FOURTH PART
FOURTH PART
When the Parliament had got the King into their hands, they became veryanxious to get rid of their army, in which Oliver Cromwell had begun toacquire great power; not only because of his courage and high abilities,but because he professed to be very sincere in the Scottish sort ofPuritan religion that was then exceedingly popular among the soldiers.They were as much opposed to the Bishops as to the Pope himself; and thevery privates, drummers, and trumpeters, had such an inconvenient habitof starting up and preaching long-winded discourses, that I would nothave belonged to that army on any account.
So, the Parliament, being far from sure but that the army might begin topreach and fight against them now it had nothing else to do, proposed todisband the greater part of it, to send another part to serve in Irelandagainst the rebels, and to keep only a small force in England. But, thearmy would not consent to be broken up, except upon its own conditions;and, when the Parliament showed an intention of compelling it, it actedfor itself in an unexpected manner. A certain cornet, of the name ofJOICE, arrived at Holmby House one night, attended by four hundredhorsemen, went into the King's room with his hat in one hand and a pistolin the other, and told the King that he had come to take him away. TheKing was willing enough to go, and only stipulated that he should bepublicly required to do so next morning. Next morning, accordingly, heappeared on the top of the steps of the house, and asked Comet Joicebefore his men and the guard set there by the Parliament, what authorityhe had for taking him away? To this Cornet Joice replied, 'The authorityof the army.' 'Have you a written commission?' said the King. Joice,pointing to his four hundred men on horseback, replied, 'That is mycommission.' 'Well,' said the King, smiling, as if he were pleased, 'Inever before read such a commission; but it is written in fair andlegible characters. This is a company of as handsome proper gentlemen asI have seen a long while.' He was asked where he would like to live, andhe said at Newmarket. So, to Newmarket he and Cornet Joice and the fourhundred horsemen rode; the King remarking, in the same smiling way, thathe could ride as far at a spell as Cornet Joice, or any man there.
The King quite believed, I think, that the army were his friends. Hesaid as much to Fairfax when that general, Oliver Cromwell, and Ireton,went to persuade him to return to the custody of the Parliament. Hepreferred to remain as he was, and resolved to remain as he was. Andwhen the army moved nearer and nearer London to frighten the Parliamentinto yielding to their demands, they took the King with them. It was adeplorable thing that England should be at the mercy of a great body ofsoldiers with arms in their hands; but the King certainly favoured themat this important time of his life, as compared with the more lawfulpower that tried to control him. It must be added, however, that theytreated him, as yet, more respectfully and kindly than the Parliament haddone. They allowed him to be attended by his own servants, to besplendidly entertained at various houses, and to see his children--atCavesham House, near Reading--for two days. Whereas, the Parliament hadbeen rather hard with him, and had only allowed him to ride out and playat bowls.
It is much to be believed that if the King could have been trusted, evenat this time, he might have been saved. Even Oliver Cromwell expresslysaid that he did believe that no man could enjoy his possessions inpeace, unless the King had his rights. He was not unfriendly towards theKing; he had been present when he received his children, and had beenmuch affected by the pitiable nature of the scene; he saw the King often;he frequently walked and talked with him in the long galleries andpleasant gardens of the Palace at Hampton Court, whither he was nowremoved; and in all this risked something of his influence with the army.But, the King was in secret hopes of help from the Scottish people; andthe moment he was encouraged to join them he began to be cool to his newfriends, the army, and to tell the officers that they could not possiblydo without him. At the very time, too, when he was promising to makeCromwell and Ireton noblemen, if they would help him up to his oldheight, he was writing to the Queen that he meant to hang them. Theyboth afterwards declared that they had been privately informed that sucha letter would be found, on a certain evening, sewed up in a saddle whichwould be taken to the Blue Boar in Holborn to be sent to Dover; and thatthey went there, disguised as common soldiers, and sat drinking in theinn-yard until a man came with the saddle, which they ripped up withtheir knives, and therein found the letter. I see little reason to doubtthe story. It is certain that Oliver Cromwell told one of the King'smost faithful followers that the King could not be trusted, and that hewould not be answerable if anything amiss were to happen to him. Still,even after that, he kept a promise he had made to the King, by lettinghim know that there was a plot with a certain portion of the army toseize him. I believe that, in fact, he sincerely wanted the King toescape abroad, and so to be got rid of without more trouble or danger.That Oliver himself had work enough with the army is pretty plain; forsome of the troops were so mutinous against him, and against those whoacted with him at this time, that he found it necessary to have one manshot at the head of his regiment to overawe the rest.
The King, when he received Oliver's warning, made his escape from HamptonCourt; after some indecision and uncertainty, he went to CarisbrookeCastle in the Isle of Wight. At first, he was pretty free there; but,even there, he carried on a pretended treaty with the Parliament, whilehe was really treating with commissioners from Scotland to send an armyinto England to take his part. When he broke off this treaty with theParliament (having settled with Scotland) and was treated as a prisoner,his treatment was not changed too soon, for he had plotted to escape thatvery night to a ship sent by the Queen, which was lying off the island.
He was doomed to be disappointed in his hopes from Scotland. Theagreement he had made with the Scottish Commissioners was not favourableenough to the religion of that country to please the Scottish clergy; andthey preached against it. The consequence was, that the army raised inScotland and sent over, was too small to do much; and that, although itwas helped by a rising of the Royalists in England and by good soldiersfrom Ireland, it could make no head against the Parliamentary army undersuch men as Cromwell and Fairfax. The King's eldest son, the Prince ofWales, came over from Holland with nineteen ships (a part of the Englishfleet having gone over to him) to help his father; but nothing came ofhis voyage, and he was fain to return. The most remarkable event of thissecond civil war was the cruel execution by the Parliamentary General, ofSIR CHARLES LUCAS and SIR GEORGE LISLE, two grand Royalist generals, whohad bravely defended Colchester under every disadvantage of famine anddistress for nearly three months. When Sir Charles Lucas was shot, SirGeorge Lisle kissed his body, and said to the soldiers who were to shoothim, 'Come nearer, and make sure of me.' 'I warrant you, Sir George,'said one of the soldiers, 'we shall hit you.' 'AY?' he returned with asmile, 'but I have been nearer to you, my friends, many a time, and youhave missed me.'
The Parliament, after being fearfully bullied by the army--who demandedto have seven members whom they disliked given up to them--had voted thatthey would have nothing more to do with the King. On the conclusion,however, of this second civil war (which did not last more than sixmonths), they appointed commissioners to treat with him. The King, thenso far released again as to be allowed to live in a private house atNewport in the Isle of Wight, managed his own part of the negotiationwith a sense that was admired by all who saw him, and gave up, in theend, all that was asked of him--even yielding (which he had steadilyrefused, so far) to the temporary abolition of the bishops, and thetransfer of their church land to the Crown. Still, with his old fatalvice upon him, when his best friends joined the commissioners inbeseeching him to yield all those points as the only means of savinghimself from the army, he was plotting to escape from the island; he washolding correspondence with his friends and the Catholics in Ireland,though declaring that he was not; and he was writing, with his own hand,that in what he yielded he meant nothing but to get time to escape.
Matters were at this pass when the army, resolved to defy the Parliament,marched up to London. The Parliament, not afraid of them now, and boldlyled by Hollis, voted that the King's concessions were sufficient groundfor settling the peace of the kingdom. Upon that, COLONEL RICH andCOLONEL PRIDE went down to the House of Commons with a regiment of horsesoldiers and a regiment of foot; and Colonel Pride, standing in the lobbywith a list of the members who were obnoxious to the army in his hand,had them pointed out to him as they came through, and took them all intocustody. This proceeding was afterwards called by the people, for ajoke, PRIDE'S PURGE. Cromwell was in the North, at the head of his men,at the time, but when he came home, approved of what had been done.
What with imprisoning some members and causing others to stay away, thearmy had now reduced the House of Commons to some fifty or so. Thesesoon voted that it was treason in a king to make war against hisparliament and his people, and sent an ordinance up to the House of Lordsfor the King's being tried as a traitor. The House of Lords, thensixteen in number, to a man rejected it. Thereupon, the Commons made anordinance of their own, that they were the supreme government of thecountry, and would bring the King to trial.
The King had been taken for security to a place called Hurst Castle: alonely house on a rock in the sea, connected with the coast of Hampshireby a rough road two miles long at low water. Thence, he was ordered tobe removed to Windsor; thence, after being but rudely used there, andhaving none but soldiers to wait upon him at table, he was brought up toSt. James's Palace in London, and told that his trial was appointed fornext day.
On Saturday, the twentieth of January, one thousand six hundred and forty-nine, this memorable trial began. The House of Commons had settled thatone hundred and thirty-five persons should form the Court, and these weretaken from the House itself, from among the officers of the army, andfrom among the lawyers and citizens. JOHN BRADSHAW, serjeant-at-law, wasappointed president. The place was Westminster Hall. At the upper end,in a red velvet chair, sat the president, with his hat (lined with platesof iron for his protection) on his head. The rest of the Court sat onside benches, also wearing their hats. The King's seat was covered withvelvet, like that of the president, and was opposite to it. He wasbrought from St. James's to Whitehall, and from Whitehall he came bywater to his trial.
When he came in, he looked round very steadily on the Court, and on thegreat number of spectators, and then sat down: presently he got up andlooked round again. On the indictment 'against Charles Stuart, for hightreason,' being read, he smiled several times, and he denied theauthority of the Court, saying that there could be no parliament withouta House of Lords, and that he saw no House of Lords there. Also, thatthe King ought to be there, and that he saw no King in the King's rightplace. Bradshaw replied, that the Court was satisfied with itsauthority, and that its authority was God's authority and the kingdom's.He then adjourned the Court to the following Monday. On that day, thetrial was resumed, and went on all the week. When the Saturday came, asthe King passed forward to his place in the Hall, some soldiers andothers cried for 'justice!' and execution on him. That day, too,Bradshaw, like an angry Sultan, wore a red robe, instead of the blackrobe he had worn before. The King was sentenced to death that day. Ashe went out, one solitary soldier said, 'God bless you, Sir!' For this,his officer struck him. The King said he thought the punishment exceededthe offence. The silver head of his walking-stick had fallen off whilehe leaned upon it, at one time of the trial. The accident seemed todisturb him, as if he thought it ominous of the falling of his own head;and he admitted as much, now it was all over.
Being taken back to Whitehall, he sent to the House of Commons, sayingthat as the time of his execution might be nigh, he wished he might beallowed to see his darling children. It was granted. On the Monday hewas taken back to St. James's; and his two children then in England, thePRINCESS ELIZABETH thirteen years old, and the DUKE OF GLOUCESTER nineyears old, were brought to take leave of him, from Sion House, nearBrentford. It was a sad and touching scene, when he kissed and fondledthose poor children, and made a little present of two diamond seals tothe Princess, and gave them tender messages to their mother (who littledeserved them, for she had a lover of her own whom she married soonafterwards), and told them that he died 'for the laws and liberties ofthe land.' I am bound to say that I don't think he did, but I dare sayhe believed so.
There were ambassadors from Holland that day, to intercede for theunhappy King, whom you and I both wish the Parliament had spared; butthey got no answer. The Scottish Commissioners interceded too; so didthe Prince of Wales, by a letter in which he offered as the next heir tothe throne, to accept any conditions from the Parliament; so did theQueen, by letter likewise.
Notwithstanding all, the warrant for the execution was this day signed.There is a story that as Oliver Cromwell went to the table with the penin his hand to put his signature to it, he drew his pen across the faceof one of the commissioners, who was standing near, and marked it withink. That commissioner had not signed his own name yet, and the storyadds that when he came to do it he marked Cromwell's face with ink in thesame way.
The King slept well, untroubled by the knowledge that it was his lastnight on earth, and rose on the thirtieth of January, two hours beforeday, and dressed himself carefully. He put on two shirts lest he shouldtremble with the cold, and had his hair very carefully combed. Thewarrant had been directed to three officers of the army, COLONEL HACKER,COLONEL HUNKS, and COLONEL PHAYER. At ten o'clock, the first of thesecame to the door and said it was time to go to Whitehall. The King, whohad always been a quick walker, walked at his usual speed through thePark, and called out to the guard, with his accustomed voice of command,'March on apace!' When he came to Whitehall, he was taken to his ownbedroom, where a breakfast was set forth. As he had taken the Sacrament,he would eat nothing more; but, at about the time when the church bellsstruck twelve at noon (for he had to wait, through the scaffold not beingready), he took the advice of the good BISHOP JUXON who was with him, andate a little bread and drank a glass of claret. Soon after he had takenthis refreshment, Colonel Hacker came to the chamber with the warrant inhis hand, and called for Charles Stuart.
And then, through the long gallery of Whitehall Palace, which he hadoften seen light and gay and merry and crowded, in very different times,the fallen King passed along, until he came to the centre window of theBanqueting House, through which he emerged upon the scaffold, which washung with black. He looked at the two executioners, who were dressed inblack and masked; he looked at the troops of soldiers on horseback and onfoot, and all looked up at him in silence; he looked at the vast array ofspectators, filling up the view beyond, and turning all their faces uponhim; he looked at his old Palace of St. James's; and he looked at theblock. He seemed a little troubled to find that it was so low, andasked, 'if there were no place higher?' Then, to those upon thescaffold, he said, 'that it was the Parliament who had begun the war, andnot he; but he hoped they might be guiltless too, as ill instruments hadgone between them. In one respect,' he said, 'he suffered justly; andthat was because he had permitted an unjust sentence to be executed onanother.' In this he referred to the Earl of Strafford.
He was not at all afraid to die; but he was anxious to die easily. Whensome one touched the axe while he was speaking, he broke off and calledout, 'Take heed of the axe! take heed of the axe!' He also said toColonel Hacker, 'Take care that they do not put me to pain.' He told theexecutioner, 'I shall say but very short prayers, and then thrust out myhands'--as the sign to strike.
He put his hair up, under a white satin cap which the bishop had carried,and said, 'I have a good cause and a gracious God on my side.' Thebishop told him that he had but one stage more to travel in this wearyworld, and that, though it was a turbulent and troublesome stage, it wasa short one, and would carry him a great way--all the way from earth toHeaven. The King's last word, as he gave his cloak and the George--thedecoration from his breast--to the bishop, was, 'Remember!' He thenkneeled down, laid his head on the block, spread out his hands, and wasinstantly killed. One universal groan broke from the crowd; and thesoldiers, who had sat on their horses and stood in their ranks immovableas statues, were of a sudden all in motion, clearing the streets.
Thus, in the forty-ninth year of his age, falling at the same time of hiscareer as Strafford had fallen in his, perished Charles the First. Withall my sorrow for him, I cannot agree with him that he died 'the martyrof the people;' for the people had been martyrs to him, and to his ideasof a King's rights, long before. Indeed, I am afraid that he was but abad judge of martyrs; for he had called that infamous Duke of Buckingham'the Martyr of his Sovereign.'