The English Civil War

PREFACE

Extract from a letter from William Cavendish, 3rd Earl of Devonshire to his learned friend, companion and tutor, Thomas Hobbes, at Hardwick Hall in this year of grace 1668.

“…and so the King commends him to you and instructs me to report that should you wish yet again to be the “bear to be baited” by the Court wits (if such they be) order is again given that you shall have free access to His Majesty’s gracious self at all times.

An event occurred that put me in mind of your own restoration with the King. Last week his Majesty made his progress with all due pomp towards the Guildhall in the City, there to be feasted by the Mayor and Alderman. The crowds crying out ever “God Save the King” and “Long Live Your Majesty” and such good compliments to their beloved sovereign when His Majesty, espying some man standing tall behind the common sort, a little moppet on his shoulders (the better that she might see her King), His Majesty, I say, on seeing this tall fellow did cause the progress to be stopped and this same fellow to come forward (Just as took place, dear friend, when a few days after the King was restored to us, he espied you at the gate of Little Salisbury House and ordered your approach) To resume – the man comes forward with much show of modesty, and being called up to the very coach door by the King did make his courtesy with much seemliness and pleasure. The happiness at this encounter was reflected in the countenance of his Majesty who said to all privileged to hear: “This good man’s dissemblance saved my person from certain death at Rebel Hands.” He then bids this good fellow and patriot (who was a churugeon and apothecary from the City of Worcester) to attend him later that even at Whitehall.

This physician had it seemed seen much action in these late Civil Wars (although at no time I think in these Our Islands had Incivility so Tyrannical a sway). He had at 19 after the skirmish at Powick Bridge in Worcestershire suffered a fate so close to that of His Majesty that when they met some nine years later at the Great Battle of Worcester, there must needs be a close communion. For this Thomas Fletcher’s innocent father was hung for a spy by Robert Devereux Earl of Essex in the common market place, and our Gracious Majesty on meeting in this way with Fletcher remembered him of their mutual tragedy.

But there was much merriment also at this later encounter at Whitehall. The service this same fellow performed was one few other citizens could perform for all who saw them side by side remarked well how strangely close in physiognomy and in stature this common surgeon was to His Majesty, although his elder by seven years. It seemed this same resemblance succoured His Majesty by “dissemblance”, thus allowing him to avoid the Rebel soldiery intent on his capture after the ill-fated Battle of Worcester.

After his audience with His Majesty when he was dined and feted – his wife, son and daughter likewise – suffice it to report that he left His Majesty’s portal, the richer by a knighthood. When His Majesty divulged his intention, he was heard to remark with a degree of assurance that might be judged indiscreet in the Court circle: “My grandsire refused this singular honour from your grandsire, sir, when money could have purchased it. But now if it please you to bestow it for service, then it pleases me much to accept.” Then did all men present catch their breath, for it did not sort well to speak ill of King James. But His Majesty laughed much and clapping him about the shoulder says: ”For a dissembler, true Thomas, you are as bold a man in your words as I could meet in any wood in Worcestershire!” Then they both fell a-laughing as about some private matter. At length without further words ’tis ‘Arise, Sir Thomas Fletcher’.”

I had speech with this same new Knight after the King’s audience had concluded. It is, alas, too infrequent in these days to meet any who had known that rare pleasure of Great Tew discourse and companionship. He had rested there after Edgehill with Edward Holte for two months, and remembered their talk of you. When at last he met you as his patient in Paris, twenty years ago, you spoke with him of Lucius Corley of blessed memory, and said much comfortingly to him of the dreadful end of his innocent father. When he learned that I corresponded with you he begged me to send his affectionate duty. (He jested also that he trusted you will forgive his acceptance of this reward of “knighthood” I found to my shame he was more familiar with Leviathan than ever I was).

One further Royal proposition was heeded. Learning that this Fletcher had throughout nine years of unrest, found himself many times as a surgeon on the field of battle, the King demanded that he should commit to the immortality of print his several encounters with discord and death. Upon observing that Thomas had of an instant a “doubting” air at such a notion, the King insisted: “Nay there must be much that you in abstaining from warfare as a physician observed that was cruel and heedless even in the ranks of those who loved my father. Prithee Tom” and here he fell a- laughing again “write your history as I hear the late but not lamented Lord Protector instructed the painter Lely ‘With roughness, warts, pimples and all, or I swear I shall not pay a farthing for it’. Do so, Thomas.” And so the matter was left.

Ere I conclude I must acquaint you with the news of the new French Ambassador, Monsieur Colbert. He continues to amaze the court with the grandeur of his equipage and costume…….”

Thus the story is told and you the reader will indeed be aquainted in such detail that you will find, within the knowing have no doubt, nor greater admiration and interest in the welfare of Tom Fletcher Master Doctor of Worcester.

Please feel free to contact Tom here.