n, desperately wicked,
and hardened in their impiety"?

On January 19th Major Harrison appeared again at Windsor with his troop.
There was a coach with six horses in the court-yard, in which the King
took his seat; and, once more, he entered London, and was lodged at St.
James' palace. The next day the high court of justice was opened in
Westminster hall. The King came from St. James' in a sedan; and after
the names of the members of the court had been called, sixty-nine being
present, Bradshaw, the president, ordered the sergeant to bring in the
prisoner. Silently the King sat down in the chair prepared for him. He
moved not his hat, as he looked sternly and contemptuously around. The
sixty-nine rose not from their seats and remained covered. It is
scarcely eight years since he was a spectator of the last solemn trial
in this hall--that of Strafford. What mighty events have happened since
that time!

There are memorials hanging from the roof which tell such a history as
his saddest fears in the hour of Strafford's death could scarcely have
shaped out. The tattered banners taken from his Cavaliers at Marston
Moor and Naseby are floating above his head. There, too, are the same
memorials of Preston. But still he looks around him proudly and
severely. Who are the men that are to judge him, the King, who "united
in his person every possible claim by hereditary right to the English as
well as the Scottish throne, being the heir both of Egbert and William
the Conqueror"? These men are, in his view, traitors and rebels, from
Bradshaw, the lawyer, who sits in the foremost chair, calling himself
lord-president, to Cromwell and Marten in the back seat, over whose
heads are the red cross of England and the harp of Ireland, painted on
an escutcheon, while the proud bearings of a line of kings are nowhere
visible.

Under what law does this insolent president address him as "Charles
Stuart, King of England," and say: "The Commons of England being deeply
sensible of the calamities that have been brought upon this nation,
which are fixed upon you as the principal author of them, have resolved
to make inquisition for blood"? He will defy their authority. The clerk
reads the charge, and when he is accused therein of being tyrant and
traitor he laughs in the face of the court. "Though his tongue usually
hesitated, yet it was very free at this time, for he was never
discomposed in mind," writes Warwick. "And yet," it is added, "as he