ford. But he meant again to be king of England, as he and his father before him had understood kingship. It would not be his fault if resistance brought bloodshed with it.

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He knew now that, for the time at least, he was baffled. As he left the House, with gloom on his brow, he could hear the cries of "Privilege! Privilege!" raised behind him. His armed followers were exasperated at his failure. Those minutes of waiting had sadly tried their patience. Strange words had fallen from the lips of some of them. "I warrant you," said one, cocking his pistol, “I am a good marksman, I will hit sure." 'A pox take the House of Commons," growled another, "let them be hanged if they will." When the king re-appeared, there was a general cry for the word which was to let them loose. "How strong is the House of Commons?" asked one. "Zounds!" cried another, as soon as the absence of the five was known, "they are gone, and now we are never the better for our coming." The general feeling of these men was doubtless expressed by an officer on the following day. He and his comrades, he said, had come, "because they heard that the House of Commons would not obey the king, and therefore they came to force them to it; and he believed, in the posture that they were set, that if the word had been given, they should certainly have fallen upon the House of Commons."

Such was the shape which Charles's legal and peaceable action took in the eyes of those whom he had called on to execute his design. The Commons at once adjourned, with the sense that they had but just escaped a massacre.

Charles could not afford to acknowledge that he had failed. The next day he set out for the city, hoping to obtain there what he had not obtained at Westminster. He took with him in his coach, Hamilton, Essex, Holland, and Newport, perhaps with the idea of sheltering himself under their popularity. The rumor spread that he was carrying them with him in order to imprison them in the Tower. Multitudes

poured into the streets in no gentle humor. At last he reached Guildhall, and made his demand to the common council. After he had spoken there was a long silence, broken at last by shouts of "Parliament! Privileges of Parliament!" The meeting was, however, not unanimous. Cries as loud of "God bless the king" were heard. Charles asked that those who had any thing to say should speak their minds. "It is the vote of this court," cried one, "that your majesty hear the advice of your Parliament." "It is not the vote of this court," cried another, "it is your own vote." "Who is it," asked the king, "that says I do not take the advice of my Parliament? I do take their advice; but I must distinguish between the Parliament and some traitors in it. Those I would bring to a legal trial." On this a man sprang on a form and shouted out, "Privileges of Parliament!" Charles repeated what he had said, in a slightly altered form. "I have and will observe all privileges of Parliament, but no privileges can protect a traitor from a legal trial." In spite of the division of opinion, it was evident that there would be no surrender of the members. As the king passed out, there was a loud shout of Privileges of Parliament!" from the crowd outside. He stopped to dine with one of the sheriffs. On his way back to Whitehall the streets rang with the cry of "Privileges of Parliament." One bold man threw into his coach a paper, on which was written, "To your tents, Ọ Israel!" The allusion to Rehoboam's deposition was one which Charles could not fail to understand.

XL.

EXECUTION OF CHARLES THE FIRST.-GUIZOT.

[The attempt upon the five members resulted in a triumph for them, and the country rapidly drifted into civil war. During the first eighteen months of the struggle the advantage lay with the king, owing chiefly to his superiority in cavalry. But the formation of Cromwell's famous Ironsides" turned the scale in favor of the Parliament. At Marston Moor the royalist army, under Rupert, was disastrously defeated in July of 1644, and the king himself was overthrown at Naseby in June of 1645. Charles took refuge with the Scots, who had joined the side of the Parliament in the war; the Scots, failing to convert him to their creed, delivered him over to the English Presbyterians, and from the hands of the latter he passed into the keeping of the army, which was composed chiefly of Independents, and whose ruling spirit was Cromwell. The king played a shuffling game with all parties. In 1648 a reaction took place in his favor. The Scots and the

English royalists and Presbyterians united against the Independent army to place him back upon the throne. The army crushed the movement, and

resolved to call the king to account for the blood that had been shed. He was tried and condemned by a tribunal, which was virtually a court-martial.]

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THE king, after a few hours of tranquil sleep, left his bed. "I have a great affair to terminate," he said to Herbert, “I must get up immediately;" and he went to his toilet. Herbert was agitated, and did not comb his hair with his usual care. I pray you," said Charles, "take as much pains as usual; though my head is not to remain long upon my shoulders, I will be dressed like a bridegroom to-day." As he was dressing he asked for a second shirt; "the season is so cold," he said, "that I might tremble; some people would attribute it to fear, and I would not have such a supposition possible." As soon as day dawned the bishop arrived, and began his pious office; as he read, in the twenty-seventh chapter of the Gospel according to St. Matthew, the passion of Jesus Christ, the king asked him, "My lord, did you choose this chapter.

as applicable to my situation?" "I beg your majesty to observe," said the bishop, "that it is the gospel of the day, as the calendar indicates." The king appeared deeply affected, and continued his devotions with greater fervor. At about ten a gentle knock was heard at the door; Herbert paid no heed to it; a second, rather louder, though still gentle knock succeeded. "Go," said the king," and see who is there." It was Hacker. "Tell him to come in," said the king. "Sir," said the colonel, with a low and trembling voice, “it is time to go to Whitehall; your majesty will still have an hour there. to compose yourself." "I will go directly," answered Charles; "leave me." Hacker went out; the king bent for a few moments more in silent prayer; and then, taking the bishop by the hand, "Come," he said, "let us go; Herbert, open the door, Hacker knocks again;" and he went down into the park, through which he was to pass on his way to Whitehall.

Several companies of infantry awaited him, forming a double line on each side of his road; a detachment of halberdiers marched on before, with banners flying; the drums beat; not a voice could be heard for the noise. On the right of the king was the bishop; on the left, with his head uncovered, was Colonel Tomlinson, the commander of the guard, whom Charles, touched by his attentions, had requested not to leave him till his last moment. He talked with him, as they advanced, of his funeral, of the persons to whom he wished the care of it to be intrusted, with a serene air, a beaming eye, a firm step, walking even faster than the troops, and wondering at their slowness. One of the officers on duty, probably thinking to confuse him, asked him whether he had not concurred with the late duke of Buckingham in causing the death of his father. "My friend," answered Charles, with gentle contempt, "if I had no other sin than that, I call God to witness that I should not have any need to beg his forgiveness." Arrived at Whitehall, he ascended the stairs with a light step, passed through the long gallery, and gained his bedroom, where he

was left alone with the bishop, who was preparing to give him the communion. A few Independent ministers, Nye and Goodwin among the rest, came and knocked at the door, saying that they wished to offer their services to the king. “The king is at prayers," answered Juxon; yet they still insisted. "Well, then," said Charles to the bishop, "thank them in my name for their offer; but tell them frankly that after having so often prayed against me, and without any reason, they shall not pray with me in my agony. They can, if they like, pray for me; for that I shall be grateful." They thereupon retired; and the king knelt down, received the communion from the hands of the bishop, and then, rising with alacrity, said: "Now let these rascals come; I have forgiven them from my heart, and I am prepared for all that I have to go through." His dinner had been prepared, but he refused to eat any of it. "Sir,” said Juxon, “your majesty has long been fasting; the weather is so cold, perhaps on the scaffold some fainting..." "You are right," interrupted the king, and he took a piece of bread and drank a glass of wine. It was then one o'clock; Hacker knocked at the door. Juxon and Herbert fell on their knees; "Rise, my old friend," said Charles, holding out his hand to the bishop. Hacker knocked again, and Charles ordered the door to be opened. "Go on,” he said to the colonel, "I will follow you." He advanced through the banqueting hall, still between a double line of soldiers; a multitude of men and women, who had rushed in at the peril of their lives, stood motionless behind the guard, praying for the king as he passed; the soldiers themselves were silent, and did not insult him. At the farther end of the hall an opening had been made in the wall leading immediately to the scaffold, which was entirely covered with black. Two men, dressed as sailors and both wearing masks, stood by the block. The king arrived, carrying his head erect, and looking on all sides for the people to speak to them; but, seeing that only soldiers filled the place, and that none could approach, he