—History of the English Parliament, Barnett Smith.
On the afternoon of the 15th July, a crowd of courtiers, lounging and chatting in Tom Quad1, paused for a moment to glance at the figure of the State Secretary as he passed swiftly through the merry throng2 on his way to the King’s apartments.
Oxford3 was looking its brightest. On the 14th the Queen had returned, and on the same day despatches announcing the great victory at Roundway Down and the relief of Devizes had been received. The church bells had pealed4, and it seemed to most of the Royalists that the King’s cause was now certain to triumph throughout the land, and that the Parliamentarians would be utterly5 crushed. Never had there been more confident boasting, more light-hearted laughter than on that summer afternoon, and the sudden apparition6 of Falkland, with his pale sorrow-laden face, seemed curiously7 ill-timed.
“What the plague does my Lord Falkland mean by wearing such dismal8 looks on this gala day?” said a boisterous9 young Cavalier, who was about as capable of appreciating the philosopher of Great Tew as of recognising the beauty of a Raphael.
“He volunteered in my Lord Wilmot’s troop t’other day,” replied his companion. “They say, you know, that he is always thrusting himself into dangers which there is no call on him to face, because he is stung by the report that his efforts for peace spring from cowardice10.”
“Ha! ha!” laughed the first speaker. “He’s found that in this world peacemakers have devilish hard times, and always win the hatred11 of both sides. I’ll warrant you he will have but a chilly12 reception from His Majesty13, who, they tell me, is downright afraid of him, and can’t endure his plain speaking, and that inconvenient14 custom he hath of scrupulous15 truthfulness16.”
“He will be ill-pleased that a Council was held last night in his absence, and the siege of Bristol determined17 on,” said the other.
A third courtier strolled up. “Did you see my Lord Falkland’s face?” he said, with a sneer18. “Is he grieving over the slaughter19 at Roundway Down, think you? or is it, perchance, that he finds his beloved Mistress Moray is undoubtedly20 in the last stage of consumption?”
There was a general laugh as the ill-natured gossips made merry over the State Secretary’s friendship with this good and high minded lady, and, according to their own foul21 and depraved nature, judged one of the most spiritual and helpful influences that can be had in an evil world.
Falkland, perfectly22 well aware of the way in which his private affairs were discussed, and conscious of the hostile atmosphere which surrounded him at the Court, passed gravely on to the King’s apartments, to be received by Charles much as the courtiers had prophesied23, with very little warmth and no comprehension.
The King in prosperity was never at his best. His arrogance24 and narrowness were apt then to become apparent, whereas in adversity his courage and a very noble patience were noteworthy. The prospect25 of speedy triumph, and the unhappy influence always exerted over him by the presence and counsel of the Queen, made him now more than ever antagonistic26 to his Secretary of State.
He was seated in an elbow chair beside the open window, and on the oaken table beside him was spread a map of the Southern counties, which he had been studying. On the window seat lay a remarkably27 fine white poodle which Falkland noticed with a feeling of annoyance28, knowing that the dog belonged to Prince Rupert, and betokened29 his near neighbourhood.
“We received yesterday the good news of the victory,” said the King. “I trust you bring no worse report of Sir Ralph Hopton, my lord?”
“He remains30 at Devizes, sire,” said Falkland, “and is steadily31 recovering from his injuries.”
The King put several questions as to the doings at Roundway Down, and Falkland having replied to them, was debating how he could suggest that the victory made this a fitting time for the opening of negotiations32 with Parliament, when the King asked what was being done with the prisoners.
“Some were left at Devizes, sire,” replied Falkland, “but a great number are being marched hither, and I am anxious that your Majesty should be in possession of the truth respecting one of Prince Maurice’s officers—Colonel Norton—who hath been guilty of very gross cruelty to two of the prisoners, Major Locke, who died last night for lack of a surgeon, and Lieutenant33 Harford.”
“Let me have the particulars,” said the King, coldly. “People are over-fond of bringing accusations34 against my nephew’s officers. Scarce a day passes but I have some idle tale of Prince Rupert’s men, and he hath but this morning assured me that the men are the best soldiers in our army, and hath told me of his clemency35 towards the lady of Caldecot Manor36.”
Falkland’s face was a study. Prince Rupert was not without a certain generosity37, but in the main he knew only too well that the troops commanded by the two German princes had done much by their burnings and plunderings and wanton devastation38 of the crops to exasperate39 the English. The people were not likely soon to forget the cruel burning of the eighty-seven houses in Birmingham which Prince Rupert had ordered in the spring.
“I will tell you, sire, precisely40 what I saw last night in St. Peter’s Church at Marlborough,” he said. And, graphically41, but without any comment, he described to the King what had taken place.
“Bound to one of the church pillars, you say!” said the King, with a shudder42, “and the guard had actually brought him water in the chalice43! Horrible profanation44! I cannot endure the misuse45 of the churches in this war, yet they assure me they must at times use them for troops and for prisoners.”
Falkland, with something like despair in his heart, marvelled46 at the extraordinary way in which the King missed the point he had wished to urge, and, in thinking of the church fabric47 and the communion-plate, failed to realise what cruelty to man really means.
“For my part,” he replied, “I am bound to own, your Majesty, that the kindly48 thought of the guard in fetching the cup of water seemed the one redeeming49 touch in the whole miserable50 business. That and the way in which he had wrapped a cope about the feet of the dying Major in the chancel.”
“He had actually used a cope for such a purpose?” said the King. “Well, my lord, I regret to hear that any cruelty was shown to the prisoners, but it seems to me you do not the least understand the sin of sacrilege. ’Tis as I ever told you, you care nothing for the Church.”
His brow grew dark as he remembered that, little more than two years before, Falkland had made a speech in Parliament in which, report said, he had accused the Bishops51 of having “brought in superstition52 and scandal under the titles of reverence53 and decency54, and of labouring to introduce an English, though not a Roman, Popery; not only the outside and dress of it, but, equally absolute, a blind dependence55 of the people upon the clergy56.”
The King’s reproach had been made before, and Court etiquette57 forbade Falkland to justify58 himself to his Sovereign; moreover, he had long ceased to expect his position to be understood. The Laudian practices were hateful to him, but in the narrow dogmatism of the Presbyterians he saw grave danger to intellectual liberty. He stood aloof59 from both systems, but cherished beneath an outer mask of philosophic60 calm a passionate61 yearning62 for that Church of the future which should be wide enough to embrace all sincere men who took Christ as their ideal, and spiritual enough to dispense63 with those elaborate outer shows which had so often proved stumbling-blocks.
Stifling64 a sigh, he caught at the one phrase in the King’s remarks of which he might avail himself.
“I well know,” he replied, “that any sort of cruelty is repugnant to your Majesty, and therefore make bold to plead the cause of this young prisoner who hath been put to physical and moral torture, and hath claims on your Majesty’s clemency, for he was not taken during the battle, but on the following day while endeavouring to save the life of his wounded friend, Major Locke.”
Falkland had used no false flattery, but had appealed to the best side of the King’s character. Though very limited in his sympathies, and without any genial65 love for his people, Charles was far from being cruel or merciless; the enormous amount of suffering for which he was responsible sprang partly from his duplicity, partly from his habit of allowing himself to be ruled by unworthy favourites, and drawn66 into rash courses by his wife. He might often from absorption in other matters fall into cruelty as so many of us do, fatally hurting others because not actively67 kind to them; but cruelty such as Norton’s was abhorrent68 to him, and he would probably have yielded to the suggestion of his Secretary of State, had not the white poodle suddenly sprung down from the window-seat and, with whines69 of delight, bounded towards the door.
Falkland knew too well what would follow, and there was bitterness in his heart as he bowed to the handsome young Prince who entered the room.
It was impossible to conceive a greater contrast than that between the fiery70 Rupert, with his soldierly instincts, his rough, over-bearing manner, his full-blooded, dashing impetuosity, and the grave, far-seeing statesman ten years his senior. Falkland greeted the Prince with the quiet courtesy which was one of his characteristics, but with a disapproval71 which revealed itself by an indefinable air of strength and resistance not usually apparent in the singularly gentle face.
“So, my lord,” said Rupert, gaily72, “you have returned from the slaughter of the redoubtable73 ‘Lobsters,’ and have made William the Conqueror74 hide his diminished head! His Majesty will now be able to make short work of Bristol, and when Bristol hath fallen London will soon follow—eh, Boye?” stooping to fondle the poodle’s long ears.
The dog licked his master’s hand and whined75 with delight.
“Boye is more eager to crush the Roundheads than is my Lord Falkland,” said the Prince, glancing with a smile at his uncle.
“He doth take after his master,” said the King, looking with fond admiration76 at Rupert’s soldierly bearing. “You have doubtless heard, my lord, that a Council was held last night and that we have determined that Prince Rupert shall join forces with the victors of Roundway Down and lay siege to Bristol.”
“I had heard that it was so determined, sire,” said Falkland. “Had I been present at the Council, I would earnestly have begged your Majesty, after having annihilated77 Sir William Waller’s army, to offer to treat with the Parliament. Bloodshed might thus be avoided, and the end of hostilities78 might well be hoped for.”
“My lord, you are no soldier,” broke in Rupert, impetuously. “These rebels must be crushed and altogether subjugated79 before His Majesty can be King indeed.”
“You will never crush the national love of liberty, your Highness,” said Falkland. “The British nature demands freedom as a right, and the only hope of adjusting our unhappy differences is in recognising those rights which are in accordance with the law.”
“Law!” interrupted Rupert, who could never endure remarks contrary to his own views, especially when they came from the Counsellors of civil affairs. “Tush! we will have no law in England henceforward but of the sword!”
“My lord,” said Charles, “we are aware that you ever speak on behalf of peace, but those at Westminster do not desire it.”
“I do not forget that your Majesty’s secret message to Parliament ere hostilities began proved, unhappily, fruitless of good results,” said Falkland; “but you will recollect80, sire, that since then Parliament hath made many overtures81 of peace, and that every overture82 hath been rejected by your Majesty. Might it not be the part of true wisdom to take advantage now of this happy tide in affairs? Surely, sire, this great victory, and the return of Her Majesty after fifteen months’ absence, make the present a very fitting time for a gracious offer of terms which the Parliament could accept.”
“My lord, our determination is already made,” said the King, coldly. “Your suggestions do not seem to us practical, and we are confident that our cause is better served by Prince Rupert.”
Falkland bowed gravely. No man could equal him in humility83, yet it cost him a pang84 to be thus set at naught85, and to see how the King was dominated by the young German Prince of four-and-twenty, who knew absolutely nothing of the English or of Constitutional law.
Boye, the white poodle, broke the uncomfortable silence which followed, by bounding to the door and barking furiously at the sound of approaching steps. A young courtier entered.
“May it please your Majesty, the two troops in charge of the prisoners from Roundway Down are approaching the city,” he announced.
“They will expect you to see the entrance, sire,” said Rupert, “as you did when we returned with the prisoners from Cirencester.”
“We will not disappoint our brave men,” said the King, rising. “And you, my lord, will accompany us,” he added, turning graciously to Falkland, as though to make up for the snub he had just given him.
Falkland, sick at heart, followed the King and the Prince, and before long was riding in the royal train to see what he well knew would prove a painful spectacle.
Hundreds of the citizens were flocking out of Oxford to see the return of the victors and Waller’s vanquished86 soldiers. The day was insufferably hot, and the Court party did not care to ride far on the road, but drew rein87 under a clump88 of trees by the wayside. As they waited the approach of the troops, the King discussed with Prince Rupert some of the details of the battle which Falkland had mentioned to him, and spoke89 also of Colonel Norton’s conduct at Marlborough.
“I have met the Colonel,” said Rupert. “He hath a merry wit and a sharp tongue, and is the very man to enjoy a rough jest at the expense of one who had crossed his path. He is an excellent soldier though. My lord,” he said, turning to Falkland, “you must show us this young Lieutenant Harford as the prisoners go past. The fellow must be worth his salt if he has dared to withstand a hectoring officer like Colonel Norton.”
By this time the troops were in sight, and loud cheers rose from the spectators as they rode by.
Then in striking contrast came the weary prisoners on foot, escorted by a second troop of cavalry90. As the line passed by, tied together in pairs, many of them wounded, and all of them suffering acutely from thirst, they might have inspired pity in the hardest heart. Falkland noted91, however, that the courtiers around him looked on, either with utter indifference92, or with derisive93 smiles, as their fellow-countrymen were beaten and driven along the road like dogs.
“Yonder comes the young lieutenant you bade me point out to your Highness,” he said to Prince Rupert. “The nearest to us behind the gun, and tied to a man with a bandaged head.”
Both the King and the Prince glanced at the prisoner.
“In good sooth the fellow is sunburnt till he is the colour of an Italian!” exclaimed Rupert. “He hath an undaunted air and looks like a man of mettle94 though.”
“Copper metal, your Highness,” interjected a shallow-brained fop behind him with a laugh.
The laugh reached Gabriel; he glanced to the left, and catching95 sight of Falkland saluted97 him, a look of reverence and gratitude98 lighting99 up his tired eyes. His pace had involuntarily slackened a little, and the wounded man tied to his right arm, had throughout the march been a heavy drag upon him; a smart blow across his shoulders from the swynfeather, or spiked100 pole, of the nearest soldier made his eyes flash, and added a touch of dignity to his bearing. But his salute96 to the King, though courteous101, was merely formal, while the rapid, searching glance that accompanied it had none of that deep reverence with which he had returned Falkland’s gaze.
He saw for a moment the well-known handsome features, the cold impassive expression, and remembered how, when he had last looked upon the King, it had been on that memorable102 January day, at the entrance to Westminster Hall, when Charles had been on his way to arrest the five Members. Now Hampden, the patriot103, had been slain104; thousands of Englishmen had fought, and bled, and died, and he himself was a prisoner, just when the cause he held at heart most needed service.
Something approaching despair seized him as he marched on, with that vision stamped on his brain—the King in his purple riding suit and white-plumed hat, his attention divided between the remarks of Prince Rupert, and the orange stuffed with cloves105, which he smelt106 as a remedy against infection, as the troops and the long line of weary prisoners made the dust rise. Was the country again to be at the mercy of a ruler who so little understood or loved his people?
“Poor beggar!” said Rupert, following the young lieutenant with his eyes. “I know too well what military captivity107 will mean to one of his years. Curse me! if I ever pardon the Emperor who kept me mewed up so long! I can see, too, that yonder rebel is a good officer wasted, and with your permission, sire, would fain have the fellow in my troop.”
“He shall be pardoned, and set free on consenting to serve under you,” said the King. “We depute you, my lord Falkland, to see to the matter.”
Falkland bowed low.
“I will convey your Majesty’s pleasure to Mr. Harford, but I doubt his acceptance of a post under the Prince, for he is not one of those who entered into this struggle without grave thought,” said the Secretary of State, convinced in his own mind that Gabriel would decline pardon bought at the cost of his convictions.
“Then he must pay the penalty of his disloyal obstinacy,” said the King, annoyed even by the suggestion that some of his opponents had conscientiously108 thought out their position before taking arms against him. “He hath brought this misery109 on himself.”
“Look you, my lord,” said Rupert, good-naturedly, “make not the offer of release till to-morrow. ’Tis but fair the fellow should know what he chooses if he elects to stay in the clutches of Provost-Marshal Smith. They don’t pamper110 Roundheads at the Castle, I hear.”
The talk was interrupted by the huzzas of the spectators as the last contingent111 of cavalry rode by. Falkland heard one of the courtiers mention the name of Norton, and gave that officer a keen, penetrating112 glance, perceiving at once that there was a force of character in the Colonel’s face which would make him a dangerous enemy, and one likely to pursue the young lieutenant with untiring animosity.
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quad
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| n.四方院；四胞胎之一；v.在…填补空铅 | |
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throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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Oxford
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| n.牛津（英国城市） | |
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pealed
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| v.（使）（钟等）鸣响，（雷等）发出隆隆声( peal的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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apparition
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| n.幽灵，神奇的现象 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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boisterous
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| adj.喧闹的，欢闹的 | |
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cowardice
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| n.胆小，怯懦 | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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inconvenient
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| adj.不方便的，令人感到麻烦的 | |
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scrupulous
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| adj.审慎的，小心翼翼的，完全的，纯粹的 | |
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truthfulness
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| n. 符合实际 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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sneer
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| v.轻蔑；嘲笑；n.嘲笑，讥讽的言语 | |
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slaughter
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| n.屠杀，屠宰；vt.屠杀，宰杀 | |
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undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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prophesied
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| v.预告，预言( prophesy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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arrogance
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| n.傲慢，自大 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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antagonistic
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| adj.敌对的 | |
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remarkably
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| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
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annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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betokened
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| v.预示，表示( betoken的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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negotiations
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| 协商( negotiation的名词复数 )； 谈判； 完成（难事）； 通过 | |
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lieutenant
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| n.陆军中尉，海军上尉；代理官员，副职官员 | |
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accusations
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| n.指责( accusation的名词复数 )；指控；控告；（被告发、控告的）罪名 | |
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clemency
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| n.温和，仁慈，宽厚 | |
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manor
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| n.庄园，领地 | |
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generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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devastation
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| n.毁坏；荒废；极度震惊或悲伤 | |
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exasperate
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| v.激怒，使（疾病）加剧，使恶化 | |
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precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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graphically
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| adv.通过图表；生动地，轮廓分明地 | |
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shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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chalice
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| n.圣餐杯；金杯毒酒 | |
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profanation
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| n.亵渎 | |
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45
misuse
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| n.误用，滥用；vt.误用，滥用 | |
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46
marvelled
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| v.惊奇，对…感到惊奇( marvel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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fabric
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| n.织物，织品，布；构造，结构，组织 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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redeeming
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| 补偿的，弥补的 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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bishops
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| （基督教某些教派管辖大教区的）主教( bishop的名词复数 )； （国际象棋的）象 | |
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superstition
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| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
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reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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decency
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| n.体面，得体，合宜，正派，庄重 | |
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dependence
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| n.依靠，依赖；信任，信赖；隶属 | |
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clergy
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| n.[总称]牧师，神职人员 | |
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etiquette
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| n.礼仪，礼节；规矩 | |
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justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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59
aloof
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| adj.远离的；冷淡的，漠不关心的 | |
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philosophic
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| adj.哲学的，贤明的 | |
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passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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dispense
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| vt.分配，分发；配(药)，发(药)；实施 | |
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stifling
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| a.令人窒息的 | |
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genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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66
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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actively
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| adv.积极地，勤奋地 | |
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abhorrent
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| adj.可恶的，可恨的，讨厌的 | |
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whines
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| n.悲嗥声( whine的名词复数 )；哀鸣者v.哀号( whine的第三人称单数 )；哀诉，诉怨 | |
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70
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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disapproval
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| n.反对，不赞成 | |
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72
gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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73
redoubtable
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| adj.可敬的；可怕的 | |
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74
conqueror
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| n.征服者，胜利者 | |
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75
whined
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| v.哀号( whine的过去式和过去分词 )；哀诉，诉怨 | |
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76
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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77
annihilated
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| v.（彻底）消灭( annihilate的过去式和过去分词 )；使无效；废止；彻底击溃 | |
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78
hostilities
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| n.战争；敌意(hostility的复数)；敌对状态；战事 | |
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79
subjugated
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| v.征服，降伏( subjugate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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recollect
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| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
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81
overtures
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| n.主动的表示，提议；（向某人做出的）友好表示、姿态或提议( overture的名词复数 )；（歌剧、芭蕾舞、音乐剧等的）序曲，前奏曲 | |
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82
overture
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| n.前奏曲、序曲，提议，提案，初步交涉 | |
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83
humility
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| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
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84
pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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85
naught
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| n.无，零 [=nought] | |
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86
vanquished
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| v.征服( vanquish的过去式和过去分词 )；战胜；克服；抑制 | |
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rein
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| n.疆绳，统治，支配；vt.以僵绳控制，统治 | |
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88
clump
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| n.树丛，草丛；vi.用沉重的脚步行走 | |
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89
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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90
cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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derisive
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| adj.嘲弄的 | |
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94
mettle
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| n.勇气，精神 | |
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95
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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salute
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| vi.行礼，致意，问候，放礼炮；vt.向…致意，迎接，赞扬；n.招呼，敬礼，礼炮 | |
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saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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99
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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100
spiked
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| adj.有穗的；成锥形的；有尖顶的 | |
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101
courteous
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| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
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102
memorable
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| adj.值得回忆的，难忘的，特别的，显著的 | |
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103
patriot
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| n.爱国者，爱国主义者 | |
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104
slain
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| 杀死，宰杀，杀戮( slay的过去分词 )； (slay的过去分词) | |
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105
cloves
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| n.丁香（热带树木的干花，形似小钉子，用作调味品，尤用作甜食的香料）( clove的名词复数 )；蒜瓣(a garlic ~|a ~of garlic) | |
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106
smelt
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| v.熔解，熔炼；n.银白鱼，胡瓜鱼 | |
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107
captivity
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| n.囚禁；被俘；束缚 | |
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108
conscientiously
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| adv.凭良心地；认真地，负责尽职地；老老实实 | |
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109
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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110
pamper
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| v.纵容，过分关怀 | |
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111
contingent
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| adj.视条件而定的；n.一组，代表团，分遣队 | |
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112
penetrating
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| adj.（声音）响亮的，尖锐的adj.（气味）刺激的adj.（思想）敏锐的，有洞察力的 | |
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