CHAPTER I.

FRIENDS THOUGH DIVIDED

A TALE OF THE CIVIL WAR

BY

G.A. HENTY

AUTHOR OF "IN TIMES OF PERIL," "THE YOUNG FRANCTIREURS,"

"THE YOUNG BUGLERS," ETC, ETC.

PREFACE

My dear lads: Although so long a time has elapsed since the great civil

war in England, men are still almost as much divided as they were then

as to the merits of the quarrel, almost as warm partisans of the one

side or the other. Most of you will probably have formed an opinion as

to the rights of the case, either from your own reading, or from hearing

the views of your elders.

For my part, I have endeavored to hold the scales equally, to relate

historical facts with absolute accuracy, and to show how much of right

and how much of wrong there was upon either side. Upon the one hand, the

king by his instability, bad faith, and duplicity alienated his best

friends, and drove the Commons to far greater lengths than they had at

first dreamed of. Upon the other hand, the struggle, begun only to win

constitutional rights, ended--owing to the ambition, fanaticism, and

determination to override all rights and all opinions save their own, of

a numerically insignificant minority of the Commons, backed by the

strength of the army--in the establishment of the most complete

despotism England has ever seen.

It may no doubt be considered a failing on my part that one of my heroes

has a very undue preponderance of adventure over the other. This I

regret; but after the scale of victory turned, those on the winning side

had little to do or to suffer, and one's interest is certainly with the

hunted fugitive, or the slave in the Bermudas, rather than with the

prosperous and well-to-do citizen.

Yours very sincerely,

G.A. HENTY.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I. The Eve of the War

CHAPTER II. For the King

CHAPTER III. A Brawl at Oxford

CHAPTER IV. Breaking Prison

CHAPTER V. A Mission of State

CHAPTER VI. A Narrow Escape

CHAPTER VII. In a Hot Place

CHAPTER VIII. The Defense of an Outpost

CHAPTER IX. A Stubborn Defense

CHAPTER X. The Commissioner of the Convention

CHAPTER XI. Montrose

CHAPTER XII. An Escape from Prison

CHAPTER XIII. Public Events

CHAPTER XIV. An Attempt to Rescue the King

CHAPTER XV. A Riot in the City

CHAPTER XVI. The Execution of King Charles

CHAPTER XVII. The Siege of Drogheda

CHAPTER XVIII. Slaves in the Bermudas

CHAPTER XIX. A Sea Fight

CHAPTER XX. With the Scotch Army

CHAPTER XXI. The Path Across the Morass

CHAPTER XXII. Kidnaped

CHAPTER XXIII. The Battle of Worcester

CHAPTER XXIV. Across the Sea.

CHAPTER XXV. A Plot Overheard

CHAPTER XXVI. Rest at Last

FRIENDS, THOUGH DIVIDED.

CHAPTER I.

THE EVE OF THE WAR.

It was a pleasant afternoon in the month of July, 1642, when three young

people sat together on a shady bank at the edge of a wood some three

miles from Oxford. The country was undulating and picturesque, and a

little more than a mile in front of them rose the lofty spire of St.

Helen's, Abingdon. The party consisted of two lads, who were about

fifteen years of age, and a girl of ten. The lads, although of about the

same height and build, were singularly unlike. Herbert Rippinghall was

dark and grave, his dress somber in hue, but good in material and well

made. Harry Furness was a fair and merry-looking boy; good humor was the

distinguishing characteristic of his face; his somewhat bright and

fashionably cut clothes were carelessly put on, and it was clear that no

thought of his own appearance or good looks entered his mind. He wore

his hair in ringlets, and had on his head a broad hat of felt with a

white feather, while his companion wore a plain cap, and his hair was

cut closely to his head.

"It is a bad business, Harry," the latter said, "but, there is one

satisfaction that, come what may, nothing can disturb our friendship. We

have never had a quarrel since we first met at the old school down

there, six years ago. We have been dear friends always, and my only

regret has been that your laziness has prevented our being rivals, for

neither would have grudged the other victory."

"No, indeed, Herbert. But there was never a chance of that. You have

always been Mr. Gregory's prize boy, and are now head of the school;

while I have always been in his bad books. But, as you say, Herbert, we

have been dear friends, and, come what will, we'll continue so. We

cannot agree on the state of the kingdom, and shall never do so. We have

both taken our views from our parents; and indeed it seems to me that

the question is far too difficult a one for boys like us to form any

opinion of it. When we see some of the best and wisest in the land

ranging themselves on either side, it is clear that even such a wise

noddle as yours--to say nothing of a feather brain like mine--cannot

form any opinion on a subject which perplexes our elders and betters."

"That is true, Harry; but still--"

"No, no, Herbert, we will have no argument. You have the best of it

there, and I fall back upon authority. My father, the colonel, is for

the king; yours for the Parliament. He says that there are faults on

both sides, and indeed, for years he favored the Commons. The king's

acts were unconstitutional and tyrannical, and my father approved of the

bold stand which Sir George Elliot made against him. Now, however, all

this has been changed, he tells me, and the Commons seek to rule without

either king or peers. They have sought to impose conditions which would

render them the lords absolute of England, and reduce the king to a mere

puppet. They have, too, attacked the Church, would abolish bishops, and

interfere in all matters spiritual. Therefore, my father, while

acknowledging the faults which the king has committed, and grieving

over the acts which have driven the Parliament to taking up a hostile

attitude to him, yet holds it his duty to support him against the

violent men who have now assumed power, and who are aiming at the

subversion of the constitution and the loss of the country."

"I fear, also," Herbert said, "that the Commons have gone grievously

beyond their rights, although, did my father hear me say so, I should

fall under his gravest displeasure. But he holds that it is necessary

that there should be an ecclesiastical sweep, that the prelates should

have no more power in the land, that popery should be put down with an

iron hand, and that, since kings cannot be trusted to govern well, all

power should be placed in the hands of the people. My own thoughts do

incline toward his; but, as you say, when one sees men like my Lord

Falkland, who have hitherto stood among the foremost in the ranks of

those who demand that the king shall govern according to law, now siding

with him against them, one cannot but feel how grave are the

difficulties, and how much is to be said on either side. How is one to

choose? The king is overbearing, haughty, and untrue to his word. The

Parliament is stiff-necked and bent upon acquiring power beyond what is

fair and right. There are, indeed, grievous faults on both sides. But it

seems to me that should the king now have his way and conquer the

Commons, he and his descendants will henceforth govern as absolute

monarchs, and the liberty of the people will be endangered; while on the

other hand, should the Parliament gain the upper hand, they will place

on a firm basis the liberties of Englishmen, and any excesses which they

may commit will be controlled and modified by a future parliament, for

the people of England will no more suffer tyranny on the part of the

Commons than of the king; but while they cannot change the one, it is

in their power to elect whom they will, and to send up men who will

govern things moderately and wisely."

"At any rate," Harry said, "my father thinks that there is neither

moderation nor wisdom among the zealots at Westminster; and as I hear

that many nobles and country gentlemen throughout England are of the

same opinion, methinks that though at present the Parliament have the

best of it, and have seized Portsmouth, and the Tower, and all the

depots of arms, yet that in the end the king will prevail against them."

"I trust," Herbert continued earnestly, "that there will be no fighting.

England has known no civil wars since the days of the Roses, and when we

see how France and Germany are torn by internal dissensions, we should

be happy indeed that England has so long escaped such a scourge. It is

indeed sad to think that friends should be arrayed against each other in

a quarrel in which both sides are in the wrong."

"I hope," Harry said, "that if they needs must fight, it will soon be

over, whichever way fortune may turn."

"I think not," Herbert answered. "It is a war of religion as much as a

war for power. The king and the Commons may strive who shall govern the

realm; but the people who will take up arms will do it more for the

triumph of Protestantism than for that of Pym and Hampden."

"How tiresome you both are," Lucy Rippinghall interrupted, pouting. "You

brought me out to gather flowers, and you do nothing but talk of kings

and Parliament, as if I cared for them. I call it very rude. Herbert is

often forgetful, and thinks of his books more than of me; but you,

Master Harry, are always polite and gentle, and I marvel much that you

should be so changed to-day."

"Forgive me," Harry said, smiling. "We have been very remiss, Miss

Lucy; but we will have no more of high politics, and will, even if never

again," he said sadly, "devote all our energies to getting such a basket

of flowers for you as may fill your rooms with beaupots. Now, if your

majesty is ready to begin, we are your most obedient servants."

And so, with a laugh, the little party rose to their feet, and started

in quest of wild flowers.

The condition of affairs was at the outbreak of the civil war such as

might well puzzle older heads than those of Harry Furness or Herbert

Rippinghall, to choose between the two powers who were gathering arms.

The foundations of the difficulty had been laid in the reign of King

James. That monarch, who in figure, manners, and mind was in the

strongest contrast to all the English kings who had preceded him, was

infinitely more mischievous than a more foolish monarch could have been.

Coarse in manner--a buffoon in demeanor--so weak, that in many matters

he suffered himself to be a puppet in the hands of the profligates who

surrounded him, he had yet a certain amount of cleverness, and an

obstinacy which nothing could overcome. He brought with him from

Scotland an overweening opinion of the power and dignity of his position

as a king. The words--absolute monarchy--had hitherto meant only a

monarch free from foreign interference; to James they meant a monarchy

free from interference on the part of Lords or Commons. He believed

implicitly in the divine right of kings to do just as they chose, and in

all things, secular and ecclesiastical, to impose their will upon their

subjects.

At that time, upon the Continent, the struggle of Protestantism and

Catholicism was being fought out everywhere. In France the Huguenots

were gradually losing ground, and were soon to be extirpated. In

Germany the Protestant princes had lost ground. Austria, at one time

halting between two opinions, had now espoused vehemently the side of

the pope, and save in Holland and Switzerland, Catholicism was

triumphing all along the line. While the sympathies of the people of

England were strongly in favor of their co-religionists upon the

Continent, those of James inclined toward Catholicism, and in all

matters ecclesiastical he was at variance with his subjects. What

caused, if possible, an even deeper feeling of anger than his

interference in church matters, was his claim to influence the decisions

of the law courts. The pusillanimity of the great mass of the judges

hindered them from opposing his outrageous claims, and the people saw

with indignation and amazement the royal power becoming infinitely

greater and more extended than anything to which Henry VIII. or even

Elizabeth had laid claim. The negotiations of the king for a marriage

between his son and the Infanta of Spain raised the fears of the people

to the highest point. The remembrance of the Spanish armada was still

fresh in their minds, and they looked upon an alliance with Spain as the

most unholy of contracts, and as threatening alike the religion and

liberties of Englishmen.

Thus when at King James' death King Charles ascended the throne, he

inherited a legacy of trouble. Unhappily, his disposition was even more

obstinate than that of his father. His training had been wholly bad, and

he had inherited the pernicious ideas of his father in reference to the

rights of kings. Even more unfortunately, he had inherited his father's

counselors. The Duke of Buckingham, a haughty, avaricious, and ambitious

noble, raised by King James from obscurity, urged him to follow the path

of his father, and other evil counselors were not wanting. King

Charles, indeed, had an advantage over his father, inasmuch as his

person was stately and commanding, his manner grave and dignified, and

his private life irreproachable. The conflicts which had continued

throughout the reign of his father between king and Parliament speedily

broke out afresh. The Commons refused to grant supplies, unless the king

granted rights and privileges which he deemed alike derogatory and

dangerous. The shifty foreign policy of England was continued, and soon

the breach was as wide as it had been during the previous reign.

After several Parliaments had been called and dissolved, some gaining

advantage from the necessities of the king, others meeting only to

separate after discussions which imbittered the already existing

relations, for ten years the king dispensed with a Parliament. The

murder of the Duke of Buckingham by Felton brought no alleviation to the

situation. In Ireland, Wentworth, Earl of Strafford, ruled with

tyrannical power. He was a man of clear mind and of great talent, and

his whole efforts were devoted to increasing the power of the king, and

so, as he considered, the benefit of the country. In Ireland he had a

submissive Parliament, and by the aid of this he raised moneys, and

ruled in a manner which, tyrannical as it was, was yet for the benefit

of that country. The king had absolute confidence in him, and his advice

was ever on the side of resistance to popular demands. In England the

chief power was given to Archbishop Land, a high church prelate, bent

upon restoring many of the forms of Catholic worship, and bitterly

opposed to the Puritan spirit which pervaded the great mass of the

English people.

So far the errors had been entirely upon the side of the king. The

demands of the Commons had been justified by precedent and

constitutional rule. The doings of the king were in equal opposition to

these. When at last the necessity of the situation compelled Charles to

summon a Parliament, he was met by them in a spirit of absolute

defiance. Before any vote of supply would he taken, the Commons insisted

upon the impeachment of Strafford, and Charles weakly consented to this.

The trial was illegally carried on, and the evidence weak and doubtful.

But the king's favorite was marked out for destruction, and to the joy

of the whole kingdom was condemned and executed. A similar fate befell

Laud, and encouraged by these successes, the demands of the Commons

became higher and higher.

The ultimatum which at last the Puritan party in Parliament delivered to

the king, was that no man should remain in the royal council who was not

agreeable to Parliament; that no deed of the king should have validity

unless it passed the council, and was attested under their hands; that

all the officers of the state and principal judges should be chosen with

consent of Parliament, and enjoy their offices for life; that none of

the royal family should marry without consent of Parliament or the

council; that the penal laws should be executed against Catholics; that

the votes of popish lords should not be received in the Peers, and that

bishops should be excluded from the House; that the reformation of the

liturgy and church government should be carried out according to the

advice of Parliament; that the ordinances which they had made with

regard to the militia should be submitted to; that the justice of

Parliament should pass upon all delinquents, that is, upon all officials

of the state and country who had assisted in carrying out the king's

ordinances for the raising of taxes; that a general pardon should he

granted, with such exceptions as should he advised by Parliament; that

the fort and castles should be disposed of by consent of Parliament;

and that no peers should be made but with the consent of both Houses.

They demanded also that they should have the power of appointing and

dismissing the royal ministers, of naming guardians for the royal

children, and of virtually controlling military, civil, and religious

affairs.

As it was clear that these demands went altogether beyond the rights of

the Commons, and that if the king submitted to them the power of the

country would be solely in their hands, while he himself would become a

cipher, he had no course open to him but to refuse assent, and to appeal

to the loyal nobility and gentry of the country.

It is true that many of these rights have since been obtained by the

Houses of Parliament; but it must be remembered that they were

altogether alien at the time to the position which the kings of England

had hitherto held, and that the body into whose hands they would be

intrusted would be composed solely of one party in the state, and that

this party would be controlled by the fanatical leaders and the

ministers of the sects opposed to the Established Church, which were at

that time bitter, narrow, and violent to an extent of which we have now

no conception.

The attitude thus assumed by Parliament drove from their ranks a great

many of the most intelligent and enlightened of those who had formerly

sided with them in their contest against the king. These gentlemen felt

that intolerable as was the despotic power of a king, still more

intolerable would it be to be governed by the despotic power of a group

of fanatics. The liberty of Englishmen was now as much threatened by the

Commons as it had been threatened by the king, and to loyal gentlemen

the latter alternative was preferable. Thus there were on both sides

earnest and conscientious men who grieved deeply at being forced to

draw swords in such a quarrel, and who felt that their choice of sides

was difficult in the extreme. Falkland was the typical soldier on the

royal side, Hampden on that of the Commons.

It is probable that were England divided to-morrow under the same

conditions, men would be equally troubled upon which side to range

themselves. At this period of the struggle, with the exception of a few

hot-headed followers of the king and a few zealots on the side of the

Commons, there was a general hope that matters would shortly be

arranged, and that one conflict would settle the struggle.

The first warlike demonstration was made before the town of York, before

whose walls the king, arriving with an armed force, was refused

admittance by Sir John Hotham, who held the place for the Parliament.

This was the signal for the outbreak of the war, and each party

henceforth strained every nerve to arm themselves and to place their

forces in the field.

The above is but a brief sketch of the circumstances which led the

Cavaliers and Puritans of England to arm themselves for civil war. Many

details have been omitted, the object being not to teach the history of

the time, but to show the general course of events which had led to so

broad and strange a division between the people of England. Even now,

after an interval of two hundred years, men still discuss the subject

with something like passion, and are as strong in their sympathies

toward one side or the other as in the days when their ancestors took up

arms for king or Commons.

It is with the story of the war which followed the conversation of Harry

Furness and Herbert Rippinghall that we have to do, not with that of the

political occurrences which preceded it. As to these, at least, no

doubts or differences of opinion can arise. The incidents of the war,

its victories and defeats, its changing fortunes, and its final triumph

are matters beyond the domain of politics, or of opinion; and indeed

when once the war began politics ceased to have much further sway. The

original questions were lost sight of, and men fought for king or

Parliament just as soldiers nowadays fight for England or France,

without in any concerning themselves with the original grounds of

quarrel.

Friends, though divided: A Tale of the Civil War · 第 1 / 26 章