News in those days traveled but slowly,
and England was full of conflicting rumors as to the
doings of the two armies. Every one was unsettled.
Bodies of men moving to join one or other of the parties
kept the country in an uproar, and the Cavaliers,
or rather the toughs of the towns calling themselves
Cavaliers, brought much odium upon the royal cause
by the ill-treatment of harmless citizens, and by raids
on inoffensive country people. Later on this
conduct was to be reversed and the Royalists were
to suffer tenfold the outrages now put upon the Puritans.
But there can be no doubt that the conduct of irresponsible
ruffians at that time did much to turn the flood of
public opinion in many places, where it would otherwise
have remained neutral, against the crown.
To Harry the time passed but slowly.
He spent his days in Abingdon hearing the latest news,
and occasionally rode over to Oxford. This city
was throughout the civil war the heart of the Royalist
party, and its loss was one of the heaviest blows
which befell the crown. Here Harry found none
but favorable reports current. Enthusiasm was
at its height. The university was even more loyal
than the town, and bands of lads smashed the windows
of those persons who were supposed to favor the Parliament.
More than once Harry saw men pursued through the streets,
pelted with stones and mud, and in some cases escaping
barely with their lives. Upon one occasion, seeing
a person in black garments and of respectable appearance
so treated, the boy’s indignation was aroused,
for he himself, both from his conversations with his
friend Herbert, and the talk with his father, was,
although enthusiastically Royalist, yet inclined to
view with respect those who held opposite opinions.
“Run down that alley!”
he exclaimed, pushing his horse between the fugitive
and his pursuers.
The man darted down the lane, and
Harry placed himself at the entrance, and shouted
to the rabble to abstain.
A yell of rage and indignation replied,
and a volley of stones was thrown. Harry fearlessly
drew his sword, and cut at some of those who were
in the foreground. These retaliated with sticks,
and Harry was forced backward into the lane.
This was too narrow to enable him to turn, his horse,
and his position was a critical one. Finding that
he was a mark for stones, he leaped from the saddle,
thereby disappearing from the sight of those in the
ranks behind, and sword in hand, barred the way to
the foremost of his assailants. The contest, however,
would have been brief had not a party of young students
come up the lane, and seeing from Harry’s attire
that he was a gentleman, and likely to be of Cavalier
opinions, they at once, without inquiring the cause
of the fray, threw themselves into it, shouting “Gown!
gown!” They speedily drove the assailants back
out of the lane; but these, reinforced by the great
body beyond, were then too strong for them. The
shouts of the young men, however, brought up others
to their assistance, and a general melee took place,
townsmen and gownsmen throwing themselves into the
fray without any inquiry as to the circumstances from
which it arose. The young students carried swords,
which, although contrary to the statutes of the university,
were for the time generally adopted. The townspeople
were armed with bludgeons, and in some cases with hangers,
and the fray was becoming a serious one, when it was
abruptly terminated by the arrival of a troop of horse,
which happened to be coming into the town to join
the royal forces. The officer in command, seeing
so desperate a tumult raging, ordered his men to charge
into the crowd, and their interference speedily put
an end to the fight.
Harry returned to their rooms with
some of his protectors and their wounds were bound
up, and the circumstances of the fight were talked
over. Harry was much blamed by the college men
when he said that he had been drawn into the fray
by protecting a Puritan. But when his new friends
learned that he was as thoroughly Royalist as themselves,
and that his father had gone with a troop to Nottingham,
they took a more favorable view of his action, but
still assured him that it was the height of folly
to interfere to protect a rebel from the anger of the
townspeople.
“But, methinks,” Harry
said, “that it were unwise in the extreme to
push matters so far here. In Oxford the Royalists
have it all their own way, and can, of course, at
will assault their Puritan neighbors. But it is
different in most other towns. There the Roundheads
have the upper hand and might retort by doing ill
to the Cavaliers there. Surely it were better
to keep these unhappy differences out of private life,
and to trust the arbitration of our cause to the arms
of our soldiers in the field.”
There was a general agreement that
this would indeed be the wisest course; but the young
fellows were of opinion that hot heads on either side
would have their way, and that if the war went on attacks
of this kind by the one party on the other must be
looked for.
Harry remained for some time with
his friends in Christ church, drinking the beer for
which the college was famous. Then, mounting his
horse, he rode back to Abingdon.
Two days later, as he was proceeding
toward the town, he met a man dressed as a preacher.
“Young sir,” the latter
said, “may I ask if you are Master Furness?”
“I am,” the lad replied.
“Then it is to you I am indebted
for my rescue from those who assaulted me in the streets
of Oxford last week. In the confusion I could
not see your face, but I inquired afterward, and was
told that my preserver was Master Furness, and have
come over to thank you for your courtesy and bravery
in thus intervening on behalf of one whom I think you
regard as an enemy, for I understand that Sir Henry,
your father, has declared for the crown.”
“I acted,” Harry said,
“simply on the impulse of humanity, and hold
it mean and cowardly for a number of men to fall upon
one.”
“We are,” the preacher
continued, “at the beginning only of our troubles,
and the time may come when I, Zachariah Stubbs, may
be able to return to you the good service which you
have done me. Believe me, young sir, the feeling
throughout England is strong for the Commons, and that
it will not be crushed out, as some men suppose, even
should the king’s men gain a great victory over
Essex which, methinks, is not likely.
There are tens of thousands throughout the country
who are now content to remain quiet at home, who would
assuredly draw the sword and go forth to battle, should
they consider their cause in danger. The good
work has begun, and the sword will not be sheathed
until the oppressor is laid low.”
“We should differ who the oppressor
is,” Harry replied coldly. “I myself
am young to discuss these matters, but my father and
those who think with him consider that the oppression
is at present on the side of the Commons, and of those
whose religious views you share. While pretending
to wish to be free, you endeavor to bind others beneath
your tyranny. While wishing to worship in your
way unmolested, you molest those who wish to worship
in theirs. However, I thank you for your offer,
that should the time come your good services will be
at my disposal. As you say, the issue of the
conflict is dark, and it may be, though I trust it
will not, that some day you may, if you will, return
the light service which I rendered you.”
“You will not forget my name?”
the preacher said “Zachariah Stubbs,
a humble instrument of the Lord, and a preacher in
the Independent chapel at Oxford. Thither I cannot
return, and am on my way to London, where I have many
friends, and where I doubt not a charge will be found
for me. I myself belong to the east countries,
where the people are strong for the Lord, and I doubt
not that some of those I know will come to the front
of affairs, in which case my influence may perhaps
be of more service than you can suppose at present.
Farewell, young sir, and whatever be the issues of
this struggle, I trust that you may safely emerge
from them.”
The man lifted his broad black hat,
and went on his way, and Harry rode forward, smiling
a little to himself at the promise given him.
The time passed slowly, and all kinds
of rumors filled the land. At length beacon fires
were seen to blaze upon the hills, and, as it was
known that the Puritans had arranged with Essex that
the news of a victory was so to be conveyed to London,
the hearts of the Royalists sank, for they feared
that disaster had befallen their cause. The next
day, however, horsemen of the Parliament galloping
through the country proclaimed that they had been
defeated; but it was not till next day that the true
state of affairs became known. Then the news came
that the battle had indeed been a drawn one.
On the 26th of October Charles marched
with his army into Oxford. So complete was the
ignorance of the inhabitants as to the movements of
the armies that at Abingdon the news of his coming
was unknown, and Harry was astonished on the morning
of the 27th at hearing a great trampling of horsemen.
Looking out, he beheld his father at the head of the
troop, approaching the house. With a shout of
joy the lad rushed downstairs and met his father at
the entrance.
“I did not look to be back so
soon, Harry,” Sir Henry said, as he alighted
from his horse. “We arrived at Oxford last
night, and I am sent on with my troop to see that
no Parliament bands are lurking in the neighborhood.”
Before entering the house the colonel
dismissed his troop, telling them that until the afternoon
they could return to their homes, but must then re-assemble
and hold themselves in readiness to advance, should
he receive further orders. Then, accompanied
by his officers, he entered the house. Breakfast
was speedily prepared, and when this was done justice
to Sir Henry proceeded to relate to Harry, who was
burning with impatience to hear his news, the story
of the battle of Edgehill.
“We reached Shrewsbury, as I
wrote you,” he said, “and stayed there
twenty days, and during that time the army swelled
and many nobles and gentlemen joined us. We were,
however, it must be owned, but a motley throng.
The foot soldiers, indeed, were mostly armed with muskets;
but many had only sticks and cudgels. On the
12th we moved to Wolverhampton, and so on through
Birmingham and Kenilworth. We saw nothing of the
rebels till we met at Edgecot, a little hamlet near
Banbury, where we took post on a hill, the rebels
being opposite to us. It must be owned,”
Sir Henry went on, “that things here did not
promise well. There were dissensions between
Prince Rupert, who commanded the cavalry, and Lord
Lindsey, the general in chief, who is able and of great
courage, but hot-headed and fiery. In the morning
it was determined to engage, as Essex’s forces
had not all come up, and the king’s troops were
at least as numerous as those of the enemy. We
saw little of the fighting, for at the commencement
of the battle we got word to charge upon the enemy’s
left. We made but short work of them, and drove
them headlong from the field, chasing them in great
disorder for three miles, and taking much plunder
in Kineton among the Parliament baggage-wagons.
Thinking that the fight was over, we then prepared
to ride back. When we came to the field we found
that all was changed. The main body of the Roundheads
had pressed hotly upon ours and had driven them back.
Lord Lindsey himself, who had gone into the battle
at the head of the pikemen carrying a pike himself
like a common soldier, had been mortally wounded and
taken prisoner, and grievous slaughter had been inflicted.
The king’s standard itself had been taken, but
this had been happily recovered, for two Royalist
officers, putting on orange scarfs, rode into the middle
of the Roundheads, and pretending that they were sent
by Essex, demanded the flag from his secretary, to
whom it had been intrusted. The scrivener gave
it up, and the officers, seizing it, rode through the
enemy and recovered their ranks. There was much
confusion and no little angry discussion in the camp
that night, the footmen accusing the horsemen of having
deserted them, and the horsemen grumbling at the foot,
because they had not done their work as well as themselves.
In the morning the two armies still faced each other,
neither being willing to budge a foot, although neither
cared to renew the battle. The rest of the Parliamentary
forces had arrived, and they might have struck us a
heavy blow had they been minded, for there was much
discouragement in our ranks. Lord Essex, however,
after waiting a day and burying his dead, drew off
from the field, and we, remaining there, were able
to claim the victory, which, however, my son, was
one of a kind which was scarce worth winning.
It was a sad sight to see so many men stretched stark
and dead, and these killed, not in fighting with a
foreign foe, but with other Englishmen. It made
us all mightily sad, and if at that moment Lord Essex
had had full power from the Parliament to treat, methinks
that the quarrel could have been settled, all being
mightily sick of such kind of fighting.”
“What is going to be done now, father?”
Harry asked.
“We are going to move forward
toward London. Essex is moving parallel with
us, and will try to get there first. From what
we hear from our friends in the city, there are great
numbers of moderate men will be glad to see the king
back, and to agree to make an end of this direful
business. The zealots and preachers will of course
oppose them. But when we arrive, we trust that
our countenance will enable our friends to make a
good front, and to overcome the opposition of the Puritans.
We expect that in a few days we shall meet with offers
to treat. But whether or no, I hope that the
king will soon be lodged again in his palace at Whitehall.”
“And do you think that there will be any fighting,
sir?”
“I think not. I sincerely hope not,”
the colonel said.
“Then if you think that there
will only be a peaceable entry, will you not let me
ride with you? It will be a brave sight to see
the king enter London again; one to tell of all one’s
life.”
The colonel made no reply for a minute or two.
“Well, Harry, I will not say
you nay,” he said at length. “Scenes
of broils and civil war are not for lads of your age.
But, as you say, it would be a thing to talk of to
old age how you rode after the king when he entered
London in state. But mind, if there be fighting,
you must rein back and keep out of it.”
Harry was overjoyed with the permission,
for in truth time had hung heavily on his hands since
the colonel had ridden away. His companionship
with Herbert had ceased, for although the lads pressed
hands warmly when they met in Abingdon, both felt that
while any day might bring news of the triumph of one
party or the other, it was impossible that they could
hold any warm intercourse with each other. The
school was closed, for the boys of course took sides,
and so much ill-will was caused that it was felt best
to put a stop to it by closing the doors. Harry
therefore had been left entirely upon his own resources,
and although he had ridden about among the tenants
and, so far as he could, supplied his father’s
place, the time often hung heavy on his hands, especially
during the long hours of the evening. After thanking
his father for his kindness, he rushed wildly off to
order his horse to be prepared for him to accompany
the troop, to re-burnish the arms which he had already
chosen as fitting him from the armory, and to make
what few preparations were necessary for the journey.
It was some days, however, before
any move was made. The king was occupied in raising
money, being sorely crippled by want of funds, as
well as of arms and munitions of war. At the beginning
of November the advance was made, Sir Henry with his
troop joining Prince Rupert, and advancing through
Reading without opposition as far as Maidenhead, where
he fixed his quarters. Two days later he learned
that Essex had arrived with his army in London.
On the 11th King Charles was at Colnbrook. Here
he received a deputation from the Houses of Parliament,
who proposed that the king should pause in his advance
until committees of both Houses should attend him
with propositions “for the removal of these
bloody distempers and distractions.” The
king received the deputation favorably, and said that
he would stop at Windsor, and there receive the propositions
which might be sent him.
Unfortunately, however, the hopes
which were now entertained that peace would be restored,
were dashed to the ground by an action which was ascribed
by the Royalists to the hotheadedness of Prince Rupert,
but which the king’s enemies affirmed was due
to the duplicity of his majesty himself. On this
point there is no evidence. But it is certain
that the advance made after this deputation had been
received rendered all further negotiation impossible,
as it inspired the Commons with the greatest distrust,
and enabled the violent portion always to feign a
doubt of the king’s word, and great fears as
to the keeping of any terms which might be made, and
so to act upon the timid and wavering. The very
day after the deputation had left, bearing the news
to London of the king’s readiness to treat,
and inspiring all there with hope of peace, Prince
Rupert, taking advantage of a very thick mist, marched
his cavalry to within half a mile of the town of Brentford
before his advance was discovered, designing to surprise
the train of artillery at Hammersmith and to push
on and seize the Commons and the city.
The design might have been successful,
for the exploits of Rupert’s horse at the battle
of Edgehill had struck terror into the minds of the
enemy. In the town of Brentford, however, were
lodged a regiment of foot, under Hollis, and these
prepared manfully to resist. Very valiantly the
prince, followed by his horse, charged into the streets
of Brentford, where the houses were barricaded by
the foot soldiers, who shot boldly against them.
Many were killed, and for three hours the contest
was resolutely maintained. The streets had been
barricaded, and Prince Rupert’s men fought at
great disadvantage. At length, as evening approached,
and the main body of the Cavaliers came up, the Parliament
men gave way, and were driven from the town. Many
were taken prisoners, and others driven into the river,
the greater portion, however, making their way in
boats safely down the stream. The delay which
their sturdy resistance had made saved the city.
Hampden was bringing his men across from Acton.
Essex had marched from Chelsea Fields to Turnham Green,
and the road was now blocked. After it was dark
the Train-Bands advanced, and the Parliament regiments,
reinforced by them, pushed on to Brentford again;
the Royalists, finding that the place could not be
held, fell back to the king’s quarters at Hounslow.
The chroniclers describe how wild
a scene of confusion reigned in London that evening.
Proclamations were issued ordering all men to take
up arms; shops were closed, the apprentice boys mustered
in the ranks, and citizens poured out like one man
to defend the town. They encamped upon the road,
and the next day great trains of provisions sent by
the wives of the merchants and traders reached them,
and as many came out to see the forces, the scene
along the road resembled a great fair.
In this fight at Brentford Harry Furness
was engaged. The Royalists had anticipated no
resistance here, not knowing that Hollis held the place,
and Sir Henry did not think of ordering Harry to remain
behind. At the moment when it was found that
Hollis was in force and the trumpets sounded the charge,
the lad was riding in the rear of the troop, talking
to one of the officers, and his father could take no
step to prevent his joining. Therefore, when
the trumpets sounded and the troops started off at
full gallop toward the town, Harry, greatly exulting
in his good luck, fell in with them and rode down
the streets of Brentford. The musketry fire was
brisk, and many of the troop rolled from their horses.
Presently they were dismounted and ordered to take
the houses by storm. With the hilts of their
swords they broke in the doors, and there was fierce
lighting within.
Harry, who was rather bewildered with
the din and turmoil of the fight, did as the rest,
and followed two or three of the men into one of the
houses, whose door had been broken open. They
were assailed as they entered by a fire of musketry
from the Parliament men within. Those in front
fell, and Harry was knocked down by the butt of a pike.
When he recovered he found himself
in a boat drifting down the stream, a prisoner of
the Roundheads.
For a long time Harry could hear the
sounds of the guns and cannon at Brentford, and looking
round at the quiet villages which they passed on the
banks, could scarce believe that he had been engaged
in a battle and was now a prisoner. But little
was said to him. The men were smarting under
their defeat and indulged in the bitterest language
at the treachery with which, after negotiations had
been agreed upon, the advance of the Royalists had
been made. They speedily discovered the youth
of their captive, and, after telling him brutally that
he would probably be hung when he got to London, they
paid no further attention to him. The boat was
heavily laden, and rowed by two oars, and the journey
down was a long one, for the tide met them when at
the village of Hammersmith, and they were forced to
remain tied up to a tree by the bank until it turned
again. This it did not do until far in the night,
and the morning was just breaking when they reached
London.
It was perhaps well for Harry that
they arrived in the dark, for in the excited state
of the temper of the citizens, and their anger at the
treachery which had been practiced, it might have fared
but badly with him. He was marched along the
Strand to the city, and was consigned to a lock-up
in Finsbury, until it could be settled what should
be done to him. In fact, the next day his career
was nearly being terminated, for John Lilburn, a captain
of the Train Bands, who had been an apprentice and
imprisoned for contumacy, had been captured at Brentford,
and after being tried for his life, was sentenced
to death as a rebel. Essex, however, sent in
word to the Royalist camp that for every one of the
Parliament officers put to death, he would hang three
Royalist prisoners. This threat had its effect,
and Harry remained in ignorance of the danger which
had threatened him.
The greatest inconvenience which befell
him was that he was obliged to listen to all sorts
of long harangues upon the part of the Puritan soldiers
who were his jailers. These treated him as a misguided
lad, and did their best to convert him from the evil
of his ways. At last Harry lost his temper, and
said that if they wanted to hang him, they might;
but that he would rather put up with that than the
long sermons which they were in the habit of delivering
to him. Indignant at this rejection of their
good offices, they left him to himself, and days passed
without his receiving any visit save that of the soldier
who brought his meals.