Chapter XXIV.

Charles I. And The Civil War.

War was resolved upon by the Parliamentary leaders as well as by the king. Preparations were being made with ardor on both sides; but all official relations were not yet broken off between the monarch and his subjects. The Houses, however, now negotiated with Charles I. on the footing of one power with another. They sent to York, as their permanent ambassadors at the court of the king, a committee of rich and consequential men well known in the northern provinces, commissioned to render an account to Parliament of all that took place under their eyes. The situation was difficult and unpleasant. The commissioners maintained their ground with firmness and resolution.

Even at York, in the presence of the king, the resistance of the country made itself felt. Charles had been desirous of raising a guard, and had applied to the gentry of the neighborhood; they had assembled in great numbers, but when it was desired to inscribe their names, fifty refused to enroll themselves. At their head was Sir Thomas Fairfax, young as yet, but already a resolute and sincere patriot. The freeholders and farmers claimed the right of discussing the affairs of the country with the gentlemen. The king convoked a great assemblage upon Heyworth Moor; it was numerous and animated, more than forty thousand men had hastened thither, but soon intelligence reached the king that a petition was being circulated in the ranks, imploring his Majesty to abandon all thoughts of war and come to an agreement with Parliament. Charles would not receive the petition. {93} He hastened to say a few hesitating words, and was withdrawing precipitately, when young Fairfax, suddenly kneeling before his horse, deposited the document upon the pommel of his saddle. The king urged his steed violently forward, and ran against the bold petitioner without compelling him to give way.

The royal partisans who arrived from London having officially severed their connection with Parliament, were struck painfully with the contrast which they observed between the bold efficiency of the Parliamentary government and the ostentatious feebleness which reigned around the king. Charles was poor. He had no money and had appealed to the zeal of his servants; but the resources which reached him were inconsiderable, and the sums which the queen enabled him to keep out of the sale of the crown jewels scarcely sufficed for daily wants. Parliament had also appealed to the popular patriotism. A loan was announced, and the sums received in ten days, the plate, the jewels offered to the public service, so greatly exceeded the expectations, that the poor women who brought their wedding-rings or the gold pins out of their hair, often waited for a long time until time was found for receiving them. Squadrons of cavalry began to be formed.

The majority of Parliament, delivered from the royalist members who had joined the king at York, voted nineteen propositions of reconciliation, which were sent to Charles as a supreme ultimatum. It was the complete subjugation of the crown to Parliament. {94} Even as regarded the education and marriage of the children of the king, nothing was henceforth to be decided without the formal approbation of the Houses. Upon reading these propositions, the king's countenance flushed deeply. "Should I grant these demands," he said, "I may be waited on bareheaded, I may have my hand kissed; the title of Majesty may be continued to me, and the king's authority signified by both Houses may still be the style of your commands; I may have swords and maces carried before me, and please myself with the sight of a crown and sceptre (though even these twigs would not long flourish when the block upon which they grew was dead), but as to true and real power, I should remain but the outside, but the picture, but the sign of a king." And he broke off the negotiation.

Parliament had only waited for this. Civil war was put to the vote and immediately decided on. The Houses seized upon all the public revenues for their benefit; the counties had orders to hold themselves ready at the first signal. The Earl of Essex was nominated commander of the army of Parliament, and the most illustrious men of the popular party, Lord Kimbolton, Lord Brook, Hampden, Hollis, Cromwell, received command of regiments.

All was ready in London, as in York. The assemblages of the partisans of the king or Parliament, the tours of the king in the counties of the north to encourage his friends or repress their violence, the gentlemen raising bodies of troops on their estates, the soldiery forming in the name of Parliament, the roads covered with armed travelers, everything bore the impress of hostilities; but both parties hesitated to declare war, ready as they were to risk all to maintain their rights, both trembled before the responsibility of the future. {95} The king at length took his resolve. On the 23d of August, he caused the royal standard to be set up at Nottingham. At six o'clock in the evening a small body of eight hundred horse surrounded Charles who caused his proclamation to be read by a herald. The standard bore the device: "Render unto Caesar that which is Caesar's." It was fixed at the summit of a tower. On the morrow the wind had blown it down. When it was desired to plant it in the ground in the level country, there was nothing to be found but rock, and it was necessary to scoop out a hole with daggers, and then to support by hand the tottering standard. All present were smitten with a deep depression. "What dark forebodings!" it was said.

The king awaited the result of his appeal, but the people did not rise. The army of Parliament was being formed at Northampton. "If they wish to attempt a bold stroke," said Sir Jacob Astley, major-general of the royal troops, "I do not answer for it but the king might be carried off from his bed." Charles was urged to open negotiations again. He yielded with reluctance, and sent to London four deputies who returned without success. A few days later, the king refused in his turn to receive a petition with which the commissioners of Parliament accompanying the Earl of Essex, were entrusted. It implored Charles to return to London, and, upon his refusal, it announced the intention to follow him everywhere, and "by battle or other means, to take away his Majesty, the Prince of Wales and the Duke of York, his two sons, from their perfidious councillors, and to bring them back to Parliament."

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The king was then at Shrewsbury, more confident and better served. He had received numerous reinforcements, and, to equip them, the arms of the soldiery of several counties had been taken by force; the convoys intended for Ireland had been stopped. The Catholics sent money; some of them had even come down from London. The king had about twelve thousand men. At the head of his cavalry, his nephew, Prince Rupert, son of his sister, had already made himself dreaded by his daring and detested for his habit of pillage and his cruelty. The Earl of Essex appeared disposed to adhere to the terms of the petition of Parliament and content himself with following the king everywhere. Twenty thousand men marched under the orange banners of his house; but he had been for three weeks at Worcester without doing anything when Charles, emboldened by this inaction, took the course of marching upon London, in order to end the war at one stroke. Essex thereupon went back to defend Parliament.

The agitation was great in London, and fear soon gave way to anger. Parliament took defensive measures against the king, and redoubled its severity towards the malevolents. All the population proceeded to the hurriedly constructed fortifications. Barricades were raised in the streets. Night and day the assault was expected, when, on the 24th of October, in the morning, the rumor of a great battle was suddenly spread throughout the city. Contradictory and confused rumors were abroad, some announcing the complete victory of the king, others that of Essex. Parliament caused the shops to be closed, armed the soldiery, and required of each of its members a declaration of firm adhesion to the parliamentary general as well as to his cause. Upon the morrow only, Lord Wharton and Mr. Strode arrived in London with the official news of the battle which had taken place at Edgehill, in Warwickshire.

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It was the Earl of Essex who commenced the struggle. The king was about to give the same order; he had been urged to try the fortune of war. Warwickshire was so hostile to his cause that the farriers fled, to avoid shoeing the horses of his troops. The cavalry of Parliament had been broken through by the onslaught of Prince Rupert, who had thereupon pursued the fugitives. Being arrested, however, by the regiment of Hampden, who arrived late with the artillery, the prince, compelled to retreat, had found the royal infantry destroyed, the Earl of Lindsay, generalissimo, mortally wounded and a prisoner, and the royal standard in the hands of the Parliamentarians. Charles, aided by his nephew, had desired to attempt a fresh charge; but the soldiers and horses were weary, and it was necessary to abandon the idea. Both armies encamped upon the battle-field. In the morning it was asked in the two camps whether the action would be recommenced. The king soon assured himself that the step was impossible. A great number of volunteers had already dispersed, a third of the infantry failed him. On the side of the Parliamentarians, the experienced soldiers, formed in the wars on the Continent, contested the opinion of Hampden and Hollis, who desired to give battle again. The Earl of Essex fell back upon Warwick, and the king removed his headquarters to Oxford, of all the great towns of the kingdom the most devoted to his cause. The two armies both claimed the victory and celebrated thanksgivings. {98} London and Parliament found themselves delivered from the attack which they dreaded, but the king had cause to congratulate himself upon the state of his affairs. Many towns of which the Parliamentarians thought themselves assured had opened their gates to the royal troops. The king therefore came and established himself at Reading. Prince Rupert carried on, even in the environs of London, his pillaging incursions. The Houses became uneasy. Essex was told to draw nearer. When he arrived the king was at Colebrook, fifteen miles from London; there were despatched to him five deputies, who were well received. Upon their advice, Sir Peter Killigrew set out to negotiate for an armistice. But, while negotiating, the king continued to advance. He fell unexpectedly upon the quarters of Hollis, situated at Brentford, seven miles from the capital. Hollis valiantly resisted; the regiments of Hampden and Lord Brook, encamped in the environs, had time to arrive, and alone bore, for some hours, the whole brunt of the attack of the royal army. At the first sound of the cannon, Essex, who sat in the House, mounted his horse, gathered together all that he was able, and set out to succor his troops. The action had ceased when he arrived. The king occupied Brentford; but the fight had been animated, and he did not appear to be in haste to press forward.

London was equally exasperated and alarmed. It was at the moment when he had shown himself disposed to negotiate that the king had attempted a surprise. He wished (it was said) to take the city by storm and to deliver it up to pillage. Parliament took advantage of the terror and anger of the people. {99} "Enroll," it was said to the apprentices, "and the time of your service shall reckon in your apprenticeship." The city supplied four thousand men taken from its trainbands and commanded by Skippon. "Come, my children, let us pray with all our heart, and fight with all our heart," he said, placing himself at the head of his troops; "remember that this is the cause of God, and He will bless you." Two days after the fight at Brentford, Essex reviewed twenty-four thousand men at Turnham Green, about a mile from the advanced posts of the royal forces.

The two armies thus confronted each other, but Essex still hesitated to assume the offensive. The Parliamentary officers urged him to proceed to the front. "Never," they said, "will the people be found so firmly assured and imperiously compelled to conquer." The general did not count much upon the people; he preferred to have time to make soldiers of them; he established himself everywhere upon the defensive, and the king retired to Oxford, where he took up his winter quarters.

Essex was not alone in his feelings of repugnance and hesitation. The popular party no longer marched forward with one same mind and one firm will as when it was a question of political reforms. Peace had numerous partisans who spoke more loudly every day. Strife was in the midst of Parliament, and this constant effort over itself deprived it of the leisure and energy necessary for actively urging forward the war. The greater part of the winter was passed without a single pitched battle.

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The war continued meanwhile to be irregular and spontaneous. Great noblemen or plain gentlemen, confederations of towns and counties raised at their expense small corps, asked for a commission from king or Parliament, and warred against each other with ardor, but without violence and without cruelty, as men of a common origin, often of the same family, who did not wish to break off all amicable relations forever. Blood flowed and the country already suffered, but the bitterness of the antagonistic passions had not yet taken possession of the combatants. In the eastern, central, and southeastern counties, the most thickly peopled and the richest, the Parliamentarians were in the ascendant. The preponderance pertained to the king in the north, in the west, and in the south-west. London was surrounded by counties devoted to Parliament, which formed, as it were, a formidable girdle for it. At Oxford, the king found himself placed in an advanced post.

In the month of February (1643) the queen arrived, animated and confident. She had succeeded in interesting in the king's favor the States of Holland. The Stadtholder, her son-in-law, had helped her with all his resources. She brought four ships loaded with supplies and troops. Admiral Batten did not contrive in time to intercept the convoy which landed at Burlington. The town was immediately cannonaded. The queen saw the balls fall even in her apartment. She fled into the country and sheltered herself under a bank. Lord Newcastle went to seek her with a body of troops, to conduct her to York. She installed herself there, and a mass of Catholics soon hastened to enroll themselves under her flag. Henrietta-Maria made no haste to rejoin her husband; she liked to reign alone and to maintain with her caressing ardor the zeal of her partisans. Hamilton and Montrose came from Scotland to confer with her upon the means of attaching that kingdom to the cause of the king. {101} Hamilton wished to win over Parliament. Montrose was desirous of making use of a corps of Irishmen under the orders of the Earl of Antrim, to subjugate and massacre the Presbyterian chiefs, rouse the highlanders, and take possession of the whole of Scotland. Intrigues with the Parliamentary commanders were carried on as much as conferences with the Royalists. Sir Hugh Cholmondeley promised to surrender Scarborough. Sir John Hotham appeared disposed to open the gates of Hull to the queen. Parliament began to grow uneasy.

The friends of peace took advantage of this moment to propose fresh negotiations. "It has been said in this House," said Sir Benjamin Rudyard, "that we were bound in conscience to finish the shedding of innocent blood; but who shall answer for all the innocent blood which is about to flow if we do not march to peace by the means of a prompt treaty?" His motion, which involved nothing less than the disbandment of the two armies as a preliminary of the negotiations, was rejected; but it was agreed to send to Oxford five commissioners entrusted to discuss, for twenty days at first, a suspension of arms, then a treaty. The committee, at the head of which was the Earl of Northumberland, set out from London on the 20th of March.

The king received the commissioners well, and their relations with the court were polite and courteous. The Royalists were magnificently treated at the residence of the Earl of Northumberland, who had caused his household to follow him; but when the negotiations were begun ill-feeling reappeared in full force. Neither the king nor Parliament had abated any of the conditions resolutely rejected before the war. {102} One evening the emissaries of Parliament believed they had gained something; on the morrow morning, the written reply of Charles did not resemble his words of the previous day; his councillors and the emissaries of the queen had induced him to alter his resolve. Secret and personal intrigues did not succeed better than official negotiations. The king had promised his wife never to make peace without her approbation, and she angrily wrote to him to dissuade him from it. These manœuvres corresponded with the secret wishes of the king, who did not desire peace. He ended by offering to the negotiators to return to the Houses, if the latter were willing to transport the seat of Parliament at least twenty miles from London. Upon this message the Houses suddenly recalled their commissioners, and, by an order so pressing that they deemed themselves compelled to set out on the same day (April 15th), although it was late, and their travelling coaches were not ready.

On the same day the Earl of Essex took the field again. Hampden would have preferred that a hasty march should be made to Oxford, there to besiege the king. The earl refused this, even when he had taken Reading, an indispensable town for the safety of Parliament. Complaints were uttered concerning his delay and hesitation. The most violent among the leaders of the Commons spoke even of appointing a successor. Hampden, Fairfax, Lord Manchester, Sir William Waller, had obtained successes and rendered great services. Colonel Cromwell, already famous for his bold strokes, as fortunate as they were skillful, had done more still. {103} He was lamenting one day with Hampden the inferiority of the Parliamentary cavalry, constantly defeated in the little engagements which had taken place with the cavaliers. "What would you?" said Cromwell; "your troops are most of them old, decayed serving-men and tapsters. Do you think that the spirits of such base and mean fellows will be ever able to encounter gentlemen that have honor and courage and resolution in them? I will raise men who have the fear of God before them, and I warrant you they will not be beaten." The levies of volunteers which he had formed, fanatical, proud, and severe of manner, engaged in the war for conscience sake, and under the orders of Cromwell from confidence in him. They already composed, at the opening of the campaign of 1643, a body of a thousand men, the germ and nucleus of the famous "Ironsides."

The bitter speeches against Essex came to no result. Complaints were made, but there was a disinclination to separate from him. The ill-will of the leaders, however, was manifested by the destitution in which the army was left, through the insufficiency of the resources and the irregularity of its pay. A royalist plot, upon the point of bursting forth in the city, was discovered: two of the conspirators only, Challoner and Tompkins, rich citizens of London, suffered the extreme penalty. Edmund Waller, a member of the House of Commons and already a famous poet, repurchased his life with cowardly revelations. Many important men were compromised, and while Parliament perceived that conspiracy was going on at its doors against its safety, successive disasters overtook its arms and placed its cause in peril.

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A great loss--that of Hampden--was the signal for these reverses. A trifling encounter of cavalry had taken place on the 18th of June, in the plain of Chalgrave, a few leagues from Oxford. Prince Rupert defeated the Parliamentarians. Hampden was there. "I saw him," said a prisoner, "go away, contrary to his custom, from the field of battle before the end of the action. His head was bent low, his hands rested upon the neck of his horse; without doubt he is wounded." The people of Oxford were agitated, almost fearing to rejoice. The king sent one of his physicians, a country neighbor of Hampden, to know whether he did not want assistance. A thought of conciliation towards this powerful adversary had crossed the mind of Charles. Doctor Giles found Hampden dying: a bullet had shattered his shoulder. He was told, however, who had sent to enquire after him, and with what intention. A violent agitation seized the wounded man. He wished to speak, but death had already frozen his tongue; he expired a few instants afterwards. When he was no longer to be feared, the people rejoiced in Oxford; while in London, and in nearly all the kingdom, the grief was as violent as it was profound.

"Never had man inspired so much confidence in a people. Whoever belonged to the national party, no matter in what degree or for what motives, counted upon Hampden for the success of his wishes. The more moderate believed in his wisdom, the more passionate in his patriotic devotion, the more honest in his uprightness, the more intriguing in his skill. Prudent and reserved, while ready to brave all perils, he who had never yet been wanting suddenly disappointed all hopes. A marvellous good fortune, which forever placed his name in the high position assigned to it by the expectation of his contemporaries, and perhaps saved his virtue as well as his glory, from the rocks whereon revolutions impel and shatter their noblest favorites!"

[Image] Death of Hampden.

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The people wept; they soon began to tremble. Everywhere the Parliamentary generals were beaten by the royalist chiefs. The enemies of Essex, by allowing his army to suffer, had reckoned upon the successes of his rivals. Fairfax had been beaten on the 30th of June at Atherton Moor. Sir John Hotham was upon the point of surrendering Hull to the queen. Lord Willoughby could no longer defend Lincolnshire against Lord Newcastle. The confederation of the eastern states, the great bulwark of Parliament, seemed about to be broken up. In Cornwall, where the command was in the hands of the most faithful and best servants of the king, the Marquis of Hertford, Sir Bevil Grenville, Sir Ralph Hopton, the peasants hereditarily attached to their lords had followed them to the war, as in France the Vendéans were to follow the nobles a hundred and fifty years later. Like them they seized upon the batteries, assaulting them with their staves. Sir William Waller there lost two battles in one week. Everywhere the cities opened their gates to the king. Bristol, the second stronghold in the kingdom, surrendered at the first attack. The queen had rejoined the king, bringing three thousand men and some cannon, upon that same plain of Keynton, where, in the preceding year, the two parties had for the first time come to blows. Charles and his wife returned to Oxford in triumph, and Sir William Waller came back to London without troops.

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Amidst so many disasters, Essex had not stirred, imputing his inaction to those very persons who reproached him with it. He caused the Upper House to be advised to sue for peace from the king. "If this proceeding does not bring about a treaty," he said, in conclusion, "it will be necessary, I think, to beg his Majesty to go away from this scene of slaughter, and then, in one day, the two armies must settle the dispute." A few days earlier the overtures of Essex might, perhaps, have been well received; but the king had recently declared officially that the individuals still assembled at Westminster, after the retirement of so many members, no longer formed two real Houses, that they had lost all legal existence, and no longer deserved the name of Parliament. He forbade all his subjects to obey this set of traitors and sedition-mongers. Parliament, thus attacked, voted the formation of a committee entrusted to ask assistance of the Scots, and the House of Lords declared that it would not address any proposal for peace to the king until he should have revoked his proclamation against the legality of Parliament.

It was not merely votes and declarations that were relied upon. The army of Essex received reinforcements and supplies; the formation of a new army began in earnest in the eastern counties; it was to be placed under the command of Lord Manchester, with Cromwell as lieutenant-general. In Hull, Lord Fairfax succeeded Sir John Hotham, arrested by order of the Commons before he had been able to accomplish his treason. Religious services increased in London. The wives and mothers of the combatants filled the churches; every morning, at beat of drum, a crowd of citizens, men and women, rich and poor, issued forth in a mass to work at the fortifications.

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The effort was great and general, but it was not more than necessity demanded; for the successes of the king continued, and the desire for peace began to spring up again in the minds of the majority of the Lords, with the gleam of hope revealed by a fresh proclamation of the king, more skillful and more agreeable than the preceding one. On the 5th of August the Upper House transmitted to the Commons pacific proposals which they had voted on the previous day, declaring in a sufficiently haughty tone that it was time to put an end to the calamities of the country. The leaders of the Commons grew alarmed. Peace, thus demanded, was a defeat. They had not been able to prevent the House from taking into consideration the proposals of the Lords. They called the people to their assistance; a riotous assemblage demanded with loud cries the continuation of the hostilities. The vote was doubtful in the Commons; a first scrutiny gave the majority to the partisans of peace. The party of war demanded a fresh examination; they carried this proposal at length, but with a majority of seven votes only. On the morrow, a crowd of women who besieged the gates of Westminster, demanding peace, could only be dispersed by a charge of cavalry; two corpses remained upon the ground.

The triumph of the popular leaders was complete, but it was stained with those frauds and acts of violence with which they had but recently so bitterly reproached the king. Six members of the Upper House quitted London, to repair to the court of Charles. Northumberland retired to his castle. The Commons were soon about to find themselves alone; they were astonished and uneasy, for the most impetuous sectaries and the most violent demagogues began to give themselves free play. {108} "If the king will not lend himself to every demand," wrote a pamphleteer, "he must be extirpated, he and his race, and the crown must be entrusted to some one else." Henry Martyn supported the pamphlet, attacked before the House. "Without doubt," he said, "the ruin of a single family is better than that of many." "I demand," exclaimed Sir Nevil Poole, "that Mr. Martyn be summoned to say of what family he speaks." "Of the king and his children," replied Martyn, without hesitating. The most violent spirits in the House had not yet gone to the length of proclaiming their hopes aloud. Martyn was suffered to be placed in the Tower without resistance, and was excluded from Parliament.

The danger, however, became too pressing to admit of division among the party. The king laid siege to Gloucester, the only stronghold which still arrested him in his march upon London, or impeded the free communication of the royal armies. Common sense gained the ascendant over party hatreds. The moderate understood that before negotiating it was necessary to conquer; the fanatics recognized the truth, that to gain a victory it was for them to serve, for their rivals to command. Essex and his friends regained everywhere the authority of which they had but recently been deprived, and the more impassioned of their adversaries omitted nothing in assuring them of the confidence of Parliament and the country. The week had scarcely passed when the earl set out at the head of fourteen thousand men, to proceed by forced marches to the relief of Gloucester, which city the king had been closely blockading for a fortnight.

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Charles had not found even in his most illustrious servants the intelligence and ready disinterestedness which inspired the leaders of the popular party. Lord Newcastle, victorious in Yorkshire, refused to rejoin the king under the walls of London. "As long as Hull shall not be taken," he said, "I cannot leave this part of the country." Hull was in the hands of Fairfax, and the king could not or dared not undertake to attack London unaided. He thought he had secret understandings with the town of Gloucester, and resolved to lay siege to it. A garrison of fifteen hundred men alone defended the town; but the inhabitants were devoted to Parliament, and replied to the order to surrender, "We hold this town for the service of his Majesty and his posterity. We consider ourselves obliged to obey the orders of his Majesty, as they are transmitted to us by the two Houses of Parliament; consequently with the help of God, we will guard the said town with all our might." For twenty-six days they had kept their word, when the king learnt that the Earl of Essex was approaching.

Every means, both warlike and peaceful, was tried to arrest him. Prince Rupert hastened to place himself before him with his cavalry; the king made proposals for peace to him. Essex did not fight, still pressing on his march, and he replied to Charles, "Parliament has not commissioned me to negotiate, but to deliver Gloucester. I will do it, or I will leave my body under the walls." As he deployed his army on the morrow, the 5th of September, upon the hills of Prestbury, two leagues from the besieged town, the sight of the quarters of the king in flames informed him that he had accomplished his task without striking a blow. Charles had raised the siege of Gloucester.

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It was not to avoid a combat that the cavaliers had abandoned an investment of which they were weary. Gloucester being revictualled, the Earl of Essex turned back towards London; but on arriving before Newbury, on the 19th of September, he perceived that the enemy had preceded him, and that a battle was inevitable. The action began at daybreak. Valiant was the fighting upon both sides; "the Royalists therein felt the hope of redeeming a reverse which had suspended the course of their triumphs; the Parliamentarians, the desire not to lose, when so near the goal, the fruit of a triumph which had put an end to so many reverses." The soldiery of London manifested the most brilliant courage. At nightfall, both parties maintained their positions. Essex, however, had gained ground, and was preparing to resume the action at daybreak; but the enemy withdrew during the night, and the road was free. On the 22d Essex and his army arrived at Reading, henceforth sheltered from all danger.

The royal army had suffered losses which cast down the courage of the chiefs and the soldiers. More than twenty officers of distinction had fallen; among others, and first of all, Lord Falkland, the honor of the royalist party. "Still a patriot, although proscribed in London, still respected by the people, although a royal counsellor at Oxford, nothing made it incumbent on him to seek the field of battle, but he sought danger with a painful ardor. Profoundly saddened by the evils which he contemplated and those which he foresaw, ill at ease amidst a party whose successes and reverses he almost equally dreaded, his temper had become embittered, he had grown taciturn and gloomy. 'Peace! peace!' he often exclaimed amidst the conversations of his friends; then he relapsed into his despondency. {111} On the morning of the combat he had attired himself carefully, according to his former custom, for some time abandoned, and, as he was urged to remain at his residence, 'No,' he said, 'too long has all this been breaking my heart; I hope that I shall be out of it before it is night,' and he went and joined the regiment of Lord Byron as a volunteer. He fell at the beginning of the action, being dead before his fall was noticed. His friends, Hyde especially, preserved an inconsolable remembrance of him. The courtiers learnt, without any great emotion, the death of a man who had been a stranger to them. Charles manifested decent regrets, and felt himself more at ease in council."

Joy reigned supreme in London. While Essex was re-entering the city with his triumphant troops, it became known that Vane had concluded with the Scots, under the name of "a solemn league" or "covenant," a close alliance, which was sworn to both in Edinburgh and in London. The Presbyterian leaders and people were at the summit of their wishes. Their general had conquered, and their natural allies, the Scots, were coming to their aid. They took advantage of this situation of affairs to exert their religious tyranny; the assemblage of theologians received orders to prepare a scheme of ecclesiastical government, and committees were formed to examine, in each county, the doctrine and conduct of the clericals. Those who had escaped the persecutions of Laud against the nonconformists, now succumbed to the Presbyterian inquisitions. Some few even, who had resumed possession of their livings since the fall of the episcopacy, found themselves again prosecuted. {112} More than two thousand clergymen were expelled from their parishes, and the Anabaptists, the Brownists, and the Independents, were thrown into prisons, where their tyrants had but recently groaned with them. Archbishop Laud, forgotten for three years past in his imprisonment, was summoned to the bar of the Upper House, to reply to the accusation of the Commons, the triumphant Presbyterians bringing the weight of their vengeance and their fears to bear upon adversaries of all parties.

They hastened, for the ground trembled beneath their feet. It was too much to cope, on the one hand, with the Royalists, and on the other with the religious or political Independents, who every day became more numerous and more bold. In religious matters, the Presbyterians admitted neither discussion nor liberty. They looked upon their doctrinal and ecclesiastical system as the only law and the only government permitted and revealed by the word of God. In politics they were moderate. They liked the monarchy while fighting against the king; they respected the prerogative while laboring to subjugate the crown; and they obeyed old customs as much as new requirements, without knowing precisely whether they were proceeding by means of the reforms which they had prosecuted for three years with so much ardor. The leaders themselves came from different sides, and were not all animated by the same desires. Hesitation began to discover itself among them: Rudyard no longer appeared in Parliament, except at rare intervals. St. John and Pym treated the Independents gently; the lords quitted Westminster by degrees and withdrew to their estates, when they did not proceed to rejoin the king. On the morrow of the battle of Newbury, ten lords only sat in the Upper House; they were, for the Presbyterians, an incumbrance rather than a support; the popular movement became every day more estranged from the high aristocracy, separated from the Presbyterians by the religious fanaticism of the latter. Revolution succeeded reform.

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The new party had grown in the shadow of the Presbyterian power; but from the first it had set up a very different flag. Liberty was the basis of the structure that liberty yet so misunderstood and so often dishonored by the very persons who demanded it. "Whatever may have been the boldness of their ventures, neither the politicians nor the devotees of the new party were a prey to vague desires, to unlimited pretensions. No precise design regulated their course, no historical or legal act comprised the limits of their belief. It was this very belief which they wished, at all costs, to set forth. Proud of its elevation, of its holiness, of its daring, they awarded to it the right of judging all, of ruling all; and taking it solely for their guide, the philosophers sought with indefatigable ardor, the truth; the enthusiasts, the Lord; the libertines, success. All could find therein full satisfaction for their schemes and hopes. The double policy of the Presbyterians did not hinder the progress of those free spirits who claimed to shake off all impediments and remake the world in their own fashion. Hostility increased every day between the new party of the Independents, impelled by the breeze of revolution as well as by popular favor, and the old Presbyterian party, triumphant and everywhere in power, but hesitating and uneasy in the very midst of its victories."

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At Oxford, divisions among the enemy were not unknown, and men of ability would have been ready to profit by them: but in vain were secret negotiations carried on sometimes with the Presbyterians, sometimes with the Independents; the plots were neither active nor efficacious, and they displeased the king even while he tolerated them. He had less repugnance in negotiating with other enemies, odious to England and his people. He was in treaty with the Irish rebels, with the ferocious Papists who had put Ireland to fire and sword, now organized by the great council which had been formed at Kilkenny. When Charles heard of the negotiations of the Scotch with Parliament, and when he saw that a fresh kingdom was about to slip from his grasp, he hastened to come to an end with the Irish. The Protestant army, commanded by the Earl of Ormond, which had always remained faithful to the royal cause, was disbanded; its regiments crossed the sea and joined the army of the king. A truce of one year was concluded with the rebels; Ireland was abandoned to the Papists. It was a terrible blow struck in England to the traditional respect which many people still preserved towards the king. His duplicity, his tedious falsehoods, the haughty tone of his protests, his decided tendency towards Roman Catholicism, all this recurred to the recollection of the people, and his name, hitherto treated with respect amidst the most bitter strife of the contending parties, was no longer spared from insult.

Charles was deeply offended at the violence which was manifested towards him. His timid and easily offended dignity was shocked at the idea that people should dare to judge him according to his acts. He sent for Hyde. "I desire to dissolve Parliament," he said. "The act by which I promised only to do so with their own consent, is, I am assured, null and void; for I could not thus abolish the prerogatives of the crown, but rather desire to make use of them. {115} Let a proclamation be prepared which shall declare the Houses dissolved from this time, and expressly forbid them from reassembling, or any one, whosoever he may be, from recognizing or obeying them." Hyde listened, surprised and grieved. "I cannot imagine," he said, "that your Majesty's forbidding them to meet any more at Westminster will prevent one man the more going there, and, nevertheless, the kingdom will, without doubt, take violent umbrage at it. It was the first powerful reproach they corrupted the people with against your Majesty, that you intended to dissolve this Parliament, and in the same way repeal all the other acts made by that Parliament, whereof some are very precious to the people. As your Majesty has always disclaimed any such thought, such a proclamation now would confirm all the jealousies and fears so excited, and trouble many of your true subjects. I implore your Majesty to reflect well before further pressing this project."

All the members of the council spoke like Hyde, and the king abandoned his project, not without ill-humor. It was necessary, however, to do something. Some one proposed, since the name of Parliament exercised such a dominion over the people, to convoke at Oxford all the members of the two Houses who had quitted Westminster, and thus to oppose to the factious and mutilated Parliament a real and legal Parliament, since the king would form part of it. The proposal displeased the king, who detested the very name of parliament. The queen was still more opposed to it; but the royalist party received the measure with ecstasy, and no one dared to withdraw it. The Parliament of the king was convoked at Oxford for the 22nd January, 1644.

{116}

On the same day, at Westminster, a kind of muster of the Houses took place. Twenty-two lords still sat in the Upper House, and two hundred and eighty members of the Commons responded to their names. A certain number were absent in the service of the country and by order of Parliament. One of its oldest and most useful leaders had recently been taken from them. "Pym had died on the 8th of December, after a sickness of a few days. A man of a less brilliant renown than Hampden, in the secret councils as well as the public acts of the House, he had not rendered less important services. Firm, patient, and shrewd, skilled in pursuing an enemy, in directing a debate, or an intrigue, in fomenting the anger of the people, in engaging or retaining in his cause the great lords who were in a state of uncertainty, he was, moreover, an indefatigable member of the greater number of the committees, the customary chief mover of decisive measures, always ready to undertake onerous and dreaded duties; indifferent, in short, to labor, to mortifications, to fortune, to glory, and placing in success his sole ambition. The House felt its loss, and rendered the greatest honors to his memory. He was buried at Westminster."

The new Parliament had attempted to establish relations with Essex. It received from the Earl of Forth, commander-in-chief of the army of the king, a packet which it consigned in a sealed cover to the Upper House. After an examination by a committee of the two Houses, the papers were sent to Oxford without any answer. {117} A demand for a safe-conduct for the deputies whom the king desired to send to London was not better received. "My Lord," replied Essex, "when you ask for a safe-conduct in order that these gentlemen may repair, on behalf of the king, to the two Houses of Parliament, I will do, with all my heart, what shall be in my power to contribute to all that is desired by all good men--the re-establishment of an amicable understanding between his Majesty and his faithful and only council, the Parliament."

The king was delighted to find his adversaries so untractable; his hopes lay entirely in war and nowise in negotiations. The assembly of Oxford, consisting of forty-five Lords and a hundred and eighteen members of the Commons, obtained however a slight concession from him. The name of Parliament had not, in the first message rejected by Essex, been applied to the House at Westminster. A letter of the king was addressed "to the Lords and Commons of the Parliament assembled at Westminster;" but he spoke of the Lords and Commons assembled at Oxford as of their equals. A trumpeter from Essex brought the reply of the Houses. "The letter of your Majesty," it ran, "gives us, as to peace, the saddest thoughts. The persons now assembled at Oxford, and who, against their duty, have deserted your Parliament, are therein placed in the same rank as the latter, and this Parliament itself, convoked according to the fundamental laws of the kingdom, authorized to continue to sit by a special law sanctioned by your Majesty, finds itself denied even its name. We cannot betray in this manner the honor of the country entrusted to our keeping, and it is our duty to make known to your Majesty that we are firmly resolved to defend and maintain, at the risk of our fortunes and our lives, the just rights and the full powers of Parliament."

{118}

The assembly of Oxford did not long resist. Henceforth, without hope of conciliation, and consequently without object, it continued to sit until the 16th of April, still faithful to the king, voting a few loans, and addressing long and bitter reproaches to the Houses of Westminster; but timid, inactive, and careful to manifest in presence of the court its ardent desire for legal order and peace. When their adjournment was at length pronounced, the king rejoiced with the queen at being delivered from this mongrel Parliament, the haunt of cowardly and seditious motions.

Charles counted upon war; but the campaign about to open presented itself under grievous aspects. All the small engagements which had taken place during the winter had turned to the advantage of the Parliamentarians. The Earl of Newcastle had been compelled by Fairfax to shut himself up in York. Parliament possessed five armies: those of the Scots, Essex, and Fairfax, were paid at the expense of the public treasury; those of Manchester and Waller were supported by the Eastern and Southern counties commissioned to recruit them. Under the name of Committee of the Two Kingdoms, a committee of the Chambers, composed of seven lords, fourteen members of the Commons, and four Scottish commissioners, was invested with almost absolute power over the war and foreign relations. The measures of Parliament were every day becoming more regular and energetic. Weakness and want of discipline, on the contrary, increased in the camp of the king.

[Image] Battle Of Marston Moor.

{119}

Suddenly it became known at Oxford that the army of Essex, strengthened by that of Waller, was advancing to besiege the town. The troops of Fairfax and Manchester and the Scots were to assemble under the walls of York, and besieged that town in common. The two great towns and the two great armies of the royalists, the king and Lord Newcastle, were thus attacked at once by all the forces of Parliament. Such was the simple and bold plan which the committee of the two kingdoms had adopted.

The queen took alarm. She was in expectation of a child, but she was anxious not to be delivered within a besieged town. The evil effect of her departure was represented to her without success; she flew into a passion, wept, implored. She set out at length for Exeter, determined to proceed to France in case of danger. Her husband never saw her again.

A month later, at the end of May, Oxford was almost completely surrounded. A considerable reinforcement of militiamen coming from London, was about to put Essex in a position to complete the investment. The danger was so urgent that one of the faithful councillors of the king proposed to him to surrender to the earl. "It may be," said Charles in indignation, "that I may be found in the hands of the Earl of Essex, but I shall be dead." A week afterwards the army and Parliament learnt that the investment of Oxford had become useless, for the king had escaped.

{120}

On the 3d of June, accompanied by the Prince of Wales, and leaving in the town the Duke of York with all his court, the king had issued forth from Oxford. Passing between the two hostile camps, and, joining a corps of light troops who awaited him upon the northern side, he rapidly placed himself out of reach. Seventeen days subsequently, while Waller was pursuing him in Worcestershire and Essex was advancing towards Lyme, which Prince Maurice kept besieged, Charles, bold and determined for the first time, reappeared in Oxford, and placing himself once more at the head of his troops, vigorously resumed the offensive. On the 29th of June he defeated, in Buckinghamshire, at Cropredybridge, the army of Waller, which had advanced to cut off his road to London. At rest upon this point, he resolved to pursue Essex, who had appeared before the walls of Exeter, and might terrify the queen, who had been delivered of a child two days before. One of the armies which had but recently kept him a prisoner was destroyed; the other, it seemed, would soon share its fate. Satisfied with his triumph, the king addressed from Evesham a message to the Houses, in which, without giving to them the name of Parliament, he made pacific protestations and offered to reopen negotiations; he then pursued his march towards the west.

Before his message arrived in London everything had assumed a different aspect. Fresh actors had entered upon the scene, the battle of Marston Moor, fought by the three armies of Fairfax, Manchester, and the Scots, against Prince Rupert and Lord Newcastle, had annihilated the royalist party in the north. York could not delay surrendering. Neither the defeats of Waller nor the former triumphs of Essex were thought of any longer.

{121}

It was on the evening of the 2d of July, from seven to ten o'clock, at Marston Moor, that the battle had taken place which brought about these great results. At the approach of Prince Rupert the Parliamentary generals had raised the siege of York and proceeded towards him to arrest his progress. They had not succeeded; the prince had entered the town without striking a blow. The Parliamentarians retired; but notwithstanding the counsels of Lord Newcastle, Rupert followed them. When the two armies met, it was five o'clock in the evening; they spent two hours in sight of each other without engaging. "What position does your Highness intend for me" asked Newcastle of the prince. "I do not count upon making the attack before to-morrow morning," said Rupert; "you may rest until then." The earl retired and shut himself up in his coach. Scarcely was he settled there, when the firing informed him that the battle had begun; he ran thither, without command, at the head of a few volunteer gentlemen like himself. The most complete disorder reigned on the plain. The two armies were fighting helter-skelter, without leaders and without discipline: Parliamentarians and Royalists, horsemen and foot-soldiers, were wandering about the field of battle, seeking their corps, fighting upon meeting the enemy, but without result as well as without general purpose. The right wing of the Parliamentarians wavered under a charge of the Royalists; the Scottish cavalry took to flight. They were pursued, and a rumor of the victory of Prince Rupert spread as far as Oxford, where bonfires were lighted. But, as usual, the cavaliers had suffered themselves to be carried away by their ardor. When they returned to the field of battle, they found their positions occupied by the enemy. The cavalry of Prince Rupert had given way before the squadrons of Cromwell; the infantry of Manchester had completed his defeat. {122} The Parliamentarians had not pursued their adversaries, but had hastened to secure the field of battle. The combat which took place between the two victorious corps ended to the advantage of the Ironsides, a name given upon this occasion to the soldiers of Cromwell. Three thousand corpses strewed the field. Sixteen hundred Royalists were prisoners.

Rupert and Newcastle re-entered York in the middle of the night. Without seeing each other, they merely exchanged messages. "I have resolved," the prince sent word, "to set out this morning with my cavalry and what I have left of my infantry." "I start at once," Newcastle said, "and I am going to cross the sea to retire to the Continent." Both kept their word. York capitulated at the end of a fortnight.

Never had Parliament achieved so brilliant a success, and it was to the Independents that they owed it. The Scots, those allies whom the Presbyterians had brought from so far, had fled disgracefully. _The day of the Lord_ was at length coming, thought the enthusiasts. "My Lord," said Cromwell to Lord Manchester in their camp intercourse, "place yourself decisively with us, say no longer that we must hold ourselves in readiness for peace, or spare the House of Lords, or fear the refusals of Parliament. What have we to do with peace and the nobility? It never will be well with England till you are called plain Mr. Montague. If you will stick firm to honest men, you shall find yourself at the head of an army which shall give law both to king and Parliament."

The audacious counsels of Cromwell were not to serve the purpose of Lord Manchester; but himself and his party were nearing the goal of their hopes, for Essex had recently been vanquished.

{123}

More and more occupied in the west, the general-in-chief of the Parliamentary armies had allowed himself to be allured by easy successes. As he approached Exeter, the queen sent to ask for a safe-conduct, in order to proceed to Bath to recover from her accouchment. "If your Majesty wishes to repair to London," he replied, "not only will I give you a safe-conduct, but I will accompany you myself. It is there that you will receive the best advice and the most efficacious cares for the restoration of your health. For any other place I cannot accede to your desires without consulting Parliament." Essex might be dispirited, and disgusted even with the cause he had embraced; he could not fail in fidelity. Stricken with terror, the queen fled to Falmouth, where she embarked for France.

Upon the advice of several of his officers, Essex entered Cornwall. The population were hostile to him, and the king was pressing him closely. He asked for reinforcements and counselled that Waller should effect a diversion upon the rear of the royal army. The committee of the two kingdoms was earnest, agitated, ordered public prayers, and commanded Waller and Middleton to march to the aid of the general. "Let money and men be sent to me," wrote Waller; "God is my witness that it is not my fault if I do not go more quickly; if the money does not come, I shall go without money." He did not depart. Middleton moved his army forward, but stopped at the first obstacle. Essex remained alone.

{124}

Abandoned by Parliament, the general was ardently sought after by the Royalists, who were incapable of believing that a man of his rank could earnestly serve any other cause than theirs. The king wrote him on the 6th of August, at his headquarters at Lestwithiel, a letter full of esteem and promises, urging him to restore peace to his country. It was Lord Beauchamp, nephew of the earl, who brought the royal missive. "I have but one counsel to give to the king, that is to return to his Parliament." Charles did not persist, but many cavaliers around him desired peace, and were beginning to shake off the exclusive yoke of the royal will. They resolved to offer to the earl their personal guarantee for the promises of the king. A rough draft of a letter, signed by Lords Wilmot and Percy, commanders of the cavalry and infantry, circulated among the officers. The king concealed his ill-humor. His nephew. Prince Maurice, like the Earl of Brentford, commander-in-chief of the royal army, signed the proposals of negotiation addressed to the hostile general. The king had authorized the proceeding. "My Lords," replied Essex, "you have been careful to express, in the first lines of your letter, in virtue of what authorization it has been addressed to me. I have received from Parliament which I serve no authority to negotiate, and I could not lend myself to it without a breach of trust. I am, my Lords, your very humble servant, Essex."

It remained but to fight with the redoubled ardor which arises from vexation. The Parliamentary general was hemmed in on all sides by the royalist forces. Skirmishes took place every day, without great result. Provisions were becoming scarce in the army of Parliament. The Royalists had come so near that they could see all that went on in the camp. Essex resolved to endeavor to reach the port of Fowey. {125} The cavalry, under orders of Sir William Balfour, spent the night between the two divisions of the royal army; but the infantry became involved in narrow roads, where they advanced slowly; they were pursued by all the army of the king: they had lost their baggage; they spoke aloud of capitulating. Essex could not submit to so great a disgrace; he reached the coast with two officers, threw himself into a boat and made sail for Plymouth, leaving his army under the orders of Major-General Skippon. The soldiers were discouraged, the officers discontented: the king caused unexpected terms to be proposed to them; the capitulation was accepted. The artillery, provisions, and arms remained in the hands of the Royalists. The men were reconducted to the quarters of the Parliamentarians. They had saved their lives and liberty, but without arms and without a leader they traversed, under the escort of the cavaliers, the counties which they had but recently overrun as conquerors. Their general had fled from this humiliation; he did not endeavor to escape the justice of his country; he wrote to Parliament, on arriving at Plymouth, "It is the most severe blow which our cause has ever sustained. I desire nothing so much as to be put upon my trial; such disasters should not be suppressed."

The English Parliament was worthy to have descended from the old Roman Senators contending against Hannibal. Instead of placing Essex upon trial, the formation of a new army for his use was immediately set about. The imminence of the peril rallied to his party those men who were uncertain, and the leaders of the Independents, able and patient, were in no hurry to throw light upon the causes which had brought about the defeat of the earl. Manchester and Waller received orders to join the army of Essex. {126} When the king, confident from his successes in Cornwall, and glad to learn that at the instigation of Montrose, war had broken out in Scotland, commenced his movements towards London, he encountered by the way imposing forces. The army of Essex was there, but its general was wanting. The earl, disheartened and ill, had remained in London. The assurances of the confidence of Parliament had not sufficed to rouse him from his dejection: battle was given in his absence on the 29th of October, once more before Newbury.

The action was long and desperate. The soldiers of Essex performed on this occasion prodigies of valor to retake the cannon which they had lost in Cornwall; but they remained uncertain, and both sides claimed the victory. The king abandoned his designs upon London, and withdrew towards Oxford, where he counted upon taking up his winter quarters. Cromwell reproached the Earl of Manchester with having attacked without vigor, and with having but feebly followed up his advantages. The struggle became more resolute every day between the Presbyterians and the Independents--between the partisans of peace and those who desired war at any price. Of these latter, Cromwell was becoming the acknowledged leader.

Essex and his friends resolved to attempt a great effort. They urged the committee of the House which, for six months, had worked with the Scotch commissioners, to prepare the proposals for peace. In a few days these proposals were presented to the Houses, discussed and adopted. On the 20th of November, nine commissioners set out to present them to the king. {127} They found him at Oxford, and on the first day the insults of the cavaliers towards the Parliamentarians threatened to bring about personal encounters between the emissaries of the Parliament and the partisans of the king. "Have you power to negotiate?" asked Charles of Lord Denbigh. "No, Sire, our mission is limited to presenting to your Majesty the proposals, and to soliciting your answer in writing." "Well; I will remit it to you (he replied) as soon as I am able." The commissioners waited for three days. The proposals of Parliament were not conciliatory; they involved a veritable abdication of the royal power. When the commissioners from Parliament were at length summoned before the king, he consigned a sealed document to them, saying, "This is my answer; take it to those who have sent you." Lord Denbigh in vain endeavored to ascertain what the document contained; the king would not give to the Houses the name of Parliament. "Your duty is to take my answer, were it only the ballad of Robin Hood." "The matter which has brought us, Sire, is a trifle more serious than a ballad." "I know it; but you told me that you had no power to negotiate. My memory is as good as yours; you were only charged to remit the proposals to me. A post-boy would have done as much in the matter as you." The conversation became more and more bitter. The commissioners set out on their return, without obtaining from the king an admission that his message was addressed to Parliament. He only asked for a safe-conduct for the Duke of Richmond and the Earl of Southampton. They proceeded to London, and conferences were resolved upon; these were to take place at Uxbridge. Forty commissioners, twenty-three in the name of Parliament, and seventeen in the name of the king, were to discuss that peace which was every day becoming more the object of all the desires as well as the only hope of the Presbyterians.

{128}

The Independents knew this well, but they also knew the passionate pride and the deceptions of the king, and the fanaticism and haughtiness of the Parliamentarians. While dreading the pacific conferences which might have caused the triumph of their rivals, they occupied themselves in preparing for war. Cromwell made a great speech condemning the division of power and the slowness of the military operations. "If the army be not put into another method, and the war more vigorously prosecuted, the people can bear the war no longer, and will enforce you to a dishonorable peace. Let us waive a strict inquiry into the causes of these things; let us apply ourselves to the remedy which is most necessary. And I hope we have such true English hearts and zealous affections towards the general weal of our mother-country, as no members of either House will scruple to deny themselves and their own private interest for the public good, nor account it to be a dishonor done to them whatever Parliament shall resolve upon." "There is but one way to end the matter," said Zouch Tate, an obscure fanatic, "each of us must freely sacrifice himself. I propose that no member of either House shall, during the war, enjoy or execute any office or command, civil or military, and that an ordinance be brought in accordingly."

After the first moment of astonishment, a violent discussion arose. It was in the Houses that lay all the strength of the Presbyterians, until then the real leaders of the revolution. The "self-denying" ordinance deprived them of the executive power and created an army of strangers to Parliament. {129} They did not deceive themselves as to the pretended disinterestedness which had inspired the proposals of Cromwell and his friends. "There is some talk here of self-denial," they said; "it will be the triumph of personal envy and interest." But this time public opinion was with the Independents. The Presbyterian party was worn-out and discredited. Notwithstanding their real strength in the House of Commons, the ordinance was voted and sent up to the House of Lords on the 21st of September.

In voting the proposal of Zouch Tate, the Upper House abandoned the remnant of power which it still retained, for nearly all its members were affected. While they deliberated, the political leaders of the party in the House of Commons increased the concessions to the religious prejudices, as well as to the malignant resentments of the multitude. Long-forgotten prosecutions were resumed. Archbishop Laud, imprisoned for four years, was condemned by a simple ordinance of the two Houses, illegal even according to the traditions of Parliamentary tyranny. He died with pious courage, filled with scorn for his adversaries and with uneasiness for the future of the king. Sir John Hotham and his son, accused of having plotted to deliver to the king the town of Hull; Lord Macguire, who had fomented the Irish insurrection, and Sir Alexander Carew, governor of the island of St. Nicholas, who had relaxed his zeal in favor of the royalist conspiracies, expiated their transgressions by capital punishment. At the same time, the litany of the Church of England, hitherto tacitly tolerated, was definitively abolished. A book entitled _Directions for Public Worship_ received instead the sanction of Parliament, which no longer refused anything to the fanatics whose support it claimed. The House of Lords did not deceive their hopes. On the 15th of January, 1645, it rejected the self-denying ordinance.

{130}

A few days later, on the 29th of January, the negotiations at Uxbridge were at length opened. The king had consented to accord to the Houses at Westminster the name of Parliament. "If I had had in my council," he wrote to the queen, "two persons of my own opinion, I should never have yielded." The negotiators wished for peace, with the exception of Vane, St. John, and Prideaux, who formed other projects.

The will of men soon yields to the irresistible force of circumstances. Each of the Parliamentary factions had its private interest. The two parties endeavored to secure power in case peace should be concluded. Theological discussions inflamed the political negotiations. The conferences, begun with mutual good-will and courtesy, soon became bitter and difficult to manage. On each side, the ebullition of popular passions aggravated the difficulties. An obscure minister arriving from London, preached in the parish church of Uxbridge, in presence of a numerous gathering. "No good must be expected from those men," he said, speaking of the Royalists; "they have come from Oxford with their hearts full of blood. They only wish to divert the people until they may be able to cause them some great evil. There is as great a distance between this treaty and peace as between earth and heaven." The people were convinced that in his heart the king did not wish for peace.

{131}

His councillors were as distrustful as the mob. The end of the negotiations was approaching. Some concession which might at length cause the scale to turn was insisted upon at the court of Charles. He gave way to entreaties, and promised to propose to Parliament a certain number of leaders of the army, among whom were Cromwell and Fairfax. The friends of peace were joyful. Lord Southampton, who had negotiated the whole affair, was preparing to depart for Uxbridge, in order to announce the favors accorded by his Majesty. When he presented himself at the king's quarters to receive his final instructions, Charles had altered his mind and withdrawn his promise. News of a victory achieved in Scotland by Montrose, over the army commanded by Argyle, had revived all his high hopes. The conferences at Uxbridge were broken up, on the 22nd of February, without having brought about any result. The Presbyterian leaders, sorrowful and dejected, returned to Westminster, to convince themselves personally that their adversaries had contrived to make profitable use of the time during their absence. The military reorganization was effected. A single army, mustering twenty-one thousand men, was henceforth to maintain the struggle. On the 15th of February, the command of this army had been entrusted to Fairfax, for whom Cromwell had answered in public to Parliament, in secret to the parties. The almost constant successes of the young general, besides, spoke for him. He had already received the official compliments of the speaker in the House of Commons, in the midst of which body he had been introduced.

{132}

The Presbyterian leaders in vain attempted to recover from this defeat. Their friends even were becoming weary of the constant efforts necessary to support them. The Marquis of Argyle had arrived from Scotland; bitterly resolved to wipe out the remembrance of his defeat at Inverlochy, he made use of his influence to turn aside the Scottish commissioners from a longer opposition. "We must yield to necessity," he said; "this division places everything on sufferance." The vote which had consigned to Fairfax the effective power, had preserved Essex in his command, as well as Manchester and Waller. The earl resolved to give in his resignation. He rose, on the 1st of April, in the Upper House, with a written paper in his hand, for he could not make a speech. "My Lords," he said, "having received this great charge, in obedience to the commands of both Houses, and taken their sword into my hand, I can with confidence say that I have for this now almost three years faithfully served you, and I hope without loss of honor to myself, or prejudice to the public. I see by the now coming up of these ordinances that it is the desire of the House of Commons, that my commission may be vacated. I return my commission into those hands that gave it me, wishing it may prove as good an expedient to the present distempers as some will have it believed. My Lords, I know that jealousies cannot be avoided, yet wisdom and charity should put such restraints thereto as not to allow it to become destructive. I hope that this advice from me is not unseasonable, wishing myself and my friends may, among others, participate the benefit thereof. This proceeding from my affection to Parliament, the prosperity whereof I shall ever wish from my heart, what return soever it may bring me, I being no single example in that kind of that fortune I now undergo."

{133}

Manchester and Waller followed the example of Essex. The Upper House, delivered from an obligation of fidelity which weighed upon it, hastened to adopt the scheme of remodelling the army, and on the morrow a fresh self-denying ordinance, slightly different from the first, though tending towards the same result, was voted by the two Houses. The power was now definitively displaced. It passed from the hands of Parliament into those of the army.

Fairfax encountered little difficulty on the part of the officers and soldiers called upon to serve under his orders. Essex loyally advised his friends, Cromwell hastened to proceed to preach submission to the battalions of the Ironsides. As he had fully resolved, he was not long separated from them. Towards the end of April, Fairfax was about to open the campaign, when Cromwell arrived at Windsor to kiss, he said, the hand of the general and to bring his resignation to him. "I have just," Fairfax said, "received from the Committee of the Two Kingdoms orders enjoining you to proceed immediately, with a few squadrons, to the road from Oxford to Worcester to intercept communications between Prince Rupert and the king." Cromwell immediately set out. Three brilliant skirmishes and the capture of the town of Blechingdon signalized his march. Parliament voted that Cromwell should retain his command for forty days longer. Three other members of the House of Commons, distinguished officers, received the same instructions, doubtless in order that Cromwell should not appear to be alone excepted from the operation of the law.

{134}

Meanwhile the king, having issued forth from Oxford, had joined Prince Rupert, and was advancing rapidly towards the north. The siege of Chester was raised at his approach, and he directed his course towards the associated counties of the east. A few days later, he took possession of Leicester. Fairfax, who was besieging Oxford by the order of the Committee of the two kingdoms, had made no movement to hinder the course of his successes. The Presbyterians were already triumphant. "There then is the fruit of this reorganization which was so much vaunted," they said; "the king in one day takes our best towns, and your general remains motionless before Oxford, waiting, doubtless, for the women of the court to take alarm and open the gates to him." They did not speak of the inaction of the Scotch, who had fallen back upon their frontiers instead of marching to meet the king. Fairfax received orders to raise the siege of Oxford, to seek the king and give battle to him at all costs. In his turn, he wrote to the Houses to demand the prolongation of the service of Cromwell. Sixteen colonels signed the letter. On the 12th of June, in the environs of Northampton, some Parliamentary horsemen, sent to reconnoitre, suddenly came up with a detachment of the army of the king.

Charles was advancing, in fact, to relieve Oxford. The successes of Montrose in Scotland renewed his confidence. "Since the rebellion," he wrote to the queen, "my affairs have never been in so good a state." He made no haste, but enjoyed the amusement of hunting upon his way, allowing full liberty to his cavaliers, who were even more confident than their master. He was expecting troops which were to arrive from Wales and the western counties. When he obtained tidings of the approach of the Parliamentarians, he fell back towards Leicester. Meanwhile, the hostile squadrons caused uneasiness to his rear-guard. Cromwell had joined the army. The king resolved to give battle without awaiting his reinforcements.

[Image] "Will You Go Upon Your Death?"

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The encounter took place on the morrow, the 14th of June, upon the table-land of Naseby, north-west of Northampton. At daybreak, the army of the king, posted in an advantageous position, awaited the Parliamentarians. The latter did not attack. Prince Rupert, always impatient, advanced to the front with his cavalry. He soon encountered the advanced guard of the enemy. Fearing that they would withdraw, the prince continued his advance, giving orders for the army to support the movement. About ten o'clock the Royalists arrived, somewhat distressed by the rapidity of their movements. The action commenced at once, and was fierce and general. The two armies were of about equal strength. The cavaliers, intoxicated by anticipation with the joy of victory, had taken for their rallying-cry the words, "Queen Mary." The Parliamentarians cried aloud, "God is with us." Prince Rupert broke the squadrons of Ireton, who was afterwards to marry one of the daughters of Cromwell. He immediately pursued the fugitives; but Cromwell, master of himself and his men as at Marston Moor, had broken up the cavaliers commanded by Sir Marmaduke Langdale, and, entrusting two of his officers with the duty of preventing them from rallying, he returned, with a portion of his troops, to the field of battle. There the infantry of both sides were engaged: Skippon was seriously wounded, but he remained obstinately at the head of his soldiers. The helmet of Fairfax had been battered in by a blow from a sword, and he fought bare-headed. Meanwhile the cavaliers held their ground, and a corps of royal infantry remained immovable notwithstanding the reiterated attacks of Doyley, the colonel of the guards of Fairfax. {136} "Take them in front, I will take them in the rear," said the general; "we shall meet again in the midst of them." They did so, in effect, at the moment when Cromwell, with his victorious squadrons, arrived to support them. At the sight of this new and dangerous enemy, the king, in great distress, placed himself in person at the head of the regiment of guards. These were all that remained to him, and he was preparing to charge the Ironsides, when the Earl of Carnewarth, a Scotchman, who galloped beside him, abruptly seized the bridle of his horse, exclaiming, "Will you go upon your death?" and compelled him to turn to the right. The cavaliers followed the movement without understanding the reason for it. In an instant the regiment turned their backs upon the enemy. All disbanded, some to seek safety in flight, others to restrain the fugitives. The king, surrounded by a few officers, in vain cried, "Halt! halt!" Prince Rupert returned. A small corps was re-formed around the king, but the soldiers were weary and dismayed. Charles, sword in hand, with eager eyes and despair visible upon his countenance, threw himself twice in front, exclaiming with all his energy, "Gentlemen, another charge, and we shall win the day." None followed him. The infantry were routed or prisoners. The only safety lay in flight. The king precipitated himself towards Leicester with about two thousand cavalry. His artillery, his supplies, his baggage, his standards, and all the papers in his cabinet, together with five thousand prisoners, remained in the hands of the Parliamentarians.

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No loss could have been more damaging to the cause of the king than that of his secret correspondence. After Fairfax had modestly informed the House of this unexpected success, and Cromwell had joined to the news some pious reflections and some of his politic counsels, the papers of the king were opened, notwithstanding the scruples of Fairfax. Proof was therein found that he had never desired peace; that no concession was, in his eyes, definitive; no promise binding; that in his heart he always counted upon force, and still claimed absolute power. Finally, that, in spite of his reiterated denials, he had applied to the King of France, the Duke of Lorraine--to all the princes of the Continent, in fact--to introduce foreign troops into the kingdom. A protestation was even found, inscribed upon the registers of the council of Oxford, against that name of Parliament which he had consented to accord to the Houses for the purposes of the conferences at Uxbridge. Falsehood was in every part written by the very hand of the king. After the public assemblage at the Guildhall, where an immense crowd was present at the reading of the papers, Parliament caused them to be published. The king did not dispute their authenticity.

Exasperation was general, and the warlike ardor revived on all hands. In order to make peace it would have been necessary to put trust in the king; it was now known what his word was worth. Fairfax advanced towards the western counties, only recently devoted to the royal cause; but the great noblemen or the popular and disinterested gentlemen, the Marquis of Hertford, Sir Bevil Grenvil, Sir Ralph Hopton, were dead, or had been removed by court conspiracies, which were favored by the weakness of the king. {138} The young Prince of Wales, fifteen years of age, accompanied by Hyde, Colepepper, and Lord Capel, commanded in the capacity of generalissimo. The troops were entrusted to Lord Goring and Sir Richard Grenville, one the most dissolute, the other the most avaricious of the cavaliers. Disorder and extortions had alienated the people. Bodies of peasants were formed under the name of "Clubmen," to resist pillage. When Fairfax appeared in the west, the Royalists ceased devastating the country, and the Clubmen turned against Fairfax and his soldiers; but the Parliamentary general did not permit any license. He treated the peasants with gentleness, and entered into negotiations with them, while he was actively prosecuting the war. On the 10th of July Goring was surprised and defeated at Langport, in Somersetshire, and the troops which remained with him were dispersed. Sir Richard Grenville, being no longer able to plunder, sent back to the Prince of Wales his commission as Field-Marshal, complaining with effrontery of the burdens which the war had imposed upon him, and the cavaliers remaining faithful withdrew into the towns which Fairfax was preparing to besiege.

Meanwhile the king appeared to have forgotten for a moment his misfortunes and anxieties. Wandering about, after the disaster of Naseby, he had finally arrived in Wales, where he hoped to recruit some infantry, while Prince Rupert set out for Bristol. Charles accepted the splendid hospitality of the Marquis of Worcester, the leader of the Catholic party and the richest of the great noblemen of England. For a fortnight the fugitive king found once more in Ragland Castle all the homage and pleasures of a court, and he thought of nothing but enjoying that royalty of which he had so long tasted the bitterness and mortifications.

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The successes of his adversaries did not leave the king long in repose. To the news of the reverses in the west was added that of the success of the Scotch army which had taken Carlisle and was advancing towards the south to lay siege to Hereford. Charles desired to march to the aid of Goring; but he was arrested at every step by the bad condition of his troops. He fell back upon Cardiff, where the Duke of Richmond brought him a letter written by Prince Rupert, and intended to be shown him. The prince considered that all was lost, and counselled peace at all costs. This time the honor of the king was in question, and he regained all his energy. He immediately wrote to his nephew: "If I had any other quarrel but the defence of my religion, crown, and friends, you had full reason for your advice. Speaking rather as a mere soldier or statesman, I confess there is probability of my ruin. As a Christian, however, I must tell you that God will not suffer rebels to prosper, or His cause to be overthrown. Of this I warn my friends without evasion. Henceforth whoever remains with me must expect to die for a good cause; or, worse still, to live while sustaining it as miserable as insolent rebels can render him. In God's name let us not flatter ourselves with vain chimeras. The idea alone that you desire a treaty would hasten my ruin." A few days later, the king, quitting Wales, passed, without being perceived, beyond the quarters of the Scotch army, already encamped before Hereford, and arrived by forced marches in Yorkshire. He convoked, at Doncaster, his faithful cavaliers, to proceed with him to join Montrose, still faithful and still victorious.

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The cavaliers hastened at the summons. The king found himself in a few days at the head of a body of three thousand men. They were preparing to join Montrose, and only awaited their instructions, when it was learned that David Lesley, at the head of the Scotch cavalry, was approaching Doncaster. The Royalists took alarm. Many retired, and when the news of the recent and brilliant successes of Montrose reached the king, he had no longer sufficient forces to attempt the venture. He was urged not to expose his person. He re-entered Oxford, on the 29th of August, not knowing what to do with the few troops which he had left.

The victories of Montrose, however, revived the dejected monarch. Edinburgh and Glasgow were in the hands of the conqueror. He had set free all the Royalists whom the Scotch Parliament had kept in prison, and timid men hastened to place themselves under his standard. The Scotch had recalled David Lesley with his cavalry. They needed all their strength to protect their country.

The king wished to take advantage of the enfeeblement of the Scotch army. He advanced towards Hereford; but the besiegers did not await him, and fell back towards the north. He was urged to pursue them, but refused to do so, being already wearied by this effort so little in accord with his tastes and habits. Prince Rupert held Bristol, which town Fairfax was besieging. He promised to resist for four months. The king did not trouble himself about the matter and repaired to take rest at Ragland, at the residence of Lord Worcester, with whom he had constant conferences. {141} Scarcely had he arrived when he learnt that Bristol was occupied by Fairfax. Prince Rupert had surrendered the town at the first assault, almost without resistance, when as yet nothing had failed him--neither provisions nor soldiers. Charles was dismayed. It was his ruin in the west and the most bitter disappointment of the hopes he had placed in his nephew. His courtiers, especially Lord Digby, who detested Rupert, envenomed his anger. He wrote to the prince an offensive letter, which concluded with these words: "My conclusion is to desire you to seek your subsistence, until it shall please God to determine of my conditions, somewhere beyond seas; to which end I send you herewith a pass, and I pray God to make you sensible of your present position and give you means to recover 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 uncle and most faithful friend,--C. R."

Prince Rupert had taken refuge in Oxford. He did not depart, despite the injunctions of the king. He asserted that he had been calumniated, and asked to make an explanation to his uncle; but Lord Digby had taken care to prevent the interview. Charles resumed the road to the north. He wished to relieve Chester, which was again besieged, and was now the only port in which the assistance expected from Ireland could arrive. He was in sight of the town with five thousand men, Welsh foot-soldiers or cavaliers of the north, when he was attacked in the rear by a Parliamentary corps, commanded by Major-General Poyntz. {142} A detachment coming from the little army which was investing Chester, attacked the advance guard at the same time. The king, pressed between two fires, after a desperate resistance, saw his best officers fall around him, and was compelled to return to Wales, abandon Chester to its fate and once more separated as though by an insurmountable barrier from that camp of Montrose which constituted his only hope.

The army of Montrose no longer existed. For ten days already, the marquis had, like the king, been seeking a shelter while endeavoring to collect his soldiers. On the 30th of September he had been beaten at Philip-Haugh by David Lesley. His forces had dissolved at the first blow. Brilliant and rash, in the base he excited envy, while in the timid he inspired no sense of security. A reverse sufficed to dissipate all his successes, and on the morrow of his defeat the conqueror of Scotland was only an audacious outlaw.

This last blow overwhelmed the king. He no longer knew where to rest his hopes. Urged by Lord Digby, he retired to Newark, while the courtier, determined to avoid an interview with Prince Rupert, who had set out to rejoin the king, placed himself at the head of fifteen hundred horse, which Charles still possessed. Under the pretext of taking succor to Montrose, he started for the north.

The explanations of Prince Rupert did not satisfy the king, notwithstanding the favorable declaration of the council of war. The insolence of the cavaliers who accompanied his nephew hurt his dignity. A quarrel began. "Begone, begone!" exclaimed Charles angrily, "and do not appear again before me." Agitated in their turn, Rupert, his brother Maurice, and their partisans quitted Newark in the middle of the night. {143} The king was no longer safe there. Lord Digby had been defeated at Sherborne, in his march towards the north. There were now on the king's side neither soldiers nor generals. Charles assembled together four or five hundred cavaliers, the remnants of several regiments, and, on the 3d of November, at eleven o'clock at night, he left the town, taking the road to Oxford. He re-entered the city after a forced march, thinking himself saved, for he had once more found his council and his court, and could indulge his habits and find some repose.

The relief was not of long duration. The royalist towns were falling one by one into the power of Fairfax and Cromwell. Fifteen had surrendered or had been taken by assault within five months. Scarcely had Charles returned to Oxford, when he wrote to the Prince of Wales to hold himself in readiness to proceed to the Continent. At the same time he made overtures of peace to Parliament, demanding a safe-conduct for four negotiators.

Never had Parliament been less inclined towards peace. The hundred and thirty new members, who had replaced in the House of Commons those who had followed the king, had increased the power and daring of the Independents, though all did not belong to their party. The severities towards the Royalists were redoubled. The war everywhere became harsher, sometimes cruel. Fairfax alone still preserved the fine humanity which distinguished nearly all the leaders at the opening of the war. Misunderstandings broke out even between the Scots and the Houses. The former complained that their army was not paid; the latter, that an army of allies plundered and devastated, like a hostile body, the counties which it occupied. {144} The strongest fermentation, the deepest hostility, the bitterest and most decisive measures on all hands, left little chance for peace to arrest or even suspend the rapid course of events.

The overtures of the king were rejected, and a safe-conduct was refused to the negotiators. Charles persisted, but without success, and as he proposed to repair to Westminster to negotiate in person with Parliament, his enemies solemnly declared that they at length possessed proof of the falsity of his words. The king had concluded a treaty of alliance with the Catholic Irishmen still in revolt. Ten thousand of these barbarians, under the orders of the Earl of Glamorgan, were soon to land at Chester. They had obtained, as the price of their assistance, the complete abolition of the penal laws against the Catholics, and the freedom of their worship. Ireland, in fact, was delivered up to the Papacy. For two months the Committee of the two kingdoms had known of the conspiracy and reserved the publication of it for an important occasion. The day had at length arrived.

The king was struck down by this discovery. For two years he had personally conducted this negotiation with the Earl of Glamorgan, the eldest son of the Marquis of Worcester. Brave, generous, thoughtless, passionately devoted to his master in danger, and to his oppressed religion, Glamorgan had plotted in every form, proceeding incessantly from England to Ireland, often entrusted with secret missions unknown to the Marquis of Ormond, lieutenant of the king in Ireland, and alone knowing to what point the concessions of the king might reach. The treaty had been concluded since the 20th of August preceding, and Parliament did not know all that Charles had promised in its name.

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When it was learned in Dublin that the plot was known in London, Ormond easily saw what a blow the affairs of the king had sustained even among his own party. He immediately caused Glamorgan to be arrested as having exceeded his powers. The earl kept his counsel, and did not produce the secret documents signed "Charles," which he held in his hands. He even said that the king was not bound to ratify what he had thought himself able to promise for him. On his part, Charles hastened to disown the affair in the proclamation which he addressed to the Houses, as well as in his official letters to the Council of Dublin. Glamorgan, he said, had no other mission than to recruit soldiers and to second the efforts of the Lord Lieutenant. Neither Parliament nor the people believed this. Glamorgan, being soon released, recommenced his attempts to assemble an Irish army to proceed to England. In reply, the command of Cromwell, already several times renewed, was again prolonged, and the king found himself compelled to resume hostilities as though he had been in a position to sustain them.

The last remnants of the royalist armies still fought, but without ardor and without hope. When the Prince of Wales found himself abandoned by his generals, Goring and Grenville, he implored Sir Ralph, now Lord Hopton, to resume command of the troops in the west. "Your Highness," replied the brave soldier, "I cannot obey you without resigning myself to the sacrifice of my honor, for with the troops which you have entrusted to me how can I preserve it? {146} Their friends alone fear them; their enemies despise them; they are only terrible on the day of pillage; and only determined when they are resolved to fly. However, since your Highness has judged it well to summon me, I am ready to follow you at the risk of losing my honor;" and he resumed the command of seven or eight thousand men who detested him, and to whom his discipline was odious. On the 16th of February he was defeated by Fairfax at Torrington, upon the borders of Cornwall. All the troops that had remained with him were dispersed. Fairfax pursued him, while the Prince of Wales, driven into a corner at the Land's End, in Cornwall, embarked for the Scilly Isles, being unwilling to leave English soil. Fairfax offered honorable conditions. Hopton, free from all anxiety as to the safety of the prince, desired to attempt once more to fight with the small corps which he had re-formed with great difficulty; but the soldiers called upon him to capitulate. "Bargain, then," said Hopton, "but not for me." He embarked with Lord Chapel to join the Prince of Wales. The king now possessed in the south-west only insignificant garrisons, scattered in a few towns.

Sir Jacob Astley was defeated at Stow, in Gloucestershire, as he was advancing with three thousand men to join the king, who had issued forth with fifteen hundred horse from Oxford to meet him. The rout was complete. The aged Astley resisted for a long while, then fell into the hands of the enemy. The soldiers, touched by his white hairs and his courage, brought him a drum. He sat down; then addressing the Parliamentary officers, he said, "Gentlemen, you may now sit down and play, for you have done all your work, if you fall not out among yourselves." {147} The king had no longer any hope save in the dissensions which he might foment among his enemies. He had for a long while been maintaining secret relations with the Independents, especially with Vane. He wrote himself to the latter after Astley's disaster, "Be assured that everything shall come to pass according to my promise. By all that is dearest to a man, I implore you to hasten your good offices, for otherwise it will be too late, and I shall perish before gathering the fruit. Trust to me. I will fully reward your services. I have said all. If in four days I should not have an answer I shall be compelled to find some other expedient. May God direct you! I have done my duty." He at the same time addressed a message to the Houses, offering to disband his troops, to open all his towns, and to take up his residence again at Whitehall.

Great was the emotion at Westminster; all knew that if the king were at Whitehall he would no longer be the object of the disturbances if the city should break out, and all were equally determined not to fall into his power. All the necessary precautions were adopted to prevent Charles from appearing unexpectedly in the capital. Violent measures were taken against those who should negotiate secretly or who should maintain any relations with him. Vane left the letter of the king unanswered.

Meanwhile Fairfax advanced, and Oxford was about to be invested. The king made an offer to Colonel Rainsborough, who had already arrived before the town, to surrender to him on condition that he should conduct him to Parliament at once. The colonel refused. Charles was about to fall as a prisoner of war into the hands of his enemies. {148} One resource only remained to him. For two months M. de Montreuil, the French ambassador, had been laboring to procure him an opportunity of taking refuge in the camp of the Scots. He thought himself secure of the personal safety of the king in the midst of an army which looked upon Charles as its legitimate sovereign. The queen, still in France, also kept up relations with the Scotch military leaders. She urged her husband to put trust in them. He still hesitated, but he issued forth from Oxford on the 27th of April, at midnight, followed only by his valet-de-chambre, Ashburnham, and a clergyman. Dr. Hudson, well versed in all the roads.

For a moment, when at Harrow-on-the-Hill, in sight of London, the king stopped. Should he take a bold step and suddenly appear in the midst of the city? It was too venturesome a stroke for his timid and sensitive dignity. He turned away, directing his course towards the north, still desiring to join Montrose. Hudson, who had gone forward to reconnoitre, came back to say that M. de Montreuil still answered for the Scots. The king at length made up his mind, though from weariness rather than from choice. On the morning of the 5th of May he arrived at Kelham, the headquarters of the Scotch commander.

The Earl of Leven and his officers at first affected surprise, but they received the king with great respect. They however hastened to apprise the Parliaments of Edinburgh and London, and, in the evening, when the king wished to give the watchword to the sentinels placed at his door, "Pardon me, Sire," Leven said, "I am the oldest soldier here; your Majesty will permit me to undertake that duty."

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It was soon known in London that the king had quitted Oxford, but nothing indicated the direction of his flight. On the 6th of May it was at length learned that he had confided his person to the Scotch, who had raised their camp and were marching in great haste towards the border. They only stopped at Newcastle. From there the king could negotiate with the Presbyterians of the two kingdoms.

This was what all the Independents dreaded. For a year past everything had prospered with them. They were masters of the army, and all daring spirits, the energetic and ambitious had placed themselves under their banner. Their influence continued to increase on all hands. They were ruined if at the moment of reaching the summit of power, the king should ally himself with the Presbyterians against them.

They adopted every means to ward off the blow, without scrupling to offend the Scotch, whom they desired to separate from the Presbyterian party in England. The Commons voted that the Scotch army was no longer necessary; that a hundred thousand pounds would be paid to it in advance on account of their claims, and that it should be induced to return to Scotland. Insults were lavished upon those allies, of whom it was now desired to be rid at all costs.

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The Scotch and their illustrious guest facilitated the task of their enemies. They were not angry, but they hesitated, they felt their way carefully, they were afraid to take sides. The king still endeavored to deceive his rebellious subjects. "I do not despair," he wrote to Lord Digby before his departure from Oxford, "of inducing the Presbyterians or the Independents to join with me to exterminate each other, and then I shall become once more king in reality." On their side, the Presbyterians, passionately attached to the Covenant, would not hear of any arrangement which did not secure the triumph of their Church. While promising the king to negotiate for peace, they gave further tokens of fidelity towards their brothers, the English, and caused the execution of the most illustrious companions of Montrose, who had been prisoners of war since the battle of Philip-Haugh. The Marquis of Ormond published a letter of the king, asserting that he only repaired to the camp of the Scotch upon their promise, in case of need, to support him and his just rights. The Scotch immediately caused this almost exact interpretation of their words to be belied. The cavaliers could no longer have access to their master, and the clergy were invited to instruct the monarch in the true doctrine of Christ.

Charles did not resist, but even bore with the theological discussions; though the learned preacher, Henderson, who had undertaken his conversion, was not able to congratulate himself upon having shaken the king's fidelity to the Anglican Church. Charles was expecting proposals from the House, to whom he caused to be surrendered all the towns which still held out for him. But he hoped for aid from Ireland, and he wrote to Glamorgan, who was still the sole depositary of his secret designs, "If you can procure a large sum of money for me, pledging my kingdoms as a guarantee, I shall be delighted, and as soon as I shall have recovered the possession, I will amply pay this debt. Tell the nuncio that if I find some means of placing myself in his hands and yours, I will certainly not neglect it, for all the others despise me as I fully see."

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At length the proposals of Parliament arrived: they were more humiliating and harsh than those which the king had hitherto rejected. He was asked to adopt the Covenant, to abolish the Church of England, to consign to the Houses for twenty years the command of the army, the militia, and the navy; to allow to be excluded from the armistice seventy-one of his most faithful friends, while all those who had taken arms for him were to be removed from all public functions at the good pleasure of Parliament. On all sides he was urged to accept this disgraceful peace. The queen sent messenger after messenger to him. M. de Bellièvre, the French ambassador, proceeded to Newcastle to advise him to accept it in the name of his court. Several towns in Scotland sent amicable petitions to him. The city of London wished to do likewise: a formal prohibition only prevented it. Threats were coupled with entreaties. The general assembly of the Scotch Church demanded, if the king should refuse the Covenant, that he should be forbidden to remain on Scottish soil, and the Chancellor of Scotland, Lord Lowsden, made him understand that, deprived of his hereditary kingdom, he might very probably find himself deposed in England.

All was powerless against the pride of the king, his religious scruples and also some secret hope which credulous or intriguing friends still kept alive. After having delayed his reply from day to day, he at length consigned to the commissioners on the 1st of August, a written message, in which, without absolutely rejecting the proposals, he again demanded that he should be received in London to negotiate in person with Parliament.

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The Independents were unable to restrain their joy. "What is to become of us," said a Presbyterian, "now that the king has refused our proposals?" "What would have become of us if he had accepted them?" replied an Independent. The Scotch proposed to withdraw from England; but they required first the settlement of the arrears, and their claims were enormous. It was necessary to decide who should dispose of the person of the king. The parties commenced the struggle upon this point.

An understanding was arrived at, however, after bitter words and reciprocal recriminations. The arrears were fixed at four hundred thousand pounds sterling, and the House of Commons finally brought the Lords to accept the vote in the terms it had given out for five months past, "that to Parliament alone belonged the right of disposing of the king's person." The Scots resisted feebly, saying that Charles was their king as well as the sovereign of the English. Charles continued to demand to negotiate in person with Parliament.

The wish was as useless the fifth time as the first. The Houses had just signed the treaty which arranged for the withdrawal of the Scotch army, and how the price should be paid. The name of the king was not mentioned in all the clauses of this negotiation, but, on the 3d of December, 1646, at the moment when the convoy of wagons bearing twenty thousand pounds sterling to the Scotch, entered York, the Houses voted that the king should be conducted to Holmby Castle, in Northamptonshire. {153} On the 12th of January, 1647, nine commissioners, three Lords, and six members of the Commons departed from London to take possession respectfully of their sovereign. The dignity of the king proudly resisted this terrible blow. "I am bought and sold," he said, when he learnt that the Parliament of Scotland officially consented to his being consigned into the hands of the English; but he quietly finished his game of chess, replying to the growing anxiety of his servants that he would make known his will to the commissioners when they should arrive. He awaited them without countenancing the confused projects of flight or insurrection which were being hatched around him. The people began to take pity on him. One Sunday, at Newcastle, the Scotch minister who preached before him having chosen his text from a version of the 52d Psalm, beginning,

Why dost thou, tyrant, boast thyself, Thy wicked deeds to praise?

the king suddenly rose and began instead of this the 56th Psalm, commencing,

Have mercy on me, Lord, I pray, For men would me devour!

The whole congregation joined with him. A last attempt of the Scotch in favor of the Covenant having miscarried, the Scotch army delivered both Newcastle and the king into the hands of the English. On the 9th of February, Charles left that town under the escort of a regiment of cavalry, everywhere followed by a numerous crowd which thronged on his way, not hostile, but respectful, and asking him to touch the sick persons afflicted with king's evil. The commissioners became uneasy at this gathering, but their prohibitions were ineffectual. When the king arrived at Holmby, where many gentlemen from the neighborhood had assembled, he congratulated himself upon the reception which he had received from his subjects.

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Dissensions at Westminster broke out afresh. Assured of the person of the king, the Presbyterians, whose influence had once more become paramount in the House, in consequence of the terror which the Independents began to inspire among moderate men, carried a motion for disbanding the army, except the troops required by the war in Ireland and the service of the garrisons. Fairfax was to retain the command of the reduced forces, but no officer under his orders was to rise above the rank of colonel. All were obliged to conform to the Presbyterian form of government. A loan was voted to pay the arrears due the soldiers. Cromwell sat in the House, when this vote dealt a death-blow to the army he had been instrumental in forming, and among whom his authority continued to increase. He remained in London, and burst into protestations of devotion towards Parliament, but the numerous friends who followed his secret inspiration secretly entertained the natural discontent of the army. A petition, modest and friendly in tone, reached the Houses, signed only by fourteen officers. They promised to repair to Ireland at the first order, merely offering their humble advice upon the payment of the troops and the guarantees to which they were entitled. After this petition, which was somewhat ill-received, came another, more firm and precise, demanding the prompt settlement of the arrears, the pensions for the widows of the soldiers, and asserting the right of the troops to decline service in Ireland. The petition was read at the head of the regiments, and the officers who refused to sign were assailed with threats.

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Parliament became incensed and commanded Fairfax to put an end to all these disorders. The facts were impudently denied. The House sent five commissioners to headquarters, to urge forward the disbandment. Two hundred officers came to meet them. "Who are to command us in Ireland?" asked Lambert, a brilliant soldier, ambitious and skilled in oratory. "Major-General Skippon and Major-General Massey." "They are brave soldiers, but we must have general officers whom we have so many times put to the proof." And all the officers exclaimed at once, "Yes, all, Fairfax and Cromwell." A few days afterwards, eight regiments of cavalry refused to repair to Ireland. "A treacherous snare," said the petition brought to the House, "to separate the soldiers from the officers whom they love, and to cover the ambition of a few men who have tasted sovereignty, and who in order to remain masters, degenerate into tyrants." The attack was personal. The soldiers who had brought the petitions were sent for. "Where was this letter taken into consideration?" the speaker asked them. "At a meeting of regiments." "Have your officers approved of it?" "Very few know it." "Have you not been cavaliers?" "We entered the service of Parliament before the battle of Edgehill, and we have never quitted it. We are only the agents of our regiments."

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A great uproar arose in the House. Cromwell leant over Ludlow. "Those men," he said, "will have no rest until the army has put them outside by the ears." The instrument was being prepared for the execution. Two councils, one composed of the officers, the other of the representatives of the soldiers, fixed all the proceedings of the army. It was said that it had proposed to the king, if he would place himself at its head, to restore to him his just rights. The Presbyterian leaders took alarm; concessions were made to the soldiers. Cromwell, Ireton, Skippon, Fleetwood, all members of the Commons, were empowered to re-establish a good understanding between Parliament and the army. They repaired to headquarters, where their efforts, certainly not very sincere, brought about no result. The same demands continued to arrive from the army; immediate disbandment was ordered, and five Presbyterian commissioners set out to see to the execution of the decree. They found the army in a full state of insurrection. In the council of war which Fairfax convoked, all the officers, with the exception of six, voted that the resolutions of Parliament were not sufficient, and that the army could not separate without more substantial guarantees. Fairfax had become powerless; the power was passing into the hands of the soldiers and the leaders who possessed their confidence. The Presbyterians had now to struggle against a new enemy. If the army joined the king, they were ruined. Their leaders thought of becoming reconciled with the king.

[Image] Fairfax Kissing The King's Hand.

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