Harry’s place of confinement
was a cell leading off a guardroom of the Train Bands.
Occasionally the door was left open, as some five or
six men were always there, and Harry could see through
the open door the citizens of London training at arms.
Several preachers were in the habit of coming each
day to discourse to those on guard, and so while away
the time, and upon these occasions the door was generally
left open, in order that the prisoner might be edified
by the sermons. Upon one occasion the preacher,
a small, sallow-visaged man, looked into the cell
at the termination of his discourse, and seeing Harry
asleep on his truckle bed, awoke him, and lectured
him severely on the wickedness of allowing such precious
opportunities to pass. After this he made a point
of coming in each day when he had addressed the guard,
and of offering up a long and very tedious prayer
on behalf of the young reprobate. These preachings
and prayings nearly drove Harry out of his mind.
Confinement was bad enough; but confinement tempered
by a course of continual sermons, delivered mostly
through the nose, was a terrible infliction.
At last the thought presented itself to him that he
might manage to effect his escape in the garb of the
preacher. He thought the details over and over
in his mind, and at last determined at any rate to
attempt to carry them into execution.
One day he noticed, when the door
opened for the entry of the preacher, that a parade
of unusual magnitude was being held in the drill yard,
some officer of importance having come down to inspect
the Train Band. There were but four men left
in the guardroom and these were occupied in gazing
out of the window. The preacher came direct into
the cell, as his audience in the guardroom for once
were not disposed to listen to him, and shutting the
door behind him, he addressed a few words of exhortation
to Harry, and then, closing his eyes, began a long
prayer. When he was fairly under way, Harry sprang
upon him, grasping him by the throat with both hands,
and forced him back upon the bed. The little
preacher was too much surprised to offer the smallest
resistance, and Harry, who had drawn out the cords
used in supporting the sacking of the bed, bound him
hand and foot, keeping, while he did so, the pillow
across his face, and his weight on the top of the pillow,
thereby nearly putting a stop to the preacher’s
prayers and exhortations for all time. Having
safely bound him, and finding that he did not struggle
in the least, Harry removed the pillow, and was horrified
to see his prisoner black in the face. He had,
however, no time for regret or inquiry how far the
man had gone, and stuffing a handkerchief into his
mouth, to prevent his giving any alarm should he recover
breath enough to do so, Harry placed his high steeple
hat upon his head, his Geneva bands round his throat,
and his long black mantle over his shoulders.
He then opened the door and walked quietly forth.
The guards were too much occupied with the proceedings
in the parade ground to do more than glance round,
as the apparent preacher departed. Harry strode
with a long and very stiff step, and with his figure
bolt upright, to the gate of the parade ground, and
then passing through the crowd who were standing there
gaping at the proceedings within, he issued forth a
free man.
For awhile he walked at a brisk pace,
and then, feeling secure from pursuit, slackened his
speed; keeping westward through the city, he passed
along the Strand and out into the country beyond.
He wore his beaver well down over his eyes, and walked
with his head down as if meditating deeply, in order
to prevent any passers-by from observing the youthfulness
of his face. When he arrived at the village of
Chelsea, he saw, in front of a gentleman’s house,
a horse hitched up to a hook placed there for that
purpose. Conceiving that for a long journey four
legs are much more useful than two, and that when he
got beyond the confines of London he should attract
less suspicion upon a horse than if striding alone
along the road, he took the liberty of mounting it
and riding off. When he had gone a short distance
he heard loud shouts; but thinking these in no way
to concern him, he rode on the faster, and was soon
beyond the sound of the voices. He now took a
northerly direction, traveled through Kensington,
and then keeping east of Acton, where he knew that
some Parliament troops were quartered, he rode for
the village of Harrow. He was aware that the
Royalists had fallen back to Oxford, and that the
Parliament troops were at Reading. He therefore
made to the northwest, intending to circuit round
and so reach Oxford. He did not venture to go
to an inn, for although, as a rule, the keepers of
these places were, being jovial men, in no way affected
toward the Commons, yet he feared meeting there persons
who might question and detain him. He obtained
some provision at a small village shop, in which he
saw a buxom woman standing behind her counter.
She appeared vastly surprised when he entered and
asked for a manchet of bread, for the contrast between
his ruddy countenance and his Puritan hat and bands
was so striking that they could not fail to be noticed.
The good woman looked indeed too astonished to be
able to attend to Harry’s request, and he was
obliged to say, “Mother, time presses, and I
care not to be caught loitering here.”
Divining at once that he was acting
a part, and probably endeavoring to escape the pursuit
of the Commons, the good woman at once served him
with bread and some slices of ham, and putting these
in the wallets of the saddle, he rode on.
The next morning, in riding through
the village of Wickham, his career was nearly arrested.
Just as he passed a sergeant followed by three or
four Parliament soldiers came out from an inn, and
seeing Harry riding past, addressed him:
“Sir, will it please you to
alight, and to offer up a few words of exhortation
and prayer?”
Harry muttered something about pressing
business. But in his sudden surprise he had not
time to think of assuming either the nasal drone or
the scriptural words peculiar to these black-coated
gentry. Struck by his tone, the sergeant sprang
forward and seized his bridle.
“Whom have we here?” he
said; “a lad masquerading in the dress of a
preacher. This must be explained, young sir.”
“Sergeant,” Harry said,
“I doubt not that thou art a good fellow, and
not one to get a lad in a scrape. I am the son
of a London citizen; but he and my mother are at present
greatly more occupied with the state of their souls
than with the carrying on of their carnal business.
Being young, the constant offering up of prayers and
exhortations has vexed me almost to desperation, and
yesterday, while the good preacher who attends then
was in the midst of the third hour of his discourse
I stole downstairs, and borrowing his hat and cloak,
together with his horse, determined to set out to
join my uncle, who is a farmer down in Gloucestershire,
and where in sooth the companionship of his daughters girls
of my own age suits my disposition greatly
better than that of the excellent men with whom my
father consorts.”
The soldiers laughed, and the sergeant,
who was not at heart a bad fellow, said:
“I fear, my young sir, that
your disposition is a godless one, and that it would
have been far better for you to have remained under
the ministration of the good man whose hat you are
wearing than to have sought the society of your pretty
cousins. However, I do not know but that in the
unregenerate days of my own youth I might not have
attempted an escapade like yours. I trust,”
he continued, “you are not tainted with the
evil doctrines of the adherents of King Charles.”
“In truth,” Harry said,
“I worry not my head with politics. I hear
so much of them that I am fairly sick of the subject,
and have not yet decided whether the Commons is composed
of an assembly of men directly inspired with power
for the regeneration of mankind, or whether King Charles
be a demon in human shape. Methinks that when
I grow old enough to bear arms it will be time enough
for me to make up my mind against whom to use them.
At present, a clothyard is the stick to which I am
most accustomed, and as plows and harrows are greatly
more in accord with my disposition, I hope that for
a long time I shall not see the interior of a shop
again; and I trust that the quarrels which have brought
such trouble into this realm, and have well-nigh made
my father and mother distraught, will at least favor
my sojourn in the country, for I am sure that my father
will not venture to traverse England for the sake
of bringing me back again.”
“I am not sure,” the sergeant
said, “that my duty would not be to arrest you
and to send you back to London. But as, in truth,
I have no instructions to hinder travelers, I must
even let you go.”
With a merry farewell to the group,
and a laugh far more in accordance with his years
than with the costume which he wore, Harry set spurs
to his horse and again rode forward.
He met with no further adventure on
the road. When he found by inquiries that he
had passed the outposts of the Parliament forces, he
joyfully threw the hat, the bands, and cloak into
a ditch, for experience had taught him that, however
useful as a passport they might be while still within
the lines of the troops of the Commons, they would
be likely to procure him but scant welcome when he
entered those of the Royalists. Round Oxford
the royal army were encamped, and Harry speedily discovered
that his father was with his troop at his own place.
Turning his head again eastward, he rode to Abingdon,
and quickly afterward was at the hall.
The shout of welcome which the servitor
who opened the door uttered when he saw him speedily
brought his father to the entrance, and Sir Henry
was overjoyed at seeing the son whom he believed to
be in confinement in London. Harry’s tale
was soon told, and the colonel roared with laughter
at the thought of his boy masquerading as a Puritan
preacher.
“King Charles himself,”
he said, “might smile over your story, Harry;
and in faith it takes a great deal to call up a smile
into his majesty’s face, which is, methinks
a pity, for he would be more loved, and not less respected,
did he, by his appearance and manner, do something
to raise the spirits of those around him.”
When once seated in the hall Harry
inquired of his father what progress had been made
since he was taken prisoner, for he had heard nothing
from his guards.
“Things are as they were,”
his father said. “After our unfortunate
advance we fell back hither, and for six weeks nothing
was done. A fortnight since, on the 2d of January,
a petition was brought by deputies from the Common
Council of London, asking the king to return to the
capital when all disturbance should be suppressed.
King Charles, however, knew not that these gentlemen
had the power to carry out their promises seeing that
the seditious have the upper hand in the capital,
and answered them to that effect. His answer was,
however, methinks, far less conciliatory and prudent
than it might have been, for it boots not to stir
up men’s minds unnecessarily, and with a few
affectionate words the king might have strengthened
his party in London. The result, however, was
to lead to a fierce debate, in which Pym and Lord
Manchester addressed the multitude, and stirred them
up to indignation, and I fear that prospects of peace
are further away than ever. In other respects
there is good and bad news. Yorkshire and Cheshire,
Devon and Cornwall, have all declared for the crown;
but upon the other hand, in the east the prospects
are most gloomy. There, the seven counties, Norfolk,
Suffolk, Essex, Cambridge, Herts, Lincoln, and Huntingdon,
have joined themselves into an association, and the
king’s followers dare not lift their heads.
At Lichfield, Lord Brook, a fierce opponent of bishops
and cathedrals, while besieging a party of Cavaliers
who had taken possession of the close, was shot in
the eye and killed. These are the only incidents
that have taken place.”
For some weeks no event of importance
occurred. On the 22d of February the queen, who
had been absent on the Continent selling her jewels
and endeavoring to raise a force, landed at Burlington,
with four ships, having succeeded in evading the ships
of war which the Commons had dispatched to cut her
off, under the command of Admiral Batten. That
night, however, the Parliament fleet arrived off the
place, and opened fire upon the ships and village.
The queen was in a house near the shore, and the balls
struck in all directions round. She was forced
to get up, throw on a few clothes, and retire on foot
to some distance from the village to the shelter of
a ditch, where she sat for two hours, the balls sometimes
striking dust over them, and singing round in all
directions. It was a question whether the small
force which the queen brought with her was not rather
a hindrance than an assistance to the royal cause,
for the Earl of Newcastle, who had been sent to escort
her to York, was authorized by the king to raise men
for the service, without examining their consciences,
that is to say, to receive Catholics as well as Protestants.
The Parliament took advantage of this to style his
army the Catholic Army, and this, and some tamperings
with the Papists in Ireland, increased the popular
belief that the king leaned toward Roman Catholicism,
and thus heightened the feelings against him, and
embittered the religious as well as the political
quarrel.
Toward the end of March commissioners
from the Parliament, under the Earl of Northumberland,
came to Oxford with propositions to treat. It
is questionable whether the offers of the Commons
were sincere. But Charles, by his vacillation
and hesitation, by yielding one day and retracting
the next, gave them the opportunity of asserting, with
some show of reason, that he was wholly insincere,
and could not be trusted; and so the commission was
recalled, and the war went on again.
On the 15th of April Parliament formally
declared the negotiations to be at an end, and on
that day Essex marched with his army to the siege of
Reading. The place was fortified, and had a resolute
garrison; but by some gross oversight no provisions
or stores had been collected, and after an unsuccessful
attempt to relieve the town, when the Royalist forces
failed to carry the bridge at Caversham, they fell
back upon Wallingford, and Reading surrendered.
Meanwhile skirmishes were going on all over the country.
Sir William Waller was successful against the Royalists
in the south and west. In the north Lord Newcastle
was opposed to Fairfax, and the result was doubtful;
while in Cornwall the Royalists had gained a battle
over the Parliament men under Lord Stamford.
Meanwhile, the king was endeavoring
to create a party in the Parliament, and Lady Aubigny
was intrusted with the negotiations. The plot
was, however, discovered. Several members of
Parliament were arrested, and two executed by orders
of the Parliament.
Early in June Colonel Furness and
his troop were called into Oxford, as it was considered
probable that some expeditions would be undertaken,
and on the 17th of that month Prince Rupert formed
up his horse and sallied out against the outlying
pickets and small troops of the Parliament. Several
of these he surprised and cut up, and on the morning
of the 19th reached Chalgrove Field, near Thame.
Hampden was in command of a detachment of Parliamentary
troops in this neighborhood, and sending word to Essex,
who lay near, to come up to his assistance, attacked
Prince Rupert’s force. His men, however,
could not stand against the charge of the Royalists.
They were completely defeated, and Hampden, one of
the noblest characters of his age, was shot through
the shoulder. He managed to keep his horse, and
ride across country to Thame, where he hoped to obtain
medical assistance. After six days of pain he
died there, and thus England lost the only man who
could, in the days that were to come, have moderated,
and perhaps defeated, the ambition of Cromwell.
Essex arrived upon the scene of battle
a few minutes after the defeat of Hampden’s
force, and Prince Rupert fell back, and crossing the
Thames returned to Oxford, having inflicted much damage
upon the enemy.
Shortly after this event, one of the
serving men rushed in to Harry with the news that
a strong band of Parliament horse were within three
or four miles of the place, and were approaching.
Harry at once sent for the steward, and a dozen men
were summoned in all haste. On their arrival
they set to work to strip the hall of its most valued
furniture. The pictures were taken down from
the walls, the silver and plate tumbled into chests,
the arms and armor worn by generations of the Furnesses
removed from the armory, the choicest articles of furniture
of a portable character put into carts, together with
some twenty casks of the choicest wine in the cellars,
and in four hours only the heavier furniture, the
chairs and tables, buffets and heavy sideboards remained
in their places.
Just as the carts were filled news
came that the enemy had ridden into Abingdon.
Night was now coming on, and the carts at once started
with their contents for distant farms, where the plate
and wine were to be buried in holes dug in copses,
and other places little likely to be searched by the
Puritans. The pictures and furniture were stowed
away in lofts and covered deeply with hay.
Having seen the furniture sent off,
Harry awaited the arrival of the Parliament bands,
which he doubted not would be dispatched by the Puritans
among the townspeople to the hall. The stables
were already empty except for Rollo, Harry’s
own horse. This he had at once, the alarm being
given, sent off to a farm a mile distant from the hall,
and with it its saddle, bridle, and his arms, a brace
of rare pistols, breast and back pieces, a steel cap
with plumes, and his sword. It cost him an effort
to part with the last, for he now carried it habitually.
But he thought that it might be taken from him, and,
moreover, he feared that he might be driven into drawing
it, when the consequences might be serious, not only
for himself, but for the mansion of which his father
had left him in charge.
At nine a servitor came in to say
that a party of men were riding up the drive.
Harry seated himself in the colonel’s armchair,
and repeated to himself the determination at which
he had arrived of being perfectly calm and collected,
and of bearing himself with patience and dignity.
Presently he heard the clatter of horses’ hoofs
in the courtyard, and two minutes later, the tramp
of feet in the passage. The door opened, and
an officer entered, followed by five or six soldiers.
This man was one of the worst types
of Roundhead officers. He was a London draper,
whose violent harangues had brought him into notice,
and secured for him a commission in the raw levies
when they were first raised. Harry rose as he
entered.
“You are the son of the man
who is master of this house?” the officer said
roughly.
“I am his son and representative,” Harry
said calmly.
“I hear that he is a malignant fighting in the
ranks of King Charles.”
“My father is a colonel in the
army of his gracious majesty the king,” Harry
said.
“You are an insolent young dog!”
the captain exclaimed. “We will teach you
manners,” and rising from the seat into which
he had thrown himself on entering the hall, he struck
Harry heavily in the face.
The boy staggered back against the
wall; then with a bound he snatched a sword from the
hand of one of the troopers, and before the officer
had time to recoil or throw up his hands, he smote
him with all his force across the face. With
a terrible cry the officer fell back, and Harry, throwing
down the sword, leaped through the open window into
the garden and dashed into the shrubberies, as half
a dozen balls from the pistols of the astonished troopers
whizzed about his head.
For a few minutes he ran at the top
of his speed, as he heard shouts and pistol shots
behind him. But he knew that in the darkness strangers
would have no chance whatever of overtaking him, and
he slackened his pace into a trot. As he ran
he took himself to task for not having acted up to
his resolution. But the reflection that his father
would not disapprove of his having cut down the man
who had struck him consoled him, and he kept on his
way to the farm where he had left his horse. In
other respects, he felt a wild delight at what had
happened. There was nothing for him now but to
join the Royal army, and his father could hardly object
to his taking his place with the regiment.
“I wish I had fifty of them
here,” he thought to himself; “we would
surround the hall, and pay these traitors dearly.
As for their captain, I would hang him over the door
with my own hands. The cowardly ruffian, to strike
an unarmed boy! At any rate I have spoiled his
beauty for him, for I pretty nearly cut his face in
two, I shall know him by the scar if I ever meet him
in battle, and then we will finish the quarrel.
“I shall not be able to see
out of my right eye in the morning,” he grumbled;
“and shall be a nice figure when I ride into
Oxford.”
As he approached the farm he slackened
his speed to a walk; and neared the house very carefully,
for he thought it possible that one of the parties
of the enemy might already have taken up his quarters
there. The silence that reigned, broken by the
loud barking of dogs as he came close, proved that
no stranger had yet arrived, and he knocked loudly
at the door. Presently an upper window was opened,
and a woman’s voice inquired who he was, and
what he wanted.
“I am Harry Furness, Dame Arden,”
he said. “The Roundheads are at the hall,
and I have sliced their captain’s face; so I
must be away with all speed. Please get the men
up, and lose not a moment; I want my arms and horse.”
The farmer’s wife lost no time
in arousing the house, and in a very few minutes all
was ready. One man saddled the horse, while another
buckled on Harry’s breast and back pieces; and
with a hearty good-by, and amid many prayers for his
safety and speedy return with the king’s troops,
Harry rode off into the darkness. For awhile he
rode cautiously, listening intently lest he might
fall into the hands of some of the Roundhead bands.
But all was quiet, and after placing another mile or
two between himself and Abingdon, he concluded that
he was safe, drew Rollo’s reins tighter, pressed
him with his knees, and started at full gallop for
Oxford.