villain Ferguson. "Do you expect me to believe,"
said James, with contempt but too well merited, "that you set your hand
to a paper of such moment without knowing what it contained?" One depth
of infamy only remained; and even to that the prisoner descended. He was
preeminently the champion of the Protestant religion. The interest of
that religion had been his plea for conspiring against the government of
his father, and for bringing on his country the miseries of civil war;
yet he was not ashamed to hint that he was inclined to be reconciled to
the Church of Rome. The King eagerly offered him spiritual assistance,
but said nothing of pardon or respite. "Is there then no hope?" asked
Monmouth. James turned away in silence. Then Monmouth strove to rally
his courage, rose from his knees, and retired with a firmness which he
had not shown since his overthrow. [425]

Grey was introduced next. He behaved with a propriety and fortitude
which moved even the stern and resentful King, frankly owned himself
guilty, made no excuses, and did not once stoop to ask his life. Both
the prisoners were sent to the Tower by water. There was no tumult; but
many thousands of people, with anxiety and sorrow in their faces, tried
to catch a glimpse of the captives. The Duke's resolution failed as soon
as he had left the royal presence. On his way to his prison he bemoaned
himself, accused his followers, and abjectly implored the intercession
of Dartmouth. "I know, my Lord, that you loved my father. For his sake,
for God's sake, try if there be any room for mercy." Dartmouth replied
that the King had spoken the truth, and that a subject who assumed the
regal title excluded himself from all hope of pardon. [426]

Soon after Monmouth had been lodged in the Tower, he was informed
that his wife had, by the royal command, been sent to see him. She was
accompanied by the Earl of Clarendon, Keeper of the Privy Seal. Her
husband received her very coldly, and addressed almost all his discourse
to Clarendon whose intercession he earnestly implored. Clarendon held
out no hopes; and that same evening two prelates, Turner, Bishop of Ely,
and Ken, Bishop of Bath and Wells, arrived at the Tower with a solemn
message from the King. It was Monday night. On Wednesday morning
Monmouth was to die.

He was greatly agitated. The blood left his cheeks; and it was some time
before he could speak. Most of the short time which remained to him he
wasted in vain attem