Harry slept at an inn in Westminster,
and the next morning on going down to his breakfast,
he found people much excited, a rumor having gone
about that an attack had been made upon Cromwell’s
house during the night, and that several had been
killed, but no harm done to the general. An hour
afterward a messenger brought word that General Cromwell
wished to see Colonel Furness. After his breakfast
Harry had at once gone out and purchased clothes suitable
to a country gentleman; in these he proceeded to the
general, and was at once shown up to his room.
“Your news was trustworthy,
Colonel Furness, and Oliver Cromwell owes his life
to you. Soon after midnight one of the serving
wenches opened the back door, and eight men entered.
Had no watch been set, they would doubtless have reached
my room unobserved, by the staircase which leads from
that part of the house. As it was, I had a guard
in waiting, and when the men were fairly inside they
fell upon them. The soldiers were too quick with
them, being hot at the plot which was intended against
my life, and all were killed, together with the wench
who admitted them, who was stabbed by one of the men
at the first alarm, thinking doubtless she had betrayed
them. I hear that none of them have the air of
gentlemen, but are clearly broken men and vagabonds.
The haste of my soldiers has prevented me from getting
any clew as to those who set them on, but I am sure
that no English gentleman, even although devoted to
the cause of Charles Stuart, would so plot against
my life. And now, sir, I thank you heartily for
the great service you have rendered me. My life
is, I think, precious to England, where I hope to do
some good work before I die. I say only in return
that henceforth you may come and go as you list; and
I hope yet that you will sit by me in Parliament, and
aid me to set things in England in order. Do not
take this, sir, as in any way a recompense for saving
my life. The war is over; a few of those who
had troubled, and would always trouble the peace of
England, have been executed. Against the rest
we bear no malice. They are free to return to
their homes and occupations as they list, and so long
as they obey the laws, and abstain from fresh troubles
and plots, none will molest them. But, sir, in
order that no molestation or vexation may occur to
you, here is a free pass, signed by General Fairfax
and two of the commissioners, saying that you are
at liberty to go or come and to stay where you please,
without hindrance or molestation from any.”
Harry took the document, bowed, and withdrew.
“It is a thousand pities,”
he said to himself, “that his majesty the king
has not somewhat of this man’s quality.
This is a strong man, and a true. He may have
his faults ay, he has them he
is ambitions, he is far more fanatical for his religion
than was Charles I. for his. He is far more absolute,
far more domineering than was King Charles. Were
he made king to-morrow, as I hear he is like enough
to be, he would trample upon the Parliament and despise
its will infinitely more than any English king would
ever have dared to do. But for all that he is
a great man, honest, sincere, and, above all, to be
trusted. Who can say that for the Stuarts?”
Upon the day of his arrival Harry
had written to Jacob telling him the cause of his
sudden departure, and promising to return by the first
ship, He hesitated now whether he should sail at once,
or go down to see his father, but he determined that
it would be best, at any rate in the first place,
to return to Hamburg and look after his companion,
and then to come over to see his father, before carrying
out his intention of proceeding to Virginia.
A ship would, he found, be sailing in three days,
and he wrote to his father telling him that he had
been in London for a day or two, but was forced by
the illness of Jacob to return at once; but that upon
his friend’s recovery he would come back to Abingdon
for a short time before leaving. He arrived at
Hamburg without adventure. On reaching the hotel
he was informed that Jacob was delirious, and that
his life was despaired of. The rascally boatman
could not have given the message with which he had
been charged, since Jacob, upon the day after he was
first missed, had risen from his bed, and insisted
on going in search of him. He had, after many
inquiries, learned that one answering to his description
had taken part in a fray in a drinking-house interfering
to protect a Bohemian singer from insult. Beyond
this nothing could be heard of him. He had not
been seen in the fray in the street, when several
of the rioters had been captured and carried off by
the watch, and some supposed that he might have left
the place at the back, in which case it was feared
that he might have been fallen upon and assassinated
by the ruffians in the low quarter lying behind the
drinking hall. Jacob had worked himself into a
state of high fever by his anxiety, and upon returning
to the hotel had become so violent that they were
forced to restrain him. He had been bled and
blistered, but had remained for a fortnight in a state
of violent fever and delirium. This had now somewhat
abated, but he was in such a weak state that the doctors
feared the worst.
The return of Harry did more for him
than all the doctors of Hamburg. He seemed at
once to recognize his voice, and the pressure of his
hand soothed and calmed him. He presently fell
into a deep sleep, in which he lay for twelve hours,
and on opening his eyes at once recognized his friend.
His recovery now was rapid, and in a week he was able
to sit up.
One morning the servant told Harry
that a gentleman wished to speak to him, and a moment
after his father entered. With a cry of delight
father and son flew into each other’s arms.
It was four years since they had met, and both were
altered much. The colonel had aged greatly, while
Harry had grown into a broad and powerful man.
“My dear father, this is an
unexpected pleasure indeed,” Harry said, when
the first burst of delight was over. “Did
you not get my letter from London, saying that I hoped
shortly to be with you?”
“From London!” the colonel
exclaimed, astonished. “No, indeed; I have
received no letter save that which your boy brought
me. We started a week later for Southampton,
where we were detained nigh ten days for a ship.”
“And who is the we, father?” Harry
asked anxiously.
“Ah,” the old man said,
“now you are in a hurry to know. Who should
it be but Master Rippinghall and a certain young lady?”
“Oh, father, has Lucy really come?”
“Assuredly she has,” Colonel
Purness said, “and is now waiting in a private
room below with her brother, for Sir Harry. I
have not congratulated you yet, my boy, on your new
dignity.”
“And you really consent to my marriage, sir?”
“I don’t see that I could
help it,” the colonel said, “since you
had set your mind on it, especially as when I came
to inquire I found the young lady was willing to go
to Virginia. But we must talk of that anon.
Yes, Harry, you have my full consent. The young
lady is not quite of the rank of life I should have
chosen for you; but ranks and classes are all topsy-turvy
in England at present, and when we are ruled over by
a brewer, it would be nice indeed to refuse to take
a wool-stapler’s sister for wife. But seriously,
Harry, I am well contented. I knew little of
the young lady except by common report, which spoke
of her as the sweetest and kindest damsel in Abingdon.
But now I have seen her, I wonder not at your choice.
During the fortnight we have been together I have
watched her closely, and I find in her a rare combination
of gentleness and firmness. You have won her
heart, Harry, though how she can have kept thee in
mind all this time is more than I can tell. Her
brother tells me that he placed no pressure upon her
either for or against, though he desired much for
your sake, and from the love he bore you, that she
should accept of your suit. Now you had better
go down, and learn from her own lips how it stands
with her.”
It need not to describe the meeting
between Harry and his old friends. Herbert was
warm and cordial as of old. Lucy was but little
changed since Harry had seen her four years before,
save that she was more fair and womanly.
“Your letter gave me,”
Herbert said, “a mixed feeling of pleasure and
pain. I knew that my little sister has always
looked upon you as a hero of romance, and though I
knew not that as a woman her heart still turned to
you, yet she refused so sharply and shrewishly all
the suitors who came to her, that I suspected that
her thoughts of you were more than a mere child’s
fancy. When your letter came I laid no pressure
upon her, just as in other cases I have held aloof,
and indeed have gained some ill-will at the hands
of old friends because I would not, as her brother,
and the head of the family, lay stress upon her.
I read your letter to her, and she at first said she
was ready to obey my wishes in the matter, and to
go with you to Virginia if I bade her. I said
that in such a matter it was her will and not mine
which I wished to consult, and thus pressed into a
corner, she owned that she would gladly go with you.”
“Harry,” the girl said,
“for my tongue is not as yet used to your new
title, under other circumstances I should have needed
to be wooed and won like other girls. But seeing
how strangely you are placed, and that you were about
to start across the sea, to be absent perhaps for many
years, I felt that it would not be worthy either of
me or you were I to affect a maiden coyness and so
to throw difficulties in your way. I feel the
honor of the offer you have made me. That you
should for so many years have been absent and seen
the grand ladies of the court, and have yet thought
of your little playfellow, shows that your heart is
as true and good as I of old thought it to be, and
I need feel no shame in acknowledging that I have
ever thought of you with affection.”
For the next few days there was much
argument over the project of going to Virginia.
Herbert, when he heard what had happened in London,
joined his entreaties to those of Sir Henry, asserting
that he had only consented to Lucy’s going to
so outlandish a place in the belief that there was
no help for it, and that he did not think it fair for
Harry to take her to such a life when he could stay
comfortably at home. Sir Henry did not say much,
but Harry could see how ardently he longed for him
to remain. As for Lucy, she stood neutral, saying
that assuredly she did not wish to go to Virginia,
but that, upon the other hand, she should feel that
her consent had been obtained under false pretenses,
and that she had been defrauded of the enjoyment of
a proper and regular courtship, did it prove that
Harry might have come home and sought her hand in
regular form. Harry’s reluctance to remain
arose principally from the fact that he had gained
permission to do so by an act of personal service
which he had done the king’s great enemy.
Had he been included in a general amnesty he would
gladly have accepted it. However, his resolution
gave way under the arguments of Herbert, who urged
upon him that he had no right, on a mere point of
punctilio, to leave his father in his old age, and
to take Lucy from her country and friends to a life
of hardship in the plantations of Virginia. At
last he yielded. Then a difficulty arose with
Lucy, who would fain have returned to Abingdon with
her brother, and urged she should there have time given
her to be married in regular fashion. This Harry
would by no means consent to, and as both Sir Henry
and Herbert saw no occasion for the delay, they were
married a fortnight later at the Protestant church
at Hamburg, Jacob, who was by this time perfectly
restored to health, acting as his best man.
One of the first steps which Harry
took after his return to Hamburg was to inquire about
the gypsy maid who had done him such service.
She was still singing at the drinking-house.
Harry went down there in the daytime and gave one
of the drawers a crown to tell her quietly that the
Englishman she knew would fain see her, and would wait
for her at a spot he named on the walk by the river
bank, between ten and twelve the next day. Here,
accompanied by Lucy, who, having heard of the service
which the girl had rendered him, fully entered into
his anxiety to befriend her, he awaited her the next
day. She came punctual to the appointment, but
in great fear that the old gypsy would discover her
absence. Upon Harry telling her that Lucy, who
was about to become his wife, would willingly take
her to England and receive her as a companion until
such time as some opportunity for furthering her way
in life might appear, Zita accepted the proposal with
tears of joy. She abhorred the life she was forced
to lead, and it was only after many beatings and much
ill-usage from the gypsies that she consented to it,
and it made her life the harder, inasmuch as she knew
that she had not been born to such a fate, but had
been stolen as a child.
“What could have been their
motive in carrying you away?” Lucy asked.
“I believe,” the girl
said, “from what they have told me, that I was
taken in revenge. My father had charged one of
the gypsies with theft, and the man having been hung,
the others, to avenge themselves, carried me off.”
“But why did you not, when you
grew old enough, tell your story to the magistrates,
and appeal to them for assistance?”
“Alas!” the girl said,
“what proofs have I for my tale? Moreover,
even were I believed, and taken from the gypsies,
what was there for me to do, save to beg in the streets
for charity?”
They now arranged with her the manner
of her flight. She was afraid to meet them again
lest her footsteps should be traced, for she was sure
that the gypsies would carry her away to some other
town if they had the least suspicion that she had
made friends with any capable of taking her part,
as the whole party lived in idleness upon the money
she gained by singing. It was arranged, therefore,
that the night before they were to depart Harry should
appear in the singing hall, and should take his place
near the door. She should let him know that she
perceived him by passing her hand twice across her
forehead. When the performance was over she should,
instead of leaving as usual by the back way, slip down
the steps, and mingle with those leaving the hall.
Outside the door she would find Harry, who would take
her to the hotel, where dresses would be provided
for her. There she should stop the night, and
go on board ship with them in the morning.
These arrangements were all carried
out, and four days after the wedding of Harry and
Lucy the party, with Zita, sailed for England.
Had the tenantry on the Furness estate known of the
home-coming of their young master and his bride, they
would have given him a grand reception; but Harry
and his father both agreed that this had better not
be, for that it was as well to call no public attention
to his return, even though he had received Cromwell’s
permission.
After all his adventures, Sir Harry
Furness dwelt quietly and happily with his father.
In the following years the English fleet fought many
hard battles with the Dutch, and the Parliament, in
order to obtain money, confiscated the property of
most of those Cavaliers who had now returned under
the Act of Amnesty. Steps were taken against Sir
Henry Furness, but as he had taken no part in the
troubles after the close of the first civil war, Cromwell,
on receiving an application from him, peremptorily
quashed the proceedings.
On April 20, 1653, Cromwell went down
to the House with a body of troops, and expelled the
Parliament, who were in the act of passing a bill
for their own dissolution, and a new representation.
He thus proved himself as tyrannous and despotic as
any sovereign could have been. A new Parliament
was summoned, but instead of its members being elected
in accordance with the customs of England, they were
selected and nominated by Cromwell himself. The
history of England contains no instance of such a
defiance of the constitutional rights of the people.
But although he had grasped power arbitrarily and by
force, Cromwell used it well and wisely, and many
wise laws and great social reforms were passed by
the Parliament under his orders. Still the fanatical
party were in the majority in this body, and as Cromwell
saw that these persons would push matters further
than he wished, he made an arrangement with the minority,
who resigned their seats, thereby leaving an insufficient
number in the House to transact business. Cromwell
accepted their resignation, and the Parliament then
ceased to exist.
Four days later, on the 16th of December,
Cromwell assumed the state and title of Lord Protector
of the Commonwealth. For the next five years he
governed England wisely and well. The Parliament
was assembled, but as its proceedings were not in
accordance with his wishes, he dissolved it, and for
the most part governed England by his own absolute
will. That it was a strong will and a wise cannot
be questioned, but that a rising, which originally
began because the king would not yield to the absolute
will of Parliament, should have ended in a despotism,
in which the chief of the king’s opponents should
have ruled altogether without Parliaments, is strange
indeed. It is singular to find that those who
make most talk about the liberties of Englishmen should
regard as their hero and champion the man who trod
all the constitutional rights of Englishmen under
foot. But if a despot, Cromwell was a wise and
firm one, and his rule was greatly for the good of
the country. Above all, he brought the name of
England into the highest honor abroad, and made it
respected throughout Europe. Would that among
all Englishmen of the present day there existed the
same feeling of patriotism, the same desire for the
honor and credit of their country, as dwelt in the
breast of Oliver Cromwell.
On August 30, 1658, Cromwell died,
and his son Richard succeeded him. The Parliament
and the army soon fell out, and the army, coming down
in force, dissolved Parliament, and Richard Cromwell
ceased at once to have any power. The army called
together forty-two of the old members of the Long
Parliament, of extreme republican views, but these
had no sooner met than they broke into divisions,
and England was wholly without a government.
So matters went on for some time, until General Monk,
with the army of the north, came up to London.
He had for weeks been in communication with the king.
For a time he was uncertain of the course he should
take, but after awhile he found that the feeling of
London was wholly averse to the Parliament, and so
resolved to take the lead in a restoration. A
Parliament was summoned, and upon the day after its
assembling Monk presented to them a document from King
Charles, promising to observe the constitution, granting
full liberty of conscience, and an amnesty for past
offenses. Parliament at once declared in favor
of the ancient laws of the kingdom, the government
to be by King, Lords and Commons; and on May 8, 1660,
Charles II. was proclaimed king, and on the 30th entered
London in triumph.
Sir Harry Furness sat in the Parliament
which recalled the king, and in many subsequent ones.
His father came to London to see the royal entry,
and both were most kindly received by the king, who
expressed a warm hope that he should often see them
at court. This, however, was not to be.
The court of King Charles offered no attractions to
pure-minded and honorable men. Sir Henry came
no more to London, but lived quietly and happily to
the end of a long life at Furness Hall, rejoicing much
over the happiness of his son, and in the society
of his daughter-in-law and her children. Herbert
Rippinghall sat in Parliament for Abingdon. Except
when obliged by his duties as a member to be in London,
Sir Harry Furness lived quietly at Furness Hall, taking
much interest in country matters. Twenty-eight
years later James II fled from England, and William
of Orange mounted the throne. At this time Sir
Harry Furness was sixty-one, and he lived many years
to see the freedom and rights for which Englishmen
had so hotly struggled and fought now enjoyed by them
in all their fullness.
A few words as to the other personages
of this story. Jacob, three years after Harry’s
return to England, married the Spanish girl Zita, and
settled down in a pretty house called the Dower House,
on the Furness property, which, together with a large
farm attached to it, Sir Henry Furness settled upon
him, as a token of his affection and gratitude to
him for the faithful services he had rendered to his
son.
William Long was made bailiff of the
estate, and Mike remained the attached and faithful
body-servant of Sir Harry, until he, ten years later,
married the daughter and heiress of a tradesman in
Abingdon, and became a leading citizen of that town.
Although Harry was not of a revengeful
disposition, he rejoiced exceedingly when he heard,
two or three months after the king’s restoration,
of the execution of that doubly-dyed traitor, the Earl
of Argyll.