ng between the foot of
the Polden Hills and the Parrett River, but with a fringe of somewhat
higher ground along the latter, where are Weston Zoyland, Chedzoy, and
Middlezoy, each a hamlet clustering around its old church, that at
Weston Zoyland being surmounted by an attractive square tower over one
hundred feet high. Monmouth had been proclaimed king by the mayor and
corporation of Bridgwater June 21, 1685, but had been checked at Bath,
and fell back again to Bridgwater, where his army was encamped on the
Castle Field. He had been three weeks in the kingdom without marked
success, and the royal army was closing in upon him. Four thousand
troops under Lord Feversham marched westward, and on the Sunday evening
of July 5th, when Monmouth looked out from the tower, had encamped upon
Sedgemoor about three miles from Bridgwater. Monmouth had seven thousand
men to oppose them, but his forces were mostly undisciplined and badly
armed, some having only scythes fastened on poles. The moor was then
partly reclaimed and intersected by trenches, and Feversham's
headquarters was at Weston Zoyland, where the royal cavalry were
encamped, with the other troops at Middlezoy and Chedzoy beyond.
Monmouth saw that their divisions were somewhat separated, and that his
only hope was a night-attack. At midnight he started, marching his army
by a circuitous route to the royal camp, strict silence being observed
and not a drum beaten or a shot fired. Three ditches had to be crossed
to reach the camp, two of which Monmouth knew of, but he was
unfortunately ignorant of the third, called the Bussex Rhine, behind
which the camp had been made. A fog came down over the moor; the first
ditch was crossed successfully, but the guide missing his way caused
some confusion before the second was reached, during which a pistol was
discharged that aroused a sentinel, who rode off and gave the alarm. As
the royal drums beat to arms Monmouth rapidly advanced, when he suddenly
found himself checked by the Bussex Rhine, behind which the royal army
was forming in line of battle in the fog. "For whom are you?" demanded a
royal officer. "For the king," replied a voice from the rebel cavalry.
"For what king?" was demanded. The answer was a shout for "King
Monmouth," mingled with Cromwell's old war-cry of "God with us!"
Immediately the royal troops replied with a terrific volley of musketry
that sent the rebel cavalry flying in all directions. Monmouth, then
coming up