ed, and with, the fatal distrust of one another which forms the best security of governments against the danger of insurrection, the farmers and villagers were disposed in large numbers to follow the example of their natural leaders. The party of the squires were for peace: the party of the clergy for a battle. The former moved off in the darkness in a body and joined the party in the cathedral. There was now no longer danger. The gentry were surrounded by dependents on whom they could rely; and though still inferior in number, were better armed and disciplined than the brawling crowd of fanatics in the camp. Friday, October 13.When day broke they descended the hill, and told the people that for the present their enterprise must be relinquished. The King had said that they were misinformed on the character of his measures. It was, perhaps, true, and for the present they must wait and see. If they were deceived they might make a fresh insurrection.[1]
They were heard in sullen silence, but they were obeyed. There was no resistance; they made their way to the King's army, and soon after, the Duke of Suffolk, Sir John Russell, and young Cromwell rode into Lincoln. The streets, we are told, were crowded, but no cheer saluted them, no bonnet was moved. The royalist commanders came in as conquerors after a bloodless victgry, but they read in the menacing faces which frowned upon them that their work was still, perhaps, to be done.
- ↑ Confession of Thos. Mayne: Rolls House MS. first series, 432.
