The king, after London had been overawed
by the army, was lodged in Hampton Court. At
this time the feeling throughout England was growing
stronger and stronger in favor of the re-establishment
of the monarchy, It was now a year since, with the
fall of Oxford, the civil war had virtually concluded,
and people yearned for a settled government and a
return to ancient usages and manners. The great
majority of that very Parliament which had withstood
and conquered Charles were of one mind with the people
in general; but England was no longer free to choose
for itself. The army had won the victory for
the Commons, and was determined to impose its will
upon the nation. At this time Cromwell, Ireton,
and Fairfax were disposed to an arrangement, but their
authority was overshadowed by that of the preachers,
who, in their harangues to the troops, denounced these
generals as traitors, and then finding that they were
likely to lose their influence, and to become obnoxious
to both parties, henceforth threw their lot in with
the army, and headed it in its struggle with the Parliament.
Even yet the long misfortunes which Charles had suffered
were insufficient to teach him wisdom. Had he
now heartily thrown himself into the hands of the
moderate majority in Parliament he might aided
by them and by the Scots, who, seeing that the Independents
were ignoring all the obligations which had been undertaken
by the Solemn League and government, were now almost
openly hostile to the party of the army have
again mounted the throne, amid the joyful acclamations
of the whole country. The army would have fought,
but Charles, with England at his back, would assuredly
have conquered. Unfortunately, the king could
not be honest. His sole idea of policy was to
set one section of his opponents against the other.
He intrigued at once with the generals and with the
Parliament, and had the imprudence to write continually
to the queen and others, avowing that he was deceiving
both. Several of these letters were intercepted,
and although desirous of playing off the king against
the army, the Commons felt that they could place no
trust in him whatever; while the preachers and the
army clamored more and more loudly that he should be
brought to trial as a traitor.
Harry Furness had, after the fall
of Oxford, remained quietly with his father at Furness
Hall. Once or twice only had he gone up to London,
returning with reports that the people there were becoming
more and more desirous of the restoration of the king
to his rights. The great majority were heartily
sick of the rule of the preachers, with their lengthy
exhortations, their sad faces, and their abhorrence
of amusement of all kinds. There had been several
popular tumults, in which the old cry of “God
save the king,” had again been raised. The
apprentices were ready to join in any movement which
might bring back the pleasant times of old. Cavaliers
now openly showed themselves in the streets, and London
was indeed ripe for an insurrection against the sovereignty
which the army had established over the nation.
Had the king at this time escaped from Hampton Court,
and ridden into London at the head of only twenty
gentlemen, and issued a proclamation appealing to the
loyalty of the citizens, and promising faithfully
to preserve the rights of the people, and to govern
constitutionally, he would have been received with
acclamation. The majority of Parliament would
have declared for him, England would have received
the news with delight, and the army alone would not
have sufficed to turn the tide against him. Unhappily
for Charles, he had no more idea now than at the commencement
of the war of governing constitutionally, and instead
thinking of trusting himself to the loyalty and affection
of his subjects, he was meditating an escape to France.
Harry received a letter from one of the king’s
most attached adherents, who was in waiting upon him
at Hampton, begging him to repair there at once, as
his majesty desired the aid of a few of those upon
whom he could best rely, for an enterprise which he
was about to undertake. Harry showed the letter
to his father.
“You must do as you will, Harry,”
the colonel said. “For myself, I stick
to my determination to meddle no more in the broils
of this kingdom. Could I trust his Majesty, I
would lay down my life for him willingly; but I cannot
trust him. All the misfortunes which have befallen
him, all the blood which has been poured out by loyal
men in his cause, all the advice which his best councilors
have given him, have been thrown away upon him.
He is as lavish with his promises as ever, but all
the time he is intending to break them as soon as
he gets ample chance. Were he seated upon the
throne again to-morrow, he would be as arbitrary as
he was upon the day he ascended it. I do not
say that I would not far rather see England under
the tyranny of one man than under that of an army
of ambitious knaves; but the latter cannot last.
The king’s authority, once riveted again on
the necks of the people, might enslave them for generations,
but England will never submit long to the yoke of
military dictators. The evil is great, but it
will right itself in time. But do you do as you
like, Harry. You have, I hope, a long life before
you, and ’twere best that you chose your own
path in it. But think it over, my son. Decide
nothing to-night, and in the morning let me know what
you have determined.”
Harry slept but little that night.
When he met his father at breakfast he said:
“I have decided, father.
You know that my opinions run with yours as to the
folly of the king, and the wrongfulness and unwisdom
of his policy. Still he is alone, surrounded
by traitors to whose ambition he is an obstacle, and
who clamor for his blood. I know not upon what
enterprise he may now be bent, but methinks that it
must be that he thinks of an escape from the hands
of his jailers. If so, he must meditate a flight
to France. There he will need faithful followers,
who will do their best to make him feel that he is
still a king who will cheer his exile and sustain
his hopes. It may be that years will pass before
England shakes off the iron yoke which Cromwell and
his army are placing upon her neck. But, as you
say, I am young and can wait. There are countries
in Europe where a gentleman can take service in the
army, and should aught happen to King Charles there
I will enroll myself until these evil days be all
passed. I would rather never see England again
than live here to be ruled by King Cromwell and his
canting Ironsides.”
“So be it, my son,” the
colonel said. “I do not strive to dissuade
you, for methinks had I been of your age I should
have chosen the same. Should your fortunes lead
you abroad, as they likely will, I shall send you
a third of my income here. The rest will be ample
for me. There will be little feasting or merriment
at Furness Hall until the cloud which overshadows
England be passed away, and you be again by my side.
There is little fear of my being disturbed. Those
who laid down their arms when the war ceased were
assured of the possession of their property, and as
I shall draw sword no more there will be no excuse
for the Roundheads to lay hands on Furness Hall.
And now, my boy, here are a hundred gold pieces.
Use them in the king’s service. When I hear
that you are abroad I will write to Master Fleming
to arrange with his correspondents, whether in France
or Holland, as you may chance to be, to pay the money
regularly into your hands. You will, I suppose,
take Jacob with you?”
“Assuredly I will,” Harry
said. “He is attached and faithful, and
although he cares not very greatly for the King’s
cause, I know he will follow my fortunes. He
is sick to death of the post which I obtained for
him after the war, with a scrivener at Oxford.
I will also take William Long with me, if he will
go. He is a merry fellow, and has a wise head.
He and Jacob did marvelously at Edinburgh, when they
cozened the preachers, and got me out of the clutches
of Argyll. With two such trusty followers I could
go through Europe. I will ride over to Oxford
at once.”
As Harry anticipated, Jacob was delighted
at the prospect of abandoning his scrivener’s
desk.
“I don’t believe,”
he said, when he had learned from Harry that they
were going to the king at Hampton, “that aught
will come of these plottings. As I told you when
we were apprentices together, I love plots, but there
are men with whom it is fatal to plot. Such a
one, assuredly, is his gracious majesty. For
a plot to be successful, all to be concerned in it
must know their own minds, and be true as steel to
each other. The King never knows his own mind
for half an hour together, and, unfortunately, he
seems unable to be true to any one. So let it
be understood, Master Harry, that I go into this business
partly from love of you, who have been truly a most
kind friend to me, partly because I love adventure,
and hate this scrivener’s desk, partly because
there is a chance that I may benefit by the change.”
Harry bade him procure apparel as
a sober retainer in a Puritan family, and join him
that night at Furness Hall, as he purposed to set out
at daybreak. William Long also agreed at once
to follow Harry’s fortunes. The old farmer,
his father, offered no objection.
“It is right that my son should
ride with the heir of Furness Hall,” he said.
“We have been Furness tenants for centuries,
and have ever fought by our lords in battle.
Besides, Master Harry, I doubt me whether William
will ever settle down here in peace. His elder
brother will have the farm after me, so it matters
not greatly, but your wars and journeyings have turned
his head, and he thinks of arms and steel caps more
than of fat beeves or well-tilled fields.”
The next morning, soon after daybreak,
Harry and his followers left Furness Hall, and arrived
the same night at Hampton. Here they put up at
a hostelry, and Harry sent a messenger to Lord Ashburnham,
who had summoned him, and was in attendance upon the
king, to say that he had arrived.
An hour later Lord Ashburnham joined
him. “I am glad you have come, Master Furness,”
he said. “The king needs faithful servants;
and it’s well that you have come to-day, as
I have been ordered by those in power to remove from
the king’s person. His majesty has lost
all hope of coming to an agreement with either party
here. At one time it seemed that Cromwell and
Ireton were like to have joined him, but a letter of
the king’s, in which he spoke of them somewhat
discourteously, fell into their hands, and they have
now given themselves wholly over to the party most
furious against the king. Therefore he has resolved
to fly. Do you move from hence and take up your
quarters at Kingston, where no curious questions are
likely to be asked you. I shall take lodgings
at Ditton, and shall there await orders from the king.
It may be that he will change his mind, but of this
Major Legg, who attends him in his bedchamber, will
notify us. Our design is to ride to the coast
near Southampton and there take ship, and embark for
France. It is not likely that we shall be attacked
by the way, but as the king may be recognized in any
town through which we may pass, it is as well to have
half a dozen good swords on which we can rely.”
“I have with me,” Harry
said, “my friend Jacob, who was lieutenant in
my troop, and who can wield a sword well, and one
of my old troopers, a stout and active lad. You
can rely upon them as on me.”
Lord Ashburnham stayed but a few minutes
with Harry, and then mounted and rode to Ditton, while
Harry the same afternoon journeyed on into Kingston,
and there took up his lodgings. On the 11th of
November, three days after their arrival, Harry received
a message from Lord Ashburnham, asking him to ride
over to Ditton. At his lodgings there he found
Sir John Berkeley. Major Legg shortly after arrived,
and told them that the king had determined, when he
went into his private room for evening prayer, to
slip away, and make for the river side, where they
were to be in readiness for him with horses.
Harry had brought his followers with him, and had
left them at an inn while he visited Lord Ashburnham.
William Long at once rode back to Kingston, and there
purchased two good horses, with saddles, for the king
and Major Legg. At seven in the evening the party
mounted, William Long and Jacob each leading a spare
horse. Lord Ashburnham and Sir John Berkeley joined
them outside the village, and they rode together until,
crossing the bridge at Hampton, they stopped on the
river bank, at the point arranged, near the palace.
Half an hour passed, and then footsteps were heard,
and two figures approached. Not a word was spoken
until they were near enough to discern their faces.
“Thank God you are here, my
Lord Ashburnham,” the king said. “Fortune
is always so against me that I feared something might
occur to detain you. Ha! Master Furness,
I am glad to see so faithful a friend.”
The king and Major Legg now mounted,
and the little party rode off. Their road led
through Windsor Forest, then of far greater extent
than at present. Through this the king acted
as guide. The night was wild and stormy, but
the king was well acquainted with the forest, and at
daybreak the party, weary and drenched, arrived at
Sutton, in Hampshire. Here they found six horses,
which Lord Ashburnham had on the previous day sent
forward, and mounting these, they again rode on.
As the sun rose their spirits revived, and the king
entered into conversation with Ashburnham, Berkeley,
and Harry as to his plans. The latter was surprised
and disappointed to find that so hurriedly had the
king finally made up his mind to fly that no ship
had been prepared to take him from the coast, and
that it was determined that for the time the king
should go to the Isle of Wight. The governor of
the Isle of Wight was Colonel Hammond, who was connected
with both parties. His uncle was chaplain to
the king, and he was himself married to a daughter
of Hampden. It was arranged that the king and
Major Legg should proceed to a house of Lord Southampton
at Titchfield, and that Berkeley and Lord Ashburnham
should go to the Isle of Wight to Colonel Hammond,
to find if he would receive the king. Harry,
with his followers, was to proceed to Southampton,
and there to procure a ship, which was to be in readiness
to embark the king when a message was received from
him. Agents of the king had already received
orders to have a ship in readiness, and should this
be done, it was at once to be brought round to Titchfield.
“This seems to me,” Jacob
said, as, after separating from the king, they rode
to Southampton, “to be but poor plotting.
Here has the king been for three months at Hampton
Court, and could, had he so chosen, have fixed his
flight for any day at his will. A vessel might
have been standing on and off the coast, ready to
receive him, and he could have ridden down, and embarked
immediately he reached the coast. As it is, there
is no ship and no arrangement, and for aught he knows
he may be a closer prisoner in the Isle of Wight than
he was at Hampton, while both parties with whom he
has been negotiating will be more furious than ever
at finding that he has fooled them. If I could
not plot better than this I would stick to a scrivener’s
desk all my life.”
It was late in the afternoon when
they rode into Southampton. They found the city
in a state of excitement. A messenger had, an
hour before, ridden in from London with the news of
the king’s escape, and with orders from Parliament
that no vessel should be allowed to leave the port.
Harry then rode to Portsmouth, but there also he was
unable to do anything. He heard that in the afternoon
the king had crossed over onto the Isle of Wight,
and that he had been received by the governor with
marks of respect. They, therefore, again returned
to Southampton, and there took a boat for Cowes.
Leaving his followers there, Harry rode to Newport,
and saw the king. The latter said that for the
present he had altogether changed his mind about escaping
to France, and that Sir John Berkeley would start
at once to negotiate with the heads of the army.
He begged Harry to go to London, and to send him from
time to time sure news of the state of feeling of
the populace.
Taking his followers with him, Harry
rode to London, disguised as a country trader.
He held communication with many leading citizens, as
well as with apprentices and others with whom he could
get into conversation in the streets and public resorts.
He found that the vast majority of the people of London
were longing for the overthrow of the rule of the
Independents, and for the restoration of the king.
The preachers were as busy as ever haranguing people
in the streets, and especially at Paul’s Cross.
In the cathedral of St. Paul’s the Independent
soldiers had stabled their horses, to the great anger
of many moderate people, who were shocked at the manner
in which those who had first begun to fight for liberty
of conscience now tyrannized over the consciences
and insulted the feelings of all others. Harry
and his followers mixed among the groups, and aided
in inflaming the temper of the people by passing jeering
remarks, and loudly questioning the statements of
the preachers. These, unaccustomed to interruption,
would rapidly lose temper, and they and their partisans
would make a rush through the crowd to seize their
interrogators. Then the apprentices would interfere,
blows would be exchanged, and not unfrequently the
fanatics were driven in to take refuge with the troops
in St. Paul’s. Harry found a small printer
of Royalist opinions, and with the assistance of Jacob,
strung together many doggerel verses, making a scoff
of the sour-faced rulers of England, and calling upon
the people not to submit to be tyrannized over by
their own paid servants, the army. These verses
were then set in type by the printer, and in the evening,
taking different ways, they distributed them in the
streets to passers-by.
Day by day the feeling in the city
rose higher, as the quarrels at Westminster between
the Independents, backed by the army and the Presbyterian
majority, waxed higher and higher. All this time
the king was negotiating with commissioners from the
army, and with others sent by the Scots, one day inclining
to one party, the next to the other, making promises
to both, but intending to observe none, as soon as
he could gain his ends.
On Sunday, the 9th of April, Harry
and his friends strolled up to Moor Fields to look
at the apprentices playing bowls there. Presently
from the barracks of the militia hard by a party of
soldiers came out, and ordered them to desist, some
of the soldiers seizing upon the bowls.
“Now, lads,” Harry shouted,
“you will not stand that, will you? The
London apprentices were not wont to submit to be ridden
rough-shod over by troops. Has all spirit been
taken out of you by the long-winded sermons of these
knaves in steeple hats?”
Some of the soldiers made a rush at
Harry. His two friends closed in by him.
The two first of the soldiers who arrived were knocked
down. Others, however, seized the young men,
but the apprentices crowded up, pelted the soldiers
with stones, and, by sheer weight, overthrew those
who had taken Harry and carried him off. The soldiers
soon came pouring out of their barracks, but fleet-footed
lads had, at the commencement of the quarrel, run
down into the streets, raising the shout of “clubs,”
and swarms of apprentices came running up. Led
by Harry and his followers, who carried heavy sticks,
they charged the militia with such fury that these,
in spite of their superior arms, were driven back
fighting into their barracks. When the gates were
shut Harry mounted on a stone and harangued the apprentices he
recalled to them the ancient rights of the city, rights
which the most absolute monarchs who had sat upon
the throne had not ventured to infringe, that no troops
should pass through the streets or be quartered there
to restrict the liberties of the citizens. “No
king would have ventured so to insult the people of
London; why should the crop-haired knaves at Westminster
dare to do so? If you had the spirit of your
fathers you would not bear it for a moment.”
“We will not, we will not,”
shouted the crowd. “Down with the soldiers!”
At this moment a lad approached at
full run to say that the cavalry were coming from
St. Paul’s. In their enthusiasm the apprentices
prepared to resist, but Harry shouted to them:
“Not here in the fields.
Scatter now and assemble in the streets. With
the chains up, we can beat them there.”
The apprentices gave a cheer, and,
scattering, made their way from the fields just as
the cavalry issued into the open space. Hurrying
in all directions, the apprentices carried the news,
and soon the streets swarmed with their fellows.
They were quickly joined by the watermen in
those days a numerous and powerful body. These
were armed with oars and boat-stretchers. The
chains which were fastened at night across the ends
of the streets were quickly placed in position, and
all was prepared to resist the attack of the troops.