THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 VOL. IV.
 
 EOYAL WINDSOR 
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM HEPWORTH DIXON 
 
 VOLUME IV. 
 
 r (Btitim. 
 
 LONDON: 
 HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 13 GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 
 
 1880. 
 
 All Rights reserved.
 
 LOHDOX: 
 
 PBI5TED BY 8TRASGEWAYS A3TD 8OS8, 
 Tower Street, Upper St Martini Lane.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 OF 
 
 THE FOURTH VOLUME. 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 I. HOUSE OF STUART . . . . 1 
 
 U. THE LITTLE PARK 10 
 
 ml THE QUEEN'S COURT 19 
 
 IV. THE KING'S KNIGHTS .... 30 
 
 V. SPURIOUS PEACE 41 
 
 VI. KING CHRISTIERN 52 
 
 Vn". A CATHOLIC DEAN . . . . 62 
 
 VEIL APOSTASY . . . " . ' . . . 71 
 
 rx. EXPULSION . . ' . ' . . . 79 
 
 X. FOREST RIGHTS 89 
 
 XI. BOOK OF SPORTS 98 
 
 XII. WINDSOR CROSS 108 
 
 XIII. IN THE FOREST 119 
 
 XIV. WINDSOR SEIZED 126 
 
 XV. UNDER THE KEEP 135 
 
 XVI. AT BAY 144 
 
 559423
 
 VI CONTENTS OF THE FOUETH VOLUME. 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 XVII. FEUDAL CHURCH ..... 154 
 
 XVIII. PARLEYING ...... 164 
 
 XIX. ROUNDHEADS 174 
 
 XX. CAVALIER PRISONERS .... 183 
 
 XXI. HEAD-QUARTERS 192 
 
 XXII. THE NEW MODEL 201 
 
 XXIII. LAST DAYS OF ROYALTY . . . * 211 
 
 XXIV. SAINTS IN COUNCIL ..... 221 
 XXV. CHANGING SIDES . . . . 231 
 
 XXVI. BAGSHOT LODGE 242 
 
 XXVII. AT LENGTH . . . . .251 
 
 XXVIII. CUTTING DOWN ...... 259 
 
 XXIX. WINDSOR UNCROWNED , 269 
 
 XXX. A ' MERRY ' O&SAR ..... 279 
 
 XXXI. WINDSOR CATHOLIC 289 
 
 XXXII. THE CATASTROPHE ..... 300 
 
 XXXIII. DOMESTIC LIFE ...... 312 
 
 XXXIV. HOME ..... 323 
 INDEX 331
 
 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 HOUSE OF STUAKT. 
 1603. 
 
 THE Divine Catastrophe of the house of Stuart 
 to revive a famous phrase covers the history of 
 Windsor Castle, from the coming in of James the 
 First, to the expulsion of his male descendants, in 
 the persons of James the Second, and the wandering 
 prince whose followers called him James the Third. 
 It is the tale of an attempt to govern England for 
 the benefit of a party and a sect. 
 
 Through all this drama, Windsor was the 
 camp, the council-chamber, and the head-quarters 
 of events. Here, the government of that party and 
 sect was framed, and here the government of that 
 party and sect was overthrown. 
 
 VOL. IV. B
 
 2 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 James Stuart, sixth in descent from that Scottish 
 prince who had sung his love-lay in the Devil's 
 tower, was third in descent from that Margaret 
 Tudor who had been sent to Stirling in the hope of 
 some day placing over one head the Scottish and 
 English crowns. Thanks to Elizabeth's sacrifice, 
 he came in like a son succeeding to his family 
 estate; not a single shot being fired hardly a 
 single voice being raised against his coming in. 
 Some prudent men, like Raleigh, had dreamt of 
 making terms with him ; but the exuberant 
 loyalty of his people had disdained to ask for 
 either oath or bond. He came in free. Un- 
 happily he was a man unfit for such a trust. 
 Ignorant of England, he mistook the times in which 
 he lived, thinking they were ebbing back when 
 they were flowing on. In Bacon's words, he was 
 a prince, not of the future, but of the past. 
 
 After ambling round his capital, he arrived at 
 Windsor, where he settled in the royal house ; to 
 wait the coming of his wife, to hold a festival of 
 St. George, to entertain ambassadors from foreign 
 powers, and fix the principles on which he meant 
 to reign. 
 
 Windsor delighted him, not because the air was 
 sweet, the pile extensive, and the landscape wide,
 
 HOUSE OF STUART. 3 
 
 so much as because the towers were ancient, and 
 the game was plentiful. In roaming through long 
 galleries he could dream of the middle ages, and 
 imagine himself a feudal king. The park was 
 handy, and well stocked. Though idle, he could 
 get up early to enjoy his sport. Not that he 
 cantered, like Elizabeth, after stags ; still less, like 
 Henry, after wild boar. His pleasure was to shuffle 
 after conies with a stick, or bring down partridges 
 with a hawk ; he had no nerve for going at the 
 wilder game. 
 
 In spite of some good qualities, James was a 
 poor pretender to the name of man. His ways were 
 hard to bear, even by those who clung to him for 
 bread. He never washed ; in eating, he forgot his 
 stomach ; and in drinking, easily lost his legs. 
 Coarse jests were current at his board, and hi his 
 closet ; filth like that which Jonson was not 
 ashamed to set before him on the Windsor stage. 
 Ladies who saw him at table for the first time, 
 turned from the sight in shame. Men smiled and 
 shrugged their shoulders, saying they must make 
 the best of a bad thing. In spite of his behaviour, 
 he had reading enough to chop logic ; wit enough 
 to quirk and pun. Divinity was his weakness ; but 
 he liked to tackle policy, and peer into the secrets
 
 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 of medicine. When tired of chasing rabbits and 
 tippling whisky, he sat down and wrote, under the 
 idea that his pen was master of both prose and 
 rhyme. Few critics praised his style, yet he was 
 sometimes shrewd of phrase ; and though his verses 
 grated and spluttered, they were not more rugged 
 than the rhymes produced by other singers beyond 
 the Tweed. A lenient judge pronounced him a 
 learned fool. If bred in some lonely manse, and 
 held to duty in his native dale, he might have left 
 behind him the name of a canny and a clever man. 
 His misery was that he was born to thrones, and 
 that he came to Windsor in the days of Shakespere 
 and Bacon to occupy Elizabeth's place. 
 
 Down to the hour of his arrival in Windsor, his 
 life had been a daily lie. Born of a catholic mother, 
 christened by a catholic priest, and swaddled by a 
 catholic nurse, he had been driven by policy to 
 conceal his creed, to sit under Calvinist preachers, 
 and appear a docile pupil of the Kirk. Hypocrisy 
 had sunk into his soul. When thinking of Windsor, 
 he had fancied that, on reaching the sanctuary of 
 St. George, he would be free to speak his mind, and 
 even to impose his views on other folk, as had been 
 done by Cardinal Pole. But Cecil warned him not 
 to march too fast. England disliked extremes.
 
 HOUSE OF STUART. 5 
 
 Opposed no less to the school of Parsons than to 
 the school of Brown, a great majority of the 
 English people only wanted to live in peace ; to 
 till their soil and weave their cloth, to press 
 their apples and net their shores, unscared by any 
 foreign prince ; to woo and wed, bring up their 
 youngsters, and hear the gospel preached, without 
 the license of a foreign priest. That was the temper 
 of four in five of his new subjects. But if roused 
 by menaces of either prince or pope, they would be 
 up in arms. The king, thus warned, held back in 
 fear; but only for a little while. His own 
 opinions would have startled people in the days 
 of Edward the Third. He held that England was 
 a feudal country, which he had a right to govern 
 as a feudal king. This right in crown and sceptre 
 he held to be ' divine.' 
 
 All men except himself saw clearly that the 
 reign of feudal kings was over. Henry and Eliza- 
 beth had done their work, and closed their epochs. 
 Freer times were coming in ; the sword was 
 yielding to the law. Xo theory could stay the 
 coming in of light. The dawn had come, with 
 liberty in her wake. No power on earth could 
 force them back. Under a national prince, liberty 
 might have entered on her kingdom by some
 
 C ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 other path than over battle-fields and scaffolds ; 
 but she would have come as certainly as light 
 succeeds to darkness, and maturity succeeds to 
 youth. 
 
 The seeds of change had long ago been sown ; 
 here, in the poet's prison ; there, at the martyr's 
 stake ; sown by men like Surrey in the Norman 
 tower, by men like Testwood under the Castle wall. 
 A later crop was being sown, in fields less tragic 
 to the eye, but not less fruitful to the mind ; here, 
 by a poet in the queen's gallery ; there, by a 
 student on the queen's terrace ; here again, by a 
 state-founder in the queen's ante-room. In plays, 
 in tractates, in sea-adventures, this new crop of 
 change was being sown ; and every man in Wind- 
 sor and out of Windsor saw this preparation for 
 a future harvest, save the king. 
 
 In passing from the Tudor tower along the 
 terrace to the Little park, James might have read 
 the evidence of change. His castle was a type of 
 feudal things, a pile of stones which every one was 
 trying to preserve ; yet Windsor Castle, like the 
 lowlier structures in the hollow, was submitting to 
 the laws of growth. Where was the Plantagenet 
 fortress, with solid front of rock butting above a 
 rugged scarp? That front was broken by the
 
 HOUSE OF STUART. 7 
 
 Private stair, and brightened by the Tudor tower. 
 That scarp, once steep enough to defy assault, was 
 levelled for a lady's walk. Children were playing 
 on the slope. Formerly a Norman stronghold, 
 Windsor was becoming an English home. 
 
 From Berwick to Windsor, James might have 
 seen these signs of growth ; but he possessed no 
 skill in reading histories in stone. Under his eyes, 
 heroic rule lay dead, never to revive until the 
 English race has perished from the earth. Free 
 thought was won. Free thought was passing 
 into free speech, and tending towards free act. 
 Models of free states were being sought ; here 
 in the past in Greece, in Palestine, in Rome ; 
 there in the mind of man in Utopia, in Arcadia, 
 in Bensalem. Some of the greatest intellects in 
 England were projecting, and describing, these 
 models of free states. On hearing of such 
 researches, James exclaimed in wonder, ' Hech ! 
 What are they about ? Free states ! Free states 
 agree with monarchy as mickle as the de'il agrees 
 wi' God.' 
 
 James marvelled all the more at these intellectual 
 exercises, since he had himself put forth a tract, in 
 which he had laid down his theories of public law 
 as limited by kingly right. Princes, he had told
 
 8 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 the world, are like to gods, who never can be 
 judged by men. A race apart, they have been 
 chosen and anointed for their seats. By a divine 
 commission, older than the oldest church, higher 
 than the highest court, they have a right to lay 
 their hands on what they want. All the fantastic 
 theories of Filmer, Fern, and other sycophants, 
 appeared on James's page. Denying history, he 
 said the crown can never be forfeited by a reign- 
 ing prince. In spite of Rufus, John, Bolingbroke, 
 and Richmond, he declared that the line of English 
 kings can never be changed. Statutes notwith- 
 standing, he asserted that kings could tax and toll 
 as pleased them ; that the soil, and all that grows on 
 it, were theirs : vineyard and pasture, farmstead and 
 granary, young man and maiden. Kings, he stated, 
 could do no wrong, and must not be accused of 
 wrong. When they seemed harsh, their subjects 
 must have patience. Even when they seemed 
 criminal, their punishment must be left to Heaven. 
 Kings, he maintained, were above the law. No 
 earthly court had power to try, no earthly judge 
 to sentence, an anointed prince. To James, this 
 reasoning was complete : the earth is the Lord's ; 
 kings are the Lord's anointed; therefore the earth 
 is theirs.
 
 HOUSE OF STUART. 
 
 In no long time this syllogism, borrowed from 
 his pages by the ' Saints,' was turned with a 
 dramatic suddenness against his house. 
 
 Few readers had seen the king's tract, and 
 those who glanced at his theories only laughed. 
 That anybody in his senses would attempt to put 
 them into practice, no one dreamt. But James, 
 who was already sending secret emissaries to the 
 Pope, made haste to show that he was ruling as a 
 feudal prince. Of his own will, without consent of 
 lords and commons, he revived, by proclamation, 
 the Forest Laws his first step on the road which 
 led to the Divine Catastrophe of his house.
 
 10 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE LITTLE PAKK. 
 1603. 
 
 JAMES introduced his feudal law at Windsor by 
 enclosing the Little Park. 
 
 Two causes raised in him the wish to close this 
 park. First, the townsmen who, like Ford and 
 Page, walked over his grass with dog and gun, 
 and cleared off some of that smaller game which 
 he most of all loved to hunt ; second, the strangers 
 who, like Nym and Pistol, hung about the stands, 
 and laughed at his sport of racing after rabbits 
 with a trail of gentlemen at his heels. By locking 
 his park-gates he expected to preserve his conies, 
 and to silence his critics in the tavern yards. Shut 
 out that mob of burgesses and tramps, and who, 
 save his own keepers, would be able to see his 
 sport ? Who, save his own butlers, would have a 
 chance of counting the contents of his bag ?
 
 THE LITTLE PARK. 11 
 
 East of the Castle, on a ridge of chalk, ran the 
 Little Park a high and lonely stretch of grass 
 and trees, looking into the deer-course and across 
 the river, but unseen from any other site except 
 the Castle leads. It was a park, and something 
 more : the favourite hunting-ground of Queen 
 Elizabeth, and the scenery of her ' Merry Wives.' 
 Here stood Herne's oak ; here dropped the Fairy 
 dell. Here ran the elm-walk planted under Eliz- 
 abeth's eye. Tree and sward were steeped in a 
 romantic light. Hundreds of visitors came to see 
 the oak and dell by which the elves had danced, 
 while FalstafF roared with pain, and Fenton slipped 
 away with ' sweet Anne Page.' The Little Park 
 was a poetic place. But James cared nothing for 
 the Merry Wives. Shut out these Fords and 
 Pages, Nyms and Pistols, from that ridge, and he 
 might take his sport in peace supposing always 
 that such burgesses as Ford and Page, such 'loose 
 companions ' as Kym and Pistol, were content to 
 be shut out. 
 
 Would they retire and make no sign ? 
 
 These forest laws which James invoked at 
 Windsor were obsolete. For more than sixty 
 years, no man had been hung for breaking through 
 a fence, or bringing down small game. The code
 
 12 KOYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 was dead : leaving in the minds of men the 
 memory of a brutal system which had come to be 
 a theme for prank and jest. Turn once more to 
 the ' Merry Wives/ that perfect picture of Windsor 
 thought and feeling at the moment when the Stuart 
 dynasty came in. 
 
 'Shallow. You have beaten my men, killed my deer, broke 
 open my lodge. 
 
 ' Falstaff. But not kissed your keeper's daughter. 
 
 ' Skallmv. Tut ! a pin ! This shall be answered. 
 
 * Falstaff. I will answer it straight I have done all this. 
 That is now answered. 
 
 ' Sludlow. The council shall know. 
 
 'Falstaff. You will be laughed at' 
 
 Even so ; the atrocious forest laws had come 
 to that. Offences which had once been punished 
 by death, were matters for tavern jests. Shallow 
 begins and ends with words. Instead of going to 
 the council to 'be laughed at,' he leaves his injuries 
 to umpires : to his parson, to his neighbour Page, 
 and to his host of the Garter. That scene was 
 but a mirror of all rural life. People had for- 
 gotten that in other days, to shoot a stag had been 
 regarded as a worse offence than to slay a man. 
 
 These laws were now to be revived, not in 
 Berkshire only, but in every county of the land, 
 where James possessed a park, or had the usage
 
 THE LITTLE PARK. 13 
 
 of a park. Nobody was to leap a fence, to snare a 
 rabbit, or to hawk a bird. At first, the yeomen 
 only laughed. Riding across country to cheer the 
 king, halting at roadside inns to drink his health, 
 they heard of this new proclamation, and received 
 it as a joke. Not leap a fence, not catch a bird ! 
 When they were warned to wait and see, they roared 
 in merriment, and drained more beakers to the 
 royal wag. 
 
 A fence ran round the Little Park, two miles 
 in circuit ; but the pales were only stakes and 
 boards, which every yokel in the town could over- 
 leap. Three gates led into the preserves : one 
 gate from the queen's terrace, a second from the 
 deer-course, a third from the market-place. The 
 first path was a private . entrance, but the other 
 paths were free. Shakespere, coming up from 
 Datchet Mead, entered by the deer-course. Through 
 the town gate, Falstaff had stolen to Herne's oak, 
 followed by the Merry Wives. The walks and 
 swards were as free to men and maids as they 
 were free to ouphes and elves. No one had 
 ever heard of a time when they were closed. All 
 strangers were allowed to roam about. But for 
 that freedom, no man would have heard of the 
 Hunter's tree, nor learnt the legend of the Fairy
 
 14 KOYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 dell. Windsor would have lost one of her greatest 
 charms. Though Queen Elizabeth had hunted in 
 the park, she had never dreamt of shutting her 
 neighbours out. Every lad in Windsor had seen 
 her majesty, bow in hand, standing behind a tree, 
 and bringing down her buck. Under her reign all 
 paths had been open to the holiday-maker with 
 dog and gun. 
 
 This right of way was not the only right to be 
 disturbed by shutting up the Little Park. Time 
 out of mind poor people had enjoyed the right of 
 fuelling in the park and forest. No statute gave 
 that right, just as 110 statute gave the right of 
 gleaning in a cornfield ; usage older than the 
 longest memory, forming part of an unwritten 
 code, was taken by the churl and housewife as a 
 right. No one denied the king his cuttings, but 
 when his yards were stacked, poor people claimed 
 their chips and barks. After the reaper comes the 
 gleaner ; after the woodman comes the churl. 
 
 By shutting up his park the king might save 
 his rabbits and sell his lops and tops. But could 
 the park be safely closed ? James shrank from 
 the risk of meeting men with dogs and guns ; he 
 shrank still more from the risk of meeting mobs 
 of laundresses and ale-wives. He had a mortal
 
 THE LITTLE PARK. 15 
 
 dread of seeing an urchin cross his path. A crowd 
 of women searching for their winter fuel would be 
 sure to have some urchins in their wake. They 
 might refuse to run away ; they might accost him 
 in the park ; they might startle him into fits. 
 Before he ventured to close his park gates, he 
 ordered two experiments to be tried elsewhere, at 
 a perfectly safe distance from the Tudor tower. 
 
 Enfield Chase and Brigstoke Park were chosen 
 for these trials. Chase and park were closed under 
 his new rules, and men were sent in to cut down 
 wood, and carry away the tops and lops. If no 
 no one stirred, the king's aggression might be 
 called his right. Some stir was made. At Enfield 
 Chase a mob of women gathered round the carters. 
 Why, these women asked, were they carrying off 
 the poor man's fuel ? For the king's use, replied 
 his men. ' Tish ! ' returned the women, ' the king 
 is not at Enfield lodge.' While living there, they 
 thought he had his claim to fuel from the chase ; 
 but if he chose to lodge elsewhere he had no right 
 to make his penny of their winter fires. Were 
 they to die of cold ? Who ever heard before of 
 barks and twigs being sold by kings ? In former 
 days, when there was too much wood, a portion 
 had been sold ; but then the money had been
 
 16 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 distributed among the poor. That was the custom 
 under Good Queen Bess. These hussies spake the 
 truth, and claimed no more than they had always 
 taken for their own. Gleaning and fuelling were 
 relics of a time when hedger and ditcher had a 
 property in the soil. But James, safe in the King's 
 house at Windsor, allowed his case to be urged at 
 Enfield with pike and gun. His troops cleared 
 out the ' rioters.' Many of the jades were sent to 
 prison ; and the churls their husbands sat at their 
 fireless hearths, cursing the strange king and his 
 outlandish rules. 
 
 At Brigstoke the trial was more serious than 
 at Enfield Chase. This park had been stocked 
 with deer for the king's amusement ; but his 
 majesty said he must have the smaller game pre- 
 served. Sheriff and magistrate were ordered to 
 see that his game was neither snared nor killed. 
 His wood was also to be gathered up and sold. 
 This challenge brought in graziers from the hill- 
 side and butchers from the town. Shut up the 
 park and sell the lops and tops ! What laws were 
 these ? No one in Elizabeth's days had done such 
 things, and no one should begin to do them now. 
 The graziers smashed the fences, while the butchers 
 overturned the carts. 'Down with gates, down
 
 THE LITTLE PARK. 17 
 
 with fences ! ' cried- the mob. An ominous name 
 was heard that name of ; leveller,' which events 
 were afterwards to make so terrible to the king 
 and to his son. But troops were moved into the 
 park, who swept these rioters from the ground : 
 the graziers to their cattle-runs, the butchers to 
 their market- stalls. The county jails were filled, 
 and Brigstoke as a market-town was ruined. Up 
 to that time Brigstoke had been a busy place, 
 with a good cattle-fair. After the tussle in the 
 park, graziers ceased to bring their beasts into the 
 town, and the butchers moved into other shires. 
 
 The king was pleased with his success. After 
 these trials, he might close the park under his 
 Castle wall ; close it, as he wished, ' to all men 
 under rank of peer, except some gentlemen of the 
 highest quality ; who would receive his license to 
 that end.' 
 
 His course was quickened by a slight domestic 
 scene. 
 
 When Anne, his consort, came to Windsor, he 
 insisted on her going out at once to see him hunt ; 
 and the good-humoured lady, though fatigued with 
 riding in the sun, walked with him into the Little 
 Park. He placed her at the stand, where she 
 could overlook his sport. 
 
 VOL. IV. C
 
 18 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 Anne was a woman of the North, a daughter 
 of the Dane. That coursing after rabbits with a 
 pack of beagles struck her as a game for boys, not 
 men ; and after looking on the scene some time 
 in scorn, she snatched a cross-bow, singled out a 
 buck, and brought his antlers to the ground. All 
 faces turned on her. She had but just arrived, 
 and every one was measuring her with his eye. 
 Her aim was true, her bearing proud ; men smiled, 
 and said she was a queen. But James felt sorely 
 hurt. His wife, he thought, was shaming him, 
 not before his courtiers only, but before the com- 
 mon herd rascals who might mock him in their 
 cups, and toast his consort as the better man. 
 
 Turning aside, he stood apart and sulked. His 
 day was dashed. Anne, used to his ill-temper, 
 turned on her heel, and going to her rooms in the 
 Castle, left him to follow when his passion cooled. 
 On his return, he called his secretary and signed 
 his edict, closing the gates of his Little Park.
 
 19 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE QUEEN'S COUKT. 
 1603. 
 
 LIKE all the Danish princes and princesses, Anne 
 was a Lutheran, and her court at Windsor was 
 expected to present the features and preserve the 
 manners of an Evangelical court. 
 
 Fine eyes, fair face, and lissom figure with a 
 gleam of humour in her smile, a flick of lightning 
 in her talk made Anne a charming woman in the 
 sight of every one at Windsor, except the king, 
 James treated her with outward courtesy, but he 
 feared her, even when professing to love her most- 
 She had a tongue, and when he vexed her, she was 
 free of speech. He vexed her very much in great 
 things and in small ; the custody of her son, the 
 doings of her servants, and the chatter of her fool. 
 Of late they had seldom met, except to sneer and 
 chafe. Anne was of higher mettle than her
 
 20 KOYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 spouse ; and when he boasted of his crown, she 
 answered stiffly that she was the daughter of a 
 king. Though they were man and wife, father 
 and mother of a royal race, they had begun to 
 fall into separate ways of life. James kissed 
 her cheek in public, but the ceremony done, they 
 wandered back into their private rooms ; Anne to 
 amuse her time with book and picture, dance and 
 play ; James to tipple whisky, listen to coarse 
 jokes, and rail against the weaker sex the sex of 
 Queen Elizabeth and Queen Anne. No i secret 
 room,' no ' private passage,' were required in the 
 domestic intercourse of Anne and James. 
 
 Only two ladies came with Anne to Windsor. 
 James brought in as many of his people as he 
 pleased ; but he had told his consort, when he 
 quitted her at Holyrood, that English ladies were 
 so jealous of their rights, that if she had strange 
 women near her person, they would never come to 
 court. He had two objects in his mind; one 
 personal, one political. Although a Scot, he 
 undervalued Scottish beauty, and he wished his 
 lairds to marry English wives. Those lairds were 
 poor ; by marrying English girls they might grow 
 rich. No southern lord, he thought, would dream 
 of courting a Scottish bride ; therefore he wished
 
 THE QUEEN'S COURT. 21 
 
 his wife to leave her female fry at home. Of 
 greater moment was his second purpose, which 
 he carefully concealed. He wanted to surround 
 his wife with women of his choice ; women who 
 would lead her gently on the road he wanted 
 her to take. With deep regret she left her friends 
 behind. 
 
 At Windsor she found the court which had 
 been prepared for her by James; a court that 
 struck her with amazement ; equally on the male 
 and on the female side. 
 
 England was rich in eminent men. Raleigh 
 was nigh ; Bacon was waiting for an audience ; 
 Grey was standing in the crowd ; but these great 
 men were left to saunter on the terrace, or linger 
 in the ante-room, while sots like Lennox, or 
 fools like Hay, were closeted with his majesty. 
 Anne, though often frivolous, had a sense of 
 nobler things. Among those who filled her ante- 
 room, few of the men were with their wives ; hardly 
 any of the women were with then* husbands. 
 Cecil was here, but not his wife ; Lady Rich was 
 here, but not her husband ; Cumberland was here, 
 but not his wife ; Lady Kildare was here, but 
 Cobham, her husband, was in Kent ; Southampton 
 was here, but not Southampton's wife; Lady
 
 22 KOYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 Hatton was here, but not her husband, Coke. 
 Suffolk and his partner lived under one roof, but 
 scandal said that roof was as common ' as the 
 North Road.' Anne raised her voice against such 
 people being placed about her, and was not much 
 pacified by being told that these lords and ladies 
 were the greatest in the land. 
 
 To her the women were more offensive than the 
 men. 
 
 First in the group stood Catharine, Lady 
 Suffolk, partner of the fighting earl ; a widow of 
 Lord Rich before she married Suffolk. Catharine 
 was past the prime of middle age, but she had 
 managed to preserve her beauty and improve her 
 wit : her rivals said, by means of charms and 
 spells. She certainly toyed with magic, and kept 
 her sorcerers much as she kept her domestic priests. 
 She fawned on Cecil, she intrigued with South- 
 ampton. Sordid and unscrupulous, she sold her 
 services to any one who could pay her price. No 
 money ever passed her hand. With equal greed 
 she swept into her heaps the smallest and the 
 largest bribes ; taking a ring from a page with as 
 much glee as a casket from a prince ; begging a 
 place worth ten pounds a-year in the kitchen as 
 keenly as a pension of five thousand marks a-year.
 
 THE QUEEN'S COURT. 23 
 
 The gains of this bad woman laid the foundations 
 of Suffolk House and Audley End. 
 
 Next to Lady Suffolk stood her daughter, 
 Frances, the betrothed of Robert Devereux, nephew 
 of Lady Rich. Though but a girl, Frances had been 
 trained in all the villanies of her mother's school. 
 What Lady Suffolk knew of evil, Frances, her 
 daughter, also knew the market-price of rank, of 
 beauty, of compliance. Young in years, she was 
 experienced in deceit. Not by any twist or 
 wrench, but on the lines laid down in her mother's 
 house, she grew into that monster of iniquity 
 known to every one as the adulteress Lady Essex, 
 and the poisoner Lady Somerset. 
 
 Hardly behind these reprobates came Penelope, 
 Lady Rich. Penelope was a sister of Essex, a 
 connexion of Elizabeth ; yet her birth had not 
 preserved her from the scandals of a reckless life. 
 In earlier days, she had been the heroine of 
 Sydney's verse. Greed of money had led her to 
 marry Rich, nicknamed ' Rich Lord Rich ;' and 
 by that match she had become a close connexion 
 of Lady Suffolk. Rich had proved a fool ; his 
 wife a jade. Soon after Sydney's death, she had 
 fluno; herself into the arms of Blount, now become 
 
 O ' 
 
 Lord Montjoy. Three of her children were dis-
 
 24 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 owned by her husband. The profligate lady, 
 laughing in his face, admitted that their father 
 was the handsome Irish deputy. To one of them 
 she had impudently given the name of Montjoy. 
 
 No less singular were two other dames Alice, 
 dowager countess of Derby, and her daughter 
 Anne, Lady Chandos. Alice, the dowager countess, 
 was believed to have poisoned her husband. 
 Though a matron past her prime, she had no 
 objection to vend her smiles and sell such influence 
 as she possessed at court. Lady Anne, her daughter, 
 was no better than herself ; in personal profligacy 
 she was rather worse. It is not too much to say, 
 that of all weak women in English story, Anne 
 Stanley was the most unfortunate ; it is hardly 
 too much to say, that of all bad women in English 
 story, Anne Stanley was the most abominable. 
 One of her partners in wickedness, standing on 
 the gallows with the rope about his neck, de- 
 nounced her as ' the wickedest woman in the 
 world.' 
 
 Some ladies of a better class, like Lady Bedford 
 and Lady Pembroke, came to see the queen. These 
 women were not only pure in life, but shared the 
 queen's opinions as to politics and creeds. With 
 them she could get on. Lady Bedford stayed with
 
 THE QUEEN'S COURT. 25 
 
 her. Lady Pembroke was too old ; she came to 
 Windsor for a day, and vanished with the day. 
 The women who were meant to be about her, and 
 to form her court, were mainly of the school of 
 Lady Suffolk and Lady Rich. 
 
 Inquiry showed the queen that all these women 
 of impure life were either open Papists, or suspected 
 of being Papists in disguise. Were they at Windsor 
 by design? 
 
 James had long been tampering with his con- 
 sort's creed. At Holyrood he had urged her to 
 give up her Lutheran service for the Kirk ; that 
 is to say, of outward and seeming service in 
 the Kirk. At Windsor he began urging her to 
 give up Calvinism for the English church. What 
 next? Was she, an evangelical Danish princess, 
 being driven by him along the way towards 
 Rome ? The festival of St. George might yield 
 a clue. 
 
 Postponed from spring to summer, on account 
 of her late arrival, the inaugural festival of the 
 reign was to be held in pomp and state. Henry, 
 her son, now heir-apparent, was to be knighted, in 
 company with two reigning princes Christiern of 
 Denmark, and Friedrich of Wiirtemberg. As in 
 the times of Bolingbroke and Richmond, this in-
 
 26 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 augural festival of the new dynasty was to express 
 the genius of the coming reign. 
 
 Prince Henry was a boy of such rare promise, 
 as to win more praise from judges of all kinds of 
 excellence than any other Stuart, either before his 
 birth or since his death. In figure he was tall 
 and lithe ; the blood of Queen Elizabeth seemed to 
 flush his face, the strength of Queen Elizabeth to 
 nerve his arm. Eyeing the father and the son, 
 men asked how such a shoot had sprung from such 
 a tree ? Keen rider, skilful pikeman, Henry, at the 
 age of ten, was ready to begin his exercise in the 
 field. Horses and arms were his delight ; yet from 
 his mother he had learned to love books and pic- 
 tures, to practise music, to collect prints and medals. 
 He had not been long in England ere he had made 
 acquaintance with the poets. He cheered Ben 
 Jonson, pensioned Drayton, patronised Sylvester. 
 Donne and Chapman sang his virtues. Shake- 
 spere sketched him in Guiderius, the typical 
 British prince. All lovers of their country looked 
 to him as captain. Nottingham loved the boy. 
 Raleigh counted him a new Harry of Agincourt. 
 Bacon set him down as the Caesar of his Empire of 
 Man. 
 
 Christiern, the queen's brother, was a bluff,
 
 THE QUEEN'S COUKT. 27 
 
 hard - hitting Dane, given to strong liquors and 
 fierce onsets. In creed he was a Lutheran, with 
 little reading, but no end of heat and dash. Since 
 Vasa's death, the Danes had come to the front 
 as champions of the Evangelical cause ; which 
 Christiern understood, not in this or that dogmatic 
 sense, but on the broad political ground of inde- 
 pendence. To James, his brother-in-law, he had 
 been used to give a bantering sort of patronage. 
 Danes and Scots had seldom been good neighbours, 
 and the hope of war between them was extremely 
 popular with the Danes. Queen Anne had brought 
 the Orkneys and the Shetlands as her dowry to 
 the Scottish crown ; and many of the Danes were 
 eager to regain those groups, which they regarded 
 as the outworks and defences of their naval power. 
 The kings had little to unite them, save their 
 common kinship to Queen Anne. To Christiern, 
 James's policies and pastimes seemed ridiculous. 
 Kingcraft! What had a king to do with craft? 
 His business was to fight, and tell the truth, not 
 to chatter and equivocate like a priest. When he 
 went out for sport, the Danish king's pleasure was 
 to mount his horse and shoot his stag, not 
 scamper after hares, and bring down partridges 
 with a hawk. He loved the reek of powder, and
 
 28 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 the flash of sabres stirred his blood. At sport, in 
 which no man was allowed to fire a gun, he 
 laughed with the uproarious mockery of an old 
 Norse god. 
 
 After James arrived at Windsor, Christiern 
 paid more attention to his brother-in-law. A king 
 at Holyrood was not to be compared against a king 
 at Windsor. In the north, James had always been 
 a borrower, yet he had not been able to equip a 
 fleet. Nobody thought of him, unless in reference 
 to some border raid. At Windsor, he disposed 
 of regiments and squadrons. He might save 
 Ostend. A word from him, and Grey might press 
 into the Rhine duchies Raleigh might fling his 
 vessels on the Spanish ports. One resolute deci- 
 sion on the part of James might turn the scale. A 
 man so placed was master of the war. 
 
 Friedrich of Wlirtemberg, the second reigning 
 prince selected for a stall, was Shakespere's ' German 
 duke.' He was to be invested on the strength of 
 Elizabeth's promise, given to him more than ten 
 years ago. 
 
 Henry, Christiern, Friedrich ! These were ex- 
 cellent names ; pleasant to the queen and to the 
 people ; yet they were hardly to be received as 
 tests of preference. None of these princes could
 
 THE QUEEN'S COURT. 29 
 
 be said to have been really chosen by the king. 
 Who were his other knights the men of his 
 own choice, the mirrors of his mind, the pledges 
 of his reign?
 
 30 
 
 CHAPTER IY. 
 
 THE KING'S KNIGHTS. 
 
 1603. 
 
 Two of the king's knights were English, two were 
 Scottish. Pembroke and Southampton were his 
 English choice, Lennox and Mar his Scottish choice 
 William Herbert, third earl of Pembroke, and 
 Henry Wriottesley, third earl of Southampton, 
 seemed to be chosen by the king on the principle 
 effacing two ways of running with the fox, and 
 crying with the hounds. Pembroke, who was 
 neither a Calvinist nor a Catholic, had so little of 
 the bigot in his nature, that fanatics called him a gay 
 young spark, without a sense of the religious life. 
 Southampton, like his father, and his father's father, 
 was a Romanist ; and, in spite of his lax morals, an 
 obedient servant of his church. Neither Pembroke 
 nor Southampton had much independent claim to 
 notice ; yet the names of both were widely known
 
 THE KING'S KNIGHTS. 31 
 
 to fame. One was the other had been Shake- 
 spere's friend. 
 
 Pembroke was barely .twenty - three. Like 
 Philip, his younger brother (soon to become a 
 favourite, and to win the Garter), he was fond of 
 plays ; and from the time of his first appearance in 
 Elizabeth's court, he had sought the company of 
 wits and poets. Wit and poetry were indeed the 
 heritage of his race. Mary, his mother, was a 
 mistress of the pen as well as being ' the subject of 
 all verse.' Sydney, his uncle, had left one of the 
 greatest names in poetry since Surrey's time : his 
 ' Astrophel and Stella ' being almost as popular as 
 ' Fair Geraldine.' Pembroke's own verses, whether 
 amative or pastoral, had their day of favour ; and 
 many of his songs were set to music by such 
 masters in .the craft as Linacres and Lawes. George 
 Herbert was a member of his family ; Herbert of 
 Cherbury was also of his blood. His house at 
 Wilton was a temple of the liberal arts. Taken by 
 itself, Wilton was a charming spot ; but grounds 
 and galleries had alike been touched with the magi- 
 cian's wand. His garden was Arcadia. In his 
 galleries stood a theatre, on the stage of which the 
 best productions of his time were played. Sydney
 
 32 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 had paced those grounds ; Shakespere had trod 
 that stage. 
 
 Early in life Pembroke had won the heart of 
 Spenser. He was kind to Jonson ; Massinger was 
 a dependant of his house. Yet his abiding interest 
 to mankind springs from his fellowship with Shake- 
 spere, and his admiration for the poet's verse. 
 That fellowship, that admiration, led to his name 
 being printed on the foreground of Shakespere' s 
 works ; a chronicle to outlive monuments of bronze 
 and pyramids of stone. 
 
 Rich, noble, handsome, generous, Pembroke 
 had the love of many persons, the respect of nearly 
 all. He had the singular merit in a courtier of 
 wanting nothing from the crown. Spending like 
 a prince, he made no merit of his outlay, even 
 though his charge was frequently for the public 
 good. Such men were new to James; yet Pem- 
 broke never rose into the rank of favourite. He 
 had no single taste in common with the king. 
 Pembroke was gay where James was dull ; Pem- 
 broke was lavish where James was mean : Pem- 
 broke sought the society of women where James 
 preferred the company of dogs. In policy and in 
 creed they stood on opposite sides. Pembroke 
 was attached to the English church, which he
 
 THE KING'S KNIGHTS. 33 
 
 regarded as the mainstay of English independence. 
 He detested Spain, and all the works of Spain. 
 Like the great poet, he was passionately patriotic, 
 and his leanings were in favour of the policy of 
 Raleigh, Grey, and Vere. 
 
 Different as night from day was his colleague, 
 Southampton ; a companion fated to sit beside him 
 in St. George's choir, and live with him on Shake - 
 spere's page. 
 
 More than ten years had passed since Shake- 
 spere, struggling into public notice, had inscribed 
 to the catholic peer a tale in rhyme, called ' Venus 
 and Adonis.' It was usual for a poet to select a 
 patron of his own opinions. Spenser had chosen 
 Grey, a protestant of protestants. Shakespere in 
 that early time had chosen Southampton, a catholic 
 of catholics. One year after his production of 
 ' Venus and Adonis,' he had printed ' Lucrece,' 
 which he had also dedicated to Southampton ; but 
 with such a difference in the wording as implied 
 that in the meantime he had been taken into 
 service. ' What I have done is yours ; what I 
 have to do is yours ; being part of all I have 
 devoted yours.' About that time the dramatist 
 wrote his comedy of ' Sir John Falstaff and the 
 Merry Wives.' Can any man doubt that his 
 
 VOL. IV. D
 
 34 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 abuse of the Lutheran prince at Windsor was a 
 part of what he had ' devoted ' to the catholic earl ? 
 Spenser had written of Grey as the pillar of his 
 life, through whose ' large bounty ' he was able to 
 live. Though prone to magnify his office, Shake- 
 spere never guessed how much he had to give 
 in exchange for smiles or pence. ' Lucrece ' ran 
 through edition after edition, carrying his patron's 
 name into every county of the land. Then, year 
 by year, had flowed from his pen a stream of sonnets, 
 dealing with topics and emotions of the day of 
 singular value for the poet's life. This verse was 
 buoyed by many hopes and burdened by many 
 fears. One day the poet urged his patron to take 
 a wife. Next day he chid him for his evil courses, 
 and anon accused him of the grossest breach of 
 faith. Yet all the while he strove, by artifice of 
 words, to find excuses for his patron's faults. 
 
 ' Those petty wrongs that liberty commits, 
 Thy beauty and thy years full well befits.' 
 
 That some of Shakespere's excuses for his 
 patron were sarcastic, every reader feels. When 
 he compared him to a pretty woman, whose follies 
 and offences might be overlooked in tribute to a 
 dainty face 
 
 ' And for a woman wert thou first created '
 
 THE KING'S KNIGHTS. 35 
 
 everyone sees that he is not comparing him to a 
 woman like his own Imogen, his own Isabella, 
 hut to some wanton and fantastic creature of the 
 stamp of Lady Rich. 
 
 These sermons in sonnets had continued till 
 the time which wrecked so many friendships that 
 of the days succeeding to the Island voyage. At 
 that turning-point of so many lives, the sonnets 
 stopped, never to be resumed ; and not without 
 some bitter thoughts and some accusing words. 
 But they had done their office, and Southampton, 
 though suspected and unpopular, was a noted man. 
 
 Such were the English knights of James's 
 choice. In naming Pembroke, James imagined 
 he was buying off the Puritans; in naming 
 Southampton, he imagined he was securing the 
 Jesuits. That was his ' craft.' These sectaries 
 were his dangerous classes : of the English 
 nation, who were neither Puritans nor Jesuits, 
 he took no heed. 
 
 Lennox, the first of his Scottish knights, was 
 not simply a Papist, but the agent, in James's 
 court, of Ca3sar and the Pope. Anne knew him 
 but too well : a man of blood, a man of bad faith, 
 a man of turbulent passions, who had thoroughly 
 cowed the king. James feared his subject as
 
 36 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 a sparrow fears a snake. Lennox not only braved 
 him to his face, but drove his servants from their 
 posts. Once, in the king's sight, he had drawn 
 his sword and pinned an officer to the wall. In 
 pure contempt, he had carried off a royal ward by 
 force, and married her, not only against the king's 
 will, but against the ordinances of the Kirk. 
 Strong in the support of Rome, of Spain, of 
 Austria, he had carried everything in the Scottish 
 court according to his will. 
 
 One Scot, and only one, was more offensive to 
 the queen than Lennox. That man was Mar, 
 the second of the king's Scottish knights. Mar 
 was a darker, more imposing figure than the duke : 
 a man of stronger passions not so hasty with 
 his tongue and sword but of a steadier nerve and 
 deadlier purpose. Mar had been at school with 
 James ; but he had always kept his royal play- 
 mate down. Sitting in kirk, and professing to be 
 a Calvinist, he had chosen a catholic wife. Living 1 
 
 o 
 
 in friendship with the king, he had entered into 
 the Gowrie plot. By treachery and violence, he 
 had got possession of James's son a source of 
 constant strife between the king and queen. ' Mar 
 and his Papist wife are not fit guardians for our 
 son,' stormed Anne. ' If you think so,' shuffled
 
 THE KING'S KNIGHTS. 37 
 
 her husband, ' keep your fancies to yourself.' But 
 Anne was not a woman to hold her tongue, even 
 when she was compelled to stay her hand. On 
 James riding from Holy rood, Anne had started for 
 Stirling castle, where she had halted her company, 
 and demanded the surrender of her son. The 
 1 Papist wife ' had refused to yield. Anne fought 
 against her with a woman's weapons tears, 
 fainting fits, and a mishap ; and in the end she 
 had gained her point. Thus Henry was at Windsor 
 by her side : first of that group of Stuart knights 
 on whom so many eyes were fixed. 
 
 The queen was no more satisfied with the 
 choice of Lennox and Mar than with that of 
 Southampton. Few people in her drawing-room 
 knew much about the Scottish peers ; but every 
 one in Windsor knew Southampton as a rebel who 
 had narrowly escaped the block. 
 
 Seated in her great chamber, Anne was giving 
 audience and allowing the new-comers to kiss 
 hands. The women quizzed her sunburnt cheek, 
 and marvelled at her riding in the heat of day 
 without a veil. But every one admitted that her 
 eye was quick, her presence striking. Most of the 
 ladies in her circle were connexions of Essex, for 
 whose name and cause she had a deep dislike.
 
 38 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 The king had told her that the cause of Essex was 
 their own ; but she had always fought against that 
 view. How, she asked, could traitors to their 
 queen be trusted ? Essex owed everything to the 
 queen's bounty ; yet he had had the baseness to 
 rise against her. Why expect him to be truer to a 
 stranger than to his natural queen? Anne judged 
 the [rebels with a woman's sense. On meeting 
 Lady Rich, she marvelled how that profligate could 
 have been the star of any honourable cause. 
 
 Southampton offered to explain his actions. She 
 had not seen the man before ; but every one around 
 her knew him as the hero of three or four humi- 
 liating anecdotes. Apart from Shakespere, every- 
 thing about him had been more or less odious and 
 contemptible. Every page at court had heard of his 
 having been bundled out of the late queen's ante- 
 room by an usher ; of his having raved about his 
 birth and dignity; of his having paraded his 
 scratched face and rumpled love-locks ; of his 
 having sworn never to rest satisfied till the offend- 
 ing officer was dismissed ; of his having gone to 
 the queen, who, on hearing both sides, had publicly 
 thanked her servant for having taught the unman- 
 nerly peer to behave more decently in a lady's ante- 
 room. Every lad in town had heard of South-
 
 THE KING'S KNIGHTS. 39 
 
 ampton being beaten in the street ; of his sneaking 
 out of quarrels which his insolence had provoked ; 
 and of his being hissed and flouted for his cow- 
 ardice. In ten years, he had fallen so low that 
 Shakespere, when he drew the character of Cloten, 
 may have had the popular estimate of Southampton 
 in his mind. 
 
 Standing near the queen's chair, Southampton 
 offered to explain to her the mystery of the Essex 
 rising, and to let her majesty understand how many 
 great lords had taken part in that enterprise. 
 
 Anne stopped him with the words : 
 
 ' I marvel much, my lord, that if so many great 
 lords as you say, were in the action, that they did 
 so little for themselves.' 
 
 ' Madam,' he replied, ' the reason why we failed 
 in that affair was this : our enemies turned the 
 queen against us, so that we were forced to yield. 
 If they had not turned the queen against us, not 
 one of the contrary party, our private enemies, who 
 were alone concerned, durst have shown his face.' 
 
 Grey, standing near the queen and catching 
 these words, stepped forward, and assured her 
 majesty that in any case, ' those of the contrary 
 party ' durst have done more than any of the rebels 
 in that cause.
 
 40 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 ' You lie ! ' roared Southampton, in her majesty's 
 presence, and in the hearing of all her court. 
 
 ' How now, my lord ? ' said Anne, rising to her 
 feet, her blue eyes flashing fire. 
 
 Fixing Southampton with her glance, she 
 beckoned to the guard, and bade her officer 
 arrest the disputants, remove them from her 
 chamber, lodge them in separate towers, and sta- 
 tion sentries at their doors.
 
 41 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 SPUKIOUS PEACE. 
 
 1603-4. 
 
 THE peers being removed, Anne sent her usher to 
 the king, with a report of what had passed, and a 
 demand that he should hold a court of inquiry, 
 and award such punishment to the offenders as 
 would check all tendency to imitate their offence. 
 
 Anne felt with Grey, whose action in the rising 
 she admired ; but she had put him under guard 
 in order to prevent a challenge, and a probable 
 loss of life. 
 
 Though they were both of them young in years. 
 Grey and Southampton were old in enmity. That 
 enmity stretched back into their teens. Grey, a 
 Protestant, if not a Puritan, had always stood 
 across Southampton's path. A splendid rider and 
 a deadly swordsman, he was endowed and trained 
 for an ideal Master of the Horse. Elizabeth had
 
 42 KOYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 chosen him from among a hundred candidates. 
 Coveting that showy post, Southampton had 
 sneered at Grey, and set on others to traduce him 
 with the queen. Resenting these affronts, Grey had 
 beaten his rival in the public streets. Their lives 
 had been a duel. In Dublin, Grey had been sub- 
 jected by Southampton to the shame of an arrest. 
 Passing over to the Low Countries, he had sent a 
 cartel to his rival, which that rival had refused to 
 meet ; alleging that the time was unsuitable, that 
 his forces were in peril, and he could not leave 
 them ; that a pledge had been taken from him 
 not to risk his life except in the queen's service. 
 Grey had waited for him, knowing that he would 
 have to fly from Dublin to the States. On his 
 arrival, he had renewed his challenge in the bitterest 
 scorn : ' Your coming hither shows your repent- 
 ance of your cool answers. Neither disadvantage 
 of time, peril, or promise, can now be pretended, 
 and I call on you to right me.' 
 
 Southampton had no stomach for such right- 
 ing. ' I refuse your challenge,' he had replied to 
 Grev. In the opinion of his peers, Southampton 
 was not entitled to refuse. Grey was of older 
 family than himself. Seven or eight peerages 
 vested in the Greys, some of them ducal, some
 
 SPURIOUS PEACE. 43 
 
 of them dating from the time of Lion Heart. 
 Southampton was an upstart, only one peer stand- 
 ing between himself and the pettifogger who had 
 hunted Surrey to the block. To save his credit, 
 he had written to Grey : ' Lest you think I dare 
 not walk abroad for fear of you, I will ride an 
 English mile out of the porte, with only unarmed 
 attendants, wearing a sword and dagger which 
 I will send to you. I will wait two hours, and 
 defend myself against whoever offers.' Grey could 
 only laugh. Wanting to fight his enemy like a 
 soldier, point to point, he had no intention of 
 provoking two mobs, like kernes at an Irish fair, 
 into a free fight. Copies of these letters had been 
 sent to London, where ' poor Southampton ' had 
 passed into a court by- word and a tavern jest. 
 
 On their return from the Netherlands, South- 
 ampton had put on airs of scorn, and ventured on 
 saucy words. Grey, meeting him in the Strand, 
 had beaten him a second time ; for which disturb- 
 ance of the peace he had been committed to the 
 Fleet. In a few days he had been out, and at 
 his post again. On finding that the rebels were 
 about to rise, the queen had once more made him 
 Master of the Horse, in which capacity he had 
 played a leading part in crushing their attempt.
 
 44 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 Anne felt that if the peers were left alone to 
 settle the affair, blood was certain to be shed. 
 James was no less angry with his wife than with 
 his knight. The queen seemed taking up his rod. 
 No doubt she had been grossly hurt, and he was 
 bound to see her righted ; no less bound to do so 
 for his own sake than for hers. Men who would 
 give the lie in her presence, might dare to give the 
 lie in his. Yet he disliked to have such work on 
 hand. He wanted peace, and most of all in his 
 own house. One of his delusions was to pose as 
 a man of peace. A drum shook his nerves, a 
 gun turned his stomach ; therefore, he pretended 
 to the character of a pacific prince. What he sup- 
 posed to be his virtue, was in fact his malady. 
 Such peace as England loved the peace of 
 strength, of truth, of independence stood beyond 
 his range of thought. By peace he meant no 
 more than silence and repose ; silence on every 
 side, repose at any price. These articles he found 
 were dear. Not only thanes and lairds, but grooms 
 and barbers, had been used to play on his defect 
 braving and bullying, and pretending to touch 
 their dirks under his royal nose. ' Nay, laddies, 
 mak' it up ; nay, kiss and mak' it up,' he had 
 whined. Knowing their master, they had pre-
 
 SPURIOUS PEACE. 45 
 
 tended to huff and haw, and talk of having each 
 other's blood. James had wept. ' ^ay, niak' it 
 up ; I'll tak' the matter on myself.' 
 
 Taking such matters on himself was an ex- 
 pensive luxury. The price of peace ran high. 
 On coming to Windsor he had greater need than 
 ever to buy his laddies off. Most of the apart- 
 ments near the Tudor tower were occupied by 
 peers and gentlemen who had held them for many 
 years, under warrants from the crown. Counting 
 on his weakness, the laddies burst into these rooms, 
 hustled the English tenants, and swore that his 
 majesty would not be safe till such apartments 
 were occupied by faithful Scots. Wild scenes took 
 place, and some of his laddies narrowly escaped 
 being hurled over the Castle wall. ' Peace, peace ! ' 
 sighed James, going in between his old friends and 
 his new; ' I'll tak' it on myself.' The storm got 
 hushed, but ere the week was out, James had to 
 pay the cost of that palace-peace. 
 
 What was a pacific prince to do with his wife's 
 imprisoned lords ? The outrage had been open, 
 and a hundred persons had heard Southampton's 
 words. Grey was not the man to miss so clear a 
 chance. His enemy had escaped too often ; now, 
 he could punish him with the sanction of all honest
 
 46 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 men. James knew enough of the two prisoners 
 to foresee the end if they were left to fight it out. 
 Nor could he pass so gross an outrage on his wife. 
 The queen was in a rage, unlikely to forgive the 
 criminal, and James was bound to think of his 
 own security no less than of her dignity and 
 repose. He gave his orders for a council to be 
 called next day. 
 
 The council met, and the offending lords were 
 marched into the room. The charge against them 
 was an outrage on the king and queen, tending to 
 a breach of the public peace. No defence was 
 offered, and the prisoners were both condemned. 
 Here the king stepped in. Justice had said her 
 say: Mercy was ready with her healing voice. 
 The two offenders, he declared, were in the wrong, 
 for they had sinned against the law ; but kings 
 are full of grace, and he, as sovereign, was pre- 
 pared to take a lenient course. He wished his 
 servants to be friends. Would they forgive each 
 other ? He desired to be a peace-maker. If they 
 would forgive each other, he, their prince, would 
 overlook their faults, and be a means to get their 
 pardon from the queen. Her majesty was angry, 
 as she had good right to be ; but he would go to 
 her, and take the matter on himself. He begged,
 
 SPURIOUS PEACE. 47 
 
 lie wept. A king in tears was such a sight 
 as no man then alive had seen. Grey melted at 
 the sight. What mattered it to him how such 
 a braggart as Southampton lied ? In answer to 
 the king's appeal, he held his hand out to his foe. 
 James wept still more for joy than he had done 
 for grief. Peace in his household was restored. 
 
 It was a spurious peace a foretaste of the still 
 more spurious peace to come. 
 
 Twelve days after that scene in the council- 
 chamber, Grey was committed to the Tower. 
 Raleigh soon followed Grey. 
 
 One day the Founder of Free States was 
 
 tf 
 
 standing on the Terrace, waiting for his majesty, 
 who was expected to come out by the Private 
 stair with whip and pack. Above him rose the 
 gallery in which he had knelt to his great mistress, 
 when he first unveiled to her his plan of founding 
 in her name an Empire in the West. Those 
 labours filled his heart ; but they were only to 
 be carried forward by a prince who was prepared 
 to stand across the path of Spain. As yet, the 
 king had not pronounced his final word. Each 
 side was courting him ; here, the Catholic powers 
 there, the Evangelical League. JS T o one was 
 sure which way his face might turn. Vere was
 
 48 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 still holding out; Nottingham held the fleet in 
 readiness ; Cobham was busy at the Cinque Ports. 
 In spite of his apparent leaning towards the 
 Spaniards, there were grounds for hope that James 
 might take the better side. Anne was in favour 
 of a liberal policy ; Christiern was known to have 
 urged his brother-in-law to act on Raleigh's advice ; 
 Raleigh had put his thoughts into writing ; and 
 had sent that writing to the king : giving him a 
 perfect picture of the state of Spain, and showing 
 him how easily her fleets might be driven from 
 the sea. If James would only hear the truth, 
 king and people might be reconciled, the imperial 
 squadrons might be swept from the Channel, and 
 a group of English colonies might be planted in 
 the West. 
 
 But James had no heart for such heroic deeds. 
 He yearned for peace with Spain. To him, Spain 
 was Southampton multiplied by millions. She 
 could set the Jesuits on him ; she could raise the 
 kernes against him. Spain had agencies in every 
 house ; many such agencies, male and female, in 
 his own. Lady Suffolk was for Spain ; Lady Rich 
 and Lady Derby were for Spam ; the catholics in 
 his ante-room were all for Spam. And in his 
 heart he was himself for Spain.
 
 SPURIOUS PEACE. 49 
 
 Raleigh, though hoping against hope, had 
 many on his side. The queen and prince thought 
 as he thought. The admirals and captains of 
 Elizabeth were all for fighting out the fight. 
 Bacon was with him ; Vere and Nottingham were 
 with him. Shakespere, freed from his bondage 
 to Southampton, stood with his independent coun- 
 trymen. That war with Spain was not a quarrel 
 to be ended by a compromise. It was a war of 
 principle, in which the English people were con- 
 tending for advantages more precious than their 
 lives the freedom of their country, the existence 
 of their church. On sea and land that battle had 
 been fought for five -and- twenty years. Could any 
 man pretend the victory had yet been won ? The 
 enemy was not only in the field, but in the Channel. 
 He had gained possession, not alone of Antwerp, 
 but the Scheldt. His armies were encamped before 
 Ostend. That fortress carried, Spain would be- 
 come a Channel power. Was that a time to prate 
 of peace with Austro- Spain ? 
 
 To peace as peace, no one objected ; but the 
 wiser sort desired to win a solid peace, not to 
 purchase a deceitful truce. Shakespere expressed 
 the general thought: 
 
 VOL. IV. E
 
 50 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 ' Heaven grant us its peace, but not the King 
 of Hungary's.' 
 
 Agents of Rudolf of Austria, l King of Hun- 
 gary,' were at work in Lady Suffolk's closet and 
 in Lady Rich's drawing-room, offering such terms 
 of peace as would have laid the country at Caesar's 
 feet. Lady Suffolk and Lady Rich, weighted with 
 doubloons, were all for peace even though it had 
 to be the King of Hungary's peace. 
 
 Raleigh waited on the Terrace, but 110 king 
 came out. After a time, Cecil crept down the 
 Private stair, and saluted Raleigh with the message : 
 1 1 come from the king.' Cecil asked the sailor to 
 go up into the king's cabinet. Some matters had 
 been opened to the lords in which his name 
 appeared. The king desired him to explain. 
 Raleigh went up into the cabinet, where he heard 
 to his astonishment that he was charged with a 
 conspiracy to support the king of Spain ! 
 
 Proudly he pointed to his course of life, and 
 to the writings he had lately laid before the king. 
 He pointed to his protests and his arguments against 
 the peace. James heard him, and adjourned the 
 council ; but a few days afterwards the state- 
 founder was conveyed to the Tower a sacrifice 
 to his intended policy in Madrid.
 
 SPURIOUS PEACE. 51 
 
 Ycre was removed ; Ostend allowed to fall. 
 Fresh agents from the Emperor and the King of 
 Spain arrived. These agents of corruption plied 
 their trade, and when the male and female favourites 
 had been pensioned off, his majesty signed the 
 articles of his spurious peace. 
 
 Before he quitted Windsor, James had shown 
 his mind, and raised suspicion of his aim and 
 policy in the heart of every man who was neither 
 slave of Rome nor pensioner of Spain. The people 
 were disgusted, but the sectaries, sniffing the 
 coming fight, waxed warmer in their zeal: a 
 Papist court might call into being an Anabaptist 
 camp.
 
 52 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 KING CHRISTIE11N. 
 1606-14. 
 
 IF any man were likely to arrest the Stuarts on 
 their downward course, he was the powder-loving 
 Dane. Christiem came over twice ; each time in 
 the belief that James, disgusted by the failure of 
 his Spanish policy, might be induced to take a 
 straighter course, and win the people over whom 
 he reigned by going for the English cause. 
 
 The first time was in 1606, a few months after 
 the Powder Plot. That scheme had proved the 
 folly of taking fribbles like Southampton as 
 security against the Jesuits and their slaves. 
 Rome might be moderate, but she had agents in 
 England who would not hear of peace, except on 
 terms dictated by themselves. In spite of the 
 many favours shown to catholics, these agents 
 laid their curse on every one who took an oath of
 
 KING CHRISTIERN. 53 
 
 fealty to the king-. They said they were deceived 
 in James. A catholic by birth, by baptism, and 
 by early training, he had still not proved himself 
 catholic enough for them. They wanted to be all 
 in all to rule the land as they had ruled it under 
 Cardinal Pole. At Holyrood, surrounded by con- 
 venticles, they had permitted James to hide his 
 faith; but here, in Windsor, in the sanctuary of 
 St. George, they expected him to show his loyalty to 
 the catholic church. The country, they declared, 
 was catholic, and likely to be more submissive to 
 a catholic prince than to a heretic. So long as 
 he denied his church, he must not hope for grace, 
 nor must good catholics obey him as a lawful 
 king. 
 
 James put out a pamphlet on the Oath of 
 Allegiance ; but the Papal agents, knowing their 
 man as well as the Scottish laddies knew him, 
 treated him and his with scorn. Christiern sup- 
 posed that even James's craven spirit must revolt 
 at last ; and under that belief he crossed the sea 
 and came to lodge on the royal mount. 
 
 A crisis had arrived in Italy which opened out 
 new prospects for the Evangelical League. Paolo 
 the Fifth had laid an interdict on Venice, and the 
 doge, Donato, was up in arms. This rupture was
 
 54 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 dividing Europe on a novel set of lines. The Evan- 
 gelical States were all for Venice ; the Catholic 
 States were nearly all for Rome. Here, lay a chance, 
 as Christiern thought, for England to step in. 
 
 No foreign city had so many charms for English 
 folks as Venice. In her water-lanes, under her 
 marble domes, and on her sunny piazzas, English 
 travellers were at home. The strength, the beauty, 
 the repose of Venice, took all hearts. The poets 
 sought hi her materials for the stage. She was 
 a witchery and a problem ; hardly more attractive 
 in the gaiety of her quays, than in the bustle of 
 her arsenals and the mystery of her courts. She 
 wrought on the imagination like a spell. Shake- 
 spere, who never went to Spain for a subject, 
 turned again and again to Venice and her inland 
 cities, Padua and Verona. Not to have seen Venice 
 was to have seen nothing ; and to die without 
 having crossed the Rialto and saluted the Giant's 
 Stair, was to die without having lived. Even to 
 the untravelled man, the city of Shylock and 
 Othello was no foreign place. The words Rialto 
 and Piazza dropped on the public ear like those 
 of London Bridge and Paul's Cross. Yet Venice 
 was not better known as a seat of song than as a 
 refuge ; as a town in which the Jew and Moor,
 
 KING CHRISTIERN. 55 
 
 scorched out of Spain and Sicily by Inquisitors, 
 were allowed to live. Monks said mass in San 
 Marco ; convents covered the lagunes from Mala- 
 mocco to Murano; yet the republic had given 
 more trouble to Rome than either England or 
 Germany. On her lagunes, the strife with Rome 
 had taken the ferocious aspect of a civil war. 
 Free from bigotry, the mariners, silversmiths, and 
 printers of Venice, though holding on to the 
 creeds and rituals of Rome, had never crouched 
 with Celtic terror at her voice ; nor had they 
 suffered her canonists and cardinals to override 
 their local laws. Some sense of rivalry had tended 
 to divide the two cities, each of which aspired 
 to be the capital of the world : one through 
 her doctrines, her confessionals, and her religious 
 orders ; the other, through her literature, her com- 
 merce, and her fleets. Rome had steeled her- 
 self against Venice ; A r enice had armed herself 
 against Rome. The mariners and silversmiths 
 were alarmed by what appeared to them the revival 
 of an ' age of faith ; ' an age in which the monks 
 might want to rule, and laymen might be driven 
 to fight for their invaded rights. To guard their 
 liberties, they renewed two ancient laws against 
 the clergy. One of these laws provided that no
 
 56 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 new church or chapel should be opened in their 
 States without the express consent of doge and 
 council ; and the second law declared that any 
 death-bed legacy to church or cloister should be con- 
 
 o */ 
 
 sidered null and void. Paolo the Fifth, egged on by 
 Spain, required the doge to cancel these obnoxious 
 laws as insults to the Holy See. Fuel was heaped 
 on fire by the arrest of two ecclesiastics by the 
 civil power. Even in the land of the ' Decameron/ 
 the crimes of these holy men were startling. A 
 canon of Yicenza broke the seals of his chancery 
 and outraged the person of a lady of his blood ; 
 an abbot of ft"ervasa killed his father, violated his 
 sister, and poisoned some of his monks. Paolo 
 denounced the civil courts for daring to lay hands 
 011 these offenders. Sarpi, the most eloquent 
 preacher of his generation, sided with the doge 
 upholding the civil law against his church. Paolo, 
 launching an interdict at Venice, called on em- 
 peror, kings, and dukes, to execute his curse. 
 
 Donato looked around for allies. Wotton was 
 then English agent near the doge. A poet and a 
 scholar, he threw his soul into her fight. All 
 English people, save the partisans of Spain, went 
 with him. In the House of Commons, money-bills 
 were voted with a view to raising troops and
 
 KING CHRISTIERN. 57 
 
 arming vessels for the war. James was persuaded 
 that his own pamphlet on the Oath of Allegiance 
 had stirred the Signiory into an assertion of their 
 independence. Carried forward by the flood, he 
 knighted Molino, the Venetian agent, and accepted 
 the doge's scheme for a defensive league. 
 
 Christiern came to Windsor, in the hope of set- 
 ting James in the right way to help the liberal 
 cause. 
 
 At first he prospered in his course. ' Turn 
 back, begin afresh,' was his advice. ' Distrust the 
 catholics, who surround you only to betray you ; 
 drive away the Jesuits ; tender the Oath of Alle- 
 giance ; unmask your enemies ; receive the doge's 
 envoy into greater favour, and dismiss the Suffolk 
 family from your court.' 
 
 So far, James was driven along by his impetuous 
 brother-in-law. The Jesuits were put on board, 
 the oaths were tendered, and those who refused to 
 swear were either fined or sent to jail. Suffolk 
 and his wife were driven from court ; Molino came 
 to Windsor, where the king, in Christiern's pre- 
 sence, bade him tell the doge and Signiory that 
 their cause was good, and they might count on 
 him for help by sea and land. 
 
 Yet when the Dane, elated by success, reminded
 
 58 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 James that his new policy implied new council* 
 lors, the king fell back. Christiern, like the queen, 
 his sister, and his nephew, Henry, turned towards 
 Raleigh's dungeon in the Tower. When anything 
 great was to be done, Raleigh was always hi their 
 thoughts. If Venice was to be sustained, Raleigh 
 must be called to council, and the Lennoxes and 
 Southamptons pushed aside. James shrank from 
 this advice, and Christiern soon perceived that he 
 was wasting time. After more whisky had been 
 drunk, more powder burnt, he left the Thames, 
 convinced that, whether Venice sank or swam, no 
 English squadron would be sent to sea. 
 
 Eight years later he came again, still hoping 
 against hope. Another crisis had arrived, and this 
 time, nearer home. Henry, the gallant prince, was 
 dead, and Charles, his ricketty younger brother, 
 was now heir-apparent. Elizabeth, their sister, 
 married to Friedrich, Palatine of the Rhine, had 
 gone to Heidelberg. Cecil was dead ; Suffolk and 
 Southampton were the leading councillors. The 
 highest offices at court were filled by catholics, and 
 men who were catholic in everything but the 
 name, were solidly entrenched within the church. 
 The time had come for some one to step in. 
 Friedrich, the king's son-in-law, was president of
 
 KING CHRISTIERN. 59 
 
 the Evangelical Union, and the object of attack to 
 every member of the Catholic League. The powers 
 were all afield, and any day the first shot might be 
 fired the opening passage of a great religious 
 war. 
 
 A crowd of English volunteers was on the 
 Khine, all serving on the protestant side. The 
 councillors at Westminster and Windsor were sup- 
 posed to favour the catholic cause. Christiern 
 imagined that his presence might induce the king 
 to go with his people, not against them ; the more 
 so, since his daughter's province was at stake. 
 
 Meaning to surprise the king, and score his 
 point before the enemy guessed his game, he left 
 for Elsinore, where he talked of going to see his 
 friends, the German dukes, and sent his servants to 
 a Baltic port, with orders to aAvait his coming. 
 When the men were gone, he chose three vessels, 
 and attended by a few guards and trumpeters, 
 he walked on board, and gave the signal for that 
 Baltic port. At sea he changed his course and made 
 for Yarmouth, where he landed in disguise, hired 
 horses, rode to Aldgate, dined at a common tavern, 
 stepped into a street cab, and drove to Somerset 
 House. The king was out of town ; but Anne, his 
 sister was at home, just sitting down to dine when.
 
 60 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 he alighted at the gate. Cardel, a French dancer, 
 who had seen him eight years before at Windsor, 
 ran to tell the queen her brother had arrived. 
 Anne laughed at him, and went on eating, saying 
 it was all illusion a ' French caprice.' Christiern, 
 close on his heels, waved the attendants into 
 silence, crept behind his sister, caught her in his 
 arms, and kissed her merrily. Anne snatched a 
 jewel from her bosom, which she flung to the 
 dancer for his news, sent off fast riders to announce 
 her brother's coming to the king, and then sat 
 down again to dinner with her guest. 
 
 A panic spread among the pensioners of Spain. 
 Why had he come over, and with so much secresy? 
 Shrewd minds suspected that the German business 
 was in hand. Great hopes were raised, great fears 
 excited, by his presence. All that the catholics 
 had won seemed put in jeopardy. But James, 
 though willing to write letters of remonstrance, 
 was unwilling to draw the sword. In truth, he 
 was expected to obtain a catholic consort for his 
 son. A week in England satisfied the Dane that 
 James would never fire a shot, never disturb ' the 
 King of Hungary's peace.' By way of Parthian 
 bolt, he gave a sword and one of his men-of-war to 
 his nephew Charles.
 
 KING CHRISTIERN. 61 
 
 Worse tilings soon came : the rout of Prague ; 
 the fall of Friedrich ; the exile of the Queen of 
 Hearts ; but Christiern made no more attempts to 
 check the Stuarts in their downward course.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A CATHOLIC DEAN. 
 1618. 
 
 ONE step in that downward course was the bring- 
 ing into Windsor of a Catholic dean. 
 
 This singular personage was Marco Antonio, 
 archbishop of Spalatro, whom the king and his 
 advisers, yearning after the things of Rome, in- 
 duced to visit England, to accept the deanery, and 
 to settle on the royal mount. 
 
 Spalatro was a corsair port on the Dalmatian 
 coast. Ruins of an old palace covered more than 
 half the town; a maze of sinks and alleys, tenanted 
 by pirates, fishwives, polenta-cooks, and bare- 
 legged friars. Chapels and cloisters overlooked the 
 mole ; but the main building was a temple of 
 Jupiter, a pile too solid for the robbers to haul 
 down. Dirty and decayed, Spalatro was about 
 the poorest see in the papal world. Once, in-
 
 A CATHOLIC DEAN. 63 
 
 deed, she had claimed a primacy ; but the bishops 
 of Venice had long since filched away her clerical 
 rank. No state, and not much revenue, was 
 left. Except in name, a parish priest in Venice 
 was of greater might than his grace of Spalatro. 
 But the name was much, at least in the eyes 
 of people in a distant country and of a different 
 creed. Marco found in his name a talisman strong 
 enough to carry him from his pirate lair into 
 the deanery of Windsor and the registry of St. 
 George. 
 
 At fifty-one, when he first came to England, 
 Marco was fat and gross, with swarthy skin, dark 
 eyes, bull-neck, and sensual mouth. Dressed in 
 his Dalmatian robe, he had a striking and out- 
 landish air. Few. understood his words, Lut every 
 one observed his cap and gown. He spoke no 
 English, and his Latin was a barbarous dialect. 
 Learning he had next to none ; not a single word 
 of Hebrew, hardly a single scrap of Greek. Even 
 in the Scriptures he was very much at fault. What 
 he knew best was science, but his studies in the 
 school of Galileo had been faint and few. An 
 Oriental, he was showy, voluble, self-indulgent ; 
 fond of things not found in a pirate port soft bed 
 and ample board, rich hangings, troops of ser-
 
 64 KOYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 vants, smiles of high-born women, and companion- 
 ship of kings and princes. All these comforts 
 he had learned were to be found at Windsor, 
 and to Windsor he had come invited by the 
 king. 
 
 Who was this Oriental priest ? 
 
 Born at Arba, in the Gulf of Venice, Marco 
 Antonio de Dominis was a subject of the doge : 
 one of those ' provincials,' who supplied Venetian 
 comedy with buts and dupes. In seeking bread 
 he had become a monk. Being glib of tongue, 
 he had won the notice of some Jesuit fathers, who 
 imagined they could train him for the preacher's 
 stand and the professor's chair. The story-tellers 
 of his countrv had a g'ift of rolling out floods of 
 
 / o o 
 
 talk. Marco inherited that gift. Adopted by the 
 Jesuit order, he had been put to school ; first in 
 Loreto, afterwards in Padua ; where he had dawdled 
 through his classes, but had picked up little by the 
 Avay. On finishing his course, he had been set to 
 teach and preach. All theories were one to him : 
 science, rhetoric, divinity ; on each and all he was 
 prepared to roll out floods of words. Years had 
 gone by without results, until the fathers, finding 
 their empty dream a failure, had shelved him on 
 his native coast, as bishop of Segna ; one of a group
 
 A CATHOLIC DEAN. 65 
 
 of pirate ports, in which no decent pastor cared to 
 risk his life. 
 
 There, for a time, he had droned his services 
 and shared the spoil of his unruly flock. But he 
 and his penitents hadj fallen into strife. A cruiser, 
 lying off the roads, had tempted him with sequins 
 to betray some members of his fold to justice ; but 
 the robbers being caught and hung, some of their 
 kinsmen threatened ' to make a bag of his skin,' 
 like the pigskin bags in which they kept their 
 wine. Not waiting to be peeled and cured, Marco 
 had taken boat, landed on the Piazzetta, and claimed 
 protection from the doge. 
 
 At Venice, a wider field had opened on his 
 view. Venice and Rome were fighting hi that 
 quarrel which had called out Sarpi, and brought 
 the royal Dane to Windsor. Luckier than 
 Christiern, he had 'made his game of that affair. 
 Having managed to convince the doge that he 
 was all for Venice, and the Pope that he was 
 all for Rome, Donate and Paolo the Fifth agreed 
 in sending him to Spalatro as archbishop. To 
 Spalatro he had gone, with what he held to 
 be two pledges : Rome having secretly engaged 
 to restore that primacy to his see which 
 Venice had usurped, and Venice having secretly 
 
 VOL. IV. F
 
 C6 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 engaged to protect him against intrigues in 
 Rome. 
 
 But he had no more liking to his second pirates 
 than his first. Ready to seek his blessings, the 
 Spalatriotes had' been slow to pay his dimes. He 
 had been forced to wink at piracy, and when times 
 were dull, to shut his eyes on differences in the 
 flag. Crescents were held to be lawful spoil, but 
 when the flags of Venice and Ancona began to 
 strew the mole, warnings had come in from many 
 sides. Rome, instead of sending him his bull of 
 primacy, had instructed her agents to dog his 
 steps, to note his teaching, and report on his ways 
 of life. Disgusted by such treatment, he had fled 
 once more to the lagunes, where he supposed his 
 presence and his oratory would provoke new storms 
 between the Church and State. But he had found 
 the situation changed. Venice and Rome had long 
 ago come to terms. Loud voices and rush of 
 words no longer roused the doge and Signiory to 
 arms. His business as disturber of the peace had 
 died a natural death. 
 
 How came this broken priest to Windsor to 
 the lodgings of an English dean ? 
 
 Just as he was sinking under public odium, 
 Marco had met an English clergyman, who gave a
 
 A CATHOLIC DEAN. 67 
 
 new direction to his thoughts. Bedell, chaplain of 
 the English embassy in Venice, was a man of 
 simple heart, with high-church sentiments, and a 
 child-like ignorance of the world. In Marco, he 
 beheld a Roman dignitary bishop, archbishop, 
 primate. Of his life at Segna and Spalatro, he 
 knew nothing. What he saw before him was a 
 man of apostolic grace, in whom the ordination was 
 complete and sure. Marco had made much of him, 
 and he of Marco. In a week they had become 
 intimate ; Marco the father, Bedell his obedient son. 
 Marco had asked about the state of English bishops 
 and primates. With a pardonable pride, his ' son ' 
 had described their rank and power, their palaces 
 and revenues. Fresh from a dinner of sprats and 
 polenta, how, with other than a yearning heart, 
 could Marco hear of prelates who sat by the side 
 of kings, and squandered incomes greater than a 
 doge ? No further proof was needed ; such a 
 church, he had felt assured, must be the church of 
 Christ. Could he exchange into that church ? 
 
 On Bedell reminding him that England had 
 renounced her connexion with the see of Rome, 
 he had replied that he was ready to renounce his 
 own connexion with that see. Rome had become, 
 he said, corrupt in morals and unsound in faith.
 
 68 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 She had betrayed her trust, and forfeited her pri- 
 macy in the church. On Bedell asking whether 
 he had put these views into writing, he had an- 
 swered, No ; but he was ready to begin. As a 
 Venetian, he had always been opposed to Rome. 
 Then, day by day, he had sent in sheets on sheets 
 of manuscript for his son to read. Bedell, surprised 
 to find so many of his facts mis-stated, so many of 
 his references wrong, so many of his quotations 
 made at second hand, was driven to make excuses 
 for his friend. The motives were so good that 
 he had been content to overskip the faults. If 
 emperors may be above grammar, why not pri- 
 mates ? Mending what was faulty, Bedell had put 
 the facts into order, purged the arguments, and 
 supplied the references. On getting back his 
 manuscripts, Marco had chuckled : ' I can do 
 nothing without Bedell.' 
 
 The chaplain won, Marco had advanced a step. 
 Would Bedell speak for him to the ambassador? 
 Marco had a strong desire to see the king, whose 
 tractate on the Oath of Allegiance, he declared, had 
 opened his eyes to the unjust pretensions of the 
 Holy See. Carleton, the ambassador, might pro- 
 cure an invitation for him to visit James. Carleton, 
 seeing his drift, had told Bedell to ask him how
 
 A CATHOLIC DEAN. 69 
 
 much money he would want. ' How much ? ' the 
 holy man had sighed. Well, pomp and state were 
 not for him : he wanted nothing but to find his 
 rest in the true church ; still, he was waxing old, 
 and might require a man to help him hi his cell. 
 Pressed to name a sum that would 'content him,' 
 he had answered that he should count two hundred 
 pounds a-year as ' a good estate.' 
 
 Laud and other romanizers easily persuaded 
 James to ask the venerable prelate to his court. 
 Marco started for the north, in secresy ; concealing 
 his intentions from the catholic powers. When 
 he was near the Straits, the question rose of how 
 and where he should be lodged. Laud suggested 
 Lambeth palace. Abbot objected. He- disliked the 
 business, even before he saw the man. ' Let those 
 who want Spalatro pay for him,' he answered ; but 
 the king entreated him to receive the venerable 
 man. He yielded, so far, as to say that he would 
 house and feed him, till some better lodging could 
 be found. 
 
 Strange stories came with him from Venice ; 
 stories of pirates, Jesuits, and seraglios ; but the 
 king received him with respect; Villiers listened 
 to his floods of speech, Laud knelt to him as a 
 man of apostolic grace. Williams feasted him;
 
 70 KOYAL WINDSOK. 
 
 and after ransacking the Italian shops, discovered 
 that his guest preferred Windsor venison to their 
 Venetian cates. 
 
 Abhot soon sickened of his burly inmate ; who, in 
 turn, complained to James that he was lodged with 
 a man who left him to starve. James offered him 
 the deanery of Windsor and the registry of St. 
 George posts in which he would be as near the 
 court. By adding the rectory of West Ildsley and 
 the mastership of the Savoy, his majesty raised the 
 1 estate ' to eight hundred pounds a-year, with 
 three good houses. On these pleasant terms 
 Marco, fugitive from Spalatro, came to Windsor ; 
 came in the month of May, when fruit-trees are in 
 blossom, and the gardens of the deanery are ablaze 
 with flowers. Opening his lattice on the wall, he 
 saw a vision of repose and plenty, that was to be 
 recalled, when, at the end of his strange career, he 
 lay in his dungeon of St. Angelo, dying at the feet 
 of his indignant Pope.
 
 71 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 APOSTASY. 
 
 1619-22. 
 
 ' You don't yet know your dean/ said Gondomar 
 to the king in one of his cynical bursts ; ' he is a 
 papist ; he will cheat you of your money, and then 
 betray you to the Pope.' 
 
 ' He has renounced the Pope/ objected James. 
 
 ' In words, only in words ; your majesty will 
 see/ replied the Spanish count. 
 
 Some people smiled, more people snarled, at 
 the introduction of this foreign dean. No living 
 man had seen a Romish priest at Windsor. Since 
 the college was erected, not a single alien had 
 occupied the president's chair ; St. George of Wind- 
 sor was St. George of England ; never until now 
 had he been served by foreign dean. Why was 
 this alien introduced by James ? 
 
 Whispers ran abroad that Marco was a Jesuit,
 
 72 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 that his apostasy was a sham, and that his secret 
 object was to reconcile the king and introduce the 
 Pope. Suspicion walked with him on the slope 
 and followed him to the King's house. Such men 
 as Morton, King, and Neyle distrusted him from 
 the first, while others waited for him to disclose 
 his game. They listened to his homilies with a 
 puzzled air ; for while he tore the Pope to rags 
 and tatters, he evinced no knowledge of the prin- 
 ciples in dispute. So far as he preached anything, 
 beyond abuse of Paolo the Fifth, he preached the 
 dogmas which all reformers, from Cranmer to 
 Calvin, had renounced. His creed was nothing but 
 a burning rage against the Pope ; a thing for which 
 no Knight of the Garter and no burgess of Windsor 
 cared one rush. They were in arms against the 
 papacy, not against the Pope ; he was in arms 
 against the Pope and not against the papacy. 
 Bacon and Andrewes went to hear him preach. ' Is 
 he a Protestant ? ' asked the philosopher. ' I know 
 not,' answered the divine, ' if he is a Protestant, 
 but I think he is a Detestant.' Marco's hatred of 
 the Pope was overdone, and many of his auditors 
 believed him to be playing a comedy arranged for 
 him in Rome. 
 
 Apart from what he preached, he wrapped him-
 
 APOSTASY. 73 
 
 self in a Romish garb. Though lodged in the 
 dean's house, he refused to take the name of dean. 
 Though naturalised in England, he retained his 
 foreign titles, and expected councillors and bishops 
 to address him as ' your grace.' While taking 
 English pay as rector, dean, and master, he affected 
 to remain a dignitary of the Roman church. 
 
 Four years this personage reigned at Windsor ; 
 sitting near the king, and acting as his councillor 
 in church affairs. Jealousies beset him from the 
 first, and as he came to show his greed, these jea- 
 lousies kindled into rage. As he annoyed the few 
 who understood his words, he outraged the many 
 who suffered from his acts. 
 
 In passing from Venice to Windsor, he had 
 brought with him the habits of a corsair port ; and 
 much as he had sheared his flock at Segna and 
 Spalatro, he proposed to fleece his tenantry in 
 Bucks and Berks. Why should he not ? As dean 
 he had a right to his dues all that his college 
 property could be made to yield. In spite of warn- 
 ings, he raised the rents, ousted the tenants from 
 their farms, and sold reversions of house and land. 
 Under him the college glebes were treated like the 
 spoil of a piratical raid, of which the pastor claimed 
 to have the lion's share. Scandals arose. Some
 
 74 EOYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 of his canons spoke to him. His way, they said, 
 was not an English way ; their chapter was a 
 pious body, trying to do good, and set a pattern 
 for knight and squire, not a trading company, 
 intent on wringing the last penny from the soil. 
 No tenant coming to renew his lease had ever 
 been answered in fee and fine. Their property 
 was a model of the Christian commonwealth. 
 Marco laughed. Model or no model, he must 
 have his dues ; and in his greed he turned adrift 
 old tenants, who had held their farmsteads longer 
 than the oldest canon in the college had enjoyed 
 his stall. 
 
 Swarms of enemies were made in Berks and 
 Bucks ; yet Marco kept his deanery and his other 
 livings in the church. He was a necessary 
 man. 
 
 James liked him. King and dean had much 
 in common. Born in the same year, they had 
 lived through similar events ; bred in poor coun- 
 tries, they had known the want of money ; 
 sprinkled into the same church, they had each 
 strayed from the flock, without finally separating 
 from the fold. Each thought himself an eloquent 
 and learned man. Each spoke a copious dialect, 
 hardly understood by strangers. Each believed he
 
 APOSTASY. 75 
 
 had been chosen to effect a miracle the reconcilia- 
 tion of two hostile creeds. 
 
 Marco perceived that James was trying to front 
 two ways, one eye resting on Lambeth, where his 
 secular kingdom lay, another eye on Eome, where 
 he imagined that his spiritual kingdom lay. James, 
 he observed, was willing to address the Pope as 
 'holy father,' and admit his primacy in the Western 
 Church. So far as he dared to go, he was inclined 
 to go ; not only for the sake of Rome, but for the 
 sake of Spain. Against the wishes of his people, 
 he was seeking in Madrid a consort for his son. 
 If Rome were only gained, he saw no reason why 
 the families of Spain and England should not be 
 one household, as they had been under Mary's 
 reign, when Philip was grand master of St. George. 
 The thought was natural, though unfortunate, in 
 a son of Mary, queen of Scots. 
 
 Marco took ground between the king and Pope, 
 as he had once between the doge and Pope, meaning 
 to make his market out of each. Much as he had 
 won the see of Spalatro, he expected to achieve the 
 primacy of York. 
 
 In secresy, he opened out to James a scheme for 
 reconciling the church of England to the church 
 of Rome. Each side would yield a little, but not
 
 76 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 much ; the two religions being on all essential 
 articles the same. If each would give and take 
 a rule of discipline here, a point of doctrine there 
 the parties might shake hands. If both sides 
 wished for peace, a way might easily be found. 
 A way ! He was himself the way. On his arrival 
 more than half the work was done. He was the 
 messenger and minister of grace. Up to that date, 
 no ground of union had existed, since the papal 
 courts had never recognised the English bishops 
 as men ordained. Ambassadors cannot meet till 
 they admit each other's powers. That obstacle 
 was now removed. In him the English orders 
 were restored. 
 
 Here lay, in fact, the work for which he had 
 been brought to Windsor and invested with the 
 deanery by James. The old fable of Parker's 
 ordination at the Nag's Head, in Cheapside, had 
 recently been revived by Fitzherbert, who asserted 
 that the documents cited in Bramhall's answer to 
 the charge, were forged. Abbot had shown the 
 papers to four catholic priests, and offered them 
 to public sight ; but Laud, and men of his opinion, 
 were not satisfied with proofs. Hating Elizabeth's 
 bishops, they desired to have a new episcopacy, 
 deriving their apostolate from a ' purer ' source.
 
 APOSTASY. < t 
 
 That source, in their belief, was only to be sought 
 on papal soil. In Marco, archbishop of Spalatro, 
 the divine succession was secured. 
 
 The work of founding a new bench of bishops 
 was proceeding. Marco laid hands on Felton and 
 Monteigne. These prelates were his ' sons,' and 
 were supposed to have a higher share of grace. In 
 turn, these pastors laid their hands on others. 
 Fotherby, Tonson, Davenant, Williams, were of 
 this order ; which at length included Laud, and 
 those on whom he laid his hands. Abbot and the 
 sober prelates watched these efforts to replace the 
 line of English bishops with dismay, as being a 
 cause of strife. It cast a doubt on every thing 
 that had been done for sixty years, and touched 
 the people in the most private relations of their lives. 
 
 Marco, on his side, was displeased. No see 
 was given to him in exchange for his apostolic 
 grace. Salisbury, Lincoln, London, passed under 
 his nose into meaner hands. His livings only 
 yielded him a thousand pounds a-year. King, his 
 diocesan, grudged him his Windsor dues, and 
 hindered him from making the most of his estate. 
 Only one member of his college, Canon Goodman, 
 was converted to his doctrines ; and this papist 
 canon, to whom he made over his rectory of West
 
 78 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 Ildsley, stood against him in the question of his 
 fines and rents. A time was coming when he 
 might need to fly from Windsor, as he had flown 
 from Segna and Spalatro ; and in view of that evil 
 day, he scraped and saved, and locked up money 
 in his trunks. 
 
 James heard with pain that Marco was not 
 only screwing the last penny from his tenants, 
 but proclaiming popery in St. George's chapel. 
 ' He preaches purgatory,' one of the knights com- 
 plained. 
 
 ' He is a rogue,' sneered Gondomar, who hap- 
 pened to be standing by : ' a rogue who has cajoled 
 your majesty's bishops from the first.' 
 
 But James stood up for his dean : 
 
 ' He has abjured the papacy.' 
 
 ' Sire, he is not only a papist, but a subject of 
 the Pope.' 
 
 Knowing him to be a naturalised and beneficed 
 subject, James held out. 
 
 ' You doubt my word,' said Gondomar. ' Give 
 me leave to confer with him, and I will bring you 
 evidence of his being a papist and a follower of 
 the Pope.' 
 
 James gave him leave to see the dean.
 
 79 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 EXPULSION. 
 
 1621-2. 
 
 WAITING on the dean, Gondomar informed him, in a 
 tone of sympathy, that his rival, Paolo the Fifth, 
 had passed away, and that Gregory the Fifteenth 
 had been chosen in his place. Marco, he knew, 
 had been at school with Gregory, and he spoke of 
 them adroitly as mates and friends. The new 
 Pope, Gondomar assured him, wished to see his 
 grace, and to have the benefit of his advice. If 
 he returned to Rome, Gregory was prepared, not 
 merely to receive him well, but to reward him with 
 a cardinal's hat, and grant him a post worth twelve 
 thousand crowns a-year. 
 
 The bait was gross, but not too gross for 
 Marco's tooth. Twelve thousand crowns a-year ! 
 Glancing at his trunks, in which he had stowed 
 away his plate and money, he weighed his poor
 
 80 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 savings at Windsor in the scale against twelve 
 thousand crowns a-year. After all his scraping, 
 he had only saved some seventeen hundred pounds 
 in coin and three or four hundred pounds in plate. 
 Twelve thousand Roman crowns made three thou- 
 sand English pounds. One year in Rome was 
 worth three years at Windsor. Then there was 
 the cardinal's hat ! 
 
 Was the ambassador sure? Yes, the am- 
 bassador was sure. That Gregory would forgive 
 what he had said and done ? Yes, all that he 
 had said and done; for all that he had said and 
 done, could easily be unsaid, undone. 
 
 What evidence had he to produce ? 
 
 None in his hands ; but he could bring it by 
 return of post. What evidence would his grace 
 prefer ? 
 
 A pardon for his past offences, answered Marco, 
 sealed with the Fisherman's Seal. 
 
 Gondomar pledged his word, that quickly as a 
 messenger could go through Spain to Rome and 
 back, he would produce that pardon from the 
 Pope. 
 
 In due time he returned to Marco with the 
 pardon, sealed with the leaden seal : ' You sign 
 these papers, and the Holy See is yours the car-
 
 EXPULSION. 81 
 
 dinal's hat and the twelve thousand crowns a- 
 year.' 
 
 Marco read the forms and signed. In one, he 
 cancelled and disowned his writings on the church, 
 and in the other he submitted to the Pope. A 
 priest at variance with his chief could not expect 
 a cardinal's hat. His peace was made, and he had 
 only to set out for Rome. His passport would be 
 sent to him on the road. 
 
 Taking up the papers, Gondomar went to court 
 and begged an audience of the king. 
 
 ' I told your majesty his grace of Spalatro was 
 a papist and a follower of the Pope. Here are my 
 proofs.' 
 
 Scared by this unmasking of his dean, the 
 king's first impulse was to take such measures as 
 would stop his tongue. For years he had been 
 trusting Marco with his secrets ; talking with him 
 on the most dangerous of all topics that of a 
 return of England to the papal yoke. Yet this 
 man was in private correspondence with the Pope; 
 begging and accepting pardon from the Vatican, 
 and proposing to set out for Rome ! What had 
 he said what had he done ? 
 
 To open correspondence with the papacy, with- 
 out a royal warrant, was a public crime, indictable 
 
 VOL. IV. G
 
 82 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 in the courts of law. But James, though angry 
 with his dean, was most concerned about himself. 
 Except a papist here and there, every man in 
 England was disgusted by his murder of Raleigh, 
 his desertion of the Queen of Hearts, and his pro- 
 jected match for Charles. If James was known to 
 have been treating with the Pope, nobody would 
 be bold enough to answer for the public peace. 
 Aware of what he had been saying to Marco on 
 that point, he shuddered lest the dean should blab, 
 and thought of sealing his lips by lodging him in 
 gaol. 
 
 But such a course, his councillors felt, was 
 equally uncertain and unsafe. Suspicious people 
 would declare that he was silenced lest his words 
 should compromise the king. Caesar was likely to 
 object ; his holiness was certain, to object. If 
 Gregory required the prisoner at his hands, what 
 could he say ? The application would be backed 
 by all the catholic powers. On second thoughts, 
 a milder course was taken ; that of trying to 
 frighten and cajole the dean. No one knew, as 
 yet, what he had said in Rome in whose name 
 he had spoken if he had talked of having power 
 to treat. One point, at least, was clear he, and 
 he only, could remove suspicion and discharge the
 
 EXPULSION. 83 
 
 king of blame. Could he be either frightened or 
 cajoled into signing a statement that no single 
 word had passed between the king and him about 
 reunion with the Roman see ? 
 
 Taking this milder course, they waited for the 
 dean to move. At length, he asked permission to 
 retire ; alleging that the air of Windsor was too 
 cold for him that the pontiff wished him to 
 return and that, in his new position, he hoped 
 ' to work the inward peace and tranquillity ' of the 
 realm. Monteigne, his ' son/ and Neyle, his critic, 
 went to him. Telling him they came from the 
 king, Neyle asked how he was holding intercourse 
 with Rome unknown to his majesty, and what he 
 meant by ' making the inward peace ' of England ? 
 Taken by surprise, he owned that he had no letter 
 from the Pope ; only some letters from his friends. 
 Asked to produce these letters, he pretended he 
 had burnt them. By his working ' the inward 
 peace,' he said, he meant that he would get the 
 Pope to tolerate the oaths. ' But that alone will 
 hardly serve for peace,' objected Neyle. ' There 
 are twelve hours in the day,' replied the dean, ' and 
 I must leave the rest to God.' 
 
 Neyle pressed him hard. How could he be a 
 member of the church of England and the church
 
 84 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 of Rome ? Marco thought he could. Take an 
 example, answered ISTeyle ; England denies the 
 real presence in the bread and wine; Rome affirms 
 that presence in the bread and wine. Marco re- 
 plied that both were true. ' But I have heard you 
 say, you never did, and never could, believe in 
 Transubstantiation/ Neyle exclaimed. ' Yes, my 
 lord, I have said so, and I say so still ; but that 
 can be explained away on philosophical grounds.' 
 
 Driven into a corner, Marco doffed his cap, and 
 made a declaration, that in his belief the church of 
 England was a true and orthodox church. 
 
 The services of Morton were employed. It was 
 essential that the dean should sign a statement 
 freeing the king from blame; and Marco being a 
 timid man, the council thought he could be fright- 
 ened into doing what they wished. Naturalised 
 and beneficed, he was subject to the law. To 
 correspond with Rome, in view of bringing back 
 the Pope, was treason, and the penalty of that 
 offence was death. Marco, a subject, had incurred 
 that penalty, and nothing but royal grace could 
 save him from the block. Startled by this an- 
 nouncement, Marco asked to see the king. James 
 refused to give him audience. He must sign the 
 paper ; but a hope was held out, that after he had
 
 EXPULSION. 85 
 
 signed, he would be suffered to resign his offices, 
 renounce his citizenship, and leave the kingdom 
 with his trunks. He stood between two fires. 
 At Windsor he was subject to the law ; at Rome 
 he would be subject to the inquisition. Where 
 was he to find a form of words to satisfy James 
 without offending Gregory ? To Morton's ques- 
 tions, he replied that he had dreamt of union, 
 because he found the church of England very 
 much like the church of Rome. 
 
 ' Your grace proposes to convert the Pope and 
 cardinals ? ' 
 
 'Why not, my lord,' retorted Marco; 'do you 
 count them as devils, lying beyond the reach of 
 grace ? ' 
 
 ' No, I by no means count them devils ; neither 
 do I consider his grace of Spalatro to be God, and 
 able to effect a miracle.' 
 
 Shuffling to the last, he tried to steal away, 
 without committing his pen so far as to vex the 
 Pope and jeopardise his cardinal's hat. But officers 
 of the council watched him by day and night. 
 They left him free to go about, but always in a 
 ring of fire. Taking a boat, he dropt to Green- 
 wich, where he hired a lodging by the water-side, 
 and got a ketch in readiness to sail. This done,
 
 86 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 he packed his trunks, and was about to move them, 
 when his watch appeared. ' Nothing could be 
 moved,' said the officer on duty ; ' empty you 
 came in, empty you go out.' To leave his plate 
 and money all that he had rasped and saved at 
 Windsor was too much for Marco. But the nets 
 were tightening round him every day. His rents 
 and fines were stopt. His offers to resign the 
 deanery were rejected, yet his salary was withheld. 
 In no long time he might be short of bread. 
 Whither could he look for help ? Gondomar no 
 longer came to him. Abbot was his enemy. 
 Carleton, once his friend, was now disgusted by 
 his greed. His ' son ' was silenced and abashed. 
 In his despair he went to Gondomar, who repulsed 
 him with contempt and violence : 
 
 ' Begone, and trouble me no more ! I have 
 unmasked you to the king. Do what you like. 
 Stay here and starve. Go back and burn. 
 That is your choice. Get out, I have done with 
 you ! ' 
 
 Baffled on every side, he yielded to the council, 
 signed what he was told to sign, and got a license 
 to resign his deanery and renounce his citizenship. 
 He hoped to get a license to depart in peace and 
 honour with his trunks ; but Gondomar urged the
 
 EXPULSION. 87 
 
 king to brand him with discredit, and expel him 
 by a public act. James leapt at the idea. Marco, 
 once beyond the sea, was sure to blab, and it 
 seemed wise to cover him beforehand by a cloud 
 of shame. His tales, regarded as revenge, would 
 have less weight in foreign courts. At home, 
 where he was hated with unusual warmth, a 
 sentence of expulsion would be well received. 
 
 Abbot, assisted by Mandeville and other com- 
 missioners, called him up, exposed his dealings 
 and apostasies, refused him a license to quit the 
 realm, and sentenced him to an expulsion within 
 twenty days never to come back on peril of his 
 life. 
 
 Gondomar thanked his majesty for having rid 
 his kingdom of such a rogue. 
 
 A few months later, Sackville called to see him 
 in the castle of St. Angelo. ' My lord of Spalatro,' 
 said the Englishman, ' you have here a dark lodging. 
 It was not so with you in England. There, you 
 had, at Windsor, as good a prospect by land as 
 was in all the country, and at the Savoy, you had 
 the best prospect by water as was in all the city.' 
 
 Marco looked up at his prison-wall, and sighed : 
 
 ' I have forgot those things. Here I can best 
 contemplate the kingdom of heaven.'
 
 88 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 Sackville, going into another room, turned to 
 the rector : 
 
 ' Do you think this man is employed in the 
 contemplation of heaven ? ' 
 
 ' He was a malcontent knave,' replied the 
 rector, ' when he fled from us ; a railing knave 
 while he lived with you ; and a parti-coloured 
 knave now he has come again.' 
 
 Marco kissed the crucifix and died ; using 
 these words : 
 
 ' I die a member of the Roman Catholic church/ 
 
 So passed away the Jesuit dean of Windsor 
 leaving his policy to Goodman, his apostolate to 
 Laud.
 
 89 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 FOREST RIGHTS. 
 1621-5. 
 
 A BLISTER on the town and country was that 
 Stuart policy of closing the royal parks ; a blister 
 bringing to a head all evil humours in the body 
 politic. Cranbourne Chase and the royal forest 
 had been closed soon after the Little park. Men's 
 minds were turned against the king, and yet his 
 conies and his billets were not saved. No longer 
 gathered by the poor in open day, his sticks were 
 filched by poachers' wives at night. Intruders of 
 a lower class made war on his preserves. Where 
 Page and Ford had stalked through his grass with 
 dog and gun, Pistol and Patrico now laid their 
 wires, while Prue o' the Park and Long Meg of 
 Eton gathered up the lops and tops. 
 
 Bad blood grew up between town and Castle ; 
 for the burgesses, though hardly caring to defend
 
 90 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 the poachers, showed by their silence that they 
 thought the king's advisers were to blame. Year 
 after year, the bickering of court and town waxed 
 Avarmer. Why, asked the king pettishly, Avere 
 those poachers allowed to snare his game, those 
 doxies to steal his wood ? Why, when he strove 
 to check these injuries, had he found no help from 
 the local magistrates ? Were the townsmen at 
 his Castle-gates inclined to cross his will, and 
 drive him to some other house? 
 
 Opinion in the town, and country ran so high, 
 that mayors and aldermen were unable to enforce 
 his rules. The parks and forests were regarded by 
 his people as public lands, in which all the in- 
 habitants had some common rights. James 
 thought these parks and forests were his own 
 his own to shut or open when he liked, as freely 
 as he shut and opened the door of his private 
 room. Xo man in Windsor shared that view. 
 The upper classes stood aloof, leaving the king's 
 officers to deal with Patrico and Prue ; yet not a 
 little of their sympathy went in secret to those 
 lawless challengers of the public right. They held 
 their tongues, but help in putting down the mis- 
 chief they had none to give. Among the lower 
 classes, every voice was up for Patrico and Prue.
 
 FOREST RIGHTS. 91 
 
 Lads, known to have smashed the king's fences, 
 were the heroes of every ale-house porch. 
 
 ' My sport ! my sport ! ' groaned James ; ' a 
 king must have his sport.' 
 
 A state of mind arose at Windsor, and in other 
 places, under which ' serious ' persons raised the 
 question whether sport was not a wicked thing. 
 They saw the bad side plainly ; and the good side, 
 seen by their fathers, had been turned away. ' Tuc- 
 king loves sport ; the king is wicked ; therefore, 
 sport is wicked,' was a piece of reasoning con- 
 stantly repeated, which the simplest mind could 
 follow out. In time, these ' serious ' persons set 
 their teeth against sport, rejecting a round of 
 pleasant things plays, races, dances, masques, 
 may-poles, and Christmas ales. Some of these 
 ' serious ' persons ceased to hunt and shoot. Sec- 
 taries, like Browne, drew converts from the ' better 
 sort.' Justice put on a sterner face ; and fines 
 were levied in the town on men who followed the 
 royal pastimes of oaths and drink. Shrewd people 
 noted, as a portent, that a moral town was rising 
 up against an immoral court. Most of the amuse- 
 ments in the King's house revels, balls, and 
 masques fell under popular ban. Court ladies 
 danced too late, court gentlemen drank too deep,
 
 92 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 the censors said. The masques were no less 
 filthy than profane. 
 
 Pestered by these civic judges, James called in 
 Ben Jonson to avenge him on the mayor and 
 burgesses. 
 
 Jonson, a client of Lennox, had as much of 
 the royal favour as a poet could expect. Much 
 of what was best in Jonson was entirely lost on 
 James ; but Ben had crudities of mind, which, in 
 his baser moments, lowered him to the royal plane. 
 He was extremely fond of drink ; he was inor- 
 dinately foul of tongue ; in sycophancy he knew 
 no depth ; no sense of religion guided his erratic 
 steps. With James and Marco, he believed the 
 church of England and the church of Rome were 
 very much alike. Born a Calvinist, he had become a 
 catholic. After the Powder Plot he had joined the 
 court religion, and helped in hunting down his 
 colleagues. James had made him Laureate, and 
 he had to earn his hundred marks. If flattery 
 were wanted, he was rich in phrases ; if abuse 
 were wanted, he was no less rank in venom. Both 
 were needed by the king ; flattery the most ful- 
 some, abuse the most scurrilous, that poet had 
 ever penned. In Jonson's Masque of the Gipsies, 
 they were poured out to his full content.
 
 FOREST RIGHTS. 93 
 
 This filthy piece was played by courtiers on 
 the Windsor stage in James's presence. Jonson 
 brought in mayor and burgesses, under the names of 
 Townhead, Clod, Puppy, and ' other clowns/ with 
 all the male and female riff-raff of the neighbour- 
 hood. They crawl into the royal ward to see how 
 court ladies and gentlemen behave. They find a 
 dance going on a dance of gipsies, under their 
 leaders, Patrico and Jackman. Patrico, seeing the 
 mayor and burgesses, begins to patter : 
 
 ' Why this is a sport, 
 
 See it north, see it south, 
 For a taste of the court, 
 For the court's own mouth.' 
 
 Jackman, his pal, responds : 
 
 ' Come Windsor the town, 
 
 With the mayor, and oppose 
 We'll put them all down !' 
 
 Acting as chorus, Patrico sings : 
 
 ' Do do down, like my hose ! ' 
 
 Next skip in the drabs and doxies of the town ; 
 Prue o' the Park, Frances o' the Castle, Long 
 Meg of Eton, Peg o' the Dairy, and their sisters of 
 the market-cross and the tavern yard. Mayor and 
 burgesses get hustled ; gipsies tell their fortunes,
 
 KOYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 pick their pockets, and sing them nasty songs, at 
 which they smack their lips like a set of canting 
 rogues. A coarse rhyme and a free dance convert 
 these Puritans into king's men, true lieges, and 
 defenders of the royal sports. Gipsies and Puritans 
 laud the king, first in his five senses separately, 
 next in his virtues, taken as a whole : 
 
 ' Bless him, too, from all offences, 
 
 In his sports as in his senses, 
 
 From a boy to cross his way, 
 
 From a fall, or a foul day ! 
 
 Bless him, bless him, heaven, and lend him long 
 To be the sacred burden of all song.' 
 
 These imbecilities, for which Jonson got a 
 reversion of the Revels and an offer of knighthood, 
 were the only answers given by James to the 
 mayor and burgesses who opposed his policy of 
 returning to the Feudal times. 
 
 A year before his death, when coursing in the 
 Moat park with Charles and Buckingham, the 
 mayor, John Wickes, two aldermen, a country 
 justice, and other gentlemen ' intruded ' on his 
 sports. With these gentlemen came John Martin, 
 vicar of Windsor, a man of moderate opinion, who 
 was held by his parishioners in great respect. 
 James had no patience with his moderate views.
 
 FOREST RIGHTS. 95 
 
 The vicar preached against candle and crucifix, 
 stole and altar-cloth offences not to be overlooked 
 by Marco's patron and Mary's son. 
 
 Coming up with the coursing party, Wickes 
 presented a petition to the king: 
 
 'Eh, what about? ' 
 
 It was about the vicar and the vicarage. 
 
 The church at Windsor had a poor endowment, 
 which was almost swallowed up in rates. No man 
 could live on the residue, yet the charge was not a 
 small one ; since the town, governed by the new 
 religious movement, counted more than a hundred 
 communicants. Mayor and magistrates prayed 
 the king, in his bounty, to increase the vicar's 
 income by a canonry in his chapel of St. George. 
 
 Confer a canonry on the pastor of a church at- 
 tended by Townhead, Puppy, and other clowns! 
 James burned into sullen wrath. All through his 
 reign he had been trying to turn his college of 
 St. George into a nest of catholics. Install a man 
 within his sanctuary who railed at altar-cloths ! 
 He would do nothing of the kind. By doing so, 
 he was assured that he would greatly please the 
 burgesses. Please the burgesses ! What had the 
 burgesses done that he should try to please them? 
 Turning on Wickes, he stormed :
 
 96 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 ' Am I an ill neighbour to you ? Do I do you 
 any hurt? Doth my coming be any hindrance 
 unto you ? Why, then, do you vex me, by per- 
 mitting and suffering your poor to cut down and 
 carry away my wood out of my parks and grounds, 
 and to sell the same?' 
 
 Mayor and magistrates excused themselves ; 
 poor people were so hard to keep in check. What 
 could they do? 
 
 Do ? They could whip the rogues, and punish 
 those who had bought their lops and tops. ' Go/ 
 his majesty growled ; ' go, whip them all ; not 
 only those who steal, but those who buy. Hence ! 
 Whip them all!' 
 
 Thus mayor and vicar were dismissed ; thus 
 aldermen and country magistrates were turned 
 against the court. 
 
 Year after year, men who rode their own geld- 
 ings joined the marauders in the forest. Entering 
 at night, with their hounds and servants, they 
 singled out a stag and followed him, hushing their 
 dogs, and deadening their horses' hoofs. Often 
 
 n i o 
 
 these men were seen, and sometimes they were 
 traced ; but proofs were hard to find, and juries 
 harder to convince. Two burghers, Richbell and 
 Buckeridge, were indicted for killing deer in the
 
 FOREST RIGHTS. 97 
 
 royal forest. They were men of means, owning 
 their own dogs and horses. Keepers and grooms 
 gave evidence against them. There was hardly 
 any doubt about their guilt, but their offence could 
 not be proved in law. Richbell denied that he 
 had coursed with greyhounds in the park by 
 night. Buckeridge admitted that he might have 
 killed some deer ; but that was long ago ; not less 
 than six or seven years ago. A servant swore 
 that he had buried a deer-skin for Buckeridge's 
 man, but this evidence was turned by a neighbour, 
 who swore he saw that deer killed, accidentally, by 
 a dog. Nothing was gained by these attempts. 
 Windsor was sore about her vicar, and the royal 
 town turned more and more against the king: 
 yet James went down to his grave unconscious of 
 the tempest which his policy was raising around 
 St. George's keep. 
 
 James sowed the wind ; his son, and his son's 
 sons, were to reap the storm. 
 
 VOL. IV.
 
 98 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 BOOK OF SPORTS. 
 
 1633-5. 
 
 THIRTY years after the first Stuart came to Windsor, 
 Charles put out his Book of Sports : l The king's 
 majesty's Declaration to his subjects concerning 
 lawful sports to be used.' By lawful sports, the 
 king and his advisers wished to be understood to 
 mean Sunday sports. 
 
 In thirty years, the Stuarts, father and son, had 
 wrought the most singular miracle ever seen on 
 English ground: for they had turned the hearts of 
 thousands and tens of thousands away from the 
 love of sport. Bowls, nine-pins, may-poles, 
 archery, and races, were discarded things, which 
 people of the 'better sort' were led to lay aside. 
 The change was only for a time. We are a staid 
 and vigorous race r with suckers running deep into 
 the soil. If cut and staked, we grow again from
 
 BOOK OF SPORTS. 99 
 
 the old root, and bring forth seed according to the 
 stock. Clipping a branch will not transform a 
 tree. Yet, for a season, Windsor, like other places, 
 far and distant, underwent a change. Where was 
 the jocund spirit that in merrie England used to 
 laugh and lighten our greens and market-places 
 from Dover to the Tweed? That jocund spirit was 
 gone. Streets grew dull, and burgesses sour of face- 
 Light words were seldom heard. Laughter was 
 divorced from life, and the domestic angels, humour 
 and charity, were driven from the door. No longer 
 blithe of heart, the housewives seemed to have 
 forgotten their ancient creed : 
 
 ' We may be merry and yet honest too.' 
 
 The younger race of matrons dressed in drab, 
 cast down their eyes, and put on ' serious ' looks. 
 No frolic streamed along their veins. A dark and 
 mournful genius seemed to stand beside them and 
 to rule their lives. A Windsor wife, in the 
 reign of Charles the First, could not have 
 pardoned such a sinner as Sir John. In the 
 collision of sects and parties, some of the finer 
 charities were crushed. 
 
 Here, in the town books, lurk some glimpses of 
 a Stuart Windsor, tenanted by another race to that
 
 100 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 of the merry men whom Shakespere knew and 
 drew : 
 
 H. Asson and A. Triste, fined two shillings for playing 
 nine-pins in service time. 
 
 R. Sea and four others, fined five and sixpence for playing 
 catt in the park meadows at service time. 
 
 G. Strowd, fined one shilling for swearing. 
 
 W. Foster, fined one shilling for loitering in the park in 
 service time. 
 
 J. Thorningby, fined two shillings for having persons tip- 
 pling in his house. 
 
 Thorningby's wife and ten others, fined eleven shillings for 
 not going to church. 
 
 In Queen Elizabeth's reign, such persons would 
 have gone to church, because they were not driven. 
 The church, instead of being in arms against the 
 world, moved at her side, as her appointed work 
 and walk. She taught and healed by her own 
 graces, seeking no help from either mulct or whip. 
 Under that open rule, Windsor was not only 
 merrier, but more docile. Every one was with the 
 law. A higher order reigned than that imposed by 
 fines and stocks. Good men were of a common 
 mind ; true to the church and loyal to the crown. 
 
 Under the Stuarts, Windsor was parting into 
 sects and camps. Saints and sinners had long 
 existed in the town ; the spirit of Test wood breath-
 
 BOOK OF SPORTS. 101 
 
 ing on the saints ; the spirit of Simon resting on 
 the sinners. Yet the sectaries were few in number 
 and poor in strength, until the undue leaning of 
 court towards papistry had driven a portion of the 
 ' better sort ' into the puritan lines. Marco had 
 made a host of puritans. As they grew strong, 
 they used their might in punishing offenders on the 
 other side. Seated on the bench, severely staid, 
 the sons of Page and Ford fined the successors of 
 Nym and Pistol, when these loose companions, 
 giving way to beer and tobacco, slunk into the 
 Antelope yard for nine-pins, and strolled into the 
 meadow for a turn at catt. 
 
 Between these saints and sinners, Charles and 
 his advisers took up ground in the Book of Sports ; 
 the most illogical act in an illogical career. Charles 
 saw that men preferred play to prayer. He wanted 
 them to pray. A penal statute drove them towards 
 the church ; no penal statute drove them towards 
 the tavern yard and village green. They took the 
 broad way out of choice. It seemed to him a 
 natural preference, springing from original sin and 
 the depravities of the human heart. It was a sign 
 of evil, but he thought the evil might be turned to 
 good. Suppose he wedded prayer to play, and 
 made the church an adjunct of the ale-house and
 
 102 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 village green? Suppose he ordered Sunday games, 
 but made the joining in these sports depend on a 
 man's attendance at his parish church ? Might not 
 the Tristes, who loved nine-pins, and the Seas, who 
 preferred catt, be lured to sermon by a promise of 
 winding up the service with their favourite sport ? 
 
 A form lay close at hand. Fifteen years ago, 
 in the first days of Marco's residence at Windsor, 
 James had drawn up a Book of Sports, with the 
 design of introducing catholic manners. Chiefly 
 through the steadiness of Abbot, that scheme had 
 failed, and after Marco's expulsion, had been 
 dropped. But Abbot was no more, and Laud was 
 in his place. Laud, a ' son ' of Marco, was an 
 ardent advocate of the list of sports. The book was 
 found, reprinted, and, with added paragraphs, 
 launched into the world. Few printed books have 
 made so vast a stir. 
 
 No feudal monarch ever stretched authority 
 more foolishly than Charles. Pastimes were 
 imposed. No man was free to take his choice. 
 Games were allowed and disallowed. Men and 
 women were allowed to dance. Men were allowed 
 to shoot, to leap, to vault. Neither men nor 
 women were to bait bulls and bears. May-games, 
 Whitsun ales, and morris -dancers were allowed.
 
 BOOK OF SPORTS. 103 
 
 Everything was to be done by rule and order ; 
 everything at the appointed time and place. 
 Charles was too frail in animal strength to feel the 
 delight men have in doing what they like, and 
 when they like. He never dreamed that men who 
 could not be driven to church, might equally object 
 to be driven to the village green. 
 
 The rule was carried out on feudal lines. Eacli 
 village was to keep within itself; dancing on its 
 own green, under the shade of its own church. A 
 rustic from beyond the brook or hedge was not to 
 join in the village sports. He ought to be at 
 home, with his own people, under the eyes of his 
 own minister, not gadding into distant parts. Who 
 could be sure that he had been at church ? Either 
 straying from church or stealing after village 
 lass, he was at fault, and must be driven away. 
 Thus neighbourhood and courtship were destroyed, 
 and village green set up in arms against village 
 green. 
 
 Each parish was divided into portions : people 
 of ' good ' repute, and people of ' bad ' repute. 
 People of good repute were those who said yes to 
 everything the parson said ; people of bad repute 
 were those who disputed what the parson said. 
 That parson might be high-church or low-church
 
 104 ROYAL WINDSOE. 
 
 high as Goodman, or low as Martin but if 
 persons went to hear him preach they were of good 
 repute, and had a right, under the Book of Sports, 
 to dance on the village green. 
 
 The sectaries, whether puritan or papist, were 
 excluded from the green. No prayer, no play. 
 This rule was absolute. A man of good repute 
 was not to dance and leap, to shoot and vault, 
 unless he had been at church that day. Men were 
 denounced as ' unworthy of any lawful recreation, 
 that will not come to church.' 
 
 With some simplicity, James had stated what 
 he thought these Sunday sports would do for him. 
 They would turn men's hearts towards religion ; 
 they would train men's limbs for war ; they would 
 occupy men's leisure time ; and they would stop 
 men's tongues. 
 
 Charles, like his father, counted on the policy 
 of silencing men's tongues > Dancers on village 
 greens were likely to leave politics alone ; while 
 gossips at an ale-house porch were likely to use their 
 wits on king and councillors. Among forbidden 
 games stood bowling ; not on Sunday only, but 
 on every day alike. The ' meaner sort ' were not 
 to touch a bowl ; the game being called a courtly 
 game. The better reason was, that bowling-greens
 
 BOOK OF SPORTS. 105 
 
 were being turned into conventicles. Yielding to 
 the wishes of their customers, the owners were 
 entertaining preachers in their houses, to expound 
 the Scriptures in the interval of game and game. 
 Bowling-greens were growing into theological and 
 political clubs. 
 
 The king's book was ordered to be read from 
 the pulpit of every parish church, and bishops and 
 clergy were commanded to see it carried out. 
 After divine service, every rector and incumbent 
 was to lead his congregation out. Instead of 
 closing the holy day with hymn and prayer, they 
 were to rally at the butts and on the green, and 
 end their day amidst the laughter of village damsels 
 and the bawls of village swains. Men who were 
 far from being sectaries, shuddered at the levities 
 in the king's book. 
 
 Because the court was French, were parish priests 
 to force French manners on their flocks ? 
 
 Laud insisted on his rule. The book was 
 ordered to be read and must be read. No plea of 
 conscience moved him. What was ordered to be 
 done, should not be left undone. Some bishops tried 
 to smooth things over, and to bring in feudal habits 
 of obedience step by step. The king, they taught, 
 should be obeyed in things not openly against the
 
 106 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 word of God ; but hundreds of their parish clergy 
 answered that the king's injunctions were against 
 the word of God. Some refused compliance. 
 Others allowed their clerks to read the order. Not 
 a few complied, with a dramatic postscript to the 
 royal text. Having read the words aloud, they 
 closed the book, and said : 
 
 ' That is the inj unction of man.' 
 
 Then opening the service book, they read the 
 fourth commandment, ' Remember thou keep holy 
 the Sabbath day ; ' and closing it with reverence 
 added : 
 
 ' That is the word of God.' 
 
 Every county in England had a host of martyrs. 
 Berkshire, like every other, was up in arms ; the 
 women, as in all church matters, being fiercer than 
 the men. Lambe, dean of the arches, was 
 informed by one of his correspondents, that the 
 women about Windsor banned and cursed him to 
 the pit of hell. 
 
 All papists in disguise from Laud to Wren, 
 from Wren to Goodman were in favour of the 
 book ; all puritans, avowed or secret, were against 
 the book ; but neither party saw that it was doomed 
 to fail. 
 
 Nobody went to church, in order that he might
 
 BOOK OF SPORTS. 107 
 
 afterwards have a romp. When told to play, people 
 refused to play. Sport, when forced on them by 
 kings and priests, became as hateful in their eyes as 
 a constable's staff. They left it off, and made a 
 game of giving up all games. 
 
 No other act of Charles made so many puritans 
 as his Book of Sports.
 
 108 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 WINDSOK CROSS. 
 
 1635-40. 
 
 OUTSIDE the Castle-gate, in High Street, stood a 
 cross, which had been first erected in the times of 
 Cardinal Beaufort not by that son of John of 
 Gaunt, or even by a monastic builder but by 
 plain John Sadler, mason and inhabitant of the 
 town. 
 
 Chaucer had hailed that cross when it was fresh 
 from the builder's hand ; Shakespere had seen it 
 wasted and crumbling to the ground. Built in a 
 good period, the art was rich and rare ; of kin to 
 that which lighted up Cheapside. But wind and 
 rain had done their work at Windsor as elsewhere, 
 and Sadler's edifice was now a wreck. No one had 
 cared to injure what remained. Old and harmless, 
 free from paint and crucifix, the pile offended no 
 man's conscience, and was suffered to sink into the
 
 WINDSOR CROSS. 109 
 
 earth in peace. But now, as many people thought, 
 the olden times were coming back : the days of 
 Cardinal Pole, if not of Cardinal Beaufort. Charles 
 seemed bringing in the feudal monarchy. Laud 
 appeared to be setting up the mediaeval church. If 
 king and primate had their way, the tunes of Car- 
 dinal Beaufort would return. The courtly priests 
 were willing to go and meet those coming times half 
 way ; times figured to the mental eye by Father 
 Leonard and the Capuchin friars. No priest at 
 Windsor was more eager to go out and meet them 
 than Canon Goodman, pupil and representative ot 
 the apostate dean. His method was an offer to 
 rebuild the Windsor cross. 
 
 Goodman had an object to obtain. 
 
 Few men knew better than the canon what 
 was passing in the King's house. Both Charles 
 and Henrietta were attached to Windsor, which 
 they made their nursery, their play-ground, and 
 their school. At Windsor they were free from 
 some of the suspicious eyes that rested on them at 
 Whitehall. And they had much to hide from 
 public sight. The queen was not a catholic only, 
 but a chosen agent of her church the Esther of 
 her race, the Clothilde of her faith blessed by the 
 Pope for her appointed task the rearing of a line
 
 110 KOYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 of catholic kings. Charles had consented that his 
 children should be taught by catholics till they 
 were old enough to choose a creed! But though 
 the king was base enough to give his word, he had 
 not been bold enough to keep it. Vexed at his 
 own weakness, he was trying to trick his wife, who 
 charged him with his breach of faith, and tried to 
 trick him in her turn, by placing ' concealed catho- 
 lics ' about his sons. To Mary, her daughter, she 
 gave a rosary, with a hint to hide it carefully from 
 every one except the Capuchins. Her boys and 
 girls were trained to hide their thoughts. One of 
 her women had the task of filling Mary with 
 catholic sentiments, which she was told to do by 
 dwelling on the two great facts, that her mother 
 was a catholic, and that her husband would be a 
 catholic. The child soon fell into her snares. 
 ' Take me to mass, I shall be glad to go.' One day, 
 an attendant hurried her to the queen's chapel, 
 where Capuchins were saying mass. She knelt, 
 and stayed the service out, as though she had done 
 so all her days. The tale got wing and frightened 
 Charles, who had begun to dream of the Prince of 
 Orange for a son-in-law. No prince of that great 
 house would take a girl who was attending mass. 
 The women's pranks were stopped. But if the girl
 
 WINDSOR CROSS. Ill 
 
 was lost, the queen felt certain of her sons. The 
 boys were plain of face and loud of tongue. 
 Charles, the elder born, was bursting with whim 
 and mischief, while James, his younger brother, 
 seemed a magazine of brooding and suspicious 
 thoughts. ' Clothilde ' was right ; both were 
 secured for Rome. Love of the world might 
 tempt her elder son into evasion and concealment, 
 but in secret he would hold on to her church, and 
 when the moment came, would die in her embrace. 
 In James, the younger lad, the system of evasion 
 and concealment was to end. 
 
 Aware of all these doings in the royal house, 
 Goodman proposed to meet the feudal times half 
 way, by offers to rebuild the Windsor cross. 
 
 Apt pupil of his master, Marco, he had made a 
 ruling principle of the moralities of a corsair port. 
 All men, he held, are rogues, and if you want them 
 you must pay their price. A bargain may be open 
 or concealed a bribe direct or roundabout but 
 you must always bring the money in your hand. 
 Here is a picture of the man, drawn in a story by 
 himself : 
 
 A part of the Castle wall behind the canon's 
 lodgings fell into the dean's garden. As the 
 tenements were unsafe, petitions were presented
 
 112 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 to the Crown, and orders issued to repair the 
 waste. But months passed by, and nothing more 
 was done. The dean wrote letters, and the canons 
 teased their Mends for help. All sorts of pro- 
 mises were made ; yet neither carpenter nor mason 
 fell to work. At every meeting of the chapter 
 the affair was raised, till one of the canons (under- 
 stood to be himself) rose in the chapter-house and 
 said: ' The times are such that we churchmen are 
 thought to be very simple, as compared with law- 
 yers ; and the reason is, that our wit is bounded 
 by honesty, and that theirs is not.' The dean and 
 canons must have held their breath while the 
 enlightened priest went on to say what he would 
 have them do : ' Men must now bribe, that they 
 may have and enjoy their own. Instead of writing 
 letters and making friends, I would buy a purse, 
 put in it a hundred pieces, and present it to some 
 great lord.' 
 
 By acting on this principle he had thriven in 
 the church. From Marco he had got the Vicar- 
 age of West Ildsley ; from James he had got 
 the deanery of Rochester and the bishopric of 
 Gloucester. By a proper use of money, he had 
 been able to keep his vicarage of Ildsley and his 
 canonry at Windsor, in addition to his see. It
 
 WINDSOR CROSS. 113 
 
 was a scandal, but the church authorities shut their 
 eyes. So far, he had walked with Laud, and found 
 protection in the friends of Laud. Yet, in his own 
 opinion, his advance was slow. For ten years he 
 had held a third-rate see. His eyes were fixed 
 on London, Winchester, and Durham. How was 
 he to win a higher grade ? Once, he had been 
 very near success. Seeing the king distressed by 
 the wandering of his people from their parish 
 church, he had done a stroke of business which 
 had won the heart of Charles. 
 
 Under the window of his lodging lay that 
 meadow in which Testwood had been burnt. To 
 this spot came the travelling preachers, who 
 denounced the Book of Sports. Men who had sat 
 under Martin, listening to Ms sober words, were 
 straying to the meadow, where they heard Love-the- 
 Lord Smith, and Help*on-High Fox, call fire of 
 heaven on all the evil-doers in high places, who 
 profaned the Sabbath day. Charles met the evil 
 by doing what his father had refused to do ; 
 making a small provision for the minister of their 
 church. A fellowship was fo : md for Martin ; 
 not at Windsor, where Dean Wren, a catholic in 
 everything but name, refused to have him but at 
 Eton College, where the liberal Wotton held the 
 
 VOL. IV. I
 
 114 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 provost's chair. The king's grace came too late. 
 Even at Eton the vice-provost and a batch of 
 Fellows raised a cry against receiving Martin, 
 though the vicar was a dying man. Eton was dis- 
 turbed, but Windsor was not pacified. 
 
 Here lay the canon's hope. Few of these wan- 
 derers from the parish church were fanatics ; they 
 were simply men and women over whom the 
 Church was losing her former grip. Not having 
 wandered far, they might be called into the fold 
 once more ; though not by fines and Sunday 
 sports. The serious mind must be allured by 
 serious things. Suppose he gave an organ to their 
 church ? St. George's Chapel had a noble organ ; 
 but the mayor and burgesses ' Townhead, Clod, 
 and Puppy ' came no longer to St. George's 
 Chapel. Goodman thought an organ, finely played, 
 would lure them back. And he was right. The 
 king was greatly pleased, and in his gladness 
 offered him the see of Hereford. But Marco's 
 spirit reigned so strongly in his convert, that he 
 gave offence, and lost the whole of his expected 
 gain, by asking for a license to hold both sees at 
 least, for a single year. 
 
 Two bishoprics in one hand ! This was, indeed, 
 going back to the times of Cardinal Pole. For one
 
 WINDSOR CROSS. 115 
 
 who was already rector of West Ildsley, canon of 
 Windsor, and bishop of Gloucester, to add a second 
 bishopric to his pluralities, was too much. Charles 
 withdrew his offer, drove the canon out of 
 Windsor, and admonished him to live in future on 
 his diocese. 
 
 That over-greed had been his great mistake in 
 life. Was he to find a second chance ? Yes ; in 
 the Windsor cross. 
 
 Outside his palace-gate, a cross was rising from 
 the ground. It was a pretty and artistic thing. 
 Why not do something similar at Windsor ? 
 Charles was fond of art. The old town cross was 
 dropping into dust ; suppose he offered to rebuild 
 that cross ? Already he had gained a footing with 
 the burgesses. Jones, the mayor, had no opinions 
 of his own. Windsor was the royal residence ; a 
 cross outside the Castle-gate would be often under 
 Charles's eye. It was a catholic sign, and every- 
 thing in the Castle proved that catholic rites were 
 coming in. ' Clothilde ' had her chapel and her 
 Capuchins ; mass, vespers, complines, were said at 
 Windsor much as they were said in Paris. Most 
 of the ladies near the queen were catholics, and 
 these ladies had the nursing of future kings. 
 Goodman believed that nothing save fear prevented
 
 116 EOYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 Charles from joining the communion of his wife. 
 The canon's course was therefore clear. 
 
 Jones, and ' the better sort,' had no objection to 
 receive his gift. Crosses are older than the papacy. 
 Our Saxon fathers were familiar with the Runic 
 cross. Cortez found the cross in Mexico ; and 
 Indian crosses were erected long before the birth 
 of Christ. In England, roods or crosses had been 
 used as marks ; set up at forking roads, in market- 
 places, and at city gates. Nothing in either history 
 or legend set men's hearts against a cross. So Good- 
 man's offer was applauded, and his masons fell to 
 work. But, as his pile grew up, men noticed that 
 his masons were erecting in their High Street an 
 edifica utterly unlike John Sadler's work. A cru- 
 cifix started up, where no such thing had been 
 before. Two sides of the pile were covered by 
 paintings ; one picture, that of a crucifixion, an- 
 other, that of a resurrection. Over these paintings 
 ran a scroll in gilt letters : 
 
 ' JESUS NAZARENUS REX JUDJEORUM.' 
 
 Here was flat popery ! A meeting of ' the better 
 sort ' took place. Some burgesses declared that 
 such things were against the law, and that the
 
 WINDSOR CROSS. 117 
 
 mayor might have to answer for them in a public 
 court. By resolution, Jones was required to tel) 
 his lordship, in the name of the whole town, that 
 he must either stop his masons, or produce a license 
 from the king. Goodman replied with scorn. 
 They had his plans, he said, and everything had 
 been done with their consent. Let them take care. 
 Once, at least, they had been rebuked for leaning 
 towards the Puritans. They had better not offend 
 again. As for the law, he took that burden on 
 himself. After his scolding, he returned to his 
 more worldly vein. See what they were doing 
 turning good money from their town ! He meant 
 to spend five times as much. See how they were 
 dealing with the poor, whom he intended to employ 
 and pay ! 
 
 His threats and bribes were all too late. The 
 burgesses denounced him to the king, and asked 
 that his pictures should be smeared, his crucifix 
 taken down. In hopes of staying this evil, he 
 returned to Windsor, and resumed his lodgings in 
 the lower ward. At once the town sprang up, and 
 a petition to expel him from his house was laid 
 before the king. Charles felt annoyed. Instead of 
 doing good the Windsor cross had done him harm. 
 The town seemed turned into one huge conven-
 
 118 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 ticle. A scapegoat being needed, Goodman was 
 expelled a second time. Windsor saw his face no 
 more ; though of his name and cross they were to 
 hear again.
 
 119 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 IN THE FOKEST. 
 1641. 
 
 ' INSOLENCES in the Forest ' were reported to the 
 king ; insolences which were always brisk, and 
 sometimes jovial ; sounds of an approaching con- 
 flict, caught more readily by the Constable on the 
 keep than by the courtiers in the King's house. 
 
 Aminadab Harrison and Thomas Patey, men 
 who assumed the parts of Robin Hood and Little 
 John, were leading him a dance of sport and mis- 
 chief. 
 
 Never, since the night when James had closed 
 his Little park, and turned the people of his 
 neighbourhood into critics and enemies, had the 
 Forest known one hour of peace. The Constable 
 locked his gates ; the squires and better sort made 
 private keys, and entered like the ' gentlemen of the 
 highest quality.' He changed his locks, on which
 
 120 ' ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 they broke his fences with as little scruple as the 
 tramps. The game and wood became prize of war. 
 A bold man snapped his prey stag, rabbit, lop 
 and top and carried what he seized away. Scores 
 of raiders followed Richbell and Buckeridge ; 
 breaking into the chase with horse and hound, 
 less because they cared for venison than because 
 they delighted in lawless sport. Men who dropt 
 dancing on village greens, as soon as dancing was 
 ' allowed,' had no objection to marauding in the 
 king's forest on Sunday night. Filching wood 
 went on ; trapping game went on. By day, the 
 Forest was the king's ; by night, the king's authority 
 disappeared. His stakes were carried off and burnt. 
 In vain his woodmen set them up ; work done by 
 day was overthrown by night. His pale being 
 down, the grass lay open to all comers. Cattle 
 strayed into, the pastures; vagabonds brought in 
 their donkeys ; farmers let their horses stray. An 
 unfenced ground is soon considered ' waste ; ' a 
 sort of no-man's land, on which the houseless 
 wanderer had a right to squat. In olden time, 
 before the forest was enclosed, no vagrant 
 dared to burrow in the earth, or roost under 
 a pile of wood. Every man's dog was then 
 a hunter of such game, every man's gun a peril
 
 IN THE FOREST. 121 
 
 to such lodgers. When the glades grew into 
 solitudes, in which foxes and badgers found their 
 lairs, vagrants, hardly less savage than foxes and 
 badgers, sought in them a home. Four squatters, 
 male and female, of the name of Milton, got a foot- 
 hold in the forest, and refused to be expelled. 
 Grubbing under the roots of trees, they stood at 
 bay, with pike and gun. No verderer liked to 
 tackle them, for blood was certain to be shed. 
 Like shepherds in King Edward's time, they ate 
 the king's game, and made a joke of squatting on 
 his land. Living as outlaws, paying no rent, and 
 taking what they called their own, they set the 
 verderers and keepers at defiance. No man liked 
 to risk his life ; and public feeling ran so high 
 against the system, that the keepers feared to exe- 
 cute their trust. A keeper, who had done his 
 duty, was in trouble. Finding a rustic in the act 
 of stealing wood, he flew at him, beat him soundly, 
 and drove him from the park. The rustic died ; 
 the town took up his case. A sergeant was 
 despatched to bring the keeper in ; the man re- 
 sisted, and the sergeant was repulsed. Advised by 
 sympathisers in the town, he brought an action for 
 assault. The keeper pleaded in defence that he 
 believed the man to be a poacher and wood-stealer ;
 
 122 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 but the jury found him guilty, and the magistrates 
 fined him seven pounds, with imprisonment till the 
 fine was paid. The Castle tried to take him from 
 the town. He was a prisoner in another court, to 
 which the town must give him up, said the Castle ; 
 but the town refused, and kept the prisoner in their 
 jail. 
 
 No man was more impressed by these ' insolences 
 in the forest ' than the Constable, who heard the 
 mutterings of a tempest from his platform on the 
 Norman keep. 
 
 Rich, earl of Holland, Constable of Windsor, 
 stood in the highest favour with king and queen. 
 A younger son of Lady Rich one of the two 
 boys which her complaisant spouse had been 
 pleased to own he was born alike to penury and 
 to favour. Patting his pretty cheek, James had 
 filled his pockets from the public chest, married 
 him to a great heiress, and ennobled him as baron 
 Kensington and earl of Holland. Gazing in rap- 
 ture on his fine form, Charles had made him Groom 
 of the Stole, Knight of St. George, Constable of 
 Windsor, and Lord Justice in Eyre. Seldom in the 
 roll of favourites had Groom and Constable been 
 more perfect creations of the royal will. To Hen- 
 rietta, he was no less dear than to Charles. Holland
 
 IN THE FOREST. 123 
 
 had courted her for the king ; and scandal added, 
 for himself. Her majesty showed as keen an eye for 
 beauty in the other sex as her great father, Henri 
 Quatre. Holland was allowed to be the hand- 
 somest man at court. She made him steward of 
 her lands and manager of her revenues ; places of 
 trust which drew him to her cabinet for daily talk. 
 Keen eyes observed that Holland had more of her 
 private leisure than she gave to either Jermyn or 
 Digby. 
 
 As Lord Justice in Eyre, this man was chief 
 ranger, not of the Forest only, but of eveiy park 
 and chase below the Trent. All that was done 
 under the forest laws was done by him. He 
 staked the grounds stocked them with deer and 
 drove the rustics out by force. Men who were 
 whipt and mulcted laid their injuries at his door. 
 If a new district was imparked, his shoulders had to 
 bear the blame. To say he was unpopular is 
 nothing. He was followed by such curses as pur- 
 sued the path of Laud. 
 
 A sensitive and timid man, he listened with 
 nervous terror to the rising gale, uncertain of his 
 safety, even behind the guns and battlements of 
 the Norman keep. Castle or country which, he 
 asked himself, was going to be the stronger side ?
 
 124 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 The Constable was not the only man who 
 put that question to himself. Here, in the town 
 books, stand brief entries not without a touch of 
 humour : 
 
 ' Given the ringers on the king's birthday, three shillings. 
 
 ' Paid for two books for the Fast at the beginning of 
 parliament, one shilling and eight pence. 
 
 ' Given the ringers on the king's coronation day, three 
 shillings. 
 
 ' Paid for a prayer for good success of the parliament, four 
 pence.' 
 
 Holland was unaided by the local magistrates. 
 Aminadab was Robin Hood ; his men were asser- 
 tors of public law. Severe against catt and nine- 
 pins, mayor and aldermen were lenient when they 
 had to deal with intruders in the royal chase. 
 
 Windsor, as Holland knew, was like all other 
 places standing at the gates of royal parks. Round 
 every chase in the southern counties feuds had 
 broken out, and rustic battles had been fought. 
 Bad blood had everywhere sprung up, and men 
 were learning to regard the sovereign chiefly in 
 connexion with his forest-laws. As years rolled on, 
 the bitter feeling had extended from the king to his 
 lieutenants to the peers and gentry, sheriffs and 
 magistrates. In every county, parks were attacked,
 
 IN THE FOREST. 125 
 
 deer killed, woods burnt, walls levelled to the grass. 
 Rioters were hung by tens and dozens ; yet the 
 course of outrage never stopped. A man was hung : 
 a band sprang up to carry on his work. Women 
 found in the parks were clapped in jail ; on which 
 their kinsfolk burned the sheriff's barn. Gibbets 
 were built at every cross-road, yet gangs of men, 
 strong enough to defy village constables, roamed 
 about the country breaking down enclosures and 
 firing hay-ricks. Where the deer were scanty, they 
 fed on flocks of sheep. May -poles gave place to 
 hanging-trees ; yet year by year the Robin Hoods 
 and Little Johns increased in strength. 
 
 Holland got scared. So long as things were 
 calm at Windsor no man was so gay as he. Riots 
 in the midland counties were now no more to him 
 than disturbances in Hungary or in Spain ; but 
 Windsor Forest lay within his ken ; Aminadab's 
 doings startled him in the night. He told his story 
 to his peers. The trespassers, he said, had stolen 
 more than a hundred deer ! What was he to do ? 
 
 ' Disperse them,' said the lords ; ' if they refuse, 
 arrest them in the act and bring them up to town.' 
 
 The Constable thought his majesty was entering 
 on ' a dangerous course.'
 
 126 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 WINDSOR SEIZED. 
 1642. 
 
 Wednesday : 
 
 Wednesday, January twelfth, the date on 
 which his majesty ' seized ' Windsor Castle, was the 
 opening day of the Civil War. 
 
 On Monday afternoon, six days after his 
 failure to arrest Lord Mandeville and the Five 
 Members, he had left Whitehall, and taking coach, 
 had snapped up his son, the prince, and driven by 
 way of Hampton Court to Windsor, which he 
 reached on Wednesday afternoon at dusk. The 
 days were dark, the roads were rough. His 
 journey in the depth of winter had the aspect of a 
 flight, almost of a rout. 
 
 Beside him were the queen, the two princes, 
 Charles and James, the princess Mary, and a few 
 officers and domestics ; headed and followed by a
 
 WINDSOR SEIZED. 127 
 
 troop of 'cavaliers.' No royal train brought up 
 the rear, with lords and ladies two or three hundred 
 coaches long ; only that troop of horse, with 
 Colonel Lunsford, the Sussex giant, in their front. 
 These horsemen were a motley group ; free-lances, 
 picked up here and there by Digby ; some in city 
 taverns, others in foreign camps ; bold riders and 
 hard hitters all of them ; soldiers well fitted by their 
 broken fortunes for a desperate enterprise. Luns- 
 ford was worthy of his troop. Big, ugly, one-eyed, 
 he had been nicknamed the Devourer of Children. 
 Lately appointed by the king Lieutenant of the 
 Tower, he had been dismissed from his important 
 post, on the petition of Lords and Commons, as a 
 man of infamous character. He was burning for 
 revenge. 
 
 No man saluted Charles ; no damsel curtsied to 
 the queen. Driving through the streets, their 
 majesties passed the gates in silence. Windsor, 
 outside these castle walls, seemed lost. 
 
 They were prepared for this defection of the 
 town ; but not for a defection in the royal house. 
 No Constable stood beside the gate to bid them 
 welcome, and to go before them to the upper ward. 
 Holland hung back ; that creature of the king's 
 bounty being the first to fall away. Charles, on
 
 128 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 setting out, had sent for him to attend his person 
 and discharge the duties of his place. He made 
 excuses ; pleading his engagements in the House of 
 Lords. It was a bitter day for Charles ; the first of 
 many bitter days to come. 
 
 Closing the gate, and posting sentries on the 
 wall, he went up into the gallery, where, if shorn 
 of regal pomp, he felt secure against a rush of 
 pikes. No Venn could scale the Tudor tower ; no 
 Skippon force the Norman keep. Here in his 
 feudal stronghold, he was still a feudal king. 
 
 The queen, enraged against peers and com- 
 moners for having closed her chapel and lodged 
 her confessor, Philip, in the Tower, was hot for 
 strife. Esthers and Clothildes are never timid, and 
 not often cool. 'It is my war, my sacred war,' 
 she said of the impending fray., She had implored 
 her husband to arrest the members : -' Pull me 
 those rascals out by the ears.' When Charles 
 came back to her baffled, with the tears of failure 
 in his eyes, she had urged him to send for Digby, 
 and to act on his advice. Digby was her officer, 
 as Strafford had been his officer. Charles disliked 
 the man, but, yielding to her passion, he had 
 suffered him to be called. 
 
 Digby's theories were feudal and heroic ; worthy
 
 WINDSOR SEIZED. 129 
 
 of the time of Hawkwood and the brain of 
 Huntingdon. ' Withdraw the guard ; secure the 
 prince ; seize Windsor castle, and your majesty 
 may command your kingdom,' was his brief and 
 bold advice. If Charles would suffer him to act, he 
 swore that he would raise an army, crush the City 
 companies, and pitch the Lords and Commons into 
 the Thames. 
 
 His army was to resemble the old Free Com- 
 panies, the old brigades of St. George. His 
 majesty was to run no risk ; to give no pledge, to 
 sign no paper, that could be brought against him. 
 Digby took the peril on himself. The service was 
 to be his own ; the profits were to be the king's. 
 He staked his head on his success. 
 
 So he had sworn ; and so the king had done ; 
 not trusting him, yet giving him a chance in order 
 to appease the queen, 
 
 Windsor was gained, and yet the roads outside 
 appeared to Charles as cheery as the rooms within. 
 Vainly his eye ran up and down ; cabinet, presence- 
 chamber, gallery, were all deserted by the customary 
 groups. Where were his bishops, councillors, and 
 officers of state ? Some were in exile ; some in 
 prison ; not a few were sitting with his enemies. 
 Others, hardly less dear to him than his Constable, 
 
 VOL. IV. K
 
 130 KOYAL WINDSOK. 
 
 had fallen off. Hertford was in Westminster ; 
 Essex was in Westminster. 
 
 The king had wounded Hertford by his way of 
 snatching up the prince. A kinsman of the royal 
 house, Hertford bad been appointed governor to 
 the Prince of Wales, as being a man of large 
 experience and exalted rank. He was responsible 
 for the prince's person ; yet the king, coming on 
 him suddenly, had snatched his charge away. 
 ' If they have our son, they will have all,' the queen 
 had cried, when Charles appeared to falter. 
 Hertford was too prudent for ' heroic ' measures. 
 He had suffered exile and imprisonment. Though 
 loyal to his king, he was not a man to risk his 
 liberty and life in anybody's cause except his own. 
 The king had yielded to his wife and carried off 
 his son ; leaving his servant to fume and fret ; to sit 
 with other peers, who, neither papists like South- 
 ampton, nor puritans like Mandeville, were voting 
 every day more steadily against the king and queen. 
 
 No less wide a gap was caused by the non- 
 appearance of Essex. This eminent soldier held 
 the chamberlain's staff. Like Holland, he had 
 been called to attend the king ; like Holland, he 
 had disobeyed his majesty's command. These 
 peers were first cousins ; Essex a nephew, Holland
 
 WINDSOK SEIZED. 131 
 
 a son, of Lady Rich ; but in their walks of life they 
 had seldom journeyed by a common road. Essex 
 was a soured and wretched man, cursed by a second 
 wife as false to him as the first. A woman-hater, 
 he despised society, and passed his time in studying 
 war and in the exercise of arms. His cousin was a 
 thing of courts and courtly companies ; yet for 
 once the sombre captain and the sprightly courtier 
 were united in a single thought. Each held aloof 
 from Digby's enterprise. 
 
 Though hurt by both, the king was far less 
 sore against his lord chamberlain than against his 
 constable of Windsor. Essex was an independent 
 peer. Service, and not preference, had given him 
 the staff. In truth, the king had treated him with 
 levity ; one day sending him into the field as his 
 lieutenant, next day dismissing him with a 
 bluntness bordering on contempt. Yet Essex bore 
 no malice in his breast. So long as he could serve 
 the crown without betraying his country, he 
 retained his office. When forced to choose between 
 the crown and country, he resigned. The king 
 admitted that his course was eminently fair. 
 Refusing to join the king at Windsor, he returned 
 his staff. The letter was in Charles' hand the 
 signature hardly dry.
 
 132 EOYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 The queen advised her husband to accept his 
 offer, and appoint another chamberlain in his place. 
 For Holland she could find excuses, but for Essex 
 she saw none. Charles paused and weighed the 
 matter well ; for he was on the verge of war, and 
 Essex, who had served ill the Palatinate, had a 
 great repute in arms. Could he afford to break 
 with the first captain in his realm? 
 
 Digby, according to his plan, had drawn a 
 portion of the guards from Westminster to 
 Kingston, and secured the bridge. ' King's friends' 
 were rallying on that point ; men who rode their 
 own geldings, carried their own arms, and brought 
 their own grooms into the field. They had already 
 occupied the taverns and broken open the maga- 
 zines. Lunsford, the one-eyed colonel, was to be their 
 chief; but, in his absence with the king's party, 
 Howard was acting in his name. A camp was to 
 be formed in rear of Windsor, on the plain of 
 Aldershot. Two hundred captains and colonels 
 were reported to be waiting for their companies and 
 regiments. At a word from Windsor, all these 
 companies and regiments were expected to start up. 
 So Digby swore, and so the queen believed. 
 Clothildes are apt to be strong in faith. 
 
 But Charles was not prepared to speak that
 
 WINDSOR SEIZED. 133 
 
 word. A word from Windsor might do much ; 
 but such a word meant war not in another name, 
 to be disavowed in case of failure, but his own. 
 If blood was shed by his command, the battle must 
 be fought at once, and he must stake his crown and 
 life, as other kings had staked their crowns and 
 lives. The day for such a trial might arrive, and 
 he was bound to look beyond the day. All other 
 means might fail. 
 
 His wisdom was to keep his captain in reserve. 
 Essex at Windsor would be worth five thousand 
 men. The more his majesty thought, the more he 
 saw good reason to reject the queen's advice. 
 What could he gain by calling in a courtly 
 favourite ? So long as Essex held the staff- 
 though it were but in name there was a chance of 
 drawing him to Windsor. By refusing to accept 
 the resignation, he would have the appearance of 
 regarding Essex as a faithful servant. Such an 
 appearance might create suspicion in the House of 
 Lords ; and Digby might have no more dangerous 
 enemy to meet than Venn or Skippon. In the 
 hope of drawing Essex to his side, he laid that 
 letter of resignation in his desk. 
 
 Sitting at that moment with their peers, his 
 Chamberlain and Constable were engaged in pass-
 
 134 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 ing orders that no guns, no stores, no powder, no 
 provisions should be moved from any of the royal 
 magazines, except on the 'king's warrant signed 
 by the two Houses of Parliament ; ' a form of grim 
 political humour hardly to be matched in any 
 comedy on the Windsor stage. 
 
 When his majesty was housed, his followers 
 took possession of the town ; his captains marching 
 on the Garter and the White Hart; his men 
 invading the Antelope, Crown, and other taverns ; 
 where they drank the king's health, and roared 
 perdition to the crop-ears, through the winter night. 
 For them the sword was drawn ; the Civil War 
 begun.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 UNDEK THE KEEP. 
 1642. 
 
 Thursday : 
 
 Waking under cover of the Norman keep, the 
 king felt safer in his person than he had done for 
 many days ; yet his Intelligence from Westminster 
 showed him how closely he was watched, and how 
 well his moves were known. 
 
 On both sides the Intelligence was minute and 
 rapid; more so on the popular side than on the 
 royalist side. Every ante-room at Windsor fed a 
 spy. In Lady Suffolk's time, every page and abigail 
 had learnt the price of news, and how to turn a 
 screen, a key-hole, or an alley, into current coin. 
 A secret known to three persons was regarded by 
 a prudent councillor as unsafe. Never in England 
 had corruption soared so high, and sunk so low, 
 as under James and Charles. Love, greed, religion,
 
 136 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 everything seemed to feed this leprosy. Startled 
 by the speed with which his private words were 
 sold, the king exclaimed : * Neither at my table, 
 nor about my garden, nor in my cabinet, can I 
 trust myself to speak.' Lady Carlisle, the nearest 
 person to her majesty, had betrayed his design of 
 seizing the Five Members ; and Holland, the nearest 
 person to himself, had carried her message to his 
 enemies. His only comfort was, that those who sold 
 his secrets, brought him back news, which he con- 
 sidered of the utmost moment, from the other side. 
 From his Intelligence he learnt that, while he 
 was driving yesterday on his road to Windsor, a 
 man named Calcott had been giving the House of 
 Commons an account of his affairs at Kingston; 
 naming Digby, Lunsford, and Howard, as his chief 
 officers ; describing the condition of his men, the 
 stabling of his horses, and the movements of his 
 powder-carts. Motions, he learned, had followed 
 on the heels of this report. Digby had been de- 
 nounced to his peers. Lunsford had been voted a 
 Malignant, and an officer deputed to bring him in. 
 Howard, a member of the House, had been ordered 
 to attend, and answer at the bar. Events were 
 coming on him with a rush, and there was little 
 time for Digby to prepare his plans.
 
 UNDER THE KEEP. 137 
 
 Later in the day, as the Intelligence showed, a 
 man named Lee, employed on the Thames, gave 
 notice to the Commons, that several barges, laden 
 with war-saddles, were going up the stream towards 
 Kingston bridge. Action no less prompt had fol- 
 lowed Lee's report. A sergeant, taking two city 
 companies in boats, was ordered to give chase, to 
 seize those saddles, and prevent the passage up and 
 down the river of suspicious craft. 
 
 The worst was yet to come. Four counties, 
 Berks, Bucks, Middlesex, and Surrey, had been 
 ordered out; the sheriffs being instructed to 
 suppress the rioters at Kingston bridge, and to 
 disperse all other assemblies of armed men within 
 the shires. Digby's intention seemed to have been 
 revealed, and force was evidently to be met by 
 force. 
 
 Here came the test. What answer would the 
 peers, the city companies, and the county bands, 
 return to such audacious votes ? Since Richmond's 
 landing, no appeal of such importance had been 
 made against a reigning prince. Surely those 
 votes of peers and commoners would not be heard. 
 He was their king ; their crowned, anointed king. 
 He was the master of all sheriffs and all musters. 
 In the face of his ' divine ' right, what man would
 
 138 KOYAL WINDSOE. 
 
 dare to lift a pike against him ? To oppose the 
 Lord's anointed, was not only crime, but sin. 
 His head was sacred ; yet, in spite of his l divinity,' 
 he was hedged about with many fears. 
 
 Kingston lay in Surrey, and the bridge con- 
 nected her with Middlesex. These shires might 
 be concerned in looking after Lunsford's bands ; 
 but why were Bucks and Berks called out ? Were 
 they to march against his followers in the town ? 
 
 Bucks and Berks were Windsor shires, lying 
 around the King's house, much of them visible 
 from St. George's keep. Not forty years ago, they 
 were the loyallest section of the kingdom ; every 
 owner of a freehold sworn ' to live and die ' with 
 Queen Elizabeth. Yet the Lords and Commons 
 seemed to trust the king's own sheriffs, his own 
 militia, living under his own ramparts, with the 
 task of breaking up his volunteers by force ! 
 
 His followers in the town, though swollen to 
 five or six hundred men, were hardly better than 
 a mob. Undrilled and poorly armed, they were 
 unlikely to resist a charge. Suppose the men of 
 Berks and Bucks obeyed that vote ? His govern- 
 ment, nay, his personal freedom, might be limited 
 to the circuit of his Castle wall. Would they obey 
 that vote ?
 
 UNDER THE KEEP. 139 
 
 An incident arose. Ten or twelve riders 
 crossed the bridge, coming out of Bucks, and, 
 working through the crowd in Thames Street, 
 wheeled on their left, and halted at the Castle 
 gates. An officer appeared. What did they 
 want ? To see the king. On what account ? 
 The business of their county. Who were they ? 
 Men of Bucks, deputed by the freeholders of Bucks. 
 
 Their presence was announced to Charles. He 
 knew the men, and what they came about. Two 
 days ago, as he had read in his Intelligence, they 
 had cantered into Westminster, four thousand 
 strong ; well drilled, well armed, and resolute men, 
 with tenders of their service as a body-guard to 
 the peers and commoners. Thanked for a service 
 which the peers and commoners no longer needed, 
 they had asked that all bishops and all papist lords 
 should be expelled from parliament. Being told 
 that these demands should be considered, they had 
 further said, they had a petition to present, and 
 hoped the House would either send it to the king, 
 or tell them where to carry it. Lenthall, the 
 Speaker, glad to be rid of his visitors, had begged 
 them to ride home, select ten or twelve deputies, 
 and send them into Windsor with a humble request 
 to see his majesty.
 
 140 EOYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 These deputies of Bucks were at his gate. 
 Had he felt strong enough, he would have scat- 
 tered them with shot. Only two days since, they 
 had taken oaths ' to live and die ' with his oppo- 
 nents. To disperse them with a volley would have 
 given him great delight ; but they were backed by 
 thousands of their neighbours; and a crash of 
 musketry from the towers and walls in Thames 
 Street might bring in the armed militia of two 
 counties. Though he loathed the rascals, he must 
 smooth his brow and speak them fair. Digby 
 would have hurled them from the Castle wall ; but 
 Charles adopted a milder and a wiser course. 
 
 Falling into one of those pensive moods and 
 picturesque attitudes which his artists liked to 
 paint, he sent an usher to conduct the deputies to 
 his cabinet. The men were grave and rustic ; not 
 to be overcome by pensive smiles and picturesque 
 clothes. What they had come to say, they said. 
 Under his majesty's writ, their spokesman told 
 him, they had chosen John Hampden for their 
 knight of the shire. A man noted for his loyalty, 
 he enjoyed their utmost confidence. To their 
 amazement, they had lately heard that Hampden 
 had been accused of treason, he, and four other
 
 UNDER THE KEEP. 141 
 
 members of the lower House. On much consider- 
 ation, they had found the method of impeachment 
 so illegal, that they had come to the conclusion 
 that so foul an accusation had arisen, not from any 
 fault of the five gentlemen, but from the spite of 
 men who disliked their zeal in serving the king and 
 state. That charge of treason they regarded as 
 levelled against themselves, no less than against 
 their knight. Therefore, they prayed his majesty 
 that John Hampden, and the other members, might 
 ' enjoy the just privilege of parliament.' 
 
 Listening with gracious smile, his majesty tried 
 to turn their anger from himself. Just privilege ! 
 Why, that was his own thought. So far was he 
 from touching ' privilege of parliament,' there was 
 nothing in the realm he had a greater wish to 
 strengthen and sustain. Where the law seemed 
 dubious, he was ready to waive his kingly right. 
 Even in the case now pending, he assured them he 
 had given up his proceedings for the sake of peace. 
 He wanted what was just, but only for the good 
 of all. No sooner had he heard a doubt expressed 
 about the law, than he commanded his Lord Keeper, 
 Lyttleton, to adopt some other course. The five 
 offending members would be shortly tried; and
 
 142 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 then all men would see which side was in the right. 
 His visitors, he said, would find his evidence so 
 strong, that they would say he had no option but 
 to prosecute. Yet, in his heart, he hoped the 
 gentlemen would be able to prove their innocence. 
 He felt no rancour towards them. As a prince, he 
 had to guard the public weal; but when that 
 interest was secured, his task was done. 
 
 On one point more, he wished them to be 
 satisfied. Whether the gentlemen were guilty or 
 not guilty, was their own affair. If they had 
 fallen into treason, they must take the conse- 
 quence ; but their offences tainted no one else. 
 His ' good subjects/ the men of Bucks, were not 
 accountable for Hampden's crimes. Let him prove 
 guilty or not guilty, his majesty's visitors were 
 free from blame. 
 
 The men of Bucks retired: a little mollified, 
 yet on their guard. When they recrossed the 
 bridge, they found the county gathering under 
 arms, with orders to disperse all bodies of men in 
 arms such groups as they had left in Thames 
 Street, under the Castle wall. 
 
 Digby and Lunsford started for then* posts. 
 To gain some days, a messenger was sent by
 
 UNDEE THE KEEP. 143 
 
 Charles to Westminster, with honeyed and un- 
 meaning phrases, such as he had spoken to the 
 men of Bucks. So far, he could help his friends, 
 without his hand being seen, his crown being 
 risked.
 
 144 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 AT BAY. 
 1642. 
 
 Friday : 
 
 In Digby's plan of campaign, Windsor was to 
 be head-quarters, with a strong fore-post at 
 Kingston, holding the bridge and covering the first 
 passage of the river above Westminster, while the 
 main array was mustering in the rear at Aldershot, 
 supported and supplied from Portsmouth. Goring, 
 governor of Portsmouth, was supposed to have 
 been overcome by the queen's blandishments. He 
 was supposed to have undertaken either to throw 
 open his gates to the king's forces, or to furnish 
 them with stores and guns. King and prince were 
 to reside at Windsor, as a safe asylum. Kingston 
 lay within nine or ten miles of the Vauxhall 
 magazines. An army in possession of Kingston 
 bridge not only covered Windsor, but was free to 
 march on the capital by either bank.
 
 AT BAY. 145 
 
 The first thing was to make head-quarters. If 
 king and prince were not secure, nothing was 
 secure. 
 
 How was the Castle to be rendered safe ? Old 
 gates, decaying walls, and empty magazines, were 
 hardly elements of strength. Unlike Dover and 
 the Tower, Windsor had ceased to be a place of 
 arms, governed by a military code. Sometimes she 
 had no Constable. Under the Stuarts, her Con- 
 stables had been courtiers, and not soldiers. 
 Buckingham had been Constable ; Holland was now 
 Constable. Windsor was a country house ; noble 
 and capacious, but unequal to a siege. Guns, 
 powder, match and small- arms, were wanting. 
 Stores, weapons, and provisions, must be drawn 
 from other magazines chiefly from the Ordnance 
 office in the Tower. 
 
 Newport, Master of the Ordnance, was a 
 younger son of Lady Rich ; one of the three or 
 four lads whom her uncertain husband had refused 
 to own. Laughing in his face, she had confessed 
 her guilt by giving the brat her lover's name, 
 Montjoy. Like all her sons, the lad was born to 
 favour. Merit he had none. Yet for his mother's 
 sake, the fribble had been made an Irish baron and 
 an English earl. He and his royal master had 
 
 VOL. IV. L
 
 146 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 been boys together, and the king had trusted him 
 as he had. done his brother the first deserter from 
 his post. Was he a faithful man ? 
 
 Two of his brothers, Warwick and Holland, 
 were in London, voting with the king's enemies. 
 Warwick was a roystering sailor, who made his 
 home. on shore in play-houses and taverns, where 
 he enjoyed the reputation of a saucy tongue, a 
 heated temper, and a ready fist. Holland, on the 
 contrary, was a lady's man, dainty in speech, pretty 
 in face, and mincing in gait. Yet these two men, 
 unlike in nature and in bearing, had' been lured 
 into a common camp. Was Newport like the elder 
 sons of Lady Rich ? 
 
 ' The earl of Newport,' was announced. 
 
 On quitting Whitehall for Windsor, Charles had 
 given his Master of the Ordnance full instruction's. 
 Newport was to see Byron, his new Lieutenant of 
 the Tower, and to secure his service and connivance 
 in sending out supplies. Saddles were to be sent 
 to Kingston ; powder and match to Windsor and 
 Aldershot. Had he obeyed ? 
 
 Fluttering into the cabinet, he said he had come 
 on that affair. He had been trying to do his best. 
 With Byron's help, he had filled some barges on the 
 river, and some waggons on the road. But he had
 
 AT BAY. 147 
 
 been betrayed. The enemy had spies in every 
 house. Digby was suspected, and his lodging had 
 been searched. No one was safe. Byron had been 
 summoned to attend the Houses, and on pleading 
 the king's order not to leave his post, he had been 
 sentenced for contempt. Skippon, with the city 
 forces, had been ordered to invest the Tower. 
 Boats were on the river ; companies in Thames, 
 Street and St. Catharine's fields. Byron was all 
 but lost. What must be done ? That was what 
 he wished to know. 
 
 What had been done by Newport's peers ? 
 
 A little, but not much. Southampton had 
 raised a storm, but he had only made the mischief 
 worse. ' Parliament,' he had said, in the debate on 
 Byron's matter, ' have neglected their duty to the 
 king, in the safety of his person ; ' but the other 
 lords had made him eat his words. A resolution 
 had been carried that 'this parliament have per- 
 formed their duties to the king for the safety of his 
 person.' It was only by his sitting in his place 
 and voting with the rest, that Newport had himself 
 escaped. But he was not quite free. Orders had 
 been laid on him, at his peril, not to remove one 
 sack of biscuit or one pad of powder from the 
 magazines, without a royal warrant signed by both
 
 148 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 Houses of parliament. They had given him leave 
 to come to Windsor, but they had not given him 
 leave to stay. Some papers in his office needed 
 signatures, and they had given him leave to come 
 and get them signed ; but he was under orders 
 to return that day. Would his majesty be pleased 
 to sign the documents ? 
 
 ' Leave them with me/ sighed the king, and 
 Newport bowed and sidled from the room. 
 
 Saturday : 
 
 Hertford rode into Windsor with a message 
 from the Lords. His errand was unpleasant ; but 
 he had no choice in the affair. He was enjoined to 
 separate the king and prince. 
 
 To tear the child from his father's sight ? He 
 was commanded to resume his post ; to take the 
 legal custody of his charge ; and to prevent his 
 highness being carried to a foreign port. Peers 
 and commoners were suspicious, and had put him 
 to his task on peril of a breach of trust : a trust 
 that he would have to answer with his head. 
 
 Hertford was a cold and selfish man, whose 
 conduct to his wife, Arabella Stuart, had covered 
 him with public shame. For years he had been 
 exiled, but at length he had been pardoned,
 
 AT BAY. 149 
 
 suffered to come home, and welcomed by the court. 
 Seeing how the king inclined, he had struck in 
 smartly for prerogative. A marquisate was his 
 reward ; but he had yet another round to win ; the 
 coronet of his ancestor, the People's Friend. To 
 gain his cap and sword, Hertford was ready to 
 become the king's friend and the people's friend by 
 turns. While Parliament was stronger than the 
 Crown, he must obey that stronger power. When 
 royalty looked up, the world would find him in his 
 proper place. 
 
 He brought two orders from his peers : 
 
 1. ' That the Lord Marquis Hertford, appointed 
 by his majesty governor of the prince, as he will 
 answer the breach of that trust, that doth so 
 immediately concern the present and future peace 
 and safety of the three kingdoms, shall forthwith 
 repair to the prince, and, according to the duty of 
 his place, take care of him, and give his personal 
 attendance on his highness, and shall be very watch- 
 ful that he be not carried out of the kingdom.' 
 
 2. ' That the Marquis of Hertford shall attend 
 the prince's highness to-morrow morning, accord- 
 ing to this aforesaid order, and acquaint his ma- 
 jesty therewith, from both Houses of Parliament.' 
 
 The draught was bitter, and the queen refused
 
 150 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 her portion of the cup. Resign her son whom 
 she had promised to make a catholic king to be 
 the prey of gospellers and puritans ! Was that to 
 be the Esther of her race, the Clothilde of her 
 church ? Nay ; she would rather lose her crown : 
 by which she meant her husband's crown. The 
 king controlled his temper. He was not a burning 
 zealot, and the peer was standing on his legal 
 right. If Digby won, these moths of fortune should 
 discover what it was to irritate a king. 
 
 Sunday : 
 
 Little had been done towards making Windsor 
 safe. No guns, and not much powder, had been 
 got. Some stragglers dropped into the town in 
 search of drink and pay ; but not many of these 
 stragglers brought in horse and arms. Most of 
 them were in rags ; old tramps and scarecrows, 
 passing as soldiers who had served in Ulster and 
 on the Rhine. To take them into pay, and drill 
 them into companies, would be money and labour 
 thrown away. Before they could be armed and 
 trained for service, the occasion might have 
 passed. In thirty days, Digby 's Free Companies 
 would be either master of London or scattered to 
 the winds.
 
 AT BAY. 151 
 
 Monday : 
 
 Bad news came in. A trail of fugitives crossed 
 the bridge and rolled up Thames Street ; crowding 
 the tavern yards, and filling the market-place with 
 tumult. They reported that the bands at Kingston 
 bridge were breaking up. Lunsford had been taken 
 by the sergeant who was ordered to arrest him. 
 He had made no fight. The sergeant had a 
 warrant ; Lunsford had no warrant. Law was 
 with the sergeant, and the giant was deserted by 
 his men. Even hireling troops expected to 
 be cowed by a lawful flag. His fall was evidence 
 the age of the Free Companies was passed. 
 
 The fugitives embarrassed Charles. They were 
 his partisans, suffering for his sake ; but to receive 
 and help them would expose him to suspicion as a 
 partner in their plots. To save himself, he must 
 stand aloof, severely calm ; free in his words and 
 in his acts ; ready to ' disavow ' his friends if they 
 should fail. His news from Westminster was no 
 better than his news from Kingston. Byron had been 
 brought before the House of Lords, and forced to 
 answer on his knees. Lyttleton, the lord keeper, 
 had asked him why he had refused to come the 
 previous day. Kneeling at the bar, he had read a 
 letter from the king, forbidding him to quit his
 
 152 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 post. That plea had been rejected. Newport, as 
 the king had wished him, offered bail, but Byron 
 had been sentenced and condemned. Charles was 
 no longer master of the Tower. 
 
 Lunsford, his one-eyed monster, was in London, 
 lying under guard. 
 
 Tuesday : 
 
 Digby's experiment of fighting with Free 
 Companies had failed. On leaving Windsor, he 
 had gone to Kingston and harangued his troops. 
 The king, he told them, had withdrawn his forces 
 from the capital, ' to prevent them being trampled 
 in the dirt.' He thanked them, in his majesty's 
 name, for rallying in his cause, and led them to 
 imagine they were mustered into service under the 
 protection of his flag. They had been painfully 
 undeceived. Instead of being joined by the coun- 
 try bands, they saw the militia gathering round 
 them from all quarters. They became impatient with 
 their officers. No king appeared ; no royal flag was 
 raised ; no proclamation issued. Companies broke 
 up, and scattered to their homes. Some stragglers 
 took the roads for Windsor ; others, the roads for 
 Aldershot and Portsmouth. Digby had moved 
 into the west, where he appealed for help to Goring ;
 
 AT BAY. 153 
 
 but that wily trickster was not going to lose his 
 head for a woman's smile. He pointed to the 
 Hants and Sussex musters. How was he to stand 
 against two counties ? Digby was proclaimed a 
 rebel to the king and state. 
 
 Rejected and repulsed on every side, the com- 
 panies diminished and disappeared. 
 
 An expert in the saddle and familiar with the 
 roads, Digby contrived to slip through the sheriff's 
 hands, to reach the sea-shore, and to cross the sea 
 in one of the royal whelps.
 
 154 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 FEUDAL CHURCH. 
 
 1642. 
 
 Monday, January 17th : 
 
 The feudal army was dissolved. Where was 
 the feudal church ? 
 
 Outside the Castle gates, in High Street, lay a 
 heap of stones ; wreckage of that cross which 
 Goodman had set up partly in atonement for his 
 sin, partly as a pointer on the way towards Rome. 
 Cross and crucifix had been overturned by the 
 indignant burgesses, bent on blocking up the road 
 against returning Cardinal Poles. That ruin was 
 an emblem of the feudal church. 
 
 On Tuesday, news arrived at Windsor of a 
 singular scene. The previous day, John Williams, 
 archbishop of York, was brought to the bar, 
 required to kneel before his peers as a delinquent ; 
 and on being allowed to rise, was asked to plead,
 
 FEUDAL CHURCH. 155 
 
 guilty or not guilty, to a charge of high treason. 
 After pleading not guilty, he was put aside, while 
 Goodman, bishop of Gloucester, Wren, bishop of 
 Ely, and nine other prelates, were brought in one 
 by one, compelled to kneel, and answer to a similar 
 charge. On pleading not guilty, they besought 
 the lords to grant them a speedy trial and to let 
 them out on bail. A day was named for trial, but 
 their bail was stubbornly refused. The night was 
 cold, and many of the bishops were in feeble health. 
 No courtesy was paid to age and rank. Peers and 
 commons treated them as enemies of the English 
 church. Nobody pitied them, and they were 
 bundled off in the bitter night to jail. The feudal 
 church was in the Tower. 
 
 How had this great catastrophe come about ? 
 
 The feudal church consisted of two parts ; an 
 English part and a Romish part. Laud and Good- 
 man represented these two parts. Laud wanted to 
 set up an English-popery ; Goodman to set up a 
 Romish-popery. Laud counted on the king's sup- 
 port. Goodman counted on the queen's support. 
 
 Intent on ousting Laud from his supremacy in 
 church affairs, Goodman had taken a line of oppo- 
 sition which he hoped would bring him, through 
 her majesty's influence, to the front. The tune, he
 
 156 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 thought, had come for throwing off the mask ; for 
 dropping the comedy of English-popery ; and for 
 going in boldly for the popery of Rome. He had 
 observed that Charles, though calling himself an 
 Anglican, was giving his best bishoprics to priests 
 like Wren, late dean of Windsor, who had made 
 themselves acceptable to the queen and her con- 
 fessor. Wren, ' a Catholic in everything but the 
 name,' had got that see of Hereford which Good- 
 man had unfortunately lost. But Hereford was a 
 second-rate see, and Wren had passed up rapidly 
 from Hereford to Norwich, and from Norwich to 
 Ely. Goodman had proposed to go beyond Laud 
 and Wren in his devotion to the Holy Chair. He 
 had described the church of Rome as ' God's 
 catholic church ; ' he had preached purgatory ; 
 practised auricular confession ; suspended clergymen 
 for denying Rome. Had Father Philip, the queen's 
 confessor, been made a bishop, he could hardly 
 have done more. Goodman's form of faith ran 
 thus : ' I acknowledge Rome to be the mother 
 church.' A bolder priest than either Laud or 
 Wren, he was perfectly willing to accept a car- 
 dinal's hat. 
 
 When Laud proposed his new Ecclesiastical 
 Canons and Constitutions by which he swept
 
 FEUDAL CHURCH. 157 
 
 away the English church as settled in Elizabeth's 
 time Goodman had refused to sign them ; not 
 because they ran so near to Rome, but because 
 they halted at her outer gate. Jealous of so bold 
 a rival. Laud had made an effort to bear him down. 
 The bench was weak ; some of the sees being 
 empty, some of the prelates being sick ; and Laud 
 had counted on support from Charles. The Canons 
 were as much his work as that of Laud. They 
 brought in English-popery ; assigned a ' sacred ' 
 character to the king ; asserted his ' divine right ' 
 in the state, his ' supreme power ' in the church. 
 By them, his majesty was proclaimed to be a feudal 
 king and a feudal pope. 
 
 Goodman, knowing no pope except the Pope at 
 Rome, had kept aloof, but Laud had pushed him 
 to the wall. 
 
 Rising in the synod, and pointing to the 
 Constitutions, Laud had cried aloud : ' My lord 
 of Gloucester, I admonish you to subscribe.' 
 Goodman had refused. Rising again, the primate 
 had exclaimed, ' My lord of Gloucester, I admonish 
 you a second time to subscribe.' In giving this 
 second warning, Laud had violated rule and 
 custom. Days, if not weeks, had usually inter- 
 posed between such admonitions. An objector
 
 158 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 was supposed to need some time for thought, for 
 prayer, and for advice. But Laud, deaf to all 
 voices from the past, had blundered on. Rising 
 once again, he had yelled : ' My lord of Gloucester, 
 I admonish you a third tune to subscribe ! ' Re- 
 fusing to obey such mandates, Goodman had 
 pleaded conscience. As a bishop, holding his 
 authority from the Holy Spirit, he could only sign 
 as he was moved to sign. 
 
 Kindled by this opposition, Laud had proposed 
 to suspend him from his sacred office. Here again, 
 he had been violating rule and custom. Time was 
 needed, notice needed; but no consideration had 
 been strong enough to hold the primate back. 
 Some of the bishops were aghast; yet he had 
 hurried on his course. Turning to Davenant, he 
 had shouted : ' What say you, my lord of Salis- 
 bury ? Shall my lord of Gloucester be suspended 
 from his office?' Davenant, one of Goodman's 
 comrades, was supposed to share his catholic 
 views. For nineteen years they had lived together 
 in the nest of popery at Windsor ; Davenant being 
 chancellor, Goodman canon, of St. George. For 
 that long period they had served at a common 
 altar, met in a common room, and eaten at a 
 common board. Both had known Spalatro, through
 
 FEUDAL CHURCH. 159 
 
 whom Davenant had derived his apostolic grace. As 
 much a catholic as Goodman, he had been unwilling 
 to desert his colleague. On the primate calling to 
 him again : ' What say you, my lord of Salisbury ? 
 Shall my lord of Gloucester be suspended from his 
 office ? ' he had confessed to feeling scruples. He 
 was not a canonist, he had said, and therefore 
 wished to have the law explained. Two things 
 seemed doubtful to his mind: first, whether the 
 admonitions, to be valid, should not have been 
 given on separate days ; second, whether such a 
 synod as that in which they met had full authority 
 to suspend a bishop. 
 
 Laud, incensed by his defeat, had hastened to 
 the king, who, in his passion, had sent an officer 
 to arrest the non- subscriber, and to lodge him in 
 the Gate-house. Neither king nor primate had 
 considered, how, in such an act of violence, he 
 was showing the enemies of Episcopacy how they 
 might lay hands on bishops. But the lesson had 
 been quickly caught. If Charles could throw a 
 bishop into jail, why should not Pym ? 
 
 Laud had been the first to fall. Impeached 
 for setting up his new Constitutions, he had been 
 carried to the Tower, where he was still a prisoner 
 of the crown. Wren had followed Laud. Like
 
 160 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 every man who had lived at Windsor, in the 
 atmosphere poisoned by Spalatro, Wren was 
 suspected and abhorred. A cry had risen against 
 him in his diocese, which he was said to have 
 converted into a common jail. Arrested as a 
 papist in disguise, he had been committed to the 
 Tower. These acts had been followed by the scene 
 of yesterday, when a majority of their brethren 
 were compelled to kneel at the bar, to answer 
 charges of high treason, and to have their bail 
 refused. 
 
 The bishops were the king's martyrs ; for their 
 main offence was that of having declared his order 
 ' sacred ' and his right ' divine.' 
 
 Monday, January 
 
 The day of trial came, and was postponed. 
 Meantime a bill was pushed through both the 
 Houses for abolishing episcopacy at a blow. 
 Charles had a great repugnance to this bill. ' No 
 bishops, no king ! ' had been his father's cry ; and 
 he had got the principle in his heart. If bishops 
 fell, he feared the throne would fall. This bill, 
 the Root and Branch bill, was before the peers. 
 All those who loved the king, all those who loved 
 the bishops, were entreated by his majesty to resist.
 
 FEUDAL CHUECH. 161 
 
 Richmond, his Papist kinsman, gave expression to 
 his ire by hinting that the House had better 
 adjourn for six months. His levity cost him dear. 
 He was enjoined to kneel at the bar, withdraw his 
 words, and humbly ask forgiveness of his peers. 
 The House of Commons wished to have him 
 banished from the court. Few cared to join in 
 battle for the bench. Many of those who stood 
 by Charles were willing to abandon Laud and 
 Goodman. On the eve of rising, Digby had said : 
 ' No people have ever been provoked more than 
 the generality of England in late years, by the 
 insolence of these prelates.' Falkland declared that 
 those who hated bishops, hated them like the 
 devil, while those who liked them most would 
 not lose a dinner to save their lives. 
 
 Friday, February 5th. 
 
 Messengers, spurring in hot haste, brought 
 word to Charles that the bishops' bill had passed 
 the third reading in the House of Peers, and would 
 be sent to him on Monday for his signature. 
 Three bishops had protested, but no lay peer had 
 joined them in their protest. In the hour of trial, 
 episcopacy, rooted in the soil for upwards of a 
 thousand years, had hardly found a friend. Here 
 VOL. rv. M
 
 162 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 were the fruits of Laud's English - popery and 
 Goodman's Komish - popery. When episcopacy 
 became confounded with popery, episcopacy was 
 doomed. 
 
 On Monday, Craven and Monmouth came to 
 Windsor with the bill, and craved his majesty's 
 assent. It was a popular bill, as they could 
 testify. On Saturday, when the news got out 
 that it had passed through parliament, bonfires 
 had been lit in every street, and all the parish 
 bells had been rung, as on the news of some 
 great victory. Next day, the churches had been 
 filled, and everyone had hailed the birth of a new 
 tune. 
 
 In eight days it would come into force ; there- 
 fore he was desired to sign at once. 
 
 Charles turned away. Put down his bishops 
 the supporters of his throne clothed in their 
 apostolic grace ! He asked for time. He must 
 consult his council. It was utterly against his 
 conscience to comply. Could he not satisfy the 
 peers some other way ? On other points he was 
 disposed to yield. Suppose he pardoned Mande- 
 ville ; suppose he stayed his accusation of the 
 Five Members ? There was hardly anything he 
 would refuse, if he might save his bishops from that
 
 FEUDAL CHURCH. 163 
 
 fall. Craven and Monmouth pressed their bill 
 Of his three councillors, Hyde was for resistance, 
 Falkland for gaining time, Culpepper for assent. 
 Culpepper was at Windsor when the news came 
 in. ' It must be done, your majesty,' was Cul- 
 pepper's advice. ' Is that Ned Hyde's opinion ? ' 
 asked the king. ' No, sir,' replied the councillor. 
 ' Then I am of Ned Hyde's opinion, and will run 
 the hazard.' 
 
 Craven and Monmouth pressed their errand. 
 It was but a form they asked. A week hence, the 
 provisions of their bill would be in force. The 
 king held out a few days longer, till the Lords, 
 assisted by Culpepper, found means to act on his 
 majesty's fears. 
 
 Defeated by parliament, the English and the 
 Romish prelates lay in the Tower awaiting trial 
 for high treason. 
 
 The Stuarts had achieved their sacred miracle : 
 in less than forty years they had turned .the hearts 
 of Englishmen against their church.
 
 164 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 PAELEYING. 
 1642. 
 
 DIGBY'S campaign was over in a week. One Thurs- 
 day he had quitted Windsor, to commence his war 
 for the deliverance of king and queen; the following 
 Thursday he was housed, under a false name, ' in 
 the privatest way,' at the Golden Fleece a tavern 
 in the market-place of Middelburg, in the Isle of 
 Walcheren. The free companies that were to have 
 crushed the city bands, and pitched the king's 
 enemies into the Thames, had broken and dis- 
 persed. Their leader was a fugitive, waiting for 
 fresh ' instructions ' at the Golden Fleece. 
 
 Suspicion followed him to his hiding-place. 
 Before his failure in the field, he had become in- 
 tensely irksome to his peers, whom he had equally 
 insulted and deceived. ' This is no free Parlia- 
 ment,' he had sneered ; but he had instantly been
 
 PARLBYING. 165 
 
 made to lower that tone. ' My wife is sick at 
 Sherbourne, and I crave permission to bring her 
 up,' had been the lie by which he gained his leave 
 of absence from their lordships' House. Before he 
 drew the sword, he was known to be intimate 
 with the queen. A catholic, more or less con- 
 cealed a favourite with the Capuchins and bed- 
 chamber women he was suspected, with good 
 reason, to have been the bad adviser who had led 
 her majesty to insist on prosecuting Mandeville 
 and the Five Members. No one pitied him in his 
 fall. Proclaimed a traitor, he was summoned to 
 attend the House. His horses, arms, and pro- 
 perties, were seized ; his servants were arrested, 
 searched, and given in charge. When it was 
 known that he had made his escape in a royal 
 ship, Pennington, the king's admiral in the narrow 
 seas, was ordered to attend the bar. A watch was 
 set at Flushing, and about the Golden Fleece. 
 Digby was sure to write to Windsor ; orders were 
 given that his expresses should be stopped and his 
 packets seized. 
 
 For some days darkness and confusion fell on 
 the royal house. Unnerved by failure on all sides, 
 Charles was disposed to parley with his enemies ; 
 the course lay open if he chose to ask for terms.
 
 166 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 Digby's rising was not laid to his account. Where 
 nothing had been signed, little could be proved 
 even if anybody in his senses had wished for proof. 
 Charles was aware that no one wished to rake up 
 evidence against him. He was king royal, if not 
 sacred and surrounded by a halo of respect. No 
 party leader dreamt as yet of touching the regal 
 office. In the eyes of every one the regal office 
 was an appanage of the English race. England 
 was royal. If kingly rule were not invented by 
 the race, it was an emblem of their legendary and 
 historic rights. With them ' the king never dies.' 
 Most of the ancient English laws and liberties were 
 connected with the names of kings ; the franchises 
 of Alfred and the laws of Edward the Confessor 
 being the pride of every English heart. Kings 
 might be good or bad, yet no personal weakness, 
 no personal wickedness, had disturbed the virtues 
 of the English crown. What changes were in 
 store, no man could tell ; but for the day, no party 
 leader was prepared to rake up evidence against 
 the crown. A minister might be struck, a primate 
 lodged in jail, but no one dreamt as yet of aiming 
 at the king and queen. 
 
 One day, while Digby was at sea, and nothing 
 had been heard about him, the queen pretended to
 
 PARLEYING. 167 
 
 take fright. The Commons, she declared, were 
 making articles against her. She was thrown into a 
 state of bodily fear. To Newport, when he came to 
 Windsor with official papers, she not only told this 
 story, but produced a copy of the articles. Her 
 object may have been to frighten Charles, and 
 stop his wish to parley ; or she may have simply 
 wished to try the ground beneath her feet. She 
 knew what mischief she had done, and what the 
 leaders in the country thought of her. To catholics 
 she might seem to be Clothilde, but in the eyes 
 of knights and burgesses she was Jezebel. A 
 comedy had been lately played between them. She 
 was ailing, she had said, and thought of going 
 abroad. Twice in her younger days, the waters 
 at Spa had done her good ; she had a mind to 
 drink those waters in her present state. The 
 Commons, having their suspicions, had desired to 
 know what ailed her, and had ordered Mayerne 
 to report first, on the queen's complaint, and 
 second, on the medicinal properties of the springs 
 at Spa. ' Nerves,' he had said ; ' disorder of the 
 mind,' on which the Commons had suggested that 
 the disorder in her majesty's ' nerves ' might be 
 cured by an agreement of the king and state, 
 which she might greatly help them to bring about.
 
 168 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 On hearing of her pretended scare, the Com- 
 mons prayed the Lords to send some peer to 
 Windsor, and induce her majesty to disclose the 
 name of her informant. No such articles had been 
 prepared ; no such articles had been proposed. 
 Some mischief-maker had deceived the queen. Let 
 her give up his name, that they might punish 
 him for spreading false reports. Newport and 
 Seymour were despatched to Windsor, but her 
 majesty had no one to give up. It was a rumour, 
 she had heard, and nothing more. Articles of im- 
 peachment! She had heard of articles, but had 
 never seen them. The affair was so unlikely, 
 she had given no heed to the report. Finding 
 the House had never taken such a course, she 
 was content. She never meant to accuse a single 
 peer. How, then, should she accuse a House 
 of Peers? 
 
 The comedy was played. Her ailments, mine- 
 ral springs, and articles of impeachment, were 
 allowed to drop. 
 
 Parleying went on. Falkland, Secretary of 
 State, came over, and was closeted with Charles. 
 Wise, tolerant, popular, Falkland was the man 
 to save him, if by any chance he could yet be 
 saved. His majesty smiled and bowed, and
 
 PARLEYING. 169 
 
 yielded, to the outer eye, on many points. He 
 posed himself before Falkland as he posed himself 
 before Vandyck. Day after day his words grew 
 smoother and his promises fairer. He was ready, 
 he asserted, to forget the past ; to drop his accusa- 
 tions, to accept advice, and even to confess his 
 faults. In some things he had been misled ; men 
 whom he trusted had betrayed his confidence, but 
 these mistakes, now seen in their true light, could 
 be repaired. All that was wanting was the spirit, 
 on both sides, to forgive and to forget. ' What- 
 ever mistaking had grown in the government, 
 either of Church or State, might be removed, and 
 all things reduced to the order of the time of 
 Queen Elizabeth the memory whereof is justly 
 precious to this nation:' such were his words. 
 Had he possessed the virtue and the strength to 
 travel on that line, the dynasty might have been 
 saved. 
 
 Another storm broke out. 
 
 Digby wrote from the Golden Fleece ; his 
 letters, taken on the road to Windsor, were pe- 
 rused by Pym. One letter bore her majesty's 
 address, and proved that she was privy to his 
 plots. He asked for orders and a cypher ; hinted 
 at the matters which had failed, and at the policy
 
 170 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 to be still pursued. He named the terms on 
 which he would venture to return. ' If the king 
 betake himself to a safe place, where he may avow 
 and protect his servants, ... I shall then live in 
 impatience and in misery till I wait upon you. 
 But if after all he hath done of late he shall 
 betake himself to the easiest and compliantest 
 ways of accommodation, I am confident that then 
 I shall serve him more by my absence than by all 
 my industry.' 
 
 The queen was hot for war; a war that should 
 be open and avowed. Why had they failed? 
 Because their war was unavowed. Nobody knew 
 how far he had a right to go. Take Goring ; he 
 was pledged to her, yet when the moment came, 
 he had done nothing. Hundreds of officers were 
 in Goring's shoes ; sworn to her service, yet 
 unable to strike a blow. Must all that she had 
 done be thrown aside ? She had engaged a host 
 of partizans ; she had laid her hands on the Crown 
 jewels. These were advantages not to be flung 
 away. 
 
 Charles still wavered in his mind. One day 
 he listened to the queen, and felt her fiery breath 
 sweep through his soul ; next day, he listened to
 
 PARLEYING. 171 
 
 the Secretary, and talked of riding down to West- 
 minster, and making terms of peace. 
 
 The queen was rich in plans. She offered to 
 cross the sea, to carry off the Crown jewels, and 
 make a new attempt to carry off the prince. 
 Charles, as Digby had suggested, should retire on 
 a strong place, farther from the capital than 
 Windsor. There, he should raise the royal flag, 
 and call his people under arms. Men, arms, and 
 money, would come in. At Rotterdam, she could 
 sell the jewels, take up ships, raise companies, and 
 return to help him with a fleet and army. Sailing 
 under lawful colours, and receiving lawful pay, 
 his crews and troops would know how to defend 
 their king. 
 
 Listening to her voice, he felt inclined to go 
 with her the Clothilde of her race and faith. 
 When left alone, he pondered on the risk, not only 
 to his life, but to his crown. All power seemed 
 slipping from his hands. His bishops were in 
 jail, his officers were insulted and condemned, his 
 fortresses were no longer his ; Constable and 
 Chamberlain refused to come when he required 
 them. He was barely master of his Castle-gates. 
 How, if he kept his course, was he to hold his
 
 172 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 own ? It was impossible. He must go back ; he 
 must undo what he had done, and let his people 
 have what they desired Elizabeth's kingdom and 
 Elizabeth's church. 
 
 This yielding mood provoked her majesty to 
 scorn. Give up his cause? Why so? He was 
 still a king. Only one officer had failed. Thou- 
 sands were ready to take his place. England lay 
 open to his enterprise. Let him retire from 
 Windsor. A hundred miles from London, he 
 could raise his flag, and issue an appeal. Then 
 he would see. The tempest of her passion drove 
 him on, and finally he agreed with her to fight. 
 
 The first thing was to get the queen away 
 from Windsor ; she and the Crown jewels, which 
 she had to pawn or sell. Mary's betrothal to the 
 Prince of Orange furnished an excuse. The bride- 
 groom pressed to have his bride ; the queen pro- 
 posed to take her to the Hague. It was not easy 
 to refuse her, and the peers were glad to have the 
 court away from Windsor ; but they sent off Capel 
 and Portland to require the king's assent to the 
 bishops' bill before the queen set out. That bill, 
 they were to hint, must be adopted ere the roads 
 to Dover could be guaranteed. Culpepper lent his 
 help. Seeking the queen, he urged her to inter-
 
 PARLEYING. 173 
 
 cede with Charles. Her fears might overcome a 
 scruple which resisted sage advice. The queen fell 
 in with his design. She was unwilling to be stopt, 
 and more unwilling to be searched. A word from 
 her and all was done ; before they passed the 
 gates, the king agreed to sign. 
 
 His reign at Windsor lasted just four weeks. 
 Coming on Wednesday, he left on Wednesday ; 
 but in that interval he had fallen from the height 
 of a king to that of a pretender. He was more 
 than half dethroned. His sovereign rights were 
 gone. His bishops were deposed. He was no 
 longer master of his house. A rival power dis- 
 puted his control of fortresses and ports. One 
 course, and only one, lay open to him an appeal 
 to arms. He came to Windsor for a private war ; 
 he left, to tempt his fortune in a public war. He 
 put his crown and life at stake. He threw his 
 kingly office in the scale against his country's 
 right. 
 
 On which side was the strength of England to 
 be found? A hundred battle-fields had to reply. 
 Till that debate was over, Charles was never to 
 re-enter the royal house.
 
 174 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 ROUNDHEADS. 
 
 1672. 
 
 
 
 TAP, tap ! over heath and holt came the sound of 
 Roundhead drums of steadily advancing Round- 
 head drums; unpleasant music in the ears of 
 Aminadab Harrison and his merry men. Order, 
 even in disorder, was a principle of the men in 
 power at Westminster. No Robin Hoods were 
 henceforth needed in defence of popular rights. 
 When Charles retired from Windsor, his feudal 
 system vanished, and the park and forest fell into 
 possession of the state as trustee for the crown. 
 
 As Charles rode out, his Constable rode in ; not 
 in obedience to a royal summons, but to that of an 
 order from his peers. As Ranger of the park, his 
 duty called him to the keep. He was to warn the 
 rioters to disperse ; if they resisted, to arrest and 
 bring them up to Westminster. But he was no
 
 ROUNDHEADS. 175 
 
 more fortunate than before. Aminadab laughed 
 him in the face; on which he threatened and 
 retired. Finding an open field before them, the 
 intruders grew in numbers, till the noise of their 
 misdoings rivalled the tumult of a royal hunt. 
 
 Holland, too weak to cope with them, reported 
 to his peers. A body of rustics, living in the 
 villages round Windsor, had got possession of the 
 park and forest ; gathering ' in a riotous and 
 tumultuous manner,' they defied his orders, beat 
 his keepers, and killed his majesty's deer. More 
 than a hundred fallow-deer had been slain and 
 stolen. Nor were the marauders satisfied with 
 hunting in the forest ; they had broken down his 
 fences, and had threatened to destroy his lodge. 
 The uproar caused by them could be heard in the 
 King's house. ' Send for the sheriff ; let him 
 answer for the peace,' the Lords replied in practical 
 orders; and, within a month, Robin Hood and 
 Little John, otherwise Aminadab Harrison and 
 John Patey, had been taken prisoners, brought 
 to Westminster, found guilty of trespass, and 
 returned to Berks, under sentence of imprisonment 
 in the county jail with hard labour, till the pleasure 
 of the Lords should be further shown. 
 
 But park and chase were not yet cleared. In
 
 176 EOYAL WIND SOU. 
 
 forty years, a generation of rustics had grown up 
 in license, with the feeling of their class entirely on 
 their side, and that of the better sort partially on 
 their side. Tramps, deer-stealers, and intruders of 
 all sorts, were slow to understand the change. Here 
 stretched the king's park, there skipped the king's 
 deer : why, were they not to enter and to take 
 their own as they had done for many a year ? 
 Unable to read the new rules, they went on 
 snaring deer and carrying off lops and tops. 
 Again the Constable reported to his peers. Con- 
 sidering it ' a blemish to government, to deface his 
 majesty's parks and forests,' the Lords invited 
 Mandeville to assist the Constable in restoring 
 peace. Some of the thieves were caught and 
 caged ; but the disorder, bred in the bone of 
 tramp and poacher, was not easily suppressed. 
 
 Tap, tap ! the Roundhead drums were heard ; 
 a tramp of many feet, with Venn, the city captain, 
 in their front. John Venn, a mercer in Cheapside, 
 and a member for the city, had a name among the 
 companies only second to Skippon, under whom he 
 had drilled and served. Venn was a typical man. 
 Bold, talkative, unabashed, he had been equally 
 useful to his party in the House and in the street. 
 He liked to rail against the king; to rustle and
 
 EOUNDHEADS. 177 
 
 insult the guard. More than once he marched his 
 company down to Westminster in defiance of the 
 king and of his troop. A gospeller like himself, 
 his wife was no less ardent in the cause. One 
 day, during a debate, he sent to her a scrawl. 
 The cause, he said, was going ill ; bad men were 
 having their own way ; he could not leave the 
 House. Could she contrive to send some help ? 
 Running from house to house, she stirred up 
 friends, got them under way, and marched with 
 them to Westminster, where they arrived hi the 
 nick of time. 
 
 Raised to the rank of colonel, Venn set out for 
 Windsor at the head of twelve companies of foot. 
 He was to seize the Castle, strengthen the defences, 
 and to hold the post as governor, in the name of 
 king and parliament. Blood was already flowing 
 in the west, and troops were moving from the 
 north towards London. Essex, the new Lord- 
 General, saw the value of Windsor as a fore-post 
 and defence of the metropolis. But Windsor was 
 a good deal more to Essex than a fore-post and 
 defence. To all men, Windsor was still royal, and 
 to some she was sacred : the depository of their 
 national sentiment. She seemed the natural head- 
 quarters of a country under arms. She was an 
 
 VOL. IV. N
 
 178 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 answer and denial to a court set up elsewhere. 
 He who held Windsor seemed as though he held 
 the crown. 
 
 Both sides were soon of this opinion, and to 
 both sides Windsor became an object of desire. 
 
 After seeing his wife embark, Charles, acting on 
 Digby's plan, rode up into the north; into those 
 shires which held on doggedly to the ancient ways, 
 and had no fear of any number of returning Cardinal 
 Poles. At York, he ousted Essex from his post 
 of Chamberlain; and invested Lindsay with the 
 staff. It was an act of warfare. Lindsay was a 
 soldier who had served with Essex on the Rhine. 
 At parting from his consort, Charles had promised 
 her he would draw the sword, call up the country, 
 march on London, and destroy the city bands. 
 She took his pledge that he would never enter 
 London till he rode in as a conqueror at the head 
 of his victorious troops. Lindsay, the new Cham- 
 berlain, was named Lord-General of his forces, with 
 Prince Rupert as his Master of the Horse. In 
 answer to this challenge, Essex was named Lord- 
 General of the popular bands. ' Hey for Robin ! ' 
 shouted the volunteers. He was so popular in the 
 city, that an army sprang up at his call. ' With- 
 out him,' said the royalists, ' they would hardly
 
 ROUNDHEADS. 179 
 
 have been able to raise a regiment.' Essex and 
 Lindsay, formerly comrades on the Rhine, now 
 faced each other; Essex on the Thames, and 
 Lindsay on the Ouse. 
 
 Digby crept over with a message from the 
 queen. Arms, men, and money, he assured his 
 majesty, were on board. The queen was moving 
 heaven and earth in his behalf; here, kneeling with 
 her monks, there, haggling with her Jews. But 
 Digby, coming in disguise, and only seeing the 
 king by stealth, was far from satisfied with the 
 aspect of affairs. The king lay too far north ; and 
 seemed to be a fugitive from his realm. Instead 
 of throwing off his mask and mingling with the 
 court, he took his leave, with two or three bed- 
 chamber men, and crept back towards the coast. 
 
 Weeks later on, two armies, slowly formed and 
 poorly trained, met near Edge Hill drew blood 
 and then fell back ; the cavaliers retiring on Ox- 
 ford, the roundheads on Warwick ; neither side 
 much weakened by the fray. Edge Hill was fought 
 on Sunday afternoon. Early in the day, while 
 service was proceeding in St. George's chapel, 
 Captain Fog, a roundhead officer, appeared at 
 Windsor, and demanded from the dean and canons 
 the key of their strong-room. His orders were, to
 
 180 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 take away their plate. The dean, Christopher Wren, 
 a brother of the culprit in the Tower, took fright ; 
 for Fog was bold of face, and help, in his distress, 
 seemed far away. He tried to gain a little time. 
 Three keys, he said, were needed to unlock the 
 door ; these keys were held by different persons, 
 who were not in residence that day. Fog called 
 in blacksmiths, who, with crow-bars, smashed the 
 stone jambs, and made a way into their strong- 
 room. Fog took away the plate ; rods, basons, 
 flagons, candlesticks, all solid silver, chased by 
 Nuremberg artists, and triple gilt. Much l papistry ' 
 was noted on that college plate ; legends of Moses 
 and the tables, David and the Ark, angels of 
 incense, and figures touching for the king's evil. 
 Fog carried all away, and his employers dropped 
 that superstition into the roundhead melting- 
 pots. 
 
 On Friday, five days later, Venn arrived, and 
 took up his abode as governor in St. George's keep. 
 He had not come one day too soon. The king, 
 finding himself nearer to London than his enemy, 
 descended by the Thames valley, meaning to move 
 on Westminster, and to regain the royal house. 
 At Maidenhead, Rupert turned off towards Wind- 
 sor, but the roundhead companies were in strong
 
 ROUNDHEADS. 181 
 
 possession of the gates and towers. A castle on a 
 height, defended by artillery, is not a place to be 
 assailed by troops of horse, armed with nothing 
 but swords and carbines. Burning with rage, 
 Rupert drew off, and spurred to Colnbrook, where 
 his uncle lay in strength, already, as he thought, 
 the master of his capital. 
 
 Some of the citizens, urged by panic, were 
 inclined to sue for terms. On what terms would 
 his majesty be pleased to treat? Retire from 
 Windsor, was the king's reply. If they desired 
 to treat, he would reside at Windsor till the articles 
 were signed. But Venn and his companies must 
 vacate the royal house. Some of the leaders were 
 inclined to yield, but a majority clung to the idea 
 of retaining Windsor till the articles were signed. 
 Would Charles agree ? Pembroke and Northum- 
 berland rode out to Colnbrook, in the hope of per- 
 suading him to lie at Reading and Maidenhead, 
 leaving the Castle in the hands of Venn. He was 
 unwilling to accept such terms ; Windsor was his 
 house ; Venn had no business there. While they 
 were parleying over Windsor, Essex came up. By 
 throwing troops into Acton, Brentford, and Kings- 
 ton, he sealed up every road from Colnbrook to the 
 capital. Charles, shut out alike from Westminster
 
 182 EOYAL WINDSOK. 
 
 and Windsor, agreed to hold his ground and nego- 
 tiate from his actual camp. 
 
 But Rupert, chafing at these delays, and eager 
 to cut his way through the roundhead lines, 
 dashed forward, contrary to the truce, surprised 
 the companies at Brentford, and drove them out ; 
 but with such loss of men and horses as prevented 
 him advancing on the London road. On hearing 
 of this outrage, Essex joined his troops, brought 
 out the city bands, and pushed the cavaliers back 
 from Brentford, through their former lines at Coin- 
 brook, into Maidenhead and Reading. 
 
 Windsor was no longer menaced by the king. 
 But Essex, finding the place of so much value, 
 took up his abode in the royal house ; fixing his 
 head-quarters in the town and on St. George's 
 keep. 
 
 Leaving a garrison at Reading, Charles fell 
 back on Oxford, which became his own head- 
 quarters for the war. Thus, at the end of one 
 campaign, Windsor and Oxford were entrenched 
 against each other; each the head-quarters of a 
 hostile camp and cause.
 
 183 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 CAVALIER PRISONERS. 
 
 1643. 
 
 IN the chief apartment of the Norman tower may 
 still be read this scrap of personal history in 
 stone : 
 
 SIR EDMUND FORTESCUE, 
 
 PRISONER IN THIS CHAMBER, 
 12 DAY JANUARY, 1642. 
 
 This date is in the old style ; Sir Edmund 
 scratched his name on his prison wall on the 
 twelfth day of January, 1643. 
 
 Sir Edmund Fortescue was an early victim of 
 the shibboleth ' King or Parliament ?' It was a 
 queiy hard for men to answer, even when put to 
 them in their cooler moments. Seven men in ten 
 throughout the nation were for king and par- 
 liament ; and a heavy burden lay on those who
 
 184 KOYAL WINDSOK. 
 
 drove them into choosing sides. Here lay the 
 pathos of those times, when happy homes were 
 broken up, and families rent in twain by passions 
 kindled at a distance from the domestic hearth. 
 Fortescue was brought to Windsor in a batch of 
 fifty-five prisoners, all of them taken on the field 
 of battle, urging their cause with sword and pike. 
 Sir Francis Dodington, Sir John Smith, and Sir 
 William Valentine, were in the batch each stolen 
 away from wife and child, from pleasant home, 
 yule-logs, and Christmas holidays. Some of the 
 fifty -five were sheriffs of their counties ; others 
 were burgesses of the county towns. At home, 
 and even in Westminster, the parties had a common 
 cry : ' Crown, religion, parliament.' It was only 
 in the field, with loaded piece and pointed lance, 
 that either disputant put his question plainly : 
 King or parliament ? Fortescue and his fellows 
 were received at Windsor in the king's name, as 
 culprits taken in the fact of levying war against 
 the king ! 
 
 Though Essex and his staff held the King's 
 house, Venn was Governor of the Castle, and to 
 him the captives were consigned. 
 
 During the Christmas holidays, parliament grew 
 conscious of the fact, that fighting leads to prisoners
 
 CAVALIER PRISONERS. 185 
 
 being taken ; also to the fact that prisoners, on 
 surrender, must be housed and watched. No 
 preparations had been made to lodge them. Those 
 who came in first were welcomed, and the ordinary 
 jails sufficed : their coming was a public sight, an 
 evidence of success in action ; but the Clinke and 
 Fleet, the Comptors and King's Bench, were 
 quickly filled. Prisoners kept pouring in ; on 
 which the managers of the war, with crafty 
 humour, seized the bishops' palaces, and turned 
 them into common jails. Laud was in the Tower : 
 why not use the chambers of Lambeth house ? 
 Wren was in the Tower : why not use the 
 chambers of Ely house ? Juxon and Curie were 
 absent : why not use the chambers of London 
 house and Winchester house ? When all these 
 piles were choked with prisoners, the authorities 
 turned towards Windsor. Space, they saw, might 
 be secured in St. George's keep, the Norman tower, 
 the Outer gate, and in the Poor Knights' tene- 
 ments. Should more space be needed, they might 
 clear the nest, driving out dean and canons, servitors 
 and singing-men. Thus fifty-five cavalier gentle- 
 men were removed to Windsor, chiefly from the 
 King's Bench and from Winchester house. 
 
 On entering, every man had to pay his fee,
 
 186 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 according to his rank ; an ensign or lieutenant, 
 twenty -six shillings and eightpence ; a knight, 
 captain, or esquire, forty shillings ; a colonel, or 
 man of quality, sixty- six shillings and eightpence. 
 Venn allotted them such rooms as he saw fit, such 
 as their means allowed them to keep up. As yet 
 the prison rules were mild, the strife being still 
 regarded as a neighbours' strife, soon to be healed 
 again. A prisoner was allowed to bring in food 
 and fuel. When they first arrived the rooms were 
 empty, having neither tables, chairs, nor beds ; 
 but all these things were soon supplied. A 
 prisoner had the freedom of his ward ; no stranger 
 was allowed to speak with him, But he was free 
 to move about and to enjoy the prospect from his 
 wall or tower. All letters had to pass under 
 Venn's eye ; but where no public matters were 
 discussed they were at once distributed to his 
 guests. No harshness in the rule, no violence in 
 the jailer, stained this period of the war. 
 
 Fortescue and Dodington chose to lodge in the 
 Norman tower the rooms in which Surrey had 
 lived and sung. 
 
 Fortescue was thirty-two years old, a man of 
 handsome person, with a cavalier's locks about 
 his neck, and small moustache and tuft, worn in
 
 CAVALIER PRISONERS. 187 
 
 the fashion patronised by his prince. The family 
 seat was Fallapit, in Devonshire, a charming nook 
 on a charming country side. There lived hi 
 father, John Fortescue, a hale but aged westeri] 
 squire. Sir Edmund was high sheriff. All mem- 
 bers of the family were cavaliers ; his father, and 
 his brother Peter, being no less ardent than himself. 
 Lady Fortescue went with him heart and sou*. 
 When Hertford, casting in his lot with Charles 
 appeared in Somerset and called his tenants under- 
 arms, Fortescue began to move in Devonshire; but 
 Bedford, sent into the western shires, drove Hert- 
 ford back, and kept the royalists of Devonshire in 
 check. Not until Hopton came, was Fortescue able 
 to array his county bands. Then he moved out, 
 his father and his brother joining him in the field. 
 At Modbury they encountered Ruthven, and a 
 flying roundhead corps, who broke their lines, and 
 drove them into headlong flight. His band dis- 
 persed, the sheriff made for Champernoun house, 
 a strong place, which he hoped to hold against his 
 enemy. His father and his brother followed him. 
 Ruthven was a soldier, and he pushed the 
 fugitive so sternly that the volunteers laid down 
 their swords. Champernoun and the Fortescues 
 were put on board a ship, and brought by sea to
 
 188 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 Gravesend, whence forty pikemen marched them 
 up to South wark, and dispersed them into several 
 jails. Sir Edmund and his father were lodged in 
 Winchester house, so that the old man might be 
 comforted by his son. Champernoun and Peter 
 Fortescue were placed in the King's Bench. The 
 sheriff was then sent to Windsor ; but his brother 
 Peter was allowed to take his place at his father's 
 side. The charities of civil life were not yet 
 scotched away by the consuming fire of civil 
 war. 
 
 The sheriff stayed eight months in the Norman 
 tower. Hopton had gained advantages for the 
 king, and many roundhead officers were in his 
 hands. Sir Edmund, with his father and his 
 brother, was exchanged. He went back to his 
 home ; but he had tasted blood, and the delights 
 of home soon palled on his excited spirit. He 
 raised a company, marched on Salcombe, and raised 
 a strong work there, which he called Fort Charles. 
 This post he held a long time, and only yielded 
 when the war was almost at an end. On giving 
 his word to live abroad, he was allowed to cross 
 sea. He made for Delft ; but he had spent his 
 force, and in the following year he died. 
 
 Not far from Fortescue' s inscription may be
 
 CAVALIER PEISONERS. 189 
 
 read this second scrap of personal history in 
 stone : 
 
 DODINGTON. 
 
 Sir Francis Dodington was, like Fortescue, a 
 western man, and his appeal to arms, like that of 
 Fortescue, was the rending of a happy home. 
 Born and bred in Somerset, in the hamlet from 
 which he derived his name, he had never drawn 
 his sword in anger till the war broke out. Then 
 had been put to him, as of all Englishmen of age 
 to carry arms, the query : King or parliament ? 
 He answered 'King.' John, his eldest son, re- 
 fused. Lady Dodington was dead. Father and 
 son were parted on the hearthstone. John stood 
 out for parliament. When Hertford came into the 
 west, Sir Francis joined him, and displayed such 
 energy in the cause as made him, like his neigh- 
 bour, Robert Blake, a name of fear to the opposing
 
 L90 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 dde ; but unlike Blake, he had the misery of being 
 captured at an early date, and sharing Fortescue's 
 imprisonment in the Norman tower. 
 
 How long he lay at Windsor is uncertain. 
 
 Ake the Fortescues, he was probably exchanged ; 
 
 nd, like his room-mate, he was hardly free before 
 
 iie plunged into the war again. Few men did 
 
 >etter service to the king. One rattling brush he 
 
 lad with Major Carr, which saved a royal convoy 
 
 roni a troop of roundhead horse. But all his 
 
 strength was spent in vain. Like others of his 
 
 [uality and fortune, he observed the king's decline 
 
 vith sorrowing heart. His soul was in the cause. 
 
 [lis home, his son, were nothing in the scale. 
 
 When all was over with his master, all was over 
 
 with himself. Stealing away to France, he roamed 
 
 from place to place, living a vagrant life, forgotten 
 
 by his friends, and earning a little bread by the 
 
 sale of English knives. Yet in his lowest fortunes 
 
 he retained his handsome person and his courtly 
 
 ir. A lady, who was giving him food and clothes 
 
 or charity, struck by his manner, kept him in her 
 
 louse, inquired into his history, and finding him 
 
 i gentleman, became his wife. Thus life began 
 
 'or him again. Two sons were born to him of 
 
 this foreign match. John, his first-born by his
 
 CAVALIER PRISONEES. 191 
 
 English wife, had entered into Cromwell's service, 
 and become the secretary of his minister, Thurloe. 
 The fugitive knew him not. The two French 
 boys he reared as soldiers, and he placed them in 
 the army of his adopted prince. 
 
 In old age, under a second Charles, the wan- 
 derer appeared at Dodington. His side was up ; his 
 son's was down. No one objected to his entering 
 on his own. The best of his estate was gone ; yet 
 he disdained to speak of recompense. At length 
 he passed into the land of dreams, leaving this 
 record in this name and shield, carved on his prison- 
 wall in the Norman tower.
 
 192 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 HEAD-QUARTERS. 
 
 1643-5. 
 
 ESSEX lay at Windsor till the spring. During the 
 winter months, parley was going on with Charles, 
 who kept his court at Oxford, though his heart was 
 in the royal house. In every note, from Oxford to 
 Westminster, the name turned up. Charles wanted 
 to regain his house and keep. Much of the country 
 was in his possession. Reading he held hi strength. 
 A good deal of Berks, still more of Bucks, lay 
 under his control. He had an army at his back, 
 and might re-enter Windsor with the pomp and 
 glory of a king. When he had left, a year ago, he 
 had neither men nor guns ; none of the force that 
 gilds and deepens the halo round a royal head. 
 Now, he was strong enough to avow his policy and 
 defend his cause. At Windsor, his position would 
 be safe.
 
 HEAD-QUARTERS. 193 
 
 The lords with whom he parleyed, were as firm 
 in holding to the royal house. * His majesty's 
 forces shall advance no nearer to Windsor than 
 Wheatly,' six miles from Oxford, was their first 
 demand, when offering terms of truce. A line, 
 twelve miles round Windsor, might be drawn, and 
 they would keep within that line if Charles would 
 draw a similar line round Oxford, and agree to 
 take no ground beyond that line. 
 
 But Charles refused. He counted on the magic 
 of his name and on the disposition of his peers. 
 Pembroke was preaching peace. Bedford and 
 Holland were preparing to desert their flag. Why 
 not Essex and the men at Windsor? In the rush 
 of horse at Edge Hill, a roundhead colonel had 
 come over. Other colonels wer"e suspected of a 
 wish to follow suit. Since Charles left Windsor, 
 the situation had completely changed. In other 
 days, Charles was the innovator", both in church 
 and state. His bishops and his ministers were 
 odious in the sight of moderate men. Now, he 
 was a conservative ; willing to go back on church 
 and state as they had stood in Queen Elizabeth's 
 time. His enemies had become the innovators, 
 both in church and state. So far from being satis- 
 fied with an English church and an English state, 
 
 VOL. IV.
 
 194 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 the leaders were hankering after foreign models, 
 a Genevan theocracy, a Munster commonwealth. 
 Piqued by such vagaries, ordinary men were turn- 
 ing once more in weariness towards the crown. 
 
 Were Essex gained and Windsor occupied for 
 the king, Charles might be strong enough to 
 fix his own terms of peace. Could Essex be 
 seduced? Charles thought so. Essex showed no 
 zeal. A captain, skilled in war, he stood in harness, 
 but he threw no heart into the work. A peer, with 
 large estates and torpid views, he wanted no 
 material change. To go back on the settlements of 
 Elizabeth was enough for him, and for every per- 
 son of his class. In joining the reformers, he was 
 helping to resist innovation. He had hardly 
 dreamed of war, and never of a war against the 
 crown. ' For king and parliament ! ' was his daily 
 cry. To raise his point against the king was no 
 less a crime than sacrilege. At Edge Hill, his aim 
 was rescue nothing more ; an effort to deliver 
 Charles from the society of his evil councillors. 
 Step by step, he had been led into a false position, 
 till he found himself at Windsor, at the head of a 
 rebel army, which denied the king admittance to 
 the royal house. 
 
 A letter came to him from Oxford. Charles,
 
 HEAD- QUARTERS. 195 
 
 assuring him of forgiveness of the past, entreated 
 him to put an end to the unhappy strife. It lay 
 with Essex. Charles was ready to conclude a 
 truce and to confer with him on terms of peace. 
 Let Essex say the word, and peace might be 
 secured. 
 
 Essex was aware of his position. Some of the 
 fanatics were already railing at him. He was 
 tender to the king averse to hitting hard, afraid 
 of shedding blood. Voices in the rear were calling 
 out for a new general ; one who would lay on and 
 spare not, till their enemies were smitten hip and 
 thigh. These railers galled him ; but the day was 
 not yet come when he could walk with them no 
 more. 
 
 He answered : that he tendered his services at 
 the royal feet, and was willing to hazard his life 
 and fortune in his majesty's defence ; that from the 
 beginning of these troubles he had worked for 
 peace ; that he had a great trust laid on him for the 
 defence of his majesty's person, God's true religion, 
 and the public good ; and that his conscience 
 bound him to discharge that trust. Should that 
 trust be taken from him and bestowed on a worthier 
 man, he would not only give it up, but hold him- 
 self in readiness to save his majesty against any of 
 his foreign enemies.
 
 196 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 Here the correspondence dropt, and Essex 
 drew his forces round the Castle for the spring 
 campaign. 
 
 A bridge was built by Venn. A Windsor 
 regiment was raised, and many a bout of wine was 
 held at the White Hart, between the roundhead 
 mayor and Colonel Venn. The royal garrison at 
 Reading plagued the district ; and the general laid 
 his plans for marching on that town ; but his 
 regiments were not yet strong enough in numbers 
 nor inured enough to discipline for serious work. 
 Windsor had been their Capua. 
 
 Neither Essex nor Venn had full control over 
 the park and forest j and the soldiers, having 
 arms and fellowship, were far more troublesome 
 than Aminadab's merry men. Sprung from the 
 lower ranks, they had a fellow-feeling with the 
 park-breakers and deer-stealers. Stationed in the 
 town, they roamed about the park, and helped 
 themselves to venison and wood. Complaints 
 arose. A keeper swore that the Lord-General's 
 soldiers crashed into the park, threw down the 
 stakes, and killed the stags and deer more than 
 five hundred stags and deer. One keeper tried to 
 stop a soldier who was doing mischief, and the 
 soldier killed him on the spot. Of all marauders
 
 HEAD-QUARTERS. 197 
 
 in the park, his lordship's troops had proved the 
 worst. Holland could do nothing Essex could 
 do little to prevent their violence. Some outside 
 rascals, taken in the fact, were clapt in jail ; but 
 troops and regiments packing for the march and 
 siege were not to be broken for the sake of dead 
 deer, much less for the sake of charred rails. What 
 could be safely done, was done. Ten days before 
 Essex struck his tents, the House of Lords took the 
 Great park under their special care. 
 
 The general gone, Venn broke into the deanery 
 and the college. Who were these fellows, idling in 
 the inn-yard, when the day of toil had come?' 
 ' Clerks and minor canons,' they replied. ' Then 
 join the standard,' answered Venn ; ' go forth and 
 fight for king and parliament.' They claimed 
 exemption, being men of peace and servants of the 
 church. To take up arms was contrary to their 
 consciences. ' Troop out, then!' cried the military 
 mercer, and the servitors, of the chapel had to 
 troop. 
 
 The Lords were shocked ; but men like Venn 
 were coming to the top. Mandeville, now earl of 
 Manchester, and speaker in the House of Lords, 
 warned him to take care of St. George's chapel ; to 
 see that the registers and monuments of the order
 
 198 ROYAL WINDSOK. 
 
 were preserved. He was required to leave the 
 college men to their rooms, so long as they kept 
 the peace. But Venn took little heed of Manchester. 
 His party were advancing to the front ; men of 
 Testwood's stamp, to whom saints were popery, 
 and effigies only dust. Essex had hardly quitted 
 Reading on his way towards Oxford, when this 
 roundhead strode into the choir, pulled down the 
 shields and hangings, took away the plate and 
 ornaments, and then robbed the tombs of their gold 
 and jewels. Venn had no respect for saints even 
 for a national saint. 
 
 A year passed by, with fifty battles and no 
 results. 
 
 The queen came back, with men and money, to 
 resume her sway and to ruin Charles ; who not only 
 followed her advice, but called in witnesses to see 
 how thoroughly he had become her slave. From 
 that hour, neutral men fell off, leaving the papists 
 and the sectaries to fight their fight. Victory 
 turned from side to side. Waller defeated Herbert 
 near Gloucester ; Newcastle beat Fairfax at Bram- 
 ham Moor. Essex took Reading ; Hopton routed 
 Stamford. Goring was taken at Wakefield ; Rupert 
 gained an advantage at Chalgrove. Hampden fell ; 
 and then Falkland fell. Essex cleared the field at
 
 HEAD-QUARTERS. 199 
 
 Newbury ; Waller lost the day on Roundway 
 Down. Essex returned to Windsor ; Charles re- 
 turned to Oxford : nothing had been achieved. 
 
 One day, a trumpeter came to the Castle gates 
 from Oxford, with a packet for the Lord-General. 
 Essex bore that packet, unopened, to the House of 
 Lords. He had grown afraid of snares. A second 
 year of war had multiplied his critics, who were 
 crying out, and louder than before, that he spared 
 the king. Bedford and Holland had gone over. 
 Many suspected him of a design to follow suit. 
 His frankness saved him for a time. The mes- 
 sage proved to be a fresh appeal to him for peace ; 
 but peace to be arranged between Oxford and 
 Windsor, in which the Lords and Commons were 
 to have no part. ' Let the Lord-General write to 
 him, since we are not addressed,' was the reply 
 of parliament. Brief and stern were the Lord- 
 General's words. He and his friends, he told the 
 king, had armed to uphold the rights of parliament, 
 and were resolved to spend their lives in vindica- 
 tion of those rights, as being the foundation on 
 which all their laws and liberties were built. 
 
 In May, next year, Essex marched from Wind- 
 sor with the roundhead army for his third and 
 last campaign. Turning on Oxford, he edged the
 
 200 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 royalist forces towards the west. Charles fell back on 
 Exeter ; the queen crossed over into France. Yet 
 weeks dragged on, and hardly anything was done. 
 Again the cry arose that Charles was being spared ; 
 again the cry was raised in favour of a change. 
 Paston, pretending to see signs and visions, inter- 
 fered with officers, and made appeals against those 
 officers to the rank and file. Dissensions rent the 
 camps. Waller, a subtle and ambitious general, 
 sided with the sectaries and disobeyed his chief's 
 commands. Essex lost heart; and being entangled 
 in a difficult country, stept on board a boat, and 
 left his column to dissolve. His horse broke 
 through ; his infantry made terms. That great 
 roundhead army was to rally on the Windsor grass 
 no more. 
 
 The roundhead troops had come to have 
 opinions ; and an army that has more than one 
 opinion is a Mob. 
 
 Windsor remained head-quarters ; but a new 
 general was to lodge in the King's house, a new 
 army, founded on a new principle, to gather round 
 the Windsor slopes.
 
 201 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE NEW MODEL. 
 1645. 
 
 THE new general was Fairfax : the new army was 
 a sect. 
 
 On reaching Windsor, Fairfax met his first 
 regiment of horse, composed of men whom Crom- 
 well had raised and trained, and who had recently 
 flashed and stormed over the field at Marston Moor. 
 ' We charged their regiments of foot with our horse, 
 and routed all we charged. God made them stubble 
 to our swords.' These men were picketed in the 
 town and under the Castle wall ; models, on whose 
 strong and steady lines he was to form his troops 
 and regiments for the next campaign. 
 
 A son of Ferdinando, Lord Fairfax of Cameron, 
 the new Lord-General came of a strong-headed and 
 quick -hitting race, long settled on the Yorkshire 
 moors. Some of the family had been bailiffs,
 
 202 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 reeves, and sheriffs ; but the chiefs had been mostly 
 fighting-men, loving the sword and saddle as the 
 weapon and the seat of a hardy stock. One of the 
 house had helped in the sack of Rome. Most of 
 the males had been knighted on the field. To prove 
 their grit, they had drunk and fought with almost 
 equal ardour, and more than once had been only 
 saved from ruin, by their luck in attracting wealthy 
 girls. One of the family had given himself up to 
 verse ; but the translator of Tasso into English 
 had been an illegitimate son. No genuine Fairfax 
 could have any other passion than the saddle and 
 the sword. Thomas, the first lord, had seen sharp 
 service on the Rhine. One of his sons had found a 
 soldier's grave in Turkey ; and a second had fallen, 
 sword in hand, at the gates of Montauban. Two 
 others had been slain at Frankenthal. Ferdinando, 
 the second lord, had been one of the first men in 
 Yorkshire to rise against the king. As colonel of 
 the York bands, general of the West Riding, 
 governor of Hull, and commander in the north, he 
 had been the leader in a dozen fights. 
 
 Tom, the son of that second lord, had been 
 early sent into foreign camps to learn the family 
 trade. Leaving Cambridge at sixteen, he had 
 taken service under Vere, from whom he learnt his
 
 THE NEW MODEL. 203 
 
 first lesson in the art of war, and to whom he had 
 made his first engagement in the court of love. 
 Vere's religion had become his faith ; Vere's daugh- 
 ter had become his wife. 
 
 As captain of the Yorkshire Red-caps, Fairfax 
 had served against the Scots, and, like his fathers, 
 he had won his knighthood with the sword. When 
 Charles had called his partisans to York, he had 
 tried to dissuade his majesty from making war ; 
 had tried by word of mouth, and by a great 
 petition, laid with audacious hand on the royal 
 pommel. Having urged the king in vain, he drew 
 his sword and threw himself body and soul into 
 the cause adopted by his father and his wife. 
 Thirty years old, and knowing a soldier's duty, he 
 had been appointed Master of the Yorkshire Horse. 
 Father and son had served in a common camp ; 
 but while the father, having more fire than science, 
 had lost as many actions as he gained, the son had 
 marched from victory to victory. Leeds, Wetherby, 
 Wakefield, had resounded through the land. Even 
 his one disaster at Bradford had helped to swell the 
 volume of his fame. Pressed on all sides, he had 
 placed his wife in the centre of a troop, and dashed 
 against Newcastle's lines. Whirl, flash, and stab 
 a hurly-burly of hoofs and voices and he had
 
 204 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 found himself outside the lines alone. His 
 troopers had been killed, and his wife had been 
 taken prisoner ; but his daring act had touched 
 his adversary's heart, and Lady Fairfax had been 
 sent home in Newcastle's coach, unransomed and 
 unhurt. New day, new fortune. He had beaten 
 Byron ; he had crushed Bellasis ; he had driven 
 Newcastle into York ; when Rupert, rushing into 
 his field, had crowned him with the glory of 
 Marston Moor. 
 
 That action had dispersed the cavalier forces 
 in the north. Rupert had retreated over Blackstone 
 Edge. Newcastle had gained the coast and passed 
 the sea. York had surrendered to the victors. 
 
 Scarred by sword, and drilled with shot, Fairfax 
 was called to Westminster, thanked for his great 
 service, and appointed to the chief command. 
 
 A new rule had been passed ; the Self-denying 
 Ordinance, by which members of the two Houses 
 were forbidden to hold commissions in the field. 
 Essex. Manchester, Denbigh, all the great peers 
 who had opposed and spared the king, were 
 pushed aside. In theory, the captains and colonels, 
 such as Cromwell and Waller, who had seats in the 
 lower House, were also pushed aside ; but this 
 new rule had not yet come into force, and some of
 
 THE NEW MODEL. 205 
 
 the officers were still afield. Cromwell was with 
 Waller, in the west, hanging on the flank of 
 Goring's horse, and holding Rupert's recruits in 
 check ; while Fairfax was engaged with Skippon 
 and Hugh Peters in setting up his new model on 
 the Windsor slopes. 
 
 His first appearance showed the man. He rode 
 to Windsor, not, like Essex, with the pomp of a 
 great earl, attended by a train of coaches for his 
 household, but with two or three captains of his 
 staff. At once, the men were out, and the old com- 
 panies dissolved. His army was to be a new 
 army, ruled by a higher spirit, and with a dif- 
 ferent organic form. The companies were weeded 
 and re -made. Bad elements were expelled ; no 
 drunkard or poacher was allowed to stay. Swear- 
 ing and thieving were forbidden ; thieving, under 
 penalty of death; A monthly fast was ordered. 
 Faithful and strenuous preachers were engaged ; 
 Bowles and Sprigge, Saltmarsh and Hugh Peters. 
 Every soldier was to attend sermons, to observe 
 fasts, and to lead> both outwardly and inwardly, a 
 godly life. In arm and brain the regiments were 
 to thrill with passionate ardour. Officers of good 
 experience and surpassing godliness were appointed 
 to the chief commands ; Skippon, with the rank
 
 206 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 of major-general, to the foot ; Cromwell, with the 
 rank of lieutenant-general, to the horse ; Ham- 
 mond, with the rank of lieutenant-general, to the 
 trains. Officers who had served the cause else- 
 where came into Windsor ; Ireton, Montagu, 
 Rainsborough, Deane ; all iron-fisted and fanatical 
 men. The discipline was stern, as stern in 
 Windsor as it was to be henceforward in the field. 
 By drilling and parading day and night, the squads 
 and companies were trooped and regimented, and 
 the new model was complete : ready to prove 
 themselves up to their high calling 'good sol- 
 diers ' and ' better saints.' 
 
 At Oxford, this modelling of a new army to 
 replace the army lost by Essex, was regarded as 
 a jest. ' New model ! new noddle ! ' laughed the 
 courtiers, who were slow to understand how men 
 like Fairfax and Cromwell could do what military 
 peers like Essex and Manchester had failed to 
 do. 
 
 The new model sprang out of Cromwell's brain. 
 So far back as ihe night of Edge Hill, he had 
 seen that riff-raff from the streets made no better 
 fighting-men than riff-raff from the fields. Officers 
 on the cavalier side fought better than his own. 
 Why so ? They fought for * honour,' and this
 
 THE NEW MODEL. 207 
 
 sentiment kept their faces to the foe. To meet 
 that pagan sentiment, he must have some Christian 
 sentiment. He found the thing he sought in 
 'conscience.' Conscience, when stirred and kindled, 
 has an awful power ; a power to move the earth, 
 and carry heaven by storm. He picked his men 
 on a new principle. Instead of looking for brawny 
 limbs and reckless heads, he sought for sober and 
 God-fearing men, who loathed the devil and all 
 his works. Light livers and loose talkers were 
 discarded from his troop, until his regiment in- 
 cluded none but ' saints : ' men of a single hope 
 for which they were ready to lay down their lives. 
 Derided by the cavaliers as fellows who made faces 
 and sang through the nose, they taught the jesters 
 after two or three brushes in the open to turn 
 their wit another way : ' Lord, sirs, those boys 
 will sing you a psalm, and then drub every one 
 before them.' At Marston Moor, where they had 
 ridden through Rupert's horse, as through a field 
 of corn, they had stamped themselves the strongest 
 regiment on the English soil. 
 
 These Ironsides were the models on which the 
 troops at Windsor, drilling for the new campaign, 
 were formed. The new army was a sect, burning 
 with the ardour of an infant church.
 
 208 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 Compared with a pacific Essex, bent on sparing 
 Charles, and closing the unhappy feud with little 
 or no change in church and state, Fairfax seemed 
 a man of steel. He never dreamt of sparing 
 Charles. He had no wish to hinder change ; such 
 things were not for him to rule. A soldier, not 
 a politician, he regarded war as war, and on the 
 field he thought of nothing but the end. What 
 helped him towards that end he sought. Thus, 
 in modelling his new army, he desired to have 
 the author of that army by his side. Smitten by 
 the Self-denying Ordinance, Cromwell was about 
 to yield up his commission and retire from service 
 in the field. Fairfax sent for him to Windsor, 
 and at the same time he let the Houses know that 
 Cromwell could not yet be spared. A common 
 rule might do for common captains, but an oificer 
 like Cromwell should be treated as a man apart. 
 Who was to face the enemy's horse ? Skippon 
 was busy with the foot, testing, forming, drilling 
 his battalion. No man knew his business better ; 
 but the rough old soldier had never handled a 
 troop of horse. This arm was the Lord- General's 
 weakest arm. His infantry and his artillery were 
 good ; his cavalry was not to be compared with 
 that of Rupert. Who could be set against the
 
 THE NEW MODEL. 209 
 
 prince, except the soldier who had routed him on 
 Marston Moor ? 
 
 Cromwell arrived at Windsor. He had come 
 up from the west, from watching Goring. He was 
 on his way to Westminster, to give up his command 
 and fall henceforward into private life. He came, 
 he said, to kiss the Lord-General's hand, and take 
 his leave. Fairfax and Cromwell were of a single 
 mind in treating the war as war ; in pushing the 
 enemy with all their might ; in leaving peace to be 
 arranged when all the military work had first been 
 done. Cromwell had given the word : ' If I meet 
 the king in battle, I shall pistol him like any other 
 man.' That was the Lord-General's plan. Next 
 day, ere Cromwell left his room, a messenger 
 arrived at Windsor, bringing him leave of absence 
 from the House for forty days. 
 
 Hot work was waiting that leave. The king, 
 who lay at Oxford, was preparing to take the field. 
 Rupert sent out a party of horse, two thousand 
 sabres strong, to bring his majesty, with his train 
 and foot regiments, to the camp at Worcester. 
 Could the intended march be stopped the king 
 shut up in Oxford, and the junction of the armies 
 foiled ? If any man could do the work, Cromwell 
 was the man. Would he attempt the feat ? Yea, 
 
 VOL. IV. P
 
 210 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 instantly. Fairfax called out a party of horse and 
 dragoons, such as were in the wards and about 
 the town. They were quickly under arms. Crom- 
 well led them out from Windsor, not staying for 
 either money to pay them, or for stragglers to fill 
 up their ranks. 
 
 At I slip Bridge, he struck four regiments of 
 horse, including the Queen's Own, and routed them 
 at a charge; capturing the queen's standard, five 
 hundred horses, and two hundred prisoners, many 
 of them officers and men of quality. Riding on 
 the fugitives, who made for Blechingdon house, 
 which Colonel Windebank held for Charles, he 
 captured that important place of arms. Winde- 
 bank was shot by Charles for giving up a fortress 
 to a troop of horse. 
 
 Fairfax set out from Windsor, with his untried 
 force. One day was given to prayer. Peters 
 appealed for help to that God of Battles, who had 
 never yet betrayed His saints. The regiments 
 knelt in prayer : ten thousand voices swelled into 
 the psalm. That duty done, the saints went out 
 to seek their foe.
 
 211 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 LAST DAYS OF ROYALTY. 
 1647. 
 
 Two years and two months after Fairfax marched 
 out of Windsor, Charles appeared before the gates, 
 attended by a troop of horse. Since quitting 
 Windsor to begin the war 1 , he had never ceased his 
 hankering after the royal house, A baffled, broken 
 man, he came again to the Upper ward, not without 
 hope of once more gathering his family into their 
 home under St. George's keep.- 
 
 Bells were rung for him in the town, as they 
 had rung for him in days of yore ; but with a 
 difference in the time, and therefore in the cost! 
 Of yore, the ringers had been paid for a peal of 
 welcome, forty pence ; this time the payment was 
 reduced to twenty-four 1 ! It was a grade on a 
 descending scale. The king Was still a king, en- 
 titled to his bells ; but he was slipping from his
 
 212 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 seat, and who could say how soon his royalty 
 might be gone ? As taken by the town, the mea- 
 sure of his fall was two parts in five, a fact which 
 they recorded on the ringers' fee. 
 
 He came to Windsor under watch and ward ; 
 attended by three commissioners, and surrounded by 
 a troop of horse. The three commissioners, Coke, 
 Crewe, and Browne, were watching him for the lower 
 House, now beginning to be called the Rump ; the 
 troop of horse, a part of Colonel Whalley's regiment, 
 were guarding him for the army now rejoicing 
 in the name of Saints. Rump and army were at 
 feud, and Charles was the prize and prey of these 
 great factions in the state. The talking faction was 
 mainly Presbyterian ; the fighting faction mainly 
 Independent. Both were in a jealous and electric 
 mood. Charles came to Windsor in the teeth of 
 orders from the Rump, but in connivance with 
 officers who laughed at votes, and left him free to 
 lodge where he pleased, so long as he kept within 
 their lines. ' His majesty will retire to Newmarket,' 
 the House had said ; ' He is unwilling to retire,' 
 the general had replied. Fairfax would not force 
 the king. ' Your majesty will return to Holdenby,' 
 urged Coke and his colleagues, speaking for the 
 Rump. ' We have resolved to remove Ourselves to
 
 LAST DAYS OF KOYALTY. 213 
 
 Windsor, whither We have sent on part of Our 
 stuff already,' answered Charles, in his most kingly 
 style. ' On Thursday, We shall set out towards 
 that place.' Coke produced his orders from the 
 House. Charles simply added : ' After we have 
 come to Windsor, if you move Us further, you 
 shall have Our answer.' Whalley stood aloof, 
 having no orders from his general. In the teeth 
 of Coke, the king set out, safe in the protection of 
 Whalley's troop. 
 
 Whichcot received the royal visitor. When 
 Fairfax marched from Windsor, Venn had been 
 called to other work, to beating up new saints, 
 and drilling them into companies. Tossing off his 
 beaker at the White Hart, with mayor and alder- 
 men, he had gallopped off, leaving in town and 
 keep the memory of a kearty soldier and a godly 
 man. Not yet was Charles to meet his old tor- 
 mentor from the city face to face. Whichcot, a 
 neutral colonel, with some love of art, and yet open 
 to the witcheries of sack and sugar, had been voted 
 governor in his stead. Rainsborough was left at 
 Windsor with his regiment, holding the town and 
 bridge, as part of the Lord-General's lines. The 
 Castle was a separate post, depending on a public
 
 214 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 vote. So far as the two factions were concerned, 
 Whichcot was a servant of the Rump. 
 
 This man received his majesty from Whalley's 
 troop, and, once within the gates, he took command 
 of the royal guard. 
 
 In outward seeming, Charles was free. He 
 gave his orders, and those orders were obeyed. 
 All caps were doffed to him, all knees were bent to 
 him, as in the olden time. It was a privilege to 
 kiss his hand. No one addressed him otherwise 
 than as his majesty. The Castle was regarded as 
 his house ; no one opposed his lodging in the 
 Tudor tower. The gallery, the guard-room, stair- 
 case, with their wealth of art and furniture, were his 
 own. Two of his favourite chaplains, thre,e of his 
 favourite bedchamber-men, were at his side. Some 
 people fancied he had come for good. Such, also, 
 was the royal hope : one more illusion of that 
 dreamy, plastic, and poetic brain. 
 
 Great things had happened since the day when 
 Fairfax marched from Windsor with his twenty 
 thousand saints. England had been subdued. 
 Not only had the king and cavaliers been crushed, 
 but parliament and people had been overborne. 
 Never, since the days of Lion Heart, had such 
 Enerlish troops been hurled against a foe. No pas-
 
 LAST DAYS OF ROYALTY. 215 
 
 sion save religious zeal the fervour of a crusade, 
 or the fury of an infant church has ever lent such 
 strength, has ever lit such fire, as strained and 
 glowed within those Windsor columns. Once in 
 motion, nothing had been able to arrest their 
 march. When they set out, the king was master 
 of the west and midlands. In the western counties, 
 only Plymouth and Taunton stood against him ; 
 Wilts was his, with the exception of a single town ; 
 Dorset and Hants were his, with the exception of 
 four or five ports, protected by the fleet ; Oxford- 
 shire was his, with the one exception of Henley 
 Bridge. In Berks he held Wallingford, Farring- 
 don, and Radcot Bridge. Master of his move- 
 ments, he was free to advance towards either 
 York or Westminster, while his opponents were 
 compelled to cover London, where the Houses 
 sat, and at the same time succour Taunton, where 
 Blake was stewing his last pair of boots. His 
 majesty's force out-numbered the new model many 
 times ; yet, in less than twelve months from that 
 going out of Windsor, all his armies had been 
 shivered, all his cities taken, all his strongholds 
 stormed. 
 
 Naseby had announced the new model. Less 
 than eight thousand saints had cut down, captured,
 
 216 ROYAL WINDSOE. 
 
 or dispersed a royal army, led by Rupert, Maurice, 
 and the king. Charles had fallen back on Oxford, 
 never to make head again. Rupert and Maurice 
 had retired into the west to make one futile effort 
 more, and then to fly beyond the seas. Driving 
 the fugitives along, the saints had entered Leicester 
 and Highworth, relieved the garrison of Taunton, 
 beaten their foes at Ilmore and Lamport, stormed 
 B idgewater, occupied Bath, stormed Bristol, taken 
 Devizes and Laycock house, stormed Barclay and 
 Tiverton castles, broken into Cornwall, captured 
 Goring's horse, reduced the whole west country, 
 forcing Hopton's army to surrender and disband, and 
 then advanced towards Oxford, whence the king, 
 unwilling to be taken, had escaped into the north. 
 Masters of Oxford, the Ironsides were masters of 
 the realm. 
 
 Disguised as a groom, the king had thrown 
 himself on his native Scots. His native Scots had 
 treated him no better than the southern saints. 
 Finding him fretful and morose, apt to call 
 names, as ' rebel ' and ' schismatic,' and to describe 
 their covenant as a ' damned covenant,' and their 
 country as a wretched place, to which nothing on 
 earth would make him go, they had set their teeth 
 against him, and had sold him to the Rump. At
 
 LAST DAYS OF KOYALTY. 217 
 
 Holdenby, he had learnt, to his great joy, that the 
 talking men and the fighting men were falling out ; 
 and each, in passion with the other, bidding for the 
 king's support. A prisoner of the Rump, bought 
 with their money, he had welcomed the visit of 
 Cornet Joyce, the tailor, who had carried him to 
 head-quarters. There, he had been well received. 
 Fairfax had kissed his hand, and some of the 
 officers were supposed to have said, that if he 
 joined them against the Rump, they would set 
 him on his throne again. "Whalley, appointed by 
 Fairfax to command his guard, had been less 
 severe than Coke ; and Charles had taken his 
 cue from Whalley rather than from the Rump 
 commissioner. Thus he had arrived at Windsor 
 in defiance of the Rump. 
 
 But Charles at Windsor was no nearer to his 
 ends ; the gathering of his children and the settle- 
 ment of his household under a common roof. His 
 family were scattered far and wide. The queen 
 and Prince of Wales were at St. Germains ; Mary 
 of Orange, his eldest daughter, was at the Hague. 
 James, duke of York, Henry, the boy duke of 
 Gloucester, and Elizabeth, their sister, were at St. 
 James's palace. Henriette, whom he had never 
 seen, was with her nurse in France. When he was
 
 218 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 carried off by Joyce, the three children still in 
 England were at Hampton Court ; but they had 
 been withdrawn, lest they should also fall into 
 the power of some other Cornet Joyce. He asked 
 to have his children come to him at Windsor, and 
 the House refused. The Prince of Wales being 
 gone, James, duke of York, stood next in order to 
 the throne. He could be played against the king. 
 More than one plot had been formed to steal him. 
 Northumberland, bis guardian, had declined to 
 answer for his safety, since these plots were formed 
 with the duke's assent. To let him pass within 
 the military lines, even on the pretence of seeing 
 his father, was to give him up to Fairfax and the 
 saints. Neither Lords nor Commons would con- 
 sent to such an act. 
 
 Nor was he luckier with his household. Ham- 
 mond and Sheldon, his domestic chaplains, were 
 obnoxious to the Rump. William Hammond, 
 doctor of divinity, had been public orator in Ox- 
 ford, prebendary of Christchurch, archdeacon of 
 Chichester, and the king's commissioner for his 
 church affairs. After the king's retreat from Ox- 
 ford, he had been put out of his livings by the 
 Rump, and had not seen his majesty again till his 
 removal to Windsor. Here he had joined him,
 
 LAST DAYS OF ROYALTY. 219 
 
 but against the will of Coke. Murray, Kirk, and 
 Leveston, the three bedchamber-men, were hardly 
 less obnoxious to the Rump. Coke protested against 
 their presence, and demanded their exclusion from 
 the royal house. Charles turned aside. Fairfax 
 spoke so softly that he felt secure of his support. 
 He failed to see that Whichcot was in charge, and 
 must obey his masters of the Rump. Whichcot 
 was no fanatic. Since his coming to Windsor, he 
 had done his best to save what might be saved, 
 and to restore what might be found among the 
 wreck. To him, St. George's chapel was a shrine. 
 He mourned in spirit over the despoiler's work. 
 He sought to gather up the wreckage and replace 
 the stalls and ornaments in the choir. But he 
 was not an English-papist, and he never flinched 
 from doing his duty to the state. When ordered 
 by Coke to clear the Castle of Hammond and the 
 rest, he instantly obeyed. 
 
 The king entreated Fairfax to protect his ser- 
 vants, and to let him see his children. Fairfax 
 answered him, that if his majesty joined head- 
 quarters, something might be done. Neither Fairfax 
 nor Cromwell cared whether Hammond were with 
 the king or not ; and they were both content that 
 he should see his children when and where he
 
 220 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 liked. But they could hardly use their force. 
 Windsor was in Whichcot's hands. To interfere 
 with his command was war, and they were not 
 prepared to start a second civil war. A middle 
 course was tried. Head-quarters were removed to 
 Reading, and his majesty was offered Lord Craven's 
 house in Caversham park. There, he might have 
 his chaplains and see his children, under the pro- 
 tection of an Ironside guard. 
 
 Charles clung with great tenacity to his house ; 
 but in that house he was no longer free. At 
 Craven's house he would be more at large, and 
 nearer to the source of power. So he set out 
 again ; his hopes all lying in the victor's camp.
 
 221 
 
 CHAPTER XXIY. 
 
 SAINTS IN COUNCIL. 
 1647. 
 
 HARDLY was the king gone from Windsor, when 
 Fairfax moved some troops into the keep as an 
 experiment. Only a hundred came ; but they 
 were placed under chosen officers, free from the 
 control of Whichcot and the Rump. ' Provide the 
 money for these men,' he wrote to Lenthall ; 'the 
 garrison being too weak, the Castle too im- 
 portant ' to be left alone. At first the house 
 stood out ; but Fairfax threw fresh troops into the 
 keep and town ; and Whichcot, though not displaced 
 as governor, found himself gently pushed aside. 
 Armed men are not expected to lie down and 
 starve. The saints were fond of Scripture, and 
 their favourite quotation was : ' The earth is the 
 Lord's ; ' to which they added, ' and the fruits 
 thereof are His saints.' The ordinary garrison was
 
 222 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 in arrear of pay ; ho less than twelve months in 
 arrear ; yet, after some delays, the House saw fit 
 to pay the Lord-General's men. 
 
 A few weeks later, Fairfax moved his army 
 into Windsor, and established his head-quarters in 
 the royal house. Respect for Charles had so far 
 held him back ; but now all feeling of respect was 
 gone ; forfeited by what he held to be an extra- 
 ordinary breach of faith. From first to last, he 
 had treated the king with courtesy ; at times with 
 more than courtesy. At Caversham park, he had 
 allowed him to have his chaplain and to see his 
 children. To procure him the gratification of 
 seeing his children, had not been an easy task. 
 Parliament was jealous ; fearing the dangers of the 
 road, the chance of rescue, and the likelihood that 
 Charles might try to keep -them. Fairfax had 
 pledged his faith for Charles. At Hampton Court, 
 to which the king had moved from Caversham, on 
 account of plague, he had permitted the soft-spoken 
 Whalley to attend hinl, and command his guard. 
 Yet, contrary to his honourable understanding, 
 Charles had stolen aWay from Hampton court, and 
 flung himself into the Isle of Wight. All ties were 
 severed by that breach of faith. Marching into 
 Windsor, Fairfax unfurled his banner on the royal
 
 SAINTS IN COUNCIL. 223 
 
 hill. With Charles, the Stuart flag went down ; 
 and now, the old red cross the cross of Cressy, 
 Sluys, and Agincourt streamed, as in Elizabeth's 
 period, from the flag-staff on St. George's keep. 
 
 A council met. Letters had come from the 
 Isle of Wight ; letters from the governor, Colonel 
 Hammond, with a case of conscience ; in the 
 language of the sect, a case of ' temptation.' 
 Hammond had the king thrown suddenly on 
 his hands. In a divided duty, he was ' tempted ' 
 on many sides. He wished the officers at Windsor 
 to understand the facts. Could they assist him to 
 see his way ? 
 
 Robert Hammond, the ' dear Robin ' of Crom- 
 well's letters, was a nephew of Henry Hammond, 
 the court chaplain ; also a nephew of Thomas 
 Hammond, the lieutenant - general of artillery. 
 Thus he had an uncle on either side. In politics 
 he stood between these two extremes. Less courtly 
 than his uncle, the chaplain, he was also less 
 sectarian than his uncle, the lieutenant-general. 
 Flighty enough to have fought a duel and killed 
 his man, he was serious enough to have served 
 under Essex and to have suffered captivity in 
 Basing house. Early in life he had married a 
 daughter of John Hampden, and had learned his
 
 224 KOYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 politics from his sober, and yet moderate, father-in- 
 law. By that alliance, he had come into the 
 cousinry of Cromwell ; but he had never been able 
 to go that cousin's lengths. Like a major part of 
 his countrymen, he was for king and parliament ; 
 hoping for a speedy and solid peace, on terms 
 that should leave the king royal, and the nation 
 free. 
 
 Some weeks ago, this officer had called at 
 Hampton Court to see his uncle, the chaplain, who 
 had introduced him to his majesty. Charles had 
 posed before ' dear Robin/ as he had done before 
 Falkland. Dazzled by royal flatteries, Robin had 
 been loose of tongue, and, in his warmth of words, 
 had brewed strange fancies in the dreamer's brain. 
 Charles had followed him to the Isle of Wight, and, 
 taking him in the moment of surprise, had got 
 from him a promise to defend his freedom and his 
 life. Afterwards, Robin had bethought him of 
 his civic duty, of his military oath. He was a 
 servant of the House. Charles was a property of 
 that House, no less than a fugitive from head- 
 quarters. Parliament might demand him, and 
 head-quarters might demand him. Which autho- 
 rity should he obey ? Could he, in honour, give 
 the king up to either ? Charles was his guest,
 
 SAINTS IN COUNCIL. 225 
 
 living under his roof, in the protection of his solemn 
 pledge. This was Robin's temptation. How was 
 a soldier, wanting to do right, to take three opposite 
 ways ? 
 
 Steel-clad, inflexible Cromwell, snatching a 
 pen, despatched from Windsor ten or twelve lines 
 which opened poor Robin's eyes. There was no 
 room for doubt. Charles Stuart was a fugitive 
 from the army, and must be held in trust until the 
 army had decided on his fate. 
 
 The council met again. 'What shall now be 
 done with the king ?' This question was debated 
 day and night ; by ministers in the camp, by 
 troopers in the ale-house yards, by general officers 
 in the Keep. Saints, male and female, flocked to 
 Windsor, bearing messages from above, made 
 known to them in dreams and visions of the night. 
 These visitors, pale and haggard in appearance, 
 cooed like doves and shrieked like ravens. Fasting 
 hard and preaching fervently, they sometimes fell, 
 from sheer exhaustion, into fits, in which they 
 jerked, and foamed, and seemed to be possessed. 
 One of these saints was Saltmarsh, chaplain of the 
 army, and a favourite of the Saints. Born in 
 Yorkshire, educated at Cambridge, he had passed 
 through the ministry from Northampton to Braisted, 
 
 VOL. IV. Q
 
 226 ROYAL WINDSOK. 
 
 and from Braisted to Ilford. Gifted with some 
 fancy, he had written prose and verse ; but his 
 strength was in the pulpit, not the pen. Like Peters, 
 he could rouse and madden the excited troops. 
 For Fairfax he professed a reverence bordering on 
 idolatry ; but he was always free with his advice, 
 convinced that he was guided by the Holy Spirit. 
 The soldiers liked him, and the officers feared him 
 as a man above the articles of war. Sinners in 
 high places trembled at his voice. Sinners in low 
 places died beneath his frown. These saints were 
 ten times more fanatical than Cromwell or Ireton, 
 fifty times more presumptuous than Laud or Wren. 
 They claimed to rule the rulers, and to wrest the 
 sword from the victor's hand. They preached by 
 day and night, but not one word of either chivalry 
 or charity fell from their lips in town and camp. 
 
 Cromwell, Ireton, and their colleagues met again. 
 Cromwell prayed for light, and, in his vehement 
 words, he seemed to strike out light as with the 
 flashing of his sword. Inspired by him, men 
 suddenly saw their way, or fancied that they saw 
 their way. On empty stomachs and on much 
 debate these general officers resolved, that Charles 
 Stuart should be put on trial as a public criminal. 
 
 Hereon the male and female saints dispersed.
 
 SAINTS IN COUNCIL. 227 
 
 One, at least, of the Council let the king under- 
 stand privately, that, though he voted with the 
 rest, his heart was not in the vote. Saltmarsh 
 went home to Ilford, where he told his wife the 
 wonders he had seen. Yet many of the elder race 
 of saints were discontented and morose. Some 
 wanted to put down Charles, and set up Christ. 
 Some wished to abolish peers, councillors, and 
 civil magistrates, as useless lumber in a kingdom 
 of the saints. Others declared against captains, 
 colonels, and general officers. Those who had 
 not joined the new model, protested that the 
 Ironsides were not the only saints, though God had 
 given them a share of victory. Cromwell spoke of 
 the Ironsides as the army, and pretended that a 
 man was not a soldier unless enrolled under the 
 Windsor flag. Lilburne, and others, who had never 
 served in the new model, rose against these pre- 
 tensions. Windsor, he said, was not the only Zion, 
 and he raised the standard of revolt at Ware. 
 
 Fairfax had rough work on hand. But Crom- 
 well, taking some troops of horse from Windsor, 
 rode on the men of Ware, broke up the rival camp, 
 and brought the protesting saints to Windsor, 
 where the leaders were put in ward, and tried by 
 court-martial for the crime of mutiny.
 
 228 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 On Friday, December 3rd, a corporal was 
 condemned to death, and six soldiers were con- 
 demned to run the gauntlet on the following day. 
 
 That night, as Saltmarsh lay in bed, a vision 
 came to him. He was commanded to get up, take 
 horse, go forth to Windsor, and rebuke the generals 
 for their dealings with the saints. Springing from 
 his bed, he told his wife that he must instantly 
 be gone to Windsor, having something to reveal 
 from Heaven, which it behoved his comrades of 
 the army to understand. He made his way to 
 London ; it was Saturday night when he arrived ; 
 too late to seek a horse and take the road. Next 
 morning, he set out. The days were short, and 
 in the darkness he lost his way ; wandering up 
 and down the lanes and heaths all night. On 
 Monday he crossed the bridge, and called some 
 officers who were out on duty to his side, to 
 tell them he had come back in the name of Heaven 
 to warn them against their evil deeds, and to 
 announce a day of wrath. Knowing him well, 
 these officers listened to the old minister's words 
 with awe. He then walked up to the Castle, 
 where the Council was about to meet. He 
 walked into the room and bade them listen to his 
 voice. In other tunes, he said, he had come to
 
 SAINTS IN COUNCIL. 229 
 
 them in the spirit of a lamb ; now he had returned 
 to them in the spirit of a lion. In a trance, the 
 Lord had made Himself known to him, and had 
 sent him to declare His will. Aforetime, He had 
 done much for them, and much by them ; but now 
 He had forsaken them because they had forsaken 
 Him. They had forgotten their first principle ; 
 they had persecuted and imprisoned His saints. 
 He would no longer prosper their councils, but 
 would divide them and destroy them ; because 
 they had attempted to destroy the people of God. 
 Leaving the council, he repaired to the Lord- 
 General, and on entering his presence, refused to 
 doff his hat. Stern of voice and sad of aspect, he 
 told the general he had formerly doted on his 
 person so much as to give offence to God. Now 
 he had no command to honour him at all. God, 
 he had come to say, was highly displeased with 
 him, and would no longer prosper him. From 
 Fairfax he went to Cromwell, and required him in 
 the name of Heaven to set the soldiers whom he 
 had taken, free. Again, he wore his hat. Next day, 
 he took his leave, telling the officers that he had 
 done his errand as commanded from above. His 
 work on earth was over ; he should see his friends 
 no more. Five days afterwards, they heard that
 
 230 EOYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 he had gone to London, where he had taken leave 
 of friends, telling them his work was done, and 
 asking them to sustain his wife, and then gone 
 home, laid down, and died.
 
 231 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 CHANGING SIDES. 
 1648. 
 
 EVENTS and purposes changed from day to day, 
 and every change in either camp or court, threw 
 people into new relations to the cause. Less by 
 their own movements of opinion than by the 
 march of events, men who had been fighting on 
 one side, found themselves not unfrequently ranged 
 on the other side. Roundheads passed over to the 
 court ; and cavaliers rode over to the camp. Each 
 had to bear the consequence of his change of 
 front. 
 
 In the strong-room of the Norman tower, this 
 record of a former tenant meets the eye : 
 
 BROWN BUSHEL. 
 
 /48. 
 Brown Bushel was a sea-captain. At the out-
 
 232 KOTAL WINDSOR. 
 
 set, he had gone with his ship and with his fleet 
 under Pennington, for the king. Afterwards, under 
 the earl of Warwick, he had gone for king and 
 parliament. Like other sailors, he knew little of 
 politics, but he had that feeling of the sea which 
 leads a sailor to stand by his admiral and his ship. 
 An excellent seaman, prompt and steady, he had 
 done the state good service. Twice he had been 
 thanked by the House of Commons; once for an 
 act of gallantry in seizing the frigate Maria; a 
 second time for his alertness in landing at the 
 port, and capturing the castle of Scarborough. 
 Like other captains, he had afterwards passed over 
 to the king, he and his ship and crew ; not of 
 his own free will, so much as by the accidents of 
 tune and place. On Charles being taken prisoner, 
 he had returned to England, thinking the war was 
 over, and expecting to live unnoticed in the crowd. 
 He held the General's pass, and was unconscious 
 of having put his life in jeopardy ; but he was 
 closely watched, and more than once he had been 
 summoned to appear, and answer for himself. As 
 time wore on, he had felt himself more safe. Then 
 had come a critical time. No less than seventeen 
 ships of war renounced their flag, submitted to the 
 king, and talked of visiting the Isle of Wight.
 
 CHANGING SIDES. 233 
 
 Sailors of Bushel's stamp were not to be safely 
 left at large. One day he was arrested in his 
 lodgings, charged with usual ' acts of piracy/ and 
 committed to the Norman tower. Here he in- 
 scribed this record of his name and date. 
 
 A court-martial, sitting at Windsor, and com- 
 posed of soldiers, not sailors, sentenced him to 
 death ; but he was left in jail, apparently over- 
 looked, for the next three years. Not until Kupert 
 ' turned pirate ' was Bushel's offence remembered, 
 and the sentence of his judges carried out. Taken 
 to Tower hill, he had the strange fate of suffering 
 at the same time and on the same scaffold with 
 Christopher Love, pastor of St. Lawrence Jewry, 
 one of the most powerful gospellers of the civil 
 war. 
 
 Not far from that record of a gallant but 
 unlucky mariner, appears this record of a not less 
 gallant and unlucky soldier : 
 
 R. L. 
 
 Below these letters hangs a shield ; the arms of 
 Rowland Langhorne, once a major-general in the
 
 234 ROYAL WINDSOK. 
 
 roundhead army, and the hero of Shrewsbury, 
 Haverford-west, and many other fights. 
 
 Near to this inscription by Rowland Langhorne 
 may be seen a second and a third inscription: 
 
 SIE HAKKY STKADLING. 
 I. STRADLING. 
 
 Under each of these two names hangs a shield ; 
 the family coat- of- arms. 
 
 The two Stradlings, uncle and nephew, were 
 officers in the royalist army, and their lines were 
 woven in and out with those of Rowland Lang- 
 horne ; closer, in truth, both in their lives and 
 deaths than these records, cut with their own 
 knives in the Norman tower. 
 
 Reared in the household of Lord Essex, whom 
 he had served from a page upwards, Langhorne 
 went with his master to the Netherlands, where 
 he had studied with assiduity the trade of war. 
 A western man, with manors and connexions in 
 the border counties, he had proved extremely 
 useful to the cause of which his master was the 
 military chief. First as captain, afterwards as 
 colonel, he had striven against the cavaliers, and
 
 CHANGING SIDES. 235 
 
 kept a party for the parliament in what were 
 thought to be exclusively royalist shires. One 
 striking action his surprise of Shrewsbury 
 broke up the negotiations at Uxbridge, one of the 
 most striking features of the war. 
 
 Shrewsbury, the strongest fortress in the border 
 country, was the royalist capital of the west, as 
 Oxford was the royalist capital in the midlands. 
 There, the king had kept his court ; there, Rupert 
 had a permanent camp ; the district round the 
 Wrekin being his principal recruiting ground. 
 Shrewsbury connected Chester with Chepstow, in 
 a line which covered the mountainous countries 
 on the west. That Shrewsbury lay exposed to 
 danger was so little dreamt, that most of the 
 gentry serving in the field had sent their wives 
 and children, their plate and money, to the town. 
 Like other places, Shrewsbury was divided in 
 opinion ; the gentry going mostly for the king, the 
 burghers going mostly for the king and parliament. 
 On this division, Langhorne had laid his plans. 
 Scouts had crept into the town, where they beat 
 up friends, and mixed among the troops. Sir 
 Michael Earnly, governor of the town, a soldier of 
 repute, was sick ; unable, they had found, to leave 
 his bed. The staff was careless, and the men,
 
 236 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 expecting no attack, were off their guard. Still 
 the garrison was strong, and, if alarmed in time, 
 was likely to make a good defence. Langhorne 
 had tried a ruse. By sending to the town a tale 
 of enemies being seen at such and such places, he 
 had caused the best and readiest of the troops to 
 be marched beyond striking distance of the town- 
 Some burghers had agreed to open one of their 
 gates, and lend such help as burghers can afford 
 in a nocturnal fight. Creeping under cover of 
 darkness to the city wall, Langhorne had entered 
 by that open gate, rushed through the streets, 
 occupied the market-place, and broken into the 
 citadel. Starting at the first alarm, Earnly had 
 risen from his sick bed, and run out in his shirt. 
 A roundhead trooper raised his gun, and asked 
 him whether he demanded quarter. ' Never ! ' 
 cried the old soldier, and was instantly shot down. 
 At daybreak, Shrewsbury was in Langhorne's 
 power, with all the cavaliers' wives and children, 
 plate and money. Eight knights and baronets, 
 forty captains and colonels, with two hundred 
 horsemen, were his prize of war. 
 
 Next year, having risen from the rank of 
 colonel to that of major-general, he had fought 
 at Haverford-west, where he had first crossed
 
 CHANGING SIDES. 237 
 
 swords with the Stradlings, afterwards to be his 
 comrades in the Norman tower. 
 
 Among the prisoners taken on the field at Edge 
 Hill, was Colonel Sir Edward Stradling, chief of 
 the Welsh family of St. Donats' in Glamorgan, a 
 man who boasted of being the first baronet in 
 Wales. The house was royalist. Long before 
 blood was drawn, Sir Edward had been summoned 
 to Westminster as a delinquent. His reply had 
 been, to raise his county for the king, to leave 
 John, his second son, the task of keeping order, 
 and to join the royal army with his tenants. 
 Fighting by the side of Lunsford, he had been 
 taken, like that one-eyed monster, and disarmed. 
 
 Sir Harry, his brother, had been at sea, captain 
 of the Bonaventure, serving on the Irish coast, 
 when Warwick had seized the fleet. Sir Harry, 
 royalist to the bone, had tried to save his ship, 
 but his own men had put him under guard, and 
 kept him prisoner in his ship till they could land 
 him at the nearest port. Landing in Wales, he 
 had made his way to his nephew's camp, where 
 he had proved a useful ally in defending creeks 
 and river mouths against the roundhead fleet. 
 
 John Stradling, better soldier than his father, 
 had risen from captain to colonel, from colonel to
 
 238 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 major-general ; rising with the enemy he had now 
 to fight. A corner of the island, torn by the 
 waters into inlets, bays, and havens, Pembrokeshire 
 was easy to attack by sea, but very difficult to 
 approach by land. None but a local man, with 
 large connexions, could invade so strong a shire. 
 Langhorne crossed the hills, his deed at Shrews- 
 bury going before him like a blast. Pembroke 
 and Haverford-west were strongly held. Stradling 
 lay in the county town, and Langhorne turned his 
 face that way. A charge, delivered some days 
 after Naseby, ended in a clear victory. Stradling 
 fell back, the county town surrendered, and the 
 hope of finding an asylum in South Wales was 
 gone. 
 
 Langhorne was created general of four counties 
 of Wales. A house was settled on his wife. Guns, 
 men, and money, were supplied, that he might 
 follow up his victory and complete his task by 
 the conquest and occupation of Pembroke, arsenal, 
 port, and town. Driving his enemies from post 
 to post, he had cooped them up in Pembroke, 
 where Colonel Poyer held the chief command. But 
 neither gates nor guns had been able to stay his 
 march. Crushing through all obstacles, he had 
 broken into the place, and taken the defenders
 
 CHANGING SIDES. 239 
 
 captive; Poyer, Powel, and the two Stradlings, 
 being amongst his prize. 
 
 His work was done, his party served. Hero 
 of a day and a debate, he was rewarded by the 
 House of Commons with a rich delinquent's lands. 
 From Dee to Severn, the whole of Wales was 
 placed under his control. Yet, on the heels of his 
 success had followed the gravest doubts. Was he 
 doing right in strengthening the men at Windsor, 
 who were building up so vast a military power ? 
 Like his old master, he had always fought for 
 peace. When Charles was taken, he had been 
 sorely exercised in spirit. That was not the end 
 for which he had drawn his sword. To preserve 
 the king and kingdom, not to upset them for the 
 benefit of a sect, had been his constant aim. 
 When he found time to think, Poyer and the 
 Stradlings seemed to him better patriots than 
 Cromwell. In his conversations with his prisoners, 
 he was gradually drawn over to their views, and, 
 being satisfied that his old courses had been 
 wrong, he offered to undo his work. Charles 
 gladly promised him his pardon and support. 
 But all such secrets were betrayed, and Langhorne 
 was required by parliament to report himself in 
 the Irish camp. Should any of his men refuse
 
 240 EOTAL WINDSOK. 
 
 to cross the sea, he was to break them up and 
 send them home. Disgusted by this order, he 
 dismantled Tenby, carried off the guns and stores, 
 and ran up the royal flag at Pembroke, having 
 no fear of the offended saints. 
 
 Yet, in a few weeks, he and his new friends 
 were at Windsor. Cromwell had rushed on Pem- 
 broke, borrowed guns from a war- ship, stormed 
 and starved the town into surrender. Certain 
 persons were excepted from the terms: Langhorne, 
 Poyer, and Powel, and some others ; men who 
 had sinned more than the royalists, in having 
 ' fought against the light.' 
 
 Stradling died in the Norman tower. 
 
 Tried by court-martial, Langhorne, Poyer, and 
 Powel, were sentenced to be shot. Fairfax reduced 
 the sentence to a single death, and ordered them 
 to select the one who was to die, by lot. 
 
 1 Life given by God,' was written on slips of 
 paper. One of the slips was left a blank. A child 
 was asked to draw the slips. The blank was 
 given to Poyer, who was taken out and shot. 
 
 The name and date : 
 
 R. POWEL. 
 /48.
 
 CHANGING SIDES. 241 
 
 are visible on the prison wall, with a depending 
 shield, like that of Stradling, that of Langhorne. 
 Langhorne's fate was tragic. Released from 
 custody, he crossed to Ireland, with a lowered 
 rank ; went over to the king once more, was taken 
 prisoner, tried for desertion, and shot to death. 
 
 VOL. IV.
 
 242 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 BAGSHOT LODGE. 
 1648. 
 
 TIME : Saturday, December twenty -second. 
 
 Route : Farnham to Bagshot Lodge, twelve 
 miles, more or less ; Bagshot Lodge to Windsor 
 Castle, ten miles, more or less. At Bagshot Lodge, 
 halt for two hours. 
 
 Ten troops of horse moved out of Farnham, on 
 the road through Aldershot towards the royal 
 lodge ; two thousand casques and sword-points 
 gleaming round the king ; a prisoner on his way 
 from a dungeon in Hurst Castle, to the military 
 head-quarters at Windsor. Harrison, the Anabap- 
 tist gospeller and major-general, rode at the king's 
 side in his black casque and armour, grim and 
 silent as a man of stone. The march was slow ; at 
 almost every rut or rise the king's horse plunged 
 or dropped. The beast grew lame ; and eveiy one
 
 BAGSHOT LODGE. 243 
 
 got fagged, and out of sorts. At Bagshot Lodge, 
 they cried a halt. 
 
 On slipping from his saddle at the gate, his 
 majesty remarked to Harrison, that his brute was 
 nought, and that he must change him for a better 
 mount. His tenants at the lodge, he said, bred 
 horses, and could easily find him a beast that he 
 could ride. The Anabaptist heard, but held his 
 tongue. A rider, spending his life on horseback, 
 he had seen enough. The horse was not at fault ; 
 but he pretended not to see the trick. His duty 
 was to act, and not to prate. 
 
 Bagshot Lodge was in the royal forest, and was 
 held by license from the crown. The tenants, 
 Lord and Lady Newburgh, knelt to receive the 
 king as he got down. Charles raised them in his 
 arms. To kneel to him was a forbidden courtesy. 
 He was no longer recognised as king, or spoken to 
 as king. His name was Stuart ; Charles Stuart ; 
 nothing more. Harrison, indeed, uncapped when 
 speaking, but the Anabaptist spoke but seldom ; 
 and his officers seemed to have forgotten every- 
 thing about his majesty's c sacred rights.' Lady 
 Newburgh led the king in. To his amazement, stair 
 and corridor, closet and dining-room, were lined 
 with troops ; dark, speechless men, clad in black
 
 244 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 casques and breast-plates, and carrying naked 
 swords. No privacy was to be expected there. 
 
 Bagshot Lodge was a suspected place, at which 
 the Anabaptist major-general had not readily agreed 
 to halt. When Charles had first named the place 
 he had demurred. Why so ? Bagshot was on 
 the way to Windsor, and a sort of half-way house. 
 His orders were understood to leave the king free 
 on minor points his pace in riding, and his choice 
 of halting ground so far as could be safely 
 ventured. On the other hand, attempts at flight, 
 if not at rescue, were to be expected on the road. 
 Now Lord and Lady Newburgh were not only the 
 king's tenants, but were known to have had their 
 part in many a desperate plot. Their house might 
 prove a snare. 
 
 Yet, looking at his troops, the heroes of a 
 hundred battle-fields, he had nodded his assent. 
 On drawing near the forest, he had pushed a 
 squadron forward to invest the lodge, search all the 
 offices and rooms, and scour the rides and coverts 
 of adjacent woods. So far, the game was running 
 on all-fours. Charles was at Bagshot Lodge ; his 
 horse was lamed ; but Harrison's suspicions were 
 excited, and his officers were on their guard. Stair, 
 corridor, and room, were held by silent, listen-
 
 BAGSHOT LODGE. 245 
 
 ing men. No private speech with either host or 
 hostess was allowed. If Charles were free to dine 
 and chat, his dining and his chatting must be done 
 in presence and in hearing of his guards. 
 
 Charles was at bay ; a prisoner, as he felt con- 
 vinced, to enemies who were hurrying him on to 
 trial, sentence, and the block. He knew those 
 enemies well ; he had not shown them mercy, and 
 he had no mercy to expect from them. Few of 
 his friends were left ; Holland, Hamilton, Capel, 
 Goring, Loughborough, all had failed. Most of 
 these peers were prisoners in St. George's keep. 
 Ashburnham and Legge, his personal servants, 
 shared their prison. Windsor had become the 
 dungeon and the tomb of his adherents. Force had 
 failed ; the sword lay broken in his hand. What 
 then was left ? His wit, his courage ; if he had 
 wit or courage left ; his wit and courage, aided 
 by some accidents of time and place. 
 
 Here, briefly noted, were his hopes which he 
 imagined were his plans. 
 
 Sitting at the board, and hanging by the couch, 
 he was to linger at the lodge as long as Harrison's 
 patience could be taxed. On starting, he was 
 to mount a very swift horse, slip through his guard, 
 and dart into the thicket, in and out of which no
 
 246 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 stranger to the forest would be able to keep his 
 pace. He was a perfect master of his horse. Few 
 riders held so light a rein, and made the beast he 
 rode so much a portion of himself. Once clear of 
 his pursuers, he had little need to fear. In every 
 corner of the chase he was at home ; and more than 
 all, he knew the district lying between the Castle 
 and the lodge. In other days, these regions had 
 been his hunting-grounds. Tunes without number 
 he had cantered to the lodge rested and dined 
 and cantered back at night by Swinley rayles, 
 Inglemore pond, and Cranborne chase. No pupil 
 of Aminadab threaded bush and brake, and 
 followed game to their scent cover, with a nimbler 
 foot than he. Clough, dell, and cabin, were 
 familiar to his eye. Once free from his guard, he 
 had a chance of hiding in the woods for days and 
 weeks ; time long enough for his servants to 
 provide him with the means of getting to the coast 
 and crossing over into France. 
 
 Everything, he supposed, was ready at the 
 lodge. Lord and Lady Newburgh were devoted to 
 his person and his cause ; the lord to his person 
 and the lady to his cause. Knowing them well, he 
 loved them, and trusted them with all his heart. 
 Newburgh, like himself, was fond of horses, and
 
 BAGSHOT LODGE. 247 
 
 his stud in Bagshot park was famous on every 
 racecourse and in every hunting-field. One of his 
 horses was unmatched for strength and speed ; 
 nothing on four legs being able to go so fast and 
 stay so long. That hunter was to save the king. 
 Newburgh, faithful and fearless, was a man to run 
 all risks, and lay his life down joyfully for his 
 prince. 
 
 Kate, his wife, while no less brave and loyal, 
 had the advantage of a keener wit and a more 
 fertile brain. Kate was a catholic, and her 
 devotion to the king was part of her devotion to 
 the church. It was her passion to have suffered in 
 his cause. Aubigny, her first husband, had been 
 slain at Edge Hill ; but Kate, instead of moping by 
 his grave, had flung herself into the lines of strife. 
 Charles had much need of female help, and Kate 
 turned out a schemer of the foremost rank. Seek- 
 ing the post of danger, she had stolen into 
 Westminster, where she had lived and laboured 
 as a spy, a go-between, a royalist agent. Compro- 
 mised in the Waller plot, she had been arrested, and 
 was likely to have lost her head ; but she had slipt 
 her jailer, crossed the military lines, and got into 
 Oxford, where the royalists were in strength. So 
 long as hope was left, she had kept the field, and
 
 248 EOYAL WINDSOK. 
 
 when the sword was put away, she had asked for 
 other work. To serve the king, she had married 
 Newburgh, settled in the forest, and assisted in 
 the stud. No less intimate with the queen than 
 with the king, she kept the royal cyphers, and the 
 letters passing between the royal pair flowed 
 mostly through her pen. She knew of the intended 
 flight, and was the chief contriver of his plan. 
 
 The lady had bad news for Charles. It was not 
 easy to converse, in presence of these men on duty, 
 but she managed to let him know that her swiftest 
 hunter had been injured by a kick. His stable 
 mate had lunged at him, so that he was unable to 
 leave his stall. The king's heart fell. The hunter 
 lamed ! Yes, lamed ; but she contrived to hint 
 that she had other horses very near as good, and 
 several that were good enough for his attempt. 
 Charles shrank from her brave words ; though he 
 kept up his pose and smile, in presence of his 
 guard. 
 
 Time up, the troopers mounted. Harrison 
 signalled to the king ; but Charles was not yet 
 ready to proceed. An hour dragged on ; the day 
 began to wane. Kate found the means of telling 
 him that the other details of his scheme held good. 
 Four or five grooms, with horses ready saddled,
 
 BAGSHOT LODGE. 249 
 
 were in certain stations in the forest, should he 
 need the help of either man or beast. Newburgh 
 would ride with him, and turn all chances of the 
 road to good account. But she was trying to 
 kindle stone. Charles mused and mused ; unable 
 to fix his mind. Again the Anabaptist came. 
 Time had been up long ago. Charles begged a 
 little more time ; saying he would show them a 
 shorter cut to Windsor than the public road. 
 
 When he stept out, he found a horse at the 
 door ; a trooper's horse, instead of Lady New- 
 burgh's choice. Harrison beckoned him to mount. 
 The king's heart failed him more and more. His 
 farewell to his hostess told her, she would hear his 
 voice no more. 
 
 Rain fell heavily, as they took the path and 
 headed through the woods. Newburgh rode out a 
 little way, but he was soon turned back. No 
 chance of flight occurred. A hundred men 
 picked riders, certain shots rode outward, in the 
 front and on the flanks, with pistols primed and 
 cocked. The ranks closed up. To slip that leash 
 to face that ring of fire was death. The horse 
 rode forward in the rain, through ruts and pools, 
 and under dripping oaks. Their shorter cut took 
 longer time. To them, it was the old, old story :
 
 250 ROYAL WINDSOK. 
 
 in the smaller things as in the greater, no one 
 could depend on Charles. His science was to lie 
 with truth. ' A short way, not a fair ! ' Men 
 soaked with ram, and foul with mire, were in no 
 mood to laugh at such royal jokes. 
 
 Newburgh slunk home to Bagshot park, con- 
 vinced that his master's chance of breaking from his 
 enemy was gone.
 
 251 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 AT LENGTH. 
 1648-9. 
 
 CKOWDS filled the market-place, and poured along 
 the Bagshot road, as the brigade of horse rode 
 into Windsor. Never before had such a sight been 
 seen. The king a prisoner, taken in a time of 
 peace, and brought in as a culprit to the royal 
 house! The crowd was deeply touched. Men 
 who had not loved their sovereign, looked on 
 that spectacle with dismay. Few of those bur- 
 gesses had dreamt of going so far. A sense of 
 pity and of pain sprung up in many hearts as 
 he was swept along in that ominous cloud of 
 horse. Some voices sobbed, ' God bless him ! ' 
 Was the stream of sympathy about to turn? 
 1 Long may he reign ! ' was heard in High Street. 
 But the sentiment was confined to sobs and cries. 
 New masters ruled the land. All Windsor was
 
 252 EOYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 aware that only two days ago, the mayor and 
 men of Winchester, on daring to approach the 
 king, had been trampled in the mire by those 
 troops of horse. No one in Windsor wanted to 
 be kicked and pounded under stallions' hoofs ; but 
 this repression of the public voice brought up the 
 question : what had England gained by putting 
 down a feudal prince, and setting up a military 
 sect? 
 
 Burgesses who asked this question, had not 
 long to wait for their reply. 
 
 Though Charles passed in, and all the Castle 
 gates were closed, a crowd still lingered in the 
 street, and strayed into the taverns, busy with the 
 day's events. Some spoke for Charles, because the 
 man was down. Some drank his health, with ' three 
 times three.' The guards turned out, and cleared 
 the street. Flying before the firelocks, people 
 pushed into the yards and taverns. One tavern 
 door was locked and barred against the troops, 
 who broke the panels and discharged their pieces 
 on the crowd. Three of the burgesses fell dead. 
 The rest were marched to prison, and left there in 
 the winter cold, till a court-martial should have 
 time to punish them under military rule. 
 
 Thirty-nine days elapsed between their slaughter
 
 AT LENGTH. 253 
 
 at his Castle-gate and the king's execution in front 
 of his palace at Whitehall. During those thirty - 
 nine days, his conduct was so fine as to distract 
 the whole country with regret that such a man 
 should have fallen from the throne. His words 
 were mild, his manners gracious. He exhibited 
 no malice and no petulance. He was constant in 
 his faith. Asking for law, he asked for nothing 
 but the law. In patience, tenderness, and charity, 
 he had the bearing of a saint. 
 
 On reaching the guard-room, he and his jailers 
 were received by Whichcot, governor of the Castle, 
 who informed him that, having been deposed by 
 the army, he was no longer to be lodged in the 
 royal house. A corner of the edifice had been 
 assigned to him, and within that corner he might 
 pick and choose. He smiled, as though such 
 things were trifles, like the rain and slush. They 
 thought him in a ' merry' mood, not guessing at 
 the agonies in his breast. Walking to the corner, 
 where he was allowed to lodge, he chose the rooms 
 in which he wished to dine and sleep. They were 
 unfit for use, but Whichcot called in men, who 
 made them ready for the night. No murmur came 
 from Charles. When told that, being deposed, he 
 was not to be served on the knee, he answered,
 
 254 EOYAL WINDSOK. 
 
 that such service was a thing indifferent, never 
 exacted by a prince, but left to every man's sense 
 of what was fit. His officers were free to either 
 kneel or not to kneel. At supper, having no 
 chaplain near, he took the desk, read out the 
 lesson, offered up a prayer, and expounded the 
 sacred text. This was a habit of his life ; and he 
 performed it well. The saints were much im- 
 pressed. At length, they quitted him for the 
 night, but ere they went away, they turned the 
 keys and shot the bolts and bars. 
 
 The holy season being nigh, he begged to have 
 the service of his chaplain, Dr. Hammond, whom 
 the governor had formerly expelled. This con- 
 solation was refused. He mentioned other chap- 
 lains, but his prayer was put aside. His jailers 
 set no store on holy seasons, calling them papistry 
 and idolatry. Holy season or unholy season, he 
 should have no more of his papistry at Windsor ; 
 neither should he have a chance of forming a plot, 
 and making fresh attempts to fly. Orders from 
 head-quarters forbade him to speak with any one 
 in private, unless they came to him under special 
 warrant from the general or the House. To ease 
 the rigour of his restraint, he pledged his word 
 to Whichcot that he would not steal away, nor seek
 
 AT LENGTH. 255 
 
 his liberty except by honourable means. Yet he 
 was shut in his room, kept behind locks and bars, 
 with sentries at his door by night and day. He 
 craved permission to write to the queen, his wife, 
 and to the prince, his son. These graces were 
 denied. 
 
 Some of his janitors told him that the troops 
 insisted on his trial, as a criminal, and that a 
 court had been appointed, chiefly of their officers, 
 to try him for his life. Cromwell was on the 
 list ; Fairfax on the list ; Venn, Whalley, Ireton, 
 Ludlow, were on the list. 
 
 * In what way can they do it ? ' asked the 
 king. 
 
 The troops accused him, he was told, of having 
 trampled on the laws, of having caused the death 
 of a hundred thousand men, with all the misery of 
 a seven years' war, by separating from his parlia- 
 ment, and setting up his standard in defence of 
 arbitrary and illegal power. By these offences he 
 had forfeited his trust. 
 
 'How can they frame a charge?' he asked. 
 Here lay his strength. There was no law by which 
 he could be tried. A legend had been lately 
 framed a legend setting forth, that ' under God, 
 the people is the source of power ;' but this new
 
 256 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 principle was a phrase, and nothing more. It 
 had no force of law. for it had never been adopted 
 and enrolled. No article in the statute-book 
 allowed a soldier, or a camp of soldiers, to accuse 
 the king. How could they frame a charge ? 
 
 Turning his point, they assured him that no- 
 thing of the kind was to be done ; but since the 
 question had been raised, they asked him what he 
 would do if he were charged, like any other man, 
 according to the law ? The query was a trap ; but 
 he was frank and open. ' If they should charge 
 me, I will make no answer ; if they put me to 
 death, I shall die like a martyr, patiently.' 
 
 On Friday, January 19th, he was taken from 
 Windsor by the Anabaptist and his black horse. 
 On February 7th he was brought back dead. 
 Tried by the sword, which he had first invoked, he 
 had now fallen by the sword. But his trial was 
 an act of war. Law there was none. He was in- 
 dicted in the name of ' the English people ;' but 
 the veil of sophistry had been torn aside. ' No/ 
 cried a lady in the gallery ; ' not a hundredth 
 part of them.' The voice was that of Lady 
 Fairfax, the Lord-General's wife. A Puritan in 
 creed, Lady Fairfax had been a partner in her 
 husband's toils ; but she was conscious that the
 
 AT LENGTH. 257 
 
 king was called to answer, not before the English 
 people, but a court of officers. So she had traversed 
 the fiction: ' not a hundredth part of them.' Neither 
 she nor the Lord- General sat in that court a second 
 tune. 
 
 Five hundred pounds were voted for the 
 funeral, but no pomp and state were to be used. 
 A coach brought up the body, which was laid the 
 first night in the king's bed, and afterwards re- 
 moved to the deanery. Four peers, who had been 
 of his chamber, were permitted to attend as wit- 
 nesses ; but St. George's choir and chapel were 
 so stript and changed, that neither peer nor Go- 
 vernor could find the royal vault. At last a man 
 turned up in the town, who said he knew the 
 stone over Henry the Eighth's grave. That vault 
 was opened and the coffin lowered. Juxon was 
 present, with his service-book, ready to recite his 
 prayer, but Whichcot interfered. ' The Book of 
 Common Prayer is put down,' he said, and not 
 one word was suffered to be read. Some sobs 
 were heard, some tears were shed, and the last 
 mourners left the vault. A silver plate, bearing 
 the legend : 
 
 KING CHARLES, 
 
 1648, 
 
 VOL. IV. S
 
 258 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 glistened on the coffin-lid. A sexton shovelled 
 in the earth ; and when the hole was filled, and 
 the stones laid down, Whichcot turned the wit- 
 nesses out, shut up the choir, and carried off the 
 keys. 
 
 St. George's choir and chapel were deserted 
 shrines. 
 
 But only for a time. The tide was on the 
 turn, soon to flow back, each year with an in- 
 creasing weight. Six weeks of noble patience had 
 made amends for many faults. Calm, gracious, 
 suffering, he had won the hearts of men and 
 women, till they wondered how he could have 
 lost his way. If he had fled from Bagshot Lodge, 
 got over into France, and lived for twenty years 
 in exile and intrigue, he might have seemed an 
 ordinary man, no better and no worse than the 
 princes who have lost their crowns his house 
 without a halo, and his family without a hope. 
 
 The martyr's march from St. James's palace 
 to St. George's chapel, left a pathway open for 
 his son : to follow, when the sword had done 
 the sword's appointed work.
 
 259 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 CUTTING DOWN. 
 1649. 
 
 ON the night of the king's execution, an alarm 
 was raised in the Upper ward that two prisoners 
 had escaped; one being James, called duke of 
 Hamilton in the Scottish peerage, and the second, 
 Henry, baron Loughborough, in the English peer- 
 age. In the darkness and confusion they had 
 broken their parole and fled. 
 
 Whichcot was quickly on the spot ; but for the 
 night, at least, his two great captives were beyond 
 his reach. 
 
 James, called duke of Hamilton in the Scottish 
 peerage, and earl of Cambridge in the English 
 peerage, had led the Scottish army into England ; 
 fallen in with Cromwell and the Ironsides at 
 Preston Moor, been cut in pieces, straggled with
 
 260 EOYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 a remnant of his horse to Uttoxeter, given himself 
 up, been taken to Ashby de la Zouch, and in a 
 little time brought up to Windsor, here to be kept, 
 by order of the House of Commons, a ' close 
 prisoner' till his fine of one hundred thousand 
 pounds had been paid. 
 
 Henry Hastings, lord Loughborough, brother 
 of Ferdinando, earl of Huntingdon, was one of a 
 band of royalist peers and knights who had made 
 the very last stand that was ever to be made in arms 
 for Charles. When Langhorne rose at Pembroke, 
 and Hamilton crossed the border, many of the 
 shires had risen against the Ironsides. Leicester, 
 Kent, and Essex, were especially disturbed. Lough- 
 borough took the field in Leicester, Goring in 
 Kent, Capel in Essex ; but the Ironside armies were 
 too strong to be pressed back. Marching from 
 Windsor, on what proved to be his last compaign, 
 Fairfax struck out so heavily that none of the 
 royalists were able to keep the field. One by one, 
 the chiefs were driven on Colchester, pushed into 
 the castle, and assaulted with such energy that 
 they yielded up their swords. Lucas and Lisle 
 had been shot in the ditch ; Loughborough, Goring, 
 and Capel, had been brought to Windsor, as head- 
 quarters of the military Power.
 
 CUTTING DOWN. 261 
 
 Their rooms were searched ; Goring and Capel 
 were secure ; but Loughborough had disappeared. 
 
 As soldiers taken in the field and not yet tried, 
 they had been kept in somewhat strict confinement. 
 An exception had been made in favour of the duke. 
 Fifteen days after his coming to Windsor, Hamilton's 
 fine of a hundred thousand pounds, and the order 
 for his close imprisonment, had been revoked. 
 Placed in free custody on parole, he was allowed 
 the freedom of his ward, and even of the park. 
 Why he had been indulged so much, was one of 
 the state secrets known to Cromwell and himself. 
 
 One of the richest peers in Scotland, Hamilton 
 was a son of that marquis of Hamilton who had 
 been created baron Ennerdale and earl of Cam- 
 bridge by James the First. Charles had made him 
 a duke, but he had done so after the war began, 
 so that the higher title was not recognised in the 
 English camp. At Windsor he was either known 
 as earl of Cambridge or marquis of Hamilton; 
 honours which he had inherited in his birth. 
 
 No person of that period gave the world more 
 trouble to decipher ; no one was able to guess his 
 motives or explain his actions. On the surface, 
 Hamilton appeared a mass of contradictions, not to 
 be reconciled by the wit of man. His votes were
 
 262 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 rarely in accordance with his words; his deeds 
 were never in accordance with his votes. At 
 court, he had always played the courtier ; while in 
 kirk and parliament he had always been a cove- 
 nanter. On the field of English politics, he had 
 taken every side ; not turn by turn, like Goring 
 and Holland, but every side at once. With more 
 or less reserve, he had claimed fellowship with 
 Charles and the Cavaliers, with Essex and the 
 Roundheads, with Cromwell and the Ironsides. 
 He was one with church and sect, with king and 
 parliament, with moderate and extreme. Charles 
 had believed in him ; Cromwell had made much of 
 him. Before the sword was drawn, he had shouted 
 for prerogative at Windsor, and voted for privilege 
 at Westminster. From every side he had taken 
 black mail, and always in enormous sums. One 
 theory of his conduct was, that he cared for 
 nothing but money ; a second, that he aimed at 
 the Scottish, if not the English crown. Though 
 near of km to Charles, his lips had framed the 
 famous sentence : ' It will never be well so long as 
 a Stuart is left alive.' The king, who had not only 
 made him duke, but promised him a princess for a 
 wife, was slow to see his turpitude, but at last his 
 eyes were opened : ' He shall cousin and re-cousin
 
 CUTTING DOWN. 263 
 
 me no more.' Arrested and found guilty of betray- 
 ing the king, he had been sent to Exeter and Pen- 
 dennis, from which he was afterwards removed to 
 St. Michael's Mount. 
 
 There he had been found by Cromwell, and 
 enlarged as one who had suffered in the cause. 
 Being free to renew his plots, he had returned to 
 court, regained his influence over Charles, and 
 worked against him more than ever in the dark. 
 He, more than any other man, had ruined the 
 king's affairs in Edinburgh. When Charles was 
 sold, no man had taken a blacker part in the sale 
 than he. Then the last scale had fallen from his 
 master's eyes. Hearing in the Isle of Wight that 
 forty thousand Scots were marching to his aid, the 
 king inquired, ' Who leads them ? ' One of his 
 majesty's attendants said : ' The duke of Hamilton.' 
 Sighing in the bitterness of his heart, the royal 
 captive murmured : ' Nay, if he leads them, there 
 is no good to be done for me.' 
 
 The king was right. No good was done for 
 him by Hamilton. The Scots were beaten and 
 dispersed ; not without suspicion of foul play, and 
 the payment of yet more black mail. 
 
 Windsor was all astir that winter night. Every 
 messenger from London brought in details of the
 
 264 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 king's execution, stirring men's passions to their 
 lowest depths. The soldiers heard of their Lord- 
 General and his lieutenant being no longer in 
 accord. Fairfax stood aloof, regarding the king's 
 trial and execution as a bad business. Lady Fair- 
 fax's words, spoken in the open court, were passing 
 from lip to lip. ' People of England ! ' ' Not a 
 hundredth part of them.' Her words were felt to be 
 the words in season ; words which threw into 
 audible shape the thought lying hidden in a mul- 
 titude of minds. Everyone was excited by the 
 day's event. If the Lord-General disapproved, who 
 could be sure that what they had been doing was 
 approved by Heaven ? 
 
 In the confusion of that moment, Hamilton and 
 Loughborough found a door left open, and, in spite 
 of their plighted words, they had stolen away, un- 
 seen by Whichcot's men. 
 
 Aware that he might have to answer for the 
 safety of his prisoners with his head, Whichcot 
 wrote in haste to Cromwell, and at midnight his 
 messengers were on the road. Cromwell was not 
 only master, but appeared to have some under- 
 standing with the fugitive duke. Not many days 
 ago, he had come to Windsor for a personal inter- 
 view. The prisoner and his visitor had been
 
 CUTTING DOWN. 265 
 
 closeted in secret: but the fact was known that 
 Cromwell held out hopes of favour to the duke on 
 certain terms, and that he left him in a friendly 
 manner, after praying him to consider well of his 
 reply. How the case stood between them Whichcot 
 could only guess. 
 
 Between three and four o'clock, the messengers 
 arrived at Cromwell's door. This was no business 
 to be slighted, and the clerks were instantly at 
 work. Warrants were issued for the duke's arrest ; 
 roads and ports were stopped; and a reward of 
 five hundred pounds was offered for the fugitive. 
 One of the messengers stopped at the post in 
 Southwark, and spread the story of the duke's 
 escape. Some troopers, who had overheard his 
 story, found a man shortly afterwards knocking 
 at an inn gate. They asked him who he was, and 
 what he wanted in that place. He said he was a 
 poor man, going down to Dover in the carrier's 
 waggon, and had come to seek his carrier in that 
 inn-yard. One of the soldiers, looking at him 
 keenly, said : l Methinks you are a Scot ; methinks 
 I have seen you in Hamilton's army.' This, the 
 duke denied. Another soldier spoke out plainly. 
 He said the man, although disguised, was no other 
 than the duke himself. He knew his face, for he
 
 266 KOYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 was present at the time when he was taken. That 
 he had escaped from Windsor, they had just been 
 told. On searching him, they found forty pounds 
 in gold, a diamond ring worth a hundred pounds, 
 and other articles. Here was evidence that he was 
 not what he pretended ; a poor man seeking for a 
 passage by the Dover cart. Leading him to a 
 boat, they carried him across the river to White- 
 hall. 
 
 Loughborough got away. Wiser than Hamilton, 
 he hid himself for several weeks, and then crossed 
 over in the Rotterdam boat and joined his master, 
 now called Charles the Second, at the Hague. 
 
 By way of clearing ground for action, Cromwell 
 was bent on cutting down a batch of royalist peers. 
 Many great lords were at the Hague, and those 
 who stayed in England, to preserve their coronets 
 and estates, were dead against his policy. By 
 purge and menace he had kept the Rump in order, 
 but hereditary peers were not so easily managed as 
 a tail of fanatics. In spite of warnings, they had 
 scouted his proposals to judge and execute the 
 king. He had usurped their power and closed 
 their chamber, but his passions were not slaked 
 and cooled. A batch of peers, condemned to die,
 
 CUTTING DOWN. 267 
 
 as traitors to the commonwealth, might bring the 
 obstinate lords to terms. 
 
 Four peers were in his hands -Hamilton, Hol- 
 land, Capel, and Goring who had been taken in 
 the field, and might be put to death. Hamilton 
 was at Whitehall, Holland at Warwick, Capel at 
 Windsor with Goring as his fellow-prisoner. 
 Cromwell had hopes that Hamilton might betray 
 the lords who had invited him to invade the 
 kingdom with his Scottish hosts. All day and 
 night his officers were closeted with the duke. 
 What was his answer to the offers made to him 
 at Windsor ? 
 
 On the following day, Capel and Goring were 
 removed from Windsor to the Tower ; from which 
 Capel got away by dropping from the wall and 
 wading through the moat : but, being taken by a 
 waterman on the river, was again secured. Secret 
 evidence satisfied the court. Pleading his Scottish 
 birth, Hamilton claimed to be tried by a Scottish 
 court: but he was overruled on the ground that 
 he was an English peer and an owner of English 
 lands. Whichcot proved that he had broken 
 prison, after pledging his word of honour. He 
 denied the fact, and offered to prove his truth by 
 single combat ; but the court decided that his
 
 268 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 parole had been given. He was condemned to die. 
 Holland, Capel, Goring, followed, and were all 
 condemned to die ; unless the Rump, in whom 
 the gift of mercy lay, should be moved to inter- 
 pose. 
 
 One of the peers was saved. For Hamilton 
 and Capel, not a voice was lifted up. The duke 
 was understood to be left in Cromwell's hands ; to 
 kill him or to spare him, as he proved his worthiness, 
 by giving up others to the axe. For Goring and 
 for Holland there were equal votes ; in a chamber 
 of forty-eight members, twenty-four voting for 
 death and life. In each case. Lenthall had to cast 
 the die. At some time in their early days, Goring 
 had done him Borne small kindness, and the memory 
 of that act of kindness saved his life. To Holland 
 he voted ' death.' 
 
 Crowning his life with a final contradiction, 
 Hamilton walked to the block, refused the terms 
 of freedom, laid down his head, and died.
 
 269 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 WINDSOE UNCROWNED. 
 
 1649-60. 
 
 AN empty house, a ruined park, and a deserted 
 shrine, Windsor was no bad picture of the state of 
 England at the moment when the king and king- 
 dom fell together, and a commonwealth was pro- 
 claimed at the Castle gate. 
 
 The King's house was a wreck ; the fanatic, 
 the pilferer, and the squatter, having been at work. 
 Elizabeth's theatre was gone ; the private chapel 
 was stripped of its sacred furnishings ; hall and 
 gallery were spoiled ; St. George's hall being 
 stripped of its knightly shields, the king's gallery 
 of its cabinets and works of art. Tudor tower 
 and secret room were closed. Paupers had 
 squatted in many of the towers and cabinets. 
 Outside, the ruin was no less complete. The 
 stand and rails were broken down. Much of the
 
 270 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 timber had been cut and sold ; even the leaden 
 pipes, which brought in water from distant springs, 
 had been taken up. Red and fallow deer were 
 gone. The keeper's lodge, close by Elizabeth's 
 walk, had been destroyed. 
 
 Inside and out, Windsor was such a ruin, that 
 the question was debated in the House of Commons 
 whether both park and house should not be sold. 
 One vote was carried against the sale, a second 
 vote for the sale. Proposal followed on proposal. 
 Some members dwelt on the shame of vending 
 the home of Elizabeth, Harry of Agincourt, 
 and Edward the Third ; the hunting-ground of 
 Edward the Confessor, of St. Edmund, and of 
 other Saxon kings. These men were answered 
 by enthusiasts, who declared that commonwealths 
 require no royal palaces, no royal hunting-grounds. 
 At length a compromise was made, the lots being 
 separated into house and park. The house was 
 kept ; the park was sold : including the Fairy 
 dell and the Hunter's oak. 
 
 St. George's choir was closed, and Christopher 
 Whichcot, governor of the Castle, hung the keys 
 in his sleeping-room. Dean, canons, choristers, 
 knew their places on the hill no more. The altars 
 were defaced, the hatchments overturned, the com-
 
 WINDSOR UNCROWNED. 271 
 
 munion-table carted off. Hugh Peters, regimental 
 gospeller of Windsor, cared no more for ' oyster- 
 benches ' than Hugh Weston, catholic dean of 
 Windsor, had cared for them in Queen Mary's 
 time. Not only was the shrine dismantled, but 
 the saint himself was stricken from the calendar. 
 No other saints were tolerated save the saints of 
 God. Except his cross, nothing of the saint was 
 spared ; the barred white flag of Sluys and Agin- 
 court ; which floated from the keep less as an 
 emblem of the cross than of the sword. 
 
 A commonwealth was proclaimed. 
 
 At once the strife broke out. Waller, with 
 Major-general Browne, Sir John Clotworthy, and 
 many more, declared against the change of govern- 
 ment. Next to Manchester, Waller was the most 
 eminent captain of the earlier period of the war 
 now left alive. A man of family and fortune, and 
 a member of the House of Commons, his voice was 
 loud and his opinion strong. He had opposed the 
 king's trial and execution ; he now opposed the 
 fall of monarchy. In other days he had outrun 
 Essex, now he saw himself outrun by Cromwell 
 and his peers. With him, as with so many more, 
 the sword had broken in his hand. Waller, 
 Browne, Clotworthy, were arrested, brought to
 
 272 ROYAL WIJIDSOR. 
 
 head- quarters, and secured at Windsor under 
 Harrison's charge. Waller reviewed the past, and 
 sought the prisoner's solace in his pen. ' I look 
 on the present alteration of government as a 
 treasonable act. ... If I be continued in prison 
 it shall not trouble me. I have lived in prison 
 ever since I was born : my body is no other to 
 me than a prison, and a worse prison than that 
 wherein I lie. I am both a prison and a prisoner 
 to myself. I may be shut up, but God cannot be 
 shut out.' 
 
 His strength was put to the severest tests. 
 More than once he was removed from Windsor to 
 other castles, and brought back again. In the 
 same lofty strain he wrote: ' I thank God I can 
 despise the worst. I have weighed poverty and 
 banishment, imprisonment and death, and I have 
 found them light in the balance. I know how to 
 want, and how to abound. I can be at home, 
 abroad, and a free man, in a prison. I can find 
 life in death.' 
 
 A man like Waller could be locked up, but he 
 could never be subdued ; and those who shared 
 his opinions held to them all the stronger for his 
 sake. 
 
 The Windsor army found itself more and more
 
 WINDSOR UNCROWNED. 273 
 
 alone ; grim, solid, irresistible, yet more and more 
 alone. 
 
 A commonwealth was proclaimed. What com- 
 monwealth ? whose commonwealth? Was this 
 new government a government of the English 
 people, by the English people ? No, replied the 
 victors, who had certainly not shed their blood to 
 retire, and let affairs go on by Yea and Nay. A 
 vast majority of the people wanted peace and 
 liberty, but peace and liberty as they existed in 
 the times of Queen Elizabeth. That was no theory 
 favoured by the Saints, who meant to have a 
 commonwealth of the godly of the chosen men 
 who were worthy of the Cause, and who had been 
 faithful to the end. 
 
 The generals at head-quarters were divided ; 
 Fairfax thinking they had gone too far, Cromwell 
 protesting they had not gone far enough. The 
 moderate officers were with Fairfax, the immoderate 
 were with Cromwell. In the rank and file, no 
 less than in the officers' quarters, feuds sprang up . 
 If free-born Englishmen required no kings, why 
 should they have lord -generals and lieutenant- 
 generals ? If the question rose, ' Caesar or no- 
 thing?' they were ready to reply, 'Republic or 
 nothing.' Here the Levellers took up their ground 
 
 VOL. IV. T
 
 274 KOYAL WINDSOK. 
 
 and raised their cry : ' No parks, no chases, no 
 enclosures; no kings, no magistrates, no general 
 officers.' These seekers after truth stuck ribands 
 in their hats. They had to be revised with sword 
 and shot. 
 
 Ireland began to stir, and troops were needed 
 from head- quarters to repress an insurrection in 
 that country. Cromwell came to Windsor to 
 consult the General, who was well content to let 
 him take that charge. The House appointed 
 Cromwell general for Ireland, leaving Fairfax 
 generalissimo for the commonwealth. Starting 
 from Windsor, Cromwell marched towards Milford 
 Haven, taking Hugh Peters for his prophet, and 
 eighty captains and colonels for a body-guard ; 
 and having crossed the sea, swept through the 
 Irish counties as he had formerly swept through 
 the English counties. For the first time in their 
 history, the kernes were thoroughly cut down. 
 
 As Irish chief and kerne fell back, the Scottish 
 chiefs and clans sprang forward ; Charles the 
 Second being invited over, sworn to the covenant, 
 and proclaimed their king. Fairfax declined to 
 march against them. He had lost his confidence 
 in the sword as an interpreter of the divine will. 
 His heart was not with the new government, and
 
 WINDSOR UNCROWNED. 275 
 
 he had no desire to take the field against a second 
 king. Rather than fight again, he resigned his 
 post. Windsor saw the Lord-General's face no 
 more. Henceforward, Cromwell held the sword. 
 
 Cromwell felt no doubts. For him, success was 
 right, and victory ' the providence of God.' 
 
 Dunbar followed ; after Dunbar, Worcester. 
 Then the sword was sheathed ; nothing more being 
 left for it to do. England lay still ; awed into 
 silence and submission by an overmastering 
 military power. Hugh Peters whispered to him- 
 self : ' This man will yet be king.' 
 
 One duke, seven earls, with many lords and 
 gentlemen of station, fell into Cromwell's hands at 
 Worcester. Three of the Scottish earls, Kelly, 
 Lauderdale, and Rothes, were brought to Windsor, 
 where they shared the prison lodgings of Waller 
 and the English generals. In driving through 
 Cornhill, Lauderdale's coach was stopped, when a 
 carter, peeping in at the window, snarled : ' Oh, 
 my lord ! You are welcome to London, I protest ! 
 Off goes your head, round as a hoop ! ' The 
 prisoner laughed, and jogged along. He and his 
 fellows pined in their imprisonment for the next 
 nine years. When Charles came back, he was 
 released ; living to become an English earl and
 
 276 KOYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 a Scottish duke, and to play his part in the second 
 and final act of the Divine Catastrophe. 
 
 The commonwealth was abolished ; a Pro- 
 tectorate declared. 
 
 Under the new system, "Windsor was made ' a 
 garrison.' The town was disfranchised. Head- 
 quarters were removed to Westminster. St. 
 George's keep became a military jail. 
 
 ' January 30 : Mr. Feak and Mr. Simpson sent 
 prisoners to Windsor Castle : ' so, in Whitelock, 
 under date. Feak was a Saint, eager to do 
 away with lord-generals, lord-lieutenants, and 
 all other mundane lordships, and to inaugurate 
 the Eeign of Christ. His conventicle, which 
 he called Christ Church, stood in Blackfriars, 
 and was the rallying-ground for Sunday ser- 
 mon and Monday lecture of the more exalted 
 sectaries. Harrison, and other officers of the 
 army, were amongst his hearers. Feak had 
 borne the commonwealth impatiently, as a post- 
 ponement of the Reign of Christ ; and when the 
 commonwealth gave place to the protectorate, he 
 broke all bounds. Cromwell, he announced from 
 the pulpit, was the ' man of sin,' the 'old dragon.' 
 Cromwell was angry, but the man could not be 
 silenced legally. The church was open, and the
 
 WINDSOR UNCROWNED. 277 
 
 preacher licensed, under an act of parliament which 
 Cromwell's council had no power to set aside. 
 Nothing but force would serve ; and some of 
 Cromwell's council were not sure that even force 
 would serve. At Temple Bar, Cheapside, and the 
 Exchange, the proclamation was received with 
 ridicule. Except the soldiers, no one raised a 
 shout for Oliver. Men listened to the heralds, 
 and walked away in scorn. At Temple Bar, 
 one citizen asked : ' What is the matter ? ' One 
 of the troopers answered, ' They are proclaiming 
 the Lord Protector.' ' Protector ? ' sneered the 
 citizen, ' he protects none but such rogues as thou 
 art ! ' The soldier struck him. Rushing at the 
 mounted man, the citizen pulled him from his 
 horse, fought with him, drubbed him soundly, 
 and marched away unhurt. A great crowd stood 
 around, who laughed, and cheered the citizen. Yet 
 some of the council sat on their horses, and ob- 
 served that scene. 
 
 Cromwell sent for Feak, and told him that his 
 attacks on the government gave confidence to the 
 enemy abroad and at home, and brought parliament 
 into contempt. Feak answered : ' Let your words 
 and mine be recorded in heaven.' Feak declared 
 that not his words, but Cromwell's assumption of
 
 278 KOYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 exorbitant power, had caused the disorder. ' When 
 I heard you begin with a record in heaven,' said 
 the Lord Protector, ' I did not expect you would 
 tell such a lie on earth.' He assured the preacher 
 that if he should be harder pressed by the enemy 
 than he had been, he might have to begin with 
 him. On leaving the Protector, Feak inquired 
 of Harrison whether he accepted the Protectorate ? 
 Harrison replied with an emphatic ' No ; ' he 
 recognised no king save Christ. Speaking in his 
 pulpit, Feak declared the Lord Protector the most 
 dissembling and most perjured villain in the world. 
 Looking at his audience, he continued : ' If he have 
 any friends here, I desire that they will go and 
 tell him what I have said.' Glancing at the last 
 Lord Protector, the Anabaptist said : ' His reign 
 shall be but short ; he shall be served worse than 
 that great tyrant ; he being as bad, if not worse, 
 than Somerset.' 
 
 Harrison and Feak were called into Cromwell's 
 presence. They maintained their opposition to 
 the new Protectorate. Harrison was dismissed the 
 service ; Feak was committed to Windsor Castle ; 
 each appealing to the law against the sword.
 
 279 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 A 'MERRY' CAESAR. 
 1660-70. 
 
 NOT till the brain that fashioned, and the hand 
 that guided, the victorious army were at rest, was 
 England herself again ; free to go back on her old 
 lines, and to adopt the order of her choice. But 
 on the death of Oliver everything was changed. 
 The sword dropped down four feet of tempered 
 steel ; helmet and breast-plate sank into articles of 
 a soldier's dress ; the soul that quickened them into 
 a living force was gone. 
 
 No nation loves heroic rule, except in times of 
 peril ; and, the danger being past, no nation feels 
 much patience with heroic guides. Cromwell was 
 never loved. The people bore his rule, because 
 they found in him a statesman worthy of a land 
 which had produced Elizabeth and Edward the 
 Third. Under his government, their greatness
 
 280 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 was revived ; once more they were objects of 
 attention to surrounding courts ; their sea-generals 
 flaunting the red cross in seas from which they 
 had been excluded since the Tudor times. Yet 
 Oliver's government was endured, and nothing 
 more. In spite of genius, valour, and prosperity, 
 the Ironside captain failed to reach the national 
 heart. 
 
 At Windsor, as in other parts, his presence was 
 a working power. As Lord Protector, he re- 
 bought the Little park ; he planted and improved 
 the forest ; he opened St. George's chapel for 
 public worship ; he kept an eye on the college 
 lands ; he partially restored the royal house. Yet 
 no one cared for him : he was too great, too 
 lofty, too austere. Windsor, in truth, was sick of 
 his heroic work. The strain had been too hard, 
 and had endured too long. Men wanted cakes and 
 ale. Heroic ? Yea ; but Windsor wanted to be 
 free. Waller had said in his Windsor cell, that 
 under Charles, men talked of being slaves when 
 they were free ; while under Oliver, they talked of 
 being free while they were slaves. What Waller 
 said, the burgesses had begun to feel. For fifteen 
 years, the Ironsides had eaten into their souls. No 
 English town had seen so much of them as Windsor,
 
 A ' MERRY ' C^SAR. 281 
 
 and no English town gave warmer welcome to their 
 enemy, the returning prince. 
 
 Droll were the forms in which their loyalty 
 came out. 
 
 When writs were issued for a ' free parliament,' 
 "Windsor elected Koger Palmer, barrister-at-law, 
 to give her voice for calling in King Charles. 
 Palmer was the husband of a fair woman, soon to 
 be known, at Windsor and elsewhere, as Lady 
 Castlemaine. A frantic royalist, Palmer had seen 
 the king, had lent him money, and had introduced 
 his wife. Taking the money and the lady, Caesar had 
 sent the gentleman back to Windsor, where he had 
 some secret friends, to manage his affairs. Galland, 
 a tavern keeper, happened to be mayor ; lawyer 
 and host soon came to terms ; and though some 
 burgesses opposed them, Palmer was returned. 
 Riding up to Westminster, this husband of a fair 
 wife voted, in the name of Windsor, for his majesty's 
 recall. 
 
 A troop of county horse rode into the town, 
 on which Galland, in his robe of office, walked to 
 the market cross, a trumpeter in front of him, and 
 there proclaimed King Charles. Attended by his 
 county horse, he marched to the bridge, where he 
 again proclaimed King Charles. Creeping to the
 
 282 EOYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 Castle gates, he looked in ; when the captain bade 
 them enter, and the zealous Galland read his pro- 
 clamation under St. George's keep. Sixty-six 
 shillings were drunk in sack and ale at Mr. 
 Galland's board. 
 
 Later on, the mayor and aldermen held a feast 
 in honour of the great event : but at the public 
 cost. Their loyalty rose so high, that they resolved 
 to hold that festival once a-year ; and always at 
 the public cost. ' Twenty pounds a-year for feast- 
 ing to continue seven years,' was voted by the 
 court. 
 
 When the king returned, Windsor was herself 
 again. The royal house was occupied. St. 
 George's choir was opened and restored. The old 
 flag floated from the Norman keep. Mordaunt was 
 appointed Constable, but was afterwards replaced 
 by Rupert. Deans, canons, choristers, appeared in 
 their robes and surplices, and Knights of the 
 Garter sat once more in their ancient stalls. 
 
 Men were so weary of experiments in 'freedom/ 
 that if Charles had been either pure of life or sound 
 of faith, he might easily have rooted his dynasty in 
 the soil. England was not his enemy, nor the 
 enemy of his race. To her, indeed, he was the 
 issue of her ancient kings ; the minister and main-
 
 A ' MERRY ' CAESAR. 283- 
 
 stay of her ancient laws. None but the sectaries 
 were his foes, and these men had already done their 
 best and worst. They were disarmed, dispersed, 
 and broken up. The county bands were once more 
 the militia of the kingdom, and the principal 
 material power. Nothing seemed easier than to- 
 rally a majority of the people to his side. An 
 offer like his father's, to go back, in church and 
 state, on the condition of affairs in Queen 
 Elizabeth's time, was all he needed to propose. 
 But he was neither pure in life nor sound in faith. 
 He had no thought of going back to Queen 
 Elizabeth's time. He was a Caesar, and he meant 
 to rule by a supreme and sacred right, older than 
 either English usage or English law. The only 
 lesson he had learnt in exile was, the wisdom of 
 enjoying the passing hour. ' Eat and drink, for 
 to-morrow ye die.' Where he left his family 
 legend, was in his resolve to be a merry despot, 
 not a grave one, like his father, a morose one, like 
 his grandfather. He had studied in a wanton 
 school, and he arrived at Windsor with the notion 
 that a sovereign, to be great and popular like Louis 
 the Fourteenth, must, like Louis the Fourteenth, 
 live the life of a Roman emperor. 
 
 Early association drew him to Windsor ; but in
 
 284 EOYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 making the King's house his summer palace, he was 
 thinking rather of Louis and his projects at Ver- 
 sailles, than of an English country house, as Windsor 
 had been in his father's time. Except his leaning 
 towards his mother's church, little of his majesty's 
 youth remained. Before he came to Windsor, and 
 revisited his mother's cabinet and chapel, he had 
 passed that stage of personal depravity in which a 
 man likes to recall his mother's image. He was 
 steeped, neck-deep, in shame. 
 
 Barbara Palmer was but one of his many 
 favourites; but his appearance in the Windsor 
 galleries with that shameless creature, was de- 
 nounced by men who smiled at ordinary breaches 
 of the moral law. The queen was present ; most 
 of the peeresses were present; for the festival of 
 St. George was graced by the installation of two 
 singular knights : one being no less a person than 
 the Danish king, the other no greater than Crofts, 
 the king's illegimate son. Catharine was in the 
 first year of her marriage ; yet the king, her 
 husband forced on her the evidence of his former 
 frailties. Crofts was pretty, and she liked him as 
 a page, but Charles had married him to Lady Ann, 
 heiress of Buccleugh, created him baron Scott, 
 earl of Doncaster, and duke of Monmouth, and
 
 A ' MERRY ' CAESAR. 285 
 
 talked of creating him prince of Wales. He seemed 
 to pass between her offspring and the crown. Yet 
 she received him kindly, and after dinner led him 
 out to dance. The king came in. Monmouth held 
 his cap in hand. Charles kissed him, and bade 
 him don his cap ; an act of rudeness, both in manner 
 and suggestion, that caused her heart to sink. A 
 prince of Wales should not have gone so far. Yet 
 Catharine suffered in the woman more than in the 
 boy. Palmer was now an Irish earl, and his 
 abandoned partner, Lady Castlemaine. Charles had 
 forced her company on his queen ; an insult which 
 had thrown her into fits. A pious lady, bred in a 
 convent, she declared with sobs : ' I cannot in my 
 conscience consent to what may give an oppor- 
 tunity for sin.' Cold and cynical, Charles insisted 
 on arranging his seraglio as he pleased ; and Lady 
 Castlemaine not only came with him to Windsor, 
 but as first lady of the queen's bed-chamber, had 
 apartments given to her in the royal house. ' The 
 queen is much grieved of late at the king's neglect/ 
 notes Pepys ; ' he not having supped with her this 
 quarter of a year, but almost every night with my 
 Lady Castlemaine, who has been with him,' at 
 Windsor, ' this St. George's feast, and came home 
 with him last night.'
 
 286 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 Some changes were required at Windsor to 
 convert the study of Elizabeth, and the gallery of 
 Charles the First, into the image of a French 
 seraglio. May was employed to build, and Verrio 
 to paint. A ' star ' chamber was erected on the 
 northern side ; a flat and hideous length of front, 
 without one compensating line or curve. Vanity 
 described the work as ' stately/ Stateliness was 
 the fashion. Louis the Fourteenth's new palace at 
 Versailles was stately ; bigness and tameness being 
 supposed to cover up every fault. Some Gothic 
 building of a noble period was disturbed and 
 pcirtially destroyed. The Norman keep was faced 
 with brick ! 
 
 Inside, the rooms and ceilings were smeared 
 with Verrio's pinks and blues ; with gods and 
 goddesses floating in the air ; in the king's bed- 
 room, an allegory ; in the queen's room, an 
 assembly of the cardinal virtues ; in the dining-hall, 
 ;a banquet of the gods. Thanks to Evelyn, one 
 true artist was employed ; and Gibbons' carvings 
 made amends for much that was paltry and pre- 
 tentious in the other work. 
 
 St. George's hall was turned into a French 
 theatre ; tricked and altered on the caprice of 
 French comedians ; and here the king and his
 
 A ' MERRY ' CAESAR. 287 
 
 concubines listened to dialogues in French, too free 
 for audiences which heard without disgust such 
 plays as Love in a Wood and the Country Wife. 
 
 A great seraglio, like Versailles, with kiosques 
 and gardens round about, was Charles's idea of a 
 summer palace ; and so far as Windsor and the 
 forest could be turned into such a residence, they 
 were turned by his command. Lady Castlemaine 
 and the French courtesan, given to him by Louis, 
 liad apartments in the Castle, Nell Grwyn in 
 Burford house ; while Moll Davies, and other 
 ' beauties,' were occasionally entertained at Bagshot 
 lodge and Cranbourne lodge. Caesar occupied 
 the Tudor tower. Will Chiffinch, his trusty usher, 
 lived on the lower tier ; and Madame Nun, that 
 usher's sister, a personage of dubious calling, had 
 apartments near the Private stair. Will's room, a 
 handsome and ' effeminate ' lounge, became one of 
 Caesar's hunting-grounds. 
 
 Caesars were always penniless. Charles never 
 had money enough, and ' want ' was his excuse for 
 doing a thousand dirty things : robbing the dock- 
 yards ; intercepting the sailors' pay ; selling 
 Dunkerque ; accepting a pension from the king of 
 France. 
 
 A Dutch fleet pushed into the Thames. Eng-
 
 288 EOYAL WINDSOK. 
 
 land, so great under Elizabeth and under Oliver, 
 fell into the rank of a third-rate power. Yet, 
 wearied by heroic effort, she might have borne 
 with her restored princes, had they but shown 
 themselves sound in faith. Englishmen disliked 
 subservience to the court of France ; no power on 
 earth could reconcile them to the court of Rome.
 
 289 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 WINDSOR CATHOLIC. 
 
 1670-87. 
 
 NEITHER Charles nor James had ever, in his heart, 
 been sound of faith. 
 
 In his earlier days, Charles had taken the Cove- 
 nant ; in his later days he had sworn to observe 
 the English Articles. Yet, at the age of thirty, he 
 had returned to Windsor as good a Catholic as he 
 had left it, with his mother, at the age of twelve. 
 In public, he consented to receive the sacrament in 
 the English form ; but only after finding that his 
 friends might otherwise be confined to those 
 Catholic houses which had been already beaten in 
 his cause. Those houses could do nothing more 
 for him. The nation, and the nation only, could 
 repress the sectaries ; and he was shown, by all 
 his reasonable councillors, that if he wanted popular 
 support, he must rally the English people round 
 VOL. iv. u
 
 290 EOYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 the English church. Thus, in the fashion of his 
 grandsire, Henri of Navarre, he made a sacrifice of 
 his faith in order to enjoy his pleasure and preserve 
 his crown. 
 
 Yet his arrival at Windsor was the signal for a 
 movement in the town, which wrote its history in 
 small things as in great. Those who welcomed a 
 restoration of the crown, felt bound in conscience 
 to restore the cross. In itlie town-books we read : 
 
 ' Paid for setting up the king's .arms, 2s. 6d. 
 1 Paid towards the cross settipg up, 21. 15s.' 
 
 No bishop, no king no .cross, no crown ; the 
 two things seemed to hang by a common bar. 
 
 Allowed under their father's marriage treaty, to 
 be reared in the faith of Rome until they were old 
 enough to choose a creed, the two princes had been 
 grounded by their mother's monks and women so 
 completely, that in after years they had always kept 
 their first impressions of religious truth : Charles, as 
 a secret hidden from his people, though intrusted to 
 his male and female favourites ; James, as a gift and 
 blessing, not only privately enjoyed, but publicly 
 proclaimed. To Charles, indeed, religion was a 
 mask, if not a jest. He had no zeal. The catholic 
 creed, he said, was the only creed for a gentleman ;
 
 WINDSOK CATHOLIC. 291 
 
 but in his opinion, as in that of his grandsire, no 
 religion was worth a crown. 
 
 First and last, he was a traitor to the English 
 church. He took a catholic wife, and, while pro- 
 fessing to espouse her by an English rite, he 
 secretly espoused her by a papal rite. Catharine 
 of Braganza had come to Windsor much as Hen- 
 rietta of France had come to Windsor an emissary 
 from the court of Rome, charged with the task of 
 once more bending the English people under the 
 papal yoke. ' I take God to witness,' she reported 
 to his holiness, ' that no desire of crown or sceptre 
 led me to become queen of England : I had no 
 other thought than the desire of being useful to the 
 catholic church.' Like the queen-mother, she had 
 her chapel fitted up at Windsor; and she turned 
 her court, so far as she had power, into a catholic 
 court. 
 
 As with his consort, so with his concubine. 
 Lady Castlemaine was born a Calvinist; she be- 
 came a convert to the king's religion : not by any 
 change of thought or feeling, but entirely, as she 
 boasted, on the ground of policy. ' I have not 
 embraced the catholic religion out of any esteem 
 that I have for it ; but because I could not other- 
 wise continue to be the king's mistress, and to be
 
 292 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 the miss of State.' Her husband had already joined 
 the party which he took to be that of the coming 
 church. Some members of her family, who had 
 less objection to own a courtesan than an apostate, 
 waited on his majesty, and begged him to prevent 
 her yielding to her priests. Charles only laughed : 
 ' Excuse me, I have nothing to do with women's 
 souls.' The queen, aware of Lady Castlemaine's 
 motives, was annoyed at this conversion. ' It is 
 not done,' she sighed, ' for conscience sake.' On 
 hearing of the fact, Stillingfleet observed : ' If 
 the church of Rome has got no more than the 
 church of England has lost, the matter will not be 
 much:' words which Were afterwards applied to 
 Charles himself. 
 
 A secret treaty (Dover, May, 1670), signed 
 between the lord of Versailles and the lord of 
 Windsor, bound his majesty to throw aside his 
 mask, and show his face to all the world as he 
 had shown it to Lady Castlemaine. For money 
 down, and the promise of a pension, Charles agreed 
 to make a public profession of Catholicism, and to 
 assist his French neighbour in putting down the 
 Protestant Netherlands. In case of risings in the 
 country, caused by this apostasy, French armies 
 were to land in England, occupy London and
 
 WINDSOR CATHOLIC. 293 
 
 Windsor, and prevent new Ironside regiments 
 being raised and drilled. 
 
 Charles took the money, but postponed the 
 public declaration of his apostasy. That declara- 
 tion, he had sense enough to see, would be his 
 ruin. He never lacked an excuse for keeping any 
 money that might reach his hand. 
 
 Once, in a penitent fit, the House of Commons 
 voted him a sum of seventy thousand pounds to 
 build a monument to the king, his father. Not 
 one shilling of that vote was spent in St. George's 
 choir. Designs were sketched, and epitaphs com- 
 posed. Lindsay and Southampton were required 
 to indicate the exact position of the royal grave ; 
 they came to Windsor and affected to search the 
 choir. Their presence was a farce. The grave 
 was known, and since the Restoration had been a 
 common show. Evelyn had seen it ; Pepys had 
 seen it ; every visitor in the choir had seen it. 
 Lindsay and Southampton knew it well, for they 
 were present when the cofim had been lowered 
 into the vault. Yet they were said to have 
 reported that the martyr's grave could not be 
 found. Designs and epitaphs were laid aside, and 
 penniless Caesar scattered that pious fund among 
 his Castlemaines and Gwyns.
 
 294 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 Not till he was on his death-bed, was his 
 majesty brave enough to announce his creed, and 
 only then, to the innermost circle of his court. 
 
 During his reign, a statue was erected to him in 
 the upper ward ; a mounted Caesar, cast hi metal, 
 with his name conspicuous on a shield : 
 
 CAROLO SECUNDO, 
 
 KEGUM OPTIMO 
 DOMINO suo CLEMENTISSIMO 
 
 TOBIAS RUSTAT 
 HANC EFFIGIEM HUMILIME 
 
 DEBIT ET DEDICAVIT 
 ANNO DOMINI MDCLXXX. 
 
 This statue was erected and dedicated by a 
 page of the back-stairs : the most lucrative office 
 in Caesar's gift. 
 
 Bolder than his brother, James the Second 
 avowed his creed. The member of his family 
 whom the last of the royal Stuarts most admired, 
 was his ancestress, Mary, queen of Scots. She 
 never bent, he said ; and he, her offspring, would 
 never bend. ' My father yielded, and he lost his 
 life.' James seemed to have forgotten, that though
 
 WINDSOE CATHOLIC. 295 
 
 Mary had not bent, she had been driven from her 
 country by her outraged people, and had ultimately 
 lost her head. His reverence for that woman was 
 so great, that when his children died in infancy, he 
 opened her grave, and laid them by her side. For 
 him she was -a saint, whose ashes purified the 
 ground. Like her, he staked his crown and dynasty 
 on the issue of a fight between a liberal people and 
 a fanatical prince. 
 
 Standing in the country, and enclosed by walls 
 and gates, Windsor appeared to him a safer theatre 
 for his experiment than a palace like Whitehall, 
 surrounded by the population of two cities, and 
 exposed to an attack by river, street, and park. 
 Windsor was therefore taken as his place of arms ; 
 and during his three years' reign, the King's house 
 and St. George's choir became head-quarters of the 
 catholic church. 
 
 James had never ceased to be a catholic ; but 
 before the Restoration, and for some time after that 
 event, his faith had been concealed. His first wife, 
 Lady Anne, had been a convert to his church ; but 
 her conversion had been kept a secret, in the 
 interest of her daughters, the Princess Mary and 
 the Princess Anne. The young princesses, he sup- 
 posed, were catholics ; but he had suffered them
 
 296 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 to take the English sacraments in deference to 
 their prospects in the world ; Mary being married 
 to William of Orange, and Anne to George of Den- 
 mark. Like the king, his brother, James had taken 
 for a second wife a catholic ; eager to restore the 
 unity of Rome at the expense of English liberty 
 and law. While she was simply duchess of York, 
 Mary of Modena had played the lamb. No voice 
 was meeker than her own ; few minds more tole- 
 rant than her own. She was supposed to exercise 
 a softening influence over the fanatical duke. But 
 they were hardly on the throne, before both duke 
 and duchess threw away their masks. Lord 
 Castlemaine was sent to Rome ; Cardinal D'Adda 
 was received as nuncio. Father Petre, the famous 
 Jesuit, and Father Ellis, the no less famous Bene- 
 dictine, were installed at the King's house as chap- 
 lains and advisers. Petre was of catholic blood, 
 Ellis of evangelical blood ; both had been educated 
 in the Jesuit schools. Ellis was a stolen child ; 
 having been kidnapped from Westminster school, 
 conveyed, without the knowledge of his family, to 
 St. Omers, and brought up as a catholic priest. 
 He was a pleasant, humorous man, of greater 
 talent, but of far less zeal, than Petre. While at 
 St. Omers, he had been known as 'jolly Phil ; '
 
 WINDSOR CATHOLIC. 297 
 
 but he had chosen to become a Benedictine rather 
 than a Jesuit. James, who saw in him the con- 
 vert and man of talent, chose him as leader of his 
 crusade. Windsor was appointed for the scene; 
 king, queen, and court were present, and the Bene- 
 dictine preached a sermon in St. George's chapel : 
 the first distinctly catholic sermon since Spalatro's 
 time. An eas^-going fellow, Ellis was rather 
 moderate in his views ; but on this occasion he 
 was bound to satisfy the king and queen. Taking 
 for his text these words : ' Thou shalt love the Lord 
 thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, 
 and with all thy mind,' he proved, to the king's 
 satisfaction first, that the church of England was 
 not a church ; second, that no man could be saved 
 except within the fold of Rome. Spalatro had 
 never gone so far as Father Ellis : but Windsor 
 under James the Second was not so timid in her 
 papistry, as Windsor in the time of James the 
 First, 
 
 Armed with the authority of his Benedictine 
 monk, James undertook, by fraud and violence, to 
 overturn the fabric of what he heard was not a 
 church, and had no power to save men's souls. 
 He dissolved parliaments, suspended the penal laws, 
 imprisoned bishops, seized the revenues of colleges,
 
 298 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 and raised an army under the command of Louis 
 de Duras, a French adventurer, now earl of 
 Feversham and chamberlain to the queen. Wind- 
 sor was the head-quarters of these iniquities. The 
 king began to touch for scrofula ; he discharged the 
 dean from his attendance ; he filled his house with 
 monks and priests, and introduced once more the 
 Latin language and the Roman rite. A state 
 reception was arranged for D'Adda, and though 
 many Englishmen objected to the act, the king 
 bore down their opposition with a heavy hand. 
 Charles, duke of Somerset, lord of the bed- 
 chamber, was at Windsor with the king. James 
 wished him to attend the nuncio ; Somerset begged 
 to be excused. James insisted on knowing why, 
 saying : ' I thought, my lord, that I was doing you 
 a great honour, in appointing you to escort the 
 minister of the first of crowned heads.' 
 
 Somerset answered : ' Sir, I am advised not to 
 do it, for the act is treason.' 
 
 ' Who gave you that advice ? ' inquired the 
 king. 
 
 Somerset declined to name his friend. 
 
 ' It is some Whig councillor,' retorted James. 
 
 Somerset would say no more. 
 
 ' I will make you fear me,' the king went
 
 WINDSOR CATHOLIC. 299 
 
 on : 'do you not know that I am above the 
 law?' 
 
 Somerset bowed. 'Your majesty may be above 
 the law, but I am not.' 
 
 Dunbarton, a catholic, was appointed to succeed 
 the duke. One of the bystanders snarled, ' A 
 duke of Somerset once put out the Pope, and now 
 the Pope has put out the duke of Somerset.' 
 
 Two chairs of state were placed in St. George's 
 Hall. Grafton, the second son of Lady Castle- 
 maine, brought up the procession. D'Adda. seated 
 with Grafton and a master of the ceremonies, came 
 first in a royal coach. Two coaches followed, filled 
 with priests ; thirty-four coaches followed, with 
 the principal ministers of state and officers of the 
 royal household. Two bishops figured on the 
 scene. They entered by the great gate, crossed 
 the guard-room, and entered St. George's Hall. 
 The king and queen received the nuncio standing, 
 as the representative of the highest power on earth. 
 
 All England stood aghast.
 
 300 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 THE CATASTROPHE. 
 
 1688-9. 
 
 SUCH doings brought on the Catastrophe. 
 
 A dozen plots were formed. Argyll invaded 
 Scotland ; Monmouth invaded England. These 
 attempts to raise an insurrection failed; because, 
 in spite of deep repugnance to such scenes as those 
 at Windsor, people still shrank from an appeal to 
 arms. That method had been tried ; few thought 
 that public grievances could be remedied by force. 
 To drive out James in order to bring in new 
 Cromwells, seemed a doubtful gain ; assuredly not 
 worth the havoc of a second civil war. They chose 
 to wait. James had no son ; the catholic line 
 would end with him. Mary, his daughter, was a 
 protestant, united to a protestant prince. In her, 
 the popular fancy saw the promise of a new Eliza-
 
 THE CATASTROPHE. 301 
 
 beth ; in her, and in her husband, they had reason 
 to expect a remedy in right and law. 
 
 One day, a son was born, or was reported to be 
 born. The child was brought to Windsor, and 
 established in the house of Nell Gwyn. D'Adda, 
 the papal nuncio, and Catharine of Braganza, were 
 his sponsors, and the ceremony was conducted with 
 the utmost splendour of the catholic rite. 
 
 By this event, everything was changed. England 
 had now the prospect of a papist line of kings, and 
 a perpetual strife between the country and the crown. 
 
 Was no deliverer yet in sight? 
 
 Yes ; the man of destiny, who was to end this 
 drama and complete the Divine Catastrophe, lay 
 nigh at hand. 
 
 That little girl, who had said at Windsor, 
 ' Take me to mass, I shall be glad to go,' and who 
 had knelt throughout the service in her mother's 
 chapel, had been rescued by her marriage from all 
 chance of falling into Romish ways. Her only 
 offspring was a son, born after her husband's death. 
 This son William of Orange stood, next after 
 James's children, in direct succession to the English 
 throne. By birth a Calvinist, he sympathised with 
 those who regarded the church of England as an 
 excellent pattern of a national church. He differed
 
 302 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 from them in his carelessness about episcopal 
 orders ; but with moderate puritans, like Essex 
 and Manchester, he had almost everything in com- 
 mon. Thus, he stood nearer to the heart of 
 England than any other prince who boasted of 
 pretensions to the crown. If he had been ten 
 years older, and if Charles, while yet in exile, had 
 shown himself an obstinate catholic, he might have 
 been restored instead of Charles and James. Since 
 then, his claims had been strengthened by his 
 marriage to his cousin, Princess Mary. 
 
 When a son was born, the catholic court at 
 Windsor watched this man's proceedings with 
 alarm. James disliked him, both on personal and 
 on public grounds. A cold and silent man, even 
 for a Hollander, William was reported to neglect 
 his English bride. The story was not true. In 
 feeble health, he was disposed to brood and mope ; 
 and his brick barrack at the Hague, bordered by 
 sombre trees and stagnant pools, had none of the 
 festive airs of Windsor and Whitehall. Yet Mary 
 loved him in the face of his defects. She saw, as 
 other people saw, the heroic side of his great 
 character. As captain and as councillor, William 
 had few equals. An ambition, knowing no limits, 
 fed itself on a perfect consciousness of his birth-
 
 THE CATASTROPHE. 303 
 
 right in the English crown. James disliked him 
 for his religion, and for the popularity which his 
 religion brought him ; seeing with a jaundiced eye 
 that he was popular in England mainly on the 
 ground of being the most formidable enemy of the 
 Roman church. 
 
 This hatred of his nephew was intensified in 
 James's heart by the birth of his son and heir. 
 Hardly one Englishman in ten acknowledged the 
 brat in Nell Gwyn's house to be his son. Men 
 whispered that he was a spurious child, brought 
 in by Jesuits and Italian nurses, to deprive the 
 king's daughters of their rights. Anne professed 
 to have the fullest evidence of the fraud. She 
 was mistaken in her proofs, but her mistake was 
 shared not only by the multitude, but by many of 
 those who stood in near relations to the court. 
 Not so the couple at the Hague. William had so 
 little thought of fraud, that he sent his agent, 
 Zulestein, to congratulate his uncle on the advent 
 of a prince. Not until Zulestein's arrival in Eng- 
 land, was he made aware that everyone was crying 
 out ' foul play/ and calling on him to cross the 
 sea, and do what might be done to save the 
 liberties and religion of the land in which he had 
 such imminent claims.
 
 304 KOYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 William prepared to sail. It was a painful 
 task to move against his father-in-law ; but if 
 England were to be preserved from civil war, some 
 protestant and popular prince must lend his hand. 
 Two other princes had some show of right in law ; 
 George of Denmark and George of Hanover ; and 
 if he dropt his claim, they might have found the 
 kingdom at his back. 
 
 James drove in to Windsor with the queen and 
 prince, and here he meant to make his stand. Was 
 he to call a parliament or not? He hated parlia- 
 ments, and his sycophants knew the bitterness of 
 that hate. Jeffreys, his chancellor, dissuaded him ; 
 Petre, his privy councillor, dissuaded him. These 
 members of his council shared the innermost secrets 
 of his heart. They also knew that no device, no 
 bribery, no intimidation, could collect a parliament 
 in Westminster that would not drive his popish 
 ministers from the royal house. Therefore, they 
 bade him trust in Feversham's sword. James 
 murmured that he saw no help. London was up 
 behind him, with the citizens out, and everything 
 at stake. AVilliam proposed a parliament : every- 
 body yelled 'A parliament a free parliament!' 
 At Windsor, the state of things reminded men of 
 Digby's time ; except that in Digby's time, the
 
 THE CATASTROPHE. 305 
 
 crown was not committed openly to the church of 
 Rome. ' I will have a parliament/ sighed the 
 king in his despair, and Jeffreys received his orders 
 to prepare the writs. Petre, at the same time, was 
 warned to be in readiness for flight he and the 
 baby-prince. 
 
 William landed at Torbay, and set his march 
 towards Windsor, as the king's head- quarters. 
 James threw out his troops towards Salisbury, 
 under Feversham, hoping to cut him off. Leaving 
 the queen and prince at Windsor, but taking 
 George of Denmark with him, James set out for 
 Salisbury, attended by a brilliant staff. Some days 
 were wasted in parade. Feversham had no ability 
 for his work ; and men like Churchill, who had 
 ability for the work, were waiting for an opportunity 
 to desert. Day after day, night after night, the 
 king was told of officers and peers going over 
 to his enemy. Three regiments went over at a 
 stroke. Manchester joined the prince. . Even 
 George of Denmark stole away. He learned that 
 his base-nephew Grafton, and his creature Church- 
 hill, had formed a plot to carry him off and sur- 
 render him to the prince of Orange. 
 
 Petre, who was at Windsor with the baby- 
 prince, received an order to remove him secretly, 
 
 VOL. IV. X
 
 306 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 taking with him only his governess and his foreign 
 nurse. Snatched up by the Jesuit and his nurse, 
 the child was borne away, to start that wandering 
 life, which, ebbing and flowing for nearly eighty 
 years, was at last to close in the great city for 
 which he sacrificed his crown. 
 
 Hardly any blood was drawn. There was, in 
 truth, no need to draw the sword ; the country 
 was of one opinion ; all except a knot of catholics 
 here and there men who could do nothing of 
 themselves. The policy of William was a ' blood- 
 less change ;' the plan, to turn and push the king 
 b.ackward, till he found his personal safety in a 
 boat. Close in James's rear, as he retired from 
 Salisbury, William entered. Here he was joined 
 by Clarendon, Oxford, and many other peers, and 
 setting forth again, moved, amidst ever-increasing 
 acclamations, to Oxford, Wallingford, and Windsor ; 
 - once again head-quarters of the Grood Old Cause. 
 
 Unable to regain Windsor, James fell back on 
 London. Here his consort quitted him, much as 
 the queen, his mother, had quitted her consort, 
 Charles the First, at Hampton Court. 
 
 Next day, the king fled also ; after throwing 
 the Great Seal into the Thames, burning the writs 
 for a new parliament, and ordering Feversham to
 
 THE CATASTROPHE. 307 
 
 disband the guard. Met by foul weather, he was 
 thrown on shore, buffeted and robbed, and forced to 
 retrace his steps. 
 
 What next? William had no desire to drive 
 him hard ; he only wished to squeeze him out, and 
 end his reign without loss of life. James sent 
 Feversham to Windsor with a note, inviting William 
 to a conference, and offering him St. James's palace 
 for a lodging. William regarded Feversham with 
 distrust, partly for his French extraction, partly 
 for his many base compliances with the king. 
 William refused to see him.- What was he about ? 
 He had brought a letter from the king, which 
 would require an answer** William was thinking 
 of his infamy in disbanding the guard, and turning 
 them adrift in the darkness of a winter night, to 
 the great peril of the king's capital. ' That is high 
 treason,' said the prince, and ordered Feversham 
 into arrest. This blow was widely felt. James was 
 not yet deposed, and Feversham was his general. 
 To disband the guard, however infamous an act, 
 was certainly within his power. Yet William 
 lodged him in a chamber of St. George's keep, 
 declaring that he held him prisoner of the state, 
 till he produced the actual order of the king. 
 
 Zulestein rode from Windsor with his answer
 
 308 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 to the king, James must retire ; William would 
 not enter London till the king had left. Next day, 
 Clarendon, Rochester, and other lords arrived at 
 Windsor. William was at church. Clarendon 
 went into his bed-chamber, where he found Ben- 
 tinck, the prince's most confidential man. William 
 occupied Will.Chiffinch's rooms, on the lower tier 
 of the Tudor tower ; Bentinck had the duchess of 
 Portsmouth's rooms. They talked of Feversham. 
 Clarendon asked him the meaning of that arrest ; 
 Bentinck was silent. When Clarendon pressed, he 
 answered with a shrug : ' Alas ! my lord.' Claren- 
 don confessed that he was strangely startled, but 
 the silent Dutchman said no more. When the 
 prince came in from church, he spoke to Clarendon 
 kindly, but was cold and rude to his brother 
 Rochester. These trimmers hardly understood the 
 prince. At dinner in the deanery, Clarendon ex- 
 pressed his wonder why a messenger from the 
 king, who brought a civil message from his 
 majesty, inviting the prince to town, should be 
 imprisoned in St. George's keep. Burnet, who 
 was present, laughed. The talk grew perilous. 
 The bishop of St. Asaph argued, that, by leaving 
 London. James had ceded his crown. ' What do 
 you mean?' demanded Clarendon. 'It can be
 
 THE CATASTROPHE. 309 
 
 nothing but a cession of the crown/ replied the 
 bishop, unabashed. The peer was still more 
 shocked. James was his brother-in4aw, and 
 much of the prosperity of his family seemed to be 
 bound up with James. These interests blinded 
 him to the position of events. The truth was, 
 William's arrest of Feversham Was an act of state : 
 useful, as a by-blow, to alarm the king. Feversham 
 struck down, no other captain would be likely to 
 take his place. 
 
 A council was convened at Windsor. Most of 
 the great peers were present. The question to be 
 debated was : what shall be done with James ? 
 William retired to his apartments, and Halifax 
 assumed the chair. The peers agreed that James 
 must quit Whitehall ; they thought of Ham, and 
 other manors on the Thames. Halifax repaired to 
 the prince, and told him what they had agreed. 
 The message was drawn up. l Whom shall we 
 send with it?' asked the prince. 'Ought it not,' 
 inquired Halifax, ' to be conveyed by one of your 
 highness's officers?' 'Nay, my lord, by your 
 favour,' answered William ; ' it is sent by the ad- 
 vice of your lordships, and some of you ought to 
 carry it.' Halifax and two other lords got into 
 their coaches, and drove to London. Middleton,
 
 310 EOYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 the king's chamberlain, received them in the ante- 
 room. The king had gone to bed, and might not 
 be disturbed ; they told him they must see the 
 king at once. Middleton slipped into the closet, 
 and presently returned to say the king would see 
 them. On entering, they found his majesty in bed, 
 ill, and in the lowest spirits. On saying that the 
 prince was coming, they asked him, for his personal 
 safety, to retire, and offered him Lauderdale's house 
 at Ham. 'Must this be done at once?' the king 
 inquired. They answered, he might take his sleep 
 out, and on saying so, they withdrew. Middleton 
 followed them to the ante-room, to ask him if he 
 might go to Rochester instead of Ham. Ham was 
 a cold, damp place. William, who only wished 
 him to be gone committing what was legally ' an 
 act of desertion ' put no obstacle in his way. 
 Next morning he retired, and Windsor saw his 
 face no more ; the Divine Catastrophe was com- 
 plete. 
 
 On New Year's eve, William paid a public visit 
 to the queen-dowager, Catharine of Braganza ; and, 
 among other chit-chat, asked her how she passed 
 her time, and whether she still enjoyed her game 
 of basset ? She had not played a game, she said, 
 since the loss of her chamberlain. William took
 
 THE CATASTROPHE. 311 
 
 her hint. ' If that be so, I will not interrupt your 
 majesty's diversions.' On the following day, Fever- 
 sham was released ; the last State prisoner of St. 
 George's keep.
 
 312 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 DOMESTIC LIFE. 
 
 1696-1796. 
 
 FROM the moment of Feversham's liberation from 
 St. George's keep, Windsor ceases to be heroic, 
 and becomes domestic. 
 
 Henceforth, the history is that of a country- 
 house ; a country-house beyond example stately 
 and picturesque, as royal residence should be ; 
 but still, the homestead of a family, more or less 
 united in all its parts ; not a fortress, armed 
 against this or that party in the kingdom ; not 
 the head-quarters of either a mutiny against the 
 law, or of an insurrection against the crown. It 
 is a house in which artists painted, musicians 
 played, and architects wrought ; in which ladies 
 lived, children prattled, and old men dozed ; in 
 which knights were made, ambassadors heard, and
 
 DOMESTIC LIFE. 313 
 
 royal visitors received. The charm of Windsor is 
 that of family life. 
 
 Two of these scenes have made themselves 
 abiding-places in the memory of men. 
 
 In the first scene, the principal figure is a little 
 child ; in the second scene, that of an old man. 
 
 The child is Willie, duke of Gloucester, infant 
 son of queen Anne ; a bright and pretty boy, with 
 Danish blood in his young veins, like that of the 
 unforgotten Henry, prince of Wales. Compared 
 against the later Stuarts, Willie was like a fairy 
 child, with rosy flesh and golden hair ; going back 
 at once to the old English type of a royal race. 
 The king, his god-father, had no child, and from 
 his cradle, Willie was marked as heir-presumptive 
 of the crown. Anne was no favourite with her 
 brother-in-law, but her merry and martial son 
 took the warrior's soul by storm. Going one day 
 into Anne's cabinet, the king observed the boy ad- 
 vancing towards him with a little musket. Coming 
 to a halt, the child presented arms. 
 
 ' What are you doing, my little man ? ' 
 
 ' Learning my drill,' the child replied, ' so that 
 I may help you to beat the French.' 
 
 Looking at him an instant, William took him 
 on his knee :
 
 314 KOYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 ' Have you any horses yet ? ' 
 
 ' Yes,' he answered ; ' I have one live horse, 
 and two dead ones.' 
 
 Smiling at the boy, the king returned: 
 
 1 But soldiers always bury their dead horses 
 out of sight.' 
 
 When William went away, the child had a hole 
 dug in the garden, and buried his wooden horses 
 out of sight. 
 
 Pleased with his reply about the French, Wil- 
 liam at once installed him as a Knight of St. 
 George. 
 
 As the next living male heir, the little prince 
 is settled at Windsor ; with his nurse, his usher, 
 and four Eton boys as playmates. Anne, his 
 mother, takes up her abode in the royal house, 
 to watch his training, and fidget over his boyish 
 tricks. On the boy's arrival, he parades the gal- 
 lery, the stairs, the guard-room, and St. George's 
 hall. ' Here,' says he, stopping, ' is the place to 
 fight my battles.' Glancing at Verrio's ' Legend of 
 St. George/ the little knight approves of the Black 
 Prince, as one who had really ' beaten the French.' 
 Calling his own troops to combat, he makes 
 St. George's hall the battle-field ; the stair and 
 music-gallery outside, the fortress to be attacked.
 
 DOMESTIC LIFE. 315 
 
 One of the Eton boys represents the enemy ; nurse 
 and usher are assigned their parts, and both, with 
 much discretion, stand on the prince's side. Small 
 pikes and muskets are distributed, and the enemy 
 takes his ground. One of the boys, whose sheath 
 falls off his sword, lunges the little prince in the 
 neck. 
 
 ' Halt ! ' cries the usher, stopping the affray. 
 Blood trickles from the wound, but when the usher 
 asks whether the duke is hurt, he answers ' No ! ' 
 and pushes after the enemy, up the stairs into the 
 citadel, which they take by storm. 
 
 The fighting at an end, Willie descends into 
 St. George's Hall, and looks about among the 
 imaginary killed and wounded. 
 
 ' Have you a surgeon near ?' he asks his 
 nurse. The nurse brings in a pair of bellows, and 
 begins to blow. That is her usual way of treating 
 the victims of Willie's prowess. But he stops her 
 this time with a grave look. 
 
 ' Don't make a jest of it, for Peter Bathurst 
 hath really wounded me.' No great harm is done, 
 and yet the mettle of the boy is proved. 
 
 One day he is taken up to St. George's Keep. 
 The little warrior sniffs and shrugs. 
 
 ' A keep ? Why, there is neither bastion nor
 
 316 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 parapet.' He asks to roll down the slope, saying 
 that is what he will have to do when he is a man, 
 fighting in ditch and trench. The nurse and 
 usher can hardly hold him back. 
 
 But he is not without reward. A little while 
 ago, he had been the happy owner of four small 
 cannon, given to him by his aunt, which he 
 alarmed his mother by continually letting off. 
 One was burst ; the king, his godfather, promised 
 to replace it ; but the king is on the Continent, 
 fighting against the French, and has forgotten all 
 about his godson's piece. In the armour-room 
 of the keep, Willie discovers a pretty little model 
 of a piece made by Prince Rupert ; this he 
 brings into his mother's presence-chamber, and 
 when his mother enters with the prince, her hus- 
 band, he salutes her with a round. She smiles her 
 joy and her forgiveness ; but the urchin fires a 
 second and a third round. Anne looks very grave. 
 Where can the child have got such heaps of 
 powder ? This enthusiasm for the military art 
 must be repressed. 
 
 Yet she is quick enough to spoil the child in 
 her own way. Mary being dead, the royal jewels 
 have come to her, but instead of heaping these 
 baubles on herself, she puts them on her boy.
 
 DOMESTIC LIFE. 317 
 
 Crowned with a periwig, and all but smothered 
 under a robe of azure blue, the boy is brought into 
 his mother's drawing-room. The George he wears 
 is a present from the king. 
 
 ' You are very fine,' says his majesty, 
 coming in. 
 
 Willie bows his thanks. 
 
 ' All the finer for you,' explains his mother, 
 addressing William. 
 
 Willie is urged to say something in reply, but 
 he stands silent, under his great periwig and 
 mantle, and refrains from saying a word. 
 
 These happy days soon fly. At nine, he is 
 supposed to need a tutor and a governor. Burnet 
 and Marlborough are appointed to the posts. As 
 bishop of the diocese and chancellor of St. George, 
 Burnet has a residence in Salisbury tower, in 
 which he lodges more than nine months of the 
 year, attending to his duty, and pushing his inter- 
 ests at the court. 
 
 ' I took to my own province the reading and 
 explaining of the Scriptures to him ; the instruct- 
 ing him in the principles of religion and the rules 
 of virtue, and the giving him a view of history, 
 geography, politics, and government.' 
 
 Poor Willie ! Two years of the bishop's rules
 
 318 KOYAL WINDSOK. 
 
 and principles, politics and government, prove 
 too much for him. He dies under the bishop's 
 hand ; and England, resolute against the exiled 
 prince, looks for her future king to George of 
 Hanover, descendant of the Queen of Hearts. 
 
 Third in that line of Hanoverian kings is 
 George the Third, so popular in his day as Farmer 
 George. He is a family man, with troops of 
 stalwart boys and girls about his knee ; a good 
 and kindly parent, with a trace of quaint old 
 German notions of paternal government lingering 
 in his brain. He looks askance at the big house ; 
 shrinking under the feudal towers, the Norman 
 keep, the pinnacles of St. George. A low brick 
 house, with very few stairs to climb, and opening 
 on a heap of shrubs and flowers, agrees much better 
 with his simple tastes. The first George and the 
 second George shrank from Windsor > Verrio's 
 floating figures rather shocked them, and the 
 edifice was too vast for them, if not too sombre for 
 a country-house. Little that is feudal now 
 remains ; the Norman tower, in which Surrey 
 sang, and Stradling left hie name, is occupied by 
 the housekeeper, and the garrison of the fortress is 
 reduced to a sergeant's guard. The Constable 
 finds the keep too big for him, and his majesty
 
 DOMESTIC LIFE. 319 
 
 finds the royal house too big for him. Rearing a 
 plain brick cottage, which he calls the Queen's 
 Lodge, he takes up his abode outside the royal 
 ward. The slope, the garden, and the terrace, he 
 can understand. Looking up at the keep, he sighs 
 to think how much of his bunting gets blown 
 away ; the structure is so high, and yet he loves 
 to have that bunting in his sight. He likes a 
 farm, low-lying, fat, and rich, to which he can have 
 a friend to dine on a leg of mutton and a dish of 
 turnips. The friend may be a king ; but it is all 
 the same to this homely man. Not that he has no 
 sense of higher things. He has a little of the 
 builder's art, he has a certain love of books, he has 
 a decided love of science, he has a great respect and 
 veneration for the sacred edifice in the lower ward. 
 Though he shrinks from living at Windsor, like the 
 earlier Georges, he has a mind to take his rest there 
 when his day of fest should come. Walking into 
 St. George's chapel^ he finds the floors unwashed, 
 the monuments grimed with dust. He orders soap 
 and water to be brought, and has the edifice 
 cleansed. He has not much sense of poetry, but 
 one is glad to see that he casts an eye on the 
 Lincoln Chapel, and repairs the tomb of Fair 
 Geraldine. For many years the kindly man is part
 
 320 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 of Windsor ; sometimes he is ill and goes away ; 
 on his recovery, he returns. The people greet him, 
 ring their bells, and let off fireworks, which he 
 watches with the eagerness of a schoolboy. 
 London wits poke fun at him ; dress him in 
 country clothes, and show him huddling in and 
 out of shops in Peacod Street and High Street ; 
 but he goes his way, unheeding their attacks. 
 
 His favourite walk is Elizabeth's Terrace. We 
 have many pictures of him, as he walks about that 
 terrace. 
 
 One of these pictures shall suffice. The visitor 
 is Burney, Madame d'Arblay's father. After 
 service in the chapel, ' where all is cheerfulness, 
 gaiety, and good-humour,' he walks on the terrace, 
 where he finds the king, dressed in a light-grey, 
 farmer-like uniform. 
 
 It is a summer evening scene ; the terrace gay 
 and crowded, deer scampering on the slopes, and 
 ' dears about him everywhere. 1 
 
 The king and queen, arm in arm, come up. 
 
 * How do you do, Dr. Burney ? ' says the king : 
 ' why, you are grown fat, and young ! ' 
 
 The queen puts in : * Yes, indeed, I was very 
 glad to hear how well you looked.'
 
 DOMESTIC LIFE. 321 
 
 His majesty pauses : ' Why, you used to be as 
 thin as Dr. Lind.' 
 
 Lind, who is standing by, is a lath. The 
 princes and princesses nod and smile. At night, 
 Herschel brings the little music-master back to 
 Windsor for a concert. Music is going on when 
 they arrive ; but king and queen have not yet 
 come in. ' At length,' says the music -master, 
 ' he came directly up to me and Herschel, and the 
 first question he asked me was, ' How does as- 
 tronomy go on ?' I, pretending to suppose he 
 knew nothing of my poem, said, ' Dr. Herschel 
 will better inform your majesty than I can.' 
 With homely humour, George replies, ' Aye, 
 aye, but you are going to tell us something with 
 your pen,' moving his hand, as though he were 
 writing on a book ; ' what progress have you 
 made ?' ' Sir, it is all finished,' replies the music- 
 master, ' and all but the last of twelve books have 
 been read to my friend, Dr. Herschel.' George 
 looks at Herschel, and then at Burney. ' I 
 wonder how you find time.' ' Sir, I make time.' 
 'Make time ! How, how?' 'I take it out of 
 my sleep, sir.' ' How long have you been at it ?' 
 ' Two or three years, at odd and stolen moments, 
 sir.' The king adds in conclusion, kindly : ' Well, 
 
 VOL. IV. Y
 
 322 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 well, whatever you write will be interesting. I 
 don't say it to flatter you ; if I did not think it, I 
 would not say it.' 
 
 When the great worry of his life is over, he 
 finds the resting-place of his heart, in the vault 
 to which he has already gathered his favourite 
 daughter and his affectionate wife.
 
 323 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIY. 
 
 HOME. 
 
 1838-80. 
 
 A THIRD scene and the last shows the fortress 
 of Edward, the court of Elizabeth, the camp of 
 Cromwell, the head-quarters of William, changed 
 into the picture of an English home. 
 
 This Windsor home stately and yet domestic 
 is an outcome of the modern mind. Henry of 
 Richmond gave the first hint towards a country- 
 house, by erecting the Tudor tower ; Elizabeth 
 carried his idea forward in her gallery and terrace, 
 which made the garden and the slope integral parts 
 of the royal house. 
 
 The work then stopped for more than eighty 
 years ; kept back by feudal theories, and the armed 
 resistance to those theories. Even when the fight 
 was over, reigns elapsed before the sentiment of 
 domestic life came into vogue again at Windsor.
 
 324 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 In and out among the shires, that sentiment was 
 flowering into country-houses of a noble kind ; 
 Chatsworth, Blenheim, Belvoir, Welbeck, sprang 
 into existence. Monastic and baronial buildings 
 were transformed. Wilton abbey became Wilton 
 house ; Kimbolton castle put on a Greek portico ; 
 Battle abbey became a villa ; Sherbourne castle 
 was replaced by a country-house. Ditch, draw- 
 bridge, portcullis, disappeared. Doors opened into 
 gardens, windows gave on parks. The free and 
 unfenced aspect of old English country life re- 
 turned, as in the days before Henry built for Edith 
 the first ( King's house on the royal mount. 
 Some of the feudal strongholds York and Lan- 
 caster, Norwich and Nottingham, for example 
 unfitted for domestic use, were gradually abandoned 
 to the jailer and his men. Was Windsor Castle 
 to become, like Lancaster or Nottingham, a common 
 jail ? Or was it, like Wilton and Kimbolton, to 
 be glorified and brightened into a domestic 
 shrine ? 
 
 The sight of that homely king, who built 
 himself a shed outside the Castle gate, brought up 
 these questions. Men watched that kindly sove- 
 reign, arm in arm with his good wife, followed by 
 his manly-looking sons and handsome daughters,
 
 HOME. 325 
 
 wind from the door of his brick cottage on the 
 ridge, pass, like a stranger, through the ward ot 
 his own house, and drop to the Terrace on which 
 he loved to take his evening walk. After holding 
 his open-air court on that terrace, they saw him 
 troop away, passing the great house of Edward and 
 Elizabeth as though it were not his ; and so, 
 through the ward again, he and his family, to his 
 plain brick lodging on the other side. The sight 
 was painful and unseemly. If another man's heap 
 of granite had been trained to blossom like a rose- 
 garden, why should not his ? 
 
 The sentiment struck root. Plain king and 
 loving wife were both asleep in St. George's chapel, 
 ere the work began. For many years, masons and 
 carpenters toiled by day and night ; yet two reigns 
 passed, and a new reign began, before the feudal 
 fortress was transformed into a country-house, in 
 size, in splendour, and in aspect worthy of the fore- 
 most family hi the world. 
 
 One final touch enchants the house into a 
 home. 
 
 A woman's touch is needed, and the woman is 
 at hand ; with fancies running on dairies, fruit- 
 trees, bee-hives, kitchen-gardens, and the many 
 wants of a great English house, no less than on the
 
 326 EOYAL WINDSOE. 
 
 strife of parties and the intrigues of foreign courts. 
 The house is built, the home is to be made. 
 
 She comes to Windsor in the heyday of her 
 youth ; with her, a blue -eyed Saxon prince ; bright, 
 winsome, tender ; a companion born and trained, 
 as one might say, to be her guard and guide. He 
 is a man of no less striking quality than appear- 
 ance ; learned, staid, and searching ; an orator, an 
 artist, a musician ; yet with homely German 
 notions as to waste and want ; the need of seeing 
 that the kitchen-stuff paid the cost of its produc- 
 tion, and the yield of cream and butter paid the 
 wages of the dairy-maid. 
 
 Victoria and Albert, young queen, young 
 bridegroom, come to Windsor for the holidays, 
 and have their rides and drives, their lounges on 
 the slopes, their little concerts in the music-room, 
 their little picnics in the forest and by the water- 
 side ; and from the ridge of their lofty hill, they 
 listen, as it were, to the roar of the great Babylon 
 down the river, which brings to them the echoes 
 of other Babylons beyond the Channel and beyond 
 the mountains, in every tale and even tone of 
 which they have a part. These spiritings from the 
 outer world disturb at times their interest in the 
 ducklings in the pond, and the fowls in the Little
 
 HOME. 327 
 
 park ; but not for long. The healthy nature soon 
 regains her mastery. The queen is busy with her 
 fruit-trees, and the prince is ben' on proving that 
 his farms will pay. So, in the open air and 
 country, these two take their rest, and brace their 
 nerves for the supreme activities of life. 
 
 A son is born to them at Windsor, that ' Bertie ' 
 of the family circle, who, as Albert Edward, is the 
 heir of royalties and imperialities in every quarter 
 of the globe. The young bridegroom, already 
 Knight of the Garter, becomes Constable of the 
 Keep and Ranger of the Great Park. The wall 
 enclosing the Little park drops down before him ; 
 and the young queen, sitting in her boudoir, finds 
 her view extended, as by magic touch, into the 
 forest glades, and out by Runnymede, across the 
 river into distant woods and pastures. 
 
 More boys and girls crowd around their knees. 
 These youngsters grow in height and strength. 
 One goes away, the bride of a young Paladin, to 
 become the mother of a line of emperors. Not of 
 this circle only, but of every circle in the kingdom ? 
 that blue-eyed Saxon prince becomes a pattern and 
 a guide. Before the fulness of his life comes out, 
 he is at rest : the home becomes a shrine. 
 
 The central figure in this family group is
 
 328 ROYAL WINDSOR. 
 
 veiled. The veil is not without a silver lining, 
 but the veil is here ; a habit of the mind as well as 
 of the physical frame. 
 
 No great emotion should be seen too near. To 
 read the story of such a loss, we need some help 
 from time and space. When Queen Victoria has 
 become to the descendants of her people, what 
 Queen Elizabeth is to us when all the trifles of 
 our time are gone, and only the realities left the 
 story of her love, her happiness, her loss, will be a 
 favourite theme of poets, artists, and story-tellers. 
 Faith that knows no limit, constancy that clings 
 like life, are not of every age. What will the 
 writers of a coming day, who take this theme for 
 tale and idyl, have to tell ? 
 
 They will draw the picture of a young and 
 fatherless girl, called, while in her teens, to occupy 
 the greatest throne on earth ; who had to take her 
 place at the head of a great society, with little or no 
 support from her immediate kin. They will paint 
 her grandeur and her loneliness, hi a station which 
 allows no sharer and admits no friend. They 
 will show the Saxon prince who came to her and 
 made himself a part of her ; then, line on line, the 
 story of their lives will be unrolled ; years of
 
 HOME. 329 
 
 domestic bliss, broken at length by sudden snap, 
 in the very noontide of their married joy. 
 
 Then may come the pathetic sequel of a sorrow 
 which knows no change which draws away from 
 the haunts of men which lays down much of the 
 pomp of royal state, and gives up all the vanities of 
 the world not in old age, when blood is said to 
 be cold, but in the flush of life, when all the tides 
 of emotion are running high to nurse in solitude 
 a deep and tender sentiment of personal faith. 
 Millions will dwell with fondness on this story of a 
 human heart ; in which the woman rises to a higher 
 throne than that of Queen.
 
 INDEX TO VOLUMES III. AND IV. 
 
 Abbot, archbishop of Canterbury, 
 objects to Marco Antonio taking 
 up his residence in Lambeth palace, 
 iv. 69 ; is troubled by the efforts of 
 the prelates to have a new epi- 
 scopacy, 77 ; is opposed to the 
 'Book of Sports,' 102 
 
 Agincourt, battle of, iii. 3 
 
 Albert, Prince-consort, his character 
 and ability, iv. 326 ; is appointed 
 constable of the keep and ranger 
 of Windsor Great park, 327; his 
 premature death, 328 
 
 Albert Edward, prince of Wales, his 
 birth at Windsor Castle, iv. 327 
 
 Alhambra, the, iii. 55 
 
 Allen the actor, iii. 317 
 
 Alva, duke of, accompanies Don 
 Philip to England, iii. 226, 227 ; 
 his butcheries, 337 
 
 Andrea, cardinal, iii. 261 
 
 Andrewes, bishop, his opinion of 
 Marco Antonio, iv. 72 
 
 Anne, lady, sister of Elizabeth of 
 York, iii. 13 
 
 Anne of Prague, iii. 47 
 
 Anne of Cleves, wife of Henry VIII., 
 iii. 105, 231 ; her failure to please 
 Henry the cause of the downfall 
 of Cromwell, 106 
 
 Anne of Denmark, wife of James I., 
 her arrival at Windsor, iv. 17 ; 
 shoots a deer in Windsor park, 18 ; 
 her court at Windsor, 19 ; her 
 private and public life, 19, 20 ; her 
 dissatisfaction with the lords and 
 ladies that compose her court, 22 ; 
 her husband attempts to tamper 
 with her creed, 25 ; her dislike to lord 
 Lennox, 36; takes her son Henry 
 from the charge of lord Mar, 37 ; 
 her reception of the knights of St. 
 George, 38, 39 ; quarrel in her 
 presence between Grey and South- 
 ampton, 39, 40 ; orders the dis- 
 putants to be removed by the 
 guard, 40 ; her surprise and joy 
 
 at the arrival of her brother 
 Christiern, 60 
 
 Anne, daughter of James II. and 
 Anne Hyde, her marriage to 
 George of Denmark, iv. 296 ; 
 maintains the opinion that the 
 infant child of James is spurious, 
 303 
 
 Antonio, Marco. See Marco Antonio 
 
 Argyll, duke of, failure of his inva- 
 sion of Scotland, iv. 300 
 
 Arthur, son of Henry VII., festival 
 in honour of, iii. 12 ; his death at 
 Ludlow, 22 ; his burial at Wor- 
 cester, ib. ; his widow Catharine 
 of Aragon, 39 
 
 Arundel brings Don Philip to Wind- 
 sor Castle; iii. 28, 29 ; escorts 
 Juana to Windsor Castle, 53 
 
 Arundel, earl of, constable of the 
 Tower, is mentioned as a suitor for 
 the hand of Elizabeth, iii. 269, 272 
 
 ArundeFs hotel, iii. 130 
 
 Arundel, Millicent, her evidence re- 
 specting Surrey, iii. 137 
 
 Ascitam, Roger, assists Elizabeth in 
 her studies, iii. 275 ; his views on the 
 instruction of children, 278 ; Sack- 
 ville seeks his advice respecting 
 education, 280 ; writes the ' School- 
 master ' at Windsor Castle, 274, 
 281, 282 
 
 Audley End, iv. 23 
 
 Bacon, Francis, lord Verulam, his 
 ' New Organ,' iii. 339 ; his charac- 
 ter of James I., iv. 2 ; is one of 
 the attendants at the court of 
 queen Anne, 21 ; his opinion of 
 Marco Antonio, 72 
 
 Bagshot lodge, a halting-place on the 
 route of Charles IL to Windsor, iv. 
 242-250; failure of his hope k of 
 escape from, ib. 
 
 Basing house, Elizabeth's residence 
 in, iii. 270 ; captivity of colonel 
 Hammond in, iv. 223
 
 332 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Battle abbey, iv. 324 
 
 Beauchamp, bishop of Salisbury, 
 builds Lincoln chapel, iii. 118 
 
 Bedell, chaplain of the English em- 
 bassy in Venice, iv. 67 ; assists 
 Marco Antonio in his desire to 
 enter the English church, 68 
 
 Bedingfield, jailer of queen Catharine 
 of Aragon at Kimbolton, iii. 207 ; 
 has charge of Elizabeth in Windsor 
 Castle, ib. ; Elizabeth's remark to 
 him on his qualifications as a 
 jailer, 251 
 
 Bedford, lady, one of the court of 
 queen Anne, iv. 24 
 
 Bedford, earl of, passes from the 
 Parliamentary party to Charles, 
 iv. 193, 199 
 
 Belvoir, iv. 324 
 
 Ben tinck, William, has apartments in 
 the Tudor tower, iv. 308 ; his inter- 
 view with Clarendon, ib. 
 
 Bishops, mortality amongst, in the 
 reigii of Mary, iii. 247 ; imprison- 
 ment of, iv. 154 
 
 Blage, evidence given by him against 
 Surrey, iii. 137 
 
 Blechingdon house, capture of, by 
 Cromwell's troops, iv. 210 
 
 Blenheim, iv. 324 
 
 Blount, Elizabeth, mother of Henry 
 earl of Eichmond, iii. 73, 75 ; her 
 marriage to Clinton, 75, 271 ; is 
 created by Henry VHI. lady Tail- 
 bois and countess of Lincoln, 
 ib. 
 
 Boleyn, Anne, her marriage to 
 Henry VIII., iii. 81; her friend- 
 ship to Bichmond and Surrey, ib. ; 
 her maids of honour, 82 ; favours 
 the suits of Eichmond and Surrey, 
 
 85 ; obtains a brief from the pope 
 to sanction the marriage of Eich- 
 mond with lady Mary Howard, 
 
 86 ; conspiracy against her, 90 ; is 
 executed, ib. 
 
 Bonner, bishop, is present at the 
 funeral of Henry VHI., iii. 186 ; 
 his fall on the accession of Ed- 
 ward VI., 192 ; feelings of Eliza- 
 beth on her accession towards him, 
 248 
 
 Borgia, Cesare, is entrapped by Fer- 
 nando of Aragon, iii. 34, 42 
 
 Bosworth field, battle of, iii. 2, 4, 10, 
 20 
 
 Bourchier, constable of Windsor 
 Castle, holds revels in the Norman 
 tower, iii. 12 
 Bourne, Dick, bears witness against 
 
 Surrey, iii. 129 
 
 Bowes investigates the matter of the 
 riot of Surrey, iii. 135 ; asserts 
 that Wyat had uttered accusa- 
 tions against Elizabeth, 242 
 Bray, Eeginald, architect to Henry 
 
 VLL, iii. 15 
 
 Bray, vicar of, is present at the burn- 
 ing of Filmer, Pearson, and Test- 
 wood, iii. 159 ; his resolution 
 thereon, 160 
 Brentford, iv. 181, 182 
 Brigstoke park, enclosure of, iv. 15, 
 
 16, 17 ; effect of, 17 
 Briquemault, sent by Conde to Eliza- 
 beth, iii. 286 ; induces Eybaud to 
 endeavour to free the four hos- 
 tages of Calais, 288 
 Brown, school of, iv. 5 
 Browne and Marina, iii. 122 
 Browne, his marriage to the Fair 
 Geraldine, iii. 136, 163 ; investigates 
 the charges against Surrey, 136 
 Browne, major-general, disagrees 
 with the Commonwealth of Crom- 
 well, iv. 271 ; his arrest and im- 
 prisonment, 272 
 Bucer, his bones dug up and burnt 
 
 at Cambridge, iii. 252 
 Buckeridge is indicted for killing the 
 
 king's deer, iv. 96, 97 
 Buckingham, Edward, duke of, dis- 
 graded from the order of St. 
 George, iii. 61, 67 ; mistakes re- 
 specting him made by Shakespere, 
 61-63 ; his excessive pride, 63 ; 
 his connexion with the royal line, 
 65 ; is charged with high treason, 
 ib. ; his arrest and execution, 66 ; 
 his banner and crest treated with 
 indignity, 68 ; his daughter lady 
 Bess and bis grandson Surrey, 
 68-70 
 
 Burbage, the tragedian, iii. 317 
 Burnet, bishop, appointed tutor to 
 William, the son of queen Anne, iv. 
 317 
 Burney, Dr., his interview with 
 
 George III., iv. 320 
 Bushel, Brown, a captive in the 
 Norman tower, iv. 231, 232 ; his 
 execution on Tower hill, 233
 
 INDEX. 
 
 333 
 
 Byron, lieutenant of the Tower, is 
 summoned to attend Parliament, 
 iv. 146, 147 ; is sentenced for con- 
 tempt of the summons, 147 ; is 
 brought before the house of Peers, 
 152 ; is condemned, ib. 
 
 Calais, four hostages of, their attempt 
 
 to escape frustrated, iii. 288 
 Calatrava, Don Philip grand master 
 
 of the order of, iii. 230 
 Calcott reports to the Commons the 
 condition of the king's army at 
 Kingston, iv. 136 
 
 Capel, lord, his capture by Fairfax, and 
 imprisonment in Windsor Castle, 
 iv. 260 ; his removal to the Tower, 
 267 ; his unsuccessful attempt to 
 escape, ib. ; his trial and execu- 
 tion, 268 
 
 Cardine, sir Thomas, effect of his re- 
 monstrance with Henry VIII. on 
 the burning of the Windsor mar- 
 tyrs, iii. 160 
 Carew, is made dean of Windsor, iii 
 
 250 
 
 Carleton, Venetian ambassador, pro- 
 cures Marco Antonio an invitation 
 to go to England, iv. 68 
 Carlisle, lady, gives intimation of the 
 king's intended seizure of the five 
 members, iv. 136 
 
 Carlos, Don, son of Philip and Juana, 
 his father is induced to contract 
 him to Mary the daughter of 
 Henry VII., iii. 26, 41-46 ; contest 
 for his hand among the courts of 
 Europe, 45 
 Castel, a butcher, his evidence against 
 
 Surrey, iii. 129 
 Castle hill, iii. 12, 50 
 Catharine of France^ descent of 
 
 Henry VH. from, iii. 1 
 
 Catharine of Aragon, widow of 
 
 prince Arthur, her meeting with 
 
 Don Philip, iii. 39 ; and with her 
 
 sister Juana, 54, 55 ; her marriage 
 
 to Henry VIH. and her dower, 80, 
 
 81 ; is detained in Kimbolton, 207 
 
 Catharine Howard, her marriage to 
 
 Henry VHL, iii. 106 ; revelation 
 
 of faults of her early youth, 107 ; 
 
 her execution, 108 
 
 Catharine Martyr, outrage to her 
 
 bones, iii. 252 
 Catharine de Medicis, queen of 
 
 France, imprisons Throgmorton in 
 the fortress of Vincennes, iii. 289 
 
 Catharine of Braganza, wife of 
 Charles II., iv. 284, 291 ; is out- 
 raged by the appointment of lady 
 Castlemaine as one of her bed- 
 chamber women, 284 ; leaves her 
 husband, 306 ; visit of William of 
 Orange to her, 310, 311 
 
 Catholics, their expectations not ful- 
 filled by James I., iv. 53 
 
 Cavalier prisoners, iv. 183-191 ; regu- 
 lations respecting, 186 
 
 Caversham park, Charles goes to, 
 from Windsor, iv. 222 
 
 Caxton, iii. 21 
 
 Cecil, William, lord Burghley, his 
 lodgings at Henry III.'s tower, iii. 
 264 ; urges on Elizabeth the ex- 
 pediency of her marrying, 267 ; 
 his views on the education of 
 children, 275 ; warns James I. to be 
 guarded in avowing his opinions, 
 iv. 4 ; communicates a message 
 from James to Raleigh, 51 
 
 Champernoun, sir Arthur, his cap- 
 ture by Buthven, iv. 187 
 
 Chandos, lady Anne, is denounced as 
 'the wickedest woman in the 
 world,' iv. 24 
 
 Charles, archduke, his suit for a 
 union with Elizabeth unsuccessful, 
 iii. 262, 263 
 
 Charles I. sends forth the Book of 
 Sports, iv. 98 ; governs the people 
 as a feudal king, 102, 103 ; bitter 
 feelings excited against him by 
 carrying into effect the Forest laws, 
 124, 125 ; his failure to arrest 
 Lord Mandeville and the five mem- 
 bers, 126 ; seizes Windsor Castle, 
 126-134 ; calls Digby to Windsor, 
 129 ; Digby's advice to him, ib. ; 
 desertion of his friends and coun- 
 cillors, 130 ; his offence to Hert- 
 ford, ib. ; his chamberlain, Essex, 
 resigns his office, 131; refuses to 
 accept the resignation, 134 ; ia 
 surrounded hi Windsor by spies, 
 135 ; deputies from Bucks seek an 
 interview with him at Windsor, 
 139 ; his temporising answer to 
 the deputies, 141, 142 ; his instruc- 
 tions to his Master of Ordnance 
 not attended to, 147 ; Hertford 
 brings a message from the peers,
 
 INDEX. 
 
 to deliver up his son, 149 ; 
 his troops defeated at Kingston 
 bridge, 151 ; his letter to Byron 
 rejected by the peers, 152 ; his 
 bishops imprisoned in the Tower, 
 155 ; professes to have pacific in- 
 tentions, 168, 169 ; his anxiety to 
 get the queen out of the kingdom, 
 
 172 ; gives his assent to the 
 Bishops' bill, 161-163, 172, 173; 
 leaves Windsor for the battle-field, 
 
 173 ; appoints Lindsay chamber- 
 lain in the place of Essex, 178 ; 
 Lindsay created lord-general of 
 his forces, ib. ; desires to regain 
 Windsor, 181, 192; falls back on 
 Oxford, 182 ; is forbidden to ap- 
 proach Windsor, 193 ; his hopes 
 of peace, ib. ; correspondence be- 
 tween him and Essex, 195, 196 ; 
 evil influence of the queen upon 
 him and his cause, 199 ; letter of 
 Essex to him, ib. ; falls back on 
 Exeter, 200 ; is defeated by Crom- 
 well at Islip bridge, 210 ; returns 
 to Windsor under the charge of 
 Whalley, 212 ; his army defeated 
 at Naseby, 216 ; throws himself on 
 the Scotch army, ib. ; is sold by 
 the Scots to the Bump, ib. ; his 
 family is scattered, 217 ; his re- 
 quest to see his children refused by 
 parliament, 218 ; leaves Windsor 
 for Caversham, 220 ; is permitted 
 to see his children there, 222 ; 
 leaves Caversham for Hampton 
 Court, ib. ; escapes to the Isle of 
 Wight, ib. ; colonel Hammond 
 states his difficulty respecting him, 
 223, 224 ; debates by the council 
 respecting his fate, 225 ; is im- 
 prisoned in Hurst castle, 242 ; 
 major-general Harrison conducts 
 him to Windsor Castle, 243 ; 
 seeks rest at Bagshot lodge, ib. ; 
 plans an escape, which is frustrated 
 by his guards, 243-249 ; bids fare- 
 well to lady Newburgh, 249 ; is 
 brought as a prisoner to Windsor, 
 251 ; his reception by Whichcot, 253 ; 
 is informed that he is deposed by 
 the army, ib. ; his patience and 
 tenderness, 253, 254 ; is refused 
 the service of his chaplain, 254 ; 
 is taken from Windsor, 256 ; his 
 trial, sentence, and execution at 
 
 Whitehall, 256, 257 ; his burial in 
 St. George's chapel, 257, 258 
 
 Charles H. is invited by the Scots to 
 be their king, iv. 274 ; his flight at 
 Worcester, 275 ; welcome given to 
 him on his restoration, 281 ; is 
 proclaimed king in Windsor, 282 ; 
 his impurity of life, 283 ; Barbara 
 Palmer one of his favourites, 284 ; 
 his illegitimate son, Crofts, 284, 
 285 ; his treatment of the queen, 
 285 ; converts Windsor Castle into 
 a seraglio, 286, 287 ; his subser- 
 viency to France, 288 ; his un- 
 soundness of faith, 289 ; is a con- 
 cealed catholic, 290, 291 ; his 
 agreement with the king of France 
 to make a public profession of 
 Catholicism, 292 ; appropriates to 
 his own purposes the money voted 
 by the House of Commons for a 
 monument to his f ather,293 ; avows 
 the catholic, creed on his death- 
 bed, 294 ; statue erected to him in 
 the upper ward, ib. 
 
 Charles V., when a child Mary pledges 
 her troth to him, iii. 217 ; refuses 
 to fulfil his pledges, 223 ; his 
 employments at . San Juste, ib. ; 
 proposes to Mary his son, Don 
 Philip, 221 
 
 Charles IX., king of France, is chosen 
 knight of the order of St. George, 
 iii. 298 
 
 Clarence, George, duke of, drowned 
 in a butt of wine, iii. 7. 
 
 Chatsworth, iv. 324 
 
 Chaucer, Alice, iii. 10 
 
 Chaucer, his ' Cantprbury Tales,' iii. 
 114, 115 ; his ' Wife of Bath,' 116 
 
 Cheke, Sir John, the instructor of 
 Eoger Ascham, iii. 277 
 
 Christ church, Blackfriars, Feak's 
 conventicle at, iv. 276 
 
 Christiern of Denmark, the brother 
 of queen Anne, wife of James I., 
 is knighted at the festival of St. 
 George, iv. 26 ; his opinions of 
 James in Scotland and in England 
 differ, 27, 28 ; endeavours to in- 
 duce James to declare himself 
 against Spain, 52, 53 ; and to join 
 the Evangelical league, 53, 57 ; 
 strives to procure the release of 
 Ealeigh, 58 ; his return to Den- 
 mark, ib. ; his sudden return to
 
 INDEX. 
 
 335 
 
 England, 59 ; is not successful in 
 his attempts to persuade James to 
 join the Evangelical league, 61 
 Chrysostom and Olympia, iii. 122 
 Chiffinch, Will, his apartments in 
 
 the Tudor tower, iv. 287 
 Church bells, iii. 175 
 Clarendon, lord. Sec Hyde. 
 Clarke, dean of Windsor, iii. 237 
 Clere, one of Surrey's friends, iii. 
 
 110 ; saves Surrey's life, 164 
 Clinton, Edward de, his marriage to 
 Elizabeth Blount, iii. 75, 271 ; his 
 bravery by land and by sea, 118 ; is 
 created earl of Lincoln, ib. ; his 
 effigy in Lincoln chapel, in St. 
 George's choir, 118, 119 ; his mar- 
 riage to the Fair Geraldine, 194 ; is a 
 staunch advocate of Elizabeth, 213, 
 290, 293, 294 ; Elizabeth's partiality 
 to the home of, 271 ; his family, ib. 
 Clinton, Elizabeth de, her ancestors, 
 iii. 119 ; her associations with 
 Windsor and its neighbourhood, 
 ib. ; is the original of Surrey's 
 ' Fan- Geraldine,' ib. ; her sepul- 
 ture in Lincoln chapel, ib. ; her 
 parentage, 123 ; misfortunes of 
 her family, ib. ; Henry VH. per- 
 mits her to live with his daughter 
 Mary, 124 ; her marriage to Browne, 
 163 ; nurses Henry VIH. in his 
 last illness, 178 ; her marriage to 
 Edward de Clinton, 194 
 Clotworthy, sir John, his imprison- 
 ment for not coinciding with the 
 commonwealth of Cromwell, iv. 
 271, 272 
 
 Coates, lord mayor of London, his 
 inquiry into the attack of Surrey 
 on Gresham's bank, iii. 135 
 Cobham, iv. 48 
 
 Coke, one of the commissioners ap- 
 pointed by parliament to attend on 
 Charles, iv. 212, 219 
 Cole Harbour, iii. 130 
 Colnbrook, iv. 181, 182 
 Compton, iii. 65, 66 
 Commonwealth, proclamation of, iv. 
 
 270-273 
 
 Conde, at his request Elizabeth sends 
 six thousand men to assist him in 
 his wars, iii. 284 ; his treachery 
 towards Elizabeth, 285 ; sends 
 Briquemault to Elizabeth with 
 excuses, 286 
 
 Cotton, one of the tutors of the 
 
 earl of Eichmond, iii. 77 
 Courtney, lord, queen Mary advised 
 
 to marry him, iii. 218, 219 
 Cranmer, Thomas, archbishop of 
 Canterbury, takes part in the 
 funeral obsequies of Henry VHL, 
 iii. 186 ; his execution, 221, 224 
 Cranbourne chase, enclosure of, iv. 
 
 89 
 Crazy Jane, origin of the mystery of, 
 
 iii. 59 
 
 Crofts, the illegitimate son of Charles 
 H., is created duke of Monmouth, 
 iv. 284 ; his marriage to lady Ann, 
 heiress of Buccleugh, ib. ; his re- 
 bellion unsuccessful, 330 
 Croke, a tutor of the earl of Eich- 
 mond, iii. 77 
 
 Cromwell, Thomas, secretary of state, 
 enters into a plot against Anne 
 Boleyn, iii. 90 ; assistance rendered 
 to him by the duchess of Norfolk 
 against her husband, 95 ; Surrey's 
 rivalry with him, 98 ; intrigues to 
 marry lady Mary to ' an obscure per- 
 son,' 102 ; falls into disgrace with 
 the king, 106 ; his execution, ib. 
 Cromwell, Oliver,his regiment of horse, 
 iv. 201 ; is the author of the ' new 
 model,' 206 ; on the passing of the 
 ' Self-denying Ordinance,' desires 
 to give up his military command, 
 208 ; lord Fairfax brings him 
 leave of absence from the House, 
 209; defeats the royal troops at 
 Islip bridge, 210 ; prays for direc- 
 tion as to what is to be done with 
 the king, 226 ; resolves that Charles 
 I. should be put on trial as a pub- 
 lic criminal, ib. ; his head-quarters 
 removed from Windsor to West- 
 minster, 276 ; attacks Lilburne at 
 Ware, 227 ; Saltmarsh reveals his 
 vision to him, 229 ; treats four 
 royalist peers as traitors, 266, 
 267 ; proclaims the commonwealth, 
 271 ; is appointed general for Ire- 
 land, 274 ; his victories in Ireland, 
 ib. ; defeats the Scots at Dunbar, 
 275 ; closes the civil war at Wor- 
 cester, ib. ; is denounced by the 
 preacher Feak, 276 ; is proclaimed 
 lord protector, 277 ; dismisses 
 Harrison from the service,- and 
 commits Feak to Windsor Castle,
 
 336 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 278 ; the greatness of England 
 revived during his protectorate, 
 279, 280 ; his improvements in 
 Windsor Castle, 280 ; re-purchases 
 the Little park, ib. 
 
 Crypt, the, under St. George's hall, 
 iii. 1, 2 
 
 Culpepper advises the king to sign 
 the bishops' bill, iv. 163 
 
 Curfew tower, iii. 16, 253 
 
 D'Adda, papal nuncio, his reception 
 by James II. at St. George's hall, 
 iv. 296, 299 
 
 Dante and Beatrice, iii. 122 
 
 Datchet lane and mead, iii. 303, 308, 
 iv. 13 
 
 Davenant, bishop of Salisbury, re- 
 fuses to sign Laud's canons, iv. 
 159 
 
 Day, provost of Eton college, his 
 temper, iii. 275 ; his quarrel with 
 Foix, 298 
 
 Dean's house, the, iii. 109 
 
 Deer-course, iii. 17, 303, 308, 333, 
 iv. 11, 13 
 
 Derby, Alice, countess of, is sus- 
 pected of having poisoned her hus- 
 band, iv. 24 
 
 De Vigne, madame, is appointed by 
 Don Philip companion to queen 
 Juana, iii. 56 
 
 Devil's tower, iii. 29, 42, 44, 53, iv. 2 
 
 Digby, earl of Bristol, is called by 
 Charles I. to Windsor Castle, iv. 
 128 ; his advice to Charles, 129 ; 
 secures Kingston bridge, 132 ; his 
 plan of campaign, 144 ; his bands 
 at Kingston broken up, 151 ; 
 failure of his appeal to Goring for 
 help, 152 ; his escape to Wal- 
 cheren, 153, 164; is proclaimed 
 traitor, 165 ; brings a message 
 from the queen to the king, 179 
 
 Divine Catastrophe of the house of 
 Stuart, iv. 1, 9, 300, 301, 310 
 
 Divine right of kings, iv. 5, 137, 138, 
 160 
 
 Dodington, sir Francis, his imprison- 
 ment in the Norman tower, iv. 
 189 ; his history subsequent to his 
 release, 190, 191 
 
 Donate, the doge of Venice, takes 
 arms against Eome, iv. 54, 56; 
 appoints Marco Antonio to the 
 archbishopric of Spalatro, 65 
 
 Dorset, earl of, brother-in-law of 
 Henry VII., plays with Don Philip 
 in the tennis-court, iv. 31, 46 ; 
 presides at a chapter of St. George 
 to disgrade the duke of Bucking- 
 ham, 67 
 
 Dowgate ward, iii. 130, 131, 140 
 
 Drayton, iii. 120 
 
 Dryden, his 'Alexander's Feast,' iii. 
 115 
 
 Dubois requires satisfaction from 
 Cecil for the injuries received by a 
 French captain, iii. 295 ; takes 
 part in the quarrel between Foix 
 and Day, 298 
 
 Dudley, John, duke of Northumber- 
 land, position held by him at the 
 death of Henry VIII., iii. 190, 192 ; 
 is called the Soldiers' Friend, 190 ; 
 seeks the death of sir Thomas 
 Seymour, 195 ; acts as Seymour's 
 deputy at the festival of St. George, 
 195 ; is denounced by Seymour, 
 200 ; lays siege to Windsor Castle, 
 203 ; obliges Seymour to submit 
 to his terms, 204 ; deprives Sey- 
 mour of his government, and im- 
 prisons him in Salisbury tower, 
 205 ; is executed as a traitor, 
 229 
 
 Dudley, sir Eobert, earl of Leicester, 
 favours granted to, by Elizabeth, 
 iii. 264 ; is appointed constable of 
 the keep and ranger of the park at 
 Windsor, ib. ; is mentioned as a 
 possible suitor for the hand of 
 Elizabeth, 269 ; his appearance 
 and accomplishments, 271 ; tra- 
 gical fate of his ancestors, 270, 
 271 ; his love-match with Amy 
 Eobsart, 272 ; his claims on Eliza- 
 beth's kindness, 273 ; is appointed 
 constable of Windsor Castle, ib. ; is 
 proposed by Elizabeth to Mary, 
 queen of Scots, ib. 
 
 Dunbar, defeat of the Scotch army 
 at, by Cromwell, iv. 275 
 
 Dunbarton, lord, appointed to suc- 
 ceed the duke of Somerset at the 
 reception of the papal nuncio, iv. 
 299 
 
 Dunkerque, sale of, by Charles II. to 
 Louis XIV., iv. 287 
 
 Duras, Louis de. See Feversham. 
 
 Dutch fleet sails up the Thames, iv. 
 287
 
 INDEX. 
 
 337 
 
 Edward I., the Neyt brought by him 
 
 to Windsor, iii. 51 
 
 Edward in. the builder of St. 
 
 George's hall, iii. 2; his shield 
 
 preserved in the hall, 3 ; his tower, 
 
 21 
 
 Edward IV., his tomb in St. George's 
 
 chapel, iii. 14 
 Edward V., his murder in the Tower, 
 
 iii. 5 
 
 Edward VI. is proclaimed king, iii. 
 191 ; accompanies Seymour to 
 Windsor Castle, 199 ; consents to 
 the terms of Dudley, 204, 205 
 Edward, earl of Warwick, is im- 
 prisoned by Eichard III. in 
 Sheriff Hutton, iii. 7 ; his impri- 
 sonment by Henry VII., 34; his 
 death, ib. 
 
 Edge Hill, battle of, iv. 179 
 Effingham, lord Howard of, iii. 338 
 Egerton, Thomas, iii. 338 
 Elizabeth of York, daughter of Ed- 
 ward IV., her trials in early life, 
 iii. 5 ; takes refuge with her mo- 
 ther in the sanctuary of West- 
 minster, ib. ; gives her pledge to 
 Henry of Eichmond, 6 ; is kept a 
 prisoner by Eichard HI. in Sheriff 
 Hutton, 7 ; is married to Henry 
 VII., 8 ; is buried with her daughter 
 in Westminster abbey, 22 
 Elizabeth Woodville, is buried in St. 
 
 George's chapel, iii. 14 
 Elizabeth, daughter of Henry VH., 
 is buried in Westminster abbey, 
 iii. 22 
 
 Elizabeth, queen, daughter of Henry 
 VIH. and Anne Boleyn, at the death 
 of her mother a bill passed through 
 Parliament depriving her of her 
 rights to the crown, iii. 91 ; her 
 cause espoused by Catharine 
 Howard, 106 ; her legitimacy re- 
 cognised, 170 ; her reply to over- 
 tures made to her by sir Thomas 
 Seymour, 194, 195 ; is conducted 
 as a prisoner to Windsor Castle, 
 206 ; is named by her brother 
 ' Sister Temperance,' 207 ; is 
 lodged at the dean's house at 
 Windsor, 209 ; Eenard wishes 
 Mary to put her to death, 211 ; 
 Gardiner's cruel conduct towards 
 her and her servants, ib. ; Mary 
 refuses to sign the warrant for 
 
 VOL. IV. 
 
 her execution before consulting 
 Philip, ib. ; her numerous ad- 
 herents in England, 212; Don 
 Philip hesitates before giving 
 the order for her execution, 213 ; 
 her popularity, 214, 215 ; her de- 
 parture from Windsor, 215 ; is 
 kept as a prisoner at Woodstock, 
 228 ; her arrival in London on the 
 death of her sister Mary, 248 ; her 
 treatment of Bonner, ib. ; is 
 crowned by Oglethorpe, 249 ; re- 
 pairs St. George's chapel, 249, 
 250; instals four new knights of 
 the order of St. George, 250 ; 
 Weston discloses a plot for vio- 
 lating the grave of her father, 
 252; her ardent desires for peace 
 with France and Scotland, 254 ; 
 her aversion to Eome and Spain, 
 ib. ; Eric, king-elect of Sweden, 
 seeks her hand, 255 ; refuses the 
 proposal brought by Jan, Eric's 
 brother, 258 ; Don Philip's offers 
 refused by her, 260; her nume- 
 rous suitors, 260-263, 269; Eric 
 renews his suit to her, 263 ; ap- 
 points Dudley constable of the 
 keep and ranger of the park, 264 ; 
 declares her resolve to live and 
 die a virgin, 265 ; proposes Dudley 
 to Mary, queen of Scots, 273 ; her 
 studies with Eoger Ascham, 274 ; 
 her desire for peace, 285 ; de- 
 claims against the seizure of her 
 ambassador, Throgmorton, 289 ; 
 is unsuccessful in her wars with 
 France, 291 ; frees Foix from his 
 restraint, 292 ; ' Sir John Fal- 
 staff' written at her command, 
 300 ; her gallery and terrace, 300, 
 320, 323, 334, 338 ; her partiality 
 for Windsor, 332 ; additions made 
 by her to Windsor Castle, 333 ; 
 brilliancy of her court, 335 ; bless- 
 ings of her reign, 337 ; her peace- 
 ful policy, 338, 339 ; unites Eng- 
 land and Scotland, 339 ; the Little 
 park her favourite hunting ground, 
 iv. 11 ; her walk, ib. ; her theatre 
 destroyed at the death of Charles 
 I., 269 
 
 Elizabeth, daughter of James I. and 
 Anne of Denmark, her marriage 
 to Friedrich, palatine of the EMne, 
 iv. 58 ; her exile, 61
 
 338 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Ellis, Father, his Jesuitical educa- 
 tion, iv. 296 ; is installed chap- 
 lain to James II. , ib. ; his sermon 
 before James, 297 
 
 Enfield chase, enclosure of, iv. 15, 16 
 England, its school of poetry, iii. 
 114 ; its union with Scotland, 266, 
 267 ; state of, on the death of 
 Elizabeth, iv. 5 ; greatness of, 
 during the protectorate, 280 ; joy 
 of, on the restoration of Charles II., 
 283 ; low estate of, in the reign of 
 Charles II., 288 
 
 England, church of, plan of recon- 
 ciling it to the church of Borne, 
 iv. 75, 76 
 
 English language used in the service 
 at the accession of Elizabeth, iii. 
 253 
 Episcopacy abolished by parliament, 
 
 iv. 163 
 
 Eric, son of Gustavus Vasa, is a 
 suitor for the hand of Elizabeth, 
 iii. 255 ; his proposal not accepted, 
 258 ; renews his suit, but is again 
 unsuccessful, 263, 269 
 Essex, Eobert Devereux, second earl 
 of, his conspiracy against Eliza- 
 beth, iii. 333 
 
 Essex, Eobert Devereux, third earl of, 
 lord chamberlain to Charles I., iv. 
 130 ; his first and second wives, 
 131 ; resigns his office, 132 ; his 
 experience in warfare, ib. ; Charles 
 endeavours to retain his services, 
 133, 134 ; is appointed lord-general 
 of the parliamentary forces, 177 ; 
 his opinion of Windsor hi a mili- 
 tary point of view, 177, 178 ; is 
 deprived of his position as chamber- 
 lain, 178 ; his popularity, ib. ; his 
 correspondence with the king, 194, 
 195 ; takes Beading, 198 ; gains a 
 victory at Newbury, 199 ; receives 
 a packet from the king, ib. ; his 
 stern answer, ib. ; is suspected of 
 leniency towards the king, ib. ; 
 his last campaign, 200 
 Essex, lady, her vile character, iv. 
 
 23 
 Estrefield, the carver, is employed by 
 
 Henry VET., iii. 15 
 
 Evangelical league, upheld by Eliza- 
 beth, iii. 338 
 
 Evelyn, his employment of Gibbons, 
 the 6arver on wood, iv. 236 
 
 Excellenta, Dona, detained by king 
 Manoel, in Coimbra, iii. 42 
 
 Fairfax, Thomas, lord, lord-general 
 of the parliamentary troops, iv. 
 201 ; the quality of his soldiers, 
 ib. ; his family, 202 ; his military 
 abilities, 203 ; defeats prince Bu- 
 pert at Marston Moor, 204 ; forms 
 his army on ' a new model,' 205 ; 
 stern discipline of his soldiers, 
 206 ; his interview with Cromwell 
 at Windsor, 208 ; brings Cromwell 
 leave of absence from the House 
 for forty days, 209 ; gives Crom- 
 well the command of the troops 
 against Charles, 210 ; ordains a 
 day of prayer, ib. ; his reception of 
 Charles when brought to his head- 
 quarters by cornet Joyce, 217 ; 
 appoints Whalley as commander 
 of the royal guard, ib. ; his reply 
 to Charles as to seeing his children, 
 219, 220 ; induces Charles to leave 
 Windsor for Caversham park, ib. ; 
 moves his army to Windsor Castle, 
 221 ; is troubled by Charles's 
 breach of faith, 222 ; Saltmarsh 
 reveals his vision to him, 229 ; dis- 
 approves of the sentence of death 
 passed on Charles, 264 ; his dis- 
 agreement from Cromwell, 273 ; 
 is appointed generalissimo of the 
 Commonwealth, 274 ; gives up his 
 command, 275 
 
 Fan-fax, lady, her exclamation during 
 
 the trial of Charles I., iv. 254, 256 
 
 Fair Geraldine. See Elizabeth de 
 
 Clinton 
 
 Fairy dell, iv. 11, 13, 309 
 Falkland, lord, secretary of state, on 
 the feelings of the people towards 
 bishops, iv. 161 ; counsels delay 
 with the bishops' bill, 163 ; advises 
 Charles I. to seek terms of peace, 
 168 ; his death, 198 
 Feak, Mr., his declamation against 
 Cromwell, iv. 276 ; his imprison- 
 ment in Windsor Castle, ib. 
 Ferdinand, duke of Tyrol, and his 
 
 wife Philippina, iii. 261 
 Fernando, king of Aragon, entraps 
 
 Cesare Borgia, iii. 34, 42 
 Feversham, earl of, appointed com- 
 mander of the army of James II., 
 iv. 298 ; is not able to prevent
 
 INDEX. 
 
 339 
 
 William of Orange from proceeding 
 to Windsor, 305 ; is sent by James 
 with a message to William of 
 Orange, 307 ; is lodged in St. 
 George's keep, ib. ; his release, 
 311 ; is the last state prisoner in 
 St. George's keep, ib. 
 
 Feudal castles, converted into jails, 
 iv. 324 
 
 Feudal system, collapse of the, at 
 Bosworth field, iii. 20 
 
 Filmer, churchwarden, accuses Mel- 
 ster of irreverence, iii. 143 ; is cast 
 into jail by Gardiner, 153 ; his 
 trial, 158 ; is sentenced to be burnt, 
 159 
 
 Fitzherbert on the authority of 
 Parker's ordination at the Nag's 
 Head, iv. 76 
 
 Fitz-James, iii. 37 
 
 Foix, Paul de, French ambassador, 
 lodges at Eton, iii. 286 ; is arrested 
 by Elizabeth in consequence of the 
 outrage by the queen of France on 
 Throgmorton, 288 ; quarrels with 
 Day, his Eton host, 295 ; is turned 
 out of Eton, 298 
 
 Forest laws, revival of, by James I., 
 iv. 9, 11, 89; effect 'of, 125 
 
 Fortescue, Sir Edmund, is imprisoned 
 in the Norman tower, iv. 183-189 
 
 Fortescue, John, enters Cromwell's 
 service, iv. 190 
 
 Foy, captain, takes with violence the 
 plate from St. George's chapel, iv. 
 181 
 
 France, Elizabeth's desire to be at 
 peace with, iii. 283, 292 ; peace 
 between it andEngland proclaimed, 
 298 
 
 FranlUjn, dean of St. George's chapel, 
 is opposed by Testwood, iii. 146, 
 147 ; appeals to Gardiner to re- 
 press heretical opinions, 147 
 
 Free states, models of, iv. 7 
 
 Friedrich of Wiirtenberg, differently 
 depicted by Shakespere in the two 
 editions of ' Sir John Falstaff,' iii. 
 320-323 ; is knighted by James I. 
 28, 29 
 at the festival of St. George, iv. 
 
 Friedrich, palatine of the Rhine, is 
 
 _ married to Elizabeth, daughter of 
 James I., iv. 58 ; is appointed 
 president of the Evangelical league, 
 59 ; his fall, 61 
 
 Gage, Sir John, constable of the 
 Tower, iii. 183 ; his hesitation to 
 carry into effect the execution 
 of Norfolk saves the duke's life, 
 193 
 
 Galland,mayorof Windsor, proclaims 
 Charles n. king at St. George's 
 keep, iv. 282 
 
 Gardiner, bishop, his licensed stews 
 attacked by Surrey, iii. 133 ; op- 
 position to Mm by Testwood, 140 ; 
 determines to take Testwood's 
 life, 143 ; seeks the life of queen 
 Catharine Parr, 152 ; compast-es 
 
 the death of Testwood and other 
 heretics, 153-160 ; his stews ordered 
 by the king to be swept away, 161 ; 
 gives the letter of the duke of Nor- 
 folk to Seymour, 177 ; takes a part 
 in the obsequies of Henry VIII. , 186 ; 
 his cruelty to Elizabeth and her 
 servants, 211 ; is deposed from his 
 position as prelate of the order of 
 St. George, 229 
 
 ' Garmombles,' origin of the word, 
 iii. 322 
 
 Gate seeks for evidence against 
 Surrey in Kenning hall, iii. 178, 
 179 ; his failure, 180 
 
 George of Denmark, his position as 
 to the succession to the English 
 crown | iv. 304 ; his desertion of 
 James II., 305 ; his marriage to 
 Anne, daughter of James II., 296 
 
 George I. and II., their disregard of 
 Windsor, iv. 318 
 
 George III., his large family, iv. 
 318, 324, 325 ; his preference for a 
 small house outside Windsor 
 Castle, 318 ; orders St. George's 
 chapel to be cleansed, ib. ; repairs 
 the tomb of the Fair Geraldine, 
 ib. ; is much loved by the inha- 
 bitants of Windsor, 320 ; a picture 
 of him walking in Elizabeth's ter- 
 race, ib. ; his conversation with 
 Dr. Burney, 320-322 
 
 George, a, iii. 12, 259 ; iv. 317 
 
 Geraldines, iii. 11 ; encouragement 
 given by them to bimnel, 14 ; 
 foster an Irish branch of the 
 order of St. George, 19 ; Henry 
 VII.'s mode of dealing with them, 
 19, 20 ; fortunes of, 123 
 
 Gibbons' carvings at Windsor Castle, 
 iv. 286
 
 340 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Gloucester, duke of, his scutcheon 
 
 adopted by Surrey, iii. 89 
 Goldem Fleece, order of, iii. 50, 230 
 Gondomar, imparts to James I. his 
 suspicions of Marco Antonio, iv. 
 71 ; unmasks Antonio, 79-81 ; re- 
 pulses the overtures of Antonio, 
 86 
 
 Goodman, bishop, gives his adhe- 
 rence to the doctrines of Marco 
 Antonio, iv. 77 ; Antonio places 
 him in the rectory of West Ildsey, 
 78 ; receives from king James the 
 deanery of Eochester and the 
 bishopric of Gloucester, 112 ; 
 offers to give an organ t the 
 Windsor parish church, 114 ; 
 Charles grants him the see of 
 Hereford, ib. ; his greed, and its 
 effect, 114, 115 ; offers to rebuild 
 the Windsor cross, 115, 116; 
 raises the anger of the inhabitants 
 by its mode of rebuilding, 116-118 ; 
 is cast into the Tower, 155 ; re- 
 fuses to sign Laud's canons and 
 constitutions, 157 
 
 Goring, governor of Portsmouth, is 
 supposed to be willing to siipply 
 Charles I. with warlike stores, iv. 
 144 ; refuses to listen to the ap- 
 peal of Digby for help, 152 ; his 
 cavalry captured by Cromwell, 
 216 ; is captured by Fairfax, and 
 lodged in Windsor Castle, 260 ; is 
 removed to the Tower, 267 ; is 
 condemned to die, but is saved by 
 the casting-vote of Lenthall, 268 
 
 Gower, the poet, iii. 114 
 
 Grafton, the second son of lady 
 Castlemaine, takes a part in the 
 reception of the papal nuncio, iv. 
 299 ; with Churchill, forms a plot 
 to surrender James to William, 
 prince of Orange, 305 
 
 Great gate, the, iii. 1, 2, 12 
 
 Great park, iii. 308, iv. 249 
 
 Greene, his base character, iii. 312, 
 315, 316, 326 
 
 Greenwich, Henry VH.'s palace at, 
 iii. 15 
 
 Gresham, Eichard, his bank attacked 
 by Surrey, iii. 133 ; draws the jury 
 to try Surrey, 183 
 
 Grey, iv. 28, 33, 34 ; his altercation 
 with lord Southampton, 39 ; is 
 placed under guard, 40 ; his pre- 
 
 vious quarrels with Southampton, 
 
 42, 43 ; is committed to the Tower, 
 
 47 
 Grey, Jane, the nine days' queen, 
 
 iii. 207 
 Guard-room in the king's house, iii. 
 
 2, 3, 30 
 
 Gunner's tower, iii. 237 
 Gunpowder plot, iv. 52, 53 
 
 Haddon, Walter, Elizabeth's master 
 of requests, on the advantages of 
 flogging, iii. 277 
 
 Halifax, lord, is instructed by the 
 council of William, prince of 
 Orange, to convey a message to 
 James, iv. 309 
 
 Hamilton, duke of, his escape from 
 Windsor Castle, iv. 259 ; his pre- 
 vious life, ib. ; his changes from 
 king to parliament, ib. ; his impri- 
 sonment in St. Michael's Mount 
 for betraying the king, 263 ; his 
 singular relations with Cromwell, 
 
 263, 264 ; his recapture in London, 
 
 264, 265; his trial, 265, 266; his 
 execution, 268 
 
 Hammond, Eobert, states his diffi- 
 culty with regard to his recapture 
 of Charles I., iv. 233 ; marries a 
 daughter of Hampden, ib. 
 
 Hammond, William, domestic chap- 
 lain of Charles I., iv. 218 ; is not 
 permitted by the Eump to remain 
 with him, ib. ; Charles's eager de- 
 sire to have his services refused, 
 254 
 
 Hampden, John, petition on his 
 account from the freeholders of 
 Bucks to king Charles, iv. 140- 
 142 ; his death, 198 
 
 Hampton court, festival of peace 
 held at, iii. 173 ; escape of Charles 
 from, to the Isle of Wight, iv. 222 
 
 Harrison, Aminadab, his opposition 
 to the Forest laws, iv. 119, 120, 
 124, 125 ; is taken prisoner, 175 
 
 Harrison, major-general, takes charge 
 of Charles from Hurst castle to 
 the head-quarters at Windsor, iv. 
 242-250; conducts Charles from 
 Windsor to Whitehall, 256; re- 
 fuses to acknowledge the protec- 
 torate of Cromwell, 278 ; is dis- 
 missed the service by Cromwell, 
 ib.
 
 INDEX. 
 
 341 
 
 Harpsfeld, his extravagant expres- 
 sions ;towards queen Mary, iii. 218 
 
 Havre, its occupation by Warwick, 
 iii. 284 ; is besieged by Conde, 
 289 ; sufferings of the besieged in, 
 290; retirement of the garrison 
 from, 291 
 
 Hawkhood, iv. 129 
 
 Haynes, prebendary of Windsor, his 
 friendship to Pearson, iii. 152 
 
 Henrietta, wife of Charles I., her 
 attachment to Windsor, iv. 109 ; 
 considers her mission is to spread 
 the catholic faith, 110 ; endeavours 
 to secure her sons in the catholic 
 religion, 111 ; desires to go abroad, 
 167 ; is compromised by some in- 
 tercepted letters, 169 ; is in favour 
 of war, 170 ; her plan of warfare, 
 ib. ; goes to the Hague to be pre- 
 sent at the marriage of her daugh- 
 ter Mary with the prince of 
 Orange, 172 ; sends a message 
 to the king by Digby, 179 ; her 
 return to Charles, and her evil 
 influence over him, 198 
 
 Henry IH.'s tower, iii. 264 
 
 Henry IV. (Bolingbroke), iii. 3 
 
 Henry V. (Agincourt), iii. 3 
 
 Henry VI., his tomb at St. George's 
 chapel, iii. 14 
 
 Henry VII. (Eichmond), son of Ed- 
 mund Tudor and lady Margaret 
 Beaufort, his arrival at Windsor 
 Castle, iii. 1 ; desires to place him- 
 self and family under the pro- 
 tection of St. George, 2 ; his 
 loyalty to St. George, 3 ; trials 
 and triumphs of his early life, 4 ; 
 his courtship of, and marriage to, 
 Elizabeth of York, 4-8 ; his vic- 
 tory at Bosworth field, 10 ; his 
 success against lord Lovel, ib. ; 
 takes Simnel captive, and assigns 
 him a place in his kitchen, 11 ; 
 causes a collar and a badge to be 
 made in honour of St. George, 12 ; 
 pomp with which he conducted the 
 festival, 12, 13 ; his attachment 
 to Windsor Castle, 14, 15 ; his 
 additions to Windsor Castle, 15, 
 16 ; his architects and painters, 
 15 ; his palace at Greenwich, ib. ; 
 his chapel at Westminster, 16 ; 
 constructs the Tudor tower, 16-22, 
 iv. 323 ; his appearance at thirty- 
 
 five years of age, 18 ; suppresses 
 the Irish branch of the order of 
 St. George, 19 ; his family losses, 
 22 ; receives intelligence that Don 
 Philip, archduke of Austria, had 
 been obliged to take refuge hi Mel- 
 combe bay, 25 ; invites Don Philip 
 to Windsor, 27 ; his meeting with 
 Don Philip, 29 ; his conferences 
 with Don Philip i the secret room, 
 33-44 ; induces Don Philip to sur- 
 render Edmund de la Pole, 44 ; 
 Don Philip wishes him to contract 
 a marriage with his sister Mar- 
 guerite, 46-49 ; contracts a mar- 
 riage between his daughter, lady 
 Mary, and Carlos, Don Philip's 
 son, 50 ; instals Don Philip as a 
 knight of the Garter, 51 ; treaty 
 made by him and Don Philip in 
 St. George's chapel, 52 ; his meet- 
 ing with queen Juana at Windsor 
 Castle, 54 ; his insincerity in the 
 matter of his marriage with Mar- 
 guerite, 60 
 
 Henry VIH., treasonable designs of 
 Edward, duke of Buckingham, 
 against, iii. 67, 68 ; selects as com- 
 panion to his son, Eichmond, 
 Henry earl of Surrey, 71 ; his in- 
 tentions with regard to Eichmond, 
 77 ; heaps dignities on his son, 78 ; 
 his divorce from Catharine of 
 Aragon, 80, 81 ; his marriage to 
 Anne Boleyn, 81 ; is baffled hi his 
 attempts to secure a foreign prin- 
 cess for his son Eichmond, 82 ; 
 his marriage to Jane Seymour, 90 ; 
 Norfolk is intrusted by him with 
 the command to quell a rising 
 in the north, 92, 97 ; divisions 
 amongst his councillors, 98 ; en- 
 deavours to effect a reconciliation, 
 ib. ; encourages a match between 
 lady Mary and sir ThomasSeymour, 
 103 ; instructs Cromwell to pay 
 lady Mary's jointure, 105 ; Anne 
 of Cleves fails to please bun, ib. ; 
 disgraces Cromwell, 105, 106 ; 
 marries Catharine Howard, 106 ; 
 suffers her to be executed, 108 ; 
 sanctions the imprisonment of 
 Surrey, 111 ; his feelings on being 
 informed of the death of the 
 Windsor martyrs, 160 ; sends Gar- 
 diner from the court, ib. ; releases
 
 342 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Surrey, Wyat, and Pickering, 161 ; 
 orders Gardiner's stews to be 
 swept away, ib. ; Wriottesley's 
 case against Surrey referred to him, 
 162 ; is not convinced of the jus- 
 tice of the charges against Surrey, 
 171 ; liberates Surrey from the 
 Norman tower, ib. ; concludes 
 peace with France, 172 ; holds a 
 festival of peace at Hampton 
 Court, 173 ; his last illness, 174 ; 
 is nursed by the Fair Geraldine, 
 178 ; his death, 186 ; his pompous 
 funeral, ib. 
 
 Henry VHI.'s gate, iii. 109, 208, 211, 
 298 
 
 Henry, son of James I. and Anne, is 
 knighted at the festival of St. 
 George, iv. 25, 26 ; his noble cha- 
 racter, 26; his acquaintance with 
 poets and statesmen, ib. ; inter- 
 cedes for Ealeigh, 50 ; his death, 
 ib. 
 
 Henry, king of France, husband of 
 Mary, queen of Scots, iii. 273 
 
 Herbert, Maud, Henry VH.'s attach- 
 ment to, iii. 6 
 
 Herbert, George, iv. 31 
 
 Herbert of Cherbury, iv. 31 
 
 Herne's oak, story of, iii. 308, 309, 
 iv. 11, 13 
 
 Herschel, Dr., and Dr. Burney, iv. 
 321 
 
 Hertford, marquis of, the governor 
 of prince Charles, iv. 130 ; the 
 prince snatched from, by his 
 father, ib. ; brings a message from 
 the peers to separate the king 
 from the prince, 148 
 
 Hoby, sir Philip, Gardiner's anger at 
 his support of Pearson, iii. 152- 
 154 ; negotiates in behalf of Dudley 
 respecting the terms of Seymour's 
 submission, 204 
 
 Holland, Bess, her connexion with 
 the duke of Norfolk irritates the 
 duchess, iii. 94, 95, 102 ; her resi- 
 dence at Kenning hall disturbs 
 Surrey, 164 ; gives evidence against 
 Surrey, 167, 168, 175 
 
 Holland, earl of. See Eich. 
 
 Holyrood palace, iv. 20, 25 
 
 Hospitallers at Bhodes, grand master 
 of, iii. 230 
 
 Hopton, routs Stamford, iv. 198 ; 
 his army forced to surrender, 216 
 
 Howard, Thomas, duke of Norfolk, 
 his marriage to Elizabeth, daughter 
 of the duke of Buckingham, iii. 69 ; 
 their son, Surrey, 69, 70 ; his 
 domestic troubles, 87 ; is called to 
 Windsor by Henry VIH. to quell a 
 rising in the north, 92 ; Ins con- 
 nexions with Bess Holland, 94, 95, 
 102 ; his opinion of his son, the 
 earl of Surrey, 97, 98, 149 ; en- 
 courages a match between his 
 daughter, lady Mary, and sir 
 Thomas Seymour, 101 ; crushes 
 the Geraldines, 123 ; conducts the 
 campaign against the Scots, 125 ; is 
 summoned to Windsor to judge 
 the heretics, 148 ; liberates Test- 
 wood, 149 ; family alliances pro- 
 posed by him, 161,166 ; is arrested by 
 orders of Seymour, and committed 
 to the Tower, 178 ; is liberated on 
 the death of Henry VIH., 194 ; re- 
 turns to Windsor, and resumes 
 his stall in St. George's chapel, 
 217 ; Dudley executed by his 
 orders, 229 ; his death at Kenning 
 haU, 230 
 
 Howard, Henry, earl of Surrey, his 
 grandfather, duke of Buckingham, 
 disgraded at Windsor, iii. 69, 70 ; 
 is selected by king Henry as a play- 
 mate for his son, Bichmond, 71 ; 
 his excellence in arts and letters, 
 73; his grace and prowess, 73, 74; 
 his life at Windsor as companion 
 to Bichmond, 78, 79 ; his travels 
 in France, 80 ; falls in love 
 with lady Frances Vere, 82 ; his 
 Windsor portrait, 83 ; his poetical 
 effusions, 84 ; his partiality to 
 tennis, ib. ; his relationship with 
 Anne Boleyn, 85 ; his marriage, 
 89 ; adopts the escutcheon of the 
 duke of Gloucester, ib. ; attends to 
 the burial of Bichmond, 91 ; his 
 independent spirit, 98 ; his rivalry 
 with Seymour, ib.; is knighted, ib.; 
 is appointed the king's lieutenant- 
 general, 108 ; is sent to France, ib.; 
 is made a knight of the order of St. 
 George, ib. ; his quarrel with John 
 a Leigh, 111 ; his defiance of the 
 king's ministers, ib. ; is conveyed 
 a prisoner to Windsor Castle, 110, 
 112 ; his lament over the loss of 
 his companion, Bichmond, 112,
 
 INDEX. 
 
 343 
 
 113 ; the beauty of his verses, 113 ; 
 is the founder of English metrical 
 poetry, 114, 115 ; his Elegy on 
 Windsor, 116 ; his legend of Fair 
 Geraldine, 117 - 124 ; errors of 
 writers respecting his connexion 
 with the original of Fair Geraldine, 
 118-122; is liberated by Henry 
 VIII. from the Norman tower, 125 ; 
 joins his father in his campaign 
 against the Scots, 125 ; his grief 
 for the loss of Wyat, 126, 128 ; his 
 feelings towards the Boman church, 
 127 ; his connexion with Wyat the 
 younger, 128 ; conversation re- 
 specting him hi St. Lawrence lane, 
 129, 130 ; his mode of life at 
 Arundel's hotel, 130, 131 ; acts the 
 part of a gospeller, 132 ; attacks 
 Gresham's bank and Gardiner's 
 stews, 133, 134 ; charges urged 
 against him, 137 ; is committed to 
 the Fleet, 139 ; his release, 160, 
 161 ; his satire on the London 
 citizens, 161 ; proceeds to France, 
 162 ; effect on him by his residence 
 and imprisonment in Windsor, 
 163 ; returns to his home, ib. ; re- 
 engages hi the wars hi France, 164 ; 
 perils to which he was exposed, 
 ib. ; his request that his wife might 
 join him hi France refused, 165 ; 
 yields his command in France to 
 Seymour, ib. ; is opposed to the 
 family marriages proposed by his 
 father, 166 ; sends a challenge to 
 Seymour, 167 ; is reprimanded by 
 the king, ib. ; false accusation 
 borne against him, 168, 169 ; 
 Wriottesley's case against him, 170 ; 
 is invited by the king to Hampton 
 Court, 171 ; his courteous treatment 
 by the king at the festival of peace, 
 173; his domestic We at Kenning 
 hall, 175 ; is summoned suddenly 
 to court, 176 ; challenges Southwell 
 to combat, 177 ; is again arrested, 
 ib. ; his confinement in the Tower, 
 178 ; his family circle at Kenning 
 hall broken up, 180 ; his examina- 
 tion before the council, 181 ; is 
 found guilty of wearing the royal 
 coat-of-arms, 182 ; is sentenced to 
 death, ib. ; his hatchment removed 
 from St. George's hall, 183 ; his 
 pure and noble life, 314 ; effect 
 
 of his life on English thought, 
 iv. 6 
 
 Howard, Thomas, the son of earl of 
 Surrey, made a knight of the order 
 of St. George, iii. 250 
 
 Howard, lady Mary, sister of the earl 
 of Surrey, maid of honour to 
 Anne Boleyn, iii. 82 ; the earl of 
 Bichmond falls in love with her, 
 82, 83 ; obstacles to her marriage 
 removed by Anne Boleyn, 86 ; death 
 of her husband, 91, 92 ; her grief 
 at the loss of Bichmond, 100 ; re- 
 fuses to entertain the proposals of 
 marriage between her and sir 
 Thomas Seymour, 101, 104 ; her 
 ascetic life, 163 ; will not consent 
 to the other matches proposed to 
 her, 166 ; result of her exami- 
 nation by Gate and Southwell, 
 179 
 
 Howth, one of the Geraldines, and 
 Simnel, iii. 21 
 
 Hungary's, king of, peace, iv. 50, 60 
 
 Hyde, Edward, lord Clarendon, coun- 
 sels the king to resist the bishops' 
 bill, iv. 163 ; joins William, prince 
 of Orange, 306 ; his remarks on 
 Feversham's arrest, 308, 309 
 
 Inner gate, iii. 109 
 
 Ireland conquered by Cromwell, iv. 
 274 
 
 Ireton, Henry, a soldier of the Com- 
 monwealth, iv. 226 ; is one of the 
 court that sat in judgment upon 
 Charles I., 255 
 
 Islip bridge, defeat of the royal troops 
 at, iv. 210 
 
 Isle of Wight, flight of Charles I. to, 
 iv. 222 
 
 Ironsides, their formation by Crom- 
 well, iv. 205, 227 ; their rigid 
 discipline, 205 ; victories gained by 
 them, 216 
 
 James I. of Scotland, his confine- 
 ment in the Devil's tower, iii. 30, 
 iv. 2 
 
 James I. of England, and VI. of 
 Scotland, his ancestry, iv. 2 ; his 
 succession to the throne of Eng- 
 land, ib. ; his arrival at Windsor, 
 ib. ; his person and character, 3, 4 ; 
 his hypocritical hie, 4, 5 ; holds 
 that he has a right to govern Eng-
 
 344 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 land as a feudal king, 5 ; his view 
 of the divine right of kings, ib. ; 
 his theories of public law as limited 
 by kingly rights, 7, 8 ; sends secret 
 emissaries to the pope, 9 ; revives 
 the Forest laws, ib. ; encloses the 
 Little park, 10 ; shuts up Enfield 
 chase and Brigstoke park, 15, 16, 
 17 ; his wife Anne, 18 ; his designs 
 in surrounding his wife with Eng- 
 lish women, 20, 21 ; tampers with 
 his wife's creed, 25 ; his son and 
 other knights installed at the fes- 
 tival of St. George, 25-29 ; English 
 and Scottish knights selected by 
 him, 30-40 ; his desire to be con- 
 sidered a pacific prince, 44, 45 ; 
 settles the quarrel between Grey 
 and Southampton, 46, 47 ; com- 
 mits Grey to the Tower, 47 ; de- 
 sires peace with Spain, 48 ; com- 
 mits Baleigh to the Tower, 50 ; 
 signs the articles of peace with 
 Spain, 51 ; Catholics desire him to 
 avow himself publicly on their 
 side, 53 ; his pamphlet on the Oath 
 of Allegiance, ib. ; prince Christiern 
 urges him to join the liberal cause, 
 57 ; promises the doge of Venice 
 to help him by land and sea, ib. ; 
 his court filled by Catholics, 58 ; is 
 urged to join the Evangelical 
 union, 59 ; appoints Marco An- 
 tonio, of Spalatro, dean of Windsor, 
 62-66 
 
 James II. of England, publicly avows 
 the catholic creed, iv. 294 ; hia re- 
 verence of Mary, queen of Scots, 
 295 ; makes Windsor Castle the 
 head - quarters of the catholic 
 church, ib. ; his first wife, lady 
 Anne Hyde, ib. ; his daughters 
 Mary and Anne, 295, 296; his 
 second wife, Mary of Modena, 296 ; 
 his chaplains, Petre and Ellis, 
 296, 297 ; resolves to overthrow 
 the English church, ib. ; his un- 
 scrupulous proceedings, 298 ; the 
 duke of Somerset declines to obey 
 his wishes in attending the pope's 
 nuncio, ib. ; his reception of the 
 pope's nuncio in St. George's hall, 
 299; birth of his son, 301; his 
 child supposed by many to be 
 spurious, ib. ; his dislike of Wil- 
 liam of Orange, 302 ; refuses to 
 
 call a parliament, 304 ; his futile 
 endeavours to intercept William in 
 his approach to Windsor, 305 ; is 
 deserted by his soldiers and coun- 
 cillors, ib. ; falls back on London, 
 306 ; his wife leaves him, ib. ; 
 throws the Great Seal into the 
 Thames, ib. ; burns the writs for a 
 new parliament, and disbands the 
 guard, ib. ; sends Feversham to 
 William inviting a conference, 
 307 ; William places his messen- 
 ger in St. George's keep, ib. ; Wil- 
 liam sends word that he must re- 
 tire, 308 ; message to him from 
 the council, 309 ; quits the coun- 
 try, 310 
 
 Jan, son of Gustavus Vasa, his pro- 
 posal to Elizabeth on behalf of his 
 brother Eric not successful, iii. 
 257, 258 
 
 Jeffreys, judge, chancellor to James 
 II., dissuades him from calling a 
 parliament, iv. 304 
 
 Jericho, in Essex, the birthplace of 
 the earl of Bichmond, iii. 75 
 
 Jewel, bishop of Salisbury, iii. 250 ; 
 on the popularity of Pickering as 
 a probable husband for Elizabeth, 
 272 
 
 John of Gaunt, iii. 3 
 
 Jonson, Ben, filthiness of his plays 
 acted before James I., iv. 3 ; 
 is called hi by James I. to satirize 
 the mayor and burgesses of Wind- 
 sor, 92 ; his character, ib. ; is ap- 
 pointed poet-laureate, ib. ; his 
 ' Masque of the Gipsies,' 92, 94 
 
 Joyce, Cornet, conducts Charles to 
 the head-quarters of Fairfax, iv. 
 217 
 
 Juana, queen of Castille, is driven 
 with her husband Don Philip into 
 Melcombe bay, iii. 25 ; is escorted 
 by Arundel to Shene, 28; her 
 arrival at Windsor Castle, 53 ; 
 her meeting with her sister Catha- 
 rine, 55-57 ; ratifies the Windsor 
 treaties, 59 ; conduct of Don Philip 
 towards her, ib. ; her departure 
 for Spain, 60 
 
 Juana, queen of Naples, is proposed 
 as a wife to Henry VII., iii. 47 : 49 
 
 Juxon, bishop, is not allowed to read 
 the book of Common Prayer at the 
 funeral of Charles I., iv. 257
 
 INDEX. 
 
 345 
 
 Keep, the, at Windsor Castle, iii. 16, 
 112, et passim. 
 
 Kelly, earl, is imprisoned in Wind- 
 sor Castle, iv. 275 
 
 Kemp, iii. 317 
 
 Kenning hall, iii. 91, 94 ; Surrey's 
 family outraged at, 180 ; the duke 
 of Norfolk's death at, 230 
 
 Kildare, Gerald, ninth earl of, rebels 
 against Henry Tudor, iii. 123 ; 
 marries Elizabeth Grey, ib. ; is 
 the father of Fair Geraldine, ib. ; 
 misfortunes of his family, ib. 
 
 Kimbolton castle, Catharine of 
 Aragon a prisoner in, iii. 207 ; its 
 change into Kimbolton house, iv. 
 324 
 
 King's house, iii. 1, 2, 16, 84, 88, 
 112, 152, 338, iv. 269, 280, 282, 284, 
 285, 296 
 
 King John's tower, iii. 26, 30 
 
 Kingston bridge secured by Digby, 
 iv. 132 ; Digby's troops defeated 
 at, 151 
 
 La Chau, minister of Don Philip, 
 archduke of Austria, iii. 27, 28, 44 
 
 Lambeth house, iv. 98 
 
 Langhorne, Eowland, a prisoner in 
 the Norman tower, iv. 233 ; his 
 military experience with lord 
 Essex, 234 ; captures Shrewsbury, 
 236; valuable services rendered 
 by him to the parliamentary army, 
 238, 239 ; changes his views, and 
 offers his services to Charles, 239, 
 240 ; takes Tenby and Pembroke, 
 240 ; is captured by Cromwell, ib. ; 
 is tried and sentenced, ib. ; being 
 released, fights in Ireland on the 
 side of the king, 240, 241 ; is 
 taken, and executed, ib. 
 
 Langton, chancellor to Henry VII., 
 takes part in the festival in St. 
 George's hall, iii. 12 
 
 Latimer, bishop, death of, iii. 241, 
 243 
 
 Latin language re-introduced in the 
 service by James H., iv. 298 
 
 Laud, archbishop of Canterbury, his 
 reception of Marco Antonio, iv. 
 69 ; his desire for a new episco- 
 pacy, 76 ; advocates the publica- 
 tion of the Book of Sports, 102 ; 
 insists on the Book being read by 
 the clergy, 105 ; his rivalry in 
 
 church affairs with Goodman, 155 ; 
 his ecclesiastical canons and con- 
 stitutions, 156 ; fails to make 
 Goodman and Davenant sub- 
 scribe, 157, 158 ; lodges Goodman 
 in the Gate-house, 159 ; is impri- 
 soned in the Tower, ib. 
 
 Lauderdale, lord, his capture at Wor- 
 cester, iv. 275 ; is imprisoned in 
 Windsor Castle, ib. ; is released at 
 the restoration of Charles II., 275, 
 276 
 
 Lee, information given by him to the 
 Commons, iv. 137 
 
 Leicester, Bichard III.'s burial at, 
 iii. 21 
 
 Leigh, John a, his quarrel with 
 Surrey, iii. Ill 
 
 Lennox, lord, a Scottish knight of 
 the court of James I., his offensive 
 character, iv. 36 ; is knighted at 
 the festival of St. George, ib. ; is 
 supported by the catholic powers, 
 ib. 
 
 Lenthall, Speaker in the house of 
 Commons in the reign of Charles 
 I., iv. 138 ; saves the life of Goring 
 by giving his casting-vote in his 
 favour, 268 
 
 Levellers, iv. 17, 273 
 
 Lilburne, John, revolts against the 
 army of Cromwell, iv. 227 ; is 
 attacked by Cromwell, ib. ; pun- 
 ishment of some of his soldiers, 
 228 
 
 Lincoln chapel, iii. 118, iv. 319 
 
 Lind, Dr., iv. 321 
 
 Lindsay is appointed chamberlain by 
 Charles I., iv. 178 ; is created lord- 
 general of the king's army, ib. 
 
 Little park, the, iii. 17, iv. 6, 303, 
 332, 333 ; is the hunting-ground of 
 Elizabeth, 16 ; is the scene of the 
 ' Merry Wives,' ib. ; is the favour- 
 ite resort of visitors to Windsor, 
 ib. ; enclosure of, by James I., iv. 
 10-18 ; is sold by the parliament, 
 270 ; is repurchased by Cromwell, 
 280 
 
 Lombard street, iii. 133 
 
 London citizens, Surrey's satire on, 
 iii. 161 
 
 Loughborough, lord, his capture by 
 Fairfax, iv. 260 ; is placed in 
 Windsor Castle, ib. ; his escape, 
 260-266 ; joins Charles II., 266
 
 346 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Louis, king of France, imprisons the 
 duke of Milan, iii. 42 
 
 Louis XIV., king of France, secret 
 treaty between him and Charles 
 II., iv. 292 ; Charles does not ob- 
 serve the treaty, 293 
 
 Love, Christopher, pastor of St. 
 Lawrence, Jewry, his execution on 
 Tower hill, iv. 233 
 
 Lovel, lord, his rebellion against 
 Henry VII., iii 10; his defeat, 
 ib. ; is starved to death, 11 
 
 Lower gate, iii. 50 
 
 Lower ward, iii. 12, 109, iv. 253, 298 
 
 ' Lucrece ' and ' Venus and Adonis ' 
 dedicated by Shakespere to lord 
 Southampton, iv. 33, 34 
 
 Ludlow, death of Arthur, son of 
 Henry VH., at, iii. 22 
 
 Ludlow, Edmund, one of the judges 
 at the trial of Charles I., iv. 255 
 
 Lunsford, colonel, accompanies 
 Charles I. in his seizure of Wind- 
 sor Castle, iv. 127 ; takes the com- 
 mand at Kingston, 132 ; is voted 
 a malignant by the Commons, 
 136 ; is arrested, 151 
 
 Lutherans, a marked change in 
 Shakespere's opinion respecting, 
 iii. 323 
 
 Madonna, worship paid to her by 
 monkish writers, iii. 121 
 
 Maiden's tower, iii. 81-89, 112 
 
 Mandeville, earl of Manchester, ex- 
 presses his wish that Venn should 
 take care of St. George's chapel, 
 iv. 197 ; joins William of Orange, 
 305 
 
 Maiioel, king of Portugal, detains the 
 Doiia Excellenta in Coimbra, iii. 
 42 
 
 Mar, Lord, is knighted at the festival 
 of St. George, iv. 36 ; his treacher- 
 ous and violent conduct, 36, 37 ; 
 gets possession of James's son, ib. ; 
 queen Anne takes her son out of 
 his hands, 37 
 
 Marbeck, is confined in Winchester 
 house, iii. 154 ; his trial and sen- 
 tence, 155-159 
 
 Marco Antonio, is adopted by the 
 Jesuits, iv. 64 ; is appointed bishop 
 of Segna, ib. ; claims the protection 
 of the doge of Venice, 65 ; is raised 
 to the archbishopric of Spalatro, 
 
 ib. ; the pope is suspicious of his 
 teaching, 66 ; his intimacy with 
 Bedell, the English chaplain at 
 Venice, 67 ; Carleton procures an 
 invitation to him to visit king 
 James, 68 ; his arrival in England, 
 69 ; is lodged at Lambeth palace, 
 ib. ; is made dean of Windsor 
 and registrar of St. George, 70 ; is 
 suspected of being a Jesuit, 71, 72; 
 his greed and oppression, 73 ; 
 points of resemblance between him 
 and the king, 74 ; his scheme for 
 reconciling the Church of England 
 to that of Borne, 75 ; founds a new 
 bench of bishops, 77 ; canon Good- 
 man converted to his views, ib. ; 
 Gondomar asserts that he is a hy- 
 pocrite, 78 ; is unmasked by Gon- 
 domar, 79 ; submits himself to the 
 pope, 81 ; his examination by Mor- 
 ton, 83 ; seeks to leave the king- 
 dom, 85 ; is repelled by Gondo- 
 mar, 86 ; resigns his deanery, ib. ; 
 is expelled from the kingdom, 87 ; 
 is placed by the pope in the castle 
 of St. Angelo, ib ; is visited by 
 Sackville, 88 
 
 Margaret of Eichmond, severity of her 
 early trials, iii. 8 ; is forced into a 
 marriage with Edmund Tudor, 8, 
 9 ; her early widowhood, ib. ; her 
 marriage to Stafford, and after- 
 wards to Stanley, earl of Derby, 9 ; 
 her devotion to her son, Henry VH., 
 9, 10 
 
 Margaret, daughter of Henry VH., 
 her marriage to James IV., king of 
 Scotland, iii. 22, 76, iv. 2 
 
 Marguerite of Austria, her brother, 
 Don Philip, desires to contract her 
 to Henry VII., iii. 47 ; her previous 
 life, 49 
 
 Marlowe, the playwright, his charac- 
 ter, iii. 312, 315, 316, 317, 321, 323, 
 326 
 
 Marney, iii. 65, 66 
 
 Marshalsea, iii. 154 
 
 Martin, John, vicar of Windsor, pe- 
 tition on his behalf, how treated by 
 James I., iv. 95 ; is appointed to a 
 fellowship in Eton 'college, 113 
 
 Mary, queen of Scots, her marriage 
 to the dauphin of France, iii. 268 ; 
 Dudley proposed to, by queen 
 Elizabeth, 273, 278; respect in
 
 INDEX. 
 
 347 
 
 which her memory was held by 
 James II., iv. 294, 295 
 
 Mary, daughter of Henry VII., is con- 
 tracted in marriage with prince 
 Carlos, iii. 39, 41-46 
 
 Mary, daughter of Henry VHI. and 
 Catharine of Aragon, her unwill- 
 ingness to sign the order for Eliz- 
 abeth's execution, iii. 211 ; her sen- 
 sation on hearing the firing of guns 
 on Elizabeth's supposed liberation, 
 214 ; arrives at Windsor Castle 
 to make preparations to welcome 
 Don Philip, 217 ; her early asso- 
 ciations with Windsor, ib. ; her 
 restoration of the order of St. 
 George, ib. ; destroys the statutes 
 of Seymour, ib. ; considers her 
 mission to be the restoration of the 
 catholic church, ib. ; extravagant 
 terms applied to her by monks and 
 friars, 217, 218 ; objects to her 
 proposed marriage with Courtney, 
 219 ; has a desire to marry Pole, 
 ib. ; is refused by Pole, ib. ; 
 Charles V.'s reply to proposals to 
 marry her, 220 ; Charles V. pro- 
 poses to her his son, Don Philip, 
 as a husband, 220, 221 ; is 
 married to Don Philip, 223, 224 ; 
 her fears for the safety of Don 
 Philip's person, 226, 227 ; instals 
 Don Philip as grand master of the 
 order of St. George, 228-231 ; her 
 personal appearance, 232; is 
 loathed by Don Philip, ib. ; is de- 
 serted by Don Philip, 235 ; ap- 
 points Hugh Weston dean of 
 Windsor, 236 ; her numerous vic- 
 tims, 239, 240 ; desires to restore 
 the monks and nuns to their ancient 
 seats, 240 ; effects of her reign on 
 the nation, 247 
 
 Mary, daughter of Charles I. and 
 Henrietta, married to the prince of 
 Orange, iv. 172 
 
 Mary of Modena, the second wife of 
 James H., iv. 296 ; supports her 
 husband in his resolution to re- 
 introduce the catholic religion into 
 England, 299 ; leaves her husband, 
 306 
 
 Mary, daughter of James II., her 
 marriage to William of Orange, iv. 
 296, 300 ; hopes of the people of 
 England centred on her, 300, 301 
 
 Massinger, the dramatist, iii. 317 
 Mason, John, his views of scholars 
 
 and teachers, iii. 277 
 Maurice, holds a command in the 
 
 royal army, iv. 216 
 Maximilian, emperor, seizes Edmund 
 
 de la Pole, iii. 34 
 May erne, ordered by parliament to 
 
 report on the queen's ailments, iv. 
 
 167 
 Melcombe bay, Don Philip, archduke 
 
 of Austria, takes refuge in, iii. 24 
 Melster, vicar of Windsor, is accused 
 
 of irreverence by Filmer , his church- 
 warden, iii. 143 ; is rebuked by 
 
 bishop Salcott, ib. 
 ' Merry Wives of Windsor,' the scenery 
 
 of, laid in the Little park, iv. 11 ; 
 
 portrays the manners of the inhab- 
 itants of Windsor, 12 
 Middle ward, iii. 237 
 Middleton, his reception of the de- 
 puties from William of Orange, iv. 
 
 310 
 Milan, duke of, imprisoned in an 
 
 iron cage by king Louis, iii. 42 
 Molino, agent for the doge of Venice, 
 
 is knighted by king James, iv. 57 
 Moll Davies, is lodged at Bagshot 
 
 lodge and Cranbourne chase, iv. 
 
 287 
 Monmouth, duke of, failure of his 
 
 attempt at insurrection, iv. 300. 
 
 See Crofts 
 Mordaunt appointed constable of 
 
 Windsor Castle, iv. 282 
 More, sir Thomas, his ' Utopia,' iii. 73 ; 
 
 his daughter, 335 
 Morecambe Bay, landing of Simnel 
 
 at, iii. 11 
 Morley, iii. 335 
 Morton, archbishop of Canterbury, 
 
 assists Henry VII. at the festival 
 
 of St. George, iii. 12 
 Morton, iv. 72 ; forces Antonio to 
 
 sign a paper freeing king James 
 
 from blame, 84 
 Mysteries, profanity of, iii. 326 
 
 Naseby, battle of, iv. 215 
 
 Nash, his low character, iii. 312, 315, 
 316, 317, 326 
 
 Nell Gwyn has apartments in Bur- 
 ford house, iv. 287 ; takes charge 
 of the infant prince of James, 
 301, 303
 
 348 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Netherlands, Grey and Southampton's 
 quarrels in, iv. 42, 43 
 
 Neville's Cross, battle of, iii. 3 
 
 Newbury, lord and lady, their plan 
 for the escape of Charles frustrated, 
 iv. 243-248 
 
 Newcastle, duke of, defeats Fairfax 
 at Bramham Moor, iv. 198 
 
 Newport, earl of, master of the 
 Ordnance, his doubtful loyalty, iv. 
 146, 147 
 
 Neyle, his distrust of Marco Antonio, 
 iv. 72 ; his argument with Antonio, 
 84 
 
 Neyt, the, a fragment of the Very 
 Cross, iii. 51 
 
 Norden, his map of Windsor Castle, 
 iii. 17 
 
 Norfolk, duchess of, daughter of Ed- 
 ward, duke of Buckingham, and 
 wife of Thomas, duke of Norfolk, 
 iii. 68, 69 ; effect on her, of the 
 disgrading of her father, 69 ; her 
 Bon, the earl of Surrey, 70 ; her 
 unsoundness of mind, 85, 93, 163 ; 
 leaves her husband, 87 ; annoy- 
 ance caused to her by Bess Hol- 
 land, 94, 102 ; gives information 
 to Cromwell concerning her hus- 
 band, 95 
 
 Norfolk, duke of. See Thomas 
 Howard 
 
 Norman gate, iii. 199, 211 
 
 Norman tower, iii. 12, 21, 26, 109, 
 113, 114, 117, 125, 163, iv. 233, 237 ; 
 Surrey committed to, iii. 109, 117, 
 167 ; poems composed in, 117 ; 
 cavalier prisoners in, iv. 183 ; faced 
 by brick, in the reign of Charles 
 II., 286 
 
 Norreys, conducts Elizabeth to 
 Windsor Castle, iii. 206 
 
 Northampton, earl of, made a knight 
 of the order of St. George, iii. 
 250 
 
 Norwich, finding of grand jury of, 
 against the earl of Surrey, iii. 183 
 
 Nun, Madame, has apartments near 
 the Private stair, iv. 287 
 
 Oath of Allegiance, pamphlet on the, 
 by James I., iv. 53, 57 
 
 Oglethorpe, bishop, his pliant cha- 
 racter, iii. 209 ; is translated to 
 Carlisle, 237 ; crowns Elizabeth, 
 243 
 
 Orkneys and Shetlands, queen Anne 
 
 of Denmark's dowry, iv. 27 
 Our Lady's Eve, iii. 23 
 Our Lady of Windsor, iii. 23, 140, 
 
 141, 146, 148, 304; her image 
 
 broken by Testwood, 141 
 Oxford, Charles keeps his court at, 
 
 iv. 192, 193, 194 
 Oxford, earl of, chamberlain of 
 
 Henry VHL, iii. 87 
 Oxford, earl of, joins William Prince 
 
 of Orange, iv. 306 
 
 Paget, form of inquiry proposed by 
 him to Surrey, iii. 181 ; reports to 
 Dudley Seymour's willingness to 
 agree to terms of submission, 203 ; 
 is expelled from the order of St. 
 George, 229 
 
 Palmer, Barbara, one of the favourites 
 of Charles H., iv. 284 ; the queen 
 insulted by her presence, ib. ; is 
 created lady Castlemaine, 285 ; 
 has apartments in Windsor Castle, 
 287 ; becomes a convert to the 
 catholic faith, 292 
 
 Palmer, Eoger, is elected member for 
 Windsor, iv. 281 ; is created earl 
 Castlemaine, 285 ; shamelessness 
 of his wife, 284-287; is sent as 
 ambassador by James II. to Eome, 
 296 
 
 Paolo the Fifth lays an interdict on 
 Venice, iv. 53, 54 
 
 Parker, archbishop, his ordination at 
 the Nag's Head, iv. 76 
 
 Parliament, gives orders that no war- 
 like munitions should be moved 
 without its permission, iv. 135, 147 ; 
 gives instructions to suppress the 
 rioters at Kingston bridge, 137 
 
 Parr, Catharine, sixth wife of Henry 
 VHI., Gardiner conspires to take 
 her life, iii. 152 ; her marriage to 
 sir Thomas Seymour, 191, 194, 
 195 
 
 Parsons, school of, iv. 5 
 
 Paston, pretends to see signs and 
 visions, iv. 200 
 
 Patey, Thomas, his opposition to the 
 Forest laws, iv. 119, 120 
 
 Patey, John, is taken prisoner and 
 placed in jail, iv. 175 
 
 Pawlet, marquis of Winchester, re- 
 mark of queen Elizabeth to, iii. 
 270
 
 INDEX. 
 
 349 
 
 Pearson, Antony, denounces papistry, 
 iii. 152 ; his aiders and abettors, 
 ib. ; is placed in jail, 157 ; his trial 
 and sentence, 158, 159 
 
 Pegott, Thomas, abbot of Chertsey, 
 his imprisonment in the Norman 
 keep, iii. 110 
 
 Pembroke, William Herbert, third 
 earl of, is knighted at the festival 
 of St. George, iv. 30 ; his character, 
 31 ; his patronage of poets, ib. ; 
 his time at Wilton, ib. ; his fellow- 
 ship with Shakespere, 32 
 
 Pennington, admiral, is ordered to 
 attend the bar of the house of 
 Peers for permitting the escape of 
 Digby, iv. 165 
 
 Pepys, Samuel, note by, on the neg- 
 lect of the queen by Charles II., iv. 
 285 
 
 Petrarch and Laura, iii. 114, 117, 122 
 
 Peters, Hugh, preacher among the 
 Independents, iv. 210; his disre- 
 gard of the ornaments of St. 
 George's choir, 271 ; accompanies 
 Cromwell to Ireland, 274 
 
 Petre, William, his views as to the 
 amount of freedom to be allowed to 
 schoolboys, iii. 276 
 
 Petre, Father, is installed at the 
 king's house as chaplain to James 
 n., iv. 296 ; dissuades the king 
 from calling a parliament, 304 ; 
 escapes abroad with the infant 
 prince, 305 
 
 Philip, Don, archduke of Austria, 
 takes refuge with his wife Juana 
 in Melcombe Bay, iii. 24, 25 ; his 
 opposition to the claims of Henry 
 of Lancaster, 25 ; is invited by 
 Henry VII. to Windsor Castle, 26, 
 27 ; his conferences with his 
 minister, La Chau, 27, 28 ; his 
 meeting with Henry VH., 29 ; is 
 lodged in the Tudor tower, 31 ; 
 his interviews with Henry in the 
 secret room, 33-43 ; enters into 
 a treaty to surrender Edmund 
 de la Pole, and to contract his son, 
 Don Carlos, with Henry's daugh- 
 ter, Mary, 41-46 ; desires to con- 
 tract Henry VII. with his sister 
 Marguerite, 47 ; is installed as a 
 knight of the Garter, 50 ; his loose 
 character, 55; his treatment of 
 Juana, 56-58 ; his death, 60 
 
 Philip, king of Spain, is proposed by 
 his father as a husband to queen 
 Mary, iii. 221 ; his character, 222 ; 
 his arrival at Windsor, 223 ; his mar- 
 riage to Mary, 224 ; is elected one 
 of the Windsor knights, 225 ; is 
 installed grand master of St. 
 George, 225, 228, 230 ; his unpop- 
 ularity, 227 ; his feelings towards 
 Mary, 231 ; his unprepossessing 
 appearance, 232, 233 ; leaves 
 Windsor, ib. ; his banner removed 
 from the sovereigns' stall in St. 
 George's chapel, 259 ; his offer 
 for Elizabeth's hand refused, 260 ; 
 makes proposals of his son, Don 
 Carlos, Filibert, and his cousins 
 Ferdinand and Charles, to Eliza- 
 beth, 260, 261 
 
 Phillips, a singing-man at St. George's 
 chapel, iii. 145, 146 
 
 Pickering takes part with Surrey in 
 his attack on Gresham's bank, iii. 
 132, 133 ; is committed to the 
 Tower, 139 ; his release, 161 ; is 
 discussed as a suitor to Elizabeth, 
 269, 272 
 
 Plantagenet, iii. 8 
 
 Plantagenet, Anne, wife of Edmund 
 de Stafford, iii. 65 
 
 Pole, Cardinal, his letter to queen 
 Mary, iii. 218 ; Mary desires to 
 marry him, 219 ; refuses to en- 
 tertain Mary's proposal, ib ; strips 
 Weston of his deanery, 245 ; his 
 death, 253 
 
 Pole, John de la, earl of Lincoln, 
 is adopted by Bichard HI. as his 
 heir, iii. 10 ; the rising in his 
 favour by lord Lovel quelled by 
 Henry VII., 10 ; favours the claims 
 of Simnel, 11 ; his death on the 
 battle-field, ib. 
 
 Pole, Edmund de la, heir to the 
 claims of his brother John to the 
 throne, iii. 11 ; his seizure by the 
 emperor Maximilian, 34 ; Don 
 Philip is induced by Henry VH. 
 to surrender him, 27, 41-46 ; his 
 intrigues against Henry VII., 36, 
 37, 41 ; is detained by Don Philip 
 in Namur, 42 
 
 Pole, Michael de la, his imprisonment 
 in the Norman keep, iii. 110 
 
 Pontefract, iii. 208, 210, 211 
 
 Poor Clares, the, iii. 21
 
 350 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Portsmouth, Warwick's troops are 
 mobbed at, iii. 293 
 
 Portsmouth, Duchess of, has apart- 
 ments in Windsor Castle, iv. 287 
 
 Powel, is taken captive by Langhorne, 
 iv. 239 ; is imprisoned in the Norman 
 tower, ib. ; his sentence to be shot 
 not carried into effect, 240 
 
 Poyer, colonel, is taken prisoner by 
 Langhorne, iv. 239 ; is imprisoned 
 in the Norman tower, 239, 240 ; is 
 shot, 240 
 
 Prague, rout of, iv. 61 
 
 Private stair, the, iii. 17, 53, 57, 333, 
 iv. 7 
 
 Profanity in Shakespere's time the 
 language of comedy, iii. 325 
 
 Puck's lane, iii. 308 
 
 Pulci, iii. 114 
 
 Puritans, increase of, caused b'y the 
 ' Book of Sports,' iv. 107 
 
 Pym reads the intercepted letters of 
 Digby, iv. 169 
 
 Eainsford, his request to queen Eli- 
 zabeth, iii. 251 
 
 Ealeigh, sir Walter, statesman, iii. 
 338, 339, iv. 2, 21, 28 ; is com- 
 mitted to the Tower, 47 ; endea- 
 vours to stimulate James against 
 Spain, 48 ; is charged with a con- 
 spiracy to support the king of 
 Spain, 51 
 
 Eamsborough is placed at Windsor 
 with his regiment, iv. 213 
 
 Eeading, army of Charles II. at, iv. 
 181, 182, 192, 198 
 
 Eelic Sunday, iii. 143, 144 
 
 Eenard, Spanish agent in the reign of 
 Mary, iii. 212, 221, 222, 223, 224, 
 226, 227 ; his eagerness for the 
 death of Elizabeth, 211 
 
 Eeynolds the painter favoured by 
 Henry VII., iii. 15 
 
 Eichard, duke of York, is murdered 
 in the Tower, iii. 5 
 
 Eichard III. (Crookback), his false 
 conduct to Elizabeth of York, iii. 
 5 ; imprisons Elizabeth in Sheriff 
 Hutton, 7 ; causes George of Cla- 
 rence to be drowned in a butt of 
 wine, ib. ; his defeat at Bosworth 
 field, 21 ; is buried at Leicester, 
 ib. 
 
 Eichard of Bordeaux, his death at 
 Pontefract, iii. 210 
 
 Bich, earl of Holland, constable of 
 Windsor, his favour with the king 
 and queen, iv.Vl22; favours granted 
 to him, 122, 123 ; his fears at the 
 opposition roused by the Forest 
 laws, 123, 124 ; considers that the 
 king was entering on a dangerous 
 course, 125 
 
 Eich, lady Penelope, her love of 
 money, iv. 23 ; her connexions with 
 lord Montjoy, 23, 24 
 
 Eichbell is indicted for killing the 
 king's deer, iv. 96, 97 
 
 Eichmond, earl of, son of Henry 
 VIII. and Elizabeth Blount, iii. 
 73 ; Surrey selected to be his com- 
 panion, 74 ; his boyhood in Essex, 
 77 ; his schoolboy days, ib. ; his 
 father's intentions towards him, 
 75, 76 ; is created duke of Somer- 
 set, 76 ; his life at Windsor with 
 Surrey, 78, 79 ; his travels in 
 France, 80 ; his treatment by 
 Catharine of Aragon and Anne 
 Boleyn, 82 ; falls in love with lady 
 Mary Howard, 82, 83 ; his suit 
 favoured by Anne Boleyn, 84, 86 ; 
 is made duke of Ireland, 88 ; ob- 
 tains a dispensation from the pope 
 to marry lady Mary Howard, 88 ; 
 his death and burial in Thetford 
 priory, 91 
 
 Eichmond, lord, obliged to ask for- 
 giveness from the peers, iv. 161 
 
 Eidley, bishop, death of, iii. 241, 243 
 
 Eingers, payment of, iv. 211 
 
 Eobsart, Amy, her love-match with 
 Eobert Dudley, iii. 272, 273 ; her 
 mysterious death, 273 
 
 Eochford, lord, his execution, iii. 90 
 
 Eoet, Catharine de, iii. 8 
 
 Eogers, the informer, bears evidence 
 against Surrey, iii. 168, 169 
 
 Eose of York, iii. 41 
 
 Eothes, lord, his capture at Worces- 
 ter and imprisonment in Windsor 
 Castle, iv. 275 
 
 Eoundheads, iv. 174-182 
 
 Eoyal arms, attempt to lower the, by 
 queen Mary frustrated, iii. 234 
 
 Eoyal forest enclosed, iv. 89 
 
 Eandolph of Austria, his terms of 
 peace not such as England could 
 honourably entertain, iv. 50 
 
 Eump, why so called, iv. 211 ; vari- 
 ance between it and the army, 216
 
 INDEX. 
 
 351 
 
 Bupert, prince, is appointed master of 
 the horse, iv. 178 ; fails in his en- 
 deavour to take Windsor, 180, 181 ; 
 his success at Chalgrove, 198 ; is 
 defeated by Cromwell's soldiers at 
 Naseby, 216 ; his departure from 
 England, ib. 
 
 Kuthven, a parliamentary captain, 
 takes the Fortescues prisoners, iv. 
 187 ; disperses Fortescue's band, ib. 
 
 Rutland, Henry, earl of, made a 
 knight of the order of St. George, 
 iii. 250 
 
 Rybaud, Jean, assistance given him 
 by Elizabeth in founding a colony 
 in Florida, iii. 287 ; enters into an 
 agreement to enter the service of 
 the king of France, ib. ; endea- 
 vours to liberate the four hostages 
 of Calais, 288, 289 
 
 Sackville, Thomas, the poet, his tra- 
 gedy of ' Gorbaduc,' iii. 278 ; seeks 
 the advice of Ascham respect- 
 ing the instruction of children, 
 280 ; is desirous that Ascham 
 should put his views on the right 
 order of teaching in writing, 281 ; 
 his tragedy of 'Ferrex and Porrex,' 
 3:^4 
 
 Sackville, T. his interview with 
 Marco Antonio in the castle of St. 
 Angelo, iv. 87, 88 
 St. Albans, battle of, iii. 8 
 St. Angelo, castle of, Marco Antonio 
 
 imprisoned in, iv. 87 
 St. Bartholomew, massacre of, iii. 
 
 333 
 
 St. Edward's chapel, iii. 237 
 St. George, the patron saint of Eng- 
 land, iii. 3 ; loyalty of Henry VII. 
 to, 3, 4 ; festival in honour of, 14 ; 
 Henry VII.'s mode of suppressing 
 the Irish branch of the order of, 
 19 ; Edward, duke of Bucking- 
 ham, disgraded from the order of, 
 61 ; dagger of, 144, 145 ; the order 
 of, neglected by protector Sey- 
 mour, 196; the order of, changed 
 to the order of the Garter, 198 ; 
 alteration in the badge of, ib. ; is 
 restored to his position by Queen 
 Mary, 210 ; Don Philip made 
 grand master of, 225, 228, 230 
 sad condition of the order of, at the 
 accession of Elizabeth, 249 ; the 
 
 rites of the festival of, conducted in 
 the English tongue in Elizabeth's 
 reign, 250 ; knights added to order 
 of, by Elizabeth, 251 ; Marco An- 
 tonio appointed registrar of, iv. 70, 
 71 ; festival of, in the reign of 
 Charles II. 184 
 
 3t. George's hall, is built by Edward 
 III., iii. 2 ; standards and spoils of 
 war in the crypt of, 2, 3 ; Henry 
 
 VII. holds a festival with great 
 pomp in, 3-13 ; is stripped of its 
 shields by the parliament,' iv. 269 ; 
 is converted by Charles II. into a 
 French theatre, 286 ; D'Adda, the 
 papal nuncio, his reception at, 299 
 
 St. George's chapel, royal personages 
 buried in, iii. 14 ; Jane Seymour's 
 burial in, 98 ; Testwood's conduct 
 in, 140-144 ; relics in, 144 ; Henry 
 
 VIII. buried in, 186 ; is re- 
 paired by Elizabeth, 249 ; Weston 
 asserts that a conspiracy had been 
 formed to violate the grave of 
 Henry VIII. in, 251, 252 ; the 
 plate of, taken away by Captain Fog, 
 iv. 181 ; is stripped of its shields 
 and ornaments by Venn, 198 ; 
 state of, at the funeral of Charles, 
 257 ; burial of Charles I. in, ib. ; 
 is shut up by Whichcot, 258 ; is 
 opened for public worship by Crom- 
 well, 280 ; is restored by Charles 
 H., 282 ; sermon preached in, by 
 father Ellis, 297 ; George HI. and 
 his wife buried in, iv. 325 
 
 St. George's choir closed by Which- 
 cot, 269 
 
 St. George's keep changed into a 
 jail, iv. 276 
 
 St. Lawrence lane, iii. 129, 130, 131, 
 134, 135, 136 
 
 ' Saints,' a name given to the army 
 in Cromwell's time, iv. 212 ; their 
 fanaticism, 225 
 
 Salcott, chancellor of the order of 
 St. George, iii. 205 
 
 Salisbury tower, iii. 12, 16, 205, iv. 
 317 
 
 Saltmarsh, chaplain of the parlia- 
 mentary army, his influence 
 among the soldiers, iv. 226 ; reveals 
 to Fairfax and Cromwell a vision 
 that had appeared to him, 226-229 ; 
 goes home and dies, 230 
 
 Salve, Odet de, reports on the high
 
 352 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 esteem in which Norfolk and 
 Surrey were held by Henry VIII., 
 iii. 173 
 
 Sanctuary of Westminster, Elizabeth 
 of York takes refuge in, iii. 5 
 
 Santiago, Don Philip grand master 
 of the order of, iii. 230 
 
 Sarpi, Father, iv. 65 
 
 Saturday Henry VH.'s ' lucky ' day, 
 iii. 1,2 
 
 Scots view England as a great field 
 of enterprise, iii. 283 ; then- treat- 
 ment of Charles I., iv. 216 ; in- 
 vite Charles H. to Scotland, 
 274 ; are defeated by Cromwell at 
 Dunbar, 275 
 
 Scott, sir Walter, iii. 119, 121 
 
 Scrofula, James H. touches for the 
 cure of, iv. 298 
 
 Secret room, conferences in, between 
 Henry VII. and Don Philip, arch- 
 duke of Austria, iii. 33-44 ; is 
 closed, iv. 269 
 
 Self-denying Ordinance, its effect, iv. 
 204 
 
 Seymour, Edward, duke of Somer- 
 set, protector in the reign of Ed- 
 ward VI., conspires against Anne 
 Boleyn, iii. 90 ; obtains a peerage, 
 ib. ; objects to the burial of the 
 earl of Eichmond in St. George's 
 chapel, 91 ; his intrigues against 
 the duke of Norfolk, 92, 93, 94; 
 is created earl of Hertford, 98 ; 
 marries Anne Stanhope, 101 ; 
 holds back lady Mary's jointure, 
 101, 102 ; part taken by him hi 
 the execution of Catharine Howard, 
 108 ; procures the imprisonment 
 of the earl of Surrey in Windsor 
 Castle, 111, 112 ; imposes terms 
 on the liberation of Surrey, 
 125 ; stimulates Wriottesley and 
 Browne in their proceedings against 
 Surrey, 136, 138, 139; Surrey's 
 military command in France given 
 to him, 165 ; receives a challenge 
 from Surrey, 167; his evidence 
 against Surrey, 168 ; orders Surrey 
 to be placed in ward, 178 ; and the 
 duke of Norfolk to be arrested, 
 ib. ; on the death of Henry VHI. 
 is created a duke, 188 ; his claim 
 to the protectorate opposed by 
 Wriottesley, 189; softens Wriot- 
 tesley by the offer of a coronet, 
 
 192 ; is made protector, ib. ; casts 
 Gardiner and Bonner into prison, 
 ib. ; death of his brother, sir 
 Thomas, 195 ; his neglect of St. 
 George, 196, 197 ; his aversion to 
 Windsor, ib. ; changes the name 
 and badge of the order of St. 
 George, 198 ; takes possession of 
 Windsor Castle, 199 ; denounces 
 his rival, Dudley, 200 ; orders the 
 lord mayor of London to send sup- 
 plies to Windsor, 200, 201 ; is de- 
 serted by his wife, 202 ; is left 
 without supports, 203 ; sends terms 
 of submission to Dudley, 203, 204 ; 
 is deprived of his government, 
 204 ; is lodged in Salisbury tower, 
 205 ; his work in St. George's 
 chapel undone, 217; his execution, 
 229 
 Seymour, Jane, supplants Anne 
 
 Boleyn, iii. 90 
 
 Seymour, sir Thomas, is proposed as 
 a husband to lady Mary Howard, 
 iii. 103, 105 ; on the accession of Ed- 
 ward VI. is created baron of Sude- 
 ley, 191, 194 ; and lord high ad- 
 miral, 191 ; seeks the hand of 
 Elizabeth, and is refused, 194, 
 195 ; marries Catharine Parr, 191, 
 194, 195 ; on the death of Catha- 
 rine renews his suit to Elizabeth, 
 195 ; his execution, ib. 
 Shakespere, William, numerous mis- 
 takes made by him respecting 
 Buckingham's plot, iii. 61-63; writes 
 ' Sir John Falstaff ' at Elizabeth's 
 command, 300 ; his lines on Wind- 
 sor Castle, 302 ; on St. George's 
 choir, ib. ; on the Garter, ib. ; his 
 familiarity with Windsor and its 
 inhabitants, 303, 304 ; his com- 
 rades in Windsor, 306; the two 
 editions of ' Sir John Falstaff ' re- 
 present different phases of his 
 mind, 311-323 ; the first portion of 
 his life how spent, 313, 314 ; his 
 escape from the temptations around 
 him, 314, 315 ; the knowledge pos- 
 sessed of his personal history, 317, 
 318 ; change of his sentiments 
 towards Lutherans, 321-323 ; his 
 complimentary lines to Elizabeth, 
 336 ; his fellowship with the earl 
 of Pembroke, iv. 32 ; his early 
 poems dedicated to lord South-
 
 INDEX. 
 
 353 
 
 ampton, 33, 34; his sonnets, 34, 
 35 
 
 Shaxton, iii. 335 
 
 Shene, palace of, iii. 2 ; queen Juana 
 is taken to, 28 ; princesses Catha- 
 rine and Mary go to, 57, 59 ; 
 Elizabeth a prisoner at, 210, 214 
 
 Sheldon, a domestic chaplain of 
 Charles I., iv. 218 
 
 Shelton, Mary, letter of her cousin 
 Surrey to, iii. 176, 177 
 
 Sherborne castle, iv. 324 
 
 Sheriff Hutton, Elizabeth of York 
 imprisoned in, iii. 7 
 
 Shorne, John, Lincoln chapel built 
 to receive his bones, iii. 118 ; his 
 shrine, 140 
 
 Shrewsbury, surprised and taken by 
 Langhorne, iv. 235, 236 
 
 Simnel, Lambert, assumes the name 
 of Edward, son of Clarence, iii. 11 ; 
 his claims favoured by lord Lin- 
 coln and the Geraldines, ib. ; his 
 defeat, and is placed in the king's 
 kitchen, ib. ; acts a part as long's 
 cup-bearer, 20 
 
 Simon, is rebuked by bishop Salcott, 
 iii. 143 ; his revengeful spirit, 151 ; 
 is tried and set in the pillory, 161 
 
 ' Sir John Falstaff and the Merry 
 Wives of Windsor,' written at 
 Elizabeth's command, iii. 300 ; 
 Windsor characters depicted in, 
 307, 308 ; originally irreverent 
 and profane, 314 ; subsequent edi- 
 tions indicate change in Shake- 
 spere's inner life, 325, 328-331 
 
 Skelton, the poet, iii. 12 
 
 Skippon, a soldier of the Common- 
 wealth, iv. 128; receives orders 
 from parliament to invest the 
 Tower, 147 
 
 Smith, sir John, imprisoned in the 
 Norman tower, iv. 184 
 
 Smithfield, restoration of monkish 
 cells in, iii. 241 
 
 Somerset, Charles, duke of, declines 
 attending the reception of the papal 
 nuncio, iv. 298 
 
 South porte, iii. 12, 199 
 
 Southwell, Robert, the Jesuit, his 
 verses to the Virgin, iii. 121 
 
 Southwell, his charges against 
 Surrey, iii. 177 ; is challenged to 
 fight by Surrey, ib. ; is placed in 
 ward by Seymour, ib. 
 
 VOL. IV. 
 
 Spain, feelings of Elizabeth towards, 
 iii. 299 ; Elizabeth at war with, 
 ib. ; its advocates, iv. 48 ; its 
 inimical feelings towards England, 
 49 ; its agents in England in the 
 reign of James I., ib. ; its con- 
 quests and possessions, ib. 
 
 Spalatro, its poverty and decay, iv. 
 62, 63 ; Marco Antonio appointed 
 archbishop of, ib. 
 
 ' Sports, Book of,' sent forth by 
 Charles I., iv. 98 ; its effect on the 
 spirit of the people, 98, 99, 101 ; 
 nature of its rules, 103, 104 ; is 
 ordered to be read from all the 
 pulpits in the land, 105 ; its re- 
 ception by the clergy, 106 ; the 
 country divided by it into parties, 
 ib. ; has the effect of making the 
 people puritans, 107 
 
 Sports, opposition to, iv. 91 
 
 Spanish Armada, destruction of, iii. 
 338 
 
 Spenser, Edmund, and Eosalind, iii. 
 122 ; his noble life, 314; his per- 
 sonal history not much known, 
 317, 318 ; takes Grey as his patron, 
 iv. 33 
 
 Stage, morals of the, in Shakespere's 
 time, iii. 326 
 
 Stafford, earl of, his marriage to the 
 widow of Edmund Tudor, iii. 9 
 
 Stafford, Edmund de, husband of 
 Anne Plantagenet, iii. 65 
 
 Stanhope, Anne, second wife of Icrd- 
 protector Seymour, iii. 101, 166, 
 182 ; deserts her husband, 202 
 
 Stanley, earl of Derby, his marriage 
 to Margaret of Richmond, iii. 9 
 
 ' Star '-chamber at Windsor, iv. 286 
 
 Stillingfleet, bishop, his observation 
 on the change of religion by lady 
 Castlemaine, iv. 292 
 
 Stirling castle, iv. 37 
 
 Stradling, Sir Harry and John, offi- 
 cers in the royalist army, prisoners 
 in the Norman tower, iv. 234 
 
 Stradling, Sir Edward, his capture, 
 iv. 237 
 
 Streets, his portrait of the earl of 
 Surrey, iii. 175, 180, 182, 184 
 
 Stuart, Arabella, wife of the mar- 
 quis of Hertford, iv. 148 
 
 Stuart, divine catastrophe of the 
 house of, iv. 1 
 
 Stukeley, an English pirate, seeks an 
 
 A A
 
 354 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 opportunity to drive away the colony 
 founded by Eybaud in Florida, iii. 
 287 ; brings information of the 
 failure of Eybaud's colony, 294 ; 
 punishes a deserter, 295 
 
 Suffolk house, iv. 23 
 
 Suffolk, Lady Catharine, her unscru- 
 pulous character, iv. 22 ; receives 
 bribes from Spain, 50 
 
 Suffolk, duke of, his dying hours 
 outraged by Weston, iii. 241, 242 
 
 Sunday, Seymour's lucky day, iii. 90 
 
 Sydney, Sir Philip, and Stella, iii. 
 122 ; is one of the favourites 
 of queen Elizabeth, 335 ; his 
 ' Astrophel and Stella,' iv. 31 ; his 
 fellowship with Pembroke, 32 
 
 Taverns of Windsor, iii. 305 
 
 Temple Bar, proclamation of the 
 protectorate at, iv. 277 
 
 Tennis-court, iii. 110, 113, 114 
 
 Testwood, Robert, his opposition to 
 Gardiner, iii. 141 ; remonstrates 
 with some pilgrims to the shrine of 
 Our Lady, 141, 142 ; knocks off a 
 piece of the nose of the Virgin, 
 142 ; ridicules the relics of the 
 saints, 144 ; refuses to bear the 
 dagger of St. George, 144, 145 ; his 
 heretical doings, 145, 146 ; is 
 tried by the duke of Norfolk, 
 149 ; is liberated by the duke, 
 ib. ; is cast into jail by Gardiner, 
 153 ; his trial and condemnation, 
 157, 158 ; is burnt at Windsor, 
 159, 160 ; effect of his martyrdom 
 on English thought, iv. 6 
 
 Thame, lord, a convert to the cause 
 of Elizabeth, iii. 213 
 
 Theatres in the time of Shakespere, 
 iii. 313 
 
 Thetford priory, Henry, earl of 
 Eichmond, buried in, iii. 91, 105 
 
 Throgmorton, ambassador at the 
 French court, is seized and carried 
 to Vincennes, iii. 289 
 
 Tower of London, Elizabeth in the, 
 iii. 213 ; is taken possession of by 
 the parliamentary troops, iv. 152 
 
 Tudor, Edmund, his marriage to 
 Margaret of Eichmond, iii. 9 
 
 Tudor, Owen ap, grandfather of 
 Henry VII., iii. 1 
 
 Tudor tower built by Henry VII. 
 iii. 14-22 ; its site and style, 16, 
 
 17, 26; Don Philip is lodged^in, 31; 
 conferences in, 33, 34; notices of, 81, 
 84, 85, 273, 332, iv. 6, 7, 253, 269 
 Tyndal, iii. 21 
 
 Udal, master of Eton, his faith in 
 
 flogging, iii. 277 
 Upper ward, iii. 1, 85, 199, 211, 253, 
 
 274, 294 
 Urswick, Father Christopher, is the 
 
 bearer of a message from Henry of 
 
 Eichmond to Elizabeth of York, 
 
 iii. 5-7 
 
 Vasa, Gustavus, desires a union for 
 his son Eric with Elizabeth, iii. 
 255 
 
 Venice, her many charms for Eng- 
 lishmen, iv. 55, 56 ; its rivalry 
 with Eome, ib. ; an interdict 
 launched against it by the pope, 
 56 
 
 Venn, John, a parliamentary leader, 
 his ardour hi the roundhead cause, 
 v. 177 ; receives orders to seize 
 Windsor Castle, ib. ; takes up his 
 abode in Windsor as governor, 
 180 ; shuts up the deanery and 
 college of Windsor, 197 ; ransacks 
 the chapel, 198 ; his departure 
 from Windsor, 213 ; is one of the 
 court of justice for the trial of 
 Charles I., 254 
 
 Vere, lady Frances, maid of honour 
 to Anne Boleyn, iii. 82 ; the earl 
 of Surrey falls in love with her, 
 83 ; her character and home, ib. 
 
 Verrio, paintings by, at Windsor 
 Castle, iv. 286, 318 
 
 Very Cross, the, iii. 304 
 
 Versailles, palace of, imitated by 
 Charles II. at Windsor, iv. 286 
 
 Victoria, queen, her conversion of 
 Windsor Castle into a home, iv. 
 325 ; her marriage with Prince 
 Albert, 326 ; her delight in Wind- 
 sor, ib. ; her sons and daughters, 
 327 ; her domestic life at Windsor, 
 ib. ; her great loss, ib. ; a picture 
 of her in the historical future, 328, 
 329 
 
 Vincennes, Throgmorton confined in 
 the fortress of, iii. 289, 294 
 
 Vintners at Windsor in Elizabeth's 
 tune, iii. 306 
 
 Virginia, iii. 334
 
 INDEX. 
 
 355 
 
 Waller, colonel, defeats Herbert near 
 Gloucester, iv. 199 ; disobeys the 
 commands of Essex, 200 ; with 
 Browne and Clotworthy declares 
 against the commonwealth pro- 
 posed by Cromwell, 271 ; is ar- 
 rested and imprisoned, 272 
 
 Walpole, iii. 120 
 
 Warbeck, the pretender, iii. 25 
 
 Ware, Lilburne attacked by Crom- 
 well at, iv. 229 
 
 Warham, archbishop of Canterbury, 
 is present at the signing of the 
 Windsor treaties, iii. 51 ; is ap- 
 pointed one of the commissicners 
 to negotiate the marriage of Mar- 
 guerite with Henry VII., 60 
 
 Warner, his evidence against Surrey, 
 iii. 168 
 
 Warton the poet, iii. 120 
 
 Warwick, earl of, his occupation of 
 Havre, iii. 284 ; sufferings of his 
 troops, 290 ; retires from Havre, 
 291 ; his troops mobbed on their 
 return, 293 
 
 Welbeck, iv. 324 
 
 Westminster abbey, Henry VII. 's 
 chapel at, iii. 16, 22 
 
 Westminster, Cromwell's head-quar- 
 ters removed from Windsor to, iv. 
 276 
 
 Weston, Hugh, appointed by Mary 
 dean of Windsor and registrar of 
 the order of St. George, iii. 236; 
 his conduct in the reigns of Henry 
 and Edward, 238 ; takes an active 
 part in the persecution of the pro- 
 testants, 240, 241 ; his conduct at 
 the execution of Wyat, 241, 242 ; 
 outrages the last hours of the 
 duke of Suffolk, 242, 243 ; hunts 
 to the death Latimer, Eidley, and 
 Cranmer, 243, 244 ; is convicted of 
 adultery, 245; is stripped of his 
 deanery, and committed to the 
 Tower, ib. ; reveals a plot for vio- 
 lating Henry VHI.'s grave, 251 
 
 Whalley, colonel, is intrusted with 
 the charge of Charles I. when at 
 Windsor, iv. 212 ; is one of the 
 court at the trial of Charles, 254 
 
 Whichcot, governor of Windsor 
 Castle, his reception of Charles, 
 iv. 212 ; his regret at the despoil- 
 ing of St. George's chapel, 219 ; 
 drives out the chaplains and bed- 
 
 chamber men, ib. ; takes charge of 
 Charles when brought there a pri- 
 soner, 253 ; interferes with Juxon 
 in using the Prayer-book at the 
 burial of Charles I., 257 ; shuts up 
 St. George's chapel, 258 
 
 White lady, iii. 141 
 
 Whitehall, Charles I. executed at, iv. 
 253 
 
 Whiteley, John, innkeeper at Wind- 
 sor, jovial days at his house on the 
 accession of Elizabeth, iii. 246, 
 247 ; is elected mayor of Wind- 
 sor, ib. 
 
 White Virgin, iii. 23 
 
 Wickes, mayor of Windsor, presents 
 a petition to king James in favour 
 of the vicar, iv. 94, 95 ; is re- 
 pulsed by the king, 95 
 
 William of Orange, is married to 
 Mary, daughter of James II. , iv. 
 296, 300 ; his sympathy with the 
 church of England, 302 ; is dis- 
 liked by James, ib. ; his lofty cha- 
 racter, ib. ; sends Zulestein to con- 
 gratulate James on the birth of a 
 son, 303 ; receives invitations to 
 come to England, ib. ; lands at 
 Torbay, 305 ; marches towards 
 Windsor, ib. ; desertion of James's 
 regiments to, ib. ; enters Salisbury, 
 306; is joined by Clarendon and 
 other peers, ib. ; arrives at Wind- 
 sor, 307 ; refuses to see Fever- 
 sham, ib. ; lodges Feversham in 
 St. George's keep, ib. ; occupies 
 part of the Tudor tower, 308; 
 message of his council to James, 
 309, 310 ; pays a public visit to 
 Catharine of Braganza, 310, 311 ; 
 scenes between him and his god- 
 son William, son of queen Anne, 
 313, 316 
 
 William, duke of Gloucester, son of 
 queen Anne, scenes in the life of, 
 iv. 313-316 ; his tutors and go- 
 vernors, 317 ; his early death, 317, 
 318 
 
 Williams, John, archbishop of Can- 
 terbury, is imprisoned in the 
 Tower, iv. 155 
 
 Wilton abbey, the home of the earl 
 of Pembroke, iv. 31 ; its name 
 changed to Wilton house, 324 
 
 Winchester house, iii. 133, 154 
 
 Winchester tower, iii. 237
 
 356 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Windebank, colonel, shot by Charles 
 I. for giving up Blechingdon house, 
 iv. 210 
 
 Windsor Castle, entrance of Henry 
 of Richmond into, iii. 1 ; pomp of 
 the festival of St. George at, 12 ; 
 attachment of Henry VII. and his 
 queen to, 14 ; kings and queens 
 buried in, ib. ; additions to, by 
 Henry VII., 14-22 ; feasts given 
 to the adherents of Lambert 
 Simnel at, 19, 20 ; meeting of 
 Henry VII. and Don Philip at, 
 24-32 ; treaties made at, between 
 Henry VII. and Don Philip, 44- 
 52 ; queen Juana arrives at, 53 ; 
 meeting at, of Juana and her 
 sister Catharine, 55 ; the duke of 
 Buckingham disgraded at, 61 ; 
 Surrey called to, by Henry VIII. 
 to be a companion to his son the 
 earl of Eichmond, 71 ; Henry VIII. 
 and Catharine of Aragon at, 80, 
 81 ; Anne Boleyn at, 81 ; love- 
 passages of Eichmond and Surrey 
 at, 80-89 ; Eichmond denied a 
 grave in, 91 ; the duke of Norfolk 
 called to, 93 ; disaffection in, 96, 
 97 ; executions in, ib. ; return of 
 Norfolk to, 97 ; Catharine Howard 
 takes up her abode at, 106 ; Henry 
 VIII. remains at, during the trial 
 and condemnation of Catharine 
 Howard, 108 ; Surrey is com- 
 mitted as a prisoner to, 108-111 ; 
 Surrey's elegy on, 113-116 ; the 
 legend of ' Fair Geraldine ' written 
 in, 118 ; Fair Geraldine's associa- 
 tions with, 119 ; Surrey's libera- 
 tion from, 125 ; gospellers at, 140 ; 
 heretical practices in, 140-150; 
 martyrdoms in, 151-161 ; its in- 
 spiring effects on Surrey's poetic 
 muse, 162, 163 ; Surrey sent again 
 as a prisoner, to, 167 ; Surrey's 
 room in, ever an object of venera- 
 tion, 185 ; Henry VIII.'s funeral 
 at, 186, 187 ; consultations of 
 Seymour and his friends at, 189 ; 
 Seymour and Edward VI. arrive 
 at, 199 ; Seymour takes possession 
 of, 200-202 ; its long neglect by 
 Seymour, 201 ; Seymour besieged 
 and taken prisoner in, by Dudley, 
 204 ; is taken possession of by 
 Dudley, ib. ; Elizabeth taken as a 
 
 prisoner to, 206 ; Elizabeth's de- 
 parture from, 215 ; Mary makes 
 preparations for the arrival of Philip 
 at, 216, 223; Mary's early days 
 passed in, 216, 217 ; entrance of 
 Philip and Mary into, 224 ; Philip 
 made grand master of St. George 
 at, 230 ; life of Philip and Mary 
 at, 232 ; Philip's departure from, 
 235 ; Mary brings Hugh Weston 
 to the deanery of, 236-238 ; re- 
 joicings at, on the accession of 
 Elizabeth, 246 ; sad state of, on 
 the death of Mary, 249 ; Eliza- 
 beth's retreat to, 254 ; articles of 
 peace signed at, 263, 283, 332 ; 
 Ascham's ' Schoolmaster ' written 
 at, 274 ; to escape pestilence, Eliza- 
 beth finds a refuge in, ib. ; Eliza- 
 beth's studies with Ascham at, 274, 
 278 ; the hostages of Calais lodged 
 at, 284 ; Eybaud's plot for steal- 
 ing the hostages from, 287, 288 ; 
 Stukeley brings a deserter from 
 Eybaud's colony to, 294, 295 ; 
 M. Mauvissiere comes to, with a 
 message from king Charles, 296 ; 
 Friedrich of Wurtemberg's visit to, 
 320 ; is Elizabeth's favourite re- 
 sort, 332-340 ; James VI.'s settle- 
 ment in, iv. 2 ; salubrity of its 
 atmosphere, ib. ; its change from 
 being a Norman stronghold to an 
 English home, 7 ; James I. en- 
 closes the Little park of, 10 ; 
 arrival of Anne, consort of James 
 I., at, 17 ; Anne's court at, 19-29 ; 
 quarrel between Grey and South- 
 ampton at, 39-41 ; Ealeigh at, 
 urges on king James the necessity 
 of war with Spain, 49 ; false ac- 
 cusations of Ealeigh at, 50 ; prince 
 Christiern's visit to, 57, 58 ; Marco 
 Antonio's arrival and residence at, 
 70 ; appointments conferred on 
 Marco Antonio in, ib. ; quarrels 
 between it and the town respecting 
 forest rights, 90, 91 ; Ben Jonson's 
 plays acted in, 93 ; the ' Book of 
 Sports ' issued from, 103 ; attach- 
 ment of Charles I. and Henrietta 
 to, 109 ; disturbances in, from the 
 forest laws, 119-126 ; is seized by 
 Charles, 126-128 ; the deputies of 
 Bucks have an audience with 
 Charles at, 140-142 ; Hertford's
 
 INDEX. 
 
 357 
 
 message to Charles at, 148 ; its de- 
 ficiency in warlike materials, 150 ; 
 Charles departs from, to engage in 
 a civil war, 173 ; lord Holland, 
 constable of Windsor, takes pos- 
 session of, ib. ; state of the park of, 
 175 ; is seized by Venn, 177 ; its 
 value to Essex in a military point 
 of view, ib. ; prince Rupert is 
 baffled in his attempt to seize it, 
 180, 181 ; is menaced by Charles, 
 181 ; Essex takes up his abode in, 
 182 ; cavalier prisoners in, 183- 
 191 ; Charles is anxious to regain 
 its possession, 193 ; Charles is for- 
 bidden to approach it, ib. ; Venn's 
 troubles with the intruders into the 
 park and forest of, 196 ; Venn 
 breaks into the deanery and col- 
 lege of, 197 ; Essex returns to, 
 199 ; is the head-quarters of the 
 parliamentary army, 200 ; Fairfax 
 takes possession of, 201 ; the army 
 new modelled at, 206 ; interview of 
 Fairfax and Cromwell at, 209 ; 
 Fairfax goes from, with his army, 
 210; return of Charles to, under 
 the guard of colonel Whalley, 211 ; 
 Whichcot, governor of, his recep- 
 tion of Charles, 213 ; king's posi- 
 tion at, 216 ; the king's domestic 
 chaplains and bedchamber men 
 thrust from, 218 ; the king leaves 
 it for Caversham park, 220 ; 
 Fairfax moves his troops into, 222 ; 
 the Stuart flag removed from, 223 ; 
 Cromwell's letters to Hammond 
 from, 225 ; messages of the saints 
 to, ib. ; Cromwell leaves, to en- 
 counter Lilburne at Ware, 227 ; 
 Brown Bushel a prisoner in, 231 ; 
 Rowland Langhorne and the 
 Stradlings confined in, 233, 234; 
 R. Powel imprisoned in, 240 ; 
 route of Charles, a prisoner from 
 Hurst castle to, 242 ; reception of 
 Charles at, 252 ; his quarters in, 
 253 ; Charles' departure from, for 
 his trial, 256; Charles' burial in, 257; 
 escape of James, duke of Hamil- 
 ton, and lord Loughborough from, 
 259-263; Capel and Goring removed 
 from, to the Tower, 267 ; sad con- 
 dition of, during the common- 
 wealth, 269-278; Waller impri- 
 soned in, under Harrison's charge, 
 
 272 ; Cromwell cornea to, to con- 
 sult Fairfax previous to his going 
 to Ireland, 274 ; is made a ' gar- 
 rison ' by Cromwell, 276 ; Crom- 
 well's improvements in, 280; 
 Charles H. proclaimed king at, 
 281 ; festival of St. George at, 281 ; 
 lady Castlemaine provided with 
 apartments in, 285 ; changes made 
 in, by May and Verrio, 286 ; 
 Gibbons' carvings in, ib. ; the 
 courtesans of Charles reside in, 
 287 ; march of William from Tor- 
 bay to, 305 ; queen and prince 
 left at, by James II., ib. ; Petre re- 
 ceives orders to remove the infant 
 prince from, 306 ; William's ar- 
 rival at, ib. ; James sends Fever- 
 sham with a message to William 
 at, 307 ; Fever sham imprisoned in, 
 ib. ; council convened at, 309 ; 
 message sent to James from, 310 ; 
 Feversham released from, 311 ; it 
 is changed into a domestic home- 
 stead, 312 ; king William, and 
 his nephew Willie, scenes of their 
 life in, 313-317 ; disregard of, by 
 George I. and II., 318 ; how re- 
 garded by George HI., ib. ; George 
 HI. and Dr. Burney at, 320; 
 George HI. buried in, 322 ; im- 
 provements in, during the reign of 
 Victoria, 325 ; life of queen Vic- 
 toria and prince Albert in, 326 ; 
 birth of Albert Edward at, 327 ; 
 future picture of the life of Vic- 
 toria in, 328, 329 
 
 Windsor, the burghers of, iii. 303 ; 
 visitors to, 304 ; court messengers 
 at, ib. ; taverns in, 305 ; the mayor 
 and burgesses of, satirised by Ben 
 Jonson, iv. 92 ; extracts from ita 
 town-books, 100, 124, 290 ; change 
 effected in the spirit of its people 
 by the Stuart kings, 98, 99, 101; 
 Whiteley mayor of, 247 ; recep- 
 tion given by its inhabitants to 
 Charles when brought there a 
 prisoner, 251, 252 ; the burgesses 
 of, are attacked by the army, 252; 
 the head-quarters of Fairfax and 
 Cromwell, 274 ; is disfranchised by 
 Cromwell, 276 ; dislikes the yoke 
 of the Ironsides, 280 ; gives a 
 warm welcome to Charles, ib. 
 elects as its member Roger Palmer,
 
 358 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 281 ; Charles II.'s proclamation 
 at, ib. ; feast at, in honour of the 
 court, 282 ; the head-quarters of 
 the catholic church during the 
 reign of James II., 295 
 
 Windsor cross, its erection in the 
 time of cardinal Beaufort, iv. 108 ; 
 is built by John Sadler, ib. ; its 
 decay, ib. ; Goodman proposes to 
 rebuild it, 111 ; the inhabitants of 
 Windsor displeased with it petition 
 the king for its removal, 117, 118 ; 
 its overthrow by the Windsor bur- 
 gesses, 154 
 
 Wingfield, captain of the guard, 
 takes protector Seymour prisoner, 
 iii. 205 
 
 ' Wirtenberg,' confounded with ' Wit- 
 tenberg ' by the early dramatists, 
 iii. 321 
 
 Woodstock, Elizabeth detained as a 
 prisoner at, iii. 228 
 
 Worcester, Arthur, son of Henry 
 VII., is buried at, iii. 22 ; the army 
 of Charles II. defeated at, iv. 275 
 
 Wotton, Nicholas, his opinion that 
 a school should be a house of play 
 and pleasure, iii. 276 
 
 Wotton, the poet, the English agent 
 at Venice, iv. 56 
 
 Wren, Matthew, bishop of Ely, is 
 cast into the Tower, iv. 155 
 
 Wriottesley, Thomas, lord chancellor, 
 earl of Southampton, conspires 
 against Anne Boleyn, iii. 90 ; 
 makes objections to the legality of 
 the marriage of lady Mary Howard 
 and Eichmond, 91, 92 ; his in- 
 trigues against the duke of Nor- 
 folk, 98 ; snatches the Garter from 
 Cromwell, 106 ; his charges against 
 Surrey, 110, 111 ; procures the 
 imprisonment of Surrey in the 
 Norman tower, 112 ; investigates 
 the charges against Surrey, 136 ; 
 commits Surrey to the Fleet, 139 ; 
 his reasons for making the duke 
 of Norfolk the judge of the Windsor 
 heretics, 148 ; his vindictive feel- 
 ings towards Surrey, 150, 181 ; 
 
 undertakes the case against Surrey, 
 167 ; sets spies and procures false 
 witness against him, 167, 168 ; 
 his indictment against Surrey, 
 170 ; failure of his case, 171 ; sen- 
 tences Surrey to death, 184 ; his 
 expectations on the death of 
 Henry VIII. , 188; is offered a 
 coronet, 192 ; is cast into prison 
 by Seymour, ib. ; his fall, ib. ; his 
 intention to destroy the duke of 
 Norfolk frustrated by the death of 
 Henry VIH., 193, 194 
 
 Wriottesley, Henry, third earl of 
 Southampton, the patron of 
 Shakespere in his earlier career, iii. 
 311, 320, iv. 33 ; being a catholic 
 was selected by James I. as one of 
 his knights at the festival of St. 
 George, 30, 35 ; his lax morals, 
 30 ; humiliating anecdotes told of 
 him, 38 ; his explanation to queen 
 Anne of the causes of the failure of 
 the Essex rising, 39 ; quarrel in 
 the queen's presence between him 
 and Grey, 39, 40 ; is placed under 
 guard, 40 ; his numerous previous 
 quarrels with Grey, 42, 43 
 
 Wyat, sir Thomas, his poetical 
 ability, iii. 73, 110, 117 ; his death, 
 126 
 
 Wyat, sir Thomas, the son of the 
 poet, his connexion with Surrey, 
 iii. 128 ; joins Surrey in his mid- 
 night raid against Gresham's bank, 
 132, 133; is committed to the 
 Tower, 139 ; his release, 161 ; his 
 unsuccessful rising against Mary, 
 241 ; declares on the scaffold 
 the innocence of Elizabeth, ib. ; 
 outrageous conduct of Weston at 
 his execution, 242 
 
 York and Lancaster, iii. 14, 21 
 
 Zulestein, sent by William of Orange 
 to congratulate James on the birth 
 of a son, iv. 303 ; conveys a mes- 
 sage to James that he must retire 
 from London, 308 
 
 THE END. 
 
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