Foul Deeds and Suspicious Deaths in London's West End

by Geoffrey Howse

  … The open space before the Banqueting House was a great deal more easily guarded than the usual places of public execution, like Tower Hill or Tyburn. It was a relatively small square, overlooked on three sides by the buildings of Whitehall.

  The Palace of Whitehall extended about two hundred yards inland from its gardens and frontage on the river. The ancient thoroughfare called King Street that linked Westminster to Charing Cross was older than the palace, and no attempt had been made to close or divert this public way. It ran right through the precincts of the palace. Henry VIII had built the Holbein Gate over the street to carry a corridor linking the residential part of the palace on the riverside to the Tilt-yard, Cockpit and other additional galleries and outbuildings on the side of St James’s Park. The new Banqueting house, with its stone façade in the classical Italian manner, was at right angles to the mellowed red and black chequered brick of the graceful turreted Holbein Gate. Opposite the Banqueting House, on the farther side of King Street, ran the blank wall of the Tilt-yard. The street was broad here, about a hundred and twenty feet, but every building that abutted on it was part of the Army Headquarters. Furthermore, during the war several windows of the Banqueting House had been bricked up, and a battery of guns had been mounted on a platform in the angle between the Holbein Gate and the Banqueting House. A better guarded part of the public street could not have been found.

  Of the 150 Commissioners who attended the trial, in the end just fifty-nine put their signature on the King’s death warrant. Eleven years later, when the surviving signatories were put on trial for the murder of the King, it became evident that fear of Cromwell was one reason why some men signed the warrant. Three officers of the army were directed to see that the King was put to death between the hours of ten in the morning and five in the afternoon on Tuesday 30 January, these were Colonel Hacker, Colonel Hunks and Colonel Phayre.

  King Charles I. Author’s collection

  In the seven years since Charles had fled from Whitehall and the riots of the London apprentices, and in the ensuing years, the once beautiful Whitehall Palace had been ill used for its own purposes firstly by Parliament and later the army. As part of the defensive measures seven windows in the Banqueting House had been partially blocked by boards or masonry. The magnificent hall, with its great ceiling and its glorious paintings by Reubens, was barely visible in the dimly lit room. They showed the principal events of his father James I’s reign, his own birth and his accession to the throne at his father’s death. It was to be through this very hall, constructed with an entirely different purpose in mind, that the King was to walk on his way to the scaffold, which had been erected immediately outside. Built with high sides, which had been draped with black cloth to partially obscure the view, its floor was level with the lower part of the windows on the first floor. The scaffold was ‘L’ shaped and had been built to fit the recessed addition to the main building, which was, when faced from King Street, to the left. It was there that a window had been removed and the hole enlarged, through which the king would pass.

  Bust of King Charles I, on the outside of the east wall of St Margaret’s Church Westminster, facing Westminster Hall and the statue of Oliver Cromwell. The author

  Meanwhile, while the scaffold was being erected and preparations made for the execution, the King was half a mile away in his apartments in St James’s Palace. The House of Commons had granted the King’s request to see his children, the eight-year-old Prince Henry, Duke of Gloucester and thirteen-year-old Princess Elizabeth. On the afternoon of 28 January they were brought from Syon House to St James’s Palace and in the evening were taken to see their father. The other children had all escaped abroad. The Duke of Gloucester was a lively little boy, who on his few public appearances had attracted a great deal of popular interest and applause from those who saw him. Rumours abounded that the King’s enemies would put him on the throne in his father’s place, as a puppet king, a possibility Charles was well aware of. Charles had had little to do with these particular children and had only come to know them at the end of the Civil War, as both had been in the hands of Parliament throughout the conflict. During the autumn of 1647 when he had been incarcerated at Hampton Court, they had visited him often. However, it had been fifteen months since he had last seen them. On seeing their father, both children immediately fell to their knees, Princess Elizabeth was crying bitterly. The King raised them to their feet and took them on one side, as the children had not come unaccompanied. He spoke firstly to his daughter, who was still weeping. He told her to listen carefully and to try to remember the important things he had to say. As the princess continued to weep, her father gently reproached her saying:

  Syon House, from where the Royal children were brought to see their father on the eve of his execution. Author’s collection

  Sweetheart, you will forget this.

  The princess replied:

  No, I will never forget it whilst I live.

  She did remember her father’s words and what follows is Princess Elizabeth’s own account of the King’s last words to her, which she wrote down that night:

  He told me he was glad I was come, and although he had not time to say much, yet somewhat he had to say to me, which he had not to another, or have in writing, because he feared their cruelty was such, as that they would not have permitted him to write to me. He wished me not to grieve and torment myself for him, for that would be a glorious death that he should die, it being for the laws and liberties of this land, and for maintaining the true Protestant Religion. He bid me read Bishop Andrews’ Sermons, Hooker’s Ecclesiastical Policy and Bishop Laud’s book about Fisher, which would ground me against Popery. He told me, he had forgiven all his enemies, and hoped God would forgive them also, and commanded us, and all the rest of my brothers and sisters to forgive them. He bid me tell my mother that his thoughts had never strayed from her, and that his love should be the same to the last. Withal he commanded me and my brother to be obedient to her, and bid me send his blessing to the rest of my brothers and sisters, with commendation to all his friends.

  The Princess added a postscript:

  Further, he commanded us all to forgive these people, but never to trust them, for they had been most false to him and to those that gave them power, and he feared also to their own souls; and desired me not to grieve for him, for he should die a martyr; and that he doubted not but the Lord would settle his throne upon his son, and that we should be all happier than we could have expected to have been if he had lived.

  To the little Duke of Gloucester, as he took him on his knee, the King said:

  Mark, child, what I say, they will cut off my head, and perhaps make thee a king: but mark what I say, you must not be a king so long as your brothers Charles and James do live; for they will cut off your brothers’ heads too (when they can catch them) and cut off thy head too, at last; and therefore I charge you, do not be made a king by them.

  The little prince, who had listened to his father’s words with great attentiveness, gave an answer worthy of one far beyond his years, when he uttered the reassuring words to his father:

  I will be torn in pieces first.

  The King put his son down and kissed him. He kissed his daughter too, gave them most of his remaining jewels to take away, then blessed them both. As the children were led away by Bishop Juxton, His Majesty retired to his bedchamber.

  At about half past five the King woke and said to his servant, Thomas Herbert, ‘I will get up, I have a great work to do this day.’ The King again addressed his servant with the words, ‘Herbert, this is my second marriage day; I would be as trim today as may be, for before to-night I hope to be espoused to my blessed Jesus.’ Dressing and His Majesty’s painstaking toilet lasted a full hour. The King’s chestnut coloured hair and beard were flecked with grey. He had Herbert trim his beard with great precision. Realizing that it must be cold outside, for the fire in the hearth could not entirely dispel the chill that seeped into the chamber, the King ch
ose the clothing he would wear with an eye to warmth. He told Herbert, ‘I will not have the people see me shiver in the cold lest they think me afraid.’ During his toiletry preparations the King also remarked ‘I fear not death. Death is not terrible to me. I bless God I am prepared.’ He put on two linen shirts, over which he dressed in a waistcoat of rich, red-striped silk, brocaded with silver and yellow. His doublet and breeches were of black satin. The King also wore a short black velvet cloak. He also wore earrings, each a pearl surmounted by a small gold crown; and also the blue ribbon, golden emblem and badge of the Order of the Garter.

  Oliver Cromwell. Author’s collection

  The King gave some final instructions for the distribution of gifts and shortly after His Majesty’s preparations were completed, William Juxton, Bishop of London arrived, to give him communion. The King spoke privately with Juxton for an hour, and then received the Sacrament. At first His Majesty thought that the Bishop had chosen the Gospel especially for the occasion, but was much impressed when Juxton informed him that it was the lesson ordained for the day in the Prayer Book, the twenty-seventh Chapter of St Matthew, the Passion of our Lord. This proved greatly significant to those Royalists who would later espouse Charles I’s martyrdom.

  A little while before ten o’clock, a man in the scarlet uniform of a colonel in the Puritan army knocked lightly on the door of the King’s bedchamber. There was no reply, so he knocked again, this time more firmly. The door was opened by Herbert and the colonel was admitted. Visibly trembling, Colonel Hacker told the King that it was time to go to Whitehall. His Majesty replied that he would come ‘presently’ and after a few moments of prayer with the bishop, he took Juxton’s hand saying, ‘Come, let us go.’ The King remarked to Hacker, ‘I am grateful for a walk on such a cold morning. It will restore my circulation.’ The party left St James’s Palace by a door leading into the palace garden. Colonel Tomlinson was waiting for the King. The snow had stopped falling but the ground was hard and the sky looked threatening. As the party made its way through St James’s Park to Whitehall, with his hat in his hand, Colonel Tomlinson walked on one side of the King, Bishop Juxton on the other, Thomas Herbert followed behind. This small group was quickly surrounded by the two companies of infantry, who were to provide the escort. When they reached the edge of St James’s Park an open wooden staircase led into the adjoining buildings of Whitehall. From the staircase, the King passed along the gallery above the Tilt-yard, which was hung with many portraits from the Royal collection, then he crossed King Street by the upper floor of the Holbein Gate, then he was taken to the chamber in which until recently he had slept. There, at about half-past ten, he was left with Herbert and Juxton.

  The Palace of Whitehall seen from the River Thames. The Banqueting House dominates the left background. Author’s collection

  At noon a servant appeared to enquire of His Majesty what he would like for dinner. The King had eaten nothing since the previous night, intending that no food should pass his lips excepting the Sacrament. When the King replied ‘Nothing’, Bishop Juxton urged the King to take something, with the words, ‘But your Majesty, no one can tell how long you must wait. In this bitter cold you might faint when you go out there.’ The King realizing the bishop’s good sense, said, ‘Perhaps a manchet and a glass of claret.’ The King drank the wine and ate half the manchet (a small white loaf).

  Herbert took Bishop Juxton aside, ashen faced and trembling, he said ‘Your reverence, I cannot answer for my actions any longer. His Majesty ordered me to have this ready, but I shall not be able to endure the sight of what they will do to him.’ Herbert then handed Juxton a white linen embroidered cap. As he took the cap, Juxton said, ‘I will see to that. You can wait in the Banqueting Hall.’ It was almost two o’clock in the afternoon when Colonel Hacker knocked on the King’s door. Juxton and Herbert fell to their knees weeping. The King ordered Herbert to open the door, this being done His Majesty along with Herbert and Bishop Juxton, followed Hacker along the corridors of the palace, between two ranks of soldiers which lined the entire route shoulder to shoulder. People had crowded into the palace to get a sight of the King, some were praying, others gave him their blessings as he passed by. They finally reached the Banqueting House and passed through the dimly lit hall. Outside, masses of soldiers several ranks deep, held back an immense multitude of people. People peered through every available window and many watched from the rooftops. First to come out of the window was Colonel Hacker and his guard of soldiers. Next came the King with a firm and steady step, accompanied by Bishop Juxton. Then out stepped two masked men with false hair and beards, they went immediately to the block and stood silently by it. Colonel Tomlinson was also on the scaffold and so were several short-hand writers with notebooks, ready to take down what was said.

  The remnants of the Palace of Whitehall, seen in this engraving of 1724, twenty-six years after much of the palace was destroyed by fire. The Banqueting House can be seen on the left. Author’s collection

  The Banqueting House, Whitehall, August 2005. The author

  The King looked disdainfully at the sight that beheld him, for not only was the block unusually low but several staples had been driven into the planking and cords and pulleys had been laid out nearby in case he resisted, in order that he might be tied down. No such indignities were necessary, as, when the time came, the King did not resist. As for the executioner, although many rumours were in circulation in the preceding days before the execution as to his identity, and for some time afterwards, there is little doubt that the man who wielded the axe that struck off the head of the King was Richard Brandon, the City’s principal hangman. Brandon had succeeded his father, Gregory Brandon, in his office in about 1639 and was generally referred to as ‘young Gregory’. He lived near the Tower of London, in Rosemary Lane. In the preceding years he had beheaded several high profile prisoners including the Earl of Strafford and William Laud, Archbishop of Canterbury. Brandon was noted for his efficiency and he prided himself on his dexterity with the axe. He never needed to strike more than once. On the scaffold, both the executioner and his assistant wore masks, false hair and beards, in the hope that they would not be recognized.

  As the King looked towards the axe and the block, which was no more than ten inches off the ground, he asked Colonel Hacker if no higher one could be provided. ‘It can be no higher, Sir’, came the reply. His Majesty was allowed to speak as he chose. Out of a pocket the King took a small piece of paper, about four inches square, on which he had made some notes, he unfolded it and began to speak. As his voice could not reach beyond the assembled troops he spoke to those gathered on the scaffold. The King began:

  I shall be very little heard of anybody here [meaning the wider audience of spectators], I shall therefore speak a word unto you here, [meaning those assembled about him on the scaffold]. Indeed I could hold my peace very well, but I think it is my duty, to God first, and to my country, for to clear myself both as an honest man, a good King, and a good Christian … I think it is not very needful for me to insist long upon this, for all the world knows that I never did begin a war first with the two Houses of Parliament … God forbid I should lay it on the two Houses of Parliament … I do believe that ill instruments between them and me have been the chief cause of all this bloodshed.

  He told the assembled company that if as a King, he denied the justice of the sentence against him he saw his fate as God’s judgment on him. Having spoken these words the King then immediately made reference to the one great regret of his life, which had lain heavy on his conscience since May 1641. He had allowed his true and loyal friend and ally, Thomas Wentworth, Earl of Strafford, to go to the scaffold, when unscrupulous parliamentarians, unable to find him guilty of any crime, had resorted to using an Act of Parliament, the Act of Attainder, to find him guilty, and as one commentator at the time said, murdered him with the sword of justice. Although the King did not speak the name of Strafford, for most of those who heard or later read his words, no
further explanation was necessary. The King simply uttered:

  I will only say this, that an unjust sentence that I suffered to take effect is punished now by an unjust sentence upon me, that is, so far I have said, to show you that I am an innocent man.

  The King then said that he had forgiven all the world:

  and even those in particular that have been the chief causers of my death: who they are, God knows, I do not desire to know, I pray God forgive them … I wish that they may repent, for indeed they have committed a great sin in that particular; I pray God, with St Stephen, that this be not laid to their charge. Nay, not only so, but that they may take the right way to the peace of the Kingdom: for my charity commands me not only to forgive particular men, but my charity commands me to endeavour to the last gasp the peace of the Kingdom. So, Sirs, I do wish with all my soul, (and I do hope there is some here will carry it further) that they may endeavour the peace of the Kingdom …

  Of his enemies in politics, the King went on to say:

  … they would achieve nothing by unjust conquest; they must learn to know their duty to God, the King – “that is, my successors” – and the people. They should call a national council to settle the affairs of the Church. As for the King –

  At this point, the King broke off speaking as he noticed that one of the officers had accidentally touched the axe. The King said to him: