ;
and that they had taken nothing from him, because he had never
any thing of his own to lose. About this time the Common-
wealth men raised their voices ; Harry Martin, in a novel strain
had asserted, unreproved, that " the office of Sovereignty was
forfeitable," and that "the happiness of the kingdom did not
depend upon the King nor any of that stock." Sir Henry
Ludlow, the father of the celebrated General who has left us his
memoirs, had openly declared that " Charles was unworthy to
be King of England." The King had long witnessed the peti-
tioning mobs j he daily heard how their pulpits sermonised
sedition ; and gay ballads were chorusing the fall of the Bishops,
and menacing his own, under the palace windows. All seemed
a merciless triumph over the feebler Sovereign.

Charles seemed abandoned amidst his new council; his old
ministers had been forced to flight, or had been compelled to
resign their offices to his new and suspected friends. The
Sovereign afterwards had been placed amidst a council whom he
could not consult on his most immediate concerns, and whose
advice, it has been conjectured, on more than one occasion, had
proved treacherous. His new SoHcitor-General, the dark-
browed St. John, was meditating his ruin; Lord Say and Sele
had led him into perilous measures. With his new ministers,
Falkland, Colepepper, and Hyde, however honourable, his per-
jonal intercourse had been but recent, and there was yet wanting
)n both sides that confidential intercourse which time only
natures. Meanwhile, Charles was betrayed in his most retired
liours ; the apartments of the palace were surrounded by watch-
ful spies, by corner listeners — and by mean creatures, who, on
the denial of any favour, would fly to the Parliament, where they
were certain of being enlisted among the recruits of patriotism.
Pym unreservedly told the Earl of Dover, that " if he looked for
ny preferments he must comply with them in their ways, and

VOL. II. Y

I

822 THE FLIGHT FROM THE CAPITAL.

not hope to have it by serving the King." Hence it happened
that the most secret councils, and the future designs of Charles
were anticipated by his great enemies. These confederacies
explain many extraordinary occurrences which could not have
happened in the ordinary course of affairs, and which must have
often surprised Charles himself as much as they have done the
readers of his history.

The artifices practised on the infirm faculties of the Queen,
who lived in continual panics during the King^s absence, were
not, surely, with Charles one of their least off'ences; he felt
them as personal injuries. Threatened with impeachment, she
was reminded that several Queens of England had perished on
the scaffold. The tremendous secret had been revealed to Hen-
rietta, by those who were acting by connivance with some of
the party in the Commons. When the party petitioned to bfl
informed who were the " Malignants " who had done that mali-
cious office, they well knew who it was ; and could they have
been compelled to confess to whom they stood indebted for
their information concerning the Queen, the juggle would have
been manifest. The same person who had so confidentially ac-
quainted the Queen with the design must have conveyed to them
the alarm, and the language which broke forth from this ter-
rified Princess.* But they well knew that the Queen could not
betray those whom she held as her friends, and she was, in con-
sequence, compelled to assure the very persons who she believed
would willingly have required her life, that " although she had
heard such a discourse, she had never considered it credible."

The King was often driven to similar compulsions. At
length, when the Commons desired the execution of seven
priests, in which the Lords were made to join, the King would
only consent to their banishment. Among such numerous
claims, which the Commons were daily urging, this sanguinary
measure was the only one to which the King would not yield.
Amidst the humiliating state of contumely which Charles was
enduring, it was not among the least hopes of some who enter-
tained deeper designs than the rest, that this Monarch, of a

* Clarendon, ii. 232. The recent edition furnishes a material verbal correctiou
from the manuscript. The passage, as given by the former editors, to me is
unintelligible.

I

THE FLIGHT FROM THE CAPITAL. 323

temper hasty and indignant, would be provoked into some fatal
indiscretion, and so it happened !

It was on the 3rd of January, 1642-3, without any conference
with his ministers, that Charles commanded the Attorney-
General to impeach the five members, and the Lord Kimbolton.
A Serjeant-at-arms demanded 'that the House should deliver
them into his custody, and returned with a message, but not an
answer. That very night a printed order from the Commons
was issued that no member can be arrested without the consent
of the House, and every person might lawfully aid any member
in his resistance, " according to the Protestation taken to defend
the privileges of Parliament.'^ This was an open defiance of
the Royal authority ! In strictness, however, there was an
irregularity in the form of Charles's arresting the members ;
they alleged that their consent must be had before any pro-
ceedings were instituted against a member of their House — a
subject, however, which admitted of many opposite arguments
when the privileges of Parliament were afterwards discussed,
and which might lead to some ridiculous results. "The Pro-
testation," on which the irregularity is grounded, had been a
recent act of the Commons. The King afterwards complained,
that when he resolved on the arrest of the members, having no
design to invade their privileges, " he had expected an answer
as might inform us if we were out of the way ; but we received
Jjone at all. This was the first time that we heard ' the Pro-
■fcstation ' might be wrested to such a sense. We confess we
were somewhat amazed, having never seen nor heard of the like,
though we had known members of either House committed
without so much formality as we had used, and upon crimes of
a far inferior nature to those we had suggested. Having no
course proposed to us for our proceeding, we were upon the
matter only told that against those persons we were not to pro-
ceed at all j that they were above our reach, or the reach of the
law, so that it was not easy for us to resolve what to do." *
Amidst this unhappy conflict of prerogative and privilege, new
and hurried ordinances were often recurring ; and most of the
dissensions between the King and the Commons seem to have
sprung from the latitude, and even opposite sense, in which

k

* Husband's Collections, 245.

Y 2

324 THE FLIGHT FROM THE CAPITAL.

both parties received them. As formerly, in the " Petition of
Eight," Charles discovered, in the exercise of his authority, that
he had been deprived of it, by some unexpected explanation of
a recent Act of the Commons.

On the following day, the 4th of January, Charles, to the
astonishment of all men, went down in person to the House of
Commons, to repeat his injunctions, if not to arrest the members
in their open House. He came, too, attended by a formidable
company. This memorable incident in the history of Charles
the First cast his affaii's into irretrievable ruin, at a moment
when Pym is said to have acknowledged that " If that extraor-
dinary accident had not happened to give them new fcredit, they
were sinking under the weight of the expectation of those whom
they had deluded, and the envy of those whom they oppressed." ■•■

Clarendon positively assures us that the King^s adviser on
this occasion was Lord Digby. Mr. Brodie observes that the
proceedings against the six members had been resolved on
before the King left Scotland, and the utmost that can with
propriety be imputed to that nobleman is, that he recommended
what he saw had been determined upon.f Had this impeach-
ment been solely the consequence of a long settled determina-
tion, it is remarkable that on so important a state- measure the
King should never once have discussed it with those three
ministers who possessed his entire confidence. J Whatever we

* Clarendon, ii. 183. The noble writer, in delivering the Patriot's confession,
has evidently interpolated it with his own feelings.

f Brodie, ii. 151 and 280. Mr. Brodie refers generally to the correspondence
between the King and Nicholas in Appendix to Evelyn's Mem. This would be an
authority recently published, which could confiraa that of preceding writers, who
were not contemporary with the events. But I cannot discover any passage wliich
specifically shows any such decision. Oldmixon, however, asserts, that the articles
of High Treason were prepared by the King when in Scotland, and that the im-
peachment of the members was the consequence. — Iltstoi'y of the Sieivarts, 176, col. 2.
We know that the King had been very assiduous in obtaining infonnation hi Scot-
land, and probably collected enough to satisfy himself of what he deemed treasouabl<
practices ; but on his return home, and the Act of Oblivion having passed, it seems
not probable that he would have ventured to impeach these powerful leaders, had they
granted him that tranquillity which he flattered himself to have restored in Scotland.

X Mr. Ilallam solves this historical problem, not, perhaps, untruly. " The King
was guided by bad private advice, and cared not to let any of his Privy Council
know his intentions lest he should encounter opposition," i. 688. I suspect, how-
ever, that Mr. Hallara imagined at the moment of writing this, that Charles had
« listened to the Queen." 583.

I

THE FLIGHT FEOM THE CAPITAL. 325

may deem the policy of this bold act of impeachment, we must
not condemn it as any exercise of arbitrary power, since the
King professed to put the members on their legal and fair trial.
What the treasonable practices precisely were we can only
conjecture, for the patriots were never brought to the bar. The
articles exhibited by the Attorney- General seem to have been
common between the impeached members and the Parliament.
Did Charles imagine that he could compel the Parliament to
condemn themselves or accomplices with their own leaders?
Hume has profoundly observed, that "the punishment of
leaders is ever the last triumph over a broken and routed party;
but surely was never before attempted in opposition to a faction
during the full tide of its power and success.'^ Had the King
in reserve some of their later intrigues, some yet unrevealed
occurrences which had passed in their divan, for Whitelocke
informs us that they had of late held frequent private meetings ?
The King was fully convinced that he possessed particular
proofs of " a solemn combination for altering the government
of the Church and State; of their designing offices to them-
selves and other men, &c.'^* Charles even considered that
Ithe people would thank him for disclosing some of his
scoveries."
Jt was the subsequent act of going down to the House in
Tson, and with a considerable force, which was, as the King
afterwards called it, "a casual mistake.^^ The King went
reluctantly, and not without hesitation, till quickened by a
woman's taunt : — of what nature was that famous taunt, I must
refer the reader to a preceding passage.f This reluctance
seems to indicate that the project was not his own ; it has even
been surmised that the rash council came from that irresistible
quarter ; and Hume, taking his ideas from Whitelocke, ascribes
it to " the Queen and the Ladies of the Court," who had long
witnessed the personal indignities the King was enduring. It
was quite in character that the vivacious Queen of Charles
should have been transported at this " brisk act," as Clarendon
might have called it, and rejoiced to see her Consort become
" master in his own dominions," at least over those who were
threatening her with an impeachment. Such a coup d'etat

I

Husband's Collections, 534. f See vol. i. 426.

326 THE FLIGHT FROM THE CAPITAL.

would charm her toilette politics, which were always the echo
of some one who had her ear at the moment; she had no
political head of her own. That person was now Lord Digby,
who had equally fascinated Henrietta and Charles. The King
was not likely to be swayed, on such a strong and decisive
measure, by the sudden freaks and fancies of womanish coun-
cils, which on many occasions he had treated with raillery, or
dismissed with argument. The irritated monarch was in more
danger at this moment of having his natural impetuosity worked
upon by " the sanguine complexion" of Lord Digby ; an expres-
sive designation, which some years after experience had taught
the monarch to apply to his romantic adviser.

All that perilous boldness which characterises the singular
genius of Lord Digby is stamped on this memorable impeach-
ment, as well as on the more extraordinary occurrence of the
succeeding day. His wonderful dissimulation in the House of
Lords the instant he discovered the fatal effects of his owns I
councils on the impeachment, reprobating the measure even to
Lord Kimbolton, the very victim on whom he expected to have
laid his hands, was not unusual with this versatile man. That
he instigated the King to hasten in person to the House, if any
one did, appears from this remarkable circumstance. After
Charles had been baffled in the attempt, and found to his sur-
prise that " all the birds had flown," the reckless Digby offered
the King to take a dozen picked military men. Col. Lunsford, j
and other soldiers of fortune, and hasten to the City, and in
the House where the fugitive members lodged, by a coiip de
main, to seize on them alive, or leave them dead. Charles,
who had grown more sage than his counsellor by some hours,
forbade this double rashness. The man who would willingly
have cast himself on such a forlorn hope, was the sort of genius
who only could have suggested, if any one did, the wild
romantic scheme of the King coming down, with men armed,
to the House of Commons.

On a hasty knock, the door of the Commons was thrown open, i
announcing the arrival of their extraordinary visitor : already f
warned, from more than one quarter, of his approach, the House
had a little recovered from their consternation ; still the presence
of the Sovereign in the House of Commons, for all parties, was

THE FLIGHT FEOM THE CAPITAL. 327

a moment of awful novelty,* and our actors had now to perform
a new part for the first time. The Speaker was commanded to
keep his seat with the mace lying before him. Charles entered,
solely accompanied by his nephew the Palsgrave. Immediately
uncovering himself, the Members stood up uncovered. The
King took the Speaker's chair " by his leave." He stood some
time, glancing around, but seemed perplexed by the multitude
of faces ; he more particularly directed his looks towards Pym's
usual seat by the bar, whose person he well knew. Charles in
addressing the House assured them, that no King that ever was
in England should be more careful of their privileges ; but in
cases of treason he held that no person hath a privilege. On
the word of a King he declared that he intended no force, but
would proceed against those whom he sought in a legal and fair
way ; he subsequently said, *' according to the laws and statutes
of the realm, to which all innocent men would cheerfully sub-
rait." He took this occasion again to confirm that whatever he
had done in favour, and for the good of his subjects, he would
maintain. He now called on the impeached members by their
names. None answered. Turning to the Speaker, who stood
below the chair, he inquired whether they were in the House ?
The Speaker, Lenthall, a person who never afterwards betrayed
any sign of a vigorous intellect, and who, had he acted with less
promptitude and dignity, might have fairly pleaded the novelty
and difiiculty of his unprecedented situation, seemed inspired
by the greatness of the occasion. Kneeling to the King, he
desired the Sovereign to excuse his answer, for " in this place
I have neither eyes to see, nor tongue to speak, but as the
House is pleased to direct me, whose servant I am here." The
King told him that " He thought him right, and that his own
eyes were as good as his. I see the birds are flown ! " He

* An explanatory apology for this unusual proceeding was afterwards given by
Charles. « We put on a sudden resolution to try whether our own presence, and a
clear discovery of our intentions, which haply might not have been so well under-
stood, could remove their doubts, and prevent those inconveniences which seemed
to have been threatened ; and thereupon we resolved to go in our own person to
our House of Commons, which we discovered not till the very minute we were
going — the bare doing of which we did not then conceive could have been thought a
breach of privilege, more than if we had gone to the House of Peers, and sent for
them to have come to us, which is the usual custom." — Husband's Collections, 246.

i

328 THE FLIGHT FROM THE CAPITAL.

concluded by strenuously insisting that the accused Members
must be sent to him, or he must take his own course.

On this occasion none but the Speaker spoke. All were mute
in sullenness or in awe. No generous, no dignified emotions
broke forth from that vast body of Senators. The incident
itself was so sudden, and so evidently unpremeditated that
Charles had not discovered his intention to a single friend. All
■were astonished or indignant. It was, however, a fitting and
fortunate occasion for some glorious patriot to have risen as the
eloquent organ of the public opinion, and have loyally touched
a nerve in the heart of a monarch, who would not have been
insensible, amidst his sorrows and his cares; he might have
been enlightened by solemn truths, and consoled by that loyalty
of feeling from which he had been so long estranged. Charles
having spoken, and no friendly voice responding, left the House
as he had entered, with the same mark of respect. But the
House was in disturbance, and the reiterated cries of " Privilege!
Privilege ! " screamed in the ears of the retiring Monarch.

We are told by Clarendon that the King deeply regretted the
wild adventure, and that " He felt within himself the trouble
and agony which usually attends generous and magnanimous
minds upon their having committed errors which expose them
to censure, and to damage." Should it be imagined that this
colouring exceeds the reality, we may at least trace the King's
whole conduct after his late error, day after day, to retrieve
"the casual mistake," and to adopt measures the reverse of
those which argue a design of arbitrary rule.

All parties agreed to censure this bold and hazardous measure ;
for on unsuccessful enterprises men are judged of by the results.
Fatal as was this false step, yet Charles was always conceiving
himself justified in the impeachment; the King was desirou
that the nation should be rightly informed of his own notions.
On his return in the evening, he sent for Rushworth, whom he
had observed at the Clerk's table, taking down his speech.
The King commanded him to supply a copy. Rushworth, at
all times in due dread of his Lords the Commons, who, in
their tyranny, were already preparing the sad fate of the
Attorney-General for having obeyed his Master's commands,
and who honestly avows that he wished to be excused, reminded

THE FLIGHT FROM THE CAPITAL. 3£9

the King that the House was so jealous of its privileges, that
Mr. Nevil, a Yorkshire member, had been committed to the
Tower only for telling his Majesty what words were spoken by
Mr. Bellassis, son to Lord Faulconbridge. Charles, with
remarkable quickness, observed, "I do not ask you to tell me
what was said by any member of the House, but what I said
myself.^^ This fortunate distinction allayed the fears of the
wary Clerk of the Commons, and is one among the other
abundant evidence of the logical head of Charles. Rush worth
transcribed the speech from his short-hand, the King staying
all the while in the room. The King instantly sent it to the
printer, and it was published on the morning.

These transactions passed on the 3rd and 4th of January,

1641-2. The five impeached members had flown to the city.

The Commons on their adjournment formed a select committee

at Grocers' -hall, at once to express their terror by their removal,

and not to be distant from the council of the five. On the 5th,

Charles having utterly rejected the wild bravery of Digby's

resolution to seize on the members, went to the Guildhall,

accompanied by three or four Lords and his ordinary retinue.

He addressed the people in the hall, regretting their causeless

apprehensions, and still relying on their aff'ections ; the accused

I members, who had shrouded themselves in the city, he hoped

no good man would keep from a legal trial. He aimed to be

gracious and condescending ; and to be popular, he ofi'ered to

dine with one of the Sheriff's, who was a known Parliament-man,

and by no means solicitous of the royal honour. But Charles

was mortified when the cry of the Commons echoed from the

! mouths of the populace. A daring revolutionist flung into the

i King's coach a pamphlet bearing the ominous cry of insurrec-

I tion, " To your tents, O Israel ! " for this Puritanic Israelite,

iesignated as an Ironmonger and a Pamphleteer, only saw in

Oharles a sovereign who was to be abandoned, like the weak

md tyrannical Rehoboam. Rush worth says, on the King^s

•eturn there were no tumults; however, the loyal Lord Mayor

vas pulled from his horse, and with some of the Aldermen,

iifter manifold insults, was fortunate to escape on foot.*

Events, fraught with the most important results, pressed on

* Nalson, ii. 822.

330 THE FLIGHT FROM THE CAPITAL.

each other at every hour. Both Houses of Parliament, as if in
terror, adjourned from time to time and from place to place.
The city was agitated, and the panic spread into the country.
All the plots and conspiracies which they had formerly heard,
and had almost ridiculed, they now imagined to be very credible.
Such rumours were the talk of the day and were cried at night.
A conflict of the disordered multitude raged through West-
minster. Their language was as violent as their motions. " It
was a dismal thing," says Whitelocke, " to all sober men, espe-
cially Members of Parliament, to see and hear them." It had
become necessary to fortify Whitehall.

On the 6th, the King ventured to issue a Proclamation for
the apprehension of the five members who were to be lodged in
the Tower. They were, however, more secure at a house in
Coleman-street, in hourly communication with the Committee,
till they were carried in state to Merchant-Taylors* -hall, to sit
in the Committee itself. |

On the 7th, the Royal Proclamation was declared to be false,
scandalous, and illegal, and the Attorney- General was com-
mitted for having preferred the articles against the five members.

An inflammatory narrative, by the Committee, of the King's
unhappy entrance into the House of Commons, was prepared
with considerable art. They assiduously collected every loose
expression, and every ridiculous gesture of some inconsiderate
young persons who appear to have joined the King's party on
their way. From such slight premises the Committee had
drawn the widest inferences, till, in the climax of this denounce-
ment of their "Rehoboam," they alleged, as evidence, the
opinion of these blustering blades themselves, that had "the
word" been given, "questionless they would have cut the
throats of all the Commons." It is certain that Charles had
enjoined his company not to enter the House " on their lives."
A news- writer of the day acknowledges that " they demeaned
themselves civilly ; " and Lilly, by no means prejudiced in
favour of "the gentlemen with halberts and swords," says —
" Truly I did not hear there was any incivility offered by those
gentlemen then attending to any member of the House, his
Majesty having given them strict commands to the contrary." *

• Lilly's Life and Death of Charles the First, 108.

«l

THE FLIGHT FROM THE CAPITAL. 331

But the party had calculated on the effect of deepening the
odium which the King had incurred ; and though this aggrava-
tion of the idle words of some idle men, little comported with
the dignity of the Commons, it was an artifice which served
their purpose, of exciting the public feeling against the indis-
creet monarch.

A people already in tumult, were flax to the fire ; the populace
seemed now only waiting to be led on to any desperate enter-
prise. Most of the shops were closed, and the wandering rabble,
here and there, were listening to any spokesman. At such a
crisis, orators and leaders shot up, certain to delight themselves
with an indulgent audience, or to head compliant associates.
A person of some consideration exclaimed, '' the King was un-
worthy to live \" another that "the Prince would govern better."
The rage of the infuriated Leviathan was at its height. The
tub was thrown to the whale. It was proposed to conduct the
accused members in a grand triumph to their House. A
thousand mariners and watermen fly to the Committee to guard
them on the river ; a mob of apprentices proffer their services
by land.

During the preparations for the triumphal procession of the
five, Charles deemed it necessary to remove from Whitehall.

Such a resolution was not made without difficulty, and the
! anhappy result is alleged to prove that a contrary conduct was
:he preferable one. The flight of Charles from the capital has
jeen condemned. Some dreaded a civil war, should the King
i ibandon the capital. The Lord Mayor, with many of the King's
j/riends from the city, offered to raise a guard of ten thousand
]nen, but that itself would have been the very evil for which it
•offered a preventative — a civil war. "If your Majesty leaves
us," observed a sage citizen, "we are undone, and the members
will carry all before them as they please." Presciently he
Ldded, " Sir, I shall never see you again ! " Moreover, it was
urged that the King had yet a strong party in the nation — a
pajority among the Peers, and no inconsiderable number of the
t/Ommons, who though they were separated by their fears,
f'ere not yet lost, and even his late error might be redeemed.
i>ut the King had lived of late without honour; the Queen not
without peril; every hour was multiplying personal injuries

i.

332 THE FLIGHT FROM THE CAPITAL.

■which he dared not resent. His late false step had ruined his
hopes, and his confidence in his Lords had long heen shaken
since they could no longer protect their own privileges. At a
distance from this rule of terror, these scenes of insurrectioiij
perhaps his fortune might change ; he might show himself to
his whole kingdom, the Sovereign he desired to be ; his presence
in the Capital had only surrounded him by conspiracies in his
palace, and dethronement from his Parliament.

On the tenth of January the King with his family, and a few
of his household, took his melancholy departure from Whitehall,
which he never again saw but to die before his palace- window.

On the eleventh, at noon, the Committee, with the five
members, came by water to Westminster. The river was
covered with long boats and barges — their appearance was war-
like— "dressed up with waist-clothes"* as prepared for action;
their guns pealed and their streamers waved ; at land the drums
and the trumpets responded. Clamouring against Bishops and
Popish Lords, as they passed by Whitehall they jeeringly ask
"What had become of the King and his Cavaliers?" Ti
multitude rolled on from the city and the suburbs, with loud
acclamations, following the citizens and the trained-bands, m1
carried "the Protestation" tied to the tops of their pikes, ai
several troops of volunteers, who, instead of feathers, deck
their hats with "the Protestation." This "tumultuary ami}
was led by a Captain of the Artillery- ground, for whom :
extraordinary commission for that purpose bore the novel till*
of Major-General of the Militia. Major Skippon, who had risi
from the ranks, became an able officer in thcRevolutionary w;
The double triumph was complete by land and water. I
military character was the most striking novelty ; and withe
a war, the Parliament could show an army. All these scon
remind one of Revolutionary Paris.

The King had flown to Hampton Court ; this was the fii
flight in a life that was afterwards to be so fugitive. Hck

* As Clarendon calls tliem. The term is not in Todd, and perhaps the us<
obsolete. They are explained in Kersey's dictionary, as " all such clothes as
hung about the cage-work, or uppermost hull, to shadow the men from the ent i
in an engagement ; whence they are also termed Fights.^' The Wark or waist oi
ship is described as that part of her which Ues between the two masts, the main a
the fore-masts.

J

THE FLIGHT FROM THE CAPITAL. 833

however, tlie distance was not found inconvenient for the march
of that army of petitioners, 'for such they appeared to be by
their number and their hostility. It was now that the appren-
tices, the porters, the beggars, and the "good wives" of the
city* grew eloquent on paper. The most remarkable petitioners
who went to the King were the deputation of a formidable
body from Hampden^s County of Buckinghamshire. Four
thousand, as they were computed, says Rushworth, some have
said six, riding every man with the cockade of a printed copy
of "the Protestation" in their hats, had presented themselves
at the doors of the Commons, calling themselves " countrymen
and neighbours of Hampden." As they were probably expected,
this Buckinghamshire cavalcade excited no astonishment, and
they were sure of a flattering reception. It must be confessed
this muster did great honour to the patriot, but the fact could
not be concealed, that here was a formidable squadron of cavalry
of Hampdenites, of which the Colonel had not yet been ap-
pointed. It was a regiment which might have given Charles
more reasonable alarm than the Commons affected to feel, when
Lord Digby drove one morning in a coach and six, attended by
a single servant, to deliver a message to about fifty disbanded
officers at Kingston^ for which he was compelled to fly the
country, and attainted of treason for " levying war."

On the twelfth, Charles flew to Windsor, having first dis-
j patched a message to the Commons. He told them that some
finding it disputable whether his proceedings against the mem-
bers were agreeable to their privileges, he waived them — but
I would adopt others in an unquestionable way.
I Between this day and the twentieth, a committee, for now the
I government seemed entirely at the mercy of a select committee,
proposed a new Remonstrance on the state of the kingdom.
To disperse this storm, the King sent down a remarkable
nessage to both Houses. He offered that if they would digest
ill their grievances into one entire body, for settling the affairs
)f the nation on a secure basis, he would convince them that he
lad never designed to violate their privileges, and was ready to
ijxceed the greatest example of the most indulgent Princes.

Hume, vi. 477. The philosopher is perfectly Lucianic in his descriptions,
articularly in his profane scoffings of these female zealots.

ii

334 THE FLIGHT FEOM THE CAPITAL.

This healing message rejoiced the Lords, who implored the
Commons to join with them in accepting this unreserved confi-
dence of the King. But the Commons had to walk in their
owTi path, not in that of the King^s or the Lords'. On the
next day they pressed the King to proceed against the members.
The King inquired whether he is to proceed by impeachment
in Parliament, or by common law ; or have his choice of either?

After these repeated attempts on the King's side to maintain
the justice of his impeachment, it came to an almost incredible
conclusion — the King grants a general pardon to all the
parties ! The style is singular : " As he once conceived that he
had ground enough to accuse them, so now his Majesty finds as
good cause wholly to desert any prosecution of them." Charles
would not falsify his late proceedings by declaring the innocence
of the accused members, but assigns a reason which only leaves
to posterity a testimony of his inextricable difficulties.

It might be imagined that the whole incident of the five
members had now closed all farther negotiations. But while
Charles existed as the Sovereign, there remained for the
Commons, particularly for the Commonwealth-men, much to
be done. They had not yet obtained possession of the sword,
though they had wrested the sceptre from royalty. They ad-
vanced a step farther than the ingenuity of malice could easily
liave contrived. They petitioned the King to disclose the
names of his informers against the five members, and to consign
them to the Parliament ! This " humble petition" never could
be answered by the King, and this they well knew.* Suchi
was their Machiavelian policy ; to close their discussions they
usually forced the King into a predicament in which he must
either have been the most contemptible of Princes in sacrificir"
his friends, or in exposing the secrets of State, which involve
his honour; or appear odious to the people by a conccalracni
of what he dared not avow, or for having alleged what he could
not maintain.

• Rushworth notes, "What answer his Majesty returned to this petition,
whether any, I do not find or remember." — Rushworth, iv. 492. I observe by ^^
Brodie that a bill in vindication of the accused members was immediately pi-epai'
but Charles justly alleging that it reflected on him, which it certainly did, refused
pass it. Pari. History, x. 388. Cobbet, ii, 1 1 34-4G. This fact completes the pro'
of the rancorous personal persecution of the helpless Monarch.

THE FLIGHT FKOM THE CAPITAL. 335

At this moment the King was left abandoned amidst the
most urgent wants. He could no longer draw the weekly sup-
plies for his household, for the officers of the customs were under
the control of the Commons. The Queen had pawned her
plate for a temporary aid. His friends in terror were in flight ;
and the Sovereign sate amidst a council whom he could no
longer consult. He was betrayed by the most confidential of
his intimates. He was deserted by those who like Lord Holland
had depended on his bounty, or whom like the Earl of Essex he
had unaccountably neglected. " In this sad condition," says
Lord Clarendon, " was the King at Windsor, fallen in ten days
from a height and greatness that his enemies feared^ to such
a lowness that his own servants durst hardly avow the waiting
on him."

Amidst the perplexities of State, and these personal distresses,
the anxieties of Charles were increased by the fate of his Queen,
and the pressure of his own immediate plans of operation. Hen-
rietta's fears were restless since the menace of impeachment.
The pretext of the Queen to accompany her daughter, betrothed
to the Prince of Orange, to Holland, covered more than one
design. There, in security, not unprovided with the means,
carrying with her the crown jewels, she might execute some
confidential offices, while the King resolved to fly to the North,
as yet untainted by the mobocracy of the Metropolis.

There was yet an agony to pass through for the husband,
in the separation from his adored companion — that hapless
foreigner, now chased to a still more foreign land, to live alone
among a people who never cast a sorrowing look on suff'ering
royalty. Charles accompanied Henrietta and the Princess to
Dover; many an importunate message was received from the
Commons on his way, and the last hours of the parting of the
family were disturbed by many a gloomy presage. When the
Queen had embarked, Charles stood immoveable, watching the
departing ship with the most poignant emotions. There was an
awful uncertainty whether they should ever meet again. He
stood on the shore to give them the last signal, the last fare-
well ! — gazing with moistened eyes till the shadowy sails vanished
in the atmosphere. When the vessel was no longer visible,
Charles lingered for some time, pacing along the shore, wrapped

II

336 THE FLIGHT FROM THE CAPITAL.

in deep and sad thoughts. The King had of late been accus-
tomed to the deprivation of his power — to the destitution of
personal wants, and it was doubtful whether he had a kingdom
which acknowledged its Monarch, or a soldier who would obey
his commands, for at this very moment, and on his road, he had
been assailed by reiterated messages to deliver up the militia to
the Commons. But he had never yet lost his wife — he had
never felt that pang of love — the loneliness of the soul.

Yet he was still a father, and Charles contemplated on a
melancholy pleasure on his return to Greenwich, in the embrace
of the Prince. On this last tendril were now clinging his
domestic affections; yet of this object of his tenderness the
Commons hastened to deprive him. While at Dover, a worth-
less courtier had been refused to be admitted of the Prince's
bed-chamber. With men of this stamp a favour denied implies
a wrong received; and thus injured, this man declared that
'' since he could not be considerable by doing the King service,
considerable he would be, by doing him disservice." Posting
to the Parliament, he gave some pretended information of a
design to remove the Prince into France, but more intelligibly
offered himself as " their bravo " at taverns, and meetings, not
deficient in insolence and audacity. This worthless rejected
creature of the Court, though without talents, and having long
lost his character, was publicly embraced and eulogised, even
by Hampden. In the spirit of party no man is too mean to court,
no arts too gross to practise. Charles had desired the Marquis of
Hertford, the governor of the Prince, to bring him to Green
wich; on this an express order from the House forbade hi
removal. But the command of the father was preferred. Several
Members hastened to Greenwich to convey the Prince to Lou
don, but the King had arrived; and they were silent in tli
presence of the father. Charles had been greatly agitated on
his road by a message from the Commons respecting the Prince
Embracing his son, the melancholy Monarch, shedding sonii
joyful tears, exclaimed, " I can now forget all, since I have go
Charles ! "

The King had granted so much, that he had nothing left to
bestow, save one great object of the ambition of the triumphanf
party — the army itself.

THE FLIGHT FROM THE CAPITAL. 837

They had first proposed to nominate the Lords Lieutenant of
every county^ chiefly their adherents, who were to obey the
orders of the two Houses ; the two Houses were now the House
of Commons. The King had not refused even this point,
reserving to himself a revocable power. But their policy was
now, observes Hume, to astonish the King by the boldness of
their enterprises. They declared that their fears and jealousies
had so multiplied on them, that it was necessary for them to
dispose of the whole military force of the kingdom, both for the
safety of his Majesty and the people ; this they had resolved to
do, by the authority of both Houses — that is by their own autho-
rity. And they mercifully invited his Majesty to fix his residence
among them.

It is remarkable of Charles the First, that whenever he acted
unembarrassed by the distracting councils of others, there was a
promptness in reply, and a decision in conduct, which convey
the most favourable impressions not only of his intellect, but of
his intellectual courage. When the Committee of both Houses
went down to Newmarket to deliver this astonishing message,
instead of finding the King subdued into pusillanimity, an
object of the contempt they had so studiously shown him, they
were answered by such an unexpected denial, in a style so
vigorous and indignant, that it startled the Committee, who had
rehed on what of late had so often passed. They had come to
vanquish a deserted monarch, and were themselves repulsed.
Lord Holland would not venture to report the King^s words,
without a written memorandum. By this circumstance posterity
receives an authentic specimen of Charles's colloquial discourse;
we trace his warm undisguised emotions expressive of his anger,
or pathetic from deep and injured feelings.

From the King's interviews with the Committee I transcribe
those passages which will interest the readers of his history.

" I am confident that you expect not that I should give you a
speedy answer to this strange and unexpected declaration.

" What would you have ? Have I violated your laws ? Have
[ denied to pass any one bill for the ease and security of my
subjects ? I do not ask you what you have done for me?

" Have any of my people been transported with fears and
jiipprehensions ? I have ofi'ered as free and general a pardon as

1 VOL. II. z

I

338 THE CIVIL WARS.

yourselves can devise. All this considered, there is a judgment
from Heaven upon this nation if these distractions continue.
God so deal with me and mine that all my thoughts and inten-
tions are upright for the maintenance of the true Protestant
profession, and for the observation and preservation of the laws
of the land."

On the following day the Earl of Holland endeavoured to per-
suade his Majesty to come near the Parliament. Charles
replied, " I would you had given me cause, but I am sure this
Declaration is not the way to it. And in all Aristotle's rhetoric
there is no such argument of persuasion."

The Earl of Pembroke pressed to learn of his Majesty wl
he would have them say to the Parliament ? Charles smartlj
replied, that " He would whip a boy in Westminster school that
could not tell that by his answer."

Again pressed by the Earl of Pembroke, after all that had '
passed, to compromise the demand of the Commons, by granting
the militia for a time : Charles suddenly swore, " By God ! not
for an hour ! You have asked that of me in this, was never
asked of a King, and with which I will not trust my wife and
children."

Well might Charles the First exclaim, as once he did, in
addressing the Commons, " Surely, we too have our grievances !"

CHAPTER XXIV.

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 achieve-
ment of chivalric loyalty, or of Commonwealth 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 occurrence. We
may linger amid the scenes of some forlorn hope, or some strange
and momentary stratagem ; of the obdurate siege, where famine

* A Breviary of the History of the Parliament, 71.

THE CIVIL WAKS. 339

was more murderous than the sword, and 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
midnight 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
Lichfield, 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 strug-
gles and the passions of a great people. It was then peculiar 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 incident, and however unknown
the person, the interest excited was not local but national ; and
the man of whom the tale was told, whether Monarchist or Par-
liamentarian, was a hero or a martyr. Thus it has happened that
some whose name has only received a single mention, known but
by a single act, are still chronicled in the memory of their towns-
men, 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 artist of some eminence, a few years ago,
designed a series of pictures to perpetuate the most remarkable
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 Corporation 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

z 2

im

340 THE CIVIL WARS,

narrative mournfully records, would fight after the surrender of
the place, maddening the vindictive soldiery. Our jirtist had
pondered over the memoirs of contemporaries who had them-
selves 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 retained among ancient families, in diaries,
letters, and other domestic memorials ; * and may still be veri-
fied 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 ; f the steel basket-hilted sword, common
in the Parliamentary wars, the ponderous brass spurs and the
military gloves, which have not yet mouldered away. There
they hang, and with them often " hangs many a tale." The
hero himself, who either defended or retook his own mansion,
or perished in the field, no unwilling victim to martyred honoufii J
or to holy freedom, still awes us with his peaked beard andFI
shining corslet among his obscure cousins in the portrait- gallery.
Often in these aboriginal families, the domestic circle has its
private anecdotes — they show the secret apartment wliere the
sliding panel concealed all entrance ; there some hero lay secreted |

* Among other curious circumstances of this nature which have happened to me,
I may mention one concerning a gentleman of the time of Charles the First. In a
visit to Lyme Regis, it was my good fortune to become acquainted with a ver}'
amiable gentleman of the name of Pyne. He was a descendant of John Ppic, 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 Independent party." A letter of his was intercepted during tli<^
treaty of Uxbridge, which showed "a great detestation of the peace," inveighing
against the Earl of Essex and the Scots. The effect on the impending negotiation
produced by this letter, which exposed the secret intentions of the Independents, is
noticed by Clarendon. I found 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 it seems from th«;
family papers, that, after a considerable imprisonment, means were used that the
Attorney-General came down with a nolle prosequi — and one day John Pyne, *' tra-
velling 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 descendants, and " the fair estate " was sadly " shorn of its beams."

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

i

THE CIYIL WAES. 341

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 sequestrations 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 uncompro-
mising Cromwellian.

Foreigners sometimes reproach our insular English for defi-
cient sympathy with the miseries of war, estranged, as they are,
from its actual 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 male-
diction 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 hatred of the actors. They are
neither combating for ancient glory, nor for new conquests.
It is the despair of their passions which involves these fraternal
enemies in one common vengeance. Even conquests in civil
wars render the victors fearful. Whitelocke was deeply im-
pressed by this sorrowful observation. " Thus," says he, " we
may see that even after almost a conquest, yet they (the Parlia-
ment) apprehended no safety ; such are the issues and miseries

* The history of these interior and secret apartments in old mansions is curious.
They were long used, and often built by our Roman GathoUcs to conceal the celebra-
tion 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. ISIany have lived in their own houses, for many
months, unknown to their own family, save the single member 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. Etjam veniet tacito curva senectus pede.^' —
Memoirs, p. 92.

342 THE CIVIL WARS.

of a civil war, that the victors are full of fears from those they
have subdued ; no quiet, no security ! " * Where victories 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 provincial malignity,t
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 ! W^hose property has
the hero of civil war plundered ? — his neighbours' ! Whom has
he routed ? — ^his friends ! Who appear in the returns of the
wounded and killed of the enemy ? — ^his relatives ! The sanctit}
of social life once violated, family is ranged against family;
parents renounce 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
animosities from generation to generation. In ci^dl wars not
small is the number of those, whose names appear in no list of
the suflferers, 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
unassuaged, or unutterable griefs.

But all are not patriots who combat for patriotism. All sort^
of adventurers looking up to all sorts of hopes, take their station
under opposing banners. There shall we find Ambition and
Avarice, often Revenge and Ingratitude ; so many are the
passions civil war indulges and conceals !

The suff'erings of the common people seem beneath the

* Whitelocke,219.
t I fear that in the civil wars of Charles the First, when whole regiments wer'
composed of men raised from a particular county, and came in contact with a siniilm
one of another, the struggle became more obstinate and malignant. The men <
Herefordshire encountering the men of Gloucestershire ; the Lancastrians engaguii;
witli the Northumbrians ; even the inhabitants of one town with those of a neigh-
bouring town, would slash each other with the malice of provincial rivalry, and to
the miseries of war add the paltry pride of the jealousy of a whole county. In tli<
Memoirs of Captain John Hodgson, an active Commonwealth officer, in the Lancashii'
infantry, we detect this sort of feeling. Alluding to the bravery of his regiment, li'
says, " They were brave firemen — I have often told them they were as good fighter
and as great plunderers as ever went to a field." — Memoirs of Captain Hodgson, 1 19-

ii

THE CIVIL WAES. 343

dignity of the historical pen, and the sympathy of abstract
reasoners. Every scene in history is to be something which
may be acted in a theatre by the privileged actors. It is not
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 compelled to take a
new side at the approach, or on the retreat, of an army. And
this concussion 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 Parliament's warrant to enlist
men was read, a messenger hastened to the Sheriff with the
King's proclamation. If the people opposed the Parliament,
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 dis-
covered that the result 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 enriching 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 described this unhappy crisis :

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

I

344 THE CIVIL WARS.

The enormities of the military on both sides tyrannised
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 extraordinary attempt at self-defence. In the west of
England many countrj^-gentlemen were persuaded to raise up a
third party in the country, which should neither be Royalist
nor Parliamentarian. It was to consist of an ai'my without
soldiers, for they were neither to wear swords nor carry fire-
arms. Suddenly appeared many thousand men, who it is said
at one period amounted to a body of fourteen thousand, armed
with clubs and flails, scythes and sickles laid on long poles ; it
was an agricultural war, and the agrestic weapons no longer
wounding the fertile bosom of nature, directed 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 considerable force, and
their ensign bore a motto in rhymes, 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 parties knew whether to consider them
hostile or friendly. The Club-men grew to be so formidable as
to be courted by both for timely compliances 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 spolia-
tions and robberies, which we find in the rhyming motto of the
Club-men, was now first introduced into our language — it was
brought from Germany by some of those soldiers of fortune,
whose deeds here were the clearest comments on a foreign term

* 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 soldiei's was not ill-suited to his plotting and fanciful genius.

THE CIVIL WARS. 345

whicli time lias by no means rendered obsolete * It is curious
to observe the latitude whicb 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 limited to military
execution. An unlucky "malignant" indicted several of the
mob-worthies for "plundering his house." The prisoners did
not deny the fact, so that there were the fact and the law alike
against them. The petty-jury, however, persisted in returning
Ignoramus. 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." t 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 Parliamentarians.

The Civil Wars of Charles the First were accompanied by one
of the most distressful emotions which an honourable mind can
experience. On both sides men were induced to 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 death of Hampden and Pym, new factions
rose, who assuredly were not combating for the freedom of the
English nation. Opinions sometimes wavered, as points of law
admitted of a novel exposition, or as the last arguments were
perplexed 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 resulted the most
confused notions, distracting their consciences and paralysing
their acts. Many eminent persons fell victims to these mutable
and contradictory proceedings.

Neither the Boyalist, nor the Commonwealth-man, wh9 were
so on system, would hesitate in their decision; and both alike
perished in the field or sufl'ered on the scaff'old. But these

irmed, perhaps, not the greater, nor always the most estimable
* May's History of the Parliament. Lib. iii. 3.
} Bruno Ryves in his « Mercurius Rusticus, or the Country's Complaint," which

346 THE CIVIL WARS.

part of the nation. Many great and good men acted they
scarcely knew how ; they fluctuated in their opinions, for which
they had too often reason * — and what sometimes proved more
fatal, they abandoned their friends — or if in their despair they
concealed their private sentiments, these self-tormentors lived
in the agony of their consciences.

Essex and Manchester obeyed the Parliament, 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 Par-
liament. 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 justice
of his master's cause ; on the other side, Sir Alexander Carew,
who had distinguished himself among the hottest of the
Patriotic party in the prosecution of the Earl of Straflford, 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 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 integrity, 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 terminated the
solitary struggles 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 or faithlessness; neither present nor prospective
views influenced them. They were off'cring the greatest per-
sonal 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, amid those reveries, in
which, since the opening of the Civil War, his melancholy had

* Sir Philip Wanvick 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 I'arliament have decided their business by lot." Many
points which cost so much blood might as well liave been decided by the dice. The
physician was the philosopher.

to

I

THE CIVIL WAES. 347

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 sharpened 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 lurking doubts which at times darkened
their convictions. 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 Lichfield
he chose St. Chad's day, to whom the Cathedral was dedicated.
His Lordship meant to give the most public aff'ront he could
imagine to the Saint ; this was a remaining feeling of the old
superstition, as if dubious whether his Saintship were, as he
believed, a mere nonentity. Farther, he solemnly invoked
Heaven, for some signal testimony 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 would not have
implored for a signal testimony. Lord Brooke, however, seemed
hardly to have trusted Heaven with his life ; for his invulnerable
lordship was armed at all points in stubborn mail, and the only
part of him uncovered 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 immortalised. 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 confirm the verity of his positions and the justice

his violence.

If elevated characters, such as these, could not elude the

verity 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 memor-
able history in our Civil Wars. They were both ostensibly on

I

us THE CIVIL WARS.

the Parliament'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
townsmen to close the gates against the King. The Governor
appeared on the walls, on his knees, and with distracted looks,
a pitiable object, solemnly 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 inveighed against the father as an enemy of the Par-
liament. The father and the son, destitute of affection and forti-
tude, 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 conflicting 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
other, and not only divided, but opposed in arms. Waller
confesses, too, the fears which harassed a delicate mind not yet
brutalised 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 unchangeable that HostiHty
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,
incapable of being wrought upon by any persuasion. 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

* " The woeful tragedy " of the Ilothains is told by Clarendon, v. 1 10". 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 opportunity to wrest from them mutually
arguments one against the other.

THE CIVIL WARS. 349

detest a war without an enemy. But I look upon it as Opus
Domini 1 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 produced a singular
effect both on persons and on events. The most enhghtened
men of the age, and the most free from suspicion of any criminal
selfishness, could not avoid, alternately, to gratify and to offend
the two great Parties. Selden, in his firm integrity, had con-
demned " the Commission of Array " issued by the King, on a
point of Law; the King remonstrated with him; the Parlia-
ment professed to be governed 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 ordinance to
possess themselves of the militia or the army. On that occasion
he raised his admirable faculties to their highest pitch, and he
demonstrated as positively, as he had done in the case of '^ the
Array," that it was " without precedent and without law." It
must have mortified that erudite scholar and that profound
lawyer, when he discovered that his legal knowledge was only
to be consulted, and his arguments were only to be valid, when
they concurred 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 consecrated the decisions of
Selden ; and Posteritj^ acknowledges the rectitude of that wisdom
which was censured by both parties for mutability of conduct.

All in the ranks of the King were not insensible to the voice
of the Parliament, and knew how to appreciate as dearly, their
laws, their liberties, 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
concurred 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

1

350 THE CIVIL WARS.

in reverting to them, and warning his censurers that they them-
selves might fall into the like errors from the same suggestion of
necessity.*

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 stated this nice point of the distrust
of the Parliament : a distrust on which revolved the calamities
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 that his sincerity may be doubted, since he
had never an opportunity to demonstrate 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 develop this obscure point in the history
of our great Civil War, by showing how it happened that such
frequent defections alike occurred to both parties.

It may also correct the popular notion, which so conveniently
decides that it was necessary that our civil liberty should be the
fruits of violence 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 Revolution, when they beheld the nation
opposed to the nation ; laws violated and authority usurped ; a
Presbytery raised on the ruins of a Hierarchy ; the destruction
of the monarch, and the dominion of demagogues — did not con-
clude that the constitutional freedom of England 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.

• This remarkable passage is in the King's answer to the ParHaraent's petition,
presented at York in 1642. — Husband's CoUections, 127.

WHO BEGAN THE WAR 1 351

CHAPTER XXV.

"WHO BEGAN THE WAR, THE KING OR THE PARLIAMENT 1"

Such is the title of a grave chapter in the favourite " Essay"
of a party, " towards obtaining a true idea of the real character
of Charles the First/'* With the Parliament in their last
Treaty of Newport, it was an important point to clear them-
selves of the charge of rebellion by an 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 intreated to spare the distress of
his old friend and master, by 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 satisfaction to the
sufferers from the Civil Wars to imagine that their party were
not the authors 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.t All these writers, in the march of their narrative,
pause, to fling back the reproach on the adverse party, while
both, with equal triumph, assign some insulated circumstance,
or adduce some subtle argument, whence to date the origin of
the Civil War. To remove the odium from their own heads, of

* This Essay professes to be « extracted from and delivered in the very words of
some of the most authentic historians." It was first printed in 1748, anonymously.
The compiler was Micaiah Towgood, a dissentmg minister. A third edition appeared
as recently as in 1811. It is therefore 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 Ludlow, till
we sink down to the infamous Oldmixon.

t Brodie, History of the British Empire, iii. 335.

I

352 WHO BEGAN THE WAR,

haviug first opened those calamitous scenes, eacli party lias
always been anxious to charge the other with the first aggres-
sions, 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 arti-
fices 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 invectives to criminate each other.
The day of debate had closed. The cry of conspiracy and
treason on the side of the Royalists, 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 declarations and of votes, of replies and rejoin-
ders, had outwearied the vigour of their pens. Little 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 misrepresentations.
Both parties perfectly understood one another, but it was alike
their interest 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 unnatural war.

The people, distracted by law and by logic, by dusty pre-
cedents 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 themselves 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 themselves required an umpire ! These rotary mani-
festos 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 principles, like two parallel lines,,

i

THE KING OR THE PARLIAMENT 1 353

miglit have run on to "the crack of doom." And as they
attached 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 many splendid vic-
tories. Charles had called in for aid the pens of the enlightened
Lord Falkland, 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 kingdom 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

* Rapin shrewdly observes that the King and the Pariiament played with the
term Fundamental Law. The Parliament gave the name to the trust which the
people placed in the two Hoitses—Sknd when it came to the last push, to the single
House of Commons ! The King would recognise nothing fundamental, but positive
and particular laws. Hobbes, in his Behemoth, a work in dialogue, inquires, " What
did they mean by the Funda.^iental 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 potoer,hut 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 insisted 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 discourses of peace, which always carried a sharpness with them thatTwhetted
their appetite to war ! "

VOL. II.

A A

II

854 WHO BEGAN THE WAR,

politics of their own House. Clarendon, whose dexterity in
style was such, that he could inimitably imitate the style of any
man, never yet found one who dared to imitate the deep
solemnity of his periods, and the vigorous redundance of his
own style. Charles, confident in the masterly skill of his replies,
always accompanied his own by the papers of Parliament. The
Parliament discovered their own inferiority, and were so utterly
disconcerted, that at length, when they sent forth any of their
own manifestos, they strictly prohibited the publication of the
King's answers.

In vain the royalist Echard, following his Coryphaeus Claren-
don, 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 volunteers
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 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
reduced 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, that they considered that the King was so ill-beloved
by his subjects, 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."*

* May's History of tho Parliament, lib. ii. 58.

THE KING OR THE PARLIAMENT'? 355

Yet it is on this very circumstance of raising this guard for
his person that Charles is denounced 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 will serve to detect one of those artful mis-
representations where a party-writer, to colour an extravagant
charge, gives a fictitious appearance of the real state of aflfairs.

" 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 Parliament" was the most warlike
imaginable ?

The Parliament had already possessed themselves of the
great depot of arms and ammunition in the Tower of London,
and the Arsenal at Hull. They were the sole sovereigns of the
entire naval force of England, and twice during 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." f 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-

l^v* The verbose title of the Lawyer Acherley's work conveys some idea of its
character. « The Britannic Constitution, 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 III. was the
natural fruit and effect of the original Constitution." It is a folio, and has passed
through three editions. Yet this Whig production, apparently 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. Acherley is a source of
inspiration to Oldmixon.

1+ Husband's Collections, 261. The King's Answer, 20th May, 1642.
A A 2

356 WHO BEGAN THE WAR,

Bcriptions raised for the Irish war, they borrowed 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 purchases.f Thus this "Unarmed
Parliament" 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 Passions, 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 inefficient attempt to
seize Hull ; it contained the only dep6t of arms which he could
call his 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 afiPair 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 doubtless occasioned some surprise and
some uneasiness. Not that these Lords withdrew from Parlia-
ment with any intention of raising a civil war. They had
retired from the violent measures of Parliament, but they did
not pass over to the King to encourage any on his side. They I

• Rushworth, iv. 778. The Parliament borrowed at once £100,000 of "the
Treasurie for Subscription." The forced loans of Charles himself yielded notlxing
like those " for the Public Necessity."

f 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 2001. was the price of one thousand acres in
Ulster, 300/. in Connaught, 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? 357

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 intricate were the feelings and the events of
that critical hour, that even honourable men, with tortured con-
sciences and confused heads, designed secret purposes entirely
the reverse of their actions. Those who wished to keep them-
selves, as Lord Clarendon expresses it, " negatively inuocent,^'
were the unhappiest men in the kingdom. The crimes of a
nation suffer no man to be innocent.

May 5. — The Parliament declare their resolution to put their
Ordinance for the Militia in execution, '^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." f
There was at times something exquisitely ludicrous in the Par-
liamentary style whenever the King was to be mentioned.

May 20. — The Parliament declare the King intends to levy
war, and they call out the Militia throughout the kingdom.

June 2. — The Parliament present those memorable 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 Par-
liament in a new and extraordinary 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 Pubhc 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 fortunate
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. J We are assured

several millions were thus raised — all for the maintenance of

)

^^ * Clarendon, iii. 66. + Husband's Collections, 259.

358 WHO BEGAN THE WAR,

the Protestant religion, " the Fundamental Laws," " the safety
of the King's person," and " Eight in the Hundred I "

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 employed the very same reasons,
in the identical words the Parliament had done in their Declara-
tion, as May tells us : " Thus did the Parhament's prologue to
their Ordinance serve the King's turn for his Commission of
Array, totidem verbis." In this game of political chess, which
both Parties were now so cautiously playing, move against move,
check-mate occurred.

It is evident that the movements were perfectly 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
warUke 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 unex-
pected accident after another, as waves of the sea which hath
brought us thus far." * The inevitable 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 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
Holland, the King repeated his professions," appealing to the
Lords whether they saw any preparations or counsels that might
beget a belief of any such design ; and whether they were not

* Rusliwortli, iv. 764.

THE KING OR THE PARLIAMENT? 359

fully persuaded that his Majesty had no such intention, but that
all his endeavours tended 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 insincerity, 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 ludicrous,
for they were concealing what was as notorious at London as at
York. The Declaration animadverted on by Mr. Brodie,
occurred on the 15th of June. Already on the 2nd of June the
Parliament had issued their order against the pawning of the
jewels of the Crown,* and on the 11th 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. t Nor should the intention of making war be confounded
with actual war. 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. Warlike preparations are no proof
that war is designed or desired; they may be preventive or
defensive.

Clarendon tells us "that when the Parliament accused the
King of intending to make war, they were so far from appre-
hending 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
counsels to their conduct and control." — "Clarendon says this,"
exclaims Mr. Brodie, " who only in the seventh page preceding
this one, relates that War of the most rancorous kind" (the
epithet is gratuitous!) "had been determined on before the
Queen left England. Such is the veracity of Lord Clarendon,
that individual panegyrised and followed by Mr. Hume, who
says that he was too honest a man to falsify facts."

Since war had been decided on by the King before the
Queen's departure for Holland, Mr. Brodie argues, it settles

Ie long-disputed point of who began the war, in favour of Par-
[ * Rushworth, iv. 736. t Rushworth,.iv. 745.

I

360 WHO BEGAN THE WAR,

liament, and it shows the faithless narrative of Clarendon, who
at the moment he represents the Parliament accusing the
King of intending war, while they had really no such apprehen-
sions themselves, knew himself that war had been resolved on
by the King. Clarendon, we are told, had "inadvertently"
dropped the important 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 occasion, exults in discovering that the
King intended war at a period, previous to the Accusation of
the Commons, and that Clarendon knowing this, for he has
himself told it, has reproached the Parliament as accusing the
King of an intention of war, when they were persuaded 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
described ?

This is easily answered, for there is not a passage in Claren-
don's whole history more authentic 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 incident of the King raising a Guard
at York, which induced the Parliament's declaration, observes,
" But the kingdom was not much aflfrighted 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 exaggerated, nor misrepre-
sented 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 theyJf
had feigned. " So^ much for the veracity of Clarendon," as

^

THE KING OR THE PARLIAMENT? 361

Mr. Brodie exclaims, and so much was due to this fallacious
arraignment.

With Mr. Brodie, the crime of Charles is the King's diso-
bedience to the Commons, in not subscribing the nineteen
Dethroning Propositions they shortly afterwards proffered.
With Lord Clarendon the crime of the Parliament 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 subtle point, a quibble, or a flaw, put an end to the
action. But the language and the acts of political men, placed
in the most critical circumstances, are best judged by the states-
man in his prudential wisdom, and are best explained by the
philosopher, conversant with human nature.

Two of the most illustrious men in our history convey to us
the feelings which actuated their contemporaries, in this per-
petual discussion of who began the Civil War: one is 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 appearance of some dis-
banded 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
Parhament ! " Harris, in quoting the statement of Milton,
observed that " there was some truth in these assertions ; " an

traordinary sort of historical evidence ! However, chronology

en corrects the anachronisms of party. The ordinance for

calling the militia preceded the Commission of Array, and the

vies of the Earl of Essex took place when the King had yet

* Iconoclastes, 41.

362 THE FIRST BATTLE BETWEEN

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 reproach-
ful event at different epochs, to hold themselves guiltless, while
they mutually recriminated for having done that, which both
alike had long contemplated to do.

CHAPTER XXVI.

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 Prero-
gative 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 in opinions on new doctrines, and influenced by very
opposite interests. One half of England remained in so neutral
a state that some families never suspecting a war, had warily
distributed their members on both sides, often perhaps 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 undis-
turbed, and seem to have taken Httle interest in the battles
between King and Parliament. In the journal of a Yorkshire
squire, who lived in the immediate neighbourhood of Marston-

THE KING AND THE PAELUMENT. 363

Moor, it appears that he went out hunting on the very day of
that memorable engagement, but our sportsman in the details
of his chase had 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 Walpole ; and a con-
genial one, evincing the disposition 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 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 drew the sword against
the sovereign must throw away the scabbard ; " and 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 decisive. 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 soldiers of fortune are
invited, who always studiously prolong the season of their fatal
prosperity.

I

* Harl. MSS. 6395, (503).

864 THE FIRST BATTLE BETWEEN

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 German'' 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 Parliamentary colonels who had regiments
appointed to them, were generally country- gentlemen, and stu-
dents from the Inns of Court. They were so inexperienced in
their tactics, that they had not yet acquired the technical style.
General Ludlow, that honourable Commonwealth-man, was evi-
dently something jealous of these imported officers, the mercenaries
of Royalty, some of whom were foreigners, and even suspected of
Popery, for he alludes to these veterans " as a generation of men
much cried up at that time." But Ludlow has himself furnished
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 com-
mand to " Wheel about ! " " Our gentlemen," proceeds Lud-
low, " not well understanding the diff'erence 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 officers appear to have been as negligent
as the soldiers. In the royal army they had the field-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 instances occurred of
their firing on each other. This error was no doubt soon cor-
rected. At the sanguinary battle of Marston-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
depended on the colour of their coats as a signal of recognition ;
these, however, were as various as their regiments, and it some-
times happened that both parties wore the same colour. The

THE KING AND THE PARLIAMENT. 365

King had a red regiment, held to be "The Invincible Regi-
ment/' consisting of 1200 men. Among the ParHamentarians
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 ascertain the friend from the foe, which
might depend on the colour, or even the cut of his coat.f

The simple citizens of a provincial town on 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 nar-
rative, 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
approached us with the sound of warlike music, and their streamers
flying in the air — tremendous 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
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 ils font touts si mat la guerre queje doute s'il
Vaura combattu, ce qu^il ne pourra faire si avantageusement, et si
ce secours arrive a terns le mettre lui-meme entre deux feuocP As
it happened, Charles on this occasion escaped from Waller by
deceiving him in altering his march.

* Vicars' Parliamentary Chronicle, second part, 200.

+ 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 their ranks without the flight
of one man. Whether from the colour of their coats, or their desperate courage,

ey also obtained the title of Newcastle's « Lambs."

^ej

366 THE FIRST BATTLE BETWEEN

The truth is, Sabran, accustomed to the military tactics of a
continental campaign, was not aware that in our Civil Wars it was
not always deficient skill which occasioned our bad generalship.
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 king-
dom. By his dexterity in raising the siege of Gloucester he did
the Parliament the greatest service. Essex, at a moment when
he, disliking their proceedings, felt weary of his new masters,
and was himself in a most critical position, nobly refused the
unlimited offer made by the King, in a letter written by the
royal hand, sternly and honourably 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 Majesty to apply to his
Parliament.'' On many occasions, indeed, with these mixed
feelings, he seems to have been cautious in pursuing his advan-
tages. On the King's side they often deliberated long without
coming to any resolution, and as often resolved without delibe-
ration.* 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 suflPered the
Earl of Essex to escape, not to interrupt the harmony of a con-
vivial 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 com-
posed of citizens, and this undisciplined soldiery now saw them-
selves opposed to the volunteers in the King's ranks, men of
name, of condition, and of wealth, while they themselves were so
unknown to the world, that afterwards their loss was unper-
ceived. 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

* Bulstrodc's Memoirs, 1 1 3.

THE KING AND THE PARLIAMENT. 307

brother in the ranks he was led on to attack. A ParHamentary
soldier, dying of his wounds, declared that his deepest grief was
having received his death from the hand of his brother. Him
he had recognised among the royal troops, and turned aside,
but the carabine was impetuously 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 supphed the deserted monarch, left as he was
without other resources than his standard and his name, with
an army maintained 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 the aristo-
cracy, that Charles observed, " the revenues 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 con-
sidered by the infirmity of civilised man as the permanent
standard of power ; but in great revolutions, where the passions,
more even than the interests of the actors are concerned, 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 unquestionable that this monarch
was deficient in the acute discernment of the real talents and
capacity of those persons who were most closely attached to
him, a weakness which repeatedly betrayed him into errors on
some of the most important events of his life. It is observed
in one of the suppressed passages of Clarendon, that " the King
always loved his family immoderately, and with notable partiality,
and was willing to believe that their high quality could not be

I

368 THE PIRSt BATTLE BETWEEN

without all those qualities and qualifications which were equal
to it, if they had an opportunity to manifest those endow-
ments/'* Charles credited them for that which he himself
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 re-
ceiving orders from any one but himself, and by adopting the
Prince's plans, was confiding his fortunes to a juvenile soldier,
whose rash spirit and intolerable haughtiness made his courage
his greatest defect. The Earl of Lindsay, who actually bore
the commission of Commander-in-chief, thus became subordi-
nate in power; and besides suffering this indignity, that veteran
entirely disagreed with the royal boy's orders and plans. Un-
skilled 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 behind, and was sure on his victorious
return to find that the battle was lost. Prince llupert could
never correct his natural deficiencies for warlike enterprises,
for he repeated the same error in the three great battles which
decided the fate of Charles. llupert 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 of
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 worst characteristic of this German soldier was his dispo-
sition for plunder, and pillaging the waggons, which occasioned
Prince llupert to be called " Prince Robber," being, as Vicars

* Clarendon, iv. 603.

THE KING AND THE PARLIAMENT. 369

says, "thievishly wise."* The noble-minded 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 Commander-in-Chief
one who yielded to none in reputation. The Earl of Essex,
whose unfortunate 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 per-
plexed by the novel doctrine which distinguished his allegiance
to the King in his corporate, 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 dis-
tinguished 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 the personal vanity of the egotist
predominates over the more elevated feeling. But there seems
to have been a better motive in the conduct of the Earl of
Essex. He had flattered himself, for his new masters had
flattered him, that he should stand in the breach to aUay the
passions of the Parliament, and even to direct their councils,
and thus to preserve the nation in its extremities. Men of
middling capacity often indulge those bold designs to which

^^nly the greatest are competent.

^P 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 instance of one of
those indecisive actions in which both parties aHke imagined
that they were d^eated.

I

» Vicars' Pari. Chronicle, second part, 200.
VOL. II.

370 THE FIRST BATTLE BETWEEN

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 preceded
the royal troops ; they at intervals were hastening to rejoin him.
Beneath, in the plain, 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 attack. During several hours the
Royahsts were allowed to wind down the steep, without suffering
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 remarkable occasion are animated. To the
lords, Charles rejects with disdain the odious term of " Malig-
nant,'' and explains to the soldiers that of " Cavalier,'' which
had been degraded into infamy, while the plain republican rude-
ness 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 ParHa-
ment, and the liberties of the subject. Let Heaven show his
power by this day's victory ! Come life or 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 monarch, " you are
called Cavaliers and Royalists in a disgraceful manner. If I
suffer in my fame, needs must you do also. Now show your-
selves 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 nothing
more than a gentleman serving his King on horseback. Show
yourselves therefore now courageous Cavaliers, and beat back
all opprobrious aspersions cast upon you.

• One Brightman on the Revelations, chap, vi., in this name wliich the inhabit-
ants of Keinton gave the meadow between Stratford-on-Avon and Banbury, '* cleared
up a terrible mystery."

THE KING AND THE PARLIAMENT. 371

" 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 hazard 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.
We have marched so long in hope to meet no enemy, unknowing
any at whose hands we deserve 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 per-
sons. 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 honourable
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 courageous, and
Heaven make ye victorious ! "^

The King gave the solemn word, " Go in the name of God,
and I '11 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 tiU they reached the
metropolis, where they brought the first news of a total defeat.
There was also a defection in the army of the Parliament ; an
entire regiment 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
^k Sir William Balfour, who with a small unbroken body of the
^^eserve of Essex's army was roving about and doing fatal execu-
tion, this General replied, " My Lord, we have got the day, and
let us live to enjoy the fruit." Yet here the Earl of Lindsay
feU, and the Standard-bearer, Sir Edward Varney was kiUed.
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
importuned to draw off from the midst of the action; but no

I

* Somers' Tracts, Sir Walter Scott's edition, iv. 478.

B B 2

372 THE PIKST BATTLE BETWEEN

intreaties availed, and the King rode into tlie 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 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 occasioned. He found the King in dis-
tress with few attendants; the officers could not rally their
scattered regiments, and the men were roving about without
their officers. Thus instead of the victory which Rupert had so
rashly anticipated, the Prince saw " the hope of so glorious a
day quite vanished." It seems probable that had Prince Rupert
not pursued the enemy too far, and lost so much time in
plundering their waggons, he would have returned in triumph
to annihilate the Parliament's forces, and it might have been
doubtful whether a second army could ever have been collected.
It is remarkable of this battle between disciplined and undis-
ciplined troops, of military men and civil 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 advised to abandon
the field, but on this, his first martial exploit, Charles displayed
that intrepid decision and that prodigal gallantry which after-
wards he had so many occasions to show to the world. Charles
was sensible that the soul of his little army lay in his own con-
duct, 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
seemed to place their safety in keeping close together in an
immoveable position.

* Ludlow, an unexceptionable witness, i. 44.

I

THE KING AND THE PARLIAMENT. 373

At this moment whoever had offered to advance, had probably-
struck a panic in his adversary, 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 operations ; but the troopers declared that their
horses were so tired that they could not venture 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 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,
sitting by a scanty fire kindled by bushes and brushwood.
Charles dreaded the morning, when his thinned ranks would
expose his weakness to the observation of the enemy. Some-
times they flattered themselves, while all seemed quiet, that the
Parliamentarians had retreated ; but at break of day they were
found standing on the same spot. It is said that Essex could
not venture to retreat, lest his men should disperse and run
away ; but he had provided his honest citizens with plentiful
provisions, which, invested with the plenary Parliamentary
power, he had levied on towns and villages, while the King's
party, who, the peasantry had been told, consisted of those ter-
rible 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, and Essex withdrew to War-
wick 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 suffered themselves to be chased by some
of the King's horse. The loss on Essex's side trebled the
King's, but the great names which had perished, or which were
included among the prisoners, made the Earl's claim to this
isputed victory more apparent to the world; while the RoyaUsts,

374 THE FIRST BATTLE BETWEEN

when, shortly after, Banbury surrendered 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 consi-
dered incomprehensible. 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 advan-
tage, 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 hidden passions of the
leaders, as a profound politician, solved the incomprehensible
problem of Clarendon. Essex's views and principles would not
sufi'er 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 pre-
vented from obtaining a victory over the King, would stand as a
perpetual barrier against any future arbitrary measures. Both
parties dreaded to conquer the other as much as to be conquered.
Such is the distracted state of a civil war !

While this memorable action was proceeding, the terror of the
metropolis was not less than that experienced in the field. It is
curious to observe the nature of those rumours and the panic of
those flights which a great battle produces on a capital whose
safety depends on the results. The first fugitives, who had been
broken and dispersed by Prince Rupert'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 multiplied, some
imagined a number of incidents 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 himself ! The whole of
Monday the city was in terror. Late in the afternoon, dis-
patches from the Earl of Essex himself, acknowledged the
impression made on his horse, but that the conclusion was

THE KING AND THE PARLIAMENT. 375

prosperous. Yet, so far beyond their hopes went their fears,
that the dispatches of the Earl were not credited. The Lord
Hastings, 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 escaped. In the
horror and consternation of eight-and-forty hours, every man
paid and underwent 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 favourably drawn up as affairs admitted,
the House voted that their army had obtained a victory, and
appointed a solemn thanksgiving. It was declared in Parlia-
ment, and it was announced in Guildhall. Still, many who were
returning from the scene of action, spread the most contradic-
tory accounts, some asserting that the two Members themselves
had seen little or nothing of that horrible day's business. The
King, immediately after the action, having taken Banbury, con-
firmed 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 measure, which increased the suspicions of the
political sceptics of a victory which seemed to depend 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 national affliction !

376 THE MILITARY LIFE OF CHARLES THE FIRST.

CHAPTER XXVII.

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

One of our most popular authors has conveyed 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 Chatham mistook it for an authentic history,
recommending 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

i

THE MILITARY LIFE OF CHARLES THE FIRST. 377

suppositious narrative given as authorities by grave writers
of history * It is one of those historical romances which are
very hke truth, and therefore the worse, as the most dangerous
for the likeness, for it is '

" A false Duessa, seeming Lady faire !" f

"The Cavalier" pretends that he had "frequent 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 something 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 reproaches 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-
cHnation in his Majesty to cruelty, or to act any thing not
practised by men of honour in all nations." On one occasion,
the Cavaher had told us that " When he was in Germany with
the King of Sweden, we used to see the King with the general

* De Foe's « Cavalier " has been printed under four different 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 served on the Royal side during the unhappy Contests of
England.'" — Newark, 1782. The late Mr. John Nichols, whose bibUographical
knowledge of English books Avas considerable, in his costly History of Leicestershire,
was so fascinated by a provincial edition, and by the " Shropshire Gentleman who
personally served," that he has largely transcribed from this Romance for an
authentic narrative of the siege of Leicester, without being aware that he was alloy-
ing 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, writing on " the Plague," refers to that exti-aordinary historical romance by
the same writer. All this is highly honourable to the genius of De Foe, but by no
means to historical romances, for the dangerous deception successfully practised
even on enhghtened men. t Spenser.

378 THE MILITARY LIFE OF CHARLES THE FIRST.

officers every morning on horseback viewing his men, his
artillery, his horses, and always something going forwards;"
but that he had the least diversion in the English army, where,
he proceeds, " 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 expedition, we
have already shown, was a mere parade of war, and as Charles
himself acknowledged, that army was never designed for
fighting. The reader who views Charles once placed in this
ridiculous attitude, and hears nothing 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 Somerset-
shire men, he concludes — "Your cheerfulness 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 expe-
dition, will, to whom I shall particularly give it in charge."*
In pointing to the Prince who was by, and in uttering the
language of the heart, " this young man, my son, and yoiu-
fellow-soldier," was an appeal to the social feelings of the
multitude, which must have found a response in the breast of
every man.

Sabran, the French resident, had several interviews with
Charles the First, passing over to the King at different times
from the metropolis. 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

♦ Ruahworth, v. 690.

THE MILITARY LIFE OP CHARLES THE FIRST. 379

on his horse than in his coach, from morning till night march-
ing 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 cceur), 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 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 desires peace, but from his knowledge of the contempt
with which his inclination is received, 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 resources, that one cannot hope for him
long." Not two months afterwards, Fairfax, the new Com-
mander-in-Chief, gave a total overthrow to the King's army, and
the reverses of Charles fast followed.

At Naseby, where, as Clarendon so mournfully 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 intrepidity 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 turned, and were all in flight. The
infantry perceiving themselves abandoned, whole battahons
flung down their arms. Charles, regardless 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

I

880 THE MILITARY LIFE OP CHARLES THE FIRST.

escaped by charging with his own troop of horse solely, through
the body of the enemy.*

It is remarkable, that in this, the most important battle,
where the parties met with equal desires and hopes, the
action was the least sanguinary 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 victory/' adds the
Republican General, " was obtained with the loss of a very few
on our side, and not above three or four hundred of the

enemy." t

What then occasioned such a complete discomfiture 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
to account for this extraordinary panic, and he does this by
alluding to the trivial incident of the Earl of Carneworth sud-
denly turning round the King's horse by snatching the bridle !
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.

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

+ Hume has taken up some account of this battle, which differs from the present.
" The slain on the side of the Parliament exceeded tliose on the side of the King.
They lost a thousand men, he not above eight hundred." The accounts of the killed
m 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 tmcommon accident.

As a specimen of the lying accounts which were bolstered up even by the Parlia-
ment to deceive the people, Josiah Ricraft, who has exerted his pen in couimomo-
rating " England'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 tlieso
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 common soldiers slain on the
King's side amount to 31,560, 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 Parliament, notwithstanding the immense
resources they held in their hands, and that the King had little more than his
name.

THE MILITAEY LIFE OP CHARLES THE FIRST. 381

On a panic terror^ even on an accident as inconsiderable as the
one alleged by the noble historian, have doubtless turned the
fortunes 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 unwillingly obeyed simultaneouslv
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 formed 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
Hoyalists, as Ludlow tells us, we learn from Clarendon that
" there were above one hundred and fifty officers and gentlemen
of prime quality 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 surrounded 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 confidence betrayed their presumption ; pre-
sumption which is only hope run mad. They seemed not sen-
sible 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 acquired nothing by a fugitive victory; it
was a blaze which extinguished itself. Careless, gay, and dissi-
pated, 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 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 necessarily were

382 THE MILITARY LIFE OP CHARLES THE FIRST.

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 unknown 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 providing 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 Parliamentarians were no longer as he described
them to have been, " decayed serving-men, broken tapsters, and
these without religion.'^ That extraordinary man, who had long
witnessed 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 sometimes
smiled at his army halting to sing a psalm — it was as exciting as
the Marseillaise hymn.* Cromwell was a vast genius, because he
derived his greatness not merely from his deeds, but from a
higher source, — from a principle which, in the present instance,
unfolds the philosophy of a Montesquieu. With Cromwell'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 Crom-
well, conveys 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." t I^iit 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, rather
than of 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

• See note at the end of the chapter. f Baxter's Life, 57, fo.

THE MILITARY LIFE OP CHARLES THE FIRST. 383

victory, but in its vicissitudes, in tlie trying hour .of his defeat,
when the collectedness 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, adapted 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 probably a constitutional virtue ; it would be of a higher
rank if we conceive it to have been the acquirement of his philo-
sophy. Whatever it was, it originated, however, in no deficiency
of sympathy. We may recollect the extraordinary 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 remained unmoved !
He showed the same undisturbed magnanimity when standing
in the tower of the wall of Chester, he saw his troops in a sally
defeated, and his friend Lord Lichfield 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
whatsoever adverse fortune befel 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 burden upon his own shoulders."*
Indeed the self-command of Charles the First finds hardly a
parallel in the history of man. When this monarch received the
fatal intelligence that the Scots had resolved to deliver him up
to the English Parliament, he was engaged at chess ; his com-
panion, struck with amazement, stopped his play. I'he King
desired him to proceed, preserved silence, and won the game !
Such a revolution of fortune might have startled one of Plutarch's
heroes.

shall now furnish an extraordinary instance of the King's

* Memoirs of Sir Henry Slingsby, 82.

384 THE MILITARY LIFE OF CHARLES THE FIRST.

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 Scot-
land 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 some time 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 nearest place of safety.
At this moment Charles the First seemed at the lowest ebb of
his fortunes. Bristol had most unexpectedly capitulated 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 jealousies, the usual consequences attendant on
discomfited troops, were dividing into parties the fragments of
the royal army.

The astonishing surrender of Bristol, on terms not honourable
to the Prince, was hardly forgiven, 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 Secretary 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
bitterness 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.* SJ

* From the Autograph Collection of W. Benet, Esq., M.P. I have since
found this letter in Clarendon, with the orthography modernised.

i

THE MILITARY LIFE OF CHARLES THE FIRST. 385

TO PRINCE RUPERT.
"Nepheu Hereford, 14<^5(epM645.

" Thougli 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 constancy that
hath yet befallen 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 mutiny 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 con-
fesse 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 redeme 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 R."

A week had hardly elapsed ere the mortified feelings of
Charles, somewhat subdued by sorrow, 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 encourage-
ment of his Sovereign and his relative. If we take both these
remarkable letters together, they will display such tenderness
for the younger Prince, and such a majestic correction of the
elder, that 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.

^fc VOL. II. c c

■

386 THE MILITARY LIFE OF CHARLES THE FIRST.

TO PRINCE MAURICE.
" Nephew Newtoune, 2Qth Sept. 1645.

" What through want of time or unwillingness 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 inforccd 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 indeed hath given me more grief than
any misfortune since this damnable Rebellion, hath no way
proceeded from his change of affection to me or my cause, but
merely by having his 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 misfortune, 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 ray
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 impetuosity proceeded towards the King,
and reached Belvoir Castle with his brother and about two
hundred of his officers. The King 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

* 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 findf'"
alluded to " rotten-hearted Lords." It was probably no unusual term at that day.
t Harloian MSS. 6988. 115.

THE MILITARY LIFE OP CHARLES THE FIRST. 387

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
contumacious Prince, a ceremony which he had never paid to
the King himself. Accompanied by this train, Rupert, regard-
less of any usual ceremony, came into the presence, and came,
he said, to justify himself. The King spoke with cold reserve,
occasionally addressed himself 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 Willis, who had sided
with the Prince, was living on ill terms with the King's resident
Commissioners, who had proved themselves zealous in their
master's cause. To put an end to these feuds, the King
appointed Lord Bellasis Governor of Newark, but previously
had privately communicated his intention to Willis, and ap-
pointed him to be Captain of his Horse-guards in the place of
the Earl of Lichfield, who had recently fallen before Chester.
It was a command, says Clarendon, fit for any subject. Charles
used the most gracious expressions, and without censuring the
conduct of the Governor, observed it was easier to remove one
person, 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 pro-
mised to take care of his support, and insisted that no one could
be considered as disj^jraced 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 affirmed 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 rephed that " he had received a public injury,
" . c c 2

I

388 THE MILITARY LIFE OF CHARLES THE FIRST.

and expected a 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
transcribed the whole from the pages of Sir Edward Walker,
which had been written under the King's eye. Clarendon con-
cludes his narrative thus. " They departed the room ashamed 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 continued to be refractory when " they reached
the Governor's house, and sounded to horse." Clarendon 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 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
gentlemen in town eoepecting 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, pre-
vented him from perpetuating, though, in suppressing it, the
narrative betrays " a tale half-told."

The incident, which is here given to illustrate the mihtary
character of Charles the First, now occurred. I have drawn it
from the manuscript INIemoirs of Lord Belasyse or Bellasis,
written by his Secretary, Joshua Moore.

d

THE MILITAKY LIFE OF CHARLES THE FIRST. 389

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-
place at Newark ; the town was thrown into a state of mutiny.
The Prince then accompanied by most of the officers waited on
his Majesty 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
spirited and prompt reply from the manuscript. Charles, how-
ever, 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 charge the Prince in case
of any resistance 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 enemies." — "I command you," said the King, "to march
out immediately to Belvoir Castle^ and stay there till the passes
be sent you to go beyond the seas." The Prince submitted,
and marched off his troops.*

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

* Sloane MSS., 4162. Art, 16. + It is preserved in Evelyn, ii. 109.

X This affair terminated in Prince Rupert " freely acknowledging his errors,"
and in the family quarrel the nephew was reconciled to the uncle. — Clarendon's
State Papers, 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-Govemor
to Lord Bellasis, which the King foi'bade his Lordship to accept.

The editor of Evelyn was sadly perplexed at the strange inconsistency in the
account given of this affair by the various contemporary writers. Burton, in his

390 THE MILITARY LIFE OF CHARLES THE FIRaT.

The military life of Charles the First exhibits 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 tribula-
tion 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, 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 affecting 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 particularly 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

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 re-
treated to Oxford, the King sent his orders to arrest the Prince in his house, and
commanded him to leave the kingdom. This circumstance originated a rumour
that the Prince had been bribed by Parliament to surrender Bristol 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 Narra-
tive, and farther, that Bulstrode's is a mere ti'anscript of Clarendon's !

* 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 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.

I

THE MILITARY LIFE OF CHARLES THE FIRST. 391

monarchs who had not wherewithal to pay their quota for a
scurvy supper, was actually realised 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 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 victuals, 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 desired it." Charles once com-
plained that " His rebel subjects had not left him out of his
Revenue enough to preserve him from starving." In the trial
of Rosewell, a Dissenting minister, a curious circumstance was
disclosed. When a lad, in traveUing, 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 retreat, or a pursuit. Once, late in the
evening, the King summoned several gentlemen together, 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 con-
dition, destitute, not merely of the household 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 afflictions to exercise my patience, so
hath he given me patience to bear my afiiictions."

L

392 THE MILITARY LIFE OF CHARLES THE FIRST.

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 ancients.
Bruno Ryves details the corporal persecution which a Dr. Cox,
a Royalist, with a King's trumpeter who had waited on the
doctor, 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 sergeant-major
crammed into their mouths, and even down their throats — but
the Earl turned physician 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. Inhuman as this treat-
ment 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 memoirs already
quoted, I discovered the fact. During the siege of Newark, the
King neglected 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 Scots' army." Charles opens this very
letter to Lord Bellasis in a style which evidently betrays 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

THE MILITARY LIFE OF CHARLES THE FIRST. 393

world. Urgent emergencies, when the business depended on
himself, were uniformly met by a firmness in action, or by a
force of language, which equally prove the excess of injustice,
which has depreciated his capacity, and that meanness which
has calumniated, to fit the character of the monarch to a system
of politics.

NOTE FOR PAGE 382.

OF THE PARLIAMENTARY ARMY, COMBINING MILITARY AND SPIRITUAL MOVEMENTS.

The peculiar feature of the civil war of Charles the Eirst was the extra-
ordinary mixture of religious fanaticism with the ordinary aifairs of life.
The cant of Cromwell in his addresses 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 fuU march,, would have offered many
a group 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 latter breaking out into psalm-singing, it provoked a battle,
from which the darkness had otherwise spared them. Their standards
bore Scriptural mottos and devices ; of these several are still preserved in
the Dissenters' Library of Dr. Williams, in Eedcross 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 tlirough the Old Testament; we may learn the
genealogy of our Saviour by the names in his regiment. The muster-man
^jises no other hst but the first chapter of Matthew."
^H There are several publications intended for military service, penned by
^ministers. "The Soldier's Catechism, by Robert Ram, Minister, pub-
lished by authority." Another is, " A Spiritual Knapsack for the Parlia-
ment's Soldiers, 1644." The most extraordinary of these specimens of
the temper of the times is one entitled " Military and Spiritual Motions
for Poot-Companies, with the Exercise of a single Company as they now
ought to be taught, and no otherwise. By Captain Lazarus Haward,
1645."

I

394 THE MILITARY LIFE OP CHARLES THE FIRST.

Some innovations in the military discipline had been recently 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 own. 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
pious sentence to produce the accompanying spiritual one. He forms
acrostics of

" To the Eight About ! "— " As You Were ! "—as thus :—

T he Devil is let loose for a season to try the patience of God's church.
0 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.

E 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 accom-
pany the military movement which was given by the wordy this driller of
saints has not explained ; but no doubt Captain Lazarus was admired for
the ingenious impossibility of executing military movements, which, if his
men at the same time respected their spu-itual 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 exercise of a foot-company," and
bearing also a veiy exact print of a foot-soldier in his accoutrements of the
age of Charles the First.

JUDGE JENKINS AND "THE LAW OF THE LAND." 395

CHAPTER XXVIII.

JUDGE JENKINS AND « THE LAW OF THE LAND."

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 sometimes been raised, whether such
persons were not more influenced by party motives, whatever
that party may be, than by their private sentiments. Whoever
joins a party, begins a 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, and to whose judgment we may not assent. We appre-
ciate 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 magni-
tude, and glorying in the same eternal verdure through all the
changeful seasons.

I

39G JUDGE JENKINS AND

The times of Charles the First formed the primitive state of
modern political revolutions. The minds of men placed in the
most conflicting 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, adapted 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 conduct
and a decision of purpose. Such characters have not been
properly estimated by historians ; beatified by one party, they
have been branded as fanatics by another, and the enthusiasm
of their sincerity has been dusked by the opprobrium of bigotry.
Their political sincerity casts a grandeur over their memories.

We may at times suspect the pure disinterested patriotism of
Eliot, of Pyra, 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 privacy, when all around w^as despair, would -
only live to perish with his sovereign; or even of President I
Bradshaw, who on his death-bed solemnly avowed as an act of
justice the condemnation 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 philosophical spirit of our own age ; it had
not yet arisen. Men must suffer before they can philosophise.

* I confess I have doubts of the character of this obscure talking Serjeant, emi-
nent only for one bold determined act, notwithstanding his death-bed declaration.
His acceptance of the estates of Lord Cottington, amounting to 4000L per annum, a
great household to maintain his rank as Lord President, and other sources of
emolument and offices, convey 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 argtb-
wcwfs, which are inconvenient in state-matters." 380.

(I

1

''THE LAW OF THE LAND." 397

The wisdom of nations must be the bitter fruit of extinct follies
and obsolete crimes.

A mighty Athlete, in the vast arena of the first English Revo-
lution, was one of our greatest lawyers, whose moral intrepidity
exceeded even his profound erudition in the laws of our Consti-
tution. 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 station 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 Attor-
neys-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 Terrse,"
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, of which the Judge,
with all his frugality, found that every year he served, the
expenses exceeded the salary. He has nobly appealed to all
the Inns of Court to bear witness that he had never aimed at
personal aggrandisement, well satisfied in his chamber to expound
those laws on which he religiously meditated. " How far I have
been from Ambition, 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 beginning 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 retrench the royal prerogative, and
the power of the Church, when stretching themselves beyond
the law, but when the King was to be stripped of his whole
prerogative and the entire hierarchy was to fall, with the same
resolution he vindicated the violated Law of England.*

* 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 nothing can be
done in this Commonwealth by the King's grant, or any other act of his, as to the

■

898 JUDGE JENKINS AND

The emiuent 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 possibly may not be
inserted in a legal bibliography, for " the works of that grave
and learned Lawyer Judge Jenkins, a prisoner in Newgate,"
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 gratui-
tously distributed among the people. By " the Law of the
Land" they were thus instructed, that they were existing
under 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 "treason." He dedicates his "Lex Terroe" 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, however, luxuriant in their marginal references to ■
Statutes and to Records, to Magna Charta, and to their own
" Petition of Right ;" while Bracton, and Plowden, and Coke,
and even St. John, their own Solicitor- General, are the authori-
ties which echo the solemn denunciations of Judge Jenkins.
" Nothing is delivered for Law in my book but what the Hous'e
of Commons have averred to be Law, in books of Law published
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 opposed the Parliament ; but this Welsh judge not only
on his circuit imprisoned whomever he deemed to be rebels, but

subject's person, goods, lands, or liberties, but must first be according to established S
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
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 believe that
they would lean too far in favour of the prerogative. Judge Berkley was a re-
markable instance.

"THE LAW OP THE LAND.'' 399

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 would have consecrated
even a public sanction.

A suit was instituted in the Court of Chancery against this
learned Judge, of irreproachable integrity, for " a foul cheat and
breach of trust, as some alleged." Thus the cautious White-
locke 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 Parliament
was a mere delusion, for all they did was illegal and extra-
judicial, and liable to be revoked. 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 judg-
ment, which, at the time, passed for absurdity and inveterate
obstinacy. Firm in his style, he was yet so moderate, that
^' the Reformers," as the judge calls them, everywhere declared
that Judge Jenkins had made his ^^recantation." He published
a keen and bitter 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 proceed against them as men convicted of treason. The
Speaker more particularly reproached the ancient Welsh Judge
for his contumacious conduct, which had not passed unnoticed by

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

400 JUDGE JENKINS AND

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 Jenkins 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 malice fall upon me, my years can better bear it." The
Speaker having ended. Judge Jenkins 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 wondered at, because I pre-
tended 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 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 that they should suffer as
in case of condemnation for treason. They called in the keeper
of Newgate to learn the usual days of execution, which were
Wednesdays and Fridays. The day to be appointed then
became the subject of their debate.

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

" This greatest Clerk but not the wisest Man," ^f

the facetious and dissolute Harry Martin, who had not yet
♦ Whitelocke, 293.

"THE LAW OF THE LAND." 401

spoken, rose, not to dissent from the vote of the House, he
observed, but he had something to say about the time of the
execution : " Mr. Speaker, — Every one must believe that this
old gentleman here is fully possessed in his head, resolved to die
a martyr in his cause, for, otherwise, he would never have pro-
voked the House by such biting expressions. 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, 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 remarkable 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 queru-
lously asked if he had not been too hardy in his language to the
House ?

" Not at all ! " replied this venerable Decius. " Rebellion
has been so successful in the kingdom, and has gotten such a
head that the weakness of many loyal men will be allured to
compliance 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 execution, that I hope they
will not long suspend the day, for I think that, like Samson, I
shall destroy more Philistines on the day of my death than I
I have ever yet done all my life."

Curiosity was excited. It was evident that the old man had
some scheme, difficult to comprehend, 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 liquorish 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 venerable 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

te people that I am brought there to die for being a traitor.

402 JUDGE JENKINS AND

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 have 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 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 counsellors, and they
must be hanged with me ! So when they shall see me die,
aflSrming such things,'^ continued this romantic brother of the
coif, "thousands will inquire into these matters, and having
found all I told them to be true, they will come to loathe and
detest the present tyranny .^^

No day of execution so fondly dwelt on by the Welsh Judge
was ever appointed, and the patriotic Boyalist was defrauded of
ofiPering his country that extraordinary lesson, which his imagi-
nation 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 Jenkins in
Newgate, and offered that " If he would acknowledge the power
of the Parliament 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 1000/.
a year." " Never can I own rebellion, 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." Indignantly replied

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

"THE LAW OF THE LAND." 403

the Judge, " I will connive 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 compliance."

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

*' I will not say they did," replied the Committee-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 honour-
able Committee of the House of Commons finally retreated.*

After this time Judge Jenkins was removed to various con-
finements, 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 England. 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,t yet
it would seem that it was to Cromwell the Judge afterwards
owed his freedom. J He lived to witness 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 reward of a long life of arduous trials and tri-
umphant inflexibility. Jenkins said that he was represented at

* These interesting conversations, with the romantic project 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 History of the Commonwealth, ii. 425.

t In the Gesta Britannorum of Sir George Wharton, I find this entry : " Jan.
14, 165«, Judge Jenkins, that constant sufferer, ordered his liberty, yet contiuues
he still in Windsor Castle."

D D 2

1

404 JUDGE JENKINS AND

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 believe 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 University of Oxford, at the
instigation of Henry, the son of Lord Clarendon, heavily fined
our great literary antiquary, for the pretended libel. 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 suppress Truth, but ere the statues
have mouldered away. Truth unexpectedly rises, in all her fresh-
ness 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' tenaciousness of the laws
of the land; at the nervous integrity which foiled a golden
bribery, turning aside to enter into eleven years of durance, and
deem, but as the dotage of a bewildered 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 constitutional 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 singularity or caprice of a whimsical humorist
like the crouching Noy, or the headstrong stubbornness which

* 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 Athente
Oxonienses altered the suppressed passage by rendering it much stronger : thus,
" would he have given money to the then corrupt Lord Chancellor Hyde.'* Pepys*
Diary, recently published, confirms the charge against Clarendon. The Hon. George
Agar Ellis, on these authorities, has disserted on the corruption of tliis old states-
man. It is mortifying to detect this tergiversation in such a moraliser as this great
genius, but it is very insti-uctive. Clai*endon, after many years of melancholy absti-
nence from power and profit, often wanting the value of a dinnei', when in office was
a famished man. Whoever in haste would raise a fortime and found a family, will
hardly escape the fate of Lord Clarendon.

"THE LAW OF THE LAND." 405

drove on tlie honest and voluminous Prynne. Jenkins advanced
no point of law which rested not on the custom of the realm,
judicial records, and acts of ParHament. 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. Admir-
ably 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 Parliament as it was then constituted.
The Parliament was at that time placed in a very anomalous
position. Even Mrs. Macaulay has not attempted their defence
on what she calls " the narrow bottom of constitutional forms."
She confesses that " on the side of the Cavalier faction were in
general the forms of law, on that of their opponents, magnani-
mity, justice, 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 donations so reciprocally
conferred, of all the estates of the Royalists.

Yet among these Levellers, or even among the Common-
wealth-men, a more honourable class, was there one who sur-
passed in "magnanimity 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 dexterous than our old Welsh Judge. In lawless days,
Judge Jenkins bore himself up rejoicing, and even dreaming at the
abandonment of self, in the proud vindication of the Lea; Terra.
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 chap-
lain, and " Free-bom John " (Lilburne) in prison. Hugh Peters was the moutmif
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 acquitted. Peters visited him in the Tower,
when the following dialogue took place.

Hugh Peters introduced himself as merely on a visit, without any other design
than to see John,

John.— « I know you well enough. You are one of the setting-dogs of tho
dees of the army, who come with fair and plausible pretences to insinuate into

406 SECRET ANECDOTES OF

CHAPTER XXIX.

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.

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 beUeve him, for that his good masters, Cromwell,
Fairfax, &c. had destroyed them all.

" Nay," quoth Hugh, " there never were any in England I "

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 repUed 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 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 tliey had cor-
rupted 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 arc 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 blo\ving against the wind. " I cannot notice what is
in their minds, but in their declarations — that they will maintain the laws of tlie
land."

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

THE YEARS 1644 AND 1645. 407

As is usual with the French, the writer could not contrive to
write down their names, but by trusting to his own GalHc ear.
It required some ingenuity to discover in LeComte d'Orgueil, the
Earl of Argyle ; in Le Comte de la Dredayle, Lord Lauderdale ;
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 in England, under the admi-
nistration of Cardinal Mazarine. The personage of this French
Minister has not exhibited itself in our history, 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 diplomacy, this luckless envoy was
thrust into " a false position." Never in the vast manufactory
of Legation has a forlorn workman more patiently and more
piteously sate down to disentangle so ravelled a clue, never was
thread more twisted, never spindle so twirled. All was per-
plexed ! All was irretrievable ! Monsieur Sabran 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 discover by his own observations the existing state of
affairs between Charles and the Parliament, to review silently
the military force of the King, and 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,
AUegorists have revealed, require us to snatch Time by his
sohtary forelock.

Public affairs were still equiponderant. Sabran found that
the forces of the Parliament, often raw levies, amounted to
above 50,000 men, but then Charles had 36,000 good troops.

408 SECRET ANECDOTES OP

The King was yet formidable ; and during this period, once
Essex in Cornwall seemed lost, and once Waller at Croprcdy-
bridge was outwitted. The Royalists were flushed with their
success at Newark and Pontefract. " God save the King ! "
(Vive le Roi !) was once echoed on the Thames, by a forced levy
of men by Parliament, reluctantly going down to head-quarters.
The sanguinary storming of Leicester had struck a terror among
the Parliamentarians. 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 him, Fairfax
and Cromwell were only on the point of appearing.

Mazarine and his administration, at bottom, were desirous of
reinstating the English Sovereign 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 Britain, 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 Negotiator, from gaining too many
advantages for the King. Charles, " it is noted in the Instruc-
tions," has never corresponded with all our aftectionate 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 Parliament, as we gather from this
prudential State-motive. "The conformity of Religion, and
the disposition to form and maintain a Republic which is preva-
lent 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 traversed." Sabran is moreover particularly
cautioned against "the Puritans," English, Scotch, or Irish;
" for these persons nourishing a hatred of Royalty and all just

THE YEARS 1644 AND 1645. 409

goverDment, 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 pur-
suance of his Instructions, that he should not acknowledge the
independence of the Parliament, separated from the Sovereign,
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 aU 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 nego-
tiator found himself equally disregarded by Charles, and by
the Parliamant j both alike 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 person, 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 iU-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 Gentleman " appeared on " French Charity."
The kindness of France was ridiculed, because "this kindness
was so excessive that it becomes incredible. What makes this
dangerous neighbour in an instant turn into so kind a friend?"
This pamphlet detailed evidence of a circumstance little known,
which I have noticed in my preceding volume. It is what Sabran
calls, and therefore does not deny, " les pratiques secrettes de
Blainville," one of the former French Ambassadors.f Sabran
somewhat consoles himself, though his too feeling antennaj once
touched, shrink with all the sensitiveness of a snail's — that this

* 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.

t In tlie first volume of these Commentaries, p. 197.

410 SECRET ANECDOTES OF

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 independent power. He was therefore compelled to pre-
serve his private character. This debarred 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 communicated with the Peers, because
the Lords, whether in or out of their House, always retain the
same rank.

After some time had elapsed, during which our Resident had
been actively employed, having taken more than one journey to
Oxford, reviewed the army of Charles with his own eyes, and
held an interview with the Monarch, the day arrived when
Sabran was to be admitted to an audience with the Parliament.
Previously he had sent a copy of his prepared Harangue to
Count de Brienne, the Secretary of State. A paragraph in it,
induced a remarkable observation — " Your speech to the Parlia-
ment is composed with great discretion. 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 expla-
nation 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 Catholic 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 religion ourselves."

Sabran acknowledges that the offending exhortation 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 Fleming," the Master of Ceremonies. The Parliament
insisted that at his audience the French 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

I

THE YEAKS 1644 AND 1645. 411

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 discussion
might have proved interminable— particularly as Sabran de-
clared 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 etiquette — 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, immediately clapped his beaver on a head whose pulsa-
tions might have required the arm-chair into which the Repre-
sentative of his most Christian Majesty flung himself. We are
apt to ridicule the mysteries of Court-etiquette, but the Ceremo-
nial constitutes conventional signs — an alphabet of honours,
and in that intelligible style, individuals have asserted their
independence, and nations have kept their state. Sabran had
politically disputed the present 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 uniting the separated Parliament with the
Sovereign.*

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, 1 644, he penetrated into the Revolution of that day to
its extent, then but in the birth 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 authority. The Puritans

* A passage in Clarendon shows that the Parliament were yet excessively tena-
cious 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 deUver their
message." The Scottish commissioners were to join the two Houses in the Pamted
Chamher, "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 expect-
ing 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 com-
missioners, and so none were covered. But as soon as the two Lords came thither
they covered, to the trouble of tlie others, but being presently to speak they were
quickly forced from that eye-sore. — Clarendon, v. 28.

412 SECRET ANECDOTES OP

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 Republic 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 ques-
tion, the danger is equally great ; the conqueror will assume all
his advantages."

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
Prance, Cardinal Mazarine, who perhaps did not much care to
disorder his 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 Sabran. One
of these cabinet dispatches was curt. "Pray let me know
exactly what pictures, 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
unavoidable." The Italian-Frenchman had no idea that their
affairs could only be finally terminated by coming to no agree-
ment 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 com-
pletely disclosed. The distracted councils of Charles appear,
when Sabran, spy all over, opened letters confided to him, by
the great stateswoman, the ambiguous Countess of Carlisle, who

THE YEARS 1644 AND 1645. 413

expedites letters from her brother Percy, a devoted Loyalist.
'' 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 opened 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 per-
petually represented to have done. Her opinions, or rather
those of her party, he frequently opposed, and on some trying
occasions 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, HolHs, and
the Earl of Essex, all inclined to the Presbyterian party, and
enjoying, at that moment, the highest reputation with the Com-
mons. They were willing that the French Resident should
mediate between the King and the Parliament.

They assured Sabran that it was a sine qud non condition,
that the alliance with the Scotch should be preserved. Those
of the Higher House, and many of the Lower, who would main-
tain Royalty against those persons who of late were seizing on
the whole authority of Parliament to extinguish Royalty, (the
Independents, 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 consideration, till in some future conference at
more peaceful times Avith both parties — what was deemed most
reasonable might be accepted, and in the meanwhile his Majesty
should declare that he would consent to put aside the bishops,
and reduce the ecclesiastical government to ministers — to an
uniform Puritanic system.

To this Sabran repHed— " 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

414 SECRET ANECDOTES OF

assurance tliat his affairs shall be re-established, and his autho-
rity restored. To me, the matter is wholly indifferent, believing
neither in one religion nor the other ; but it is this very circum-
stance which enables me to think more freely, and less pas-
sionately to distinguish 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 dispatch 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 suspicious, 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 ceremonies, should be brought into one which believes
nothing, the enemy of every thing which reminds one of God
and of sovereignty, and common with that of our Huguenots.
Nevertheless, I shall charge myself with their commissions to
detect their designs, and enter into negotiations if advisable.
They would take the King by surprise, and lose himself, his
children, and his crown. But how can his Majesty, who has
printed a public profession of the Protestant religion, attach
himself to the Puritan ? It would not afford a reasonable
peace."

This conference with these great personages of the English
Presbyterian party docs 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 compliance, by " the promise to take the
subject into consideration." In the future proposed conference

THE YEAES 1644 AND 1645. 415

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 temporary consent "to put
aside the Bishops " and institute the Church government by
"Ministers.'' It is evident that this consent once publicly
granted, " what was most reasonable '' would never afterwards
have admitted of a discussion. Monsieur de Sabran probably
comprehended the whole dark manceuvre. At all events, that
"ter Catholicus,'' thorough- grained as he was, on that day
must have crossed himself all the way on his return home, and
washed his hands of them in an ewer of eau Unite, for surely
on that day Monsieur displayed what his friend the secretary
would deem une politique fine et cachee.

We are informed by Sabran that " In a conversation with the
Chancellor of Scotland and his adjunct, I told him that the
Parliament believed that the Scots, displeased with the refusal
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 descendant. 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 Httle
Duke of Gloucester to authorise this change in the Government.
Eor an unity of persons is necessary for the administration of
affairs, whether it be for the Duke of a EepubHc, or a Ckef-
general, as in the Prince of Orange ; but all this was the visible
ruin of the sovereign authority, for the purpose of their remain-
ing 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 argument 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, dreading a contemptuous refusal after all that
I had done. I had left the King in the best disposition for
peace, but more willing to consent to one than to seek it."

Sabran conveys a notion of the secret motives of the Scotch

416 SECRET ANECDOTES OF

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. Theirs
was a war for the purse.

He writes, "Though the Scotch are considered to be more
reasonable, it is only from an opinion that they would not
consent absolutely to the extinction of Royalty, dreading to
become at last a province of England, but not from any other
cause, for they still persist with the English in the first resolu-
tions, unconvinced that these go entirely to the destruction of
the Royal authority. The truth is, that they are blinded by an
opinion that the heavy subsidies 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
Parliament have since promised for their present movements,
would all be in jeopardy should the Parliament not remain
obstinate, and interest itself to extinguish these debts. It is
on this pretext that the present Parliament has secured the 9
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 general 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 accident, and by the most dishonourable of all pubhc
acts, the Scots posted away with their bag. They had to endure A
the slights of the predominating party,* who treated with con- *
tempt even their idolised Covenant. When the unexpected
incident of the King taking refuge in the Scottish camp occurred,
it altered the face of aff'airs — the game was then in their hands.

• Sabran affords a curious anecdote of the day, which shows how the Scots were
regarded by the Independents. " The Scottish Deputies, sore at the suspicious and
at the affront they liad 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
cei'tain, they had drawn fi'om England great sums, and had always taken too much
care of themselves."

THE YEARS 1644 AND 1645. 417

At Topcliffe 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 Covenanters having sold all they had
which the Enghsh would buy, for themselves for some time had
been of no value, in returning homewards, left a canting recom-
mendation 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 Chancellor of Scot-
land, assign as one reason that his Lordship would not be
oflPended, — " parcequ'il est Ecossois qui vaut autant k 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 abjectness of spirit,
and this gross avarice, even by the most romantic sensibiHty.
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 bestowed 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 recently ventured to
present " A Remonstrance " to the French monarch, for which
four of the members were cast into prison, and the rest sub-
mitted. The Secretary of State, intimately acquainted with the
feelings of the English people, is anxious that the Resident
should 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 mem-
bers. They will not acknowledge the difference of the nature
and quality of the two Parliaments. I tell them that the

VOL. II. ^ ^

I

418 SECRET ANECDOTES OP

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 Parliament 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 observe, that it was
these very French Parliaments which kindled the first sparks
on the altar of civil freedom in France. This company of
Magistrates had often resisted the arbitrary decrees of Richelieu ;
under the administration of Mazarine, they caught a new spirit,
and in their close imitation of the political 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 personal interests of the parties. It
was the comedy of a Revolution, and the only disturbance it
occasioned was, that the Cardinal took a short journey, and one
of the noble Insurrectionists married his niece. All was silence,
pride, and servitude under the spendid reign of Louis the Four-
teenth. The French Parliaments under his successor often
raised their voice, and were sometimes suspended, and some-
times exiled. Humiliated by the Court, they rose in the popular
regard. The eloquence of these advocates of civil freedom was
echoed in the land, and men got by rote whole passages of
their addresses or apologies. The benevolent Louis the Six-
teenth, ever desirous of his people's welfare, reinstated the
Parliaments which his predecessor had interrupted. The grate-
ful people 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 revolutions, have often appealed to those of England; they
have even servilely fallen into our errors. The reaction of
public opinion among the two influential nations in Europe
will inevitably operate on the political state of the Continent ;

THE YEARS 1644 AND 1645. 419

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 chro-
nicle that astonishing event which has never yet happened— of
two great neighbouring nations, without jealousies, without
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 became 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 humble pensioner of the ParHament, was considered 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 pretext to solicit farther charity from the Parliament
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 Palatinate. 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 govern-
ment to a perpetual Parliament. The French Secretary and
the Resident 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 tragical 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, not to detect parallel circumstances which are not so
strange to ourselves. History is a perpetual detection of the
circumscribed sphere of all human actions, and the repetition
of all human events.

We learn here, on unquestionable authority, from the inter-

E E 2

420 SECRET ANECDOTES OF

views 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 communication 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 different object than participating that power
and authority which they had usurped. And this appears by
what Sabran particularly notices. " The Parliament have con-
cealed from the people the King's desire of an accommodation,
and suppress, as well as they can, a knowledge of the royal
letter sent by a herald, passing off the trumpet as coming for
an exchange 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 singular project of "the Self-denying Ordinance" was now
first broached ; that marvellous 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 partiality to their own Members, it should
be unlawful 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 peti-
tioned 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 patriotic offer — What Mouse would bell the Cat ?

" All power," exclaimed the agitated Resident, " is now fast
going to the House of Commons and the people : the design,
no longer admitting of dissimulation, of abolishing the monarch

THE YEAES 1644 AND 1645. 421

and monarchy, tlie peers and their dignity, and thus will they
spread among their neighbours 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 Huguenots of France by
their dangerous neighbour. The Dutch seem to have been only
terrified at the loss of trade, and the indifferent footing they
were on with the Parliament, who treated them with disdain,
suspecting a mediation from the Prince of Orange from his
family alliance with the King.

The irreconcilable breach between the Earl of Manchester and
Cromwell, was the preliminary to the introduction of the famous
self-denying ordinance. The recriminations between these two
great personages openly occurred 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. Crom-
well 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 there-
fore 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 probably preserved an expression of

I

422 SECEET ANECDOTES 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 important, for it is really the point they drive at."
Sabran seems here to have preserved the unguarded 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 discovered that the Earl started at the
seduction, and possibly an involuntary gesture might have
betrayed Manchester to the scrutinising and watchful eye of
him who was apt in reading men^s thoughts, Cromwell raised
his tone to defiance and menace ; and at that moment revealed
an important secret hitherto closely confined to his own party.
Sabran describes the agitation at the moment of this occurrence:
" The Lords, understanding that the other House were discussing
the accusation against Cromwell, 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
cabree) — declaring that the Higher House must not know of any
proceedings of the Lower till they were concluded, 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 CromAvcllitcs (we may
now give the Independents that title), Clarendon observes, put
all obstructions in the way, and rather chose to lose the advan-
tage they had against the Earl, than to have some unavoidable
discoveries they were not yet ready to produce.

Alluding to the self-denying ordinance, Sabran proceeds —
" This is the most cunning artifice the Commons have yet prac-
tised, to fill all offices with popular persons, and manifest to the
Londoners that the war would have finished, and liberty had
been secured, had Manchester fought. In this way this House
gets credit with the people, and, by the power which it confers

THE YEARS 1644 AND 1645. 423

on them, will have the entire command of all offices civil and
military/' Sabran had not penetrated into the deeper designs
of new-modelHng the army with Cromwellites. He observes,
however, that they have already begun a new Government, by
calling themselves "The States'' (Les Etats). In the hurried
change through the whole fabric of the Constitution, many
absurd proceedings occurred which at the instant they were not
aware of. Among these was this new title to the English
Government. A long debate ensued when they sent out the
fleet, to decide what it should be called, and at last resolved on
"The States' 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 Cromwell
that he often turned off the most solemn matters with a jocular
air, as he did at the moment 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 oppression of the men who had now the
power in their own hands, having gained over the people to their
side by their pretended disinterestedness, that they conceal their
secret designs, and every day grow more violent and 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 observation : " Un secours
d/Etrangers seroit incompatible avec les Anglois, et ne pent etre
propre que pour conquerir cet Etat, a quoy une Croisade seroit
mieux employee qu^en Barbarie, tant je prevois extremes leurs
fins." The embarrassments 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 imagined
that his " Crusade " was ever to be conducted into his own
capital.

The Independents surely meditated to open their rule by a
reign of terror. Suddenly we see sanguinary executions fast

424 THE TWO FRENCH RESIDENTS.

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, petitioning to be beheaded, and was, with an Irish
gentleman, hanged at Tyburn. Sir Alexander Carew, who had
remarkably expressed himself against the Earl of Strafford, now
himself felt the sharpness of that axe for which he had so vehe-
mently called. The two Hothams, father and son, though
opposed to each other, expiated their political tergiversations.
The venerable 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 donner curee aux
Ecossois que I'on a aujourd'hui condamne k 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 Levellers, 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 representa-
tives, servants only were excepted.* There are crimes and follies
which we vainly flatter ourselves can never be repeated.

CHAPTER XXX.

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 diametri-
cally the reverse of the first. The ineffective system of his
predecessor having suffered the disorder to increase, the other
earnestly proceeds with his own ; and though neither save the
patient, who is dissolving in his own weakness, his intractable

♦ 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. 425

state, wliicli may evince tlie despair, does not necessarily prove
the unskilfulness of his physicians.

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

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 sin-
gular obscurity for a public Minister, was not however occasioned
by any torpid listlessness in the Envoy himself, nor from any
deficient sympathy 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 sub-
dolous in intrigues, and on an intimate footing with the leading
personages of the day. We must look for some cause which
may satisfactorily account 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 ingrateful to its neighbours on all sides, who were willing
to see it weakened and chastised by its own strokes." I shall
confirm this observation by a manuscript 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. ran DOMVILLE to lord CONWAY.

»«VjlIlis, 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. AU sides seem to be well pleased in our mis-
fortunes; those that sit at the helm, add boldness to their

I

426 THE TWO FRENCH RESIDENTS.

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 interests seem to borrow their support and hope.
Neither is France free from all inward troubles ; 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 Eepublican
Governments. Man fiies to the extremes of the circumference
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-partnership in European power, with which the wily
Cardinal had tempted the English monarch, had vindictively
proceeded, with the hoarded hatreds of many years. His
intrigues had blown into a flame the embers of insurrection in
Scotland, and he had even thrown off* the mask, when the
French Ambassador kept up no unfriendly intercourse with the
English Parliament. Clarendon denounces "the Great Car-
dinal " 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 historian did not know that
this profound Statesman 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.

THE TWO FRENCH RESIDENTS. 427

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 Claren-
don, " was a man rather of different than contrary parts from
his predecessor ; and fitter to build upon the foundations which
he had laid, than to have laid those foundations, and to culti-
vate by artifice, dexterity, and dissimulation, in which his nature
and parts excelled, what the other had begun with great resolu-
tion and vigour, and even gone through with invincible constancy
and courage."

The Italian epicurean, not instigated by the passions of the
native Frenchman, bore no personal 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 England 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 Clarendon, " did not yet think the King's con-
dition low enough, and rather desired by administering little
and ordinary supplies, to enable him to continue the struggle,
than to see him victorious over his enemies."

The whole of "the negotiations " or the dispatches of Sabran
confirm this observation, as likewise his first cautious instruc-
tions, which were to serve the Envoy as the basis of his negotia-
tions. 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 compromise
himself in his intercourse with the Parliament lest the King
might find occasion to 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 poUtics.
It happened, however, that Sabran became so frequently alarmed,
that he felt his situation desperately irksome, and the human
puppet at times, in the exercise of his faculties, seemed ready
to burst his secret pulleys.

428 THE TWO FRENCH RESIDENTS.

When Sabran Avas told that a moderate supply in money
from France would be of essential service to the King, both for
his own subsistence and to enable him to open the campaign
with an army of sufficient force to approach 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 haA^ing
expressed his satisfaction on the an'ival of the Queen in France
for the honours she had received, which had made a deep
impression on the minds of the Londoners, suggested that the
fear of France might bring the Parliament to reasonable con-
ditions, and should France propose such, provided she was
cautious not to incur a suspicion that she acted from any sinister
motive, it would be the only means to terminate his aflPairs.
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
improved in their confidence. He was actually worn out by
his inefficient neutrality, and assisting neither, he left them to
themselves, and they apparently left the French Resident to his
own contemplations. This Envoy was appointed to do nothing,
and after many hard trials with both parties, succeeded in that
difficult employment.

When the fate of Charles, after the disastrous battle of
Naseby, seemed fast approaching on him, and the Parliament
assumed " the supreme dominion," Mazarine started from his
slumbers of neutrality, more alarmed at the appearance of a
monstrous novel Commonwealth 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 Montreuil was sent, as Clarendon observes, "with

THE TWO FRENCH RESIDENTS. 429

some formal address to the Parliament, but intentionally 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 himself. The Queen
Regent of France, or Mazarine, had invested the new Envoy
with ample authority to treat with the Scots, and Henrietta
had solemnly impressed on Charles the decision of France to
serve him.

The new Envoy proceeded without dissimulation 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 critical 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 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 overcome, since reli-
gion itself, as well as monarchy, according to the notions and
the feelings of Charles, were to form the dark and self-sacrifice.
The Queen had signed a sort of engagement with a subtile
Scotch agent. Sir Robert Murray, that the King should con-
sent 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-government, was a change perfectly
indiff'erent 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 Queen, observed
to Montreuil that it was void, for " the Queen, his dear consort,
in the particular of the Church was a little mistaken, by her
not so full knowledge of the constitution of the English govern-

430 THE TWO FRENCH RESIDENTS.

ment/' He freely consented to allow the Presbyterial govern-
ment 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 favour of the Scots, he fairly concludes,
" This time your Majesty will think me quite Scoticised, but I
believe you will do me the honour not to think ill of me for
representing affairs without any disguise, which ,ve do only to
intelligent monarchs :" {Atuv Rois Men sqavants.) On another
occasion this honest negotiator 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 preserving their lives,
their property, and their liberty, all which they would lose
whenever they abandoned your Majesty." To the frank nego-
tiator Charles replied as frankly. His decision was invariable,
but with a gracefulness not always accompanying his clear and
business-like style, he adds, " To answer your freedom 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.

Montreuil, with a generous zeal to accomplish this perplexed
negotiation, finding the Scots Commissioners at London and

THE TWO FEENCH RESIDENTS. 431

the King alike unalterable, determined on journeying himself
to the Scottish army at Newark, taking the King at Oxford in
his way. He resolved to try whether the heads of the ai-my
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 accom-
modate the more difficult points. The Scots were gratified 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 proposed sending a body of cavalry
to Harborough, a place which the King could safely reach, and
when he met those troops, as it were accidentally, he shotdd
declare that he was proceeding to Scotland, and command their
attendance. By this subterfuge the Scots had warily planned
to avoid the appearance of having invited the King, their object
being to show that the King had voluntarily taken refuge with
their army.

On April the 1st, Montreuil, to give assurance to the King,
drew up an Engagement expressive of their earnest desire to
receive their natural Sovereign, and to offer him every personal
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 agree-
ment, 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 Eugagement, pleading the critical position in
which their friends stood with the powerful Independents at
London, yet they pledge their oaths with Montreuil, 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.

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

432 THE TWO FRENCH RESIDENTS.

The King sent for Dr. Hudson, whom he called his "plain-
dealing Chaplain." This Dr. Hudson was one of those rare
energetic characters, who seem born to wrestle 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
distinguished 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 ancestors, more particu-
larly when a secret journey was to be contrived.

The King desired Dr. Hudson to prepare for a journey, with-
out, 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 already a rumour afloat at Oxford.

On April 8th, Dr. Hudson posted to Harborough, and there
neither found Montreuil nor the Scottish cavalry. He pushed
on to Southwell, where Montreuil lodged, who appeared dis-
concerted at his appearance, perplexed in his opinions, and very
ill-pleased with the Scots. On the 10th of April, Hudson re-
turned to the King, with a very discouraging prospect, and
gloomily presaged that the Scots were designing to make a bar-
gain with the King's person.*

Clarendon will now supply that part of the narrative which
the noble writer drew from the actual correspondence of Mon-
treuil with the King and Secretary Nicholas.f " Many days
had not passed after the sending that express" (the express

* Manuscript account of the King's escape, by Dr. Stukeley. — Cole's MSS. xiv.
Though Harborough was only a distance 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.

THE TWO FRENCH RESIDENTS. 433

which carried the Engagement written by Montreuil and assented
to by the Scots) "when he found such chagrin* and tergiver-
sation 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 prisoner, and though he escaped and preserved his letter,
he could not proceed in his journay." 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 remonstrated with these
equivocating Scots. He insisted that they were insulting the
honour of his own Sovereign by their perpetual prevarications,
since France stood forth to guarantee 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 somewhat 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 baffled by these poli-
tical jugglers, subsides into prudential counsels and chilHng
warnings. He complains that the Scots contrive every obstacle
to prevent him from positively advising the King not to quit
Oxford, at the same time that they proceeded irresolutely, as if

* Cole, who in his Manuscript has quoted this passage from Clarendon, writes
« Chicane," so it ought to be read in Clarendon instead of « Ckagrine." As Cole was
a mere matter-of-fact man, one would suppose that he did not venture 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 Claren-
don, where the Rev. Dr. Bandinel has closely watched the autograph of Clarendon
himself, even to a syllable ; but the conjecture of Cole has only its own merit, .being
unwarranted by the original Manuscript.

VOL. II. ^ ^

434 THE TWO FRENCn RESIDENTS.

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 volun-
tarily to them, and to conceal any advances on their part. They
avoided doing any act on their side, or to venture their signature
to any treaty which might implicate them with their pay-masters,
the English House of Commons, 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 conditions, 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 certainly
the enterprise is full of danger I " And far more than the
honest negotiator ever imagined !

We shall see that shortly after the arrival of Charles, Mon-
treuil 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 against their perfidy, but he
could not conceal 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 Mazarine into one of those
critical dilemmas from which a sole Minister, as was the Cardinal
in France, only extricates liimself by the sacrifice of a victim.
" No unusual hard-hcartedness in such chief Ministers," says
Clarendon. Had Montreuil been permitted to publish the
history of this important transaction, he had probably cleared
himself of the imputations cast on his disastrous negotiation ;
his integrity would not have been suspected for his too sanguine

THE TWO FRENCH RESIDENTS. 485

reliance on his first interviews with the Scottish officers, nor on
the anomalous document where his own signature was to testify
for others what they themselves refused to attest.

In this secret mission the Cardinal at first appears to have been
prevailed on by the solicitations of the two Queens to mediate
between Charles and the Scots. The project harmonised with
the State-policy, but since the negotiation had concluded with a
disaster, by placing the King in the imprisonment of a 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 negotiator.
Desirous of silently wiping off the indignity 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 MontreuiFs '^ plain unvarnished tale"
should irritate the Scottish chiefs by its exposition, the Minister
condemned the luckless 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 Secretaryship 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 corre-
spondent, and their secret counsellor. When these Princes
obtained their liberty, his death prevented the recompense of his
able services ; but as this happened five years after Montreuil's
unlucky mission to the Scots, it seems more probable that instead
of " dying of grief of mind " from that incident, the discarded
Envoy experienced 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 Parlia-
ment. 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

F F 2

436 FLIGHT FROM OXFORD

Clarendon's letters : " I am glad the French Ambassador hath
disgusted the King, if he be enough disgusted. The truth is,
the cheats and the villany 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, however reprobated by Clarendon,
has not been peculiar 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 pro-
portion to the weakness of their neighbours.

CHAPTER XXXI.

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 hastening on him.

Fairfax and the other Parliamentary Generals were gradually
drawing around their armies, 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 attracted 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 advisers at Paris to accept them, they strained
his religious conscience on the rack, and all seemed to be

d

TO THE SCOTTISH CAMP. 437

lost, but the feeble Honour, whicli he would not yield but
with his life.

There was no wisdom amidst distracted counsels, 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
private 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 off'ered to two eminent com-
manders, 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. Thrice
had he solicited a personal conference at Westminster, but the
Parhament, who were 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
unexpectedly appear at London. Perhaps not without some
reasonable hopes, Charles imagined 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 this conflict of

* 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 ordmance
to imprison the sovereign should he be found within their limits.

+ I say " reasonable hopes," for May, the parliamentary historian, furnished a
curious statement of public opinion in the capital about this time, which evidently
marks its vacillation, and the increasing influence of the royal « Malignants " over
their conquerors. Alluding to the dissensions between the Presbyterians and the
Independents, the historian tells us, "The Malignants were ready to join with either
side, that they might ruin both. For they themselves, though disanned, were now

438 FLIGHT FROM OXFORD

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

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 super-
stition of his soul, that Charles entertained some wayward fancy
that should he' ever re-possess his throne, he would perform a
public penance for the sin, as it seemed to hira, which lay heavy
on his soul, — the death-warrant of his great Minister. At this
moment he wrote 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 thirteen years, by Archbishop
Sheldon.t

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 projects of
the moment, his confidant, Ashburnham, was attempting to
treat with the Independents, through the medium of the younger

become the greatest number, especially by the inconstancy of many men, eitlier
upon particular grievances or an account of the burden of taxations. A great
number of the citizens of London, not of the meanest, had revolted from their
former principles, insomuch that the inhabitants of that city, all the King's garri-
sons having been by Fairfax's bloodless victories emptied into it, came to be in such
a condition of sti'ength, 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-morx'ow 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.

t A transcript, attested by several eminent persons, was formerly among the
collection of autographs of the late Mr. Upcott.

i

TO THE SCOTTISH CAMP. 439

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 I — " Be very
confident that all things shall be performed according to my
promise. By all that is good I conjure you to dispatch 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 other considerations aside, and fulfil my desires.
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 necessitated 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 suflfer-
ings of the people so great, that they are no longer to be
supported. This is reason; His not to cast a bone among
you ! " t

Even at this moment, so humiliated in his own regard, so
humble in his supplication, and anticipating the calamity pre-
paring 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 commonly more oppressive than their
real presence, perhaps in no period of his life was he more justly
the subject of compassion ; '' and he adds, with great truth of

* Dr. Lingard affords us an ingenious conjecture on this extraordinary corre-
spondence with this popular leader, who had evidently listened to the King, and
indulged the intercourse 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.
t Clarendon State Papers, ii. S2C.

440 FLIGHT FROM OXFORD

discrimination, " His vigour of mind, which though, it some-
times failed him in acting, never deserted him in his sufferings,
was what alone supported him."

The truth of this statement is farther displayed 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 help-
less monarch to exemplify his favourite motto, which he frequently
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 gentleman may own, and that the Rebels may
acknowledge me King ; being not without hope that I shall be
able so to draw either the Presbyterians or Independents to side
with me for 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 Marchy 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 apo-
thegm next his heart j 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 Ashburnhara, he was irresolute where to direct
his flight. Whether to venture on to London and seek a per-
sonal 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

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

TO THE SCOTTISH CAMP. 441

important movements were to depend on any intelligence which
he might procure on the road !

Dr. Hudson had an old pass for a captain, who was to go to
London about his composition. In a scarlet cloak the Doctor
represented the military bearer. At midnight the King came
with the Duke of Richmond to Ashburnham^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 London 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
answer. One of Ireton's men joined them on their way to
Slough, and observing the Doctor, or the Captain, repeatedly
give money to 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 Parhament betrayed their
alarm by publishing an ordinance, 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 necessities of a King
are not to be regarded as of more consideration, nor should

* Whitelocke, 208.

442 PLIGHT FROM OXFORD

more excite our sympathy than those of " a peasant," as one
has recently expressed it,* or of any otlier individual, seem to
be little conversant with human 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 contemplated 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 sym-
pathy 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 musings of Charles.
Should he venture to hasten to those who had already pro-
nounced his fate ? Could the Sovereign in his person restore
peace to his people, whom four long years of devastating civil
war had afflicted with all its miseries ? The idea was glorious,
the emotion was sublime ! 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 concihated. In agony the
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 enemies. They frequently met with
soldiers, whose inquiries as yet were satisfied with a few shillings
thrown to them ; but trivial incidents will alarm the fugitive.
Once they were hard pursued by a drunken squire galloping
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

• Mr. John Towill Rutt, in his notes on Burton's Parliamentary Diary, ii. 320, to
whom I would do ample justice as a most intelligent annotator. His observation
applies to the mv/rder of Charles, which makes it the more cruel, unphilosophical,
and mijust.

TO THE SCOTTISH CAMP. 4,43

scissors of Asliburnham, 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 confirmed their former verbal agreement
to the full, though they still refused to subscribe any paper.
The Doctor, who had all along suspected the intentions of the
Scots, since their former failure of sending the promised cavalry
to Harborough, now offered, with his accustomed courage, to go
himself to London and ascertain if the King would be honour-
ably 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 himself 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 assurances, 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 afi^air was
conducted with such caution and secrecy by the commissioners
at the Scotch quarter, who had held an intercourse with Mon-
treuil, that it appeared uncertain whether the Scots under
General Leven were at all co-partners with their commissioners.
The cards were shuffled, and they were now free to play their
game to perfection. It was a see-saw between the Scotch com-
missioners at London, who had first settled the treaty, and the
Scotch commissioners at the army, verbally confirming what
Montreuil required 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

444 FLIGHT PROM OXFORD TO THE SCOTTISH CAMP.

document, as if in a transaction of this vital nature the parties
had not freely communicated. When Charles discovered 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 ?" Montreuil
justified what he had so often informed the King, from them-
selves, to their faces ; they could not deny these charges, but
with ingenious 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 settle a peace;" which peace, the Earl of
Lothian informed his Majesty, was to accept their Covenant,
and subscribe whatever had been required ! * On the subse-
quent 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 sundiy houses. And we
believe your lordships 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 commissioners ?
— " We conceived it not fit to inquire into the causes that per-
suaded him to come hither, but to endeavour that his being
here might be improved to the best advantage for promoting the
work of uniformity, for setthng religion and righteousness." t

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

From the recently published Narrative of Ashburnham, I am
inclined to conclude, that this favourite companion of Charles
delivered what was not distant from the truth, when he observed,
" 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 Parliament." X

* Ashburnham's Narrative, 76. + Rushworth, vi. 260.

:J: Ashburnham's Narrative, 87.

THE KING IN THE PRESBYTERIAN CAMP. 445

CHAPTER XXXII.

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 Enghsh Par-
Hament. The minority in the Commons was now becoming the
more powerful part. They had got the helm of the vessel into
their hands, which, as was observed, 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 subtlety. It is equally curious and instruc-
tive, 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 alluding to
the same circumstance. Ludlow, the honest Republican General,
confirms Whitelocke'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 Commonwealth-men. Ludlow
writes, "I observed that another party was not idle." This
appeared in a remarkable conversation in which Cromwell tam-
pered with Ludlow, clearly showing that even at this period, in
1646, that extraordinary man was contemplating the annihila-
tion of a Parliament, and the erection, doubtless, of himself as
a Chief, under 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 they had dismissed their friends
the Scots out of the kingdom." f

* Ludlow's Memoirs, i. 1 60. Cromwell, with dramatic art, first touched the filial
nerve of Ludlow by an allusion to his late father, a stem 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. t Clarendon, v. 421 .

446 THE KING IN THE PRESBYTERIAN CAXri'.

The Army-party, that is, tlie 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 person of
the King, resolving farther that the King should be conducted
to the Castle of Warwick.*'' 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,
closely 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 refractory Allies.

It was only a fortnight after the King's arrival in the Scottish
camp in May, that the Parliament voted that " This kingdom
had no farther need of the ai'my 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
Scotland." 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." t

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 quar-
ters, 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 magna-
nimous profession of their indifference to " want of pay," now
sent in a demand for five hundred thousand pounds.

Certainly in the lexicon of political morality, the term grati-
tude will not be found. The instant an ally becomes useless

* Ludlow's Memoirs, i. 152. f Whitelocke, 21 1 — 21.0.

I

THE KING IN THE PRESBYTERIAN CAMP. m

we discover that he is onerous. We now view the Parliament
prescribing their commands, and not soliciting the aid of " their
brethren" of Scotland, formerly their "dear brethren." Their
position had altered. The English Parliament had extinguished
the forces of Charles, who now, by his own hand, had volun-
tarily 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
Authority with Power. The Scots, on the contrary, who had
formerly made their Paymasters court them, now awed by the
armies of England, 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
serious, 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 the Scots to come to this offer,"
— that is, of delivering up all their garrisons in England on the
auditing and paying their arrears. But they dealt in rounder
suras 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 pledge 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 person 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 reso-
lute 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 Commissioners 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

448 THE KING IN THE PRESBYTERIAN CAMP.

faction carried an amendment to strike out the three last words !
The exalted characters which Parliament 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 con-
sciences, 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 sufficiently explicit.*

On the 16th of January, 1647, it was debated in the Scottish
Parliament, what should 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.f On this occasion 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. J They witnessed
the open defection, 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 oflf at the
Market-Cross of Edinburgh than give my consent 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

♦ 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, journalised his intelligence the day the circumstance
occvirred, 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 declai-ed
their decision, or Charles had not yet heard of it.

+ Memoirs of the Hamiltons, 311. Whitelocke, 240.
X Memoii*8 of the Hamiltons, 307.

THE KING IN THE PRESBYTERIAN CAMP. 449

on which the Parliament had met was called " the black Satur-
day." The Hamiltons, who kept up an active correspondence
with the 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 Hamil-
tons seem to have had a juster conception 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 infamy of this extraordinary trans-
action, had afterwards absolutely voted for the protection and
liberty of the King ; but the General Assembly 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. Andrew'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 resolu-
tion had been taken before the fast and the sermons : it was, as
usual, a mockery of Heaven to give a rehgious solemnity to a
predetermined design. The Parhament, in decency, were now
compelled 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 discovered, that " should they receive his Majesty, it would
be contrary to their engagements with England." A Scotch-
man, slave at once to his worldly interest and his Israelitish
Covenant, 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 smce
God had hardened the King's heart not to serve him according

VOL. II. » ^

■

450 THE KING IN THE PRESBYTERIAN CAMP.

to the Covenant, this Pharaoh himself ought no longer to be
served."*

On the 25th of January the Scottish declaration arrived at
London, which communicated to both Houses that "as the King
has often declared his desires to be near his Parliament of Eng-
land, they had fixed on Holmby to conclude 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 Acquittances." 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. Sequestrations, and compoundings for the
Estates of that half of the Nation, the Delinquents.

The Parliament of Scotland, on the due 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 Martin objected to the stipulation for " the
safety of the person of the King," for that " the King had broken
the peace, and why should the Parliament be bound for his
safety ? " At that moment was the future Regicide uneasy lest
the treaty with the Scots should be inviolable ?

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

THE KING IN THE PRESBYTERIAN CAMP. 451

This sale and purchase of Royalty seems not to have surprised
Charles, who, from the day he arrived at the Scottish Camp,
discovered that he was in the condition of a prisoner, accompa-
nying 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 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 communication. 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 appre-
hending that he could not pass undiscovered through all the
Guards, with his accustomed romantic feeling, dreaded the
disgrace 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 military career had closed, the
arena of political intrigue was narrowed, and the single object
of discussion was the abrogation of the Liturgy and the Episco-
pacy, and the establishment, on their ruins, of the Covenant,
and the Presbytery in England.

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 Presbyterian,
by the very same principle had she lost all right to obtmde her
Presbytery on an Episcopal nation. It was evidently an act of
tyrannical 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 EngUsh
monarch had to reject this Scottish yoke.

Unhappily with Charles the First, these waters of bitterness

* Memoirs of the Hamiltons, 307.

G G 2

452 THE KING IN THE PRESBYTERIAN CAMP.

welled from two distinct sources. The one comprised his po-
litical independence, for he would not be a mere titular King,
and the other involved his religious conscience, for Episcopacy
with him, as much as Presbytery with the Covenanters, was a
Divine Institution. 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 the various Ambassadors and the
Residents of France, were incessantly pressing on Charles the
wisdom of yielding up Episcopacy. The Parisian party dis-
patched 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."
Courteous as was Charles to poets, the monarch was serious and
severe before the bard, who, quitting his rhymes, mingled theology
with diplomacy. — " To part with the Church," observed the wit,
" was the advice of all his friends." — " What friends ? " asked
the King. — " The Lord Jermjm." — " 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 never more to presume to
come into his presence.*

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

Clarendon, v. 412.

rf

THE KING IN THE PEESBYTERIAN CAMP. 453

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 philosopher. These
topics are now unworthy to occupy a philosophical mind, and
have been long consigned to the clashings of obscure Sectarians.
But what we may admire is the magnanimity of Charles, if not
the generous temper, in never forsaking for his own ease, even
for his crown, the declining and ancient religious institution of
his people. Now, a captive in the Presbyterian camp, in his
solitary distresses he poured forth an energetic remonstrance
to the Parisian party, and still resisted that unconditional sub-
mission which two deputations from the Parliament had pre-
scribed to a vanquished monarch. In this agony of his spirit,
to work on it more deeply, it had been insinuated 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 energy, 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 wilfulness, 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 courage 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 Henrietta) and Cardinal, I should
blame them if they did not give out sentence against me, consi-
dering the false information of those who believe themselves to
be, but are not, true English Protestants ; nor do understand
the inseparable mischiefs which the Presbyterian doctrine brings
along with it to a kingdom. (He alludes to their anti-monarchical
principles.) 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 expression. In another way I have

454 THE KING IN THE PRESBYTERIAN CAMP.

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 Presby-
terian, to content them in any thing not against his con science, t
The Scots sent to Charles their veteran polemic, Alexander
Henderson. That famous disputation, which, however, was car-
ried on by an exchange of papers, opened at the close of May,
and was not terminated in the midst of July, for labouring on a
fresh reply to the last received from the 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 con-
vinced and converted, that he had a very deep sense of the mis-
chief 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 convinced the other. When great Polemics happen
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 " pro-
bably of the opponent and the respondent, for " the travel "
from London to Newcastle and thence to Edinburgh was much
shorter. All the heat and weariness of an interminable dispu-
tation about the primitive origin of Bishops or of Presbyters,
carried on through a sultry season, might in its exacerbation
end in a tympany with a grey-haired Polemic.

The King and his Scots parted from one another with regret.
Charles received the English Commissioners with cheerfulness.

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

THE KING IN THE PEESBYTERIAN CAMP. 455

They kissed hands, and the King in good humour raUied the
Earl of Pembroke at his advanced age for performing " a winterly-
journey with such youthful companions." The Commissioners
waited on the King with the accustomed state. The Presby-
terian 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 imprisonment of Warwick Castle, as the
Independents had at first proposed. The people flocked wher-
ever 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 acclamations, 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 Northamptonshire, 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 countenances awaiting to
receive their sovereign, returning after several years of such
well-known affliction. The presence of this sovereign usually
excited the loyalty of the people.f Charles did not appear to
be less a 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 flattering
than the reality !

* It was one of the miserable effects of the Civil War, that this ancient mansion at
Holmby, as well as others at Oatlands, 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 emotion. 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, concluded he must "certainly bo
in the right, though he was guUty of the blood of many thousands." Chai-les is thus
reproached as a sanguinary man, which assuredly he never was ; nor is it just to
charge the 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 misenes
more than any individual in his dominions.

456 THE ARMY.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

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 recreations. 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 conversation in his
walks, accompanied by a single companion. The commissioners
never obtruding themselves in their surveillance ^ still treated
their captive as their King.

The monarch, whose retired character had formerly commu-
nicated 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 ! "

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 melted away the Republican fierce-
ness of a Commonwealth-man by one of the smallest gifts which
the magical hand of royalty ever converted 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 history. " Col. Brown the Woodmonger, being nominated to be a com-
missioner, who sat behind me in the House, assured me that he would ever be true
to us. And truly I then believed him, having mot 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 tlie wretched man, and cast some
slight favoui-s 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 procured him a Baronetcy at the
Restoration. It was by his personal intercoui'se with the monarch, that "the
Woodmonger's " attachment rose, from his admiration of the true dignity and tlie
magnanimous fortitude of the man : a circumstance which frequently occurred in
the many years of the adversities of this King.

THE ARMY.

457

Amidst this apparent calm, during a period of about four
months, the rigour of the imprisonment was, however, felt ; his
confidential friends were dismissed, and his chaplains denied
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 pressing to its birth of time, and
Charles was only allowed his present tranquillity till the struggle
of two gigantic parties had decided whose prisoner the King
was.

It will be sufficient here to remind the reader, that the Par-
liament for some time past had quailed under " the Egyptian
slavery,'^ as Denzil HoUes calls it, of the Army. The Army,
indeed, applied the identical expression to the Parliament.
The Presbyterian faction consisted in great part of persons who
had grown rich on the spoils of the country. They had shown
themselves but indiscreet managers of the heavy assessments,
and other sources of revenue drawn from the public purse.
Cromwell 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 complaint, 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 Independents ; 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 comparison. The Independents monopolised all the
great offices, divided the taxes, and gave daily to one another for pretended services,
arrears, and losses, gi^eat sums of money. Some secret anecdotes of these spolia-
tions are recorded by Clement Walker. Holies gives full rein to his lively resent-
ment. « They charge us with having a great power upon tlie treasure of the
kingdom, disposing of the public money, enriching 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 m money matters, well licking
their fingers, for they know they shared and divided among themselves aU the fat of

458 THE ARMY.

The Army originally raised for the preservation of the Parlia-
ment, having accomplished that design, was now without an
object. Among other improvident acts of the Parliament,
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 quarters. 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 j 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 farther
excuse for the maintenance of this onerous body. And for a
prelude, a plea, and an expedient, they urged the immediate
necessity of dispatching troops to Ireland, thus to scatter, 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 indefatigable 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 what-
ever, the future Protector, as his ambition opened on him, raced
with whatever principle or whatever party was prevalent at the

the land, the treasure, the offices, the King's revenue, the revenue of the Church, the
estates of so great a part of the nobihty and gentry, whom they had made delinquents.
And we, not one of us, had anything to do in all this ! " Was this tone either that
of self-congratulation or self-regi'et ?

* Mrs. Macaulay, the vehement advocate for the Independents or the Levellers,
states the case. " They were to be transported to the wasted inhospitable country
of Ireland, where their masters, the Parliament, might starve or relieve them at
pleasure." — iv. 204.

THE ARMY. 459

moment, at once in the House a Presbyterian, in the Army an
Independent, and with the King a Royalist. It was observed
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-modeUing the Army,
called the Self-denying Ordinance, had already preceded this
last master-stroke, and had answered a former design ; it was a
congenial invention. 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 furnished two representatives drawn
from the common soldiery. Ex fcece popuU, says Holies. The
common soldier, however, assumed a new rank, for he would
no longer be called "common" but " private soldier.'^ * These
representatives called Adjutators, as Ludlow names them, from
their conduct became soon known by the more expressive
variation of Agitators, f I 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 formida-
ble body. This person, from a humble station, became Captain
Berry, and at length rose to be one of the Lords of the Pro-
tector, though to finish his story at once, at the Restoration
he dropped back into his original obscurity, and earned his

* This assumption of individual independence in opposition to their public en-
gagements is noticed by Ludlow. « The chief officers pretended to keep tlie pi'ivaU
soldiers,ioT they would no longer be called common soldiers."— 1 166. 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.

t Mr. Godwin says, « their office being to aid the regular CouncU of War, or to
agitate such questions as the interest of the army required to have considered."
This explanation 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, « Uie
privates," is pretty obvious. Lord Chesterfield justly observed that "the Army
which fought for the Nation under Charles the First, fought agamst it for
Cromwell."

460 THE ARMY.

livelihood as a gardener. This Berry was a crony of Cromwell,
and the actual President of the Agitators.*

Here then was a Kingdom within a Kingdom, where one
could not subsist with the other. This anomalous establish-
ment astonished their adversaries; it had risen like a sudden
exhalation. The soldiers at a distance from the capital appeared
as their own workmen, while their absent masters in Parliament
seemed engaged in opposition to their scheme. 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 unsuspected. On one
occasion, he hastened down to the Army and quieted the turbu-
lent, and on his return it was declared that this Saviour of his
country merited the public honour of a statue. StiU 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 Parliament, and issuing their own warrants. The
observation of Hume is remarkable — "The Army in their

' * 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 influ-
ence over the agitators. His eiToneous notion is founded on their mutiny, which
Cromwell quelled by courageously seizing on some, and shooting another at the head
of the regiment. Our compiler even asserts the improbability of Cromwell's sup-
posed 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 Sti'affbrd
that manuscript found in the King's cabinet, entitled « Propositions for bridling-in
Parliament, &c,," from the Earl's name being appended to it in Ludlow's Appendix.
On such spurious evidence he condemns Strafford to the block ! He ought to have
known that it was a very unfair mse of the party. I have given the history of this
manuscript, which made such a noise at the time, in Vol. I.

THE ARMY. 461

usurpations on the Parliament copied exactly the model which
the Parliament 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 repeated coups d'etat ; some of the
greatest which History records, with some minor ones, turning
on the same principle. Pamiliar 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 employed this new-fashioned phraseology,
declaring 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/' f

* The Parliament had long been worried, probably from not regulating the pay of
their array, 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 pro-
duce of the sale of the Bishops' lands." Still the army, without discipUne, would
live « at free quarters," 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.

t 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 Histo^ of
England that omits the term altogether, is wanting in the complete history. That
part of the House which remained, consisting of about fifty members, was also as
offensively called "The Rump," and by its sanguinary proscriptions received an

4&Z THE AKMY.

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 con-
trived 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 stratagem 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 StraflPord and
Laud, to get rid at once of these eleven Straflfords and Lauds I
The third " Purge " was that of Colonel Pride, a low and mili-
tary bravo, who did not know the members personally 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, and
pointed out the marked members as they entered the House.*

epithet which rendered it disgustful to the imagination. The taste of our ancestors
was gross to us, but very strong to them. An historian must sometimes be sus-
ceptible of considerable bad taste, if he would reflect in his pages an image of the
age and the persons he \vrites about.

* 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 nicknamed
** 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
gi'ant of the Queen's Manor-house, park, and lands at Holmby, and immediately cut
down the woods ; he had besides an Abbey, with 3000Z. 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 con-
cerned 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 Crom-
well 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.

THE ARMY. 463

The fourth memorable '' purgation " was, when at a single stroke
Cromwell seized on the whole House of ComraonSj 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, resolved to preserve their authority,
found themselves defenceless. They acted precisely as the King
had acted. They adopted strong measures in their convulsive
debility. To the eternal disgrace of Parliaments, the Lords and
Commons were compelled to expunge the declaration entered on
their journals that the petition of the Army was seditious.f 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 soldiery. 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 Pres-
byterian 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 tyrannies," adds
Mrs. Macaulay, " had provoked, passed a second Self-denying

Cromwell, who had a rendezvous of his regiment at Hyde Park, resolved to put this
scheme in execution, had his party in the House not carried their point, on the
foUowmg 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 demand 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 openmg para-
graphs of every protocol by the Secretary of State.

t Whitelocke, 253, who adds, " Here the Parliament began to surrender them-
selves and their power into the hands of their own army."

464 THE ARMY.

Ordinance, that no member should receive any profit of any
office ; that all they received should be repaid, for the 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
seduced, 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 Presby-
terian, 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 Presbyterian senate of
Hannibal ad portas. And their chaplain, Marshall, now dashed
them, as he fearfully told of " the children of Anak," armed
giants. J

While these affairs were in progress, Cromwell 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 Presbyterian Parliament with
placing the sovereign under undue restraint, depriving him of all
communication with his friends, while the intolerant faction was
forcing the royal conscience. All these pleas found a ready
response in the breast of the King.

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

X Holies' Memoirs, 105. His warm language is ingenuous. " Instead of a gene-
rous 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 suflFer Mr. Crom-
well 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 petition, and cry Peccavimm, to save us a
whipping ; but all would not do ! "

THE ARMY. 465

Charles entered Holmby House in February, and in April, an
officer in the name of the Army conveyed a petition to the King,
to desire him to be guarded by them at the head of the Army,
"who would restore him to his honour, crown, and dignity."
Charles in return expressed his aversion " to engage his poor
people in another war," but assured them that whenever re-
stored to his throne he would " auspiciously look on their loyal
intentions." * The intercourse thus opened paved the way for
that bold enterprise which occurred on the 4th of June. The
petition had served to inspire the King with some confidence
in the army-leaders, who well knew Charleses dislike of the
Presbyterian party.

One afternoon, as the King was at bowls on the green of
Althorpe, the Commissioners who accompanied him were sur-
prised at the appearance of an unknown soldier wearing the
uniform 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 encourage 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 king-
dom." He spoke with a tone of authority which startled the
Colonel, and he inveighed 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 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 circulated and an alarm spread at this
ominous personage, — the King suddenly quitted his bowls, —
the guards at Holmby House were doubled, all promising to

• Clarendon State Papers, ii. 365.
VOL. II. H ^

466 THE ARMY.

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 answered, '* All commanded ! ^'
The stranger who had recently roused their suspicions came
forwards, announcing himself as Cornet Joyce. This Cornet
was one of CromwelFs elect spirits. Though erst but a shrewd
tailor-man, the Agitator, with a huge pistol and the bigger
words of authority, had shaken off all the suavity of the craft.
Joyce pretended to the Commissioners 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 Pres-
byterian Colonel took flight.

At ten at night again the cavalry and the Cornet suddenly
appeared. The Agitator demanded to speak with the King.
"From whom?" was inquired by the officers of Holmby.
''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 Commis-
sioners ; " I came not hither to be advised 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."

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 Commissioners, 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

• Whitelocke, 2.54.

I

r

THE ARMY. 467

in a true military posture, well-armed, and presenting a cocked
pistol. They asked if the Commissioners 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
rang his silver bell, and refused to admit the uncourtly visitor
till the morning, according to Herbert.

It is probable, however, that a midnight interview 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 decent 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 conscience
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 concience, much less that of our sovereign."
All was courteously conceded. 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 entertained, but had positively
succeeded in persuading him that the Army was friendly to his
wishes.*

However ambiguous might seem the midnight apparition of
the " Arch-agitator Joyce," so Fairfax designates the Cornet, he
had perfectly 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
how 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,

* See the note at the end of the Chapter.

H H 2

468 THE ARMY.

" Sir, I have as good interest in the Army as you ! " Fairfax
was thunderstruck 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 Fairfax, in his Memorials.

What had passed in the midnight interview was to be publicly
repeated for the King's satisfaction before the troopers of Joyce.
The morning came, and Charles was seen on the steps of the
gate, where Joyce with a detachment of fifty picked men drew
up into the 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 Thomas Fairfax ? "
The Cornet prayed his Majesty would not ask him such ques-
tions. " I pray, Mr. Joyce, deal ingenuously with me, and tell
me what commission you have ? " — *' Here is my commission ! "
exclaimed the Arch-agitator. " Where ? " said the King.
" Behind me I " 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 company of as handsome, proper gentlemen as I have
seen a long while. But what if I refuse to go with you? I hope
you would not force your King. You must satisfy me that I

* 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
reminiscences, but not quite suitable to a spontaneous dialogue. Echard, Hume,
and Macaulay were probably pleased with it. Warwick gives it plainly : " Believe
me yovir instructions are written in very fair characters." But Whitelocke, in his
attempt to chronicle the words, has, lawyer-like, flourished. " * His Majesty saw
their commission !' said Joyce. His Majesty replied, that ' It had the fairest frontis-
piece cf any that he ever saw, being five hundred proper men on horseback.' " A
cumbrous frontispiece at all events ; but a commission has no frontispiece ! The
taste of Charles, we may be certain, was chaster than the spurious fancy of a
rhetorical lawyer !

THE ARMY. 469

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
acclamations. Joyce courteously requested the King to choose
the place of his removal, and the distance 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 ofiicers of Holmby and the Commissioners protested
against the King's removal, calling on the troopers to maintain
the authority of Parliament, and it was put to them, whether
they agreed to what Cornet Joyce had 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 continued,
raising his voice, " who are willing the King should stay with
the Commissioners of Parliament now speak." All the troopers
exclaimed, " 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 follow-
ing day Fairfax, Cromwell, Ireton, and other officers, had a
singular interview with the King in the garden of Sir John
Cutts, at Childerley. 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 beHeve what you say," observed
Charles. The General-in-Chief soon discovered among his
officers that the Cornet would never be brought to a court-
martial. Joyce off'ered to appeal to a general rendezvous of the
Army, adding, " And if three, or even four 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 countenance of great persons, for you could
not of yourself have ventured on this treason."

Charles, however, was evidently on no ill terms with the

470 THE ARMY.

Coruet, for he added — '* I pardon the treason now I have come,
if you convey me as you promised to Newmiu*ket."

Fairfax, in a private interview with Charles, made a sincere
oflfer 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 after-
wards, when Charles remained at Newmarket, where he seemed
cheerful, and daily recreated himself at tennis, it is remarkable
that he sent a messenger to the Army at St. Albans, desiring
the company of the shrewd Agitator.* So deeply taken was the
helpless 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 contemporaries, 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 Commissioners,
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'etatf
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
General-in-Chief Fairfax. On the 30th of May, at a meeting
held at Cromwell's house, the plan was arranged,t and with the

* Rushworth, vi. 578. Possibly Charles acted from policy 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 intelligence of the
secretary of Fairfax, for his Lordship expresses himself quite conti-arily. " The
King found himself at Ne^vma^kct attended by greater troops and superior officers,
80 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.

+ 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

THE ARMY. 471

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 enter-
prise, 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 develop the true situation of Charles. When
the armed Agitator,, at midnight, authoritatively called for
entrance into the King's chamber, so formidable an apparition
might have reasonably alarmed the King, unapprised as he was
of any such visitor. No personal fears were, however, indicated
by Charles, who, on the contrary, was gratified by the courteous-
ness of the language of the soldier, 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
entertaining 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 is subsequently
confirmed by Charles's positive refusal to return to Holmby.

answered that Lieutenant- General Cromwell had given him orders at London to do
all that he had done. * Sir John Berkley's Memoirs, Echard, 638.

A'VZ THE ARMY.

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 Bar wick. This divine, as was usual in that day,
when the clergy of the Anglican church were hunted in the
streets, was disguised 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 dispatched to England
more deeply to interest his relative ; while Sir John Berkley
and Ashburnham, the more confidential agents of Charles,
hastened, as Ashburnham expresses it, "with their instruc-
tions in some things which were not proper for his Majesty to
appear in."

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 Presbyte-
rian 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 con-
tradiction to " The true and impartial Narrative " sent forth by the Army,
evidently to cajole the Parliament or the People.* The style of this depo-
sition indicates its illiterate original. The use of the pronoun personal
unskilfully interspersed in " The Narrative," betrays the writer to have
been the hero of the thimble himself. " The Narrative " details this mid-
night 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." IIow are we to account for this discre-
pancy with the narrative of the veracious Herbert ? Writing at a distant

* Rush worth, vi. 515.

»

THE ARMY. 473

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 recol-
lections whUe 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 consented to accompany
him ? which we shall find Charles certainly had. Dr. Lingard has judi-
ciously 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 complacency to desist till morning."
" The true Narrative " is very confused, and probably more is delivered
than actually occurred, from the policy of treating the Commissioners and
the Parliament with a degree of studied respect the Army did not feel.
The account of Clarendon materially 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 insisted on calling some of the Commissioners, who quickly came
to his chamber, and he adds part of the dialogue with Joyce. Now, how-
ever 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, himself 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 agi-ees 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 notwithstanding 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 gentle-
ness and tenderness as he could." " The true and impartial Narrative "
farther tells, " Though the King told Cornet Joyce before the Commis-
sioners he was unwilling to go with us, yet such reasons might be produced
that might prevail with him; and afterwards (that is, after the Kiog 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
confirms the statement of Clarendon, that the King had the Commissioners

474

called that nigbt, since Charles resolved to depart with Joyce early in the
morning, after having heard " his reasons." That so important an inci-
dent should have been entirely passed over by Herbert, and that he should
have so inaccurately related that Joyce had not been admitted 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 difl&culties 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 document, discovers its policy. But
even in statements fictitious in some respects, the sagacity of an historian
may unravel some truths.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

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
bfficers, according to Ludlow, " became converted by the splen-
dour of his Majesty,^^ and adds the Commonwealth-man, seem-
ingly with disdain, " Sir Robert Pyc, a Colonel in the Army, as
his Equerry, rode bare-headed before him, when the King rode
abroad."

The removals, by easy marches, were arranged 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 place on his way to Newmarket,
and afterwards to his Palace of Hampton Court, we discover
that even to this day tradition has preserved in those mansions

THE king's progress WITH THE ARMY. 475

which still exist, some memorial of his residence— something
wliich was said or done— the chamber where he slept is still to
be shown.

Wherever Charles appeared, all seemed to congratulate them-
selves 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 Vivat Rex! The gentry and the
people from the neighbouring counties thronged about the
Presence-chamber when the King dined and supped. There
was a joyfulness in their acclamations. The King was never
reminded of his captivity, and as he moved with the regiments
which guarded him, the journey resembled one of his former
royal progresses.

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
gratulations of many voices, and the prayers of the people
listened to by his own ear. The feelings were reciprocal. He
conversed with cheerfulness, 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 amiable,
from its great meekness and equality." The King held long
and secret conferences with the General, the Lieutenant- Gene-
ral, and the Commi?sary-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
unrevealed for us must remain many secret intrigues ; sudden
changes in the condition of the parties ; causes and motives

476 THE king's progress WITH THE ARMY.

which have never been assigned, though their important results
are manifest ; ambiguous proceedings and dubious matters, and
many which were never tokl, buried in the hearts of subtle
men, who governed themselves by other maxims than the rest
of the world.

The struggle between the Presbyterian and the Army Fac-
tions, threw the King into the most critical dilemma which he
had experienced throughout his disastrous life. Both parties,
who were now courting his support, he considered alike his
enemies. The one rigorously insisting on their Covenant, and
the abolition 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, constituted authority and power. That
party which the King adopted would be reinforced by every
Royalist in the kingdom, who, 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 sove-
reign, it was the eager desire of the Army to accommodate
affairs with Charles, and that quickly. Their chief officers
were commissioned to treat with the King for his restoration.
The Agitators were not statesmen who foresaw difficulties from
the very nature of complicated interests, 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 a single week seemed a delay,

• 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 I'eplied, 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 agi-eement of the Parliament was in the

THE KINGS PROGRESS WITH THE ARMY. 477

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 Array 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 interests 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 history as the Levellers, and
who condemned their sovereign to the block, were at this
moment suspicious that Cromwell was not sincerely disposed in
favour of the King, and they even offered to Sir John Berkley,
that should Cromwell be found false to his engagements, " 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 necessary that Cromwell and his
party should remove those prejudices against themselves which
their novel professions demanded. Cromwell 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 '' What-
ever 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 enjoy 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

form adopted by the beggar-bandit in Gil Bias, to petition respectfully, brandishing
a cudgel.

478

conscience, the obdurate Presbyterians, even more obstinate than
the King, so inflexibly urged. Toleration was the plausible
pretext of Independency, and plain-speaking the whole art of
diplomacy with the blunt negotiator of the Agitators.

Cromwell, whose feelings, however coarse, were always vehe-
ment as the eagerness of his genius, at this moment seemed
to have received a new baptism of loyalty. Returning from
one of his visits to the King, he told Berkley that " He had
lately seen the tenderest sight that ever his eyes beheld, which
was the interview between the King and his children, and wept
plentifully at the remembrance 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 kingdoms.' " 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 plentiful 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,
and with perfidy at another ? * Was that mysterious man,

* The tears of Cromwell seem to have been very constitutional, 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 tlie 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," Cromwell replied. BaiTon 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 characteristic 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 a difference about the repairs
of a church, — Cromwell interposed and made them friends. Evelyn complained
that Byfield had made personal reflections on him in his sennons, which the other
protested had never been in his mind. Ci'orawell, turning to Evelyn, said, " I doubt
there is something amiss ; the word of God is penetrative and finds you out ; search

THE king's progress WITH THE ARMY. 479

at any time, single-minded, whose excited genius was watch-
ful of all occasions, 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 con-
firmed 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 inconscious instrument even
to the last hour of Charles's life, but was never of their cabal,
the more secret intercourse we obtain from the two confidential
agents of the King.* It was noticed at fii'st that both Crom-
well and Ireton kept on the reserve when in the presence, nor
did they then offer to kiss hands. Cromwell, 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 Pres-
byterians, and Charles was now gratified by recognising the old
faces of faithful 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 respecting the designs of the Army. It was here that
Sir Philip Warwick had a short interview with the King. By
all he could percei\ e, 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,

your ways ! " He speaks so pathetically, with plenty of tears, that all present fell a
weeping also — the parties shook hands and embraced. Cromwell then asked Evel^-n
what the repairs of the church would cost ?— 200Z. Calling for his secretary Malyn,
he desired him to pay lOOl. 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.

* See Note on Berkley and Ashbubnham at the end of this chapter.
t Sir Philip Warwick's Memoirs, 301.

480 THE king's progress WITH THE ARMY.

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 Army, from
the backwardness of the officers to treat of receiving any favour
or advantage of his Majesty."* But when Ashbumham arrived
from France, about a fortnight after, he found Charles under
the care of Colonel Whalley, one of CromwelFs 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 con-
fident," adds Ashbumham, "his Majesty then was that their
beha\'iour towards him would be such as he should never have
occasion to desert them."t We detect here a great alteration
in the King's opinions, which in this story of human nature it
were desirable to have supplied.^ On the 20th of July Ash-
bumham arrived at Woburn, where he found the treaty begun
by Sir John Berkley was proceeding with Cromwell and Ireton,
with proffers of honours and emoluments for themselves " to the
utmost of their expectations,^' 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 rumour has often anti-

* 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
Ashburnham's Narrative, which confirms the accounts of Major Huntington. Secret
history performs miracles in favour of truth.

+ Ashbumham's Narrative, pubHshed by the late Earl of Ashbumham, p. 89.

+ We receive no light from the delightful details of Herbert, 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 movements, he appears, in
the antechamber, to have had no insight into the intrigues carrying on in the
interior. In 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 offi^red to verify on
oath, exposing the ambition and the avowed Machiavelian principles of his great
commander, passes over the pi'esent 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.

THE KINGS PROGRESS WITH THE ARMY. 481

cipated the most secret transactions, and assigned motives to
men, though at the time of the rumour, the transaction 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 Caversham, despairing of having any per-
sonal influence with the officers, the General found it necessary
thus early in addressing Parliament, 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 misunderstanding betwixt the Parhament and
the Army."* This letter is dated July 8th. " The contract or
bargain " had yet no existence whatever, so that the rumour
was totally unfounded, though the result turned out as it had
been anticipated.

Throughout the whole of the present important 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 with-
out him. This was also the opinion of others. At this moment
there could be no communication between 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 Royahsts
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." f
The constitutional lawyer and the mere cabinet-minister had
yet no conception of military dominion.

This opinion which the King had already formed, was farther
impressed by his renewed intercourse with the Presbytenan
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.J At this

• Rushworth, vi. 610. t Clarendon State Papers, u.

t Clax-endon seems to have had very confined notions of the power of the sword !

I I
VOL. II.

482 THE king's progress WITH THE ARMY.

moment the Presbyterian Parliament and the Scots affected to
contemn a mutinous soldiery, and had a perfect confidence in
their own Presbyterian General Fairfax. The opinion seemed
still fai-ther confirmed 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 reason-
able,* for as yet the military had not subdued the ostensible
government. The scales trembled, and Charles imagined that
his hand held the casting-weight.

The result of the principle which Charles had now adopted
proved fatal, for it occasioned 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 extraor-
dinary dilemmas. In momentous difficulties, it is only genius
which calculates, or audacity which risks, that strikes out a
fortunate decision ; for we call that fortunate to which none at
the moment could apply the epithet.

It was during 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 —

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 soldiers bursting into
the bed-chamber of the Scotch Lord, ordered him to depart instantly." — Lingard,
X. 386.

* " 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 con-
sented to." — Preface to Tracts, xxiv. So also Mr. Brodie : " Never had the mis-
guided 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 excru-
ciating. 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 I 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 appertained
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 inde-
pendent authority.

n

THE king's progress WITH THE ARMY. 483

Herbert, whose elegant tastes and travelled mind loved to
linger amidst scenes of splendour and tranquillity, imagined
that his royal master was once more happy, for the King con-
versed with those he wished, hunted and rode as he pleased,
and frequently saw his children. A long and cruel estrangement
had more deeply endeared them to his forlorn spirit.*

NOTE ON BERKLEY AND ASHBURNHAM.

The Memoirs of Su- John Berkley, and the 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, unfortunately tormented
by mutual jealousies, and taking different views.

Sir John Berkley, afterwards Lord Berkley, came to the King recom-
mended 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, exer-
cised with great satisfaction to himself the bitterest and most cutting
sarcasm. Of his friend, whom he flatters in his correspondence, he teUs
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 con-
trivance." 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 mlling 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
promptness and ability in his difficult diplomacy, which places him in a
far more advantageous light than he appears in the disguise of the satiric

* When the King intreated to have his children restored to him, the rigid Pres-
byterian 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 m
the whole House of Commons !

II 2

484 THE king's progress WITH THE ARMY.

pen of Clarendon. Sir John more than once checked the imprudence of
the King, but he modestly acknowledges that "his councils were the
worse for coming from himself."

AsHBURNHAM was a more courtly gentleman, affecting refinement iu
little things. He 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, addressing himself
entirely to Cromwell and Ireton. He was fond of an expression of his
own mintage, which not the entreaty of four good judges could persuade
him to alter, though its impolicy 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 talent. 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 entu-e.
AU the favours and emoluments Charles had to bestow were conferred on
Ashburnham.

His fidelity, and his mediocrity of characler, secured the attachment of
Charles, who rarely evinced the smallest discernment in the character of
those who were about him. Those who are curious in their physiogno-
mical speculations, may examine a beautiful three-quarters print of Ash-
burnham, in the narrative published by the late Lord Ashburnham, his
spirited editor and descendant. We trace in the features of the con-
fidential friend of Charles the First, the courtly air and quietness of cha-
racter which betrays a feminine weakness, and its total incapacity for that
energy and intellectual 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 con-
tented to communicate those of danger unto his friends."

In both these works I have frequently lamented 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 itinerary of the removals of Charles
after his deportation from Holraby, and was thus enabled to fix the time by
the place. But when private incidents are thrown together as they rose
in the recollections of the narrators, we are liable to misplace them. Even

THE KINGS PROGRESS WITH THE ARMY. 485

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
Ai-my 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 cannot doubt the veracity of these
accounts : their difference only consists in omissions, not in contradictions.
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 11th of
November," it stands in the original manuscript " about the beginning of
September 1 "

Major Huntington, in the curious paper of his "Eeasons for laying
down his Commission " under Cromwell, positively states that the King
was continually solicited by Cromwell 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
Warwick and Berkley, while Charles was at Caversham, no offer of the
kind could have been made, from the total diffidence he had of the Army.
A fortnight after — but not at Caversham, where he remained only five
days — when under the guard of Colonel Whalley, a relation of Cromwell,
such offers were undoubtedly made. These inaccuracies committed in
writing at a distant day, are not only excusable, but are perhaps unavoid-
able. The historian must, however, examine the most authentic narrations
with more care thar has been always 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.

486 CROMWELL AND CHARLES

CHAPTER XXXV.

CROMWELL AND CHARLES THE FIRST AT HAMPTON COURT.

This history of human nature is an intellectual 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 would be unskilful to conclude that the
hypocrite is never to be separated from his hypocrisy. Personal
interests there are of a deep and trying nature, strong enough
to secure even the integrity of 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 intercourse with the King.

If, while the fate of the Army and the Parliament were yet
to be decided, and the agitators 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
creative 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 witli 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 accommodating to terminate
the treaty with the King. Ireton was the penman, the treaty
lay in his own closet, and he never hesitated to moderate the

AT HAMPTON COURT. 487

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 Ashburnham, " 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
appeared 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 himself in the most unguarded language. " You can-
not 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
boldly declared against the Army. At the language of the King,
Ireton, and even Berkley, were surprised — the officers who
appeared to wish well to the agreement looked on with wonder.
One of them, Colonel Eainsborough, a furious agitator, stole
away in the midst of the conference, and, posting to the Army,
carrying ofi" the King's words on his lips, with considerable
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 language and behaviour." Ireton, with keen discern-
ment, 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 Ireton's retorts on the King. When
Charles observed 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 vet to be a secret to the world, but Crora-

4S8 CROMWELL AND CHARLES

well knew that 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 Levellers, that " they were a giddy-headed party, and that
there was no trust nor truth in them."

On the arrival of CromwelFs 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
Ashburnham were the bearers; messengers on the road met
them to urge their speed j 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 members had taken refuge in the Army.
The soldiers were on their march to the City.

The event of that march was probably to be the measure of
their adoption or their abandonment of the King. The Agita-
tors, 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 opposition, as there was an appear-
ance of great resistance, for men were enlisted and commanders
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 Nai-rative, 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

AT HAMPTON COURT. 489

This last revolution after so many others, was described at
the time, with as much truth as ridicule, in a pseudonymous
letter of Secretary 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." *

Notwithstanding this triumph of the military, 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." f

The King was now at Stoke, but desirous to be removed to
one of his own houses. Ashburnham, 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
explains their "very severe countenances." They informed
Ashburnham that the King had sided with the Parliament by
encouraging the Eoyalists to unite with them, and farther, that

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 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 observed, « 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 wTiter unusual in his-
torical researches— the facetious Tom Brown. The confused state of these revo-
lutionary affairs is equally well described by a fact the Vi^it has recorded. The
Cavaliers in the beginning of the troubles used to trump up the 12th of the Romans
on the Parliament— the Parliament trumped it up on the Array 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 agam !
—Tom Brown's Works, iv. 14. t Ashburnhara's Narrative, 93.

490 CROMWELL AND CHARLES

at this instant he had a treaty with the Scots. They held the
evidence in their own hands, by his and the Queen^s letters.
This was a thunder-clap ! Ashburnham defied them to produce
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 narra-
tive. Ashburnham 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
Ashburnham correct in his statement, the subsequent 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 expostulation of
Cromwell at a later and more probable period. Dr. Lingard,
following Clarendon, says that Cromwell acquainted Ashburn-
ham 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 conceive
that he was earnestly sincere through September, hypocritical
in October, and openly hostile in November. This is nothing
surprising in the history of a man who the Parliament declared
merited a statue for quelling the tumults of the Army, and not
many months after, at the head of that Army, expelled that
Parliament.

The King went to Hampton Court on the 24th 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 sove-
reign. Among these were the heads of powerful parties, with
whom were concerted their future plans; they were not hope-
less, 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 assiduous than ever in
his attendance on the King, with whom he held long conferences.

AT HAMPTON COURT. 491

and walked together in the galleries and the gardens of the
Palace. Many of the officers appear to have been gained over
in their personal intercourse with Charles. The King might
still be the fountain of honour and the dispenser of favours.
Even the citizens flocked to Hampton Court as they had for-
merly been accustomed, when their sovereign returned from
a progress. It was the general opinion up to the middle of
September, that the influence 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 engen-
dered a new faction — a faction avowing its indomitable hostility
to every other party in the State. Our political parties usually
step forth with enviable titles, but how happens it that they are
more generally known to posterity by the nick-names conferred
on them by their enemies ? It is because the name they assume
denotes their professions, . and the name they receive marks
their acts. The " Independents" had described their principle
in their name, and veiled their turbulence in the mildness of
toleration, or, as the bigoted Presbyterian Clement Walker says,
^^to establish that chimera, liberty of conscience."* From
these Commonwealth-men sprung a specious sect, first obscurely
known as " Rationalists,"— an early indication of the straggling
" March of Intellect." 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 cha-
racter, which is derived from the circumstances of the period,
but the principle by which men are actuated has ever been the
same. Such vague and disturbed notions of civil hberty were
more palpable when these ''Rationalists" were denominated
" The Levellers." f Then was comprehended the nature of their

* History of Independency, Part I. 31.
t « The Levellers are miscalled," says the warm Presbyterian Clement Walker,
«< for they only endeavoured to level the exorbitant usurpations of the Council of

492 CROMWELL AND CHARLES

chimerical republics, every raan choosing to live in one of his
own. Then appeared their barbarous independence, and their
ceaseless innovations. All the vain hopes of the eternal
restlessness of man, placed amidst the corruptions 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.*

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 tyrannicides, each
a Brutus, who abhorred all kings as being de genere bestiarum
rapacium, as one of them said. These were not 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 emi-
nence 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

State and Council of Officers, and it was Cromwell who falsely christened them." —
History 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 Parlinment and the Army, declai'ing against the factions and the
partiality that was in these days practised, 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
raan of genius, however moderate, solely solicitous of a hurrah ! and three clieers of
the mob ! and never, on any opportunity, of that wisdom and rectitude which might
happen to be unpopular. The vilest parasite of a court is not a more contemptible
being than that other servile courtier of the people. The people at least require as
often to be enlightened as flattered. — Times, December 18th, 1830,

AT HAMPTON COURT. 493

with the romantic grandeur of the Roman tyrannicides ; the
assassins among them were ordinary assassins, and the more
solemn had English notions of legalizing, or passing under the
forms of legality, even an illegal act.

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 people,
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 appeal. The novel principle was
developed in the celebrated tract of Buchanan.* The Scottish
Republican had warded off by his apologetical and subtilising
Commentary the Jewish and Evangelical poHtics.f But
Buchanan advanced beyond the mere illustration of an obscure
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,

* De Jure Regni apud Scotos.

t 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 almost 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 wei'e 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 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 maintams 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, 1 st, chap, ii. 1 3,
which positively inculcates passive obedience and admits of na 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 Scripture in favour of king-
killing and revolting against them, but on the side of passive obedience to kmgs the
express texts are more numerous. Both sides explain or evade. Both converted
the Scriptures into a nose of wax.

494 CROMWELL AND CHARLES

there would be no kings, for kings are appointed for the good of
the people, therefore 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.

But what is the sovereignty of the people ? Is it like the
equality of mankind, only an Utopian babble ? Is it a contra-
diction in terms ? How is the' servant to be the master? or the
governed to be the governors ? Where are we to find this sove-
reignty among the many or the few ? Has history or human
nature ever shown a government composed of the people, vacil-
lating with their passions and their interests, eager to establish
and eager to pull down ? This would be a government composed
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 responds, " That indeed is scarce to be hoped for, and
to expect it is needless, for no law could be made and no magis-
trate 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 speculative 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
principle more particularly his own, is that kings may be put on
their trial, but the sovereignty of the people, which is to exercise
this right with him, has no other medium to manifest its autho-
rity 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 Representative Govern-
ment is liable to many peculiar 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
becomes as ambiguous a principle as any assumed by absolute
power. Our Bumpers, perplexed by the sovereignty of the
people, which, when they had assumed, they did not know what

AT HAMPTON COURT. 495

to make of, separated the power from the authority. They
declared that " the supreme power is in the people^ but the
supreme authority is in the Commons, their representatives."
A false assumption, which, like all fallacies, was designed to veil
evil designs. ^\Tio were these proclaimers of the liberties of
England ? The Sovereign, the Peers, and two-thu-ds 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 authority,
have rendered them alike the victims of a limited monarchy
which corrupts their selfishness, an arbitrary despotism which
degrades the animal by exacting unconditional submission, and
an anarchical democracy which erects the vain and the daring
into so many potentates, 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 extraordinary account of the
excitement among the Levellers, " who stick not in the Army to
say the Kingdom is theirs by conquest, and if the 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

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

496 CROMAYELL AND CHARLES

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 obtainable, were
decided on. They railed against their officers whom they wit-
nessed 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-restless pen
never wearied, threw amidst the Army now lying at Putney, a
hand-grenado, which burst on the head of Cromwell, entitled
'^Putney Projects." Cromwell latterly assured Ashburnham
that his life was not secure in his quarters, and on this pretext
desired him to refrain from open visits, without, however, inter-
rupting 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 intermingled with their dis-
course," Ashburnham with great simplicity remarks.

Berkley also discovered that Cromwell was somewhat cap-
tious. 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
that Ireton was to be Lord Lieutenant of Ireland for life. Such
reports were fatal, while the Agitators promulgated that the
Army and the people were to be sacrificed by their Lieutenant-
General and their Commissary- General to their private ambition.

Berkley assures us that he had all along cautiously avoided
the springes and the snares of that paragon of States-women,
not to give umbrage 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 haunted chamber, ere an Agi-
tator made his ominous appearance, sent, as Sir John reasonably

AT HAMPTON COURT. 497

concludes, to neutralize their conversation, which ended in ordi •
nary topics. Whether the expostulation of Cromwell were bul
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 communication in the present instance, we know for
certain that her Ladyship*s informant had furnished no un-
grounded report.*

Of the nature of the communications which the two eminent
persons now held with the King, we may form some notion by
the acknowledgment which Ireton confidentially made to his
friend Colonel 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 intention 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 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 zealously 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-

* Mr. Brodie, anxious to clear Cromwell of having ever been seduced by tlia
promises held out to him, refers to Berkley as « informing us that the story of tho
Earldom was an invention."— Brodie, iv. 106. But since Mr. Brodie has written
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 truck-
ling with the King."— History of Ind. i. 35. And I think CromweU himself has
made the confession, on the day he finally joined with the army, acknowledging
« that the glories 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-seeJdnrj" To me this is
an evident allusion to what passed, as Ashburnham says, « for the space of twenty
days, not without some hopes of success," and is an ample confirmation of the view
which I have taken.

VOL. II. ^^

498 CROMWELL AND CHARLES

self?" The Major was staggered at the sudden and solemn
question, and comprehending all its importance, requested to
give his answer on the following day.

The Major that night hastened to Cromwell'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 business. On this Cromwell,
striking his hand on his breast, solemnly asseverated that he
'' would do whatever he had promised to restore the King, im-
precating Heaven that neither himself, nor his wife nor children
might ever prosper, 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 held 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 personal treaty, and they promised their
support in the House. On the 13th 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 virulent humours of the
Presbyterian party whom he knew to be no friends to his
Majesty." Cromwell, indeed, whatever he might have designed,
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.*

* It is a curious instance how imperfectly some are acquainted with parts of the
very transaction in which they are engaged, or cease to deliver themselves accurately

I

AT HAMPTON COURT. 499

From this moment^ however, Cromwell uever again appeared
at Hampton Court.

The masks, if they had worn any, must have suddenly dropped
from their faces. The unhappy and baffled Ashburnham seems
to have been at a loss how to proceed with such reluctant and
suspicious negotiators, and seems not to have been aware that a
negotiation may be considered as concluded when the negotiators
are so coy as never to confer. The forlorn emissary of Charles
went about circuitously 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 kingdom would be in a happy condition if the Government
were settled as that in Holland." This alarming intelligence
Ashburnham hastened 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 surprise, 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 restoration. 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 monster they
had themselves nursed. It was a novel predominance in the
State. There is reason, however, to believe that a more private
motive also prevailed with CromweU and Ireton. A letter is said
to have been intercepted, the tenor of which, whatever it was,

at a distant 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 CromweU, the more it was rejected
by the rest, who looked on them as their betrayers." How are we to accord th.s
discrepancy with the narrative of Huntington ^ We must mfer Cromwell s oppo-
sition from the apologetical answer he returned to the King. The recent narraUve
of Ashburnham confirms Huntington's account, that from this moment CromweU
and Ireton withdrew themselves by degi-ees from their wonted d.scourses of h,«
Majesty's recovery."— Ashburnham's Narrative, 98.

K K ^

500 CROMWELL AND CHARLES

put an end to their scheme of any coalition with the King. The
history of this intercepted letter we reserve for the following
chapter, 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 y
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 Sth of November, Cromwell and Ireton still persisted in the
appearance of friendly dispositions. This mysterious conduct
may be ascribed to their peculiar situation ; they were wrestling
with the new Faction, with whom as yet they had not joined.

Within the space of a week the King observed a sudden
alteration in the civility of the soldiers, and that the guards
were doubled. Charles desired Ashburnham to find some excuse
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. Letters 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 buffoon, 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 " to take his life away." Dell and
Peters, two of their preachers, offered to bear them company,
and had often said to them that " his Majesty is but as a dead

♦ See the curious extracts of letters of the day, in Clarendon's State Papers, ii.
App. xl.

I

AT HAMPTON COURT. 501

dog/^ * The King was cast into terror and perplexity. Crom-
well obtained intelligence of a plot concerted by the Levellers
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
Ashburnham 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 is one of the most mysterious incidents 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 throughout the dupe of Cromwell.

Hollis and Ludlow consider the flight as a stratagem of
Cromwell's, who haying cast Charles into the terror of assassi-
nation, 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 fugitive, give some
suspicion.t Charles was advised 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, so that the King was made to act the whole
as from himself, and fly into the cage.

* 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 abso-
lutely forbidding him to preach before him, a circumstance which he has md.gnanUy

noticed. . u • u* a A v

t Whalley tells of his "sending parties of horse everywhere, both night and day,
searching over Ashburnham's house which he found empty," and the Kmg s lodge,
where he might be sure the King was not. This huddled narrative was not read m
the House, as Hammond's letter arrived at the same time with certam m ormation
Peck thinks that Rushworth did not pubUsh it, because it contained some tlungs not
to the advantage of Cromwell and Whalley. If so, it is only one among many
suppressions of the kind by Rushworth.

502 CROMWELL AND CHARLES

Two material objections are opposed to this account. First,
tlie alarm of assassination was real, being confirmed to Charles
from sources on which he could depend. Secondly, Hammond
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 confederacy 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
companion of his flight, Ashburnham, either by delusion or
perfidy, was an instrument of Cromwell, 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 of the
Army, with whom he had had no intercourse 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 occa-
sioned. Clarendon, in his narrative, has spoken dubiously, and
perhaps with unfriendliness of the conduct of Ashburnham, 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 suspected
with great appearance of truth of having misled the King either
through treachery or folly." f Even Hume had said that Ash-
burnham imprudently, if not treacherously, brought Hammond
to the King. Pere d'Orleans, 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

* It was reported that Ashburnham received forty tliousand 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 ! + Evelyn's Diary, ii. 117-

AT HAMPTON COURT. 508

at this mysterious accusation. "How is it possible," lie ex-
claims, "to suspect of treachery the two devoted friends of the
King?'' Yet how was the Pere to account for Charles being
entrapped 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 Tavoit fait conduire k Pisle de Wight.''
But in a calmer period he more sagaciously concludes, " Je
laisse k eclaircir ce point a ceux qui auront la-dessus des lumi^rea
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 philosopher Hobbes, who with some advan-
tage 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 Cromwell 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 impediment to him, a
trouble in the Army, and to have let him fall into the hands of
the Presbyterians had put a stop to the hopes of Cromwell. To
murder Charles privately would have made the Lieutenant-
General, under whose superintendence 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.f

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 pre-
tension to the Crown. Cromwell ventured beyond this — he

* Pere d'Orleans' Revolutions d'Angleterre, liv. ix. 09. 4to.
t Behemoth, 234.

504 ON THE SUPPOSED LETTER

considered that the extirpation 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 ceased to be a member of the European family of political
cabinets.

This view clears up this mysterious transaction. Charles was
lured out of his prison at Hampton Court, but with no inten-
tion to be imprisoned in 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 unfor-
tunate 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 Ham-
mond, 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 com-
munications, 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.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

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 contents,
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 problematical.

Cromwell, in his expostulation witli Ashburnham, furnishes
one account. He affirmed, that by this letter to the Queen,
they had discovered that Chai'les had commanded all his party
to side with the Parliament, and likewise that he had at that

INTERCEPTED BY CROMWELL. 505

instant a treaty with the Scots. Herbert gives a rumour that
the great officers, or, as the Presbyterians now began to call them,
the Grandees of the Army, had carried 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 an engraving. Lord Orrery, when Lord Broghill, was on
terms of intimacy with Cromwell and Treton, and riding out
together, the conversation 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 the King, what had occurred
which prevented it ? CromweU 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 off'ered far more reason-
able conditions. A letter came from one of our spies, who was
of the King's bed-chamber, acquainting us that our doom was
decreed that day, in a letter to the Queen, sewed in the skirts
of a saddle, and tbe bearer would arrive about ten at night at
the Blue Boar in Holborn. 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

506 ON THE SUPPOSED LETTER

the Queen, that being courted 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 for their unripping
the saddle ! The letter must have contained a great deal more
than Cromwell is made to say, to colour their sudden 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 tbis intercepted letter, 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. Lord Bolingbroke gave them some
curious intelligence. 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 five hundred
pounds for.t

Here unquestionably were treachery and duplicity more than
enough to warrant any defection. But how happened it that
Cromwell, telling the story to Lord Orrery, should have omitted

* 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.

+ Richardsoniana, 1 .32. 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 hterary men know of the secret history of the eventful half century which
had only just closed.

INTERCEPTED BY CROMWELL. 507

such a blazing evidence in his favour? We only know the
anecdote through the chaplain 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 marred it, — most un-
skilfully 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 possessor 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 reputation is not credible,
in rejecting a seductive five hundred pounds for a letter which
had no other than that historical value which a collector attached
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 credibility.

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 villanous artifice. This
entire dereliction of every moral and honourable principle is so
repulsively incompatible with the scrupulous and rigid notions
of honour of the man, who on one occasion would not escape
from his imprisonment till he had first formally withdrawn the
pledge of his parole, 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 coUeague, and even indicated to them at the
time by some spy of the King's bed-chamber, had been mter-
cepted, is very probable. 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

508 NEGOTIATION WITH THE

story of this intercepted letter stands on no manner of founda-
tion/' 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.

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 Bolingbroke might have farced
his well-told story, for the relish of Pope and llichardson, 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.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

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, a-:.d where he had just learned that Rainsborough
had resolved to destroy him, appointed the attendance of his
companions at Thames Ditton. Shutting himself 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 prolonged 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.f Entering, and finding his Majesty's
cloak thrown on the floor, the first idea which occurred to them

* In some memoranda of this Earl's writing, he asserts that the Duke of Marl-
borough 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 Bolingbroke 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,
t The Moderate Intelligence, from Nov. 11th to Nov. 18, 1647.

GOVERNOR OP THE ISLE OF WIGHT. 509

was, as they tell us, " that somewhat had been attempted on
his person/' So rife was the rumour 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 him-
self. One addressed to the Houses of Parliament, 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 Pater Patri^.'^* 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 pro-
vided 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 custody ; the other was for Lord Montague,
desiring that a certain picture in the King's apartment should
be restored to its owner, the Duke of Richmond ; and in a post-
script, Charles earnestly recommended to his care the favourite
greyhound, which he voluntarily left behind. 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 more acutely than among

* The letter to the Parliament is preserved in Rushworth, vii. 871. The other
letters are from the periodical publications of the times.

510 NEGOTIATION WITH THE

some of his courtiers. Once when Gipsey his greyhound was
scratching at the door of his chamber, he desired Sir PhiHp
Warwick to let the hound in. " I have perceived," said War-
wick 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 Levellers ridiculed the
care of a picture, and the sympathy for a dog. The Royalists
exulted in contemplating in the monarch the ideal of a gentle-
man. These letters not only vouched for the collectedness of
his mind, and that the King did not fly with unmanly trepida-
tion, 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
Hke those of no other monarch. They often took the romantic
turn of'his character.

It was a dark tempestuous night in November when Charles
issued from Hampton Court by a private door into the Park,
opened without difficulty, unguarded by a sentinel. This looks
like the connivance of Whalley to facilitate the King's escape.
Crossing the Thames, Charles passed over to Ditton, where his
companions 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 parti-
cular place of destination. Charles now complained of the
Scotch Lords, who, having off'ered 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 particular place in
preference to another — his flight had been sudden. He had

I

t

GOVERNOR OF THE ISLE OF WIGHT. 5ll

originally designed for Jersey, and still had hopes to procure some
vessel. A ship was now mentioned, but there had been^^uo time
to prepare one. There were, however, reasons to induce Charles
to direct his wanderings to the Isle of Wight, which were
unknown to Berkley. Ashburnham, 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,
moreover, from a favourable impression made on him by Ham-
mond, 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 Ashburnham. The Stateswomen were always to
be consulted. This is the simple mystery of Charles's flying to
the Isle of Wight, which has occasioned so many misconcep-
tions, erroneous statements, and unjust surmises of the artful
plotting of Cromwell, of Ashburnham's incredible perfidy, and of
Charles's having so imprudently run into the trap which had
been set for him.

Charles, within twenty miles of the island, felt some prudent
misgivings. He was hastening to cast himself into the hands
of the Governor, without having ascertained his dispositions.
Hammond, indeed, was. not unknown to the King; he was the
nephew of his favourite chaplain, and had himself formerly
kissed hands, but he had long been a Colonel in the Parlia-
mentary army.

The King warily dispatched Berkley and Ashburnham to
sound Hammond, while with Colonel Legge he retired to Titch-
field, the residence of the Earl of Southampton. They were to
show the Governor the copies of the letters from CromweU and an
anonymous person, 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 am-
mosity to his person, to which he was informed Hammond bore
no aversion. He asked for protection for himself and his servants,

512 NEGOTIATION WITH THE

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 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 Ashburnham' s account is right, by an
expression in Hammond's letter to the Parliament, that " Sir
John in a short discourse told him that the King was near."
We shall not attempt to reconcile a couple of discordant narra-
tions drawn up by the parties to throw blame on each other, yet,
be it observed, with great tenderness, 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 con-
sternation betrayed itself visibly — a sudden paleness spread over
his countenance, and he was thrown into such a state of trepida-
tion 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 p^rt in the Army-
measures against the King, now perceived at once how his

GOYERNOR OF THE ISLE OF WIGHT. 513

feelings and his honour must be risked on the stake. Para-
mount to all other feelings was his high responsibihty as a
military Governor.

With as much sincerity as naivete, the distracted 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 — for what between ray
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 hkely 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 Parliament. He had retired
from the violence of the Agitators, but he was closely attached
to Cromwell, by whose mediation he had married 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 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 poHtical
principles of a family, influenced alike by both parties to him
equally endeared, becomes pHant and irresolute, and is thrown
into a state of passiveness. The Parliamentarian 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 " Paraphrases '' 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

VOL. II. L L

514 NEGOTIATION WITH THE

moment of that burst of his feelings on his receiving the first
intelligence of the proximity of Charles, to the end of his subse-
quent vacillating 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 stood.
He invited them to dinner and a conference, in which he pro-
fessed 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." Ashburnham seized on the vague
indefinite offer, and said " He would ask no more 1 " so eager
was this inefficient negotiator to conclude what he had not had .
even the courage to begin.

A curious circumstance occurred when Hammond 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 pre-
ferring tli^ 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 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 circumstances, that induced Charles at a
distant day to observe on the adventure of the Isle of Wight,
and the strange conduct of Ashburnham, that "He did not
believe that he was unfaithful to him, but that he thought that
he wanted courage at that time, who he never knew wanted it
before."

The afi'air terminated unexpectedly. Hammond decided to

GOVEENOR OP THE ISLE OF WIGHT. 515

wait on the King in person. Berkley was recalled as he was
entering the Castle, and remained astonished at Ashburnham'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 with-
out him, would have sent his spies. On taking boat at Cowes
Castle, Hammond called on the Captain to accompany him,
and once proposed to be accompanied by a file of soldiers.*
Berkley opposed the supernumerary Captain, 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 satisfy 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 acquaint him of the extraordinary visitor
waiting 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 extraordinary look and language with which he re-
ceived Ashburnham, and from the monstrous resolution Ash-
burnham was induced to take on this occasion ; in utter despair,
Charles spoke " with a very severe and reserved countenance,
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-

.* Dr. Lingard has mentioned this « file," but it is evident, by what afterwards
occurred, that Hammond was solely accompanied by the captain of the caatle.
' L L 2

516 NEGOTIATION AT THE ISLE OF WIGHT.

broken Ashburnham 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 " weigh " in his mind the assassination of two
innocent men. It could only have been the delirium of despair
in the feeble mind of the weeping Ashburnham which coidd
have suggested such an unjustifiable deed. Long afterwards
some were so rash as to censure this unfortunate gentleman for
not dispatching the Governor without acquainting the King
with it, aware as he was of the King's great tenderness of
blood. It is curious to observe a humane man apologise for not
committing a horrid murder in cold blood !

Berkley has described this remarkable scene as he received it
at the time from Ashburnham himself, and it seems more
intelhgible. "Mr. Ashburnham replied to the King, that if he
mistrusted Hammond he would undertake to secure him."
His Majesty said, " 1 understand you well enough, but the
world would not excuse me. Should I follow that counsel, it
would be believed that Hammond had ventured his life for me,
and that I had unworthily 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 protestations 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 intentions, to use his own words, " to preserve
with his own life the King's person from any horrid attempt on
it " — to accommodate that rude residence " to his quality," for
which he appealed to the aid of Parliament.* Hammond was

* The expense of his Majesty's household was in consequence debated in Parlia-
ment : a committee was to report the state of the King's expenses, what it would
amount to above 60/. per diem. This sum, with no court to maintain, seems curious.
— Rushworth, vii. 878.

IMPRISONMENT AT THE ISLE OP WIGHT. 517

now the nephew of his uncle the divine; and in placing the
King in the security of Carisbrooke Castle, neither of them
anticipated that it was to be the gloomy imprisonment of eight
tedious months.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

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 sensibi-
lities, and was still the nephew of his uncle the divine. He held
"fervent private conferences" with Ashburnham. Hammond,
connected with the superior officers, abhorred the Agitators, or
the Anarchists ; in that disposition 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 conjure
them, by their engagement, their interest, and their conscience,
to close with the reasonable 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 them-
selves had become terrified; the Agitators had ceased to agitate.
The prompt resolution of Cromwell at a critical moment saved
himself and the State. By his usual preventive poHcy of
espionage he got into the secrets of the Levellers. It is said
that CromwelFs life was at stake, and that the Agitators had
threatened to make him pay with his head the forfeit of his «

518 IMPRISONMENT AT THE ISLE OF WIGHT.

intrigues with Charles.* An impeachment was actually pre-
paring, and it is mentioned, that " if on that day Cromwell did
not make himself powerful to secure his head, he must follow
his predecessor Hotham/' f On such a momentous incident the
fate of Cromwell 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.
Unexpectedly 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 power-
ful in the Army. To remain their masters, Cromwell and
Ireton submitted. Cromwell became one of themselves to make
them become Cromwellians.

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 Generals 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
General, looking on him with a severe countenance, 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, Hammond'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

* Dr. Lingard, x. 398.
+ 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. — Clarendon State Papers, A pp. ii. xl. and xlL

IMPRISONMENT AT THE ISLE OF WIGHT. 519

that he would meet his master at midnight in a close behind
his inn.

In this stolen and solemn midnight interview, 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 Cromwell 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 villains in the
world ; for we are resolved to destroy the King and his pos-
terity. 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 communicant, 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 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 tho 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 doubtful 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

520 IMPRISONMEKT AT THE ISLE OP WIGHT.

as he could do without his ruin, but desired that it should not
be expected that he should perish for his sake. From this de-
ceptive style, although it appears to have been assumed to carry
on a delusion, for by what had just been revealed to Berkley
the trial of the King had been definitively resolved on by the
coaHtion of the parties, 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 suspense about it. The manner in
which Cromwell 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 11th of November, his old
servants were restored to him, and, on the whole, Hammond
was still courteous. On the 21st of December, the Parhament,
then under the influence of the Army faction, resolved on their
four dethroning Bills, without the concurrence of their old
allies, the Scotch Commissioners, who as firmly resolved to pro-
test against the injustice of the Parliament, or rather their
malignant enemies, the Independents. It became a post-race
with the parties who should first reach the King. The Com-
missioners of Scotland arrived a whole day before the Commis-
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,t 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.

* Secret Transactions in relation to King Charles the First, by Sir John
Bowring, 87.

t 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 gi*eat historian, who often wrote without his authori-
ties on his desk, and often trusted to his reminiscences. It appears by Ashbumham'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.

IMPBISONMENT AT THE ISLE OP WIGHT. 621

The Scotch Commissioners had also taken hold of that oppor-
tunity 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 sUent and
private means.

Charles refused his assent to the four Bills which the Parlia-
ment 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 hfe, which he had so long
suffered, nor the apprehension of something worse, should ever
prevail with him to consent to any Act until the Peace was con-
cluded,^^ and previous to a personal treaty, which he had often
demanded. 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 with-
out the King, as subsequently they did without the Lords, and
finally without 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
intercourse, 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 honesty" to the King, and
which, had those excellent qualities depended on himself, he
would have willingly maintained, was, by his situation and close
connexions, in correspondence 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 mihtary 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 vehemence of zeal to nerve themselves against their
natural repugnance, as some drink to intoxication to arm
themselves with a blind and insensible courage.

Hammond now raised the courteous tone of his voice into

523 IMPRISONMENT AT THE ISLE OF WIGHT.

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 history. As in these volumes, the materials which enter
into the history of human nature are not 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 Commissioners and was
therefore included with the party.

Hammond. — '' I said nothing."

The King. — " You are an equivocating gentleman. Will
you allow me any chaplain ? You pretend for liberty of con-
science, shall I have none ? "

Hammond. — " I cannot allow you any chaplain."

The King. — "You use me neither like a gentleman, nor a
Christian."

Hammond. — "I'll 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 ? "

IMPRISONMENT AT THE ISLE OF WIGHT. 523

Hammond. — " No ! I cannot grant it.''

The King then charged him with his allegiance, and told him
that he must answer this. Hammond wept.* Charles was then
meditating another flight.

Two months afterwards Hammond's official severity embold-
ened him beyond his nature. At two in the morning he entered
the King's chamber. Charles suspecting some treachery, hastily
rose, and slipped on his gown. Hammond 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 influence of the name of the Sovereign of England
remained in the world from whence he had been expelled.
Friends devoted by their aff'ections to his service, were nightly
hovering on the sea-shores, and watchful about the castle, hold-
ing an invisible intercourse with the lonely captive, who could
not command a single messenger ; and who, in the solitude of
his chamber, as he himself said, in pointing to the singular
person who at that 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 Carisbrooke
. Castle."

Charles, in his various captivities, kept up a surprising secret
intercourse with his active friends, no ordinary evidence of the
strong personal 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
betrayed,t a circumstance which did not attend him in the days

♦ Clarendon State Papers, xliv. Appendix.
+ Some underlings made advantages of their knowledge of the secret transactions,
and 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

524 IMPRISONMENT AT THE ISLE OP WIGHT.

of his royalty. In every one of his imprisonments, however
close, his communication 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 conferences and answers to
Treaties of Peace were adapted to his logical head, and his
proneness to discussion. His own ingenuity in suggesting
inventions in his prison, and the patient devotion of his friends
in waiting for fit opportunities, or in contriving extraordinary
incidents and guileless stratagems, were equally common.
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 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 significant gesture.* Ladies have
lodged in the neighbourhood 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

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 0. (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 hath given me warning of him. Do not dis-
hearten 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 anything 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 tJiat I have been trusted toithalU*

* 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 nightcap, and as I thought
you took notice of liira, I hope to find something from you when I come in from
walking.'*

IMPRISONMENT AT THE ISLE OP WIGHT. 525

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 cele-
brated Harrington, a Republican in principle, was so forcibly
affected by the ability and dignity of the King, that he was
removed from his attendance. Herbert, who seems to have
adored the man in the monarch, was a Presbyterian; and
one Osborne, who assisted the King in his attempt to escape,
had been fixed as a spy near his person, 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 correspondence passed by means of the
King's glove.

Colonel Bosville appears to have transformed himself into
a variety of personages. Sometimes 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 concealed it.
This Colonel had several times been committed for these treason-
able manoeuvres, but he excelled in the singular art of escaping
from his gaolers. The warders who guarded the King's apart-
ment, were ordered by Hammond to lay their beds close to the
doors, by which means no doors could be opened without
removing their beds. Even this annoyance could not baflae
the persevering ingenuity of one of the King's secret friends,
Mr., afterwards, Sir Henry Firebrace. Though at London,
Firebrace contrived to get an appointment at the Castle, and
offering one of the warders to supply his place, whUe the
warder 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 perforated, behind the hanging; on
the approach of any one the aperture was covered by its noise-
less fall. Leaning to, and listening at this small aperture, did
Charles the First concert measures for his projected escape.

526 LMPRISONMEN"T AT THE ISLE OP WIGHT.

and through this crevice received and delivered many an
important dispatch.*

There are more than fifty notes or letters of a secret cor-
respondence which the King kept up with Sir William Hopkins,
a resident at the Isle of Wight.t They chiefly relate to an
escape which was planning for the royal prisoner, at the time
he was allowed an intercourse with some persons in the island.
They display 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 under-rated.

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 recommended
57 in earnest to her; but it was merely to have by her means
sometimes the conversation 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 inattentive 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 wonder not though
every one thought that I looked doggedly on them; where-
fore I desire you to assure 49 from me, that no sour looks
was intended for him, but all kindness." Even minute pre-
cautions and singular contrivances were necessary in the course

* Several notes which passed between the King and Firebrace were preserved by
the family. Tliey interest us by the striking contrast of the persons with their
situations. In one Charles says, " If you can, let me speak with you tliis night at
the Cliink."

f This curious correspondence was given to Wagstaffe by a descendant of the
family, and is preserved in the Appendix to Wagstaffu's « Vindication of Charles
the First."

IMPRISONMENT AT THE ISLE OP WIGHT. 527

of this secret correspondence. 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 intimacy with the
Earl of Pembroke, and without his Lordship's privity, if not
against his will, that nobleman, who was a considerable personage
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 verbal messages, which they honestly deh-
vered by stealth in the King's quarters, when he was immured
in Oxford. Royston, the loyal bookseller, contrived a singular
mode of conveyance of letters. Women-hawkers of pamphlets
travelled on foot, and were ordered to loiter 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 suspicion. Eminent persons betrayed
themselves by their own splendour ; their principles were usually
known, as happened to the Lady D'Aubigny, 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 wiUingly as ingenuity
and artifice were practised. During the dark nights of three
winter months did Ashburnham and two other gentleman wait
on the sea-shore, keeping a boat in readiness to aid Charles's
escape. By such humble expedients, and often such perilous
enterprises, the King was enabled to maintain a general corre-
spondence, rarely interrupted, with the BoyaUsts in various coun-
ties, the Scottish Commissioners at Edinburgh, the Queen at
Paris, and even with the young Duke of York, at St. James's.
Dr. Lingard has forcibly expressed his admiration of this singu-
lar and undaunted perseverance both in the royal captive and his

528 IMPRISONMENT AT THE ISLE OF WIGHT.

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 imperceived
by the King before the arrival 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 rough-
ness 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 difficulty 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 leaving his apartment, once more he looked
on the vane, and in consternation beheld the vane had suddenly
veered, standing at a contrary point, where it fixed for six days
together ! The vessel could not stir. Meanwhile the Commis-
sioners had arrived, and his closer confinement followed.

There was a fatality even in the trivial incidents of the life of
this unfortunate monarch. Charles afterwards attempted a
more hazardous flight from his imprisonment, and his friends
were waiting in difi'erent parts about the Castle to receive him.
It is a popular notion 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.f

• Lingard, x. 405.
+ In the interest! ag notes which passed between the King and Firebrace are
many particulars of this baffled attempt. Charles was aware of whatever he re-
quired. " The narrowness of the window was the only impediment of my escape,
and therefore some insti*ument 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 done, for my body is
much too thick for the breadth of the window, so that unless the middle bar be
taken away I cannot get through. It is absolutely impossible to do anything

TREATY AT THE ISLE OP WIGHT. 529

CHAPTER XXXIX.

TREATY AT THE ISLE OF WIGHT.

Doomed to the oblivion of a State-imprisonment, we are sur-
prised 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
transactions 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 situa-
tion : " I am like a Captain who had defended a place well, and
his superiors not being able to relieve him, he had leave to sur-
render 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 suf-
fered his unconquered mind in his great persecutions. But his
conduct was not less admirable towards the petty malignity
which would fain have disturbed his inherent dignity. His per-
sonal deprivations were not inconsiderable at Carisbrooke Castle.
They did not afford him wine of a good quality, 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."

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 Worsley,) and him who stayed for me beyond the works, for tlieir hearty
and industrious endeavours in this my service, the which I shaU always remember,
bemg Ukewise confident that they wiU not faint m so good a work."
VOL. II. ^ ^

530 TREATY AT THE ISLE OF WIGHT.

Charles was now a king without kingly power, but not without
kingly influence. His hereditary station swayed the predilec-
tions of the people, and the majesty of his " grey discrowned
head^^ was not viewed without "superstition," as Godwin
expresses the emotions of the multitude in that religious age.
But the monarch in his afflictions was beloved, sometimes to
adoration, by those who were near him, for his personal virtues ;
and his personal sufferings looked themselves hke virtues by the
silence of his noble unrepining natiu-e. The chivalric spirits of
the loftiest characters of England kindled at his name; they
flew from their retreats to rejoin their brothers ; 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 honour,
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 obscurity was undistinguished by any
illustrious acts, though famed in a wide scene of universal spo-
liation for dexterously transferring the wealth and the honours
of one part of the nation to another, f — mean and fugitive men,

• 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 Clarendon. Some suspicion that they were condemned from personal
motives, has thrown a dark shade over the reputation of Fairfax.

•f* It cost the dispensers of Parliamentary donations nothing but a vote to recom-
pense 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 sufferers had been
injured by fire or other losses, it was usually made good out of his neighbour's
estate, if he were " a Malignant," They voted 5000Z. to the executors of Hampden
out of the receipts at Goldsmiths' Hall, of the impositions levied on " Delinquents."
Lord Brooke's posthumous child received 5000Z. out of Lady Auckland's estate.
5000^. for Ireland out of the Earl of Worcester's lands. Captain Yarrington was
rewarded with 500^. to be raised out of the estate of Sir Henry Lingen, and 3000^.
for Colonel Lilburae out of Lord Coventry's estate.

I could give some idea of the iniquitous proceedings of those sequestrators, who
were called " the Coimtry Committees," from a curious docmnent of the nefarious
modes pursued by those I denominate " the mean and fugitive persons." Little
villains in great offices !

TREATY AT THE ISLE OP WIGHT. 531

who solely existed in their unlicensed freedom by the artifice of
the most indirect and crooked pohcy, creatures of their military
leaders ! The captive of Carisbrooke Castle was still awfully
remembered by the people. He dwelt in their thoughts, and
sometimes 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 commotion, and called for " God and the King ! " The
spontaneous cry was re-echoed by the populace of distant cities.
The Royal standard 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 memorable siege of Colchester. The fleet revolted to the
Prince. The cloud of an army gathered in the North, where
the English RoyaHsts 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 their seat of
power in Westminster the chief commanders of the army, and
in the absence of their authority and their compHcate intrigues,
the Presbyterian party had gradually recovered their former
predominance. The late exiled members had returned to their
seats, and Holies, the great orator of the Presbyterians, 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 ParHament had
recovered their freedom. But it was not long ere the scene
shifted. The army of Scotland had dissolved as rapidly as it
had been hastily levied ; Colchester surrendered, the last hope
of the RoyaHsts, and the dissolute but spirited Goring, the
chivakic Capel, and the ineflacient Hamilton were imprisoned
in Windsor Castle, and remained only to lament together
the useless efforts of iU-concerted plans and precipitated

M M 2

532 TREATY AT THE ISLE OP WIGHT.

engagements. Still Cromwell was yet not free to return from his
conquests in the norths 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 consented to become a commissioner to a treaty which
he felt he could not successfully oppose, 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 enlarged. The length of time allowed was
considered 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 recommending himself.
It is remarkable that by Sir John Bowring's own account, the
King is continually regretting that he had not followed Sir
John's advice, and was now determined, as this knight says, " to
be ruled by him in whatsoever 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.

Bowring after first looking at the door, and requesting to
know if any one hearkened, addressed the King, " ' Sir, this
treaty is not obtained 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 immediately apprehended his Majesty misliked
my advice of getting away." It was indeed a melancholy omen
for the results of the expected treaty.

Bowring proceeds with his garrulous narrative. '' If your
Majesty docs think you can make your more certain peace by
treating than by going away, then I beg of your Majesty to

TBEATY AT THE ISLE OP WIGHT. 633

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 Majesty 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 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 prevent 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 pohtician expressly 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 pohtical stratagem of Cromwell's party is confirmed by
Clarendon, and it was not without 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.

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 Newport, for his
accommodation during the time of the treaty. He soon, how-
ever, 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 about 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.

* Ashmole's MSS. 800. Art. xxxvi. This was written by Charles himself.

534 TREATY AT THE ISLE OF WIGHT.

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 Eoyal Chaplains, and his Secretaries, all has-
tened and took their places in the small house at Newport, and
the delusive 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 con-
trast, 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 exterior changes of
his person deeply affected his friends, perhaps even his enemies,
pathetically exclaims Hume. His constitution was unbroken,
his intellectual faculties were unusually vivid and vigorous, his
cold manners, though still majestic, had softened their severity,
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 untrimmed, his dishevelled tresses hung in disorder,
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 condemned
the person whom so many scorned to utter negligence, and
that he seemed to consider his whole existence to be Uttle more
than an act of penance.

As the King had frequently demanded a personal treaty, the
Commissioners had decided 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
subtle diplomacy, and, what was worse, another of the Rabbins

TREATY AT THE ISLE OF WIGHT. 686

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 apart-
ment, 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 him
from the Lords to do so." This was all the prompting Charles
received through a wearying 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 chas-
tened the severity 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 argu-
ment, 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 subtle and extraordinary argument, the
morality of which seems more relaxed than the political expe-
diency. Glyn observed that his Majesty might with a good
conscience give way to the abolition of Episcopacy, since a clause
in the Coronation Oath says, that " he will maintain the customs
of the Land;" 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 Presbytery was an order of
ministers more blessed for the pubHc good than the hierarchy.
They were debating whether any real distinction existed between

536 TREATY AT THE ISLE OP WIGHT.

them, whether the one included the other? and whether the
whole was not a verbal controTcrsr, a distinction without a
difference ?

The King^s felicitons illustration of the nature 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 yon 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 fi^y, and being asked how that could be ? Why,
says he, there hath been three blows given, and I had them all."
The Parliamentary 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 wonderfully 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
fsmaticism, 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 melan-
choly. Charles was dictating to Sir Phihp 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 wiUinglier have chosen misery
than sin." On which Charles shed tears ; " the biggest drops
that I ever saw fall fit>m 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 afternoon his
Majesty heard several draughts of an answer upon the proposi-
tion for Beligion : disliked aU : and was in a great perplexity

• Sff Edward Walker, 319.

TREATY AT THE ISLE OP WIGHT. 537

about the point of abolishing Episcopacy, even to shedding of
tears." What tyrant erer before shed tears? Charles's situa-
tion was at this moment alarmingly critical ; he had lecdTed
certain intelligence that he was to be carried away to a closer
prison, or to be assassinated. 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 stOl nnsafe, bat Courage knows
No other Foe but him vho doth oppoaeJ* *

But the great ability and the diligence of Charles were not
wholly restricted to the labours of this great assembly on the
present occasion. After every day's tedious conferences, 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 Carisbrooke 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 uninterrupted 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.t

* Oudart's Diarv, Peck's Dead. Cur. Liber, x.
t Clarendon, in his History, has given some extracts from these dispatches ;
« The Journal," as Charles himself calls it, is among the Clarendon State Pkpers,
ii. 425, 444, 445. Dr. Lingard has jusUy acknowledged Aat "the best account of the
treaty is that composed &y ordar qfthe Ki»g kimt^.for Ae use of the Prince of
Wales," X. 424. But from this we must necessarily infer that flieae, Uke other
State Papers, were composed by another writer than the King. Charfcs has been
already robbed of what was his own in the « Icon Basihke." In this Joorcal, 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 iweardies,
and not conceive that every document opened to them is to be looked on only as a

State-paper !

538 TREATY AT THE ISLE OF WIGHT.

The subjects which are involved in the Articles of this Treaty
have ceased to interest the posterity of Charles the First, but the
acute discussion, the elevated style, the solemn counsels this un-
happy monarch sent to a son, who afterwards proved unworthy
of such a father, remain to illustrate his personal history.

Charles has moralised on his own history : " We would wil-
lingly 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 punish-
ment, 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 seasonable duty is, and that men
cannot fix when they please, what they unnecessarily shake.

" 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 pro-
cure 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 Kin(fs 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 Peojile !
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 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 entrust their treasure when it
returns them interest ; and if Princes, like the sea, receive and
repay all the fresh streams the rivers entrust with them, they

TREATY AT THE ISLE OP WIGHT. 539

will not grudge, but pride themselves to make tliem 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 unwilUng to hearken
to changes hereafter. The English nation are a sober people,
however at present infatuated.

" We know not but this may be the last time we may speak
to you or the world publicly. 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 therefore
can the better digest what befalls.

'^ You are the son of our love. If God restore you to your
rights upon hard conditions, whatever you promise, keep. These
men, who have forced laws which they are bound to observe,
will find their triumphs full of troubles. 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 has himself
observed. He who has read these Commentaries will more
clearly comprehend the importance of this development, for
such it is, of the character of the captive of Carisbrooke Castle ;
that character only changed by new acquirements, or was modi-
fied by protracted adversities and meditating experience. The
finest passages in the "Icon Basilike" do not exceed many
similar ethical reflections in these evening effusions to his son.

540 HAMMOND.

CHAPTER XL.

HAMMOND.

Sometimes the days seemed tranquil as they glided away,
while Charles was resigned to his books and the bowling-green
of Carisbrooke Castle ; but this tranquillity of his spirits was
often interrupted by the terror of assassination. The King told
Sir John Bowring, " 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 design which had been communi-
cated to Cromwell of disposing of the King's person.* The time
allotted to the treaty having expired, the Commissioners hasten
back to the Parliament. 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 Eoyalists annihilated, were hurrying in triumph
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 pre-
dictor 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." f

It was a few days ere the Commissioners had departed, that
one morning a breathless messenger demanded an immediate
interview with the King. Sir Philip Killegrew, at the risk of

• Wagstaffe's Appendix to his Vindication of Charles the First,
t Evelyn's Memoirs, Appendix, ii. 127-

HAMMOND. 641

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 inteUigencer. " 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 communi-
cation, hurried back to Windsor. Killegrew had only anticipated
by a few days the large Remonstrance of the Army which had
been agreed on in their Council of War.

From every quarter at home the friends of Charles were
urgent for him to leave the Island, while there remained a pos-
sibility 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 borrowed
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 honour of knighthood.

Hume and other historians have described the reluctance of
Charles to attempt to recover his liberty at this critical moment
from the inviolability in which he held his parole ; not that it
required any sublilty 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 advised him not to quit the Island,
that the Ai-my would not hurt a hair of his head." " This

* Bowring's Memorial, 150.

542 HAMMOND.

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 mysterious allusion occurs in Clarendon. The
passage requires attention from a remarkable interpolation,
which was designed for a particular purpose. " Before the Treaty
the King was inclined to make his escape, thinking any liberty
preferable to the restraint he had endured. But he did receive
some discouragement from pursuing that purpose, which both
diverted him from it, and gave him great trouble of mind. ' It
cannot be imagined how wonderfully 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 Editors 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. Finding in the manuscript a confes-
sion 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 violation of his pledge.
Beject 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 document which seems not
to have been known to the noble historian himself.

It is certain, that ere the treaty was concluded, pressed on
all sides by his domestic friends, and continually warned of the
desperate designs on his person, Charles had decided on another
flight. To the peril to which his life was exposed by the con-
spirators, he evidently alludes in his parting address to the
Commissioners, " I am fully informed of the whole carriage of
the plot against me and mine." A vessel had even been pre-
pared 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

* Clarendon, vi. 192.

HAMMOND. 543

quarter, that Charles was in correspondence with Sir William
Hopkins, who there commanded a ship. Why Charles did not
proceed in executing this plan, can only be accounted for by
the mysterious allusion to " that friend beyond seas," asBowring
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 mentioned, I found 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 decorum he had formerly quitted
Hampton Court, drew up a paper containing his reasons,
addressed not only " to the Lords and Gentlemen," but " To all
my People." As this paper remains inedited, 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 presented 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, 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 become from his
situation, having the guard of the King^s person, a more im-
portant personage than his real character would have made
him. The Parliament suspected the integrity of Hammond, for
which, however, they had no reason, as Charles observed that
" the Governor had grown as great a rogue as the rest," allud-
ing 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 connections lay with
Cromwell and Ireton, and the Army faction, were not at their
ease respecting his integrity, and they would have been less so,

544 HAmiOND.

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 and the other the 25th of
November, a few days preparatory to their great coup d'etat.

" Dear Robin," as in the familiarity of friendship both style
Hammond, Ireton assured of " the tenderness that we have (in
the Army) towards 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 Par-
liament 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 faithfulness, to the neglect of the reality or sub-
stance. God had better endued Robin with truth and judgment
in the inner parts. The subtle Ireton thus worked at "the
grounds of his scruples," and the serpent at the ear of Eve had
never whispered more seductive treason. The effusions of Crom-
well were more voluminous ; they flow with all the unction of
his " Experiences," and all the demonstrations of his " Provi-
dences." He sympathises with the complaints 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 England in the Parliament," this had been
inculcated 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

* Letters between Colonels Robert Hammond, Cromwell, Ireton, &c., 1764.

HURST BLOCK-HOUSE, AND WINDSOR CASTLE. 645

object of the writers with the Governor of the Isle of Wight.
The conscience of Hammond was pure. The whole of Ham-
mond's life, from the moment Charles entered the island, offers
a singular exhibition of an honest man embarrassed by opposite
principles. In the present great temptation, even his powerful
friends had not succeeded to induce him to act as they desired,
but they verified what this unhappy man had from his sponta-
neous emotions exclaimed at his first meeting with Berkley and
Ashburnham.— -They perplexed him. When these subtle men had
ascertained that their friend could not be their creature, they
conjured him away from his Government, and after suffering an
imprisonment. Colonel Hammond got shelved.

CHAPTEU XLI.

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" * coun-
tenance, were ominous; there was a deep melancholy 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. Bo wring got him away by an invi-
tation to dinner. The stranger inquired for Hammond the
Governor; and in the style of the evil spirit, coming for the
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 for some sudden

• « The funereal air " of this officsr is noticed in the Narrative of the Siege of
Colchester.

VOL. II. ^ ^

546 HTJRST BLOCK-HOUSE, AND WINDSOR CASTLE.

change. When Hammond entered, the stranger did not know
his person till he had declared himself. " I am commanded to
bring you a prisoner to Windsor." — " What force have you in
the Island? " said Hammond. — " Myself only ! " sternly replied
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 arrival 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 sub-
jection as instantly to submit himself to their single messenger.
It might, however, not have been unknown to him that two
regiments were arriving at Southampton, 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 maiden's foot was on the snake.

This was the prelude of carrying off the King. In the even-
ing 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, abruptly 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 ; " Hammond's depu-
ties 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 reported that two thousand foot were
drawn about Carisbrookc Castle. The Lords and gentlemen
urge the King to attempt his escape. Charles resumed his
accustomed mode of reasoning. "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

HURST BLOCK-HOUSE, AND WINDSOR CASTLE. 547

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 Castle!"— "To what Castle?"—
" To the Castle !"— " The Castle is no Castle. I am prepared
for any Castle, but tell me the name." — " Hurst Castle." — " In-
deed ! you could not have named a worse ! "

The King was hurried into a coach. Major Rolfe,— an
officer who had been accused of tampering with the Clerk of
the Kitchen to dispatch 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 ruffian — " Go you out ! We have not yet come
to that ! " and called in Herbert and Harrington, his Grooms
of the Bed-chamber. Eolfe, repulsed and mortified amidst his
own troop, mounted the King's led horse, and rode by the
coach-side, reviling the King. Charles betrayed no discom-
posure, and already knowing whither he was going, amused
himself with the conjectures of his gentlemen. Charles had
certainly 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 Captain 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 black beard, a heavy partisan in his hand, and
a huge basket-hilted sword at his side, betrayed a man designed

N N 2

548 HURST BLOCK-HOUSE, AND WINDSOR CASTLE.

for mischief. He vapoured and thundered ! the King's attend-
ants were alarmed ; but at the reprimand of the Lieutenant -
Colonel, it turned out that the Captain 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 apartments, 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 conduct
and ability during the treaty, had expressed his admiration of
Charles with such fervour, that his conversation having been
reported, the philosopher was instantly dismissed from his attend-
ance on the King. Charles deeply resented this, for he was
sensible of the fine genius of Harrington, with whom he delighted
to converse on the freedom under a Monarchy, and the freedom
under a Common-wealth, — the model, probably, of Harring-
ron's own political romance, the " Oceana ! "

Herbert remained the solitary and the faithful servant of
Charles ; but as he observes, in jnotu trepidationis. Three weeks
had now elapsed. Charles had of late received some dark inti-
mations 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 severed from the
land, seemed to have been selected for some dreadful deed ; and
every new commander 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, de-
sired to be dressed, and retired to his prayers. Herbert noticed
his unusual concern, and could not avoid shedding 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."

HTJRST BLOCK-HOUSE, AND WINDSOR CASTLE. 549

It was for some time difficult to obtain the secret of Major
Harrison's midnight expedition. The King was agreeably sur-
prised to learn that he was only to be removed to Windsor; 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 physiognomist was more candid than Lavater ; and
in the present case had vainly flattered himself with having
found a Eoyalist in a Republican.

It was observed that the King had not for a long time been
so cheerful — a transitory happiness seemed to come over him ;
the visions of the antique regal castle flattered his imagination
with a change of fortune. He was escaping 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 wondered, 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 approached with due respect ; the King
took him aside at a window for half an hour, and among other
things told him of the information concerning him, which
rendered him an enemy in the worst sense to his person. The
Major vindicated 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. Macaulay calls " an honest fanatic," were
as explicit as the axiom he had uttered ! and Charies, detecting
his physiognomical blunder, ceased any farther communication.

In the delights of Windsor Castle, Charies appeared to have
lost in forgetfulness the tribulations of many years. It had

550 HURST BLOCK-HOUSE, AND WINDSOR CASTLE.

been long since in repose he had viewed Nature. He had his
liberty to walk where he pleased within the Castle. He loved
to linger on the lengthened terrace, to gaze on the spires of
learned Eton — to pursue the winding Thames — and 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 fugitive happiness.

At Windsor Castle the King and his party were not yet
convinced that the Court of Judicature, 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 Manuscript 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, combined with more important ones, the noble
diarist concludes, that " he hangs still upon the twig,'' — it was
then the state of the drowning man.

The true comment on this expression of Lord Leicester's,
who was himself somewhat of a Parliamentarian, may be col-
lected from the intelligence daily dispatched from Windsor, and
published to prepare the public for the great and approach-
ing event. These privileged spies express astonishment at the
King's unaltered habits and careless endurance of his persecu-
tions. " The King," they say, " continues indifferent merry ; "
''yiet," adds another, "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

HURST BLOCK-HOUSE, AND WINDSOR CASTLE. 551

London, how his young Princess did? He was answered she was very
melancholy. The King replied, ' And weU 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 subject. On telling him that the
Parliament intended to proceed in justice against him, he answered, no9t
simply and tyrannically, ' Who can question me for my life ?' " ♦

This is a curious example of party writing from the Govern-
ment paper of a vile Government. Here are as many lies as
lines. When Charles alluded to that

" Child of Misery, baptised 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 him-
self " her old father ? '' He died in the prime of life. How
was it possible 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 Ues
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 meditated catastrophe. Could it be believed that
Charles's " discourse of late so effeminate," and " talking of
women," was his domestic tenderness ? the voice of the father
and the husband ? the excruciating feelings for his hapless
daughter and his exiled Queen, who at this time was soHciting
the Parliament for a safe conduct to approach once more the
unhappiest 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, permitted but
for a minute — a single minute— deeply implored and hardly
conceded,— that the Duke of Hamilton, who remained a prisoner
at the Castle, cast himself on his knees before the King :—" My

* The Moderate, impartially communicating Martial Affairs to the Kingdom of
England ; January 9 to 16, 1649. The writer was Gilbert Mabbott, or Mabbold,
the new licenser !— in this first year of « Freedom restored ! "

552 HURST BLOCK-HOUSE, AND WINDSOR CASTLE.

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 ordered that all regal ceremonies should
be abolished, and that the accustomed respect to his 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 imprisonment 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 St. James's
and Whitehall, open a series of pathetic scenes which the inven-
tions 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 brutalised 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."

* The Say is an abbreviation of Assay, or trial ; the ceremony of tasting the
King's food when presented.

THE TRIAL AND THE DECAPITATION. 553

CHAPTER XLII.

THE TRIAL AND THE DECAPITATION.

The Commons voted themselves '' the Supreme Authority of
the Nation," and whatever they declared to be law was law,
without 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 reck-
less in his wit as in his life, with the same tolerant good-humour
which he had evinced on a former occasion with Judge Jenkins,
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 numerous
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 arraigned, 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 " Heaven
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 dropped and resumed. When

* This important fact I have alluded to at page 449. See BaUUe's Letters, ii.
209. May, 1646. « 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 ho was
readv to be taken at Oxford, and either to have been executed, which is the nnnd
of to'o many here, or to be clapped up in perpetual prison, he had never come near
us." Again, at p. 225, in August of the same year: "The secretaries are Uie
extremely malicious enemies of the blinded Prince, burning for the day to cast Inm
and all his posterity out of England." BaUlie was himself an honest mtolerant
Presbyterian, and Charles the First, with him, was « the bhnded Prince,' because
he could not as an English monarch, and iu conscience as a religiomst, subscribe
the covenant of the Kirk of Scotland !

554 THE TRIAL AND THE DECAPITATION.

Charles had closed with the treaty of Newport, the struggle
became momentous between the two great factions. The Army-
advanced on London. On December 1st, 1648, they carried off
the King to Hurst Castle. On the 5tli the House sate through
the whole night, and after a fierce debate, in the morning they
carried the question that the King's concessions were satisfactory
for a settlement. The Army-faction seemed mastered. What
then happens ?

One of themselves has told us. " The Parliament has fallen
into such factions and divisions, 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 his-
toriographer, had his friends not constituted the forlorn minority.
It was therefore " a resolution," so Ludlow expresses it, that tlie
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, 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 characters we could of their inclinations,
wherein I presume we were not mistaken in many." — No matter !
th6 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 Westminster 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 Colonel Pride's famed " Purge," delivered
by their own authentic historian.*

• Ludlow, i. 233.

THE TRIAL AND THE DECAPITATION. 655

This coup d'etat was struck on December 6th, the very next
day after their discomfiture in the House. On January the 4th
the Commons invested themselves with " the Supreme Autho-
rity," 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
comedian 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, cover-
ing his eyes with his hands, burying his head in the cushion,
resounding laughter polluted the choir of St. Margaret's Chapel.
The 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 Presidenu of the novel Court, on the Sunday preceding
the execution on the Tuesday, that the High Priest of the Revo-
lution took for his text, "Bind your kings with chains, and
your nobles with fetters of iron." It delighted 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 confessions,
we could never have formed any correct notion of the vile and
ridiculous man himself. In this political history of human

556 THE TRIAL AND THE DECAPITATION.

nature, he serves greatly to instruct us. He was one of those
characters who are engendered in the excitement of a Revolu-
tionary period, persons easily tempted to go all lengths with a
triumphant party, and contribute to more mischief than they
would of themselves incline to.

This merry- Andrew in the pulpit, and this advocate for the
sword in law, was at bottom a grave and earnest divine, neither
wanting in learning nor in ability. By the deposition of a
servant at his trial, it appears that he was usually " melancholy
sick." Originally an exile from his non-conformity, under the
severe administration of Laud, he had passed 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, messenger, and minion of
the Army, in his political fanaticism he maintained that all
government depended on the sword.* Yet this reckless being
in his cell, awaiting his trial, could consider, as he tells us, that
"A good government 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 donations, one of which was Laud's library; and his
conscience, now the fatal tree was in his contemplation, 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 private,) " 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 generosity, 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 recom-
mended 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^

* See note in page 405 for his dialogue with Lilbume.

THE TRIAL AND THE DECAPITATION. 557

" 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 ring which Goring had given him for having saved
his life. But when he wrote in his Confessions, 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 sermon on "the Barabbas of
Windsor" and its text had been utterly forgotten. He had
declared 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 contrition 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 adven-
turers who looked not for their fortunes 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-

558 THE TRIAL AND THE DECAPITATION.

manufactured arms of the Commonwealth 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 expression Restored he used
on another occasion. In drawing up the Remonstrance of the
Army, which changed the Monarchy into a Commonweath,
this Sheridan of his day, had said " Restored to its ancient
government of Commonwealth." A member rose to reprimand,
and to wonder at the impudence of Harry Marten, asserting
the antiquity of Commonwealth, 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 Commonwealth.*

Charles, on his entrance before the tribunal which had now
usurped the supreme authority 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
monarchy.

* I found this anecdote in the Aubrey Papers at the Ashmolean Museum. It
may receive some elucidation from a passage in the trial of the great Regicide,
Thomas Scott. This party maintained that the Enghsh Government originally con-
sisted of the Commons, which Scott urged as a plea for his defence in having obeyed
the Parliament, consisting 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 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 asser-
tion,— 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 revolutionaiy Reforms, printed a diagram of the
English Constitution, wherein the rude times of Alfred 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 civilisation to barbarous periods when the people were
often slaves attached to the soil. This, then, was to be the Constitution " restored
to its ancient government of Commonwealth ! "

THE TRIAL AND THE DECAPITATION. 55g

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 macebearer, over-
come by the awfulness of conducting Charles to the bar, exces-
sively trembled, and could scarcely support the mace, or hold
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 recol-
lections. They had more recently hstened 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 sovereignty. While the prevailing faction, smaU
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
mournful silence, but often by a spontaneous burst of " God
save the King ! " Hume has beautifully touched this part of
the story. " The King was softened at this moving scene, and
expressed his gratitude for their dutiful affection." An unfor-
tunate 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, 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 commanders, to raise a forced shout or obtrude an insult.
When the King was rowed to Westminster, 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 Tomlinson, although his party had passed
their sentence on the King as a Traitor, would conduct the
King to the scaffold with hat in hand. Even the unknown
executioners deemed 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 them-
selves in at every entrance, they set guards on the leads and

560 THE TRIAL AND THE DECAPITATION.

other places that had windows, and all back-doors. Ten com-
panies of foot were constantly on guard ; the people were beat
back by the soldiers. The famed broad-brimmed hat, beneath
which their Lord President scowled on the hapless monarch, was
cased with iron. These self-styled representatives of the 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
been most fearful of the plaintiffs themselves ?

Charles the First, on his trial, at no time found his presence
of mind fail, nor the firmness of his pulse, nor the aptness of his
language. 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
circumstance 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 expression of public contempt for the Royal
presence was yet so much of a novelty, that even these Com-
missioners, who had dared to try him for his life, did not venture
once to offer him a public indignity, notwithstanding that tlie
more violent of the faction reduced his designation to " The
Man." Bradshaw, though he never addressed the King by the
style of royalty, 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 Serjeant of obscure reputation, suddenly elevated
into the office of the Chief Magistrate of the Land, affected an
equality of pomp with Royalty itself; yet as the same prepara-
tions had been allowed the King, it betrayed in these novices
in the arts of degrading the person of the Sovereign, the invo-
luntary 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

THE TfllAL AND THE DECAPITATION. 561

leisurely, or looked about him with curiosity, often with many
an inquiring glance. A paper of the day describes the King.
" With a quick eye and nimble gesture he turned himself often-
times 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 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 Eoyal Master. They declared that they had concurred by
their counsels, and alone should be deemed guilty. Honour
and patriotism emulated each other in that proffered immola-
tion. 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 before 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 pas-
sage between the King and the people. Charles the First was
there as if he had stood alone in the universe. Once a solitary
voice reminded him that there was in that Court one who recog-
nised the King, and proclaimed who was the traitor ; but that
voice was a female's ! *

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

* 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, « 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.

VOL. II. OO

56E THE TEIAL AND THE DECAPITATION.

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 then
" the King's gaoler," and who had " artificially 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, however, 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 insists that "the House of Commons was
never a Court of Judicature." The words of " The 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."
Bradshaw would not allow the King to dispute the authority of
this self-elected court, insisting on his submission to it. Charles
admirably replied 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 professed. 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, pressed hard by the King's argument, who

THE TRIAL AND THE DECAPITATION. 563

said " I require that I do give in ray reasons why I do not
answer/' with rude insolence replied, " Sir, 'tis not for prisoners
to require ! " The indignant 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 is not to be heard?" the
Serjeant unwittingly replied, *' Sir ! we show it you here, the
Commons 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 acknowledge 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 ! — Sir ! I must con-
fess I think it would have been for the kingdom's peace if you
would have taken the pains to have shown the lawfulness of
your power." Charles now condescended 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 marked in the retort —
" The Court then, Sir, hath something to say unto you, which
although 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 Brad^haw 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 pronouncing, the King
was observed to smile, and then to lift his eyes in silently ap-
pealing to Heaven. After the condemnation this extraordinary
dialogue ensued.

* These "reasons," which the King was not suffered to deliver, and which, if ho
had, would have been to no purpose, he, as was his laborious custom, left behind
him in writing. He has even noted down when he was interrupted in Bpeaking,
adding, « Against reason I was hindered to show my reasons."

O O <i

664 THE TRIAL AND THE DECAPITATION.

The King addressed Bradsliaw. " 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 ! with-
draw your prisoner ! "

King. — " I may speak after the sentence, by your favour.

Sir ! I may speak after sentence, ever ! By your favour.

Hold! The sentence, Sir! I say Sir 1 do — I am not

suffered 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
fortitude of Charles the First. He commanded while he im-
plored. In the dramas of Shakspeare 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 soldier exclaiming, " God bless
yoii, Sir ! " his Captain caned him. The King observed, that
*'The punishment exceeded the offence." In a conversation
with Herbert, shortly afterwards, the King asked if he had
remarked the cry of the soldiers for '^Justice and Execution !"
Herbert 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 correct judgment of
the King. We know that once Hugh Peters hurried out of

THE TRIAL AND THE DECAPITATION. 565

Court to instigate 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 I
as the King passed. The real persecutors of Charles were re-
stricted 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 children, 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
having done this, and withdrawn to the window 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 preceding evening,
gives a touching representation of the man. Charles taking off
an emerald ring from his finger, seemed anxious that Herbert,
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
mysterious cabinet was opened, it contained diamonds and
jewels, and for t^e 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 children, 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."

566 THE TRIAL AND THE DECAPITATIOIT.

This style from the lips of " a Tyrant " is strange and unex-
pected, and the title of " Martyr/^ 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 persevering in their faith ; but that,
since Charles had consented to suspend, or abolish, the Episco-
pacy 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 poHtical one. Charles need not have ascended the
scaffold, 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 betrayed the liberties and rights of the people, I
need not have come hither/^ * This last of his acts 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 ofiers, and the interference of great parties, both at
home and abroad. On the Sunday preceding the decollation
written proposals were tendered to the King to restore him to
his shadowy throne, on terms which a pusillanimous and dis-
honoured Prince would have subscribed. The Council of War
proposed to be the sole government of England, and this mili-
tary force was to be maintained by a hea\y land-rate, to be
levied by the Army. A close committee held a private meeting.
Rushworth was concerned in procuring a house among his
friends for this secret purpose. Charles, at the first articles,
indignantly threw aside the paper which might have given him
an ignoble existence, and exclaimed, " I will rather become a
sacrifice for my people, than endure this intolerable bondage of
an armed Faction I '^ f Charles would not be a Slave-king. It

* Trials of the Regicides, 190. 4to edition.
t Clement Walker, History of Independency, ii. 109, gives many particulars.
The meeting for which Rushworth was employed to fix on a private place, where

THE TRIAL AND THE DECAPITATION. 567

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 prisoner; 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.*

At St. James's the night preceding the execution, Herbert, his

the persons assembled 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. Lingard 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 cii'cumstance.
The curious reader, I warn off any other, will take some interest in details wliich
discover how numerous writers may err, either by echoing the first opinion pro-
mulgated, or by not being in possession of a material fact.

Mrs. Macaulay reprobates the story as « a calumny oa the Parliament and the
Army, propagated by the petulant Presbyterian 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 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 s>pace 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 dis-
turbed all Saturday and Sunday night by the strokes of the workmen, proceeds
thus : « Tuesday 30th of January was the day appointed 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 Gement Walker,
notwithstandmg that by his careless mode of writmg Mr. Brodie ingeniously mmde
Clement refute Clement, is, however, the veracious account, and that Hume stands
perfectly exculpated from any attempt at a "theatrical representation ? "

It now appears from Lord Leicester's journal, recently published, that Charles
lay at Whitehall the two nights following his sentence, and that he was only removed

568 THE TRIAL AND THE DECAPITATION.

faithful attendant, lay on a pallet by the King's side, and " took
small rest." The King slept soundly for four hours. Two hours
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 remarkable : but he is dead ; had we now
conferred 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 ; for " the season is sharp, and pro-
bably may make me shake, which some will imagine proceeds

to St. James's the night preceding his execution. The fact is confirmed by this
entry in the useful Oesta Britannorum among the works of Sir George Wharton,
who kept a chronological diary :

" January. — The scaffold was erected before the Banqueting-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 occa-
sioned by the erection of the scaffold at Whitehall to Charles, omitted noticing 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 Herbert, who wrote many years after
the event, as happened to Ashbumham and others, or by a false reading of the
manuscript, or a careless misprint, " two hours " for " two days : " a circumstance

THE TRIAL AND THE DECAriTATION. 509

from fear. I would have no such imputation. 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 weather 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 Colonel 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 leaving the Park, an
affectionate domestic reminiscence 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 consecrated the Sacrament, which he
refused to mingle with human food. The Bishop, whose mind
was unequal to conceive the intrepid spirit of the King, dread-
ing 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

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 fallibility of written evidence,
even from authentic quarters, whenever a material circumstance has been acci-
dentally omitted, or comes to us in a mutilated shape.

« 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.

570 THE TKIAL AND THE DECAPITATION.

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 completed ; 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
expressed his astonishment on hearing that the execution had
just taken place. This extraordinary simplicity and abstraction
from the present scene of affairs has been imputed to the General
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 feehngs respecting the King
were congenial with those his lady had so memorably 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 altogether. 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 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 tho
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 extraordinary that on repeated im-
portant occasions he professed not to know what was doing in his own name. The
General, 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 diffei'ent temper." The Duke of

THE TEIAL AND THE DECAPITATION. 571

Secret history has not revealed all that passed in those three
awful hours. We know, however, 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 together, and Cromwell, with
four Colonels, assembled in it. Colonel Huncks refused to sign
the warrant. 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, remon-
strating with him, that " the ship is coming into the harbour,
and now would he strike sail before we come to anchor?"
Cromwell stepped to a table, and vrrote what he had proposed to
Huncks; Colonel Hacker supplying 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 alacrity. The King
passed through the long gallery by a Hue of soldiers. Awe and
sorrow seem now to have mingled in their countenances. Their
barbarous commanders were intent on their own triumph, and
no farther required the forced cry of " Justice and Execution."
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 indifference as " he would
have entered Whitehall on a masque-night," as an intelhgent
observer described. The King looked towards St. James's and
smiled ! Curious eyes were watchful of his slightest motions ;
and the Commonwealth papers 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 ^)een cradled in royalty, who had lived years in
the fields of honour, and was now, they presumed, a recreant in

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 publislied,
except his « Short Memorials," he composed several treatises and translations of
military and other authors ; versified the Psahns ; wrote a History of Uie 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.
* Trial of the Regicides, 221.

572 THE TRIAL AND THE DECAPITATION.

imprisonment, "the grand Delinquent of England," as they
called him, would start in horror at the block.

This last triumph, at least, was not reserved for them, — it
was for the King. Charles, dauntless, strode " the floor of
Death," to use Fuller's peculiar, but expressive phraseology.
He looked on the block, with the axe lying upon it, with atten-
tion ; his only anxiety was that the block seemed not suffici-
ently 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 scaff'old. " 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 circumstances ^ 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 scafi"old, that their victim, if necessary,
might be bound down upon the block.

The King^s speech has many remarkable points; but cer-
tainly nothing so remarkable as the place where it was delivered.
This was the first "King^s Speech" spoken from a scaffold.
Time shall confirm, as History has demonstrated, 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 ,ad ministration 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 changed 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 indiff'erence to
death appeared. He took off" his cloak and George, and deli-
vered the George to the Bishop, but he would not suff'er
decapitation 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

THE TRIAL AND THE DECAPITATION. 578

higher. He seems to have had some suspicion of a cruel mas-
sacre, 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 simphcity of the man in 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 corruptible to an
incorruptible crown, where no disturbance can be, no disturb-
ance 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 had 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 ! " 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 observed 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 countless 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.f The troops immediately
dispersed on all sides the mournful, or the agitated people.

* « 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
nothmg ready ! ' He went to the King, when having read one of his old sermons,
he did not forget to nse the words set down in the Liturgy, inviting all to confess
before the congregation gathered together, though there was no one present but tho
King and himself." — i. 244.

t Tlie rehcs 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

574 THE TRIAL AND THE DECAPITATION.

Charles the First received the axe with the same collected-
ness 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 de-
graded by the animosity 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, 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 " Defence of the People^" treats Charles the First
as a mere actor, stooping " Veluti poetce aut histriones teterrimi
plansum in ipso exitio ambitiosissimi 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 Caesar's fall !

The strength of character of Charles the First was derived
from that intense and concentrated conception of Sovereignty
which was always before him, and was at once his good and his

their hands in his blood. A Poem in "Parnassus Biceps" is "upon the King's
Book (the Icon Basihke) 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 Commonwealth men being equally eager to be sup-
plied, and the 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
uninjured. 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.

CONCLUSION. 575

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 ruks
Passions, desires, and fears, is more a King —
And who attains not, ill aspires to nde
Cities of men, or head-strong Multitudes,
himself to Anarchy within."

This ideal sovereign of the great Poet, we may at least con-
ceive to have been Charles the First, for, amidst his variable
fortunes, his hopes or his despair,

« HE REIGNED WITHIN HIMSELF!"

CHAPTER XLIII.

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 j both alike were clinging to
the hallowed structure of national freedom, and both equally
confident, appealed to the laws within its sanctuary. If the
Parliament rose against the King, the act was to be legalised
in the King's name ; if the King in his distresses violated the
Constitution, the act received the form of legahty in the opinions

576 CONCLUSIOIT.

of tlie Judges. The remonstrances, the replies, 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 revolutionising itself through
a great variety of human interests, and often by a noble display
of the passions, but with many errors, and many miseries, hasten-
ing, or retarding the protracted and the dubious catastrophe.

From the age of Charles the First we contemplate in our
history the phases of Revolution — in a Monarchy, a Republic,
a Despotism, 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 Monarchy, 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 necessary; another which, when
the gloss of novelty 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 probable that some happier genius,
the Montesquieu, or the Locke of another order of events, shall
deduce new results in the policy of governments, 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 His-
tory, without fear or flattery. Should these volumes be accep-
table as a critical supplement to our preceding historians;
should some popular errors have been corrected, and some
novel researches have been opened, the development of this
political history will reveal to us a history of human nature, as
a philosopher, not as a partisan, would observe it. That an
historian of Charles the First must necessarily be condemned as
an apologist of arbitrary power, is a painful 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 conceal 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-

CONCLUSION. 577

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 chimseras !

My aim was directed by no narrow view, or personal motive ;
a great subject was opened, and an extraordinary character con-
tributed to give an unity to its diversified scenes.

There are no characters which more powerfully address our
sympathies than those of a mixed nature, when, by the pecu-
liarity 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 per-
sonal character of Charles the First. This King occupied a
position, perhaps unparalleled in the history of monarchs ; it
was one of those awful epochs when an empire is to be sub-
verted. 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 Tiberius.*

* Two heavy charges have often been raised against Charles the First — that he
was a cruel and heartless man, and so utterly void of sincerity, that his word was
never to be trusted. Mrs. Macaulay and Mr. Brodie, evidently with some per-
plexity, 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 accuse 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 trampljjig on Fairfax's foot, as the marks of a predominant
character. That he was not naturally of a cruel temper, numerous facts attest ;
while not a single one to show his inhumanity has the industi-y of his maliguants
been able to allege. Charles was not a man of blood.

In respect to his sincerity, and " the mental reservation " of which he is accused,
we must place ourselves in his situation fairly to decide. He was tortured by his
perplexities, often forced to act contrary to his conviction. Slow to concede, yet
his concessions had been greater and greater, in proportion as the Parliament rose
in their demands. To subscribe dethroning propositions, and the abolition of
Episcopacy, was a suicidal civil death. Charles had translated Bishop Sanderson's
« De Juramenti Obhgatione." Extorted oaths entered into his casuistical studies.
The very circumstance that he had thought long and deeply of the nature of oaths,
shows at least a disposition to preserve his integrity. It is well known t^lmt Cluirles,
on more than one occasion, refused to violate the honour of his word.

VOL. II. ^ ^

578 CONCLUSION.

The master-spirits in the school of democracy have saturated
their pages with their vindictive declamations. The contempo-
raries 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 criminate 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 the democratic writers have
ventured to disclose.

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 understanding 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 monstrous Tyrant, when seen on the
other, exhibited 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 stumbling-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 character only a few days before he made his
appearance, anxiously prefixed as a motto to his statement 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 " womanish pity," might have perplexed the Revolutionary
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 invectives. The
intentions of the King are assumed as some of his crimes. It is a shrewd work,

CONCLUSION. 579

But later, and more philosophical writers, such as the judicious
Malcolm Laing, and our contemporary Mr. Hallam, have some-
times 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 occa-
sioned a discrepancy in their statements, and an involved
apologetical parenthesis for Charles the First, which has spoiled
the integrity of their sentences.*

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 Constitution.

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 monarchical and democratic parties. There is something in

composed without dignity, but well fitted for those whom he flattered as "his
honourable 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 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 suffi-
cient 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 estahlisJced or irregular precedents of an umsettled ConstUtUion, is an
inquiry foreign to the design of this history." Thus honestly, though awkwardly,
the historian indicates the explanation 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 derived." 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 degrading charge comes forth the limping apology, «'Tis true these were
the controversies of the age." I could find even in Mr. Brodie explanatiooa
favourable *<> Charles, by the side of some of the heaviest charges.

580 CONCLUSION.

the subject which seems intractable, and the historian himself
occupies a position as peculiar as that of the unfortunate
monarch. All things seem to fluctuate in the 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 designates the Civil
War.

We had to disclose the history of a spirited young prince, the
victim of that system of favouritism which was then practised in
European Courts — ungenerously deserted by his Parliaments —
surrounded by conspiracies, and involved in dark intrigues —
devoted to maintain the established institutions 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 unsubdued 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 CEdipus 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 destiny.

APPENDIX.

•

The following Manuscript has been referred to at page 543 : —

ASHMOLE'S MSS. 800. Art. XXXVI.

Newport, November, 1648.

When the Commissioners themselves confess that reason cannot be
accepted by them, though clearly oflFered 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 whft 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 Commis-
sioners, 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 of my plea which
cannot be avoided, except by the total taking away my guards, the differ-
ence of a few paces position, 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
particulai* reasons of my absenting myself at this time ; yet this I must
say, that in order to the present quiet and future peace of this kiogdom,
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 disturbances in the kingdom. Also, I shall be able to temper
the more youthful and impatient resolution of those who possibly may

582 APPENDIX.

rather aim at glorious actions than a quiet life, my cliief 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. And 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.

Mt 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 youi*
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 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 displeased 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, 1 648.
I cannot but add this : — It being evident that I must cither 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 :
nitADUl'RV AND EVANS, PHIN1KHS, WHITKFKI AU.S.

mt^s