“Good lack! Are you a stranger? That is our majority. Ours!”
He twirled a bunch of white ribbons in my face by way of explanation and then made off towards the scene of a new excitement. I followed his direction and began to hear the cry “Marmaduke, Marmaduke,” which was swelling farther down the street. I followed the crowd which was all moving in one direction now, and elbowed my way along with the others. Men, women and children pressed eagerly forward in the direction of a low building with a peaked gable that stood on the corner of the next street. Soon I fell into a walk; and then we were so jammed together that I had to fight my way tooth and nail to gain a yard. I looked over the tops of people’s heads to where a coach drawn by six white horses had been brought to a stand. A lady had stepped half out of the vehicle and was about to address the people. She was a strong, dignified looking woman with angular features and flashing eyes. She lifted one hand and everyone became still.
“Men of New York,” she began in a rich melodious voice that won its way to my heart immediately, “on this day of victory and joy, it does my old heart good to see the people alive to their rights. When the liberty of the citizens is at stake, who is their friend?”
The crowd broke into a shout of “Marmaduke, Marmaduke.” A woman who stood next me in the street flourished a white flag and cried: “Three cheers for Lady Marmaduke, the friend of the people!” The lady who stood on the step of the coach caught the flag in her hands and motioned for silence.
“Yes, the Marmaduke is the friend of the people. But that is not what I meant. Our bulwark is the Earl. Stand by Earl Richard, friends. You are the strength of Yorke. He is your champion against the blue.” She waved above her head the flag she had taken from the woman and cried: “Three hearty cheers for the Earl of Bellamont!”
By the time the ringing response had died away and order was once more restored the whole attitude of Lady Marmaduke had changed. Tears stood in her eyes and her voice trembled with emotion.
“Dear people, when it pleased God to take my husband, He took from you your staunchest friend. ‘Helen,’ he once said to me, 'if by chance you should be left alone, never forget the people.'” Then she grew brave again, and her deep voice rang clear and distinct. “I shall do all I can, but—remember—remember what I say: our bulwark is Earl Richard.”
She sprang back into the carriage. The driver struck out with his lash. For a moment the six white horses reared and plunged till the swaying crowd gave way in front. The huge vehicle lumbered forward over the uneven street, followed by the cheering of the people.
I turned into a deserted by-way, wondering who this woman was and hoping to make progress more quickly towards the lower part of the town. Even here I met with the same assertion of victory. Three little bare-legged urchins were belaboring a fourth who was scarce able to toddle. He stood on a doorstep warding off the blows of his assailants with a stick. The cause of their attack was the blue blouse he wore;—blue was the color of the defeated party.
“Hiky tiky, you Jacobite!” cried the three little soldiers of the Earl. “Come down and fight fair, you coward.”