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 not 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 treat 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, had 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.