[49] The conduct and demeanour of Charles, at his trial, and on the scaffold, have drawn even from the pen of Mr. Macaulay a passage expressive of his admiration, and a passage so eloquent as to shine even in his brilliant pages. But it is not more just, perhaps not more eloquent, than the following description which is given of Charles in the hour of adversity, by Professor Smyth:—“With what sentiment do we now behold him?... it is the monarch unsubdued by adversity—it is the hero unappalled by death—it is the Christian sublimed by piety and hope—it is these that occupy our imagination and our memory. It is the tribunal of violence—it is the scaffold of blood—that banish from our minds all indignation but against his destroyers—all terrors but of the licentiousness of the people: that render all regular estimation of his character odious and impossible; and that leave nothing in the heart of the generous and humane, but compassion for his misfortunes, and reverence for his virtues.”—_Lectures on Modern History, Vol. 1, p. 441._ It was on one of these visits that he passed that eulogium, so well known, and, in the opinion of many, so well deserved, on our Castle Walk; namely, that it was the finest walk in his dominions. We can easily picture him to our minds, (for there is no King with whose lineaments we seem to be so familiar, in consequence of the many inimitable paintings of him by Vandyke) we can easily picture him, with measured step and pensive aspect, taking his walk along this terrace, and his face for a moment lighted up with pleasure at the fair scene which burst upon him; each step as he advanced bringing into view some new and striking object—the bold front of the High Rock—the wooded declivities of Apley—the graceful winding of the Severn, with its “margent green,” and the sloping uplands on either side of it. But he could not give free indulgence to such pleasurable emotions, for a heavy burden of care lay upon his mind, which did not admit of his thoughts being long diverted to anything else.