Monmouth himself fled the field in the breaking
light, throwing off his armour and removing his blue riband, with Lord Grey,
his servant, his doctor and other friends, stopping at Chedzoy to change horse,
and taking the Bath road, hidden and housed by sympathisers. Between Gillingham
and Shaftsbury they entered the New Forest, and then on to Cranbourne Chase
where, at the Woodyates Inn, they let loose their horses, hid the bridles, and
Monmouth disguised himself as a shepherd.
 |
| The Duke of Monmouth |
On the early morning of July 7th,
Lord Lumley and his scouts surprised two men at a crossroads at Holt Lodge,
they were Lord Grey and a New Forest guide. More men and horses flooded the
surrounding countryside, and an old cottager, Amy Farrant, directed Lumley to a
hedge where she had seen two men eating peas. Lumley’s men surrounded the area,
known as the Island, and threatened to burn the men out, but they evaded
capture until the next morning, when Anthony Busse, one of Monmouth’s close
companions was discovered. He had left the Duke, he said, at about one in the
morning but pointed out where he was to be found, in return, some say, for a
pardon.
 |
| Monmouth captured |
At seven in the morning of July 8th 1685, a militiaman,
Henry Parkin, found Monmouth hiding in ditch, covered with ferns and brambles.
Parkin, it was said, burst into tears and reproached himself for the discovery.
Monmouth could not stand and said he had not eaten a meal in peace or had a
night’s rest since landing at Lyme Regis. He was taken to Holt Lodge, where the
magistrate, Anthony Etterick, ordered him to be taken to London.
 |
| Text of Monmouth's Letter to the Queen - with signature added |
Over the next
week, under heavy guard, Monmouth was conveyed across southern England and to
the Tower of London, and during this week he wrote piteous, abasing letters to
the King, the Queen and others, begging for mercy. His proud spirit, so
flamboyant when surrounded by fawning supporters and sycophants, was now broken
and he descended into humiliating degradation. When brought before his uncle,
the King, he fell to his knees and wept, hugging the King’s own knees and
begging for his life.
 |
| Monmouth begs before James II |
He appealed to blood, invoking his father’s name, spread
the blame to others, denied knowledge of events, and utterly debased himself,
but to no avail. The crimes were too great to be pardoned, his offences too
grave; he had defamed the King, his ministers and his parliament, he had
declared war on the kingdom, waged war in the west, killed the King’s men and
had claimed the crown for himself. Such treasons could not go unpunished, or be
seen to be committed and go unpunished. There could only be one outcome.
“Is there then no hope?”
he asked the King, who simply turned away in silence.
 |
| A Thanksgiving for the Defeat of the Rebels - 1685 |
Lord Grey, who had run at Bridport and fled from Sedgemoor, was brought next
before his Majesty. He stood straight, heard the charges and quietly admitted
to them, neither begging for life nor asking for mercy, and impressed even the
stern King with his fortitude and propriety. Both prisoners were taken back to
the Tower by water, and in through Traitor’s Gate, and on July 13th,
Monmouth’s wife, Anne, was allowed to visit him, bringing the news that his
execution was to on the 15th. He received her coldly and spent most
of the visit entreating the accompanying Earl of Clarendon to intercede on his
behalf. The next day, he wrote more piteous letters, begging to be spared or
reprieved at least but all to no avail. On the morning of Wednesday July 15th
1685, his wife and children came to the Tower and said their goodbyes but
Monmouth, although kindly, was unmoved and emotionless.
 |
| Monmouth brought to the scaffold |
A coach took him to
Tower Hill at ten o’clock, where an innumerable multitude was waiting, and in
the company of two bishops and two clergymen, with a steady step, he mounted
the scaffold.
 |
| Jack Ketch |
His first words were to Jack Ketch, the executioner,
“Is this the man to do the business? Do your work well,”
before turning to the
silent crowd,
“I shall say but very little: I come to die: I die a Protestant of the Church of England,”
at which point the bishops
intervened, pointing out that he was not considered to be a member of that
church. Monmouth then turned to the subject of his mistress, Lady Henrietta
Wentworth, with whom he had had an affair, but the bishops again intervened,
and declared their relationship to have been sinful. There followed an
altercation, as condemned man and the divines on the scaffold argued the
niceties of his repentance and confession, before Monmouth turned again to the
public hangman, Jack Ketch.
 |
| Monmouth on the Block |
He handed him six guineas and said,
“Here are six guineas for you: pray do your business well: do not serve me as you did my Lord Russell. I have heard you struck him three or four times. Here [to his servant], take these remaining guineas, and give them to him, if he does his work well.”
He was referring the execution of Lord William Russell, whom
Ketch had hacked to death in 1683, using several blows of the axe to carry out
the deed. It is not known if Ketch’s next actions resulted from his being
disconcerted, annoyed or distracted by these words. Monmouth took off his coat,
said a prayer and laid his head on the block, then raised himself on one elbow
and felt the edge of the axe.
“I fear it is not sharp enough,”
he said
to Ketch, who replied,
“It is sharp enough and heavy enough.”
Jack Ketch
raised the axe and struck, but the blow was misplaced and only nicked
Monmouth’s neck, who raised himself up and cast a reproachful glare at the
executioner, before sinking down again. Ketch struck again and failed to cut deep enough, and then again and missed all together, with the body before him
still twitching and moving, the neck unsevered, he threw down the axe crying,
“God damn me, I cannot do it, my heart fails me.”
 |
| Ketch hacks at Monmouth's neck |
The crowd bayed at him,
threatening to tear him apart if he did not continue, and the sheriff demanded that he take up the
axe, which at length he did. Two more blows finally killed the prisoner but still the
head remained attached, so Ketch drew a long knife from the scabbard at his
belt and hacked through the remaining skin and sinew. He could not hold up the
head, but showed it quickly to the crowd, who surged forward and threatened to murder
him, so he was bundled away under heavy guard. The head and body of the dead
Duke were placed in a coffin and laid under the altar of St Peter’s Chapel in
the Tower.
 |
| Portrait of the dead Monmouth - allegedly |
One preposterous rumour that quickly spread was that James II could
not bear to have his nephew killed, that a substitute had been beheaded and
Monmouth was smuggled to France, where he lived imprisoned as the Man in the
Iron Mask.
Tomorrow - Monmouth may have gone but terrible retribution continued in the
West Country …
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