On January 20th, 1649, Charles I, King of
England, Scotland, and Ireland, appeared before the English High Court of Justice. Hours earlier, he had been officially charged
with tyranny, treason, and murder. Oliver Cromwell watched from a window as the
King approached the Palace of Westminster under armed guard. According to people in the room, when Cromwell
saw the King he went "white as a wall." He then went over to the Lord President John
Bradshaw, the guy who would be running the trial, and urgently whispered something in
his ear. After a minute, Cromwell rose and addressed
the larger group, "My masters, he is come, he is come. I desire you to let us resolve here what answer
we shall give to the King when he comes before us; for the first question he will ask us
will be, by what authority and commission do we try him." Under what authority did they put the King
on trial? The true answer was that it all came from
the House of Commons, who had unilaterally (and illegally) declared its own supremacy. In other words, their legal authority was
thin. Everybody knew this. For a time, the room was filled with an embarrassed
silence. What on Earth would they say to the King? One of the commissioners named Marten spoke
up. "In the name of the Commons and Parliament
assembled, and all the good people of England." It was a weak answer, but at least it was
an answer. They'd go with that. The full High Court of Justice entered Westminster
Hall, where they awaited the King. Lord President Bradshaw took centre stage. He feared assassination, and so he wore on
his head a giant bulletproof hat. Even his allies thought he looked ridiculous. King Charles entered the hall, and took his
place before the tribunal. Before the trial began, a complete list of
the members of the tribunal was entered into the record. Several seats were empty. When Lord Fairfax's name was called, the Commander-in-Chief
of the Parliamentarian army, a voice rang out from the gallery, "He has more wit than
to be here!" It was the Lady Fairfax, his wife! Wild! This outburst was cause for concern within
the tribunal, most of whom had served under Lord Fairfax during the Civil War. Was he trying to send them a message, or was
the Lady Fairfax speaking for herself? Unclear. Either way, nobody dared to remove the Commander-in-Chief's
wife. After an awkward silence, Lord President Bradshaw
moved things along. He opened up proceedings with a long speech
about how this court was acting on behalf of God, Justice, the House of Commons, the
People, blah blah blah. He then instructed the Solicitor General John
Cook, the lead prosecutor, to begin reading the charges against the King. Charles had something else in mind. When John Cook began reading, the King lightly
tapped him with his cane and indicated that he would like to speak. Cook ignored him, and went back to reading
the charges. The King was baffled by this, and tapped him
even harder, causing the silver hilt on his cane to fall off and hit the ground with a
loud bang. This would have sounded like a musket shot,
and it scared the living hell out of everybody. The entire room looked at the King as he bent
down to retrieve his little ornament. The fact that nobody moved to help him was
significant. Not his last humiliation of the day. Solicitor General John Cook went back to reading
the charges, which concluded by condemning the King as "a tyrant, traitor, murderer,
and a public and implacable enemy of the Commonwealth of England." At this, Charles let out a quick burst of
laughter. A traitor? A traitor against what, himself? These charges made no sense. Lord President Bradshaw asked the King how
he pled. Was he guilty, or did he maintain his innocence? The King responded, "there are many unlawful
authorities in the world - thieves and robbers by the highway - but I would know by what
lawful authority I was brought here." This is exactly what Cromwell had feared. It was a simple question, but it contained
within it a sharp argument. First and most importantly, before English
law, a King could not be charged with a crime, for any reason, before any court. Everybody in the room knew this. The King wanted the tribunal to explain themselves. Second, even if a King could be charged with
a crime, the legislation establishing the tribunal had been rejected by the House of
Lords. So, under what authority was the King on trial
today? It was a legitimate question. This got under Bradshaw's skin. His role as Lord President was not being shown
the proper respect. He answered in a burst of anger, "in the name
of the people of England, of which you were elected king." This was not the answer that they had all
agreed to beforehand. Bradshaw had just made a massive blunder. It also gives us a hint as to how Bradshaw
viewed the monarchy. Bradshaw had ties to radical Protestantism,
and radical Protestants at the time used the word "election" to mean something that was
random, arbitrary, and unearned. Bradshaw was a Republican, and that's how
he secretly viewed the monarchy. Random, arbitrary, and unearned. The King pounced on this slip of the tongue. He explained to the court that England had
been a hereditary monarchy for a thousand years, and that he, as the heir to that tradition,
stood "more for the liberties of my people than any of my pretended judges. Therefore show me by what authority I am seated
here and I will answer it." Charles could smell blood in the water. He knew that there was no precedent for what
the High Court of Justice was doing here today. Clearly they were just making it up as they
went along. Bradshaw again asked the King to enter his
plea. King countered by asking on what legal authority
he was brought here today. This went back and forth for quite a while,
with Bradshaw becoming angrier and louder and more unhinged. Eventually, Charles said to Bradshaw, "you
have shown no lawful authority to satisfy any reasonable man." Bradshaw shot back, "that is your apprehension. We are satisfied, who are your judges." Charles replied, "'tis not my apprehension,
nor yours either, that ought to decide it." Lord President Bradshaw was extremely frustrated. He adjourned proceedings for the day. They would try again tomorrow. As Charles was being escorted out of Westminster
Hall, people to chant, "God save the King!" The soldiers in the courtroom tried to drown
this out by shouting over top of them, "Justice!" It was pandemonium. In her book "The English Civil War: A People's
History," historian Diane Purkiss provides a really good summary of the first day of
the trial. She describes Charles's strategy as "both
intelligent and stupid. He was displaying bright legal maneuvering,
but his recalcitrance was also a tactically dim way of getting everybody's goat." She's right. Charles was running circles around Bradshaw,
but he was needlessly antagonizing him in the process. So far, the whole thing was a mess. On the second day of the trial, Lord President
Bradshaw sought to take back the initiative and make sure that everybody recognized the
High Court of Justice as a legitimate court of law. He began the day with another lengthy opening
statement. He talked about the strong legal authority
on display here today, and at the end, he asked Solicitor General John Cook to once
more read the charges. When he was finished, Bradshaw again asked
the King for his plea. The King calmly asked the High Court of Justice
to show him upon what lawful authority this trial was being held. Already, they were back in this cul-de-sac. The King had clearly been working on his argument
overnight and he said to Bradshaw, "[this] is not my case alone; it is the freedom and
liberty of the people of England; and do you pretend what you will, I stand more for their
liberties; for if power without law may make laws, may alter the fundamental laws of the
Kingdom, I do not know what subject he is in England that can be sure of his life, or
anything he calls his own." The King was trying to pull a switcharoo. The High Court of Justice had claimed to be
acting on behalf of the people of England, but now Charles was now trying to position
himself as the true champion of liberty. He was arguing that if the aristocracy could
ignore the rule of law and come after the King himself, nobody in England was safe. This must have been laughable those who remembered
people being thrown in prison for refusing to loan the King money, but here we are. Charles had skillfully maneuvered Bradshaw
into a corner. Bradshaw interjected, "Sir, I must interrupt
you.... Sir, it seems you are entering on arguments
and disputes about the authority of the court before which you are convented as a prisoner...
you may not do it." Bradshaw was trying to say that questioning
the legitimacy of the court was against the rules. Kinda weak, if you ask me. The King continued to speak, something about
law and reason. Bradshaw cut him off again, "you speak of
laws and reason. It is fit, there should be law and reason,
and these are both against you. The vote of the Commons of England in Parliament,
that is the reason of the Kingdom. It is the law of the Kingdom." This last bit, about the Commons being the
law of the Kingdom, was incorrect. Under normal circumstances the House of Lords
and the monarch had to sign off on any new laws. The fact that the House of Commons had (illegally)
declared its own supremacy was actually the central issue here, and reminding everybody
of this actually kinda worked in the King's favour. It's puzzling why Bradshaw would go down this
road. It was his second major blunder in two days. The King tried to interject, but Bradshaw
cut him off again, "sir, you are not to dispute our authority; you are told it again by the
court." Again, the King tried to speak. "Sir, it will be taken notice of you that
you stand in contempt of court." A contempt of court charge was a huge deal
in this time. It meant that the trial could proceed without
the defendant. The King replied to the Lord President, "I
do not know how a King can be a delinquent. Continuing later, he said, "to demur against
any proceedings is legal. I do demand that." The King was challenging the contempt charge
on multiple fronts. He was saying first, that a King cannot be
held in contempt, and second, even if he could, simply asking "why am I here?" is perfectly
legal. So far they had not really answered that question. Let's pause here for a moment. The King was behaving as if refusing to enter
a plea was some immovable force. This wasn't exactly true. English law had a provision for situations
like this. If a defendant refused to enter a plea, the
law at the time empowered the court to take the defendant outside and torture them until
they changed their mind. For real. King Charles was making a bet here. He was betting that the High Court of Justice
wouldn't dare torture the King of England. He was right. They wouldn't dare. Bradshaw and company believed - rightly, in
my opinion, - that any mistreatment of the King would cause public opinion to swing in
his favour. It might even set off a Royalist uprising. Way too risky. Bradshaw tried a new argument. He told the King that they had put one of
his predecessors on trial before, and that had been entirely legitimate. Now, I have no idea what Bradshaw is talking
about here. Plenty of kings had been imprisoned or forced
to step down, but nothing like this. Not a trial. Not even close. Charles didn't know what he was talking about
either. He interrupted Bradshaw, "I deny that! I deny it! Show me one precedent!" Bradshaw had made an assertion that he could
not back up. His third major blunder. He responded, "Sir, you ought not to interrupt
while the court is speaking to you. The point of precedent is not to be debated
by you." Bradshaw was saying with a straight face that
this court of law was not interested in hearing precedent? What? Bradshaw feebly asked again for the King to
enter his plea, and again, the King responded that he would be happy to do so once he knew
under what authority this trial was being held. Bradshaw had had enough, and called for the
prisoner to be removed. But the King had more to say. He called out, "Wait! I require some time to state my reasons." Bradshaw responded in anger, "Sir, it is not
for prisoners to require!" The King replied, "Sir, I am not an ordinary
prisoner." Bradshaw started shouting again, but Charles
talked over him, and just gave his speech anyway. He got to a part where he said that it was
"for the liberty, freedom, and laws of my subjects that I ever took up..." - he stopped
himself. Charles had just made a mistake. He was going to say "took up arms," but this
would have been an admission that he had started the Civil War. He corrected himself, "...defended myself
with arms. I never took up arms against the people but
for the laws." That was a close one. At last, the King was taken away under guard. The calls of "God save the King!" and "Justice!"
followed him out of the room. In the commotion, one of the members of the
tribunal, a cobbler named John Hewson, pushed through the crowd and spat in the King's face. Charles calmly wiped his face clean, telling
the cobbler, "Well, Sir, God hath justice in store for you and me." Finally, day 2 of the trial was over. It was a disaster. You wouldn't have thought it possible, but
Bradshaw had mucked things up even worse than on day 1. King Charles was successfully positioning
himself as a champion of the liberties of the people, and Bradshaw had failed to stop
him. There was no excuse for the trial to be going
this badly. That evening, Oliver Cromwell and some others
met with Bradshaw and urged him to change tactics. This wasn't working. Bradshaw maybe didn't fully appreciate this,
but people were terrified. Nobody knew if this new regime would survive. Members of the tribunal were actually being
persuaded by the King's arguments. They now feared that the tribunal was not
a legitimate court of law. Something had to change. Day 3 of the trial began in the old familiar
way. The King was hauled in and Solicitor General
John Cook read the charges. After yet another lengthy speech, Bradshaw
asked the King for his plea. This time, Charles was silent. He appeared to be deep in thought. Finally, he spoke up. "When I was here yesterday, I did desire and
began to speak for the liberties of the people of England. I was interrupted. I desire to know yet, whether I may speak
freely or not." This was different. Bradshaw was caught off guard. He stumblingly told the King that he could
not enter into a discourse at this time, and that first he must answer the charge laid
against him. The King was well prepared. He raised his voice so that everybody in the
room could hear, "for the charge, I value it not a rush. It is the liberties of the people of England
I stand for!" He was playing to the crowd now. Bradshaw was instantly enraged. He rose to his feet and took a few steps towards
the King as if things were about to get physical. He shouted, "truly, Sir, men's intentions
ought to be known by their actions; you have written your meaning in bloody characters
throughout the whole kingdom!" Bradshaw was speaking of the Civil War. How dare the King pretend to defend liberty
when he had killed tens of thousands of his own people? The King tried to interject again, but Bradshaw
turned and began speaking to the clerk. The King was to be held in contempt of court. He ended his instructions with the phrase,
"clerk, do your duty!" At this, the King let out a snort and muttered
something under his breath. Bradshaw turned to the King, "you are before
a court of justice!" The King looked to the row of soldiers behind
him. "I see before me a power." With that, Lord President Bradshaw adjourned
proceedings and ordered the prisoner removed. As promised, he had changed tactics. The King had been found in contempt of court. Under English law at the time, his presence
at his own trial was no longer necessary. Tomorrow, Bradshaw and the High Court of Justice
would begin hearing evidence without him. The Solicitor General John Cook was distraught
over how the trial was going so far. He had always hoped and expected that the
King would plead guilty. After this, he had assumed that the tribunal
be merciful and restore either him or his son to the throne. Instead, the King had just been found to be
in contempt of court. It was finally dawning on Cook that this was
not going to end well. As he was walking home that evening, Cook's
mind was full of dark thoughts. A former pupil spotted him across the street,
and ran over to pick his brain. "What's going to happen? What should we expect from the trial?" Cook answered full of bitterness and regret. "The King must die and the monarchy must die
with him." On the fourth day of the trial, the High Court
of Justice met in the Painted Chamber, a much smaller adjoining room, to hear evidence. The Solicitor General John Cook had charged
the King with being a tyrant, a traitor, and a murderer. These would be tough charges to prove against
a head of state, but fortunately the King would not be present to advocate in his own
defense. Cook decided to really focus the testimony
on whether or not Charles was a traitor, since it seemed obvious that the questions of tyranny
and murder would follow naturally from that. At the time, the traditional definition of
the word treason was when somebody took up arms against their King. But the House of Commons and the High Court
of Justice had gone to great lengths to argue that that a state's power emanated not from
the King, but from the people. Think about this. If the King was the embodiment of the state,
and the state's power came from the people, then attacking the people was kinda like attacking
the King. This was the core tenet of Popular Sovereignty. Taking this to its logical conclusion, Solicitor
General John Cook believed that all they had to do was prove that the King had taken up
arms against his own people. Pretty simple. Cook began bringing forward a steady stream
of witnesses to testify against the King. The next day, the High Court of Justice continued
hearing from witnesses in the Painted Chamber. Again, the King was not present. In the end, 33 people provided testimony. Each told the tribunal that over the course
of the Civil War, the King had personally ordered deadly attacks against the English
people. That was it. In the end, the case was actually quite simple. Solicitor General John Cook believed that
since the English people were sovereign, this was enough to prove treason and tyranny. And since these orders had resulted in tens
of thousands of deaths, it was also enough to prove murder. The members of the High Court of Justice served
as both judges and jury. Among themselves, here in the Painted Chamber
away from the public, they decided that the King was guilty. Oliver Cromwell pulled off with a small group
of allies to write up a death sentence. But when Cromwell and friends presented the
death sentence to the group, only 46 of the 135 members agreed to sign it. People were afraid. What if the King somehow returned to power? Anybody who signed this document would be
guilty of treason and be put to death. Cromwell and his allies stayed late into the
evening making threats, making promises, anything they could think of. In the end, they went from 46 names to 59
names. 59 was still far short of an absolute majority,
but the legislation establishing the tribunal had been careful to say that they didn't actually
need an absolute majority. Some have argued - and I'm inclined to believe
this - that 59 was an important benchmark because it represented a majority of those
who had actually shown up to the trial. This would be enough to satisfy the public. On the sixth day, the High Court of Justice
met back in the original hall in Westminster. Today, the King was invited back to his own
trial. When Charles entered the room, the soldiers
met him with cries of "Justice!" and "Execution!" The day's proceedings began, as usual, with
a long speech from Lord President Bradshaw. The King cut in and asked if he could speak. Bradshaw replied, "you may answer in your
time. Hear the court first." The King pressed on, "it is only a word, a
sudden judgement..." Bradshaw cut the King off, telling him that
he must hear the court first. Bradshaw continued his speech, saying, in
part, that the King was charged with "treason and other high crimes exhibited against him
by the people of England." A woman's voice rang out from the gallery. "It is a lie! Not a quarter of them!" Another woman joined in, "Oliver Cromwell
is a traitor!" It was the Lady Fairfax again, but this time
she had a friend with her. They were both wearing disguises. Orders were given, and soldiers pointed their
muskets at the crowd. The room fell into chaos. The two women escaped in the confusion. Can I just say that wearing a disguise to
a trial and then calling one of the judges a traitor is just so awesome. When order was restored, Bradshaw resumed
his speech. He said that the tribunal had already agreed
upon the sentence, which would be read momentarily, but if the King would like to make a speech
in his own defense, now would be the time. Bradshaw was laying a clever trap. The phrase "in his own defense" was key. If the King laid out a formal legal defense
now, it would be an implicit acknowledgement of the legitimacy of the court. But Charles didn't fall into the trap. He said that he worried not for his own life,
but rather for his conscience, for his honour, and for the peace of the Kingdom. If you read between the lines, this was a
threat. Charles continued. He had an offer. A compromise. He would agree here and now to a formal trial
before Parliament. He had never recognized the legitimacy of
the High Court of Justice, but they could all recognize the legitimacy of Parliament. There, the King would willingly subject himself
to a fair public trial. The members of the tribunal had not anticipated
this. The King was finally negotiating. Nobody wanted another Civil War. The offer was tempting. But it was a trick. When the King said Parliament, he meant both
houses of Parliament. The House of Commons remained sharply divided
over the King's trial. The original vote to establish the tribunal
had only been 26 to 20. Quite narrow. On top of this, the House of Lords had always
been against it. If there was a trial before the House of Commons
and the House of Lords, chances were pretty good that the King would be found innocent. This was a really clever gambit. It had the appearance of fairness, which was
persuasive to those who were on the fence. One member of the tribunal, John Downes, spoke
up. He had been one of the very last people to
sign the King's death warrant. One of the people that Cromwell had threatened
late last night. Now, he spoke in favour of the King's request,
"have we hearts of stone? Are we men?" The people around him told him to be quiet,
one whispering that he was putting his own life in danger. Downes raised his voice, "if I would die for
it, I must do it!" Cromwell was angry, and rushed over to Downes's
side whispering loudly, "What do you mean to do? Cannot you be quiet?" Downes continued, growing even louder, "sir
- no - I cannot be quiet!" Downes jumped to his feet and continued shouting. Cromwell gave Bradshaw a signal, and the Lord
President adjourned the trial. The members of the tribunal retreated to an
anteroom. A half hour later, the trial resumed. Downes's seat was empty. The King continued making his request for
a trial before Parliament. When he was done, Bradshaw launched into yet
another extremely long speech. He concluded by calling the King a tyrant,
a traitor, and a murderer. The King realized that Bradshaw was going
to just ignore his request. He cut in, "I only desire a word, before you
give sentence." Bradshaw pressed on. "For all which crimes and treasons this Court
doth adjudge that he, the said Charles Stuart, as a tyrant, traitor, murderer, and public
enemy to the good people of this nation, shall be put to death by the severing of his head
from his body." Charles tried to speak once more, but he was
pulled out of the room. The trial was over. The King had been sentenced to death. At the time of the trial of Charles I, there
was a tradition in England that went back at least 100 years that went a little something
like this: when the Crown and Parliament could not agree, the monarchy was tightly constrained
by the law. But when the Crown and Parliament agreed,
the English monarchy was among the most powerful institutions on Earth. Part of this was propaganda, but it contained
within it the seeds of Popular Sovereignty. Charles I had never agreed with this philosophy. He believed that relying on popular support
diminished the powers of the Crown. As a consequence, he had ruled as an authoritarian. But after 11 years under an authoritarian
King, the people of England rose up and declared that that sovereignty lie not with the Crown,
but with the people. Quite literally a revolutionary idea at the
time. King Charles I was put to death on January
30th, 1649. At his execution he spoke at length about
the proper role of Parliament, telling the crowd that "a subject and a sovereign are
clean different things!" That had been true in the past, but now it
was no longer the case. Popular Sovereignty had come to England, which
meant that it was now possible for monarchs to commit crimes against their own people.
This guys entire series is awesome. Check out his youtube channel.
One of the best YouTube channels out there. Do yourself a favor, subscribe and dig through his brilliant back catalogue.
One of my favorites to get you started : https://youtu.be/SU1Ej9Yqt68
Did Tribune Aquila approve of this trial?
Couldn't believe I sat through what's practically a court transcript highlight reel with square boxes as illustrations.
Sentenced to death by an illegitimate authority... the English way.
Now there’s a legislative body that knew how to keep the executive in check.
This channel manages to transcend hundreds and thousands of years of history and make it come alive. It's one of my favorites.
I love this channel and have watched pretty much everything on it, but I will admit that was mostly done at 1.25x speed