Chapter XXV (2)

The solicitor-general. Coke, immediately read the indictment, which, imputing to the king all the evils arising at first from his tyranny, afterwards from the war, demanded that justice should be done to him as a tyrant, a traitor, and a murderer. The king remained calm, casting quiet glances upon his judges. For a moment he rose again, turned his back to the tribunal to look behind him, then sat down again, with an air of mingled indifference and curiosity. At the words, "Charles Stuart, tyrant, traitor, and murderer," he smiled, albeit he still preserved silence.

"Sir," said Bradshaw, "you have heard your charge read; the court expects your answer."

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The King.--"I would know by what power I am called hither. I was, not long ago, in the Isle of Wight, in treaty with both Houses of Parliament, with as much public faith as is possible to be had. We were upon a conclusion of the treaty. I would know by what authority, I mean lawful, for there are many unlawful authorities in the world, as of thieves and robbers by the highways; but I would, I say, know by what authority I was brought from thence and carried from place to place, and I know not what. When I know by what lawful authority, I shall answer."

Bradshaw.--"The court requires you, in the name of the people of England, of which you are elected king, to answer them."

The King.--"I deny that England was ever an elective kingdom. It has been for these thousand years an hereditary one. Therefore tell me by what authority I am called hither. I will stand as much for the privileges of the House of Commons rightly understood as any man here. I see no House of Lords here that may constitute a Parliament; and the king too should have been. Is this the bringing the king to his Parliament?"

Bradshaw became impatient. The court was adjourned to the following Monday. On retiring the king touched with his staff the sword resting upon the table. "I do not fear that," he said. As he descended the staircase, a few voices were heard crying "Justice! justice!" but a much greater number exclaimed, "God save the king! God save your Majesty!"

The same scene was enacted at the second sitting. "We are not sitting here to reply to your questions," said Bradshaw to the king. "Plead to the charge, guilty or not guilty."

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The King.--"Show me that jurisdiction where reason is not to be heard."

Bradshaw.--"Sir, we show it to you here--the Commons of England. Sergeant, take away the prisoner."

The king turned abruptly towards the people. "Remember," said he, "that the King of England is condemned without being suffered to give his reasons for the liberty and freedom of the subject." An almost general cry arose of "God save the king!"

The same cry resounded incessantly around Westminster, stifling the voices demanding "Justice, execution!" One day, as the king was passing by, coming from the sitting, a soldier exclaimed, "God bless you, sir!" An officer struck him with his cane. "Sir," said the king, who was being brought forth, "the punishment exceeds the offence." The proceedings of Queen Henrietta-Maria, of the Prince of Wales, of the commissioners of Scotland, maintained the public indignation and sympathy, which were every day manifested more clearly in favor of Charles. Announcement was made of the early arrival of an embassy extraordinary from the States-general of Holland to intervene in favor of the king. This was the signal for the catastrophe.

On the 24th and 25th of January, the Court heard the depositions of thirty-two witnesses. On the latter day, at the close of the sitting, and almost without discussion, the condemnation of the king as a tyrant, a traitor, a murderer, and a public enemy, was voted. Scott, Martyn, Harrison, Ireton, and three others were entrusted to draw up the sentence, which was adopted on the morrow with closed doors.

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On the 27th, at midday, as the sitting was being opened by a call of the House, the name of Fairfax was uttered. "He has too much wit to be here," said the voice of a woman from the end of a gallery. After a moment's silence and hesitation the proceedings were resumed; sixty-seven members were present. When the king entered the Hall, a violent cry was raised among the soldiers of "Execution, justice, execution!" The crowd, in consternation, remained silent.

"Sir," said the king to Bradshaw before seating himself, "I shall desire a word; and I hope I shall give no occasion of interruption."

Bradshaw.--"Sir, you may answer in your time. Hear the court first."

The King.--"Sir, I desire ... It will be in order to what the court, I believe, the court will say. Sir, a hasty judgment is not so soon recalled."

Bradshaw.--"Sir, you shall be heard before the judgment be given." The king sat down.

"Gentlemen," said Bradshaw, "it is well known that the prisoner here at the bar has been brought before the court in the name of the people of England. ..."

"Not half the people!" exclaimed the same voice which had answered to the name of Fairfax. "Where are the people and their consents? Oliver Cromwell is a traitor!" The whole assembly shuddered; all looks were turned towards the gallery. "Fire upon her, soldiers!" exclaimed Axtell. Lady Fairfax was recognized.

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The tumult increased. The king endeavored to speak. "I desire," he said, when Bradshaw had ended his speech, "that I may have a conference with a committee of Lords and Commons, upon a proposal which is of far more consequence to the peace of the kingdom and the liberty of my subjects than to my own preservation."

A violent agitation spread throughout the court and the assembly. Friends and enemies alike endeavored to guess what the king might have to propose in this conference with the two Houses. Many persons thought that he desired to abdicate in favor of his son. The embarrassment of the court was extreme; the soldiers loudly complained, lighting their pipes and blowing the smoke into the face of the king. The latter desired to speak; the cries of "Justice, execution!" redoubled around him. Agitated and beside himself, he at length exclaimed, "Hear me! hear me!" The agitation reached the members of the tribunal. One of them, Colonel Downs, was restrained with great difficulty by his two neighbors. "Have we hearts of stone?" he said; "are we men?" "You will undo us all," he was told. "It matters not," replied Downs, "were I to die for it I must do it." At these words Cromwell, who sat below him, turned around abruptly. "Are you in your senses, colonel?" he said. "Can you not be silent?" "No," replied Downs, "I cannot;" and immediately rising, "My Lord," he said to the President, "my conscience is not sufficiently clear to allow me to deny the request of the prisoner. I demand that the court shall retire to deliberate upon it." "Since one of the members desires it," Bradshaw gravely replied, "the court must retire," and they all proceeded to the adjacent hall.

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Alone in the presence of all his colleagues, Downs was soon overcome. The court resumed the sitting. Bradshaw declared to the king that it rejected his proposal. "I will add nothing, sir," replied the king, visibly overwhelmed; "I would only desire that what I have said may be recorded." And he listened to the judgment in silence, with a serious gravity which only belied itself towards the end. He appeared agitated, and endeavored to speak. The whole court rose to give its assent to the sentence. "Sir," said the king abruptly, "will you hear me, a word?"

Bradshaw.--"Sir, you are not to be heard after the sentence."

The King.--"No, sir?"

Bradshaw.--"No, sir, by your favor. Guard, withdraw your prisoner."

The King.--"I may speak after the sentence. By your favor, sir, I may speak after the sentence. ... By your favor ... hold ... The sentence, sir ... I say, sir ... that ... I am not permitted to speak; expect what justice other people will have."

At this moment some soldiers surrounded him, and dragged him violently to the spot where his close chair awaited him. On descending the staircase he was insulted; lighted pipes were thrown under his feet; tobacco smoke was blown in his face. The same threatening cry still resounded in his ears, "Justice! execution!" With these exclamations, however, the people at times mingled their own: "God save your Majesty! God deliver your Majesty from the hands of your enemies!" As long as he was not shut up in his chair the bearers remained bareheaded, notwithstanding the threats and even the blows of Axtell. Whitehall being reached, the king regained his composure; he shrugged his shoulders at the cries of the soldiers. "Poor men," he said, on getting out of his chair, "for a little money they would do as much against their commanders."

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Having entered his apartment, "Herbert," said the king to his faithful servant, "my nephew, the Prince Elector, will endeavor to visit me, and some other lords that love me, which I would take in good part, but my time is short and precious, I am desirous to improve it the best I may in preparation. I hope they will not take it ill that none have access unto me but my children. The best office they can now do is to pray for me;" and he sent for the Bishop of London, Juxon. As the latter, upon approaching him, gave way to his grief, "Let us leave that, my lord," said Charles, "we have no time to spare. Let us think of our great affair. I must resign myself to meet my God. We will not talk of those rogues in whose hands I am. They thirst for my blood, and they will have it, and God's will be done. I thank God I heartily forgive them, and I will talk of them no more!" He remained all day closeted with the Bishop, receiving none of those who presented themselves to see him.

On the morrow, the 29th, his children were brought to him. The Princess Elizabeth, who was twelve years of age, burst into tears at the sight of her father. The Duke of Gloucester, who was but eight years old, cried on looking at his sister. The king took them, upon his knees, and shared a few jewels between them. He consoled his daughter, appointing some pious reading for her. He enjoined her to tell her brothers that he had pardoned his enemies; and to say to her mother that, to the last moment, he would love her as on the first day. {194} Then, turning towards the little duke, "Sweetheart," he said to him, "Now they will cut off thy father's head." The child looked fixedly at him with a very serious air. "Mark, child, what I say! They will cut off my head, and perhaps make thee king; but thou must not be king as long as thy brothers Charles and James are alive; for they will cut off thy brothers' heads when they can catch them, and thy head too they will cut off at last. Therefore, I charge thee, do not be made a king by them." "I will be torn in pieces first," replied the child, greatly disturbed. The king embraced him with delight, put him down, kissed his daughter, and blessed them both; then suddenly rising, "Have them taken away," he said to Juxon. The children went away in tears. Charles took them back into his arms, and blessed them once more; then, tearing himself from their caresses, he fell upon his knees and resumed his prayers with the Bishop and Herbert, the only witnesses of these sad farewells.

While the king was thus tasting the bitterness of death, his judges met to sign the warrant for the execution. Great difficulty was experienced in assembling the commissioners. Nearly all were agitated and affected. Their signatures were scarcely legible. Cromwell alone, gay, clamorous, and bold, besmeared with ink the face of Martyn, who was seated beside him, and held the hand of Colonel Ingoldsby to compel him to sign. The ambassadors of the States-general of Holland, who had arrived five days previously, and had been received by the Houses, saw the preparations for the execution commence before Whitehall, and when, on the morrow, they issued forth after a visit to General Fairfax, who had promised them to cause a respite to be solicited, they beheld the cavalry, which was clearing all the avenues of Whitehall, and among the mob which overflowed into the adjacent street they heard it repeated that all was ready, and that the king would not delay long.

[Image] King Charles' Children.

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The king had risen early.[Footnote 1]

[Footnote 1: The day of the death of Charles I. is celebrated
on the 30th of January, because England had not yet adopted
the Gregorian Calendar. The 30th of January, 1648,
corresponds with the 9th of February, 1649.]

[Transcriber's note: From Wikipedia article "Gregorian
calendar"; "In common usage, 1 January was regarded as New
Year's Day and celebrated as such, but from the 12th century
until 1751 the legal year in England began on 25 March (Lady
Day). So, for example, the Parliamentary record lists the
execution of Charles I. on 30 January as occurring in 1648
(as the year did not end until 24 March), although later
histories adjust the start of the year to 1 January and
record the execution as occurring in 1649.]

"I have a great work to do," he said to Herbert, and he began his toilet. The hands of the faithful servant trembled in arranging his hair. "Take, I pray you, the same pains as usual," said the king; "although my head is not to remain long upon my shoulders, I would be as trim to-day as a bridegroom. Let me have a shirt on more than ordinary," he added, "the season is so sharp as probably may make me shake, which some observers will imagine proceeds from fear." The bishop had arrived and opened the Gospel. He began the 27th chapter of St. Matthew, the narrative of the passion of Our Lord. The king asked him, "if he had made choice of that chapter, being so applicable to his present condition?" "It is the proper lesson for the day," said the bishop, touched by the coincidence. The king was at prayers; it was ten o'clock. A light knock was heard at the door: it was Colonel Hacker. He said in a low tone of voice, and almost tremblingly, "It is time to go to Whitehall; your Majesty will have there some further time to rest." "I will come presently," said Charles, and, after a moment's meditation, he descended with the bishop, traversing the Park between the two lines of soldiers drawn up along his passage, with a serene aspect, a bright countenance, a firm step, walking even faster than the troop and marvelling at their slowness. Arriving at Whitehall, he refused the services of the Independent ministers who desired to pray with him. "No," said Charles; "they have too often prayed against me and without any reason to pray with me during my agony. If they wish to pray for me, I shall be grateful to them."

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He received the communion from the hands of the bishop, and, rising again, with alacrity, "Now," he said, "let those rogues come. I have forgiven them from the bottom of my heart. I am ready for all that is about to befall me." He would eat nothing; Juxon insisted. "Your Majesty has fasted for a long time. It is cold, perhaps upon the scaffold, some weakness ..." "You are right," said the king. He ate a piece of bread and drank a glass of wine. It was one o'clock; Hacker knocked at the door. Juxon and Herbert fell upon their knees; it was the king who raised them. He traversed the banqueting-hall; behind the line of soldiers, a crowd of men and women, pale, motionless, praying for the king as he passed. The soldiers did not use him roughly. At the extremity of the hall, an opening made on the day previous led to the scaffold, level with it and hung with black. Two men stood near the axe, each in a sailor's attire and masked. The king arrived, with head erect, endeavoring to catch the eye of the people, to speak to them; but the troops alone covered the spot. None could approach, and it was to Juxon and the colonel of the guard, Tomlinson, that Charles addressed the little speech which he had prepared. It was calm and grave even to coldness, while maintaining that he had always been in the right in his conduct as king. While he spoke, some one touched the axe. {197} He turned abruptly around: "Do not hurt the axe that it may hurt me," he said. His speech was ended; the most profound silence reigned in the open space. The king himself arranged his hair under a silken cap; then, turning towards the bishop, "I have a good cause and a gracious God on my side." "Yes, Sire, there is but one stage more; this stage is turbulent and troublesome. It is a short one, but you may consider it will soon carry you a very great way. It will carry you from earth to heaven." The king replied, "I go from a corruptible to an incorruptible crown, where no disturbance can be, no disturbance in the world." He had taken off his collar of St. George and consigned it to the bishop, saying to him, "Remember." Then he looked at the block. "Be careful that it is set fast," he said to the executioner. "It is fast, Sire." "I will offer up a short prayer, and when I put my hands out this way (stretching them out), then." He collected his thoughts, said a few words in a low tone of voice, raised his eyes to heaven and knelt down, placing his head upon the block. The executioner touched his hair to rearrange it under his cap. The king thought he was about to strike. "Stay for the sign," he said. "Yes I will, and until it please your Majesty." A moment after the king stretched out his hands, and his head fell at the first blow. "This is the head of a traitor," exclaimed the executioner, showing it to the people; but a prolonged shudder alone answered him, and the cavalry, advancing slowly through the crowd, had great difficulty in dispersing the people, who had rushed to the foot of the scaffold to steep their handkerchiefs in the blood of the martyred king.

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The coffin remained exposed for seven days at Whitehall. Cromwell caused it to be opened, and, taking the head in his hands, as though to assure himself that it was really separated from the trunk, "It appeared sound," he said, "and well made for a long life."

On the 8th of February, a few faithful servants accompanied the remains of their master to the tomb. It was at Windsor, in St. George's Chapel, where the body of Henry VIII. reposed, that Charles I. was to be buried. The sky was cloudless; but suddenly, as the coffin crossed the courtyard of the castle, a heavy fall of snow took place, and the pall of black velvet was completely covered with it. The servants of the king saw therein the heavenly sign of the innocence of their unhappy master. Juxon prepared to officiate according to the rites of the Anglican Church. Hacker opposed this. "The liturgy decreed by Parliament is obligatory for the king as for all," he said. Juxon submitted, and the coffin was lowered into the vault without any religious ceremony. Those who were present prayed in their hearts.

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