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commanded by Charles to guard the Palace, and from that time one or two companics were left on duty night and day. On the 4th of January " he gave," says May, "unhappily, a just occasion for all men to think that their fears and jealousies were not causeless." He spent the preceding evening in making preparations of a very significant character. Arms were brought from the Tower to the Palace, where a table was spread for the entertainment of a band of young hotheaded men, who were ready to proceed to any extremities. That very day he went to take into custody five of the most obnoxious members of the House of Commons, who, being timely warned, avoided the house in obedience to its orders. A week later Charles left Whitehall, with his Queen, children, and entire court, and removed to Hampton Court. When he again beheld the walls of his favourite home, it was as a prisoner at St. James's, waiting his trial and execution. The war, as is well known, broke out in the same year, 1642. Whitehall was now seized by the Parliament; who in 1645 ordered the "boarded masque house," an immense room built by Charles for these exhibitions, to be pulled down, and that "all such pictures and statues" as were at "York House," as were without any superstition," should be forthwith sold, for the benefit of Ireland and the North. The superstitious pictures appear to have been those which contained representations of the second person of the Trinity, or of the Virgin Mary; these were to be burnt. We pass now to the "last scene of all." The King was sentenced to death on the 27th of January, 1649, and on the morrow, being a Sunday, the commissioners of the High Court of Justice, which had decided his fate, kept a solemn fast in the chapel of Whitehall. On Monday he was to die. About two hours before daybreak of that eventful morning, Charles rose, and dressed himself with more than ordinary care. At ten o'clock Colonel Hacker came to conduct him to the scaffold, and, tapping softly at the door, said all was ready. The door was opened with difficulty by Herbert, who was in attendance upon the King, and who was completely unnerved by the terrible event. When Hacker entered he was as pale as Charles himself, and his voice faltered. They went together from St. James's to Whitehall, the King walking erect and very fast, having Bishop Juxon on his right hand, and Colonel Tomlinson on his left. Behind came a guard of halberdiers, and some of Charles's own gentlemen and servants, bare-headed. At the end of the Park Charles entered Whitehall, and passed through the long gallery into his favourite cabinetchamber, no longer, alas! covered with the pictured wealth that he had lavished upon its walls. He was delayed here for some time, the scaffold not being quite ready; he spent the interval in prayer. About noon he took the slight refreshment of a glass of claret and a piece of bread; soon after which he received the final summons from Colonel Hacker. Attended by Juxon, Colonel Tomlinson, Colonel Hacker, and the guards, he passed through the Banqueting House to the scaffold, which was covered with black. The axe lay on the block in the midst of it. A considerable number of foot and horse soldiers were stationed on all sides, beyond whom were vast multitudes of spectators. Perceiving that the people were too distant to hear what he might say, he addressed himself to the gentlemen on the scaffold. Among other remarks he said, pointing to Bishop Juxon," There is a good man that will bear me witness that I have forgiven all the world, and even those in particular that have been the chief causers of my

death." He told them that they would never have peace till they gave his son and successor his due. He still adhered to his old principles of sovereignty, and assured them that the people ought never to have a share in the government, that being a thing "nothing pertaining to them;" while, with an apparent inconsistency, he added "that he died the martyr of the people." While he was speaking, one of the gentlemen on the scaffold touched the edge of the axe. "Hurt not the axe," said the King, "that may hurt me." He declared that he died a Christian according to the profession of the Church of England, as he found it left by his father. Addressing himself to Colonel Hacker, he said, "Take care that they do not put me to pain." Two men in disguises and vizors stood by the block; to one of these he said, "I shall say but very short prayers, and then thrust out my hand for the signal." Receiving his nightcap from Bishop Juxon, he put it on, asking the executioner at the same time, "Does my hair trouble you?" And he then, with the aid of the headsman and the Bishop, put it all up under his cap. Thus prepared, he turned to Juxon, saying, "I have a good cause and a gracious God on my side." "You have now," returned Juxon, "but one stage more; the stage is turbulent and troublesome, but it is a short one; it will soon convey you a very great way; it will carry you from earth to heaven." The King's last sentence was, "I go from a corruptible to an incorruptible crown, where no disturbance can be." He now took off his cloak, and gave his George to Juxon, with the single but emphatic word "Remember;" then stooped to the block, and in a few seconds had ceased to exist.

a, upper side; b, under side; c, upper side raised, showing a portrait of Henrietta Maria. From the original Print by Hollar.

At the time of the famous dissolution of the Long Parliament, April 20,

1653, Cromwell resided at Whitehall, and when he had finished that extraordinary act he returned with the keys of the house in his pocket to his lodging in the palace. On the 10th of July following, the Little or Barebones Parliament met in the council-chamber of Whitehall; and the members being seated round the council-table, and Cromwell and his officers standing near its centre, the lordgeneral made a long and devout speech, showing the cause of their being called together, and explaining why he had dismissed the late Parliament. A friendly biographer says, "This speech was pronounced in so excellent a manner as sufficiently manifested (as the lord-general himself was thoroughly persuaded) that the spirit of God acted in and by him."* When he had concluded, he delivered to them an instrument in writing, whereby he intrusted to them, with the consent and advice of his officers, the supreme authority and government of the Commonwealth. Commending them to the grace of God, he then retired with his officers. Their subsequent meetings took place in the parliamenthouse as usual. Five months after, having failed to satisfy Cromwell, they were induced to dissolve themselves, and surrender their trust to him from whom they had received it. Cromwell was now made Lord Protector, and on the 16th of December he proceeded from Whitehall to the Chancery Court, where the Great Seal of England was formally delivered to him, amidst great ceremony and magnificence. From the Court he returned in state to the Banqueting House, the Lord Mayor carrying the sword before him, the soldiers shouting, and the ordnance firing. The Royalists and Republicans were each alike dissatisfied with these arrangements; and members of both parties, it is melancholy to add, sought to get rid of Cromwell by assassination. Indeed plots of this kind were so frequent that the Protector had found it necessary to have spies in all directions. By their agency it was discovered in 1656 that a republican officer of the name of Syndercombe had arranged to murder Cromwell on one of his journeys from Whitehall to his favourite residence at Hampton Court. Syndercombe was seized in his bed, tried, condemned, but escaped the traitor's death by suicide. It has been common enough to suppose that, in wishing to be made King, Cromwell was seeking only to gratify an unnatural ambition; yet such a conclusion is, at least, doubtful; for at this very period there were men of honour and intelligence who thought that the restoration of the House of Lords, and of the hereditary monarchy in Cromwell's person, would set at rest all the intrigues of the Royalists by destroying their hopes, and who dreaded the anarchy that might ensue in case of the Protector's sudden death. On the 23rd of February, Sir Christopher Pack, Lord Mayor of London, suggested in his place in parliament, that, as the best way of settling the nation, the Lord Protector should be desired to assume the title of King. Much violence ensued; but, after a debate which lasted more than a month, it was resolved on, the 26th of March, by a majority of 123 to 62, to offer him the regal crown. On the 4th of April the Speaker and the House of Commons appeared at Whitehall, and desired "that his Highness would be pleased to magnify himself with the title of King." Among the arguments used on the occasion to persuade Cromwell to accede to their wishes was the very pertinent one that the title was interwoven in the laws, accommodated to the genius of the people, approved by the suffrages

* Carrington.

of parliaments. Cromwell, in answer, declared that he did not find it his duty to God and his country to accept the proffered new title. On the 14th, 16th, and 20th, the committee of the House again waited upon him. Whitelock says, “The Protector was satisfied in his private judgment that it was fit for him to take upon him the title of King, and matters were prepared in order thereunto; but afterwards, by solicitation of the Commonwealth-men, and fearing a mutiny and defection of a great part of the army in case he should assume that title and office, his mind changed; and many of the officers of the army gave out high threatenings against him in case he should do it: he therefore thought best to attend some better season and opportunity in this business, and refused it at this time with great seeming earnestness." Accordingly in the following month the Commons voted that Cromwell's title should continue to be Lord Protector. In 1657 an accident occurred to Richard Cromwell at Whitehall, which seriously troubled the Protector, who was an affectionate parent. His son came with other members of the House of Commons to pay their respects to his Highness, when the stairs of the Banqueting House gave way, and he narrowly escaped being crushed to death. Several of his bones were broken, but they were well set, and he soon recovered. "This hath been a great affliction to his Highness and family here," writes his secretary, Thurloe, in a letter to Richard's brother, Henry. "If a sparrow falls not to the ground without the providence of God, much less do such things fall upon a person of his quality by chance. This rod hath a voice, and the Lord give us all hearts to hear and obey it." Whitehall, at this period, presented a pleasing picture of sovereign dignity and domestic repose. The members of Cromwell's family were all persons of more than ordinary accomplishments, intellect, and moral character, and there was the greatest love and harmony existing among them. "His own diet was spare and not curious, except in public treatments, which were constantly given the Monday in every week to all the officers in the army, not below a captain, when he used to dine with them. A table was likewise spread every day of the week for such officers as should casually come to court. He was a great lover of music, and entertained the most skilful in that science in his pay and family. He respected all persons that were eximious in any art, and would procure them to be sent or brought to him. Sometimes he would, for a frolic, before he had half dined, give order for the drum to beat, and call in his foot-guards, who were permitted to make booty of all they found on the table. Sometimes he would be jocund with some of the nobility, and would tell them what company they had lately kept; when and where they had drunk the King's health and the royal family's; bidding them, when they did it again, to do it more privately, and this without any passion, and as festivous, droll discourse." He surrounded himself also with the master-minds of his time: Milton was his Latin secretary and intimate; Andrew Marvel was a frequent guest at his table; Waller was his friend and kinsman; and the youthful Dryden was not left unnoticed. The man who thus loved and honoured the poets of his country was not very likely to sympathise with the Puritans in their abhorrence of the fine arts. On the contrary, we find him exerting himself to restore the magnificent collection of Charles, as far as possible, to its pristine state. He repurchased many of the pictures which had been sold, and among them the most * Excellent,-eminent. + Perfect Politician.

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*

valuable works of art that England can now boast of, the Cartoons of Rafaelle. Evelyn, under the date of 1656, thus refers to the state of the palace under Cromwell's care:-"I ventured to go to Whitehall, where of many years I had not been, and found it very glorious and well furnished." It is a touching feature in the death of this great man, that it should be accelerated, as in the opinion of many it was, by the loss of his favourite daughter. Whilst sick he was brought from Hampton Court to Whitehall. On the 2nd of September, 1658, he was assured that his end was approaching, and was then heard, by Major Butler, to utter the following prayer:-" Lord, I am a poor foolish creature; this people would have me live; they think it will be best for them, and that it will redound much to thy glory. All the stir is about this. Others would fain have me to die. Lord, pardon them, and pardon thy foolish people; forgive them their sins, and do not forsake them; but love and bless them, and give them rest; and bring them to a consistency, and give me rest. I am a conqueror, and more than a conqueror, through Jesus Christ, who strengtheneth me." He died on the following morning, the anniversary of his great victories of Worcester and Dunbar. With the period of Cromwell's death all the great memories of Whitehall may be said to cease. There is plenty of matter in the ensuing reigns to keep up the interest we feel in it, but that interest is of a lower and less absorbing character. Richard Cromwell of course occupied Whitehall after his father's death, during the short period of his rule. That he did not suffer much by ceasing to be Protector is tolerably evident from his remark when quitting Whitehall. A friend noticed that he took particular care of one or two old trunks which stood in his wardrobe, and inquired the reason. Why," replied Richard Cromwell, "they contain no less than the lives and fortunes of all the good people of England."— Thus wittily did he satirize the congratulatory addresses which had been showered upon him from all parts of the country on his accession some nine months before. The Rump Parliament now proposed to sell Whitehall, with the other royal palaces of Somerset House and Hampton Court; but they were dismissed before the project could be carried into execution. A few months more, and Charles II. passed through the streets of London to Whitehall, amidst all the sights and sounds of a universal rejoicing. Another great change now took place in the palace. If his object had been to make Whitehall in every respect a contrast to what it had been in Cromwell's time, Charles could not have acted otherwise than he did. Here is a specimen from Evelyn of the scenes which were almost daily exhibited during this profligate reign:-" Following his Majesty this morning through the gallery, I went with the few who attended him into the Duchess of Portsmouth's dressingroom, within her bedchamber, where she was in her morning loose garment; her maids combing her, newly out of her bed, his Majesty and the gallants standing about her. But that which engaged my curiosity was the rich and splendid furniture of this woman's apartment, now twice or thrice pulled down and rebuilt to satisfy her prodigal and expensive pleasures, whilst her Majesty's does not exceed some gentlemen's ladies in furniture and accommodation. Here I saw the new fabric of French tapestry, for design, tenderness of work, and incomparable imitation of the best paintings, beyond anything I had ever beheld. Some pieces had Versailles, St. Germain's, and other palaces of the French King, with huntings, figures, and landscapes, exotic fowls, and all to the life rarely done.