Volume 12 — The History of the Rebellion

Edward Hyde, Earl of Clarendon, who was born February 18, 1608; at Dinton, Wilts, and who died at Rouen, 1674, was son of a private gentleman and was educated at Oxford, afterwards studying law under Chief Justice Nicholas Hyde, his uncle. Early in his career he became distinguished in political life in a stormy period, for, as a prominent member of the Long Parliament, he espoused the popular cause. The outbreak of the Civil War, however, threw his sympathies over to the other side, and in 1642 King Charles knighted him and appointed him Chancellor of the Exchequer. When Charles, Prince of Wales, afterwards King Charles II., fled to Jersey after the great defeat of his father at Naseby, he was accompanied by Hyde, who, in the island, commenced his great work, "The History of the Rebellion," and also issued a series of eloquently worded papers which appeared in the king's name as replies to the manifestoes of Parliament. After the Restoration he was appointed High Chancellor of England and ennobled with the title of Earl of Clarendon. But the ill success of the war with Holland brought the earl into popular disfavour, and his unpopularity was increased by the sale of Dunkirk to the French. Court intrigues led to the loss of his offices and he retreated to Calais. An apology which he sent to the Lords was ordered to be burnt by the common hangman. For six years, till his death in Rouen, he lived in exile, but he was honoured by burial in Westminster Abbey. His private character in a dissolute age was unimpeachable. Anne Hyde, daughter of the earl, became Queen of England, as wife of James II., and was mother of two queens, Anne and Mary. The "History of the Rebellion" is a noble and monumental work, invaluable as written by a contemporary.

King James, in the end of March, 1625, died, leaving his majesty that now is, engaged in a war with Spain, but unprovided with money to manage it, though it was undertaken by the consent and advice of Parliament; the people being naturally enough inclined to the war (having surfeited with the uninterrupted pleasures and plenty of 22 years of peace) and sufficiently inflamed against the Spaniard, but quickly weary of the charge of it. Therefore, after an unprosperous attempt by sea on Cadiz, and a still more unsuccessful one on France, at the Isle of Rhé (for some difference had also begotten a war with that country), a general peace was shortly concluded with both kingdoms.

The exchequer was exhausted by the debts of King James and the war, so that the known revenue was anticipated and the king was driven into straits for his own support. Many ways were resorted to for supply, such as selling the crown lands, creating peers for money, and other particulars which no access of power or plenty could since repair.

Parliaments were summoned, and again dissolved: and that in the fourth year after the dissolution of the two former was determined with a declaration that no more assemblies of that nature should be expected, and all men should be inhibited on the penalty of censure so much as to speak of a parliament. And here I cannot but let myself loose to say, that no man can show me a source from whence these waters of bitterness we now taste have probably flowed, than from these unseasonable, unskilful, and precipitate dissolutions of parliaments. And whoever considers the acts of power and injustice in the intervals between parliaments will not be much scandalised at the warmth and vivacity displayed in their meetings.

In the second parliament it was proposed to grant five subsidies, a proportion (how contemptible soever in respect of the pressures now every day imposed) never before heard of in Parliament. And that meeting being, upon very unpopular and implausible reasons immediately dissolved, those five subsidies were exacted throughout the whole kingdom with the same rigour as if in truth an act had passed to that purpose. And very many gentlemen of prime quality, in all the counties, were for refusing to pay the same committed to prison.

The abrupt and ungracious breaking of the first two parliaments was wholly imputed to the Duke of Buckingham; and of the third, principally to the Lord Weston, then high treasurer of England. And therefore the envy and hatred that attended them thereupon was insupportable, and was visibly the cause of the murder of the first (stabbed to the heart by the hand of an obscure villain).

The duke was a very extraordinary person. Never any man in any age, nor, I believe, in any nation, rose in so short a time to such greatness of honour, fame, and fortune, upon no other advantage or recommendation, than that of the beauty and gracefulness of his person. He was the younger son of George Villiers, of Brookesby, Leicestershire. After the death of his father he was sent by his mother to France, where he spent three years in attaining the language and in learning the exercises of riding and dancing; in the last of which he excelled most men, and returned to England at the age of twenty-one.

King James reigned at that time. He began to be weary of his favourite, the Earl of Somerset, who, by the instigation and wickedness of his wife, became at least privy to the poisoning of Sir Thomas Overbury. For this crime both he and his wife, after trial by their peers, were condemned to die, and many persons of quality were executed for the same.

While this was in agitation, Mr. Villiers appeared in court and drew the king's eyes upon him. In a few days he was made cupbearer to the king and so pleased him by his conversation that he mounted higher and was successively and speedily knighted, made a baron, a viscount, an earl, a marquis, lord high admiral, lord warden of the cinque ports, master of the horse, and entirely disposed of all the graces of the king, in conferring all the honours and all the offices of the kingdom, without a rival. He was created Duke of Buckingham during his absence in Spain as extraordinary ambassador.

On the death of King James, Charles, Prince of Wales, succeeded to the crown, with the universal joy of the people. The duke continued in the same degree of favour with the son which he had enjoyed with the father. But a parliament was necessary to be called, as at the entrance of all kings to the crown, for the continuance of supplies, and when it met votes and remonstrances passed against the duke as an enemy to the public, greatly to his indignation.

New projects were every day set on foot for money, which served only to offend and incense the people, and brought little supply to the king's occasions. Many persons of the best quality were committed to prison for refusing to pay. In this fatal conjuncture the duke went on an embassy to France and brought triumphantly home with him the queen, to the joy of the nation, but his course was soon finished by the wicked means mentioned before. In the fourth year of the king, and the thirty-sixth of his own age, he was assassinated at Portsmouth by Felton, who had been a lieutenant in the army, to whom he had refused promotion.

Shortly after Buckingham's death the king promoted Dr. Laud, Bishop of Bath and Wells, to the archibishopric of Canterbury. Unjust modes of raising money were instituted, which caused increasing discontent, especially the tax denominated ship-money. A writ was directed to the sheriff of every county to provide a ship for the king's service, but with the writ were sent instructions that, instead of a ship, he should levy upon his county a sum of money and send it to the treasurer of the navy for his majesty's use.

After the continued receipt of the ship-money for four years, upon the refusal of Mr. Hampden, a private gentleman, to pay thirty shillings as his share, the case was solemnly argued before all the judges of England in the exchequer-chamber and the tax was adjudged lawful; which judgment proved of more advantage and credit to the gentleman condemned than to the king's service.

For the better support of these extraordinary ways the council-table and star-chamber enlarged their jurisdictions to a vast extent, inflicting fines and imprisonment, whereby the crown and state sustained deserved reproach and infamy, and suffered damage and mischief that cannot be expressed.

The king now resolved to make a progress into the north, and to be solemnly crowned in his kingdom of Scotland, which he had never seen from the time he first left it at the age of two years. The journey was a progress of great splendour, with an excess of feasting never known before. But the king had deeply imbibed his father's notions that an Episcopal church was the most consistent with royal authority, and he committed to a select number of the bishops in Scotland the framing of a suitable liturgy for use there. But these prelates had little influence with the people, and had not even power to reform their own cathedrals.

In 1638 Scotland assumed an attitude of determined resistance to the imposition of the liturgy and of Episcopal church government. All the kingdom flocked to Edinburgh, as in a general cause that concerned their salvation. A general assembly was called and a National Covenant was subscribed. Men were listed towards the raising of an army, Colonel Leslie being chosen general. The king thought it time to chastise the seditious by force, and in the end of the year 1638 declared his resolution to raise an army to suppress their rebellion.

This was the first alarm England received towards any trouble, after it had enjoyed for so many years the most uninterrupted prosperity, in a full and plentiful peace, that any nation could be blessed with. The army was soon mustered and the king went to the borders. But negotiations for peace took place, and civil war was averted by concessions on the part of the king, so that a treaty of pacification was entered upon. This event happened in the year 1639.

After for eleven years governing without a parliament, with Archbishop Laud and the Earl of Strafford as his advisers, King Charles was constrained, in 1640, to summon an English parliament, which, however, instead of at once complying with his demands, commenced by drawing up a list of grievances. Mr. Pym, a man of good reputation, but better known afterwards, led the remonstrances, observing that by the long intermission of parliaments many unwarrantable things had been practiced, notwithstanding the great virtue of his majesty. Disputes took place between the Lords and Commons, the latter claiming that the right of supply belonged solely to them.

The king speedily dissolved Parliament, and, the Scots having again invaded England, proceeded to raise an army to resist them. The Scots entered Newcastle, and the Earl of Strafford, weak after a sickness, was defeated and retreated to Durham. The king, with his army weakened and the treasury depleted, was in great straits. He was again constrained to call a parliament, which met on November 3, 1640. It had a sad and melancholic aspect. The king himself did not ride with his accustomed equipage to Westminster, but went privately in his barge to the parliament stairs. The king being informed that Sir Thomas Gardiner, not having been returned a member, could not be chosen to be Speaker, his majesty appointed Mr. Lenthall, a bencher of Lincoln's Inn. In this parliament also Mr. Pym began the recital of grievances, and other members followed with invectives against the Earl of Strafford, accusing him of high and imperious and tyrannical actions, and of abusing his power and credit with the king.

After many hours of bitter inveighing it was moved that the earl might be forthwith impeached of high treason; which was no sooner mentioned than it found a universal approbation and consent from the whole House. With very little debate the peers in their turn, when the impeachment was sent up to them, resolved that he should be committed to the custody of the gentleman usher of the black-rod, and next by an accusation of high treason against him also the Archbishop of Canterbury was removed from the king's council.

The trial of the earl in Westminster Hall began on March 22, 1641, and lasted eighteen days. Both Houses passed a bill of attainder. The king resolved never to give his consent to this measure, but a rabble of many thousands of people besieged Whitehall, crying out, "Justice, justice; we will have justice!" The privy council being called together pressed the king to pass the bill of attainder, saying there was no other way to preserve himself and his posterity than by so doing; and therefore he ought to be more tender of the safety of the kingdom than of any one person how innocent soever. No one counsellor interposed his opinion, to support his master's magnanimity and innocence.

The Archbishop of York, acting his part with prodigious boldness and impiety, told the king that there was a private and a public conscience; that his public conscience as a king might not only dispense with, but oblige him to do that which was against his private conscience as a man; and that the question was not whether he should save the earl, but whether he should perish with him. Thus in the end was extorted from the king a commission from some lords to sign the bill. This was as valid as if he had signed it himself, though they comforted him even with that circumstance, "that his own hand was not in it."

The earl was beheaded on May 12, on Tower Hill. Together with that of the attainder of this nobleman, another bill was passed by the king, of almost as fatal consequences to him and the kingdom as that was to the earl, "the act for perpetual parliament," as it is since called. Thus Parliament could not be adjourned, prorogued, or dissolved, without its consent.

Great offence was given to the Commons by the action of the king in appointing new bishops to certain vacant sees at the very time when they were debating an act for taking away bishops' votes. And here I cannot but with grief and wonder remember the virulence and animosity expressed on all occasions from many of good knowledge in the excellent and wise profession of the common law, towards the church and churchmen. All opportunities were taken uncharitably to improve mistakes into crimes.

Unfortunately the king sent to the House of Lords a remonstrance from the bishops against their constrained absence from the legislature. This led to violent scenes in the House of Commons, which might have been beneficial to him, had he not been misadvised by Lord Digby. At this time many of his own Council were adverse to him. Injudiciously, the king caused Lord Kimbolton and five members of the Commons to be accused of high treason, advised thereto by Lord Digby. The king's attorney, Herbert, delivered to Parliament a paper, whereby, besides Lord Kimbolton, Denzil Hollis, Sir Arthur Haslerig, Mr. Pym, Mr. Hampden, and Mr. Strode, stood accused of conspiring against the king and Parliament.

The sergeant at arms demanded the persons of the accused members to be delivered to him in his majesty's name, but the Commons refused to comply, sending a message to the king that the members should be forthcoming as soon as a legal charge should be preferred against them. The next day the king, attended by his own guard and a few gentlemen, went into the House to the great amazement of all; and the Speaker leaving the chair, the king went into it. Asking the Speaker whether the accused members were in the House, and he making no answer, the king said he perceived that the birds had flown, but expected that they should be sent to him as soon as they returned; and assured them in the word of a king that no force was intended, but that he would proceed against them in a fair and legal way; and so he returned to Whitehall.

The next day the king went to the City, where the accused had taken refuge. He dined with the sheriffs, but many of the rude people during his passage through the City flocked together, pressed very near his coach, and cried out, "Privilege of Parliament; privilege of Parliament; to your tents, O Israel!" The king returned to Whitehall and next day published a proclamation for the apprehension of the members, forbidding any person to harbour them.

Both Houses of Parliament speedily manifested sympathy with the accused persons, and a committee of citizens was formed in the City for their defence. The proceedings of the king and his advisers were declared to be a high breach of the privileges of Parliament. Such was the temper of the populace that the king thought it convenient to remove from London and went with the queen and royal children to Hampton Court. The next day the members were brought in triumph to Parliament by the trained bands of London. The sheriffs were called into the House of Commons and thanked for their extraordinary care and love shown to the Parliament.

Though the king had removed himself out of the noise of Westminster, yet the effects of it followed him very close, for printed petitions were pressed on him every day. In a few days he removed from Hampton Court to Windsor, where he could be more secure from any sudden popular attempt, of which he had reason to be very apprehensive.

After many disagreements with Parliament the king in 1642 published a declaration, that had been long ready, in which he recapitulated all the insolent and rebellious actions which Parliament had committed against him: and declared them "to be guilty; and forbade all his subjects to yield any obedience to them": and at the same time published his proclamation; by which he "required all men who could bear arms to repair to him at Nottingham by August 25, on which day he would set up his royal standard there, which all good subjects were obliged to attend."

According to the proclamation, on August 25 the standard was erected, about six in the evening of a very stormy day. But there was not yet a single regiment levied and brought there, so that the trained bands drawn thither by the sheriff was all the strength the king had for his person, and the guard of the standard. There appeared no conflux of men in obedience to the proclamation. The arms and ammunition had not yet come from York, and a general sadness covered the whole town, and the king himself appeared more melancholy than he used to be. The standard was blown down the same night it had been set up.

Intelligence was received the next day that the rebel army, for such the king had declared it, was horse, foot, and cannon at Northampton, whereas his few cannon and ammunition were still at York. It was evident that all the strength he had to depend upon was his horse, which were under the command of Prince Rupert at Leicester, not more than 800 in number, whilst the enemy had, within less than twenty miles of that place, double the number of horse excellently well armed and appointed, and a body of 5,000 foot well trained and disciplined.

Very speedily intelligence came that Portsmouth was besieged by land and sea by the Parliamentary forces, and soon came word that it was lost to the king through the neglect of Colonel Goring. The king removed to Derby and then to Shrewsbury. Prince Rupert was successful in a skirmish at Worcester. The two universities presented their money and plate to King Charles, but one cause of his misfortunes was the backwardness of some of his friends in lending him money.

Banbury Castle surrendered to Charles, and, marching to Oxford, he there experienced a favourable reception and recruited his army. At the battle of Edghill neither side gained the advantage, though altogether about 5,000 men fell on the field. Negotiations were entered into between the king and the Parliament, and these were renewed again and again, but never with felicitous issues.

On June 13, 1645, the king heard that General Fairfax was advanced to Northampton with a strong army, much superior to the numbers he had formerly been advised of. The battle began at ten the next morning on a high ground about Naseby. The first charge was given by Prince Rupert, with his usual vigour, so that he bore down all before him, and was soon master of six pieces of cannon. But though the king's troops prevailed in the charge they never rallied again in order, nor could they be brought to make a second charge. But the enemy, disciplined under such generals as Fairfax and Cromwell, though routed at first, always formed again. This was why the king's forces failed to win a decisive victory at Edghill, and now at Naseby, after Prince Rupert's charge, Cromwell brought up his troops with such effect that in the end the king was compelled to quit the field, leaving Fairfax, who was commander-in-chief of the Parliamentary army, master of his foot, cannon, and baggage.

It will not be seasonable in this place to mention the names of those noble persons who were lost in this battle, when the king and the kingdom were lost in it; though there were above one hundred and fifty officers, and gentlemen of prime quality, whose memories ought to be preserved, who were dead on the spot. The enemy left no manner of barbarous cruelty unexercised that day; and in the pursuit thereof killed above one hundred women, whereof some were officers' wives of quality. The king and Prince Rupert with the broken troops marched by stages to Hereford, where Prince Rupert left the king to hasten to Bristol, that he might put that place in a state of defence.

Nothing can here be more wondered at than that the king should amuse himself about forming a new army in counties that had been vexed and worn out with the oppressions of his own troops, and not have immediately repaired into the west, where he had an army already formed. Cromwell having taken Winchester and Basing, the king sent some messages to Parliament for peace, which were not regarded. A treaty between the king and the Scots was set on foot by the interposition of the French, but the parties disagreed about church government. To his son Charles, Prince of Wales, who had retired to Scilly, the king wrote enjoining him never to surrender on dishonourable terms.

Having now no other resource, the king placed himself under the protection of the Scots army at Newark. But at the desire of the Scots he ordered the surrender of Oxford and all his other garrisons. Also the Parliament, at the Scots' request, sent propositions of peace to him, and these proposals were promptly enforced by the Scots. The Chancellor of Scotland told him that the Parliament, after the battles that had been fought, had got the strongholds and forts of the kingdom into their hands, that they had gained a victory over all, and had a strong army to maintain it, so that they might do what they would with church and state, that they desired neither him nor any of his race to reign any longer over them, and that if he declined to yield to the propositions made to him, all England would join against him to depose him.

With great magnanimity and resolution the king replied that they must proceed their own way; and that though they had all forsaken him, God had not. The Scots began to talk sturdily in answer to a demand that they should deliver up the king's person to Parliament. They denied that the Parliament had power absolutely to dispose of the king's person without their approbation; and the Parliament as loudly replied that they had nothing to do in England but to observe orders. But these discourses were only kept up till they could adjust accounts between them, and agree what price should be paid for the delivery of his person, whom one side was resolved to have, and the other as resolved not to keep. So they quickly agreed that, upon payment of £200,000 in hand, and security for as much more upon days agreed upon, they would deliver up the king into such hands as Parliament should appoint to receive him.

And upon this infamous contract that excellent prince was in the end of January, 1647, wickedly given up by his Scottish subjects to those of the English who were trusted by the Parliament to receive him. He was brought to his own house at Holmby, in Northants, a place he had taken much delight in. Removed before long to Hampton Court, he escaped to the Isle of Wight, where he confided himself to Colonel Hammond and was lodged in Carisbrooke Castle. To prevent his further escape his old servants were removed from him.

In a speech in Parliament Cromwell declared that the king was a man of great parts and a great understanding (faculties they had hitherto endeavoured to have thought him to be without), but that he was so great a dissembler and so false a man, that he was not to be trusted. He concluded therefore that no more messages should be sent to the king, but that they might enter on those counsels which were necessary without having further recourse to him, especially as at that very moment he was secretly treating with the Scottish commissioners, how he might embroil the nation in a new war, and destroy the Parliament. The king was removed to Hurst Castle after a vain attempt by Captain Burley to rescue him.

A committee being appointed to prepare a charge of high treason against the king, of which Bradshaw was made President, his majesty was brought from Hurst Castle to St. James's, and it was concluded to have him publicly tried. From the time of the king's arrival at St. James's, when he was delivered into the custody of Colonel Tomlinson, he was treated with much more rudeness and barbarity than ever before. No man was suffered to see or speak to him but the soldiers who were his guard.

When he was first brought to Westminster Hall, on January 20, 1649, before their high court of justice, he looked upon them and sat down without any manifestation of trouble, never stirring his hat; all the impudent judges sitting covered and fixing their eyes on him, without the least show of respect. To the charges read out against him the king replied that for his actions he was accountable to none but God, though they had always been such as he need not be ashamed of before all the world.

Several unheard-of insolences which this excellent prince was forced to submit to before that odious judicatory, his majestic behaviour, the pronouncing that horrible sentence upon the most innocent person in the world, the execution of that sentence by the most execrable murder ever committed since that of our blessed Saviour, and the circumstances thereof, are all so well-known that the farther mentioning it would but afflict and grieve the reader, and make the relation itself odious; and therefore no more shall be said here of that lamentable tragedy, so much to the dishonour of the nation and the religion professed by it.