Hitherto, since his marriage, Lord Strange had spent his time almost entirely upon his estates, devoting himself to the welfare of his own people and tenantry, and enjoying the pleasures of a country life and the interchange of stately though simple hospitalities. Of Lady Strange, little is recorded during these years. “Happy,” says the old axiom, “are the people who have no history.” The daily events in the life of this great lady, in whom discreetness and simplicity are such leading characteristics, were as the ripples upon a calm ocean, upon whose horizon for a long time little clouds scarce bigger than a man’s hand threatened. Suddenly, after fifteen years of this comparative peace and tranquillity, the clouds gathered thick, lowering till the storm broke upon the Buckinghamshire plains.
The Parliamentarians were commanded by Lord Essex. Southwards lay the vale of the Red Horse, the famous charger cut into the red rock in memory of that ancestral kinsman of Lord Strange, who killed his horse, vowing to share the perils of the meanest of his soldiers. The Puritans called this figure “the Red Horse of the Lord, which He caused to ride about furiously to the ruin of the enemy.”
Above the village of Radway, the King’s tent was pitched in the midst of his redcoats. The royal standard, borne by Sir Edmund Verney, floated in the morning breeze. The position of the Royal army was very strong, and, had it remained to await the attack of the enemy, complete victory for the King could hardly have been doubtful; but in spite of brave old Lord Lindsay’s counsel, the King consented to the pushing forward of his impatient soldiers, and met the attack half way.
The King rode along in front of his troops, clad as Vandyck has presented him, a stately figure in full armour, with the ribbon of the Garter across his breastplate, and its star on his mantle of black velvet. In his tent he addressed his principal officers: “If this day shine prosperous for us, we shall all be happy in a glorious victory. Your King is both your cause, your quarrel, and your captain. The foe is in sight. The best encouragement I can give you is this: that come life or death, your King will bear you company, and ever keep this field, this place, and this day’s service in his grateful remembrance.” Major-General Sir Jacob Astley’s prayer is as memorable: “O Lord, Thou knowest how busy I must be this day. If I forget Thee, do not Thou forget me.... March on, boys.”
That some spirits no stress of circumstances can attune to war, the case of William Harvey, the discoverer of the circulation of the blood, will attest. Sir Edward Hyde and Harvey had charge of the two young princes, Charles and James, during the battle. In the heat of the thunder of cannon, and the rain of shot, Harvey was found seated comfortably under a hedge, reading Virgil; though he consented, when urged, to retire into a place of greater safety. The result of that day is well known. Both sides claimed the victory; but the advantage, in absolute fact, was to the Royalists.
The ghosts of the slain in that day’s fight are still said to haunt the old scene of battle; and some three months after the event, “apparitions and sundry noyses of war and battels” are recorded to have been seen and heard on Edgehill. The faces of Sir Edmund Verney, the King’s standard-bearer, and of many of the other “incorporeal substances,” destroyed in the flesh, were recognised.
CHAPTER IX
THE FATE OF KINGS. ONLY ONCE AGAIN. THE CROWN JEWELS. A LOYAL VASSAL. “THE VAIN SHADOW OF A KING.” SLANDER. TEMPTATION SCORNED. MORE ARDOUR THAN DISCRETION
Charles, from the first day of his reign, had never known real peace of mind or enjoyed a sense of security. The words put into the mouth of his predecessor by Shakespeare,