Meantime the Mayor and Aldermen, in accordance with the successful craft of Charles, were mostly nominees of the King; they were instructed to admit to the liveries of the City Companies none but persons of “unquestionable loyalty”; so that, as Charles had provided, the whole of the governing bodies in the City were mere creatures of the Court. One can hardly be surprised at the arrest and punishment of Titus Oates when James succeeded. At the same time to flog a man all the way from Aldgate to Newgate, and two days afterwards from Newgate to Tyburn, seems, short of the tortures of a Damiens,[3] the most horrible barbarity ever inflicted on a criminal since the time when a Roman could flog a slave to death. The first day’s march at the cart tail was a mile and a quarter in length; the next was over two miles and a half. Titus was flogged the whole way, with an interval of two days. If the cart was driven slowly, as was always the case, say at the rate of three miles an hour, and if the whip descended fifteen times a minute, the wretched man would receive 375 lashes on the first day, and two days after he would receive 750 lashes. Perhaps the executioner was less rapid in his movements; perhaps the cart moved more quickly. Perhaps the executioner was one of the many who still believed in the perjured wretch and sympathised with him. Yet even the closest friend would have to make a show of laying it on with a will. The man survived, showing how much agony a man may suffer before it kills him. [Illustration: TITUS OATES IN THE PILLORY] Short as was the reign of James, it provided for the Londoners many other scenes and dramatic situations. On July 15 the populace gathered together in immense crowds to witness the execution of the unfortunate Duke of Monmouth. They brought him out of the Tower surrounded by a strong guard, while commanding officers had orders to shoot the prisoner should any attempt be made at a rescue. This was more than probable, seeing that in the vast concourse of people who were collected on Tower Hill, nine out of ten wished in their hearts that the Protestant champion had won the day at Sedgemoor, while some of them had even been with him on that fatal night, though they were by no means anxious that their friends should know the fact. The prisoner, still young, still the loveliest man to look upon in the three kingdoms, mounted the scaffold; he showed a firm countenance at the end. Did any of the spectators ask each other whether this handsome face had in it the slightest sign of kinship with the black and dour face of Charles? He knelt down; the headsman, trembling, delivered three strokes, then threw down the axe and swore he would not go on; but, taking up the axe again, in two more strokes severed the head from the body. Then the people, sick and sorry, returned to their homes.