expedition. And they got all round me, they did indeed; and one
handsome woman with a little lad in her arms--she told me to look well
at him because he was called Oliver after me--took hold of my bridle,
and said, 'You won't trample me down, General, for the lad's sake; and
'tis but natural for us to want to know where you are sending our
husbands. Come, General, tell us wives and mothers where the ships are
going to?' And there was Robert Blake laughing and thinking it fine
sport, but I stood up in my stirrups and called out as loud as I could,
'Women, can you be quiet for one minute?' They said, 'Aye, to be sure
we can, if you'll speak out, General.' Then I said to them, 'You want
to know where the ships and your men are going. Listen to me! The
Ambassadors of France and Spain would, each of them, give a million
pounds to know that. Do you understand, women?' And for a moment there
was a dead silence, then a shout of comprehension and laughter, and the
woman at my bridle lifted the boy Oliver to me, and I took him in my
arms and kissed the rosy little brat, and then another shout, and the
mother said, 'General, you be right welcome to my share of the secret;'
'and mine!' 'and mine!' 'and mine!' they all shouted, and the voices of
those women went to my heart and brain like wine, they did that. They
made me glad; I believe I shouted with them."
"I haven't a doubt of it," said Doctor Verity. "Well, Robert, did they
have nothing to say to you?" he asked, turning to Admiral Blake.
"They asked me to treat my men well; and I said, 'I'll treat them like
myself. I'll give them plenty of meat and drink, and plenty of fighting
and prize money;' and so to their good will we passed all through the
city, and, as I live, 'twas the pleasantest 'progress' any mortal men
could desire."
Then Doctor Verity began to talk of the American Colonies, and their
wonderful growth. "John Maidstone is here," he said; "and with him that
godly minister, the Rev. Mr. Hooker. We have had much conversation
to-day, and surely God made the New World to comfort the woes of the old
one."
"You have expressed exactly, sir, the prophetic lines of the pagan poet,
Horace," answered Mr. Milton. And Cromwell looked at him and said,
"Repeat them for us, John; I doubt not but they are worthy, if it be so
that you remember them." Then Milton, in a clear and stately manner,
recited the six lines from Horace's "Patriotic Lament" to which he had
referred--
"'Merciful gift of a relenting God,
Home of the homeless, preordained for you,
Last vestige of the age of gold,
Last refuge of the good and bold;
From stars malign, from plague and tempests free,
Far 'mid the Western waves, a secret Sanctuary.'"
And as Cromwell listened his face grew luminous; he seemed to look
through his eyeballs, rather than with them, and when Milton ceased
there was silence until he spoke.
"I see," he said, "a great people, a vast empire, from the loins of all
nations it shall spring. And there shall be no king there. But the
desire of all hearts shall be towards it, and it shall be a covert for
the oppressed, and bread and wine and meat for those ready to perish."
Then, sighing, he seemed to realise the near and the present, and he
added, "'Twas but yesterday I wrote to that good man, the Rev. John
Cotton of Boston. I have told him that I am truly ready to serve him
and the rest of the brethren, and the churches with him. And Doctor
Verity, I wish much to have some talk with Mr. Hooker. I have a purpose
to ask him to be my chaplain, if he be so minded, for his sermons first
taught me that I had a soul to save, and that I must transact that
business directly with God, and not through any church or clergy." And
when Cromwell made this statement, he little realised that Hooker,
founding a democracy in America, and he himself fighting for a free
Parliament and a constitutionally limited executive in England, were
"both of them of the same spirit and purpose"; and that the Hartford
minister and the Huntingdon gentleman were preeminently the leaders in
that great movement of the seventeenth century which made the United
States, and is now transforming England.
Doctor Verity shook his head at the mention of the Chaplainship. "Your
Highness will give great offense to some not of Mr. Hooker's precise way
of thinking," he said.
"I care not, John Verity," Oliver answered with much warmth; "one creed
must not trample upon the heels of another creed; Independents must not
despise those under baptism, and revile them. I will not suffer it.
Even to Quakers, we must wish no more harm than we do our own souls."
With these words he rose from the table, and Mr. Milton, the Ladies Mary
and Frances Cromwell, and Jane Swaffham went into the great hall, where
there was an exceedingly fine organ. In a short time Mr. Milton began
to play and to sing, but the girls walked up and down talking to Jane of
their admirers, and their new gowns, and of love-letters that had been
sent them in baskets of flowers. And what song can equal the one we
sing, or talk, about our own affairs? Mr. Milton's glorious voice rose
and fell to incomparable melodies, but Jane's hand-clasp was so
friendlike, and her face and words so sympathetic, that the two girls
heard only their own chatter, and knew not that the greatest of English
poets was singing with enchanting sweetness the songs of Lodge, and
Raleigh, and Drayton.
But Cromwell knew it; he came to the entrance frequently and listened,
and then went back to the group by the hearth, who were smoking and
talking of the glorious liberating movements of the century--the
Commonwealth in England, and the free commonwealths Englishmen were
planting beyond the great seas. If the first should fail, there would
still be left to unslavish souls the freedom of the illimitable western
wilderness.
When the music ceased, the evening was far spent; and Cromwell said as
he drew Frances and Jane within his arms, "Bring me the Bible, Mary.
Mr. Milton has been giving us English song, now we will have the loftier
music of King David."
"And we shall get no grander music, sir," said Doctor Owen, "than is to
be found in the Bible. Sublimity is Hebrew by birth. We must go to the
Holy Book for words beyond our words. Is there a man living who could
have written that glorious Hymn,
"'Lord, Thou hast been our dwelling-place in all generations;
"'Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever Thou hadst formed the
earth and the world; even from everlasting to everlasting Thou art
God'?"
"The prophets also," said Doctor Verity, "were poets, and of the highest
order. Turn to Habakkuk, the third chapter, and consider his
description of the Holy One coming from Mount Parem: 'His glory covered
the heavens. His brightness was as the light. He stood and measured
the earth: He beheld and drove asunder the nations: the everlasting
mountains were scattered, the perpetual hills did bow.' And most
striking of all about this Holy One--'Thou didst cleave the earth with
rivers.'"
Cromwell did not answer; he was turning the leaves of the dear,
homely-looking volume which his daughter had laid before him. She hung
affectionately over his shoulder, and when he had found what he wanted,
he looked up at her, and she smiled and nodded her approbation. Then he
said,
"Truly, I think no mortal pen but St. John's could have written these
lines; and I give not St. John the honour, for the Holy One must have
put them into his heart, and the hand of his angel guided his pen." And
he began to read, and the words fell like a splendid vision, and a great
awe filled the room as they dropped from Cromwell's lips:
"'And I saw heaven opened, and beheld a white horse; and he that sat
upon him was called Faithful and True, and in righteousness he doth
judge and make war.
"'His eyes were as a flame of fire, and on his head were many crowns;
and he had a name written, that no man knew but himself.
"'And he was clothed with a vesture dipped in blood: and his name is
called The Word of God.
"'And the armies which were in heaven followed him upon white horses,
clothed in fine linen, white and clean.
"'And out of his mouth goeth a sharp sword, that with it he should smite
the nations; and he shall rule them with a rod of iron; and he treadeth
the wine-press of the fierceness and wrath of Almighty God.'"
And when he finished these words he cried out in a transport, "Suffer
Thy servant, oh, Faithful and True, when his warfare here is
accomplished, to be among the armies which are in heaven following the
Word of God upon white horses clothed in fine linen white and clean."
And then turning the leaf of the Bible he said with an unconceivable
solemnity, "Read now what is written in Revelations, chapter 20th, 11-15
verses:
"'And I saw a great white throne, and him that sat on it, from whose
face the earth and the heaven fled away; and there was found no place
for them.
"'And I saw the dead, small and great, stand before God; and the books
were opened; and another book was opened, which is the book of life: and
the dead were judged out of those things which were written in the
books, according to their works.
"'And death and hell were cast into the lake of fire. This is the second
death.'"
And when he ceased there was a silence that could be felt, a silence
almost painful, ere Dr. Owen's silvery voice penetrated it with the
words of the Benediction. Then the Protector and Mrs. Cromwell kissed
the girls, and the clergymen blessed them, and they went to their rooms
as from the very presence of God.
But Mrs. Cromwell lingered a long time. She could not rest until she
had seen the silver and crystal and fine damask put away in safety; and
she thought it no shame to look--as her Lord did--after the fragments of
the abundant dinner.
"I will not have them wasted," she said to the steward, "nor given to
those who need them not. The Lady Elizabeth hath a list of poor
families, and it is my will that they, and they only, are served."
Then she went to her daughter Claypole's apartments, and talked with her
about her children, and her health; also about the disorders and
thieving of the servants, wrong-doings, which caused her orderly,
careful nature much grief and perplexity. Elizabeth was her comforter
and councilor, and the good daughter generally managed to infuse into
her mother's heart a serene trust, that with all its expense and
inefficiencies the household was conducted on as moderate a scale as was
consistent with her father's dignity.
When they parted it was very late; the palace was dark and still, and
Mrs. Cromwell, with careful economies in her mind, and a candle in her
hand, went softly along the lonely, gloomy corridors--the very same
corridors that a few years before had been the lodging-place of the
Queen's thirty priests and her seventy-five French ladies and gentlemen.
Had it been the war-like Oliver thus treading in their footsteps, he
would have thought of these things, and seen with spiritual vision the
black-robed Jesuits slipping noiselessly along; he would have seen the
painted, curled, beribboned, scented men and women of that period; and
he would also have remembered the insults offered the Queen and her
English attendants by the black and motley crew, ere the King in a rage
ordered them all off English soil. And 'tis like enough he would have
said to himself, "If Charles Stuart had been on all occasions as
straightforward and positive as he was on that one, he had been King of
England yet." But Elizabeth Cromwell did not either see or remember.
Her little grandson had a slight fever; she was not satisfied with her
daughter's health, and the care of the great household she ruled was a
burden she never wholly laid down. In this vast, melancholy pile of
chambers, she thought of her simple home in St. Ives with longing and
affection. Royal splendours had given her nothing she cared for; and
they had taken from her the constant help and companionship that in
humbler circumstances her good, great husband had given her.
She paused a moment before the door of his room. She wondered if he was
asleep. If so, she would on no account awaken him, for in these days he
slept far too little. All was still as death, but yet something of the
man's intense personality escaped the closed door. The giant soul
within was busy with heart and brain, and the subtile life evolved found
her out. Quiet as the room was, it was not quiet enough for Oliver to
be asleep. She opened the door softly and saw him sitting motionless by
the fire, his eyes closed, his massive form upright and perfectly at
rest.
"Oliver," she said, "dear Oliver, you ought to be in bed and asleep."
His great darkling soul flashed into his face a look of tenderest love.
"Elizabeth," he answered, "I wish that I could sleep. I do indeed. I
need it. God knows I need it, but my heart wakes, and I do fear it will
wake this night--if so, there is no sleep for me. You see, dearest, how
God mingles our cup. When I was Mr. Cromwell, I could sleep from night
till morning. When I was General Cromwell, my labours gave me rest.
Now that I am Lord Protector of three Kingdoms, sleep, alas! is gone far
from me! In my mind I run to and fro through all the land. I have a
thousand plans and anxieties, Elizabeth, my dearest; great place is not
worth looking after. It is not."
"But if beyond our will we be led into great place and great honour,
Oliver?"
"That is my comfort. I brought not myself here; no, truly, that would
be an incredible thing. Once, my God led me in green pastures and by
still waters, and I was happy with my Shepherd. Then He called me to be
Captain of Israel's host, and He went before me in every battle and gave
me the victory. Now, He has set me here as Protector of a people who
know not yet what they want. Moses leading those stiff-necked,
self-willed Israelites was not harder bestead than I am, trying to lead
men just as stiff-necked out of victory into freedom. Every one thinks
freedom means 'his way, and no other way,' and they break my heart with
their jealousies and envyings, and their want of confidence in me and in
each other. Yet I struggle day and night to do the work set me as well
as mortal man may do it."
"What troubles you in particular, Oliver?"
"One of the things that troubled my Great Master, when He wept and
prayed and fainted in Gethsemane. He knew that those whom He loved and
who ought to strengthen and comfort Him, would soon forsake and flee
from Him. I think of the men who have trusted me to lead them in every
battle; who never found me wanting; the men with whom I have taken
counsel, with whom I have prayed; the men who were to me as Jonathan to
David; and when I think of them, my heart is like to burst in twain.
They are beginning to forsake me, to flee from me, and their cold looks
and formal words hurt me like a sword thrust; they do, Elizabeth, they
do indeed."
"But see how God cares for you. Charles Stuart and his men spend their
time in devising plots to kill you, and they are always prevented."
"I care nothing about Charles Stuart and the men with him. They can do
nothing against me. My life is hid with Christ in God, and until my
work is done, there is no weapon formed that can hurt me. I say this,
for I do know it. And when I have fulfilled all His Will, I shall not
be dismissed from life by any man's hatred. God Himself will have a
desire for the work of His Hand; He will call me, and I will answer.
That will be a good day, Elizabeth, for I am weary--weary and sorrowful,
even unto death."
"If you had made yourself King, as you might have done, as you ought to
have done, you would have had less opposition. John Verity said so to
me. He said Englishmen were used to a king, but they did not know what
to make of a protector."
"King! King! I am king in very truth, call me what they like. And for
that matter, why should I not be king? Doctor Owen tells me the word
king comes from Koenig and means '_the man that can_.' I am that man.
Every king in Europe came from some battle-field, that was their first
title to kingship. Our William, called the Conqueror, won the Kingdom
of England by one successful battle. How many battles have I fought and
won? I never lost a single field--how could I, the Lord of Hosts being
with me? As a hero of battle, there is no man to stand before me. Why
should I not be king over the three countries I have conquered? My
title to kingship is as good as any ruler I know. And perhaps--who can
tell--had I crowned myself, it had been a settlement much needed. John
Verity is right. Englishmen think a protector is a ruler for emergency.
They feel temporary and uncertain with a protector. A kingship is a
settled office. The laws are full of the king; they do not name a
protector--and men feel to the law as they do to a god."
"Take the crown, Oliver. Why not?"
"I have no orders to take it. My angel told me when I was a boy, that I
should become the greatest man in England, but he said not that I should
be king. And I know also from _One_ who never lied to me, that this
nation will yearn after its old monarchy. I am here to do a work, to
sow seeds that will take generations to ripen, but my reign is only an
interregnum. I shall found no dynasty."
"Oh, Oliver! You have two sons."
"Richard cannot manage his own house and servants. Harry is a good
lieutenant; he can carry out instructions, it is doubtful if he could
lead. My desire for my sons is, that they live private lives in the
country. I know what I know. I have what I have. The crown of England
is not to be worn by me, nor do I want it; I do not--neither for myself
nor my children." Then taking his wife's hand tenderly between his own,
he said with intense fervour, "There is not a man living can say I
sought this place--not a man or woman living on English ground. I can
say in the presence of God, I would have been glad to have lived with
thee under my woodside all the days of my life, and to have kept my
sheep and ploughed my land rather than bear the burden of this
government."
"Do you think the Puritan government will die with you, Oliver?"
"I think it will; but the Puritan principles will never die. The kings
of the earth banded together cannot destroy them. They will spring up
and flourish like 'the grass that tarrieth not for man'--spring where
none has sowed or planted them--spring in the wilderness and in the
city, until they possess the whole earth. This I know, and am sure of."
"Then why are you so sad?"
"I want my old friends to trust in me and love me. Power is a poor
exchange for love. I want Lambert and Harrison and Ludlow and the
others to be at my right hand, as they used to be. Ludlow tells me
plainly, he only submits to my government because he can't help himself;
and Harrison, who used to pray with me, now prays against me. Oh,
Elizabeth, you know not how these men wound me at every turn of my
life!"
"Oh, indeed, Oliver, do you think the women are anything behind them? I
could tell you some things I have had to suffer, and the poor girls
also. What have they not said of me? Indeed I have shed some tears,
and been sorely mortified. The women I knew in the old days, do they
come near me? They do not. Even if I ask them, they are sick, or they
are gone away, or their time is in some respect forespoken. It is
always so. Only little Jane Swaffham keeps the same sweet friendship
with us. I say not that much for Martha Swaffham. Very seldom she
comes at my request--and I have a right now to request, and she has the
obligation to accept. Is not that so, Oliver? But she thinks
herself----"
"Never mind Martha Swaffham; Israel stands firm as a rock by me. After
all, Elizabeth, there is nothing got by this world's love, and nothing
lost by its hate. This is the root of the matter: my position as
Protector is either of God, or of man. If I did not firmly believe it
was of God, I would have run away from it many years ago. If it be of
God, He will bear me up while I am in it. If it be of man it will shake
and tumble. What are all our histories but God manifesting that He has
shaken and trampled upon everything He has not planted? So, then, if
the Lord take pleasure in England, we shall in His strength be strong.
I bless God I have been inured to difficulties, and I never yet found
God failing when I trusted in Him. Never! Yea, when I think of His
help in Scotland, in Ireland, in England, I can laugh and sing in my
soul. I can, indeed I can!"
"My dearest, you are now in a good mind. Lie down and sleep in His
care, for He does care for you." And she put her arms around his neck
and kissed him; and he answered,
"Thou art my comfort, and I thank God for thee! When He laid out my
life's hard work, He thought of thee to sweeten it."
She left him then, hoping that he would shelter his weariness in
darkness and in sleep. But he did not. The words he had spoken, though
so full of hope and courage, wanted that authentication from beyond,
without which they were as tinkling brass to Oliver. He locked his
chamber door, retired his soul from all visibles, and stood solemnly
before God, waiting to hear what He would say to him. For the soul
looks two ways, inward as well as outward, and Oliver's soul gazed with
passionate spiritual desire into that interior and permanent part of his
nature, wherein the Divine dwells--that inner world of illimitable calm,
apart from the sphere of our sorrowful unrest. And in a moment all the
trouble of outward things grew at peace with that within; for he stood
motionless on that dazzling line where mortal and immortal verge--that
line where all is lost in love for God, and the beggar Self forgets to
ask for anything. The austere sweetness of sacrifice filled his soul.
The divine Hymn of Renunciation was on his lips.
"Do as Thou wilt with me," he cried, "but, oh, that I knew where to find
Thee! Oh, that I might come into Thy presence!"
Then there was suddenly granted to his longing that open vision, open
only to the spirit, that wondrous evidence that very near about us lies
the realm of spiritual mysteries, and the strong man bowed and wept
great tears of joy and sorrow. And after that Peace--peace unspeakable
and full of gladness; and he slept like a sinless child while his angel
came in a dream and comforted him. For so God giveth to His beloved
while they sleep.
*CHAPTER XV*
*THE FATE OF LORD CLUNY NEVILLE*
"From heaven did the Lord behold the earth; to hear the groaning of the
prisoner."--_Ps._ 102: 20.
"Make haste unto me, O God: Thou art my help and my deliverer; O Lord
make no tarrying."--_Ps._ 70: 5.
On tides of glory England was borne the next three years, to a national
honour and strength which had never before been dreamed of. Never in
her whole history had the government been at once so thorough and so
penetrated with a desire for honesty and capacity. For the first time,
the sense of social duty to the State took the place of the old spirit
of loyalty to the sovereign. For the first and only time in the history
of Europe, morality and religion were the qualifications insisted on by
a court; Oliver Cromwell was "the one ruler into whose presence no
vicious man could ever come, whose service no vicious man might enter."