The new party had grown in the shadow of the Presbyterian power; but from the first it had set up a very different flag. Liberty was the basis of the structure that liberty yet so misunderstood and so often dishonored by the very persons who demanded it. "Whatever may have been the boldness of their ventures, neither the politicians nor the devotees of the new party were a prey to vague desires, to unlimited pretensions. No precise design regulated their course, no historical or legal act comprised the limits of their belief. It was this very belief which they wished, at all costs, to set forth. Proud of its elevation, of its holiness, of its daring, they awarded to it the right of judging all, of ruling all; and taking it solely for their guide, the philosophers sought with indefatigable ardor, the truth; the enthusiasts, the Lord; the libertines, success. All could find therein full satisfaction for their schemes and hopes. The double policy of the Presbyterians did not hinder the progress of those free spirits who claimed to shake off all impediments and remake the world in their own fashion. Hostility increased every day between the new party of the Independents, impelled by the breeze of revolution as well as by popular favor, and the old Presbyterian party, triumphant and everywhere in power, but hesitating and uneasy in the very midst of its victories."

At Oxford, divisions among the enemy were not unknown, and men of ability would have been ready to profit by them: but in vain were secret negotiations carried on sometimes with the Presbyterians, sometimes with the Independents; the plots were neither active nor efficacious, and they displeased the king even while he tolerated them. He had less repugnance in negotiating with other enemies, odious to England and his people. He was in treaty with the Irish rebels, with the ferocious Papists who had put Ireland to fire and sword, now organized by the great council which had been formed at Kilkenny. When Charles heard of the negotiations of the Scotch with Parliament, and when he saw that a fresh kingdom was about to slip from his grasp, he hastened to come to an end with the Irish. The Protestant army, commanded by the Earl of Ormond, which had always remained faithful to the royal cause, was disbanded; its regiments crossed the sea and joined the army of the king. A truce of one year was concluded with the rebels; Ireland was abandoned to the Papists. It was a terrible blow struck in England to the traditional respect which many people still preserved towards the king. His duplicity, his tedious falsehoods, the haughty tone of his protests, his decided tendency towards Roman Catholicism, all this recurred to the recollection of the people, and his name, hitherto treated with respect amidst the most bitter strife of the contending parties, was no longer spared from insult.

Charles was deeply offended at the violence which was manifested towards him. His timid and easily offended dignity was shocked at the idea that people should dare to judge him according to his acts. He sent for Hyde. "I desire to dissolve Parliament," he said. "The act by which I promised only to do so with their own consent, is, I am assured, null and void; for I could not thus abolish the prerogatives of the crown, but rather desire to make use of them. Let a proclamation be prepared which shall declare the Houses dissolved from this time, and expressly forbid them from reassembling, or any one, whosoever he may be, from recognizing or obeying them." Hyde listened, surprised and grieved. "I cannot imagine," he said, "that your Majesty's forbidding them to meet any more at Westminster will prevent one man the more going there, and, nevertheless, the kingdom will, without doubt, take violent umbrage at it. It was the first powerful reproach they corrupted the people with against your Majesty, that you intended to dissolve this Parliament, and in the same way repeal all the other acts made by that Parliament, whereof some are very precious to the people. As your Majesty has always disclaimed any such thought, such a proclamation now would confirm all the jealousies and fears so excited, and trouble many of your true subjects. I implore your Majesty to reflect well before further pressing this project."

All the members of the council spoke like Hyde, and the king abandoned his project, not without ill-humor. It was necessary, however, to do something. Some one proposed, since the name of Parliament exercised such a dominion over the people, to convoke at Oxford all the members of the two Houses who had quitted Westminster, and thus to oppose to the factious and mutilated Parliament a real and legal Parliament, since the king would form part of it. The proposal displeased the king, who detested the very name of parliament. The queen was still more opposed to it; but the royalist party received the measure with ecstasy, and no one dared to withdraw it. The Parliament of the king was convoked at Oxford for the 22nd January, 1644.

On the same day, at Westminster, a kind of muster of the Houses took place. Twenty-two lords still sat in the Upper House, and two hundred and eighty members of the Commons responded to their names. A certain number were absent in the service of the country and by order of Parliament. One of its oldest and most useful leaders had recently been taken from them. "Pym had died on the 8th of December, after a sickness of a few days. A man of a less brilliant renown than Hampden, in the secret councils as well as the public acts of the House, he had not rendered less important services. Firm, patient, and shrewd, skilled in pursuing an enemy, in directing a debate, or an intrigue, in fomenting the anger of the people, in engaging or retaining in his cause the great lords who were in a state of uncertainty, he was, moreover, an indefatigable member of the greater number of the committees, the customary chief mover of decisive measures, always ready to undertake onerous and dreaded duties; indifferent, in short, to labor, to mortifications, to fortune, to glory, and placing in success his sole ambition. The House felt its loss, and rendered the greatest honors to his memory. He was buried at Westminster."

The new Parliament had attempted to establish relations with Essex. It received from the Earl of Forth, commander-in-chief of the army of the king, a packet which it consigned in a sealed cover to the Upper House. After an examination by a committee of the two Houses, the papers were sent to Oxford without any answer. A demand for a safe-conduct for the deputies whom the king desired to send to London was not better received. "My Lord," replied Essex, "when you ask for a safe-conduct in order that these gentlemen may repair, on behalf of the king, to the two Houses of Parliament, I will do, with all my heart, what shall be in my power to contribute to all that is desired by all good men—the re-establishment of an amicable understanding between his Majesty and his faithful and only council, the Parliament."

The king was delighted to find his adversaries so untractable; his hopes lay entirely in war and nowise in negotiations. The assembly of Oxford, consisting of forty-five Lords and a hundred and eighteen members of the Commons, obtained however a slight concession from him. The name of Parliament had not, in the first message rejected by Essex, been applied to the House at Westminster. A letter of the king was addressed "to the Lords and Commons of the Parliament assembled at Westminster;" but he spoke of the Lords and Commons assembled at Oxford as of their equals. A trumpeter from Essex brought the reply of the Houses. "The letter of your Majesty," it ran, "gives us, as to peace, the saddest thoughts. The persons now assembled at Oxford, and who, against their duty, have deserted your Parliament, are therein placed in the same rank as the latter, and this Parliament itself, convoked according to the fundamental laws of the kingdom, authorized to continue to sit by a special law sanctioned by your Majesty, finds itself denied even its name. We cannot betray in this manner the honor of the country entrusted to our keeping, and it is our duty to make known to your Majesty that we are firmly resolved to defend and maintain, at the risk of our fortunes and our lives, the just rights and the full powers of Parliament."

The assembly of Oxford did not long resist. Henceforth, without hope of conciliation, and consequently without object, it continued to sit until the 16th of April, still faithful to the king, voting a few loans, and addressing long and bitter reproaches to the Houses of Westminster; but timid, inactive, and careful to manifest in presence of the court its ardent desire for legal order and peace. When their adjournment was at length pronounced, the king rejoiced with the queen at being delivered from this mongrel Parliament, the haunt of cowardly and seditious motions.

Charles counted upon war; but the campaign about to open presented itself under grievous aspects. All the small engagements which had taken place during the winter had turned to the advantage of the Parliamentarians. The Earl of Newcastle had been compelled by Fairfax to shut himself up in York. Parliament possessed five armies: those of the Scots, Essex, and Fairfax, were paid at the expense of the public treasury; those of Manchester and Waller were supported by the Eastern and Southern counties commissioned to recruit them. Under the name of Committee of the Two Kingdoms, a committee of the Chambers, composed of seven lords, fourteen members of the Commons, and four Scottish commissioners, was invested with almost absolute power over the war and foreign relations. The measures of Parliament were every day becoming more regular and energetic. Weakness and want of discipline, on the contrary, increased in the camp of the king.

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Battle Of Marston Moor.

Suddenly it became known at Oxford that the army of Essex, strengthened by that of Waller, was advancing to besiege the town. The troops of Fairfax and Manchester and the Scots were to assemble under the walls of York, and besieged that town in common. The two great towns and the two great armies of the royalists, the king and Lord Newcastle, were thus attacked at once by all the forces of Parliament. Such was the simple and bold plan which the committee of the two kingdoms had adopted.

The queen took alarm. She was in expectation of a child, but she was anxious not to be delivered within a besieged town. The evil effect of her departure was represented to her without success; she flew into a passion, wept, implored. She set out at length for Exeter, determined to proceed to France in case of danger. Her husband never saw her again.

A month later, at the end of May, Oxford was almost completely surrounded. A considerable reinforcement of militiamen coming from London, was about to put Essex in a position to complete the investment. The danger was so urgent that one of the faithful councillors of the king proposed to him to surrender to the earl. "It may be," said Charles in indignation, "that I may be found in the hands of the Earl of Essex, but I shall be dead." A week afterwards the army and Parliament learnt that the investment of Oxford had become useless, for the king had escaped.

On the 3d of June, accompanied by the Prince of Wales, and leaving in the town the Duke of York with all his court, the king had issued forth from Oxford. Passing between the two hostile camps, and, joining a corps of light troops who awaited him upon the northern side, he rapidly placed himself out of reach. Seventeen days subsequently, while Waller was pursuing him in Worcestershire and Essex was advancing towards Lyme, which Prince Maurice kept besieged, Charles, bold and determined for the first time, reappeared in Oxford, and placing himself once more at the head of his troops, vigorously resumed the offensive. On the 29th of June he defeated, in Buckinghamshire, at Cropredybridge, the army of Waller, which had advanced to cut off his road to London. At rest upon this point, he resolved to pursue Essex, who had appeared before the walls of Exeter, and might terrify the queen, who had been delivered of a child two days before. One of the armies which had but recently kept him a prisoner was destroyed; the other, it seemed, would soon share its fate. Satisfied with his triumph, the king addressed from Evesham a message to the Houses, in which, without giving to them the name of Parliament, he made pacific protestations and offered to reopen negotiations; he then pursued his march towards the west.

Before his message arrived in London everything had assumed a different aspect. Fresh actors had entered upon the scene, the battle of Marston Moor, fought by the three armies of Fairfax, Manchester, and the Scots, against Prince Rupert and Lord Newcastle, had annihilated the royalist party in the north. York could not delay surrendering. Neither the defeats of Waller nor the former triumphs of Essex were thought of any longer.

It was on the evening of the 2d of July, from seven to ten o'clock, at Marston Moor, that the battle had taken place which brought about these great results. At the approach of Prince Rupert the Parliamentary generals had raised the siege of York and proceeded towards him to arrest his progress. They had not succeeded; the prince had entered the town without striking a blow. The Parliamentarians retired; but notwithstanding the counsels of Lord Newcastle, Rupert followed them. When the two armies met, it was five o'clock in the evening; they spent two hours in sight of each other without engaging. "What position does your Highness intend for me" asked Newcastle of the prince. "I do not count upon making the attack before to-morrow morning," said Rupert; "you may rest until then." The earl retired and shut himself up in his coach. Scarcely was he settled there, when the firing informed him that the battle had begun; he ran thither, without command, at the head of a few volunteer gentlemen like himself. The most complete disorder reigned on the plain. The two armies were fighting helter-skelter, without leaders and without discipline: Parliamentarians and Royalists, horsemen and foot-soldiers, were wandering about the field of battle, seeking their corps, fighting upon meeting the enemy, but without result as well as without general purpose. The right wing of the Parliamentarians wavered under a charge of the Royalists; the Scottish cavalry took to flight. They were pursued, and a rumor of the victory of Prince Rupert spread as far as Oxford, where bonfires were lighted. But, as usual, the cavaliers had suffered themselves to be carried away by their ardor. When they returned to the field of battle, they found their positions occupied by the enemy. The cavalry of Prince Rupert had given way before the squadrons of Cromwell; the infantry of Manchester had completed his defeat. The Parliamentarians had not pursued their adversaries, but had hastened to secure the field of battle. The combat which took place between the two victorious corps ended to the advantage of the Ironsides, a name given upon this occasion to the soldiers of Cromwell. Three thousand corpses strewed the field. Sixteen hundred Royalists were prisoners.

Rupert and Newcastle re-entered York in the middle of the night. Without seeing each other, they merely exchanged messages. "I have resolved," the prince sent word, "to set out this morning with my cavalry and what I have left of my infantry." "I start at once," Newcastle said, "and I am going to cross the sea to retire to the Continent." Both kept their word. York capitulated at the end of a fortnight.

Never had Parliament achieved so brilliant a success, and it was to the Independents that they owed it. The Scots, those allies whom the Presbyterians had brought from so far, had fled disgracefully. The day of the Lord was at length coming, thought the enthusiasts. "My Lord," said Cromwell to Lord Manchester in their camp intercourse, "place yourself decisively with us, say no longer that we must hold ourselves in readiness for peace, or spare the House of Lords, or fear the refusals of Parliament. What have we to do with peace and the nobility? It never will be well with England till you are called plain Mr. Montague. If you will stick firm to honest men, you shall find yourself at the head of an army which shall give law both to king and Parliament."

The audacious counsels of Cromwell were not to serve the purpose of Lord Manchester; but himself and his party were nearing the goal of their hopes, for Essex had recently been vanquished.

More and more occupied in the west, the general-in-chief of the Parliamentary armies had allowed himself to be allured by easy successes. As he approached Exeter, the queen sent to ask for a safe-conduct, in order to proceed to Bath to recover from her accouchment. "If your Majesty wishes to repair to London," he replied, "not only will I give you a safe-conduct, but I will accompany you myself. It is there that you will receive the best advice and the most efficacious cares for the restoration of your health. For any other place I cannot accede to your desires without consulting Parliament." Essex might be dispirited, and disgusted even with the cause he had embraced; he could not fail in fidelity. Stricken with terror, the queen fled to Falmouth, where she embarked for France.

Upon the advice of several of his officers, Essex entered Cornwall. The population were hostile to him, and the king was pressing him closely. He asked for reinforcements and counselled that Waller should effect a diversion upon the rear of the royal army. The committee of the two kingdoms was earnest, agitated, ordered public prayers, and commanded Waller and Middleton to march to the aid of the general. "Let money and men be sent to me," wrote Waller; "God is my witness that it is not my fault if I do not go more quickly; if the money does not come, I shall go without money." He did not depart. Middleton moved his army forward, but stopped at the first obstacle. Essex remained alone.

Abandoned by Parliament, the general was ardently sought after by the Royalists, who were incapable of believing that a man of his rank could earnestly serve any other cause than theirs. The king wrote him on the 6th of August, at his headquarters at Lestwithiel, a letter full of esteem and promises, urging him to restore peace to his country. It was Lord Beauchamp, nephew of the earl, who brought the royal missive. "I have but one counsel to give to the king, that is to return to his Parliament." Charles did not persist, but many cavaliers around him desired peace, and were beginning to shake off the exclusive yoke of the royal will. They resolved to offer to the earl their personal guarantee for the promises of the king. A rough draft of a letter, signed by Lords Wilmot and Percy, commanders of the cavalry and infantry, circulated among the officers. The king concealed his ill-humor. His nephew. Prince Maurice, like the Earl of Brentford, commander-in-chief of the royal army, signed the proposals of negotiation addressed to the hostile general. The king had authorized the proceeding. "My Lords," replied Essex, "you have been careful to express, in the first lines of your letter, in virtue of what authorization it has been addressed to me. I have received from Parliament which I serve no authority to negotiate, and I could not lend myself to it without a breach of trust. I am, my Lords, your very humble servant, Essex."

It remained but to fight with the redoubled ardor which arises from vexation. The Parliamentary general was hemmed in on all sides by the royalist forces. Skirmishes took place every day, without great result. Provisions were becoming scarce in the army of Parliament. The Royalists had come so near that they could see all that went on in the camp. Essex resolved to endeavor to reach the port of Fowey. The cavalry, under orders of Sir William Balfour, spent the night between the two divisions of the royal army; but the infantry became involved in narrow roads, where they advanced slowly; they were pursued by all the army of the king: they had lost their baggage; they spoke aloud of capitulating. Essex could not submit to so great a disgrace; he reached the coast with two officers, threw himself into a boat and made sail for Plymouth, leaving his army under the orders of Major-General Skippon. The soldiers were discouraged, the officers discontented: the king caused unexpected terms to be proposed to them; the capitulation was accepted. The artillery, provisions, and arms remained in the hands of the Royalists. The men were reconducted to the quarters of the Parliamentarians. They had saved their lives and liberty, but without arms and without a leader they traversed, under the escort of the cavaliers, the counties which they had but recently overrun as conquerors. Their general had fled from this humiliation; he did not endeavor to escape the justice of his country; he wrote to Parliament, on arriving at Plymouth, "It is the most severe blow which our cause has ever sustained. I desire nothing so much as to be put upon my trial; such disasters should not be suppressed."

The English Parliament was worthy to have descended from the old Roman Senators contending against Hannibal. Instead of placing Essex upon trial, the formation of a new army for his use was immediately set about. The imminence of the peril rallied to his party those men who were uncertain, and the leaders of the Independents, able and patient, were in no hurry to throw light upon the causes which had brought about the defeat of the earl. Manchester and Waller received orders to join the army of Essex. When the king, confident from his successes in Cornwall, and glad to learn that at the instigation of Montrose, war had broken out in Scotland, commenced his movements towards London, he encountered by the way imposing forces. The army of Essex was there, but its general was wanting. The earl, disheartened and ill, had remained in London. The assurances of the confidence of Parliament had not sufficed to rouse him from his dejection: battle was given in his absence on the 29th of October, once more before Newbury.

The action was long and desperate. The soldiers of Essex performed on this occasion prodigies of valor to retake the cannon which they had lost in Cornwall; but they remained uncertain, and both sides claimed the victory. The king abandoned his designs upon London, and withdrew towards Oxford, where he counted upon taking up his winter quarters. Cromwell reproached the Earl of Manchester with having attacked without vigor, and with having but feebly followed up his advantages. The struggle became more resolute every day between the Presbyterians and the Independents—between the partisans of peace and those who desired war at any price. Of these latter, Cromwell was becoming the acknowledged leader.

Essex and his friends resolved to attempt a great effort. They urged the committee of the House which, for six months, had worked with the Scotch commissioners, to prepare the proposals for peace. In a few days these proposals were presented to the Houses, discussed and adopted. On the 20th of November, nine commissioners set out to present them to the king. They found him at Oxford, and on the first day the insults of the cavaliers towards the Parliamentarians threatened to bring about personal encounters between the emissaries of the Parliament and the partisans of the king. "Have you power to negotiate?" asked Charles of Lord Denbigh. "No, Sire, our mission is limited to presenting to your Majesty the proposals, and to soliciting your answer in writing." "Well; I will remit it to you (he replied) as soon as I am able." The commissioners waited for three days. The proposals of Parliament were not conciliatory; they involved a veritable abdication of the royal power. When the commissioners from Parliament were at length summoned before the king, he consigned a sealed document to them, saying, "This is my answer; take it to those who have sent you." Lord Denbigh in vain endeavored to ascertain what the document contained; the king would not give to the Houses the name of Parliament. "Your duty is to take my answer, were it only the ballad of Robin Hood." "The matter which has brought us, Sire, is a trifle more serious than a ballad." "I know it; but you told me that you had no power to negotiate. My memory is as good as yours; you were only charged to remit the proposals to me. A post-boy would have done as much in the matter as you." The conversation became more and more bitter. The commissioners set out on their return, without obtaining from the king an admission that his message was addressed to Parliament. He only asked for a safe-conduct for the Duke of Richmond and the Earl of Southampton. They proceeded to London, and conferences were resolved upon; these were to take place at Uxbridge. Forty commissioners, twenty-three in the name of Parliament, and seventeen in the name of the king, were to discuss that peace which was every day becoming more the object of all the desires as well as the only hope of the Presbyterians.

The Independents knew this well, but they also knew the passionate pride and the deceptions of the king, and the fanaticism and haughtiness of the Parliamentarians. While dreading the pacific conferences which might have caused the triumph of their rivals, they occupied themselves in preparing for war. Cromwell made a great speech condemning the division of power and the slowness of the military operations. "If the army be not put into another method, and the war more vigorously prosecuted, the people can bear the war no longer, and will enforce you to a dishonorable peace. Let us waive a strict inquiry into the causes of these things; let us apply ourselves to the remedy which is most necessary. And I hope we have such true English hearts and zealous affections towards the general weal of our mother-country, as no members of either House will scruple to deny themselves and their own private interest for the public good, nor account it to be a dishonor done to them whatever Parliament shall resolve upon." "There is but one way to end the matter," said Zouch Tate, an obscure fanatic, "each of us must freely sacrifice himself. I propose that no member of either House shall, during the war, enjoy or execute any office or command, civil or military, and that an ordinance be brought in accordingly."

After the first moment of astonishment, a violent discussion arose. It was in the Houses that lay all the strength of the Presbyterians, until then the real leaders of the revolution. The "self-denying" ordinance deprived them of the executive power and created an army of strangers to Parliament. They did not deceive themselves as to the pretended disinterestedness which had inspired the proposals of Cromwell and his friends. "There is some talk here of self-denial," they said; "it will be the triumph of personal envy and interest." But this time public opinion was with the Independents. The Presbyterian party was worn-out and discredited. Notwithstanding their real strength in the House of Commons, the ordinance was voted and sent up to the House of Lords on the 21st of September.

In voting the proposal of Zouch Tate, the Upper House abandoned the remnant of power which it still retained, for nearly all its members were affected. While they deliberated, the political leaders of the party in the House of Commons increased the concessions to the religious prejudices, as well as to the malignant resentments of the multitude. Long-forgotten prosecutions were resumed. Archbishop Laud, imprisoned for four years, was condemned by a simple ordinance of the two Houses, illegal even according to the traditions of Parliamentary tyranny. He died with pious courage, filled with scorn for his adversaries and with uneasiness for the future of the king. Sir John Hotham and his son, accused of having plotted to deliver to the king the town of Hull; Lord Macguire, who had fomented the Irish insurrection, and Sir Alexander Carew, governor of the island of St. Nicholas, who had relaxed his zeal in favor of the royalist conspiracies, expiated their transgressions by capital punishment. At the same time, the litany of the Church of England, hitherto tacitly tolerated, was definitively abolished. A book entitled Directions for Public Worship received instead the sanction of Parliament, which no longer refused anything to the fanatics whose support it claimed. The House of Lords did not deceive their hopes. On the 15th of January, 1645, it rejected the self-denying ordinance.

A few days later, on the 29th of January, the negotiations at Uxbridge were at length opened. The king had consented to accord to the Houses at Westminster the name of Parliament. "If I had had in my council," he wrote to the queen, "two persons of my own opinion, I should never have yielded." The negotiators wished for peace, with the exception of Vane, St. John, and Prideaux, who formed other projects.

The will of men soon yields to the irresistible force of circumstances. Each of the Parliamentary factions had its private interest. The two parties endeavored to secure power in case peace should be concluded. Theological discussions inflamed the political negotiations. The conferences, begun with mutual good-will and courtesy, soon became bitter and difficult to manage. On each side, the ebullition of popular passions aggravated the difficulties. An obscure minister arriving from London, preached in the parish church of Uxbridge, in presence of a numerous gathering. "No good must be expected from those men," he said, speaking of the Royalists; "they have come from Oxford with their hearts full of blood. They only wish to divert the people until they may be able to cause them some great evil. There is as great a distance between this treaty and peace as between earth and heaven." The people were convinced that in his heart the king did not wish for peace.

His councillors were as distrustful as the mob. The end of the negotiations was approaching. Some concession which might at length cause the scale to turn was insisted upon at the court of Charles. He gave way to entreaties, and promised to propose to Parliament a certain number of leaders of the army, among whom were Cromwell and Fairfax. The friends of peace were joyful. Lord Southampton, who had negotiated the whole affair, was preparing to depart for Uxbridge, in order to announce the favors accorded by his Majesty. When he presented himself at the king's quarters to receive his final instructions, Charles had altered his mind and withdrawn his promise. News of a victory achieved in Scotland by Montrose, over the army commanded by Argyle, had revived all his high hopes. The conferences at Uxbridge were broken up, on the 22nd of February, without having brought about any result. The Presbyterian leaders, sorrowful and dejected, returned to Westminster, to convince themselves personally that their adversaries had contrived to make profitable use of the time during their absence. The military reorganization was effected. A single army, mustering twenty-one thousand men, was henceforth to maintain the struggle. On the 15th of February, the command of this army had been entrusted to Fairfax, for whom Cromwell had answered in public to Parliament, in secret to the parties. The almost constant successes of the young general, besides, spoke for him. He had already received the official compliments of the speaker in the House of Commons, in the midst of which body he had been introduced.

The Presbyterian leaders in vain attempted to recover from this defeat. Their friends even were becoming weary of the constant efforts necessary to support them. The Marquis of Argyle had arrived from Scotland; bitterly resolved to wipe out the remembrance of his defeat at Inverlochy, he made use of his influence to turn aside the Scottish commissioners from a longer opposition. "We must yield to necessity," he said; "this division places everything on sufferance." The vote which had consigned to Fairfax the effective power, had preserved Essex in his command, as well as Manchester and Waller. The earl resolved to give in his resignation. He rose, on the 1st of April, in the Upper House, with a written paper in his hand, for he could not make a speech. "My Lords," he said, "having received this great charge, in obedience to the commands of both Houses, and taken their sword into my hand, I can with confidence say that I have for this now almost three years faithfully served you, and I hope without loss of honor to myself, or prejudice to the public. I see by the now coming up of these ordinances that it is the desire of the House of Commons, that my commission may be vacated. I return my commission into those hands that gave it me, wishing it may prove as good an expedient to the present distempers as some will have it believed. My Lords, I know that jealousies cannot be avoided, yet wisdom and charity should put such restraints thereto as not to allow it to become destructive. I hope that this advice from me is not unseasonable, wishing myself and my friends may, among others, participate the benefit thereof. This proceeding from my affection to Parliament, the prosperity whereof I shall ever wish from my heart, what return soever it may bring me, I being no single example in that kind of that fortune I now undergo."

Manchester and Waller followed the example of Essex. The Upper House, delivered from an obligation of fidelity which weighed upon it, hastened to adopt the scheme of remodelling the army, and on the morrow a fresh self-denying ordinance, slightly different from the first, though tending towards the same result, was voted by the two Houses. The power was now definitively displaced. It passed from the hands of Parliament into those of the army.

Fairfax encountered little difficulty on the part of the officers and soldiers called upon to serve under his orders. Essex loyally advised his friends, Cromwell hastened to proceed to preach submission to the battalions of the Ironsides. As he had fully resolved, he was not long separated from them. Towards the end of April, Fairfax was about to open the campaign, when Cromwell arrived at Windsor to kiss, he said, the hand of the general and to bring his resignation to him. "I have just," Fairfax said, "received from the Committee of the Two Kingdoms orders enjoining you to proceed immediately, with a few squadrons, to the road from Oxford to Worcester to intercept communications between Prince Rupert and the king." Cromwell immediately set out. Three brilliant skirmishes and the capture of the town of Blechingdon signalized his march. Parliament voted that Cromwell should retain his command for forty days longer. Three other members of the House of Commons, distinguished officers, received the same instructions, doubtless in order that Cromwell should not appear to be alone excepted from the operation of the law.

Meanwhile the king, having issued forth from Oxford, had joined Prince Rupert, and was advancing rapidly towards the north. The siege of Chester was raised at his approach, and he directed his course towards the associated counties of the east. A few days later, he took possession of Leicester. Fairfax, who was besieging Oxford by the order of the Committee of the two kingdoms, had made no movement to hinder the course of his successes. The Presbyterians were already triumphant. "There then is the fruit of this reorganization which was so much vaunted," they said; "the king in one day takes our best towns, and your general remains motionless before Oxford, waiting, doubtless, for the women of the court to take alarm and open the gates to him." They did not speak of the inaction of the Scotch, who had fallen back upon their frontiers instead of marching to meet the king. Fairfax received orders to raise the siege of Oxford, to seek the king and give battle to him at all costs. In his turn, he wrote to the Houses to demand the prolongation of the service of Cromwell. Sixteen colonels signed the letter. On the 12th of June, in the environs of Northampton, some Parliamentary horsemen, sent to reconnoitre, suddenly came up with a detachment of the army of the king.

Charles was advancing, in fact, to relieve Oxford. The successes of Montrose in Scotland renewed his confidence. "Since the rebellion," he wrote to the queen, "my affairs have never been in so good a state." He made no haste, but enjoyed the amusement of hunting upon his way, allowing full liberty to his cavaliers, who were even more confident than their master. He was expecting troops which were to arrive from Wales and the western counties. When he obtained tidings of the approach of the Parliamentarians, he fell back towards Leicester. Meanwhile, the hostile squadrons caused uneasiness to his rear-guard. Cromwell had joined the army. The king resolved to give battle without awaiting his reinforcements.

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"Will You Go Upon Your Death?"

The encounter took place on the morrow, the 14th of June, upon the table-land of Naseby, north-west of Northampton. At daybreak, the army of the king, posted in an advantageous position, awaited the Parliamentarians. The latter did not attack. Prince Rupert, always impatient, advanced to the front with his cavalry. He soon encountered the advanced guard of the enemy. Fearing that they would withdraw, the prince continued his advance, giving orders for the army to support the movement. About ten o'clock the Royalists arrived, somewhat distressed by the rapidity of their movements. The action commenced at once, and was fierce and general. The two armies were of about equal strength. The cavaliers, intoxicated by anticipation with the joy of victory, had taken for their rallying-cry the words, "Queen Mary." The Parliamentarians cried aloud, "God is with us." Prince Rupert broke the squadrons of Ireton, who was afterwards to marry one of the daughters of Cromwell. He immediately pursued the fugitives; but Cromwell, master of himself and his men as at Marston Moor, had broken up the cavaliers commanded by Sir Marmaduke Langdale, and, entrusting two of his officers with the duty of preventing them from rallying, he returned, with a portion of his troops, to the field of battle. There the infantry of both sides were engaged: Skippon was seriously wounded, but he remained obstinately at the head of his soldiers. The helmet of Fairfax had been battered in by a blow from a sword, and he fought bare-headed. Meanwhile the cavaliers held their ground, and a corps of royal infantry remained immovable notwithstanding the reiterated attacks of Doyley, the colonel of the guards of Fairfax. "Take them in front, I will take them in the rear," said the general; "we shall meet again in the midst of them." They did so, in effect, at the moment when Cromwell, with his victorious squadrons, arrived to support them. At the sight of this new and dangerous enemy, the king, in great distress, placed himself in person at the head of the regiment of guards. These were all that remained to him, and he was preparing to charge the Ironsides, when the Earl of Carnewarth, a Scotchman, who galloped beside him, abruptly seized the bridle of his horse, exclaiming, "Will you go upon your death?" and compelled him to turn to the right. The cavaliers followed the movement without understanding the reason for it. In an instant the regiment turned their backs upon the enemy. All disbanded, some to seek safety in flight, others to restrain the fugitives. The king, surrounded by a few officers, in vain cried, "Halt! halt!" Prince Rupert returned. A small corps was re-formed around the king, but the soldiers were weary and dismayed. Charles, sword in hand, with eager eyes and despair visible upon his countenance, threw himself twice in front, exclaiming with all his energy, "Gentlemen, another charge, and we shall win the day." None followed him. The infantry were routed or prisoners. The only safety lay in flight. The king precipitated himself towards Leicester with about two thousand cavalry. His artillery, his supplies, his baggage, his standards, and all the papers in his cabinet, together with five thousand prisoners, remained in the hands of the Parliamentarians.

No loss could have been more damaging to the cause of the king than that of his secret correspondence. After Fairfax had modestly informed the House of this unexpected success, and Cromwell had joined to the news some pious reflections and some of his politic counsels, the papers of the king were opened, notwithstanding the scruples of Fairfax. Proof was therein found that he had never desired peace; that no concession was, in his eyes, definitive; no promise binding; that in his heart he always counted upon force, and still claimed absolute power. Finally, that, in spite of his reiterated denials, he had applied to the King of France, the Duke of Lorraine—to all the princes of the Continent, in fact—to introduce foreign troops into the kingdom. A protestation was even found, inscribed upon the registers of the council of Oxford, against that name of Parliament which he had consented to accord to the Houses for the purposes of the conferences at Uxbridge. Falsehood was in every part written by the very hand of the king. After the public assemblage at the Guildhall, where an immense crowd was present at the reading of the papers, Parliament caused them to be published. The king did not dispute their authenticity.

Exasperation was general, and the warlike ardor revived on all hands. In order to make peace it would have been necessary to put trust in the king; it was now known what his word was worth. Fairfax advanced towards the western counties, only recently devoted to the royal cause; but the great noblemen or the popular and disinterested gentlemen, the Marquis of Hertford, Sir Bevil Grenvil, Sir Ralph Hopton, were dead, or had been removed by court conspiracies, which were favored by the weakness of the king. The young Prince of Wales, fifteen years of age, accompanied by Hyde, Colepepper, and Lord Capel, commanded in the capacity of generalissimo. The troops were entrusted to Lord Goring and Sir Richard Grenville, one the most dissolute, the other the most avaricious of the cavaliers. Disorder and extortions had alienated the people. Bodies of peasants were formed under the name of "Clubmen," to resist pillage. When Fairfax appeared in the west, the Royalists ceased devastating the country, and the Clubmen turned against Fairfax and his soldiers; but the Parliamentary general did not permit any license. He treated the peasants with gentleness, and entered into negotiations with them, while he was actively prosecuting the war. On the 10th of July Goring was surprised and defeated at Langport, in Somersetshire, and the troops which remained with him were dispersed. Sir Richard Grenville, being no longer able to plunder, sent back to the Prince of Wales his commission as Field-Marshal, complaining with effrontery of the burdens which the war had imposed upon him, and the cavaliers remaining faithful withdrew into the towns which Fairfax was preparing to besiege.

Meanwhile the king appeared to have forgotten for a moment his misfortunes and anxieties. Wandering about, after the disaster of Naseby, he had finally arrived in Wales, where he hoped to recruit some infantry, while Prince Rupert set out for Bristol. Charles accepted the splendid hospitality of the Marquis of Worcester, the leader of the Catholic party and the richest of the great noblemen of England. For a fortnight the fugitive king found once more in Ragland Castle all the homage and pleasures of a court, and he thought of nothing but enjoying that royalty of which he had so long tasted the bitterness and mortifications.

The successes of his adversaries did not leave the king long in repose. To the news of the reverses in the west was added that of the success of the Scotch army which had taken Carlisle and was advancing towards the south to lay siege to Hereford. Charles desired to march to the aid of Goring; but he was arrested at every step by the bad condition of his troops. He fell back upon Cardiff, where the Duke of Richmond brought him a letter written by Prince Rupert, and intended to be shown him. The prince considered that all was lost, and counselled peace at all costs. This time the honor of the king was in question, and he regained all his energy. He immediately wrote to his nephew: "If I had any other quarrel but the defence of my religion, crown, and friends, you had full reason for your advice. Speaking rather as a mere soldier or statesman, I confess there is probability of my ruin. As a Christian, however, I must tell you that God will not suffer rebels to prosper, or His cause to be overthrown. Of this I warn my friends without evasion. Henceforth whoever remains with me must expect to die for a good cause; or, worse still, to live while sustaining it as miserable as insolent rebels can render him. In God's name let us not flatter ourselves with vain chimeras. The idea alone that you desire a treaty would hasten my ruin." A few days later, the king, quitting Wales, passed, without being perceived, beyond the quarters of the Scotch army, already encamped before Hereford, and arrived by forced marches in Yorkshire. He convoked, at Doncaster, his faithful cavaliers, to proceed with him to join Montrose, still faithful and still victorious.