On 30th January, Charles I went to the scaffold, the first king to be publicly tried and executed by his people. He died with enormous dignity – and was duly proclaimed a martyr. With the king gone, a new state was proclaimed in his place – based on the sovereignty of the people, and ruled by a House of Commons that representated it, with the executive  Council of State. As the Commonwealth’s servants, John Milton and Marchamont Nedham worked to proclaim it’s legitimacy, enemies both internal and external circled.

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Transcript

 

Hello everyone and welcome to the History of England, episode…This episode may I say, is dedicated to Lois, in the hope that she will at last be satisfied.

While the idea of putting the king on trial was still in the balance, the Army Chaplain the charismatic, vulgar, excitable Hugh Peters, favourite of both Cromwell and Fairfax, gave a public sermon. There he was in the pulpit – and yet he seemed not to be ready, but to be fast asleep, surrounded by the waiting soldiers. Suddenly he gave a great start, as if shocked awake. Peters proclaimed that he had been awoken by the voice of heaven. A voice that assured him that monarchy was to be grubbed up like rotten tree stumps not only in England but France and across Europe. But Peters was terrified, terrified that Charles, ‘this great Barabas of Windsor’, as he called him, would escape his due punishment, a robber released leaving soldiers to be crucified in his place, just as Christ had been crucified[1].

At the end of the trial on Saturday 27^th January,  there were many who wished Peters to be disappointed. Fairfax, the only man who could have stopped the trial and execution taking place and himself unhappy with the idea, received the delegation from the Dutch; he received the Scots Commissioners with their outraged pleas that the English could not kill a Scottish king without their agreement, which they certainly would not give. Presumably Fairfax had better manners than to mention Flodden. To neither could he make promises. But he did say he’d try[2]; and he called an Army Council on Monday 29^th and tried to persuade his colleagues to delay; his officers for once turned a deaf ear to their beloved commander.[3] It was too late. Meanwhile the royalists seem to have gone into a sort of disbelieving apathy, hoping against hope that someone, something would save their king. There were no riots, no last minute uprisings. It seemed all too awful, that God’s anointed should face the ultimate judgement.

The death warrant had been drawn up, and some had signed already – the first was of course John Bradshaw, then Lord Grey of Groby, then Oliver Cromwell. The warrant sat waiting to be signed on a table in the painted chamber. If any of the commissioners were hoping not to actually put their names on paper then they reckoned without Cromwell; he stood by the door of the Commons, watching to catch recusants. If any slipped by – he chased them down

‘those that are gone in shall set their hands now

Richard Ingoldsby claimed at his trial that Cromwell had forced his hand onto the page and held it while he signed. He was a fibber, no such thing happened as we can tell from his signature, but it might have saved his life, so whatever. 59 commissioners had the courage to sign, brave men all.

Charles made a superb martyr. Once his last gambit at the trial had failed, he met his fate with superb dignity, self control and serenity.

This is my second marriage day…for before night I hope to be espoused to my blessed Jesus

He also went to his fate with clarity of purpose. He had two objectives, both of which he put higher than his life. The first was to make his peace with God; the second to leave a legacy that would help his son, by donating a martyr for the monarchy and indeed the Anglican church. Meanwhile he was allowed to see his children Elizabeth and Henry, 14 and nine years old respectively, and despite what must have been a heart breaking occasion for such a loving family man, he kept half an eye on the prize. He made Henry promise to refuse to be made a king instead of his elder brother Charles, and his nipper swore that he would be torn in pieces first.

The execution was to take place outside the banqueting house on 30^th January. But when the day dawned there was a gut twisting delay; the Rump realised they needed to pass legislation forbidding a new king to be proclaimed – the king is dead long live the etc etc etc. But by 2 in the afternoon they were ready to go, and Charles walked through the Banquetting House, walking with deep irony through the room decorated by Ruebens celebrating his father James’ accession in glory to heaven.

Famously Charles wore two shirts to make sure he did not shiver with the coldness of the winter day, which could be mistaken for fear; his honour and his martyrdom demanded no less. As he come on to the scaffold with his beloved Bishop Juxon for support, there were shouts of support and good wishes from some; astounded horror and disbelief from many. And from some also, grim satisfaction. The crowd included almost none of those who had judged him, maybe just a couple of officers; Cromwell seems to have been in an army Council, or maybe a prayer meeting.

As it happens, they wouldn’t have seen much anyway. The Scaffold was surrounded by a phalanx of mounted soldiers, and no one in the crowd could have heard or seen much. Charles quickly realized this; and it was a shame, because he had important things to say. But he probably realized someone on the crowded scaffold with him would write it down. And so he went ahead, and some of it is noteworthy.

He of course protested that none of this was his fault. He forgave the people who had killed him, but also hoped they repented of their sin in what they had done; and then gave them a few handy tips on politics, some do’s and don’ts. He also sternly instructed them to do their duty to the king -his successors – which shows a certain lack of awareness about what was going on here. And then there’s this message to the people

Truly I desire their liberty and freedom as much anybody whomsoever; but I must tell you their liberty and freedom consists in having of government, those laws by which their life and goods may be most their own. It is not for them, having a share in government that is nothing pertaining to them. A Subject and a sovereign are clear different things.

Therefore I tell you…that I am a martyr of the people

When eventually all was done, and axe fell, Philip Henry wrote

There was such a dismal universal groan amongst the thousands of people …he desired he might never hear again

I hate to rain on the parade but Philip Henry was a dyed in the wool royalist who wrote this many years later, and no other commentator mentions this universal dismal groan, not even Samuel Pepys who was there[4]; a teenager at the time who skipped school to have a gander at the great occasion. He was a good rebel, who quipped that if he was to write a sermon of the event it would be on the text

And the wicked shall rot[5]

Well the executioner held Charles’ head high – ‘Behold the head of a traitor’ – and the people surged forward to dip their hankies in the blood of a saint and martyr and a royal one at that, because his blood would surely work miracles. But the army was ready; the mounted soldiers moved forward and the square was cleared within minutes. And the sky did not fall, and the earth did not shake. But it was without doubt a dark and uncertain future the people of England faced.

Well I guess that before going on we should talk about Charles, thee and me, it does feel like a kind of historic moment. I mean, I have written all those words and you, like a saint, have made yourself listen to them all, despite competing and far more interesting attractions like, I don’t know, cleaning the mold off the grouting in the shower, or descaling the kettle. I raise my hat in your general direction. I mean wow – we made it. Go us! Whoopp! And I say again Whoop! Charles’ last words said much of it for me; I mean here we are 10 years of war and conflict, and he has moved not one step. A Subject and a sovereign are clear different things

So; despite presenting himself as a constitutional monarch, there are the words of an absolutist. I suspect that Charles had been seduced long ago not just by his father, but by his visit to the Spanish court – the model of absolutism, beauty, art, control, formality and majesty. And in pursuit of his nirvana he showed extraordinary resilience, utter conviction of the justice of his. And – what a propogandist; ‘I am a martyr of the people’. Wow. Genius. And so many would agree.

We have spent so long with Charles that I suspect not too much of a summing up is needed; you’ll all have your views of the man, from Charles the Martyr at one end to Tyrant, Traitor and murderer at the other. I fear I have strayed from the path of impartiality in the telling of this story, so you probably know my views. But a few things stick in my mind.

The first thing was inflexibility, and combined with some idiosyncratic views. He took the view that the English church had always been Arminian and that he was changing nothing. While there were plenty who preferred the Laudian and Arminian vision, this was patently not the case. This is even more so with Bishops. Obviously there are practical reasons why Charles, like his father was desperate to retain them; they were a critical method of state enforcement and control. But Charles also believed them divinely appointed, clerical absolutists sort of thing; no one else believed this. Bishops proved again and again to be the rock on which peace agreements foundered. The puritans and likes of Cromwell are often accused of extremism. My argument is that Charles outdid them all.

Second was inability to see difference of opinion on matters of principle as legitimate or worthy of respect. He never accepted that his opponents were anything other than malignant rebels. It is this I believe that drove his constant duplicity and untrustworthiness; all negotiation was smoke and mirrors, because the people with whom he was dealing were not worthy of genuine respect. One historian noted that when negotiation became difficult, he constantly turned to force – the army plots, arrest of the five members, the incident in Scotland and so. If people disagreed they must be forced.

The tragedy though is that Charles was also a man of enormous talents. He was a tremendous party leader; if you agreed with him and deferred to him and paid him the reverence due, he had a common touch, charm and charisma, and a nice line in dry humour. He inspired great loyalty from his followers. And his mental resilience blows me away; separated from his wife, often faced with a phalanx of hostile negotiators. He played the trial beautifully, though in the end he met his match in Bradshaw and Cook; and his propaganda was superb – although credit for that should be given also to Edward Hyde. He proved himself a half decent tactical military commander – a bit given to consultation and no Subudai, but not bad.

In all of this, then, lies for me why the English Civil Wars occurred and were so tragic. Because Charles was incapable of working with his advisers to build compromise solutions with which everyone could live. Which is surely the art of the stateman. But he was not incompetent enough to be just rolled over. That is, by the way not to place all the blame for the extent of the civil wars on his shoulders; the English political nation was completely blind to the relative poverty of the crown and expected totally unrealistic things for what they were prepared to stump up. Once things were rolling, they fell also into divisive religious territory which a majority of England probably did not want any more than Arminianism. They wanted their old church back.

But it is at Charles’ feet that the balance of blame should be laid, in his desperate effort to turn England into Spain. In my view.

One more thing on that from a personal angle; I remember hearing some historian or commentator solemnly saying that Charles’ execution was something of which to be ashamed. I find my flabber more than a touch gasted at such a statement. I mean of course I disagree heartily with the idea of capital punishment, but that wasn’t the 17^th century view. Why so much sympathy for this one, lucky, gilded and intransigent individual? It seems to me Charles was given multiple chances to save his life, multiple settlements; after years of war, the offer of the Heads of Proposal to a defeated opponent were generosity itself, and held out the prospect of a fairer kingdom. So, I’d rather spare any sympathy for the people whose lives were ruined by the wars, or John Archer, the tortured apprentice boy.

And why did Charles I die? As Conrad Russell wrote, once Charles himself became the problem, rather than religion or constitutions or war or finance, finding a negotiated settlement became impossible. Right to the end the presbyterians tried to stick to the tired old line that it was not the king, it was his evil councillors. Clearly this wasn’t true, and it became impossible to keep a straight face when saying it. He died because he was the problem and peace was not possible while he lived. To add to that though was the belief in the army that, in the spirit of the old testament, Charles carried a bloodguilt for restarting the war, even though God’s judgement against him was clear.

The scheming king his gilded court with its scandal and it’s impious religion had been torn down

Now was the chance to build something new – more equitable, more Godly. A new world was ready to be born, under the rule of the saints

That was the Yorkshire group Swan Arcade. I believe it’s claimed it was an English civil war original, picked up by American shakers later in America. Others claim quite convincingly that nah, it’s just shaker from America. Others that it’s a 19^th century slave spiritual, I looked that last one up and checked, the words to that look very different so probably not that. Either way it has a good vibe. And illustrates that for some, including a group called the Fifth Monarchists, who cared not a jot about the rule of the masses and legal reform, but moral reform to for the second coming.

For others of course it was absolutely about a more equitable and fairer Commonwealth, and the judgement and execution of the king would enable its construction.

But sadly, a lot more just felt bereft. The Ancient constitution with king at the head that had been to bedrock for countless many generations. And now it was gone. On hearing what Cromwell had been involved in, his sister Caroline, wrote

Truly had I been able to have purchased his life, I am confident I could with all willingness have laid down mine

I mean who knows what she’d have said if Bradshaw had said ‘oh, alright, go on then’, but as my mother always said, it’s the thought that counts. Buty look, this is the problem that will haunt the Commonwealth; Michele, of this parish, quite rightly points out, that in this Charles had a point when he said ‘you will fall to ruin if I do not sustain you’. That was a possibility.

Why a republic emerged as the solution is not entirely clear. Part of the reason lies with the dodginess of the available kings – Charles the Pretender had made his position clear, James also was not in their hands, a restoration of Henry would have lacked any legitimacy. Another reason again lay with Charles himself and his appalling behaviour – he seriously damaged the monarchy brand in the mind of the army in particular.

From Devils and Kings good lord deliver me

Exploded one MP after yet another rejected proposal by the original Charles.

So there’s that. Another reason, which this time will work for the Republic, was simple exhaustion. No one wanted any more war. Done that, lovely to give anything a go thanks so much but enough now  I’ve got other things on now if you don’t mind. The Second Civil war was actually evidence of that; the support for the uprisings was in most places at the tutting, eye rolling, foot shuffling level, rather than pass me my musket and pike.

But another is that a new vision of authority had genuinely gained the upper hand in the hearts and minds of many, and in particular in the army, and those MPs the Army’s purge had left in control. The parliamentary radicals. And it was they who now set about establishing a new republican Commonwealth on the principle to which Henry Parker had so eloquently given voice back in 1642, on which bones the Leveller and Army’s Agreement of the People had placed flesh. That all power resided in the people. And in February, the Rump parliament started to remodel governance on that basis.

Seen in the light of that source of authority, the king was merely an executive magistrate with a responsibility to exercise the will of the people, or as Marten put it, ‘a public officer for the common good’[6]. The mere mention of a sentence like that would make crowned heads explode all over the World. But Charles had betrayed that trust as a public officer, and so was executed for treason.

And so the motion was that

It hath been found by experience that the officer of a king in this nation…is unnecessary, burdensome, and dangerous to the liberty, safety and public interest of the people of this nation.

And so they would have the office no more. So obvious was it there was no need to take a vote. In its place, and in the place of the king’s advisers, would be a Council of State. There was never any doubt throughout the life of the Commonwealth that the Council of State was subject to the power of the people – as represented by parliament in fact it it’s composition was re-elected by parliament every month.

Unlike the Commons the House of Lords owed none of its authority to the people, only to the king. And so on Tuesday 5^th February 1648 they voted to abolish it, by 44 votes to 29. Cromwell incidentally voted to keep it, but he was on the losing side in that argument. And so the House of Lords was declared ‘useless and dangerous’. Though the sardonic voice of Henry Marten was heard to mutter that it might be useless, but it was hardly dangerous. How are the mighty fallen. Only three peers I think would then seek election as MPs.

The country was then declared to be a Commonwealth and a Free-State. And it was assumed that there would be fresh elections as soon as possible.

A group of MPs set about the task of deciding who should be in the executive of the new Commonwealth, 42 of them. The composition of this Council of state and of parliament is very interesting. There was a general worry that this new English Republic would turn out to be horribly radical; and indeed Henry Marten was duly elected to the Council. But it was also populated by plenty of folks who had baulked at the regicide but who now dribbled, as in dribbled back to the house. The like of Oliver St John, Harry Vane, Algernon Sydney and our old pal Bulstrode Whitelocke. Our old friend Isaac Pennington from the city was there to boot.

Their attitudes to the Commonwealth varied; some like Whitlocke would later plead they became party of it due to necessity. Others like Vane would come to be genuine converts to the ideals of republicanism, and like Marten claim that the Rump itself was truly representative of the people – as the Army believed itself to be truly representative of the people.

Fairfax, Skippon and Cromwell were all elected; but it is mighty significant that the real revolutionary, Henry Ireton was not, nor was the religious radical and Fifth Monarchist Thomas Harrison. It was a deliberate snub to the army; and there will be more snubbing. Ireton had drawn up the Engagement – the oath required to sit on the Council. He included a statement approving of the regicide; but it was progressively watered down, so that you simply needed to approve the current state, without king and Lords, not how it had come to be. Fairfax was so important to the Council’s legitimacy that he was allowed to write his own engagement.

A similar process went on in parliament generally; slowly, people are enticed back, allowed to sit on more and more generous terms. It seems that the key mover in this, once more a bridge between army and parliament, was one Oliver Cromwell, who recognised quite clearly that the Rump must above all deliver unity and reconciliation, and that the more broadly based it was, the more likely it was to succeed. Cromwell had some success; by the end of 1649, the parliament would be back to 211 members. But still less than half its full complement. However, these returns changed the character of the Rump which would prove itself to be increasingly conservative. Any spirit of wanting to change the world largely be absent. Which will be a problem. But we’ll come to that in due course.

In high minded pursuit of equality, for a while, the Council of State planned to have no Chair; but they found that there were nothing more than long boring speeches, so they appointed a President of the Council. Unfortunately they chose a lawyer, and so proceedings continued to be dominated by long boring speeches. The President they chose was John Bradshaw. John Bradshaw was given to long speeches, but he was also utterly, utterly dedicated to this new republic he had helped bring into being. Her would work tirelessly long hour after long hour. If the Republic failed it would not be for lack of his effort. But the principle of work smarter not harder were clearly not in the management books he’d read. Or maybe like most management books, they were only there for show.

Bradshaw was also very good friends with John Milton; and would spend many a happy evening wining and dining together, planning and dreaming. The new Republic needed a wordsmith to craft and sell its message; and it was probably due to Bradshaw’s good offices that Milton therefore became Secretary for Foreign Tongues. And one of his first tasks was to try to combat the towering success of Eikon Basilike: the Portrait of His scared Majesty in his Solitudes and Sufferings. So Milton produced his Eikonoklastes, in which he dissected that work line by line and mocked those who

Fall flat and give adoration to the image and memory of this man

It was detailed, clever, and long. Also boring,  and whatever its intellectual merits, largely passed soundlessly over the heads of its targets. The  Republic needed someone with the panache, populism and spirit of a Marchamont Needham. But Needham – well. You know how those heavy smokers who give up become the most virulent of anti smoking campaigners?  Well, there’s Needham as the wildly partisan editor of the royalist Mercurius Pragmaticus

Bradshaw that dirty upstart, that half man half beast…that prodigious monster that walking hell[7]

Golly. Not even the Sun would publish that sort of editorial. I mean – a little tart, I’m sure you’ll agree. Nedham had been publishing under the covers for a year, finding ever sneakier ways to get his paper published and into the hands of street hawkers. When there was a great ceremony of the London Mayor handing his ceremonial sword to the Speaker of the Commons in recognition of its authority; Needham gave his view of where real power lay

Oliver laught in his sleeve

He wrote. Well, a warrant for his arrest was issued in June 1649, and Needham was found and chucked into ‘that infamous castle of misery’, Newgate prison. It was not the sort of place hat suited our sainted father of journalism. He was an odd sight; 28 years old now, rather short and balding. But he was a bit of a dandy – he wore the very latest fashion, as someone remarked

False long hair, now much in date

He changed the colour of his wig, for such twas, regularly, as his mood changed, wore jewelled earrings, his conversation was sparkling, his wit irreverent. He was a great fan of London taverns, and had friends across a staggeringly wide social range. So, as he surveyed the chamber he’d bought in Newgate, and rattled his chains, he got himself pen and paper and wrote to the man he’d recently described as ‘bloody Jack Bradshaw President of hell’.

Now if anyone who calls me Bloody Crowther president of podcasting hell gets in touch I would probably not give them the time of day to the end of eternity. Actually I’d probably just sob into my Roasted Nuts Marlow Brewery ale, but John Bradshaw was a public servant and he asked his chump Milton to have a look at this bloke. Because everyone was aware that of the many challenges facing the new Commonwealth, possibly the biggest one, was its lack of passionate supporters. No one had started this with the idea of establishing a republic. And yet they had one. There were very few enthusiasts for it. So they needed to start building a story, of what the Commonwealth was, why it was all above board and legitimate, and a great thing.

The long and short is that the father of English journalism put on a new coat, and before the royalist in the street could say ‘publish and be damned’ a new newsbooks Mercurius Politicus had appeared, and Needham was drawing a £100 salary from Commonwealth coffers.

How sweet the air of a commonwealth is beyond that of a monarchy

He proclaimed. Ha! Don’t you love journalism! The astonished reader would have seen, and checked again who it had been written by, and wondered if Marchamont had a doppelganger.

They might also soon read his Case of the Commonwealth, which did what Milton’s ponderous Eikonoklastes could not – it sparkled, shone with enthusiasm and celebration. It was shameless and bold, didn’t bother to pretend – the Commonwealth would be a bastion of liberty against the tyranny of monarch, it would be based on the sovereignty of the people – but say the word democracy and he’d give you a cake of soap to wash your mouth out. Afterall he wrote, ‘the multitude is so brutish’. So what if the power of the sword had established the Republic? The power of the sword was what lay behind monarchy too, and the peoples’ greatest friend was that which would bring security and stability. It wouldn’t be long before Thomas Hobbes’ Leviathan would be published and heartily agree, supported by rather more complex arguments.

And indeed the new Republican Commonwealth faced a world of danger and threats, both internal and external. This would be the time I think to relate how the world of European absolutist monarchies responded with outrage and fury, and start an international 20 plus year war. But there is un  fact no ideological war like the French Revolution, and I have always wondered at this – why did the crowned heads of Europe not marshal their forces as did Austria in 1790? Partly the reason I think is that the Commonwealth did not, unlike the new French Republic, declare that they were going to carry revolution to free the people of Europe, whether they wanted or not and declare war on a number of them.

Although that’s not entirely true; the Commonwealth would pitch for a union with the Dutch, and in 1653 Edward Sexby the Leveller would be sent by Cromwell into Bordeau to help the Fronde, carrying with him the Agreement of the People. So there’s a smidge, but no grand declarations as from the French – the English don’t do grand declarations.

None the less in was not clear in 1649 that there would no be war, and the reaction was of course one of universal horror. In the United provinces, you might have expected that the declaration of a republic would be greeted with enthusiasm; and there was some popular support but the response of the Calvinist church was furious, horrified at the sight of the independent congregations, as well as sharing English Presbyterians’ horror at regicide – one pamphlet compared the regicide with the killing of Christ and

You cut off heads as only the Popes have done…Holy blood spilled from the king’s veins…[8]

Interestingly the king-killing thing was a turn off for everyone; you might also have expected Huguenot support – but not a bit of it; a Huguenot Professor wrote a piece against the ‘devilish products’ of republicanism, warning that the English targeted 6 crowned heads of Europe. Meanwhile, the low countries were flooded with emigree royalists which acted like high quality diesel on a garden fire. The avalanche of pamphlets swept such fury into town that the Dutch government implemented a blanket ban. And when the dutchman Isaac Dorislau returned home – he was the lawyer who had advised John Cooke at the trial – he was murdered by bunch of English royalists.

Of course the Stadholder and Prince of Orange was William, who was Charles’ Uncle by marriage to his sister Mary. So Young Charles was lobbying hard at The Hague, with the resulting delegations sent  to plead for Charles’ life. So far William and Mary had resisted Charles’ calls for retribution – but for how long? They certainly did not stir their stumps to find Dorislau’s killers. His body was returned to London, where the Commonwealth laid on a massive state funeral. And in fact, William approached the French to seek an alliance to restore the Stuarts. [9]

That sounds dangerous! And of course the widowed HM was up to the French court like a rat up a drain. But look, the French government had a full in tray. The massive rebellion that was the Fronde was in full swing; and ooh, they were at war with Spain.

Gosh there’s a thing, French and at war with Hapsburg? Who’d have thought, eh? King Louis was indeed appalled at the regicide; but all he could do was wink at piracy and help Prince Rupert fit out his fleet.

Spain was in the same boat. Philip IV’s court were similarly horrified; but when Hyde went to see them he was forced to admit to Ormond, now also temporarily, in exile, that he detected

A wariness how they too boldly provoke those powerful devils, lest France should reap the benefit of it.

So although the English Ambassador Anthony Ascham, was also murdered in Madrid, there was no firm action; it is not the first time England has had cause to celebrate the endless French-Hapsburg rivalry. Possibly a candidate for one of the Things that made England, just to make a suggestion to a rival podcast. The most active response came from Muscovy, where the Tsar donated £50,000 to the royalist cause and expelled English Merchants; though a supposed Declaration from him against the scourge of English republican agents was a fake.

Basically, in retrospect there was a deal of chin wobbling and pearl clutching – but realpolitik ruled supreme. But that wasn’t clear at the time. The Commonwealth considered itself beset and surrounded by dangers; Harry Vane could not imagine ‘any place to go to be safe.’ And there were several very real immediate threats. There was the King’s most tireless, talented and swashbuckling defender – Prince Rupert of the Rhine. He now had a reasonably substantial fleet, augmented by the ships which had mutinied in 1648 – although most of them had re-mutinied and returned to parliament. But Rupert had a little fleet, was looking for trouble, preying on English shipping, and was based in Kinsale in Ireland. Which brings us to the Confederate Association in Ireland where Ormonde had now returned; they proclaimed Charles II, and seriously outnumbered the English Garison under Michael Jones in Dublin. So hopeful and strong did it look to the casual observer, that this was where Charles the not-really-second-until-1660 looked most hopefully.

Scotland was a real worry. They firmly believed that a Covenanted King was best both for the future of their souls, and against retribution from an English king or Independent republic. So the high handed execution of their king united Argyl and his Kirk party behind his heir. Within two days of the execution they announced that Charles Prince of Wales would be turned from Charles not-really-the-second-until-1660 into Charles II. Of Scotland. But also Ireland. Oh – and England. Thus they lowered their antlers and aimed them firmly at the heart of the English Commonwealth. And sent commissioners off to find Charles and agree terms.

Charles though did not like the cut of their Genoa. He preferred a different Scot. James Graham, Marquis of Montrose received news of Charles’s execution in Brussels. He also received it in his idiom, apparently falling down as if dead. Though turned out just to be a swoon – Sink me – not a faint please note, Montrose could only swoon with shock. He then, quite rightly, wrote a rather rubbish poem. And then, like the Scottish commissioners, he beat a path to the Hague, where he kissed the hand of the 18 year old Pretender, Charles.

Essentially, the new Commonwealth and Free State of England was beset. The economy was ruined; the war had of course visited destruction all around. It was estimated 10,000 houses had been destroyed, and left 55,000 people homeless. And the weather was awful – 1649 would prove no better, the wettest summer in living memory. Harvests failed. There were enemies everywhere within the Commonwealth; royalists, Presbyterians, and also an explosion of sectarian radicals was making everything seem weird and upside down. In fact the Council received a letter from a yeoman in Surrey, about strange goings on, where a community had set up, and started tilling common land on St George’s Hill, and their leader Gerald Winstanley had declared that

The earth must be set free from intanglements of lords and landlords, and it shall become a common treasury to all

Utterly bonkers, what is he on? Then foreign wolves were gathering to blow down the new Free State, or possibly jump in through the chimney. So honestly – was now the time to have an election? The Agreement of the People was quietly shelved. And most MPs in this increasingly conservative parliament thought that was just fine. It was no time to start fiddling with deck chairs when the Titanic was set to head for the depths. Plus there is a big big issue that will pursue the English Republic throughout its short turbulent life. It is this.

The Commonwealth was based on the principle that sovereignty lay with the people. But no parliament with a wide electorate would support the republic. Conversely though, no parliament elected on the narrow base of support it had in 1649 could be comfortable about its legitimacy, though Nedham and Milton had made a start to build an argument. This will be the idee fixe of the Commonwealth.

None of this passed notice of the Levellers. They were appalled, and angry leaflets filled the streets. Om 26^th February 1649, John Lilburne presented the house with a new petition, ‘England’s new Chains Discovered’, chains forged, they claimed, by the grandees of the Army and the Oligarchs at Westminster. In March Richard Overton followed up with ‘The Hunting of the Foxes – ‘The Grandees unmasked (that you may know them)’. Lilburne, Overton, Walwyn were imprisoned in the Tower for sedition, but the Levellers were thoroughly mobilised – petitions were planned, particularly by the Leveller women who planned to flood the streets of London. More deadly, though, the Leveller agitators were revived in the army, and discontent started to spread; if the Commonwealth had been established by the sword it looked as the House could now be by the sword divided. In his cell after interrogation, Lilburne, claims to have heard the Council of State discussing the threat of mutiny instigated by the Levellers, and heard Cromwell crash his fist on the table and shout

I tell you sir, you have no other way to deal with these men but to break them, or they will break you[10]

The Commonwealth was about to experience some growing pains.

[1] Fraser, A: ‘Cromwell: Our Chief of Men’, pp273-4

[2] Wedgewood, CV: ‘The Trial of Charles I’, p187

[3] Gentles, I: ‘The New Model Army’, p153

[4] Robertson, G: ‘The Tyrannicide Brief’, p200

[5] Lincoln, M: ‘London in the 17^th Century’, p129

[6] Barber, S: ‘A Revolutionary Rogue’, p29

[7] Keay, A: ‘The Restless Republic’, p109

[8] Jackson, C: ‘Devil-Land’, pp306-315

[9] Worden, B: ‘The English Civil Wars’, p107

[10] Woolrych, A: ‘Britain in Revolution’, p443