4. IV.
CARISBROOKE CASTLE.
The pages of my memoirs I am now about to trace
will contain a brief narrative of some of the saddest
and most terrible events in English history. Looking
back now in my calm old age upon those days, I seem
to see a huge black cloud drooping low and full of
mutterings; and truly the storm was about to burst on
the head of the unfortunate king.
Of the events which followed the escape of his majesty
from Hampton Court, I shall present only a rapid
narrative. I have not the heart to dwell upon all the
details. Again my pulse throbs, and the long shadows
of memory fall like a pall.
The king and his party of cavaliers traveled at full
speed all night, and at daybreak were received into the
house of a lady passionately attached to the royal
cause. It was necessary, however, to put more distance
between him and his enemies: the king and his
attendants set out again at dawn. At last the frowning
battlements of Carisbrooke Castle, on the Isle
of Wight, rose before us, and the murmur of the sea
indicated that the Channel was not far distant.
Now arose the question what the king's next course
should be. Should he leave England and escape to
France? He was obdurately opposed to that. The
armies under General Cromwell and the parliament were
wellnigh at loggerheads at last; each was manœuvring,
it seemed, to compose matters first with his majesty;
and the English people had of late exhibited unmistakable
indications of a desire to throw overboard both army
and parliament, and restore the king, taught now, it was
supposed, discretion by his sufferings and misfortunes.
“I will not go to France,” the king said, reining in
his horse, which seemed intent on bearing him towards
the coast. “That is Carisbrooke Castle, is it not?”
“It is, your majesty,” returned Colonel Cooke.
“The name of the commandant?”
“Hammond, sire.”
“Hammond? Ah, yes! a relative of my chaplain.
Go to him, colonel, take Mr. Cecil with you, and demand
whether he is ready to receive me as a guest, not
a prisoner.”
“But, your majesty—”
“Go, colonel.”
“It will endanger your majesty's safety.”
“You need not tell him where I am. I will await
your return in this wood.”
There was nothing to do but to obey; and I went
with Colonel Cooke. A short ride brought us to the
gateway of the great fortress, as I may call it, rather
than castle, and Colonel Hammond speedily made his
appearance. He was a tall and very stern man, with
one of those secretive faces which express nothing.
“Your pleasure, gentlemen?” he said.
Colonel Cooke gave him the king's message. I saw
him start imperceptibly almost, but in an instant this
emotion disappeared.
“Where is his majesty?” he said, coolly.
“That is beside the question, sir. Will you receive
and protect him?”
A brief pause ensued.
“I will go with you,—alone. I must see his majesty
before I reply.”
“Content, sir,” said Colonel Cooke, after a moment's
reflection. “You have only to come with us,
and you will be conducted to the king.”
Ten minutes afterwards, Colonel Hammond was
riding with us towards the wood in which the king
was concealed. I went before my two companions.
As I approached the king, he said,—
“That is Colonel Hammond, is it not?”
“Yes, your majesty.”
“Has he given his written promise to receive me as
his guest?”
My head sank. These simple words indicated the
extent of the imprudence of which we had been guilty.
“I think your majesty may depend upon him as a
man of honor,” I said.
The king shook his head. “I have lost my faith
in men,” he said, sadly. “I am Colonel Hammond's
prisoner.”
The words drove my hand to my sword-hilt.
“It is my fault,—in part at least! I will kill him!”
I exclaimed.
The king raised his hand with a gesture of royal dignity.
“No: I am weary of seeing blood shed in my
behalf. Let there be surcease of this. Rather than
leave my kingdom, or be hunted like a wild beast all
along the coast here, I will put myself under charge of
this officer, trusting that he will prove a friend.”
Colonel Hammond had now reached the spot, and
made the king a low salute.
“You are Colonel Hammond?” said the king.
“I am, your majesty.”
“You command at Carisbrooke Castle?”
“Yes, your majesty.”
“I will go thither with you, sir.”
And the king advanced on horseback towards the
castle, whose ponderous gates soon closed behind the
whole party. They were not guests, but prisoners.
On the same evening, Colonel Hammond dispatched
a fast-riding courier to London, to announce to parliament
that King Charles I. was a prisoner at Carisbrooke
Castle.
