THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 FROM KING TO KING
 
 Printed by BALLANTVNE, HANSON & Co. 
 London and Edinburgh
 
 FROM KING TO KING: 
 
 The Tragedy of the Puritan Revo- 
 lution. By G. Lowes Dickinson, 
 Fellow of King's College, Cambridge 
 
 ' <&fethinks 1 see in my mind a noble and puissant nation 
 rousing herself li^e a strong man after sleep, and shaking 
 her in-vincible loc^s. cflfetAinfa 1 tee her as an eagle 
 metting her mighty youth, and kindling her undazxled 
 eyes at the full rr.idday beam, purging and unsealing 
 her long-abused sight at the fountain itself of heavenly 
 
 radiance " 
 
 MILTON in 1644 
 
 PUBLISHED BY GEORGE ALLEN, S BELL YARD, 
 TEMPLE BAR. LONDON; AND &UNNYS1DE, 
 ORPINGTON. 1891
 
 AMICUS AM ico
 
 405 
 
 * 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 THE pages that follow contain an attempt to state, 
 in a concrete form, certain universal aspects of a 
 particular period of history. The tragedy lies in 
 the conflict of reforming energy with actual men and 
 institutions ; and it has been the object of the author 
 to delineate vividly the characters of leading actors 
 in the struggle, their ideals, and the distortion of 
 these as reflected in the current of events. This is 
 the general purpose of the work ; to attempt to 
 expand it, in detail, in a preface, would be to imply 
 that the book itself is superfluous ; for the dramatic 
 form was deliberately chosen, because that of an 
 essay appeared insufficient. 
 
 It is hoped that the unity of the whole series of 
 dialogues is secured by the natural development of 
 the subject-matter ; this result, it is true, if it has 
 been attained, will only be perceived by readers who 
 have a general acquaintance with the history of the 
 period; but such readers must be numerous, and it 
 is to them, primarily, that the work is intended to 
 appeal.
 
 vi PREFACE. 
 
 Accuracy in detail is not essential to the excellence 
 of such a work ; it has, however, been studied, though 
 probably not with complete success. In forming his 
 conception of the men and the period, the author has 
 consulted the most recent authorities, whose names 
 are too well and honourably known to students for it 
 to be necessary for him to repeat them. It is his 
 hope that he will not be found to have misrepresented 
 the truth, by attempting to embody it in an artistic 
 form. 
 
 KING'S COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE, 
 March, 1891.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 ELIOT AND HAMPDEN IN THE TOWEK ... I 
 
 LAUD AND CHILLINGWORTH 9 
 
 STEAFFOBD AND HIS FORMER TUTOR GREENWOOD 
 
 IN THE TOWER 19 
 
 LAUD IN THE TOWER 31 
 
 MILTON AND HIS FORMER TUTOR YOUNG 35 
 
 LORD FALKLAND AND EDWARD HYDE, AT THE HOUSE 
 
 OF THE FORMER, GREAT TEW, NEAR OXFORD . 45 
 
 THE CAMP OF THE PARLIAMENTARY TROOPS AFTER 
 
 NA8EBY 57 
 
 THE KING AND HIS GROOM OF THE CHAMBER, THOMAS 
 
 HERBERT, AT NEWPORT 73 
 
 CBOMWELL . . -85 
 
 JOHN LILBURNE BEFORE THE COUNCIL ... 91 
 
 CBOMWELL IOI 
 
 CROMWELL AND VANE 109 
 
 VANE ON THE SCAFFOLD 119
 
 I. 
 
 Eliot ant> Ibampfcen in tbe TTower, 
 
 1632. 
 
 {Eliot was imprisoned for his opposition to the 
 Crown in the Parliament of 1628. His liberation 
 -was made conditional on an humble acknowledg- 
 ment of his fault, which he steadily refused. Pie 
 died in the Tower in the November nf 1632.]
 
 I. 
 
 ELIOT. Yes, I grow pale ! A breath of Cornish air 
 "Would make this Tower a Heaven ! Suppose the sea 
 Beat at its dripping base, and winds in tumult 
 With clang of birds and sailing foam-drift sang 
 Shrill by the cliffs and turrets ; suppose Tintagel 
 Had been my prison, and yonder slit revealed' 
 The huge Atlantic heaving, sun and cloud, 
 Moisture and ocean fragrance ! Suppose, suppose .... 
 
 Enter HAMPDEN. 
 
 O sir, you are welcome ! 
 
 HAMPDEN. Eliot ! what a den ! 
 
 Why have they changed your lodging ? 
 
 ELIOT. My friends, they said, 
 
 Were wont to pay this poor conspirator 
 Too frequent visits for the kingdom's peace. 
 
 HAMPDEN. You're looking ill. Have you physician 
 here? 
 
 ELIOT. One that prescribes me exercise and free- 
 dom.
 
 4 ELIOT AND HAMPDEN IN THE TOWER. 
 
 HAMPDEN. Does the king know ? 
 
 ELIOT. Doubtless. 
 
 HAMPDEN. And makes no sign ? 
 
 ELIOT. Why should he ? He waits for me as I for 
 him, 
 
 And so will wait, till This is good-bye to 
 
 you; 
 
 Henceforth they'll riot admit you ; take my thanks 
 Less for your gifts, though they were clearly wel- 
 come, 
 Than for the constant love which made them so. 
 
 HAM*DEN. I must not urge submission, else .... 
 
 ELIOT. No, do not ! 
 
 A man who cared to purchase life with honour, 
 Selling his country's freedom for his own, 
 Were not that Eliot, Hampden calls his friend, 
 Nor one whose liberty were worth the cost 
 Of turning keys to gain it. You know my judgment, 
 And where it errs will pardon ; but an error 
 In spirit and purpose opens such division 
 As, though 'twere pardoned, is not reconciled. 
 If I should yield 'twere interest not conviction : 
 You will not ask it. 
 
 HAMPDEN. I should ask in vain, 
 
 If I could ask at all. And yet it shakes me 
 To see you thus. This chamber strikes like death.
 
 ELIOT AND HAMPDEN IN THE TOIVER. 5 
 
 ELIOT. Death's not the end, nor drawing breath on 
 
 earth, 
 
 The sum of life ; a moment, though in prison, 
 May tap the soul's eternity of freedom. 
 But tell me news ! Does disaffection grow ? 
 What of the church ? what of a parliament ? 
 
 HAMPDEN. Of parliament no whisper even ; the 
 
 king, 
 
 Who never called one save to grant him money, 
 Finding his milch-cow restive locks her up 
 And turns to milk the bull. Tonnage and poundage, 
 Benevolences and loans you know his methods. 
 
 ELIOT. I've suffered by them, so may you ! The 
 church ? 
 
 HAMPDEN. Already's all but papist ! There Laud's 
 
 supreme, 
 
 As Wentworth in the state. Altar and surp'ice, 
 Crossing and genuflexion ape religion ; 
 The war cry's " Uniformity," the weapons 
 Prison and fine. That little choleric man 
 Would stamp his fretful likeness on a nation ! 
 
 ELIOT. Do they submit ? 
 
 HAMPDEN. Do they ? They've not forgotten 
 
 Queen Mary's fires at Smithfield ! They'll lose their 
 
 ears, 
 Their lives, if need be, but they'll not submit.
 
 6 ELIOT AND HAMPDEN IN THE TOWER. 
 
 Beneath this cover of iron rule the state 
 
 Boils like a cauldron. Merchant, priest and lawyer, 
 
 Noble and squire meet, mutter, urge, debate, 
 
 An ocean round the throne, whose occupant, 
 
 Posing before his glass, complaisant fronts 
 
 The flatt'ring face of absolute authority. 
 
 ELIOT. and I'm here in prison ! Hampden, 
 
 Hampden, 
 
 Had I not passion, action, wisdom, words, 
 Had I not once ? Did you not vise me then ? 
 Scarce forty-two ! It's over young to die ! 
 HAMPDEN. Not yet ! We need you ! 
 ELIOT. Every one you need ! 
 
 Is the king mad ? Or does he think the glory 
 That gilds the head of God's imperial vicar 
 Will fire-transmute his fraud to justice ? No 
 If earthly kingdoms stand by imitation 
 Of the immense and ordered universe, 
 Or if their wisdom be to copy large 
 The private state of philosophic spirits, 
 Then must their single head be one who moves, 
 Though absolute, by certain laws of reason, 
 As does the sovereign mind ; so were the king 
 A nation's providence, as God the world's ! 
 But now why, Hampden, this might breed rebellion ! 
 Does no one warn the king ? Has he no friend ?
 
 ELIOT AND HAMPDEN IN THE TOWER. 7 
 
 HAMPDEN. One here in prison. 
 
 ELIOT. A kinder one than Went worth. 
 
 But my work's done ! 
 
 Did you not laugh to hear me 
 Harangue as if you'd been the Speaker ? Well, 
 A broken horse will prick his ears and caper 
 To hear the hounds ! It's you that England looks to : 
 You'll not forget it, Hampden ? I know you will not. 
 
 HAMPDEN. I've not the tongue, nor heart, nor brain, 
 
 nor . . .' . Eliot, 
 I'm half myself without you ! 
 
 ELIOT. Hush, they're knocking, 
 
 Our time's concluded. Why, how cold you are ! 
 You're not acclimatised to this new lodging 
 And now, farewell ! 
 
 HAMPDEN. God bless you, Eliot. 
 
 Send me your manuscripts. 
 
 ELIOT. Then send me books ! 
 
 Is it a bargain ? Then, once more, farewell !
 
 II. 
 Xaufc ant) CbUUnovvortb. 
 
 June 30, 1637.
 
 II. 
 
 LAUD. Well, is it over ? 
 
 ATTENDANT. It is, my Lord. 
 
 LAUD. Let me hear, then ! Was there a crowd 
 assembled ? 
 
 ATTENDANT. Immense, and immense the noise ! 
 When Burton's ears were cropped, the very houses 
 shook. On all sides shouting and groaning, laughter, 
 lamentations, oaths. There were men drunk and 
 men sober, women of the streets and merchants' 
 ladies, puritans, priests, 'prentices, bullies, beggars. 
 Bastwick's wife was there; she took his ears and 
 kissed them and laid them in cotton-wool ; and the 
 people cheered her home in triumph, till, as I hear, 
 she fainted on the way. Burton carried a nosegay 
 some woman had given him against the heat and 
 dust. Presently, a bee alighting on it and beginning 
 to suck the flowers, " See this poor insect," said he, 
 " as she draws sweetness from my posy, so I in tins 
 place from my Lord Jesus Christ." 
 
 LAUD. They spoke to the people then ?
 
 LAUD AND CHILLINGWORTH. 
 
 ATTENDANT. Continually through those two hours. 
 There were many who listened and answered ; others 
 were drinking, quarrelling and cracking nuts. " Come, 
 sear me, sear me ! " cried Prynne, " I shall bear in 
 my body the marks of the Lord Jesus." They 
 branded him twice on one cheek, but he made no 
 sign of pain. He spoke much of bishops and of 
 jits divinum 
 
 LAUD. No matter for that ! Did not the others 
 flinch ? 
 
 ATTENDANT. Not a whit ; Bastwick no more than 
 Prynne. " Had I as many lives," said he, " as I 
 have hairs on my head, I would give them all for 
 this cause ! " And his carriage did but enforce his 
 words. 
 
 LAUD. Ah ! did you hear what comments passed in 
 the crowd ? 
 
 ATTENDANT. More than I care to repeat to your 
 Grace. 
 
 LAUD. Well, no matter. You can go. 
 
 [Exit ATTENDANT. 
 
 " Wolf of Canterbury ! " " Pope of Canterbury ! " 
 I know as well as if he had told me. That's a small 
 matter, God forgive them ! But that these men 
 should be permitted to harangue the crowd ! no pre- 
 cautions taken ! a punishment converted to a triumph !
 
 LAUD AND CHILLINGWORTH. 13 
 
 what hope of amendment where such oversights still 
 obtain ? None, I am sure, in my time ! 'Twas but 
 last night I dreamt I was a name pilloried in a circle 
 of ink. Who knows what that may bode ? No good, 
 I am sure. God help us all ! And now for three 
 years the nightingale has been dumb in my garden at 
 Lambeth. Her silence is more sorrowful than her 
 plaint ! Slander, weariness, age, and death ! A 
 melancholy sequence and close ! 
 
 Enter CHILLINGWORTH. 
 
 LAUD. Ah, Mr. Chillingworth, I am glad to see 
 you ! you are from Tew ? 
 
 CHILLINGWORTH. I am, my lord. 
 
 LAUD. You've strange company there, wits and 
 divines, philosophers and poets. Beware of excessive 
 disputation, 'tis the very curse of the time, when all 
 will be talking and none doing. The Lord Falkland, 
 they say, has a subtle mind ? 
 
 CHILLINGWORTH. Too subtle, your Grace would 
 hint? 
 
 LAUD. Not altogether so. Yet there are some 
 would plane so smooth they plane away to nothing. 
 Too fine a dissection may chance to sever the nerve 
 it seeks to expose. 
 
 CHILLINGWORTH. Or shall we say, my lord, to
 
 14 LAUD AND CHILLINGWORTH. 
 
 change the metaphor, truth is a sick man a breath of 
 air may destroy ? Best keep him in bed in the 
 dark ! 
 
 LAUD. Why, why, Mr. Chillingworth 
 
 CHILLINGWORTH. Nay, your Grace is wont to allow 
 me licence; else I might fare as hardly as Mr. 
 Prynne and the rest whom I saw just now in the 
 pillory. 
 
 LAUD. Ah, you saw them ! And what were your 
 thoughts ? 
 
 CHILLINGWORTH. To be frank with your Grace, I 
 debated with myself whether it were for punishment 
 you had set them there; or whether you were not 
 rather intending them, what they actually enjoyed, a 
 higher pulpit and a larger congregation than any 
 church could offer. 
 
 LAUD. This is scarcely a matter for jest, Mr. 
 Chillingworth ! The negligence you witnessed is 
 criminal ! There is no limit to the harm it may 
 have wrought ! It would be well if you could 
 understand it so. 
 
 CHILLINGWORTH. I doubt not your Grace is in 
 the right ; but why set them in the pillory at all ? 
 
 LAUD. Why, there it is now ! You are an able and 
 learned man, Mr. Chillingworth, but you live too 
 much with your books. Let me tell you, what you
 
 LAUD AND CHILLINGU'ORTH. 15 
 
 ought to have known, that these are froward times 
 and cry for discipline ! Men run from government 
 as if it were the plague ! They make themselves as 
 free in a church as a tinker and his bitch in an ale- 
 house ! They speak of an archbishop as they might 
 of their mother-in-law ! Decency is mocked as super- 
 stition ; yet without decency is no religion and with- 
 out religion no society. It is not for libelling me that 
 these men are punished, but for libelling through me 
 the church and the state. 
 
 CHILLINGWORTH. Well, niy lord, I am no politician, 
 but one thing I could never understand. That faith 
 may create altars and surplices we know from 
 experience, but on what warrant does your Grace 
 hope to reverse the process ? Though you bow a 
 man's body at the name of Jesus you cannot enforce 
 the adoration of his heart. Postures are no substitute 
 for devotion, no more than kisses are for love. For 
 it is not observance that generates reverence, but 
 reverence observance ; or, as our poet Spenser has it, 
 " Soul is form and form doth body make." 
 
 LAUD. Good poetry, Mr. Chillingworth, but bad 
 policy. Had you known the world as long as T, you 
 would be aware that men are governed by custom 
 rather than conviction. They act and think thus or 
 thus, because thus or thus they have always acted and
 
 16 LAUD AND CHILLINGWORTH . 
 
 thought ; resembling in their lives certain beads of 
 glass I have seen at the court (Prince Rupert I think 
 devised them) ; a single crack and they fly to powder ; 
 a single flaw in the sphere of habit, and religion, 
 morals, civil obedience vanish in a moment into dust. 
 To wise men, it is true, reason is the centre whereon 
 their belief and action inevitably turn ; but with them 
 we have not to deal, they need no government. Our 
 concern is with ignorance and vice ; and these, being 
 incapable of conviction, a customary ritual must 
 direct. 
 
 CHILLIXGWORTH. I understand ! as the Jews were 
 directed by the law which Christ abolished. 
 
 LAUD. Dear, dear, dear, Mr. Chillingworth, you 
 take things too absolutely ! Ceremonies are but a 
 means of grace. He who is accustomed to bow his 
 knees will the sooner learn to humble his heart 
 (though you will not believe it). He who is familiar 
 with the forms of prayer will the more readily com- 
 prehend its spirit. As there is one truth, so should 
 there be one observance ; our uniformity is but a 
 means to unity, and unity .... 
 
 CHILLINGWORTH. Is the end of the whole creation ! 
 But unity vital, not mechanical ! a creature self- 
 moved, not a dummy pulled by strings ! 
 
 LAUD. Well, well, well, that may be the end indeed,
 
 LAUD AND CHILLING WORTH. 17 
 
 but we are speaking of the means. How will you 
 bring this unity about ? 
 
 CHILLINGWORTH. In the book I shall have the 
 honour to submit to your Grace I have endeavoured 
 to define those fundamental points on which all 
 Christians are agreed. Let these be the tenets of 
 the church and the rest indifferent. 
 
 LAUD. Why, there you are again with your academic 
 notions ! For though your fundamentals be clear as 
 day there will plenty be found to dispute them. You 
 will take the Scripture as your basis, but where is the 
 rule of interpretation ? Reason, you will tell me ! 
 But whose reason ? yours, or mine, or his ? Reason 
 itself is an art, like government, and how many are 
 there who possess it ? Trust me, Mr. Chillingworth, 
 there will be as many divisions over your funda- 
 mentals as over all you hold indifferent. And more 
 than that, there will be divisions over the Word itself. 
 To invite men to judge is to invite them to doubt, 
 and to doubt there is set no limit. Those who quarrel 
 with the church will quarrel with the gospel, and 
 blasphemy and atheism supervene upon dissent. If 
 the Scriptures be the rule, the interpreter is the tradi- 
 tion of the church ; the one form the piers of the 
 bridge, the other the superstructure ; and under flows 
 the river of hell. You are silent, Mr. Chillingworth. 
 
 B
 
 i8 LAUD AND CH1LLINGWORTH. 
 
 CHILLINGWOUTH. My lord, what should I say ? If 
 we may not trust to reason, to what may we trust ? 
 Your Grace will answer, authority ; but whither is 
 authority leading us? Though I be a man of the 
 study my window looks out upon the world, and I 
 know (far better your Grace must know) how fast 
 and hot indignation grows. Here a church window 
 broken, there an altar destroyed; here a tumult 
 in the services, there an abstention from them. Scur- 
 rilous tracts in all men's hands, libels affixed to the 
 walls, and intruded in your very chamber. This is 
 the unity authority enforces ! How is it letter than 
 sects and schisms ? 
 
 LAUD. Oh, Mr. Chillingworth, these are the troubles 
 
 . of government. We do but what we can, the issue 
 is in other hands. Maintaining the authority of the 
 
 1 church we maintain the bond of all society. If we 
 
 fail (which God forbid !) the state fails with us. 
 
 . The monarchy stands or falls with the church, 
 England with the monarchy. The cause is urgent 
 indeed, and the sedition you describe (alas ! too truly) 
 calls rather for severity than relaxation. I would 
 have you pray that strength and wisdom be granted 
 to us all ; for these are serious times !
 
 III. 
 
 Strafforfc ano bis former Uutor Greenwoofc 
 in tbc Uower, 
 
 May n, 1641. 
 \Strafford was executed the following dayl\
 
 III. 
 
 STRAFFORD. Welcome, old friend and tutor ! You 
 
 are from Ireland ? 
 How did you leave them ? 
 
 GREENWOOD. Well my lord, as might be. 
 
 Your lady bade me tell you, she remembers 
 Lord Stratford's wife must own Lord Straftbrd's 
 
 courage. 
 
 " And yet," she said, " being my husband's lady 
 I owe him tears, which, whether owed or not, 
 I cannot choose but pay ! " Yet still in public 
 Her eyes were dry, protecting incredulity 
 That he whose life was stamped, a priceless coin, 
 With the king's head, the king alive, should perish. 
 That was before .... 
 
 STRAFFORD. Before the king's decision. 
 
 I know ! she is not ill then ? 
 
 GREENWOOD I left her well. 
 
 There are some tender flowers a dewdrop crushes ; 
 She was not so ; but even the stateliest lily 
 Hailstones will shatter.
 
 STRAFFORD AND GREENWOOD. 
 
 STRAFFORD. Ah ! And the children, doctor ? 
 GREENWOOD. They sent their loving duty. 
 STRAFFORD. I've written to Will ; 
 
 He must learn patience with his sisters now ! 
 Is he not turned fifteen ? 0, I could wish 
 I were that iron they think me ! There's a love 
 Passing the love of kings, else what a world ! 
 There's little gratitude, Greenwood ! Do you know 
 
 me, doctor ? 
 
 GREENWOOD. Know you, my lord ? 
 8TBAFFOBD. Why, I scarce know myself ! 
 
 I never felt so ! is it the constant pain, 
 Or mere inaction ? Something's broken in me. 
 I could be passive now and talk philosophy, 
 As if all life wei-e talking ; I could doubt almost .... 
 GREENWOOD. My lord, you are ill ! 
 STRAFFORD. No, no. What think you, doctor? 
 
 Shall I seem most a criminal or a victim ? 
 GREENWOOD. My lord .... 
 STRAFFORD. Not yet, don't answer ! you shall hear 
 
 me 
 
 Make my defence. Why, I must be myself 
 Before I die. Let me remember so ! 
 My life being made for action, like a stream 
 By ev'ry pebble chafed, too torrent-swift 
 To loiter wide in sky-reflecting levels,
 
 STR AFFORD AND GREENWOOD. 23 
 
 Shot in its course direct. My birth and fortune 
 
 Impelled me first, zeal made that motion fatal. 
 
 I was ambitious ; not as some who covet 
 
 Crowns their weak skulls are cracked by, but I knew 
 
 Each moment what I could, conforming still 
 
 To the tried strength and compass of my faculties. 
 
 I was so born to rule that He who made me 
 
 Would laugh to have seen me private ; Paris of Troy 
 
 Was not with more impetuous wind of passion 
 
 Swept to his Helena than I to empire ! 
 
 My nature such, remained the reason's office 
 
 To choose her means ; and thus the matter stood 
 
 The smooth harmonious motions of authority 
 
 (Whose offices are like the stars of heaven), 
 
 The calm and awful firmament of power, 
 
 Was shook with jars and jangles ; and that sphere, 
 
 Which in its compass comprehends and governs 
 
 All the particular inferior orbs, 
 
 The king's sole power, disordered; whence what 
 
 peril 
 
 To all below is patent. This being so 
 I, as mistrusting green opinions, sought 
 Advice from whom I could, till well confirmed 
 The cure was double ; first to purge away 
 Those counsellors that fouled the royal source, 
 Next to cut off the still encroaching spurs
 
 24 STR AFFORD AND GREENWOOD. 
 
 Of popular privilege, that so the stream, 
 
 Pursuing smooth an unimpeded course, 
 
 By many a grassy ditch and conduit brim 
 
 Might drench the parched acres. The first was done, 
 
 And I swam large in that exalted heaven 
 
 Where late the fav'rite blazed ; the rest remained 
 
 For me to do, and never bullet sped 
 
 With less divided aim ; for thus I reasoned : 
 
 Society's a war, the king an umpire, 
 
 The laws his principles, whose settlement 
 
 The Parliament with him has power to order. 
 
 But should this Parliament, itself a party, 
 
 Carp at his judgment, flout his Ministers, 
 
 With impious hands snatch his compelling power, 
 
 Then the chain breaks, the pieces fly, the toil 
 
 Of centuries is lost, and ordered rule 
 
 Shattered in universal anarchic battle ! 
 
 Reasoning so, and so being shaped by nature, 
 
 I took in hand this task, with what success 
 
 The king may judge, with what reward I know 
 
 To compensate for health and life undone. 
 
 Why, I was all one ache with public service ; 
 
 I neither slept nor ate ! You'll think I brag 
 
 But that your Prynnes, and Pyms, and Bens, and 
 
 Denzils, 
 Should call me traitor, me ! Let Pym's whole body
 
 STR AFFORD AND GREENWOOD. 25 
 
 Try what my finger bore of daily business ! 
 
 And yet I half believed it at the trial. 
 
 The people's noise, the blaze of scarlet peers, 
 
 The pompous hall piled to the roof with faces, 
 
 Pym with his fatal jaw and finger point 
 
 Marking the tick of doom, and underneath 
 
 All flux of argument a single current 
 
 Setting with tideless motion to my death ! 
 
 It shook my soul ! That's over ! Now I know 
 
 Myself and them ! Whipped schoolboys, in rebellion 
 
 Against the birch ! Why, I'm myself again ! 
 
 They call me harsh ; it's easy work to smile, 
 
 Though for such smiles a world shall come to 
 
 weep ! 
 
 I was to serve the king, not please his enemies ! 
 I served him, and 1 die for him to-morrow ! 
 There's my defence ! Is it sufficient, doctor ? 
 
 GREENWOOD. To you, my lord, it is. 
 
 STRAFFORD. But to you, Doctor ? 
 
 GREENWOOD. My lord, it's over now. You lived 
 
 and die 
 Straftbrd ! I never wished it otherwise. 
 
 STRAFFORD. Yes, but what think you of this 
 Strafford ? 
 
 GREENWOOD. My lord, 
 
 I think my thinking will not alter yours.
 
 26 STR AFFORD AND GREENWOOD. 
 
 STRAFFORD. But still, your judgment ? Let me 
 have your thoughts. 
 
 GREENWOOD. Why should you want them ? Those 
 
 you wore in life 
 Are best for death. 
 
 STRAFFORD. No matter, let me hear you. 
 
 GREENWOOD. My lord, you shall. I think the Earl 
 
 of Strafford, 
 The greatest man alive, deserves to die. 
 
 STRAFFORD. And yet you love me ? 
 
 GREENWOOD. Indeed I think I do- 
 
 STRAFFORD. What ! love a traitor ? 
 
 GREENWOOD. I did not call you so ! 
 
 They banished Aristides for his justice, 
 And Strafford's loyalty may deserve the scaffold. 
 
 STRAFFOUU. What ! justly? 
 
 GREENWOOD. Justly ! 
 
 STRAFFORD. This is philosophy I 
 
 GREENWOOD. My lord, you asked my thoughts ! 
 
 STRAFFORD. Give me them further. 
 
 GREENWOOD. If I were apt to rail, and did not 
 
 know, 
 
 To curse the world were but to curse myself, 
 Your fate would make rne bitter. Fashioned so 
 In every splendid power of heart and brain 
 To one sole end and purpose, so impelled
 
 STR AFFORD AND GREENWOOD. 27 
 
 On with such vast and planetary motion, 
 
 Till in the perilous height of heaven's wide vault, 
 
 All in a moment quenched and dropped extinct 
 
 In a cold obscure sea, for no more fault 
 
 Than being that glorious creature you were made 
 
 By Him who now unmakes you O 'tis common, 
 
 But pitiful, my lord, so pitiful ! 
 
 STRAFFOBD. You said " deserves to die." 
 GREENWOOD. I pass to that. 
 
 You, this one man, set on a point of time, 
 The past^and future judge, and all mankind. 
 You wrought as if immortal ; promises, 
 Laws, precedents, were nothing ; crash you went 
 Through every slow-built barrier raised to stem 
 The swift returning tide of despotism. 
 You knew the course, you meant to keep the channel 
 By your own free intelligent discernment 
 Of public good and evil say you did, 
 What of your next successor ? What should check 
 Him but the law ? and law you swept aside, 
 Hurling the young creation back to chaos, 
 That you might recreate ! You poured contempt 
 On the wise patiences of hiving time, 
 Crying " One man, one work ! " And now you wait 
 Death with your work ! The greatest man alive 
 Is hardly matched, my lord, against the world !
 
 28 STR AFFORD AND GREENWOOD. 
 
 And yet there's more. You treated men as children, 
 Whom a kind father governs for their good ; 
 But children grow, my lord, to take possession 
 Of their bright heritage, reason, which to sway, 
 For good or ill, by force, betrays not love, 
 But most tyrannical folly. There's a spirit 
 Sleeps in the grossest clods, which once awakened, 
 They'll soar as light as seraphs. You cannot kill it ; 
 My lord, it's killing you ! 
 
 STRAFFORD. Indeed ! I fancied I was dying of spite 
 For being too good a servant ! But no matter ! 
 For your indictment, if I understand it .... 
 
 GREENWOOD. My lord, there's no indictment ! what 
 
 you did 
 
 You had to do. These are not charges brought, 
 'Tis but yourself described. You bade me epeak. 
 
 STRAFFORD. I thought your words would shake me ; 
 
 they do not. 
 
 Some later time may judge me ; for my own, 
 I served it as I could. Yet one thing troubles me, 
 Lest the king's service suffer. 
 
 GREENWOOD. The king's a scoundrel. 
 
 STRAFFORD. You say so ? You a Pymmite ? 
 
 GREENWOOD. My lord, I'm nothing, 
 
 Only I know a scoundrel. 
 
 STRAFFORD. Call the king one ?
 
 STR AFFORD AND GREENWOOD. 29 
 
 GREENWOOD. He signed your life away ! 
 
 STRAFFORD. Ten thousand lives 
 
 Aren't worth his finger ! He's the vital soul 
 That kindles our whole body ! To die for him, 
 Is dying for oneself ! 0, my old tutor, 
 My friends are his, his mine ! No more, I pray you. 
 
 GREENWOOD. My lord, your last sun rises ; when he 
 
 sets 
 
 I shall have lost the kindest friend I know, 
 And my one hero. Men to come will judge you, 
 This way, or that; I neither praise nor blame. 
 Across my sober path one comet flashed ; 
 I felt its warmth, was of its beauty enamoured, 
 Foretold and saw its ruin. thus, thus, 
 The world can shape and shatter ! Farewell, my 
 
 lord. 
 Be the king what you will, and I your friend.
 
 IV. 
 
 Xau& in tbe TTower. 
 
 May 12, 1641.
 
 IV. 
 
 LAUD. Is not the earl come forth yet ? 
 
 ATTENDANT. Not yet, my lord. 
 
 LAUD. The noise of the people increases. It must 
 be nearly time. Can you see nothing ? 
 
 ATTENDANT. There are soldiers waiting at the door 
 in the court ; and, hark, the drums begin ! 
 
 LAUD. Now, then, they must be coming. 
 
 ATTENDANT. There's a stir at the door, the soldiers 
 form into ranks, the marshals and sheriffs emerge in 
 procession. The warder follows, then a single gentle- 
 man, bareheaded, clothed in black ; and next yes f 
 here is the earl. 
 
 LAUD. Quick then, let me come to the casement! 
 Now, Lord, give him strength, and me ! 
 
 ATTENDANT. They are marching slowly ; will he 
 pause ? Yes, they halt at the window he is looking 
 up God, what a face ! 
 
 LAUD. [From the window^ Farewell, my lord ! The 
 grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, 
 
 c
 
 34 LAUD IN THE TOWER. 
 
 and the fellowship of the Holy Ghost be upon you and 
 dwell with you always ! 
 
 ATTENDANT. He bows and ans wers something. Now 
 they are moving on. Ah ! see the Archbishop ! catch 
 him ! so, lay him down ! a little water for the temples, 
 and chafe his hands gently, so, so. Now his eyes open, 
 he is recovering. 
 
 LAUD. I am well, I am well, let me rise ! Gentle- 
 men, you will think I fear death ; but I trust, when 
 it is my turn to die, you will see that I grieve more 
 for the earl than for myself. And well I may ! for 
 neither I nor any churchman has served religion 
 as he has. And yet, if I grieve, it is not for him 
 alone, but for the kingdom fallen into ruin. God 
 have mercy upon us all ! Come, let us read the 
 burial service ; the earl must be already on the 
 scaffold.
 
 v. 
 /IDilton anfc bis termer ftutor 
 
 In the Summer of 1641.
 
 V. 
 
 MILTON. How beautiful it is ! The stillness of this 
 twilight hour is laden with voiceless orisons. The 
 trees rise tapering, motionless and solemn, as aspiring 
 in prayer to heaven. The limes exhale their richest 
 fragrance, and evening primroses unfold their sweet- 
 ness to the moon. She, poising her golden globe on 
 the lower eastern slopes, looks full on the glow in the 
 west that brightens still her mellower radiance. And 
 though we miss the nightingales of June, the later 
 night will find voice in the mysterious hootings of 
 the owl. Each summer, I think, gains richness from 
 those that went before, and the series of my quiet 
 twilights at Cambridge and at Horton finds expres- 
 sion in this single moment of full and effortless 
 existence. 
 
 YOUNG. My pupil, I see, is more a poet than 
 ever. 
 
 MILTON. sir, the title were an honour indeed ! the 
 poet is he who understands the world in its essence and 
 origin, Love. The beauty he perceives and celebrates
 
 38 MILTON AND YOUNG. 
 
 is the final expression of truth, and that which 
 action and philosophy for ever seek, he in a moment 
 arrests and fixes in enduring lineaments. His life 
 passes out of himself into the larger life of the whole, 
 whereby he is turned insensibly to virtue, following 
 from the necessity of his nature the maxims the 
 moralist enjoins. His aim and achievement is im- 
 mortality, so that even while yet in the bonds of 
 flesh, he is wrapt at whiles into the heaven of 
 heavens, catching sound of those eternal harmonies, 
 whose echoes alone inform his vital and inevitable 
 numbers. 
 
 YOUNG. And when is the great work to appear? 
 Is the plan of it yet conceived ? 
 
 MILTON. I have imagined many themes, and of some 
 sketched in the outline; but the late occurrences 
 have shaped my hopes anew. The battles and 
 triumphs of the past attract me no longer; rather 
 my ambition would lead me (did my faculties but 
 equal my desire) to celebrate the new-born sun of 
 liberty, dawning already in cloudy pomp on this ex- 
 pectant island. 
 
 YOUNG. A worthy purpose ! I would it were cer- 
 tain of fulfilment. But the vapours are gathering 
 thick, and the noon may prove but a grey one. 
 The old is not yet removed, much less the new
 
 MILTON AND YOUNG. 
 
 established. The bishops still retain their titles and 
 offices. 
 
 MILTON. But not for long! Nature and reason 
 declare against them. Reformation is a living spirit 
 that will have its way in the end. For years has this 
 stubborn England resisted its creative stress ; again 
 and agaii? resumed her accustomed deformity. But 
 now the moment is come ; the stuff, no longer 
 rebellious, assumes of itself the new proportions, till 
 suddenly it fronts the sun, a radiant and renovated 
 creature. 
 
 YOUNG". A brilliant image ! Let us trust .events 
 will conform to it. Yet I confess I have my 
 fears. We shall win in the end, I believe; but 
 who knows, in the struggle, what elements may 
 arise to obstruct the Presbyterian settlement ? Who 
 knows .... 
 
 MILTON. But it is the spirit we must look to ! 
 Once but make men free, and their nature will make 
 them virtuous. Remove but these trammels of com- 
 pulsory ceremony, these vexatious episcopal courts, 
 these monstrous endowments prolific of simony and 
 sloth; give religion but leave to breathe from her 
 swaddling-clothes of authority and use, and you shall 
 no longer need to prescribe her form and limits. 
 Herself will express herself as her vital essence directs,
 
 40 MILTON AND YOUNG. 
 
 and the organised body accrete to the subtle motions 
 of the spirit. 
 
 YOUNG. A fine conception ! Yet we must take 
 heed, after all, that this body conform to the Scripture 
 type. There is (as must be known to a scholar like 
 yourself) but one true and perfect model, accepted by 
 all the reformed churches abroad, and especially by 
 the Scottish nation. This it is all good men's pur- 
 pose to establish ; but there are many who would 
 encourage anarchy for the sake of license, intruding 
 their alien sects in the gap between two establish- 
 ments. From the old to the new is a leap, not an 
 erderly progression ; and from that intervening gulf 
 all dangers may be feared. 
 
 MILTON. But, sir, what dangers ? What is it you 
 Presbyterians dread ? 
 
 YOUNG. We Presbyterians (among whom, I trust, 
 may be counted my sometime pupil) have some of us 
 acquired a larger and sadder experience than his. 
 We have learnt how many that cry against bishops 
 are such as would cry against all authority. They 
 would resent the parochial censure no less than the 
 episcopal fine, would act or speak, pray or abstain 
 from prayer, at their own good pleasure, and give to 
 every conventicle and meeting-house the allowance of 
 a parish church. You have heard of the Brownists
 
 MILTON AND YOUNG. 41 
 
 under the late queen ? I had thought them long ago 
 suppressed, but already in a single year their con- 
 gregations have revived by scores ; from Holland and 
 from the West come fanatics more dangerous still ; 
 there begins to be talk of toleration, of .... 
 
 MILTON. And what better talk were possible ? 
 Toleration ! it is but a name for charity ! 
 
 YOUNG. Such charity as ends in hell ! Why, sir, 
 would you tolerate Popery ? 
 
 MILTON. It is not a faith, but a policy. 
 
 YOUNG. Or atheism ? 
 
 MILTON. That God himself condemns. 
 
 YOUNG. Why, then, my young friend, let us hear 
 no more of toleration ; for error is error still, be it 
 great or small. There is but one truth, and to miss 
 it by an inch is no better than to miss it by a 
 mile. Condemn atheism, and you condemn implicitly 
 all seemingly minor errors. 
 
 MILTON. That I would gladly dispute with you ; 
 but we should but mar the night with angry alterca- 
 tion. Let us therefore postpone our difference and 
 pass to a less contentious argument. 
 
 YOUNG. As you will, as you will ! though I scarcely 
 think your cause will be bettered by the most pro- 
 longed meditation. However, it grows damp and 
 chilly, and perhaps it will be more prudent to retire.
 
 42 MILTON AND YOUNG. 
 
 MILTON. If you will go before, I will join you 
 within an hour. 
 
 [Exit YOUNG. 
 
 MILTON. How still it is ! No stir of gustier air 
 Shakes in the leaves, no nearer sound obscures 
 The distant noise of watch-dogs ; odours stream 
 Unhindered through the windless atmosphere, 
 The stars burn steady, nor does aught of cloud 
 Darken with shadowy drift the pacing moon : 
 O'er heaven and earth expectant silence broods 
 With charmed wings, and casts her spell on me. 
 Spirit of sacred light, whose silver throne, 
 Mid lesser stars obsequious, cloudless hangs 
 Staining the violet vault of night ; O thou, 
 Who once, from Heaven descending, didst illume 
 With hallowed altar-fire and tongues of flame 
 Thy chosen saints of Pentecost ; on me, 
 Though later born, to utt'rance less divine, 
 Such grace bestow as, kindling all within, 
 May prompt prophetic song, not all unfit 
 To celebrate thy people's praise and thine ! 
 For now, too long despaired of, dawns at last 
 Our consummating day, which, ushered drear 
 With wind and scudding cloud, or, more disastrous. 
 Battered intolerably by rattling tempest, 
 Or amber-lit, serene, and crystalline, -
 
 MILTON AND YOUNG. 43 
 
 Howe'er it dawn, O may it break at last 
 
 To such excess of noon as, Father of Heaven, 
 
 Dazzling, eternal, Lord of angel hosts, 
 
 That azure fire let no intruding shade 
 
 Quench into night ! rather with heavenly flame 
 
 Sustain its mortal substance ! Purge and prove 
 
 Thy people's heart ! give them a single purpose ! 
 
 That so their acts, wedded to prayer and praise, 
 
 May blend harmonious concord, apt to charm 
 
 Even angelic ears in Paradise : 
 
 Where round the burning throne eternally, 
 
 SeraplT to seraph, saint to saint responsive, 
 
 With silver trump and harping symphonies, 
 
 Peal in a choir immortal hallelujahs. 
 
 To such attune, though weak, my mortal voice, 
 
 That, while this island-nation, born anew, 
 
 A golden eagle, beats her dauntless wings, 
 
 Undazzled, full, against the blaze of noon, 
 
 I, with not too presumptuous aim, may sing 
 
 Her praises right, nor, honouring her, forget 
 
 To celebrate, as due, Thee, sole Supreme, 
 
 Thee first, Thee last, and Thee eternally !
 
 VI. 
 
 Xoro ffalfelano ano Eowaro 1b$oe, at tbe 
 
 bouse of tbe former, Great Uew, 
 
 near jforo. 
 
 January 1642.
 
 VI. 
 
 FALKLAND. What, Ned ! 
 
 HYDE. Lucius! 
 
 FALKLAND. Have you business with me that you've 
 ridden so far through the snow ? 
 
 HYDE. And pleasure ! Why did you leave me 
 without a word ? 
 
 FALKLAND. I thought you would hinder my going, 
 and that if you needed me you would easily conjecture 
 my hiding-place. 
 
 HYDE. It seems I have ! Are you alone here ? 
 
 FALKLAND. Except for ghosts! It was them I 
 came to look for. This is the room, Ned, there is 
 little change in it. That's Hales' chair in the corner ; 
 how the firelight used to dance in his dubious eyes ! 
 There sat Chillingworth ; he was like the nightingale ; 
 when he sang the rest of us kept silence ; even Suck- 
 ling, the eternal talker, held his peace, who else was 
 never still, but turned and turned like a wheel under 
 stress of a torrent of words : doggrel, prose, blank 
 verse, anything you would, except sense. And here's
 
 48 LORD FALKLAND AND EDWARD HYDE. 
 
 Ben's throne in the centre, an Atlas to that heaven of 
 flesh and wit. Was ever so bright a spark buried in 
 bulk so mountainous ? Yet that spark he would 
 blow and blow till his whole body was fire. His very 
 belly spoke like a god; it rumbled thunder to the 
 flashes of his eloquence. They're merry ghosts, Ned, 
 but I've no heart to jest with them. We'll have in 
 the lights and fall to business. 
 
 HYDE. The dusk's a sad time in the winter ; I 
 could well feel regret myself. Yet those, after all, 
 were but play days and bound to come to an end. 
 There's more satisfaction in serious affairs. 
 
 FALKLAND. Less in the action than in the prepara- 
 tion. For me, I've met no pleasure in life but know- 
 ledge, wit, and love. Action is but gambling and 
 gambling's tedious. One plays better than another, 
 but all are at the mercy of the cards. If men were 
 points in space, and passions mechanical forces, there 
 would be some profit in experience. As it is, your 
 wisest man is no better than a fool. An inch or a 
 mile out, it makes no difference. 
 
 HYDE. Why, this is the old Lucius of Tew, whom I 
 
 thought dead and buried ! What has become of the 
 
 impeacher of Finch ? the shaker of Strafford ? the 
 
 outter to shame of bishops ? 
 
 FALKLAND, Left in town, with my wardrobe. My
 
 AT GREAT TEW, NEAR OXFORD. 49 
 
 soul lives here, Ned, and I am come to see if it still 
 remembers me. 
 
 HYDE. Would it might forget you for ever, if this 
 be its temper ! For it is the Falkland the Parliament 
 knows that the king has need of now. 
 
 FALKLAND. The king ! 
 
 HYDE. The king calls you to office. Why do you 
 laugh ? 
 
 FALKLAND. Because the king will make a Minister 
 of his bitterest foe ! 
 
 HYDE. Nay, Lucius, this is serious business. 
 
 FALKLAND. Oh, I am serious. For though I be not 
 his bitterest foe I shall seem so to him. I shall 
 oppose his heart's wishes, give him no flattery, laugh 
 when he would be pathetic, be grave when he would 
 jest, shrug my shoulders at his pleadings of conscience, 
 rail at his bishops, approve his Commons, resist his 
 accesses of tyranny, show him unmercifully the man 
 that's hidden under the royal robes. And all this for 
 what ? For the pleasure of adding another piece to 
 a game none understands but the invisible master 
 that plays it ! I wasn't made for a politician, Ned. 
 
 HYDE. What you were made for your talents and 
 position best declare. There is no more eloquent 
 .speaker in the House, none of more instant and 
 conquering energy. You have an estate and title, 
 
 D
 
 50 LORD FALKLAND AND EDWARD HYDE 
 
 and the bravest heart in England, and but for these 
 quibbling subtleties may rank among the soundest 
 intellects. You cannot lie hid ; meteor or marsh-fire, 
 you may take your choice. Let me remind you briefly 
 how things stand. The reformation we schemed and 
 prayed for, before the Parliament's summoning, is 
 more than accomplished. Lord Straflbrd and the rest 
 removed, the archbishop in prison, the Star Chamber 
 and High Commission abolished, ship-money made 
 illegal, and the revenue in the Commons' hands. 
 Correction now is finished and the balance hangs even 
 again. But there are some would go further and 
 give the preponderance to the other side ; they would 
 abolish the bishops, they would have Parliament 
 control the Executive. Now is the very turn of the 
 scales, and we, whose desire from the first was equili- 
 brium, by siding with the king do but maintain our 
 party while we seem to change it. We are and have 
 been both for king and Parliament. As we opposed 
 Strafford once, so do we now oppose Pym ; we're for 
 the mean against either extreme. This was your 
 own expression ; you chose to act in that interest and 
 you cannot draw back now. If the king's power 
 fall, and you inactive, it is you who have caused it to 
 fall. You do not love the king no matter ! It is. 
 the office, not the person, we support. This I have
 
 AT GREAT TEW, NEAR OXFORD. 51 
 
 spoken as a politician, let me speak now as a friend. 
 I have a heavy burden to bear, and one that is likely 
 to grow heavier. The king's a .hard master for one 
 who would do him good, and there are those in the 
 House, moreover, who begin to call me traitor. In 
 all this you have been my constant comfort, and the 
 perfection of our friendship is matter of common 
 fame. If you will join the same service your comfort 
 to me will be so much the greater. But I would not 
 urge you for that cause alone, did I not think your 
 own good name and the kingdom would benefit. Con- 
 sider it well, I beseech you. 
 
 FALKLAND. Am I to answer at once ? 
 
 HYDE. As soon as may be. I would I had found 
 you anywhere but here. You have let your thoughts 
 escape to the blank outside of the world ; recall them, 
 I pray you, to the business of this planet, for they are 
 like to make as little profit as they meet hindrance in 
 the empty regions of space. 
 
 FALKLAND. I might take years to consider, and yet 
 my choice be as foolish as though it were a moment's 
 birth. Leave me for half an hour and you shall have 
 my answer. You have no doubts yourself, Ned ? 
 
 HYDE. None. 
 
 FALKLAND. Most happy Ned ! In half an hour 
 then.
 
 52 LORD FALKLAND AND EDWARD HYDE 
 
 Now, who would be a thinker ? Yet who can 
 
 choose ? 
 
 There's no most common weed, no speck of dust, 
 But looked at closer leads the adverit'ring mind 
 Sheer to abysms of doubt; and shall a kingdom, 
 The slow deposit of tidal generations, 
 A time's defeat, a centuries' epitome, 
 A still-unfolding bud, by dewy sweat 
 And frequent bloodshed watered shall this miracle 
 Be sport for guessing children? Why, so it was 
 
 made, 
 
 The makers knowing not how, and so it will grow ! 
 Grow to what ? There's the question ! how to judge 
 'Twixt Parliament and king ? These tedious words ! 
 There's some would make this solemn house of spirits, 
 This calm caerulean music-haunted world, 
 A shop of government, all sweet repose 
 Broken by buzzing engines ! Oh, I would let 
 A dummy rule, so I had bread and leisure ! 
 Yet there it lies ; 'tis seeking bread and leisure 
 Men fall on strife and hunger, giving birth, 
 Even in the act of flight, to what they fled from, 
 Still from the dawn of time engend'ring fire, 
 As natrium does, from water. Madness all ! 
 Which some, as I, behold before they share, 
 Cassandra-like, in vain. For lo, what comes !
 
 AT GREAT TEW, NEAR OXFORD. 53 
 
 This blessed isle, with all its congregation 
 
 Of friendships made and making, this Elysium, 
 
 Whose willow-glassing streams and flowered fields 
 
 Invite to love and contemplation, this, 
 
 Which like a spirit sings in the cuckoo's voice, 
 
 Breaks into war, whose issue, win who may, 
 
 Is but defeat ! Oh, I could laugh no matter, 
 
 I'll join it ! What should I else ? Am I not one 
 
 Among these tipsy livers ? Do I not use them, 
 
 Eat the same bread, breathe the same breath as 
 
 they ? 
 
 Are not my goods their gift ? My very leisure 
 The present of their toil ? Have I not limbs, 
 Heat, motion, passions, even as others ? Oh, 
 While I have flesh let that immortal prisoner, 
 The too-disdainful reason, folding up 
 Her azure-cleaving pinions, learn to draw 
 With other hacks this human caravan ! 
 I join them then which side ? Where all are losers, 
 What matter ? Despotism or anarchy, 
 The mean's lost either way ! Yet for the king 
 Stands my best friend, one who perchance has eyes 
 Where I am blind ; astronomers, they say, 
 Fall into ditches, so may speculators. 
 Ned shall persuade me yet, for such a king ! 
 Make me his Minister ! Well, then, I'll be one !
 
 54 LORD FALKLAND AND EDWARD HYDE 
 
 I'll give him all my thoughts; I'll drive them 
 
 home; 
 
 He shall have counsel and no flattery ; 
 There shall be one man honest ! One whose pur- 
 pose 
 
 By too much thought was vexed but not perverted ; 
 One who will die unhappy, yet with hope 
 That somewhere, when these creaking wheels are 
 
 still, 
 
 In more majestic realms of ampler light, 
 Reason and love being met shall bring to birth 
 The life our own in mere distortion figures. 
 
 HYDE. [Enters.] Well, are you resolved ? 
 
 FALKLAND. Do I not look it, Ned ? 
 
 HYDE. You accept ? 
 
 FALKLAND. Nay, what if I refuse ? 
 
 HYDE. Why you refuse, and the king and myself 
 are sufferers. You are not resolved, then ? 
 
 FALKLAND. Indeed I scarcely know. How serious 
 you are, Ned ! 
 
 HYDE. Nay, Lucius, time presses. Let me have 
 your answer. 
 
 FALKLAND. In a moment ; but why this haste ? 
 Consider, Ned ; never again can we recall this instant 
 of suspense. While I say " now " it is possible to 
 imagine that two alternative courses are open. A
 
 AT GREAT TEW, NEAR OXFORD. 55 
 
 moment hence, and there will stretch before us 
 the long monotonous road of a single purpose ; 
 and that we must pursue to the end, without even 
 the consoling certainty that it is leading to the 
 goal we desire. What toys we are, Ned ! Why 
 should we not enjoy the jest as well as he who 
 devised it ? 
 
 HYDE. Oh, Lucius, where is the jest ? The issue is 
 simple enough ; there can be no real doubt. 
 
 FALKLAND. Well, Ned, I'd rather travel with you 
 than alone, however dreary the road. 
 
 HYDE. You accept ? 
 
 FALKLAND. I accept. But why this jubilation ? I 
 have but accepted death. You do not fancy the 
 king's is the winning side ? 
 
 HYDE. Lucius, this place has infected you. It' sas 
 sad as Acheron. Your woods are stocked with owls 
 and ravens. For God's sake, let's be going ! 
 
 FALKLAND. I am ready. The horses, quick ! You 
 need not fear me, Ned, for I leave my soul behind 
 me. And so, for London !
 
 VII. 
 
 Camp of tbe parliamentary Uroops 
 after IRasebg. 
 
 1645.
 
 VII. 
 I. 
 
 A SOLDIER. But why this anxiety for a regular 
 ordained ministry ? " Eldred and Medred," we are 
 told, "prophesied in the camp." And Moses said: 
 " Would that all the Lord's people were prophets." 
 
 PRESBYTERIAN MINISTER. A prophet is not the same 
 as a preacher, see i Cor. xii. 28. But that I will not 
 press. Prove me that your army preachers are 
 prophets, and I won't quarrel about their ordination. 
 But fluent discourse is not to be mistaken for the 
 inspiration of the Spirit. 
 
 SOLDIER. Still less is mechanical learning, and a 
 knowledge of Scripture. What else should testify of 
 the Spirit but His presence felt within ? 
 
 PRESBYTERIAN MINISTER. " Believe not every 
 .spirit," says St. John, " but try the spirits whether 
 they are of God." 
 
 SOLDIER. Well, all that I urge is merely the liberty 
 to try them ; whereas you would predetermine the 
 question by an external test of ordination.
 
 60 THE CAMP OF THE PARLIAMENTARY 
 
 PRESBYTERIAN MINISTER. And I have good autho- 
 rity. See Acts i. 21, 22 : " Wherefore of these men 
 must one be ordained to be a witness with us of hi& 
 resurrection." 
 
 SOLDIER. What does that prove? That was a 
 special case ; besides, who knows what " ordained '* 
 may mean ? There is nothing said of a formal cere- 
 mony. 
 
 PRESBYTERIAN MINISTER. There, too, I have you I 
 Acts xiii. 3 : " And when they had fasted and prayed,, 
 and laid their hands on them, they went their way." 
 Here we have the description of a formal act. See 
 also Acts xiv. 23, and many other passages to which 
 I might refer you. 
 
 SOLDIER. Doubtless you can quote ad infinitum ,- 
 so could I if I had as good a memory. And 
 what comes of it all ? I have heard divines dispute ;. 
 they will cap citations by the hour or the day 
 and what is gained in the end ? Each interprets 
 the Scripture in his own way, and proves with 
 sufficient ease the theory he is predetermined to- 
 believe. 
 
 PRESBYTERIAN MINISTER. Do you deny the autho- 
 rity of the Scriptures ? 
 
 SOLDIER. I don't say that I do ; but I believe my 
 interpretation to be as good as yours. I mean no-
 
 TROOPS AFTER NASEBY. 61 
 
 offence. I respect you as a good man, if not as a 
 minister; but I maintain I have learnt more from 
 the preachers you despise than from all the company 
 of your brethren. 
 
 PRESBYTERIAN MINISTER. You are a foolish and 
 presumptuous young man, and deserve the censure 
 of the church. You confess your ignorance of the 
 Scripture (for what else is your defective memory?) 
 and yet you set up to judge its expositors. What 
 says St. James ? " My brethren, be not many masters, 
 lest 
 
 SOLDIER. There you are again with your pat 
 quotations. If you had fought and felt as we have, 
 you could never talk thus by the book. Religion is 
 a thing not of words but of the heart. And it is 
 to men like you, who never felt the passion of liberty, 
 that we, who have staked our lives, are to submit ! 
 How can you understand us ? Go your own way, if 
 you will, but leave us free to go ours. 
 
 PRESBYTERIAN MINISTER. My young friend, there 
 is but one way, and only the Scriptures can reveal it. 
 Let me instruct you further. 
 
 SOLDIER. You cannot instruct, at best you can 
 but silence me. But that you shall not do either. 
 If such as you be the only Christian ministers, then 
 am I and my friends no Christians. Keep you your
 
 62 THE CAMP OF THE PARLIAMENTARY 
 
 steeple-houses and endowments ; we will set up our 
 congregation in the fields, and our liturgy shall be the 
 prompting of our hearts. We do not seek to compel 
 you ; do you not seek to compel us, or you will suffer 
 in the end. 
 
 II. 
 
 FIEST OFFICER. You speak as though our labours 
 were over. On the contrary, they are only just 
 beginning. 
 
 SECOND OFFICER. How so ? 
 
 FIRST OFFICER. We have now to make terms with 
 the king. It was easy enough to defeat him ; but 
 he'll be a very Proteus to secure. 
 
 SECOND OFFICER. Why, what can he do ? He is 
 bound to accede to our demands. 
 
 FIRST OFFICER. A king is bound to nothing; 
 that's the beauty of his position. Besides, the more 
 completely he is subdued the more numerous are the 
 friends that will spring to raise him ; pity is the 
 surest provocation of loyalty, ns envy is of rebellion. 
 Vanity is concerned in both cases ; in the latter 
 directly, in the former indirectly ; for the next best 
 thing to being a king is to help to make or restore 
 one. Similarly the next best thing to performing 
 good works is to exhort others to perform them ; a
 
 TROOPS AFTER NASEBY. 63 
 
 truth which has been largely discussed and practised 
 in the camp of late, and which .... 
 
 SECOND OFFICER. That isn't the subject of our 
 present discussion. 
 
 FIRST OFFICER. True, but it is a much more in- 
 teresting one. However, I submit to your suggestion. 
 You spoke, I think, of " our demands ; " I'm curious 
 to know who " we " are. You, for instance, in your 
 heart of hearts, incline to a republic. 
 
 SECOND OFFICER. But I am willing to waive all 
 that. What I contend for practically is the due pre- 
 dominance"of the Parliament. 
 
 FIRST OFFICER. Precisely, and on no one of those 
 three words "due," " predominance," " Parliament," 
 will you find half a dozen men in the camp to agree 
 with you. Oh, yes, yes, I know, don't interrupt ! Of 
 course all rational men must agree with you ; I 
 never met a man with whom it was otherwise ; and 
 that is precisely what has forced me to the conclusion 
 that there is no such thing as a rational man. 
 That being so, there is no reason for supposing 
 that any one in particular will agree with you. So 
 much for the political question ; as to religion 
 why there, there's not even an attempt at conceal- 
 ment ; I have only to run through a list of names, 
 Presbyterians, Independents, Anabaptists, Seekers,
 
 64 THE CAMP OF THE PARLIAMENTARY 
 
 Farailists, Ranters ! all these are to have a share in 
 formulating " our demands," while meantime, it may 
 be worth remarking, that it is the Scotch, not we, 
 who are at present in possession of the king, and are 
 likely to claim a voice in the conditions of his re- 
 instatement. 
 
 SECOND OFFICER. What a dismal croaker you are ! 
 
 FIRST OFFICER. Not in the least; I'm perfectly 
 cheerful ; the situation interests me. 
 
 SECOND OFFICER. Have you no faith, no convic- 
 tions ? 
 
 FIRST OFFICER. That, as you remarked just now, is 
 not the subject of our present discussion. But I'll 
 answer your question by another. Did you know the 
 Lord Falkland ? 
 
 SECOND OFFICER. Him that was killed at Newbury ? 
 By reputation only. 
 
 FIRST OFFICER. I knew him ; he was a wise man. 
 
 SECOND OFFICER. On the wrong side. 
 
 FIRST OFFICER. If so he had at least the grace to 
 be unhappy there. They tell me that as the war 
 proceeded he lost his wonted cheerfulness, neglected 
 his dress, grew careless of food or drink, spoke not 
 at all, or only with a sharp intemperance; and, 
 starting at whiles from melancholy reverie, would fre- 
 quently ingeminate the burden " Peace ! Peace ! "
 
 TROOPS AFTER NASEBY. 65 
 
 In battle, as he was careless of danger, so he cared 
 not to kill, but rather to succour the wounded, till 
 at last, as one who was weary of life, he deliber- 
 ately laid it aside in the thickest of the fire at 
 Newbury. 
 
 SECOND OFFICEII. I wish he had belonged to 
 us. 
 
 FIEST OFFICER. It was his nature to belong to 
 nobody. 
 
 SECOND OFFICER. What made you speak of him 
 now ? 
 
 FIRST O'FFICEK. You asked me if I had no con- 
 victions. 
 
 SECOND OFFICER. Enigmas, as usual ! I have 
 never yet been able to learn your opinions on any 
 subject. 
 
 FIRST OFFICER. Then you have failed to make an 
 exceedingly unimportant discovery. I, on the con- 
 trary, have been formally introduced to yours, and 
 do not particularly value the acquaintance. 
 
 SECOND OFFICER. You are frank I 
 
 FIRST OFFICER. That, however, does not prevent 
 me from valuing yourself. As a proof of which I'll 
 give you and your friends a piece of advice. Make 
 terms with the king as soon as you can, if he'll let 
 you. For the only alternative is to cut off his 
 
 E
 
 66 THE CAMP OF THE PARLIAMENTARY 
 
 head, and submit to a new tyrant. And who that 
 will be I think I may venture to prophesy. 
 
 SECOND OFFICER. Who, then ? 
 
 FIRST OFFICER. Nay, that's my secret, which it 
 would be premature to disclose. And now come 
 down to the river and bathe. I assure you there's 
 more satisfaction in a swim on a summer's day than 
 in all the battles and policies of the world. Come, 
 my dear boy. Be sensible for once. 
 
 III. 
 
 FIRST SOLDIER. Who's that fellow in black ? 
 
 SECOND SOLDIER. The minister from Coventry, 
 Baxter. 
 
 FIRST SOLDIER. What ! the priestbyter ? 
 
 SECOND SOLDIER. The blessed divine sent to un- 
 deceive us. Oh, what reformation we shall see I 
 What salvation for Church and State ! Hi, Mr. 
 Bogster, or Bugster, or whatever your name is .... 
 
 FIRST SOLDIER. Don't bring him here, you fool ! 
 If he's like the rest of them I have had enough of 
 their damned early-church parish-popery rigmarole. 
 
 THIRD SOLDIER. Oh, come, don't swear now. 
 
 FOURTH SOLDIER. Swearing's strictly forbidden. 
 Hurrah !
 
 TROOPS AFTER NASEBY. 67 
 
 THIRD SOLDIER. Poor chap, I'm afraid he's drunk. 
 
 FOURTH SOLDIER. All drunk in the Spirit ! Shake 
 hands, old man ! All drunk together ! , 
 
 THIRD SOLDIER. In the Spirit, he says. I wonder 
 now .... 
 
 FIRST SOLDIER. Oh, put him under the table. It'll 
 be bad for him if the General comes this way. 
 But as for this Baxter, I've been thinking we've 
 had enough of these Presbyterian gentlemen. For 
 my part I'd as soon be under a bishop as an elder ; 
 it's only ,a question of changing masters. And as 
 to the primitive model taken straight out of the 
 Bible, why, who cares .... 
 
 SECOND SOLDIER. That's what I say who cares? 
 There's some men now who talk of the Bible as if 
 there were only one book in the world. Well, I say, 
 I'd engage to write as good a one myself to-morrow. 
 New men, new light, that's what I say. 
 
 THIRD SOLDIER. Yes, there's a great deal in that. 
 These later days -that's what we must think of. It 
 was only the other day I heard a fellow preaching 
 about it. " In these later days," says he, that was 
 his expression, these later days " the Spirit's within 
 us," says he, " not without." 
 
 FOURTH SOLDIER. Hear, hear ! Spirit within us ! 
 
 THIRD SOLDIER. " Well, then," says he, " the
 
 68 THE CAMP OF THE PARLIAMENTARY 
 
 Scripture's a dead letter." There's a great deal in 
 that. There's some now who talk of reason .... 
 
 FIRST SOLDIER. Pity there aren't a few more ! 
 
 THIRD SOLDIER. Well, I don't know now. It 
 always seemed to me there was something worldly 
 about reason. Not that I quarrel with any man .... 
 
 FIRST SOLDIER. Well, no one quarrels with you, and 
 that's as it should be ; you think as you like and I 
 think as I like. But then comes your Presbyterian 
 and says : " You think as I like ! " that's what I com- 
 plain of. Let him set up his church and let me set 
 up my church, and neither of us pay for the other's 
 religion. That's what I call fair. 
 
 THIRD SOLDIER. Well now, that does seem fair. 
 
 FIRST SOLDIER. No tithes, no endowments, no cor- 
 porations ! 
 
 FOURTH SOLDIER. No nothing ! Hurrah ! 
 
 SECOND SOLDIER. Hear, hear ! 
 
 FIRST SOLDIER. Stop that fool's mouth ! What's 
 the good of saying : " Hear, hear ! " ? You don't 
 understand what I'm after any the better. What 
 do you think you've been fighting for, all this 
 time? 
 
 SECOND SOLDIER. Pay, I suppose. 
 
 THIRD SOLDIER. Oh, come now .... 
 
 FIRST SOLDIER. So have you, so have half the army !
 
 TROOPS AFTER NASEBY. 69 
 
 But now I'll tell what I and my friends have been 
 fighting for. 
 
 SECOND SOLDIER. What's that ? 
 
 FIRST SOLDIER. A political settlement. Let the 
 creeds settle themselves as they can. There's only 
 two things we have to make for a republic and 
 toleration. 
 
 THIRD SOLDIER. Really ! Well now, what do you 
 understand by a republic ? 
 
 SECOND SOLDIER. One man, one vote, to begin with. 
 
 FOURTH SOLDIER. One man, one vote ; one vote, 
 one pot ; where's my pot ? 
 
 FIRST SOLDIER. But that isn't all. If we get our 
 way there'll be a fair division of property made, to 
 say nothing of the land. What have they done with 
 all the bishop's revenues ? Are they to go to the new 
 priestbyters ? This war has been fought by poor 
 men, and poor men ought to gain by it. That's 
 what I want you men to understand. 
 
 THIRD SOLDIER. But we must remember, you know, 
 that man doesn't live by bread alone. 
 
 FIRST SOLDIER. He doesn't live without it, anyhow. 
 
 THIRD SOLDIER. Well, there's a good deal in that, 
 too. It's not that I want to dispute ! What I feel 
 is, that all you fellows are so sensible, I scarcely know 
 whom to believe. It's wonderful in these later days
 
 70 THE CAMP OF THE PARLIAMENTARY 
 
 (and that's what we must think of) what peace and 
 good-will .... 
 
 FOURTH SOLDIER. Good-will ! who'll swill ? No 
 drink, can't think ! No .... 
 
 SECOND SOLDIER. Shut up ! Well, I'm all for a 
 republic and toleration. Let every one do what he 
 likes, that's what I say. There's some men are all 
 for morality, but what's morality ? When all's said 
 and done, what is right and what is wrong ? There 
 was a fellow preaching here the other day one of 
 these Ranters and, says he : " If a man's in a state 
 of grace," says he, " he can do no sin ; the moral law," 
 says he, "isn't what believers want." In a state of 
 grace ! that's where it is. 
 
 FOURTH SOLDIER. Shake hands, old man ! All in 
 grace together. 
 
 SECOXD SOLDIER. You ! why you're drunk ! [To 
 FIRST SOLDIER.] What are you laughing at ? 
 
 FIRST SOLDIER. Why, if he's in grace he's not 
 drunk ; or if he's drunk, it's no sin ! 
 
 THIRD SOLDIER. Well, now, that seems reasonable. 
 
 SECOXD SOLDIER. Well, who said it was sin ? He 
 can be as drunk as he likes for all I care, it's his own 
 business ! 
 
 THIRD SOLDIER. Still, you know, there's all this 
 talk about hell-fire : we can never be sure ....
 
 TROOPS AFTER NASEBY. 71 
 
 SECOND SOLDIER. Oh, as to that, who can tell ? I 
 heard a fellow talking yesterday, who doesn't believe 
 there's a soul at all. " For," says he, " what is the 
 soul ? If it isn't the body, what is it ? Did you ever 
 see it? " says he; " well, then, let's have no more talk 
 of hell-fii^e ! " And that's what I call reason. 
 
 THIRD SOLDIER. Well, there's a good deal in that. 
 I never thought of it before from that point of 
 view. It's wonderful, in these later days, what a 
 number of opinions .... 
 
 FIRST SOLDIER. As many opinions as there are 
 fools. I don't know if you're a friend of the Ranters, 
 but I can tell you of a respectable woman who joined 
 them and was carted through the streets the other 
 day as a common whore ! 
 
 SECOND SOLDIER. What's that to do with me ? 
 
 FIRST SOLDIER. More than you'd care to own, 
 perhaps. 
 
 SECOND SOLDIER. [.Strikes him.] Take that then, 
 for a .... 
 
 THIRD SOLDIER. Oh, come now Hush ! Here's 
 the General ! 
 
 [Enter CROMWELL. 
 
 FOURTH SOLDIER. Red Noll, scratch his poll ! 
 Shake hands, old man ! 
 
 CROMWELL. That man's drunk he's discharged !
 
 72 THE CAMP OF THE PARLIAMENTARY TROOPS, 
 
 What's the matter here ? You are of Colonel Rich's- 
 troop, I think ? He shall hear of this ! 
 
 [Exeunt SECOND and THIRD SOLDIERS. 
 [To FIRST SOLDIER.] Stop, sir ! I know your face. I 
 met you in the battle. What have you to do with 
 men of this kind ? You fight well ; it's a pity you 
 cannot talk less. 
 
 FIRST SOLDIER. It's little enough we're likely to- 
 get either for our fighting or our talking. 
 
 CROMWELL. Why, sir, what would you have ? Is it 
 your pay ? 
 
 FIRST SOLDIER. That, and a proper settlement of 
 the nation. 
 
 CROMWELL. The settlement rests with the Parlia- 
 ment. 
 
 FIRST SOLDIER. I say it rests with us ! and I'm not 
 the only one to say so ! 
 
 CROMWELL. You talk too much, sir. You can go.
 
 VIII. 
 
 Ube Ifctaa ano bis Groom ot tbe Gbamber, 
 Ubomas Iberbert, at IRewport. 
 
 November 1648.
 
 VIII. 
 
 HERBERT. Sire, Colonel Cooke has returned from 
 the castle. 
 
 KING. Well? 
 
 HERBERT. He found there were strangers in pos- 
 session, and could get no further information. The 
 rain and the heavy roads may excuse his delay in 
 returning. 
 
 KING. It is indeed a rough night ! Cannot these 
 guards at the door be somewhat further removed ? 
 This gusty wind blows the smoke of their matches 
 into the very chamber. 
 
 HERBERT. I have done what I could, but Major 
 Kolfe was in bed, and it's hard to make him move. 
 This is an anxious night. How does your Majesty ? 
 
 KING. Oh, I have known worse chances than this. 
 Set another light in the bowl, Herbert, for we shall 
 hardly sleep to-night. What do you think this new 
 Arrival means ? 
 
 HERBERT. I cannot tell; perhaps they intend to
 
 76 THE KING AND THOMAS HERBERT. 
 
 transfer your Majesty elsewhere. I understand they 
 are under orders of the army, not of the Parliament. 
 
 KING. The army ! A second abduction by some 
 Joyce? Just now that would be vexatious. The 
 treaty with the Parliament went so smoothly I 
 had hoped to reach a settlement ; or, at least, to 
 appear to do do so, till some opportunity of escape 
 shall offer. And now, if the army interfere, they 
 ruin all. This place is convenient, too, for taking- 
 ship, should I be driven to flight. I should be 
 sorry to be transferred. Yet, who knows what the 
 army may offer ? Some more advantageous terms, 
 perhaps. 
 
 HERBERT. They could not well be worse than those 
 your Majesty has been driven to accept. To yield 
 the control of the militia for twenty years .... 
 
 KING. That, I must tell you, was but a trick, to 
 gain some necessary time. Why, if I had really in- 
 tended that concession I should retain but the name 
 of a king. 
 
 HERBERT. Yet I fear that neither party will be 
 satisfied with anything less. And there is the ques- 
 tion of episcopacy .... 
 
 KING. That I will never abandon, unless it were 
 in appearance ; and even so, perhaps, it were a sin. 
 For, besides the obligation of my oath, I am fully
 
 THE KING AND THOMAS HERBERT. 77 
 
 persuaded that the government by bishops is that 
 which is commanded in the Scriptures, and was 
 practised by the early church. That is a point of 
 conscience, therefore, which, under no compulsion, 
 will I yield. 
 
 HERBERT. Of that I am well assured ; and for that 
 very reason I fear a settlement will never be con- 
 cluded. 
 
 KING. Ah, friend Herbert, I see you are no poli- 
 tician, and so, for your better consolation, I will 
 explain the grounds of my hope ; for, if I am more 
 cheerful than you on this dreary night, it is because 
 I have a longer vision, and expect with good reason 
 to escape from this dilemma without detriment to my 
 authority or conscience. We have, as you know, two 
 parties to deal with, the Parliament, which is Presby- 
 terian, and the Army which is Independent ; in the 
 matter of religion, therefore, I am certain, if I displease 
 the one, to gratify the other ; if I refuse to establish 
 Presbyterianism, I have the support of the army, and 
 if I refuse to encourage the sects, I have the support 
 of the Parliament. One party, it is true, is for 
 abolishing episcopacy; but the other is content to 
 preserve it on condition of a general toleration. Both 
 would have me resign the militia for a time ; but it is 
 possible, under the stress of their mutual jealousies,
 
 78 THE KING AND THOMAS HERBERT. 
 
 that the period may be indefinitely reduced. Thus, 
 while I stand in the centre and balance these opposing 
 interests, every dispute is a gain to me, and it may 
 well result that in the end, when they are wearied with 
 perpetual intrigue, I may determine myself the condi- 
 tions of my freedom. 
 
 HERBERT. Your Majesty understands these matters 
 as I can never pretend to. Yet, suppose that one of 
 these parties acquire undisputed predominance ? For 
 my own part, I confess that I fear the power of the 
 army. How completely it has routed the Scotch, on 
 whom, but six months ago, reposed our main reliance. 
 
 KING. That was unfortunate ! and the more so, as 
 they divided the Presbyterian interest, and introduced 
 into our enemies' counsels an element of national 
 jealousy. I was dashed, I admit, by the battle of 
 Preston. Cromwell is a fine soldier ! 
 
 HERBERT. Oh, sire, a terrible man. 
 
 KING. Why, not so terrible, after all, but that a 
 man may manage him. At Hampton Court, I led 
 him as I chose : tact and a clear head will do more 
 than you imagine, Herbert. I wish he could have 
 been one among the Parliament's commissioners here. 
 
 HERBERT. Yet they say he and the army are all 
 against the treaty. 
 
 KING. Against this treaty, perhaps, but not against
 
 THE KING AND THOMAS HERBERT. 79 
 
 one of their own negotiating ; and that, I suspect, is 
 the meaning of to-night's occurrence. The army will 
 carry me off, and treat with me on their own basis. 
 Indeed, what else can they do ? A king is an 
 awkward prisoner. He can neither be released, nor 
 exchanged, nor put to death ! 
 
 HERBERT. God forbid ! 
 
 KING. Why, Herbert, what a doleful face ! One 
 would think you were already witnessing my execution. 
 
 HERBERT. Oh, sire, on this matter I cannot jest. 
 
 KING. Why, what other treatment is it fit for ? 
 You would not have me serious about it ? 
 
 HERBERT. I beseech your Majesty's forgiveness ; 
 the long watches, and this night of wind and rain 
 have disturbed my judgment. Something, too, I 
 heard .... 
 
 KING. Well, well, what did you hear ? 
 
 HERBERT. I am not sure ; perhaps I was mistaken 
 I .... 
 
 KING. Speak out, man ! I'm not a child. 
 
 HERBERT. It was from the guards in the ante- 
 chamber they were speaking of some remonstrance 
 from the army to the Parliament. 
 
 KING. Well, what of it ? 
 
 HERBERT. It contained some demand .... I 
 thought I heard them say so ....
 
 So THE KING AND THOMAS HERBERT. 
 
 KING. I am waiting. 
 
 HERBERT. They had presumed, it seems, to demand 
 yet I cannot believe it to demand that your 
 Majesty be brought to trial. 
 
 KING. Be brought to trial ! Why, Herbert, they 
 must be mad, or you must ! Be brought to trial ! 
 I ! a king ! Why, who should try me, and for what ? 
 Come, come, Mr. Herbert, you exceed your license. 
 
 HERBERT. Oh, sire, your pardon, it was but .... 
 
 KING. Not that you are to suppose that this is new 
 to me, that I have never considered it. How that 
 cursed rain beats ! Will it never be dawn again ? What 
 was I saying ? Yes, yes I have considered, I say, I 
 have tried to imagine whether it were possible for 
 subjects to presume to judge their king; but no, I 
 could not conceive it ! For how ? By law ? The 
 king is above the law ! By force ? A murder then, 
 no execution ! And, following that, what miseries 
 tipon the kingdom ! What horror of princes through- 
 out the world ! What dissensions at home ! What 
 disastrous wars abroad ! Religion with government 
 in a moment overthrown ; uprooted justice, security, 
 morals : a blot where was a kingdom ! No ! no ! not 
 all the folly, all the crime, all the godlessness, even of 
 these rebel factions .... Herbert, do you hear me ? 
 l)on't stand and stare like a dolt !
 
 THE KING AND THOMAS HERBERT. 81 
 
 HERBERT. Alas ! your majesty .... 
 
 KING. You think I fear for myself, perhaps ? Did 
 you ever know me a coward ? No man should die 
 more royally ! But my kingdom, the precious heri- 
 tage I should have transmitted in undiminished glory ! 
 What will become of it ? To whom will it pass ? 
 "Why, Herbert, I could pity myself ! Was ever a 
 king so bent upon his country's good so wholly set 
 to maintain religion and authority ? What has been 
 my fault ? That I have striven to uphold as I received 
 it, I will not say mine, but the king's prerogative. 
 For the king is more than I, or any man. He stands 
 for God upon earth, by the continuity of long suc- 
 cession, imitating eternity in time. His will, though 
 free and self-contained, moves in a natural accord 
 with every righteous law. It is his to protect, his to 
 initiate, his to dispose; on him, as ultimate base, 
 repose the orders and relations of all society. Shatter 
 him, and the State's enormous fabric, compact and 
 welded by centuries of labour, crashes through in a 
 moment to the empty night of chaos. That king am 
 I, those powers I hold in trust ; I will not yield them, 
 Herbert ! You will say I have done so ; but it was 
 in seeming only, and for safety ; I told the queen so, 
 would she but believe me ! When I am free if 
 I am free I must be free ! Where were England 
 
 F
 
 82 THE KING AND THOMAS HERBERT. 
 
 without me ? Herbert, can't you speak ? Man, man, 
 why do you weep ? 
 
 HERBERT. To see your Majesty so discomposed. 
 Indeed, I think there is no cause ; doubtless all will 
 go well, and the only ground for my fears was the 
 love I bear your person. 
 
 KING. Well, well, well, happen what may, at least 
 my conscience is clear. A blessed thought ! except, 
 except now, Herbert, I will make you my confessor; 
 and forgive me my roughness, for I believe you love 
 me. One thing there is that troubles me the Earl 
 of Strafford .... 
 
 HERBERT. Oh, sire, it was an honour to die for your 
 Majesty. 
 
 KING. I think he thought so, and yet he had my 
 promise. There is the misery of a king. He must 
 put his country before his servants and his friends. 
 As a man .1 would gladly have saved the earl, but as 
 king I was forced to condemn him. My policy, my 
 very throne, called for the sacrifice. Do you remember 
 the mob about Whitehall, hour after hour, implacable, 
 clamouring for his death ? I cannot forget it would 
 I could ! He was a good servant ; somewhat im- 
 perious, perhaps displeasing to the Court, and indeed, 
 in part, to myself. Importunate, too, he was, as if he 
 laboured for reward. Still, a good servant, and I
 
 THE KING AND THOMAS HERBERT. 83 
 
 would he were alive ; he might have saved me now 
 that is, if there were danger. A king's is a sad life, 
 Herbert ; but his help, as all men's, is above. See, 
 the day dawns at last ! I will go to prayer awhile , 
 and then, if it may be, to sleep.
 
 IX. 
 
 Cromwell. 
 
 December 5, 1648. 
 
 [December 6 was the day on which Colonel Pride 
 "purged" the Parliament of the members who were 
 still for treating with the king, in order to secure a 
 majority in favour of his trial. Cromwell arrived 
 in London on the evening of the 6th. The king was 
 executed in the following January .]
 
 IX. 
 
 CKOMWELL. Is this a king ? Then from such kings 
 
 deliver us ! 
 
 Who, on this sea of troubles, like a gull, 
 Skims the mere froth, or, diving, dives to prey, 
 While others ply perforce the royal task, 
 Mining the fundaments whereon the state, 
 Rock-reared, may soar an island. This a king ! 
 Whose subtle brain, whose gravity and patience 
 Cloak but a gambler's heart ! Yet time was given ; 
 We reasoned, urged, besought, betrayed almost 
 The cause we stood for, lest, for one man's sin, 
 We be constrained to pluck that star from heaven 
 Our fathers durst not lift their eyes to. Oh, 
 If the bright diadem on England's brow, 
 Whose triple jewel held the world's eyes at gaze, 
 In the third place where blazed the royal stone 
 Must show an empty socket ; if this tower 
 From Time's slow spoils with strain so huge upreared 
 As promised an immortal consummation, 
 Must in a moment crash, then be the blame
 
 88 CROMWELL. 
 
 His where it's due, the king's, and we exempt ! 
 
 For twice the Lord has spoken, twice our hearts 
 
 Answered amazed ; to treat was human folly 
 
 Stemming the tide with brooms ; which heeding not us 
 
 Bore us to Preston field resistless, and on, 
 
 Foaming to flood, on to the king's death ! No, 
 
 We could not if we would oppose an ocean ! 
 
 Authority's from God : the ord'nance, true, 
 
 But the particular disposition man's, 
 
 Who, as he makes, unmakes ; so, though the world, 
 
 Holding its breath a moment's shudder, then, 
 
 With universal shout of execration 
 
 From kings and dazzled peoples fling to heaven 
 
 A thund'rous charge to damn us why, even then, 
 
 A few poor men will dare appear and answer it ! 
 
 Yet were it time for fear there's cause enough ; 
 
 My heart's friend Robin questions, Vane has doubts, 
 
 The Parliament's against it ; whom if we force, 
 
 Levellers and anarchy ! if we submit, 
 
 No guarantee for conscience ! Then, say some, 
 
 Patience, have patience ! Oh, I could well be patient ! 
 
 I love my peace as others, fever and wounds 
 
 Rack me no less, calumny seems not sweeter, 
 
 Nor resolution easier ; if peace were all, 
 
 I could lie down to die and count it happiness !
 
 CROMWELL. 89 
 
 But, while we wear our flesh, there's contradiction, 
 
 Action and counter-action ; 'tis the law 
 
 Makes life itself another name for battle, 
 
 And labels peace death. If we retire 
 
 'Tis not to rest but suffer, take the blows 
 
 We've merely ceased to ward ; if that were all 
 
 We might make shift to bear it ; but that the 
 
 soul's 
 
 Immortal chalice, where the wine of God 
 Flashes Him back His heaven's perennial splendour, 
 That this should risk pollution, this be shook 
 From glassing as it may the face of Christ, 
 And whirled in muddy tumult ! Oh, no, no, 
 Not while I live ! What ! the free act of prayer 
 Timed like an hour-glass, rules prescribed to con- 
 science, 
 
 The torrent of faith bound in a formal bed, 
 And for the least divergence prison and fine 
 Portioned by wrangling priests ! Not while I live ! 
 Patience be theirs who own it, I'm for action ! 
 Yet Robin doubts, so many doubt, good men too ! 
 To force a Parliament to kill a king 
 Then what ? Were reason all, I too could pause, 
 Doubting myself ; but reason, being but human, 
 Is variable as men are. Never an act 
 But had some argument to recommend it,
 
 90 CROMWELL. 
 
 And some, as good, against ; the last decision 
 Speaks in the soul, where God speaks. Sudden 
 
 events 
 
 Call for as sudden choice, whence faith is born 
 To mock at calculation. Who set me here 
 General of all the troops from Huntingdon ? 
 Who planned, proposed, succeeded ? Who ? Not I, 
 Nor any man ! 'twas God who, using me, 
 Wraps his own ends in darkness. I resist ? 
 I were a fool ! Though all men stand and question, 
 This way and that, one shall make bold to act. 
 To-morrow Pride shall do it, no stop for me ! 
 Perish the king ! If ever a man deserved 
 Death, it is he ! And what shall happen next, 
 Why, let it happen ! We do but what we can, 
 And where we err, may dare to ask forgiveness. 
 To London, then ! The tide is near the flood.
 
 X. 
 
 3obn SLflburne before tbe Council, 
 
 February 1649. 
 
 [Lilbume was one of the leaders of the democratic 
 faction known as Levellers, and the author of 
 " England's New Claims Discovered" a pamphlet 
 directed against the Government of 1649. F r 
 this he was summoned before the Council of State^ 
 and sent to prison to wait his triall\
 
 X. 
 
 THE USHER. Your hat, sir. 
 
 LILBURNE. Hat ! what hat ? What 
 
 men are these ? 
 
 USHER. The Council, sir. 
 
 LILBURNE. The Council ! who are they ? 
 
 I see some members of the House of Commons ; 
 This is to them. [Removes his hat. 
 
 BRADSHAW. Lieutenant-Colonel Lilburne, 
 
 The Council sends for you to make enquiry .... 
 
 LILBURNE. Sir, by your leave, it's I must put the 
 
 questions ! 
 
 What warrants forty casual gentlemen, 
 Privately met, to send a public force 
 And hale me through the streets against my will ? 
 
 BRADSHAW. Sir, you mistake, you stand before the 
 Council. 
 
 LILBURNE. What Council ? . 
 
 BRADSHAW. Those the Parliament appointed. 
 
 LILBURNE. And by what right appointed ? This is 
 a claim
 
 94 JOHN LILBURNE BEFORE THE COUNCIL. 
 
 New to our law, which makes the executive 
 A power distinct. And for this Parliament, 
 Since 'twas the king that called it, with the king 
 Ends its authority. Those officers 
 The people need, let them appoint themselves ! 
 
 CROMWELL. Sir, you are not to call our power in 
 question. 
 
 LILBURNE. Oh, am I not ? I humbly crave your 
 
 pardon ! 
 
 Your majesty should charge it less to malice 
 Than ignorance, if men, whose blood and treasure 
 Were spent for liberty, forget at times 
 They've won no more than you may please permit 
 them. 
 
 CROMWELL. [To BRADSHAW.] Can this be borne ? 
 
 BRADSHAW. [To CROMWELL.] Patience ! we'll sound 
 
 him further. 
 
 Sir, you mistake the General, who, so far 
 From grudging liberty, desires to hear 
 (So do we all) the claim she makes through you. 
 What are these ends you and your party seek ? 
 
 LILBURNE. Not what we find without the pain of 
 
 seeking, 
 
 New chains to bind us ! Sir, you'll find me blunt ; 
 My nature's so ; John Lilburne never feared 
 To speak his mind to beggar or to king !
 
 JOHN LILBURNE BEFORE THE COUNCIL. 95 
 
 You ask about my party ; sir, I've none ! 
 
 I lead the people, who, by nature free, 
 
 In course of ages, subjugate to force 
 
 Or gulled by fraud, have let their birthright go 
 
 For less than pottage ! Thus do rich and poor, 
 
 Rulers and ruled, divide the groaning earth, 
 
 Till suff'ring breeds resistance. So we fared 
 
 In England, so rose up and killed our tyrant, 
 
 Whose empty place ('tis history's constant course) 
 
 Our leaders self-imposed would fain usurp. 
 
 Why, sirs, how monstrous ! What's this Parliament, 
 
 To rule us all with councils and committees ? 
 
 A factious knot of landed gentlemen, 
 
 The remnant rags of privilege ! What's their right ? 
 
 Election ? Those who chose them gave their votes 
 
 Under the king that's dead ; and those elected, 
 
 The greater part, are since removed by force. 
 
 Property ? Why, what's property ? there's some 
 
 Label it robbery ! Yes, you may knit your brow ! 
 
 We'll vex you yet, Lieutenant-General Cromwell ! 
 
 BRADSHAW. Be temperate, sir, or silent ! you forget 
 Our place and yours ! you speak by sufferance. 
 
 CROMWELL. [To BRADSHAW.] Suff 'ranee too long ! 
 we've heard enough, dismiss him ! 
 
 BRADSHAW. [To CROMWELL.] No, let him show his 
 hand, we're safer so.
 
 96 JOHN LILBURNE BEFORE THE COUNCIL. 
 
 [To LILBURNE.] You blame the House ; what are 
 your own proposals ? 
 
 LILBURNE. That you should ask ! Why, they're in 
 
 ev'ry mouth ! 
 
 They're liberty's, not mine ! Make conscience free ! 
 There's some would play the bishop still, that all 
 May buy with tithes their patent creed and service. 
 Why if I chose to hail the rising sun, 
 As Persians do, or bow to pewter pots, 
 What's that to them ? God be the judge, not they ! 
 We'll have no Presbyterian parish popes, 
 No, nor no King, nor lords, nor council either, 
 But such a Commonwealth as renders law 
 A mere superfluous form, and poverty 
 An idle hieroglyph whose sense is perished. 
 These propositions aren't my own and private ; 
 There's thousands make them ; every troop has men 
 That eat and drink and sleep upon them ; one 
 Cries from the grave to urge them. General Cromwell, 
 Arnold, you thought, was dead ; I tell you, no ! 
 He lives in every regiment ! yes, and will, 
 Shoot whom you may ! from every drop of blood 
 A hero springs to front you ! Gentlemen, 
 Immortal justice is not slain with bullets ! 
 
 CROMWELL. [To BRADSHAW.] These are mere words ! 
 it's time we came to business.
 
 JOHN LILBURNE BEFORE THE COUNCIL. 97 
 
 BRADSHAW. [To LILBURNE.] Enough, sir, that will 
 
 do. Now to the point. 
 Do you know this book ? 
 
 [Hands him a copy of" England 1 s New Claims 
 
 Discovered"] 
 
 LILBURNE. I've heard some talk about it. 
 
 BRADSHAW. And know the author ? 
 LILBURNE. Know him ? 
 
 CROMWELL. Sir, to be brief, 
 
 Had you a hand in it ? We know you had ! 
 
 LILBURNE. Is this an inquisition ? By heaven and 
 
 hell 
 
 I'll not reply ! You'd best bring in your torture ! 
 Star Chamber use demands it ! Do your worst ! 
 John Lilburne's not the man to fling away 
 His own and England's liberties for fear ! 
 I know, because I'm Semper Idem John, 
 Who never yet for threats or flatt'ry changed 
 My constant principles ; because I'm still 
 The poor man's shield and scourge of all oppres- 
 sion, 
 
 Therefore you'd have me silent ! Never, never ! 
 Truth speaks from prison and coffin ! La^e or soon, 
 What I say now the peopled world will echo ! 
 BRADSHAW. Enough, enough, sir ! 
 
 [To the USHER.] Let him wait without. 
 
 Q
 
 98 JOHN LILBURNE BEFORE THE COUNCIL. 
 
 LILBURNE. Do what you will ! But first a word of 
 
 warning ! 
 
 If, when all pretext fails, as fail it will, 
 You make recourse to martial law to judge me, 
 Then, by the great and living God I swear, 
 Appoint what prison you will, Whitehall, St. James', 
 I'll burn it out to ashes ! These officers 
 Aren't fit for honest men to trust their lives to ! 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 CROMWELL. Now are you satisfied ? 
 
 BRADSHAW. A dangerous man ! 
 
 VANE. There's truth in what he says ; this liberty 
 Is all we seek ; the saints in heaven are equal, 
 So should the saints on earth be ; would they were ! 
 
 CROMWELL. Yes, but they're not, they're not ! To 
 
 hear him talk 
 
 All might be saints ! Why, if it went by votes 
 Our heads would garnish Westminster to-morrow ! 
 These men are worse than traitors ; give them leave, 
 They'll ruin all ! best silence them in time. 
 
 VANE. And so begins again the violent course 
 We Vose to end. Once set that wheel in motion, 
 'Twill roll and roll till those who guide it, caught 
 Round with the whirling rim, are crushed them- 
 selves 
 Under their own machine. Some of us here
 
 JOHN LILBURNE BEFORE THE COUNCIL. 99 
 
 Partly approve this fellow ; where he errs, 
 
 'Tis zeal misleads him. Is he impolitic ? 
 
 He does not frame our measures. Is he stubborn ? 
 
 Let failure teach him wisdom. To shut him up 
 
 Argues the charges true that force must answer. 
 
 CROMWELL. Authority's a farce if men like this 
 Defy the Council. Break, or else be broken ! 
 Such mean and blust'ring rogues to bring to ruin 
 The cause that's judged a king ! I say, the Tower ! 
 There let him wait his trial. 
 
 VANE. I say, release him ! 
 
 BRADSHAW. Your votes, then, gentlemen ! Release 
 
 or no ? 
 The General has it. Let him wait his trial.
 
 XI. 
 
 Cromwell. 
 
 April 20, 1653. 
 
 [ The day of the violent dissolution of the " Rump " 
 Parliament. A message was brought to Cromwell 
 that its members were hastily forcing through a 
 Bill whereby they would themselves retain their 
 seats in the new Parliament^ and also form a Com- 
 mittee of Revision to determine the validity of the 
 reih elections. It is this message that is supposed 
 to interrupt the following soliloquy.]
 
 XI. 
 
 CROMWELL. Ambitious ! that's the cry ! That fellow 
 
 Lilburne ! 
 
 I hear him still, mouthing his beagle music 
 At us poor foxes ! God be judge between us ! 
 Who set me here ? The testimony's palpable ! 
 Naseby and Preston, Dunbar, Drogheda, Worcester, 
 Why, the thing speaks ! The army's me, the State 
 Me, the Lord's cause, me, me ! And if the Lord's, 
 Why, let them break me who can, or shiver them- 
 selves ! 
 Ambitious ! What have I done ? Nothing ! And 
 
 shall do 
 Nothing ! 'Tis all done through me ! Take the 
 
 worst, 
 
 Say I dissolve the Parliament, and fell 
 This the last pillar left of three that bore 
 The soaring roof, authority say I do, 
 What follows ? "Tyranny," they cry. Well, 
 
 tyranny ! 
 'Tis but a name ; the thing's all ! Tyranny !
 
 104 CROMWELL. 
 
 Say I do not why then " perpetuate " 
 Is all the cry ; perpetuate this mere Rump, 
 These three-score shreds torn from the purple robe 
 New-woven in '40 ! These shall patch and tag 
 Our new State garment ! Men who stood with me 
 On Dunbar field and chanted victory 
 Down the first level sun-shafts, honest fellows, 
 Who held their blood cheaper than some their oaths, 
 Must take their freedom at such men's discretion 
 As mete God's truth by inches, making conscience 
 A legal pint-pot good for all the land, 
 !Nor more nor less capacious. Meantime the laws, 
 Through years of sloth run riot, wait their pruning ; 
 The sheep cry out for shepherds ; Church and State 
 Visibly ruin and these men make their parties, 
 And cry "perpetuate"! How are they a Par- 
 liament 
 More than I king, or as much ? A tyranny ! 
 
 Ah, Harry Vane, I hear you ! Continuity, 
 An equal suffrage, annual parliaments, 
 And all the saws of theory ! good things, too, 
 Did not the sick times poison them to ulcers ! 
 Were wind and waves an engine moved by clock- 
 work, 
 And storms a mimic jest for yawning sailors,
 
 CROMWELL. 105 
 
 Then might the pilot leave his slipp'ry post 
 And nod with grazing farmers, whose slow days, 
 Most like their slow streams, creep, in endless levels 
 Of labour generations long, to nothing. 
 If ifs were facts ! Here's one, with small regret 
 Would doff the rude salt trade his forty years 
 Were somewhat stiff to dress in ! Yes, friend Vane, 
 If ifs were facts ! But lashed to the mast, and 
 
 dinn'd 
 
 By all the horrible winds that e'er made crack 
 Heaven's vault to let the fire through then to be 
 
 told 
 
 Of constitutions ! Oh, there's some would prate 
 Under the crack of doom ! 
 
 For, Harry, think ! Had there been one engage- 
 ment, 
 
 But one, wherein we failed, this thing had been 
 Less palpable ! but that these poor mechanics, 
 Ostlers and cast-off serving men, by nature, 
 And daily use, unwarlike, set to fight . 
 With gentlemen should show like Roman heroes 
 Were a man blind such testimony as that 
 Might give him eyes ! 'Tis the plain spirit of God ! 
 We must not grieve Him, Harry ! Perpetuate ! No, 
 'Twere plain denial of Providence ! What then ? 
 What were the worst that even Vane could fear,
 
 106 CROMWELL. 
 
 The very worst ? Come, let me speak it out ! 
 
 Forced loans, imprisonment, knife and pillory, 
 
 Parliaments intermitted, the swift course 
 
 Of justice made a standing lake to drown 
 
 Acres of wealth, and breed not cleanse pollution ; 
 
 England's whole state a suicide, whose hands 
 
 Pluck at her eyes, whose eyes mislead her feet, 
 
 While the blind feet go stumbling down to hell 
 
 As to a kitchen- warming and to this madness 
 
 Cromwell not Charles the brain ! 
 
 Yes, there I touch it, Cromwell now, not Charles ! 
 
 Tyrant's as good a word as Parliament ; 
 
 And, for the thing, good in each kind is better 
 
 Than bad in the other ! Charles was false, but I ? 
 
 Should I be ? How I talk, when e'en this hour 
 
 The Parliament perhaps incline to reason ! 
 
 If not Oh, where is guidance ? God in heaven ! 
 
 " As is thy strength, so shall thy day be " yes, 
 
 Amen, Amen ! 
 
 [Enter a MESSENGER from the Parliament. 
 Well, sir, your message ? Quick ! 
 Well, what, what, what ? Speak, blockhead ! Now y 
 
 do you say ? 
 
 They're at it now ? monstrous ! Harrison ! 
 Half of them cheats, adulterers some, I know them ! 
 I'll teach them ! Harrison ! Is Harrison there ?
 
 CROMWELL. 107 
 
 Quick, man, your hat and cloak ! I'll do it now ! 
 
 These sods, these money-bags, these wag-tongue 
 legalists, 
 
 These moral lecherous censors, these saint-gaggers, 
 
 These bellies stuffed with bribes and stale plu- 
 ralities, 
 
 These lips, these maws, these eyewhites ! These are 
 men 
 
 To rule the Lord's great England and his saints ! 
 
 Gentlemen, who's for the House ? Come, let's be 
 going !
 
 XII. 
 
 Cromwell anfc Dane, 
 
 August 1658. 
 
 [Cromwell s daughter, Lady Elizabeth Clay pole, 
 died on August 6, 1658. Vane was imprisoned 
 in 1656, for his tract entitled "A Healing Ques- 
 tion? Cromwell died on September 3, 1658.]
 
 XII. 
 
 CROMWELL. How still the house seems now she's 
 
 dead ! God, God ! 
 
 Bore I so light a burden then already 
 That this, too great for man, was added ? Oh, 
 Such pain ! Could no one comfort ? None allieve ? 
 Must all sit by and watch it ? Oh, no, no, 
 Too much, too much ! Never to recognise me, 
 But speak of blood and vengeance ! Alas ! my child 
 Were there not foes enough to hate thy father 
 But thou must learn their language ? Yet were it 
 
 curses 
 Speak but once more, once ! Never, never, never ! 
 
 Where are these papers ? Pamphlets, always pam- 
 phlets ! 
 
 " Arch-traitor " " Judas," Cain "how glib it runs ! 
 " In godliness there is great gain, and preaching and 
 praying well managed will obtain other kingdoms as 
 well as those of heaven." " A deep dissembling hypo- 
 crite, as barren of all charity as hell is of honesty,"
 
 112 CROMWELL AND VANE. 
 
 and so forth and so forth. These abortions spawned 
 in the dark ! Here's another with his cry " Ana- 
 baptists, Seekers, Familists, Antinomiaiis, Anti- 
 Trinitarians" the Presbyterian note ! " all these do 
 grow and flourish under the shadow of his apostacy. 
 While the one true church, the model ordained of 
 Christ Himself, set up by His apostles, and without 
 change maintained through the best and purest times, 
 till Constantine . . . ." So, so, so, and now for his 
 peroration ! " Darkness is hid in his secret places ; a 
 fire not blown shall consume him ; it shall go ill 
 with him that is left in his tabernacle. Though his 
 excelling mount up to the heavens and his hand 
 reacheth unto the clouds, yet he shall perish for ever 
 like his own dung. They that have seen him shall 
 say where is he ! " Here's more and more of them ! 
 The Millenarian with his talk of anti-Christ and the 
 immediate coming of the Lord I would it were so ! 
 These are foolish men, less wicked than lunatic. The 
 Leveller with his annual Parliaments, and every man 
 his vote. And still it's " Oliver the usurper," " Oliver 
 the oppressor of the poor," till there comes one with 
 admonishment to kill me outright, since " in the black 
 catalogue of high malefactors few can be found that 
 have lived more to the affliction and disturbance of 
 mankind."
 
 CROMWELL AND VANE. 113 
 
 What things are men ! God, I'm weary of it ! 
 When my son died it smote me like a dagger, 
 And now my daughter ! Thus laid bare of love, 
 Naked to face this howling storm of passion ! 
 What man could bear it ? Not a friend, not one ! 
 
 [Enter VANE. 
 
 Yes one, one still ! Harry, my brother Harry ! 
 What man, you bear no grudge ? 
 
 VANE. My Lord Protector, 
 
 Twas not my own affairs that brought me hither. 
 
 CROMWELL. Why, let your business wait then. 
 
 Tell me first, 
 
 They lodged you well at Carisbrooke ? No rough- 
 ness, 
 
 No incivility ? It vexed my soul ! 
 Why did you force me, Harry ? It vexed my soul ! 
 
 VANE. My Lord Protector's soul is vexed too often 
 By acts himself imposes on himself. 
 
 CROMWELL. Harry, you know it's false ! The time 
 constrains me. 
 
 VANE. Was it the time expelled the Parliament, 
 Dissolved your own assemblies, though select, 
 Parcelled the land in Roman provinces 
 Under the soldiers' rule, distorted justice, 
 Sequestered, fined, imprisoned, made of Cromwell 
 An illegitimate Charles ? Was it the time ?
 
 II 4 CROMWELL AND VANE. 
 
 CROMWELL. You shall not vex me, Harry. I will 
 
 not answer, 
 Or not at present ; tell me of yourself. 
 
 VANE. My lord, 'twas England's business brought 
 
 me here. 
 CROMWELL. My lord, my lord ! Why then, Sir 
 
 Henry Vane, 
 
 You came to speak to me of such a people 
 As from Algerian sands to these white shores 
 Has swept the sea of pirates ; taught Savoy 
 That not unmarked in the Walclensien vales 
 The blood of saints crimsoned his Alpine snows ; 
 And, far as Santa Cruz, to Spanish papists 
 Witnessed a power as proud as once of old, 
 For cause so good, to shatter as empty shells 
 Their huge and ocean-chafing armaments ! 
 
 VANE. " People," you said ; England's no more a 
 
 people ! 
 CROMWELL. Whose fault is that ? Did I create the 
 
 factions ? 
 
 VANE. Yours is the cleaving sword perpetuates them. 
 CROMWELL. Say, rather, mine the cord that keeps 
 
 them one. 
 
 VANE. Such outward bond does but increase division. 
 CROMWELL. What ! when the dogs are mad, to drop 
 the whip !
 
 CROMWELL AND VANE. 115 
 
 VANE. Since, while you hold it, madness does but 
 grow. 
 
 CROMWELL. We talk like rhetoricians. Hear me, 
 Harry. 
 
 VANE. Hear, you ! 'Tis I must speak. At Pres- 
 ton Pans, 
 
 "When God appeared in power, you sent me word, 
 Your heart new-flushed with pride of victory, 
 You did not like my principle of patience; 
 " This day be judge," you said, "'twixt you and me ! " 
 Then I was silent ; hear me answer now. 
 If to be patient mean to stand unshaken, 
 By that which action yields to interest, 
 Then be the judge 'twixt you and me the Lord ! 
 'Twas liberty we both professed ; I've heard you 
 Loud in contempt of arbitrary practice, 
 In praise of Parliament and legal rule ; 
 Where's freedom now, where law ? 'Tis you whose 
 
 action 
 
 Ruins the cause my patience still would raise. 
 The death of Charles I pass, if not approved, 
 At least not blamed ; from that time on, four years, 
 You served the Parliament, and then were great, 
 Though seeming to your baser self too small. 
 That council you expelled dissolve you could not ; 
 Remained, for law, the soldiers, whose commands
 
 Ji6 CROMWELL AND VANE. 
 
 Mere force made current ; you, my lord, were chief, 
 And king in all but name. Were councils called, 
 'Twas but for swift dismissal did they touch 
 This new prerogative ; men who'd spent their all 
 To serve the cause must fare as Royalists ; all 
 But one small faction suffer, all submit. 
 Thus did the body politic of saints, 
 Christ their true head rejected, day by day, 
 Cleave into sects so multiplied that you 
 With outward force shall never more compact them 
 To inward vital union ; no, the spirit 
 Died with the Parliament, and yours the sword, 
 Drawn once to smite its foes, that dealt the blow. 
 You had your will, and for reward control 
 By force of arms an anarchy of factions, 
 Whose only bond is common hate of you ! 
 Your life will end your work, no son maintain 
 The throne you raised but could not 'stablish ; Death, 
 With you involving yours, will leave a waste 
 Where England bloomed, and dim eclipse where blazed 
 The cause e'en men like you shall ne'er extinguish ! 
 CROMWELL. You talk of thrones who wants to set 
 
 them up ? 
 
 Who calls me king ? Who proffered me the title, 
 And who refused it ? E'en if not refused, 
 Where were the treachery, the mean ambition ? 
 Man, man, do you think to rule a State like this
 
 C ROM W ELL AND VANE. 117 
 
 By geometric axioms good for ever ? 
 
 Liberty's still your cry ! what liberty, 
 
 Were I removed ? The scaffold and the block 
 
 Under a second Charles ! You talk of factions, 
 
 Oh well you may ! But, on this heaved abysm 
 
 Of chaos self -tormented, who imposed 
 
 The law that, e'en from braying discord, strikes 
 
 To heaven's high court appealing harmonies ? 
 
 Yane, Vane, I lead no party, I lead the cause ! 
 
 And if I lead, not follow, that's from God, 
 
 And under God ! 'twere madness to deny it. 
 
 Where could I stop ? How without harm retire, 
 
 Or take the second place ? From step to step 
 
 I was impelled ; to question meant destruction, 
 
 Not mine alone, but England's ! Think of it ! 
 
 If I have erred I have, what man has not ? 
 
 I know I must have, often, greatly ! yes, 
 
 But not as you think, not in purpose, never ! 
 
 And let me tell you, Vane you ought to know it 
 
 There's more to mar our ends than human error ; 
 
 The grain of the world is curst ; there's flaws and knots ; 
 
 Piano as you will you'll never plane it even ; 
 
 It's hard to blame the workman .... 
 
 Harry, my daughter's lately dead, and since 
 
 This burden's breaking me ; what use in words ? 
 
 Doubtless there's much to blame, and much to urge 
 
 In fair extenuation, but not now !
 
 Ii8 CROMWELL AND VANE. 
 
 Now let us rather speak, like ancient comrades, 
 Of health and fortune, family and friends, 
 And all that still remains to sweeten life. 
 You're looking older, Harry ; are you well ? 
 
 VANE. My lord, as you were friend to liberty, 
 So I to you ; now that you use her name 
 Merely to cloak your own tyrannic ends, 
 I'm not so light a man to love the shell, 
 That houses now no more a kindred soul. 
 Your shifts and phrases touch me not ; I leave you, 
 My message given, to conscience and to God. [Exit. 
 
 CROMWELL. Vane too, Vane too ! 
 Yet, while I live, a thousand such as Vane 
 Shall never shake the power not I, but God, 
 Set up to quell his foes ! And when I die, 
 (Which must be soon, so dissolution loads 
 My spark of life with ashes,) putting off 
 This weary, battered, too-perplexed being, 
 I'll dare expect, not owed but given of grace, 
 E'en to desert so small, the consummation 
 That stills at last this riddling sphinx of pain, 
 And rounds with heaven so jagged a world as ours. 
 But oh, my brother Vane, alas ! my brother !
 
 XIII. 
 
 Dane on tbe Scaffolo. 
 
 June 2, 1662.
 
 XIII. 
 
 (Voices in the crowd.) 
 
 " THAT'S he, in black over the crimson waistcoat ! 
 There in the cloak ! " " That ! why he looks as 
 
 cheerful 
 
 As if he'd come to see the show himself ! " 
 " Hark ! what a noise ! they're keeping back his 
 
 servants ! 
 
 Did you hear him ? ' Not one servant to attend me ! ' 
 He seems surprised, not angry." 
 
 " What a figure ! 
 And he a rebel ! " 
 
 "Is he a rebel?" 
 
 Hush, 
 They've made him one now." " Made him, you sour* 
 
 faced rogue, 
 
 Why, he played third in Noll and Bradshaw's trio ! 
 Who should be rebel, if he's not ! " 
 
 " 0, how I love 
 
 An execution ! What a handsome gentleman ! 
 He wears his cm-Is like any cavalier."
 
 122 VANE ON THE SCAFFOLD. 
 
 " Heavens, what a crowd ! Hush, hush he's going to 
 
 speak ! " 
 VANE. [/Speaks from tlie scaffold.'] Gentlemen, fellow 
 
 countrymen and Christians ! 
 Why I am here you know, this huge assembly 
 Being met to see me, like a man in prison, 
 Take my discharge and pass to ampler light 
 Than peers through dungeon-crannies ; on this 
 
 stage 
 
 I make my last oration, asking only 
 Of you, my audience, a patient hearing. 
 First for myself ; being bred, as others are, 
 A gentleman, I held companionship 
 With those good fellows whose discourse is dress, 
 Women, and arms, while with the wine ambition 
 They stuff their hearts to bursting ; so did I, 
 Till something caught and tamed me, drew a bridle 
 Tight on my bitted mouth, and rode me forth 
 To wastes beyond the seas ; wherein what hazards 
 I took from climate, want, and warring parties, 
 What perilous jars from man and monstrous nature, 
 Were long to tell ; thence in good time discharged, 
 I found myself, not seeking, made a member 
 Of that great Parliament whose deeds shall live 
 While men have need of government. In that 
 
 council
 
 VANE ON THE SCAFFOLD. 123 
 
 I, like the rest, being called upon to choose 
 
 'Twixt King and Commons, in such new disorder 
 
 Of powers co-ordinate like planets torn 
 
 Each from his sphere and clashed in red collision, 
 
 Held to the Parliament ; whence came at first, 
 
 Though not desired, some place and influence, 
 
 Which how I used be all of you my judge ! 
 
 If there be one can speak of private profit, 
 
 In wealth or station, trafficked in by me, 
 
 Or point to any man's estate or life 
 
 By me pursued as for my own advantage, 
 
 Now let him speak let God speak if He knows ! 
 
 None charges me ! indeed 'twas rather loss 
 
 I met with later, when some men's ambition 
 
 (Whose heads wait mine to join them) seized the 
 
 State; 
 
 Something I suffered in estate and person, 
 Yet for that cause which was and is (I say it 
 Straight in the face of death and after-judgment) 
 The cause of God and Christ ! 
 
 [Interruptions in the crowd and on the scaffold. 
 VANE. [Proceeding.] Nay, hear me further ! 
 
 Thrice was this cause declared ; first, the Remon- 
 strance 
 
 Painted in black and white the ship of State 
 On still upgath'ring waves of broken laws
 
 124 VANE ON THE SCAFFOLD. 
 
 Tossed to tlie rock Prerogative ; next, the Covenant, 
 Over two nations streaming, blazoned wide, 
 Mag-like, the church's sign no pyramid 
 Goring with mitred peak, but crystal- sphered 
 Round the fire-centre Christ ; last, fire and battle 
 "Wrote it out large in act, whose issue cries 
 From heaps of dead to heaven ; such issue, friends, 
 
 As never any king [Interruption. 
 
 Eight, Mr. Sheriff, 
 
 Enough of that ! now to the present business. 
 That I must die is little nay, 'tis much, 
 The crown of all my labour ! For, in that chase 
 'Twixt man and death that folly nicknames life, 
 I have been still pursuer, death the fugitive, 
 Tinder whose goblin masque, a children's terror, 
 Plain I beheld an eyed and beaming splendour 
 Of sole immortal beauty. Death to shun 
 Were shunning life, possessed on that condition ; 
 For that all life is learning how to die 
 Is pagan lore, which we, with surer faith, 
 Were merely shamed could we not prove in action. 
 You will not think I boast ; 'twere late for that, 
 And hand and cheek would witness did I speak 
 Mere tott'ring words, unfounded on such rock 
 As roots within to base them ; I do not fear 
 Death, but to die a traitor that I am not !
 
 VANE ON THE SCAFFOLD. 125 
 
 (Nay, Mr. Sheriff, this does not touch the king.) 
 Much I could say and much, though hindered, have 
 
 said, 
 
 How, when of three great branches whose one root 
 Is England's people, King and Lords and Commons, 
 Two were lopped off, one maimed, 'twas merest duty 
 To tend the rooted stump, wherein resided 
 The principle and origin of growth, 
 Past and to come ; the superstructure crumbled, 
 Remained the fundament, whereon I base 
 My life and acts, the people ! I say, the treachery 
 Was theirs who, being elected to that council, 
 Forsook their splendid trust ; I say 'tis here 
 As at the trial you will not hear me speak ! 
 Nay, but you shall ! You who refused me counsel, 
 Who stopped my mouth, who packed the jury, and 
 
 swore 
 
 " Sir Henry Vane should be a sacrifice " 
 'Twas Mr. Attorney said it you who juggled 
 With the king's promised word to spare my life, 
 And played a farce with law to make me traitor, 
 You ! Hear Sir Henry Vane to all mankind, 
 (Less for himself than those who suffer with him), 
 Against your courts to juster men unborn 
 Appealing, larger hearts and wiser judgments, 
 Protest their justice, innocence, and loyalty,
 
 126 VANE ON THE SCAFFOLD. 
 
 Who fought and died for England's cause and God's ! 
 [Increasing interruptions ; the Sheriff orders 
 the trumpets to be blown in his face and 
 snatches his notes away. When silence is 
 restored VANE resumes. 
 
 That for the world ; now for my friends alone ! 
 
 The Cause you see is darkened whether ourselves, 
 
 Some shrinking, some deceiving, be the occasion ; 
 
 Or God, involving us in cheerless night, 
 
 Against that blackness more effulgent flashes 
 
 His face on worlds more blessed ; yet from that 
 
 night 
 
 Fire shall be born, e'en now perhaps is kindled, 
 And in my blood set free, from spirit to spirit 
 Unquenchable, till all be purged to Christ ! 
 You know my hope, wherein I die content, 
 As men should die, happy, as Christians must. 
 I could have wished my life had been more quiet ; 
 Faithful it was, and, to my measure, useful; 
 And, for my death, lend me your prayers to make it 
 Worthy of acts more notable than mine. 
 
 (Voices in the crowd after the execution.) 
 
 " He died well ! " 
 
 " Like a prince ! " 
 
 " The canting rebel,
 
 VANE ON THE SCAFFOLD.' 127 
 
 He and red Noll will make a pair in hell." 
 " Did you see how still the head lay ? That's a sign 
 Of constancy in dying." " What is this Cause 
 He talks of?" 
 
 " Cause ! Who knows ? Not he himself ! 
 None of them know ! They're all alike these fanatics, 
 Live for a name and die for it ! " 
 
 " Lord, I thank Thee 
 For this Thy servant taken home to glory." 
 
 MR. PEPYS. [From a balcony .] " Lord, what a crowd ! 
 Come, dinner, dinner, dinner ! "
 
 ' x ~ " \LTFO' '^1 A LIBRARY 
 
 THE LIBKAKT 
 DIVERSITY OF CALIFOKNM
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 A 000 947 085 7 
 
 OUT- 
 
 SEARCHl