to crush a danger at that particular instant when its extinction must prove as complete, as its farther progress would have been fatal. The king's disappearance had increased the angry excitement which possessed the soldiery. It was now no fiction, that the levellers menaced the lives, not alone of Cromwell and Ireton, but of their superior officers generally; who perceived that the success of their objects, and the very existence of the army, depended upon their success in restoring subordination and discipline. With this view, Fairfax directed a general rendezvous to be held at Ware.

A great part of the troops came upon the ground reluctantly and in disorder; but as the general officers rode round the field, the soothing language of the popular Fairfax, and the stern determination which had settled upon the brow of Cromwell, quickly thinned the masses of the disaffected. At length, all but three or four regiments signified their readiness to subscribe an engagement to submit to their general, which had been prepared for the occasion. Still Lilburne's, Harrison's, and Rainsborough's kept aloof. The men, collected in groups, listened eagerly to the harangues of their agitators, who distributed among them copies of the "agreement of the people," and placards bearing seditious mottoes, which they placed in their hats. Cromwell, Ireton, and the most resolute of their friends, riding up to the mutineers, the lieutenant-general ordered them to remove the offensive paper. They hesitated; when, drawing his sword, he charged through the astonished groups, seized a dozen of the ringleaders, one of whom, being chosen by lot, was instantly shot dead upon the place, and his companions handed over to an officer to be tried by a court-martial. The others then gloomily submitted. Cromwell (assuming that tone of blandishment, and pious lachrymation, which he had always found irresistible in camp or senate, in that strange age of religious imposture) promised speedy settlement of all their reasonable demands, and dismissed them to their several quarters. Hastening to Westminster, he made his report of the day's events to the houses. Without the grosser colouring of vanity (for he attributed its successful close to "God's mercy and the endeavours of his excellency and his officers,") the narrator, nevertheless, shone as the hero of his tale, and received the thanks of the parliament accordingly. It is remarkable, therefore, that in the long despatch from Fairfax, in which the same facts are detailed, no mention is found of the name of Cromwell.

The lieutenant-general was likewise the first to calm the anxiety of the Commons, respecting the king's disappearance, by acquainting them, on the day following that which revealed his departure, that the royal fugitive had taken refuge in the Isle of Wight. Notwithstanding the ostentatious care pretended in placing the guard at Hampton Court, a private door, which opened from the king's apartments into the park, was left without a sentinel. By this entrance, Berkley and Ashburnham obtained access to him, after their appearance at the palace had been próhibited, to arrange the manner and means of his escape. It was by this door that Charles also himself, accompanied only by his faithful attendant Legge, had issued from his palace-prison. The night was excessively dark and stormy. Crossing the river at Ditton, they found the two faithful, but illassorted counsellors, waiting with horses. They went towards Oatlands, the king, who was more familiarly acquainted with the forest than his companions, undertaking the

office of guide; but his skill was unavailing, in the darkness, to prevent their wandering from the track, and day had broke before the party reached Sutton, where Berkley had provided a relay of horses.

Among the places which had occurred or been suggested to the king, as safe if not advantageous retreats, it does not appear that he had definitively selected any one before adventuring on his sudden and ill-considered flight. While descending a hill, he proposed that the party should lead their horses, and confer as they walked on this important point. Jersey had originally been thought of as perhaps the most desirable destination, and Berkley now asked if a vessel had been provided; but the king's resolve had been too hastily put in execution. Meantime the travellers were directing their course towards Southampton. Berkley proposed that they should strike out farther westward, but his advice was overruled, on the ground that they ought not to quit the neighbourhood of the army till the result of the expected rendezvous was known, and the king's treaty completed with the Scots. In this perplexity he suddenly resolved to go to the Isle of Wight-" for the first time," observes Berkley, "for aught I could then discover." But Charles was determined by motives with which, unfortunate as they proved, Berkley was unacquainted. Ashburnham, a few days previously, had recommended to the king Sir John Oglander's house in the Isle of Wight, as a secure asylum. It was farther eligible, he said, on account of the convenient distance of the island from the metropolis; of the facilities it offered for escape, or communication with the king's friends by sea; and of its having few or no soldiers. But its chief recommendation rested on an opinion he entertained that the governor, Colonel Hammond, might be gained over. He had lately met Hammond, who, renewing a slight acquaintance formerly existing between them, had told him, that since he found the army was resolved to break all promises with the king, he had determined to get out of the way by returning to his government, for he would have no share in such perfidious actions.

The party had arrived within twenty miles of the island, when some natural misgivings arose in Charles's mind. Hammond was, in some degree, known to him as the nephew of his favourite and justly famous chaplain, the author of the "Practical Catechism;" and he had reason to believe him a man of honour, and one who bore no animosity to his person. But he had long served as a colonel in the parliamentarian army, and now held the highly responsible office of military governor, by the appointment of his enemies. The king therefore prudently despatched Berkley and Ashburnham to sound Hammond, while, attended only by Legge, he himself proceeded to Tichfield, the seat of the Earl of Southampton, intending to await, in the bosom of that loyal family, the issue of their negotiation. They were to show the governor copies of the two letters which warned the king of the danger of assassination, with Charles's letter to the parliament; and to tell him, that in yielding to the necessity of flight, not from the army, but from the daggers of assassins, the king had made choice of him to confide in, as a person of honourable extraction, and one who, though engaged against him in the war, he had reason to believe, had been actuated by no feeling of personal hostility. They were to ask for protection for the king and his servants; or, if he could not grant this, that he would

leave them to themselves. The two had already taken leave, when Berkley, foreseeing the possibility of their forcible detention, came back and advised the king, that if their return should be delayed beyond the next day, he should think no more of them, but secure his own escape. Charles thanked him for the caution, and they parted.

A violent storm detained the king's envoys that night at Lymington; but in the morning they crossed over, and met with the governor in the way between Carisbrooke Castle and Newport. It is among the extraordinary circumstances in this negotiation, that Ashburnham, notwithstanding his personal knowledge of Hammond, instead of himself addressing him, should have deputed his companion, who had no such advantage. Berkley, saluting the governor, abruptly opened his message by asking him, "Who he thought was near him?" and continued,-" even good King Charles, who has come from Hampton Court for fear of being murdered privately." "This," observes Ashburnham in his narrative, "was a very unskilful entrance into our business." While Sir John delivered the king's message, the governor, who saw instantly into what a difficult position he was thrown by this unexpected communication, turned pale, trembled, and had nearly fallen from his horse. "O gentlemen," he exclaimed, "you have undone me by bringing the king into the island,-if you have brought him; and if not, pray let him not come; for, what between my duty to his majesty, and my gratitude for this fresh obligation of his confidence on the one hand, and the observance of my trust to the army on the other, I shall be confounded!" By degrees Hammond recovered his self-possession, expressed at length his willingness to serve the king, and invited the two negotiators to dine with him, when they might confer farther. They failed to draw from him any definite promise; but he proposed that one of them should remain with him in the castle, while the other should take horse and go to the king, who, he was confident, would be satisfied with such a general assurance as he could give. Berkley avers that he gladly embraced the proposal to remain; "though," adds he, "I had the image of the gallows very perfectly before me." Hammond, however, presently reopened the conference, and, after a long debate, pledged himself "to perform whatever could be expected from a person of honour and honesty." Before Berkley could speak, Ashburnham, who now seemed as much in haste to close the interview as he had been slow to begin it, replied: "I will ask no more." "Now then," added Hammond, "let us all go together to the king." Ashburnham consented. Berkley, in astonishment, stepped aside from the governor, and, addressing Ashburnham, asked, "What, do you mean to carry this man to the king, before you know whether he will approve of this undertaking or not? You will indeed surprise him." "I'll warrant you," was all the other's reply. "And so you shall," observed the more prudent negotiator: "for you know the king much better than I do, and therefore when we shall come where he is, I assure you I will not see him before you have satisfied his majesty concerning your proceedings." "Well," returned Ashburnham, "I will take it upon me." That Ashburnham so readily consented to Hammond's proposal to accompany them, proceeded, he says, first, from his wish that the king should have the opportunity to make his own conditions; and, secondly, from considering that it was useless to refuse, as Hammond would have sent his spies, and so

discovered the king's place of concealment. At Cowes, the governor proposed to take the captain of the castle with him. Berkley again objected, but Ashburnham silenced him by observing-"No matter, they are but two, whom we could easily manage.”

When the four arrived at Tichfield, Berkley remained below with Hammond and the captain, while Ashburnham, according to his promise, went up to the king, and told him what had passed. The scene that ensued more than realized all Berkley's apprehensions and awakened the faithful but incompetent envoy to a fearful sense of his imprudence. Charles started in agony, struck his breast, and, casting a look of bitter reproach on Ashburnham, exclaimed, "What, have you brought Hammond with you? Oh Jack ! you have undone me, for I am by this means made fast from stirring; he will imprison me!" Ashburnham now, in his despair, proposed what he calls an expedient. If the king mistrusted Hammond, he would, with his majesty's permission, undertake to secure him. "I understand you well enough," answered Charles; "but how would the murder of this man be viewed? If I should follow your counsel, it would be said, and believed, that he had ventured his life for me, and that I had unworthily taken it from him. I have sent to Hampton for a vessel, and was expecting news of it every moment. But it is now too late to think of anything, except going through the way you have forced upon me, and leaving the issue to God."

While this discourse was passing, Hammond and the captain grew so impatient at the long delay, that Berkley was forced to send and request that his majesty and Mr. Ashburnham would remember they were below. On their admission, they found Ashburnham weeping bitterly. "Sir John Berkley," said the king, "I hope you are not so passionate as Jack Ashburnham: do you think you have followed my directions?" Berkley answered, "No, indeed, Sir," and briefly entered into a vindication of himself, as having desired to conduct the negotiation otherwise. Charles now turned to Hammond, received him cheerfully; and the governor repeated his protestations, with more earnestness and warmth than he had shown at Carisbrooke, that the king might depend upon his doing all that honour and honesty could demand. "But remember, Colonel Hammond," said Charles, "that I am to judge in this case what is meant by honesty and honour."-The party then mounted, and set forward towards the island.

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CHAPTER XXVII.

THE ISLE OF WIGHT.

CHARLES appeared to resume his habitual cheerfulness. The events of the first six weeks after his arrival in the Isle of Wight, were calculated to lessen the annoyance which he had felt on finding himself absolutely in the power of Hammond, and to flatter his friends with the hope that he had gained, by his last adventure, not ease and security alone, but freedom and the probable means of restoration. The inhabitants of the island were, without exception, loyal; and, in that secluded spot, where the despotism of the army had scarcely yet been felt, were not afraid to display the attachment they felt to their unfortunate sovereign. With expressions of unrestrained delight, they attended him to the stately portal of Carisbrooke, presenting him with flowers, even at that advanced season, the produce of their mild climate, and still employed by the simpler English of the seventeenth century to express sentiments which, in our days, are ascribed to them only by the artist and the poet. His chaplains and servants, as soon as the place of his retreat became known, hastened to him, and were admitted. Entrance was denied to none who claimed it on the plea of duty. Hammond appeared willing to forget that he had any other master but the king. On writing to the parliament a statement of the remarkable incidents by which his illustrious inmate had come into his custody, he professsed, with perfect sincerity, a determination to use his utmost endeavours to preserve the royal person, even at the risk of his own life, from any such horrid attempt as had been threatened at Hampton Court; and, acquainting the houses that the accommodations afforded by Carisbrooke Castle were "no ways suitable to his quality," he solicited a vote for the continuance of the king's allowance, on the consideration of which they immediately entered. Hammond carried still farther the frankness and good-will with which the king had inspired him. At his request, Charles sent a message to the parliament, once more repeating the assurance of his anxious desire to settle a peace by a personal treaty; and, for the first time, proposed such terms as involved the surrender of both church and crown. He suggested the policy of a like communication to the army, through one of the king's personal friends, who, besides a letter to the general, should be furnished with others, more confidential, to Cromwell and Ireton, urging them to close with the king's offers.

To execute this mission, Charles chose Sir John Berkley; who readily undertook it, though, as he tells us, not without apprehensions of the event. Berkley found Fairfax engaged in a meeting of officers; he sent in the general's letters, and, after long waiting, was himself admitted. His welcome corresponded to the inattention implied in that