A ROYAL PROGRESS.
When all the boys were gone the time was quiet, indeed, for those
who were left behind. My mother's wheel went spinning still, but I
think that some kindness on the part of Mr. Boscorel as well as Sir
Christopher caused her weekly tale of yarn to be of less importance.
And as for me, not only would she never suffer me to sit at the
spinning-wheel, but there was so much request of me (to replace the
boys) that I was nearly all the day either with Sir Christopher, or
with Madam, or with Mr. Boscorel.
Up to the year 1680, or thereabouts, I paid no more attention to
political matters than any young woman with no knowledge may be
supposed to give. Yet, of course, I was on the side of liberty, both
civil and religious. How should that be otherwise, my father being
such as he was, muzzled for all these years, the work of his life
prevented and destroyed?
It was in that year, however, that I became a most zealous partisan
and lover of the Protestant cause in the way that I am about to
relate.
Everybody knows that there is no part of Great Britain (not even
Scotland) where the Protestant religion hath supporters more stout
and staunch than Somerset and Devonshire. I hope I shall not be
accused of disloyalty to Queen Anne, under whom we now flourish and
are happy, when I say that in the West of England we had grown--I
know not how--to regard the late misguided Duke of Monmouth as
the champion of the Protestant faith. When, therefore, the Duke
came into the West of England in the year 1680, five years before
his rebellion, he was everywhere received with acclamations and
by crowds who gathered round him to witness their loyalty to the
Protestant faith. They came also to gaze upon the gallant commander
who had defeated both the French and the Dutch, and was said (but
erroneously) to be as wise as he was brave, and as religious as he
was beautiful to look upon. As for his wisdom, those who knew him
best have since assured the world that he had little or none, his
judgment being always swayed and determined for him by crafty and
subtle persons seeking their own interests. And as for his religion,
whatever may have been his profession, good works were wanting--as
is now very well known. But at that time, and among our people, the
wicked ways of Courts were only half understood. And there can be no
doubt that, whether he was wise or religious, the show of affection
with which the Duke was received upon this journey, turned his head
and caused him to think that these people would rally round him if
he called upon them. And I suppose that there is nothing which more
delights a Prince than to believe that his friends are ready even to
lay down their lives in his behalf.
At that time the country was greatly agitated by anxiety concerning
the succession. Those who were nearest the throne knew that King
Charles was secretly a Papist. We in the country had not learned
that dismal circumstance; yet we knew the religion of the Duke of
York. Thousands there were, like Sir Christopher himself, who now
lamented the return of the King, considering the disgraces which
had fallen upon the country. But what was done could not be undone.
They, therefore, asked themselves if the nation would suffer an
avowed Papist to ascend a Protestant throne. If not, what should
be done? And here, as everybody knows, was opinion divided. For
some declared that the Duke of Monmouth, had he his rights, was the
lawful heir; and others maintained, on the King's own words, that
he was never married to Mistress Lucy Waters. Therefore, they would
have the Duke of York's daughter, a Protestant princess, married
to William of Orange, proclaimed Queen. The Monmouth party were
strong, however, and it was even said--Mr. Henry Clark, minister
of Crewkerne, wrote a pamphlet to prove it--that a poor woman,
Elizabeth Parcet by name, touched the Duke (he being ignorant of the
thing) for King's Evil, and was straightway healed. Sir Christopher
laughed at the story, saying that the King himself, whether he was
descended from a Scottish Stuart or from King Solomon himself,
could no more cure that dreadful disease than the seventh son of a
seventh son (as some foolish people believe), or the rubbing of the
part affected by the hand of a man that had been hanged (as others
do foolishly believe), which is the reason why on the gibbets the
hanging corpses are always handless.
It was noised abroad, beforehand, that the Duke was going to ride
through the West Country in order to visit his friends. The progress
(it was more like a Royal progress than the journey of a private
nobleman) began with his visit to Mr. Thomas Thynne, of Longleat
House. It is said that his chief reason for going to that house was
to connect himself with the obligation of the tenant of Longleat
to give the King and his suite a night's lodging when they visited
that part of the country. Mr. Thynne, who entertained the Duke on
this occasion, was the same who was afterwards murdered in London by
Count Konigsmark. They called him 'Tom of Ten Thousand.' The poet
Dryden hath written of this progress, in that poem wherein, under
the fabled name of Absalom, he figures the Duke:--
He now begins his progress to ordain,
With chariots, horsemen, and a numerous train.
Fame runs before him as the morning star,
And shouts of joy salute him from afar.
Each house receives him as a guardian god,
And consecrates the place of his abode.
It was for his hospitable treatment of the Duke that Mr. Thynne was
immediately afterwards deprived of the command of the Wiltshire
Militia.
'Son-in-law,' said Sir Christopher, 'I would ride out to meet
the Duke in respect to his Protestant professions. As for any
pretensions he may have to the succession, I know nothing of them.'
'I will ride with you, Sir,' said the Rector, 'to meet the son of
the King. And as for any Protestant professions, I know nothing of
them. His Grace still remains, I believe, within the pale of the
Church as by law established. Let us all ride out together.'
Seeing that my father also rode with them, it is certain that
there were many and diverse reasons why so many thousands gathered
together to welcome the Duke. Madam, Robin's mother, out of her kind
heart, invited me to accompany her, and gave me a white frock to
wear and blue ribbons to put into it.
We made, with our servants, a large party. We were also joined by
many of the tenants, with their sons and wives, so that when we came
to Ilchester, Sir Christopher was riding at the head of a great
company of sixty or more, and very fine they looked, all provided
with blue favours in honour of the Duke.
From Bradford Orcas to Ilchester is but six miles as the crow flies,
but the ways (which are narrow and foul in winter) do so wind
and turn about that they add two miles at least to the distance.
Fortunately, the season was summer--namely, August--when the sun is
hottest and the earth is dry, so that no one was bogged on the way.
We started betimes--namely, at six in the morning--because we knew
not for certain at what time the Duke would arrive at Ilchester.
When we came forth from the Manor House the farmers were already
waiting for us, and so, after greetings from his Honour, they fell
in and followed. We first took the narrow and rough lane which
leads to the high road; but, when we reached it, we found it full
of people riding, like ourselves, or trudging, staff in hand, all
in the same direction. They were going to gaze upon the Protestant
Duke, who, if he had his way, would restore freedom of conscience,
and abolish the Acts against the Nonconformists. We rode through
Marston Magna, but only the old people and the little children were
left there; in the fields the ripe corn stood waiting to be cut; in
the farmyards the beasts were standing idle; all the hinds were gone
to Ilchester to see the Duke. And I began to fear lest when we got
to Ilchester we should be too late. At Marston we left the main road
and entered upon a road (call it a track rather than a road) across
the country, which is here flat and open. In winter it is miry and
boggy, but it was now dry and hard. This path brought us again to
the main road in two miles, or thereabouts, and here we were but a
mile or so from Ilchester. Now, such a glorious sight as awaited us
here I never expected to see. Once again, after five years, I was
to see a welcome still more splendid; but nothing can ever efface
from my memory that day. For first, the roads, as I have said, were
thronged with rustics, and next, when we rode into the town we
found it filled with gentlemen most richly dressed, and ladies so
beautiful, and with such splendid attire that it dazzled my eyes to
look upon them. It was a grand thing to see the gentlemen take off
their hats and cry, 'Huzza for brave Sir Christopher!' Everybody
knew his opinions, and on what side he had fought in the Civil War.
The old man bent his head, and I think that he was pleased with this
mark of honour.
The town which, though ancient, is now decayed and hath but few
good houses in it, was made glorious with bright-coloured cloths,
carpets, flags, and ribbons. There were bands of music; the bells
of the church were ringing; the main street was like a fair with
booths and stalls, and in the market-place there were benches set up
with white canvas covering, where sat ladies in their fine dresses,
some of them with naked necks, unseemly to behold. Yet it was pretty
to see the long curls lying on their white shoulders. Some of them
sat with half-closed eyes, which, I have since learned, is the
fashion at Court. Mostly, they wore satin petticoats, and demi-gowns
also of satin, furnished with a long train. Our place was beside
the old Cross with its gilt ball and vane. The people who filled
the streets came from Sherborne, from Bruton, from Shepton, from
Glastonbury, from Langport, and from Somerton, and from all the
villages round. It was computed that there were twenty thousand of
them. Two thousand at least rode out to meet the Duke, and followed
after him when he rode through the town. And, oh! the shouting as he
drew near, the clashing of the bells, the beating of the drums, the
blowing of the horns, the firing of the guns, as if the more noise
they made the greater would be the Duke.
Since that day I have not wondered at the power which a Prince hath
of drawing men after him, even to the death. Never was heir to the
Crown received with such joy and welcome as was this young man, who
had no title to the Crown and was base born. Yet, because he was a
brave young man, and comely above all other young men, gracious of
speech, and ready with a laugh and a joke, and because he was the
son of the King, and the reputed champion of the Protestant faith,
the people could not shout too loud for him.
The Duke was at this time in the prime of manhood, being thirty-five
years of age. 'At that age,' Mr. Boscorel used to say, 'one would
desire to remain if the body of clay were immortal. For then the
volatile humours of youth have been dissipated. The time of follies
has passed; love is regarded with the sober eyes of experience;
knowledge has been acquired; skill of eye and hand has been gained,
if one is so happy as to be a follower of art and music; wisdom hath
been reached, if wisdom is ever to be attained. But wisdom,' he
would add, 'is a quality generally lacking at every period of life.'
'When last I saw the Duke,' he told us while we waited, 'was fifteen
years ago, in St. James's Park. He was walking with the King, his
father, who had his arm about his son's shoulders, and regarded him
fondly. At that time he was, indeed, a very David for beauty. I
suppose that he hath not kept that singular loveliness which made
him the darling of the Court. That, indeed, were not a thing to
be desired or expected. He is now the hero of Maestricht, and the
Chancellor of Cambridge University.'
And then all hats were pulled off, and the ladies waved their
handkerchiefs, and the men shouted, and you would have thought the
bells would have pulled the old tower down with the vehemence of
their ringing; for the Duke was riding into the town.
He was no longer a beautiful boy, but a man at whose aspect every
heart was softened. His enemies, in his presence, could not blame
him; his friends, at sight of him, could not praise him, of such
singular beauty was he possessed. Softness, gentleness, kindness,
and goodwill reigned in his large soft eyes: graciousness sat upon
his lips, and all his face seemed to smile as he rode slowly between
the lane formed by the crowd on either hand.
What said the Poet Dryden in that same poem of his from which I have
already quoted?--
Early in foreign fields he won renown
With Kings and States allied to Israel's crown;
In peace the thoughts of war he could remove,
And seemed as he were only born for love.
Whate'er he did was done with so much ease,
In him alone 'twas natural to please;
His motions all accompanied with grace,
And Paradise was opened in his face.
Now I have to tell of what happened to me--the most insignificant
person in the whole crowd. It chanced that as the Duke came near the
spot beside the Cross where we were standing, the press in front
obliged him to stop. He looked about him while he waited, smiling
still and bowing to the people. Presently his eyes fell upon me, and
he whispered a gentleman who rode beside him, yet a little in the
rear. This gentleman laughed and dismounted. What was my confusion
when he advanced towards me and spoke to me!
'Madam,' he said, calling me 'Madam!' 'His Grace would say one word
to you, with permission of your friends.'
'Go with this gentleman, child,' said Sir Christopher, laughing.
Everybody laughs--I know not why--when a girl is led out to be
kissed.
'Fair White Rose of Somerset,' said his Grace--twas the most
musical voice in the world, and the softest. 'Fair White Rose'--he
repeated the words--'let me be assured of the welcome of Ilchester
by a kiss from your sweet lips, which I will return in token of my
gratitude.'
All the people who heard these words shouted as if they would burst
themselves asunder. And the gentleman who had led me forth lifted me
so that my foot rested on the Duke's boot, while his Grace laid his
arm tenderly round my waist, and kissed me twice.
'Sweet child,' he said, 'what is thy name?'
'By your Grace's leave,' I said, the words being very strange, 'my
name is Alice. I am the daughter of Dr. Comfort Eykin, an ejected
minister. I have come with Sir Christopher Challis, who stands
yonder.'
'Sir Christopher!' said the Duke, as if surprised. 'Let me shake
hands with Sir Christopher. I take it kindly, Sir Christopher, that
you have so far honoured me.' So he gave the old man, who stepped
forward bareheaded, his hand, still holding me by the waist. 'I pray
that we may meet again, Sir Christopher, and that before long.' Then
he drew a gold ring, set with an emerald, from his forefinger, and
placed it upon mine, 'God grant it bring thee luck, sweet child,' he
said, and kissed me again, and then suffered me to be lifted down.
And you may be sure that it was with red cheeks that I took my place
among my friends. Yet Sir Christopher was pleased at the notice
taken of him by the Duke, and my father was not displeased at the
part I had been made to play.
When the Duke had ridden through the town, many of the people
followed after, as far as White Lackington, which is close to
Ilminster. So many were they that they took down a great piece
of the park paling to admit them all; and there, under a Spanish
chestnut-tree, the Duke drank to the health of all the people.
At Ilminster, whither he rode a few days later; at Chard, a Ford
Abbey, at Colyton, and at Exeter--wherever he went he was received
with the same shouts and acclamations. It is no wonder therefore,
that he should believe, a few years later, that those people would
follow him when he drew the sword for the Protestant religion.
One thing is certain--that in the West of England, from the progress
of Monmouth to the Rebellion, there was uneasiness, with an anxious
looking forward to troubled times. The people of Taunton kept as
a day of holiday and thanksgiving the anniversary of the raising
of Charles's siege. When the Mayor, in 1683, tried to stop the
celebration, they nearly stoned him to death. After this, Sir George
Jeffreys, afterwards Lord Jeffreys, who took the spring circuit in
1684, was called upon to report on the loyalty of the West Country.
He reported that the gentry were loyal and well disposed. But he
knew not the mind of the weavers and spinners of the country.
[Illustration: '_Fair White Rose of Somerset, let me be assured by a
kiss from your sweet lips._']
It was this progress; the sight of the Duke's sweet face; his
flattery of me, and his soft words, and the ring he gave me,
which made me from that moment such a partisan of his cause as
only a woman can be. Women cannot fight, but they can encourage
those who do; and they can not only ardently desire, but they can
despise and contemn those who think otherwise. I cannot say that
it was I who persuaded our boys five years later to join the Duke;
but I can truly say that I did and said all that a woman can; that
I rejoiced when they did so; and that I should never have forgiven
Robin had he joined the forces of the Papist King.