Monmouth, observing that no considerable men joined him, finding that an insurrection which was projected in the city had not taken place, and hearing that Argyle, his confederate, was already defeated and taken, sunk into such despondency, that he had once resolved to withdraw himself, and leave his unhappy followers to their fate. His followers expressed more courage than their leader, and seemed determined to adhere to him in every fortune. The negligent disposition made by Feversham, invited Monmouth to attack the king’s army at Sedgemoor, near Bridgewater; and his men in this action showed what a native courage and a principle of duty, even when unassisted by discipline, is able to perform. They threw the veteran forces into disorder; drove them from their ground; continued the fight till their ammunition failed them; and would at last have obtained a victory, had not the misconduct of Monmouth and the cowardice of Gray prevented it. After a combat of three hours, the rebels gave way, and were followed with great slaughter. About fifteen hundred fell in the battle and pursuit. And thus was concluded in a few weeks this enterprise rashly undertaken and feebly conducted. [Illustration: 1-849-monmouth.jpg DUKE OF MONMOUTH] Monmouth fled from the field of battle above twenty miles till his horse sunk under him. He then changed clothes with a peasant in order to conceal himself. The peasant was discovered by the pursuers, who now redoubled the diligence of their search. At last, the unhappy Monmouth was found, lying in the bottom of a ditch, and covered with fern; his body depressed with fatigue and hunger; his mind by the memory of past misfortunes, by the prospect of future disasters. Human nature is unequal to such calamitous situations; much more the temper of a man softened by early prosperity, and accustomed to value himself solely on military bravery. He burst into tears when seized by his enemies; and he seemed still to indulge the fond hope and desire of life. Though he might have known, from the greatness of his own offences, and the severity of James’s temper, that no mercy could be expected, he wrote him the most submissive letters, and conjured him to spare the issue of a brother who had ever been so strongly attached to his interest. James, finding such symptoms of depression and despondency in the unhappy prisoner, admitted him to his presence, in hopes of extorting a discovery of his accomplices; but Monmouth would not purchase life, however loved, at the price of so much infamy. Finding all efforts vain, he assumed courage from despair, and prepared himself for death, with a spirit better suited to his rank and character. This favorite of the people was attended to the scaffold with a plentiful effusion of tears. He warned the executioner not to fall into the error which he had committed in beheading Russel, where it had been necessary to repeat the blow. This precaution served only to dismay the executioner. He struck a