a king" like Charles Stuart, had neither honor nor gratitude, nor a decent self respect behind it. He could be false to a friend as easily as to an enemy. When the Commons, fearing failure on the trial of their impeachment, resorted to a bill of attainder, Charles signed it with a little resistance, and Strafford went bravely and manfully to the block. "As the axe fell, the silence of the great multitude was broken by a universal shout of joy. The streets blazed with bonfires. The bells clashed out from every steeple." _J. R. Green, Short History of England, chapter 8, section 6._ The king "was as deeply pledged to Strafford as one man could be to another; he was as vitally concerned in saving the life and prolonging the service of incomparably his ablest servant as was ever any sovereign in the case of any minister; yet it is clear that for some days past, probably ever since the first signs of popular tumult began to manifest themselves, he had been wavering. Four days before the Bill passed the Lords, Strafford as is well known, entreated the king to assent to it. There is no reason to doubt the absolute sincerity with which, at the moment of its conception, the prisoner penned his famous letter from the Tower. That passionate chivalry of loyalty, which has never animated any human heart in equal intensity since Strafford's ceased to beat, inspires every line. ... Charles turned distractedly from one adviser to another, not so much for counsel as for excuse. He did not want his judgment guided, but his conscience quieted; and his counsellors knew it. They had other reasons, too, for urging him to his dishonour. Panic seems to have seized upon them all. The only man who would not have quailed before the fury of the populace was the man himself whose life was trembling in the balance. The judges were summoned to declare their opinion, and replied, with an admirable choice of non-committing terms, that 'upon all that which their Lordships have voted to be proved the Earl of Strafford doth deserve to undergo the pains and forfeitures of high treason.' Charles sent for the bishops, and the bishops, with the honourable exception of Juxon, informed him that he had two consciences,--a public and a private conscience,--and that 'his public conscience as a king might not only dispense with, but oblige him to do, that which was against his conscience as a man.' What passed between these two tenants in common of the royal breast during the whole of Sunday, May 9th, 1641, is within no earthly knowledge; but at some time on that day Charles's public conscience got the better of its private rival. He signed a commission for giving the royal assent to the Bill, and on Monday, May 10th, in the presence of a House scarcely able to credit the act of betrayal which was taking