Celebration of the Kings return.--Those who flocked to Whitehall
My Lord Cleveland's gentlemen.--Sir Thomas Allen's supper.--
Touching for King's evil.--That none might lose their labour.--
The man with the fungus nose.--The memory of the regicides.--
Cromwell's effigy.--Ghastly scene at Tyburn.--The King's
clemency.--The Coronation procession.--Sights and scenes by the
way.--His Majesty is crowned.
The return of the king and his court was a signal for universal
joy throughout the nation in general and the capital in
particular. For weeks and months subsequent to his majesty's
triumphal entry, the town did not subside from its condition of
excitement and revelry to its customary quietude and sobriety.
Feasts by day were succeeded by entertainments at night; "and
under colour of drinking the king's health," says Bishop Burnet,
"there were great disorder and much riot."
It seemed as if the people could not sufficiently express their
delight at the presence of the young king amongst them, or
satisfy their desire of seeing him. When clad in rich velvets
and costly lace, adorned with many jewels and waving feathers, he
walked in Hyde Park attended by an "abundance of gallantry," or
went to Whitehall Chapel, where "the organs and singing-men in
surplices" were first heard by Mr. Pepys, a vast crowd of loyal
subjects attended him on his way. Likewise, when, preceded by
heralds, he journeyed by water in his barge to open Parliament,
the river was crowded with innumerable boats, and the banks lined
with a great concourse anxious for sight of him. Nor were his
subjects satisfied by the glimpses obtained of him on such
occasions; they must needs behold their king surrounded by the
insignia of royalty in the palace of his ancestors, and flocked
thither in numbers. "The eagerness of men, women, and children
to see his majesty, and kisse his hands was so greate," says
Evelyn, "that he had scarce leisure to eate for some dayes,
coming as they did from all parts of the nation: and the king
being as willing to give them that satisfaction, would have none
kept out, but gave free access to all sorts of people." Indeed
his loyal subjects were no less pleased with him than he with
them; and in faith he was sorry, he declared, in that delicate
strain of irony that ran like a bright thread throughout the
whole pattern of his speech, he had not come over before, for
every man he encountered was glad to see him.
Day after day, week after week, the Palace of Whitehall presented
a scene of ceaseless bustle. Courtiers, ambassadors,
politicians, soldiers, and citizens crowded the antechambers,
flocked through the galleries, and tarried in the courtyards.
Deputations from all the shires and chief towns in the three
kingdoms, bearing messages of congratulation and loyalty, were
presented to the king. First of all came the worshipful lord
mayor, aldermen and council of the city of London, in great pomp
and state; when the common-sergeant made a speech to his majesty
respecting the affection of the city towards him, and the lord
mayor, on hospitable thoughts intent, besought the honour of his
company to dinner, the which Charles promised him most readily.
And the same day the commissioners from Ireland presented
themselves, headed by Sir James Barry, who delivered himself of a
fine address regarding the love his majesty's Irish subjects bore
him; as proof of which he presented the monarch with a bill for
twenty thousand pounds, that had been duly accepted by Alderman
Thomas Viner, a right wealthy man and true. Likewise came the
deputy steward and burgesses of the city of Westminster, arrayed
in the glory of new scarlet gowns; and the French, Italian, and
Dutch ministers, when Monsieur Stoope pronounced an harangue with
great eloquence. Also the vice-chancellor of the University of
Oxford, with divers doctors, bachelors of divinity, proctors, and
masters of arts of the same learned university, who, having first
met at the Temple Church, went by two and two, according to their
seniority, to Essex House, that they might wait on the most noble
the Marquis of Hertford, then chancellor. Accompanied by him,
and preceded by eight esquires and yeomen beadles, having their
staves, and three of them wearing gold chains, they presented
themselves before the king, and spoke him words of loyalty and
greeting. The heads of the colleges and halls of Cambridge, with
some masters of arts, in like manner journeyed to Whitehall, when
Dr. Love delivered a learned Latin oration, expressive of their
devotion to royalty in the person of their most illustrious
monarch.
Amongst others came, one day, my Lord Cleveland at the head of a
hundred gentlemen, many of them being officers who had formerly
served under him, and other gentlemen who had ridden to meet the
king when coming unto his own; and having arrived at Whitehall,
they knelt down in the matted gallery, when his majesty "was
pleased to walk along," says MERCURIUS PUBLICUS, "and give
everyone of them the honour to kiss his hand, which favour was so
highly received by them, that they could no longer stifle their
joy, but as his majesty was walking out (a thing thought unusual
at court) they brake out into a loud shouting."
Then the nobility entertained the king and his royal brothers
with much magnificence, his Excellency Lord General Monk first
giving at his residence in the Cockpit, a great supper, after
which "he entertained his majesty with several sorts of musick;"
Next Earl Pembroke gave a rare banquet; also the Duke of
Buckingham, my Lord Lumley, and many others. Nor was my lord
mayor, Sir Thomas Allen, behindhand in extending hospitality to
the king, whom he invited to sup with him. This feast, having no
connection with the civic entertainments, was held at good Sir
Thomas's house. The royal brothers of York and Gloucester were
likewise bidden, together with several of the nobility and gentry
of high degree. Previous to supper being served, the lord mayor
brought his majesty a napkin dipped in rose-water, and offered it
kneeling; when his majesty had wiped his hands, he sat down at a
table raised by an ascent, the Duke of York on his right hand,
and the Duke of Gloucester on his left. They were served with
three several courses, at each of which the tablecloth was
shifted, and at every dish which his majesty or the dukes tasted,
the napkins were moreover changed. At another table in the same
room sat his Excellency the Lord General, the Duke of Buckingham,
the Marquis of Ormond, the Earl of Oxford, Earl of Norwich, Earl
of St. Albans, Lords De la Ware, Sands, Berkeley, and several
other of the nobility, with knights and gentlemen of great
quality. Sir John Robinson, alderman of London, proposed his
majesty's health, which was pledged standing by all present. His
majesty was the while entertained with a variety of rare music.
This supper was given on the 16th of June; and a couple of weeks
later, on the 5th of July, the king went "with as much pompe and
splendour as any earthly prince could do to the greate Citty
feast, the first they had invited him to since his returne."
But whilst entertainments were given, and diversions occupied the
town, Charles was called upon to touch for the evil, an
affliction then most prevalent throughout the kingdom. According
to a time-honoured belief which obtained until the coming of
George I., when faith in the divinity of kings was no longer
possible to the most ignorant, the monarch's touch was credited
with healing this most grievous disease. Majesty in those days
was sacred, and superstition rife. Accordingly we read in
MERCURIUS PUBLICUS that, "The kingdom having for a long time, by
reason of his majesty's absence, been troubled with the evil,
great numbers flocked for cure. Saturday being appointed by his
majesty to touch such as were so troubled, a great company of
poor afflicted creatures were met together, many brought in
chairs and baskets; and being appointed by his majesty to repair
to the banqueting house, the king sat in a chair of state, where
he stroked all that were brought to him, and then put about each
of their necks a white ribbon with an angel of gold on it. In
this manner his majesty stroked above six hundred; and such was
his princely patience and tenderness to the poor afflicted
creatures, that though it took up a long time, the king, being
never weary of well doing, was pleased to make inquiry whether
there were any more that had not been touched. After prayers
were ended the Duke of Buckingham brought a towel, and the Earl
of Pembroke a basin and ewer, who, after they had made their
obeysance to his majesty, kneeled down till his majesty had
washed."
This was on the 23rd of June, a few days earlier than the date
fixed by Evelyn as that on which the king first began "touch for
ye evil." A week later we find he stroked as many as two hundred
and fifty persons. Friday was then appointed as the day for
those suffering from this disease to come before the king; it was
moreover decided that only two hundred persons should be
presented each week and these were first to repair to Mr. Knight,
his majesty's surgeon, living at the Cross Guns, in Russell
Street, Covent Garden, over against the Rose tavern, for tickets
of admission. "That none might lose their labour." the same Mr.
Knight made it known to the public he would be at home on
Wednesdays and Thursdays, from two till six of the clock; and if
any person of quality should send for him he would wait upon them
at their lodgings. The disease must indeed have been rife: week
after week those afflicted continued to present themselves, and
we read that, towards the end of July, "notwithstanding all
discouragements by the hot weather and the multitude of sick and
infirm people, his majesty abated not one of his accustomed
number, but touched full two hundred: an high conviction of all
such physicians, surgeons, and apothecaries that pretend self-
preservation when the languishing patient requires their
assistance." Indeed, there were some who placed boundless faith
in the king's power of healing by touch; amongst whom was one
Avis Evans, whom Aubrey, in his "Miscellanies," records "had a
fungus nose, and said it was revealed to him that the king's hand
would cure him. And at the first coming of King Charles II. into
St. James's Park, he kissed the king's hand, and rubbed his nose
with it, which disturbed the king, but cured him."
The universal joy which filled the nation at the restoration of
his majesty was accompanied, as might be expected, by bitter
hatred towards the leaders of Republicanism, especially towards
such as had condemned the late king to death. The chief objects
of popular horror now, however, lay in their graves; but the
sanctity of death was neither permitted to save their memories
from vituperation nor their remains from moltestation.
Accordingly, through many days in June the effigy of Cromwell,
which had been crowned with a royal diadem, draped with a purple
mantle, in Somerset House, and afterwards borne with all
imaginable pomp to Westminster Abbey, was now exposed at one of
the windows at Whitehall with a rope fixed round its neck, by way
of hinting at the death which the original deserved. But this
mark of execration was not sufficient to satisfy the public mind,
and seven months later, on the 30th of January, 1661, the
anniversary of the murder of Charles I., the bodies of Oliver
Cromwell, Henry Ireton, and John Bradshaw were taken from their
resting places in Westminster Abbey, and drawn on hurdles to
Tyburn, the well-known site of public executions. "All the way
the universal outcry and curses of the people went along with
them," says MERCURIUS PUBLICUS. "When these three carcasses
arrived at Tyburn, they were pulled out of their coffins, and
hanged at the several angles of that triple tree, where they hung
till the sun was set; after which they were taken down, their
heads cut off; and their loathsome trunks thrown into a deep hole
under the gallows. The heads of those three notorious regicides,
Oliver Cromwell, John Bradshaw, and Ireton are set upon poles on
the top of Westminster Hall by the common hangman. Bradshaw
placed in the middle (over that part where the monstrous high
court of justice sat), Cromwell and his son-in-law Ireton on
either side of Bradshaw."
Before this ghastly execution took place, Parliament had brought
to justice such offenders against the late king's government and
life as were in its power. According to the declaration made by
the king at Breda, a full and general pardon was extended to all
rebellious subjects, excepting such persons as should be
hereafter excepted by Parliament. By reason of this clause, some
who had been most violent in their persecution of royalty were
committed to the Tower before the arrival of his majesty, others
fled from the country, but had, on another proclamation summoning
them to surrender themselves, returned in hope of obtaining
pardon. Thirty in all were tried at the Old Bailey before the
Commissioners of Oyer and Terminer and a special jury of knights
and gentlemen of quality in the county of Middlesex. Twenty-nine
of these were condemned to death. The king was singularly free
from desires of revenge; but many of his council were strangers
to clemency, and, under the guise of loyalty to the crown, sought
satisfaction for private wrongs by urging severest measures. The
monarch, however, shrank from staining the commencement of his
reign with bloodshed and advocated mercy. In a speech delivered
to the House of Lords he insisted that, as a point of honour, he
was bound to make good the assurances given in his proclamation
of Breda, "which if I had not made," he continued, "I am
persuaded that neither I nor you had now been here. I pray,
therefore, let us not deceive those who brought or permitted us
to come together; and I earnestly desire you to depart from all
particular animosities and revenge or memory of past
provocations." Accordingly, but ten of those on whom sentence of
death had been passed were executed, the remainder being
committed to the Tower. That they were not also hung was,
according to the mild and merciful Dr. Reeves, Dean of
Westminster, "a main cause of God's punishing the land" in the
future time. For those destined to suffer, a gibbet was erected
at Charing Cross, that the traitors might in their last moments
see the spot where the late king had been executed. Having been
half hung, they were taken down, when their heads were severed
from their trunks and set up on poles at the south-east end of
Westminster Hall, whilst their bodies were quartered and exposed
upon the city gates.
Burnet tells us that "the regicides being odious beyond all
expression, the trials and executions of the first who suffered
were run to by crowds, and all the people seemed pleased with the
sight;" yet by degrees these cruel and ghastly spectacles became
distasteful and disgusting. "I saw not their executions," says
Evelyn, speaking of four of the traitors who had suffered death
on the 17th of October, "but met their quarters mangled and cutt
and reeking as they were brought from the gallows in baskets on
the hurdle. Oh the miraculous providence of God!"
Seven months later, the people were diverted by the more cheerful
pageant of the king's coronation, which was conducted with great
magnificence. "Two days," as Heath narrates, "were allotted to
the consummation of this great and most celebrated action, the
wonder, admiration and delight of all persons, both foreign and
domestick." Early on the morning of the 22nd of May, the day
being Monday, the king left Whitehall, by water, for the Tower,
in order that he might, according to ancient custom, proceed
through the city to Westminster Abbey. It was noticed that it
had previously rained for a month together, but on this and the
next day "it pleased God that not one drop fell on the king's
triumph." At ten o'clock the roaring of cannon announced the
procession had left the Tower on its way to Whitehall, where his
majesty was to rest the night. The splendour of the pageant was
such as had never before been witnessed. The procession was
headed by the king's council at law, the masters of chancery and
judges, who were followed by the lords according to their rank,
so numerous in all, that those who rode first reached Fleet
Street, whilst the king was yet in the Tower.
No expense was spared by those who formed part of that wonderful
cavalcade, towards rendering their appearance magnificent. Heath
tells us it was incredible to think "what costly cloathes were
worn that day. The cloaks could hardly be seen what silk or
satin they were made of, for the gold and silver laces and
embroidery that was laid upon them; the like also was seen on
their foot-cloathes. Besides the inestimable value and treasures
of diamonds, pearls, and other jewels worn upon their backs and
in their hats, not to mention the sumptuous and rich liveries of
their pages and footmen, some suits of liveries amounting to
fifteen hundred pounds." Nor had the city hesitated in lavishing
vast sums towards decorating the streets through which the king
was to pass. Four triumphal arches were erected, that were left
standing for a year in memory of this joyful day. These were
"composed" by John Ogilby, Esquire; and were respectively
erected in Leadenhall Street, the Exchange on Cornhill, Wood
Street, and Fleet Street.
The thoroughfares were newly gravelled, railed all the way on
both sides, and lined with the city companies and trained bands.
The "relation of his majesty's entertainment passing through the
City of London," as narrated by John Ogilby, and by the papers of
the day, is extremely quaint and interesting, but too long for
detailed description. During the monarch's progress through
"Crouched Friers," he was diverted with music discoursed by a
band of eight waits, placed upon a stage. At Aldgate, and at
several other stages of his journey, he was received in like
manner. Arriving at the great arch in Leadenhall Street, his
ears were greeted by sounds of trumpets and drums playing
marches; when they had finishes, a short scene was enacted on a
balcony of the arch, by figures representing Monarchy, Rebellion,
and Loyalty. Then the great procession wended its way to the
East India House, situate in the same street, when the East India
Company took occasion to express their dutiful affections, in a
manner "wholly designed by person of quality." As the king
advanced, a youth in an Indian habit, attended by two
blackamoors, knelt down before his majesty's horse, and delivered
himself of some execrable verse, which he had no sooner ended
than another youth in an Indian vest, mounted on a camel, was led
forwards and delivered some lines praying his majesty's subjects
might never see the sun set on his crown or dignity. The camel,
it my be noticed, bore panniers filled with pearls, spices, and
silks, destined to be scattered among the spectators. At
Cornhill was a conduit, surmounted by eight wenches representing
nymphs--a sight which must have rejoiced the king's heart; and on
the tower of this same fountain sounded "a noise of seven
trumpets." Another fountain flowed with wine and water; and on
his way the king heard several speeches delivered by various
symbolic figures. One of these, who made a particularly fine
harangue, represented the River Thames, as a gentleman whose
"garment loose and flowing, coloured blue and white, waved like
water, flags and ozier-like long hair falling o'er his shoulders;
his beard long, sea-green, and white." And so by slow degrees
the king came to Temple Bar, where he was entertained by "a view
of a delightful boscage, full of several beasts, both tame and
savage, as also several living figures and music of eight waits."
And having passed through Temple Bar into his ancient and native
city of Westminster, the head bailiff in a scarlet robe and the
high constable, likewise in scarlet, on behalf of the dean,
chapter, city, and liberty, received his majesty with great
expressions of joy.
Never had there been so goodly a show so grand a procession; the
citizens, still delighted with their young king, had certainly
excelled in doing him honour, and some foreigners, Heaton says,
"acknowledged themselves never to have seen among all the great
magnificences of the world any to come near or equal this: even
the vaunting French confessed their pomps of the late marriage
with the Infanta of Spain, at their majesties' entrance into
Paris, to be inferior in its state, gallantry, and riches unto
this most illustrious cavalcade." Amongst those who witnessed
the procession was Mr. Pepys, who has left us a realistic
description, without which this picture would be incomplete. He
tells us he arose early on this day; and the vain fellow says he
made himself as fine as could be, putting on his velvet coat for
the first time, though he had it made half a year before. "And
being ready," he continues, "Sir W. Batten, my lady, and his two
daughters, and his son and wife, and Sir W. Pen and his son and
I, went to Mr. Young's, the flag-maker, in Corne-hill; and there
we had a good room to ourselves, with wine and good cake, and saw
the show very well. In which it is impossible to relate the
glory of this day, expressed in the clothes of them that rid, and
their horses and horses' clothes; among others, my Lord
Sandwich's embroidery and diamonds were ordinary among them. The
Knights of the Bath was a brave sight of itself. Remarquable
were the two men that represent the two Dukes of Normandy and
Aquitane. My Lord Monk rode bare after the king, and led in his
hand a spare horse, as being Master of the Horse. The king, in a
most rich embroidered suit and cloak, looked most noble. Wadlow,
the vintner, at the Devil, in Fleet Street, did lead a fine
company of soldiers, all young comely men in white doublets.
There followed the Vice-Chamberlain, Sir G. Carteret, and a
company of men all like Turkes. The streets all gravelled, and
the houses hung with carpets before them, made brave show; and
the ladies out of the windows, one of which over against us, I
took much notice of, and spoke of her, which made good sport
among us. So glorious was the show with gold and silver, that we
were not able to look at it, our eyes at last being so much
overcome with it. Both the king and the Duke of York took notice
of us as they saw us at the window. The show being ended, Mr.
Young did give us a dinner, at which we were very merry and
pleased above imagination at what we have seen."
The next day, being the feast of St. George, patron of England,
the king went in procession from Whitehall to Westminster Abbey,
where he was solemnly crowned in the presence of a vast number of
peers and bishops. After which, surrounded by the same brilliant
company, he passed from the Abbey to Westminster Hall, the way
being covered with blue cloth, and lined with spectators to the
number of ten thousand. Here his majesty and the lords,
spiritual and temporal, dined sumptuously, whilst many fine
ceremonies were observed, music of all sorts was played, and a
great crowd of pretty ladies looked down from the galleries. And
when the banquet was over, and a general pardon had been read by
the lord chancellor, and the champion had drank out of the king's
gold cup, Charles betook himself to Whitehall. Then, after two
days of fair weather, it suddenly "fell a-raining, and thundering
and lightning," says Pepys, "as I have not seen it do for some
years; which people did take great notice of."
