Charles I / Makers of History

by Jacob Abbott

Cornet Joyce.
He forces admittance to the king.

Cromwell detached a strong party of choice troops, under the command of an officer by the name of Joyce, to carry the plan into effect. These troops were all horsemen, so that their movements could be made with the greatest celerity. They arrived at Holmby House at midnight. The cornet, for that was the military title by which Joyce was designated, drew up his horsemen about the palace, and demanded entrance. Before his company arrived, however, there had been an alarm that they were coming, and the guards had been doubled. The officers in command asked the cornet what was his name and business. He replied that he was Cornet Joyce, and that his business was to speak to the king. They asked him by whom he was sent, and he replied that he was sent by himself, and that he must and would see the king. They then commanded their soldiers to stand by their arms, and be ready to fire when the word should be given. They, however, perceived that Joyce and his force were a detachment from the army to which they themselves belonged, and concluding to receive them as brothers, they opened the gates and let them in.

The cornet stationed sentinels at the doors of those apartments of the castle which were occupied by the Scotch commissioners who had the king in charge, and then went himself directly to the king's chamber. He had a pistol loaded and cocked in his hand. He knocked at the door. There were four grooms in waiting: they rebuked him for making such a disturbance at that time of the night, and told him that he should wait until the morning if he had any communication to make to the king.

The cornet would not accede to this proposition, but knocked violently at the door, the servants being deterred from interfering by dread of the loaded pistol, and by the air and manner of their visitor, which told them very plainly that he was not to be trifled with. The king finally heard the disturbance, and, on learning the cause, sent out word that Joyce must go away and wait till morning, for he would not get up to see him at that hour. The cornet, as one of the historians of the time expresses it, "huffed and retired." The next morning he had an interview with the king.

Joyce's interview with the king.
His "instructions."

When he was introduced to the king's apartment in the morning, the king said that he wished to have the Scotch commissioners present at the interview. Joyce replied that the commissioners had nothing to do now but to return to the Parliament at London. The king then said that he wished to see his instructions. The cornet replied that he would show them to him, and he sent out to order his horsemen to parade in the inner court of the palace, where the king could see them from his windows; and then, pointing them out to the king, he said, "These, sir, are my instructions." The king, who, in all the trials and troubles of his life of excitement and danger, took every thing quietly and calmly looked at the men attentively. They were fine troops, well mounted and armed. He then turned to the cornet, and said, with a smile, that "his instructions were in fair characters, and could be read without spelling." The cornet then said that his orders were to take the king away with him. The king declined going, unless the commissioners went too. The cornet made no objection, saying that the commissioners might do as they pleased about accompanying him, but that he himself must go.

The king taken to Cambridge.
Closely guarded.

The party set off from Holmby and traveled two days, stopping at night at the houses of friends to their cause. They reached Cambridge, where the leading officers of the army received the king, rendering him every possible mark of deference and respect. From Cambridge he was conducted by the leaders of the army from town to town, remaining sometimes several days at a place. He was attended by a strong guard, and was treated every where with the utmost consideration and honor. He was allowed some little liberty, in riding out and in amusements, but every precaution was taken to prevent the possibility of an escape.

The king's evil.

The people collected every where into the places through which he had to pass, and his presence-chamber was constantly thronged. This was not altogether on account of their respect and veneration for him as king, but it arose partly from a very singular cause. There is a certain disease called the scrofula, which in former times had the name of the King's Evil. It is a very unmanageable and obstinate disorder, resisting all ordinary modes of treatment; but in the days of King Charles, it was universally believed by the common people of England, that if a king touched a patient afflicted with this disease, he would recover. This was the reason why it was called the king's evil. It was the evil that kings only could cure. Now, as kings seldom traveled much about their dominions, whenever one did make such a journey, the people embraced the opportunity to bring all the cases which could possibly be considered as scrofula to the line of his route, in order that he might touch the persons afflicted and heal them.