[00.07]
Colchester in Essex was a hotbed of Puritanism in the seventeenth century. Unsurprisingly, the Essex town came out strongly for Parliament when Civil War broke out in 1642. However, just six years later, the townsfolk would find themselves besieged – and systematically starved – by Parliamentarian forces commanded by Thomas, Lord Fairfax. The siege, which lasted from 13 June to 27 August 1648, became one of the nastiest episodes of the Civil Wars in England.
Local-born historian, David J. Appleby, whose ancestors lived in the nearby village of Boxted at the time of the siege, describes how fate brought death and destruction to this once prosperous community.
[00.58]
Colchester was already ancient by the 1640s. The Romans encircled the town with a formidable stone wall when they rebuilt after Boudicca’s revolt. The Saxons developed a seagoing port – the Hythe. The Normans built a castle, which still dominated the skyline six centuries later.
Eleven thousand people lived in seventeenth century Colchester. The main streets were paved; fresh water was piped in from a nearby spring. Impressive timber-framed houses inside and outside the walls housed the wealthier citizens. At the same time, the decline of the broadcloth industry meant that poverty haunted the southern parishes of St Botolph and St Mary Magdalen.
Colchester’s Dutch Quarter housed a relatively prosperous community: some 1,500 Flemish and Dutch descendants of Protestant refugees from the Spanish Netherlands. These immigrants had saved the local economy by introducing new types of drapery.
St John’s, the seat of the Lucas family, lay south of the Roman wall. The family had acquired many other properties in Essex and London over the years. Their yearly income – around £4,000 – was exceeded locally only by the Earl of Warwick, the so-called ‘King of Essex’. Nevertheless, the Lucases remained outsiders. They were episcopalian Protestants, in the mould of Archbishop Laud, but they were frequently accused of being Catholics. They were devoted to the Stuart monarchy, not least because James I had restored Thomas Lucas to his status and lands, following years of disfavour under Elizabeth I.
The matriarch of the family, Thomas’s widow Elizabeth, became notorious for her disputes with the town after his death in 1625. Thomas’s heir, Sir John Lucas, proved an energetic collector of Ship Money following his appointment as High Sheriff of Essex in 1636.
[03.12]
On 22 August 1642, the day Charles I raised his Royal Standard in Nottingham, thousands of Colcestrians invaded St John’s. The crowd failed to find heavily-armed Catholics hiding within the estate, as had been rumoured, but they ransacked the house, and vandalised the Lucas family vault in nearby St Giles’s church. Colchester’s mayor tried to shelter the Lucases from the mob, but moved them to the Castle after rioters threatened to destroy his house.
Sir John served as a Royalist officer. In 1645 he purchased a peerage – which Parliament refused to recognise. His illegitimate elder brother, Sir Thomas, held high rank in Ireland. Another brother, Sir Charles Lucas, became a prominent Cavalry commander under Prince Rupert. Their youngest sister Margaret became a lady-in-waiting to the Queen.
Lord John Lucas surrendered in 1646, whilst Sir Charles gave his personal parole to Thomas Fairfax. The family began to salvage the wreckage of their sequestered estates. Elizabeth died in 1647, as did one of her daughters, Lady Mary Killigrew. Both were buried in the family vault.
1647 was nationally significant. The Presbyterian-dominated Parliament condemned Christmas as an unscriptural pagan feast (which it was). But the ban proved hugely unpopular.
Presbyterian MPs backtracked on a plan to disband the New Model Army without paying its arrears when the Army mutinied that October. Regional Parliamentarian forces then discovered that there was no money left to pay their arrears. Taxpayers, who’d anticipated a peace dividend, were enraged when the New Model was only partially demobilised.
Charles I, although a prisoner, exploited this discontent, and divided his enemies. By Christmas 1647 he’d persuaded many Scottish Covenanters to sign an ‘engagement’ to invade England in his name. Rioting broke out around England on Christmas Day, as local officials attempted to enforce the ban. Several rioters were arrested in Canterbury, and remanded on charges of sedition.
In April 1648, just as these men were being brought to trial, disgruntled Parliamentarian commanders in Wales declared for the King. Royalists promptly harnessed the dissatisfaction in Kent to fuel a full-scale insurrection. Parliament’s Lord General Thomas Fairfax responded immediately. His New Model Army was smaller than before, but the remaining soldiers were hand-picked professionals. Fairfax gave Cromwell half the army to supress the rising in Wales, and took the other half into Kent.
George Goring, Earl of Norwich had emerged as the Royalist leader there. However, unlike his son, he was not a professional soldier.
[06.41]
Fairfax stormed Maidstone on 1 June, killing 200 Royalists during hours of vicious street fighting. Lord Norwich’s main force was further north, but many of his men took fright and began to melt away. Norwich and Sir William Compton led their shrunken army towards London, only to find Parliament firmly in command there. They forced their way over the Thames and into Essex.
Fairfax, still mopping up resistance in Kent, could only spare Edward Whalley’s Cavalry brigade to monitor Lord Norwich’s progress. Several Parliamentarian warships had changed sides, and there was bad news from Chelmsford.
Thousands of Essex inhabitants had petitioned the Commons in May for an end to heavy taxation and free quarter. They called for King and Parliament to be reconciled. The Earl of Warwick’s regiment of the Essex Trained Bands had been detailed to protect an emergency meeting of Essex’s Parliamentary County committee in Chelmsford. Instead, on 4 June, Lieutenant-Colonel Henry Farre persuaded the regiment to change sides. He burst into the committee room, and arrested the members.
Sir Charles Lucas was also in Chelmsford, and persuaded the protestors to follow him. Ironically, Lucas might never have joined the insurrection had Parliament not already ordered his arrest. Parliament’s Derby House Committee had reacted to specious reports that he’d helped Marmaduke Langdale seize Berwick.
As the Kentish Royalists marched north, Lucas raided the Earl of Warwick’s home, Leez Priory. The insurgents took away food, ammunition and weapons, including two brass artillery pieces.
Royalist veterans and disaffected Presbyterians began streaming into Essex to join the uprising. Lord Capel brought men from Hertfordshire. Lord Loughborough arrived from Leicestershire. Others came in from further afield.
Colonel Whalley’s reports back to Fairfax betray his growing anxiety. On 10 June, he wrote:
“My Lord
The enemy hath quit Chelmsford, and marched to Leez, where as soon as he came, he had 500 arms besides ordinance, without resistance. We marched close in the rear of him, but he doth so overpower us with foot that we cannot engage in this close country but with great disadvantage, to the hazard of the brigade.
Our friends report the enemy to be 3000 horse and foot, and like a snowball increasing. My Lord, I desire to know which way, and when, your Lordship comes.”.[1]
[09.39]
He had some good news. Sir Thomas Honywood had missed the committee meeting in Chelmsford. As soon as he heard what had happened, he mustered the northernmost regiment of the Essex Trained Bands, and moved its magazine to his home, Marks Hall.
Norwich and Lucas arrived at Marks Hall to find Honywood’s Militia firmly entrenched, and supported by elements of Whalley’s Cavalry. The Royalists needed more weapons and ammunition, but there was no time to mount a siege. They spent the day in Braintree, sorting the men into regiments. The next day, 12 June, they marched on Colchester.
Colchester was almost completely undefended. A token screen of Militia Cavalry was brushed aside, and the Royalists occupied the town. Colcestrians accepted the situation with sullen acquiescence, although Lucas hoped that unemployed clothworkers might join the insurrection.
The minutes of Parliament’s Derby House Committee for 12th June included this interesting item:
“A warrant to suffer the family of Sir John Lucas, with their coaches and horses, to pass from Colchester to London without let or hinderance; Sir John having upon these late commotions in Essex made his repair to London, the better to avoid all suspicion of Engagement in them.”[2]
Did Sir John disapprove of the insurrection? Alternatively, had the two brothers agreed that at least one of them should avoid being implicated in the enterprise, in order to preserve the family’s interests? We’ll never know.
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The Royalist commanders planned to spend a couple of days in Colchester, then move north, picking up supporters from across East Anglia, before uniting with Langdale’s northern Royalists and the Scottish Engagers.
However, the next morning, Tuesday, 13 June, Fairfax arrived with his full force, accompanied by the two loyal Essex Trained Band regiments. He immediately summoned Lord Norwich to surrender.
“My Lord
I am come hither with Parliament’s forces to induce those under your command to the obedience of Parliament. If your Lordship and those under you instantly lay down your arms, there may be a prevention of much blood that is like to be spilt, and the town preserved from plunder and ruin. The evil must be upon you if you refuse. I expect your present answer, and remain,
Your servant
Thomas Fairfax[3]
Norwich returned a rude refusal.
Sir Charles Lucas ordered Colonel Farre’s regiment to block the road into town. Farre’s men repulsed several assaults by the New Model infantry. They were eventually overwhelmed, but they’d given the Royalists time to organise a counterstroke.
Sir George Lisle and Sir William Campion brought up troops to support Farre’s Militia. Campion was killed. Another fatality was a young Royalist officer named Francis Cooke. His father, a Parliamentarian colonel, refused to accept his body, or take responsibility for his son’s family. Cooke’s children eventually ended up in the care of the overseers of the poor – yet more casualties of the bitterness caused by the conflict.
[13.17]
John Rushworth, a member of Fairfax’s staff, later alleged that Henry Farre had abandoned his men, and had cut off their retreat by barring a gate behind him. Rushworth asserted that the Parliamentarian troops showed mercy, and allowed the rebel Trained Bandsmen to surrender. Rushworth certainly had ample opportunity to interrogate the prisoners. Some would survive to petition the Restoration authorities after 1660.
Farre had probably slipped through Shere Gate, for Head Gate was still open. The New Model infantry took the bait and poured through. Halfway down Head Street they were ambushed by Royalist troops firing from the buildings and side alleys. Fairfax lost hundreds killed and wounded. He had insufficient men to risk another assault. There was no option but to prepare for a lengthy siege.
The Parliamentarians began to construct earthworks around the south and west of the town. Three regiments of the Suffolk Trained Bands were approaching from the north, but as yet no-one was certain whose side they were on. Having satisfied himself that they remained loyal to Parliament, Fairfax invited the Suffolk Militia to erect earthworks around the north and east of the town.
Royalists across the eastern counties tried to gather volunteers to raise the siege. Edward Ambry of March joined a group of men raised by Colonel John Saul. Their war ended at Linton, Cambridgeshire on 16 June, when Saul was routed by a contingent of New Model Cavalry. Ambry was one of those taken prisoner.
Back in Colchester, Lucas occupied the Hythe. He was well aware of the need to secure the fort on Mersea Island which commanded the estuary. However, he was thwarted by the quick thinking of a local mariner, William Woolward. As Woolward later testified,
“when the enemy came into Colchester, your petitioner, finding that their endeavours was to secure the river of Colne & the Island of Mersea, for the better carrying on their evil designs, your petitioner, being commander of a vessel of 150 tons with four pieces of ordnance… then riding in the harbour fitted to go to sea, did thereby secure the fort from the enemy until the Parliament forces were possessed of it; and did there continue in securing the harbour (with his said ship, by order of the Lord General Fairfax, the space of three months), until the town was surrendered. …the enemy in the meantime spoiled his house and goods, and (as your petitioner is informed) he was condemned to die by the enemy’s Council of War.”[4]
[16.02]
Fairfax’s initial uncertainty over the allegiance of the Suffolk Militia probably accounts for his delay in securing the eastern side of the town. Matthew Carter, the Royalist Quartermaster-General, considered that without the copious quantities of food and gunpowder purloined from Hythe docks, the Royalists could not have held out for as long as they did.
Two ships appear to have landed extra supplies and volunteers before Parliament blockaded the estuary. On 18 June, a Royalist diarist noted ‘great guns’ brought in from Wivenhoe further downriver. These were probably filched from merchant vessels docked there. The Tendring Hundred was stripped of livestock before the eastern side was finally sealed by the Suffolk Trained Bands and Whalley’s Cavalry on 24 June.
Over the coming weeks, battling heavy rain and Royalist sorties, the Parliamentarians strove to complete their network of trenches and forts. One such sortie over East Bridge on 5 July pushed the Suffolk Militia back as far as Wivenhoe Park. Edward Whalley’s Cavalry arrived to rectify the situation. The fierce firefight as Lucas’s men withdrew was one of several in the vicinity of East Bridge. Bullet holes are still visible in the eaves of nearby houses.
The Royalists had gathered a collection of artillery, and had competent gunners – several of them seamen. The duels between these Royalist gunners and Fairfax’s heavy artillery generated much journalistic copy at the time.
It has to be said that none of these contemporary accounts mention ‘Humpty Dumpty’. In fact, Essex historian Andrew Philips has found that the first attempt to link the nursery rhyme with the siege was in 1956!
Other stories have a longer pedigree, although the legend of Jack Thompson, the one-eyed Royalist master gunner, is actually a conglomeration of several different accounts. Some may well be based on fact, others are probably a work of journalistic fiction.
The Royalists did place an artillery piece in the tower of St Mary’s church. It was almost certainly a small drake or a saker. Anything heavier would have been too heavy to winch up, and too big to manoeuvre in such a confined space. The concussion and recoil of a demi-culverin would have shaken the tower to pieces. As it is, St Mary’s gun, possibly in consort with a demi-culverin in a ‘great mount’ near the base of the tower, killed and wounded several soldiers and gunners in the Parliamentarian earthworks around the west wall.
Fairfax had by now received some heavy artillery, including two demi-cannon and three culverins. These now targeted St Mary’s. By 12 July, the top of the tower had been demolished and the royalist gunners killed or seriously wounded.
Fairfax turned his attention to the Lucas estate of St John’s, which the Royalists were using as an outlying bastion. On 14 July, Parliament’s heavy artillery battered St John’s to soften up the defenders. The New Model infantry then launched their assault.
The Royalists fought fiercely. At length, they were forced back to the massive gatehouse, a relic of the original Benedictine priory. A French-speaking Walloon, Major Jacques Jammot, commanded the last stand. After a firefight lasting several hours, some Parliamentarians ventured close enough to lob primitive hand-grenades through the windows. A lucky throw by a soldier named Hamlet Taylor detonated the powder magazine. The surviving defenders fled back into the town.
The Parliamentarian troops had taken heavy casualties, and were in an ugly mood. Matthew Carter alleges that they proceeded to target the Lucas family vault in nearby St Giles. The fact that they knew of the vault suggests that some of the attackers were local men, who may even have taken part in the riot of 1642. According to Carter, the soldiers tore open the coffins of Elizabeth Lucas and Lady Killigrew, and
“…dismembered their trunks, throwing a legge in one corner of the vault, and arme in another, and were so impudent in this so, and worse than, brutish act, as to bear away the hair of [the ladies’] heads in their hats as a triumphant bravado in honour of their villainy.”[5]
It’s been argued in a recent article that Carter’s account is simply an example of ‘fake news’, because no Parliamentarian source mentions the episode. In fact, the episode is mentioned in the notes of John Rushworth’s assistant, William Clarke. Carter may have embellished his tale, but the Royalists manning the town walls would have had a clear view of St Giles.
Soldiers on both sides had been brutalised by more than five years of War. There is ample evidence that the Parliamentarian troops felt bitter about the losses they’d suffered in what they considered to be an unnecessary Second Civil War. Some of the fighting had been really vicious; for example, Carter refers to the defenders heating up tubs of pitch to pour on the Parliamentarian attackers.
Sir Charles Lucas was clearly affected by events, for only two days later he had an angry exchange with Fairfax’s trumpeter, and threatened to hang the man if he came again.
As the days wore on, conditions in the town deteriorated. The defenders and their unwilling civilian hosts began to fall ill with ‘the bloody flux’ and ‘camp fever’, better known as dysentery and typhus. The Royalists had begun to kill their horses as early as mid-July. A month later, Carter observed that horses were being stolen, and sold for meat in the market.
“Nor was there in a short time a dog left, for it was the custom of the soldier to reserve half his ammunition loaf, and in a morning walk the streets. And, if he discovered a dog, to drop a piece of bread, and so drill him on, till within his reach. Then with the butt end of his musket knock his brains out, and away with him to his quarters. I have known six shillings given for the side of a dog, and that but a small one”.
[23.05]
On 12 August the townsfolk staged a mass demonstration outside Lord Norwich’s headquarters. The women defied soldiers sent out to beat them and chase them off. Another mass protest took place three days later. The crowd was said to be poor people, unable to pay the extortionate prices being demanded for what now passed for meat.
Many men had fled the town in the first weeks of the siege, principally to avoid being conscripted. Parliamentarian records note a steady stream of deserters thereafter. On 16 August, the mayor wrote to Fairfax to plead that the townsfolk had almost run out of food. He requested permission to evacuate them. Fairfax replied that he was sorry for their plight, but could not allow them to leave. Starvation would force the Royalists to surrender sooner rather than later, and so save his soldiers’ lives.
A mother with five children emerged from one of the gates the next morning, and begged the Parliamentarian soldiers to let them pass. The guards refused, knowing that if they showed pity, thousands would rush out.
Norwich belatedly indicated a willingness to negotiate. This encouraged Fairfax to make one last offer: that common soldiers and junior officers would be allowed to go home, whilst their seniors should surrender ‘at mercy’. In military parlance, the term ‘at mercy’ meant that the victorious commander was not obligated to spare their lives.
Norwich tried to force the issue. On 21 August, the Royalists opened the town gates and drove the civilians out. The Parliamentarians fired in the air to halt the oncoming crowd, but they had to strip and beat some of the women, before they would turn back. Norwich refused to readmit them. The desperate townsfolk waited for hours in no-man’s land before he finally relented, and opened the gates.
On 24 August, news came that Cromwell had destroyed the Scots Engager army and Langdale’s northern insurgents. Lord Norwich and Sir Charles Lucas acknowledged the hopelessness of their position, and sent commissioners to negotiate their surrender. Having previously offered fairly lenient terms, Fairfax had no desire – or need – to compromise. Bereft of food and ammunition, the Royalists had no option but to agree to his terms.
On 28 August, the Royalists’ surviving horses and equipment were deposited in St Mary’s churchyard. Colours, drums and weapons were stacked in St James’ church. The common soldiers were ordered to gather by the East Gate. The officers were ordered to assemble at the King’s Head, at the other end of the town.
[26.15]
The short, but vicious Second Civil War had only hardened the divisions of the first conflict. Lord Fairfax and his subordinate, Henry Ireton, decided to leave the fate of the aristocrats – Norwich, Capel, Loughborough and Compton – to their superiors in London. They were, however, determined to make an immediate example of some others. Colonel Ewer duly appeared at the King’s Head to take Lucas, Lisle, Farre and Sir Bernard Gascoigne before a Council of War at the Moot Hall. Henry Farre was nowhere to be found. He escaped twice that day, and finally managed to slip away.
Fairfax had already returned to his headquarters in nearby Lexden, leaving Ireton to chair the prisoners’ court martial, and the aftermath. The verdict was a foregone conclusion; the sentence was death.
The three men were taken to the Castle. They refused to pray with Fairfax’s chaplain, and requested Lord Capel’s chaplain instead. It was discovered that Gascoigne was in fact Bernadino Guasconi, a subject of the Duke of Tuscany. The Florentine – much to his disgust – was therefore reprieved.
Lucas and Lisle were led out to the back of the Castle. There are many fanciful accounts of their last minutes before they faced the firing squad, but William Clarke’s notes are probably the most reliable record. One of Fairfax’s staff, and an eyewitness, he was an expert stenographer.
Sir Charles Lucas, who had already clashed with Fairfax over the matter of his parole, claimed that the proceedings were illegal. However, as he stood in front of the firing squad, one of the common soldiers present reminded him of an incident at Stinchcombe in 1645, when he (Lucas) had hanged fourteen Parliamentarian prisoners. When Ireton accused him of being a traitor, Lucas snapped back:
“I am no traitor, but a true subject of my king, and the laws of the kingdom. Sir, you ought to prove me one, before you condemn me to be a traitor!”[6]
After some further exchanges, Lucas’s mood cooled, and he prepared to die.
“Remember me to all my friends, and tell them that I have died in a good cause. If I have offended any, I desire their forgiveness. I would have a decent burial, and that I might be buried besides my ancestors, and where they are. Their monuments are not only defaced, but their dead bodies removed. Let us from henceforth lie in quiet.”[7]
He joined the chaplain in a prayer. The firing squad of six Dragoons stood waiting. Lucas stepped in front of them, ripped open his shirt, and was shot. Clarke records merely that Lisle stepped forward and kissed his dead friend, before being shot himself. Carter, who had direct access to at least three eyewitnesses, says that Lisle had given the firing squad a gold piece. He then chided the assembled soldiery, claiming that he had spared many of them in the heat of battle, only now to be murdered in cold blood. He then yelled ‘Now traitors, do your worst’, repeating the name of Jesus as he was shot.
[29.55]
The Earl of Clarendon later asserted that Lisle joked with the firing squad, suggesting that they stand closer in case they missed him, but this jovial repartee isn’t mentioned by William Clarke, nor does it appear in the original edition of Matthew Carter’s memoirs published in 1650. The Reverend Philip Morant included several passages from Clarendon in an adulterated version of Carter’s memoirs, published in 1745. Sadly, this adulterated version has been reproduced several times, never the genuine first edition. Many historians, including myself, have fallen for this attractive – but erroneous – anecdote, and used it in our books. A salutary lesson for all of us to doublecheck our sources.
After having suffered so much, the townsfolk were ordered to pay a fine totalling £14,000, to avoid being plundered by the New Model. Morant records that the so-called ‘Dutch Congregation’ were expected to pay half the fine. They complained to the mayor about this blatant discrimination, particularly as only £100 was distributed to those in need in their community. As it became obvious that the townsfolk could not afford the fine, Parliament ordered that £5,000 should be paid out of the sequestered estates of local Royalists.
[31.31]
Rushworth accompanied Fairfax on a survey of the Royalist defences.
“This morning, we rode round about the wall of the town, and find it to be a very strong place in all parts of it. Where it was weakest, there they made strong works, or strengthened it with earth. It was a sad spectacle to see so many fair houses burnt to ashes, and so many inhabitants made so sickly and weak with living upon horses and dogs.
I remain, your humble servant,
John Rushworth
Colchester, August 28th, 1648”[8]
Somewhere between 200 and 300 houses had been destroyed. Most had been fired by the Royalists, to give a clearer field of fire. Magdalen parish was in ruins. The shattered remains of St Botolph’s Priory suggest how badly that parish was battered by Parliament’s artillery. It took decades for the town to recover.
Fairfax left instruction for the Roman walls to be demolished. This was only partly obeyed, as the present day ruins testify. Sir Thomas Honywood was reprimanded in 1651 for not completing the task.
The Earl of Norwich was saved from execution by the Speaker’s casting vote. Loughborough was similarly spared. Lord Arthur Capel was executed, and lies buried by the altar in Much Hadham. Sir William Compton managed to escape from the Tower of London, and lived to see the Restoration.
Aside from the senior commanders and officers – most of whom were incarcerated in various castles around southern England, Fairfax had to deal with some 3,500 prisoners-of-war.
At the outset of the Second Civil War, it had been suggested that as many as one in five prisoners taken should be executed as an example – an echo of the Roman practice of decimation. This threat was never carried out, although, as had happened in the First Civil War, it is possible that some were casually murdered on the highway.
John Rushworth records that 1,000 were marched down to London, and others to Bristol, to be transported to Virginia or forced into service with the Venetian army, then fighting the Turks. But how many were actually transported? The fact that thousands of Scots and Welsh had also been taken in 1648 meant that Virginian and Barbadian plantation owners had more men than they needed. Many prisoners appear eventually to have been released back to their communities.
[34.21]
Edward Ambry served under Henry Farre at Langard Fort in Suffolk after the Restoration. Farre himself lived to be 91. He married three times, and fathered 24 children.
Lucas and Lisle were integrated into the Royalist martyr cult that grew up around Charles I. Lord John Lucas gave his brother and Lisle a lavish funeral in 1661, covering them with a black marble tombstone. The inscription on the tombstone accused Thomas Fairfax for ordering their murder. The Duke of Buckingham, Fairfax’s son-in-law, is said to have complained to Charles II. There is a story that Charles ordered the words to be cut more deeply. Whether this is true or not, there’s no doubt that Lord Lucas did not change the wording, as the tombstone is still in St Giles’s church.
The myth that grass would not grow on the spot where Lucas and Lisle had died had already taken hold in the public imagination by the time Matthew Carter’s memoirs were published in 1650. Wry comments over the next century suggest that local innkeepers maintained the bald patch, as they made a good living from curious tourists. Bernardino Gasconi brought the Duke of Tuscany to view the site in 1669. The obelisk which now stands there was erected in 1892.
Was Colchester Parliamentarian or Royalist? The question is irrelevant. Like so many other communities before and since, it was simply a victim of war.
[36.09]
[1] Clarke Papers, ii, p. 26.
[2] SP21/9, fol. 145.
[3] Morant, I, p. 59.
[4] SP16/518, fol. 141.
[5] Carter (1650), pp. 164-5.
[6] Clarke, ii, p.38
[7] Clarke, ii, p.39.
[8] Rushworth, A True Relation of the Surrendering of Colchester (1648).