Although indifferent as a military commander, and ill qualified for a politician, Argyll was firm in prison, bravely confronting death, solely occupied regarding the evils that he had brought upon his clan. Disdainful of suffering, piously absorbed in the thought of soon appearing before his Maker, Argyll inspired with respect all who approached him. "God has softened their hearts," he said; "I did not expect so much kindness." He was not subjected to the torture. "I have implicated no one," wrote the duke, the morning of his execution (June 30th), "God, in his mercy, has marvellously sustained me." He walked to the scaffold, whence he wrote to his wife, "My heart, God is unchangeable; He hath always been good and gracious to me; and no place alters Him. Forgive me all my faults; and now comfort thyself in Him, in whom only true comfort is to be found. The Lord be with thee, bless and comfort thee, my dearest, adieu!"
Rumboldt died several days before his chief. Seized like him by a band of troops, he fought so valiantly that there scarcely remained a breath of life in his body. Supported under the gibbet by two men, he raised his dying voice that he might be heard by the people: "I die faithful to that which I have believed all my life," cried he. "I have always detested Papacy and tyranny; I have always been a friend to limited monarchy, but I have never believed that Providence sent a handful of men into the world booted and spurred, to ride, and millions of other beings saddled and bridled, to be ridden. I desire to bless and magnify God's holy name that I am not here for any wrong that I have done, but for adhering to His cause in an evil day. If each hair in my head were a man, in this quarrel I would venture them all." The drum of the soldiers drowned his last words. The Rye House plot was not forgotten in the repentance of the old soldier of Cromwell. "I have always held assassination in horror!" he said; nevertheless it was under his roof that they conspired to ambuscade King Charles and the Duke of York. Ayloffe opened a vein; he was carried to London and questioned by James himself. "You will find it to your advantage to be frank with me," said the king; "you know that it is in my power to pardon you." "It may be in your power, but it is not in your nature!" replied the prisoner. Many people were punished in Scotland; a great number of Campbells were executed without a trial. The Scotch rebels had not yet suffered the penalties of their rebellion when England was already agitated by the descent of Monmouth, who landed at the port of Lyme upon the coast of Dorset. Having escaped from Holland like Argyll, by the connivance of the commissaries of the admiralty at Amsterdam, he had been detained by bad weather, and it was not until the 11th of June that he reached the soil of England. The cry was raised, "A Monmouth! a Monmouth! The Protestant religion!" A declaration of the most libelous character was read at the market-cross; it was the work of Ferguson. James was accused of having burned London, having strangled Sir Edmondbury Godfrey, having cut the throat of Essex, and having poisoned King Charles. It was for all these crimes that he was declared to have forfeited his right to the throne, in the name of the menaced religion. The Duke of Monmouth, who might have proved his legitimate birth and claim to the crown, made no pretensions to any title except that of captain-general of the English Protestants-in-arms against tyranny and Papacy. The people of the west of England had not forgotten the young man who had passed triumphantly through the towns and villages so recently, by the acclamations of the people. The peasants flocked in large numbers to his standard; about fifteen hundred men had already assembled around him, when he sent, on the 14th of June, a detachment against Bridport. The royal troops began to assemble.
Parliament hurled declaration upon declaration against the pretensions of Monmouth. King James profited by the alarm of the Houses to obtain a subsidy; the members withdrew to their homes to urge the people to remain faithful to the royal cause. The Duke of Albemarle, son of General Monk, commanded a body of militia in the west; Churchill and Lord Feversham advanced against the insurgents at the head of the regular troops.
Lord Grey was easily repulsed before Bridport, and fled in a cowardly manner. Fletcher of Saltoun, having killed his adversary in a quarrel, was obliged on account of the public indignation to seek refuge on board the boats of the duke, whence he fled to Hungary, where he fought against the Turks. Nevertheless, Monmouth advanced continually; Albemarle dared not give him battle, so many of his troops seemed ill-disposed. The city of Taunton opened its gates to the insurgents; the population was wealthy, had been devoted to Parliament during the civil war, and numbered a great many Nonconformists; the daughters of the best families came before the duke offering him a standard and a Bible. He received the holy volume with reverence. "I come," he said, "to defend the truths contained in this book, and to seal them, if it must be so, with my blood." Monmouth thus announced himself "Defender of the Faith"—an integral part of the royal titles. He soon went further, and on the 20th of June was proclaimed king at Taunton, not without some repugnance on his part, history has assured us. In order to avoid the confusion which must inevitably arise from his name (James II.), the most of his followers saluted him with the strange title of King Monmouth. From village to village the proclamation was repeated, to the great indignation of the partisans of the Princess Mary. The great lords and country gentlemen failed to join this small army of rebels.
The peasants and workmen of the villages were for the most part without arms; they had begun their undertaking at the wrong end, as the Vendéan peasants did a hundred years later. Monmouth lacked money; he meditated a surprise upon Bristol, where he hoped to find abundant resources; but the king's troops had already taken possession of that city, on their return through Wiltshire; the rebels in vain summoned Bath to open its gates. Obliged to seek refuge at Philips-Norton, into which the Duke of Grafton had forced an entrance, Monmouth felt his courage abandoning him; he thought of withdrawing and seeking safety on the Continent, in place of the glory which he had labored for in vain. He sought the advice of his adherents: Lord Grey urged him not to abandon the poor peasants who had risked all for him. Monmouth gave up his contemplated flight, but was uncertain what plan of campaign to adopt, wandering from Wells to Bridgewater, when the royal troops, commanded by Feversham, appeared in view of the insurgent army. Four thousand men were encamped upon the plain of Sedgemoor; the duke observing from afar the standards of the regiment of Dumbarton, but recently so familiar to him. "I know those men," sadly remarked the young invader; "they will fight; if I had but them, all would go well."
Feversham was an indifferent general; Monmouth possessed more than ordinary military talents, but it mattered little that his positions were well chosen and his night attack well planned; he commanded men badly armed, inexperienced and undisciplined, and no matter how great their courage, it was not enough to enable them to withstand the attack of regular troops and the discharges of artillery to which they were soon unable to respond.