[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

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