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, shewed 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 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 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 upon him. "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 if 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.

On the morning of the fatal day, the King rose early, 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 the very place in

sight of his own palace, to display more evidently the triumph of popular justice over royal majesty. When the King came upon the scaffold, he found it so surrounded by 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 upon whom, as upon 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 upon 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 upon 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 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 his head was severed from his body. A man in a vizor performed the office of executioner; and 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.

Such was the tragical end of Charles the First, a man in private life adorned with every virtue that confers lustre on the human character, but, as a monarch, of a disposition unfit for the critical and perplexed times in which he lived. A few days after the decapitation of the King, the House of Commons passed an ordinance, declaring the House of Lords abolished as useless and dangerous; and they likewise voted the monarchical form of government dissolved. It is remarkable that Martin, a zealous republican, in the debate on this question, confessed, that if they desired a King, the last was as proper as any gentleman in England. The Commons ordered a new great seal to be engraved, on which that assembly was represented, with this legend, ON THE FIRST YEAR OF FREEDOM, BY GOD'S BLESSING, RESTORED, 1648. The forms of all public business were changed from the King's name to that of the keepers of the liberties of England; and it was declared high-treason to proclaim, or any otherwise acknowledge, Charles Stuart, commonly called Prince of Wales.

"The confusions which overspread England after the murder of the King," says Hume, "proceeded as well from the spirit of refinement and innovation which agitated the ruling party, as from the dissolution of all that authority, both civil and ecclesiastical, by which the nation had ever been accustomed to be governed. Every man had framed the model of a republic; and, however new it was, or fantastical, he was eager in recommending it to his fellow-citizens, or even imposing it by force upon them. Every man had adjusted a system of religion, which, being derived from no traditional authority, was peculiar to himself; and, being founded on supposed inspiration, not on any principles of human reason, had no means, besides cant and low rhetoric, by which it could recommend itself to

others. The Levellers insisted on an equal distribution of power and property, and disclaimed all dependance and subordination. The Millenarians, or fifth-monarchy-men, required that government itself should be abolished, and all human powers be laid in the dust, in order to pave the way to the dominion of Christ, whose second coming they suddenly expected. The Antinomians even insisted that the obligations of morality and natural law were suspended, and that the elect, guided by an internal principle, more perfect and divine, were superior to the beggarly elements of justice and humanity. A considerable party disclaimed against tythes and hireling priesthood, and were resolved, that the magistrate should not support, by power or revenue, any ecclesiastical establishment. Another party inveighed against the law and its professors, and were desirous of abolishing the whole system of English jurisprudence, which seemed interwoven with monarchical government. Even those among the republicans, who adopted not such extravagancies, were so intoxicated with their saintly character, that they supposed themselves possessed of peculiar privileges; and all professions, oaths, laws, and engagements had, in a great measure, lost their influence over them. The bands of society were every where loosened, and the irregular passions of men were encouraged by speculative principles, still more unsocial and irregular."

Among such an heterogeneous mass of extravagance, delusion, fanaticism, and the widest credulity, it will not appear astonishing that one man of a vigorous mind, and boundless ambition, should have converted the madness of the times to his own advantage, and raised himself up to a pinnacle of power far superior to that of his legitimate sovereign, whom he had so eminently contributed to dethrone. Suited to the age in which he lived, and to that alone, Cromwell was equally qualified to gain the affection and confidence of men by what was mean, vulgar, and ridiculous in his character, as to com

mand their obedience by what was great, daring, and enterprising. Familiar, even to buffoonery, with the meanest sentinel, he never lost his authority: transported to a degree of madness with religious extacies, he never forgot the political purposes to which they might serve. Hating monarchy while a subject, despising liberty while a citizen, though he retained for a time all orders of men under a seeming obedience to the Parliament, he was secretly paving the way, by artifice and courage, to his own unlimited authority.

But it was not until he had carried his military reputation to the highest pitch in Scotland and Ireland, and finally, by the battle of Worcester, given a decisive blow to the royal party, that Cromwell clearly unfolded his ambitious views.

The government of the kingdom was vested in a council of state, consisting of thirty-eight members, of whom a great majority were in the interest of Cromwell, and could be considered in no other light than as his creatures. But it was otherwise with the remnant of the House of Commons, which still continued to sit at Westminster. Jealous of the designs of the army, and full of the most extravagant notions of their own competency to govern the commonwealth, they were above all things anxious to disband the army. The council of officers, with Cromwell at their head, aware of the enmity of the Parliament, presented a remonstrance to them, requiring the payment of their arrears, and demanding a dissolution of the Parliament, in order that the people might be at liberty to fill up the vacancies that had occurred in the representation.

The house was highly offended with this remonstrance, and made a sharp reply to the council of officers. The officers insisted on their advice; and, by the mutual altercation and opposition, the breach became wider and wider between them. Cromwell finding matters ripe for his purpose, called a council of officers in order to come to a determination with regard to the public settlement. While the officers were in debate,