As the year 1679 wore away the disturbance of the kingdom seemed to increase. A rising had been expected as the result of James’ return to England, and alarms of the same nature were raised when the king paid a visit to London after his recovery. Guards were set in Covent Garden and Lincoln’s Inn Fields; barges and an escort two hundred strong were in readiness to carry the royal party to the Tower in case of a tumult; but no stir was made and the day passed quietly. Fears of the vaguest character were abroad. “I am very confident,” wrote Charles Hatton, “you will suddenly hear very surprising news, but what I am unable to inform you as yet.” At the back of men’s minds the feeling was growing that the Whigs could not attain their object except by plunging the country into civil war.[426] The agitation became greater than ever when at the end of November the Duke of Monmouth returned without leave to England. He entered London at midnight to the sound of ringing bells and by the light of a thousand bonfires, crackling almost at the palace doors. His popularity seemed unbounded. Crowds followed him in the streets and stopped passers to drink his health. Nell Gwyn, cheered by the crowd as “the Protestant whore,” entertained him at supper. He struck from his arms the bar sinister, which denoted the maimed descent: it was a fashion among the royal bastards, for the Duke of Richmond, Charles’ son by Louise de Kéroualle, who was thought to have intentions on the queen’s throne for herself, had done the same, and displayed the lions of England without diminution.[427] The king was incensed, refused to see the pretender, deprived him of all his offices, ordered him to quit London. Monmouth at length obeyed, but it was to make a royal progress through the west of England, captivating the people and laying the foundations of the support for his hapless attempt against his uncle’s crown.[428]