6
July 1685
Claiming
that he was the true Stuart heir and that James II was a Popish usurper, the
Duke of Monmouth set sail for England in June 1685 to incite a 'Protestant'
uprising. Landing in the West Country he received a warm welcome.
On 20 June, before magistrates brought at
sword-point to witness the event, the Duke declared himself King of England,
Scotland and Ireland. As there were now two King James IIs, the new King was to
be known, at least temporarily, as 'King Monmouth'. The original James II
responded by despatching the Earl of Feversham to the West Country with a
Royalist force of 2,500 men. Faced with a real army, the enthusiasm of Monmouth's
following of untrained country yeomen began to wane. By the time they faced
Feversham in battle their numbers had dwindled from 7,000 to 3,000 men. On 5
July, having learned that 'King Monmouth's' rebel forces were at Bridgwater,
Feversham camped nearby at Westonzoyland. In one last, desperate bid for power
Monmouth decided to risk all on that most hazardous of manoeuvres: a surprise
night attack.
As the lights of Bridgwater faded from
sight, Monmouth's men embarked on their night march with grim resolve. Stealth
was essential to their plan. Each man was under strict orders to kill the man
next to him if he spoke or made a sound. With the hooves of their horses
muffled in rags and the wheels of their four gun carriages greased into
silence, the mute rebels hugged the shadows like a phantom army.
While Feversham's officers and cavalry were
billeted in Westonzoyland, his main encampment was on nearby Sedgemoor. The
guns and primary defences of this camp faced west towards Bridgwater, from
whence the Royalists anticipated any attack would come. Westonzoyland was to
the south of them and they were protected from the north and east by deep
drainage dykes (known locally as rhynes) and the treacherous ground of
Sedgemoor itself.
As an added precaution cavalry picquets
from the King's Horse Guards and Sir Frances Compton's Regiment patrolled in
all directions.
Aware that the Royalist guns had been
placed to cover the Bridgwater road, Monmouth's plan was to march across the
moor at night and attack unexpectedly from the northwest. His poorly armed
peasantry would be required to find their way over the difficult moorland in
darkness and silence, avoiding the Royalist picquets and keeping together in
order to deliver an effective concentration of force at the other end. Finally
they would be forced to cross the Bussex Rhyne right under the noses of the
Royalists encamped on the other side. It was a strategy which would have tested
far more experienced troops.
At Peasey Farm on the edge of Sedgemoor
they were forced to leave behind one of their four precious cannons, as a wheel
persisted in squeaking. Worse still, the moon was lost behind a thickening
cloak of fog. Ahead in the impenetrable gloom lay the ancient peat moor; an
arcane landscape of swirling ground mist and deep black pools. To the
superstitious minds of Monmouth's followers it was an unnerving prospect.
With their fears magnified by the mist, the
night-blinded rebels were soon reduced to feeling their way. In this manner
they advanced, 'much incumbered, and retarded, by the narrowness of the lanes'
into the dank environs of the deeper moor. Twice, during the course of that
night, Sir Frances Compton's cavalry picquets were to pass within a stone's
throw of the silent line of soldiers. Twice they failed to spot them, standing
like statues in the impenetrable shadows.
MIDNIGHT BATTLE
Monmouth's plan began to unravel after
midnight. As the rebels filed across the Langmoor Rhyne, a lone picquet from
Compton's regiment became aware of the ghostly shuffle of thousands of feet.
Firing his pistol, he rode hell-for-leather, first to warn Compton and then to
the Royalist camp behind the Bussex Rhyne. There he bellowed no less than
twenty times 'Beat your drums, the enemy is come. For the Lord's sake, beat your
drums'.
In danger of losing the advantage of
surprise, Monmouth ordered Lord Grey to ride ahead with the cavalry, cross the
Bussex Rhyne (via the Upper Plungeon bridge) and attack the enemy's right
flank. Meanwhile he would hurry the infantry forward to ' ... finish what the
horse had begun, before the King's horse or cannon could get in order's In
their rush to obey, Lord Grey's cavalry charged off into the mist without a
thought for their poor local guide Benjamin Godfrey, who rather optimistically
chased after them on foot. As he was the only one who knew the exact location
of the Upper Plungeon, it would have been prudent to wait for him.
Lord Grey's cavalry collided with Compton's
patrol, also racing back towards the Royalist camp. In the brief, chaotic
skirmish which followed the rebel horse were scattered; many vanishing into the
misty night never to return. The rest became divided. By the time Grey found
the elusive Bussex Rhyne, some 300 of his remaining force had fallen behind. To
make matters worse his Lordship had no idea of the whereabouts of the Upper
Plungeon crossing. Haphazardly turning right he began a fruitless search;
oblivious to the fact that he was now traversing the frontage of the Royalist
camp on the other side of the rhyne.
Lining the opposite bank were Feversham's
dishevelled soldiers, still struggling into their uniforms. As they became
aware of the strange, shadowy figures looming out of the mist, they challenged
the riders to identify which side they were for. Realising too late their
horrendous mistake, the rebels replied ambiguously that they were for 'The
King'. Not satisfied with this reply, Captain Berkley of the 1st Guards asked
'What King?' and received the surprising answer 'Monmouth ... God with us'. Shouting
back 'Take this with you', Berkley commanded the Guards to open fire. Unable to
withstand the successive volleys which now greeted them all along the rhyne,
Grey's cavalry reeled back towards their own infantry. This terrified
Monmouth's foot soldiers who, 'supposing them to be enemy coming from the left
wing of the King's army', fired at them 'with some execution.’
In the meantime the missing 300 rebel horse
finally blundered up to the rhyne and, turning the opposite way from Grey,
stumbled upon the elusive Upper Plungeon crossing. Sadly for them the bridge
had already been located by Compton's patrol who, as much from surprised fear
as gallantry, now violently assaulted them with pistols and swords. Forced to
fall back, the last of the rebel horse also collided with Monmouth's infantry.
Surviving this additional fright, the rebel
infantry pressed on steering themselves by a strange pink glow in the mist
ahead. Only when they drew 'within about eighty paces' did they realise, with
some shock, that this glow was caused by the lit matches of enemy musketeers in
Dumbarton's Regiment (the only Royalist regiment at Sedgemoor still using the
old matchlocks). Already emotionally drained by the difficulties and perils of
the march, the rebels were now subjected to the very real dangers of a close
volley. With the firefight escalating along their lines, they lost momentum and
their courage began to fail. Monmouth had expected too much of raw troops.
Though they stood and bore 'very considerable execution' from the guns of their
enemies, not one regiment could now be induced by any means to advance another
step.
Meanwhile the Royalist defence consolidated
and Feversham's cavalry ventured over the Upper Plungeon to skirmish with the
rebel left. This was enough to persuade Monmouth that his dream had faltered
within a 'halfe musket shot’ of his objective. Before his enemies could
encompass him, the would-be king 'put off his arms, and taking one hundred
guineas from his servant, left his foot still fighting, and went away'.
By sunrise all effective resistance was
over. As soon as it was light, Feversham's infantry swarmed over the Bussex
Rhyne and scattered the remaining rebels. Through most of that long day
Monmouth's supporters were tirelessly pursued and 'creeping into hedges and
cornfields were started and shot like game by the King's soldiers’. About 1,000
rebels lost their lives at Sedgemoor, while Royalist casualties numbered less
than 200.
When Monmouth was captured nine days later,
he had already despaired of life. In his pocket book he had written a prayer:
'I ask not of thee any longer the things of this world; neither Power nor
Honours, nor Riches, nor Pleasures. No, my God, dispose of them to whom thou
pleasest, so that you give me mercy.’ However things stood between Monmouth and
his maker, the ill-starred Duke was to meet no mercy at the hands of King James
II. On 15th July 1685 he was beheaded on Tower Hill.
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