Hamilton, having entered England with a numerous though undisciplined army, durst not unite his forces with those of Langdale; because the English royalists had refused to take the covenant; and the Scottish Presbyterians, though engaged for the king, refused to join them on any other terms. The two armies marched together, though at some distance; nor could even the approach of the parliamentary army under Cromwell, oblige the Covenanters to consult their own safety, by a close union with the royalists. When principles are so absurd and so destructive of human society, it may safely be averred, that the more sincere and the more disinterested they are, they only become the more ridiculous and the more odious.
Cromwell feared not to oppose eight thousand men to the numerous armies of twenty thousand commanded by Hamilton and Langdale. He attacked the latter by surprise near Preston, in Lancashire; and though the royalists made a brave resistance, yet, not being succored in time by their confederates, they were almost entirely cut in pieces. Hamilton was next attacked, put to rout, and pursued to Utoxeter, where he surrendered himself prisoner. Cromwell followed his advantage; and, marching into Scotland with a considerable body joined Argyle, who was also in arms; and having suppressed Laneric, Monro, and other moderate Presbyterians he placed the power entirely in the hands of the violent party. The ecclesiastical authority, exalted above the civil, exercised the severest vengeance on all who had a share in Hamilton’s engagement, as it was called; nor could any of that party recover trust, or even live in safety, but by doing solemn and public penance for taking arms, by authority of parliament in defence of their lawful sovereign.
The chancellor, Loudon, who had at first countenanced Hamilton’s enterprise, being terrified with the menaces of the clergy, had some time before gone over to the other party; and he now openly in the church, though invested with the highest civil character in the kingdom, did penance for his obedience to the parliament, which he termed a “carnal self-seeking.” He accompanied his penance with so many tears, and such pathetical addresses to the people for their prayers in this his uttermost sorrow and distress, that a universal weeping and lamentation took place among the deluded audience.[*]
The loan of great sums of money, often to the ruin of families, was exacted from all such as lay under any suspicion of favoring the king’s party, though their conduct had been ever so inoffensive. This was a device fallen upon by the ruling party, in order, as they said, to reach “heart malignants.”[**] Never in this island was known a more severe and arbitrary government, than was generally exercised by the patrons of liberty in both kingdoms.
* Whitlocke, p. 360.
** Guthrey. Lucas and Sir George Lisle.
The siege of Colchester terminated in a manner no less unfortunate than Hamilton’s engagement for the royal cause. After suffering the utmost extremities of famine, after feeding on the vilest aliments, the garrison desired at last to capitulate. Fairfax required them to surrender at discretion; and he gave such an explanation to these terms, as to reserve to himself power, if he pleased, to put them all instantly to the sword. The officers endeavored, though in vain, to persuade the soldiers, by making a vigorous sally, to break through, at least to sell their lives as dear as possible. They were obliged to accept of the conditions offered; and Fairfax, instigated by Ireton, to whom Cromwell in his absence had consigned over the government of the passive general, seized Sir Charles and resolved to make them instant sacrifices to military justice. This unusual severity was loudly exclaimed against by all the prisoners. Lord Capel, fearless of danger, reproached Ireton with it; and challenged him, as they were all engaged in the same honorable cause, to exercise the same impartial vengeance on all of them. Lucas was first shot; and he himself gave orders to fire, with the same alacrity as if he had commanded a platoon of his own soldiers. Lisle instantly ran and kissed the dead body, then cheerfully presented himself to a like fate. Thinking that the soldiers destined for his execution stood at too great a distance, he called to them to come nearer: one of them replied, “I’ll warrant you, sir, we’ll hit you:” he answered, smiling, “Friends, I have been nearer you, when you have missed me.” Thus perished this generous spirit, not less beloved for his modesty and humanity, than esteemed for his courage and military conduct.
Soon after, a gentleman appearing in the king’s presence clothed in mourning for Sir Charles Lucas, that humane prince, suddenly recollecting the hard fate of his friends, paid them a tribute which none of his own unparalleled misfortunes ever extorted from him: he dissolved into a flood of tears.[*]
* Whitlocke.
By these multiplied successes of the army, they had subdued all their enemies; and none remained but the helpless king and parliament to oppose their violent measures. From Cromwell’s suggestion, a remonstrance was drawn by the council of general officers, and sent to the parliament. They there complain of the treaty with the king; demand his punishment for the blood spilt during the war; require a dissolution of the present parliament, and a more equal representative for the future; and assert that, though servants, they are entitled to represent these important points to their masters, who are themselves no better than servants and trustees of the people. At the same time, they advanced with the army to Windsor, and sent Colonel Eure to seize the king’s person at Newport, and convey him to Hurst Castle, in the neighborhood, where he was detained in strict confinement.