Chapter XVI. Of our Coming to Taunton
The purple shadows of evening had fallen over the countryside, and thesun had sunk behind the distant Quantock and Brendon Hills, as our rudecolumn of rustic infantry plodded through Curry Rivell, Wrantage, andHenlade. At every wayside cottage and red-tiled farmhouse the peopleswarmed out us we passed, with jugs full of milk or beer, shaking handswith our yokels, and pressing food and drink upon them. In the littlevillages old and young came buzzing to greet us, and cheered long andloud for King Monmouth and the Protestant cause. The stay-at-homes weremostly elderly folks and children, but here and there a young labourer,whom hesitation or duties had kept back, was so carried away by ourmartial appearance, and by the visible trophies of our victory, that hesnatched up a weapon and joined our ranks.
The skirmish had reduced our numbers, but it had done much to turn ourrabble of peasants into a real military force. The leadership of Saxon,and his stern, short words of praise or of censure had done even more.The men kept some sort of formation, and stepped together briskly in acompact body. The old soldier and I rode at the head of the column, withMaster Pettigrue still walking between us. Then came the cartful ofour dead, whom we were carrying with us to insure their decent burial.Behind this walked two score of scythe and sickle men, with their rudeweapons over their shoulders, preceding the waggon in which the woundedwere carried. This was followed by the main body of the peasants,and the rear was brought up by ten or twelve men under the command ofLockarby and Sir Gervas, mounted upon captured chargers, and wearing thebreastplates, swords, and carbines of the dragoons.
I observed that Saxon rode with his chin upon his shoulder, castingcontinual uneasy glances behind him, and halting at every piece ofrising ground to make sure that there were no pursuers at our heels. Itwas not until, after many weary miles of marching, the lights of Tauntoncould be seen twinkling far off in the valley beneath us that he at lastheaved a deep sigh of relief, and expressed his belief that all dangerwas over.
'I am not prone to be fearful upon small occasion,' he remarked, 'buthampered as we are with wounded men and prisoners, it might have puzzledPetrinus himself to know what we should have done had the cavalryovertaken us. I can now, Master Pettigrue, smoke my pipe in peace,without pricking up my ears at every chance rumble of a wheel or shoutof a village roisterer.'
'Even had they pursued us,' said the minister stoutly, 'as long as thehand of the Lord shall shield us, why should we fear them?'
'Aye, aye!' Saxon answered impatiently, 'but the devil prevaileth attimes. Were not the chosen people themselves overthrown and led intocaptivity? How say you, Clarke?'
'One such skirmish is enough for a day,' I remarked. 'Faith! if insteadof charging us they had continued that carbine fire, we must either havecome forth or been shot where we lay.'
'For that reason I forbade our friends with the muskets to answer it,'said Saxon. 'Our silence led them to think that we had but a pistol ortwo among us, and so brought them to charge us. Thus our volley becamethe more terrifying since it was unexpected. I'll wager there was not aman amongst them who did not feel that he had been led into a trap. Markyou how the rogues wheeled and fled with one accord, as though it hadbeen part of their daily drill!'
'The peasants stood to it like men,' I remarked.
'There is nothing like a tincture of Calvinism for stiffening a line ofbattle,' said Saxon. 'Look at the Swede when he is at home. What morehonest, simple-hearted fellow could you find, with no single soldierlyvirtue, save that he could put away more spruce beer than you would careto pay for. Yet if you do but cram him with a few strong, homely texts,place a pike in his hand, and give him a Gustavus to lead him, there isno infantry in the world that can stand against him. On the other hand,I have seen young Turks, untrained to arms, strike in on behalf of theKoran as lustily as these brave fellows behind us did for the Biblewhich Master Pettigrue held up in front of them.'
'I trust, sir,' said the minister gravely, 'that you do not, bythese remarks, intend to institute any comparison between our sacredscriptures and the writings of the impostor Mahomet, or to infer thatthere is any similarity between the devil-inspired fury of the infidelSaracens and the Christian fortitude of the struggling faithful!'
'By no means,' Saxon answered, grinning at me over the minister's head.'I was but showing how closely the Evil One can imitate the workings ofthe Spirit.'
'Too true, Master Saxon, too true!' the clergyman answered sadly. 'Amidthe conflict and discord it is hard to pick out the true path. ButI marvel much that amidst the snares and temptations that beset asoldier's life you have kept yourself unsullied, with your heart stillset upon the true faith.'
'It was through no strength of mine own,' said Saxon piously.
'In very truth, such men as you are much needed in Monmouth's army,'Master Joshua exclaimed. 'They have there several, as I understand, fromHolland, Brandenburg, and Scotland, who have been trained in arms, butwho care so little for the cause which we uphold that they curse andswear in a manner that affrights the peasants, and threatens to calldown a judgment upon the army. Others there are who cling close to thetrue faith, and have been born again among the righteous; but alas! theyhave had no experience of camps and fields. Our blessed Master can workby means of weak instruments, yet the fact remains that a man may bea chosen light in a pulpit, and yet be of little avail in an onslaughtsuch as we have seen this day. I can myself arrange my discourse to thesatisfaction of my flock, so that they grieve when the sand is run out;(Note E. Appendix) but I am aware that this power would stand me inlittle stead when it came to the raising of barricades and the use ofcarnal weapons. In this way it comes about, in the army of the faithful,that those who are fit to lead are hateful to the people, while those towhose words the people will hearken know little of war. Now we have thisday seen that you are ready of head and of hand, of much experience ofbattle, and yet of demure and sober life, full of yearnings after theword, and strivings against Apollyon. I therefore repeat that you shallbe as a very Joshua amongst them, or as a Samson, destined to teardown the twin pillars of Prelacy and Popery, so as to bury this corruptgovernment in its fall.'
Decimus Saxon's only reply to this eulogy was one of those groans whichwere supposed, among the zealots, to be the symbol of intense innerconflict and emotion. So austere and holy was his expression, so solemnhis demeanour, and so frequent the upturnings of his eyes, claspingof his hands, and other signs which marked the extreme sectary, thatI could not but marvel at the depths and completeness of the hypocrisywhich had cast so complete a cloak over his rapacious self. For verymischief's sake I could not refrain from reminding him that there wasone at least who valued his professions at their real value.
'Have you told the worthy minister,' said I, 'of your captivity amongstthe Mussulmans, and of the noble way in which you did uphold theChristian faith at Stamboul?'
'Nay,' cried our companion, 'I would fain hear the tale. I marvel muchthat one so faithful and unbending as thyself was ever let loose by theunclean and bloodthirsty followers of Mahomet.'
'It does not become me to tell the tale,' Saxon answered with greatpresence of mind, casting at the same time a most venomous sidelongglance at me. 'It is for my comrades in misfortune and not for me todescribe what I endured for the faith. I have little doubt, MasterPettigrue, that you would have done as much had you been there. The townof Taunton lies very quiet beneath us, and there are few lights for soearly an hour, seeing that it has not yet gone ten. It is clear thatMonmouth's forces have not reached it yet, else had there been some showof camp-fires in the valley; for though it is warm enough to lie out inthe open, the men must have fires to cook their victual.'
'The army could scarce have come so far,' said the pastor. 'They have,I hear, been much delayed by the want of arms and by the need ofdiscipline. Bethink ye, it was on the eleventh day of the month thatMonmouth landed at Lyme, and it is now but the night of the fourteenth.There was much to be done in the time.'
'Four whol
e days!' growled the old soldier. 'Yet I expected no better,seeing that they have, so far as I can hear, no tried soldiers amongstthem. By my sword, Tilly or Wallenstein would not have taken four daysto come from Lyme to Taunton, though all James Stuart's cavalry barredthe way. Great enterprises are not pushed through in this haltingfashion. The blow should be sharp and sudden. But tell me, worthy sir,all that you know about the matter, for we have heard little upon theroad save rumour and surmise. Was there not some fashion of onfall atBridport?'
'There was indeed some shedding of blood at that place. The first twodays were consumed, as I understand, in the enrolling of the faithfuland the search for arms wherewith to equip them. You may well shake yourhead, for the hours were precious. At last five hundred men were brokeninto some sort of order, and marched along the coast under command ofLord Grey of Wark and Wade the lawyer. At Bridport they were opposedby the red Dorset militia and part of Portman's yellow coats. If allbe true that is said, neither side had much to boast of. Grey and hiscavalry never tightened bridle until they were back in Lyme once more,though it is said their flight had more to do with the hard mouthsof their horses than with the soft hearts of the riders. Wade and hisfootmen did bravely, and had the best of it against the King's troops.There was much outcry against Grey in the camp, but Monmouth canscarce afford to be severe upon the only nobleman who hath joined hisstandard.'
'Pshaw!' cried Saxon peevishly. 'There was no great stock of noblemen inCromwell's army, I trow, and yet they held their own against the King,who had as many lords by him as there are haws in a thicket. If ye havethe people on your side, why should ye crave for these bewigged finegentlemen, whose white hands and delicate rapiers are of as much serviceas so many ladies' bodkins?'
'Faith!' said I, 'if all the fops are as careless for their lives as ourfriend Sir Gervas, I could wish no better comrades in the field.'
'In good sooth, yes!' cried Master Pettigrue heartily. 'What though hebe clothed in a Joseph's coat of many colours, and hath strange turnsof speech! No man could have fought more stoutly or shown a bolder frontagainst the enemies of Israel. Surely the youth hath good in his heart,and will become a seat of grace and a vessel of the Spirit, thoughat present he be entangled in the net of worldly follies and carnalvanities.'
'It is to be hoped so,' quoth Saxon devoutly. 'And what else can youtell us of the revolt, worthy sir?'
'Very little, save that the peasants have flocked in in such numbersthat many have had to be turned away for want of arms. Every tithing-manin Somersetshire is searching for axes and scythes. There is nota blacksmith but is at his forge from morn to night at work uponpike-heads. There are six thousand men of a sort in the camp, butnot one in five carries a musket. They have advanced, I hear, uponAxminster, where they must meet the Duke of Albemarle, who hath set outfrom Exeter with four thousand of the train bands.'
'Then we shall be too late, after all,' I exclaimed.
'You will have enough of battles before Monmouth exchanges hisriding-hat for a crown, and his laced roquelaure for the royal purple,'quoth Saxon. 'Should our worthy friend here be correctly informed andsuch an engagement take place, it will but be the prologue to the play.When Feversham and Churchill come up with the King's own troops, it isthen that Monmouth takes the last spring, that lands him either on thethrone or the scaffold.'
Whilst this conversation had been proceeding we had been walking ourhorses down the winding track which leads along the eastern slope ofTaunton Deane. For some time past we had been able to see in the valleybeneath us the lights of Taunton town and the long silver strip ofthe river Tone. The moon was shining brightly in a cloudless heaven,throwing a still and peaceful radiance over the fairest and richest ofEnglish valleys. Lordly manorial houses, pinnacled towers, clusters ofnestling thatch-roofed cottages, broad silent stretches of cornland,dark groves with the glint of lamp-lit windows shining from theirrecesses--it all lay around us like the shadowy, voiceless landscapeswhich stretch before us in our dreams. So calm and so beautiful was thescene that we reined up our horses at the bend of the pathway, the tiredand footsore peasants came to a halt, while even the wounded raisedthemselves in the waggon in order to feast their eyes upon this land ofpromise. Suddenly, in the stillness, a strong fervent voice was heardcalling upon the source of all life to guard and preserve that whichHe had created. It was Joshua Pettigrue, who had flung himself upon hisknees, and who, while asking for future guidance, was returning thanksfor the safe deliverance which his flock had experienced from the manyperils which had beset them upon their journey. I would, my children,that I had one of those magic crystals of which we have read, that Imight show you that scene. The dark figures of the horsemen, the grave,earnest bearing of the rustics as they knelt in prayer or leaned upontheir rude weapons, the half-cowed, half-sneering expression of thecaptive dragoons, the line of white pain-drawn faces that peepedover the side of the waggon, and the chorus of groans, cries, andejaculations which broke in upon the steady earnest voice of the pastor.Above us the brilliant heavens, beneath us the beautiful sloping valley,stretching away in the white moonlight as far as the eye could reach.Could I but paint such a scene with the brush of a Verrio or Laguerre, Ishould have no need to describe it in these halting and feeble words.
Master Pettigrue had concluded his thanksgiving, and was in the act ofrising to his feet, when the musical peal of a bell rose up from thesleeping town before us. For a minute or more it rose and fell in itssweet clear cadence. Then a second with a deeper, harsher note joinedin, and then a third, until he air was filled with the merry jangling.At the same time a buzz of shouting or huzzaing could be heard, whichincreased and spread until it swelled into a mighty uproar. Lightsflashed in the windows, drums beat, and the whole place was astir. Thesesudden signs of rejoicing coming at the heels of the minister's prayerwere seized upon as a happy omen by the superstitious peasants, who setup a glad cry, and pushing onwards were soon within the outskirts of thetown.
The footpaths and causeway were black with throngs of the townsfolk,men, women, and children, many of whom were bearing torches andlanthorns, all flocking in the same direction. Following them we foundourselves in the market-place, where crowds of apprentice lads werepiling up faggots for a bonfire, while others were broaching two orthree great puncheons of ale. The cause of this sudden outbreak ofrejoicing was, we learned, that news had just come in that Albemarle'sDevonshire militia had partly deserted and partly been defeated atAxminster that very morning. On hearing of our own successful skirmishthe joy of the people became more tumultuous than ever. They rushed inamongst us, pouring blessings on our heads, in their strange burringwest-country speech, and embracing our horses as well as ourselves.Preparations were soon made for our weary companions. A long empty woolwarehouse, thickly littered with straw, was put at their disposal, witha tub of ale and a plentiful supply of cold meats and wheaten bread.For our own part we made our way down East Street through the clamoroushand-shaking crowd to the White Hart Inn, where after a hasty meal wewere right glad to seek our couches. Late into the night, however, ourslumbers were disturbed by the rejoicings of the mob, who, having burnedthe effigies of Lord Sunderland and of Gregory Alford, Mayor of Lyme,continued to sing west-country songs and Puritan hymns into the smallhours of the morning.
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