properly described as the Absalom of modern times. If he merely deserted his miserable followers on the battle-field, he now more meanly deserted his own dignity. He continued, from the moment of his capture to that when he ascended the scaffold, prostrating himself in the dust of abasement, and bogging for his life in the most unmanly terms. He wrote to James instantly from Kingwood, so that his humble and agonised entreaties for forgiveness would arrive with the news of his arrest. He threw all the blame of his folly and wickedness on the persuasions of horrid people who had abused his easy belief. He heaped shame and remorse on his own head in unmeasured terms, and he entreated earnestly a private interview with his uncle, because he could impart to him a secret, which, if concealed, would endanger the throne. He wrote also to the queen and to Rochester, imploring their intercession for him. On the journey his conduct was of the same unmanly character, whilst that of Grey, who was so cowardly in the field, was firm and calm. Grey declared that he was glad that he knew the worst, for that from the hour that they landed in England he had not had one quiet night, or one comfortable meal. Portman and Lumey kept alternate watch over their prize till they saw Monmouth safely delivered at Whitehall into the custody of the king.
James admitted the crawling supplicant to the desired interview, but it was in the hope of the promised word of wondrous revelation, not with any intention of pardoning him. Such a weakness never entered the heart of James Stuart. It has been said, that to see his nephew—the favourite son of his late brother, who had firmly protected him and his interests against all assailants—and not to pardon him, was the act of a barbarian. But James was a barbarian who delighted in the contemplation of agonies which would have unnerved any other man. He had shown that in Scotland in the iron boot and thumbscrews, which made the stoutest ruffians blench to witness. That he would spare the life of Monmouth when he had proclaimed him an assassin, a cut throat, and a fratricide poisoner, was not to be expected, but then the secret word must be obtained if possible, Monmouth had no such magic word to utter. He was led in pinioned by a silken cord, and throw himself abjectly at James's feet, and continued to confess all his guilt and to implore pardon for the sake of his father. He declared that all the calumnies put forth against his majesty were the work of that "bloody villain Ferguson," and he offered, he, the champion of protestantism, to embrace popery on condition that he was forgiven. James got him to sign a declaration that his father had assured him that hr was never married to his mother, and then coolly told him that his crime was of too grave a dye to be forgiven. The queen, who was the only person present besides James and the two secretaries of state, Sunderland and Middleton, is said to have insulted him in a most merciless and unwomanly manner. When, therefore, Monmouth saw that nothing but his death would satisfy the king and queen, he appeared to resume his courage and fortitude, and rising with an air of dignity, he was taken away. But his apparent firmness lasted only till he was out of their presence. On his way to the Tower he entreated lord Dartmouth to intercede for him,—"I know, my lord," he said, "that you loved my father; for his sake, for God's sake, endeavour to obtain mercy for me." But Dartmouth replied that there could be no pardon for one who had assumed the royal title. Grey continued to display a much more manly behaviour. In the presence of the king he admitted his guilt, but did not even ask forgiveness.
As Monmouth was under attainder, no trial was deemed necessary, and it was determined that he should be executed on Wednesday morning, the next day but one. His wife, the heiress of Buccleuch, desired to see him, not from any affection, for he had never cared for her, and had for two years wholly deserted her for lady Wentworth, but to draw from him a clearance of herself from any knowledge or participation in his designs on the throne, in order to save her estate for her children. James, in his "Memoirs," says that Monmouth was unwilling to see her, but she wont to the Tower with lord Clarendon, the lord privy seal. Monmouth received her coldly, and thought more of seizing the opportunity to persuade Clarendon to intercede for his pardon, than of listening to his wife. Clarendon replied as Dartmouth had done, that pardon was hopeless; once he had been pardoned for rebellion, such a thing could never happen twice. He still continued to press the point, but his wife interrupted him to demand whether she had received any intelligence of his late designs, or had been made acquainted with his political views for some years. He testified that she had not. She then asked him whether she had given him any cause of displeasure in any way, except by reproaching him with his attachment to other women, and his disobedience to the king. He replied that he had always found her a loving and dutiful wife, and an excellent mother, and had been frequently advised by her to show more obedience to the wishes of his late father.
That evening, Monday, Turner, bi.shop of Ely, and Ken, bishop of Bath and Wells, came from the king with the message that he must die on Wednesday morning, and offering him their spiritual services. At the announcement he turned deadly pale, and remained some time unable to speak. He wrote to the king three times during the short interval left him of life, still imploring pardon, or at least a respite for better preparation. James remained inexorable, and Dalrymple says that in his third letter he warned the king of the intrigues of the hollow-hearted Sunderland, but that colonel Blood, or the son of that ruffian, then holding office in the Tower, carried the letter to Sunderland, who destroyed it. In consequence of having offered to embrace Catholicism on condition of pardon, James sent some catholic priests to him, but he let them know that without a pardon he did not want their services. According to Burnet and others, amongst his papers of charms and prognostications, was one by a fortune teller, in which he had firm faith, which was, that if he lived over the 15th he was destined for great things; but he consented to sign a paper renouncing his pretensions to the crown, for the sake of his children.
The bishops Ken and Turner laboured hard with him to convince him of his heinous sin in abandoning "the badge of the Anglican church,"—the doctrine of non-resistance; but now convinced that he could not move the inexorable
