blood of the king, but it was his wish that it should be shed by the axe of the executioner, not by the dagger of the assassin.  He had been appointed to superintend the removal of the royal captive, and had come to arrange matters with the governor, of whose fidelity some suspicion existed.  Keeping himself private during the days he departed in the night; and two days later Charles was conducted with a numerous[b] escort to the royal palace of Windsor.[2]

Hitherto, notwithstanding his confinement, the king had always been served with the usual state; but at Windsor his meat was brought to table uncovered and[c] by the hands of the soldiers; no say was given; no

[Footnote 1:  Nalson, Trial of Charles I. Clarendon Papers, ii.  App. ii.]

[Footnote 2:  Herbert, 131-136, Rushworth, vii. 1375.]

[Sidenote a:  A.D. 1648.  Dec. 18.] [Sidenote b:  A.D. 1648.  Dec. 23.] [Sidenote c:  A.D. 1648.  Dec. 27.]

cup presented on the knee.  This absence of ceremony made on the unfortunate monarch a deeper impression than could have been expected.  It was, he said, the denial of that to him, which by ancient custom was due to many of his subjects; and rather than submit to the humiliation, he chose to diminish the number of the dishes, and to take his meals in private.  Of the proceedings against him he received no official intelligence; but he gleaned the chief particulars through the inquiries of Herbert, and in casual conversation with Witchcott the governor.  The information was sufficient to appal the stoutest heart; but Charles was of a most sanguine temperament, and though he sought to fortify his mind against the worst, he still cherished a hope that these menacing preparations were only intended to extort from him the resignation of his crown.  He relied on the interposition of the Scots, the intercession of foreign powers, and the attachment of many of his English subjects.  He persuaded himself that his very enemies would blush to shed the blood of their sovereign; and that their revenge would be appeased, and their ambition sufficiently gratified, by the substitution in his place of one of his younger children on the throne.[1]

But these were the dreams of a man who sought to allay his fears by voluntary delusions.  The princes of Europe looked with cold indifference on his fate.  The king of Spain during the whole contest had maintained a friendly correspondence with the parliament.  Frederic III. king of Denmark, though he was his

[Footnote 1:  Herbert, 155, 157.  Whitelock, 365.  Sir John Temple attributed his tranquillity “to a strange conceit of Ormond’s working for him in Ireland.  He still hangs upon that twigg; and by the enquireys he made after his and Inchiquin’s conjunction, I see he will not be beaten off it.”—­In Leicester’s Journal, 48.]