when telling of the misery of
the exiles, as not to wound our sensibilities. But I fear his
consideration was all lost; for, sad as it is to think of any fellow-man
reduced to such extremity as to take up a lodging like this, we could
only think how many of the noble and the lovely, and how many of the
true and loyal poor, had been brought by Goffe and Whalley to greater
miseries than theirs. I could not force myself, therefore, to the
melting mood; it was enough that I thought of January 30, 1648, and said
to myself, "Doubtless there is a God that judgeth in the earth." The
lady recalled some facts from Lord Clarendon's History, and said that
her interest in the spot was far from having anything to do with
sympathy for the regicides. Her patronising protector expressed his
surprise, and jokingly assured me that she regarded it as a Mecca, or he
would not have given himself the trouble of waiting on her to a place he
so little respected. She owned that she was hardly consistent with
herself in feeling any interest at all in the memorial of regicides; but
I reminded her that Lord Capel kissed the axe which completed the work
of rebellion, and deprived his royal master of life;[24] and we agreed
that even the intelligent instruments of that martyrdom acquired a sort
of reliquary value from the blood with which they were crimsoned.

The troglodytes, then, were but two; but there was a third fugitive
regicide who came to Newhaven, and now lies there in his grave. This was
none other than John Dixwell, whose name, with those of Goffe and
Whalley, may be found on that infamous death-warrant, which some have
not scrupled to call the Major Charta. Dixwell's is set among the
oi polloi, who, in the day of reckoning, were judged hardly worth a
hanging; but Whalley's occupies the bad eminence of being fourth on the
list, and next to the hard-fisted autograph of Oliver himself; while
William Goffe's is signed just before the signature of Pride, whose
miserable penmanship that day, it will be remembered, cost his poor
body an airing on the gibbet, in the year 1660. Scott, by the way, gives
Whalley the _praenomen_ Richard; but there it is on the parchment, too
legible for his soul's good--Edward Whalley. Shall I recur to the rest of
their history in England before I come to my American narrative? Perhaps
in these days of "elucidations," when it is said that every thing about
two hundred years since is, for the first time, undergoing a