ON THE MARCH.
At daybreak, next morning, the drums began to beat, and the trumpets
began to blow, and, after breakfast, the newly-raised army marched
out in such order as was possible. I have not to write a history of
this rebellion, which hath already been done by able hands; I speak
only of what I saw, and the things with which I was concerned.
First, then, it is true that the whole country was swiftly put into
a ferment by the Duke's landing; and, had those who planned the
expedition provided a proper supply of arms, the army would have
quickly mustered 20,000 men, all resolute and capable of meeting
any force that the King could have raised. Nay, it would have grown
and swelled as it moved. But there were never enough arms from the
outset. Everything at first promised well for the Duke. But there
were not arms for the half of those who came in. The spirit of the
Devon and Somerset Militia was lukewarm; they ran at Bridport, at
Axminster, and at Chard; nay, some of them even deserted to join
the Duke. There were thousands scattered about the country--those,
namely, who still held to the doctrines of the persecuted ministers,
and those who abhorred the Catholic religion--who wished well and
would have joined--Humphrey knew well-wishers by the thousand whose
names were on the lists in Holland--but how could they join when the
army was so ill-found? And this was the principal reason, I have
been assured, why the country gentlemen, with their following, did
not come in at first--because there were no arms. How can soldiers
fight when they have no arms? How could the Duke have been suffered
to begin with so scanty a preparation of arms? Afterwards, when
Monmouth proclaimed himself King, there were, perhaps, other reasons
why the well-wishers held aloof. Some of them certainly, who were
known to be friends of the Duke (among them our old friend Mr.
Prideaux, of Ford Abbey), were arrested and thrown into prison,
while many thousands who were flocking to the standard were either
turned back upon the road or seized and thrown into prison.
As for the quality of the troops which formed the army, I know
nothing, except that at Sedgemoor they continued to fight valiantly
after their leaders had fled. They were raw troops--mere country
lads--and their officers were, for the most part, simple tradesmen
who had no knowledge of the art of war. Dare the younger was a
goldsmith; Captain Perrot was a dyer; Captain Hucker, a maker of
serge; and so on with all of them. It was unfortunate that Mr.
Andrew Fletcher, of Saltoun, should have killed Mr. Dare the elder
on the first day, because, as everybody agrees, the former was the
most experienced soldier in the whole army.
The route proposed by the Duke was known to everybody. He intended
to march through Taunton, Bridgwater, and Bristol to Gloucester,
where he thought he would be joined by a new army raised by his
friends in Cheshire. He also reckoned on receiving adherents
everywhere on the road, and on easily defeating any force that
the King should be able to send against him. How he fared in that
notable scheme is common history.
Long before the army was ready to march, Humphrey came to advise
with us. First of all, he endeavoured to have speech with my father,
but in vain (henceforth my father seemed to have no thought of his
wife and daughter). Humphrey, therefore, advised us to go home. 'As
for your alleged dedication to the Cause,' he said, 'I think that he
hath already forgotten it, seeing that it means nothing, and that
your presence with us cannot help. Go home, then, Madam, and let
Alice persuade Robin to stay at home in order to take care of you.'
'Nay,' said my mother; 'that may we not do. I must obey my husband,
who commanded us to follow him. Whither he goeth thither also I will
follow.'
Finding that she was resolute upon this point, Humphrey told us that
the Duke would certainly march upon Taunton, where more than half of
the town were his friends. He therefore advised that we should ride
to that place--not following the army, but going across the country,
most of which is a very wild and desolate part, where we should be
in no danger except from gipsies and such wild people, robbers and
rogues, truly, but now making the most of the disturbed state of the
country, and running about the roads plundering and thieving. But he
said he would himself provide us with a guide, one who knew the way,
and a good stout fellow, armed with a cudgel, at least. To this my
mother agreed, fearing to anger her husband if she should disturb
him at his work.
Humphrey had little trouble in finding the guide for us. He was
an honest lad from a place called Holford, in the Quantock Hills,
who, finding that there were no arms for him, was going home again.
Unhappily, when we got to Taunton, he was persuaded--partly by me,
alas!--to remain. He joined Barnaby's company, and was either killed
at Sedgemoor, or was one of those hanged at Weston Zoyland, or
Bridgwater. For he was no more heard of.
This business settled, we went up to the churchyard in order to see
the march of the army out of camp. And a brave show the gallant
soldiers made.
First rode Colonel Wade with the vanguard. After them, with a due
interval, rode the greater part of the Horse, already three hundred
strong, under Lord Grey, of Wark. Among them was the company sent
by Mr. Speke, of White Lackington, forty very stout fellows, well
armed, and mounted on cart-horses. The main army was composed of
four regiments. The first was the Blue Regiment, or the Duke's Own,
whose Colonel was the aforesaid Wade. They formed the van, and
were seven hundred strong. The others were the White, commanded by
Colonel Foukes; the Green, by Colonel Holmes; and the Yellow, by
Colonel Fox. All these regiments were fully armed, the men wearing
favours or rosettes in their hats and on their arms of the colour
from which their regiment was named.
The Duke himself, who rode a great white horse, was surrounded by a
small bodyguard of gentlemen (afterwards they became a company of
forty), richly dressed and well mounted. With him were carried the
colours, embroidered with the words 'Pro Religione et Libertate.'
This was the second time that I had seen the Duke, and again I felt
at sight of his face the foreknowledge of coming woe. On such an
occasion the chief should show a gallant mien and a face of cheerful
hope. The Duke, however, looked gloomy, and hung his head.
Truly, it seemed to me as if no force could dare so much as to meet
this great and invincible army. And certainly there could nowhere be
gathered together a more stalwart set of soldiers, nearly all young
men, and full of spirit. They shouted and sang as they marched.
Presently there passed us my brother Barnaby, with his company of
the Green Regiment. It was easy to perceive by the handling of his
arms, and by his bearing, that he was accustomed to act with others,
and already he had so begun to instruct his men that they set an
example to the rest both in their orderliness of march and the
carriage of their weapons.
After the main army they carried the ordnance--four small
cannon--and the ammunition in waggons, with guards and horsemen.
Lastly, there rode those who do not fight, yet belong to the army.
These were the Chaplain to the army, Dr. Hooke, a grave clergyman of
the Church of England; Mr. Ferguson, the Duke's private Chaplain, a
fiery person, of whom many hard things have been said, which here
concern us not; and my father, who thus rode openly with the other
two, in order that the Nonconformists might be encouraged by his
presence, as an equal with the two chaplains. He was clad in a new
cassock, obtained I know not whence. He sat upright in the saddle,
a Bible in his hand, his long white locks lying on his shoulders
like a perruque, but more venerable than any wig. His thin face was
flushed with the joy of coming victory, and his eyes flashed fire.
If all the men had shown such a spirit, the army would have overrun
the whole country. The four surgeons--Dr. Temple, Dr. Gaylard, Dr.
Oliver, and Humphrey--followed, all splendid in black velvet and
great periwigs. Lastly marched the rear-guard; and after the army
there followed such a motley crew as no one can conceive. There were
gipsies, with their black tents and carts, ready to rob and plunder;
there were tinkers who are nothing better than gipsies, and are even
said to speak their language; there were men with casks on wheels
filled with beer or cider; there were carts carrying bread, cakes,
biscuits, and such things as one can buy in a booth or at a fair;
there were women of bold and impudent looks, singing as they walked;
there were, besides, whole troops of country lads, some of them mere
boys, running and strutting along in hopes to receive arms and to
take a place in the regiments.
Presently they were all gone, and Lyme was quit of them. What became
in the end of all the rabble rout which followed the army I know
not. One thing was certain: the godly disposition, the pious singing
of psalms, and the devout exposition of the Word which I had looked
for in the army were not anywhere apparent. Rather there was evident
a tumultuous joy, as of schoolboys out for a holiday--certainly no
schoolboys could have made more noise or showed greater happiness in
their faces. Among them, however, there were some men of middle age,
whose faces showed a different temper; but these were rare.
'Lord help them!' said our friendly fisherwoman, who stood with us.
'There will be hard knocks before those fine fellows go home again.'
'They fight on the Lord's side,' said my mother; 'therefore they may
be killed, but they will not wholly perish.'
As for the hard knocks, they began without any delay, and on that
very morning. For at Axminster they encountered the Somerset and
Devon Militia, who thought to join their forces, but were speedily
put to flight by the rebels--a victory which greatly encouraged them.
It hath been maliciously said, I have heard, that we followed the
army--as if we were two sutler women--on foot, I suppose, tramping
in the dust, singing ribald songs like those poor creatures whom we
saw marching out of Lyme. You have heard how we agreed to follow
Humphrey's advice. Well, we left Lyme very early the next morning
(our fisherwoman having now become very friendly and loth to let
us go) and rode out, our guide (poor lad! his death lies heavy on
my soul, yet I meant the best: and, truly, he was on the side of
the Lord) marching beside us armed with a stout bludgeon. We kept
the main road (which was very quiet at this early hour) as far as
Axminster, where we left it; and, after crossing the river by a
ford or wash, we engaged upon a track, or path, which led along the
banks of a little stream for a mile or two--as far as the village of
Chardstock. Here we made no halt; but, leaving it behind, we struck
into a most wild and mountainous country full of old forests and
great bare places. It is called the Forest of Neroche, and is said
to shelter numbers of gipsies and vagabonds, and to have in it some
of those wild people who live in the hills and woods of Somerset,
and do no work except to gather the dry broom and tie it up and sell
it, and so live hard and hungry lives, but know not any master.
These are reported to be a harmless people, but the gipsies are
dangerous because they are ready to rob and even murder. I thought
of Barnaby's bag of gold tied about my waist, and trembled. However,
we met with none of them on our journey, because just then they were
all running after Monmouth's army. There was no path over the hills
by the way we took; but our guide knew the country so well that he
needed none, pointing out all the hills with a kind of pride as if
they belonged to him, and telling us the name of every one; but
these I have long since forgotten. The country, however, I can never
forget, because it is so wild and beautiful. One place I remember.
It is a very strange and wonderful place. The ground here is high,
and at one place it rises to a kind of point or hill, falling away,
on all sides but one, in steep sides, up which a man could climb
with difficulty. Round the hill have been cut deep trenches, no
doubt to fortify and strengthen the place, which is by nature a
fortress. And on the side where the ground is level there are raised
very high earth-works or walls with trenches beyond, most wonderful
to consider. Within this double or triple circle of trenches and
earthen walls there stands a farm-house, solitary among the hills.
Here we found an ancient dame who told us that the place had been
a castle of the Romans: yet it was not like unto the castle at
Sherborne, which Oliver Cromwell slighted after he took the place,
blowing it up with gunpowder: nor was it like the castle at Taunton
which I afterwards saw, for there were no stone walls or towers,
or any appearance of stone work. To be sure, Sherborne Castle was
not built by the Romans. Then this old dame showed us bits of pots
dug up within the walls, and rusty arrow heads and green copper
things, which she said were buckles to fasten their clothes withal.
She gave us a cup of cider while we rested and took here our dinner
of cold bacon and bread which we had brought with us. After dinner
our guide took us to the hill called the Beacon, and showed us the
broad Vale of Taunton, spread out below us like unto a map, with its
farm-houses, fields, orchards, and churches. 'And all for Monmouth,'
he said. Surely there cannot be a richer, more fertile, or more
lovely place in all England than the Vale of Taunton. When we had
rested, and enjoyed this enchanting prospect, we remounted our nags
and descended by a gradual incline into the plain below. Humphrey
had provided us with a letter commendatory. He, who knew the names
of all who were well affected, assured us that the lady to whom
the letter was addressed, Miss Susan Blake by name, was one of the
most forward in the Protestant Cause. She was well known and much
respected, and she kept a school for young gentlewomen, where many
children of the Nonconformist gentry were educated. He instructed us
to proceed directly to her house, and to ask her to procure for us a
decent and safe lodging. He could not have given us a letter to any
better person.
It was late in the afternoon when we rode into Taunton. The streets
were full of people running about, talking now in groups and now
by twos and threes; now shouting and now whispering; while we rode
along the street, a man ran bawling--
'Great news! great news! Monmouth is upon us with twice ten thousand
men!'
It seems that they had only that day learned of the defeat of the
Militia by the rebels. A company of the Somerset Militia were in the
town, under Colonel Luttrell, in order to keep down the people.
Taunton is, as everybody knows, a most rich, prosperous, and
populous town. I had never before seen so many houses and so many
people gathered together. Why, if the men of Taunton declared for
the Duke, his cause, one felt sure, was already won. For there
is nowhere, as I could not fail to know, a greater stronghold
of Dissent than this town, except London, and none where the
Nonconformists have more injuries to remember. Only two years before
this their meeting-houses had been broken into, and their pulpits
and pews brought out and burned, and they were forced, against their
conscience, to worship in the parish church.
We easily found Miss Blake's house, and, giving our horses to the
guide, we presented her with our letter. She was a young woman
somewhat below the common stature, quick of speech, her face and
eyes full of vivacity, and about thirty years of age. But when she
had read the letter, and understood who we were, and whence we came,
she first made a deep reverence to my mother and then she took my
hands and kissed me.
'Madam,' she said, 'believe me, my poor house will be honoured
indeed by the presence of the wife and the daughter of the godly
Dr. Comfort Eykin. Pray, pray, go no further. I have a room that
is at your disposal. Go thither, Madam, I beg, and rest after your
journey. The wife of Dr. Comfort Eykin. 'Tis indeed an honour.' And
so with the kindest words she led us upstairs, and gave us a room
with a bed in it, and caused water for washing to be brought, and
presently went out with me to buy certain things needful for us (who
were indeed somewhat rustical in our dress), in order that we might
present the appearance of gentlewomen--thanks to Barnaby's heavy
purse, I could get them without troubling my mother's careful mind
about the cost. She then gave us supper, and told us all the news.
The King, she said, was horribly afraid, and it was rumoured that
the priests had all been sent away to France; the Taunton people
were resolved to give the Duke a brave reception; all over the
country, there was no doubt, men would rally by thousands; she was
in a rapture of joy and gratitude. Supper over, she took us to her
school-room, and here--oh! the pretty sight!--her school-girls were
engaged in working and embroidering flags for the Duke's army.
'I know not,' she said, 'whether his Grace will condescend to
receive them. But it is all we women can do.' Poor wretch! she
afterwards suffered the full penalty for her zeal.
All that evening we heard the noise of men running about the town,
with the clanking of weapons and the commands of officers; but we
knew not what had happened.
Lo! in the morning the glad tidings that the Militia had left
the town. Nor was that all: for at daybreak the people began to
assemble, and, there being none to stay them, broke into the great
church of St. Mary's and took possession of the arms that had been
deposited for safety in the tower. They also opened the prison and
set free a worthy Nonconformist divine, named Vincent. All the
morning the mob ran about the streets, shouting, 'A Monmouth! A
Monmouth!' the magistrates and Royalists not daring so much as to
show their faces, and there was nothing talked of but the overthrow
of the King and the triumph of the Protestant religion. Nay, there
were fiery speakers in the market-place and before the west porch
of the church, who mounted on tubs and exhorted the people. Grave
merchants came forth and shook hands with each other; and godly
ministers who had been in hiding walked forth boldly. It was truly a
great day for Taunton.
The excitement grew greater when Captain Hucker, a well-known
serge-maker of the town, rode in with a troop of Monmouth's Horse.
Captain Hucker had been seized by Colonel Phillips on the charge of
receiving a message from the Duke, but he escaped and joined the
rebels, to his greater loss, as afterwards appeared. However, he
now rode in to tell his fellow townsmen of his own wonderful and
providential escape, and that the Duke would certainly arrive the
next day, and he exhorted them to give him such a welcome as he had
a right to expect at their hands. He also reminded them that they
were the sons of the men who, forty years before, defended Taunton
under Admiral Blake. There was a great shouting and tossing of caps
after Captain Hucker's address, and no one could do too much for the
horsemen with him, so that I fear these brave fellows were soon fain
to lie down and sleep till the fumes of the strong ale should leave
their brains.
[Illustration: '_Her schoolgirls were engaged in working and
embroidering flags for the Duke's army._']
All that day and half the night we sat in Miss Blake's school-room
finishing the flags, in which I was permitted to join. There were
twenty-seven flags in all presented to the army by the Taunton
maids: twelve by Miss Blake, and fifteen by one Mrs. Musgrave, also
a schoolmistress. And now, indeed, seeing that the Militia at
Axminster had fled almost at the mere aspect of one man, and that
those of Taunton had also fled away secretly by night, and catching
the zeal of our kind entertainer, and considering the courage and
spirit of these good people, I began to feel confident again, and my
heart, which had fallen very low at the sight of the Duke's hanging
head and gloomy looks, rose again, and all dangers seemed to vanish.
And so, in a mere fool's paradise, I continued happy indeed, until
the fatal news of Sedgemoor fight awoke us all from our fond dreams.