its forlorn emptiness. There were only two or three servants there, and
they had no idea when the family would return. To Jane he admitted that
London seemed desolate, and Jane was herself conscious of a want or a
loss. Much of her London life had been blended with Jevery House, and
there was now a necessity for a fresh ordering of her time and duties.
About a week after Matilda's departure Cluny called early one evening
and asked Jane to go with him to Mr. Milton's house in Petty France.
They sauntered through St. James' Park, not then open to the public in
general, though an exception was made in favour of certain houses on the
Westminster side. In one of these, "a pretty garden house," Mr. Milton
lived, and they found him walking with his daughters under the shady
elms. Cluny delivered to him some papers, but did not accept his
invitation to enter the house and sing with him an anthem which he had
just composed; for the evening promised to be exceedingly lovely, and
Jane's company in the sweet, shady walks was a far greater attraction.
They soon lost sight of all humanity, and were conscious only of each
other's presence, for indeed a general air of complete solitude pervaded
the twilight shades. Jane was telling Cluny about her interview with
Stephen, and they were walking slowly, hand in hand, quite absorbed in
their own affairs. So much so, that they never noticed a figure which
emerged from behind a clump of shrubs, and stood looking at them. It
was the Lord General. He had been pacing a little alley of hazel trees
near by, for some time, and was about to alter his course in order to
take the nearest road to his apartments in Whitehall. His face was
grave, but not unhappy, and when he saw Cluny and Jane he stood still a
moment, and then quietly withdrew into the shadow he had left. A smile
was round his mouth, and his lips moved in words of blessing, as he took
another path to the gate he wished. Amid thoughts of the most momentous
interest, a little vision of love and youth and beauty had been
vouchsafed him, and there was a feeling of pleasure yet in his heart
when he entered the sombre apartment where Israel Swaffham with a guard
of soldiers, was in attendance. He saluted his General, and Cromwell
called him aside and had some private speech with him.
He then entered a lofty, royally furnished room, where the Council were
awaiting his arrival--officers of the army, and members of Parliament.
St. John, Harrison, Fleetwood, Desborough and others instantly gathered
round Cromwell; Marten, Whitelock, Hazelrig, Scott, Sidney, and about
seventeen others, supported Sir Harry Vane, who was leading the
Parliamentary cause.
Cromwell opened the discussion by reminding the members that he had
already held more than a dozen meetings, in order to induce Parliament
to issue an Act for the election of a new Parliament, and then discharge
itself. "This is what the people want, in every corner of the nation,"
he said; "and they are laying at our doors the non-performance of this
duty and of their wishes."
Hazelrig reminded him that Parliament had determined to dissolve on the
3d of the ensuing November, after calling for a new election.
"It is now only the 19th of April," answered Cromwell, sharply. "Give
me leave to tell you that the 3d of November will not do. I am tired
talking to you. There must be a healing and a settling, and that
without delay. As for your resolution, the people will not have it. I
say, the people will not have it. A Parliament made up of all the old
members--without reelection--and of such new ones, as a committee of the
old approve and choose! Such a patched, cobbled, made-over, old
Parliament will not satisfy the people. I know it! I know it better
than any man in England. It will not satisfy me. It will not satisfy
the army----"
"Oh, the army!" ejaculated Sir Harry Vane.
"The army, Sir Harry Vane, has been so owned of God, so approved of men,
so witnessed for, that, give me leave to say, no man will be well
advised who speaks lightly of the army. The question is not the army,
the question is the sitting Parliament, which, without either moral or
legal right, wants to make itself perpetual."
"This Parliament, General Cromwell, has been the nursing mother of the
Commonwealth," said Sir Harry Marten.
"If that be so, yet it is full time that the Commonwealth be weaned.
Milk for babes truly, but England wants no more nursing; she wants
strong meat, good government, just laws and the settlement of the Gospel
Ministry. There is nothing but jarrings and animosities, and we are
like to destroy ourselves when our enemies could not do it."
"The army is full of factions and designs, and 'tis well the Lord
General is aware of them," said Hazelrig. "Their insolency to members
of Parliament is beyond reason."
"Sir, I cannot be of your judgment," answered Cromwell; "but I do admit
that the army begins to have a strange distaste against certain members
of Parliament, and I wish there was not too much cause for it."
"Cause! What cause?" asked Whitelock.
"Their self-seeking, their delays in business, their resolve to keep all
power perpetually in their own hands; their meddling in private matters,
their injustice when they do so meddle, and the scandalous lives of some
of the chief of them. These things do give grounds for good
people--whether in the army or not in the army--to open their mouths
against them."
"There is the Law to punish all evil-doers," said Vane. "While the Law
lasts the army need not make inquisitions."
"This Parliament has been, and is, a law unto themselves. They are not
within the bounds of the law--there being no authority so full and so
high as to keep them in better order," answered Cromwell with some
anger. Then the discussion assumed a very acrimonious character.
Undoubtedly Vane was sincerely afraid for the liberties of England, with
Cromwell and his victorious army at the very doors of the House of
Commons. He was also intensely interested in the creation of a British
Navy, which should not only balance the glory and power of the army, but
also make England lord of the seas, and of their commerce. Besides, his
genius had just perfected a plan for raising L120,000 a month to
continue the war with Holland; and a project setting quite as near to
his heart was publicly to sell all the royal palaces, and so remove from
the sight of any ambitious man a palpable temptation to seize the crown.
To surrender all he had done in these directions, to leave his cherished
projects for others to carry out, or to bring to naught, to forego all
the glory and profit Blake was even then winning for the Parliament, was
not only hard for himself, but he feared it would be disastrous to
England and to her liberties.
He spoke of these things, and especially of the great naval victories of
Blake over the Dutch, with eloquence. Cromwell admitted all. He was far
too great to wish Blake's honour less, for Blake's honour was England's
honour, and England's honour was Cromwell's master passion. "Blake is a
good man, and a great commander," he said heartily; "I have seen him on
the battle-field, again and again; he took his men there through fire to
victory; I do think he will now take them through water the same sure
road."
When it drew towards midnight the long, bitter argument was at its
height; no decision had been reached, no course of conduct decided on;
and it was evident to Cromwell that passion and self-interest were
gaining the mastery. He stood up, and pointing to the smoky, flickering
lights of the nearly burned out candles, said,
"The plain truth is, we must have a new Parliament, though we do carry
it by force through the teeth of the greatest in the land. I say we
must have it. I wish that we had such due forwardness as to set about
it to-morrow."
"The 3d of November," cried Whitelock.
"Such a far-off promise is but words for children. I will better it. I
will say to-morrow."
"I am with Mr. Whitelock," said one of the members; "at least with
present showing."
"And I am of the same mind," added Hazelrig.
"Hazelrig, you are ever egging people of two minds to be of the worser."
"My Lord General, you put us all down. It were well, my lord, if you
could believe there are some others of account beside yourself."
Cromwell looked keenly at the speaker but did not answer him.
Turning to Sir Harry Vane he said, "It is now near to midnight, and we
have done no good, and I think we shall do none. Let us go to rest.
To-morrow, we will talk the matter down to the bottom, and do what God
wills."
"Or what the Lord General wills," said Harry Marten with a light laugh,
rising as he spoke.
"I want not my own will," answered Cromwell with a sudden great emotion.
"I have sought the Lord's will, night and day, on this question. I have
indeed! But I do think we have fadged long enough with so great a
subject, and the people want a settlement of it--they will have a
settlement of it--and I tell you the plain truth, to-morrow there must
be some decision. It cannot longer be delayed. There are those who
will not suffer it. Truly, I believe this is the greatest occasion that
has come to us. As the business stands--I like it not, and somewhat must
be done to mend it. I must say this to you--impute it to what you
please."
This speech beginning with a pious submission to God's will and ending
with a dauntless assertion of his own determination, had a marked
effect. The Parliamentary members agreed to let the bill for
perpetuating themselves lie over until after another conference to be
held the following day, and with this understanding, the members of the
Council separated. Cromwell took the promise in good faith; and he said
to Israel Swaffham as they went towards Whitehall, "I have at last
brought Vane to terms. I do think we may draw up the Act for a new
Parliament."
"Then I know not Vane," answered Israel. "He has more shifts than you
dream of, and the other members cluster round him like twigs in a
broom."
"Everything must bide its time; I mean _His_ time. Truly, I hoped for a
settlement to-night; it seems we must wait for to-morrow."
Cromwell spoke wearily, and after a moment's pause added, "'Tis striking
twelve. Hark to the clocks, how strangely solemn they sound! Well,
then, to-day has come, but we have not got rid of the inheritance of
yesterday; and what to-day will bring forth, God only knows. We are in
the dark, but He dwelleth in light eternal."
*CHAPTER IX*
*CROMWELL INTERFERES*
"His port was fierce,
Erect his countenance; manly majesty
Sate in his front and darted from his eyes,
Commanding all he viewed."
Daylight came with that soft radiance of sunshine over fresh green
things which makes spring so delightful. Israel, who had slept his usual
six hours, was in the garden to enjoy it, and his heart was full of
praise. He watched the little brown song sparrows building their nests,
and twittering secrets among the hawthorns. He saw the white lilies of
the valley lifting their moonlight bells above the black earth, and he
took into his heart the sweet sermon they preached to him. Then
suddenly, and quite unawares, a waft of enthralling perfume led him to
stoop to where at the foot of a huge oak tree a cluster of violets was
flinging incense into the air. He smiled at his big hands among them,
he was going to gather a few for Jane, and then he could not break their
fragile stems. "Praise the Lord where He set you growing," he said
softly; "my hands are not worthy to touch such heavenly things, they
have been washed in blood too often." And his heart was silent and
could find no prayer to utter, but the conscience-stricken cry of the
man of war centuries before him, "Cast me not away from Thy presence,
and take not Thy holy spirit from me."
Softened by such exquisite matins, he went in to breakfast. He was
seldom inclined to talk on public affairs, and this morning he said not
a word about the Council of the previous night, nor of the
self-humiliation which he felt certain would be demanded of the
Parliament that day. He eat his portion cheerfully, listening to Jane,
who was more talkative and light-hearted than usual. She told her
father she was going with Alice Heneage and a number of young people to
Hampton Court. They were to picnic in the park and come home in the
gloaming by the river; and as she dwelt on what was to be done and seen
that happy day, Israel looked at her with a tender scrutiny. He said to
himself, "She is more beautiful than she used to be;" and he watched
with pleasure her soul-lit eyes and speaking face, not oblivious,
either, of the neatness of her shining hair and the exquisite purity of
her light gown of India calico, with its crimped rufflings and spotless
stomacher of embroidery. "_She_ might have worn the violets on her
breast," he thought; and then he rose hastily and called in the
household, and read a psalm, and made a short, fervid prayer with them.
And this morning he looked at the men and maids afterwards, and was not
pleased at what he saw. "Tabitha," he said sternly, "you come to
worship with too little care. Both you and the other wenches may well
wash your faces, and put on clean brats when you are going to sit down
and listen to the Word of the Lord;" then observing a grin on one of the
men's faces, he turned on them with still more anger, and rated them for
their want of respect to God and man for their uncombed hair and soiled
garments and unblacked shoes, and so sent all of them away with shame in
their red faces and not a little wrath in their hearts. And he had no
idea that Jane's delicious freshness and purity had really been the text
prompting his household homily.
Soon after General Swaffham's departure for Whitehall, Jane's friends
called for her, and they went away together full of youth's enthusiasm
and anticipation. They took the road to the river, and to the sound of
music and the falling and dipping of the oars they reached Richmond and
soon spread the contents of their hampers upon the grass under some
great oaks in the secluded park. Jane was disappointed at Cluny's
absence; he had certainly been expected, and no word explaining his
failure to keep his engagement had been received. But the general tone
of the company was so full of innocent gayety, that she could not, and
did not, wish to resist it.
After a happy, leisurely meal, they spent the rest of their holiday in
wandering through the palace, until its melancholy, monastic grandeur
subdued them almost to silence. Captain Desborough, a young officer who
waited on Alice Heneage, was familiar with the building, and as he led
them through the rooms he told them stories, good and ill, connected
with the various apartments. Finally they came to one on the ground
floor, that had been the private parlour of King Charles--a gloomy room
furnished with a sombre magnificence--and here the young man drew the
company closer to him, and said--
"I can tell you something true and strange about this room. There were
two prophecies made in it, and one of them has come to pass. King
Charles stood at this window one day, just where we are now standing,
and his three eldest children were with him. And a woman, swart as an
Indian savage, with eyes full of a strange, glazing light, came suddenly
before them. And she said to the King, 'Let me read the future of your
children. It may comfort you when you will need comfort.' But the
King, being in one of his melancholy tempers, answered her haughtily,
'No mortal man or woman can foresee the future;' and she looked
scornfully at him, and putting a small steel mirror before his face
said, 'Look!' and the King cast down his eyes and saw his own head lying
on a bloody sheet; and he shuddered and reeled as if he would have
fallen. Then a look of pity came into the woman's face, and she put
aside the mirror, and said in a strange, far-off voice--as if she was
already a long way distant--'When a dog dies in this room, your son will
come to the throne again.' And the King called loudly for his
attendant, but when the officer came, the woman had disappeared, nor
could any trace or tidings of her be found or heard tell of."
And every one was strangely silent; they walked away separately and
examined the fine tapestry hangings, but they said not a word to each
other about the uncanny incident. It seemed only a fit sequence that
their next visit should be through the low, narrow portals to the gloomy
subterranean apartments, which had been the guard rooms, and which were
still decorated with dusty battle flags and old arms and armour. A
singular sensation of having been in these vault-like rooms before, a
sense of far-backness, of existence stretching behind everlastingly, of
sorrows great and unavailing, permeated the atmosphere. Jane felt that
here, if anywhere, men of war might understand the barrenness of their
lives, and anticipate the small, and gloomy harvest of their tremendous
pilgrimage.
It was like passing from death unto life to come out of these caverns of
the sword into the light and glory of the westering sun, to feel its
warmth, and see its brave colours, and hear the cuckoo, like a wandering
voice, among the trees. Jane was the first to speak. "How beautiful is
life and light!" she cried. "Let us get far away from this woeful
palace. I felt such sorrowful Presence in every room; I thought I heard
sighs following me, and soft steps. Who would live in such a home? To
do so, it is to say to Misfortune, 'Come and live with me.'"
The spirits of the little party, so gay in the morning, had sunk to the
level of their surroundings: the damp river with its twinkling lights,
the gray gloaming, the laboured dip of the traveling oars. They were
near the city when Mary Former said a few words about the evil-omened
parlour and the two prophecies; then she wondered, "If it was really in
the power of any one to reveal the future." And Philip Calamy, a very
devout young man, who was in attendance upon Jane, answered,
"The Book of the Future, in whatever language it may be written, is a
perilous one to read. We should go mad with too much learning there."
"Yet," said Jane, "it is most sure that certain signs precede certain
events; and I see not why the good man, being related to heavenly
beings--a little lower than the angels--may not foresee and foretell;
and by the same token, the evil being, related to evil angels, might
have a like intelligence."
The discussion was not continued, for they were at the river stairs, and
as they passed through the city they were instantly aware of great
excitement. The rabble were gathered round the men of news, and were
listening with open mouths; the tradesmen were talking in groups at
their shop doors; they heard the name of Cromwell repeatedly, sometimes
in pride, sometimes in anger; and small bodies of the army were very
much in evidence. It was impossible not to feel that something of great
moment had happened, or was going to happen; and when Jane entered the
hall at Sandys and saw Doctor Verity's hat and cloak there, she expected
that he had come with information. The next moment Mrs. Swaffham came
hurriedly forward, and when she saw Jane, she raised her eyes and threw
up her hands with the palms outward, to express her huge astonishment
and dismay.
"Mother," cried Jane, "what is the matter? What has happened?" and Mrs.
Swaffham answered--
"The strangest thing that ever happened in England."
Even while she spoke they heard General Swaffham coming up the steps,
the clatter of his arms emphasising his perturbed feelings. He was very
little inclined to parade his military importance, so that the rattle of
swords and spurs meant something more than usual to those who understood
him. He had scarcely entered the door ere Doctor Verity came into the
hall crying--
"Is it true, Israel? Is it true?"
"Quite true."
"And well done?"
"Well done. I am sure of it."
Men and women went into the parlour together, and a servant began to
remove the General's cavalry boots and spurs. "I told you, Doctor, this
morning, that a settlement of some kind must come to-day. When I
reached Whitehall I found the Lord General waiting for Sir Harry Vane
and the members who had promised to come and continue the conference
relating to the bill early in the day. The General was occupying
himself with a book, but as the hours went by he grew restless and laid
it down. Then he turned to me and said, 'Truly these men are long in
coming; are you ready, General?' and before I could answer he asked
again 'ready and willing?' I told him a word would move my troop as one
man, if that word came from himself; and he waited silently a little
longer. Then Lord Cluny Neville came in very hastily, and said a few
words, I know not what they were; and he had scarce gone when Colonel
Ingoldsby entered, and there was no secrecy then--
"'My lord!' he cried, 'Parliament is sitting at this moment; and Sir
Harry Vane, Sidney, and Henry Marten are urging the immediate passage of
the bill so hateful to the whole nation.'
"Then Cromwell roused himself like an angry lion. His passion at this
perfidious conduct leaped into flame; he shouted to Lambert and his own
troop of Ironsides. He gave me the signal I understood, and we went
quickly to the Parliament House. In the lobby St. John was standing,
and he said to Cromwell, 'Are you come down to the House, my lord, this
morning? It was thought you were safe at the Cockpit?' and Cromwell
answered, 'I have somewhat to do at the House. I am grieved to my soul
to do it. I have sought the Lord with tears to lay the work on some
other man. I would to God I could innocently escape it--but there is a
necessity!' and he spoke with force and anger, and so went into the
House."
"But what then?" asked Doctor Verity, his face burning with the eager
soul behind it.
"I stood at the door watching him, my men being in the lobby. He went
to his usual seat, but in a very great and majestic manner, and for a
little while he listened to the debate. Then he beckoned Major General
Harrison and told him he judged 'it was high time to dissolve this
Parliament.' And Harrison told me this afternoon, that he advised
Cromwell to consider what he would do, for it was a work great and
dangerous; and who, he asked, 'is sufficient for it?' And Cromwell
answered, 'The Servant of the Lord, he is sufficient;' yet he sat down
again, looking at me as he did so, and I looked back straight into his
eyes that I and mine could be depended on.
"In a few minutes the question for passing the bill was put, and the man
could be restrained no longer. He stood up, took off his hat, and
looked round the House, and it quailed under his eyes; every man in it
shifted on his seat and was uneasy. He began to speak, and it was with
a tongue of flame. He reproached them for their self-seeking and their
hypocrisy and oppression; and as he went on, there was the roar of a
lion in his voice, and the members, being condemned of their own
consciences, cowered before him."
"Did no one open their mouth against him?"
"No one but Sir Peter Wentworth. He said, 'My Lord General, this
Parliament has done great things for England;' and Cromwell answered,
'The spoke in the wheel that creaks most does not bear the burden in the
cart!' Then Sir Peter told Cromwell his abuse of the Parliament was the
more horrid because it came from the servant of the Parliament, the man
they had trusted and obliged."
At these words Dr. Verity laughed loudly--"Cromwell, the servant of such
a Parliament!" he cried. "Not he; what then, Israel?"