d wronged stood over against
him, and were moved to transports of rage by the sight of him. The old
Earl of Berkeley poured forth reproaches and curses on the wretched
Henrietta. The Countess gave evidence broken by many sobs, and at length
fell down in a swoon. The jury found a verdict of Guilty. When the court
rose Lord Berkeley called on all his friends to help him to seize his
daughter. The partisans of Grey rallied round her. Swords were drawn on
both sides; a skirmish took place in Westminster Hall; and it was with
difficulty that the Judges and tipstaves parted the combatants. In our
time such a trial would be fatal to the character of a public man; but
in that age the standard of morality among the great was so low,
and party spirit was so violent, that Grey still continued to have
considerable influence, though the Puritans, who formed a strong section
of the Whig party, looked somewhat coldly on him. [325]

One part of the character, or rather, it may be, of the fortune, of Grey
deserves notice. It was admitted that everywhere, except on the field
of battle, he showed a high degree of courage. More than once, in
embarrassing circumstances, when his life and liberty were at stake, the
dignity of his deportment and his perfect command of all his faculties
extorted praise from those who neither loved nor esteemed him. But as
a soldier he incurred, less perhaps by his fault than by mischance, the
degrading imputation of personal cowardice.

In this respect he differed widely from his friend the Duke of Monmouth.
Ardent and intrepid on the field of battle, Monmouth was everywhere
else effeminate and irresolute. The accident of his birth, his personal
courage, and his superficial graces, had placed him in a post for which
he was altogether unfitted. After witnessing the ruin of the party
of which he had been the nominal head, he had retired to Holland. The
Prince and Princess of Orange had now ceased to regard him as a rival.
They received him most hospitably; for they hoped that, by treating,
him with kindness, they should establish a claim to the gratitude of his
father. They knew that paternal affection was not yet wearied out, that
letters and supplies of money still came secretly from Whitehall to
Monmouth's retreat, and that Charles frowned on those who sought to pay
their court to him by speaking ill of his banished son. The Duke had
been encouraged to expect that, in a very short time, if he gave no
new cau