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the situation of foreign powers, as well as the needy and neglected condition of the young king, who had now assumed the title of Charles II., and lived sometimes in Holland, sometimes in France, and sometimes in Jersey, which still retained its allegiance, preserved the parliament from all apprehensions from abroad, the state of parties in the sister kingdoms of Scotland and Ireland filled the new republic with no small uneasiness.

The Scottish covenanters, who had begun the troubles, and who bore little affection to the royal family, but who had, notwithstanding, protested against the execution of the king and of the marquis of Hamilton, who was also brought to the block, now rejected the proposition of the English parliament, to mould their government into a republican form. They resolved still to adhere to monarchy, which had ever prevailed in their country; and which, by the express terms of the covenant, they had engaged to defend. They therefore declared Charles II. king of Scotland; but expressly on condition "of his good behaviour and strict observance of the covenant, and of entertaining no other persons about him but such as were godly men, and faithful to that obligation."(1) Clauses so unusual, inserted in the first acknowledgment of their prince, showed their intention of limiting extremely his authority; so that the English parliament, foreseeing the disputes that would likely arise between the parties, and having no decent pretext for interfering in the affairs of Scotland, left the covenanters to settle their government according to their own mind.

The dominion which England claimed over Ireland interested the commonwealth more immediately in the concerns of that island, where the royal cause still wore a favourable aspect. In order to understand this matter fully, it will be necessary to take a retrospective view of Irish affairs.

We have already seen how the parliament attempted to blacken the character of the late king, for concluding, in 1643, that cessation of arms with the popish rebels, which was become absolutely necessary for the security of the Irish Protestants, as well as requisite for promoting his interest in England. They even went so far as to declare it null and invalid, because finished without their consent: and to this declaration the Scots in Ulster, and the earl of Inchiquin, a nobleman of great authority in Munster, professed to adhere. The war was, therefore, still kept alive. But as the hostilities in England hindered the parliament from sending any considerable assistance to their allies in Ireland, Inchiquin concluded an accommodation with the marquis of Ormond, whom the king had created lord-lieutenant of that kingdom.

Ormond, who was a native of Ireland, and a man of virtue and prudence, now formed a scheme for composing the disorders of his country, and engaging the Irish rebels to support the royal cause. In this he was assisted by the progress of the arms of the English parliament, from whose fanatical zeal the Irish Catholics knew they could expect no mercy. The council of Kilkenny, composed of deputies from all the Catholic counties and cities, accordingly concluded, in 1646, a treaty of peace with the lord-lieutenant; by which they engaged to return to their duty and allegiance, to furnish ten thousand men for the support of the king's authority in England, in consideration of obtaining a general indemnity for their rebellion, and the unlimited toleration of their religion.(2)

This treaty, however, so advantageous and even necessary to both parties, was rendered ineffectual through the intrigues of an Italian priest, named Rinuccini, whom the pope had sent over to Ireland in the character of nuncio; and who, foreseeing that a general pacification with the lord-lieutenant would put an end to his own influence, summoned an assembly of the clergy at Waterford, and engaged them to declare against the peace, which the civil council had concluded with their sovereign. He even thundered out a sentence of excommunication against all who should adhere to a treaty so prejudicial, as he pretended, to the Catholic faith and the deluded Irish, who

(1) Burnet. Whitlocke. Clarendon.

(2) Carte's Life of Ormond.

were alike ignorant and bigoted, terrified at these spiritual menaces, every where renounced their civil engagements, and submitted to the nuncio's authority. Ormond, who was not prepared against such a revolution in the sentiments of his countrymen, was obliged to shelter his small army in Dublin, and the other fortified towns, which still remained in the hands of the Protestants.

Meanwhile, the unfortunate Charles, who was then involved in the greatest distress, and had taken refuge, as we have seen, in the Scottish camp, sent orders to the lord-lieutenant, if he could not defend himself, rather to submit to the English than the Irish rebels; and Ormond accordingly delivered up, in 1647, Dublin, Drogheda, Dundalk, and other garrisons, to colonel Michael Jones, who took possession of them in the name of the English parliament.(1) He himself went over to England, received a grateful acknowledgment of his past services from his royal master, and lived for some time in tranquillity near London; but finding every thing turn out unhappily for his beloved sovereign, and foreseeing that awful catastrophe which afterward overtook him, he retired to France, and there joined the queen and prince of Wales.

During these transactions, the nuncio's authority was universally acknowledged among the Catholics in Ireland. By his insolence and indiscretion, however, he soon made them repent of their bigoted confidence, in intrusting him with so much power: and all prudent men became sensible of the necessity of supporting the declining authority of the king, in order to preserve the Irish nation from that destruction, otherwise inevitable, with which it was threatened by the English parliament. A combination for this purpose was accordingly formed, in 1648, among the Catholics, by the earl of Clanricarde; a nobleman of an ancient family, who had ever preserved his loyalty. He also entered into a correspondence with Inchiquin, who still maintained great influence over the Protestants in Munster: he attacked the nuncio, and chased him out of the island; and he sent a deputation to the lordlieutenant, inviting him to return, and take possession of his government.

Ormond, on his arrival in Ireland, found the kingdom divided into many factions, among which either open war or secret enmity prevailed. And the authority of the English parliament was still established in Dublin, and the other towns, which he himself had delivered up. He did not, however, let slip the opportunity, though less favourable than could have been wished, of promoting the royal cause. Having collected, by his indefatigable diligence, in spite of every obstacle, an army of sixteen thousand men, he advanced upon the parliamentary garrisons, which had been totally neglected by the republican party, while employed in the trial and execution of their sovereign. Dundalk, where Monk commanded, was delivered up by the troops, who mutinied against their governor: Drogheda, Newry, and other places were taken; Dublin itself was threatened with a siege; and the affairs of the lord-lieutenant wore every where so favourable an aspect, that the young king entertained thoughts of going in person into Ireland. (2) But his hopes were soon extinguished in that quarter.

The English commonwealth was no sooner established than Ireland became the object of its peculiar attention; and much intrigue was employed by the leading men, in order to procure the government of that island. Lambert expected to obtain it. But Cromwell, who considered Ireland as a new field of glory, as well as a theatre where his ambition might expand itself, without exciting jealousy, had the address to get himself named lord-lieutenant, by the council of state, without seeming to desire such an office. He even affected surprise, and seemed to hesitate, whether he should accept the command. But these hypocritical scruples being got over, he applied himself in making preparations for his Irish expedition with that vigour which distinguished all his proceedings. He immediately sent over a reinforcement of four thousand men to colonel Jones, governor of Dublin, in order to enable

(1) Carte's Life of Ormond.

(2) Carte, ubi sup.

him to defend that capital; and after suppressing a second mutiny of the levellers, and punishing the ringleaders, he himself embarked with a body of twelve thousand excellent troops.(1)

In the mean time, an event took place that rendered the success of the new lord-lieutenant infallible. Ormond, having passed the river Liffy, at the head of the royal army, and taken post at Rathmines, with a view of commencing the siege of Dublin, had begun the reparation of an old fort, which stood near the gates of the city, and was well calculated for cutting off supplies from the garrison. Being exhausted with fatigue, in superintending this labour, he retired to rest, after giving orders to keep his forces under arms. But he was suddenly awaked with the noise of firing, and found all things in tumult and confusion. The officers had neglected Ormond's orders. Jones, an excellent soldier, observing their want of caution, had sallied out with the late reinforcement; and having thrown the royalists into disorder, totally routed them, in spite of all the efforts of the lord-lieutenant. He took their tents, baggage, and ammunition, and returned victorious into the city, after killing four thousand men, and taking two thousand five hundred prisoners.(2) Soon after this signal victory, which reflected so much honour upon Jones, which tarnished the military reputation of Ormond, and ruined the royal cause in Ireland, Cromwell arrived at Dublin, to complete the conquest of that kingdom. He suddenly marched to Drogheda, which was well fortified, and into which Ormond, foreseeing it would be first invested, had thrown a garrison of three thousand men, under sir Arthur Aston, an officer of tried courage; in hopes of finding the enemy employment in the siege of that place, until he could repair his broken forces. But Cromwell, who knew the importance of despatch, having made a breach in the fortifications, instantly ordered an assault. Though twice repulsed with loss, he renewed the attack; and the furious valour of his troops at length bearing down all resistance, the place was entered, sword in hand, and a cruel massacre made of the garrison. Even those who escaped the general slaughter, and whom the unfeeling hearts of the fanatical soldiery had spared, were butchered next day, in cold blood, by orders from the English commander; one person alone escaping, to bear the mournful tidings to Ormond.(3)

By this severe execution of military justice, Cromwell pretended to retaliate the cruelties of the Irish massacre. But as he well knew the garrison of Drogheda consisted chiefly of Englishmen, his real purpose evidently was to strike terror into the other garrisons: and his inhuman policy had the desired effect. Having conducted his army to Wexford, the garrison offered to capitulate, after a slight resistance. But this submission did not save them. They imprudently neglected their defence, before they had obtained a formal cessation of arms; and the English fanatics, now fleshed in blood, rushed in upon them, and executed the same slaughter as at Drogheda. Henceforth, every town, before which Cromwell presented himself, opened its gates on the first summons. He had no farther difficulties to encounter but what arose from fatigue and the declining season. Fluxes and contagious distempers crept among his soldiers, who died in great numbers; and he had advanced so far with his decayed army, that he found it difficult either to subsist in the enemy's country, or to retreat to the parliamentary garrisons. His situation was truly perilous.

But Cromwell's good fortune soon relieved him from his distress. Cork, Kinsale, and all the English garrisons in Munster, resolving to share the glory of their countrymen, deserted to him, in that extremity, and opened their gates for the reception of his sickly troops. This desertion put an end to Ormond's authority. The Irish, at all times disorderly, could no longer be kept in obedience by a Protestant governor, whom their priests represented as the cause of all their calamities. Seeing affairs so desperate as to admit of no remedy, Ormond left the island; and Cromwell, well acquainted with

(1) Whitlocke. Ludlow,

(3) Carte's Life of Ormond. Ludlow's Mem.

(2) Ludlow, vol. 1. Borlace, p. 222, fol. edit.

the influence of religious prejudices, politically freed himself from all farther opposition, by permitting the Irish officers and soldiers to engage in foreign service. Above forty thousand Catholics embraced this voluntary banishment.(1)

These unexpected events, which blasted all the hopes of the young king from Ireland, induced him to listen to the offers of the Scottish covenanters, and appoint a meeting with their commissioners at Breda, Those commissioners had no power of treating. Charles was required to submit, without reserve, to the most ignominious terms surely ever imposed by a people upon their prince. They insisted, that he should issue a proclamation, banishing from court all excommunicated persons; or, in other words, all who, under Hamilton and Montrose, had ventured their lives for his family; that no English subject, who had served against the parliament, should be allowed to approach him; that he should bind himself by his royal promise to take the covenant; that he should ratify all acts of parliament by which presbyterian discipline and worship were established; that, in all civil affairs, he should conform himself entirely to the direction of the parliament, and in ecclesiastical, to that of the general assembly of the kirk.

Most of the king's English counsellors dissuaded him from acceding to such dishonourable conditions. Nothing, they said, could be more disgraceful than to sacrifice, for the empty name of royalty, those principles for which his father died a martyr, and in which he himself had been strictly educated; that by such hypocrisy he would lose the royalists in both kingdoms, who alone were sincerely attached to him, but could never gain the presbyterians, who would ascribe his compliance merely to policy and necessity. But these sound arguments were turned into ridicule by the young duke of Buckingham, afterward so remarkable for the pleasantry of his humour and the versatility of his character, and who was now in high favour with Charles. Being himself a man of no principle, he treated with contempt the idea of rejecting a kingdom for the sake of episcopacy; and he made no scruple to assert, that the obstinacy of the late king, on the article of religion, ought rather to be held up as a warning, than produced as an example for imitation to his son. (2) Charles, whose principles were nearly as libertine as those of Buckingham, and of whose character sincerity formed no part, agreed to every thing demanded of him by the covenanters; but not before he had received intelligence of the utter failure of his hopes from the Scottish royalists, in consequence of the total defeat and capture of the marquis of Montrose.

That gallant nobleman, having laid down his arms at the command of the late king, had retired to France, where he resided some time .nactive, and afterward entered into the imperial service. But no sooner did he hear of the tragical death of his sovereign, than his ardent spirit was inflamed with the thirst of revenge; and having obtained from young Charles a renewal of his commission of captain-general in Scotland, he set sail for that country with five hundred foreign adventurers. Naturally confident, he hoped to rouse the royalists to arms, and restore his master's authority, at least in one of his kingdoms. These expectations, however, appear to have been ill-founded. Scotland was wholly under the dominion of Montrose's old enemies, Argyle and the covenanters, who had severely punished many of his former adherents. They were apprized of his design; and they had a disciplined army ready to oppose him, of such force as left no reasonable prospect of success. By a detachment from this army, Montrose and the few royalists who had joined him, were attacked and totally routed. They were all either killed or made prisoners; the marquis himself, who had put on the disguise of a peasant, being delivered into the hands of his enemies by Mackland of Assin, to whom he had intrusted his person. (3)

The covenanters carried their noble prisoner in triumph to Edinburgh,

(1) Clarendon, vol. vi. Ludlow, vol. i.
(3) Id. ibid.

(2) Burnet, vol. i. Clarendon, vol. vi.

where he was exposed to the most atrocious insults. After being conducted through the public streets, bound down on a high bench in a cart made for the purpose, with his hat off, the hangman by him, and his officers walking two and two in fetters behind him, he was brought before the parliament. Loudon, the chancelior, in a violent declamation, reproached him with the horrible murders, treasons, and impieties for which he was now to suffer con dign punishment. Montrose, who bore all these indignities with the greatest firmness, and looked down with a noble disdain on the rancour of his enemies, boldly replied: That in all his warlike enterprises he was warranted by that commission, which he had received from his and their master, against whose lawful authority they had erected their standard; that no blood had ever been shed by him but in the field of battle, and many persons were now in his eye-many now dared to pronounce sentence of death upon him, whose life, forfeited by the laws of war, he had formerly saved from the fury of the soldiers; that he was sorry to find no better testimony of their return to allegiance than the murder of a faithful subject, in whose death the king's commission must, be, at once, so highly injured and insulted; that, as for himself, he scorned their vindictive fanatical rage, and was only grieved at the contumely offered to that authority by which he acted.(1)

This speech, so worthy of the heroic character of Montrose, had no effect on his unfeeling judges. Without regard to his illustrious birth or great renown, the man who had so remarkably distinguished himself by adhering to the laws of his country and the rights of his sovereign was condemned to suffer the ignominious death allotted to the basest felon. His sentence bore, that he, James Graham, should be carried to the cross of Edinburgh, and there be hanged on a gallows thirty feet high; that his head should be cut off on a scaffold, and fixed on the tolbooth or city prison; that his legs and arms should be stuck up on the most conspicuous place in the four chief towns in the kingdom, and his body be buried in the place appropriated for malefactors. This last part of his sentence, however, was to be remitted, in case the kirk, on his repentance, should take off his excommunication. Furnished with so good a pretence, the clergy flocked about him, and exulted over his fallen fortunes, under colour of converting him. He smiled at their enthusiastic ravings, and rejected their spiritual aid: nor did he regard the solemnity with which they pronounced his eternal damnation, or their assurance that his future sufferings would surpass the present, as far in degree as in duration. He showed himself, through the whole, superior to his fate; and when led forth to execution, amid the insults of his enemies, he overawed the cruel with the dignity of his looks, and melted the humane into tears. In this last melancholy scene, when enmity itself is commonly disarmed, one effort more was made, by the governing party in Scotland, to subdue the magnanimous spirit of Montrose. The executioner was ordered to tie about his neck, with a cord, that book which had been published, in elegant Latin, by Dr. Wishart, containing the history of his military exploits. He thanked his enemies for their officious zeal; declaring that he wore this testimony of his bravery and loyalty with more pride than he had ever worn the garter; and finding they had no more insults to offer, he patiently submitted to the ignominious sentence.(2) Thus unworthily perished the heroic James Graham, marquis of Montrose, in the thirty-eighth year of his age. Great talents he certainly had for war, and also for the polite arts, which he cultivated with success; but his courage appears to have been accompanied with a certain degree of extravagance, which, while it led him to conceive the boldest enterprises, prevented him from attending sufficiently to the means of accomplishing them. Along with Montrose were sacrificed all the persons of any eminence who had repaired to his standard, or taken arms in order to second his designs.

Though this cruel and unjust execution of a nobleman who had acted by royal authority made the young king more sensible of the furious spirit of

(1) Burnet, vol. i. Hume, vol. vii.

(2) Id. ibid.

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