Thenceforth the situation of the king underwent a sudden change. The friends who surrounded him received orders to depart. His most trustworthy servants, Ashburnham and Berkeley, were withdrawn from him. The guards were doubled around them, and from all parts arrived sinister warnings of abduction and assassination.
Charles was oppressed by a growing anxiety. His susceptible and ardent, though grave imagination, was shaken. Projects of flight began to spring up in his mind; but where was he to take refuge? The Scotch commissioners caused an offer to be made him to facilitate his escape, but the Scots had already delivered him up once to Parliament. Mention was made of the island of Jersey. It was far off, and the king would not quit English soil. Cromwell meanwhile, by all kinds of means, caused it to be insinuated that flight was a necessity. The Isle of Wight was proposed, the governor of which, Colonel Hammond, was the nephew of the chaplain of the king. This proposal pleased Charles, but he continued to hesitate, notwithstanding the anonymous letters which warned him that the danger was urgent. A nocturnal council of the agitators had resolved to get rid of him. At length, on the 11th of November, at nine o'clock in the evening, the king left the palace by a secret staircase, with one single valet-de-chambre, and, crossing the park, reached the forest, where Ashburnham and Berkeley, who had been hurriedly warned, awaited him. The night was dark, and the fugitives lost their way. Not till daybreak did they arrive at the little town of Sutton in Hampshire, where a relay had been got ready. When they reached Southampton, opposite the Isle of Wight, Ashburnham and Berkeley embarked, to go and sound the governor. The king retired to the neighboring castle of Titchfield, inhabited by the mother of Lord Southampton. The two messengers met the governor on horseback upon the road. They informed him of the motive of their coming. Hammond turned pale; the reins of his horse slipped from his grasp. "Gentlemen," he said, "you have undone me by bringing the king into this island, if you have brought him. If he is not here yet, I implore you do not let him come. …" A long conversation began; the governor at length appeared to give way. "The king," he said, "shall have no cause to complain of me. I will perform whatever can be expected from a man of honor and honesty. Let us go to him together." They arrived at Titchfield. Ashburnham ascended alone to the king. After his account, "Ah! John, John," exclaimed Charles, "you have undone me by bringing the governor here. Do you not see that I can no longer stir?" Ashburnham protested the good intentions of Hammond. The king was disconsolate, walking hurriedly about the apartment, with an expression of the keenest anguish. "Sire," said Ashburnham, in his turn agitated, "the colonel is here with one man only; nothing is so easy as to secure him." "What?" replied the king. "Do you mean to kill him? Would you have it said that I infamously deprived him of the life he hazarded for me? No, no; it is too late to adopt another course. We must resign ourselves to the will of God," And he sent for Hammond and received him with an open and confident air. The day began to wane; they embarked for the island. A rumor had been spread abroad that the king was to arrive. The inhabitants set out to meet him. It was affirmed that they were all devoted to him. The terrors of the unhappy Charles subsided on the morrow morning, at the contemplation of the magnificent sight which presented itself to his gaze from the windows of Carisbrooke Castle. "After all," he said to Ashburnham, "this governor is a gallant man. I am here protected from agitators. I shall, I think, only have to congratulate myself upon my resolve."
The news of the flight of the king caused great consternation at Westminster. It was soon known that he had taken refuge in the Isle of Wight. Colonel Hammond hastened to write to the Houses and to the lieutenant-general, protesting his devotion and asking for instructions. Cromwell gave notice of the event to Parliament with a gayety which astonished the less suspicious, but of which the most shrewd in vain sought the cause.
Two days later, he repaired with Fairfax to the first of the three appointed rendezvous of the army. This was near Ware, in Hertfordshire. Seven of the most reasonable of the regiments only had been convoked for that day. But, upon arriving at the place of meeting, the generals found nine regiments instead of seven; that of Harrison (cavalry) and that of Robert Lilburne (infantry) had come without orders.
Portrait Of Lord Fairfax.
Suffering from the most violent agitation, they bore, affixed to their caps, Liberty for England, and from time to time their shouts resounded in the plain, excited by those of the officers and members of the House of Commons who had placed themselves at the head of the fanatics. The generals advanced; calm and grave, and caused to be read a remonstrance, reproaching the new negotiators with their culpable conspiracies, the soldiers with their want of discipline, and distrustfulness. Seven regiments greeted the reading with their acclamations. Fairfax advanced towards the regiment commanded by Harrison. Scarcely had the horsemen heard his voice, when they tore from their caps the Liberty for England, vowing to live and die with their general. Cromwell marched straight up to the regiment of Lilburne, which remained isolated and was uttering seditious cries. "Take that paper from your hats," he said to the soldiers, and as they refused, he abruptly entered the ranks and ordered fourteen of the most mutinous to be seized. Immediately, a council of war was formed, and three soldiers were condemned to death. "Let lots be drawn to determine the fate of one of them," the council ordered, "and let him be shot upon the spot." Richard Arnold, a fiery agitator, condemned by this means, was executed in front of the regiment; and the thirteen other prisoners were put in irons. Silence reigned in the plain. All the troops returned to their quarters without a murmur. The army appeared to be once more in the hands of its leaders.
Cromwell, however, did not abuse his victory. Scarcely recovered from their stupor, officers, sub-officers, and private soldiers came in a mass to declare to the lieutenant-general that no severity could turn them aside from their designs; that they were determined to rid themselves of the king and to establish a republic; and that they would divide the army rather than abandon their undertaking. Cromwell did not feel inclined to reduce them to this extremity. Without giving them a positive answer, he allowed it to be understood that he also was dissatisfied with the king, that he might have permitted himself to be dazzled for a moment by worldly glories, but that he had recognized his error. He dwelt at the same time upon the necessity for discipline in the army. The agitators confessed their transgressions like their general. While the Houses were voting their thanks to Fairfax and Cromwell for the firmness with which they had quelled the insurrection, a great gathering and a solemn banquet, at which were present, in common, officers, agitators, and preachers, sealed that reconciliation, the price of which was the destruction of the king.