a blessed agreement, which he doubted not God would for ever establish between him and his subjects: adding, that his consent would more acquit his Majesty to God, than all the world could do besides. To a willing man (he said) there is no injury.' At last, the King, no longer able to withstand the pressing instances of the parliament and his own councillors, or rather the fear of the calamities which he foresaw might befall him and his posterity if he persevered in his refusal, signed a commission to three Lords to pass the bill in his name. †

But notwithstanding Strafford's letter, when Charles sent Secretary Carlton to him, to acquaint him with what had been done and what were his motives, the Earl seriously asked the Secretary, Whether his Majesty had passed the bill or not;' and being answered in the affirmative, rose from his chair, lifted his eyes to heaven, laid his hand on his heart, and said, "O put not your trust in princes, nor in any child of man, for there is no help in them.” ‡

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The King, subsequently, made a fresh effort in his behalf; and in a letter, transmitted by the young Prince, entreated the Peers to confer with the Commons about a mitigation of Strafford's sentence; but without ef fect. Only three days' interval were allowed him for

* Volenti non fit injuria.

+ For this "base and unworthy concession concerning Strafford," as he himself pronounces it in a letter to Clarendon, strong compunction haunted him during the remainder of his life; and, even at his death, the memory of it with great remorse recurred upon him.

Ps. cxlvi. 3.

On the suggestion of Strafford's brother-in-law, Hollis (who, though one of the popular leaders, had taken no part in the prosecution) Charles, we learn from Rushworth, had deter

preparation he employed them in the concerns of his friends, and of his family. He humbly petitioned the House of Lords to have compassion on his innocent children: exhorted by letter his eldest son to be obedient and grateful to those entrusted with his education; sincere and faithful toward his Sovereign, if he should ever be called into public service; and, as he foresaw that the revenues of the church would be despoiled, to take no part in a sacrilege, which would 'certainly be followed by the curse of heaven.' He shed tears over the untimely fate of Wandesford, who on learning the danger of his friend and patron had fallen a victim to despair: and, in a parting epistle to his wife, endeavoured to support her courage; expressing a hope, that his successor, Lord Dillon, would behave with tenderness to her and her orphans.'

On Wednesday, the twelfth of May 1641, on his way to the scaffold on Tower Hill, he stopped under the window of Laud, with whom he had long lived in intimate friendship, to request the assistance of his prayers. The aged primate pronounced, with a broken voice, a tender blessing on his head, and sunk into the arms of his attendants. Strafford su

mined to go himself to the House of Peers with a petition from the Earl in his hand, and to entreat that they would endeavour to procure the consent of the Commons to an exchange of his punishment from death to perpetual imprisonment. But the Queen, fearing that Strafford could only hope for such a favour on condition of accusing her and betraying her councils, induced her uxorious husband to employ his son upon the occasion, and even to abandon his whole proposal by adding to the cold postscript, "If he must die, it were charity to reprieve him till Saturday." A proposition, so frigid, was not likely to be successful.

perior to his fate, though buoyed up neither by glory nor by sympathy, proceeded forward. Neither the terrors of his death, nor the triumph of his enemies, had power to deject his undaunted mind. The mildness, which had taken place of the usual severity of his forehead, expressed repentance enlivened by hope, and fortitude tempered by resignation. In the multitudes around him, he saw nothing to damp his courage, or to disturb his composure: the same men, who had so lately with turbulent exclamations demanded his death, now gazed in silence upon their intrepid victim. He looked round upon them with complacence, and frequently taking off his hat, bowed to them on either hand. With a firm step, he mounted the scaffold: when observing his brother, Sir George Wentworth, weeping immoderately, Brother," said he, "what do you see in me to deserve these tears? Doth any indecent fear betray in me a guilt, or my innocent boldness any atheism? Think now, that you are accompanying me the third time to my marriage-bed. Never did I throw off my clothes with greater freedom and content, than in this preparation to my grave. That stock (pointing to the block) must be my pillow; here shall I rest from all my labours: no thoughts of envy, no dreams of treason, jealousies, or cares for the King, the state, or myself shall interrupt this easy sleep. Therefore, brother, with me pity those who, beside their intention, have made me happy: rejoice in my happiness, rejoice in my innocence."

Then kneeling down, he made this protestation : "I hope, gentlemen, you do think that neither the fear of loss, nor love of reputation, will suffer me

to belie God and my own conscience at this time. I am now in the very door going out, and my next step must be from time to eternity, either of peace or pain. To clear myself before you all, I do here solemnly call God to witness, I am not guilty, so far as I can understand, of the great crime laid to my charge; nor have ever had the least inclination or intention to damnify or prejudice the King, the state, the laws, or the religion of this kingdom; but with my best endeavours to serve all, and to support all: so may God be merciful to my soul!"

After which, he said he desired to speak something to the people, but was afraid he should be heard but by few, on account of the noise.' He then adjusted himself to the block, and this causing a profound silence, he rose again, and thus addressed the spec

"My Lord Primate of Ireland, and my Lords, and the rest of these noble gentlemen: it is a great comfort to me to have your Lordships by me this day, because I have been known to you a long time; and I now desire to be heard a few words. I come here by the good will and pleasure of Almighty God, to pay that last debt I owe to sin, which is death; and by the blessing of that God to rise again, through the merits of Jesus Christ, to righteousness and life eternal." Here he was a little interrupted.

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My Lords, I am come hither to submit to that judgement, which hath passed against me: I do it with a very quiet and contented mind. I thank God, I do freely forgive all the world; forgiveness, that is not spoken from the teeth outward, as they say, but from the very heart. I speak it in the presence of Almighty God, before whom I stand; and

there is not a displeasing thought arising in me toward any man living. I thank God, I can say it (and truly too, my conscience bearing me witness) that in all my employments, since I had the honour to serve his Majesty, I never had any thing in the purpose of my heart but what tended to the joint and individual prosperity of King and people, although it hath been my ill fortune to be misconstrued.

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"I am not the first, that hath suffered in this kind; it is the common portion of us all, while we are in this life, to err: righteous judgement we must wait for in another place, for here we are very subject to be misjudged one of another. There is one thing, that I desire to free myself of; and I am very confident," speaking now with much cheerfulness, "that I shall obtain your Christian charity in the belief of it. I was so far from being against parliaments, that I did always think the parliaments of England were the most happy constitutions that any kingdom of nation lived under, and the best means under God to make the King and people happy.

"For my death, I here acquit all the world, and beseech the God of heaven heartily to forgive them that contrived it, though in the intentions and purposes of my heart I am not guilty of what I die for: and, my Lord Primate, it is a great comfort for me, that his Majesty conceives me not meriting so severe and heavy a punishment as is the utmost execution of this sentence. I do infinitely rejoice in this mercy of his; and I beseech God to return it into his own bosom, that he may find mercy when he stands most in need of it.

"I wish this kingdom all the prosperity and happiness in the world; I did it living, and now dying,