1 THE EXECUTION OF CHARLES I. of those defensive arms to which unwillingly and unfortunately he had had recourse; but that, in order to preserve a uniformity of conduct, he must at present forego the apology of his innocence, lest by ratifying an authority, no better founded than that of robbers and pirates, he be justly branded as the betrayer, instead of being applauded as the martyr of the constitution. The president, in order to support the majesty of the people, and maintain the superiority of his court above the prisoner, still inculcated that he must not decline the authority of his judges, that they over-ruled his objections; that they were delegated by the people, the only source of every law ful power; and that kings themselves acted but in trust from that community which had invested this high court of justice with its jurisdiction. Even according to those principles, which in his present situation he was perhaps obliged to adopt, his behaviour in general will appear not a little harsh and barbarous; but when we consider him as a subject, and one too of no high character, addressing himself to his unfortunate sovereign, his style will be esteemed, to the last degree, audacious and insolent. Three times was Charles produced before the court, and as often declined their jurisdiction; on the fourth (Jan. 27), the judges having examined some witnesses, by whom it was proved that the king had appeared in arms against the forces commissioned by the Parliament, they pronounced sentence against him. He seemed very anxious, at this time, to be admitted to a conference with the two Houses, and it was supposed that he intended to resign the crown to his son; but the court refused compliance, and considered that request as nothing but a delay of justice. It is confessed that the king's behaviour during this last scene of his life does honour to his memory, and that in all appearances before his judges he never forgot his part, either as a prince or as a man; firm and intrepid, he maintained in each reply the utmost perspicuity and justness both of thought and expression; mild and equable, he rose into no passion at that unusual authority which was assumed over him; his soul, without effort or affectation, seemed only to remain in the situation familiar to it, and to look down with contempt on all the efforts of human malice and iniquity. The soldiers, instigated by their su periors, were brought, though with difficulty, to cry aloud for justice. "Poor souls!" said the king to one of his attendants; "for a little money they would do as much against their commanders." Some of them were permitted to go the utmost length of brutal insolence, and to spit in his face as he was conducted along the passage to the court. To excite a sentiment of piety was 339 the only effect which this inhuman insult was able to produce on him. The people, though under the rod of lawless, unlimited power, could not forbear, with the most ardent prayers, pouring forth their wishes for his preservation; and in his present distress, they avowed him by their generous tears for their monarch, whom, in their misguided fury, they had before so violently rejected. The king was softened at this moving scene, and expressed his gratitude for their dutiful affection. One soldier, too, seized by contagious sympathy, demanded from Heaven a blessing on oppressed and fallen majesty; his officer, overhearing the prayer, beat him to the ground in the king's presence. "The punishment, methinks, exceeds the offence;" this was the reflection which Charles formed on that occasion. As soon as the intention of trying the king was known in foreign countries, so enormous an action was exclaimed against by the general voice of reason and humanity; and all men, under whatever form of government they were born, rejected this example as the utmost effort of undisguised usurpation, and the most heinous insult on law and justice. The French ambassador, by orders from his court, interposed in the king's behalf; the Dutch employed their good offices; the Scots exclaimed and protested against the violence; the queen, the prince, wrote pathetic letters to the Parliament. All solicitations were found fruitless with men whose resolutions were fixed and irrevocable. Four of Charles's friends, persons of virtue and dignity, Richmond, Hertford, Southampton, Lindesey, applied to the Commons; they represented that they were the king's counsellors, and had concurred by their advice in all those measures which were now imputed as crimes to their royal master; that in the eye of the law, and according to the dictates of common reason, they alone were guilty, and were alone exposed to censure for every blameable action of the prince; and that they now. presented themselves in order to save, by their own punishment, that precious life which it became the Commons themselves, and every subject, with the utmost hazard to protect and defend. Such a generous effort tended to their honour, but contributed nothing towards the king's safety. Three days were allowed the king between his sentence and his execution. This interval he passed with great tranquillity, chiefly in reading | and devotion. All his family that remained in England were allowed access to him. It consisted only of the Princess Elizabeth and the Duke of Gloucester, for the Duke of York had made his escape. Gloucester was little more than an infant; the princess, notwithstanding her tender years, showed an advanced judgment, and the calamities of her family had made a deep impression on her. After many pious consolations and advices, the king gave her in charge to tell the queen, that during the whole course of his life he had never once, even in thought, failed in his fidelity towards her; and that his conjugal tenderness and his life should have an equal duration. To the young duke, too, he could not forbear giving some advice, in order to season his mind with early principles of loyalty and obedience towards his brother, who was so soon to be his sovereign. Holding him on his knee, he said, "Now they will cut off thy father's head." At these words the child looked very steadfastly on him. 66 Mark, child, what I say-they will cut off my head, and perhaps make thee a king; but mark what I say-thou must not be a king as long as thy brothers Charles and James are alive. 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." The duke, sighing, replied, "I will be torn in pieces first." So determined an answer from one of such tender years filled the king's eyes with tears of joy and admiration. Every night, during this interval, the king slept sound as usual, though the noise of workmen, employed in framing the scaffold and other preparations for his execution, continually resounded in his ears. The morning of the fatal day he rose early (Jan. 30), and calling Herbert, one of his attendants, he bade him employ more than usual care in dressing him, and preparing him for so great and joyful a solemnity. Bishop Juxon, a man endowed with the same mild and steady virtues by which the king himself was so much distinguished, assisted him in his devotions, and paid the last melancholy duties to his friend and sovereign. The street before Whitehall was the place destined for the execution; for it was intended, by choosing that very place, in sight of his own palace, to display more evidently the triumph of popular justice over royal majesty. When the king came on the scaffold, he found it so surrounded with soldiers, that he could not expect to be heard by any of the people; he addressed, therefore, his discourse to the few persons who were about him, particularly Colonel Tomlinson, to whose care he had lately been committed, and on whom, as on many others, his amiable deportment had wrought an entire conversion. He justified his own innocence in the late fatal wars, and observed that he had not taken arms till after the Parliament had enlisted forces; nor had he any other object in his warlike operations, than to preserve that authority entire which his predecessors had transmitted to him. He threw not, however, the blame on the Parliament, but was more inclined to think that ill instruments had interposed, and raised in them fears and jealousies with regard to his intentions. Though innocent towards his people, he acknowledged the equity of his execution in the eyes of his Maker, and observed, that an unjust sentence which he had suffered to take effect was now punished by an unjust sentence on himself. He forgave all his enemies, even the chief instruments of his death; but exhorted them and the whole nation to return to the ways of peace, by paying obedience to their lawful sovereign, his son and successor. When he was preparing himself for the block, Bishop Juxon called to him: "There is, sir, but one stage more, which, though turbulent and troublesome, is yet a very short one. Consider, it will soon carry you a great way; it will carry you from earth to heaven, and there you shall find, to your great joy, the prize to which you hasten-a crown of glory." "I go," replied the king, "from a corruptible to an incorruptible crown, where no disturbance can have place." At one blow was his head severed from his body. A man in a vizor performed the office of executioner; another, in a like disguise, held up to the spectators the head streaming with blood, and cried aloud, “This is the head of a traitor!" It is impossible to describe the grief, indignation, and astonishment which took place, not only among the spectators, who were overwhelmed with a flood of sorrow, but throughout the whole nation, as soon as the report of this fatal execution was conveyed to them. 66 It being remarked that the king, the moment before he stretched out his neck to the executioner, had said to Juxon, with a very earnest accent, the single word Remember," great mysteries were supposed to be concealed under that expression; and the generals vehemently insisted with the prelate, that he should inform them of the king's meaning. Juxon told them that the king, having frequently charged him to inculcate on his son the forgiveness of his murderers, had taken this opportunity, in the last moment of his life, when his commands, he sup posed, would be regarded as sacred and inviolable, to reiterate that desire; and that his mild spirit thus terminated its present course by an act of benevolence towards his greatest enemies. THE ship, called the most holy Trinidada, Were settled long ere Juan's sire was born: But now lay sick and speechless on his pillow, And, rocking in his hammock, long'd for land, His headache being increased by every billow; And the waves oozing through the port-hole made His berth a little damp, and him afraid. "Twas not without some reason, for the wind At sunset they began to take in sail, At one o'clock the wind with sudden shift Threw the ship right into the trough of the sea, Which struck her aft, and made an awkward rift, Started the stern-post, also shatter'd the Whole of her stern-frame, and, ere she could lift Herself from out her present jeopardy, The rudder tore away: 'twas time to sound The pumps, and there were four feet water found. One gang of people instantly was put Upon the pumps, and the remainder set Still their salvation was an even bet: Into the opening; but all such ingredients Would have been vain, and they must have gone down, Despite of all their efforts and expedients, And keep the ship afloat, though three feet yet Kept two hand and one chain-pump still in use. The wind blew fresh again: as it grew late A squall came on, and while some guns broke loose, A gust-which all descriptive power transcends- Or breaks their hopes, or hearts, or heads, or necks; Thus drownings are much talk'd of by the divers, And swimmers, who may chance to be survivors. Immediately the masts were cut away, Both main and mizen: first the mizen went, The main-mast followed; but the ship still lay Like a mere log, and baffled our intent. Foremast and bowsprit were cut down, and they Eased her at last (although we never meant To part with all till every hope was blighted), And then with violence the old ship righted. It may be easily supposed, while this Was going on, some people were unquiet, That passengers would find it much amiss To lose their lives, as well as spoil their diet; That even the able seaman, deeming his Days nearly o'er, might be disposed to riot, There's nought, no doubt, so much the spirit calms psalms, The high wind made the treble, and as bass The hoarse harsh waves kept time; fright cured the qualms Of all the luckless landsmen's sea-sick maws: Perhaps more mischief had been done, but for But for the pumps: I'm glad to make them Got to the spirit-room and stood before It with a pair of pistols; and their fears, To all the brother tars who may have need hence, As if Death were more dreadful by his door By them per hour, and they all had been undone, As day advanced the weather seem'd to abate, Of fire than water, spite of oaths and tears, Kept still aloof the crew, who, cre they sunk, Thought it would be becoming to die drunk. "Give us more grog," they cried, "for it will be All one an hour hence." Juan answer'd, "No! THE SHIPWRECK. 343 "Tis true that death awaits both you and me, But let us die like men, not sink below Then came the carpenter, at last, with tears Like brutes:" and thus his dangerous post kept he, Could do no more: he was a man in years, And none liked to anticipate the blow; Irrevocable vow of reformation; But now there came a flash of hope once more; The leak increased; shoals round her, but no shore, Their desperate efforts seem'd all useless grown, And for the moment it had some effect; But with a leak, and not a stick of mast, Nor rag of canvas, what could they expect? But still 'tis best to struggle to the last, "Tis never too late to be wholly wreck'd; And though 'tis true that man can only die once, "Tis not so pleasant in the Gulf of Lyons. And long had voyaged through many a stormy sea, And if he wept at length, they were not fears That made his eyelids as a woman's be, But he, poor fellow, had a wife and children, Fast by the head; and, all distinction gone, Of candles to their saints-but there were none -in his confusion. Some lash'd them in their hammocks; some put on And others went on as they had begun, Getting the boats out, being well aware The worst of all was, that in their condition, As now might render their long suffering less: Men, even when dying, dislike inanition; There winds and waves had hurl'd them, and from Two casks of biscuit, and a keg of butter, Their stock was damaged by the weather's stress: thence, Without their will, they carried them away; On which they might repose, or even commence But the ship labour'd so, they scarce could hope Was also great with which they had to cope Was scant enough: in vain the telescope Were all that could be thrown into the cutter. But in the long-boat they contrived to stow Six flasks of wine: and they contrived to get And with a piece of pork, moreover, met, The other boats, the yawl and pinnace, had Been stove in the beginning of the gale; As there were but two blankets for a sail, Threw in by good luck over the ship's rail; Which, if withdrawn, would but disclose the frown |