his impetuous temper. But the other persisted in 1685. giving him foul language, and offered a switch or a cane: upon which he discharged his pistol at him, and fatally shot him dead. He went and gave the duke of Monmouth an account of this, who saw it was impossible to keep him longer about him, without disgusting and losing the country people, who were coming in a body to demand justice. So he advised him to go aboard the ship, and to sail on to Spain, whither she was bound. By this means he was preserved for that time. Ferguson ran among the people with all the fury of an enraged man, that affected to pass for an enthusiast, though all his performances that way were forced and dry. The duke of Monmouth's great error was, that he did not in the first heat venture on some hardy action, and then march either to Exeter or Bristol; where, as he would have found much wealth, so he would have gained some reputation by it. But he lingered in exercising his men, and stayed too long in the neighbourhood of Lime. By this means the king had time both to bring troops out of Scotland, after Argile was taken, and to send to Holland for the English and Scotch regiments that were in the service of the States; which 643 the prince sent over very readily, and offered his own person, and a greater force, if it was necessary. The king received this with great expressions of acknowledgment and kindness. It was very visible, that he was much distracted in his thoughts, and that what appearance of courage soever he might put on, he was inwardly full of apprehensions and fears. He durst not accept of the offer of assistance that the French made him: for by that he 1685. The earl of Fever manded army. would have lost the hearts of the English nation. And he had no mind to be much obliged to the prince of Orange, or to let him into his counsels or affairs. Prince George committed a great error in not asking the command of the army: for the command, how much soever he might have been bound to the counsels of others, would have given him some lustre; whereas his staying at home in such time of danger brought him under much neglect 5. The king could not choose worse than he did, sham com- when he gave the command to the earl of Feverthe king's sham, who was a Frenchman by birth, and nephew to Mr. de Turenne. Both his brothers changing religion, though he continued still a protestant, made that his religion was not much trusted to. He was an honest, brave, and good natured man, but weak to a degree not easy to be conceived. And he conducted matters so ill, that every step he made was like to prove fatal to the king's service. He had no 8 Prince George of Denmark was the most indolent of all mankind, had given great proofs of bravery in his own country, where he was much beloved. King Charles the second told my father he had tried him, drunk and sober, but "God's fish," there was nothing in him. His behaviour at the revolution shewed he could be made a tool of upon occasion; but king William treated him with the utmost contempt. When queen Ann came to the crown, she shewed him little respect, but expected every body else should give him more than was his due: but it was soon found out that his in terposing was a prejudice in obtaining favours at court. All foreign princes had him in very low esteem; and Mr. Hill told me, the duke of Savoy asked him if prince George ever lay with the queen, for he had no notion how a prince that was married to the queen, could be so much neglected as not to be king, unless he had some natural infirmities. After thirty years living in England, he died of eating and drinking, without any man's thinking himself obliged to him: but I have been told, that he would sometimes do ill offices, though he never did a good one. D. parties abroad. He got no intelligence and was 1685. almost surprised, and like to be defeated, when he seemed to be under no apprehension, but was a-bed without any care or order. So that, if the duke of Monmouth had got but a very small number of good soldiers about him, the king's affairs would have fallen into great disorder. The duke of Monmouth had almost surprised lord Feversham, and all about him, while they were a-bed. He got in between two bodies, into which the army lay divided. He now saw his error in lingering so long. He began to want bread, and to be so straitened, that there was a necessity of pushing for a speedy decision. He was so misled in his march, that he lost an hour's time: and when he came near the army, there was an inconsiderable ditch, in the passing which he lost so much more time, that the officers had leisure to rise and be dressed, now they had the alarm. And they put themselves in order. Yet the duke of Monmouth's foot stood longer and fought better than could have been expected; especially, when the small body of horse they had, ran upon the first charge, the blame 644 of which was cast on the lord Grey. The foot being thus forsaken, and galled by the cannon, did run at last. About a thousand of them were killed on the spot and fifteen hundred were taken prisoners. Their numbers, when fullest, were between five and six thousand. The duke of Monmouth left the field The duke too soon for a man of courage, who had such high mouth depretensions: for a few days before he had suffered himself to be called king, which did him no service, even among those that followed him. He rode towards Dorsetshire: and when his horse could carry of Mon feated. 1685. him no further, he changed clothes with a shepherd, and went as far as his legs could carry him, being accompanied only with a German, whom he had brought over with him. At last, when he could go no further, he lay down in a field where there was hay and straw, with which they covered themselves, so that they hoped to lie there unseen till night. Parties went out on all hands to take prisoners. The shepherd was found by the lord Lumley in the duke of Monmouth's clothes. So this put them on his track, and having some dogs with them they followed the scent, and came to the place where the German was first discovered. And he immediately pointed to the place where the duke of Monmouth lay. So he was taken in a very indecent dress and posture. And taken. His body was quite sunk with fatigue: and his mind was now so low, that he begged his life in a manner that agreed ill with the courage of the former parts of it. He called for pen, ink, and paper; and wrote to the earl of Feversham, and both to the queen, and the queen dowager, to intercede with the king for his life. The king's temper, as well as his interest, made it so impossible to hope for that, that it shewed a great meanness in him to ask it in such terms as he used in his letters. He was carried up to Whitehall; where the king examined him in person, which was thought very indecent, since he was resolved not to pardon himh. He h The duke of Monmouth pressed extremely that the king would see him, from whence the king concluded he had something to say to him, that he would tell to nobody else: but when he found it ended in nothing but lower submission than he either expected or desired, he told him plainly he had put it out of his power to pardon him, by having pro made new and unbecoming submissions, and insinu- 1685. ated a readiness to change his religion: for he said, the king knew what his first education was in religion. There were no discoveries to be got from him; for the attempt was too rash to be well concerted, or to be so deep laid that many were involved in the guilt of it. He was examined on Monday, and orders were given for his execution on Wednesday k Soon after executed. Turner and Ken, the bishops of Ely and of Bath 645 and Wells, were ordered to wait on him. But he called for Dr. Tennison. The bishops studied to convince him of the sin of rebellion. He answered, he was sorry for the blood that was shed in it: but he did not seem to repent of the design. Yet he confessed that his father had often told him, that there was no truth in the reports of his having married his mother. This he set under his hand, probably for his children's sake, who were then prisoners in the Tower, that so they might not be ill used on his account. He shewed a great neglect of his duchAnd her resentments for his course of life with the lady Wentworth wrought so much on her, that [she seemed not to have any of that tenderness left, that became her sex and his present circumstances; for] though he desired to speak privately with her, she would have witnesses to hear all that passed, to jus ess. claimed himself king. Thus, as the bishop observes in another place, may the most innocent actions of a man's life be sometimes turned to his disadvantage. D. (This particular, concerning which Mr. Fox, in his Historical Work, p. 277, professes his VOL. III. doubts, is now confirmed by the k (Mr. Fox observes, p. 278, E |