p316-038 CHAPTER II.

Israel Baneswright, the Crop-Eared Preacher and his Family—
Zeal and Bigotry often mistaken for each other—How Great
Changes are often brought about in the Opinions of Men—Grand
Perspective View of Justice Shorthose—Misfortunes never come
single, as Harold experiences—Trial and Sentence of the Crop-Ear—
A Disagreeable Instrusion, and a Prophecy fulfilled—A Separation,
and Harold's Feelings thereupon.

[figure description] Page 025.[end figure description]

As these were times when jails were apt to be
crowded, Harold was deposited in the same room with
the preacher, who, at the instance of the Justice, announced
himself as Israel Baneswright, of Boston, in
Lincolnshire, at which his worship rubbed his hands,
and exclaimed:

“O ho! I've heard of you before. You are famous
among the elect for abusing his sacred Majesty
through the nose, and dubbing the bishops wolves in
sheep's clothing. Instead of calling the Pope anti-Christ,
as every good Christian should do, you bestow
that title on our great defender of the faith, Archbishop
Laud, who I honor next the king himself. You are
the man for faith without works, but, i'faith, I'll work
you. I see you've lost your ears, but, by good luck,

[figure description] Page 026.[end figure description]

your nose is still amenable to the law, and as all your
treason and blasphemy escapes through that organ, it
is but just it should suffer the penalty.”

“Say your say, and do your worst, Master Justice,”
replied Israel Baneswright, “I am prepared to suffer
in the good cause, sustained as I am by a power superior
to the archbishop or the king.

“Hear him!” cried the Justice, in wrath; “Hear
him—'Slife, I'll teach the Crop-ear who is the strongest
before I have done with him. Clap him in irons,
and see that he does not escape by a miracle.”

“Angels have sometimes ministered to the relief of
the saints in time of sore jeopardy,” replied Israel, reverently,
“and one thing I know, that whatever I am
doomed to suffer by the divine will, that will shall enable
me to bear.”

“Hear him again,” cried the Justice, appealing to
his officials. “The blasphemer has the presumption
to question the power of the head of the church, and
place his conscience above the authority of the king.
Gag the Crop-ear, that he may spout no more treason
in the face of the representative of majesty and justice.”

The officials obeyed with orthodox alacrity, and
Master Shorthose departed with his followers, locking
the door, and leaving the two delinquents alone.
Without thinking of, or perhaps not caring for the consequences,
Harold forthwith removed the gag, and the
first use Israel made of the recovery of speech, was to
thank him for his kindness. Gradually they fell into

[figure description] Page 027.[end figure description]

discourse, and Harold perceiving that Israel took it for
granted he was one of his followers, immediately undeceived
him, by relating the manner in which he
had become involved in the same predicament with
himself.

“You came to scorn us then,” said Israel, with a
look and tone of mingled disappointment and displeasure.

“No,” rejoined the other, “not in scorn; I came
by accident, and remained from curiosity.”

Israel paused a few moments, as if communing
with the inward man, and seemed somewhat in doubt
and perplexity. But proselytism is the invariable
concomitant of zeal. In all this world of seeming inconsistencies,
there is not such a jumble as that mass
of motives which prompts the actions of men and
shapes their course of life, which often seems directed
by the mere waywardness of the will. Hence many
things appear extraordinary and beyond belief, though
in reality there is nothing improbable in this world,
but actions without motives.

Israel Baneswright was the son of a clergyman of
the established church, who, besides fattening at a
stall in the Cathedral of Durham, held a plurality of
livings in various parts of the country, so distant from
each other that it was physically impossible for him
to perform the duties of shepherd of the flock to all of
them. He was both loyal and orthodox in the highest
degree, as in duty bound, and having the advowsion
of one of his best livings for this his only son,

[figure description] Page 028.[end figure description]

had educated him accordingly in the strictest tenets
of the Pharisees, as the Crop-ears irreverently called
them. After going through the necessary preparation
he was sent to the university, where he studied
diligently, at times, though his conduct was occasionally
not a little irregular. He was exceedingly
self-willed, and often took the bit between his teeth,
when neither tutor nor proctor could restrain him.

Among his fellow students was Oliver Cromwell,
whose youth little indicated his future character and
destiny, he being at that time more famous for his
pranks than his prayers. Similarity of tastes and
habits produced a college intimacy between the future
Protector and the future field preacher, cemented by
various frolicks that subjected them to various degrees
of punishment. It is recorded that they once performed
together in a play, got up in honor of King James
the First, on a visit to the university, called “The
Marriage of the Arts,” which, according to an old
chronicler, “was too grave for the king, and too scholastic
for the auditory, (or, as some have said, that the
actors had taken too much wine before they began.)
His Majesty being heartily tired, after divers yawns
offered to withdraw. At length being persuaded by
some that were near to him, to have patience till it
was concluded, least the young men should be disheartened,
he sat down much against his will.
Whereupon these verses were made by a certain
scholar:

[figure description] Page 029.[end figure description]

The profane career of Israel was, however, suddenly
arrested. About this time, Puritanism began to show
itself in this stronghold of orthodoxy, and more than one
student became infected with the heresy. Among these
was Israel, who, through the native ardor of his character,
suddenly passed from one extreme to the other.
He at once adopted the Puritan creed, dress, deportment
and every other peculiarity of these extraordinary people,
who seemed expressly formed for bearing the bright
torch of Christianity, civilization, and liberty, into the
wild recesses of a new world. He caused his hair to
be cropped, accommodated his dress to the severe simplicity,
and his deportment to the staid, sober self-denial
of the strict models of the sect, and talked openly
of the downfall of anti-Christ's kingdom, the creation
of a new heaven and a new earth, new churches, and
a new commonwealth together.

Expulsion naturally followed such bold defiance of
the statutes of the university; and the worthy Pluralist,
his father, indignant at this enormous backsliding,
on his return home, proffered him the alternative of
the thirty-nine articles, or disinheritance. Parental
affection and parental authority, kindly exerted, and
pursued with perseverance, might, perhaps, have restored
Israel to his mother church. But, unhappily,
it but too often happens, that in the enforcement of

[figure description] Page 030.[end figure description]

what they believe to be the truth, men lose sight of
those unchangeable and eternal truths which constitute
the basis of our most sacred duties. Men may
differ on speculative points, but it is believed that no
one in this latter age would think it either Christian
or humane to banish a son for differing in opinion with
his father.

Israel was obstinate, his father inexorable; and
thus one of the holiest of all human ties was severed
forever. They parted never to meet again, and Israel
became a houseless wanderer on the face of the earth.
Impelled by zeal—perhaps aided by necessity, he
turned field preacher, trusting to the pious gratitude
of his followers for food and raiment. He became
accustomed in time to rely on the immediate intervention
of Providence for the relief of his wants; and
finally, in the temerity of his faith, married one of his
female disciples, at the moment that he was without a
home, and destitute of every hope save that which
animated his enthusiastic spirit.

That he was a firm believer in the faith he preached,
and that all his deeds and doctrines were the result of
conviction, cannot be reasonably doubted, for this was
demonstrated by the sufferings he endured for their
sake. It is not in human nature to sustain what has
been so often inflicted for difference of opinion on
points of faith, without being braced by that inward
conviction which seems to spring from the secret whisperings
of the divinity himself, and is the only test of
truth to which mankind can directly appeal.

[figure description] Page 031.[end figure description]

Hypocrites never become martyrs. This grand tribunal of
conscience is, without doubt, sometimes, nay often,
perhaps always, subject more or less to the influence
of self-love, the great moving principle, which is most
directly assailed by persecution. What costs us most,
is most dear to us; and that for which we sacrifice all,
is everything.

The faith of Israel Baneswright had grown up
against wind and tide, and the force by which it was
assailed only increased its power of resistance. It
passed the bounds of zeal, and had grown into a
rigid, inflexible bigotry, amounting to uncompromising
intolerance. Persecution makes bigots, and bigots
make persecution. Though his humanity might have
revolted from inflicting on others the sufferings he
himself encountered for a difference of opinion, still he
shrank with pious abhorrence from the idea of permitting
to others that toleration which he demanded for
himself and his followers. Stimulated at once, by the
ardor of conviction, the hope of being instrumental in
the conversion of a sinner, and of adding to his flock
one of somewhat higher rank than most of those who
as yet composed it, he at once with all that enthusiasm
which alone achieves miracles, commenced an attack
on the High-Church principles of his fellow prisoner.

The design of this tale is not to enter into polemical
discussions, which too often end in biting sarcasms
or bitter denunciations, equally unbecoming
the subject and the occasion. Suffice it to say, that
at the end of a long controversy, Harold remained

[figure description] Page 032.[end figure description]

unchanged, and Israel spent his eloquence in vain. As
usual in such cases, that feeling of fellowship which
arises from community in misfortune, subsided into a
coolness approaching dislike. Harold looked on his
companion as a bigoted exclusionist, and Israel, on
the other hand, considered him one of his persecutors.

Yet was Harold not a man who suffered his feelings
to be embittered so far as to make him forget the
common offices of humanity, which were never more
necessary than in behalf of these unhappy conventiclers.
The jailer was a dependent on Justice Shorthose,
and sought to gain his favor by adding insult to
the hardships he daily inflicted; and the petty underlings
followed their leader. Like all persons of little
and ignoble minds, they were over-zealous in emulating
their betters; and it is notorious that of all
tyrants there is none so intolerable as the slave.
These miserable tools who, after all, give the sharpest
sting to that whip of scorpions wielded by persecution,
were, or pretended to be, devotedly attached to
church and king, under whose broad mantle they
sheltered their petty malignity.

Harold soon perceived that the anxieties of his companion
were less for himself than his wife and daughter,
of whose destiny he could learn nothing since
their separation. He never failed to inquire of the
jailer and turnkeys as opportunity offered, but was
answered, for the most part, by bitter taunts, or significant
hints of what would happen on the return of
his worship the justice, who was absent hunting the

[figure description] Page 033.[end figure description]

Crop-ears. He could gain no information, but such as
served to increase his solicitude. There was in his
bosom a feeling still more powerful than that of enthusiasm.
He was devotedly attached to his wife and
daughter, who had shared his disgraces and sufferings,
and who merited his affection by their tenderness,
patience and devotion. He pined for their society,
and all his prayers were for them.

Nor was Harold without his troubles. On being
lodged in prison, he debated within himself whether to
apprise his aged father, who was laboring under the
weight of years, as well as of a long protracted infirmity
which was dragging him by inches down to the
grave. The good man had lost his buxom helpmate,
years before our history commences. The decayed old
trunk had outlived the verdant vine that twined around
it, and now stood bare and desolate, nodding to its
fall. Though aware that his sudden disappearance
would excite the most painful apprehensions, at home,
Harold also knew that such was the bigoted devotion
of his father to church and state, that he would never
forgive his son for attending a conventicle. After long
reflection, however, he decided to send to his father,
partly to relieve his worst apprehensions, partly in the
hope his interference might procure his release.

For some days he could procure no messenger, it
being contrary to directions of Justice Shorthose for
any one to carry a letter or message from a Crop-ear.
Nearly a fortnight elapsed, and his anxiety to hear
from home had become in the highest degree painful,

[figure description] Page 034.[end figure description]

when one day, on repeating his solicitations to be
allowed to send a message to his father, the jailer
informed him with a grin, the messenger would have
a long way to go, for his father on hearing he had
become a Crop-ear, had sunk under his afflictions
of mind and body, and been laid in his grave, a
martyr to the backslidings of his only son. Regardless
of the shock which this information occasioned, he
proceeded to inform him with a look of peculiar satisfaction,
that Master Justice Shorthose, having communicated
his apostacy to the proper authorities, a
heavy fine had been laid on the estate by the High
Commission Court, and a pursuivant, under special
supervision of his worship, was now in possession of
the house, till the fine was paid. Such were the consequences
resulting from accident, and the indulgence
of a mere whim of curiosity. Well may man humble
himself in the dust when he every day sees himself
the sport of trifles in themselves less than nothing.

Harold Habingdon, though abstractedly a stern
devotee of passive obedience and non-resistance, was
one of those men that cannot be crushed, and never
fall of themselves. Whatever might be his feelings,
he gave them no utterance; and when Israel attempted
to console him, he could scarcely perceive that he
required consolation. He remained unruffled as before.
But his outward seeming belied the spirit within. He
felt the death of his father, which left him, as it were,
alone in the wilderness of mankind; and the wrongs
inflicted on himself became more galling, from the

[figure description] Page 035.[end figure description]

reflection that they had shortened the days of his only
parent. It was now, for the first time in his life, that
he began to question in his inmost mind, the truth of
that creed which sanctioned such injustice, as well as
the legitimacy of the authority by which it was inflicted.
He had previously met with some of those famous
declarations of Parliament which so ably asserted the
rights of the people; and though they came directly
in conflict with the principles he had imbibed from his
earliest youth, still they had imperceptibly undermined
his prejudices without his being as yet conscious of
their operation. But having never heretofore suffered
from the practical consequences of these arbitrary
principles, their intrinsic deformity was not brought
home to him, and he had continued to bow implicitly
to the slavish doctrine of passive obedience and non-resistance.
Now, however, he began to feel the galling
of the chain, and what his reason had refused to sanction,
was realized by actual suffering.

Previous to his capture and imprisonment, he would
have shrunk from the idea of any limitation to the
authority of the king, but that of his own will, and
promptly taken arms in its defence, if necessary.
But now all the long cherished series of hereditary
impressions descending from generation to generation,
gathering new strength by the way, and centering in
his person, together with the precepts as well as example
of his father, and all those with whom he associated,
were gradually swept away. The conviction
was at length brought home to his door by sad

[figure description] Page 036.[end figure description]

experience, that as man is a being of imperfect virtue and
wayward will, that will should be circumscribed by
impassible barriers. He had not as yet become quite
a Republican; but the course of his reasoning as well
as feelings, was calculated to lead to that result in the
end.

His High-Church principles, too, were sensibly
shaken by the same personal experience of the consequences
arising from their practical application; since
he could not but perceive that the hardships they inflicted
on himself and others, were the joint issue of a
domineering church, and a despotic king, mutually
aiding each other in oppressing the people. He became
at length aware of what all history demonstrates,
that the worst species of tyranny is that which arrogates
to itself the sanction of Holy Writ, and seeks to
sway the reason of mankind by the infliction of corporeal
suffering, or the withholding of civil rights.
Of all despotisms that of ecclesiastical bigotry supported
by civil and military power, is the most rigid and
unrelenting.

While this mental metamorphosis was imperceptibly
going on, events bearing closely on the future destinies
of Harold had taken place. Master Justice
Shorthose had during this period been looking through
a perspective at the end of which stood tho old manor
house of Habingdon. The powers of this class of officers
had been greatly extended for the purpose of more
effectually executing the severe laws against the Puritans,
and they had become for the most part the petty

[figure description] Page 037.[end figure description]

despots of the fireside, entering houses, seizing persons,
and inflicting punishments on the lower orders
with as little regard to their rights, as the Star Chamber
and High Commission Courts paid to those of a
more dignified class.

The Justice had already attracted the favorable
notice of these renowned tribunals by his zeal and activity,
and received some of the crumbs that fell from
the great men's table. Thus his fervor was quickened
by the hope of gain, as well as power, the love of
which is, perhaps, more insatiable in the petty official
than the higher functionary. From the period of the
infliction of the heavy fine on Harold, Justice Shorthose
had thought he perceived a fair prospect of obtaining
possession of Habingdon, and in order to pave
the way to the gratification of his wishes, now changed
his deportment entirely towards his prisoner. He
took frequent occasion to express his deep regret at
having so precipitately seized and conveyed him to
prison, and at the failure of all his efforts to procure
his release. He insinuated the inflexible rigor of the
higher powers towards persons of his degree when in a
similar predicament, and the absolute necessity of
paying his fine as a preliminary to his release from
prison. He offered from pure regard to the memory
of his deceased father, for whom he had always
cherished the sincerest regard, to advance the necessary
sum, in case Harold found it difficult to raise it,
on the spur of the occasion; and finally, with the appearance
of great candor, advised him not to make

[figure description] Page 038.[end figure description]

himself more obnoxious to those who had the power
as well as the will to crush him to the earth, should
he prove refractory.

With a view to soften the cool rigidity of Harold towards
him, he was somewhat offensively officious in
pressing upon the young man various little indulgences;
and perceiving the strong interest he now began
to take in the misfortunes of Israel Baneswright
and his family, permitted his wife and daughter to
pass the day in the room allotted to himself and the
preacher. This arrangement of course brought Harold
into the society of Mistress Baneswright and her
daughter; and as usual, similarity of situation, aided
by community in misfortune, produced a more than
ordinary cordiality. Harold had never before paid
any special attention to the appearance of the latter,
and was not now particularly struck with her appearance.

Her face had little remarkable in its features, and
her figure, clothed in garments neither fashionable or
costly, presented in its sober simplicity an outline that
though not ungraceful, was without any special attraction.
Her complexion was very pale, and its expression
sad and touching. It was impossible to look
at her, without an inward conviction that she had been
inured to suffering. Her eyes were black, and though
glazed with sorrow, still at times lightened up with
sparkling flashes; and her hair, though disposed after
the ungraceful manner of her sect, was glossy as well
as exuberant. Perhaps the most touching of her

[figure description] Page 039.[end figure description]

attributes was a voice of mournful melancholy, sweet
as the sighing breeze; and when, after a few days'
association she spoke to Harold of the long series of
hardships her family had endured, it was with a sad,
touching pathos, exquisitely affecting. She was
pious, but never declaimed; devout without ostentation;
and resigned without insensibility.

For the first few days, she spoke but little, and
that little addressed to her parents. But soon perceiving
the deep interest Harold took in their misfortunes,
and at the same time sympathising with his
own, they gradually fell into an easy intercourse, like
that of brother and sister. They usually conversed
on the subject of their situation, which naturally led
to a communion of feeling, as their fortunes seemed to
have thus become strangely associated. In the course
of these conversations, Susan Baneswright perceived
with a sigh which she believed, and perhaps she was
right, originated entirely in spiritual considerations,
that Harold, though imprisoned as an accomplice, was
not one of her faith. Accordingly, by a tacit understanding,
they mutually avoided the rock on which
so many good feelings have been wrecked, and refrained
from all attempts to convert each other.

But with one whose zeal, like that of Israel Baneswright,
had been quickened instead of quelled by
persecution, it was next to impossible to be thus
domesticated day by day, without occasional allusions
to the cause of his sufferings. Without directly
addressing himself to Harold, he would speak of the

[figure description] Page 040.[end figure description]

persecutions himself and family had suffered, for following
the dictates of their conscience, and guiding
others into the path of righteousness. In the course
of his conversations he would sometimes enter into
details of miserable petty oppression, and wanton outrages
inflicted under color of law, that awakened all
the sympathies of his heart in behalf of these helpless
women, and excited the deepest indignation against
those who, under pretence of vindicating the gospel of
peace, outraged every principle of Christian benevolence.
By frequently listening to these revolting
relations, and at the same time associating with these
victims of ecelesiastical tyranny, his previous impressions
became greatly strengthened, and he at length
arrived at the conclusion that a persecuting church
was an instrument of man, not of his Maker.

As the time passed away, Harold began to find it
gradually becoming less irksome and oppressive. He
no longer pined for his lonely home, for he had now a
gentle, pleasing companion by day, and a subject for
nightly contemplation, when, as often happened, his
memory would recall the placid yet affecting countenance
of Susan, earnestly gazing on him with a look of
saintly sorrow, as if lamenting that though joined
together by accident and misfortune, they were separated
by their creeds. His latter days had been so
lonely and contemplative, and his thoughts so full of
abstractions, that hitherto those affections that form a
part of the very nature of man, had only been awakened
in imagination. It is scarcely to be wondered at,

[figure description] Page 041.[end figure description]

if being thus daily associated with a young woman,
who although not beautiful, was by nature fair, as
well as attractive, and whose situation called forth his
deepest sympathy; who by her sufferings had excited
his pity, and by her patient endurance called forth his
admiration—he should gradually be awakened to a
feeling more profound and lasting. He at last became
conscious of his situation, and would probably have
disclosed himself to Susan, but that being confined to
the same small apartment, and perpetually in the presence
of her parents, he could do nothing more than
resort to that universal language which seems equally
understood by all civilized, as well as savage beings—
by childhood, youth, and old age.

Meanwhile, Justice Shorthose had been sedulously
at work to induce Harold to permit him to advance
the money to pay his fine, on the security of a mortgage
on the estate of Habingdon. But he found the
young man every day becoming apparently more
indifferent about the affair, and on one occasion being
more earnestly pressed for a decision, Harold declared
with bitter solemnity, that he would rather rot in jail
than voluntarily submit to such illegal exactions, by
doing which he should virtually acknowledge their
justice. Master Shorthose who had only remitted his
zeal for a purpose he now perceived was unattainable,
hereupon resolved to bring matters to extremity. According
he caused Harold and the Baneswrights to
be brought before him for judgment, trial being out of
the question, as he judiciously observed, he himself

[figure description] Page 042.[end figure description]

having witnessed their delinquency. This is called
Lynch Law.

It was a scene at which humanity might weep, and
justice shut her eyes, had she not already been blind.
Harold and Israel stood stiff and lofty, while the wife
and daughter, with folded arms and downcast eyes,
awaited the result with pious resignation. The Justice
sat in all the stateliness of awkward dignity,
surrounded by his subordinate officers, grinning in
mockery, and having directed his clerk to read the law
against conventicles, gravely observed that being himself
a witness to the offence no other proof was required.
Here he was interrupted by Israel, who declared
no proof was necessary, as he acknowledged,
nay, gloried in his vocation, which he was fully
assured were imposed upon him by Divine ordination.

“Silence!” cried the Justice—“I must at least go
through the forms prescribed by statute, and sanctioned
by His Grace the Archbishop of Canterbury,
who is not only Primate of England, but Primate of
all England. I don't want your confession unless
accompanied by atonement and amendment. 'Slife,
Master Crop-ear, do you mean to insult the King's
representative, by pretending to confess what he saw
with his own eyes? Do you mean to insinuate that
I am blind and deaf too, that I did not see and hear
you? Your confession is an additional offence, and
shall be remembered in your punishment. But to the
point. Here, clerk, give me the book. So, now, most
reverend apostle, you say you are a preacher of the

[figure description] Page 043.[end figure description]

gospel. Will you promise to read this to your congregation—
that is to say if you have any next Sunday,
if I let you go?”

Israel took the volume, opened it, and finding it to
be “The Book of Sports,” as it was called, so obnoxious
to the rigid Puritans, hurled it from him with
indignation, at the same time exclaiming—

“Read it—read that accursed work of abominations—
the book of Satan, which converts the holy
Sabbath into a holiday for sinners! I'd rather read
one of those profane stage plays, some of which, and
these among the most abominable, are written by men
who call themselves ministers of the gospel. Let it
be read at Bartholomew Fair, for verily I will not pollute
my lips with such scum of iniquity.”

“Silence!” again roared the Justice, “or, though it
be not in the statute, I will, by virtue of that discretion
which appertains to me as being the representative
of both church and king, order that foul tongue of
yours to be cut off, that it may utter no more blasphemy.
Silence, I say, and listen to your sentence, as
becomes a contumacious sinner.”

“I will not be silent,” answered Israel, “it is my
calling to speak, and I will speak while I have breath
to declare the word of truth, and protest against the
devices of the ungodly. Lift not your beseeching
eyes to me, my poor shorn lambs,” said he, glancing at
his wife and daughter, “for I am called to fight the
good fight, and have girded my loins for the combat.
Be not afraid; a little while longer we may be hunted

[figure description] Page 044.[end figure description]

like wild beasts of prey; a little while longer we may
be insulted, buffetted, striped, imprisoned, and exposed
to worldly shame. But hold up your heads, my darlings,
and look to Heaven for that justice which yet
for a time, a very brief time, I trust, is banished from
this land which boasts of its freedom, while it seeks
to enslave the mind. He who is justice itself will
not forever permit injustice to triumph, for that would
carry with it the utter degradation of His creatures.

“Yea,” cried he, as his feelings gradually waxed
into enthusiasm—“Yea, verily the time is coming; it
is close at hand; it is already come. England is
about to smoke with blood—the blood not of bulls,
and goats, and sheep, but of men. For every wrong
shall be a victim; for every pang inflicted on the flock
of the Shepherd, He shall smite the aggressor with fire
and sword. For every drop of blood that hath been
drawn by stripes and mutilations, rivers shall flow
over the devoted land. For every earthly good we
must pay the purchase. But when the welfare of the
immortal soul is at stake—when not alone the salvation
of the present, but of countless generations yet to
come, is in imminent jeopardy; when our greatest
good—that which is as high above all sublunary blessings
as heaven is above earth—is to be attained, the
price, like the benefit, is inestimable. Their must be
martyrs to seal with their blood the sincerity of their
faith. Every sacred drop that flows from their veins
into the ground, nourishes some goodly seed of piety
into a stately tree that casts its shadow afar. Blood

[figure description] Page 045.[end figure description]

is the great libation of man, the seal of his bond of
faith.

“In times like these one martyr will not suffice.
When nations sin, nations must atone. There must
be hecatombs, thousands, yea tens of thousands of
victims, not as heretofore wasting on the burning pile,
or quivering on the rack, but offering up their lives on
the field of battle where alone the great contest is to
be decided, and crimes of rulers expiated by the blood
of their people. As for me, I am but a worm, and
they may tread on me if they will. If I am not
worthy of martyrdom, stripes may suffice. I am
ready, Master Justice. Be quick. The past has been
yours, the future is in stronger hands than those of
the archbishop and the king.”

This was poured forth with a vehemence and rapidity,
that for the time not only silenced the Justice, but
caused him to quail before the despised Crop-ear. He
soon, however, rallied his dignity, and as is natural to
little and malignant minds, revenged himself for his
temporary awe by exercising that discretionary power
the law allowed him, in the infliction of a severer
punishment on the person who had subjected him to
the mortification of being cowed by a Crop-ear, in the
presence of his officials.

“What!”—he at length exclaimed—“you are a
prophet as well as a priest? 'Slife, I suppose you will
set up for a king soon. Can your reverence, in the
spirit of prophecy, predict what is going to happen to
yourself, as you have what is going to befall the

[figure description] Page 046.[end figure description]

nation? Constable, take him to the Great Hall of the
Prison; give him thirty-nine lashes well laid on; slit
his nose, as his ears are non est; and then let him depart
in peace on his mission of grace.”

It may be as well to remark here, in explanation of
the choice of the prison hall, instead of the market
place, or some equally public situation, for the punishment
of Israel Baneswright, that of late the Justice
had been greeted with very significant tokens of public
dissatisfaction, on occasions of similar exhibitions of
Christian benevolence. Or, perhaps, he might have
become a convert to the opinion that appeals to the
imagination are much more effectual than to the
senses, and private executions far more effectual in
preventing crimes than public examples.

“But what shall I do with the women, your worship?”
asked the constable, grinning.

“O! I had forgot the flock in providing for the
shepherd. Let me see—hem—aye—yes—they shall
have the pleasure of looking on while the ceremony is
performing, and be punished by sympathy. Justice
should be tempered with mercy. As for you, Master
Harold, you will remain in jail till your fine is paid,
or the prophecy of the inspired preacher fulfilled.
Away with them.”

The wife and daughter of the unfortunate field
preacher remained throughout the whole of this wicked
mockery of justice in the dead silence of resignation,
or despair. They had undergone a long series of
suffering; and if providence does not always temper

[figure description] Page 047.[end figure description]

the wind to the shorn lamb, it often makes amends by
tempering the shorn lamb to the winds. They neither
wept, nor wrung their hands, nor cried aloud, though
their hearts were bleeding, and their limbs scarcely
able to support them. Yet amid all their sufferings,
and they suffered much, it was apparent that there
was within some potent influence which sustained
them in the hour of sore trial. Pale as the ghostly
shadow conjured up by fear or superstition; helpless
as the dove in the claws of the hawk, they awaited
the execution of the sentence.

Harold was almost maddened by mingled love and
indignation; but the conviction that his interference
would only serve to provoke the Justice to new inflictions
of petty malice, choked him into silence. He
looked on while the preparations were making, with a
terrible serenity, ever and anon casting a glance at
Susan Baneswright, which, even at this sad extremity,
sunk into her heart, and was long afterwards remembered.
Israel awaited the infliction of the sentence
with manly resignation; casting his eyes towards
heaven, and clasping his hands together, he exclaimed:

“Lord, Lord! how long wilt thou suffer this?”

The preparations were made; the scarred shoulders
of Israel exposed; the executioner brandished his cato'-nine
tails, and eagerly awaited the order to begin,
while the two desolate females placed their hands before
their eyes, that they might not behold what they
were thus compelled to witness.

At this moment a confused hum of many voices,

[figure description] Page 048.[end figure description]

followed by loud shouts mingled with angry threats,
and equally angry expostulations, was heard without
the prison. Anon, the sound of heavy blows, and the
tugging of men engaged in hot contention, succeeded
this war of words. In a few minutes the outer door
was assailed with thundering violence, and finally
yielding, gave entrance to a band of rustics armed
with iron crows, scythes, stakes, flails, bill-hooks, and
other rural weapons. Justice Shorthose was at first
struck dumb at this unceremonious intrusion; but
soon recovering his self-importance, demanded in a
tone of authority mitigated by a slight fit of trembling,
what they wanted, and how they dared approach his
presence accoutred in this manner. A stern-looking
man, bearing an appearance of plain respectability,
thus answered—

“We are come to release these poor harmless prisoners,
the victims of laws enacted by bigotry, and enforced
by tyrants. It depends on your present conduct
whether we are not likewise come to punish the
miserable instrument of oppression, though our object
is higher game.”

“'Slife!” answered the Justice, a little relieved
from the immediate apprehension of personal violence,
“'slife, sir, don't you know you are flying in the face
of the law and insulting the dignity of his sacred Majesty,
together with his Grace the Lord Archbishop of
Canterbury, by whose authority these pestilent Crop-ears
have been apprehended?”

“The king's most sacred Majesty,” said the other,

[figure description] Page 049.[end figure description]

with a grim smile, “and his Grace of Canterbury,
are by this time, I opine, flying from the face of an
injured people.”

“What mean you by that, sirrah? Do you dare to
spout treason against the king, in the presence of his
representative. I'll commit you, sirrah—you shall be
carted, whipped, ridden through the streets on a rail,
pilloried at the market place, lose your ears, and
be hanged, drawn and quartered into the bargain.”

A low, menacing murmur, accompanied by a suppressed
laugh, was the response to this outbreak of
the Justice, who was not a little daunted at the ill
success of his harangue, as well as the look of cool defiance
with which it was met by the person to whom
it was addressed. He valued himself not only for his
eloquence, but his singular acuteness in detecting a
culprit by his physiognomy, and often boasted he
could tell a rogue from sheer instinct. The confession
of the face, he maintained, was more conclusive
than that of the tongue. On this occasion, however,
he was altogether at fault. The intruders, with the
exception of their spokesman, were plain country people,
with ruddy cheeks, and faces expressive of nothing
but honest simplicity.

The person who appeared to be the leader of the
band paid no further attention to the Justice, but
quietly directed his followers to release all the prisoners
without exception, as it was impossible to distinguish
the innocent from the guilty. Accordingly
the keys were demanded of the jailer, who called all

[figure description] Page 050.[end figure description]

present to witness that he acted under durance. A
detachment being sent on this errand, Justice Shorthose
employed the interim in a last effort in behalf of
his majesty and the archbishop.

“'Slife, Master Crop—I say—that is to say—
what was I saying? I say Master What-d'ye-call'em,
do you know what you are about? You are
breaking the laws in twenty different places—the law
spiritual, the law temporal, the law civil, and the law
military. You are violating Magna Charta which
saith—hem—I say—what was I saying?”

“It matters little what you say,” quoth the other,
as the party detached for that purpose came in with
the prisoners, “we are but of the commonalty, yet
were always good, peaceable subjects, who respected
the law while it afforded us protection against authority
unjustly assumed, and exercised without mercy.
The despotism of the law may be as oppressive as that
of the will; and had not mankind sometimes resorted
to those rights which belong to our nature, and cannot
be alienated, the whole world would long since have
been inhabited only by slaves.”

“'Fore heaven, this is a new doctrine,” grumbled
the Justice, “it sounds very much like treason,
sprinkled with a little heresy, I think.”

“Treason? Know, Master Shorthose, when a
whole people rise against oppression there are neither
rebels nor traitors.”

The indignation of the Justice at the bold annunciation
of these doctrines overcame his fears. He

[figure description] Page 051.[end figure description]

denounced the intruders by every epithet of opprobrium
he could muster on the spur of the moment, and
his catalogue was pretty extensive; summoned the
posse comitatus in vain; and adjured his most sacred
Majesty to witness his total incapacity to resist these
lawless intruders. Little attention was paid to his
harangue, and the prisoners, among whom, of course,
were Israel and his family, quietly departed under the
escort of their deliverers. Harold, too, was offered his
liberty, but declined it coldly, not being able thoroughly
to overcome his reverence for the law, though
smarting under its infliction. As Israel left the hall,
he emphatically said to him, “assuredly we shall
meet again.” His wife bade him a warm, but chastened
farewell, but the daughter was silent. A single
look passed between Susan and Harold, as they parted,
whether ever to meet again depended on the chapter
of accidents, in which is contained a large portion
of the history of man.

p316-065 CHAPTER III.

A Short Foray into the Domain of History—Harold in great Jeopardy—
Interposition of Providence in the Disguise of Old Gilbert
Taverner—Justice Shorthose and his Officials Abscond—A Secret
concerning Susan Baneswright—Harold in great Perplexity, from
which He is at length Relieved by the Interposition of Dan Cupid—
He Becomes not only a Roundhead, but a Republican, and Abjures
Passive Obedience and Non-Resistance for ever.

[figure description] Page 052.[end figure description]

It is not our intention to enter into a history of the
times, any further than as the course of public events
exercised an influence over the fortunes of those who
figure in this narrative. If we may be permitted to
speak in our own behalf, we would, with all due deference
to the public taste, insinuate an opinion,
that the jumbling together historical facts and fictitious
occurrences in one inextricable tissue, cannot but
operate to the great prejudice of truth, by confounding
those readers, at least, who are not sufficiently qualified
to separate the actual from the imaginary occurrences.
And this is still more likely to embarrass the
reader, when the author is sufficiently familiar with
past events to preserve the semblance of history by
avoiding all anachronisms; by selecting for his actors
persons who really figured at the time; exhibiting a

[figure description] Page 053.[end figure description]

few of their leading characteristics, and being so correct
in many particulars that when he deviates into
fiction the reader is scarcely aware that he has got on
the ice, and is no longer walking on solid ground. It
is unhappily too true, that history is, for the most
part, but a reflection of the feelings and prejudices
of the writer, and therefore cannot be explicitly relied
upon as a faithful picture of past times or occurrences.
In its earliest stage it is a fable; in its progress
a romance—founded on fact; in its maturity it may,
perhaps, be relied on as a chronicle of events: but of
the real causes, and most especially of the secret motives
which actuated the prime agents who gave them
life and motion, the world can gather little from history
but contradictions leading to doubts which cannot
be solved. Still it is proper there should be some
standard of belief as to the past, and historical works
afford the best we have. It would, therefore, seem it
were better that they should not be mixed up and confounded
with fiction, or that when the writer is about
to give the rein to his fancy, he should candidly apprise
the reader, in order that he may be properly
prepared. The chaste muse of history should not be
dressed up in meretricious ornaments, but come forth
in all the simplicity of truth, without spot or blemish.
The most mischievous falsehoods are adulterated
truths. But we are delaying the courteous and impatient
reader, who will doubtless excuse our making a
slight inroad upon history, although it be against our
conscience. It is a great feather in the cap of an

[figure description] Page 054.[end figure description]

author, if, when doing what he thinks wrong, he can
prove clearly that he knows better.

In order to explain the sudden liberation of Israel
Baneswright and his followers, it is necessary to revert
to the crisis by which it was brought about.
The events are doubtless familiar to all, and therefore
a few words will suffice. The despotic pretensions of
James the First, though only those to which the English
nation had quietly submitted under the reigns of
his immediate predecessors, were attempted to be enforced
on a people who had undergone great changes
in the meantime. The despotism of Henry the Eighth
was as complete as that of William the Conqueror.
By becoming head of the church he had united the
civil and ecclesiastical powers of the state, in the exercise
of which he met with no opposition from a
succession of the most servile parliaments that ever
disgraced England; and by the suppression of religious
houses he had obtained a fund for purchasing a
venal nobility, which, in the long wars of York and
Lancaster, had lost all traces of principle or patriotism.
His successor was a child in leading strings,
who was followed by a woman, called “Bloody
Mary” by her embittered opponents, but who, we suspect,
was not half so bad as she has been represented,
and whose reign was a struggle between religious factions.
Elizabeth courted the people and bullied their
representatives. She effected popular measures, but
in general her acts were those of an absolute sovereign,
and she treated parliament with little more

[figure description] Page 055.[end figure description]

ceremony than her father, Henry the Eighth, who,
when that body ventured to hesitate about suppressing
the lesser monasteries, sent for the members, and told
them “he would have the bill to pass, or take off
some of their heads.”

But the reformation of religion was accompanied,
or rather preceded, by a revolution in the human
mind, which had been silently, slowly, and surely
advancing in knowledge and intelligence. Great
revolutions, destined to exert a lasting influence over
the condition of mankind, are the invisible agents of
Providence, operating unheeded and unsuspected until
ripe for execution. When all is prepared, the dead
calm which usually precedes the convulsion gives
place in an instant to the whirling tempest. The long
buried genius of change emerges to light full grown,
and the moment of its recognition is that of its triumph.
Henry the Eighth was merely the instrument.
The Reformation would have eventually conquered
without his aid. But the puny mortal who only
floats with the current, is often mistaken for the
omnipotent arm that directs the stream.

Reformations in the church are sure to be preceded,
accompanied, or followed, by an extension of the franchises
of civil liberty, because they both proceed from
the expansion of the human mind to which all creeds
must more or less accommodate themselves, if not in
substance, at least in outward forms of administration.
Hence, when in the reign of James the first the
Protestant religion became confirmed in its ascendancy

[figure description] Page 056.[end figure description]

in England, those political principles of freedom which
always grow up and strengthen in the struggle.
between contending parties, began to exhibit their
sensible operation. The despotic claims of James were
discussed, questioned, and at length opposed; those of
his successor resisted by Parliament, which at length
becoming assured by repeated examples, that no faith
could be placed in the concessions of the king, and that
the only possible mode of retaining those rights he
had only conceded through necessity or fear was to
divest him of the means of reclaiming them, determined
to resort to the last appeal if necessary. The
question whether the command of the Militia should
be at the disposal of the Parliament or the King
brought matters to the issue. Neither dared to yield;
for the command of the militia in the absence of a great
standing army which has since superceded it in England,
would in all probability finally decide the contest.

The only alternative was acquiescence or war.
The King erected his standard at Nottingham, and
Parliament passed an ordinance for raising an army,
accompanied by a vote of supply. England was in
arms against herself. The elements of civil and religious
dissention were in utter confusion. Arms superseded
laws, and the civil authorities could no longer
preserve the peace of communities. This was most
especially the case in the remote districts which were
the scene of events just related, where dissenters
abounded; and no sooner did the news arrive that
civil strife had actually commenced, than a party of

[figure description] Page 057.[end figure description]

those who had frequently attended the exhortations of
Israel Baneswright, gathered together, proceeded to
the jail, and released him, as set forth in the preceding
chapter. Thus it is that extremes beget each other,
and that the abuse of authority is the parent of
anarchy. Having thus briefly, we hope, prepared the
way for what has passed, and what is to come, we
shall resume the thread of our story.

After the departure of the Crop-ear and his followers,
Justice Shorthose solaced his rage and mortification,
by divers insulting hints and innuendoes directed
against Harold, now the residuary legatee of his wrath,
and who he was pleased to consider a party in the
outrage against his most sacred Majesty in the person
of his doughty representative. As yet ignorant of the
commencement of hostilities—for news did not then
travel by telegraph—he resolved to make Harold the
scape-goat for all the rest, and ordering him to be
safely locked in his old quarters, left the prison full of
sound and fury.

Harold passed the remainder of that day and the
ensuing night without food, except for the mind, and
that was somewhat bitter. Accustomed to the daily
society of Israel and his family, his present loneliness
lay heavily on his spirits; and his probable eternal
separation from Susan added greatly to its weight.
He anticipated new acts of oppression from the discomfited
Justice, and prepared himself for still greater
exertions of fortitude and patience. From the period
of the departure of Justice Shorthose, not the sound of

[figure description] Page 058.[end figure description]

a human voice, or passing footstep, had he heard.
The prison was as silent as the mansions of the dead,
and the striking of the great clock in the hall was the
only sound that met his ear. He passed a sleepless
night, and rose in the morning with a feeling of
depression he had never experienced before.

The customary hour of breakfast passed without
its appearance; the dinner hour came, but no dinner;
and he laid himself down at night under an apprehension
that made his blood run cold, having tasted
neither food nor water throughout the day. In the
meantime the dead, dreary silence continued, and he
felt like one abandoned by the world. During the
lapse of his second weary, wakeful night, he at times
fancied he heard the distant shouts of human voices
in the town, but they soon died away, and even the
barking of the dogs ceased, as the black clouds encircled
the moon and hid its silvery light.

The next day, and the next, passed in the same
manner, with the same dead silence, and the same
abstinence. He now began to experience the usual
effects of protracted hunger and thirst. When he
attempted to walk his limbs faltered, his head grew
dizzy, his sight vague, and objects indistinct. By
degrees his brain waxed weak and visionary, for lack
of that which is equally necessary to body and mind.
A crowd of indistinct images arose, which, though
they prevented his dwelling intensely on the reality of
his situation, aggravated his sufferings by the addition
of imaginary auxiliaries. His repose was nothing

[figure description] Page 059.[end figure description]

but half-waking, half-sleeping dreams, of chrystal
springs and plenteous feasts, so that he might be said
only to awake to the tortures of Tantalus.

While his strength enabled him, he watched constantly
at the only window of his room, which looked
into the interior, where was a small yard, enclosed
with a high, massive wall, beyond which lay the open
fields. But not a soul was stirring there. Sometimes
he knocked at the door with all his strength, and called
for aid. But no one heard, and no one answered.
He seemed destined to perish by famine, alone in the
midst of his fellow creatures. Every day added to
his weakness, and at the same time his restlessness;
for though ordinary hunger seeks oblivion in sleep,
there comes a time when the starving wretch is deprived
of that solace; when the brain becomes affected,
and the powers of nature being exhausted, death,
not sleep, is the only refuge.

On the morning of the sixth day, after a sleepless
night, during a great part of which all consciousness
of present suffering was lost in the medley of horrors
that floated in the chaos of his unsettled brain, as he
lay on his miserable pallet in that state of almost unconsciousness
which happily accompanies a mind and
body exhausted by extreme suffering, he was recalled
to a sense of his situation, by fancying he heard the
footsteps of some person along the narrow passage
outside of his door. The instinct of nature, rather
than any distinct perception of his position, roused
Harold to a last effort. He called out in a feeble

[figure description] Page 060.[end figure description]

voice, and essayed to rise from his bed; but no answer
was returned, and the footsteps died away in the
distance. Again he relapsed into his former state,
and sank down on the bed from which he had partly
risen. After an interval of a few minutes, he distinguished
the sound of returning footsteps, and, as
he imagined, the jingling of keys. Hope now re-animated
his waning strength, and he had managed to
raise himself so as to lean against the wall, when he
heard the turning of a key and the grating of hinges,
as the door opened. He was too weak for joy; but
the sudden revulsion of his feelings overpowered him;
a film came over his eyes, and he sank down in a
state of almost complete insensibility.

He fancied he heard some one calling him by name
in a voice hallowed by long past remembrances, and
though he strove to answer, his words died away in
inarticulate murmurs. By degrees the film passed
away from before his eyes, and he thought he perceived
a figure bending over him, whose face seemed
familiar. The process of returning recollection was
very slow; for nature was almost exhausted, and
hung to life by a single hair. But the voice of one
lamenting over his sad condition, that voice of kindness
and sympathy which can almost call us back
from the grave, was at length recognized as that of a
grey-headed domestic, whose life, together with that
of a long line of forefathers, had been passed under
the roof of Habingdon. Harold addressed him in a
feeble whisper, and the old man, comprehending his

[figure description] Page 061.[end figure description]

situation, procured refreshments, which were cautiously
administered, until in due time he was conveyed
to his home.

Many days elapsed before Harold recovered sufficiently
to leave his bed, and totter to the window,
there to inhale the sweet morning air, and enjoy the
beauties of what almost seemed a new world spread
out before him. Every object appeared invested with
a new and inexpressible charm, and the music of the
birds was as the voice of long lost friends welcoming
him home again. In the course of his convalescence
he learned the mystery of his unaccountable desertion
in prison, which at times he had ascribed to the malice
of Justice Shorthose. But with all his manifold
offences the Justice was innocent of any intention of
starving his prisoner. He did not scruple at inflicting
stripes, and his conscience would go to the length of
slitting noses, or cutting off ears; but to do him justice
starvation was beyond the sphere of his depravity,
which, in fact, proceeded less from nature than the
union of sectarian zeal with a vehement desire to
make himself agreeable to the higher powers that set
him the example.

The truth is, that on quitting the prison, after the
forcible abduction of his prisoners, he had been so
hooted and pelted by the townsmen, who had many
old scores to settle with him, and were withal incited
to violence by the example of King and Parliament,
that he was fain to seek shelter in the house of a relative,
whence he made his escape in the middle of the

[figure description] Page 062.[end figure description]

night. To make an end of this important personage,
who will appear no more in our history, we will
shortly state for the gratification of the curious reader,
that he remained the most loyal of subjects until
after the battle of Naseby, when he turned Round-head,
cropped his hair, prayed, not in secret, and exhorted
vociferously. Thus he continued till the restoration,
when, happily shielded by his insignificance
from the consequences of his backslidings, he came in
with the full tide of loyalty, and was rewarded by his
grateful sovereign after the manner of that merry
monarch.

The Justice having absconded, the jailor, and other
officials who had become equally distasteful to the
townsmen, followed his example, and departed without
taking leave. Thus the prison was left solely to
the occupancy of Harold, who remained unnoticed,
either because no one suspected his being there, or
that he was completely forgotten in the ferment of
that civil commotion which might now be said to monopolize
every thought and feeling. That he did not
actually perish from hunger, was owing to a mere accident,
or as Israel Baneswright always affirmed, a
special interposition of Providence. However this
may be, thus it was.

The old house of Habingdon on being taken possession
of by the pursuivant, was cleared of all the servants
except one Gilbert Taverner, the old household
factotum, who was permitted to remain partly for the
purpose of being useful, partly to save appearances.

[figure description] Page 063.[end figure description]

The others found a home or employment elsewhere,
and did not trouble themselves about the affairs of
Harold. As to old Gilbert, he shrank with the natural
timidity of servitude from meddling with what
did not come within the sphere of his household
duties, and most especially from all intercourse with
Master Justice Shorthose, who was as much the terror
of good, as evil doers. He was a perfect man machine,
and had been for at least half a century moving
exactly in the same circle, doing the same things, at
the same hour, and in the same order of succession,
without thinking of any other earthly matter. He
revolved like a planet within the inflexible sphere of
attraction, and it is said never forgot to strap his master's
razor but once in his youth, when he was sorely
smitten with the milkmaid. Gilbert was totally ignorant
of the abdication of the Justice, the town being
six miles from Habingdon, a distance he never travelled
even in imagination.

Thus matters stood while Harold was suffering the
most painful infliction to which man perhaps can be
doomed, when a stranger made his appearance in the
town, inquiring for Master Harold Habingdon, and
proceeded towards the residence of that young man,
according to the directions given. The first person he
met on arriving there was Gilbert, to whom he presented
a letter from Israel Baneswright, for his master.
Gilbert referred him to the prison, but was
answered by the messenger, that the prison was
empty, and the Justice as well as his officials run

[figure description] Page 064.[end figure description]

away. The old man was somewhat startled from his
orbit at this information, and it was sometime before
he could comprehend the exigencies of this new predicament.
At length rallying his dormant faculties,
he bethought himself of consulting the messenger
who sagely advised him to proceed forthwith to town
and inquire what had become of the young gentleman.
By this time Gilbert had so far recovered himself, as
to detect in the costume, close cropt hair, and nasal
twang, a veritable Roundhead in the person of his
visitor. As a faithful servant, he felt himself bound
to follow in the footsteps of his deceased master, and
was accordingly a devoted disciple of the doctrine of
passive obedience and non-resistance. He waxed exceedingly
wroth and bitter on thus recognizing one of
the king's enemies; absolutely refused to receive the
letter, marched into the house, and slammed the door
in the face of the messenger, who could just distinguish
the word Crop-ear, uttered with bitter emphasis.
Hereupon he threw the letter into an open window,
and departed, chanting a godly hymn in stout defiance.

When Gilbert Taverner became cool again, his
mind reverted to young Master Harold who had succeeded
his father in the affections of the old man.
He straightway entered into a deep and rather confused
cogitation concerning the course proper to be
pursued on this occasion, the result of which, though
it went greatly against the grain, was a determination
to follow the advice of the Crop-ear, and proceed to
the town for the purpose of ascertaining the fate of

[figure description] Page 065.[end figure description]

Harold. But still he shrunk from this daring exploit,
and ever and anon relapsed into doubt or despair.
“I am a perfect stranger in these remote parts,”
thought he, “and who will clean the knives, or set
the table, while I am away at such a distance?”—for
be it known that Gilbert, though his old master was
dead, and his young master no one knew where, continued
to go through the regular course of his duties,
from the mere force of habit.

Thus he remained as it were at a stand amid conflicting
eddies. He whistled, and fidgetted about in
great perplexity what course to pursue; but at length
habit got the better of all competitors, and he insensibly
found himself occupied as usual in the daily routine
of household duties. Having gone through
these with satisfaction to himself, he was at leisure to
attend to the affairs of his young master, and after a
deal of hesitation accompanied by abundance of wry
faces, at length resolved to adopt the suggestion of the
Crop-eared messenger. Accordingly, having secured
the silver spoons—a family heirloom—locked the door,
and put the key in his pocket, he procceded to town
for the purpose of ascertaining the fate of Harold. The
result of his mission has already been detailed.

The letter from Israel Baneswright was filled with
fervent exhortations to join heart and hand in maintaining
civil and religious liberty, which were now to
stand or fall together. It was written with all that
fiery eloquence of enthusiasm which, when excited
in a righteous cause is irresistible, and when in that

[figure description] Page 066.[end figure description]

of error, potent for mischief. But not a word was said
about his wife and daughter, nor did the date of the
letter give any indication of the place of his sojourning.
The mind of Harold had, during his convalescence,
dwelt intently on his present situation and
future prospects. The uprising of the people in the
neighborhood had frightened away the pursuivant
who held possession of Habingdon, and the death of
his father had left him master of himself as well as
his property. He was, on one hand, swayed by the
powerful influence of hereditary feelings or prejudices,
call them what you will, as well as by the habits of
his life, the bias of education, and the force of example;
on the other by having not only seen, but
suffered under the abuse of power in his own person;
doubts, almost amounting to conviction of the legitimacy
of that authority which could be perverted to
the purposes of oppression; and what was perhaps
still more influential in turning the scale, a quiet,
deep-rooted affection for Susan Baneswright, his fellow
sufferer under oppression.

But Harold possessed a weighty and capacious
mind; a temper though warm and energetic, qualified
by the power of restraint and conviction. He was
accustomed to deliberate long and coolly on subjects
of great concern; and it was only when thoroughly
convinced, that he acted with a prompt enthusiasm
little suspected of forming the basis of his character.
He drew the bow and took aim deliberately, but the
arrow once sped, could never be recalled.

[figure description] Page 067.[end figure description]

While still in doubt as to his future course, he was
surprised by a visit from Israel Baneswright, who
seemed to have been wrought up to a state of excitement
amounting to wild fanaticism. He scarcely allowed
time for the usual salutations, when he entered
on the only subject that occupied his heart.

“Why art thou here, O man of little patriotism,
and still less faith? Is this a time for a son of England
to skulk within the walls of his father's house,
while others are abroad in the field, shedding their
blood in defence of those rights of which if secured he
will equally partake, and which if lost must render
him an abject slave to the will of a fellow worm? Is
this a time to stand an idle spectator, while the
great question is about being decided, whether or
not the mind and body shall be equally crushed
under the heel of power, and the reason of man be
no longer applied to the concerns of either earth or
Heaven?

“Sluggard, why standest thou here all the day
idle? Dost thou not know that thy mother is struggling
in the arms of the ravisher, and calling on her
children to rescue her? All is at stake and thou art
doing nothing. Awake! arise!—Gird on the sword;
or if thou canst not wield a sword, go forth like David
with a sling and a stone—or go forth with thy naked
arm, for the Great Jehovah is on thy side, and the
courageous, determined spirit is more potent than the
sharp-edged steel, in the hands of the Philistines.”

To this fiery exhortation Harold calmly replied,

[figure description] Page 068.[end figure description]

“My friend, I have been long considering the subject,
and—

“Considering!” cried Israel impatiently—“Is this
a time for consideration, when a single battle, yea, a
single arm may decide the future fate of thee and
thine, and of every man that breathes in this oppressed
land—of millions living and countless millions yet
unborn? Dost thou stand here selfishly weighing thy
petty interests, and personal ease, against the freedom
and happiness, the bodies and souls of long generations
yet to come? Dost thou not know that the Bill of
Rights, the great charter, not of the nobles but the
people, hath already been sealed with blood—that the
blood of the righteous as well as that of the wicked
must flow in torrents ere it can wash away the sins
of the people and their rulers? A despotic king and
a persecuting church are now engaged in a desperate
struggle with an oppressed people; and when force is
resorted unto to bring about the ends of Providence,
force must decide the contest. Courage and patriotism
on the part of mortals is necessary to prove them
worthy the assistance of an almighty arm; for be assured
that miracles were never yet wrought in behalf
of those who were too base and degraded to help
themselves. Cowards can never be free, and man
must be inspired with the contempt of death, ere he
can hope to wrest the prize of liberty from the grasp
of the tyrant. Why art thou not in the stirrup and
the field?”

“Listen to me calmly, I beseech thee Master

[figure description] Page 069.[end figure description]

Baneswright,” replied Harold not unmoved, “on occasions
when we are about taking a decisive step—to
risk all—nothing should be decided rashly. I was
going to tell you that I have for some time been debating
with myself as to the course I should take—
whether to remain neutral—”

“Neutral!”—again interrupted Israel—“Neutral!
Dost thou, a worm of the dust, expect to look on in
peace while all around thee is in convulsions? Dost
thou hope to crawl into the ground, and there remain
quiet while the world is rocking with earthquakes?
The whirlpool is all about thee, and dost thou think to
float round and round in endless circles, without being
at length drawn into the vortex? Believe it not—hope
it not. Thou must take sides, or be buffetted by both
sides; and if neither conscience nor patriotism, neither
reverence for thy Maker, nor love to thy fellow
man can sway thy leaden purposes, look to thyself,
since self is thine only monitor, and be assured that
so long as this strife shall last, if thou dost not declare
for either Parliament or King, thou wilt fare like the
bat in the fable, and be despised and disclaimed by
both parties.”

“I was about to tell you,” said Harold, “that I
had made up my mind not to remain neutral.

“Well,” cried the other impatiently.

“That I had all but determined to take up arms in
behalf of the Parliament. But—”

“Hear me,” cried Israel, who could no longer rein
in the fiery steed on which he was mounted. “Hear

[figure description] Page 070.[end figure description]

me, young man, let me ask you one question, and be
thy answer without disguise. Dost thou not love my
daughter Susan?”

“I do,” said Harold eagerly, “with all my soul,
though I have never told her so.”

“Not with thy lips, perhaps; but there is another
language equally explicit. Suffice it that I noticed
the glances that passed between thee and my daughter
in prison, and more especially at parting. As a
parent it became me to question her on the subject,
and as a dutiful daughter, whose heart hath been
always open to her father, she acknowledged that
couldest thou be persuaded to walk in the way of righteousness,
if it pleased Heaven, she would willingly live
and die thy helpmate—nay, interrupt me not—but
hear what I say, Harold Habingdon. If thou provest
craven to the just and holy cause now at issue in the
land; and above all, if thou shouldest seek fellowship
with its enemies, in the sight of Heaven I solemnly
declare, thou shalt never see my daughter more. No
son of Belial shall be a son of mine. Farewell—I
shall know of thy decision. If right, thou shalt hear
from me, and peradventure we may smite the Philistines
together. If wrong, we never meet again except
in mortal fight, for if necessary I too will become a
man of blood, in so far that I will strengthen men of
blood with my exhortations.

Saying this, Israel suddenly departed without awaiting
any reply, leaving Harold agitated by a whirlwind
of conflicting feelings. But this did not last long, and

[figure description] Page 071.[end figure description]

the tempest soon subsided into the calm of determination.
He resolved to join the Parliamentary forces, as
soon as the necessary preparations could be made.
Though his reason in a great measure coincided with
this decision, it cannot be denied that it was Susan
Baneswright, and not the exhortations of her father,
that decided the course of his future life. The confession
of that gentle girl from this time guided his
sword, and animated his spirit through all the sad
vicissitudes of civil strife. The die was at length
thrown by love, who, casting himself into the wavering
scale, outweighed all other considerations, and the
cause of loyalty kicked the beam. Hitherto he had
been only the cotemporary of past ages; henceforward
he became associated with the present and the future.

p316-085 CHAPTER IV.

Harold Joins the Parliamentary Forces—the Fortunes of War—He
Makes Acquaintance with a Man of whom there is but One Opinion,
and of Another of whom there are Many—Scene on the Field of
Battle, and Exit of Israel Baneswright—Change from the Field of
Blood to the Fields of Rural Life—Cœlebs in Search of a Wife—
Finds by Chance what He Missed in Seeking.

[figure description] Page 072.[end figure description]

During the somewhat tedious recovery of Harold,
and his subsequent irresolution, both parties had been
engaged in active hostilities, unaccompanied by any
decisive result. The battle of Edgehill had been
fought with doubtful success, and the intervals of
action were occupied by negociations in which, it is
believed neither party was sincere. Mutual propositions
for peace were made and declined under various
pretences, and it had become evident to those who
looked beneath the surface, that the contest could only
be decided by the sword. Accordingly, both parties
braced themselves for the final issue.

The Earl of Essex was at the head of the Parliamentary
forces, and had already excited the jealousy
of the leaders of the House of Commons, by his inactivity,
as well as want of vigilance. Thus far the result
of the struggle seemed extremely doubtful. The

[figure description] Page 073.[end figure description]

King had been successful in Cornwall, and other parts
of the kingdom: misunderstandings subsisted among
the Parliamentary generals, who of course did not
cordially co-operate: and it was daily becoming more
evident, that Essex, as well as several other noblemen
who had taken arms against the King, were not exactly
on the side of the people. Though ready to oppose
the despotic claims of Charles, so far as they interfered
with their own exclusive privileges, they were by no
means prepared to strip him quite bare of his prerogative;
and without doubt, by this time began to perceive,
or at least suspect, that if finally successful, the
popular leaders would not stop at a redress of grievances.
In short, they began to fear for themselves and
their order. A people struggling for freedom can
never place any just reliance in those who monopolize
in a great degree the benefits of the abuse of power;
nor should they ever choose them for leaders. The
chief of a revolution which has for its object the
attainment of equal rights, rather than a mere change
of dynasty, should be a child of the revolution, sharing
the sympathies, partaking in the grievances of the
people, and claiming a legitimate right to command,
not from superiority of rank, but of talents, vigor and
patriotism.

Harold had left home on horseback, placing his
domestic affairs in charge of honest Gilbert, who continued
to set out the dinner table every day at the
same hour, and in the same manner as if his master
was present, until at length, perceiving with great

[figure description] Page 074.[end figure description]

surprise, that no one attended, he relinquished the practice
in despair. It is said, with what truth we know not,
that he afterwards occupied the dinner hour in wandering
about the house as if looking for somebody that
was missing. The reader may perhaps question the
prudence of Harold in leaving his affairs in the hands
of old Gilbert. But it was in fact Hobson's choice; he
had neither kindred, acquaintance, or friend around
him; and in the confusion of the times, perhaps justly
concluded that upon the whole he might as well trust
to Providence and Gilbert.

The journey of Harold was devoid of incident or accident,
and he joined the Parliamentary forces, at that
time encamped on Turnham Green, under the Earl of
Essex. The royal army was close at hand, the King
having taken advantage of a negociation for peace then
in progress to make a rapid march upon the city of
London, in the course of which he surprised two regiments
of the hostile troops, which were cut off almost
to a man. Being admitted a private in a troop of horse
attached to the Train Bands, he at once entered on
active service. A battle was hourly expected, and
Skippon, the sturdy leader of the Train Bands, composed
of London apprentices, in anticipation of this event, took
occasion to address them in the following pithy and
characteristic words: “Come, my brave boys, let us
pray heartily, and fight heartily. I will run the same
fortunes and hazards with you. Remember the cause
is for God, for the defence of your wives and children.
Come my boys, let us pray heartily, and fight heartily.”

[figure description] Page 075.[end figure description]

Such was the spirit which animated a large portion
of the Parliamentary army, and it is not to be wondered
at that they ultimately conquered. Religious
enthusiasm had been arrayed against the sentiment
of loyalty; and devotion to the King was met by the
far more powerful influence of devotion to a higher
power. The love of liberty was combined with the
enthusiasm of religion, and the two united proved
irresistible.

That a great majority of the Puritans of that age
were sincere in their professions, notwithstanding the
charge of hypocrisy so often urged against them by
the Loyalists, and reiterated by succeeding English
historians, we think can scarcely be doubted. Cromwell
may have been a hypocrite, though this appears
extremely doubtful; but his followers were unquestionably
sincere, as they proved on various occasions by
freely sacrificing themselves on the field of battle. If
any additional proof be required, let us cast our eyes
towards the band of Pilgrims, who sacrificed their
country, home, kindred, friends, and all those associations
of early days that cling closest to the heart of
man, to seek the far distant wilds of a new world; to
cope with danger, death and famine; to struggle with
the wintry winds; to war with the fury of wild beasts
and the wiles of savage men; to labor in the fields,
and worship in churches with arms in their hands, and
meet the trying exigencies of a keen, inhospitable climate,
divested of all the common comforts of life. To
doubt the sincerity of these were to question the faith

[figure description] Page 076.[end figure description]

of the primitive martyrs, who offered up their lives on
the wheel or at the stake, and sped their last breath
in songs of triumph.

But to resume our narrative. To the disappointment
and disgust of his army, Essex, it is said by
the advise of some of the noblemen who served under
him, strenuously opposed by that of a majority of the
others, instead of offering battle to the King while facing
him for several hours, suddenly wheeled about, and
retreated to London, without being pursued. His subsequent
conduct was such as to increase the suspicions
already entertained by his partisans, and inspire the
enemy with new hopes of final success.

Without entering into a detail of the events which
succeeded, and in which Harold was not immediately
concerned, we shall content ourselves with noticing the
skirmish of Chalgrove Field, in which the conduct of
Essex was again equivocal and unsatisfactory. An
excursion of Prince Rupert from Oxford, the headquarters
of the King, had alarmed the neighboring
counties, and the Parliamentary forces were eagerly
following him, as he retreated laden with booty.
Among the foremost on this occasion was the patriot
Hampden, who though an officer of foot, joined a
body of cavalry of which Harold was one. They overtook
the Prince at Chalgrove Field, and in their eagerness,
advancing too rapidly, were environed by the
enemy and cut to pieces. Almost at the first discharge,
Hampden had been shot in the shoulder with a brace
of bullets, and one of the prisoners to the Royalists

[figure description] Page 077.[end figure description]

reported that he had seen him early in the action,
slowly quitting the field, his head hanging down, and
his arms resting on the neck of his horse.

Harold, too, had been rather severely wounded, and
on leaving the field, it so chanced that in his progress
towards the main body of the patriot army, he overtook
Hampden, who appeared on the point of dropping
from his horse. Though in little better plight, he endeavored
to assist him to the utmost of his power; but
the strength of both failed them rapidly, and seeing a
comfortable-looking farm house at a little distance,
somewhat retired from the road, he proposed to attempt
to gain it before they became entirely exhausted. Accordingly
thither they proceeded, and were kindly received
by the master of the house, who was devoted to
the same cause, though too aged to take an active part
in the struggle.

Prince Rupert, who generally lost by impetuosity
what he gained by valor, having succeeded in reaching
Oxford with his booty, while Essex was looking
on, the Parliamentary army remained master of the
field. The situation of Hampden and Harold prevented
their removal, and the latter found himself companion
in suffering with this illustrious patriot, during
the brief remaining period of his existence. Though
suffering exquisite pain he maintained a perfect abstinence
from all complaint, and apparently forgetting
himself thought only of his country. Being engaged
in the same cause, and fellows in suffering, they occasionally
communed with each other on the state of

[figure description] Page 078.[end figure description]

public affairs. At these times Harold listened with
respectful deference to the voice of wisdom and patriotism
proceeding as it were from the grave, for it became
every moment more evident that his hours were numbered,
and were but few. The day preceding his death,
when the weakness of nature had overborne the capacity
for suffering, the great patriot of England, after
long silence and deep reflection, addressed Harold, as
follows:

“The die is cast, and my earthly career is over. I
could have wished to bear my part in the great contest
now at issue, and to have seen the final result, whether
successful or not; for I did not ask myself when
I took arms against my sovereign but the single question,
whether or not our cause was just. It was
enough for me that England was oppressed, and that
all men have a natural right to resist oppression however
sanctioned by precedent, or hallowed by time.
Antiquity is no warrant for abuses; on the contrary
the longer a nation has suffered them, the greater reason
they should be relieved as soon as possible.”

After pausing a few minutes to recover breath, he
proceeded—

“But I am called away, as it were, at the dawn of
morning, perhaps in mercy that I may not see the
darkness of the night that may succeed. For I will
not conceal from you, my young companion in calamity,
that my hopes diminish, in proportion as the
prospect of a successful issue in the strife of arms increases.
I do not fear the people, but their leaders;

[figure description] Page 079.[end figure description]

for the people are ever right, except when deceived by
those they trust, and always successful, except when
betrayed. But there are among us wolves in sheep's
clothing, who I suspect will betray the flock to the
midnight robber. As might be expected—for such is
ever the mixture of liberal and selfish motives, in all
the great, as well as little affairs in which man is the
instrument—the noblest motives are often mingled
with the meanest. Patriotism, which is the highest
of earthly influences, is profaned by an association
with selfishness, the meanest of them all.

“Already I perceive increasing symptoms of alienation
among some of our chief leaders, and those, too,
whose rank and wealth give them the most extensive
influence; struggles among others of meaner rank,
for the spoils even before they are won; and a general
want of that concert of action, if not of opinion, which
from first to last, in all past time, has been the bane
of all parties without an acknowledged head, to whom
long established laws, and immemorial custom, have
prepared men to be obedient. The King is weak, if
not unprincipled, and in the hands of still weaker and
more wicked councillors. There is no longer any confidence
to be placed in his word, which is the only
bond of those who claim to be above the law. He will
lose his cause, for he knows not how to fight or negociate;
to make war or peace. We shall, in all human
probability, gain the power to do what I and some
others had in view, when forced to seek redress by the
sword; but I greatly fear it may be so abused by

[figure description] Page 080.[end figure description]

contending factions, attaining a temporary ascendancy,
that the people wearied and disgusted by repeated
disappointments, and sick of the struggles of leaders,
whose incapacity will be only equalled by their ambition,
will at length be wrought upon to return like the
dog to his vomit, and restore without reservation the
same power to the same despot by whom it was
abused.

“If such should be the case—which Heaven avert!
it will speedily be followed ere long by another revolution,
the offspring of the first; and England will be
again doomed to pay a second price for a blessing she
heedlessly threw away. Thus, my young friend, we
who shed our blood will not shed it in vain. It will
not, like the rivers of the desert, sink into the earth
without yielding either flowers or fruits; its product
will eventually be the enjoyment of a rational liberty,
which could not have been obtained without martyrs.
With this conviction I die, and with it I die content,
leaving my motives, acts, and opinions, to the judgment
of posterity.”

These sentiments were uttered at intervals, as his
exhausted strength permitted, and when finished, the
dying patriot sank exhausted on his pillow, where he
lay some hours without another word. Thus he quietly
passed away, apparently without pain, and without
fear. The Royalists exulted in his death, which had
rid them of their most formidable enemy; while the
opposite party mourned it as the loss of their best friend.
Like Washington, he has united the suffrage of the

[figure description] Page 081.[end figure description]

world in his favor. Posterity has but a single voice in
speaking of Hampden, who at one time seemed to concentrate
in himself the spirit of the nation, and
even the historian of the Revolution, himself a courtier,
as well as a loyalist, who seldom ascribes other
than sinister, or selfish motives for the conduct of
friend or foe, has been compelled to yield to his talents
and patriotism the highest meed, that of unwilling
praise.

The recovery of Harold was slow and gradual; and
it was not until the opening of the next campaign that
he entered on active service, when he found great
changes had taken place in the Parliamentary army.
The self-denying ordinance, as it was called, had excluded
a class of officers, whose zeal, if not fidelity,
had been suspected; but an exception was made in
favor of Oliver Cromwell, who was then at the head of
the army in fact. He had rapidly risen to distinction,
by a series of successful exploits; and it was the fortune
of Harold, who had been promoted to the command
of a troop of horse, to be frequently brought into
contact with one of the most extraordinary men of
that or any other age. Observing the quick decision,
as well as fearless courage of Harold, on various occasions
of great exigency, Oliver attached him to his
person before the end of the campaign, during the
course of which Harold studied his character intensely,
only to become more profoundly puzzled by its apparent
inconsistencies.

The real character of Cromwell is still a mystery—

[figure description] Page 082.[end figure description]

partly from its own deep profundity, partly from the
bitter prejudices that are awakened in forming a
judgment. Whether a hypocrite, or an enthusiast; a
patriot, or a mere creature of selfish ambition, is a
question that will probably never be decided. Assuredly,
however his sincerity or his patriotism may
be questioned, none can doubt his qualifications as a
soldier, or his abilities as a statesman; and the most
loyal Englishman when he denounces him as a rebel
and a traitor, should bear in mind, the successful vigor
with which he asserted the honor of England, and
caused the most potent monarchs of his time to crouch
at his feet. England owes him more than a host of
her legitimate monarchs combined can justly claim,
and if he accepted the sovereignty he wielded it nobly.

Though leader of a band of stern enthusiasts, who in
their abhorrence of the “Book of Sports,” had perhaps
fallen into the opposite extreme of sour austerity; and
though he himself set the example in zeal, as well as
sobriety, yet were there frequent occasions in which
he deviated into downright buffoonery. Though in
public he was grave and reserved, in his family, and
among his friends, his conversation was familiar and
diverting. He indulged in practical jokes; he loved
the society of men of wit, and his domestic chaplain,
Jeremy White, was a great humorist. A grave old
chronicler says, “Oliver Cromwell, the Protector, loved
a good voice and instrumental music well; and when
Mr. James Quin, a student of C. C. Oxford, a good
singer, was introduced to him, he heard him sing with

[figure description] Page 083.[end figure description]

great delight, liquored him with sack, and in conclusion
said, `Mr. Quin, you have done well, what shall
I do for you?' To which, Mr. Quin made answer,
with great compliments, (of which he had command
with great grace,) `That your Highness would be
pleased to restore me to my student's place,' which
the Protector did accordingly, and he held it to his
dying day.”

Oliver's jokes were sometimes rather rough, it must
be acknowledged. He would occasionally, when he
suspected any intrigue was going on in the army, invite
his inferior officers to an entertainment, and in
the midst of their jolity, order in a company of footguards,
with beat of drum, to whisk the dishes away,
after the manner of Doctor Pedro Positive de Snatchaway.
While this was in progress, Oliver pelted them
with cushions, or put live coals into their boots and
pockets; and when thus thrown off their guard by
this sportful conviviality, would wheedle them out of
all such secrets as he desired to know. When it suited
his purpose, he spoke in a style so full of studied
perplexity, that no one could comprehend his meaning;
but when he wished to be understood, he delivered
himself with a force and vigor and clearness, that
caused it to be said of him that “His every word was
a thought.” But the real character of kings and
rulers, who are succeeded by those of opposite principles,
is seldom, if ever, fairly delineated, since historians
are either themselves infected with party prejudices,
or become the organs of those that are. Thus

[figure description] Page 084.[end figure description]

it has fared with Oliver Cromwell. The loyal English,
while they cannot help pluming themselves on
the successful vigor of his foreign policy, which laid
the foundation of their country's greatness, still consider
him a hypocrite and usurper; while the republicans
can never forgive him for having picked up a
sceptre that lay in his way, and appropriated to himself
an authority that had no owner.

Under this renowned leader, Harold entered on a
career of arduous service, the particulars of which will
be passed over, as more properly belonging to history.
Advanced to the command of a regiment of horse, at
the head of which he greatly distinguished himself at
the decisive battle of Naseby, it was once more his fortune
to be desperately wounded, near the close of the
action. He received a musket ball in the thigh, which
caused so great a loss of blood, that in a few minutes
he fell from his horse insensible, where he lay unheeded,
while his regiment rushed on in hot pursuit of the
flying Royalists, leaving the scene of conflict among
the living, peopled only by the dying and the dead.

Recovering his recollection after a brief interval,
and raising himself on his elbow with great difficulty,
he looked around with dim and glazed eyes,
rendered half blind by weakness and exhaustion.
Both armies had passed away, one in retreat, the
other in pursuit. Nothing remained but the wounded
and dying; nothing was heard but groans of anguish
and despair. Some lay stretched on the ground with
their pale faces turned to heaven; some writhing in

[figure description] Page 085.[end figure description]

agony, and tearing the earth; and here and there
might be seen an expiring victim half propped up by
a dead body. Enemies and friends now joined in one
melancholy concert of moans, and those who from fellow
subjects had become mortal foes, now once more
rested together in peace in the long armistice of death.

Thoughts like these occurred not to him, for his
own condition in a great measure occupied his mind,
and cooled his sympathy for others. He had managed
in a degree to stop the bleeding of his wound by the
application of a handkerchief; but a faintness like that
of approaching dissolution hung upon him, and as
evening was now at hand, he felt assured that if he
passed the night on the field, he would never see the
dawn of morning. From the consideration of his own
forlorn state, he was moved by a feeble voice exclaiming—

“Is there any one here that knows Ambrose Harefleet?”

“Yes,” answered another voice equally feeble.

“Who art thou?” asked the first.

“Thy brother, Miles.”

“The Crop-ear—the traitor to his king—and the
curse of his father”—cried the other, his voice strengthening
with indignation.

“And thou,” said Miles Harefleet—“The companion
of the sons of Belial, the persecutor of the faithful,
and the oppressor of thy fellow subjects. But alas!
this is no time to dispute the justice of our cause. The
appeal has been made to the sword and there is but

[figure description] Page 086.[end figure description]

one higher tribunal. Canst thou not crawl hither, for
I cannot come to thee to exchange forgiveness and die
together.”

The one brother managed, with many moans, to
crawl to the other, and they fell into each other's arms
weeping.

“I forgive thee, Miles, for drawing the sword against
thy king.”

“And I forgive thee, Ambrose, for drawing thine
against the people. But enough of this bickering.
Though we have of late lived in discord, let us die
in peace. Let us remember we are brothers; one
mother bore, one bosom nourished, one country sustained,
and one God will judge us both. To-day we
have met in mortal fight, to-night we shall lay down
in peace together. Alas! my dear wife and children,
and my dear country—what will become of ye all?—
Brother! brother! give me your hand, I am going.”

The two brothers embraced, and lay for a while
locked in each other's arms, without any other evidence
of life than occasionally a low moan, bespeaking the
agonies of nature in her last struggle. In a short
time it ceased, and the silence of death succeeded.

This sad example of the deplorable consequences of
civil strife, which sets brother against brother, father
against son, and severs all the ties of nature and
society, sank deep into the heart of Harold, who often
recalled it to mind, and as often asked himself whether
even liberty was not sometimes too dearly purchased.
But such reflections were speedily banished by a sense

[figure description] Page 087.[end figure description]

of his own situation. Night was now close at hand;
he could still feel the blood trickling from his wound,
and was conscious of increasing weakness. With a last
despairing effort he raised himself sufficiently to recline
against the body of one whom he supposed dead,
but who feeling the pressure of his weight uttered a
low moan, at the same time making a feeble effort to
escape the burden. Harold turned his head towards
him, and at once recognized the pale face of Israel
Baneswright, bearing the ghastly expression of approaching
death. He addressed him by name, but he
answered only by a groan. At length he gradually
regained his consciousness, and in a voice that seemed
to come from one whose spirit was already on tip-toe
for another world, asked who was there.

“Your friend Harold Habingdon,” answered the
other, and the name seemed to awaken the last spark
of life.

“Thou art come too late to help me,” said Israel.

“Alas? I am as helpless as yourself.”

“Art thou too wounded?”

“Yes, sorely.”

“And in what cause? That of a tyrant king, or a
suffering people?”

“I serve under Oliver Cromwell.”

“Enough—we will then die together; and I for my
part would die rejoicingly, did I but know that the
Philistines have been conquered and on the field where
I perish.”

“Thy wish is granted. The Royal army has been

[figure description] Page 088.[end figure description]

defeated utterly, and chased from the field. I doubt if
it will rally again.”

The news seemed to awaken Israel to new life and
energy. He raised himself partly from the ground, and
exclaimed with an enthusiasm that seemed only more
energetic from his weakness—

“Praise be to the Lord of Hosts! The malignant
adversary is smitten, hip and thigh; the usurping
Prelacy are sinking under the weight of a persecuted
people; the kingdom of anti-Christ is falling, and those
who have been crushed under its foot shall crush it
under their foot in turn. The great armies of Gog
and Magog are fleeing before the might of the godly.
Let us pray with Joshua, that the sun may stand still
in Gideon, and the moon in the valley of Aijalon, that
there be time to smite the Philistines, even without
mercy, as they have dealt towards the children of
righteousness.”

Exhausted by the effort, he sank again to the ground
and spoke no more. Harold eagerly inquired after
Susan; but he answered not. His spirit had departed,
and the last breath of one whose temper was originally
mild and forgiving, was expended in maledictions on
his fellow creatures. Such are the effects of religious
persecution, equally the offspring and the parent of
bigotry.

By this time straggling parties of the victorious
army were beginning to return; and commencing their
first duty to their wounded fellow-soldiers, discovered
the body of Harold still among the living, but almost

[figure description] Page 089.[end figure description]

drained of the fountain of life. He was borne to a tent,
where his wound was examined and pronounced not in
itself mortal, though the great loss of blood he had
sustained rendered his recovery doubtful. His youth,
a good constitution, and a patient firmness, at length
by slow degrees overcame his extreme debility, and in
due time he was able to walk abroad. Conscious, however,
that the lingering debility which not only weighed
his body but his spirit to the earth, would for some
time incapacitate him for active service, he asked and
obtained leave of absence and returned home, where
he found everything precisely in the same place he had
left it, and Gilbert just about setting out the dinner
table, as usual. The good old man was so surprised
at seeing him, that he dropt a bundle of spoons he carried
in his hand, which so discomfited him that he forgot
to welcome his young master, till he had carefully
picked them up again.

Harold returned to Habingdon an altered man.
During the period of his service his religious and
political opinions had settled down on the platform of
the most rigid of the sect of the Puritans. He had
fought and bled for them, and they had become more
precious for the price. The habit of fighting against
his king, had quite effaced all reverence for his authority;
and the example of those with whom he had
daily associated in danger and death, gradually made
him a thorough convert, not only to their opinions, but
their manners and habits. He had become a Roundhead
and republican. His deportment was

[figure description] Page 090.[end figure description]

characterized by a sour austerity, which scorned all appearance
of gaiety, and seldom relaxed into a smile. A secret
feeling of superiority over those he chose to call the
wicked, at war with Christian humility, had gradually
insinuated itself into his heart, and generated that
spiritual pride so utterly unworthy the spirit of Christianity
and its author. So far as respected his principles
and conduct, he was a man of the strictest integrity;
but he had ceased to be amiable, and though
gifted with qualities that might gain respect, could
scarcely hope to be loved by those around him.

It was long ere he thoroughly recovered; and during
the period of his convalescence the Royal cause was
ruined, and the King in the hands of his enemies.
His party ceased to make head in the field, and it was
not long before the errors and weaknesses, which would
have been more venial had they not been those of a
sovereign, were atoned by a death inflicted by The
Judges of Kings, who taught him by sad experience,
that monarchs are not alone accountable to heaven for
their actions, but that there is a High Tribunal on
earth to which they may be brought for judgment.
Hitherto kings had paid the forfeit of their crimes
against the people, by becoming the victims of conspiracy,
assassination, and war; but now for the first
time did a sovereign fall by the axe of the executioner,
according to the forms, at least, of law and justice.
It was a memorable example, and, say what we will,
a sublime spectacle, to see a monarch atoning for his
offences against his people, like one of the people. The

[figure description] Page 091.[end figure description]

punishment may have been illegal, but who shall say it
was not just.

Harold had left the service, sometime previous to
the death of the King, in consequence of his regiment
being disbanded, and remained at home, a quiet though
deeply interested observer of those succeeding struggles
and intrigues, by which unprincipled, ambitious
men at length justly forfeited that freedom it had cost
so much blood to acquire. They had united in achieving
victory, but quarreled about the division of the
spoils; or to do them justice, perhaps it may have
been that a difference of opinion as to the adoption of
a new system of government was one great cause of
those divisions which were now approaching a crisis.
But Harold had another subject which approached
nearer his heart. He had not forgotten Susan Baneswright;
and his deep-rooted affection for that orphan
girl was only more quickened by the recollection that
she was now without a father or protector. He sought
her, and instituted inquiries in all directions that afforded
the least hope of success, but could gain no
clue to guide him in his further search, and finally sat
down in despair of ever seeing her again. This disappointment
of the dearest of his earthly hopes only
increased the gloomy severity of his devotion, for religion
and love are in some degree antidotes to each
other, and the disappointments of the heart often seek
consolation in devotion.

While in this state of mind, circumstances not material
to our story called him to a distant part of the

[figure description] Page 092.[end figure description]

country not far from the borders of Wales. It was
midsummer, the weather soft and balmy, and the
landscape everywhere displayed that rich redundancy
of green pasture for which old England is so renowned.
One evening towards sunset, as he rode along, buried
in contemplations in which the past predominated over
the present and future, he was roused from his reverie
by the sudden darkness which came upon him, occasionally
illuminated by flashes of lightning, followed
by quick crashes of thunder. At once the present resumed
its empire, and, as often happens in this world
of sudden changes, the pains of memory were banished
by the prospect of an approaching shower. The
anticipation of a wet jacket is a sovereign remedy for
sentimental regrets. It has a marvellous cooling influence
on the fever of the spirits and acts as a showerbath
on the heated brain. Powerful as is the influence
of memory and imagination, reality is stronger than
either or both combined; and notwithstanding all that
may have been said or sung of mental sorrows, they
fade away like spectres before the stern realities
of physical suffering. The Patriarch Job bore the
loss of his cattle, his houses, and his children without
a murmur; but when his body was covered with boils,
and he writhed in the agonies of pain, he groaned
aloud, and his patience was conquered.

Be this as it may, Harold pricked on his weary
steed in hope of gaining some friendly shelter in cottage,
barn, or outhouse. But the storm proved too
swift in the race, and he was overtaken by a pelting

[figure description] Page 093.[end figure description]

rain opposite a rustic temple of learning, the small fry
of which had just been dismissed for the day, and
scampered home, anxious to escape a ducking. This
being the only place of shelter in sight, he forthwith
rode up to it, and fastening his horse to a post, opened
the door, through which he bolted without knocking;
your pelting shower being a great enemy to ceremony.
The first object that caught his attention was a female,
who seemed somewhat alarmed at his intrusion,
for she trembled violently, and her face was very pale.
A second glance, followed by a fixed gaze of intense
interest, disclosed to Harold the object which had so
long occupied his thoughts, and influenced his actions.
It was Susan Baneswright, who at once recognising
him, after a slight hesitation came forward, addressed
him by name, and offered her hand, with a pensive
smile of chastened welcome. Years had passed away
since they parted, yet in gazing on her he could see
little change in her face or person. The attractive
power of her face depended not on color but expression;
and the placid firmness of her mind, as well as
the gentleness of her temper, had preserved her in the
midst of great trials from those violent emotions of
passion which undermine the constitution, and perhaps
more than any other cause, contribute to shorten as
well as embitter the brief period of existence allotted
to men. Her face still wore that sweet expression of
submissive melancholy, which had from the first irresistibly
called forth his sympathy; while her person,
clothed in the simplest fashion and most homely

[figure description] Page 094.[end figure description]

texture, was yet graceful from its natural proportions, as
well as attractive from the absence of all affectation.

It will be recollected that Harold had never disclosed
his attachment in words, except to her father, who
she had neither seen nor heard from since the interview
heretofore recorded; and if she had become conscious
of his feelings, it was doubtless through the
medium of that mysterious sympathy said to constitute
a sort of magnetic telegraph, but which after all
is perhaps nothing more than the dumb eloquence of
the eyes. The meeting, therefore, was not that of
mutual lovers, but long separated friends. Though
friendly, perhaps cordial, it was accompanied by that
sober, staid formality peculiar to the sect to which
they belonged; and not a word passed that could be
translated into the language of love. We will not say
as much of their looks, or that the eye did not make
ample amends for the delinquency of the tongue.

After mutual greetings, the storm being passed
away as suddenly as it came, Harold leading his horse
by the bridle, accompanied Susan to her abode in a
small hamlet, which though close at hand, was hid by
a green wooded hill that soared above the rustic chimneys.
She resided with an elderly widowed dame,
whose husband had died fighting against his king, and
who was of the strictest sect of the Puritans. The
pious widow received Harold somewhat ungraciously;
but being apprised by Susan that he was an old friend
of her father, and of course of the right stamp, she
abated somewhat of her acidity, and accorded him her

[figure description] Page 095.[end figure description]

blessing. While busily occupied with her household
affairs, the which she accompanied occasionally with a
hymn of more piety than poetry, Harold and Susan
being left to themselves entered into mutual details
of their past history.

Harold related the principal incidents of his life
since they parted, omitting the scene after the battle
of Naseby, as well as the particulars of Israel's visit,
and dwelling slightly on his anxious search for Susan.
The narrative of Susan was one of grief and suffering.
On leaving the prison they had continued to lead a sort
of itinerant life. Israel exhorted the people to rise in
their might and smite the Philistines, until at length
excited beyond all restraint by continually hearing of
the vicissitudes of the conflict, now at its height, he
girded on his sword, and proceeded to join the army
of Cromwell, who he considered the chiefest of the
saints. Here he exhorted and fought with equal enthusiasm,
until he met his death on the famous field
of Naseby, while hotly pursuing a flying squadron of
loyalists, and exhorting his companions to scatter the
armies of Gog and Magog like chaff before the winds.
But of this catastrophe Susan knew nothing certain,
though accustomed to consider him as dead. Not long
after the departure of Israel, his wife, worn out by the
hardships and exposures she had encountered as well
from duty and affection to her helpmate as from pious
conviction, gradually declined in her health, and sunk
into the grave, leaving Susan without a protector, save
the good woman in whose house she now resided. Not

[figure description] Page 096.[end figure description]

to be a burden to her, she had managed to gather together
a little school, from which she derived a homely
support, which sufficed for all her wants. When her
story was finished, she anxiously inquired of Harold
if he could give her any information concerning the
fate of her father.

Without entering into minute particulars, he communicated
the death of Israel on the field of Naseby
and the information was received with humble resignation,
as only confirming what she had long believed.
After a pause devoted to filial piety and love, she addressed
Harold with mingled sorrow and resignation.

“The will of Heaven be done. I have long believed
myself without a parent, without a home, and
without a friend, save him who has promised to protect
those who have no other protector. My dear mother
breathed her last in my arms; I saw her die, and
her last words were spoken to me. Of my father's
fate, though well assured something serious had befallen
him, I was ignorant till now, and the certainty,
fearful as it may be, is less painful than uncertainty
without hope. There is one thing yet left me. I have
still duties to perform, and it is a blessed dispensation
that the indigent, in administering to the wants of
others, provide for their own.”

The heart of Harold swelled with overwhelming
emotion at this affecting lesson of philosophic piety.
A flood of tenderness rushed to his heart, and he could
no longer restrain his emotions.

“Susan,” he exclaimed—“Dear Susan, do not say

[figure description] Page 097.[end figure description]

you are alone in the world without a home or a friend,
when one such stands before you to whom you are
dear as the apple of his eye, the breath of his life—I
might almost say, the welfare of his soul—”

“Forbear, Harold”—interrupted Susan—“forbear,
Harold Habingdon. Place not thine immortal part
in comparison with thy mortal affections. Thy heart
thou mayest give away; thy soul belongs to God.”

“Nay, hear me, Susan. From the moment I exchanged
that last look at the prison door, my thoughts
have dwelt on thee by day and by night, in sickness
and health, in the calm hour of contemplation, and in
the hurry of battle. In the jail when forsaken and
perishing with hunger, hopeless of relief, and often
wandering from myself, so long as my mind retained
its consciousness, I thought of thee. And when I lay
gasping on the field of blood, with nothing but woe
and death around me, still I thought of thee—”

“Forbear, Harold—forbear. This is no time to talk
on such a subject. It becomes me now to mourn
the breaking of former ties, rather than think of new
ones.”

“Forgive me, Susan—we have met by accident, and
accident may soon part us. Let me tell thee all, and
then answer truly, as thy heart may dictate. When
after retiring from the army, I recovered from my
wound, I sought thee wherever I thought it probable
thou mightest be found, nor did I rest until all hope
of finding thee was gone. We have at length met,
and chance has done for me what my own exertions

[figure description] Page 098.[end figure description]

could not accomplish. Let us never, I beseech thee,
part again. Like thee, I stand alone in the world. I
am the last of my race, with none to share my
thoughts, or control my actions; and thou, dearest
Susan, thou art a stricken deer, alone in a forest, without
a protector. I offer you a refuge and a home; I
offer you a heart devoted to your happiness and I expect
a decisive answer. Speak to me, my beloved—
answer me, are we never to part, or never to meet
again?”

For the first time since he had known her, the
steady, well-poised mind of Susan seemed shaken to its
base. During this address she became greatly agitated
by a struggle which relieved itself neither by tears
or words. At length recovering in some degree, she
raised her eyes to his, and perceiving the eager expectation
with which he awaited a reply meekly said—

“What can I bring as my dower but poverty and
misfortune. My inheritance, alas! is disappointed
hopes, and sorrowful recollections.

“What canst thou bring me”—cried Harold, the
deep-buried enthusiasm and energy of his character
bursting forth like a torrent long pent up—“Thou
canst bring me the most precious of all earthly dowers,
a gentle, pious, virtuous wife, in whom I may
trust with the faith of a martyr. Thou canst bring
me peace, content, joy, and felicity. Thou canst make
my house the abode of happiness, and its master the
most blessed of men. Talk not then of poverty and
misfortune—I have enough to ward off one, and my

[figure description] Page 099.[end figure description]

watchful care will, with the blessing of Heaven,
shield thee from the other. Answer me, Susan, wilt
thou be mine—wilt thou entrust thy happiness to me
for this life? One word—and give thy hand as a
token.”

“I will”—whispered the maiden, and gave him her
hand. At that moment love triumphed over the
self-denying ordinances of the sect; he pressed her to
his bosom; he kissed her with all the ardor of long
continued abstinence suddenly bidden to a plenteous
feast, while Susan, doubtless taken by surprise, quietly
submitted to the inexorable canons of nature. The
contract being thus sealed, Harold related to her the
occasion of his journey, and besought Susan to become
his bride on his return, which would be in a few days.
But here her unconquerable sense of duty presented
an insurmountable obstacle. She had engaged herself
as a teacher during a period of which more than a
month remained, and steadily refused to break her
engagement, though he eagerly offered to compound
with the villagers.

“No, Harold,” said she, “I will not violate one engagement,
however unimportant, while about to enter
into another so solemn and lasting”—adding, with the
first happy smile he had ever seen light up her pensive
brow, and which made her look almost beautiful—“I
fear thou wilt not trust me hereafter as a wife, if I
prove faithless to these little children.”

Harold respected her scruples, and after appointing
the day on which he was to return and claim his bride,

[figure description] Page 100.[end figure description]

bade Susan a farewell, which caused her cheek to wax
almost as red as her lips. As he left the house he
heard the good mistress of the mansion chaunting with
awful nasal twang, the following lines, that seemed
ominous.

p316-114 CHAPTER V.

Metaphysical Subtilties—Anticipation and Reality—Obstinacy and
Principle—Some Morsels of Wisdom Crammed down the Reader's
Throat in Spite of His Wry Faces—A Prophecy—An Orthodox
Serving Man—Disgust of Harold at the Profligacy of the Cavaliers—
Meditates a Decisive Movement, and Does a very Foolish Thing—
A Complaisant Helpmate—Eulogium on the New World—A Voyage
in Search of the Philosopher's Stone, to wit, Happiness.

[figure description] Page 101.[end figure description]

The journey of Harold was agreeably solaced by the
recollection of certain passages at arms that had, as
hinted at in the preceding chapter, taken place between
himself and Susan, as well as by the anticipation
of their speedy renewal, with additions and improvements.
They say still water runs deepest, and
there is another venerable proverb, to a like purpose,
not quite genteel enough for the verbal squeamishness
of the present age, which, with due deference be it
spoken, swallows down whole mouthfuls of abominations
disguised in the delicate embroidery of exquisitely
harmless words, and while it strains at a gnat, religiously
swallows a camel. Be this as it may; an old
friend, to whom we are indebted for all the wisdom
expended in this work, assures us it is a fact verified
by his own experience, that the melting of the ice in

[figure description] Page 102.[end figure description]

the heart of a staid, sober, abstemious gentleman is
invariably succeeded by a terrible overflowing of the
long imprisoned waters, which like an autumnal
freshet, carries all before it, tearing up the ground
into the bargain.

It is not therefore wise, he says, to turn our backs
in sour disdain on the good things spread out before
us by the bounty of Providence; to consider them, not
as benefactions to be partaken of in sober moderation,
but as temptations purposely laid in our way as practical
lessons of self-denial. Those enjoyments which
neither injure ourselves, interfere with the happiness
of others, or violate the laws and decorums of society,
are in fact in themselves most effectual barriers against
the indulgence of those criminal propensities which at
one and the same time undermine our own happiness
and destroy that of others. Give to mankind innocent
amusements, and they will be far less likely to seek
for guilty pleasures. But it will generally be found
that those who whet their appetites, by rigorously abstaining
from one enjoyment, are the most voracious
in the gratification of others; and that he who rails
most loudly at the ninety-nine innocent pleasures of
life most commonly selects the hundredth, as an exception,
and converts it into a vice, by excessive indulgence.
These remarks, continues the prosing old
gentleman, apply to all ages, but most especially to
that gay and joyous season when free from the cares
of manhood, and the infirmities of age, the youthful
spirit seems fairly entitled to nature's vernal holiday.

[figure description] Page 103.[end figure description]

Those who view with impatient spleen their merry
gambols, or listen with sour disdain to the jocund
laugh, that springs from all absence from care, as well
as freedom from pain, might as well find fault with
the spring for producing nothing but blossoms. But
to resume our tale.

Harold certainly verified the old gentleman's theory,
for he was in a tumult of hopes and anticipations, unworthy
a person who had so long valued himself on his
contempt for sublunary enjoyments. The ice had suddenly
melted; his ardent soul which had been ere
while occupied in curbing the steed, now relaxed the
bridle, or rather dropped it entirely, and made itself full
amends for the past by anticipations of the future.
The sturdy Puritan actually took to castle building,
and had his horse been as much in love as himself, it
is extremely questionable whether on his return home,
he would not have been lost in the Fens of Lincolnshire.
But owing to the sagacity of the discreet animal,
he arrived in safety, but not until after missing
his way occasionally when he came to a cross-road.
Here with the aid of old Gilbert, he set about putting
his household in order for the reception of its new
mistress, during which it was an observation of Gilbert,
that his young master neither sung psalms, or
prayed as often as usual, and twice missed a conventicle.

Time always limps, when driven too fast. He has
something of the donkey, and if you attempt to prick
him beyond his usual speed, will but out his forefeet,

[figure description] Page 104.[end figure description]

make a dead stand, and bray most vociferously. It
was thus with Harold, who was out of all patience,
and put Gilbert almost out of his wits, by hurrying
the dinner every day, as if that would hasten the
march of time. “Gilbert,” said he one day, “what
day of the week is it?” Gilbert considered the matter
maturely and answered, “Friday, sir.” “'Slife, I
thought it was Saturday,” said Harold, turning away
impatiently, to the infinite astonishment of Gilbert,
who had never heard his young master come so nigh
swearing before.

But time is withal a sure-footed steed, and never
fails to reach the end of his journey at last. The
fated hour arrived, and Harold, dressed in a new suit,
that actually smacked a little of the cavalier, departed
on his mission, from which he in due time returned
with his wife. Without entering into minute details,
which however are a great help to an author in time
of sore distress, when the catastrophe of his story
threatens to pounce upon him, long before his two
volumes are completed—we shall be content with
observing that for the usual period which it is said is
governed by the moon—he enjoyed as much happiness
as is good for mankind. But whether it be that there
is that in the institution of matrimony, which like a
magnifying glass causes the merest trifles to appear
important, or that the parties are drawn into such
intimate communion that they cannot conceal, or be
blind to the faults or foibles of each other, or that
familiarity produces the result which has become

[figure description] Page 105.[end figure description]

proverbial, certain it is, that after the expiration of that
period so hallowed in the annals of wedded life, Harold
and Susan were not quite so happy as they had anticipated.

All men, says our wise old friend, and as is affirmed
by scandalous persons, all women have a way of their
own, and like to have their own way. Now there is
an infinite variety of nothings in domestic life, which
though in themselves of no consequence, constitute the
most fruitful source of trifling disagreements and contradictions
that too often in the end produce coolness,
if not alienation. We have somewhere heard of a
couple of the fondest, best tempered people in the
world, who unfortunately, one day, in the middle of a
long, gloomy, drizzly week in November, during which
the sun suffered a total eclipse, fell into an argument
on the question whether people have ten fingers, or
only eight fingers and two thumbs. They parted without
settling the question, and the next day it was renewed
with additional vivacity. The habit grew upon
them, and each party waxed more warm as well as
obstinate. They began to complain bitterly of the
peevishness of each other, and finally agreed to a
separation on the ground of incompatibility of temper.
Were it possible to penetrate the deep mysteries of wedlock,
it would probably be found that in a vast many,
perhaps a majority of cases, matrimonial dissentions
arise from a difference of opinion on matters of not the
least consequence and to which the parties are totally
indifferent.

[figure description] Page 106.[end figure description]

Harold was a man of principle. He did everything
on principle, and often applied his principles to things
that involved no principle whatever. Susan, too, was
governed by principle; she was obstinately good,
though to do her justice, it was only passive obstinacy,
that of non-resistance. No earthly motive could tempt
her to do wrong, or act against her settled conviction.
It would have been better for both, had they confined
their adherence to principle to those acts which involve
the obligations of duty to ourselves and others; but
they went much farther, and when there was neither
right or wrong in the case, strictly adhered to principle.
Yet with all this, Susan possessed a temper of the
sweetest complacency, and never on any occasion
contended with her husband. When, as sometimes
happened, Harold found fault with her, she would only
ply her needle with greater rapidity, and exclaim—“My
dear, I don't hear—I don't hear.”

That perseverance, our old friend continues, nay, obstinacy
in doing right is a noble characteristic in man
or woman cannot be denied; and yet it requires to be
kept within certain bounds, or it may chance to degenerate
into obstinacy in doing wrong. Nothing is
more common than to mistake prejudice for principle,
or the suggestions of passion for the dictates of reason.
The desire of having our own way, the mere indulgence
of the will is often the substitute for a conviction
of right, and in many, very many cases what is
called acting on principle, is only an excuse for a determination
to do as we please. Even conscience is

[figure description] Page 107.[end figure description]

not always an infallible guide, else we had not so
often seen whole nations forgetting the obligations of
humanity, charity and justice, and exterminating each
other for a mere difference of opinion. It is however
the best we have; and though partaking in the common
weakness of our nature, should be handled with
gloves, least from a sleeping lamb it becomes a raging
tiger.

There are a vast many occasions, most especially in
the daily intercourse of domestic life, in which it is
not worth while to be obstinate, and where opposition
is oftener the result of wilfulness than reason. It is
in yielding to others, in such small affairs, that what
is called good nature consists. This is the honey that
sweetens the cup of human life; the great cement of
our social relations, which consists as much in mutual
forbearance, as in mutual good offices. A married pair
should equally keep clear of the two extremes, of absolute
independence, and grovelling submission. Most
especially should they avoid all argument, which is
only another name for contention. The wise old gentleman
from whom we have again quoted, is clearly of
this opinion, and earnestly recommends the example
of a friend of his, who whenever his wife expresses
dissent to any opinion, or proposition, invariably
replies, “well, my dear, then there is an end to the
argument,”—takes up his hat, and quietly goes about
his business.

The same old gentleman begs to caution our readers
against a fundamental error of a certain married couple,

[figure description] Page 108.[end figure description]

with whom he was on terms of intimacy, whose
domestic harmony was grievously undermined, by a
habit of contending, not which should have his, or her
way, but which should concede it to the other. This
produced very serious conflicts, which generally ended
in the husband exclaiming, “Zounds, madam, do you
think to always have your own way? I desire you to
understand that I too have a will of my own.” The
old gentleman, however, observes, that this is rather
an uncommon case, and constitutes an exception. He
further remarks, that argument between the rival
domestic powers, is most especially dangerous, where
both parties agree; and affirms he has seen two people
exceedingly discomposed, at finding after a long and
warm discussion, there was in fact no difference of
opinion.

The gentle and impatient reader will pardon us, if
we occasionally indulge in a little wholesome digression,
though in opposition to certain critics, who lay it
down as one of the orthodox canons of criticism, that a
story is like a top, which breaks down the moment it
stands still. The author, they affirm, should be constantly
whipping his top, to prevent this catastrophe,
and the more it hums the better for both himself and
his reader. Like old Virginia, he must never tire, nor
linger on his way, to pluck a flower, or sketch some
lovely scene of nature that wooes him as he passes
along. “Sentiment, sir,”—ordained one of these infallible
doctors—“sentiment is impertinent, and morality
out of place in a story. It is as bad as mint sauce to

[figure description] Page 109.[end figure description]

venison, or stuffing to a canvas-back duck. It is out
of place, sir—it interrupts the progress of the story,
which should be all action, passion, adventure, blood,
murder, fire, fury, fretting, fuming, and phrenzy
This is what I call power; it is the steam that gives
motion to the engine, and sets the author and his reader
going at the rate of thirty miles an hour. The most
racy book I ever read was an abridgement of the Romances
of Mrs. Radcliffe and some others, in which all
the connecting links were left out, and nothing retained
but the incidents.”

We agree perfectly with our thunderbolt of a critic,
but shall not follow his precepts. We don't see why
an author has not as good a right to please himself, as
his readers have to be pleased. The latter buy his
book at their peril, and if it should chance not to please
them, they can take the worth of their money in
abusing him soundly. This is what statesmen call reciprocity.
Now we confess, that though in the downhill
of life, and much nearer the bottom than the top,
we like to roam about a little out of the direct course
of narrative, even if we pluck only weeds in our way,
and have a decided antipathy to authors who cannot
be dull whenever they please. The only legitimate
excuse for publishing a book is, that the writer either
is, or fancies himself, wiser than all the rest of the
world put together. He should, therefore, take the bit
between his teeth at the first start, and follow his own
way, regardless of his riders, the critics. If they
should chance to pelt him with old shoes, or hiss him

[figure description] Page 110.[end figure description]

as he passes, he has an infallible resource in the judgment
of posterity. Let him appeal to the great court
of chancery, whose function it is to reprieve an author
after he has been hanged, drawn, and quartered. But
although the preceding speculations may seem a wanton
digression, the judicious reader will, if we are not
mistaken, detect their bearing on the sequel of our
narrative.

Years passed away, and notwithstanding the little
breezes that ruffled the surface of the stream of life
and shook the verdant leaves, without causing them
to fall, Harold and Susan continued to enjoy themselves
in comparative peace. The only events of consequence
that happened during this period, were the
birth of a daughter, which shook the leaves a little
when about to give her a name, and the death of
honest Gilbert Taverner, who had never held up his
venerable head since the luckless day when his mistress
commanded him to change the disposition of the
salt-cellars at dinner. The first time he did this, his
hand trembled so that he spilled the entire contents
of one, and was so agitated, that though the salt fell
between himself and his mistress, he forgot the indispensable
ceremony of casting a portion over his left
shoulder. To the conviction that a terrible feud was
at hand between his mistress and himself, was added
another, to wit, that the House of Habingdon was nodding
to its fall; concerning which he had been assured
by his grandfather, who was accounted almost as old

[figure description] Page 111.[end figure description]

as Methusalah, there was an ancient prophecy which
ran as follows:—

Gilbert had never before heard of either of these
Sanctes; but ever after continued to pray devoutly for
their good offices in behalf of the House of Habingdon,
until in later times, he gradually imbibed such an orthodox
antipathy to the entire Roman Calendar, and
such a horror of St. Peter especially, that he could
scarcely refrain from railing against his fellow apostles.
He felt assured that a house that had no better support
than Sancte Rumbold and Sancte Frideswyde,
could not stand forever, and in fact wondered at its
having stood so long. In short he had become a convert
to his master's opinions, or rather example, and
cherished such a virulent prejudice against the Pope,
whom he always denounced in orthodox phrase, together
with all the adjuncts, appurtenances, and ceremonies
of Popery, that he abjured the four cardinal
points, and lost all respect for prudence, temperance,
justice, and fortitude, when told they were cardinal
virtues. The good old man—for he was as honest as
the day, and as harmless as a ghost, soon pined away
under the innovations of his mistress, and his fears for

[figure description] Page 112.[end figure description]

the House of Habingdon. His brief remaining history
is that of all the human race; he sickened, died, was
buried and forgotten by all but the author of this
tale.

In the meantime, Harold remained at home, a quiet
though by no means an uninterested spectator of passing
events. He formed no intimacies with his neighbors,
who were of different sects, and received few
visitors but travelling preachers of his own persuasion,
whose zeal not unfrequently approached the burning
confines of fanaticism. With this exception, the daily
routine of his life would have become tedious by its
uniformity, had he not found perpetual excitement in
the increasing fervency of his devotions, which gradually
filled up a great portion of his time, and precluded all
amusements or relaxation. He warred against rural
pleasures, and rustic recreations; the merry song of
the milk-maid was hushed in his domain; the sound
of laughter never echoed within his walls; he often
turned distastefully from the smile of the infant Miriam,
now beginning to sport and prattle; and was only
reconciled to the music of the merry minstrels of the
morning, by the idea that they were chaunting their
spiritual songs. Though a man of more than ordinary
talents, and of undoubted worth, he was not liked by
his inferiors, or popular among his equals. His wife
was gentle and affectionate, and his daughter obeyed
him implicitly; but the feeling they cherished towards
him was what the Indian meant, when he wished to
describe that of his tribe for white men—it was that

[figure description] Page 113.[end figure description]

of “Fear-love.” His limited intercourse being, as before
stated, confined to a single class, instead of expanding
his mind and liberalizing his principles, only
served to contract the one, and render the other more
rigid and intolerant. He fancied himself humble, but
if so, it was only to his Maker, not towards his fellow-creatures.
He became infected with the very worst
species of pride—spiritual pride—and finally wrapt
himself up in the mantle of self-righteousness, like the
Pharisees of old.

The Dissenters were now in the ascendancy, and
instead of forgetting, only remembered the persecutions
they had suffered, to retaliate on those who had
inflicted them. The wolves in sheep's clothing, as
they were opprobriously called, had now a full taste of
the cup they had proffered to the lips of others; the
churches changed occupants; and the universities
were treated pretty much as they were at the Reformation.
The Parliamentary forces had taken possession
of Oxford, and their chaplains possessed themselves
of the pulpits, where, as a cotemporary writer
of the opposite party says—“Their preaching was the
cause of great scorn in some and laughter in others;
because their prayers and sermons were long and tedious;
because they made wry mouths, squint eyes,
and screwed faces, quite altering them from what God
and nature had made them; because they had antic
behavior, squeaking voices, and feeling tones, fit rather
for stage players and country beggars to use, than
such as were to expound the Scriptures.”

[figure description] Page 114.[end figure description]

But what most excited the indignation of the loyalists,
was an ordinance of the Parliamentary visitors,
directing that the bellsman of the university should not
go about in the customary manner, at the funeral of
any member of the university; that the fashion of
gowns and caps should be changed; and “that all excess
and vanity in powdering their hair, wearing knots
of ribands on their clothes and in their hats; walking
in boots, spurs, and boot-hose tops,” should be
abandoned. Our readers may smile at those seemingly
unimportant matters, but the history of religious
dissentions will inform them that lesser causes than
these have set the world in arms, and deluged the
earth with blood. It requires the utmost exertion of
despotic power to change the fashion of a hat, the cut
of the coat, or the mode of wearing the hair.

But though the enemies of royalty had got the upper
hand, and gained the prize they sought, the most
difficult and delicate crisis had not been passed. The
rights for which the patriots had struggled were indeed
attained, but it seemed they knew not what to do with
them; and the establishment of a new government
proved a more difficult task than that of pulling down
an old one. The labor of removing the rubbish was
greater than that of erecting a new building and in addition
to this, the workmen employed differed altogether
in the plan of the edifice. Presbyterians, Puritans,
Anabaptists, Brownists, Levelers, and Independents
were mixed pell-mell together, without any
cement to the heterogenous mass; and Harold began

[figure description] Page 115.[end figure description]

seriously to apprehend, that if this state of things continued
much longer, the people, tired of being tossed
about at random on the ever-changing ocean, would
eventually seek the old haven, and voluntarily give
back what they had forcibly wrested away. His fears
were realized even sooner than he anticipated, and he
believed his old commander, Cromwell, invested with
a power greater than that of royalty, though masked
under a different name. It could scarcely be called a
usurpation, since in reality no established authority
existed in England. The royal power was in abeyance.
The sceptre lay in Oliver's way, and he found
it. Anarchy can only be cured by despotism; and
when contending factions, each equally incapable of
maintaining that permanent ascendancy which is indispensable
to the peace and order of communities, are
steering the vessel of state at random, amid shoals and
quicksands, the master-mind must seize the helm, to
secure a safe harbor, and to do this he must be sole
commander.

Harold, as before hinted, had almost imperceptibly
become a sturdy republican, or Seceder, as they were
denominated by the cavaliers—and the elevation of
Cromwell, to the supreme power of the state, galled
him sorely. His death after a few years of brilliant
successes, in which he did much for England, but little
for his own happiness; the accession and abdication
of his son Richard; the erection of a council of
state; and at length the restoration of Charles the Second
without conditions, all followed in quick

[figure description] Page 116.[end figure description]

succession. Thus the same men, though still in the meridian
of life, had lived to see those rights which had been
purchased by years of civil commotion and bloodshed,
voluntarily surrendered back, by a people wearied by
a succession of changes, which placed them perpetually
at the mercy of cabals and factions.

It was at this period, that Harold, disgusted with
the abortive issue of that great struggle, in which he
had prayed, fought and bled; and apprehensive of the
return of those persecutions, which in his heart he
could not deny the Puritans had justly merited by
their conduct during their ascendancy, began to meditate
a decisive movement. When he witnessed the
frivolity of manners, the relaxation of morals, and the
insulting ridicule heaped on the heads of the Puritans,
his heart swelled with mingled sorrow and indignation,
and he turned his thoughts to the far off wilderness
of the West, where, among the savage Pagans, he
hoped to find that toleration which Christian charity
had hitherto withheld. The vision of the medina of a
new world, whither already the victims of persecution
had sought and found a refuge, had often flitted before
his fancy previous to this despicable termination of a
great revolution, made little by the littleness of men.
But it was at this time considered a daring enterprize,
requiring not only courage, hardihood, and self-denial,
but a pious confidence in the support and direction of
Providence. Harold possessed all these requisites, and
having at length with cautious deliberation decided
on his course, proceeded promptly to carry it out. His

[figure description] Page 117.[end figure description]

first step was to propose it to Susan, who though
accustomed to buffet the ills of life, shrunk from such
hardships, dangers, and privations, as she had heard
detailed by eye witnesses, returned from the land of
the Pilgrims.

“I love my country, Susan,” said Harold—“I have
shed my blood in what I thought, and still think, a
great and good cause, and I am ready to do it again,
whenever there is any hope it will not be shed in vain.
But I have lived to see that freedom which I had hoped
to achieve sacrificed to that very family which has endeavored
to crush it for generations past. I have lived
to see all sorts of profaneness, lewdness, luxury, and
vice, spreading far and wide, through the example of
the King and his courtiers, by whom all virtue, decency
and sobriety, are ridiculed and laughed to scorn. I see
the Parliament united with the court, and ready to
sacrifice the people for the wages of corruption. My
countrymen are bought and sold like cattle or slaves,
and no man is safe, but by bribery or flattery. It is
true that our lives are as yet spared; but who can
rely on the act of indemnity, or put faith in a King
whose word is made a subject of ridicule by a profligate
rhymster? What tie can bind a dissolute monarch,
and a slavish Parliament, one of whom openly
sets at defiance the commands of his Maker, while the
other is equally regardless of the rights of His creatures.
When I see such men as Vane, Lambert, Hardrigge,
Milton and Ludlow, offered up on the scaffold, or hunted
into exile, I feel a conviction that my own

[figure description] Page 118.[end figure description]

insignificance is my only protection. Let us go, and seek in
the new world what is denied in the old.”

“Alas, Harold”—replied the meek, submissive wife—
looking down on little Miriam, who stood wondering at
the earnest energy of her father, whose discourse she
hardly comprehended—“Alas! would you take me
and our daughter from our home, to be buffeted by the
waves of the sea, and encounter the still greater perils
of the land? To bury us in the howling wilderness,
where we and our posterity must sojourn with wild
savages, and savage beasts, perhaps in time to become
savages like them, and lose all reverence for the laws
of man or the will of God? What is the new world,
and what will it ever be but an unpeopled wilderness?”

“Cease, Susan—thou speakest like a woman, or rather
like a child. Know that the moment in which the
inspired navigator, Columbus, caught sight of the new
world, was fraught with consequences more extensive,
important, and lasting, than ever originated in any
single act of any human being that has existed since
the fall of Adam. It was the recovery of a lost child
of the universe, destined, if I foresee aright, to grow
up into a giant, possessing all the activity of youth,
all the energies of ripened manhood, and all the experience
and sagacity of a green old age. It gave a new
impulse to human action and enterprise; it provided
a refuge from civil oppression and religious persecution;
it offered a boundless field for the cramped energies
of the mind and the fettered activity of the body;

[figure description] Page 119.[end figure description]

it held out rich rewards to courage and genius; it
promised to enterprise wealth, to industry competence,
food to the hungry, and freedom to the oppressed.
The old world has long been the exclusive property of
the rich and powerful; but here is one that seems
expressly created for the indigent and lowly. America
is the poor man's inheritance. The land we live in
already grows weary of her inhabitants, insomuch
that man, the most precious of all creatures, is here
become more vile and base than the earth he treads
upon. The social and domestic ties are as burnt flax,
and children, friends and neighbors, are become burthens
instead of blessings, because they stand in each
others way, and the laborers are too great for the harvest.
Let us quit, forever, this doomed land; let us
go where men are required to carry into effect the inscrutable
decrees of Providence, and can assume their
proper place, as joint proprietors of that earth which
was bestowed not on the eldest son, but all the posterity
of Adam. Let us straightway set forth on our
pilgrimage while we may. The blood of martyrs has
been shed in vain, and what was won by the virtue of
the people has been lost by the degeneracy of their
leaders. But such is the fate of nations; they fight
and conquer; they trust and are betrayed.”

It will be perceived, that Harold, with all his outward
coat of ice, had a warm under-current of ardent
enthusiasm, which flowed from the fountain of nature,
and could not at times be repressed. His enthusiasm,
though in a great measure absorbed in his piety,

[figure description] Page 120.[end figure description]

occasionally took another direction, and when thus awakened,
flowed impetuously in its new channel. Susan
was overawed, if not convinced, and expressed her submission
as follows, pointing to Miriam:

“This is the daughter of my affection, but thou
art the husband of my earliest love. They claim is
stronger than hers, and therefore, will I go whither
thou goest, and risk this dear pledge to all the perils
that may befall, in obedience to my heart and my duty.
The earth is our mother, and we shall find our kindred
dust wherever we abide.”

Harold ought to have kissed his wife, and thanked
her for the sacrifice thus offered to conjugal duty.
But like very many sturdy advocates of the right of
self-government, out of doors, he did not apply the
doctrine practically within. He had adopted the
Salique law in domestic matters, and confined female
jurisdiction to certain limits, which no republican
female of our days would probably submit to, without
a deal of preliminary discipline. He therefore received
this concession without any special acknowledgment;
for which omission, in our opinion, he forfeited all claim
to the like in future. When any woman—most especially
a wife—gives up an opinion, or sacrifices a wish, even
though the one may be wrong, and the other unreasonable,
she deserves a kiss at least, if not a suit of new
drawing-room furniture from Paris.

This decisive point being settled, Harold proceeded
without delay to prepare for his pilgrimage to the New
World, which, in our poor opinion, is a great improvement

[figure description] Page 121.[end figure description]

on the old one in many particulars. It was some time
before he could find a purchaser for his estate, to his
liking, for he made a point of not disposing of it to a
cavalier. One promising negotiation was broken off
by a discussion on free will; another by a difference
of opinion in the interpretation of a text; a third
ended in a downright quarrel concerning the respective
merits of Luther and Calvin; while a fourth, involving
the duty of charity to all mankind, was concluded by
Harold turning his antagonist out of doors.

At length he succeeded in finding a chapman altogether
unexceptionable, who so thoroughly agreed with
him in his opinion, that everybody said he got a
great bargain. Having gone through all the necessary
preliminaries, it now became his painful task to take a
final leave of a home hallowed by the recollections of
so many centuries. It was indeed a spot equally
endeared by past association and quiet rural beauty.
The mansion house was neither spacious nor tasteful;
on the contrary, it was by no means remarkable for
its size, and had little to please the eye, save a quaint
picturesque irregularity, accompanied by an aspect of
most venerable antiquity, without being quite as old
as the family, but sufficiently so to combine all those
conveniencies of arrangement, which, owing to the
progress of the age and the development of mind,
are now denounced as sore inconveniences. It was
of a dark slatey colored stone; the walls prodigiously
thick; the ceilings prodigiously low; the
windows narrow and deep; and there was a vast

[figure description] Page 122.[end figure description]

many hiding places for rats, ghosts, refugees, and all
persons that might find it convenient to be missing.

A pigmy river ran in front of the house, which was
seated on a pretty steep bank, terraced down to the
shore, fringed with grass and decked with a long row
of majestic trees that strongly smacked of the antiquity
of the House of Habingdon. The windings of the little
pastoral stream might be seen for miles above and
below, and its murmurs, which, in the stillness of night,
were distinctly heard in the sleeping rooms, might
soothe into repose any but a spirit disquieted by remorse,
or condemned to weary wakefulness by care
and gluttony. The country all around was rich, verdant
and alluring; and though the view was not very
extensive, it was only the more varied as well interesting
from the distinctness with which every object was
presented to the eye. Nothing marred the beauty of
the prospect, but the tall steeple of a neighboring
parish church, of which, the wolves in sheep's clothing
had again acquired possession, and on which Harold
often turned his back in pious disdain. Strange that
the love of our Maker should produce antipathy to His
creatures! All men differ in form, face, and disposition;
yet they do not cut each others' throats, or fall
together by the ears on that account. But the moment
they disagree in opinion, especially on subjects involving
the obligations of universal charity, they seem, in
their zeal to establish the abstract principle, altogether
to forget its practical application.

As Harold delivered the rusty old keys to the

[figure description] Page 123.[end figure description]

purchaser who had come to take possession, his heart
almost failed, and the ghosts of his Saxon ancestors
seemed to rise up in judgment against him. Yonder
under those old yew trees lay the family burying place,
where rested in peaceful oblivion a long train of succeeding
generations, who had followed each other in
the same old track, and slept not more peaceably than
they had lived together. He remembered none of these
but his parents, and all his recollections were centred
in their graves. He had paid them a last visit, and
when he returned, his wife anxiously inquired what
was the matter with him. “Nothing,”—replied he—
“I have only been bidding a last farewell to some old
friends.” Susan understood him and inquired no
further.

As they passed through the avenue of old trees that
led to the high road, he cast a long, long glance at the
past and an anxious look towards the future. Between
the two his firmness forsook him, and a few solitary
tears coursed down the cheeks of the iron Puritan. But
he recovered himself almost instantly, by a mighty
effort, and looked behind him no more. To Susan, the
parting was marked by somewhat less emotion. She
had not the same recollections and associations. She
could only look back to a few years spent in the abode
she was now leaving for ever, and not so much what
was past she regretted, as what was to come she
feared. But there is in the heart of women an innate
vagrant disposition, arising probably from their confinement
at home, and the sameness of their occupations.

[figure description] Page 124.[end figure description]

They luxuriate in new scenes, awakening new ideas,
and we have more than once seen them actually
delighted with danger, simply because it produced an
excitement. Susan thought more of the future and less
of the past than Harold: and as they seated themselves
in the carriage that was to bear them away, gazed,
not on the forsaken home, but on her little girl who
was weeping, she scarcely knew why.

Accompanied by two servants, one of whom was the
nephew of old Gilbert Taverner, and already somewhat
advanced in years; the other a staid, starched, devout
spinster, devotedly attached to Susan, on the score of
her father, by whom she had been converted—they
proceeded to London, as the most likely place, at that
time, to procure a passage to America, and make their
moneyed arrangements. Here they were detained a
tedious time, waiting for a vessel, the only one then in
preparation for the “Virginia voyage,” as it was called.
It will be recollected that at this period, the ignorance
of the people of England, especially the more enlightened
classes, in all matters relating to America,
was, if possible, more profound than at the present day.
Of its geographical divisions, the distance and relative
position of the different sections, they had either a
vague idea, or no idea at all. In the old maps and
books the entire country comprised within the limits
of the British Plantations was called Virginia; and the
vast distances between the different parts, with the
difficulties of communication, was little comprehended.
People applied their experience at home, to the wild

[figure description] Page 125.[end figure description]

regions of the west, and thoughtlessly imagined that
there was no greater difficulty in making a journey or
voyage from Jamestown to Boston, than from London
to Edinburgh. Be this at it may, people at that time
knew more of their own business, and less of that of
others than they do now. It will not therefore appear
so very surprising that Harold engaged his passage in
a vessel bound to Virginia instead of New England,
imagining there would be little difficulty in reaching
the latter, either by land or sea.

The truth is, he was impatient to leave England,
where his religion, his manners, and principles were
subjects of perpetual mockery. The profligacy of the
King and his court now become open and undisguised;
the general relaxation of morals and decency, partly
the result of this example, partly from a spirit of opposition
to the severity of the Puritans; the revival of
obnoxious amusements, more especially the theatres,
where the sect to which he belonged was a favorite
subject of ridicule, all combined to render his abode
in London little less than martyrdom. Accordingly he
embarked in a vessel bound for Chesapeake Bay,
carrying with him sufficient funds to purchase a principality
in the wilderness. Strong as were his motives
for seeking a far distant home, he could not quell a
melancholy feeling, arising from mingled recollections
of the past, and anxious forebodings of the future.
As the vessel glided along the bank of the silver
Thames, the smiling landscape seemed to beckon him
to its green lawns and shady woodlands, and when at

[figure description] Page 126.[end figure description]

length the land of his nativity, childhood, youth and
manhood, gradually diminished to a speck on the horizon,
and finally faded from his view, he felt as if he
had turned his back on the world. Stern and inflexible
as was his spirit, he would have sunk under the
weight of his feelings, had he not been sustained by a
sentiment capable of resisting all the perils of life, and
defying all the agonies of death.

At this period there were no floating palaces on the
seas, nor was the number of voyages so great, as to
have made, as it were, a beaten track across the broad
Atlantic. The vessels of that age would have made
but a poor figure by the side of a Liverpool packet;
and one of the most singular circumstances attending
the progress of maritime discovery, is the undoubted
fact, that its greatest achievements were performed in
vessels which at this later period would be held inadequate
to a coasting voyage; and that, too, without
the aid of nautical almanacs, or charts to guide
them. It would require a stout-hearted mariner of
these times to adventure a voyage across the Atlantic,
in one of the caravels of the great Columbus. Yet in
such a one, did the daring and inspired enthusiast—
for such he was, with all his cool self-possession—in
such a frail barque, did he launch out into the untracked
ocean, in which keel had never yet ploughed
a furrow, and straight as an arrow from the Indian
bow, proceed to his destined mark, until he “gave a
new world to Castile and Leon,” for which he was
repaid by fetters.

[figure description] Page 127.[end figure description]

The clumsy barque proceeded slowly, buffeting, or
rather being buffeted by the unceremonious waves,
and soon approved herself without speed or bottom;
for it was not long before the pumps were constantly
going. The captain, an avaricious tarpaulin, had
stinted his allowance of provisions to a short voyage,
and as it soon appeared that this would be a long one,
he began, prudently in time, to prepare for what he
saw was coming, by “hauling taut his sheets,” as
he called it in nautical phrase—to wit—by dealing out
his provisions with a sparing hand. In approaching
the southern latitudes, they sometimes lay becalmed
on the melancholy waste, under a broiling sun, and
wallowing amid the long rolling waves without making
any head-way; at others they were irresistibly driven
by tempests, far out of their course; and as they approached
the coast, became the sport of currents, that
put them sadly out of their reckoning. In addition to
these annoyances, there were three or four roystering
cavaliers, younger sons, who having exhausted their
money and credit at the ordinaries, had taken the
“Virginia voyage” in hopes of marrying an Indian
heiress, with a kingdom for her dower.

These were a knot of noisy, merry, reckless rogues, with
more wit than wisdom, and more generosity than prudence.
Nothing could make them serious; and when
by degrees they were all put on quarter rations, they
made a jest even of hunger, becoming more merry and
noisy than ever. Added to this, they had a variety of
jests and ludicrous anecdotes of the Crop-ears, which

[figure description] Page 128.[end figure description]

they took peculiar pleasure in repeating before Harold,
who though he preserved an outward coolness and indifference,
had much ado, to quell those sturdy rebels,
flesh and blood, so often victorious over the spirit. He
imagined he forgave them; but it is to be feared that
he only nourished a deeper inward feeling, by repressing
all outward demonstrations. It is indeed astonishing
how knocking a man down contributes to harmonize
the irritated spirit, and how much sooner we forgive
an insult that we have promptly avenged, than
one we have quietly pocketed. The wise old gentleman
at our elbow is of opinion that when two persons
are fairly at feud, it is on the whole better, as the
phraze is, “to fight it out, at once,” than nourish a
bitter spleen, that produces perpetual contention, or
secret ill offices, which though not amounting to
breaches of the peace, occasion wounds far more painful
and incurable.

But the longest voyage, as well as the longest story,
must have an end. At length they reached the capes
of the Chesapeake, and gliding into comparatively
smooth water, the good ship seemed so greatly relieved,
that she careered gallantly with wind and tide, past
Willoughby Point, and Old Point Comfort, into Hampton
Roads, whence in due time, she anchored off the
cradle of the new world, where the passengers were
landed in a state of miserable exhaustion. Though
the old cavaliers, who had gathered together on the
appearance of the vessel—a rare occurrence—stiffened
their tails a little at the appearance of a Crop-ear,

[figure description] Page 129.[end figure description]

their prejudices speedily yielded to the generous impulses
of hospitality, still inherent in their posterity,
and they forgot their ancient prejudices against his faith,
in sympathy for his sufferings.

p316-143 CHAPTER VI.

The New World—Harold under the Necessity of Changing his Original
Destination—Purchases a Plantation—Some account of his Nearest
Neighbor, Master Hugh Tyringham and His Right-hand Man,
Gregory Moth, the Oxford Scholar. A Small Dose of Wisdom from
our Old Friend, and an Apology to the Reader—A Young Crop-Ear
Lady, and a Young Gentleman Cavalier Introduced—The
Cavalier and the Round-Head don't Agree any Better than the
Young People—Consequences of Forbidding Young Folks to Do
What they Have no Mind to.

[figure description] Page 130.[end figure description]

Harold was now in a new world, where everything
was changed, except himself, his wife, and his
daughter. The broad river, so different from the
dwarfish stream to which he had been so long accustomed;
the dark interminable forest that bounded the
prospect in every direction, hiding the bounteous earth
from the rays of the sun and the eyes of her children,
and silent as the abodes of the dead, except when
awakened by the long quivering howl of the hungry
wolf, or prowling savage; the absence of cultivation,
except in little spots, few and far between; the homely
simplicity of the houses, as well as the furniture;
together with many other marked peculiarities, presented
a contrast to the world he had just left behind,
not altogether unpleasing, since it awakened new

[figure description] Page 131.[end figure description]

impressions in his mind. Susan, too, was filled with
wonder, and Miriam, now on the verge of woman-hood,
was half-pleased, half-frightened, when the tall
feathered redman patted her head and called her
Pappoose.

His first inquiries speedily convinced him of the
difficulty in finding his way, promptly, to the Land of
the Pilgrims; and he discovered to all intents and
purposes, he was further off than ever, if obstacles
may be said to constitute distance. To proceed thither
by land was out of the question. The intervening
country, with here and there an exception, was little
else than a wilderness, through which none but savages
could find their way, and presented a combination of
dangers as well as difficulties. At this period, too,
opportunities of going by sea were of extremely rare
occurrence. Only once in a great while a coaster
would creep along shore, and feel its way into the
Chesapeake, with a cargo of notions. The sole commercial
produce of Virginia was tobacco, and the Pilgrims
were no smokers. It might be a year, or more,
ere one of these adventurous navigators made his
appearance.

Harold therefore remained at the little capital, for
some time in a state of doubt and hesitation as to the
course he should pursue. During this period his situation
was rather irksome. He was displeased with
the tone of manners that prevailed among the cavaliers,
and more than once fretted by allusions to Crop-ears,
Roundheads, and Levellers. Though surrounded by

[figure description] Page 132.[end figure description]

dangers, beset by hardships, and often in danger of
perishing by famine, the emigrants to Jamestown
were a gay, thoughtless race, and seemed to have
caught from the neighboring savages that improvidence
of the future, which is one of their leading
characteristics. They were not much given to long
prayers, or spiritual songs; they were equally loyal
and orthodox, though they claimed the right of representation,
as well as of being governed by their own
laws; and were occasionally fined for not attending
church on the Sabbath. With all this they were hospitable,
brave and generous, though as before hinted,
they could not forbear a fling at the Roundheads, and
had Harold been considered a permanent denizen, he
would have been placed in the unpleasant predicament
of being obliged to listen to the preaching of one of the
“wolves in sheep's clothing,” or suffer a fine, perhaps
imprisonment. As yet however he was ignorant of this
pleasant alternative, and having made acquaintance
with some of Oliver's old soldiers, who had come over
at the Restoration, he by degrees grew more reconciled
to his new position, though feeling every day the inconveniences
of having no home, as well as the anxiety
of not being able to find one elsewhere. The situation
of his wife and daughter was still more unpleasant,
particularly that of the latter. A young unmarried
damsel was a rara avis in this portion of the new
world, and Harold was several times offered a hogshead
of tobacco for Miriam, by grave old cavaliers, seeking
a helpmate for their sons.

[figure description] Page 133.[end figure description]

Under these circumstances, and influenced, perhaps,
by the persuasions of his wife and daughter, who were
exceedingly anxious to have a permanent home, he
at length determined to purchase a plantation, then
for sale, on the south side of the river, and at the distance
of several miles from the capital. Thither he
carried his family and took up his abode, greatly to
the satisfaction of all, especially of old Mildred, who
had been more than once hooted at by the boys, while
singing pious hymns at her window. In the interim
of putting his household in order, he was hospitably
received and entertained by the proprietor of the adjoining
estate, who added to these attentions his advice
and assistance, with an off-hand frankness and liberality
which seems a growth of the soil of the new
world. Of this gentleman, it is proper to say something
more particular, as he will figure largely in the
ensuing narrative.

The father of Mr. Hugh Tyringham, as this gentleman
was called, was the scion of a younger branch of
a very ancient and noble family, that had become illustrious
by changing sides some sixteen or eighteen times
during the wars of York and Lancaster, but withal
was much more distinguished for its blood than its
money. For several generations, the younger sons had
been compelled to live by their sword, or their wits, as
the family estate was barely sufficient to enable the
eldest son on whom it was entailed to marry and keep
up the breed. In cases of this kind, it is usual in almost
all enlightened Christian countries, to give these

[figure description] Page 134.[end figure description]

unlucky outcasts who are disinherited by their birth
a tolerable education, and then quarter them on the
country for a maintenance. Though deprived of their
share of the family property, they are welcome to the
family interest, which is always zealously exerted in
their behalf; and though the fortunate inheritor of the
estate is prohibited from selling any portion of it to
benefit the unlucky “Desdichado,” it is said he not
unfrequently sells himself for that benevolent purpose.

The father of the gentleman now introduced to the
reader was, like his father before him, a younger son,
and consequently destined to become a protegé of his
country. He received a good education, and acquired
the fashionable accomplishments of the age, which together
with a purse of gold, a good steed, a competent
outfit of rich raiment—an expensive article at that
time—and the parental blessing, constituted his business
capital. The court was at that period the great
point of attraction to this species of adventurers, and
a handsome person the foundation of a man's fortune;
his Majesty King James the First, then on the throne,
as well as his immediate predecessor, being a great
admirer of masculine beauty. The young gentleman
in question possessed a face and figure in the highest
degree attractive, and in the hope of gaining the
notice of the King, bent his way towards the seat of
honors, full of agreeable anticipations.

After the manner of the heroes of good old fairy
lore, he travelled, and travelled, and travelled, until
at length, in due time, he arrived at the court of a

[figure description] Page 135.[end figure description]

puissant monarch, who is said to have had little discretion
and no valor; and of whom all our readers
have had a full and true account in romance, if not
history. Here he fell into the ranks of expectancy, and
continued a long time attending the motions of the
court with unwearied diligence and inexhaustible
patience, without having had the supreme felicity of
being spoken to, or in any way noticed by his Majesty
or his minions. By this time both his money and his
wardrobe became nearly exhausted, and he was seriously
meditating the alternative of entering into foreign
service, or adopting the expedient of Prince Hal
and his roystering companions. But those who wait
patiently the ebbing of the tide are sure to float on
the flood at last. And chance afforded what he could
not obtain by seeking.

Pacing one day in the antichamber of the King, his
Majesty—who since the Gunpowder Plot had become
even more nervous than after the Gowrie conspiracy—
being alone in his closet, chancing to hear a sound
which caused him to turn suddenly round, was so
grievously alarmed at seeing the reflection of his royal
person in a large mirror, that he mistook it for an
assassin, and cried out for help most lustily. Master
Tyringham, then under the lucky star, happened to
be the first who ran to the rescue, which he did, sword
in hand; and having through an unerring instinct
acquired by long residence at court, penetrated the
whole affair, stoutly asserted on this, as well as all
other occasions, that, on entering the closet, he had

[figure description] Page 136.[end figure description]

distinctly seen a person with a dagger vanishing through
an opposite door.

This spirited exertion in behalf of the life and honor
of his sovereign, was not without its immediate fruits.
He was taken into special favor, and might in time
have supplanted Steeney, if the King had dared to
displace that formidable minion. His Majesty was
content for the present to bestow on him the high
responsible office of Gentleman Sewer, whose vocation
it was to change the king's plate, and see that he did
not wait for that important ceremony. What rendered
this promotion the more honorable was, the fact that
it had been bestowed in opposition to the entire Scottish
influence at court, which was rallied in behalf
of a nobleman of that country whose ancestors had become
illustrious from having been one hundred and
sixteen times in arms against their lawful sovereign.

Master Basil Tyringham was thenceforward considered
a rising man at court. His personal comeliness
and accomplishments, added to his high position of
Sewer, in due time attracted the notice, and finally
secured the hand of one of the Maids of Honor, who
was even more in favor with the Queen than he was
with the King, whose secret he kept inviolable. The
lady was of course noble, and could trace her lineage
as high as Catharine Swineford, and Joan Hill, though
it must be confessed, she valued herself much more
on her paternal than maternal descent. However this
may be, a marriage took place, and though neither
could boast of much actual wealth, they calculated

[figure description] Page 137.[end figure description]

with certainty on the bounty of the King, who was
excessively liberal of the money of his people. Nor
were they disappointed, for on the death of that monarch,
they retired at a respectable middle age, to a
competent estate in the country, graced by a title.

As might be supposed from his Norman extraction,
which had long since been certified by Lyon King-at-arms,
Lord Tyringham was exceedingly loyal—first,
on the score of descent; secondly, in virtue of the high
office he had held; and thirdly, for the special reason
that the King is the fountain of all honors and profits.
The wise old gentleman at our elbow says he has
invariably observed that the most rampant loyalists
will surely be found among the tribe of petty officials.
The issue of this union, were two sons and a daughter.
The destiny of the eldest son was of course settled, by
the right of primogeniture; that of the younger was
equally certain; and the daughter was specially
brought up in the conviction that her first duty was to
practice “moral restraint,” and marry for an establishment,
in conformity to a long enduring and purely
aristocratic custom, which hath descended to the present
time. Hastening over this portion of our story, it is only
necessary to state that Hugh, the aforesaid younger
son, being predestined by Magna Charter to become a
national pauper, as his father had been before him,
was shortly after coming home from college, like him
sent forth to carve his way through life, under the
guidance of that Providence which is said to take
especial care of younger brothers.

[figure description] Page 138.[end figure description]

The troubles of Charles the First's reign had now
approached a crisis, and Hugh Tyringham, having not
only a loyal father, but a loyal alma mater, proceeded
to London, where, through means of a college acquaintance,
he was received among that band of young
men equally loyal and wild, which had been drawn
about the palace of Whitehall, under color of protecting
the King, but in reality, as was surmised, for the
purpose of overcoming the Parliament. Here he led
rather a disorderly life, frequenting ordinaries and
theatres; gambling when he had money; paying his
devoirs to tradesmen's wives, and quizzing the Roundheads
whenever opportunity offered. The band consisted
principally of younger brothers, of ancient
families, victims to the first-born of Egypt who naturally
fell into a state of abject dependence on the patronage
of the King, and became the servile instruments of
power. It is these who principally compose the officers
of European armies, and who, under the respectable
name of loyalty to the King, become the most inexorable
oppressors of the people.

When this association of young sparks at Whitehall
was broken up by the jealousy of Parliament, and
hostilities had actually commenced, Hugh joined a
troop of horse in the service of the King, and fought
manfully in his cause, until Old Ironsides, and his
valiant psalm singers, after stripping him of his crown,
bereft him of the head that wore it. By the result of
the contest his family was temporarily exiled, and
himself left not only entirely destitute, but his person

[figure description] Page 139.[end figure description]

placed in jeopardy. He was fain to secrete himself in
the great wilderness of London, where, under the
pressure of that iron necessity which is the only poor
excuse for actions otherwise inexcusable, he lived in a
manner not altogether reputable in the eyes of those
who are free from similar temptations. Still he preserved
the stamina of a gentleman; and though in
some measure fallen, never descended so low as to be
quite irreclaimable. He still retained a distinct sense
of integrity and honor, and despised himself for what
rendered him despicable in the eyes of others. Above
all, he preserved his free and generous spirit in the
midst of every temptation, and his good qualities still
predominated over the exigencies of his situation.
Though soiled, he was not past washing. The stain
was not indelible.

When Oliver Cromwell assumed the Protectorship,
many Cavaliers, despairing of the restoration of the
Stuarts, and perhaps apprehensive for their own
safety, turned their eyes towards Virginia. Among
them was Master Hugh Tyringham, now equally destitute
of fruition and hope. He applied to his brother,
who had taken refuge in Holland, and from him
received a remittance, which barely enabled him to
fit himself out, and pay his passage to the New World.
In this adventure he was accompanied by a faithful
follower, who had attached himself to his fortunes in
early youth, and never deserted him in their lowest
depression, either from real liking, or because he did
not know how to better his fortune.

[figure description] Page 140.[end figure description]

Gregory Moth, as he was called, had accompanied
his master to Oxford, and acquired a smattering of
scholarship, at least so far as words went, as well as
of the fables, traditions, and antiquities of that ancient
seminary. He was moreover a great wag in his way,
though of infinite gravity—a tipler upon occasion, and
a coward always. He was for ever anticipating danger,
that he might have an excuse for being frightened
without reason. Though he trembled at the very idea
of crossing the ocean, and had an insurmountable
antipathy to the “Salvages,” as Captain John Smith
calls them, he was so attached to his master, either
from habit or inclination, that he finally made up his
mind to accompany him. Accordingly, they commenced
the voyage together, and after the usual long
passage of those days, at length launched on the capital
of Virginia, as helpless a pair of adventurers as ever
set foot on the virgin soil of the new world.

Tyringham however soon encountered, and was
welcomed by one two of his associates in the civil wars
who had preceded him, and introduced to some of the
old settlers. Being of a fine person, genteel address,
and frank, generous spirit, it was not long ere he captivated
the affections of the heiress of a goodly plantation,
a discreet, sober, and excellent widow, not very
young, or very accomplished, but of gentle disposition
and great good sense. In the dearth of females which
then pervaded the colony, this lady had often been
wooed but never won, until Master Hugh Tyringham,

[figure description] Page 141.[end figure description]

according to the phraseology of a lady of color in the
family, “melted the ice of her yellow-baster heart.”

With this excellent lady, he retired to the country,
to the cultivation of rural tastes and tobacco. He
succeeded rather better in the latter than the former;
and though liberal somewhat beyond prudence, found
himself waxing richer every revolving year. The first
question was what to do with his money, and after
due consideration, he as usual determined to consult
Gregory on the subject, who had long since become
his oracle. Accordingly, one pleasant evening as Master
Tyringham was sitting, in the philosophic enjoyment
of the “fragrant weed,” on his rustic piazza, and
Gregory, in order to recognize the degree of precedence
between himself and his master, on the lowest step.—

“Moth,” said the old cavalier—for he by this time
was not young—“Moth,” repeated he, puffing out a
cloud of smoke, “what think you of my building a
new house.” He then chuckled a little, and said
partly to himself, “I wonder what my lord brother
would say if he found me living in a log palace. Moth,
why the plague don't you speak?”

“Master,” quoth Gregory, “you know I never
speak without due consideration. I was reflecting on
the matter, and see but one objection.”

“Hey—what is that?”

“Why, sir, there is an old proverb in the way.”

“Hey—what is that, Moth?”

“Why, sir, that fools build houses, and wise men
live in them.”

[figure description] Page 142.[end figure description]

“Pish! what care I for such musty old saws. Did
not King Solomon build him a magnificent house, and
send all the way to Lebanon for the timber?”

“Yea,” quoth Gregory, “but I never heard that
Solomon was held the wiser for it, any more than for
having so many wives and concubines. But there is
great wisdom in old sayings, master; they are, as it
were, a part of the common law, inasmuch as the
memory of men runneth not beyond them.”

“Pooh! Knowest thou not, Gregory, that what is
called long-established truth, is often nothing more
than grey-beard falsehood consecrated by time? But
a truce with your proverbs. I say I am resolved to
build a new house.”

“Well then, master of mine, I see no use in asking
my opinion.”

“But I want your opinion as to what kind of a
house it shall be. I suppose you can give me that.”

“O, if that's the object, sir; well, you know there
are divers sorts of houses, to wit, the aulae lapidae,
the aulae plombeae; the aulae vitrae; the aulae
cum camino; and the aulae cum stramine cooperate—
whereof the first is of stone, the second of lead, the
third of glass, the fourth hath a chimney, and the
fifth is thatched with straw. You can take your choice,
sir.”

“But I want your opinion, I tell you.”

“Well, sir, if I were in your place, I would not
build a stone house, because there is no stone within
fifty miles—nor a leaden house, because the first

[figure description] Page 143.[end figure description]

Indian war that happens, it would be run into bullets—
nor a glass house, because there are things occur in
all houses that ought not to be seen by everybody—
nor a house with a chimney, because two are much
better—lastly, sir, I would by no means have you
build a straw house, inasmuch as you are continually
stumbling over single straws, and would certainly break
your nose over a straw house.”

“Moth; do you know I've a great mind to send
you on the expedition fitting out against the Indians.
They are in great want of men, and you will be a
host. If I can't get anything out of you, the colony
may.”

This insinuation acted instantaneously on the nerves
of Master Gregory, who exclaimed in a paroxysm of
fear—“For Heaven's sake, master, what put that in
your head? What have I said or done that you should
condemn me to be roasted alive, as I certainly shall be
if I go out against the pagan salvages. What was it
you wished to get out of me, sir?”

“Why your opinion about the house, confound you.
I don't want to know what house I ought not to build,
but what will be best.”

“O, is that all? Why then I should advise you,
sir, to build a wooden house, because there is plenty
of timber near at hand, and your new saw mill will
supply boards.”

“Gregory,” quoth Mr. Tyringham, “you're a
perfect oracle. The house shall be of wood, I am determined,
and now I will go and consult Mistress

[figure description] Page 144.[end figure description]

Tyringham.” He did so, and as that good lady never
opposed him, when he was in the right—an example
earnestly recommended to all discreet wives — the
wooden house was commenced on a great scale for the
new world and finished in due time, to the satisfaction
of all concerned. The building of the house was followed
by the birth of a son, who was fast verging to
manhood, and in his own opinion already a man, at
the period when Harold Habingdon took possession of
the adjoining plantation. Having thus brought the
Cavalier and the Roundhead together, we shall proceed
straightforward in our journey, without once looking
behind.

Seldom have two men been brought together into
close contact with more points of dissimilarity than
Harold Harbingdon and Hugh Tyringham; and though
the latter with the spontaneous generosity that marked
his character had tendered the new comer his house,
his advice, and his services, it was next to impossible,
considering the bitter prejudices subsisting between
the Cavaliers and Roundheads which were as yet unmitigated
by time, that they should ever become friends.
Both religion and politics forbade; and though oil and
vinegar are found to mingle together harmoniously in
the latter, yet has it unhappily been but too often demonstrated
that religious antipathies, like those of nature,
are seldom reconciled. The stern and self-sufficient
pride of human opinion seems more inflexible
here than elsewhere, and that which teaches humility
becomes a source of arrogant intolerance.

[figure description] Page 145.[end figure description]