The bishops were so scandalised at his morality, that they refused him the sacrament. On the fatal morning of the 15th they were joined by Dr. Tenison, afterwards archbishop, who united in their views, and reasoned with Monmouth with equal want of success. Before setting out for the scaffold, his wife and children came to take leave of him. Lady Monmouth was deeply moved, Monmouth himself spoke kindly to her, but was cold and passionless. When the hour arrived, he went to execution with the same courage that he had always gone into battle. He was no more the cringing, weeping supplicant, but a man who had made up his mind to die. The whole neighbourhood of the Tower was one dense mass, from ground to roof, of spectators, and he was conducted in the carriage of the lieutenant of the Tower, surrounded by an unusually numerous guard, for fear of some popular effort in his favour. At his appearance the whole crowd seemed affected with weeping and sobbing. He mounted the steps of the scaffold with a firm step, and the groans and lamentations subsiding into a deep silence, he said, "I came here not to speak but to die. I die a protestant of the church of England." But there the bishops interrupted him, saying that unless he repented of his sins, he was no member of their church. He must acknowledge the doctrine of non-resistance. Monmouth again proceeded, openly avowing his attachment to Henrietta Wentworth, and vindicating it, warmly declaring her a woman of virtue and honour, asserting that he loved her to the last, and was convinced in his conscience that their attachment was just and innocent in the sight of God.
The bishops again zealously interposed, calling upon him to renounce such perilous opinions; and even Gosling, one of the sheriffs, who forgot or appeared to forget the notorious and multiplied breaches of the marriage law by both the last and the present king, several of whose mistresses were said to be amongst the spectators, asked him if he were married to lady Henrietta, and remarked that he hoped to have heard him expressing repentance for his rebellion. "I die very penitent," calmly replied Monmouth; but this did not satisfy the bishops; they were not contented to receive a general confession of great penitence; they had a vigilant and vigorous master's eye upon them, who wanted of all things a sanction for the doctrine of non-resistance. Monmouth referred them to a paper in the Tower signed by him; they replied there was nothing in it about non-resistance, and pressed him importunately for a specific answer. Monmouth, wearied with this unfeeling pertinacity, replied, "I came to die; pardon me, my lords. I refer to my paper."
They insisted that he should call his invasion rebellion.
"Call it what you please," he replied. "I am sorry for invading the kingdom, I am sorry for the blood that has been shed, and for the souls which have been lost by my means; I am sorry that it ever happened."
This ought to have satisfied any men under the circumstances, but they still continued clamorously to pursue him with their persuasions. At length he began to pray, and they condescended to pray with him, but when they came to the blessing on the king, Momnouth was silent. They repeated again the words, "O Lord, save the king." He was still silent. "Do you not pray for the king?" they demanded. After a pause, he said, "Amen!" Once more they pressed him to address the soldiers and spectators, admitting that great doctrine, of which they were soon to have enough themselves. "I will make no speeches," he replied. "Only ten words, my lord." But he turned from them with impatience, and putting into the hands of his servant a toothpick case, as a 'last little token of his affection to lady "Wentworth, he said, "Give it to that person."
He then turned to Jack Ketch, and feeling the edge of the axe, said, "Hero are six guineas for you, but mind and do not hack me as you did my lord Russell. My servant will give you more gold if you do the work well." He refused to have a cap drawn over his face, and laid his head on the block, the bishops continuing to ejaculate, "God accept your imperfect repentance!" His words to the executioner had apparently the very effect which he wished to avoid, for he trembled violently, struck him so feeble and erring a blow, that Monmouth rose up and looked at him. Twice the man struck him, but without dispatching him, and then flung down the axe in horror, exclaiming, "I cannot do it." The people yelled and groaned frightfully in indignation. The sheriff cried, "Take up the axe, man;" the people, "Fling him over the rails!" and amid this awful scene Ketch aimed two more blows at the mangled victim, and then separated the head finally with a knife. The populace were so enraged at the executioner's clumsiness, that they would have torn him to pieces if they could have come at him for the guards. Many rushed forward to dip their handkerchiefs in his blood, and the barbarous circumstances of his execution, and the unfeeling persecution of the prelates, did not a little to restore his fame as a martyr to liberty and protestantism. There have not been wanting those who have vindicated the bishops, as exerting only an earnest zeal for the sufferer's soul. We may, without much want of charity, ascribe a considerable amount of government subserviency to this zeal, and we are much disposed to take the same view as Charles James Fox of the extraordinary conduct:—" Certain it is that none of these holy men seem to have erred on the side of compassion or complaisance to their illustrious penitent. Besides endeavouring to convince him of the guilt of his connection with his beloved lady Henrietta, of which hr could never be brought to a due sense, they seem to have repeatedly teased him with controversy, and to have been far more solicitous to make him profess what they deemed the true creed of the church of England, than to soften or console his sorrows, or to help him to that composure of mind so necessary to his situation." No stronger proof of the deep and sincere attachment of Henrietta Wentworth could have been given than was given by her. Within a few months she followed him broken-hearted to the grave. As for king Monmouth, the romance of his story continued to circulate amongst the people. Many refused to believe that it was he who had really perished on the scaffold. Impostors at different times personated him, and even when the man in the iron mask was discovered in the Bastile, the long lapse of time did not prevent some from supposing it to be Monmouth.
It was expected that Grey would be executed immediately after Monmouth, but he was spared, undoubtedly for sufficient reasons. His estate was entailed on his brother, and would have gone to him immediately on his death; but
