kindled; that the young duke of Gloucester, or his sister Elizabeth, should
be placed on the throne; and that, under the infant sovereign, the royal
prerogative should be circumscribed by law, so as to secure from future
encroachment the just liberties of the people. But the majority warmly
contended for the establishment of a commonwealth. Why, they asked, should
they spontaneously set up again the idol which it had cost them so much
blood and treasure to pull down? Laws would prove but feeble restraints on
the passions of a proud and powerful monarch. If they sought an insuperable
barrier to the restoration of despotism, it could be found only in some of
those institutions which lodge the supreme power with the representatives
of the people. That they spoke their real sentiments is not improbable,
though we are assured, by one who was present at their meetings, that
personal interest had no small influence in their final determination. They
had sinned too deeply against royalty to trust themselves to the mercy, or
the moderation, of a king. A republic was their choice, because it promised
to shelter them from the vengeance of their enemies, and offered to them
the additional advantage of sharing among themselves all the power, the
patronage, and the emoluments of office.[1]

In accordance with this decision, the moment the head of the royal victim
fell[a] on the scaffold at Whitehall, a proclamation was read in Cheapside,
declaring it treason to give to any person the title of king without the
authority of parliament; and at the same time was published the vote of the
4th of January, that the supreme authority in the nation resided in the
representatives of the people. The peers, though aware of their approaching
fate, continued to sit; but, after a pause of a few days, the Commons
resolved: first,[b] that the House of Lords, and, next,[c] that the office
of king, ought to be abolished. These votes, though the acts

[Footnote 1: Whitelock, 391.]