The same correspondent then relates what he had himself witnessed in London. "Yesterday it was my fortune, being in a coach, to meet the King with a small train going into the City; whereupon I followed him to Guildhall, where the Mayor, all the Aldermen, and Common Council were met. The King made a speech to them, declaring his intention to join with the Parliament in extirpation of popery and all schisms and sectaries; of redressing of all grievances of the subject, and his care to preserve the privileges of the Parliament: but to question these traitors, the reason of his guards for securing himself, the Parliament, and them from those late tumults, and something of the Irish; and at last had some familiar discourse to the Aldermen, and invited himself to dinner to the Sheriff. After a little pause a cry was set up amongst the Common Council, 'Parliament, privileges of Parliament;' and presently another, 'God bless the King'--these two continued both at once a good while. I know not which was louder. After some knocking for silence, the King commanded one to speak, if they had anything to say; one said, 'It is the vote of this Court that your Majesty hear the advice of your Parliament'--but presently another answered--'It is not the vote of this Court, it is your own vote.' The King replied, 'Who is it that says, I do not take the advice of my Parliament? I do take their advice, and will; but I must distinguish between the Parliament and some traitors in it;' and those he would bring to legal trial. Another bold fellow, in the lowest rank, stood up upon a form, and cried, 'The privileges of Parliament;' and another cried out, 'Observe the man, apprehend him.' The King mildly replied, 'I have, and will observe all privileges of Parliament, but no privileges can prevent a traitor from a legal trial'--and so departed. In the outer hall were a multitude of the ruder people, who, as the King went out, set up a great cry, 'The privileges of Parliament.' At the King's coming home, there was a mean fellow came into the privy chamber, who had a paper sealed up, which he would needs deliver to the King himself--with his much importunity he was urged to be mad or drunk, but he denied both. The gentleman usher took the paper from him and carried it to the King, desiring some gentleman there to keep the man. He was presently sent for in, and is kept a prisoner, but I know not where."[240] The arrest, which with its accompanying circumstances is vividly brought before us in this letter by Slingsby, was a fatal crisis in the history of Charles I. He thought by one stroke of policy to crush his enemies, but the avenging deities, shod in felt, were turning round on the infatuated prince, who could not perceive his own danger, but was in a fool's paradise, dreaming of restored absolutism. The liberties of the country having now become more obviously, perhaps more completely, than before, imperilled by the sovereign's misconduct,