A GLORIOUS DAY.
I had slept soundly and well upon the night preceding that glorious and
memorable eighteenth of June, despite all the excitements of the day;
for the previous night I had not troubled my bed, and nature will claim
her dues, be the moment never so full of stress and emotion.
But though I slept soundly and well, I awoke betimes; and I was not
astir before others, for I heard the sound of songs and glad voices in
the streets before I left my room. Below in mine uncle's inn all was
life and bustle, for the country folks were pouring in from far and
near to witness the arrival of the Duke; and every hostelry was taxed
to the limit of its resources to find even sitting room for the merry
company, to say nothing of food for man and beast.
I had never seen our stables so crowded with beasts, and we had to
tether them in the yard beside heaps of fragrant grass and hay. My
uncle's face was wreathed in smiles, and he welcomed every comer with
his wonted heartiness. For the time being he was carried away by the
stream of popular enthusiasm; and although still carefully refraining
from taking any overt part in the day's proceedings, was ready to
give welcome to all comers, and was perhaps glad to be tied by the
exigencies of business within the doors of his house, so that did he
wish it never so much, he could not make shift to leave it, be it the
King himself who was coming to the town that day.
We knew that the Duke had slept at Ilminster the past night, and
therefore that he could not be here very early, since a march of
sixteen miles is not made without considerable loss of time with an
army of some thousands of men.
But then there was enough to do, in order to receive that army with
hospitality, to keep us all busy, and I would I could describe the
appearance presented by Paul's Field and the meadows adjoining,
where we guessed the soldiers would encamp; for every citizen,
however humble, had some small contribution to make towards the
accommodation of the good Duke's army and the hospitable welcome of his
followers, and the place looked like a great fair with its tents and
roughly-knocked-up sheds, and its supplies of provision for man and
beast hastily contributed by the eager towns-folk.
As for the number of horses in the place that day, I never saw the
like. Everybody who had a horse, or could by any means obtain one,
had it ready to ride forth later on to meet the Duke. I could have
sold Blackbird a dozen times over for thrice his value would he but
have suffered any other rider to mount him. As it was, several yeomen
and gentlemen would not be satisfied without making trial of their
prowess; but although one or two contrived by dint of excellent
horsemanship to maintain a seat upon his back for a while, yet none
after that trial desired to conclude any bargain, and Blackbird
remained in mine own keeping, as I was sure from the first he would do.
Towards noon the horsemen began to gather and ride out along the
Ilminster road, and I perforce went with them, though I could ill be
spared from the inn; but mine uncle saw that my heart was no longer in
my task, and good-naturedly bid me go forth to see the show.
Almost needless to say that there in the forefront of the
riders--albeit with none but his own feet to carry him--was Will
Wiseman; and so soon as he saw me he came to my side, and I gave him
hold of my stirrup leather, as we had many times done before when I
rode forth, and he ran beside me gallantly, as untired as the horse.
"The witch is not right, Dicon," he cried more than once; "for come
what may in the future, is not this glory enow to satisfy the heart of
man? Didst ever see town so bedecked as Taunton is this day? And there
will be yet more to follow on the morrow!"
For Will and I knew what gay show had been devised for the morrow, and
how it would be one that would rouse the enthusiasm of the town to the
highest pitch. And Will (who had a wonderful gift for hearing news
before anybody else) whispered to me that there would be other brave
shows ere the Duke left the Queen city of the West; but when I asked
him what he meant, he only laid his finger on his lips and whispered,--
"Hist, Dicon! This be not the time or place to speak of such things.
But dost thou think that England will be content to follow a Duke,
even though he be the son of a King? We want a King and not a Duke to
reign over us. How can men flock to the standard of a Duke, when there
is a King upon the throne? We must have a King, too, else all will be
confusion and mischance."
This word from Will confirmed what I had heard yesterday about the
Duke's leaving the town as King. I confess I was perplexed how such a
thing could be, the more so as in the Declaration which I had heard
read he had spoken of not insisting upon his title as yet, and only
doing so at the request of Parliament. But then I had read enough
history to be very well aware that no Prince could always adhere to the
resolves laid down at the first. The tide of popular sentiment often
carries them beyond the bound originally set; and it might be very
true, as Will whispered, that the title of Duke would not be sufficient
to content the ardent followers who had flocked to the banner of one
whom they hoped to see reigning as England's King.
All this was very exciting, and stirred my pulses not a little. At
last my longings were gratified. I was living in times that were truly
historic. I was going forth to meet the champion and deliverer of
the people. What could heart of man wish more? I should see him and
behold his triumphal entry into the city. I should have lived in days
which would go down to posterity as the days of a great epoch in our
country's story.
Presently the cries and shouts of those in advance of us told us that
the Duke and his army had been sighted. The cloud of dust which the
horse-hoofs of our advance-guard raised kept us for a time from a view
of what they saw; but presently the cloud subsided. All of us drew
away right and left upon the turf, leaving the road track clear for
the coming vanguard; and in another minute cheers and shouts began to
rend the air, and we all tossed up our caps, crying lustily, "God save
the Duke! God save the Duke! God be with your Grace! A Monmouth! a
Monmouth!"
And one voice was boldly raised to cry, "God save the rightful King!"
The Duke came forward, riding a fine horse with all the grace and manly
skill which helped to make him a King amongst men. His face was bright
with smiles, he held his head-piece in his hand, and bowed right and
left as he passed through the ranks of shouting, cheering citizens and
country folk, all come out to do him honour.
Beside him rode a body-guard of some forty or fifty gentlemen, well
mounted and equipped; and amongst these I soon singled out my lord the
Viscount, whose gallant bearing and golden locks made him conspicuous
even amongst so many gay riders. He saw me too, and gave me a smile and
a nod. But he kept his place near to the Duke, and we who had come out
to welcome him escorted that gallant band at a short distance, the main
body of the horse following about a quarter of a mile behind, and the
infantry, waggons, and guns (of which there were very few) bringing up
the rear half a mile away, and proceeding much more leisurely.
Will had set off running towards the city like a hare so soon as he had
really set eyes upon the Duke and had heard from my lips that it was
truly he. Therefore on our approach to the city we were surrounded by
such a crowd as I surely think no man amongst us had ever seen before.
Hundreds of children lined the roadway into the town, flinging posies
and garlands before the feet of the Duke's horse. A band of minstrels
welcomed him with strains of martial music; and whilst women wept aloud
and called aloud upon him as their saviour and deliverer, men shouted
his name and made the welkin ring with their cries, till one would have
thought the whole place had gone mad with joy.
So thronged were the streets that it was difficult for the Duke to make
his way along them, and the many pauses which had to be made rendered
it easy for the people to press round him, kiss his hands and shower
blessings of every sort upon him. This gave him opportunity to reply to
them by smiles and gentle words, such as he was very ready with. And he
won all hearts by his gracious demeanour, by the beauty of his person,
and by the kingly grace of his deportment.
The procession wound slowly up the High Street towards the Cornhill,
and when the open space was reached, the Duke's company moved towards
the right in the direction of Fore Street, thus approaching somewhat
nearly to the Three Cups Inn, and also to that house where Miss Blake
held her school. I think it was by arrangement that the Duke had been
thus slowly urged along Fore Street; for as he approached the corner a
sudden silence fell upon the crowd, whilst all eyes were turned upon a
certain gaily-draped balcony; and immediately there appeared upon it a
crowd of white-robed maidens, and to the accompaniment of the band of
minstrels their voices were raised in a sweet strain.
They sang several stanzas of some poem, which I afterwards heard had
been culled from the writings of Dryden, and which, it was whispered
to me, had been obtained with some difficulty and set to music by the
organist of St. Mary's Church. Only one verse remains in my memory, and
very appropriate did those words sound as they were chanted forth by
the white-robed throng:--
"Thee, saviour, thee, the nation's vows confess,
And never satisfied with seeing, bless;
Swift unbespoken pomps thy steps proclaim,
And stammering babes are taught to lisp thy name."
The Duke listened to the song with bared head, and at its close made a
graceful reverence to the young maidens, who retreated from the public
gaze so soon as their part had been performed. I saw the Viscount's
eyes fixed upon the balcony; and I had well been able to distinguish
Mistress Mary's rich voice leading the carol, and giving strength and
power to the strain. That she had seen her lover I did not doubt. His
face showed that the magic language of love had been exchanged between
them as they stood so near to one another.
But there were graver matters on hand than mere songs of praise and
shouts of welcome and devotion. A little stir in the crowd betokened
the setting up of the standard in the centre of the Cornhill; and then
a herald stood forward, and demanded that the city magistrates should
instantly be summoned to attend the reading of the Declaration which
would forthwith be made.
Eager partisans ran hither and thither to summon these dignitaries, and
no doubt they looked upon discretion as the better part of valour, for
a certain number of them shortly appeared. Some said that Mr. Bernard
Smith, our Mayor, was also present; but of that I cannot be sure, since
I did not see him myself, and I can never be certain that what report
spoke was the truth.
I have spoken before of that Declaration, and need not more
particularly refer to it here, save to remind you how gratefully
would those fair promises of toleration and justice fall upon the
ears of our citizens who had seen the demolition of their chapel and
meeting-places, and had for years been constrained either to go to
church against their desire or conviction, or to meet privily to hear
the Word preached to them after their own fashion, whilst they were
subject to many and grievous penalties for doing even this.
Every clause of the Declaration, then, was received with shouts and
cries of joy. The long indictment against the present King fell like
music on the ears of those who had regarded him from the first with
fear and hatred. Enthusiasm was stirred to its highest pitch by the
terms of this long document; and the people crowded so close about
the herald, that I was glad to get out of the press, lest I should be
trodden underfoot and suffocated.
After the Declaration had been read aloud in the ears of the people,
a copy of it was affixed in one or two places about the town, where
all who could might read it for themselves; and then a proclamation
was read which gave great joy to all the people, showing as it did
the gentle temper of the Duke, and his anxiety that justice and mercy
should always be done in his name.
This proclamation set forth that whereas, to the great reproach and
scandal of the good cause, and contrary to the commands and wishes
of the Duke, certain lewd and dissolute persons had, under cover of
a pretence of zeal, been guilty of acts of pillage and robbery, and
in especial had taken horses from the good and peaceable country folk
without payment, it is strictly charged that no such acts be committed
any more; and that if any person in the future be robbed of aught he
possesses, he is invited straightway to repair to the camp, and to lay
complaint before the Duke, when justice shall at once be done.
This proclamation gave great satisfaction to all those who could
remember, or who had heard stories of the cruel depredations inflicted
formerly by the soldiery in times of war, when redress was practically
impossible. I will not go so far as to say that this proclamation had
the desired effect of putting a stop to all such depredations; but at
least it was evidence of the temper and the wishes of the Duke, and
was received with loud acclamations of joy and affection by the people.
By this time the day had fast waned; and although the sun was still
high in the sky, being nearly at the summer solstice, yet the Duke and
his party were fatigued by their long march in the heat, and by the
fervour of their reception. So when Captain Hucker came forward to say
that he had all in readiness at his house for the entertainment of the
Duke and some of his officers, whilst others were to be received by
substantial citizens with whom they would find abundant good cheer, the
party was glad enough to betake itself to rest and refreshment; and the
good folks from the outlying districts, who had ridden in to see and
welcome the Duke, now hastened away to get their horses, and to leave
the crowded town.
I heard Captain Hucker invite the Viscount to the hospitality of his
house; but his invitation was courteously declined, Lord Vere saying
quietly that he had business of his own to see to.
I guessed that that business had somewhat to do with Mistress Mary, nor
was I surprised when presently he came and linked his arm in mine (in
that friendly fashion he was not ashamed to show even in the eyes of
the citizens who knew his rank and my humble birth) and said,--
"Good Dicon, thinkest thou thine uncle can find me a bed to-night? I
have not slept in one since leaving Lyme, indeed since reaching Lyme.
I would sooner lie in his house than in any other to-night, for I must
have speech with Mistress Mary to-day if such a thing be possible; and
I trow that I shall gain it best through thy good offices."
I knew my uncle would be glad enough to have Lord Vere as his guest.
Lord Lonsdale's son was greatly beloved in Taunton, and to harbour him
would not be like to do any man hurt, since Lord Lonsdale was known
for a very loyal servant of King James, and most like would use such
influence on behalf of his son (supposing that evil days fell upon this
expedition, which Heaven forfend) that he would escape the penalty of
his rashness. My uncle did not desire to hold too sullenly aloof from
all the hospitalities offered to the Duke's followers, neither did he
wish too deeply to embroil himself with the rising. So that he was
very well pleased when I brought back my lord the Viscount, and at
once allotted to him the best bed-chamber, and set before him the best
viands left in the house after all the feeding and feasting of the day.
I waited on my lord, and when he had appeased the worst of his hunger,
he made me sit down and make a meal myself of the fragments; which I
was nothing loath to do, having scarce broken my fast since morning,
for the excitement and bustle of the day. As I ate he sat thoughtfully
toying with some fruit, and at the last asked suddenly,--
"Dicon, is it true that there be many colours worked by the maidens
yonder that will be presented to-morrow to the Duke?"
"I trow so, good my lord," I answered, with secret triumph in my
heart. "I have heard and seen somewhat of it."
"And will Mistress Mary Mead be amongst those who will present them?"
"Truly I believe it, my lord. Her banner is the best and most beautiful
of all, and every stitch her own. Is it like that upon such a day she
would be more backward than others?"
My lord's face was very grave and anxious.
"Dicon, I would have speech with her this night. Canst thou obtain it
for me? There may be more peril than she wots of in this thing. I would
save her from it if it might be. Can I make shift to see her?"
"Why, yes, my lord; I see no great difficulty about it," I answered. "I
am always welcome when I go in with news of the day's doing; and after
such a day as this I shall be tenfold more welcome. And if you will
condescend to accompany me to the house--any gallant Captain of the
Duke's forces will be welcomed with honour by Miss Blake. I doubt not
that by this she is in Mistress Mary's secret; and whilst I tell all my
news to her, you can get speech with Mistress Mary in another part of
the room. I see no trouble about it on such a day as this. All Taunton
is on the tip-toe of expectation. None bearing news will be denied
entrance at such a time."
"Good," answered my lord, rising to his feet: "I will but arrange my
dress and wash away these stains of dust, and present myself to Miss
Blake, and gain speech of Mistress Mary if it may be."
How gallant and beautiful my lord the Viscount looked when he came down
from his sleeping-chamber a few minutes later my poor pen cannot well
say. I felt that such a lover might well win the heart of any maid; and
I pretty well knew by this time that Miss Blake was in the secret of
Mistress Mary's amours, and that she would do everything in her power
to bring about the happy union of two such loyal and loving hearts. Any
man serving in the army of the Duke would win her regard and respect;
and the personal charm of the Viscount could not fail to make itself
felt, whilst the romantic story of his love for Mistress Mary, and the
sacrifice into which it had led him, could not but touch the heart of
any woman, be she never so hard to please. Wherefore I was very sure
that Viscount Vere would receive a warm welcome in the parlour of the
ladies.
Nor was I deceived in this. The serving-maid, with a flushed and
smiling face, admitted us at once into the familiar room, bright with
the last flush of day; and there was Mistress Mary still in her white
robes, and the two mistresses flushed and exultant, eager after news
and ready with the warmest welcome for me, and with words of deep
respect and most sincere good-will for my lord, whose appearance in my
wake put them quite into a flutter, and caused Mistress Mary's cheeks
to glow as though the sunset sky had been reflected in them.
She remained in the deep window seat, and for a while my lord spoke
with the other ladies; but presently he made his way across to where
his mistress sat, and we at the other end spoke of many things. I told
all I had seen of the meeting of the Duke outside the city, and of his
gallant entrance therein.
What the lovers spoke of at first I know not. I heard the low tone of
Mistress Mary's voice, but not the words, and I guessed that she might
be speaking of those fears and anxieties which she had named to me.
However, of this I cannot speak certainly. What I can answer for is
that presently the Viscount raised his voice so that we all could hear,
and said, rather to Miss Blake than to any other,--
"Ladies, I hear that you are to take a bold step to-morrow. Have you
bethought you what the consequences may be should the issue of this
revolt be other than the well-wishers of the Duke desire?"
"My lord," answered Miss Blake, with an air of unconscious dignity,
"we frail human creatures have naught to do with results; those are in
the hands of Him who cannot do amiss. Our part is to do our duty, and
show forth our love and service in the cause of right and truth and
virtue. This we are resolved to do, and no fear of results will serve
to fright us from our appointed task. You men can go forth and fight
in the righteous cause. There is little that we poor women can do, yet
that little shall not be lacking. You would not, gallant sir, strive to
deter us from taking our small share in this noble struggle?"
One of the Viscount's strange smiles hovered over his beautiful face.
"Madam," he said, with a bow, "after such words as those, mine sound
but poor and mean and faint-hearted. But you know that I love Mistress
Mary, and that I would lay down my life to keep her from harm. I know
more of the forces at the King's disposal than the country folks here
seem to do, and my fears are therefore greater, and my hopes less
strong, than those which fill the breasts of the citizens of Taunton.
If ill betide this rising, there will be evil days to follow; and those
who are most known to have taken a part in it will be subject to most
danger. I have no right to counsel you, madam; but I have that claim
upon Mary which bids me warn her what she is doing. If she carries
forth her banner to-morrow, it may be that some hurt she little thinks
of now will fall upon her."
"And if it does, what then?" asked Mistress Mary, raising her head, and
looking so beautiful in her generous enthusiasm that I could only hold
my breath and gaze at her speechlessly. "Dost think, my lord, that it
is only men who are willing to suffer and to die in a noble cause? Nay,
in so thinking thou dost greatly err, thou dost greatly wrong us women.
I would gladly lay down my life for the cause to which I am pledged,
the cause of truth and liberty and righteousness." She turned her eyes
full upon him as she spoke, and then suddenly the light in them, which
had been proud and even tinged with a noble scorn, suddenly softened,
and she laid her hand gently upon his arm, speaking her next words in a
different key, and with a tenderness that I can never hope to make you
hear. "Reginald," she said softly, and in a moment his hand had sought
and covered hers, and I think they both forgot just then that there
were any beside to hear what they said, "thinkest thou that I would
draw back from any cause to which thou hadst pledged thyself? Thinkest
thou that I fear any peril that thou too dost share? Hast thou not
taken up arms in the same good cause? and if peril threaten me, it will
threaten thee also. Shall I fear to share anything with thee? Thou dost
know me wondrous little an thou thinkest that. Together we will live,
or together we will die. What matters it so that we be always together?"
As she spoke these last words, he raised the hand he held and pressed
it to his lips. She did not strive to withdraw it; and we averted our
eyes, that we might not seem to see too much of what is infinitely
sacred--that mystery of human love which is the mainspring of all the
great actions done in the world. There were tears in Miss Blake's eyes,
and Mrs. Musgrave was wiping hers furtively. In a low whisper one of
them said to the other,--
"Was ever love so true and beautiful? My Lord Lonsdale may rage as he
likes an it reaches his ears, it would be sin and shame to strive to
part two such hearts. Heaven has made them for one another. What God
has joined together, let not man strive to put asunder."
Just at this moment there was a little stir outside the door. It was
opened rather suddenly and hastily, and the serving-maid put in her
head and exclaimed in half-angry, half-frightened tones,--
"It is no fault of mine, mistress; he will come in."
And the next minute we saw before us in the gathering twilight the lank
figure and evil face of Mr. Nicholas Blewer.
Now Miss Blake had ever hated and distrusted this man, and of late
days, gaining courage from the approach of the Duke, she had dared to
deny him entrance into her house. But I suppose he had to-day found the
maid gossiping in the streets, as maids will do in times of excitement,
and so had forced his way in, and now stood looking round upon us all
with an evil smile upon his cruel face.
In our part of the room there was not much light; but Mistress Mary and
her gallant lover sat together on the window seat where the western
light shone in upon them, and her white dress and his festal suit of
white and blue caught the last of the evening glow, and seemed to stand
out against the window like a picture. I saw the sudden change which
came over Mr. Blewer's face as he saw who was with Mistress Mary; and
there was something in the tones of his voice that made me long to
spring at his throat and throttle him then and there, so full was it of
covert malice and bitter hostility.
"I trust I do not intrude. I could not deny myself the pleasure of
seeing you all so happy after this strange day's masquerade. Doubtless
it has seemed to you like the dawn of a new day. But, dear ladies, it
were well to remember that all that glitters is not gold. Be not too
sure that your millennium has already come. There be strange chances
and changes in the fortunes of war.--My sweet young mistress, I must
caution you not to be over-rash in the zeal with which you welcome this
new Prince Absalom."
He looked straight at Mistress Mary as he spoke these words, and
approached as if he would take her hand; but she suddenly rose and
slipped it within my lord's arm, and, looking full at Mr. Blewer with a
scorn both in face and voice which I think could not well be surpassed,
said simply,--
"With my affairs, sir, you have no concern. I never wish to see
your face again, nor to hear the sound of your voice. You have been
forbidden this house, and you are here only by a trick. Go! I have
nothing to say to you. I distrust and I despise you. There! you have my
last word."
"Go, sir!" said Miss Blake, taking up the gauntlet so boldly thrown
down; "you have ever been a false friend and a spy in this house. Go!
and never darken our door again."
He turned fiercely upon her, his face hideous in its cruel passion.
"You threaten me, madam! Have a care, else in the days to come you may
bitterly repent the slights you have put upon me. My turn will come all
too soon for you; see if it does not!--And as for you, proud minx--"
wheeling back towards Mistress Mary with flaming eyes. But that was the
last word he spoke in that room. My lord the Viscount sprang forward,
and stood before him with such a noble anger and scorn in his face
that the coward shrank back in affright, as though he feared a blow.
But the Viscount's hand was never raised against him.
"Sir," he said, "you are protected by your sacred calling, little as
you are worthy of it, and by the presence of ladies. But utter one more
word of threatening, and you will be flung into the streets like the
craven cur you are. You with impunity thought to insult and intimidate
defenceless women. You have made a mistake, and out of this house you
go at the bidding of its mistress without more ado. There is the door,
sir. If you do not desire to go forth faster than you came in, go! I
shall not speak twice."
Mr. Blewer's eyes seemed to flash baleful fire, but he did not pause
or hesitate; he was gone before we had time to draw three breaths. The
little maid was heard to slam and bolt the door behind him, but came to
say that it was awful to hear him swearing on the other side.
"He will do us grievous hurt if he ever can," said Mrs. Musgrave,
looking pale.
"He would have done that in any case," answered Miss Blake calmly; "he
was always a wolf in sheep's clothing.--My Lord Vere, I give you great
thanks for your action in this matter. It is only a coward who dares to
threaten women. You showed him in all his cowardice as it was meet it
should be shown him. Methinks he will come here no more, and that Mary
will be safe from his persecution. That is a good step gained."
"But he will be an implacable foe to you, Reginald," breathed Mistress
Mary, softly and timorously, so quickly do the moods of women change.
"Oh, I trust he will never have power to harm you!"
"He will harm us all if he can," answered my lord quietly; "but we will
not begin to fear him yet. Perchance he may find his own fate one of
these days. It may not be given to him to hurt us. And now, ladies, I
must wish you adieu. On the morrow, doubtless, we shall meet. We are
embarked together upon a somewhat perilous voyage. God grant that we
come at last to a fair haven!"
He took Mary in his arms and kissed her before us all, as though he
felt it might be the last time. She clung to him half sobbing, half
laughing, from excess of joy and sorrow mingled. The next minute we
were once more in the streets, and I found myself saying in my heart,
"I would that evil man had not come to mar the harmony of our evening.
I would that so untoward a thing had not happened."