Two years ago, in a paper read on April 20, 1899, and printed in volume xiii. of the Transactions of this Society, I traced the early history of the famous regiment of horse raised by Cromwell, the troopers of which are popularly known by the name of the Ironsides, though that name properly belongs not to them alone, but to the cavalry of the Cromwellian army in general. That paper closed with the dissolution of the army of the Eastern Association in April 1645, and with the consequent subdivision of the regiment which Cromwell had raised. I propose now to trace the history of the two regiments which sprang out of it.

Introduction

Three negotiations, separate yet dependent, like three acts in a drama, preceded the Treaty of Lunéville.

In Act I General St. Julien, assuming the airs of Plenipotentiary, treats with Talleyrand in Paris.

In Act 2 M. Otto, Captain George, and Mr. Hammond negotiate somewhat languidly in London.

In Act 3 Joseph Bonaparte and Count Cobenzl watch each other and the events of war for four long months in Lunéville.

Amongst the multifarious contents of the Old State Paper Office in Whitehall which were brought to light after the death of the famous Secretary of State of King Charles II., Sir Joseph Williamson, who was also keeper of the diplomatic archives, were certain bundles of despatches received from Mr. William Perwich, and dated at Paris between the years 1669 and 1677. These distinctive bundles, which at that time stood for the diplomatic correspondence between England and France during the most critical period of the foreign policy of the reign, have long since been broken up and distributed amongst the series of ‘State Papers, France,’ preserved in the Public Record Office.

The present paper contains a slight contribution from unpublished English State Papers to our knowledge of the history and policy of Brandenburg during the first years of the rule of Frederick William the Great Elector: that is, from December 1640 to about the year 1643. The great English historians of the time, Lord Clarendon and Dr. Gardiner, have told us but little of the distant and distracted German March, and our State Papers deepen the impression that in 1640 Brandenburg lay just beyond the horizon of English politics.

In the middle of the seventh century Rome became again, as in ancient times, the ‘centre of the universe’. Thousands of pilgrims came from distant lands, Spain, Gaul, and Britain, to worship at the shrines of the saints. We are told how these pilgrims, when first they caught sight of Rome in the distance, would fall on their knees, chant hymns, and march down to the city. Arrived there they would seek shelter in the various pilgrim-houses, where they would find fellow-countrymen to act as guides to the churches and catacombs; and after their return to their own country they would spread wonderful tales of the greatness and magnificence of the holy town and of the Papacy, until others were moved to set out on a like pilgrimage. Thus the bond between the nations and the ‘Mother of Mankind’ was stronger than one of mere political needs and advantages. It was religious zeal which sent the first newly converted Anglo-Saxons to Rome. In 689 Csedwalla, King of Wessex, after ruling for two years, took ship to Rome, seeking, as the greatest earthly honour to which he could attain, baptism in the atrium of St. Peter's. The Romans of old had been accustomed to see kings of distant lands either as captives following a triumph, or as vassals pleading before their tribunals. Their descendants now for the first time saw a barbarian king in their city. He was led by the Pope to the baptistery in the Lateran, and there on Easter Sunday, dressed in a white robe, his long hair loose, and bearing lighted tapers in his hand, he was baptised from Constantine's porphyry bow and given the name of Peter.