ating his reasons for so denying it. The court were determined not
to hear what he had to say on this point, and the president
continually interrupted him; while he, in his turn, continually
interrupted the president too. It was a struggle and a dispute, not a
trial. At last, on the fourth day, something like testimony was
produced to prove that the king had been in arms against the forces of
the Parliament. On the fifth and sixth days, the judges sat in
private to come to their decision; and on the day following, which was
Saturday, January 27th, they called the king again before them, and
opened the doors to admit the great assembly of spectators, that the
decision might be announced.

There followed another scene of mutual interruptions and disorder. The
king insisted on longer delay. He had not said what he wished to say
in his defense. The president told him it was now too late; that he
had consumed the time allotted to him in making objections to the
jurisdiction of the court, and now it was too late for his defense.
The clerk then read the sentence, which ended thus: "For all which
treasons and crimes this court doth adjudge that he, the said Charles
Stuart, is a tyrant, traitor, murderer, and public enemy, and shall be
put to death by the severing of his head from his body." When the
clerk had finished the reading, the president rose, and said
deliberately and solemnly,

"The sentence now read and published is the act, sentence,
judgment, and resolution of the whole court."

And the whole court rose to express their assent.

The king then said to the president, "Will you hear me a word, sir?"

_President._ "Sir, you are not to be heard after the sentence."

_King._ "Am I not, sir?"

_President._ "No, sir. Guards, withdraw the prisoner!"

_King._ "I may speak after sentence by your favor, sir. Hold--I
say, sir--by your favor, sir--If I am not permitted to speak--"

The other parts of his broken attempts to speak were lost in the
tumult and noise. He was taken out of the hall.

One would have supposed that all who witnessed these dreadful
proceedings, and who now saw one who had been so lately the sovereign
of a mighty empire standing friendless and alone on the brink of
destruction, would have relented at last, and would have found their
hearts yielding to emotions of pity. But it seems not to have been so.
The animosities engendered by political strife are merciless, and