The king resolutely forebore from any negotiation with the army, but he was not ignorant of the relations which, with the approval of the queen, his valet-de-chambre, Ashburnham, and the former royalist governor of Exeter, Sir John Berkeley, maintained with Cromwell. The manœuvres of the latter, among the army, were not without effect: the general council of officers was preparing proposals to remit to the king. Charles appeared cold and not very eager when Berkeley joyfully brought the project entrusted to him by Ireton. Never had anything so moderate been asked of a vanquished monarch. It was required that he should surrender for ten years the nominations to the great offices and the command of the soldiery. The political reforms were numerous, but he was not asked to abolish the Episcopal Church, or to ruin with fines the faithful servants who had fought for him, and the exceptions to the armistice numbered only seven. The king appeared so haughty that Berkeley was confounded. "If they really wished to conclude with me," he said, "they would propose things which I might accept." Then, abruptly breaking up the interview, he said, "You will soon see them only too happy themselves to accept conditions more equitable."
Berkeley retired, endeavoring to guess the secret of so much confidence, when he learned that a riot had broken out in the city. Westminster was besieged by bands of citizens and apprentices, loudly demanding the return of the king. A petition, consisting of a pledge to do everything in order that the king might return to London with honor and liberty, was instantly covered with a mass of signatures. Everywhere the officers of the army, but recently remodelled by the Independents, united themselves with the people. The Presbyterians, defeated both in military operations and in the Houses, felt themselves supported by the popular movement, and resumed the control of the trainbands of London, which had been taken from them. The House of Commons, finding its doors forced open by a furious mob, voted the return of the king. Parliament was besieged both by the people and the army.
The king and his confidants triumphed, for insurrection had broken out according to their wish and at their instigation. They were suspected among the army, and the haughtiness displayed by Ashburnham, who had arrived three days after his master, redoubled the ill-humor of the representatives of the soldiers, with whom he forbore negotiating. "I have always lived in good company," he said to Berkeley; "I can have nothing in common with those fellows. We must secure the officers, and, through them, we shall have the whole army." The officers themselves began to distrust the double-dealing which Charles was carrying on. "Sire," Ireton said to him, "do you claim to constitute yourself arbitrator between us and Parliament? It is we who wish to be the arbitrators between Parliament and you." They, however, officially presented their proposals to him. The king listened to them in silence, with an ironical smile, then he rejected them nearly all in few words, and as Ireton was beginning to support them with warmth, Charles abruptly interrupted him: "You cannot be without me (he said); you will fall to ruin if I do not sustain you." The officers looked in astonishment at Berkeley; the latter approached the king. "Sire," he said to him in a whisper, "your Majesty speaks as if you had some secret strength and power which I do not know of. Since your Majesty hath concealed it from me, I wish you had concealed it from these men too." The king endeavored to mitigate his words, but the majority of the officers had already adopted their course. It was said everywhere among the army, that there was no possibility of placing reliance on the king. Charles confidently awaited intelligence from London.
News was brought to headquarters by messengers of distinction. More than sixty members of the two Houses, with Lord Manchester and Speaker Lenthall at their head, arrived unexpectedly in the army, coming, they said, to seek the security and liberty which were denied to them by the fury of the populace. For a week Cromwell and his friends had been laboring, through the medium of Vane and St. John, to bring about this division among Parliament. They affected, however, to partake of the general surprise. Parliament, the real Parliament, with its legal chiefs and faithful members, was henceforth united with the army and under its protection. Joy shone on every countenance: the Lord was loudly praised.
Berkeley was not satisfied. He hastened to bring to the king news so fatal to the success of his negotiations; and urged him to write to the chiefs of the army a letter which should cause a better reception of their proposals to be hoped for. At this price, Cromwell and Ireton still answered for the inclinations of the army. But the king also had news from London. The members of Parliament remaining in the capital were more numerous than those who had quitted it. They had elected a new speaker; they had given orders to form new regiments; the city was full of ardor, and was preparing to defend itself. The king was formally invited to return to London. The vote proclaimed in the streets might reach him at any moment. "I will wait," said Charles to Berkeley. "There will be yet time to write that letter."
The king waited, then wrote; but it was too late. Every day more members of Parliament proceeded to join their colleagues at headquarters. Popular exasperation gave way to fear and uneasiness; compromises were spoken of. Cromwell caused the king to be pressed; he continued to hesitate still. Ashburnham and Berkeley arrived at length at headquarters, the bearers of the letter so often demanded. The submission of the city had preceded them, and the alliance of the king was no longer of any value to the conquerors. Two days afterwards, on the 6th of August, the army, bringing back the fugitive members in triumph, entered London without one single excess characterizing their march, and Fairfax took possession of the Tower, of which the Houses had nominated him governor. All the acts passed by Parliament in the absence of the members who had taken refuge in the army, were declared null in law, for the troops were encamped around Westminster. Everywhere the army triumphed. Parliament was now a docile and humbled instrument in its hands.
It was in the very midst of the army that fresh difficulties were about to arise. Intoxicated with their triumph, the obscure enthusiasts, fanatics of religion or liberty, thought that they had become masters, and aspired to alter not only the State, but society itself, and the face of the world. Possessed of a blind but pure ambition, intractable to any one who appeared to them weak or interested, they constituted in turn the strength and terror of the different parties who were all successively compelled to make use of and deceive them.