 CHAPTER IX. Civil War. The way in which the King came at last to a final rupture with Parliament was this. The victory which the Commons gained in the case of Stratford had greatly increased their confidence and their power, and the King found for some months afterward that instead of being satisfied with the concessions he had made, they were continually demanding more. The more he yielded, the more they encroached. They grew, in a word, bolder and bolder in proportion to their success. They considered themselves doing the State a great and good service by disarming tyranny of its power. The King, on the other hand, considered them as undermining all the foundations of good government, and as depriving him of personal rights, the most sacred and solemn that could vest in any human being. It will be recollected that on former occasions, when the King had got into contention with a Parliament, he had dissolved it, and either attempted to govern without one, or else had called for a new election, hoping that the new members would be more compliant. But he could not dissolve the Parliament now. They had provided against this danger. At the time of the trial of Stratford, they brought in a bill into the Commons, providing that thenceforth the houses could not be prorugged or dissolved without their consent. The Commons, of course, passed the bill very readily. The peers were more reluctant, but they did not dare to reject it. The King was extremely unwilling to sign the bill, but amid the terrible excitements and dangers of that trial he was overborn by the influences of danger and intimidation which surrounded him. He signed the bill. Of course, the Commons were thereafter their own masters. However dangerous or destructive the King might consider their course of conduct to be, he could now no longer arrest it as heretofore by a dissolution. He went on, therefore, till the close of 1641, yielding slowly and reluctantly and with many struggles, but still all the time yielding to the resistless current which bore him along. At last he resolved to yield no longer. After retreating so long, he determined suddenly and desperately to turn back and attack his enemies. The whole world looked on with astonishment at such a sudden change of his policy. The measure which he resorted to was this. He determined to select a number of the most efficient and prominent men in parliament who had been leaders in the proceedings against him and demand their arrest, imprisonment, and trial on a charge of high treason. The King was influenced to do this partly by the advice of the Queen and of the ladies of the court, and other persons who did not understand how deep and strong the torrent was which they thus urged him to attempt to stem. They thought that if he would show a little courage and energy in facing these men they would yield in their turn, and that their boldness and success was owing in great measure to the King's want of spirit in resisting them. Strike boldly at them, said they, seize the leaders, have them tried and condemned and executed. Threaten the rest with the same fate, and follow up these measures with energetic and decisive action, and you will soon make a change in the aspect of affairs. The King adopted this policy and he did make a change in the aspect of affairs, but not such a change as his advisers had anticipated. The commons were thrown suddenly into a state of astonishment one day by the appearance of a King's officer in the house, who rose and read articles of a charge of treason against five of the most influential and popular members. The officer asked that a committee should be appointed to hear the evidence against them which the King was preparing. The commons, on hearing this, immediately voted that if any person should attempt even to seize the papers of the persons accused, it should be lawful for them to resist such an attempt by every means in their power. The next day another officer appeared at the bar of the House of Commons, and spoke as follows, I am commanded by the King's Majesty my master upon my allegiance, that I should come to the House of Commons and require of Mr. Speaker five gentlemen, members of the House of Commons, and those gentlemen being delivered, I am commanded to arrest them in his Majesty's name on a charge of high treason. The commons, on hearing this demand, voted that they would take it into consideration. The King's friends and advisers urged him to follow the matter up vigorously. Everything depended, they said, on firmness and decision. The next day, accordingly, the King determined to go himself to the House and make the demand in person. A lady of the court who was acquainted with this plan sent notice of it to the House. In going the King took his guard with him and several personal attendants. The number of soldiers was said to be five hundred. He left this great retinue at the door, and he himself entered the House. The commons, when they heard that he was coming, had ordered the five members who were accused to withdraw. They went out just before the King came in. The King advanced to the Speaker's chair, took his seat, and made the following address. Gentlemen, I am sorry for this occasion of coming unto you. Yesterday I sent a sergeant at arms upon a very important occasion to apprehend some that by my command were accused of high treason. Whereunto I did expect obedience and not a message. And I must declare unto you here that albeit no King that ever was in England shall be more careful of your privileges, to maintain them to the uttermost of his power than I shall be. Yet you must know that in cases of treason no person hath a privilege, and therefore I am come to know if any of those persons that were accused are here. For I must tell you, gentlemen, that so long as these persons that I have accused, for no slight crime but for treason, are here, I cannot expect that this House will be in the right way that I do heartily wish it. Therefore I am come to tell you that I must have them wherever I find them. After looking around and finding that the members in question were not in the hall, he continued, Well, since I see the birds are flown, I do expect from you that you shall send them unto me as soon as they return hither. But I assure you, on the word of a King, I never did intend any force, but shall proceed against them in a legal and fair way, for I never meant any other. I will trouble you no more, but tell you I do expect, as soon as they come to the house you will send them to me, otherwise I must take my own course to find them. The Kings coming thus into the House of Commons and demanding in person that they should act according to his instructions was a very extraordinary circumstance, perhaps unparalleled in English history. It produced the greatest excitement. When he had finished his address, he turned to the speaker and asked him where those men were. He had his guard ready at the door to seize them. It is difficult for us in this country to understand fully to how severe a test this sudden question put the presence of mind and courage of the speaker, for we cannot realize the profound and awful deference which was felt in those days for the command of a King. The speaker gained great applause for the manner in which he stood the trial. He fell upon his knees before the great potentate who had to trust him, and said, I have, sir, neither eyes to see nor tongue to speak in this place, but as the house is pleased to direct me, whose servant I am. Then I humbly ask pardon that I cannot give any other answer to what your Majesty is pleased to demand of me. The house was immediately in a state of great excitement and confusion. They called out privilege, privilege, meaning that their privileges were violated. They immediately adjourned. News of the affair spread everywhere with the greatest rapidity and produced universal and intense excitement. The King's friends were astonished at such an act of rashness and folly, which it is said only one of the King's advisors knew anything about, and he immediately fled. The five members accused went that night into the city of London and called on the government and people of London to protect them. The people armed themselves. In a word, the King found at night that he had raised a very threatening and terrible storm. The commons met the next morning, but did not attempt to transact business. They simply voted that it was useless for them to proceed with their deliberations while exposed to such violations of their rights. They appointed a committee of 24 to inquire into and report the circumstances of the King's intrusion into their councils and to consider how this breach of their privileges could be repaired. They ordered this committee to sit in the city of London, where they might hope to be safe from such interruptions. And then the house adjourned for a week to await the result of the committee's deliberation. The committee went to London. In the meantime, news went all over the kingdom that the House of Commons had been compelled to suspend its sittings on account of an illegal and unwarrantable interference with their proceedings on the part of the King. The King was alarmed, but those who had advised him to adopt this measure told him that he must not falter now. He must persevere and carry his point or all would be lost. He accordingly did persevere. He brought troops and arms to his palace at Whitehall to be ready to defend it in case of attack. He sent in to London and ordered the Lord Mayor to assemble the city authorities at the Guildhall, which is the great city hall of London. And then, with a retinue of noblemen, he went in to meet them. The people shouted, privileges of parliament, privileges of parliament, as he passed along. Some called out, to your tents, O Israel, which was the ancient Hebrew cry of rebellion. The King, however, persevered. When he reached the Guildhall, he addressed the city authorities thus, gentlemen, I am come to demand such persons as I have already accused of high treason and do believe are shrouded in the city. I hope no good man will keep them from me. Their offenses are treason and misdemeanors of a high nature. I desire your assistance that they may be brought to a legal trial. Three days after this, the King issued a proclamation addressed to all magistrates and officers of justice everywhere to arrest the accused members and carry them to the tower. In the meantime, the committee of 24 continued their session in London, examining witnesses and preparing their report. When the time arrived for the House of Commons to meet again, which was on the 11th of January, the city made preparations to have the committee escorted in an imposing manner from the Guildhall to Westminster. A vast amount of the intercommunication and traffic between different portions of the city then, as now, took place upon the river, though in those days it was managed by watermen who rode small ferries to and fro. Small steamboats take the place of the ferries at the present day, and stokers and engineers have superseded the watermen. The watermen were then, however, a large and formidable body banded together like the other trades of London in one great organisation. This great company turned out on this occasion and attended the committee in barges on the river, while the military companies of the city marched along the streets upon the land. The committee themselves went in barges on the water, and all London flocked to see the spectacle. The King, hearing of these arrangements, was alarmed for his personal safety, and left his palace at Whitehall to go to Hampton Court, which was a little way out of town. The committee, after entering the House, reported that the transaction which they had been considering constituted a high breach of the privileges of the House, and was a seditious act, tending to a subversion of the peace of the kingdom, and that the privileges of Parliament so violated and broken could not be sufficiently vindicated unless His Majesty would be pleased to inform them who advised him to do such a deed. The King was more and more seriously alarmed. He found that the storm of public odium and indignation was too great for him to withstand. He began to fear for his own safety more than ever. He removed from Hampton Court to Windsor Castle, a stronger place, and more remote from London than Hampton Court, and he now determined to give up the contest. He sent a message therefore to the House, saying that on further reflection, since so many persons had doubts whether his proceedings against the five members were consistent with the privileges of Parliament, he would waive them, and the whole subject might rest until the minds of men were more composed, and then, if he proceeded against the accused members at all, he would do so in a manner to which no exception could be taken. He said also, he would henceforth be as careful of their privileges as he should be of his own life or crown. Thus he acknowledged himself vanquished in the struggle, but the acknowledgement came too late to save him. The excitement increased and spread in every direction. The Party of the King and that of the Parliament disputed for a few months about these occurrences and others growing out of them, and then each began to maneuver and struggle to get possession of the military power of the kingdom. The King, finding himself not safe in the vicinity of London, retreated to York and began to assemble and organize his followers. The Parliament sent him a declaration that if he did not disband the forces which he was assembling, they should be compelled to provide measures for securing the peace of the kingdom. The King replied by proclamations calling upon his subjects to join his standard. In a word, before mid-summer the country was plunged in the horrors of civil war. A civil war, that is, a war between two parties in the same country, is generally far more savage and sanguinary than any other. The hatred and the animosities which it creates ramify throughout the country and produce universal conflict and misery. If there were a war between France and England, there might be one or perhaps two invading armies of Frenchmen attempting to penetrate into the interior. All England would be united against them. Husbands and wives, parents and children, neighbors and friends would be drawn together more closely than ever, while the awful scenes of war and bloodshed, the excitement, the passion, the terror, would be confined to a few detached spots or to a few lines of march where the invading armies had occupied. In a civil war, however, it is very different. Every distinct portion of the country, every village and hamlet, and sometimes almost every family, is divided against itself. The hostility and hatred, too, between the combatants is always far more intense and bitter than that which is felt against a foreign foe. We might at first be surprised at this. We might imagine that where men are contending with their neighbors in fellow townsmen, the recollection of past friendships and goodwill and various lingering ties of regard would moderate the fierceness of their anger and make them more considerate and forebearing. But this is not found to be the case. Each party considers the other as not only enemies but traitors, and accordingly they hate and abhor each other with a double intensity. If an Englishman has a Frenchman to combat, he meets him with murderous impetuosity, it is true, but without any special bitterness of animosity. He expects the Frenchman to be his enemy. He even thinks he has a sort of natural right to be so. He will kill him if he can, but then if he takes him prisoner, there is nothing in his feelings toward him to prevent his treating him with generosity and even with kindness. He hates him, but there is a sort of good nature in his hatred, after all. On the other hand, when he fights against his countrymen in a civil war, he abhors and hates with unmingled bitterness the traitorous ingratitude which he thinks his neighbors and friends evince in turning enemies to their country. He can see no honesty, no truth, no courage in anything they do. They are infinitely worse in his estimation than the most ferocious of foreign foes. Civil war is, consequently, always the mean of far wider and more terrible mischief than any other human calamity. In the contention between Charles and the parliament, the various elements of the social state adhered to one side or the other, according to their natural predilections. The Episcopalians generally joined the king, the Presbyterians the parliament, the gentry and the nobility favored the king, the mechanics, artisans, merchants and common people the parliament, the rural districts of country which were under the control of the great landlords the king, the cities and towns the parliament, the gay and fashionable and worldly the king, the serious-minded and austere the parliament. Thus everything was divided. The quarrel ramified to every hamlet and to every fireside, and the peace and happiness of the realm were effectually destroyed. Both sides began to raise armies and to prepare for war. Before commencing hostilities, however, the king was persuaded by his councillors to send a messenger to London and propose some terms of accommodation. He accordingly sent the Earl of Southampton to the House of Peers and two other persons to the House of Commons. He had no expectation, probably, of making peace, but he wanted to gain time to get his army together and also to strengthen his cause among the people by showing a disposition to do all in his power to avoid open war. The messengers of the king went to London and made their appearance in the two houses of parliament. The House of Lords ordered the Earl of Southampton to withdraw and to send his communication in in writing, and in the meantime to retire out of London and wait for their answer. The House of Commons in the same spirit of hostility and defiance ordered the messengers which had been sent to them to come to the bar, like humble petitioners or criminals, and make their communication there. The propositions of the king to the houses of parliament were that they should appoint a certain number of commissioners, and he also the same number, to meet and confer together in hope of agreeing upon some conditions of peace. The houses passed a vote in reply, declaring that they had been doing all in their power to preserve the peace of the kingdom, while the king had been interrupting and disturbing it by his military gatherings and by proclamations in which they were called traitors, and that they could enter into no treaty with him until he disbanded the armies which he had collected, and recalled his proclamations. To this the king replied that he had never intended to call them traitors, and that when they would call their declarations and votes stigmatizing those who adhered to him as traitors, he would recall his proclamations. Thus messages passed back and forth two or three times, each party curminating the other, and neither willing to make the concessions which the other required. At last all hope of an accommodation was abandoned, and both sides prepared for war. The nobility and gentry flocked to the king's standard. They brought their plate, their jewels, and their money to provide funds. Some of them brought their servants. There were two companies in the king's guard, one of whom consisted of gentlemen and the other of their servants. These two companies were always kept together. There was the greatest zeal and enthusiasm among the upper classes to serve the king, and equal zeal and enthusiasm among the common people to serve the parliament. The war continued for four years. During all this time the armies marched and counter-marched all over the kingdom, carrying ruin and destruction wherever they went, and plunging the whole country in misery. At one of the battles which was fought, the celebrated John Hampton, the man who would not pay his ship money, was slain. He had been a very energetic and efficient officer on the parliamentary side, and was much dreaded by the forces of the king. At one of the battles between Prince Rupert, Charles's nephew, and the army of the parliament, the prince brought to the king's camp a large number of prisoners which he had taken. One of the prisoners said he was confident that Hampton was hurt, for he saw him riding off the field before the battle was over with his head hanging down and his hands clasping the neck of his horse. They heard the next day that he had been wounded in the shoulder. He was in a very good condition and fever ensued, and he died a few days afterward in great agony. The prince Rupert was a very famous character in all these wars. He was a young and ardent and full of courage and enthusiasm. He was always foremost, and ready to embark in the most daring undertakings. He was the son of the king's sister Elizabeth, who married the Electro-Palatine, as narrated in a preceding chapter. He was famous not only for his military skill and attainments, but for his knowledge of science and for his ingenuity in many philosophical arts. There is a mode of engraving called mezzo-tinto, which is somewhat easier of execution than the common mode, and produces a peculiar effect. Prince Rupert is said to have been the inventor of it, though as is the case with almost all other inventions, there is a dispute about it. He discovered a mode of dropping melted glass into water so as to form little pear-shaped globules with a long slender tail. These globules have this remarkable property, that if the tip of the tail is broken off ever so gently, the hole flies into atoms with an explosion. These drops of glass are often exhibited at the present day and are called Prince Rupert's drops. The prince also discovered a very tenacious composition of metals for casting cannon. As artillery is necessarily very heavy and very difficult to be transported on marches and upon the field of battle, it becomes very important to discover such metallic compounds as have the greatest strength and tenacity in resisting the force of an explosion. Prince Rupert invented such a compound, which is called by his name. There were not only a great many battles and fierce encounters between the two great parties in this civil war, but there were also at times temporary cessations of the hostilities and negotiations for peace. But it is very hard to make peace between two powers engaged in a civil war. Each considers the other as acting the part of rebels and traitors, and there is a difficulty almost insuperable in the way of even opening negotiations between them. Still, the people became tired of the war. At one time when the king had made some propositions which the parliament would not accept, an immense assemblage of women collected together, with white ribbons in their hats, to go to the House of Commons with a petition for peace. When they reached the door of the hall their number was five thousand. They called out, peace, peace, give us those traitors that are against peace that we may tear them to pieces. The guards who were stationed at the door were ordered to fire at this crowd, loading their guns, however, only with powder. This it was thought would frighten them away, but the women only laughed at the volley and returned it with stones and brick-bats and drove the guards away. Other troops were then sent for who charged upon the women with their swords and cut them in their faces and hands, and thus at length dispersed them. During the progress of the war the queen returned from the continent and joined the king. She had some difficulty, however, and encountered some personal danger in her efforts to return to her husband. The vice-admiral, who had command of the English ships off the coast, received orders to intercept her. He watched for her. She contrived, however, to elude his vigilance, though there were four ships in her convoy. She landed at a town called Burlington, or Bridlington, in Yorkshire. This town stands in a very picturesque situation a little south of a famous promontory called Flamborough Head, of which there is a beautiful view from the pier of the town. The queen succeeded in landing here. On her arrival at the town she found herself borne down with the anxiety and fatigue of the voyage, and she wished to stop a few days to rest. She took up her residence in a house which was on the quay, and of course near the water. The quay, as it is called in these towns, is a street on the margin of the water, with a wall but no houses next to the sea. The vice admiral arrived at the town the second night after the queen had landed. He was vexed that his expected prize had escaped him. He brought his ships up near the town and began to fire toward the house in which the queen was lodging. This was at five o'clock in the morning. The queen and her attendants were in their beds asleep. The reports of the cannon from the ships, the terrific whistling of the balls through the air, and the crash of the houses which the balls struck, aroused the whole village from their slumbers, and threw them into consternation. The people soon came to the house where the queen was lodging and begged her to fly. They said that the neighboring houses were blown to pieces, and that her own would soon be destroyed, and she herself would be killed. They may, however, have been influenced more by a regard to their own safety than to hers in these injunctions, as it must have been a great object with the villagers to affect the immediate removal of a visitor who was the means of bringing upon them so terrible a danger. These urgent entreaties of the villagers were soon enforced by two cannon-balls which fell one after another upon the roof of the house, and crashing their way through the roof and the floors went down, without seeming to regard the resistance, from the top to the bottom. The queen hastily put on her clothes and went forth with her attendants on foot, the balls from the ships whistling after them all the way. One of her servants was killed. The rest of the fugitives, finding their exposure so great, stopped at a sort of trench which they came to at the end of a field, such as is dug commonly in England on one side of the hedge to make the barrier more impassable to the animals which it is intended to confine. This trench, with the embankment formed by the earth thrown out of it, on which the hedge is usually planted, afforded them protection. They sought shelter in it and remained there for two hours, like besiegers in the approaches to a town, the balls passing over their head harmlessly, though sometimes covering them with the earth which they threw up as they bounded by. At length the tide began to ebb, and the vice admiral was in danger of being left aground. He weighed his anchors and withdrew, and the queen and her party were relieved. Such a cannonating of a helpless and defenseless woman is a barbarity which could hardly take place except in a civil war. The queen rejoined her husband, and she rendered him essential service in many ways. She had personal influence enough to raise both money and men for his armies, and so contributed very essentially to the strength of his party. At last she returned to the continent again and went to Paris, where she was still actively employed in promoting his cause. At one of the battles in which the king was defeated the parliamentary army seized his baggage and found among his papers his correspondence with the queen. They very ungenerously ordered it to be published, as the letters seemed to show a vigorous determination on the part of the king not to yield in the contest without obtaining from the parliament and their adherents full and ample concessions to his claims. As time rolled on the strength of the royal party gradually wasted away, while that of the parliament seemed to increase until it became evident that the latter would in the end obtain the victory. The king retreated from place to place followed by his foes and growing weaker and more discouraged after every conflict. His son, the Prince of Wales, was then about fifteen years of age. He sent him to the western part of the island with directions that, if affairs should still go against him, the boy should be taken in time out of the country and join his mother in Paris. The danger grew more and more imminent, and they who had charge of the young prince sent him first to Silly and then to Jersey, islands in the Channel, once he made his escape to Paris and joined his mother. Fifteen years afterward he returned to London with great pomp and parade and was placed upon the throne by universal acclamation. At last the king himself, after being driven from one place of refuge to another, retreated to Oxford and entrenched himself there. Here he spent the winter of 1646 in extreme depression and distress. His friends deserted him, his resources were expended, his hopes were extinguished. He sent proposals of peace to the parliament and offered himself to come to London if they would grant him a safe conduct. In reply they forbade him to come. They would listen to no propositions and would make no terms. The case they saw was in their own hands and they determined on unconditional submission. They hemmed the king in on all sides at his retreat in Oxford and reduced him to despair. In the meantime the Scots a year or two before this had raised an army and crossed the northern frontier and entered England. They were against monarchy and episcopacy, but they were in some respects a separate enemy from those against whom the king had been contending so long, and he began to think that he had perhaps better fall into their hands than into those of his English foes, if he must submit to one or to the other. He hesitated for some time what course to take, but at last, after receiving representations of the favourable feeling which prevailed in regard to him in the Scottish army, he concluded to make his escape from Oxford and surrender himself to them. He accordingly did so, and the civil war was ended. CHAPTER 10 THE CAPTIVITY The circumstances of King Charles' surrender to the Scots were these. He knew that he was surrounded by his enemies in Oxford and that they would not allow him to escape if they could prevent it. He and his friends therefore formed the following plan to allude them. They sent word to the commanders of each of the several gates of the city on a certain day that during the ensuing night three men would have to pass out on business of the kings and that when the men should appear and give a certain signal they were to be allowed to pass. The officer at each gate received this command without knowing that a similar one had been sent to the others. Accordingly, about midnight, the parties of men were dispatched and they went out of the several gates. The king himself was in one of these parties. There were two other persons with him. One of these persons was a certain Mr. Ash Burnham, and the king was disguised as his servant. They were all on horseback, and the king had a valise upon the horse behind him so as to complete his disguise. This was on the 27th of April. The next day, or very soon after, it was none at Oxford that his majesty was gone, but no one could tell in what direction, for there were no means even of deciding by which the gates he had left the city. The Scots were at this time encamped before the town of Newark, which is on the Trent in the heart of England, at about 120 miles north of London. There was a significant castle at Newark in those days, which made the place very strong. The town held out for the king. Though the Scots had been investing it for some time, they had not yet succeeded in compelling the governor to surrender. The king concluded to proceed to Newark and enter the Scottish camp. He considered it, or rather wished it to be considered, that he was coming to join them as their monarch. They were going to consider it as him surrendering to them as their prisoner. The king himself must have known how it would be, but it made his sense of humiliation a little less poignant to carry this illusion with him as long as it was possible to maintain it. As soon as the parliament found that the king had made his escape from Oxford, they were alarmed, and on the 4th of May they issued an order to this effect, that what person so ever should harbour and conceal, or should know of the harboring or concealing of the king's person, and should not immediately reveal this to the speakers of both houses, should be proceeded against as a traitor to the commonwealth and die without mercy. The proclamation of this order however did not result in arresting the flight of the king. On the day after it was issued he arrived safely at Newark. The Scottish general, whose name was Leslie, immediately represented to the king that for his own safety it was necessary that they should retire toward the northern frontier, but they could not do so, he said, unless Newark should first surrender. They accordingly induced the king to send in orders to the governor of the castle to give up the place. The Scots took possession of it, and after having garrisoned it, moved with their army toward the north, the king and general Leslie being in the van. They treated the king with great distinction, but guarded him very closely, and sent word to the parliament that he was in their possession. Their ensued long negotiations and much debate. The question was at first whether the English or the Scots should have the disposal of the king's person. The English said that they and not the Scots were the party making war upon him, and that they had conquered his armies and hemmed him in and reduced him to the necessity of submission, and that he had been taken captive on English soil and alt consequently to be delivered into the hands of the English parliament. The Scots replied that though he had been taken in England, he was their king as well as the king of England, and had made himself their enemy, and that as he had fallen into their hands, he ought to remain at their disposal. To this the English rejoined that the Scots in taking him had not acted on their own account, but as the allies, and as it were the agents of the English, and that they ought to consider the king as a captive taken for them, and hold him subject to their disposal. The question. In the meantime, the Scottish army drew back toward the frontier, taking the king with them. About this time, a negotiation sprung up between the parliament and the Scots for the payment of the expenses which the Scottish army had incurred in their campaign. The Scots sent in an account amounting to two million pounds. The English objected to a great many of the charges and offered them 200,000 pounds. Finally it was settled that 400,000 pounds should be paid. This arrangement was made early in September. In January, the Scots agreed to give up the king into the hands of the English parliament. The world accused the Scots of selling their king to his enemies for 400,000 pounds. The Scots denied that there was any connection between the two transactions above referred to. They received the money on account of their just claims, and they afterward agreed to deliver up the king because they thought it right and proper to do so. The friends of the king, however, were never satisfied that there was not a secret understanding between the parties, and that the money paid was not the price of the king's delivery. And as this delivery resulted in his death, they called it the price of blood. How so when they came to this decision? His mind had been more at ease since his surrender to the Scots, and he was accustomed to amuse himself and wallow at the time of his captivity by various games. He was playing chess when the intelligence was brought to him that he was to be delivered up to the English parliament. It was communicated to him in a letter. He read it, and then went on with his game, and none of those around him could perceive by his air and manner that the intelligence which the letter contained was anything extraordinary. Perhaps he was not aware of the magnitude of the change in his condition and prospects which the communication announced. There was at this time at a town called Holmby or Holdenby in Northamptonshire, a beautiful palace which was known by the name of Holmby House. King Charles' mother had purchased this palace for him when he was the Duke of York in the early part of his life while his father King James was on the throne and his older brother was the heir apparent. It was a very stately and beautiful edifice. The house was fitted up in a very handsome manner and all suitable accommodations provided for the King's reception. He had many attendants and every desirable convenience and luxury of living, but though the war was over, they were still kept up between the King and his enemies a petty contest about forms and punctilios which resulted from the spirit of intolerance which characterized the age. The King wanted his own episcopal chaplains. The parliament would not consent to this but sent him to Presbyterian chaplains. The King would not allow them to say grace at the table but performed this duty himself. And on the Sabbath, when they preached in his chapel, he never would attend. One singular instance of this sort of bigotry and the King's presence of mind under the action of it took place while the King was at Newcastle. They took him one day to the chapel in the castle to hear a Scotch Presbyterian who was preaching to the garrison. The Scotchman preached a long discourse pointed expressly at the King. Those preachers prided themselves on the fearlessness with which on such occasions they discharged what they called their duty. To cat the climax of his faithfulness, the preacher gave out at the close of the sermon, the hymn, thus, we will sing the 51st Psalm. Why dost thy tyrant boast thyself, thy wicked works to praise? As the congregation were about to commence the singing, the King cast his eye along the page and found in the 56th hymn one which he thought would be more appropriate. He rose and said in a very audible manner, we will sing the 56th Psalm. Have mercy, Lord, on me I pray, for men would me devour. The congregation, moved by a sudden impulse of religious generosity, extremely unusual in those days, immediately sang the Psalm which the King had chosen. While he was at Holmby, the King used sometimes to go escorted by a guard to certain neighboring villages where there were bowling greens. One day, while he was going on one of these excursions, a man, in the dress of a laborer, appeared standing on a bridge as he passed and handed him a packet. The commissioners who had charge of Charles, for some of them always attended him on these excursions, seized the man. The packet was from the Queen. The King told the commissioners that the letter was only to ask him some questions about the disposal of his son, the young Prince, who was then with her in Paris. They seemed satisfied, but they sent the disguised messenger to London and the Parliament committed him to prison and sent downward to dismiss all Charles's own attendants and to keep him dense forth in more strict confinement. In the meantime, the Parliament, having finished the war, were ready to disband the army, but the army did not wish to be disbanded. They would not be disbanded. The officers knew very well that if their troops were dismissed and they were to return to their homes as private citizens, all their importance would be gone. There followed long debates and negotiations between the army and the Parliament, which ended at last in an open rupture. It is almost always so at the end of a revolution. The military power is found to have become too strong for the civil institutions of the country to control it. Oliver Cromwell, who afterward became so distinguished in the days of the Commonwealth, was at this time becoming the most influential leader of the army. He was not the commander-in-chief in form, but he was the great planner and manager, in fact. He was a man of great sternness and energy of character and was always ready for the most prompt and daring action. He conceived the design of seizing the king's person at Holmby so as to take him away from the control of the Parliament and transfer him to that of the army. This plan was executed on the 4th of June, about two months after the king had been taken to Holmby House. The abduction was affected in the following manner. Cromwell detached a strong party of choice troops under the command of an officer by the name of Joyce to carry the plan into effect. These troops were all horsemen so that their movements could be made with the greatest celerity. They arrived at Holmby House at midnight. The cornet, for that was the military title by which Joyce was designated, drew up his horsemen about the palace and demanded entrance. Before his company arrived, however, there had been an alarm that they were coming and the guards had been doubled. The officers in command asked the cornet what was his name and business. He replied that he was cornet Joyce and that his business was to speak to the king. They asked him by whom he was sent and he replied that he was sent by himself and that he must and would see the king. They then commanded their soldiers to stand by their arms and be ready to fire when the word should be given. They, however, perceived that Joyce and his force were detachment from the army to which they themselves belonged and concluding to receive them as brothers, they opened the gates and let them in. The cornet stationed sentinels at the doors of those apartments of the castle which were occupied by the scotch commissioners who had the king in charge and then went himself directly to the king's chamber. He had a pistol loaded and cocked in his hand. He knocked at the door. There were four grooms in waiting. They rebuked him for making such a disturbance at that time of the night and told him that he should wait until the morning if he had any communication to make to the king. The cornet would not accede to this proposition but knocked violently at the door, the servants being deterred from interfering by dread of the loaded pistol and by the air and manner of their visitor which told them very plainly that he was not to be trifled with. The king finally heard the disturbance and on learning the cause sent out word that Joyce must go away and wait till morning for he would not get up to see him at that hour. The cornet, as one of the historians of the time expresses it, huffed and retired. The next morning he had an interview with the king. When he was introduced to the king's apartment in the morning, the king said that he wished to have the scotch commissioners present at the interview. Joyce replied that the commissioners had nothing to do now but to return to the parliament at London. The king then said he wished to see his instructions. The cornet replied that he would show them to him and he sent out to order his horsemen to parade in the inner court of the palace where the king could see them from his windows and then pointing them out to the king, he said, these are my instructions. The king, who in all the trials and troubles of his life of excitement and danger, took everything quietly and calmly looked at the men attentively. They were fine troops, well-mounted and armed. He then turned to the cornet and said with a smile that his instructions were in fair characters and could be read without spelling. The cornet then said that his orders were to take the king away with him. The king declined going unless the commissioners went to. The cornet made no objection, saying that the commissioners might do as they pleased about accompanying him but that he himself must go. The party set off from homebeat and traveled two days, stopping at night at the houses of friends to their cause. They reached Cambridge where the leading officers of the army received the king, rendering him every possible mark of deference and respect. From Cambridge, he was conducted by the leaders of the army from town to town, remaining sometimes several days at a place. He was attended by a strong guard and was treated everywhere with the utmost consideration and honor. He was allowed some little liberty in writing out and an amusement, but every precaution was taken to prevent the possibility of an escape. The people collected everywhere into the places through which he had to pass and his presence chamber was constantly thronged. This was not altogether on account of their respect and veneration for him as king, but it arose partly from a very singular cause. There is a certain disease called the scrophula, which in former times had the name of the king's evil. It is a very unmanageable and obstinate disorder, resisting all ordinary modes of treatment. But in the days of King Charles, it was universally believed by the common people of England that if a king touched the patient afflicted with this disease, he would recover. This was the reason why it was called the king's evil. It was the evil that king's only could cure. Now, as king seldom traveled much about their dominions, whenever one did make such a journey, the people embraced the opportunity to bring all the cases which could possibly be considered a scrophula to the line of his route in order that he might touch the persons afflicted and heal them. In the course of the summer, the king was conducted to Hampton Court, a beautiful palace on the Thames, a short distance above London. Here he remained for some time. He had an interview here with two of his children. The oldest son was still in France. The two whom he saw here were the Duke of Closter and the Princess Elizabeth. He found that they were under the care of a nobleman of high rank and that they were treated with great consideration. Charles was extremely gratified and pleased with seeing these members of his family again after so long a separation. His feelings of domestic affection were very strong. The king remained at Hampton Court two or three months. While he was there, London and all the region about it was kept in a continual state of excitement by the contentions of the army and parliament and the endless negotiations which they attempted with each other and with the king. During all this time, the king was in a sort of elegant and honorable imprisonment in his palace at Hampton Court but he found the restraints to which he was subjected and the harassing cares which the contestants between these two great powers brought upon him so great that he determined to make his escape from the thrall in which bound him. He very probably thought that he could again raise his standard and collect an army to fight in his cause or perhaps he thought of making his escape from the country altogether. It is not improbable that he was not decided himself which of these plans to pursue but left the question to be determined by the circumstances in which he should find himself when he had regained his freedom. At any rate, he made his escape. One evening, about 10 o'clock, attendants came into his room at Hampton Court and found that he had gone. There was some letters upon the table which he had left directed to the parliament, to the general of the army and to the officer who had guarded him at Hampton Court. The king had left the palace an hour or two before. He passed out of a private door which admitted him to a park connected to the palace. He went through the park by walk which led down to the water where there was a boat ready for him. He crossed the river in the boat and on the opposite shore he found several officers and some horses ready to receive him. He mounted one of the horses and the party rode rapidly away. They traveled all night and arrived toward morning at the residence of a countess on whose attachment to him and fidelity he placed great reliance. The countess concealed him in her house though it was understood by all concern that this was only a temporary place of refuge. He could not long be concealed here and a residence was not provided with any means of defense so that immediately on their arrival at the countesses the king and the few friends who were with him began to concert plans for a more secure retreat. The house of the countess was on the southern coast of England near the Isle of Wight. There was a famous castle in those days upon this island near the center of it called Charisbroot Castle. The ruins of it, which are very extensive still remain. This castle was under the charge of Colonel Hammond who was at that time governor of the island. Colonel Hammond was a near relative of one of King Charles' chaplains and the king thought it probable that he would espouse his cause. He accordingly sent two of the gentlemen who had accompanied him to the Isle of Wight to see Colonel Hammond and inquire of him whether he would receive and protect the king if he would come to him. But he charged them not to let Hammond know where he was unless he would first solemnly promise to protect him and not subject him to any restraint. The messengers went and to the king's surprise brought back Hammond with them. The king asked whether they had got his written promise to protect him. They answered no, but that they could depend upon him as a man of honor. The king was alarmed. Then, you have betrayed me, said he, and I am his prisoner. The messengers were then in their turn alarmed at having thus disappointed and displeased the king and they offered to kill Hammond on the spot and to provide some other means of securing the king's safety. The king, however, would not sanction any such proceeding but put himself under Hammond's charge and was conveyed to Carisbrook Castle. He was received with every mark of respect but was very carefully guarded. It was about the middle of November that these events took place. Hammond notified the parliament that King Charles was in his hands and sent for directions from them as to what he should do. Parliament required that he should be carefully guarded and they appropriated 5,000 pounds for the expenses of his support. The king remained in this confinement for more than a year while the parliament and the army were struggling for the possession of the kingdom. He spent his time during this long period in various pursuits calculated to beguile the weary days and he sometimes planned schemes for escape. There were also a great many fruitless negotiations attempted between the king and the parliament which resulted in nothing but to make the breach between them wider and wider. Sometimes the king was silent and depressed. At other times he seemed in his usual spirits. He read serious books a great deal and wrote. There was a famous book which was found in manuscript after his death among his papers in his handwriting which is supposed he wrote at this time. He was allowed to take walks upon the castle wall which was very extensive and he had some other amusements which served to occupy his leisure time. He found his confinement however, in spite of all these mitigations, where is some and hard to bear. There were some schemes attempted to enable him to regain his liberty. There was one very desperate attempt. It seems that Hammond, suspecting that the king was plotting an escape, dismissed the king's own servants and put others in their places, persons in whom he supposed he could more implicitly rely. One of these men whose name was Burley was exasperated at being thus dismissed. He went through the town of Carusbook, beating a drum and calling upon the people to rise and rescue their sovereign from his captivity. The governor of the castle hearing this sent out a small body of men arrested Burley and hanged and quartered him. The king was made a close prisoner immediately after this attempt. Notwithstanding this, another attempt was soon made by the king himself which came much nearer to succeeding. There was a man by the name of Osborne whom Hammond employed as a personal attendant upon the king. He was what was called Gentleman Usher. The king succeeded in gaining this person's favor so much by his affability and his general demeanor that one day he put a little paper into one of the king's gloves, which it was a part of his office to hold on certain occasions. And on this paper he had written that he was at the king's service. At first Charles was afraid that this offer was only a treacherous one but at length he confided in him. In the meantime there was a certain man by the name of Rolf in the garrison who conceived the design of enticing the king away from the castle on the promise of promoting his escape and then murdering him. Rolf thought that this plan would please the parliament and that he himself and those who should aid him in the enterprise would be rewarded. He proposed this scheme to Osborn and asked him to join in the execution of it. Osborn made the whole plan known to the king. The king on reflection said to Osborn, very well, continue in communication with Rolf and help him mature his plan. Let him thus aid in getting me out of the castle and we will make such arrangements as to prevent the assassination. Osborn did so. He also gained over some other soldiers who were employed as sentinels near the place of escape. Osborn and Rolf furnished the king with a saw and a file by means of which he sawed off some iron bars which guarded one of his windows. They were then on a certain night to be ready with a few attendants on the outside to receive the king as he descended and convey him away. In the meantime Rolf and Osborn had each obtained a number of confederates, those of the former supposing that the plan was to assassinate the king while those of the latter understood that the plan was to assist him in escaping from captivity. Certain expressions which were dropped by one of this latter class alarmed Rolf and led him to suspect some treachery. He accordingly took the precaution to provide a number of armed men and to have them ready at the window so that he should be sure to be strong enough to secure the king immediately on his descent from the window. When the time came for the escape, the king before getting out looked down and seeing so many armed men knew at once that Rolf had discovered their designs and refused to descend. He quickly returned to his bed. The next day the bars were found filed in two and the king was made a closer prisoner than ever. Some months after this, some commissioners from Parliament went to see the king and they found him in a most wretched condition. His beard was grown, his dress was neglected, his health was gone, his hair was gray and though only forty-eight years of age, he appeared as decrepit and infirm as a man of seventy. In fact, he was in a state of misery and despair. Even the enemies who came to visit him, though usually stern and hard-hearted enough to withstand any impressions, were extremely affected at the sight. End of chapter 10, recording by Will Helton. CHAPTER XI. As soon as the army party, with Oliver Cromwell at their head, had obtained complete ascendancy, they took immediate measures for proceeding vigorously against the king. They seized him at Carisbrook Castle and took him to Hearst Castle, which was a gloomy fortress in the neighborhood of Carisbrook. Hearst Castle was in a very extraordinary situation. There is a long point extending from the mainland toward the Isle of Wight opposite to the eastern end of it. This point is very narrow but is nearly two miles long. The castle was built at the extremity. It consisted of one great round tower, defended by walls and bastions. It stood lonely and desolate, surrounded by the sea, except the long and narrow neck, which connected it with the distant shore. Of course, though comfortless and solitary, it was a place of much greater security than Carisbrook. The circumstance of the king's removal to this new place of confinement were as follows. In some of his many negotiations with the Parliament, while at Carisbrook, he had bound himself on certain conditions, not to attempt to escape from that place. His friends, however, when they heard that the army were coming again to take him away, concluded that he ought to lose no time in making his escape out of the country. They proposed the plan to the king. He made two objections to it. He thought, in the first place, that the attempt would be very likely to fail and that if it did fail, it would exasperate his enemies and make his confinement more rigorous and his probable danger more imminent than ever. He said that, in the second place, he had promised the Parliament that he would not attempt to escape and that he could not break his word. The three friends were silent when they heard the king speak these words. After a pause, the leader of them, Colonel Cook, said, suppose I were to tell your Majesty that the army have a plan for seizing you immediately and that they will be upon you very soon, unless you escape. Suppose I tell you that we have made all the preparations necessary, that we have horses all ready here, concealed in a penthouse, that we have a vessel at the cows waiting for us, that we are all prepared to attend you and eager to engage in the enterprise, the darkness of the night favoring our plan and rendering it almost certain of success. Now, added he, these suppositions express the real state of the case and the only question is what your Majesty will resolve to do. The king paused. He was distressed with perplexity and doubt. At length he said, they have promised me and I have promised them and I will not break the promise first. Your Majesty means by they and them the Parliament, I suppose. Yes, I do. But the scene is now changed. The Parliament have no longer any power to protect you. The danger is imminent and the circumstances absolve your Majesty from all obligation. But the king could not be moved. He said, come what may, he would not do anything that looked like a breaking of his word. He would dismiss the subject and go to bed and enjoy his rest as long as he could. His friends told him that they feared it would not be long. They seemed very much agitated and distressed. The king asked them why they were so much troubled. They said it was to think of the extreme danger in which his Majesty was lying and his unwillingness to do anything to avert it. The king replied that if the danger were tenfold more than it was, he would not break his word to avert it. The fears of the king's friends were soon realized. The next morning, at break of day, he was awakened by a loud knocking at his door. He sent one of his attendants to inquire what it meant. It was a party of soldiers come to take him away. They would give him no information in respect to their plans, but required him to dress himself immediately and go with them. They mounted horses at the gate of the castle. The king was very earnest to have his friends accompany him. They allowed one of them, the Duke of Richmond, to go with him a little way, and then told him he must return. The Duke bade his master a very sad and sorrowful farewell, and left him to go on alone. The escort which were conducting him took him to Hearst Castle. The Parliament passed a vote condemning this proceeding, but it was too late. The army concentrated their forces about London, the possession of the avenues to the Houses of Parliament, and excluded all those members who were opposed to them. The remnant of the party which was left immediately took measures for bringing the king to trial. The House of the Commons did not dare to trust the trial of the king to the Peers, according to the provisions of the English Constitution, and so they passed an ordinance for attaining him of high treason, and for appointing commissioners themselves to try him. Of course in appointing these commissioners they would name such men as they were sure would be predisposed to condemn him. The Peers rejected this ordinance and adjourned for nearly a fortnight, hoping thus to arrest any further proceedings. The Commons immediately voted that the action of the Peers was not necessary, and that they would go forward themselves. They then appointed the commissioners and ordered the trial to proceed. Everything connected with the trial was conducted with great state and parade. The number of commissioners constituting the court was 133, though only a little more than half that number attended the trial. The king had been removed from Hearst Castle to Windsor Castle, and he was now brought into the city and lodged in a house near to Westminster Hall, so as to be at hand. On the appointed day the court assembled, the vast hall and all the avenues to it were thronged. The whole civilized world looked on, in fact, in astonishment at the almost unprecedented spectacle of a king tried for his life by an assembly of his subjects. The first business after the opening of the court was to call the role of the commissioners, that each one might answer to his name. The name of the general of the army, Fairfax, who was one of the number, was the second upon the list. When his name was called, there was no answer. It was called again. A voice from one of the galleries replied. He has too much wit to be here. This produced some disorder and the officers called out to know who answered in that manner, but there was no reply. Afterward, when the impeachment was read, the phrase occurred, of all the people of England, when the same voice rejoined. No, not the half of them. The officers then ordered a soldier to fire into the seat from which these interruptions came. This command was not obeyed, but they found, on investigating the case, that the person who had answered thus was Fairfax's wife and they immediately removed her from the hall. When the court was fully organized, they commanded the sergeant and arms to bring in the prisoner. The king was accordingly brought in and conducted to a chair covered with crimson velvet, which had been placed for him at the bar. The judges remained in their seats with their heads covered while he entered and the king took his seat, keeping his head covered too. He took a calm and deliberate survey of the scene, looking around upon the judges and upon the armed guards by which he was environed, with a stern and unchanging countenance. At length silence was proclaimed and the president rose to introduce the proceedings. He addressed the king. He said that the commons of England, deeply sensible of the calamities which had been brought upon England by the Civil War and of the innocent blood which had been shed and convinced that he, the king, had been the guilty cause of it, were now determined to make inquisition for the blood and to bring him to trial and judgment, that they had, for this purpose, organized this court and that he should now hear the charge brought against him, which they would proceed to try. An officer then arose to read the charge. The king made a gesture for him to be silent. He, however, persisted in his reading, although the king once or twice attempted to interrupt him. The president, too, ordered him to proceed. The charge recited the evils and calamities which had resulted from the war and concluded by saying that, the said Charles Stewart is and has been the occasional author and contender of the said unnatural, cruel and bloody wars and is therein guilty of all the treasons, murders, rapines, burnings, spoils, desolations, damages and mischiefs to this nation, acted and committed in the said wars or occasion thereby. The president then sharply rebuked the king for his interruptions to the proceedings and asked him what answer he had to make to the impeachment. The king replied by demanding by what authority they pretended to call him to account for his conduct. He told them that he was their king and they his subjects, that they were not even the parliament and that they had no authority from any true parliament to sit as a court to try him, that he would not betray his own dignity and rights by making any answer at all to any charges they might bring against him. For that would be an acknowledgement of their authority. But he was convinced that there was not one of them who did not in his heart believe that he was wholly innocent of the charges which they had brought against him. These proceedings occupied the first day. The king was then sent back to his place of confinement and the court adjourned. The next day when caught upon to plead to the impeachment, the king only insisted the more strenuously in denying the authority of the court and in stating his reasons for so denying it. The court were determined not to hear what he had to say on this point and the president continually interrupted him. While he, in his turn, continually interrupted the president too. It was a struggle and a dispute, not a trial. At last on the fourth day something like testimony was produced to prove that the king had been in arms against the forces of the parliament. On the fifth and sixth days the judges sat in private to come to their decision. And on the day following, which was Saturday, January 27th, they called the king again before them and opened the doors to admit the great assembly of spectators that the decision might be announced. There followed another scene of mutual interruptions and disorder. The king insisted on longer delay. He had not said what he wished to say in his defense. The president told him it was now too late that he had consumed the time allotted to him in making objections to the jurisdiction of the court. And now it was too late for his defense. The clerk then read the sentence, which ended thus, for all which treasons and crimes this court doth adjudge that he, the said Charles Stewart, is a tyrant, traitor, murderer, and public enemy and shall be put to death by the severing of his head from his body. When the clerk had finished the reading, the president rose and said deliberately and solemnly, the sentence now read and published is the act, sentence, judgment, and resolution of the whole court. And the whole court rose to express their assent. The king then said to the president, will you hear me a word, sir? President, sir, you are not to be heard after the sentence? King, am I not, sir? President, no, sir, guards, withdraw the prisoner. King, I may speak after sentence by your favor, sir. Hold, I say, sir, by your favor, sir, if I am not permitted to speak. The other parts of his broken attempts to speak were lost in the tumult and noise. He was taken out of the hall. One would have supposed that all who witnessed these dreadful proceedings and who now saw one who had been so lately the sovereign of a mighty empire, standing friendless and alone on the brink of destruction, would have relented at last and would have found their hearts yielding to the emotions of pity. But it seems not to have been so. The animosities engendered by the political strife are merciless and the crowd through which the king had to pass as he went from the hall, scoffed, and derided him. They blew the smoke of their tobacco in his face and threw their pipes at him. Some proceeded to worsen dignities than these, but the king bore all with quietness and resignation. The king was sentenced on Saturday. On the evening of that day he sent a request that the Bishop of London might be allowed to assist at his devotions and that his children might be permitted to see him before he was to die. There were two of his children then in England, his youngest son and a daughter. The other two sons had escaped to the continent. The government granted both these requests. By asking for the services of an Episcopal clergyman, Charles signified his firm determination to adhere to the very last hour of his life to the religious principles which he had been struggling for so long. It is somewhat surprising that the government were willing to comply with the request. It was, however, complied with, and Charles was taken from the Palace of Whitehall, which is in Westminster, to the Palace of St. James, not very far distant. He was escorted by a guard through the streets. At St. James's there was a small chapel where the king attended divine service. The Bishop of London preached a sermon on the future judgment in which he administered comfort to the mind of the unhappy prisoner, so far as the sad case allowed of any comfort, by the thought that all human judgments would be reviewed and all wrong made right at the great day. After the service, the king spent the remainder of the day in retirement and private devotion. During the afternoon of the day, several of his most trusty friends among the nobility called to see him, but he declined to grant them admission. He said that his time was short and precious and that he wished to improve it to the utmost in preparation for the great change which awaited him. He hoped, therefore, that his friends would not be displeased if he declined seeing any persons besides his children. It would do no good for them to be admitted. All that they could do for him now was to pray for him. The next day the children were brought to him in the room where he was confined. The daughter, who was called the Lady Elizabeth, was the oldest. He directed her to tell her brother James, who was the second son and now absent with Charles on the continent, that he must now, from the time of his father's death, no longer look upon Charles as merely his older brother but as his sovereign and obey him as such. And he requested her to charge them both from him to love each other and to forgive their father's enemies. You will not forget this, my dear child, will you? added the King. The Lady Elizabeth was still very young. No, said she, I will never forget it as long as I live. He then charged her with a message to her mother the Queen, who was also on the continent. Tell her, said he, that I have loved her faithfully all my life and that my tender regard for her will not cease till I cease to breathe. Poor Elizabeth was sadly grieved at this parting interview. The King tried to comfort her. You must not be so afflicted for me, he said. It will be a very glorious death that I shall die. I die for the laws and liberties of this land and for maintaining the Protestant religion. I have forgiven all my enemies and I hope that God will forgive them. The little son was by title the Duke of Gloucester. He took him on his knees and said in substance, my dear boy, they're going to cut off your father's head. The child looked up into his father's face very earnestly not comprehending so strange an assertion. They are going to cut off my head, repeated the King, and perhaps they will want to make you a King. But you must not be King as long as your brothers, Charles and James live, for if you do, very likely they will, sometime or other, cut off your head. The child said, with a very determined air, that then they should never make him King as long as he lived. The King then gave his children some other parting messages for several of his nearest relatives and friends, and they were taken away. In cases of capital punishment, in England and America, there must be, after the sentence is pronounced, written authority to the sheriff or other proper officer to proceed with the execution of it. This is called the warrant, and is usually to be signed by the Chief Magistrate of the State. In England, the sovereign always signs the warrant of execution. But in the case of the execution of the sovereign himself, which was a case entirely unprecedented, the authorities were at first somewhat at a loss to know what to do. The commissioners who had judged the King concluded finally to sign it themselves. It was expressed substantially as follows. At the High Court of Justice for the Triang and Judging of Charles Stewart, King of England, January 29th, 1648. Whereas Charles Stewart, King of England, has been convicted, attainted, and condemned of high treason, and sentence was pronounced against him by this court to be put to death by the severance of his head from his body, of which sentence execution yet remaineth to be done. These are, therefore, now to will and require you to see the said sentence executed in the open street before Whitehall, upon the morrow, being the 30th day of this instant month of January, between the hours of 10 in the morning and five in the afternoon of the said day, with full effect, and for so doing this shall be your sufficient warrant. Fifty-nine of the judges signed this warrant, and then it was sent to the persons appointed to carry the sentence into execution. That night the King slept pretty well for about four hours, though during the evening before, he could hear in his apartment the noise of the workmen building the platform, or scaffold, as it was commonly called, on which the execution was to take place. He awoke, however, long before day. He called to an attendant who lay by his bedside and requested him to get up. I will rise myself, said he, for I have a great work to do today. He then requested that they would furnish him with the best dress and an extra supply of under-clothing, because it was a cold morning. He particularly wished to be well guarded from the cold, lest it should cause him to shiver, and they would suppose that he was trembling from fear. I have no fear, said he. Death is not terrible to me. I bless God that I am prepared. The King had made arrangements for divine service in his room early in the morning to be conducted by the Bishop of London. The Bishop came in at the time appointed and read the prayers. He also read, in the course of the service, the 29th chapter of Matthew, which narrates the closing scenes of our Saviour's life. This was, in fact, the regular lesson for the day, according to the Episcopal Ritual, which assigns certain portions of Scripture to every day of the year. The King supposed that the Bishop had purposely selected this passage, and he thanked him for it, as he said it seemed to him very appropriate to the occasion. May it please your Majesty, said the Bishop. It is the proper lesson for the day. The King was much affected at learning this fact, as he considered it a special providence, indicating that he was prepared to die, and that he should be sustained in the final agony. About 10 o'clock, Colonel Hacker, who was the first one named in the warrant of execution of the three persons to whom the warrant was addressed, knocked gently at the King's chamber door. No answer was returned. Presently, he knocked again. The King asked his attendant to go to the door. He went and asked Colonel Hacker why he knocked. He replied that he wished to see the King. Let him come in, said the King. The officer entered, but with great embarrassment and trepidation, he felt that he had a most awful duty to perform. He informed the King that it was time to proceed to White Hall, though he could have some time there for rest. Very well, said the King, go on, I will follow. The King then took the Bishop's arm and they went along together. They found, as they issued from the Palace of St. James into the park through which their way flayed to White Hall, that lines of soldiers had been drawn up. The King, with the Bishop on one side and the attendant before referred to, whose name was Herbert, on the other, both uncovered, walked between these lines of guards. The King walked on very fast so that the others scarcely kept pace with him. When he arrived at White Hall, he spent some further time in devotion with the Bishop and then, at noon, he ate a little bread and drank some light wine. Soon after this, Colonel Hacker, the officer, came to the door and let them know that the hour had arrived. The Bishop and Hacker melted into tears as they bade their master farewell. The King directed the door to be opened and requested the officer to go on, saying that he would follow. They went through a large hall, called the Banqueting Hall, to a window in front, through which a passage had been made for the King to his scaffold, which was built up in the street before the palace. As the King passed out through the window, he perceived that a vast throng of spectators had assembled in the street to witness the spectacle. He had expected this and had intended to address them. But he found that this was impossible as the space all around the scaffold was occupied with troops of horse and bodies of soldiers, so as to keep the populace at so great a distance that they could not hear his voice. He, however, made his speech, addressing it particularly to one or two persons who were near, knowing that they would put the substance of it on record and thus make it known to all mankind. There was then some further conversation about the preparations for the final blow, the adjustment of the dress, the hair, et cetera, in which the King took an active part with great composure. He then kneeled down and laid his head upon the block. The executioner, who wore a mask that he might not be known, began to adjust the hair of the prisoner by putting it under his cap. When the King, supposing that he was going to strike, hastily told him to wait for the sign. The executioner said that he would. The King spent a few minutes in prayer and then stretched out his hands, which was the sign which he had arranged to give. The axe descended. The dissevered head, with the blood streaming from it, was held up by the assistant executioner for the gratification of the vast crowd which was gazing on the scene. He said, as he raised it, behold, the head of a traitor. The body was placed in a coffin, covered with black velvet and taken back through the window into the room from which the monarch had walked out, in life and health, but a few moments before. A day or two afterward it was taken to Windsor Castle upon a hearse drawn by six horses and covered with black velvet. It was there interred in a vault in the chapel with an inscription upon lead over the coffin. King Charles, 1648. After the death of Charles, a sort of republic was established in England called the Commonwealth, over which, instead of a king, Oliver Cromwell presided, under the title of protector. The country was, however, in a very anomalous and unsettled state. It became more distracted still after the death of the protector, and it was only 12 years after beheading the father that the people of England, by common consent, called back the son to the throne. It seems as if there could be no stable government in a country where any very large portion of the inhabitants are destitute of property, without the aid of that mysterious but all controlling principle of the human breast, a spirit of reverence for the rights and dread of the power of an hereditary crown. In the United States almost every man is the possessor of property. He has his house, his little farm, his shop, and implements of labor, or something which is his own and which he feels would be jeopardized by revolution and anarchy. He dreads a general scramble, knowing that he would probably get less than he would lose by it. He is willing, therefore, to be governed by abstract law. There is no need of holding up before him a scepter or a crown to induce obedience. He submits without them. He votes with the rest and then abides by the decision of the ballot box. In other countries, however, the case is different. If not an actual majority, there is at least a very large proportion of the community who possess nothing. They get scanty daily food for hard and long-continued daily labor. And as change, no matter what, is always a blessing to sufferers, or at least is always looked forward to as such, they are ready to welcome, at all times, anything that promises commotion. A war, a conflagration, a riot, or a rebellion is always welcome. They do not know, but what they shall gain some advantage by it. And in the meantime, the excitement of it is some relief to the dead and eternal monotony of toil and suffering. It is true that the revolutions by which monarchies are overturned are not generally affected. In the first instance, by this portion of the community, the throne is usually overturned at first by a higher class of men. But the deed being done, the enroute upon the established course in order of the social state being once made, this lower mass is aroused and excited by it, and soon becomes unmanageable. When property is so distributed among the population of a state that all have an interest in the preservation of order, then, and not till then, will it be safe to give to all a share in the power necessary for preserving it. And in the meantime, revolutions produced by insurrections and violence will probably only result in establishing governments unsteady and transient, just in proportion to the suddenness of their origin. End of chapter 11. The End. End of Charles I by Jacob Abbott.