ease," was the reply; "I pray for him and for all
men." He now spoke to the executioner, desiring that he might have no
cap over his eyes, and began undressing. One would have thought that in
this last sad ceremony, the poor prisoner might have been unmolested, and
that the divines would have been satisfied that prayer was the only part
of their function for which their duty now called upon them. They judged
differently, and one of them had the fortitude to request the duke, even
in this stage of the business, that he would address himself to the
soldiers then present, to tell them he stood a sad example of rebellion,
and entreat the people to be loyal and obedient to the king. "I have
said I will make no speeches," repeated Monmouth, in a tone more
peremptory than he had before been provoked to; "I will make no speeches.
I come to die." "My lord, ten words will be enough," said the
persevering divine; to which the duke made no answer, but turning to the
executioner, expressed a hope that he would do his work better now than
in the case of Lord Russell. He then felt the axe, which he apprehended
was not sharp enough, but being assured that it was of proper sharpness
and weight, he laid down his head. In the meantime many fervent
ejaculations were used by the reverend assistants, who, it must be
observed, even in these moments of horror, showed themselves not
unmindful of the points upon which they had been disputing, praying God
to accept his imperfect and general repentance.

The executioner now struck the blow, but so feebly or unskilfully, that
Monmouth, being but slightly wounded, lifted up his head, and looked him
in the face as if to upbraid him, but said nothing. The two following
strokes were as ineffectual as the first, and the headsman, in a fit of
horror, declared he could not finish his work. The sheriffs threatened
him; he was forced again to make a further trial, and in two more strokes
separated the head from the body.

Thus fell, in the thirty-sixth year of his age, James, Duke of Monmouth,
a man against whom all that has been said by the most inveterate enemies
both to him and his party amounts to little more than this, that he had
not a mind equal to the situations in which his ambition, at different
times, engaged him to place himself. But to judge him with candour, we
must make great allowances, not only for the temptations into which he
was led by the splendid prosperity of the earlier par