day, when the Spanish ambassador ventured to advise his majesty against placing too much confidence in such kind of people," Is it not the custom in Spain," said James," for the king to consult with his confessor?" "Yes," answered the ambassador; "and that is the reason our affairs succeed so very ill."

But though his actions might serve to demonstrate his aims, yet his first parliament, which was mostly composed of zealous Tories, were strongly biassed to comply with all the measures of the crown. They voted unanimously that they would settle on the present king, during life, all the revenue enjoyed by the late king at the time of his decease. For this favour James assured them of his resolution to secure them in the full enjoyment of their laws; but no answer could be extorted from him with regard to religion; for that he was secretly resolved to alter.

To pave the way for his intended conversion of his people, it was necessary to undeceive them with regard to the late rumour of a popish plot; and Oates, the contriver, was the first object of royal indignation. He was tried for perjury on two indictments: one, for swearing that he was present at a consultation of Jesuits in London, the twenty-fourth of April, 1679; and another for swearing that father Ireland was in London in the beginning of September of the same year. He was convicted on the evidence of above two and twenty persons on the first, and of twenty-seven on the latter indictment. His sentence was to pay a fine of a thousand marks on each indictment; to be whipped, on two different days, from Aldgate to Newgate, and from Newgate to Tyburn; to be imprisoned during life, and to be pilloried five times every year. Oates, long accustomed to a life of infamy and struggle, supported him. self under every punishment that justice could inflict.

He avowed his innocence; called Heaven to witness his veracity; and he knew that there was a large party who were willing to take his word. Though the whip'ping was so cruel, that it appeared evidently the intention of the court to put him to death by that dreadful punishment, yet Oates survived it all, and lived to king William's reign, when he had a pension of four hundred pounds a year settled upon him. Thus Oates remains as a stain upon the times in every part of his conduct. It is a stain upon them that he was first believed; it is a stain upon them that he was caressed, that he was tyrannically punished, and that he was afterwards rewarded.

The duke of Monmouth, who had been, since his last conspiracy, pardoned, but ordered to depart from the kingdom, had retired to Holland. Being dismissed from that country, by the prince of Orange, upon James's accession, he went to Brussels, where, finding himself still pursued by the king's severity, he resolved to retaliate, and make an attempt upon the kingdom. He had ever been the darling of the people; and some averred that Charles had married the duke's mother, and owned his legitimacy at his death. The earl of Argyle seconded his views in Scotland, and they formed the scheme of a double insurrection; so that while Monmouth should attempt to make a rising in the West, Argyle was also to try his endeavours in the North.

Argyle was the first who landed in Scotland, where he published his manifestoes, put himself at the head of two thousand five hundred men, and strove to influence the people in his cause. But a formidable body of the king's forces coming against him, his army fell away; and he himself, after being wounded in attempting to escape, was taken prisoner by a peasant, who found him

standing up to his neck in a pool. He was then carried to Edinburgh, where, after enduring many indigni ties with a gallant spirit, he was publicly executed.

The fate of Argyle was but a bad encouragement to the unfortunate Monmouth, who landed in Dorsetshire with scarcely a hundred followers. However, his name was so popular, and so great was the hatred of the people both for the person and religion of James, that in four days he had assembled a body of above two thousand men. They were indeed all of them the lowest of the people, and his declarations were suited entirely to their prejudices. He called the king the duke of York, and denominated him a traitor, a tyrant, a murderer, and a popish usurper. He imputed to him the fire of London, the murder of Godfrey and Essex, and even the poison ing the late king.

The parliament was no sooner informed of Monmouth's landing, than they presented an address to the king, assuring him of their loyalty, zeal, and assistance. The duke of Albemarle, raising a body of four thou sand militia, advanced, in order to block him up in Lyme; but, finding his soldiers disaffected to the king, he soon after retreated with precipitation.

In the mean time the duke advanced to Taunton, where he was reinforced by considerable numbers. Twenty young maids of some rank presented Monmouth with a pair of colours, their handiwork, together with a copy of the Bible. There he assumed the title of king, and was proclaimed with great solemnity. His numbers had now increased to six thousand men; and he was obliged every day, for want of arms, to dismiss numbers who crowded to his standard. He entered Bridgewater, Wells, and Frome, and was proclaimed in all those places; but he lost the hour of action, in receiving and claiming these empty honours.

The king was not a little alarmed at this invasion, but still more at the success of an undertaking that at first appeared so desperate. Six regiments of British troops were called over from Holland, and a body of regulars, to the number of three thousand men, were sent, under the command of the earl of Feversham, and Churchill, to check the progress of the rebels. They took post at Sedge-moor, near Bridgewater, and were joined by the militia of the country in considerable numbers. It was there that Monmouth resolved, by a desperate effort, to lose his life or gain the kingdom. The negligent disposition made by Feversham invited him to the attack; and his faithful followers showed what courage and principle could do against discipline and superior numbers. They drove the royal infantry from their ground, and were upon the point of gaining the victory, when the misconduct of Monmouth, and the cowardice of lord Grey, who commanded the horse, brought all to ruin. This nobleman fled at the first onset; and the rebels, being charged in flank by the victorious army, gave way, after three hours' contest. About three hundred were killed in the engagement, and a thousand in the pursuit; and thus ended an enterprise rashly begun and feebly conducted.

Monmouth fled from the field of battle above twenty miles, till his horse sunk under him; he then exchanged clothes with a shepherd, and fled on foot, attended by a German count, who had accompanied him from Holland. Being exhausted with hunger and fatigue, they both lay down in a field, and covered themselves with fern. The discovery of the shepherd in Monmouth's clothes, increased the diligence of the search; and by the means of blood-hounds he was detected in his miserable situation with raw peas in his pocket, which he had gathered in the fields to sustain life. He

burst into tears when seized by his enemies, and petitioned, with abject submission, for life. He wrote the most submissive letters to the king; and that monarch, willing to feast his eyes with the miseries of a fallen enemy, gave him an audience. At this interview the duke fell upon his knees, and begged his life in the most humiliating terms. He even signed a paper, offered him by the king, declaring his own illegitimacy; and then the stern tyrant assured him, that his crime was of such a nature as could not be pardoned. The duke, perceiving that he had nothing to hope from the clemency of his uncle, recollected his spirits, rose up, and retired with an air of disdain. He was followed to the scaffold with great compassion from the populace. He warned the executioner not to fall into the same error which he had committed in beheading Russel, where it had been necessary to redouble the blow. But this only increased the severity of his punishment. The man was seized with an universal trepidation, and he struck a feeble blow; upon which the duke raised his head from the block, as if to reproach him; he gently laid down his head a second time, and the executioner struck him again and again to no purpose. He at last threw the axe down; but the sheriff compelled him to resume the attempt, and at two blows more the head was severed from the body. Such was the end of James, duke of Monmouth, the darling of the English people. He was brave, sincere, and good-natured, open to flattery, and consequently seduced into an enterprise which exceeded his capacity.

But it would have been well for the insurgents, and fortunate for the king, if the blood that was now shed had been thought a sufficient expiation for the late offence. The victorious army behaved with the most savage cruelty to the prisoners taken after the battle.