on Francis, who; though he seems to have been at worst guilty only
of aggravated manslaughter, was tried and executed for murder. His dying
speech is one of the most curious monuments of that age. The savage
spirit which had brought him to the gallows remained with him to the
last. Boasts of his loyalty and abuse of the Whigs were mingled with the
parting ejaculations in which he commended his soul to the divine
mercy. An idle rumour had been circulated that his wife was in love with
Dangerfield, who was eminently handsome and renowned for gallantry.
The fatal blow, it was said, had been prompted by jealousy. The dying
husband, with an earnestness, half ridiculous, half pathetic, vindicated
the lady's character. She was, he said, a virtuous woman: she came of
a loyal stock, and, if she had been inclined to break her marriage vow,
would at least have selected a Tory and a churchman for her paramour.
[278]

About the same time a culprit, who bore very little resemblance to Oates
or Dangerfield, appeared on the floor of the Court of King's Bench. No
eminent chief of a party has ever passed through many years of civil
and religious dissension with more innocence than Richard Baxter. He
belonged to the mildest and most temperate section of the Puritan body.
He was a young man when the civil war broke out. He thought that the
right was on the side of the Houses; and he had no scruple about acting
as chaplain to a regiment in the parliamentary army: but his clear
and somewhat sceptical understanding, and his strong sense of justice,
preserved him from all excesses. He exerted himself to check the
fanatical violence of the soldiery. He condemned the proceedings of
the High Court of Justice. In the days of the Commonwealth he had the
boldness to express, on many occasions, and once even in Cromwell's
presence, love and reverence for the ancient institutions of the
country. While the royal family was in exile, Baxter's life was chiefly
passed at Kidderminster in the assiduous discharge of parochial duties.
He heartily concurred in the Restoration, and was sincerely desirous to
bring about an union between Episcopalians and Presbyterians. For, with
a liberty rare in his time, he considered questions of ecclesiastical
polity as of small account when compared with the great principles of
Christianity, and had never, even when prelacy was most odious to the
ruling powers, joined in the outcry against Bishops. The attempt to
reconcil