Friends, though divided
by
G. A. Henty
Part 3 out of 6
abode there upon the previous day had stopped. There he had taken the
various documents from their hiding-place, and had made his way from the
city. Outside the gates he was joined by the others, and all, at a
speedy but still dignified pace, made their way to the spot where the
horses were concealed, in a little wood in a retired valley. Here they
changed their dress, and, making a bonfire of the garments which they
had taken off, mounted their Losses, and rode for the north.
CHAPTER XI.
MONTROSE.
They stopped for the night at a village fifteen miles away from
Edinburgh, and after they had had their supper Harry inquired of Jacob
how his dispute with the divines had passed off the evening before.
Jacob burst into a fit of laughter.
"It was the funniest thing you ever saw," he said, "Imagine a large
room, with the chief presbyter sitting at a table, and eight other men,
with sour countenances and large turned-down collars and bands, sitting
round it. William Long and I faced them at the other end, looking as
grave and sanctimonious as the rest of them. The proceedings were, of
course, opened with a lengthy prayer, and then the old gentleman in the
center introduced us as the commissioners from London. William rose, and
having got up by heart the instructions to the commissioners, he said
that he would first briefly introduce to his fellow divines the points
as to which differences appeared to exist between the Presbyterians of
the north and those of the south, and concerning which he was instructed
to come to an agreement with them. First, he gave a list of the points
at variance; then he said that he understood that these, quoting from
his document, were the views of his Scotch brethren; and he then
proceeded to give briefly the arguments with which he had been
furnished. He said that his reverend brother and himself were much
wearied with long travel, and that they would fain defer the debate for
another two days, but that in the meantime they would be glad to hear
the views of their friends. Then did one after another of these eight
worthy men rise, and for six mortal hours they poured forth their views.
I do not know whether it was most difficult to avoid laughter or
yawning; but, indeed, Master Harry, it was a weary time. I dared not
look at William, for he put such grave attention and worshipful
reverence on his face that you would have thought he had been born and
bred to the work. When the last of the eight had sat dawn he rose again,
and expressed a marvelous admiration of the learning and eloquence which
his brethren had displayed. Many of their arguments he said, were new to
him--and in this, indeed, I doubt not he spoke truth--and he perceived
that it would be hard to answer all that they had so learnedly adduced.
Upon the other hand, he had much to say; but he was willing to allow
that upon some points he should have difficulty in combating their
views. He prayed them, therefore, to defer the meeting for two days,
when he would willingly give them his views upon the subject, and his
learned brother would also address them. He proposed that the party
should be as small a one as that he saw before him, and that, after
hearing him, they should, if possible, come to some arrangement upon a
few, at least, of the points in dispute, so as to leave as small a number
as might be open to for the public disputation which would follow. The
worshipful party appeared mightily taken with the idea, and, after an
hour's prayer from the chairman, we separated. I hardly slept all night
for laughing, and I would give much to see the faces of that honorable
council when they hear that they have been fooled."
"You have both shown great wisdom, Jacob," Harry said, "and have behaved
in a sore strait with much judgment and discretion. It was lucky for you
that your reverend friend did not, among his eight champions, think of
inviting our little friend from London, for I fear that he would at once
have denounced you as not being the divines whose credentials you
presented."
"I was afraid of that," Jacob said, "and therefore begged him specially,
on this our first conference, to have only ministers of his own circle
present. He mentioned that one or two godly ministers from London were
present in the capital. I replied that I was well aware of that, but
that, as these men were not favored with the instructions of the
convention, and knew not the exact turn which affairs had taken up to the
period of my leaving, their presence might be an embarrassment--which,
indeed, was only the truth."
"We must make a circuit to-morrow," Harry said, "to avoid Stirling, and
will go round by Doune, and thence make for the north. Once among the
mountains we shall be safe from all pursuit, and from any interference
by the Roundheads, for I believe that the clans of this part are all in
favor of Montrose--Argyll's power lying far to the west."
"It will be a comfort," Jacob said, "not to be obliged to talk through
one's nose, and to cast one's eyes upward. I imagine that these
Highlanders are little better than savages."
"That is so," Harry said. "They are, I believe, but little changed since
the days when the Romans struggled with them, and could make no head
north of the Forth."
The next day, by a long circuit, they traveled round Stirling, and
reached the bridge of Doune, there crossing the Teith unquestioned. They
soon left the main road, and struck into the hills. They had not
traveled far when three strange figures suddenly presented themselves.
These men were clad in a garb which to the lads was strange and wild
indeed. The kilt, as worn by Highlanders on show occasions in the
present day is a garment wholly unlike that worn by their ancestors,
being, indeed, little more than a masquerade dress. The kilt of the old
time resembled indeed the short petticoat now worn by savage peoples. It
consisted of a great length of cloth wound round and round the loins,
and falling like a loose petticoat to the knees, a portion being brought
over one shoulder, and then wrapped round and round the body. It was
generally of dark material; the tartans now supposed to be peculiar to
the various clans being then unknown, or at least not worn by the common
people, although the heads of the clans may have worn scarfs of those
patterns. A Highland gentleman or chief, however, dressed in the same
garb as Englishmen--that is, in armor, with doublet and hose. His wild
followers lived in huts of the most primitive description, understood no
language but their own, obeyed the orders of their chiefs to the death,
and knew nothing either of kings or of parliaments. For arms these men
carried a broad target or shield made of bull's hide, and a broadsword
of immense length hanging behind them, the hilt coming above the
shoulder.
What they said the lads could not understand. But when Harry repeated
the word "Montrose," the Highlanders nodded, and pointed to signify that
the road they were pursuing was the right one, and two of them at once
set out with them as escorts.
For several days they traveled north, stopping at little groups of
cabins, where they were always received with rough hospitality, the
assertion of their guides that they were going to the great earl being
quite sufficient passport for them. Bannocks of oatmeal with collops,
sometimes of venison, sometimes of mountain sheep, were always at their
service, washed down by a drink new to the boys, and which at first
brought the water into their eyes. This was called usquebaugh, and had a
strange peaty flavor, which was at first very unpleasant to them, but to
which before they left Scotland they became quite accustomed. The last
two days they traveled upon broad roads again, and being now in a
country devoted to the Earl of Montrose, were under no apprehension
whatever of interference.
At last they reached the place where the earl was residing. His castle
differed in no way from those of the nobility of England. It was
surrounded by walls and towers, and had a moat and other means of
defense. The gate was guarded by men similar in appearance to their
guides, but dressed in better material, and with some attempt at
uniformity. Large numbers of these were gathered in the courtyard, and
among them were men-at-arms attired in southern fashion. The guides,
having performed their duty of conducting these strangers from the
borders of their country, now handed them over to an officer, and he,
upon learning their errand, at once conducted them to the earl.
Montrose was a noble figure, dressed in the height of the fashion of the
day. His face was oval, with a pointed mustache; long ringlets fell
round his head; and his bearing was haughty and majestic. He rose from
his chair and advanced a step toward them.
"Do I understand," he said, "that you are bearers of dispatches from his
gracious majesty?"
"We are, sir," Harry said. "The king was pleased to commit to me various
documents intended for your eye. We left him at Oxford, and have
journeyed north with as little delay as might be in these times. The
dispatches, I believe, will speak for themselves, I have no oral
instructions committed to me."
So saying, Harry delivered the various documents with which they were
charged. The earl instructed the officer to see that they were well
lodged and cared for, and at once proceeded to his private cabinet to
examine the instructions sent him by the king. These were in effect
that, so soon as the army of the convention moved south from Dundee, he
should endeavor to make a great raid with his followers upon the south,
specially attacking the country of Argyll, so as to create a diversion,
and, if possible, cause the recall of the Scotch army to defend their
own capital.
For some weeks the lads stopped with Montrose. They had been furnished
with garments suitable to their condition, and Harry was treated by the
earl with the greatest kindness and courtesy. He often conversed with
him as to the state of politics and of military affairs in England, and
expressed himself as sanguine that he should be able to restore the
authority of the king in Scotland.
"These sour men of the conventicles have ever been stiff-necked and
rebellious," he said, "and have enforced their will upon our monarchs. I
have not forgotten," he went on, striking the hilt of his sword angrily,
"the insults which were put upon Queen Mary when she was preached to and
lectured publicly by the sour fanatic Knox, and was treated, forsooth,
as if she had been some trader's daughter who had ventured to laugh on a
Sunday. Her son, too, was kept under the control of these men until he
was summoned to England. It is time that Scotland were rid of the
domination of these knaves, and if I live I will sweep them from the
land. In courage my wild men are more than a match for the Lowlanders.
It is true that in the old days the clans could never carry their forays
southward, for, unaccustomed to discipline and unprovided with horses or
even with firearms, they fared but badly when opposed to steel-clad men
and knights in armor. But I trust it will be different this time. I
cannot hope to infuse any great discipline among them. But they can at
least be caught to charge in line, and their broad claymores may be
trusted to hew a way for them through the lines of the Lowlanders. I
trust, above all things, that the king will not be persuaded to
negotiate with the traitors who are opposed to him. I know, Master
Furness, that, from what you have said, your views run not there with
mine, and that you think a compromise is desirable. But you do not know
these fanatics as I do. While they clamor for toleration, they are the
narrowest of bigots, and will themselves tolerate nothing. Already I
have news that the convention between the Scotch conventicle and the
English rebels is agreed to, and that an order has gone forth that the
Presbyterian rites are to be observed in all the churches of England.
They say that thousands of divines will be turned from their churches
and their places filled with ignorant fanatics, and this they call
religious liberty. Why, when Laud was in power his rule was as a silken
thread compared to the hempen rope of these bigots, and should the king
make terms with them, it will be only to rule henceforth at their
bidding, and to be but an instrument in their hands for enforcing their
will upon the people of these countries."
Much as Harry desired peace and leaned toward compromise, he saw that
there was much in what the earl said. All the accounts that reached them
from the youth told of the iron tyranny which was being exercised
throughout England. Everywhere good and sincere men were being driven
from their vicarages to live how best they might, for refusing to accept
the terms of the convention. Everywhere their places were filled with
men at once ignorant, bigoted, and intolerant; holy places were
desecrated; the cavalry of the Commons was stabled in St. Paul's; the
colored windows of the cathedrals and churches were everywhere
destroyed; monuments were demolished; and fanaticism of the narrowest
and most stringent kind was rampant.
During the time they spent at the castle the lads were greatly amused in
watching the sports and exercises of the Highlanders. These consisted in
throwing great stones and blocks of wood, in contests with blunted
claymores, in foot races, and in dances executed to the wild and strange
music of the bagpipes--music which Jacob declared was worse than the
caterwauling upon the housetops in Cheapside.
The lads had deferred their journey south owing to the troubled state of
the country, and the fact that the whole of the south of Scotland was in
the hands of the convention. They were therefore waiting an opportunity
for taking ship and traveling by sea into Wales, where the followers of
the king were in the ascendency. At length the earl told them that an
occasion offered, and that although he would gladly keep them by him to
accompany him when he moved south, if they considered that their duty
compelled them to leave he would place them on board a ship bound for
that destination. He did not furnish them with any documents, but bade
Harry repeat to the king the sentiments which he had expressed, which,
indeed, were but the repetition of loyal assurances which he had sent
south by a trusty messenger immediately upon their arrival at the
castle.
The boat in which they embarked was a small one, but was fast; which
proved fortunate, for they were twice chased by ships of the Parliament.
They landed, however, safely at Pembroke, and thence made their way
through the mountains of Wales to Hereford, and joined the king, who was
still at Oxford.
Events had traveled but slowly in England; the doings of the convention
being at that time of greater importance than those of the armies. On
the 19th of January the Scotch army had entered England, having marched
from Edinburgh through the snow. The Marquis of Newcastle was in winter
quarters at York. The town of Newcastle had held out successfully
against the Scots. The English regiments in Ireland had been recalled;
but had been defeated near Nantwich by Sir Thomas Fairfax. Negotiation
after negotiation between the king and the Parliament had failed, and
the king had issued writs for a Parliament to assemble at Oxford. This
met on the 22d of January, and forty-three peers and a hundred and
eighteen commoners had taken their place beside many absent with the
army. Of the peers a large majority were with the Royalist Parliament at
Oxford while at Westminster a majority of the members sent up by the
towns assembled. The Royalist Parliament was sitting at Oxford when
Harry arrived; but their proceedings had not upon the whole been
satisfactory to the king. They had, indeed, passed votes for the raising
of taxes and supplies; but had also insisted upon the king granting
several reforms. Charles, untaught by adversity, was as obstinate as
ever; and instead of using the opportunity for showing a fair
disposition to redress the grievances which had led to the civil war,
and to grant concessions which would have rallied all moderate persons
to his cause, he betrayed much irritation at the opposition which he met
with, and the convocation of Parliament, instead of bringing matters
nearer to an issue, rather heightened the discontents of the times. The
Parliament at Westminster, upon their side, formed a council, under the
title of the committee of the two kingdoms, consisting of seven lords,
fourteen members of the commons, and four Scottish commissioners, into
whose hands the entire conduct of the war, the correspondence with
foreign states, and indeed the whole executive power of the kingdom was
given.
The king received Harry with great condescension and favor, and heard
with satisfaction of the preparations which Montrose was making for an
invasion of the Lowlands of Scotland, and promised Sir Henry to bestow
the rank of knighthood upon his son as soon as he attained the age of
twenty-one.
For some weeks Harry resided with his father at Furness Hall. He then
fell back into Oxford upon the advance of an army from London destined
to besiege that town. This force was far greater than any that the king
could raise. It consisted of two separate forces, under the command of
Essex and Waller. Presently the town was besieged, and although the
walls were very strong, the attacking force was so numerous that
resistance appeared to be hopeless. On the night of the 3d of June the
king left the city secretly, attended only by two or three personal
friends, and passed safely between the two armies. These, instead of
acting in unison, in which case the besieging lines would have been
complete, and the king unable to leave the place, were kept apart by the
dissensions of their generals. A council of war took place, and Essex
determined to march to the west. The committee in London ordered him to
retrace his steps, and go in pursuit of the king, who had made for
Worcester. But Essex replied to the committee that he could not carry on
war in pursuance of directions from London, and that all military
discipline would be subverted if they took upon themselves to direct his
plans.
In the meantime, Waller, raising the siege of Oxford, tad gone in
pursuit of the king. Charles, seeing that his enemies were separated,
returned to Oxford, where he was received with great enthusiasm, and
the whole force there, marching out, fell upon Waller at Cropredy
Bridge, near Banbury, and defeated him. Having scattered the rebels
here, he turned his course west in pursuit of Essex, for his force was
sufficient to cope with either of the armies separately, although he had
been unable to meet them when united.
Harry and his father were not present at the battle of Cropredy Bridge,
having with their troops left Oxford on the approach of the Roundheads,
together with many other bodies of cavalry, as they could do no good in
the case of a siege, and were wanted in the north, where Rupert was on
his way to take the command. Joining his force, amounting in all to
twenty thousand men, they advanced toward York. Leaving the greater
portion of his army at a short distance away, Rupert entered York with
two thousand men. Newcastle was in favor of prudent steps, knowing that
dissensions existed in the Parliamentary army between the Scots and
their English allies. Prince Rupert, however, insisted that he had the
command of the king to fight at once, and so, with all the force he
could collect, advanced against the Scots. Newcastle was much offended
at the domineering manner and headstrong course of the prince and took
no part in the forthcoming battle, in which his military genius and
caution would have been of vast service to the royal cause.
On the 2d of July, having rested two days, the Royalist army marched out
against the Roundheads. The contending parties met on Marston Moor, and
it was late in the evening when the battle began. It was short but
desperate, and when it ended four thousand one hundred and fifty men had
been killed. Here, as in every other fight in which he was engaged, the
impetuosity of Prince Rupert proved the ruin of the Royalists. With his
cavaliers upon the right of the Royalist army, he charged the Scotch
horse, scattered them in every direction and rode after them, chasing
and slaying. The center of each army, composed of infantry, fought
desperately, and without much advantage to either side. But upon the
Royalist left the fate of the day was decided. There a new element was
introduced into the struggle, for the right of the Roundhead force was
commanded by Cromwell, who had raised and disciplined a body of cavalry
called the Ironsides. These men were all fanatics in religion and fought
with a sternness and vigor which carried all before them. In the eastern
counties they had already done great service; but this was the first
pitched battle at which they had been present. Their onslaught proved
irresistible. The Royalist cavalry upon the left were completely broken,
and the Roundhead horse then charged down upon the rear of the king's
infantry. Had Rupert rallied his men and performed the same service upon
the Parliament infantry, the battle might have been a drawn one; but,
intoxicated with victory, he was chasing the Scottish horse far away,
while Cromwell's Ironsides were deciding the fate of the battle. When he
returned to the field all was over. Fifteen hundred prisoners, all the
artillery, and more than a hundred banners had fallen into the hands of
the cavalry; and with the remnants of his army Prince Rupert retired
with all haste toward Chester, while Newcastle left York and embarked at
Scarborough for the Continent.
Colonel Furness' troop had been with the wing under Prince Rupert, and
deep indeed was their mortification when, upon returning to the field of
battle, they found that all was lost.
"Unless a very different discipline is introduced upon our side,"
Colonel Furness said to his son that night in York, "it is clear that
the king's cause is ruined. The Ironsides fight in a solid mass, and,
after having given a charge, they are ready at order to wheel about and
to deliver their attack wheresoever their general commands them. With
us, no sooner do we defeat the enemy than we break into confusion, each
man scatters in pursuit as if we were hunting a fox, and when at last we
draw rein, miles away from the battle, we ever find that upon our return
our footmen have been defeated. I fear much that Prince Rupert, with all
his bravery, is a hindrance rather than an aid to the Royal cause. His
counsels have always been on the side of resistance. He has supported
the king in his too obstinate insistance upon what he deems his rights,
while in the field his command is fatal to us. I fear, my boy, that the
struggle will end badly, and I foresee bad times for England, and for
all of us who have supported the cause of the king."
As the dispirited army marched back they received news which somewhat
raised their hearts. The king had marched after Essex into Cornwall, and
there had driven him into sore straits. He had endeavored to induce
Essex to make a general treaty of peace; but the earl replied that he
had no authority to treat, and that, even did he do so, the Parliament
would not submit to be bound by it. With a considerable portion of his
cavalry, he succeeded in passing through the Royal lines; but the whole
of the infantry under General Skippon were forced to capitulate, the
king giving them honorable terms, and requiring only the surrender of
the artillery, arms, and ammunition. The whole of the army returned as
scattered fugitives to London.
The king resolved again to march upon the capital. Montrose was now in
arms in Scotland, and had gained two considerable victories over the
Covenanters. The defeat at Marston had been outbalanced by the victories
over Waller and Essex, and the Scotch, alarmed by the successes of
Montrose, were ready to listen to terms, Steadily the king advanced
eastward, and at Newbury the armies again met. As upon the previous
occasion on that field, the battle led to no decisive results. Each side
fought stoutly, and at nightfall separated without achieving substantial
results. The king fell back upon Oxford, and the Parliament army upon
Readings and negotiations were once again renewed between king and
Parliament.
CHAPTER XII.
AN ESCAPE FROM PRISON.
There was no sadder or more gloomy face among the officers of the
Parliament than that of Herbert Rippinghall--sad, not from the sour
asceticism which distinguished the great portion of these officers, but
from his regrets over the struggle in which he was taking a part. While
Harry Furness saw much to find fault with in the conduct of many of his
fellows, and in the obstinacy with which the king refused to grant
concessions which might up to this time have restored peace to the land,
Herbert, on his side, was shocked at the violence and excessive demands
on the part of the Parliament, and at the rank hypocrisy which he saw
everywhere around him. Both lads still considered that the balance of
justice was on the side upon which they fought. But both, Herbert
perhaps because more thoughtful, therefore more strongly, saw that the
faults upon one side balanced those upon the other. Herbert had not
taken up the sword willingly, as Harry had done. He was by disposition
far less prone to adventure and more given to sober thought, and the
violence of his father and the bigoted opinions which he held had
repelled him from rather than attracted him toward the principles which
he advocated. When, however, the summons came from his father to join
him at Reading, with the rest of the hands employed in the business, he
did not hesitate. He still hoped that the pacific party in Parliament
would overcome the more violent, and that the tyranny of a small
minority toward which the country appeared to be drifting would be
nipped in the bud.
The divisions, indeed, in the Parliament were far greater than in the
councils of the king. Between the Independents and the Presbyterians a
wide gulf existed. The latter party, which was much the more numerous in
Parliament, and which had moreover the countenance and alliance of the
Scotch Presbyterians, viewed with the greatest jealousy the increasing
arrogance of the Independents and of the military party. They became
alarmed when they saw that they were rapidly drifting from the rule of
the king to that of Cromwell, and that while they themselves would be
satisfied with ample concessions and a certain amount of toleration, the
Independents were working for much more than this. Upon the Presbyterian
side, Lord Essex was regarded as their champion with the army, as
against Cromwell, Fairfax, and Ireton. So strong did the feeling become
that it was moved in the Commons "that no member of either House should,
during the war, enjoy or execute any office or command, civil or
military." A long and furious debate followed; but the ordinance was
passed by the Lower House, and went up to the Lords, and was finally
passed by them.
Now, however, occurred an episode which added greatly to the religious
hatred prevailing between the two parties, and shocked many of the
adherents of the Parliament by the wanton bigotry which it displayed.
Archbishop Laud had now lain for four years in prison, and by an
ordinance of Parliament, voted by only seven lords, he was condemned for
high treason, and was beheaded on the 10th of January. This cruel and
unnecessary murder showed only too plainly that the toleration which the
Dissenters had clamored for meant only toleration for themselves, and
intolerance toward all others; and a further example of this was given
by the passing of an ordinance forbidding the use of the Liturgy of the
Church of England in any place of worship in the country.
Rendered nervous by the increasing power of the Independents, the
majority in Parliament now determined to open fresh negotiations with
the king, and these offered a fairer prospect of peace than any which
had hitherto preceded them. Commissioners were appointed by Parliament
and by the king, and these met at Uxbridge, a truce being made for
twenty days. Had the king been endowed with any sense of the danger of
his position, or any desire to treat in a straightforward and honest
manner with his opponents, peace might now have been secured. But the
unfortunate monarch was seeking to cajole his foes rather than to treat
with them, and his own papers, afterward discovered, show too plainly
that the concessions which he offered were meant only to be kept so long
as it might please him. The twenty precious days were frittered away in
disputes. The king would grant one day concessions which he would
revoke the next. The victories which Montrose was gaining in the north
had roused his hopes, and the evil advice of his wife and Prince Rupert,
and the earnest remontrances which he received from Montrose against
surrendering to the demands of Parliament, overpowered the advice of his
wiser counselors. At the end of twenty days the negotiations ceased, and
the commissioners of Parliament returned to London, convinced that there
was no hope of obtaining a permanent peace with a man so vacillating and
insincere as the king.
Herbert had been with his father at Uxbridge, as the regiment of foot to
which he belonged was on guard here, and it was with a heavy heart that
he returned to London, convinced that the war must go on, but forboding
as great a disaster to the country in the despotism which he saw the
Independents would finally establish as in the despotism of King
Charles.
There was a general gloom in the city when the news of the unsuccessful
termination of the negotiations became known. The vast majority of the
people were eagerly desirous of peace. The two years which the war had
already lasted had brought nothing save ruin to trade and general
disaster, and the great body of the public who were not tinged with the
intense fanaticism of the Independents, and who did not view all
pleasure and enjoyment in life as sinful, longed for the merry old days
when Englishmen might smile without being accused of sin, and when life
was not passed solely in prayer and exhortation. Several small riots had
broken out in London; but these were promptly suppressed. Among the
'prentice boys, especially, did the spirit of revolt against the gloomy
asceticism of the time prevail, and there can be little doubt that if at
this period, or for a long time subsequent, the king could have appeared
suddenly in the city at the head of a few score troops, he would have
been welcomed with acclamation, and the great body of the citizens would
have rallied round him.
When the Parliament commissioners reached London Fairfax received his
commission as sole general of the army. The military services of
Cromwell were of such, importance that Fairfax and his officers urged
that an exception should be made to the ordinance in his case, and that
he should be temporarily appointed lieutenant-general and chief
commander of horse. The moderate party yielded to the demand of the
Independents. The Earls of Essex, Manchester, and Denbigh gave in their
resignations. Many of the more moderate advisers of Charles also
retired to their estates, despairing of a conflict in which the king's
obstinacy admitted of no hope of a favorable termination. They, too,
had, as much perhaps as the members of the recalcitrant Parliament,
hoped for reforms; but it was clear that the king would never consent to
reign except as an absolute monarch, and for this they were unprepared.
The violent party among the Cavaliers now ruled supreme in the councils
of Charles. For a short time the royal cause seemed in the ascendant.
Leicester had been taken by storm, Taunton was besieged, Fairfax was
surrounding Oxford, but was doing nothing against the town. On the 5th
of June he was ordered to raise the siege, and to go to the Midland
counties after the royal army. On the 13th Fairfax and Cromwell joined
their forces, and pursued the king, whom they overtook the next day near
Naseby.
Herbert had accompanied the army of Fairfax, and seeing the number and
resolution of the troops, he hoped that a victory might be gained which
would terminate for good and all this disastrous conflict. The ground
round Naseby is chiefly moorland. The king's army was drawn up a mile
from Market Harborough. Prince Rupert commanded the left wing, Sir
Marmaduke Langdale the right, Lord Ashley the main body. Fairfax
commanded the center of the Roundheads, with General Skippon under him.
Cromwell commanded the right and Ireton the left. Rupert had hurried on
with his horse in advance, and coming upon the Roundheads, at once
engaged them. So sudden was the attack that neither party had formed its
lines for battle, and the artillery was in the rear. Between the armies
lay a wide level known as Broadmoor. It was across this that Rupert had
ridden, and charging up the hill on the other side, fell upon the left
wing of Fairfax. Cromwell, upon the other hand, from the extreme right
charged down the hill upon Langdale's squadrons. Prince Rupert, as
usual, carried all before him. Shouting his battle cry, "Queen Mary," he
fell upon Ireton's left wing, and drove them from the field, chasing
them back to Naseby, where, as usual, he lost time in capturing the
enemy's baggage. Cromwell, with his Ironsides, upon the other hand, had
broken Langdale's horse and driven them from the field. In the center
the fight was hot. The king's foot had come up the hill and poured
volley after volley into the parliament ranks. Hand to hand the infantry
were fighting, and gradually the Roundheads were giving way. But now, as
at Marston, Cromwell, keeping his Ironsides well in hand, returned from
the defeat of Langdale's horse, and fell upon the rear of the Royalists.
Fairfax rallied his men as he saw the horse coming up to his assistance.
Rupert's troopers were far from the field, and a panic seizing the
king's reserve of horse, who had they charged might have won the day,
the Earl of Carnewarth, taking hold of King Charles' horse, forced him
from the field, and the battle ended, with the complete defeat of the
royal troops, before Rupert returned to the field of battle.
The Royalists lost in killed and prisoners five thousand men, their
twelve guns, and all their baggage train, and what was of even greater
importance, the king's private cabinet, which contained documents which
did more to precipitate his ruin even than the defeat of his army. Here
were found letters proving that while he had professed his desire to
treat, he had no intention of giving way in the slightest degree. Here
were copies of letters to foreign princes asking for aid, and to the
Papists in Ireland, promising all kinds of concessions if they would
rise in his favor. Not only did the publication of this correspondence
and of the private letters between the king and queen add to the
indignation of the Commons and to their determination to fight to the
bitterest end, but it disgusted and alienated a vast number of Royalists
who had hitherto believed in the king and trusted to his royal word.
Among the prisoners taken at Naseby was Harry Furness, whose troop had
been with Langdale's horse, and who, his charger having been shot, had
fallen upon the field, his head being cut by the sweep of the sword of a
Roundhead soldier, who struck at him as he was lying on the ground. Soon
after the battle, when it became known what prisoners had been taken, he
was visited by his friend Herbert.
"We are changing sides, Herbert," Harry said, with a faint smile. "The
last time we met you were nigh falling into the hands of the Royalists,
now I have altogether fallen into yours."
"Yes, and unfortunately," Herbert said, "I cannot repeat your act of
generosity. However, Harry, I trust that with this great battle the war
is nearly over, and that all prisoners now taken will speedily be
released. At any rate, I need not assure you that you will have my aid
and assistance in any matter."
The Parliamentary leaders did not allow the grass to grow under their
feet after Naseby. Prince Rupert, with considerable force, had marched
to Bristol, and Fairfax and Cromwell followed him there. A considerable
portion of the prisoners were sent to London, but some were retained
with the army. Among these was Harry Furness, whom it was intended to
confine with many others in some sure place in the south. Under a guard
they were conducted to Reading, where they were for awhile to be kept.
Essex and Cromwell advanced to Bristol, which they surrounded; and
Prince Rupert, after a brave defense, was forced to capitulate, upon
terms similar to those which had been granted by the king to the army
of Lord Essex the year before. In his conduct of the siege the prince
had certainly not failed. But this misfortune aroused the king's anger
more than the faults which had done such evil service on the fields of
Naseby and Marston, and he wrote to the prince, ordering him to leave
the kingdom at once.
It would have been well had King Charles here ceased the struggle, for
the cause of the Royalists was now hopeless. Infatuated to the last,
however, and deeming ever that the increasing contentions and ill-will
between the two parties in Parliament would finally end by one of them
bidding for the Royal support, and agreeing to his terms, the king
continued the contest. Here and there isolated affrays took place;
risings in Kent and other counties occurring, but being defeated
summarily by the vigor of Fairfax and his generals.
The time passed but slowly with Harry at Reading. He and his
fellow-prisoners were assigned quarters in a large building, under the
guard of a regiment of Parliament troops. Their imprisonment was not
rigorous. They were fairly fed and allowed exercise in a large courtyard
which adjoined the house. The more reckless spirits sang, jested, wrote
scurrilous songs on the Roundheads, and passed the time as cheerfully as
might be. Harry, however, with the restlessness of his age, longed for
liberty. He knew that Prince Charles was in command of the army in the
west, and he longed to join him and try once more the fortunes of
battle. The guard set round the building was close and vigilant, and the
chances of escape appeared small. Still, Harry thought that if he could
escape from an upper window on a dark night he could surely make his way
through the line of sentries. He had observed on moonlight nights the
exact position which each of these occupied. The intervals were short
between them; but it would be quite possible on a dark night for a
person to pass noiselessly without being perceived. The watch would have
been even more strict than it was, had not the Puritans regarded the
struggle as virtually at an end, and were, therefore, less careful as to
their prisoners than they would otherwise have been. Harry prepared for
escape by tearing up the blankets of his bed and knotting them into
ropes. A portion he wrapped round his shoes, so as to walk noiselessly,
and taking advantage of a dark, moonless night, when the fog hung thick
upon the low land round Reading, he opened his window, threw out his
rope, and slipped down to the ground.
So dark was the fog that it was difficult for him to see two paces in
advance, and he soon found that the careful observations which he had
taken of the place of the sentries would be altogether useless. Still,
in the darkness and thickness of the night, he thought that the chance
of detection was small. Creeping quietly and noiselessly along, he could
hear the constant challenges of the sentries round him. These, excited
by the unusual darkness of the night, were unusually vigilant. Harry
approached until he was within a few yards of the line, and the voices
of the men as they challenged enabled him to ascertain exactly the
position of those on the right and left of him. Passing between these,
he could see neither, although they were but a few paces on either hand,
and he would have got off unobserved had he not suddenly fallen into a
deep stream running across his way, and which in the darkness he did not
see until he fell into it. At the sound there was an instant challenge,
and then a piece was discharged. Harry struggled across the stream, and
clambered out on the opposite side. As he did so a number of muskets
were fired in his direction by the men who came rushing up to the point
of alarm. One ball struck him in the shoulder. The rest whizzed
harmlessly by, and at the top of his speed he ran forward.
He was now safe from pursuit, for in the darkness of the night it would
have been absolutely impossible to follow him. In a few minutes he
ceased running, for when all became quiet behind him, he could no longer
tell in what direction he was advancing. So long as he could hear the
shouts of the sentries he continued his way, and then, all guidance
being lost, he lay down under a hedge and waited for morning. It was
still thick and foggy; but wandering aimlessly about for some time, he
succeeded at last in striking upon a road, and judging from the side
upon which he had entered it in which direction Reading must lie, he
took the western way and went forward. The ball had passed only through
the fleshy part of his shoulder, missing the bone; and although it
caused him much pain, he was able, by wrapping his arm tightly to his
body, to proceed. More than once he had to withdraw from the road into
the fields beyond, when he heard troops of horse galloping along.
After a long day's walk he arrived near Abingdon, and there made for the
hall. Instead of going to the door he made for the windows, and, looking
in, saw a number of Roundhead soldiers in the hall, and knew that there
was no safety for him. As he glanced in one of the soldiers happened to
cast his eyes up, and gave a shout on seeing a figure looking in at the
window. Instantly the rest sprang to their feet, and started out to
secure the intruder. Harry fled along the road, and soon reached
Abingdon. He had at first thought of making for one of his father's
farms; but he felt sure that here also Roundhead troops would be
quartered. After a moment's hesitation he determined to make for Mr.
Rippinghall's. He knew the premises accurately, and thought that he
might easily take refuge in the warehouses, in which large quantities of
wool were wont to be stored. The streets were deserted, for it was now
late at night, and he found his way without interruption to the
wool-stapler's. Here he climbed over a wall, made his way into the
warehouse, and clambering over a large number of bales, laid himself
down next to the wall, secure from any casual observation. Here he went
off to sleep, and it was late next day before he opened his eyes. He was
nearly uttering an exclamation at the pain which his movement on waking
gave to his wounded arm. He, however, repressed it, and it was well he
did so, as he heard voices in the warehouse. Men were removing bales of
wool, and for some hours this process went on. Harry, being well back,
had little fear that he should be disturbed.
The hours passed wearily. He was parched and feverish from the pain of
his wound, and was unable to deliberate as to his best course. Sometimes
he dozed off into snatches of sleep, and after one of these he found
that the warehouse was again silent, and that darkness had set in. He
determined to wait at least for another day, and also that he would
early in the morning look out from the window before the men entered, in
hopes that he might catch sight of his old playfellow, Lucy, who would,
he felt sure, bring him some water and refreshment if she were able.
Accordingly, in the morning, he took his place so as to command a view
of the garden, and presently to his great surprise he saw Herbert, whom
he had believed with the army, come out together with Lucy. They had not
taken four paces in the garden when their attention was attracted by a
tap at the window, and looking up, they were astonished at beholding
Harry's pale face there. With an exclamation of surprise they hurried
into the warehouse.
"My dear Harry," Herbert exclaimed, "how did you get here? The troops
have been searching for you high and low. Your escape from Reading was
bruited abroad a few hours after it took place, and the party at the
hall having reported seeing some one looking in at the window, there was
no doubt felt that you had gained this neighborhood, and a close watch
has been kept. All your father's farms have been carefully examined, and
their occupants questioned, and the general belief is that you are still
hidden somewhere near."
"I got a ball through my shoulder," Harry said, "in making my way
through the sentries, and have felt myself unable to travel until I
could obtain some food. I thought that I should be safer from search
here, and believing you were away in the army, thought that your sister
would perhaps be moved by compassion to aid her old playfellow."
"Yes, indeed," the girl said; "I would have done anything for you,
Harry. To think of your being hidden so close to us, while we were
sleeping quietly. I will at once get you some food, and then you and
Herbert can talk over what is best to be done."
So saying she ran into the house, and returned in a few minutes with a
bowl of milk and some freshly made cakes, which Harry drank and ate
ravenously. In the meantime, he was discussing with Herbert what was the
best course to pursue.
"It would not be safe," Herbert said, "for you to try and journey
further at present. The search for you is very keen, and it happens,
unfortunately, that the officer in command here is the very man whose
face you sliced when he came to Furness Hall some two years back. It
would be a bad thing for you were you to fall into his hands."
Lucy at first proposed that Harry should be taken into the house, and
go at once to bed. She and Herbert would then give out that a friend had
arrived from a distance, who was ill, and, waiting upon him themselves,
should prevent suspicion being attracted. This, however, Herbert did not
think would be safe. It would be asked when the inmate had arrived, and
who he was, and why the servants should not, as usual, attend upon him.
"I think," he said, "that if to-night I go forth, having said at dinner
in the hearing of the servant that I am expecting a friend from London,
you can then join me outside, and return with me. You must crop off
those long ringlets of yours, and turn Roundhead for the nonce. I can
let you have a sober suit which was made for me when I was in London,
and which has not yet been seen by my servants. I can say that you are
in bad health, and this will enable you to remain at home, sleeping upon
a couch to nurse your shoulder."
"The shoulder is of no consequence," Harry said. "A mere flesh wound
like that would not detain me a way from the saddle. It is only the
fatigue and loss of blood, together with want of food, which has
weakened me."
As no other course presented itself this was followed. Harry remained
during the day in his 'place of concealment in the warehouse, and at
nightfall went out, and, being joined by Herbert, returned with him to
the house. The door was opened by Lucy and he entered unperceived by the
domestics. The first operation was to cut off the whole of his hair
close to his head. He was then attired in Herbert's clothes, and looked,
as Lucy told him, a quiet and decent young gentleman. Then he took his
place on a couch in the sitting-room, and Herbert rung for supper, which
he had ordered to be prepared for a guest as well as for Lucy and
himself.
CHAPTER XIII.
PUBLIC EVENTS.
For some days Harry remained quietly with his friend. He did not stir
beyond the door, although he had but little fear of any of his old
friends recognizing him. The two years which had passed since he was at
school had greatly changed his appearance, and his closely-cut hair, and
the somber and Puritanical cut of his garments so completely altered him
that it would have been a keen eye indeed which had recognized him when
merely passing in the street. A portion of each day he spent out in the
garden strolling with Lucy, or sitting quietly while she read to him.
The stiffness in his arm was now abating, and as the search for him had
to a great extent ceased, he intended in a short time to make for
Oxford.
The news from the various points at which the conflict still continued
was everywhere disastrous for the king. Montrose had been defeated. The
king, endeavoring to make his way north to join him, had been smartly
repulsed. The Royalists were everywhere disorganized and broken.
Negotiations were once again proceeding, and as the Scottish army was
marching south, and the affairs of the crown seemed desperate, there was
every hope that the end of the long struggle was approaching. Harry's
departure was hastened by a letter received by Herbert from his father,
saying that he had obtained leave from his regiment, and should be down
upon the following day.
"My father will not blame me," Herbert said, "for what I have done, when
he comes to know it. But I am rot sure that he would himself approve of
your remaining here. His convictions are so earnest, and his sense of
duty so strong, that I do not think he would harbor his nearest
relative, did he believe him to be in favor of the king."
Harry next morning mounted a horse of Herbert's and started to ride from
the town, after taking an affectionate farewell of his hosts. When two
miles out of Abingdon he suddenly came upon a body of Parliament horse,
in the leader of whom he recognized, by a great scar across his face,
the officer with whom he had fallen out at Furness Hall. Relying upon
his disguise, and upon the fact that it was only for a minute that the
officer had seen him, he rode quietly on.
"Whom have we here?" the Roundhead said, reining in his horse.
"My name is Roger Copley, and I am making my way from London to my
people, who reside in the west. There is no law, I believe, against my
so doing."
"There is no law for much that is done or undone," the Roundhead said.
"Malignants are going about the country in all sorts of disguises,
stirring up men to ungodly enterprises, and we cannot be too particular
whom we let pass. What hast thou been doing in London?"
"I have been serving my time as apprentice to Master Nicholas Fleming,
the merchant in velvets and silks in the Chepe."
"Hast thou any papers to prove thy identity?"
"I have not," Harry said; "not knowing that such were needed. I have
traveled thus far without interruption or question, and am surprised to
find hindrance upon the part of an officer of the Commons."
"You must turn your horse, and ride back with me into Abingdon," the
officer said. "I doubt me much that you are as you pretend to be.
However, it is a matter which we can bring to the proof."
Harry wondered to himself of what proof the matter was capable. But
without a word he turned his horse's head toward Abingdon. Scarcely a
word was spoken on the way, and Harry was meditating whether he should
say that he had been staying with his friend Herbert. But thinking that
this might lead the latter into trouble, he determined to be silent on
that head. They stopped at the door of the principal trader in the town
and the captain roughly told his prisoner to alight and enter with him.
"Master Williamson," he said, "bring out some pieces of velvet. This
man, whom I suspect to be a Cavalier in disguise, saith that he has been
an apprentice to Master Nicholas Fleming, a velvet dealer of London. I
would fain see how far his knowledge of these goods extends. Bring out
five or six pieces of various qualities, and put them upon your table
promiscuously, and not in order of value."
The mercer did as requested.
"These goods," he said, "were obtained from Master Fleming himself. I
bought them last year, and have scarce sold a piece of such an article
since."
Harry felt rather nervous at the thought of being obliged to distinguish
between the velvets, for although he had received some hints and
instructions from the merchant, he knew that the appearance of one kind
of velvet differed but slightly from that of the inferior qualities. To
his satisfaction, however, he saw at the end of the rolls the pieces of
paper intact upon which Master Fleming's private marks were placed.
"I need not," he said, "look at the velvets, for I see my master's
private marks upon them, and can of course tell you their value at
once."
So saying, from the private marks he read off the value of each roll of
velvet per yard, and as these tallied exactly with the amount which the
mercer had paid for them, no further doubts remained upon the mind of
the officer.
"These marks," he said to the mercer, "are, I suppose, private, and
could not be read save by one in the merchant's confidence?"
"That is so," the mercer replied. "I myself am in ignorance of the
meaning of these various symbols."
"You will forgive me," the Parliament officer said to Harry. "In these
times one cannot be too suspicious, and even the best friends of the
Commons need not grudge a little delay in their journeyings, in order
that the doings of the malignants may be arrested."
Harry in a few words assured the officer that he bore him no malice for
his arrest, and that, indeed, his zeal in the cause did him credit. Then
again mounting his horse, he quietly rode out of Abingdon. This time he
met with no difficulties, and an hour later entered Oxford.
Here he found his father and many of his acquaintances. A great change
had come over the royal city. The tone of boastfulness and anticipated
triumph which had pervaded it before the second battle of Newbury had
now entirely disappeared. Gloom was written upon all faces, and few
entertained any hopes of a favorable termination to their cause. Here a
year passed slowly and heavily. The great proportion of Sir Henry
Furness' troop were allowed to return to their farms, as at present
there was no occasion for their services in the field.
All this time the king was negotiating and treating; the Parliament
quarreling furiously among themselves. The war had languished
everywhere. In the west a rising had been defeated by the Parliament
troops. The Prince of Wales had retired to France; and there was now no
force which could be called an army capable of taking the field.
The bitterness of the conflict had for a long time ceased; and in the
general hope that peace was at hand, the rancor of Cavalier against
Roundhead softened down, A great many of the adherents of Charles
returned quietly to their homes, and here they were allowed to settle
down without interruption.
The contrast between this state of things and that which prevailed in
Scotland was very strong, and has been noted by more than one historian.
In England men struggled for principle, and, having fought the battle
out, appeared to bear but little animosity to each other, and returned
each to his own pursuits unmolested and unharmed. In Scotland, upon the
other hand, after the defeat of Montrose, large numbers of prisoners
were executed in cold blood, and sanguinary persecutions took place.
In Parliament the disputes between the Independents and Presbyterians
grew more and more bitter, the latter being strengthened by the presence
of the Scotch army in England. They were greatly in the majority in
point of numbers; but the Independents made up for their numerical
weakness by the violence of their opinions, and by the support of the
army, which was entirely officered by men of extreme views.
The king, instead of frankly dealing with the Commons, now that his
hopes in the field were gone, unhappily continued his intrigues, hoping
that an open breach would take place between the parties. On the 5th of
December he wrote to the speaker of the House of Lords, offering to send
a deputation to Westminster with propositions for the foundation of a
happy and well-grounded peace. This offer was declined, and he again
wrote, offering himself to proceed to Westminster to great in person.
The leaders of Parliament, and indeed with reason, suspected the
sincerity of the king. Papers had been found in the carriage of the
Catholic Archbishop of Tuam, who was killed in a skirmish in October,
proving that the king had concluded an alliance with the Irish rebels,
and that he had agreed, if they would land ten thousand men in England,
that popery should be re-established in Ireland, and the Protestants
brought under subjection. Letters which have since been discovered prove
that in January, 1646, while urging upon the Parliament to come to
terms, he was writing to the queen, saying that he was only deceiving
them. In his letter he said:
"Now, as to points which I expected by my treaty at London. Knowing
assuredly the great animosity which is betwixt the Independents and
Presbyterians, I had great reason to hope that one of the factions would
so address themselves to me that I might, without great difficulty,
obtain my so just ends, and, questionless, it would have given me the
fittest opportunity. For considering the Scots' treaty that would be
besides, I might have found means to put distractions among them, though
I had found none."
Such being the spirit that animated the king, there is little reason for
surprise that the negotiations came to nothing. The last hope of the
crown was destroyed when, on the 22d of March, Lord Astley, marching
from Worcester to join the king at Oxford, was defeated at Stow, in the
Wold, and the three thousand Cavaliers with him killed, captured, or
dispersed. Again the king sent a message to Parliament, offering to come
to Whitehall, and proposing terms similar to those which he had rejected
when the negotiators met at Uxbridge. His real object, however, was to
produce such an effect by his presence in London as would create a
reaction in his favor. Three days after he had sent this message he
wrote to Digby:
"I am endeavoring to get to London, so that the conditions may be such
as a gentleman may own, and that the rebels may acknowledge me king,
being not without hope that I shall be able so to draw either the
Presbyterians or Independents to side with me for exterminating the one
or the other, that I shall be really king again."
These offers were rejected by Parliament, and the army of Fairfax
advanced toward Oxford. In the meanwhile, Montreuil, a special
ambassador from France, bad been negotiating with the Scottish
commissioners in London to induce the Scots to take up the cause of the
king. He then proceeded to Edinburgh, and afterward to the Scotch army.
At first the Scotch were willing to receive him; but they perceived the
danger which would be involved in a quarrel with the English Parliament.
Already there were many causes of dispute. The army had not received the
pay promised them when they marched south, and being without money had
been obliged to live upon the country, creating great disorders and
confusion, and rendering themselves bitterly hated by the people. Thus
their answers continued to be ambiguous, making no absolute promise, but
yet giving a sort of encouragement to the king to place himself in their
hands.
Toward the end of April Fairfax was drawing so close around Oxford that
the king felt that hesitation was no longer possible, and accompanied
only by his chaplain, Dr. Michael Hudson, and by a groom of his
bedchamber, named Jack Ashburnham, he left Oxford at night, and after
many adventures arrived at the Scotch army, before Newark, where upon
his arrival "many lords came instantly to wait on his majesty, with
professions of joy to find that he had so far honored their army as to
think it worthy his presence after so long an opposition." Lord Leven,
however, who commanded the Scotch army, while receiving the king with
professions of courtesy and honor, yet gave him to understand that he
must in some way consider himself as a prisoner. The king, at the
request of the Scotch, signed an order to his governor of Newark, who
had been for months bravely holding out, to surrender the place, and
this having been done, the Scottish army with the king marched to
Newcastle.
After the king's surrender to the Scotch the civil war virtually ceased,
although many places still held out. Oxford, closely invested,
maintained itself until the 22d of June, when it capitulated to Fairfax,
upon the terms that the garrison "should march out of the city of Oxford
with their horses and complete arms that properly belong under them
proportionable to their present or past commands, flying colors,
trumpets sounding, drums beating, matches alight at both ends, bullets
in their mouths, and every soldier to have twelve charges of powder,
match and bullet proportionable." Those who desired to go to their
houses or friends were to lay down their arms within fifteen miles of
Oxford, and then to have passes, with the right of free quarter, and
those who wished to go across the sea to serve any foreign power were to
be allowed to do so. This surrender was honorable to both parties, and
upon the city being given up, the garrison marched out, and then
scattered to their various houses and counties, without let or
molestation from the troops of the Commons.
Harry Furness and his father had not far to go. They were soon installed
in their old house, where although some confusion prevailed owing to its
having been frequently in the occupation of bodies of Parliament troops,
yet the damage done was not serious, and in a short time it was
restored to its former condition. Several of the more valuable articles
were allowed to remain in the hiding-places in which they had been
concealed, as none could yet say how events might finally turn out. A
portion of the Parliamentary troops were also disbanded, and allowed to
return to their homes; among these were Master Rippinghall and his son,
and for some months matters went on at Abingdon as if the civil war had
never been. Harry often saw his friend Herbert; but so long as the king
remained in a doubtful position in the army of the Scots, no close
intercourse could take place between members of parties so opposed to
each other.
The time went slowly with Harry, for after the past three years of
excitement it was difficult to settle down to a quiet life at Furness
Hall. He was of course too old now for schooling, and the times were yet
too disturbed for men to engage in the field sports which occupy so
large a portion of country life. Colonel Furness, indeed, had determined
that in no case would he again take up arms. He was discontented with
the whole course of events, and foresaw that, with the unhappy temper of
the king, no favorable issue could possibly be looked for. He had done
his best, he said, for the crown and would do no more. He told his son,
however, that he should place no rein upon his inclinations should he
choose to meddle further in the matter. Harry would fain have gone
abroad, whither so many of the leading Cavaliers had already betaken
themselves, and entered the service of some foreign court for a few
years. But his father dissuaded him from this, at any rate for the
present.
"These delays and negotiations," he said, "cannot last forever. I care
not whether Presbyterians or Independents get the power over our
unhappy country. The Independents are perhaps the more bigoted; the
Presbyterians the more intolerant. But as the latter would certainly
respect the royal authority more than the former, whose rage appears to
me to pass the bounds of all moderation, I would gladly see the
Presbyterians obtain the upper hand."
For months the negotiations dragged wearily on, the king, as usual,
maintaining an indecisive attitude between the two parties. At length,
however, the negotiations ended in a manner which brought an eternal
disgrace upon the Scotch, for they agreed, upon the receipt of a large
sum of money as the deferred pay of the army, to deliver the king into
the hands of the English Parliament. A great convoy of money was sent
down from London, and the day that the cash was in the hands of the
Scots they handed over the king to the Parliamentary commissioners sent
down to receive him. The king was conducted to Holmby House, a fine
mansion within six miles of Northampton, and there was at first treated
with great honor. A large household and domestic servants were chosen
for him, an excellent stable kept, and the king was allowed a large
amount of personal liberty. The nobles and gentlemen of his court were
permitted to see him, and in fact he was apparently restored to his rank
and estate. The Presbyterian party were in power; but while they treated
the king with the respect due to his exalted station, they had no more
regard to the rights of his conscience than to those of the consciences
of the people at large. He desired to have chaplains of the Episcopal
church; but the Parliament refused this, and sent him two Presbyterian
ministers, whom the king refused to receive.
While King Charles remained at Holmby Parliament quarreled furiously.
The spirit of the Independents obtained a stronger and stronger hold
upon the army. Cromwell himself, with a host of others, preached
daily among them, and this general, although Fairfax was the
commander-in-chief, came gradually to be regarded as the leader of the
army. There can be no doubt that Cromwell was thoroughly sincere in his
convictions, and the charges of hypocrisy which have been brought
against him, are at least proved to be untrue. He was a man of
convictions as earnest as those of the king himself, and as firmly
resolved to override the authority of the Parliament, when the
Parliament withstood him.
Three days after the king arrived at Holmby House the Commons voted that
the army should be disbanded, with the exception of troops required for
the suppression of rebellion in Ireland, and for the service of the
garrisons. It was also voted that there should be no officers, except
Fairfax, of higher rank than colonel, and that every officer should take
the covenant and conform to the Presbyterian Church. A loan was raised
in the city to pay off a portion of the arrears of pay due to the army.
The sum, however, was insufficient, and there were great murmurings
among the men and officers. Fourteen of the latter petitioned Parliament
on the subject of arrears, asking that auditors should be appointed to
report on what was due to them, and laying down some conditions with
regard to their employment in Ireland. Five days afterward the House, on
receipt of this petition, declared that whoever had a hand in promoting
it, or any other such petition, was an enemy to the State, and a
disturber of the public peace. The army were furious at this
declaration. Deputations from them went to the House, and from the House
to the army. The Presbyterian members were highly indignant at their
pretensions, and Cromwell saw that the time was at hand when the army
would take the affair entirely into their hands. The soldiers organized
a council of delegates, called "Adjutators," to look after their rights.
The Parliament voted eight weeks' pay, and a committee went to the army
to see it disbanded. The army declined to disband, and said that eight
times eight weeks' pay was due. The feeling grew hotter and hotter, and
the majority in Parliament came to the conclusion that Cromwell should
be arrested. Cromwell, however, obtained word of what was intended, and
left London.
Upon the same day a party of soldiers went down to Holmby, and forcibly
carried off King Charles from the Parliamentary commissioners, the
troops stationed at Holmby fraternizing with their comrades. The king,
under the charge of these new guards, arrived at Royston on the 7th of
June, and Fairfax and Cromwell met him there. He asked if they had
commissioned Joyce, who was at the head of the party of men who had
carried him off, to remove him. They denied that they had done so.
"I shall not believe you," said the king, "unless you hang him."
And his majesty had good ground for his disbelief.
Cromwell returned to London and took his place in the House, and there
blamed the soldiers, protesting that he would stick to the Parliament;
but the same night he went away again down to the army, and there
declared to them the actions and designs of Parliament. Commissioners
came down on the 10th from the Commons; but the army formed up, and when
the votes were read, refused to obey them. The same afternoon a letter,
signed by Fairfax, Cromwell, Ireton, and ten other officers, was sent to
the city, stating that they were about to advance upon London, and
declaring that if the city did not take part against them "in their just
desires to resist that wicked party which would embroil us and the
kingdom, neither we nor our soldiers shall give you the least offense."
The army marched to St. Albans, and thence demanded the impeachment of
eleven members of the Commons, all leading Presbyterians. The city and
Parliament were in a state of consternation. The army advanced to
Uxbridge. It demanded a month's pay, and received it; but it continued
to advance. On the 26th of April Parliament gave way. The eleven members
retired from the House, the Commons passed a vote approving of the
proceedings of the army, and commissioners were appointed.
All this time the king was treated as honorably as he had been when at
Holmby House. He was always lodged at great houses in the neighborhood
of the army--at the Earl of Salisbury's, at Hatfield, when the troops
were at St. Albans, and at the Earl of Craven's, at Caversham, when the
army moved further back. And at both of these places he was allowed to
receive the visits of his friends, and to spend his time as he desired.
More critical times were now, however, at hand.
CHAPTER XIV.
LAST ATTEMPT TO RESCUE THE KING.
The king, after London had been overawed by the army, was lodged in
Hampton Court. At this time the feeling throughout England was growing
stronger and stronger in favor of the re-establishment of the monarchy,
It was now a year since, with the fall of Oxford, the civil war had
virtually concluded, and people yearned for a settled government and a
return to ancient usages and manners. The great majority of that very
Parliament which had withstood and conquered Charles were of one mind
with the people in general; but England was no longer free to choose for
itself. The army had won the victory for the Commons, and was determined
to impose its will upon the nation. At this time Cromwell, Ireton, and
Fairfax were disposed to an arrangement, but their authority was
overshadowed by that of the preachers, who, in their harangues to the
troops, denounced these generals as traitors, and then finding that they
were likely to lose their influence, and to become obnoxious to both
parties, henceforth threw their lot in with the army, and headed it in
its struggle with the Parliament. Even yet the long misfortunes which
Charles had suffered were insufficient to teach him wisdom. Had he now
heartily thrown himself into the hands of the moderate majority in
Parliament he might--aided by them and by the Scots, who, seeing that
the Independents were ignoring all the obligations which had been
undertaken by the Solemn League and government, were now almost openly
hostile to the party of the army--have again mounted the throne, amid
the joyful acclamations of the whole country. The army would have
fought, but Charles, with England at his back, would assuredly have
conquered. Unfortunately, the king could not be honest. His sole idea of
policy was to set one section of his opponents against the other. He
intrigued at once with the generals and with the Parliament, and had the
imprudence to write continually to the queen and others, avowing that he
was deceiving both. Several of these letters were intercepted, and
although desirous of playing off the king against the army, the Commons
felt that they could place no trust in him whatever; while the preachers
and the army clamored more and more loudly that he should be brought to
trial as a traitor.
Harry Furness had, after the fall of Oxford, remained quietly with his
father at Furness Hall. Once or twice only had he gone up to London,
returning with reports that the people there were becoming more and more
desirous of the restoration of the king to his rights. The great
majority were heartily sick of the rule of the preachers, with their
lengthy exhortations, their sad faces, and their abhorrence of amusement
of all kinds. There had been several popular tumults, in which the old
cry of "God save the king," had again been raised. The apprentices were
ready to join in any movement which might bring back the pleasant times
of old. Cavaliers now openly showed themselves in the streets, and
London was indeed ripe for an insurrection against the sovereignty which
the army had established over the nation. Had the king at this time
escaped from Hampton Court, and ridden into London at the head of only
twenty gentlemen, and issued a proclamation appealing to the loyalty of
the citizens, and promising faithfully to preserve the rights of the
people, and to govern constitutionally, he would have been received with
acclamation. The majority of Parliament would have declared for him,
England would have received the news with delight, and the army alone
would not have sufficed to turn the tide against him. Unhappily for
Charles, he had no more idea now than at the commencement of the war of
governing constitutionally, and instead thinking of trusting himself to
the loyalty and affection of his subjects, he was meditating an escape
to France. Harry received a letter from one of the king's most attached
adherents, who was in waiting upon him at Hampton, begging him to repair
there at once, as his majesty desired the aid of a few of those upon
whom he could best rely, for an enterprise which he was about to
undertake. Harry showed the letter to his father.
"You must do as you will, Harry," the colonel said. "For myself, I stick
to my determination to meddle no more in the broils of this kingdom.
Could I trust his Majesty, I would lay down my life for him willingly;
but I cannot trust him. All the misfortunes which have befallen him, all
the blood which has been poured out by loyal men in his cause, all the
advice which his best councilors have given him, have been thrown away
upon him. He is as lavish with his promises as ever, but all the time he
is intending to break them as soon as he gets ample chance. Were he
seated upon the throne again to-morrow, he would be as arbitrary as he
was upon the day he ascended it. I do not say that I would not far
rather see England under the tyranny of one man than under that of an
army of ambitious knaves; but the latter cannot last. The king's
authority, once riveted again on the necks of the people, might enslave
them for generations, but England will never submit long to the yoke of
military dictators. The evil is great, but it will right itself in
time. But do you do as you like, Harry. You have, I hope, a long life
before you, and 'twere best that you chose your own path in it. But
think it over, my son. Decide nothing to-night, and in the morning let
me know what you have determined."
Harry slept but little that night. When he met his father at breakfast
he said:
"I have decided, father. You know that my opinions run with yours as to
the folly of the king, and the wrongfulness and unwisdom of his policy.
Still he is alone, surrounded by traitors to whose ambition he is an
obstacle, and who clamor for his blood. I know not upon what enterprise
he may now be bent, but methinks that it must be that he thinks of an
escape from the hands of his jailers. If so, he must meditate a flight
to France. There he will need faithful followers, who will do their best
to make him feel that he is still a king who will cheer his exile and
sustain his hopes. It may be that years will pass before England shakes
off the iron yoke which Cromwell and his army are placing upon her neck.
But, as you say, I am young and can wait. There are countries in Europe
where a gentleman can take service in the army, and should aught happen
to King Charles there I will enroll myself until these evil days be all
passed. I would rather never see England again than live here to be
ruled by King Cromwell and his canting Ironsides."
"So be it, my son," the colonel said. "I do not strive to dissuade you,
for methinks had I been of your age I should have chosen the same.
Should your fortunes lead you abroad, as they likely will, I shall send
you a third of my income here. The rest will be ample for me. There will
be little feasting or merriment at Furness Hall until the cloud which
overshadows England be passed away, and you be again by my side. There
is little fear of my being disturbed. Those who laid down their arms
when the war ceased were assured of the possession of their property,
and as I shall draw sword no more there will be no excuse for the
Roundheads to lay hands on Furness Hall. And now, my boy, here are a
hundred gold pieces. Use them in the king's service. When I hear that
you are abroad I will write to Master Fleming to arrange with his
correspondents, whether in France or Holland, as you may chance to be,
to pay the money regularly into your hands. You will, I suppose, take
Jacob with you?"
"Assuredly I will," Harry said. "He is attached and faithful, and
although he cares not very greatly for the King's cause, I know he will
follow my fortunes. He is sick to death of the post which I obtained for
him after the war, with a scrivener at Oxford. I will also take William
Long with me, if he will go. He is a merry fellow, and has a wise head.
He and Jacob did marvelously at Edinburgh, when they cozened the
preachers, and got me out of the clutches of Argyll. With two such
trusty followers I could go through Europe. I will ride over to Oxford
at once."
As Harry anticipated, Jacob was delighted at the prospect of abandoning
his scrivener's desk.
"I don't believe," he said, when he had learned from Harry that they
were going to the king at Hampton, "that aught will come of these
plottings. As I told you when we were apprentices together, I love
plots, but there are men with whom it is fatal to plot. Such a one,
assuredly, is his gracious majesty. For a plot to be successful, all to
be concerned in it must know their own minds, and be true as steel to
each other. The King never knows his own mind for half an hour together,
and, unfortunately, he seems unable to be true to any one. So let it be
understood, Master Harry, that I go into this business partly from love
of you, who have been truly a most kind friend to me, partly because I
love adventure, and hate this scrivener's desk, partly because there is
a chance that I may benefit by the change."
Harry bade him procure apparel as a sober retainer in a Puritan family,
and join him that night at Furness Hall, as he purposed to set out at
daybreak. William Long also agreed at once to follow Harry's fortunes.
The old farmer, his father, offered no objection.
"It is right that my son should ride with the heir of Furness Hall," he
said. "We have been Furness tenants for centuries, and have ever fought
by our lords in battle. Besides, Master Harry, I doubt me whether
William will ever settle down here in peace. His elder brother will have
the farm after me, so it matters not greatly, but your wars and
journeyings have turned his head, and he thinks of arms and steel caps
more than of fat beeves or well-tilled fields."
The next morning, soon after daybreak, Harry and his followers left
Furness Hall, and arrived the same night at Hampton. Here they put up at
a hostelry, and Harry sent a messenger to Lord Ashburnham, who had
summoned him, and was in attendance upon the king, to say that he had
arrived.
An hour later Lord Ashburnham joined him. "I am glad you have come,
Master Furness," he said. "The king needs faithful servants; and it's
well that you have come to-day, as I have been ordered by those in power
to remove from the king's person. His majesty has lost all hope of
coming to an agreement with either party here. At one time it seemed
that Cromwell and Ireton were like to have joined him, but a letter of
the king's, in which he spoke of them somewhat discourteously, fell
into their hands, and they have now given themselves wholly over to the
party most furious against the king. Therefore he has resolved to fly.
Do you move from hence and take up your quarters at Kingston, where no
curious questions are likely to be asked you. I shall take lodgings at
Ditton, and shall there await orders from the king. It may be that he
will change his mind, but of this Major Legg, who attends him in his
bedchamber, will notify us. Our design is to ride to the coast near
Southampton and there take ship, and embark for France. It is not likely
that we shall be attacked by the way, but as the king may be recognized
in any town through which we may pass, it is as well to have half a
dozen good swords on which we can rely."
"I have with me," Harry said, "my friend Jacob, who was lieutenant in my
troop, and who can wield a sword well, and one of my old troopers, a
stout and active lad. You can rely upon them as on me."
Lord Ashburnham stayed but a few minutes with Harry, and then mounted
and rode to Ditton, while Harry the same afternoon journeyed on into
Kingston, and there took up his lodgings. On the 11th of November, three
days after their arrival, Harry received a message from Lord Ashburnham,
asking him to ride over to Ditton. At his lodgings there he found Sir
John Berkeley. Major Legg shortly after arrived, and told them that the
king had determined, when he went into his private room for evening
prayer, to slip away, and make for the river side, where they were to be
in readiness for him with horses. Harry had brought his followers with
him, and had left them at an inn while he visited Lord Ashburnham.
William Long at once rode back to Kingston, and there purchased two good
horses, with saddles, for the king and Major Legg. At seven in the
evening the party mounted, William Long and Jacob each leading a spare
horse. Lord Ashburnham and Sir John Berkeley joined them outside the
village, and they rode together until, crossing the bridge at Hampton,
they stopped on the river bank, at the point arranged, near the palace.
Half an hour passed, and then footsteps were heard, and two figures
approached. Not a word was spoken until they were near enough to discern
their faces.
"Thank God you are here, my Lord Ashburnham," the king said. "Fortune is
always so against me that I feared something might occur to detain you.
Ha! Master Furness, I am glad to see so faithful a friend."
The king and Major Legg now mounted, and the little party rode off.
Their road led through Windsor Forest, then of far greater extent than
at present. Through this the king acted as guide. The night was wild and
stormy, but the king was well acquainted with the forest, and at
daybreak the party, weary and drenched, arrived at Sutton, in Hampshire.
Here they found six horses, which Lord Ashburnham had on the previous
day sent forward, and mounting these, they again rode on. As the sun
rose their spirits revived, and the king entered into conversation with
Ashburnham, Berkeley, and Harry as to his plans. The latter was
surprised and disappointed to find that so hurriedly had the king
finally made up his mind to fly that no ship had been prepared to take
him from the coast, and that it was determined that for the time the
king should go to the Isle of Wight. The governor of the Isle of Wight
was Colonel Hammond, who was connected with both parties. His uncle was
chaplain to the king, and he was himself married to a daughter of
Hampden. It was arranged that the king and Major Legg should proceed to
a house of Lord Southampton at Titchfield, and that Berkeley and Lord
Ashburnham should go to the Isle of Wight to Colonel Hammond, to find
if he would receive the king. Harry, with his followers, was to proceed
to Southampton, and there to procure a ship, which was to be in
readiness to embark the king when a message was received from him.
Agents of the king had already received orders to have a ship in
readiness, and should this be done, it was at once to be brought round
to Titchfield.
"This seems to me," Jacob said, as, after separating from the king, they
rode to Southampton, "to be but poor plotting. Here has the king been
for three months at Hampton Court, and could, had he so chosen, have
fixed his flight for any day at his will. A vessel might have been
standing on and off the coast, ready to receive him, and he could have
ridden down, and embarked immediately he reached the coast. As it is,
there is no ship and no arrangement, and for aught he knows he may be a
closer prisoner in the Isle of Wight than he was at Hampton, while both
parties with whom he has been negotiating will be more furious than ever
at finding that he has fooled them. If I could not plot better than this
I would stick to a scrivener's desk all my life."
It was late in the afternoon when they rode into Southampton. They found
the city in a state of excitement. A messenger had, an hour before,
ridden in from London with the news of the king's escape, and with
orders from Parliament that no vessel should be allowed to leave the
port. Harry then rode to Portsmouth, but there also he was unable to do
anything. He heard that in the afternoon the king had crossed over onto
the Isle of Wight, and that he had been received by the governor with
marks of respect. They, therefore, again returned to Southampton, and
there took a boat for Cowes. Leaving his followers there, Harry rode to
Newport, and saw the king. The latter said that for the present he had
altogether changed his mind about escaping to France, and that Sir John
Berkeley would start at once to negotiate with the heads of the army. He
begged Harry to go to London, and to send him from time to time sure
news of the state of feeling of the populace.
Taking his followers with him, Harry rode to London, disguised as a
country trader. He held communication with many leading citizens, as
well as with apprentices and others with whom he could get into
conversation in the streets and public resorts. He found that the vast
majority of the people of London were longing for the overthrow of the
rule of the Independents, and for the restoration of the king. The
preachers were as busy as ever haranguing people in the streets, and
especially at Paul's Cross. In the cathedral of St. Paul's the
Independent soldiers had stabled their horses, to the great anger of
many moderate people, who were shocked at the manner in which those who
had first begun to fight for liberty of conscience now tyrannized over
the consciences and insulted the feelings of all others. Harry and his
followers mixed among the groups, and aided in inflaming the temper of
the people by passing jeering remarks, and loudly questioning the
statements of the preachers. These, unaccustomed to interruption, would
rapidly lose temper, and they and their partisans would make a rush
through the crowd to seize their interrogators. Then the apprentices
would interfere, blows would be exchanged, and not unfrequently the
fanatics were driven in to take refuge with the troops in St. Paul's.
Harry found a small printer of Royalist opinions, and with the
assistance of Jacob, strung together many doggerel verses, making a
scoff of the sour-faced rulers of England, and calling upon the people
not to submit to be tyrannized over by their own paid servants, the
army. These verses were then set in type by the printer, and in the
evening, taking different ways, they distributed them in the streets to
passers-by.
Day by day the feeling in the city rose higher, as the quarrels at
Westminster between the Independents, backed by the army and the
Presbyterian majority, waxed higher and higher. All this time the king
was negotiating with commissioners from the army, and with others sent
by the Scots, one day inclining to one party, the next to the other,
making promises to both, but intending to observe none, as soon as he
could gain his ends.
On Sunday, the 9th of April, Harry and his friends strolled up to Moor
Fields to look at the apprentices playing bowls there. Presently from
the barracks of the militia hard by a party of soldiers came out, and
ordered them to desist, some of the soldiers seizing upon the bowls.
"Now, lads," Harry shouted, "you will not stand that, will you? The
London apprentices were not wont to submit to be ridden rough-shod over
by troops. Has all spirit been taken out of you by the long-winded
sermons of these knaves in steeple hats?"
Some of the soldiers made a rush at Harry. His two friends closed in by
him. The two first of the soldiers who arrived were knocked down.
Others, however, seized the young men, but the apprentices crowded up,
pelted the soldiers with stones, and, by sheer weight, overthrew those
who had taken Harry and carried him off. The soldiers soon came pouring
out of their barracks, but fleet-footed lads had, at the commencement of
the quarrel, run down into the streets, raising the shout of "clubs,"
and swarms of apprentices came running up. Led by Harry and his
followers, who carried heavy sticks, they charged the militia with such
fury that these, in spite of their superior arms, were driven back
fighting into their barracks. When the gates were shut Harry mounted on
a stone and harangued the apprentices--he recalled to them the ancient
rights of the city, rights which the most absolute monarchs who had sat
upon the throne had not ventured to infringe, that no troops should pass
through the streets or be quartered there to restrict the liberties of
the citizens. "No king would have ventured so to insult the people of
London; why should the crop-haired knaves at Westminster dare to do so?
If you had the spirit of your fathers you would not bear it for a
moment."
"We will not, we will not," shouted the crowd. "Down with the soldiers!"
At this moment a lad approached at full run to say that the cavalry were
coming from St. Paul's. In their enthusiasm the apprentices prepared to
resist, but Harry shouted to them:
"Not here in the fields. Scatter now and assemble in the streets. With
the chains up, we can beat them there."
The apprentices gave a cheer, and, scattering, made their way from the
fields just as the cavalry issued into the open space. Hurrying in all
directions, the apprentices carried the news, and soon the streets
swarmed with their fellows. They were quickly joined by the watermen--in
those days a numerous and powerful body. These were armed with oars and
boat-stretchers. The chains which were fastened at night across the ends
of the streets were quickly placed in position, and all was prepared to
resist the attack of the troops.
CHAPTER XV.
A RIOT IN THE CITY.
So quickly were the preparations made that by the time the cavalry came
riding back from Moor Fields they found the way barred to them. The
commander of the cavalry ordered his men to charge. Harry, who had now
taken the command of the crowd, ordered a few of the apprentices to
stand before the first line of chains, so that these would not be
visible until the horses were close upon them. Behind the chains he
placed a strong body of watermen with their oars, while behind these,
and at the windows of the houses, were the apprentices, each armed with
a quantity of stones and broken bricks. The cavalry charged down upon
the defense. When they reached within a few yards of the apprentices in
front, these slipped under the chain. The leading troopers halted, but
were pressed by those behind them gainst the chain. Then a ram of stones
and brickbats opened upon them, and the watermen struck down men and
horses with their heavy oars. In vain the troopers tried with their
swords to reach their opponents. In vain they fired their pistols into
the mass. They were knocked down by the stones and brickbats in numbers,
and at last, their commander having been struck senseless, the rest drew
off, a tremendous cheer greeting their retreat, from the crowd.
"Now," Harry shouted, taking his position on a doorstep, whence he could
be seen, "attend to me. The battle has only begun yet, and they will
bring up their infantry now. Next time we will let them enter the
street, and defend the chains at the other end--a party must hold
these--do some of you fill each lane which comes down on either side,
and do ten of you enter each house and take post at the upper windows,
with a good store of ammunition. Do not show yourselves until the head
of their column reaches the chain. Then fling open the windows and pour
volleys of stones and bricks upon them. Then let those in the side
streets, each headed by parties of watermen, fall upon their flanks.
Never fear their musketry. They can only give fire once before you are
upon them. The oars will beat down the pikes, and your clubs will do the
rest. Now let the apprentices of each street form themselves into
parties, each under their captain. Let all be regular and orderly, and
we will show them what the Londoners can do."
With a cheer the crowd separated, and soon took post as Harry had
directed. He stationed himself at the barricade at the head of the
street. A quarter of an hour later the militia were seen approaching in
close column followed by the cavalry. On arriving at the end of the
street the assailants removed the chain, and again advanced. The street
was silent until they neared its end. The watermen had, under Harry's
direction, torn up the paving stones, and formed a barricade breast
high, behind which, remaining crouched, they awaited the assault.
The fight began by a volley of stones from the apprentices behind the
barricade. The leading rank of the column discharged their muskets, and
rushed at the barricade; the watermen sprang to oppose them. At the
sound of the first shot every window in the street opened, and a rain of
bricks and heavy stones poured down on all sides upon the column, while
at the same time dense masses flung themselves upon its flanks, from
every lane leading into it. Confused and broken by the sudden onslaught
in the narrow street, the column halted, and endeavored to open a fire
upon the upper windows. This, however, effected but little harm, while
every brick from above told upon their crowded mass. The column was
instantly in confusion, and Harry and his followers, leaping over the
barricade, and followed by the watermen and apprentices behind, fell
upon it with fury. In vain did the Roundheads strive to repulse the
attack. Their numbers melted away as they fell, killed or senseless,
from the rain of missiles from above. Already the column was rent by
their assailants on the flanks, and in less than five minutes from the
commencement of the assault those who remained on their legs were driven
headlong out into Moor Fields.
Loud rose the triumphant cry of the defenders, "God and King Charles."
Some hours elapsed before any attempt was made to renew the assault.
Then toward evening fresh troops were brought up from Westminster, and
the attack was renewed on two sides. Still the apprentices held their
own. Attack after attack was repulsed. All night the fight continued,
and when morning dawned the Royalists were still triumphant.
"How will it go, think you, Jacob?" Harry asked.
"They will beat us in the long run," Jacob said. "They have not been
properly led yet. When they are, guns and swords must prevail against
clubs and stones."
At eleven o'clock in the morning a heavy body of cavalry were seen
approaching from Westminster. The Roundheads had brought up Cromwell's
Ironsides, the victors in many a hard-fought field, against the
apprentice boys of London. The Roundhead infantry advanced with their
horse. As they approached the first barricade the cavalry halted, and
the infantry advanced alone to within thirty yards of it. Then, just as
its defenders thought they were going to charge, they halted, divided
into bodies, and entered the houses on either side, and appeared at the
windows. Then, as the Ironsides came down at a gallop, they opened a
heavy fire on the defenders of the barricade. Harry saw at once that the
tactics now adopted were irresistible, and that further attempts at
defense would only lead to useless slaughter. He therefore shouted:
"Enough for to-day, lads. Every man back to his own house. We will begin
again when we choose. We have given them a good lesson."
In an instant the crowd dispersed, and by the time the Ironsides had
dismounted, broken the chains, and pulled down the barricade
sufficiently to enable them to pass, Ludgate Hill was deserted, the
apprentices were back in their masters' shops, and the watermen standing
by their boats ready for a fare.
Seeing that their persons were known to so many of the citizens, and
would be instantly pointed out to the troops by those siding with the
army, who had, during the tumult, remained quietly in their houses,
watching from the windows what was going on, Harry and his friends
hurried straight to Aldersgate, where they passed out into the country
beyond. Dressed in laborers' smocks, which they had, in preparation for
any sudden flight, left at the house of a Royalist innkeeper, a mile or
two in the fields, they walked to Kingston, crossed the river there, and
made for Southampton.
The king was now closely confined in Carisbrook Castle. For the first
three months of his residence in the Isle of Wight he could have escaped
with ease, had he chosen, and it is probable that Cromwell and the other
leaders of the army would have been glad that he should go, and thus
relieve the country from the inconvenience of his presence. They had
become convinced that so long as he lived quiet could not be hoped for.
While still pretending to negotiate with them, he had signed a treaty
with the Scots, promising to establish Presbyterianism in England, and
their army was already marching south. To the Irish Papists he had
promised free exercise of their religion, and these were taking up arms
and massacring all opposed to them, as was the custom in that barbarous
country. In Wales a formidable insurrection had broken out. Essex and
Kent were up in arms, and, indeed, all through the country the Royalists
were stirring. The leaders had therefore determined upon bringing the
king to trial.
At Southampton Harry found Sir John Berkeley concealed in a house where
he had previously instructed Harry he might be looked for. He told him
that the king was now a close prisoner, and would assuredly escape if
means could be provided. Leaving Sir John, Harry joined his followers,
and after telling them the circumstances, they walked down to the port.
Here they entered into conversation with an old sailor. Seeing that he
was an honest fellow, and in no way disposed toward the fanatics, Harry
told him that he and those with him were Cavaliers, who sought to cross
over into France.
"There is a boat, there," the sailor said, pointing to a lugger which
was lying at anchor among some fishing boats, "that will carry you. The
captain, Dick Wilson, is a friend of mine, and often makes a run across
to France on dark nights, and brings back smuggled goods. I know where
he can be found, and will lead you to him, if it so pleases you." Upon
their gladly accepting the offer he led them to a small inn by the water
side, and introduced them to the captain of the Moonlight, for so the
lugger was called. Upon receiving a hint from the sailor that his
companions wished to speak to him in private, Wilson led the way
upstairs to the chamber he occupied. Here Harry at once unfolded to him
the nature of the service he required. He was to lay with his boat off
the bank of the island, making to sea before daylight, and returning
after dusk, and was to take his station off a gap in the cliffs, known
as Black Gang Chine, where a footpath from above descended to the beach.
Upon a light being shown three times at the water's edge he was to send
a boat immediately ashore, and embarking those whom he might find there,
sail for France. If at the end of the week none should come, he would
know that his services would not be required, and might sail away
whither he listed. He was to receive fifty guineas at once for the
service, and if he transported those who might come down to the shore,
to France, he would, on arriving there, be paid two hundred and fifty
more.
"It is the king, of course, who seeks to escape," the sailor said.
"Well, young gentlemen, for such I doubt not that you are, I am ready to
try it. We sailors are near all for the king, and the fleet last week
declared for him, and sailed for Holland. So, once on board, there will
be little danger. Pay me the fifty guineas at once, and you may rely
upon the Moonlight being at the point named."
Harry handed over the money, and arranged that on the third night
following the lugger should beat the post appointed, and that it should
at once run them across and land them at Cowes. It was now the middle of
May, and Harry and his friends, who were still in the disguise of
countrymen, walked across to Newport. Their first step was to examine
the castle. It lay a short distance from the town, was surrounded by a
high wall with towers, and could offer a strong resistance to an
attacking force. At the back of the castle was a small postern gate, at
which they decided that his escape must, if possible, be made. Harry had
been well supplied with money by Sir John Berkeley before leaving
Southampton, Sir John himself, on account of his figure being so well
known at Newport, during his stay there with the king, deeming it
imprudent to take any personal part in the enterprise. After an
examination of the exterior of the castle Harry bought a large basket of
eggs, and some chickens, and with these proceeded to the castle. There
was a guard at the gate, but persons could freely enter. As Harry's
wares were exceedingly cheap in price, he speedily effected a sale of
them to the soldiers and servants of the officers.
"I should like," he said to the man to whom he disposed of the last of
the contents of his basket, "to catch a sight of the king. I ha' never
seen him."
"That's easy enough," the man said. "Just mount these stairs with me to
the wall. He is walking in the garden at the back of the castle."
Harry followed the man, and presently reached a spot where he could look
down into the garden. The king was pacing up and down the walk, his head
bent, his hands behind his back, apparently in deep thought. An
attendant, a short distance behind him, followed his steps.
"Be that the king?" Harry asked. "He don't look like a king."
"That's him," the man said, "and he's not much of a king at present."
"Where does he live now?" Harry asked.
"That is his room," the man said, pointing to a window some ten feet
from the ground. After a little further conversation Harry appeared to
be satisfied, and returning to the courtyard, made his way from the
castle. During that day and the next they remained quiet, except that
Jacob walked over to Cowes, where he purchased two very fine and sharp
saws, and a short length of strong rope, with a hook. The following
night they hired a cart with a fast horse, and this they placed at a
spot a quarter of a mile from the castle.
Leaving the man in charge of it there, Harry and his companions made for
the back of the castle. They could tell by the calls upon the walls that
the sentries were watchful, but the night was so dark that they had no
fear whatever of being seen. Very quietly they crossed the moat, which
was shallow, and with but little water in it. Then with an auger they
cut four holes in a square two feet each way in the door, and, with a
saw, speedily cut the piece inclosed by them out, and creeping through,
entered the garden. The greater part of the lights were already
extinguished, but that in the king's chamber was still burning. They
made their way quietly until they stood beneath this window, and waited
until the light here was also put out. Then Harry climbed on to the
shoulders of his companions, which brought his face on a level with the
window. He tapped at it. The king, who had been warned that his friends
would attempt to open a means of escape, at once came to the window, and
threw open the casement.
"Who is there?" he asked, in low tones.
"It is I, Harry Furness, your majesty. I have two trusty friends with
me. We have cut a hole through the postern gate, a cart is waiting
without, and a ship lies ready to receive you on the coast."
"I am ready," the king said. "Thanks, my faithful servant. But have you
brought something to cut the bars?"
"The bars!" Henry exclaimed, aghast. "I did not know that there were
bars!"
"There are, indeed, Master Furness," the king said, "and if you have no
file the enterprise is ruined."
Harry put his hands on the stonework and pulled himself up, and felt the
bars within the window.
"They are too strong for our united strength," he said, in a tone of
deep disappointment. "But methinks it is possible to get between them."
Putting his head between the bars he struggled though, but with great
difficulty. "See, your majesty, I have got through."
"Ay, Master Furness, but you are slighter in figure than I, although you
are changed indeed since first the colonel, your father, presented you
to me at Oxford. However, I will try." The king tried, but in vain. He
was stouter than Harry, although less broadly built, and had none of the
lissomness which enabled the latter to wriggle through the bars. "It is
useless," he said at last. "Providence is against me. It is the will of
God that I should remain here. It may be the decree of Heaven that even
yet I may sit again on the throne of my ancestors. Now go, Master
Furness. It is too late to renew the attempt to-night. Should Charles
Stuart ever reign again over England, he will not forget your faithful
service."
Harry kissed the king's hand, and with a prayer for his welfare he again
made his way through the bars and dropped from the window, by the side
of his companions, the tears streaming down his cheeks with the
disappointment and sorrow he felt at the failure of his enterprise. "It
is all over," he said. "The king cannot force his way through the bars."
Without another word they made their way down to the postern, passed
through it, and replaced the piece of wood in its position, in the faint
hope that it might escape notice. Then they rejoined the driver with the
cart, paid him handsomely, and told him that his services would not be
required that night at least. They then returned to their lodgings in
the town. The next morning early Jacob started for Cowes to buy some
sharp files and aquafortis, but an hour later the news passed through
Newport that an attempt had been made in the night to free the king,
that a hole had been cut in the postern, and the marks of footsteps
discovered under the king's window. Perceiving that it would be useless
to renew the attempt now that the suspicions of the garrison were
aroused, Harry and William Long, fearing that a search would be
instituted, at once started for Cowes. They met Jacob close to that
town, crossed in a boat to the mainland, and walked to Southampton. They
hesitated whether they should join Lord Goring, who had risen in Kent,
or Lord Capel and Sir Charles Lucas, who had collected a large force at
Colchester. They determined upon the latter course, as the movement
appeared to promise a better chance of success. Taking passage in a
coaster, they sailed to the mouth of the Thames, and being landed near
Tilbury, made their way to Colchester. Harry was, on his arrival,
welcomed by the Royalist leaders, who were well acquainted with him.
They proposed to march upon London, which would, they felt sure, declare
for the king upon their approach. They had scarcely set their force in
motion when they heard that Fairfax, at the head of an army, was
marching against them. A debate was held among the leaders as to the
best course to pursue. Some were for marching north, but the eastern
counties had, from the commencement of the troubles, been wholly on the
side of the Parliament. Others were for dispersing the bands, and
awaiting a better opportunity for a rising. Sir Charles Lucas, however,
urged that they should defend Colchester to the last.
"Here," he said, "we are doing good service to the Royal cause, and by
detaining Fairfax here, we shall give time to our friends in Wales,
Kent, and other parts to rise and organize. If it is seen that whenever
we meet the Roundheads we disperse at once, hope and confidence will be
lost."
The next day the town was invested by Fairfax, and shortly after the
siege began in earnest. The Royalists fought with great bravery, and for
two months every attempt of the Roundheads to storm the place was
repulsed. At length, however, supplies ran short, several breaches had
been made in the walls by the Roundhead artillery, and a council of war
was held, at which it was decided that further resistance was useless,
and would only inflict a great slaughter upon their followers, who, in
the event of surrender, would for the most part be permitted to return
to their homes. Harry Furness was present at the council and agreed to
the decision. He said, however, that he would endeavor, with his two
personal followers, to effect his escape, as, if he were taken a
prisoner to London, he should be sure to be recognized there as the
leader of the rising in May, in which case he doubted not that little
mercy would be shown to him. The Royalist leaders agreed with him, but
pointed out that his chances of escape were small, as the town was
closely beleaguered. Harry, however, declared that he preferred the risk
of being shot while endeavoring to escape, to the certainty of being
executed if carried to London.
That night they procured some bladders, for although Jacob and Harry
were able to swim, William Long could not do so, and in any case it was
safer to float than to swim. The bladders were blown out and their necks
securely fastened. The three adventurers were then lowered from the wall
by ropes, and having fastened the bladders around them, noiselessly
entered the water. A numerous flotilla of ships and boats of the
Commons lay below the town; the tide was running out, however, and the
night dark, and keeping hold of each other, so as not to be separated by
the tide, they drifted through these unobserved. Once safely out of
hearing, Jacob and Harry struck out and towed their companion to shore.
While at Colchester they had been attired as Royalist officers, but they
had left these garments behind them, and carried, strapped to their
shoulders, above water, the countrymen's clothes in which they had
entered the town. They walked as far as Brentwood, where they stopped
for a few days, and learned the news of what was passing throughout the
country.
Colchester surrendered on the 27th of August, the morning after they
left it. Lord Capel was sent a prisoner to London to be tried for his
life; but Fairfax caused Sir Charles Lucas and Sir George Lisle to be
tried by court-martial, and shot. On the 10th of July the town and
castle of Pembroke had surrendered to Cromwell, who immediately
afterward marched north to meet the Scotch army, which six days before
had entered England. The Duke of Hamilton, who commanded it, was at once
joined by five thousand English Royalists under Sir Marmaduke Langdale.
General Lambert, who commanded the Parliamentary troops in the north,
fell back to avoid a battle until Cromwell could join him.
The Scotch army could not be called a national force. The Scotch
Parliament, influenced by the Duke of Hamilton and others, had entered
into an agreement with King Charles, and undertook to reinstate him on
the throne. The more violent section, headed by Argyll, were bitterly
hostile to the step. The Duke of Hamilton's army, therefore, consisted
entirely of raw and undisciplined troops. Cromwell marched with great
speed through Wales to Gloucester, and then on through Leicester and
Nottingham, and joined Lambert at Barnet Castle on the 12th of August.
Then he marched against the Scotch army, which, straggling widely and
thinking Cromwell still at a distance, was advancing toward Manchester.
On the 16th the duke with his advanced guard was at Preston, with
Langdale on his left. Cromwell attacked Langdale with his whole force
next morning, and the Royalists after fighting stoutly were entirely
defeated. Then he fell upon the Duke of Hamilton and the force under him
at Preston, and after four hours' sharp fighting in the inclosures round
the place, defeated and drove them out of the town. That night the Scots
determined to retreat, and at once began to scatter. General Baillie,
after some hard fighting around Warrington, surrendered with his
division. The duke with three thousand men went to Nantwich. The country
was hostile, his own troops, wearied and dispirited, mutinied, and
declared they would fight no longer; the Duke of Hamilton thereupon
surrendered, the Scotch invasion of England came to an end.
CHAPTER XVI.
THE EXECUTION OF KING CHARLES.
The news of the failure of the Welsh insurrection and the Scotch
invasion, while the risings in Kent and Essex were crushed out, showed
Harry Furness that, for the time at least, there was no further fighting
to be done. Cromwell, after the defeat of the Scotch, marched with his
army to Edinburgh, where he was received with enthusiasm by Argyll and
the fanatic section, who were now again restored to power, and
recommenced a cruel persecution of all suspected of Royalist opinions.
Now that the Scotch had been beaten, and the Royalist rising everywhere
crushed out, the Parliament were seized with fear as to the course which
Cromwell and his victorious army might pursue. If they had been so
arrogant and haughty before, what might not be expected now.
Negotiations were at once opened with the king. He was removed from
Carisbrook to a good house at Newport. Commissioners came down there,
and forty days were spent in prolonged argument, and the commissioners
returned to London on the 28th of November with a treaty signed. It was
too late. The army stationed at St. Albans sent in a remonstrance to
Parliament, calling upon them to bring the king to trial, and stating
that if Parliament neglected its duty the army would take the matter
into its own hands. This remonstrance caused great excitement in the
Commons. No steps were taken upon it however, and the Commons proceeded
to discuss the treaty, and voted that the king's concessions were
sufficient. On the 29th a body of soldiers went across to the Isle of
Wight, surrounded the king's house, seized him and carried him to Hurst
Castle. The next day Parliament voted that they would not debate the
remonstrance of the army, and in reply the army at Windsor marched on
the 2d of December into London. On the 5th the Commons debated all day
upon the treaty.
Prynne, formerly one of the stanchest opposers of King Charles, spoke
with others strongly in his favor, and it was carried by a hundred and
twenty-nine to thirty-eight. The same day some of the leaders of the
army met, and determined to expel from the house all those opposed to
their interests. On the 7th the Trained Bands of the city were withdrawn
from around the House, and Colonel Pride with his regiment of foot
surrounded it. As the members arrived forty-one of them were turned
back. The same process was repeated on the two following days, until
over a hundred members had been arrested. Thus the army performed a
revolution such as no English sovereign has dared to carry out. After
this it is idle to talk of the Parliament as in any way representing
the English people. The representatives who supported the king had long
since left it. The whole of the moderate portion of those who had
opposed him, that is to say, those who had fought to support the
liberties of Englishmen against encroachments by the king, and who
formed the majority after the Royalists had retired, were now expelled;
there remained only a small body of fanatics devoted to the interests of
the army, and determined to crush out all liberties of England under its
armed heel. This was the body before whom the king was ere long to
undergo the mockery of a trial.
King Charles was taken to Hurst Castle on the 17th of December, and
three days later carried to Windsor. On the 2d of January, 1649, the
Commons voted that in making war against the Parliament the king had
been guilty of treason, and should be tried by a court of a hundred and
fifty commissioners. The Peers rejected the bill, and the Commons then
voted that neither the assent of the Peers nor the king was necessary
for a law passed by themselves.
All the encroachments of King Charles together were as nothing to this
usurpation of despotic power.
In consequence of the conduct of the Peers, the number of commissioners
was reduced to a hundred and thirty-five; but of these only sixty-nine
assembled at the trial. Thus the court which was to try the king
consisted only of those who were already pledged to destroy him. Before
such a court as this there could be but one end to the trial. When,
after deciding upon their sentence, the king was brought in to hear it,
the chief commissioner told him that the charges were brought against
him in the name of the people of England, when Lady Fairfax from the
gallery cried out, "It's a lie! Not one-half of them." Had she said not
one hundredth of them, she would have been within the mark.
On the 27th sentence was pronounced. On the 29th the court signed the
sentence, which was to be carried out on the following day.
From the time when Harry Furness left Brentwood at the end of August
until the king was brought to London, he had lived quietly at
Southampton. He feared to return home, and chose this port as his
residence, in order that he might, if necessary, cross into France at
short notice. When the news came that the king had been brought up from
Windsor, Harry and his friends at once rode to London, Every one was so
absorbed in the great trial about to take place that Harry had little
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