he great account, he was touched, and said,
in a softened voice, "I do own that. I am sorry that it ever happened."
They prayed with him long and fervently; and he joined in their
petitions till they invoked a blessing on the King. He remained silent.
"Sir," said one of the Bishops, "do you not pray for the King with us?"
Monmouth paused some time, and, after an internal struggle, exclaimed
"Amen." But it was in vain that the prelates implored him to address to
the soldiers and to the people a few words on the duty of obedience
to the government. "I will make no speeches," he exclaimed. "Only ten
words, my Lord." He turned away, called his servant, and put into the
man's hand a toothpick case, the last token of ill starred love.
"Give it," he said, "to that person." He then accosted John Ketch the
executioner, a wretch who had butchered many brave and noble victims,
and whose name has, during a century and a half, been vulgarly given to
all who have succeeded him in his odious office. [430] "Here," said
the Duke, "are six guineas for you. Do not hack me as you did my Lord
Russell. I have heard that you struck him three or four times. My
servant will give you some more gold if you do the work well." He then
undressed, felt the edge of the axe, expressed some fear that it was
not sharp enough, and laid his head on the block. The divines in the
meantime continued to ejaculate with great energy: "God accept your
repentance! God accept your imperfect repentance!"

The hangman addressed himself to his office. But he had been
disconcerted by what the Duke had said. The first blow inflicted only
a slight wound. The Duke struggled, rose from the block, and looked
reproachfully at the executioner. The head sunk down once more. The
stroke was repeated again and again; but still the neck was not severed,
and the body continued to move. Yells of rage and horror rose from the
crowd. Ketch flung down the axe with a curse. "I cannot do it," he said;
"my heart fails me." "Take up the axe, man," cried the sheriff. "Fling
him over the rails," roared the mob. At length the axe was taken up. Two
more blows extinguished the last remains of life; but a knife was used
to separate the head from the shoulders. The crowd was wrought up to
such an ecstasy of rage that the executioner was in danger of being torn
in pieces, and was conveyed away under a strong guard. [431]

In the meantime many handkerchiefs were dipped in the Duke's blood; for
by