Early on the Thursday morning, Ken, of Bath and Wells, ventured to warn the king of his danger, and Charles receiving the solemn intelligence with an air of resignation, he proceeded to read the Office for the Visitation of the Sick. He asked Charles if he repented of his sins, and on replying that he did, Ken gave him absolution according to the prescribed form of the Church of England, and then inquired whether he should administer the Sacrament. To this there was no answer. Ken, supposing that the king did not clearly comprehend the question, repeated it more distinctly. Charles replied there was yet plenty of time. The bread and wine, however, were brought, and placed on a table near him; but though the question was again repeatedly asked by the bishop, Charles only replied, "he would think of it."

The mystery was, however, solved by the French mistress, who, drawing Barillon, the French ambassador into her boudoir, said, "Monsieur l'Ambassadeur, I am going to tell you the greatest secret in the world, and my head would be in danger if it were known here. The king, in the bottom of his heart, is a Catholic, and nobody tells him the state he is in, or speaks to him of God. I can no longer with propriety enter into his chamber, where the queen is almost constantly with him; the Duke of York thinks about his own affairs, and has no time to take the care that he ought of the king's conscience. Go and tell him that I have conjured you to warn him to do what he can to save the soul of the king, his brother. He is master in the royal chamber, and can make any one withdraw from it as he lists. Lose no time, for if you delay ever so little, it may be too late."

When Barillon whispered this to James, he started as from a lethargy, and said, "You are right, there is no time to lose. I will rather hazard all than not do my duty." A priest was found in Huddleston, who had been with the king in the battle of Worcester, and accompanied him in his flight. He had become a Benedictine monk, and had been appointed one of the chaplains of the queen.

The duke, stooping to the king's ear, had inquired in a whisper whether he should bring him a Catholic priest, and Charles instantly replied, "For God's sake, do!" The duke then requested, in the king's name, all the company to retire into an adjoining room, except the Earl of Bath, Lord of the Bedchamber, and Lord Feversham, Captain of the Guard, and as soon as this was done, Huddleston, disguised in a wig and gown, was introduced by the backstairs by Chiffinch, who for so many years had been employed to introduce very different persons. Barillon says that Huddleston was no great doctor, which is probably true enough, having originally been a soldier, but he managed to administer the Sacrament to the king, and also the extreme unction. Charles declared he pardoned all his enemies, and prayed to be pardoned by God, and forgiven by all whom he had injured.

This ceremony lasted three-quarters of an hour, and the excluded attendants passed the time in much wonder and significant guesses. They looked at one another in amazement, but spoke only with their eyes, or in whispers. The Lords Bath and Feversham being both Protestants, however, seemed to disarm the fears of the bishops. But when Huddleston withdrew, the news was speedily spread. That night he was in much pain; the queen sent to excuse her absence, and to beg that he would pardon any offence that she might at any time have given him. "Alas! poor woman!" he replied, "she beg my pardon! I beg hers with all my heart; take back to her that answer." He then sent for his illegitimate sons, except Monmouth, whom he never mentioned, and recommended them to James, and, taking each by the hand, gave them his blessing. The bishops, affected by this edifying sight, threw themselves on their knees, and begged he would bless them too; whereupon he was raised up and blessed them all. Having blessed the bishops, he next blessed the ladies of his harem, and particularly recommended to his successor the care of the Duchess of Portsmouth, who had been pretty active for his exclusion, and also the Duchess of Cleveland, hoping, moreover, that "poor Nelly"—Nell Gwynne—would not be left to starve. Three hours afterwards this strange monarch breathed his last on the 6th of February, 1685.

By permission of the Corporation of Liverpool.

THE ANTE-CHAMBER OF WHITEHALL DURING THE LAST MOMENTS OF CHARLES II., 1685.

From the Picture by E. M. WARD, R.A., in the Walker Art Gallery, Liverpool.

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