King Charles' Children.
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."
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. 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.
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.