While the Presbyterians were discussing and voting, Cromwell and his friends were acting. On the 4th of June, news arrived in London that on the preceding day the king had been taken away from Holmby by a detachment of seven hundred men, and that the army held him in its power.
It was a cornet named Joyce, of the regiment of the guards of Fairfax, who had performed the feat. Arriving secretly with his detachment of cavalry, he at first introduced himself alone into the castle, then he returned at midnight with his soldiers, demanding to speak with the king. Colonel Greaves and the commissioners of Parliament residing with his Majesty refused; they desired to close the iron portcullises, but the new comers dismounted and chatted with the garrison. Colonel Greaves's men declared that they would not be separated from the rest of the army. At midday Joyce was master of the castle. He retired after having stationed sentinels in various parts. In the evening he caused the king to be awakened in order to speak to him. "I will go with you, Mr. Joyce," said Charles, after a rather long conference, "if your soldiers confirm what you have promised."
On the morrow, at six o'clock in the morning, Joyce's troopers were grouped in battle-array in the courtyard. "Mr. Joyce," said the king, appearing upon the steps, "by what authority do you intend to take me from here?" "Sire, by the authority of the army, to prevent the designs of its enemies, who would once more plunge the kingdom in blood." "That is not a legal authority. I know no other in England but mine, and after mine that of Parliament. Have you a commission written by Sir Thomas Fairfax?" "I have the orders of the army, and the general is included in the army." "That is not a reply; where is your commission?" "There it is, Sire." "Where?" "There, behind me," and he pointed to his soldiers. "Never," said the king, smiling, "have I yet seen such a commission. It is written, I admit, in fair characters, legible without spelling; but know that, to take me away, you will have to use force, if you do not promise me that nothing will be required of me which may wound my conscience and honor." "It is not our manner," said Joyce, "to constrain the conscience of any one, still less that of our king." "Now, gentlemen, whither will you conduct me?" "To Oxford, Sire, if you please." "No, the air is not good." "To Cambridge?" "No, I prefer Newmarket; it is an air that has always suited me." "As you will, Sire." And they departed, notwithstanding a last protest from the commissioners of Parliament.
When the news of the capture of the king reached headquarters, it threw Fairfax into extreme agitation. "I do not like this," he said to Ireton; "who gave such orders?" "I ordered," said Ireton, "that the king should be secured in Holmby, but not that he should be made to depart thence." "It was quite necessary," said Cromwell, who had arrived from London, "otherwise the king would have been taken and brought back to Parliament." Charles received the staff of the army at Childersley, near Cambridge. The majority, Fairfax taking the initiative, kissed his hand with respect. Cromwell and Ireton held aloof. Fairfax protested to the king that he was a stranger to the project of his removal. "I do not believe you," said the king, "unless you hang Joyce." Joyce was sent for. "I have told the king," he said, "that I had no commission from the general. I acted by order of the army. Let it be assembled again; if three-fourths do not approve of the act, I consent to be hanged at the head of the regiment." Joyce was not hanged. "Sir," said the king to Fairfax on leaving him, "I have as good interest in the army as you." And continuing to complain of the violence which he had suffered, but satisfied in his heart at changing his prison and seeing discord break out among his enemies, he established himself at Newmarket under the care of Colonel Whalley.
Cromwell returned to London. He found the House of Commons a prey to the most violent agitation. Every one imputed to him the audacious stroke of seizing upon the king. He passionately resented the suspicions, taking God, the angels, and men to witness that, before that day, Joyce was as much a stranger to him as the light of the sun to the child in the womb of its mother. All these protestations did not convince the Presbyterians. Hollis and Grimstone sought everywhere for proofs against Cromwell, being determined to demand his arrest. Two officers came to see Grimstone. "Lately," they said to him, "at a meeting of officers it was discussed whether it would not be advisable to purge the army. 'I am sure of the army,' the lieutenant-general said; 'but there is another body which it is more urgent to purge, that is the House of Commons, and the army alone can do it.'" Grimstone took them to Westminster; they repeated their speech before the House. Cromwell rose, then fell upon his knees, bursting into tears, with a vehemence of speech, sobs, and gestures which overcame with emotion and surprise all present; praying the Lord to wreak upon his head all His vengeance if any man in all the kingdom was more faithful than he to the House. Then, rising, he spoke for two hours, being humble and audacious, prolix and impassioned, with so much success that, when he sat down, the paramount influence had passed over to his friends, and that, "if he had wished," Grimstone himself said, thirty years afterwards, "the House would have sent us to the Tower, the officers and myself, as calumniators." On that very evening Cromwell secretly quitted London, and, repairing to the army assembled at Triploe Heath, near Cambridge, he openly placed himself at the head of the Independents and soldiers.
A few days after his arrival the army was marching towards London, and consternation reigned in the Houses which had received the "humble remonstrance" of the soldiers. It was no longer a question of the exposition of their own grievances, it was the haughty expression of their demands regarding the general reform of the state. They demanded, besides, the expulsion of eleven members of the Commons, including Hollis, Stapleton, Maynard, the enemies, they said, of the army. They advanced, complaining as they went. They were already at St. Alban's, when the Common Council of the city wrote to Fairfax to demand that the army should remain forty miles from London. It was too late, the general replied; they wanted a month's pay. The Houses granted the pay, persisting that the army should go away. The troops continued their march.
Parliament meanwhile redoubled its concessions. All the reproaches which were addressed, all the requests which were made met with a friendly reception. Remedies were granted for the grievances complained of; the king was invited to reside at Richmond under the sole custody of Parliament. They did all they could to escape the necessity of mutilating their body, by expelling the eleven members designated by the army; but, on the 26th of June, the headquarters were at Uxbridge. The shops were closed, and people spoke openly of the obstinacy and selfishness of the eleven members. At length they offered to retire. Their devotion was accepted with such satisfaction that, on the very day of their retirement, the Commons voted that they approved of the army in everything, and would provide for its maintenance while commissioners should settle, in co-operation with others from the soldiers, the affairs of the kingdom. Fairfax consented to withdraw a few miles.
The king was informed that it was no longer desired that he should go to Richmond. "Since my Houses ask me to go to Richmond," he said, "if any one claim to prevent me therefrom it will have to be by force and by seizing the bridle of my horse; and if there be a man who dares attempt it, it will not be my fault if it be his last act." He was informed that the Houses themselves opposed his departure, and that they had yielded in everything to the army. He smiled disdainfully, happy at seeing his first adversaries thus humiliated, and he followed unresistingly the movements of the army. He was carefully guarded, but he enjoyed a liberty which the commissioners of Parliament had not allowed him till recently. He had chaplains, a certain number of his friends were admitted into his presence, he was even permitted to see his children, the Dukes of York and Gloucester, with the Princess Elizabeth, and he was enabled to keep them with him for two days. Some few of the leaders of the army, Cromwell and Ireton especially, asked each other whether the favor of the king, restored by their hands, would not be the best guarantee for their party, and for themselves the surest means of obtaining fortune and power.