For Faith and Freedom

by Walter Besant

  CHAPTER VIII.

  A ROYAL PROGRESS.

  When all the boys were gone the time was quiet, indeed, for thosewho were left behind. My mother's wheel went spinning still, but Ithink that some kindness on the part of Mr. Boscorel as well as SirChristopher 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 thespinning-wheel, but there was so much request of me (to replace theboys) that I was nearly all the day either with Sir Christopher, orwith Madam, or with Mr. Boscorel.

  Up to the year 1680, or thereabouts, I paid no more attention topolitical matters than any young woman with no knowledge may besupposed to give. Yet, of course, I was on the side of liberty, bothcivil and religious. How should that be otherwise, my father beingsuch as he was, muzzled for all these years, the work of his lifeprevented and destroyed?

  It was in that year, however, that I became a most zealous partisanand lover of the Protestant cause in the way that I am about torelate.

  Everybody knows that there is no part of Great Britain (not evenScotland) where the Protestant religion hath supporters more stoutand staunch than Somerset and Devonshire. I hope I shall not beaccused of disloyalty to Queen Anne, under whom we now flourish andare happy, when I say that in the West of England we had grown--Iknow not how--to regard the late misguided Duke of Monmouth asthe champion of the Protestant faith. When, therefore, the Dukecame into the West of England in the year 1680, five years beforehis rebellion, he was everywhere received with acclamations andby crowds who gathered round him to witness their loyalty to theProtestant faith. They came also to gaze upon the gallant commanderwho had defeated both the French and the Dutch, and was said (buterroneously) to be as wise as he was brave, and as religious as hewas beautiful to look upon. As for his wisdom, those who knew himbest have since assured the world that he had little or none, hisjudgment being always swayed and determined for him by crafty andsubtle persons seeking their own interests. And as for his religion,whatever may have been his profession, good works were wanting--asis now very well known. But at that time, and among our people, thewicked ways of Courts were only half understood. And there can be nodoubt that, whether he was wise or religious, the show of affectionwith which the Duke was received upon this journey, turned his headand caused him to think that these people would rally round him ifhe called upon them. And I suppose that there is nothing which moredelights a Prince than to believe that his friends are ready even tolay down their lives in his behalf.

  At that time the country was greatly agitated by anxiety concerningthe succession. Those who were nearest the throne knew that KingCharles was secretly a Papist. We in the country had not learnedthat dismal circumstance; yet we knew the religion of the Duke ofYork. Thousands there were, like Sir Christopher himself, who nowlamented the return of the King, considering the disgraces whichhad fallen upon the country. But what was done could not be undone.They, therefore, asked themselves if the nation would suffer anavowed Papist to ascend a Protestant throne. If not, what shouldbe done? And here, as everybody knows, was opinion divided. Forsome declared that the Duke of Monmouth, had he his rights, was thelawful heir; and others maintained, on the King's own words, thathe was never married to Mistress Lucy Waters. Therefore, they wouldhave the Duke of York's daughter, a Protestant princess, marriedto William of Orange, proclaimed Queen. The Monmouth party werestrong, however, and it was even said--Mr. Henry Clark, ministerof Crewkerne, wrote a pamphlet to prove it--that a poor woman,Elizabeth Parcet by name, touched the Duke (he being ignorant of thething) for King's Evil, and was straightway healed. Sir Christopherlaughed at the story, saying that the King himself, whether he wasdescended from a Scottish Stuart or from King Solomon himself,could no more cure that dreadful disease than the seventh son of aseventh son (as some foolish people believe), or the rubbing of thepart affected by the hand of a man that had been hanged (as othersdo foolishly believe), which is the reason why on the gibbets thehanging corpses are always handless.

  It was noised abroad, beforehand, that the Duke was going to ridethrough the West Country in order to visit his friends. The progress(it was more like a Royal progress than the journey of a privatenobleman) began with his visit to Mr. Thomas Thynne, of LongleatHouse. It is said that his chief reason for going to that house wasto connect himself with the obligation of the tenant of Longleatto give the King and his suite a night's lodging when they visitedthat part of the country. Mr. Thynne, who entertained the Duke onthis occasion, was the same who was afterwards murdered in London byCount Konigsmark. They called him 'Tom of Ten Thousand.' The poetDryden hath written of this progress, in that poem wherein, underthe 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 wasimmediately afterwards deprived of the command of the WiltshireMilitia.

  'Son-in-law,' said Sir Christopher, 'I would ride out to meetthe Duke in respect to his Protestant professions. As for anypretensions he may have to the succession, I know nothing of them.'

  'I will ride with you, Sir,' said the Rector, 'to meet the son ofthe King. And as for any Protestant professions, I know nothing ofthem. His Grace still remains, I believe, within the pale of theChurch as by law established. Let us all ride out together.'

  Seeing that my father also rode with them, it is certain thatthere were many and diverse reasons why so many thousands gatheredtogether to welcome the Duke. Madam, Robin's mother, out of her kindheart, invited me to accompany her, and gave me a white frock towear and blue ribbons to put into it.

  We made, with our servants, a large party. We were also joined bymany of the tenants, with their sons and wives, so that when we cameto Ilchester, Sir Christopher was riding at the head of a greatcompany of sixty or more, and very fine they looked, all providedwith 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 windand turn about that they add two miles at least to the distance.Fortunately, the season was summer--namely, August--when the sun ishottest 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 knewnot for certain at what time the Duke would arrive at Ilchester.When we came forth from the Manor House the farmers were alreadywaiting for us, and so, after greetings from his Honour, they fellin and followed. We first took the narrow and rough lane whichleads to the high road; but, when we reached it, we found it fullof people riding, like ourselves, or trudging, staff in hand, allin the same direction. They were going to gaze upon the ProtestantDuke, who, if he had his way, would restore freedom of conscience,and abolish the Acts against the Nonconformists. We rode throughMarston Magna, but only the old people and the little children wereleft there; in the fields the ripe corn stood waiting to be cut; inthe farmyards the beasts were standing idle; all the hinds were goneto Ilchester to see the Duke. And I began to fear lest when we gotto Ilchester we should be too late. At Marston we left the main roadand entered upon a road (call it a track rather than a road) acrossthe country, which is here flat and open. In winter it is miry andboggy, but it was now dry and hard. This path brought us again tothe main road in two miles, or thereabouts, and here we were but amile or so from Ilchester. Now, such a glorious sight as awaited ushere I never expected to see. Once again, after five years, I wasto see a welcome still more splendid; but nothing can ever effacefrom my memory that day. For first, the roads, as I have said, werethronged with rustics, and next, when we rode into the town wefound it filled with gentlemen most richly dressed, and ladies sobeautiful, and with such splendid attire that it dazzled my eyes tolook upon them. It was a grand thing to see the gentlemen take offtheir hats and
cry, 'Huzza for brave Sir Christopher!' Everybodyknew 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 thismark of honour.

  The town which, though ancient, is now decayed and hath but fewgood houses in it, was made glorious with bright-coloured cloths,carpets, flags, and ribbons. There were bands of music; the bellsof the church were ringing; the main street was like a fair withbooths and stalls, and in the market-place there were benches set upwith white canvas covering, where sat ladies in their fine dresses,some of them with naked necks, unseemly to behold. Yet it was prettyto see the long curls lying on their white shoulders. Some of themsat with half-closed eyes, which, I have since learned, is thefashion at Court. Mostly, they wore satin petticoats, and demi-gownsalso of satin, furnished with a long train. Our place was besidethe old Cross with its gilt ball and vane. The people who filledthe streets came from Sherborne, from Bruton, from Shepton, fromGlastonbury, from Langport, and from Somerton, and from all thevillages round. It was computed that there were twenty thousand ofthem. Two thousand at least rode out to meet the Duke, and followedafter him when he rode through the town. And, oh! the shouting as hedrew near, the clashing of the bells, the beating of the drums, theblowing of the horns, the firing of the guns, as if the more noisethey made the greater would be the Duke.

  Since that day I have not wondered at the power which a Prince hathof drawing men after him, even to the death. Never was heir to theCrown received with such joy and welcome as was this young man, whohad no title to the Crown and was base born. Yet, because he was abrave young man, and comely above all other young men, gracious ofspeech, and ready with a laugh and a joke, and because he was theson 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-fiveyears of age. 'At that age,' Mr. Boscorel used to say, 'one woulddesire to remain if the body of clay were immortal. For then thevolatile humours of youth have been dissipated. The time of follieshas 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 hathbeen reached, if wisdom is ever to be attained. But wisdom,' hewould add, 'is a quality generally lacking at every period of life.'

  'When last I saw the Duke,' he told us while we waited, 'was fifteenyears ago, in St. James's Park. He was walking with the King, hisfather, who had his arm about his son's shoulders, and regarded himfondly. At that time he was, indeed, a very David for beauty. Isuppose that he hath not kept that singular loveliness which madehim the darling of the Court. That, indeed, were not a thing tobe desired or expected. He is now the hero of Maestricht, and theChancellor of Cambridge University.'

  And then all hats were pulled off, and the ladies waved theirhandkerchiefs, and the men shouted, and you would have thought thebells would have pulled the old tower down with the vehemence oftheir ringing; for the Duke was riding into the town.

  He was no longer a beautiful boy, but a man at whose aspect everyheart was softened. His enemies, in his presence, could not blamehim; his friends, at sight of him, could not praise him, of suchsingular beauty was he possessed. Softness, gentleness, kindness,and goodwill reigned in his large soft eyes: graciousness sat uponhis lips, and all his face seemed to smile as he rode slowly betweenthe lane formed by the crowd on either hand.

  What said the Poet Dryden in that same poem of his from which I havealready 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 insignificantperson in the whole crowd. It chanced that as the Duke came near thespot beside the Cross where we were standing, the press in frontobliged him to stop. He looked about him while he waited, smilingstill and bowing to the people. Presently his eyes fell upon me, andhe whispered a gentleman who rode beside him, yet a little in therear. This gentleman laughed and dismounted. What was my confusionwhen he advanced towards me and spoke to me!

  'Madam,' he said, calling me 'Madam!' 'His Grace would say one wordto 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 bekissed.

  'Fair White Rose of Somerset,' said his Grace--twas the mostmusical voice in the world, and the softest. 'Fair White Rose'--herepeated the words--'let me be assured of the welcome of Ilchesterby a kiss from your sweet lips, which I will return in token of mygratitude.'

  All the people who heard these words shouted as if they would burstthemselves asunder. And the gentleman who had led me forth lifted meso that my foot rested on the Duke's boot, while his Grace laid hisarm 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, 'myname is Alice. I am the daughter of Dr. Comfort Eykin, an ejectedminister. I have come with Sir Christopher Challis, who standsyonder.'

  'Sir Christopher!' said the Duke, as if surprised. 'Let me shakehands with Sir Christopher. I take it kindly, Sir Christopher, thatyou have so far honoured me.' So he gave the old man, who steppedforward bareheaded, his hand, still holding me by the waist. 'I praythat we may meet again, Sir Christopher, and that before long.' Thenhe drew a gold ring, set with an emerald, from his forefinger, andplaced it upon mine, 'God grant it bring thee luck, sweet child,' hesaid, 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 placeamong my friends. Yet Sir Christopher was pleased at the noticetaken of him by the Duke, and my father was not displeased at thepart I had been made to play.

  When the Duke had ridden through the town, many of the peoplefollowed after, as far as White Lackington, which is close toIlminster. So many were they that they took down a great pieceof the park paling to admit them all; and there, under a Spanishchestnut-tree, the Duke drank to the health of all the people.

  At Ilminster, whither he rode a few days later; at Chard, a FordAbbey, at Colyton, and at Exeter--wherever he went he was receivedwith the same shouts and acclamations. It is no wonder therefore,that he should believe, a few years later, that those people wouldfollow him when he drew the sword for the Protestant religion.

  One thing is certain--that in the West of England, from the progressof Monmouth to the Rebellion, there was uneasiness, with an anxiouslooking forward to troubled times. The people of Taunton kept asa day of holiday and thanksgiving the anniversary of the raisingof Charles's siege. When the Mayor, in 1683, tried to stop thecelebration, they nearly stoned him to death. After this, Sir GeorgeJeffreys, afterwards Lord Jeffreys, who took the spring circuit in1684, was called upon to report on the loyalty of the West Country.He reported that the gentry were loyal and well disposed. But heknew not the mind of the weavers and spinners of the country.

  '_Fair White Rose of Somerset, let me be assured by akiss from your sweet lips._']

  It was this progress; the sight of the Duke's sweet face; hisflattery of me, and his soft words, and the ring he gave me,which made me from that moment such a partisan of his cause asonly a woman can be. Women cannot fight, but they can encouragethose who do; and they can not only ardently desire, but they candespise and contemn those who think otherwise. I cannot say thatit 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; thatI rejoiced when they did so; and that I should never have forgivenRobin had he joined the forces of the Papist King.