BENJAMIN'S WARNING.
Since I have so much to tell, before long, of Benjamin's evil
conduct, it must in justice be recorded of him that at this juncture
he endeavoured, knowing more of the world than we of Somerset, to
warn and dissuade his cousins from taking part in any attempt which
should be made in the West. And this he did by means of a letter
written to his father. I know not how far the letter might have
succeeded, but, unfortunately, it arrived two or three days too
late--when our boys had already joined the insurgents.
'Honoured Sir,' he wrote, 'I write this epistle, being much
concerned in spirit lest my grandfather, whose opinions are well
known, not only in his own county, but also at the Court, should
be drawn into, or become cognisant of, some attempt to raise the
West Country against their lawful King. It will not be news to you
that the Earl of Argyle hath landed in Scotland, where he will meet
with such a reception which will doubtless cause him to repent
of his rashness. It is also currently reported, and everywhere
believed, that the Duke of Monmouth intends immediately to embark
and cross the sea, with the design of raising the country in
rebellion. The Dissenters, who have been going about with sour looks
for five-and-twenty years, venture now to smile and look pleased
in anticipation of another civil war. This may follow, but its
termination, I think, will not be what they expect.
'I have also heard that my cousin Humphrey, Dr. Eykin's favourite
pupil, who hath never concealed his opinions, hath lately returned
from Holland (where the exiles are gathered), and passed through
London accompanied by Robin. I have further learned that while
in London he visited (but alone, without Robin's knowledge) many
of those who are known to be friends of the Duke and red-hot
Protestants. Wherefore, I greatly fear that he hath been in
correspondence with the exiles, and is cognisant of their designs,
and may even be their messenger to announce the intentions of his
Protestant champion. Certain I am that should any chance occur of
striking a blow for freedom of worship, my cousin, though he is weak
and of slender frame, will join the attempt. He will also endeavour
to draw after him everyone in his power. Therefore, my dear father,
use all your influence to withstand him, and, if he must for his own
part plunge into ruin, persuade my grandfather and my cousin Robin
to stay quiet at home.
'I hear it on the best authority that the temper of the country,
and especially in your part of it, hath been carefully studied by
the Government, and is perfectly well known. Those who would risk
life and lands for the Duke of Monmouth are few indeed. He may,
perhaps, draw a rabble after him, but no more. The fat tradesmen,
who most long for the conventicle, will not fight, though they may
pray for him. The country gentlemen may be Protestants, but they
are mostly for Church and King. It is quite true that his Majesty
is a Roman Catholic, nor hath he ever concealed or denied his
religion, being one who scorns deception. It is also true that his
profession of faith is a stumbling-block to many who find it hard to
reconcile their teaching of Non-Resistance and Divine Right with the
introduction of the Mass and the Romish Priest. But the country had
not yet forgotten the sour rule of the Independent; and, rather than
suffer him to return, the people will endure a vast deal of Royal
Prerogative.
'It is absolutely certain--assure my grandfather on this point,
whatever he may learn from Humphrey--that the better sort will never
join Monmouth, whether he comes as another Cromwell to restore
the Commonwealth, or whether he aspires to the Crown and dares to
maintain--a thing which King Charles did always stoutly deny--that
his mother was married. Is it credible that the ancient throne of
these Kingdoms should be usurped by the base-born son of Lucy Waters?
'I had last night the honour of drinking a bottle of wine with that
great lawyer, Sir George Jeffreys. The conversation turned upon this
subject. We were assured by the Judge that the affections of the
people are wholly with the King; that the liberty of worship which
he demands for himself he will also willingly extend to the country,
so that the last pretence of reason for disaffection shall be
removed. Why should the people run after Monmouth, when, if he were
successful, he could give no more than the King is ready to give?
I was also privately warned by Sir George that my grandfather's
name is unfavourably noted, and his actions and speeches will be
watched. Therefore, Sir, I humbly beg that you will represent to him
and to my cousins, and to Dr. Eykin himself, first the hopelessness
of any such enterprise and the certainty of defeat; and next the
punishment which will fall upon the rebels and upon those who lend
them any countenance. Men of such a temper as Dr. Comfort Eykin
will, doubtless, go to the scaffold willingly with their mouths full
of the texts which they apply to themselves on all occasions. For
such I have no pity, yet for the sake of his wife and daughter I
would willingly, if I could, save him from the fate which will be
his if Monmouth lands in the West. And as for my grandfather, 'tis
terrible to think of his white hairs blown by the breeze while the
hangman adjusts the knot; and I should shudder to see the blackened
limbs of Robin stuck upon poles for all the world to see.
'It is my present intention, if my affairs permit, to follow
my fortunes on the Western Circuit in the autumn, when I shall
endeavour to ride from Taunton or Exeter to Bradford Orcas. My
practice grows apace. Daily I am heard in the Courts. The Judges
already know me and listen to me. The juries begin to feel the
weight of my arguments. The attorneys besiege my chambers. For a
junior I am in great demand. It is my prayer that you, Sir, may live
to see your son Chancellor and a Peer of the realm. Less than Lord
Chancellor will not content me. As for marriage, that might hinder
my rise; I shall not marry yet. There is in your parish, Sir, one
who knows my mind upon this matter. I shall be pleased to think that
you will assure her--you know very well whom I mean--that my mind
is unaltered, and that my way is now plain before me. So, I remain,
with dutiful respect,
your obedient son, B. B.'
This letter arrived, I say, after the departure of Robin with his
company of village lads.
When Mr. Boscorel had read it slowly and twice over, so as to lose
no point of the contents, he sat and pondered awhile. Then he arose,
and with troubled face he sought Sir Christopher, to whom he read it
through. Then he waited for Sir Christopher to speak.
'The boy writes,' said his Honour, after a while, 'according to his
lights. He repeats the things he hears said by his boon companions.
Nay, more, he believes them. Why, it is easy for them to swear
loyalty and to declare in their cups where the affections of the
people are placed.'
'Sir Christopher, what is done cannot be undone. The boys are
gone--alas!--but you still remain. Take heed for a space what you
say as well as what you do.'
'How should they know the temper of the country?' Sir Christopher
went on, regardless. 'What doth the foul-mouthed profligate Sir
George Jeffreys know concerning sober and godly people? These are
not noisy Templars; they are not profligates of the Court; they
are not haunters of tavern and pot-house; they are not those who
frequent the play-house. Judge Jeffreys knows none such. They
are lovers of the Word of God; they wish to worship after their
fashion; they hate the Pope and all his works. Let us hear what
these men say upon the matter.'
'Nay,' said Mr. Boscorel; 'I care not greatly what they say. But
would to God the boys were safe returned.'
'Benjamin means well,' Sir Christopher went on. 'I take this warning
kindly; he means well. It pleases me that in the midst of the work
and the feasting, which he loves, he thinks upon us. Tell him,
son-in-law, that I thank him for his letter. It shows that he hath
preserved a good heart.'
'As for his good heart'--Mr. Boscorel stroked his nose with his
forefinger--'so long as Benjamin gets what he wants--which is
Benjamin's mess, and five times the mess of any other--there is no
doubt of his good heart.'
'Worse things than these,' said Sir Christopher, 'were said of us
when the civil wars began. The King's troops would ride us down; the
country would not join us; those of us who were not shot or cut down
in the field would be afterwards hanged, drawn, and quartered. Yet
we drove the King from his throne.'
'And then another King came back again. So we go up, and so we
go down. But about this expedition and about these boys my mind
misgives me.'
'Son-in-law,' Sir Christopher said solemnly, 'I am now old, and the
eyes of my mind are dim, so that I no longer discern the signs of
the times, or follow the current of the stream; moreover, we hear
but little news, so that I cannot even see any of those signs. Yet
to men in old age, before they pass away to the rest provided by the
Lord, there cometh sometimes a vision by which they are enabled to
see clearly when younger men are still groping their way in a kind
of twilight. Monmouth hath landed; my boys are with him; they are
rebels; should the rising fail, their lives are forfeit; and that of
my dear friend Dr. Comfort Eykin's--yea, and my life as well belike,
because I have been a consenting party. Ruin and death will in that
event fall upon all of us. Whether it will so happen I know not, nor
do I weigh the chance of that event against the voice of conscience,
duty, and honour. My boys have obeyed that voice; they have gone
forth to conquer or to die. My vision doth not tell me what will
happen to them. But it shows me the priest flying from the country,
the King flying from the throne, and that fair angel, whom we call
Freedom of Conscience, returning to bless the land. To know that the
laws of God will triumph--ought not that to reconcile a man, already
seventy-five years of age, to death, even a death upon the gallows?
What matter for this earthly body so that it be spent until the end
in the service of the Lord?'