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out any leave, told him that it was I. Upon which Mr. Woolfe replied, that he should be very ready to venture all he had in the world to secure me. Upon which Richard Penderell came and told me what he had done. At which I was a little troubled, but then there was no remedy, the day being just coming on, and I must either venture that, or run some greater danger.
“ So I came into the house a back way, where I found Mr. Woolfe, an old gentleman, who told me he was very sorry to see me there; because there was two companies of the militia foot, at that time, in arms in the town, and kept a guard at the ferry, to examine every body that came that way, in expectation of catching some that might be making their escape that way, and that he durst not put me into any of the hiding-holes of his house, because they had been discovered, and consequently, if any search should be made, they would certainly repair to these holes; and that therefore I had no other way of security but to go into his barn, and there lye behind his corn and hay. So after he had given us some cold meat, that was ready, we, without making any bustle in the house, went and lay in the barn all the next day; when towards evening, his son, who had been prisoner at Shrewsbury, an honest man, was released and came home to his father's house. And as soon as ever it began to be a little darkish, Mr. Woolfe and his son brought us meat into the barn; and there we discoursed with them, whether we might safely get over the Severn into Wales; which they advised me by no means to adventure upon, because of the strict guards that were kept all along the Severn, where any passage could be found, for preventing any body's escaping that way into Wales. '
“ Upon this, I took resolution of going that night the very same way back again to Penderell's house, where I knew I should hear some news, what was become of my Lord Wilmot, and resolved again upon going for London.
“So we set out as soon as it was dark. But, as we came by the mill again, we had no mind to be questioned a second time there; and therefore asking Richard Penderell, whether he could swim or no ? and how deep the river was? He told me, it was a scurvy river, not easy to be past in all places, and that he could not swim. So I told him, that the river being but a little one, I would undertake to help him over. Upon which we went over some closes to the riverside, and I entering the river first, to see whether I could myself go over, who knew how to swim, found it was but a little above my middle; and thereupon taking Richard Penderell by the hand I helped him over.
" Which being done, we went on our way to one of Penderell's brothers, (his house being not far from White Ladys) who had been guide to my Lord Wilmot, and we believed might, by that time, be come back again; for my Lord Wilmot intended to go to London upon his own horse. When I came to this house, I inquired where my Lord Wilmot was; it being now towards morning, and having travelled these two nights on foot, Penderell's brother told me, that he had conducted him to a very honest gentleman's house, one Mr. Pitchcroft, not far from Woolverhampton, a Roman Catholic. I asked him, what
news? He told me, that there was one Major Careless in the house that was that country-man; whom I knowing, he having been a major in our army, and made his escape thither, a Roman Catholic also, I sent for him into the room where I was, and consulting with him what we should do the next day. He told me, that it would be very dangerous for me either to stay in that house, or to go into the wood, there being a great wood hard by Boscobel; that he knew but one way how to pass the next day, and that was, to get up into a great oak, in a pretty plain place, where we might see round about us; for the enemy would certainly search at the wood for people that had made their escape. Of which proposition of his, I approving, we (that is to say, Careless and I) went, and carried up with us some victuals for the whole day, viz. bread, cheese, small beer, and nothing else, and got up into a great oak, that had been lopt some three or four years before, and being grown out again, very bushy and thick, could not be seen through, and here we staid all the day. I having, in the mean time, sent Penderell's brother to Mr. Pitchcroft's, to know whether my Lord Wilmot was there or no; and had word brought me by him, at night, that my Lord was there; that there was a very secure biding-hole in Mr. Pitchcroft's house, and that he desired me to come thither to him.
“ Memorandum, That while we were in this tree we see soldiers going up and down, in the thicket of the wood, searching for persons escaped, we seeing them, now and then, peeping out of the wood.
" That night, Richard Penderell and I went to Mr. Pitchcroft's, about six or seven miles off, where I found the gentleman of the house, and an old grand-mother of his, and Father Hurlston, who had then the care, as governor, of bringing up two young gentlemen, who I think were Sir John Preston and his brother, they being boys.
“Here I spoke with my Lord Wilmot, and sent him away to Colonel Lane's, about five or six miles off, to see what means could be found for my escaping towards London; who told my Lord, after some consultation thereon, that he had a sister that had a very fair pretence of going hard by Bristol, to a cousin of hers that was married to one Mr. Norton, who lived two or three miles towards Bristol on Somersetshire-side, and she might carry me thither as her man; and from Bristol I might find shipping to get out to England.”
The king is mistaken in calling Mr. Whitgreave Mr. Pitchcroft. The Pitchcroft is the name of the meadow, contiguous to the city of Worcester, on which the troops were encamped on the night before the battle. It is not surprising that, after an interval of twenty-nine years, Charles should have mistaken the name of a place for that of a person : and it affords a satisfactory proof of the authenticity of the narrative, since, as several printed accounts of the circumstances were in circulation, had this attributed to the king been spurious and forged, it would, doubtless, have been correct in the instance of Mr. Whitgreave's name.
The various incidents of this perilous escape are much more minutely collected and recorded in the Boscobel narrative, by Mr. Blount : we have not space, however, to extract his account; but, on a careful perusal and collation, the reader will find it remarkably corroborative of the king's own history of his adventures, above quoted. There were six brothers of the Penderells, who all appear to have known the secret of the king's concealment, but Richard and William were chiefly instrumental in aiding him. The former was known by the name of Trusty Richard. Some of the brothers were taken into the royal service; and Humphrey, the miller, in 1680, was footman to the queen, at Somerset House. From the numerous engravings of William and Richard Penderell, noticed in Granger, under the class of “persons remarkable for a single circumstance in their lives,” it is evident, that they were popular characters, and, probably, well known in London. Richard died in the metropolis, and lies buried in the church of St. Giles's in the fields, where a monument is erected to his memory, bearing the following epitaph, “Here lieth the body of RICHARD PENDERELL, Preserver and Conductor to his Sacred Majesty King Charles of Great Britain, after his escape from Worcester Fight, in the year 1651, who died Feb. 8, 1671 :
“ Hold, Passenger, here's shrouded in this Herse,
Embalms the story of Great Pend'rell's name.”
Charles used, jocosely, to say, in afterwards “ fighting over again his battles by the fire-side,” that the rustling of Richard's calves-skin breeches was the best guide for him in that dark night when he followed his faithful subject. Mrs. Woolf discoloured his majesty's hands with walnut-tree leaves, as suitable to his other disguise. William Penderell's wife regaled him with an old English posset of skimmed milk and small beer,homely fare for a British monarch; and as his host could find no other shoes to change for those taken from the monarch's dripping feet, the “ good wife” put some hot embers in them, to evaporate the damp. William Penderell then shaved the king, and cut his hair off his head as short as the scissors
would shear it, but leaving some about his ears, according to the evangelical fashion of the country people. The king enjoined William to burn the hair which he cut off; but Blount says, the peasant disobediently secreted it, “wherewith he has since pleasured some persons of honour :" be this as it may, William had, doubtless, sagacity enough to find (like the retailers of the Royal Oak and the Shakspeare mulberry-tree,) sufficient hair for the accommodation of all those whose loyalty demanded it.
On the following Sunday, the royal party set out for Moseley, to place the king under the protection of Mr. Thomas Whitgreave, (miscalled Pitchcroft.) Their progress was not a little grotesque. Humphrey Penderell (the miller of WhiteLadies Mill) got bis mill-horse up from grass, and accoutred him, nut with state trappings and goodly furniture, but with“ a pitiful old saddle and a worse bridle.” The king, not being recovered from the sore effects of his foot-journey, then mounted the beast, and rode towards Moseley, attended by all the brothers, William, John, Richard, Humphrey, and George Penderell, and Francis Yates, who had married one of the sisters, and whose coarse shirts the king wore. His majesty was habited in old clothes of William Penderell's, who, being a tall man, the breeches the king had on came considerably below his majesty's knees. Colonel Careless being well known in that part of the country, thought it prudent to quit the party, and trust his royal charge to this rustic and singular body-guard. The procession then moved towards Moseley, much in the manner of a deserter's march; two marched before, and one on each side the king's horse, and two bebind as rear guard : they had each a bill or pike staff, and some had pistols in their pockets. In this mode, they faithfully conducted their precious charge to Penfold mill, within two miles of Mr. Whitgreave's. After the king had been jolted soñe miles, it is pleasantly recorded, that his uneasiness got the better of his politeness, and tempted him to complain, that Humphrey's horse “ was the heaviest dull jade he ever rode on:” to which Humphrey, in repartee, took the liberty of answering, beyond the usual capacity of a miller, “ My Liege! can you blame the horse to go heavily, when he has the weight of three kingdoms on his back ?"
Having brought the king so far, we shall now insert, entire, the manuscript of Mr. Whitgreave, who next secreted him for some days. The original is now in possession of the present proprietor of Moseley, the lineal descendant of the allthor of the manuscript. This family record has never been published, and we are indebted for the present copy of it to the liberal communication of Mr. Spurrier, an eminent solicitor of Birmingham.
“King Charles the second comeing from Worcester fight, being Wednesday, Sept. 3, 1651, about sun rising next morning, being Thursday, by the conduct of Mr. Charles Giffard, and his man Yates, arrived at White Ladyes, where, as soon as might bee, he was divested of his apparell, his hayr cut off, and habited like a country fellow, which being done, haveing taken leave of the Lords who attended him, was committed to the charge of the Pendrells. The Lords, &c. then most of them fled after the flying Armye towards Newport, and so Northwards. The Lord Willmot was resolved to fly counter towards London, and by the guidance of John Pendrell gott to Mr. Huntbaches of Brinsford, from whence he sent the said Pendrell to Wolverhampton and all bis acquaintance thereabouts, to gett some Azilum for him, but not prevayling, as he was returning back, hee met with Mr. Huddeston (whom he had seen formerly at White Ladyes) with young Sir John Preston, to whose custody he was committed by Mrs. Morgan, of Weston, Grandmother to him, and sent to my mother's to Table, for fear Pym should seize him going there, by the name of Jackson; for whose Companious Mr. Huddleston was pleased to admitt Mr. Francis Raynolds and Mr. Tho. Palin, both nephews of mine and to teach them with him, and asked him what news he heard, who answered none but very good; which was, the King had gott the day at Worcester. But Pendrell answeared, 'tis clean contrarie; and then related to him the sad news of his Majesties defeat att Worcester the day before ; and how that morning earlie, the King came to White Ladyes and was with some of his Brothers in disguise, and that my Lord of Cleveland; but indeed Willmott hee left att the said Huntbaches, and was by him sent to Hampton, and to all his acquaintance thereabout, to gett some secrett place to secure him, which not being able to do he asked Mr. Huddleston whether his Landlord, being myself, would do him the favour to secure him; who replyed, I will take you to him and you shall see; upon their arrivall, Mr. Huddleston toid me all the sad news, and his buisiness with me, whereupon I said I would with speed wait on his Lordship, which I did accordingly; and when there, Mr. Huntbach brought mee to his Chamber, whom, after I had condoled his Majesties and all his Friends sad misfortunes, I told him I feared not to secure his Lordship if I could gett him privately to my house, which I thought the best way was for mee to wish Mr. Huntbach to bring him a by way to a close of mine, called the Moore about midnight, whereatt thatt tyme I would wait for him, and take him to a friend's house not far of, wheare I feard not his securitie (to conceal from Mr. Huntbach my taking him home) where accordingly I wayted for their comeing 2 or 3 howers; and then supposing they had steared some other course, I returned home, where I found my Lord Willmott arrived, being conducted by the said Huntbach another way along the publick ways and Lanes, which when my Lord understood, he was much troubled. The next morning I sent a Messenger well known to Col. Lane to acquaint him that my Lord was with inee, but I had no conveniency for his horses, my howse lying to the open roade and an howse over against itt, and therefore I desired him to entertain them (they being that night all att one Evans house,