A Royalist reaction now sprung up amongst the Presbyterians, and the former alienation between the army and the Parliament burst into open warfare. The army, tired of treaties which made not the slightest provision for religious liberty, tired also of one-sided Presbyterian zeal, which sacrificed the liberties of the country to the adored ideal of a covenanted uniformity, and further tired of long and fruitless negotiations, addressed a stern remonstrance to Parliament—as long too as it was stern—demanding justice upon the misguided monarch.[657] Then came a declaration of the advance of the army towards the City of London. Thus threatened, the Presbyterians were put on their defence. To submit to the army would be to give up their idol. More hope remained for Presbyterianism now in pushing a treaty with the King than in yielding to the pressure of the Independents. The courage and calmness of the advocates of this policy at such a moment command our admiration. Amidst all their fondness for the Covenant, and all their aversion to Episcopacy, there appeared a disinterested spirit of loyalty to the King's person, and of great anxiety for the preservation of the King's life.
1648.
On Monday, December the 4th, after tidings had been received of the removal of Charles across the water from Carisbrook to Hurst Castle, by officers of the army—the Commons were in deep debate. They declared that the removal had been accomplished without their consent or knowledge, and then they grappled with the all-absorbing question, whether the royal answers to the propositions of both Houses could be considered satisfactory. Whilst Sir Harry Vane, Mr. Corbet, and others of the Independent party contended that those answers were not satisfactory, the Presbyterians put forth all their remaining strength to save his Majesty. Sir Benjamin Rudyard, Sir Harbottle Grimstone, and Sir Symonds D'Ewes came to the rescue; but Mr. Prynne stood forward as the chief advocate of the false and fallen prince. In a speech, continued long after candles had been lighted, he went over the whole ground of the long dispute. He could not, as he said, be suspected of any undue partiality for his Majesty, seeing that all the royal favour he had ever received was shewn in cutting off his ears; but still he argued with immense elaboration and great ability that there was enough in the results of the recent negotiations to warrant the conclusion of a treaty. The political concessions which had been made he maintained were amply sufficient. Such as were ecclesiastical, he proceeded to observe, though they did not meet the Parliament's demands, yet went so far as to warrant a hope of a satisfactory issue. For hours he continued his speech, and at the end of it the majority—so the orator himself reports—declared both by their cheerful countenances and by their express words that they were abundantly satisfied. After the Speaker had taken some refreshments there came a division on the question, that the answers of the King "are a ground for the House to proceed upon, for the settlement of the peace of the kingdom." Ayes, 140, Noes, 104. It was Tuesday morning; the clock had now struck nine, and the debate had lasted from the morning of the previous day. Although the doors had never been locked, there were present in the House at one time as many as 340 members: many of them, however, because of age and infirmity, could not remain throughout the night.[658]
Whatever opinion may be formed of the Presbyterian policy, everybody must acknowledge that such a debate with the army at the door brought out some noble characteristics, and that Prynne shewed himself a brave man, with such armed odds against him, thus to stand up for peace with Charles, at the moment when his death-knell had begun to be rung in the camp. Zeal for Presbyterianism, hatred of Independency, and jealousy of the army were powerful motives with this singular person; yet with these feelings were blended sentiments of the purest loyalty.
But eloquence proved no match for steel. The Scotch army had set up the Covenant; the English army now pulled it down. As at the beginning of that great mistake, so at the end, force had more influence than reason, violence than argument. Pride's purge carried all before it. Prynne had not recovered from his exhaustion before the army had cleared the House of all opponents. Above one hundred members were excluded before the end of December; others withdrew. Thus by one and the same blow the fate of monarchy and of Presbyterianism was decided. It is vain to talk about constitutionalism at such a crisis. Revolution had marched through England gaunt and grim. Its black shadow had darkened the land, and now it fell over Parliament itself. The army had fought for liberty of conscience, certainly not the least of the prizes in dispute, and that being now in jeopardy, a strong hand was put forth very unceremoniously to beat down the obstacle which hindered its attainment.
Execution of the King.
1649, January.
As it was with Lord Strafford and with Archbishop Laud, so it was with King Charles I. The noblest scene in his whole life was the last. He appeared to infinitely greater advantage at the bar, and on the scaffold, than he had ever done before. His religious demeanour, when he came to die, was all which his admirers could wish. Without refusing the prayers of Presbyterians and Independents, he availed himself of the counsels and devotions of Bishop Juxon; and he said to that prelate on his offering some expressions of condolence—"Leave off this, my Lord, we have no time for it. Let us think of our great work, and prepare to meet the great God to whom ere long I am to give an account of myself, and I hope I shall do it with peace, and that you will assist me therein. We will not talk of these rogues in whose hands I am. They thirst after my blood, and they will have it, and God's will be done. I thank God I heartily forgive them, and will talk of them no more." In a message to his son, he declared his faith in the apostolical institution of Episcopacy, and, as a last request, earnestly urged him to read the Bible, which in his own affliction, he remarked, "had been his best instructor and delight." He said to his attendant, on the morning of his execution, "Herbert, this is my second marriage day, I would be as trim to-day as may be, for before night I hope to be espoused to my blessed Jesus." "I fear not death, death is not terrible to me. I bless my God I am prepared."[659] On his way to the block he hastened his attendants, remarking that he now went before them to strive for a heavenly crown with less solicitude than he had often encouraged his soldiers to fight for an earthly diadem.
His words, as he stood with Juxon at his side,[660] before the axe of the masked executioner, were broken and confused; but he declared himself a Christian, and a member of the Church; that he had a good cause and a gracious God, and was going from a corruptible to an incorruptible crown.
Execution of the King.