By his conduct during these proceedings, Charles had exalted his character even in the estimation of his enemies: he had now to prepare himself for a still more trying scene, to nerve his mind against the terrors of a public and ignominious death. But he was no longer the man he had been before the civil war. Affliction had chastened his mind; he had learned from experience to submit to the visitations of Providence; and he sought and found strength and relief in the consolations of religion. The next day, the Sunday, was spent by him at St. James's, by the commissioners at Whitehall.[a] They observed a fast, preached on the judgments of God, and prayed for a blessing on the commonwealth. He devoted his time to devotional exercises in the company of Herbert and of Dr. Juxon, bishop of London, who at the request of Hugh Peters (and it should be recorded to the honour of that fanatical preacher) had been permitted to attended the monarch. His nephew the prince elector, the duke of Richmond, the marquess of Hertford, and several other noblemen, came to the door of his bedchamber, to pay their last respects to
[Footnote 1: Herbert, 163, 164.]
[Footnote 2: Ibid. 163, 165.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1649. Jan. 28.]
their sovereign; but they were told in his name that he thanked them for their attachment, and desired their prayers; that the shortness of his time admonished him to think of another world; and that the only moments which he could spare must be given to his children. These were two, the Princess Elizabeth and the duke of Gloucester, the former wept for her father's fate; the latter, too young to understand the cause, joined his tears through sympathy. Charles placed them on his knees, gave them such advice as was adapted to their years, and seemed to derive pleasure from the pertinency of their answers. In conclusion, he divided a few jewels between them, kissed them, gave them his blessings and hastily retired to his devotions.[1]
On the last night of his life he slept soundly about four hours, and early in the morning[a] awakened Herbert, who lay on a pallet by his bed-side. "This," he said, "is my second marriage-day. I would be as trim as may be; for before night I hope to be espoused to my blessed Jesus." He then pointed out the clothes which he meant to wear, and ordered two shirts, on account of the severity of the weather; "For," he observed, "were I to shake through cold, my enemies would attribute it to fear, I would have no such imputation. I fear not death. Death is not terrible to me. I bless my God I am prepared."[2]
[Footnote 1: Herbert, 169-180. State Trials, 357-360.]
[Footnote 2: Herbert, 183-185, I may here insert an anecdote, which seems to prove that Charles attributed his misfortunes in a great measure to the counsels of Archbishop Laud. On the last night of his life, he had observed that Herbert was restless during his sleep, and in the morning insisted on knowing the cause. Herbert answered that he was dreaming. He saw Laud enter the room; the king took him aside, and spoke to him with a pensive countenance; the archbishop sighed, retired, and fell prostrate on the ground. Charles replied, "It is very remarkable; but he is dead. Yet had we conferred together during life, 'tis very likely (albeit I loved him well) I should have said something to him, might have occasioned his sigh."—Herbert's Letter to Dr. Samways, published at the end of his Memoirs, p. 220.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1649. Jan. 30.]
The king spent an hour in privacy with the bishop; Herbert was afterwards admitted; and about ten o'clock Colonel Hacker announced that it was time to proceed to Whitehall. He obeyed, was conducted on foot, between two detachments of military, across the park, and received permission to repose himself in his former bedchamber. Dinner had been prepared for him; but he refused to eat, though afterwards, at the solicitation of the bishop, he took the half of a manchet and a glass of wine. Here he remained almost two hours, in constant expectation of the last summons, spending his time partly in prayer and partly in discourse with Dr. Juxon. There might have been nothing mysterious in the delay; if there was, it may perhaps be explained from the following circumstances.