Friends, though divided by G. A. Henty

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FRIENDS THOUGH DIVIDED

A TALE OF THE CIVIL WAR

BY

G.A. HENTY

AUTHOR OF "IN TIMES OF PERIL," "THE YOUNG FRANCTIREURS,"
"THE YOUNG BUGLERS," ETC, ETC.

PREFACE

My dear lads: Although so long a time has elapsed since the great civil
war in England, men are still almost as much divided as they were then
as to the merits of the quarrel, almost as warm partisans of the one
side or the other. Most of you will probably have formed an opinion as
to the rights of the case, either from your own reading, or from hearing
the views of your elders.

For my part, I have endeavored to hold the scales equally, to relate
historical facts with absolute accuracy, and to show how much of right
and how much of wrong there was upon either side. Upon the one hand, the
king by his instability, bad faith, and duplicity alienated his best
friends, and drove the Commons to far greater lengths than they had at
first dreamed of. Upon the other hand, the struggle, begun only to win
constitutional rights, ended--owing to the ambition, fanaticism, and
determination to override all rights and all opinions save their own, of
a numerically insignificant minority of the Commons, backed by the
strength of the army--in the establishment of the most complete
despotism England has ever seen.

It may no doubt be considered a failing on my part that one of my heroes
has a very undue preponderance of adventure over the other. This I
regret; but after the scale of victory turned, those on the winning side
had little to do or to suffer, and one's interest is certainly with the
hunted fugitive, or the slave in the Bermudas, rather than with the
prosperous and well-to-do citizen.

Yours very sincerely,

G.A. HENTY.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I. The Eve of the War

CHAPTER II. For the King

CHAPTER III. A Brawl at Oxford

CHAPTER IV. Breaking Prison

CHAPTER V. A Mission of State

CHAPTER VI. A Narrow Escape

CHAPTER VII. In a Hot Place

CHAPTER VIII. The Defense of an Outpost

CHAPTER IX. A Stubborn Defense

CHAPTER X. The Commissioner of the Convention

CHAPTER XI. Montrose

CHAPTER XII. An Escape from Prison

CHAPTER XIII. Public Events

CHAPTER XIV. An Attempt to Rescue the King

CHAPTER XV. A Riot in the City

CHAPTER XVI. The Execution of King Charles

CHAPTER XVII. The Siege of Drogheda

CHAPTER XVIII. Slaves in the Bermudas

CHAPTER XIX. A Sea Fight

CHAPTER XX. With the Scotch Army

CHAPTER XXI. The Path Across the Morass

CHAPTER XXII. Kidnaped

CHAPTER XXIII. The Battle of Worcester

CHAPTER XXIV. Across the Sea.

CHAPTER XXV. A Plot Overheard

CHAPTER XXVI. Rest at Last

FRIENDS, THOUGH DIVIDED.

CHAPTER I.

THE EVE OF THE WAR.

It was a pleasant afternoon in the month of July, 1642, when three young
people sat together on a shady bank at the edge of a wood some three
miles from Oxford. The country was undulating and picturesque, and a
little more than a mile in front of them rose the lofty spire of St.
Helen's, Abingdon. The party consisted of two lads, who were about
fifteen years of age, and a girl of ten. The lads, although of about the
same height and build, were singularly unlike. Herbert Rippinghall was
dark and grave, his dress somber in hue, but good in material and well
made. Harry Furness was a fair and merry-looking boy; good humor was the
distinguishing characteristic of his face; his somewhat bright and
fashionably cut clothes were carelessly put on, and it was clear that no
thought of his own appearance or good looks entered his mind. He wore
his hair in ringlets, and had on his head a broad hat of felt with a
white feather, while his companion wore a plain cap, and his hair was
cut closely to his head.

"It is a bad business, Harry," the latter said, "but, there is one
satisfaction that, come what may, nothing can disturb our friendship. We
have never had a quarrel since we first met at the old school down
there, six years ago. We have been dear friends always, and my only
regret has been that your laziness has prevented our being rivals, for
neither would have grudged the other victory."

"No, indeed, Herbert. But there was never a chance of that. You have
always been Mr. Gregory's prize boy, and are now head of the school;
while I have always been in his bad books. But, as you say, Herbert, we
have been dear friends, and, come what will, we'll continue so. We
cannot agree on the state of the kingdom, and shall never do so. We have
both taken our views from our parents; and indeed it seems to me that
the question is far too difficult a one for boys like us to form any
opinion of it. When we see some of the best and wisest in the land
ranging themselves on either side, it is clear that even such a wise
noddle as yours--to say nothing of a feather brain like mine--cannot
form any opinion on a subject which perplexes our elders and betters."

"That is true, Harry; but still--"

"No, no, Herbert, we will have no argument. You have the best of it
there, and I fall back upon authority. My father, the colonel, is for
the king; yours for the Parliament. He says that there are faults on
both sides, and indeed, for years he favored the Commons. The king's
acts were unconstitutional and tyrannical, and my father approved of the
bold stand which Sir George Elliot made against him. Now, however, all
this has been changed, he tells me, and the Commons seek to rule without
either king or peers. They have sought to impose conditions which would
render them the lords absolute of England, and reduce the king to a mere
puppet. They have, too, attacked the Church, would abolish bishops, and
interfere in all matters spiritual. Therefore, my father, while
acknowledging the faults which the king has committed, and grieving
over the acts which have driven the Parliament to taking up a hostile
attitude to him, yet holds it his duty to support him against the
violent men who have now assumed power, and who are aiming at the
subversion of the constitution and the loss of the country."

"I fear, also," Herbert said, "that the Commons have gone grievously
beyond their rights, although, did my father hear me say so, I should
fall under his gravest displeasure. But he holds that it is necessary
that there should be an ecclesiastical sweep, that the prelates should
have no more power in the land, that popery should be put down with an
iron hand, and that, since kings cannot be trusted to govern well, all
power should be placed in the hands of the people. My own thoughts do
incline toward his; but, as you say, when one sees men like my Lord
Falkland, who have hitherto stood among the foremost in the ranks of
those who demand that the king shall govern according to law, now siding
with him against them, one cannot but feel how grave are the
difficulties, and how much is to be said on either side. How is one to
choose? The king is overbearing, haughty, and untrue to his word. The
Parliament is stiff-necked and bent upon acquiring power beyond what is
fair and right. There are, indeed, grievous faults on both sides. But it
seems to me that should the king now have his way and conquer the
Commons, he and his descendants will henceforth govern as absolute
monarchs, and the liberty of the people will be endangered; while on the
other hand, should the Parliament gain the upper hand, they will place
on a firm basis the liberties of Englishmen, and any excesses which they
may commit will be controlled and modified by a future parliament, for
the people of England will no more suffer tyranny on the part of the
Commons than of the king; but while they cannot change the one, it is
in their power to elect whom they will, and to send up men who will
govern things moderately and wisely."

"At any rate," Harry said, "my father thinks that there is neither
moderation nor wisdom among the zealots at Westminster; and as I hear
that many nobles and country gentlemen throughout England are of the
same opinion, methinks that though at present the Parliament have the
best of it, and have seized Portsmouth, and the Tower, and all the
depots of arms, yet that in the end the king will prevail against them."

"I trust," Herbert continued earnestly, "that there will be no fighting.
England has known no civil wars since the days of the Roses, and when we
see how France and Germany are torn by internal dissensions, we should
be happy indeed that England has so long escaped such a scourge. It is
indeed sad to think that friends should be arrayed against each other in
a quarrel in which both sides are in the wrong."

"I hope," Harry said, "that if they needs must fight, it will soon be
over, whichever way fortune may turn."

"I think not," Herbert answered. "It is a war of religion as much as a
war for power. The king and the Commons may strive who shall govern the
realm; but the people who will take up arms will do it more for the
triumph of Protestantism than for that of Pym and Hampden."

"How tiresome you both are," Lucy Rippinghall interrupted, pouting. "You
brought me out to gather flowers, and you do nothing but talk of kings
and Parliament, as if I cared for them. I call it very rude. Herbert is
often forgetful, and thinks of his books more than of me; but you,
Master Harry, are always polite and gentle, and I marvel much that you
should be so changed to-day."

"Forgive me," Harry said, smiling. "We have been very remiss, Miss
Lucy; but we will have no more of high politics, and will, even if never
again," he said sadly, "devote all our energies to getting such a basket
of flowers for you as may fill your rooms with beaupots. Now, if your
majesty is ready to begin, we are your most obedient servants."

And so, with a laugh, the little party rose to their feet, and started
in quest of wild flowers.

The condition of affairs was at the outbreak of the civil war such as
might well puzzle older heads than those of Harry Furness or Herbert
Rippinghall, to choose between the two powers who were gathering arms.

The foundations of the difficulty had been laid in the reign of King
James. That monarch, who in figure, manners, and mind was in the
strongest contrast to all the English kings who had preceded him, was
infinitely more mischievous than a more foolish monarch could have been.
Coarse in manner--a buffoon in demeanor--so weak, that in many matters
he suffered himself to be a puppet in the hands of the profligates who
surrounded him, he had yet a certain amount of cleverness, and an
obstinacy which nothing could overcome. He brought with him from
Scotland an overweening opinion of the power and dignity of his position
as a king. The words--absolute monarchy--had hitherto meant only a
monarch free from foreign interference; to James they meant a monarchy
free from interference on the part of Lords or Commons. He believed
implicitly in the divine right of kings to do just as they chose, and in
all things, secular and ecclesiastical, to impose their will upon their
subjects.

At that time, upon the Continent, the struggle of Protestantism and
Catholicism was being fought out everywhere. In France the Huguenots
were gradually losing ground, and were soon to be extirpated. In
Germany the Protestant princes had lost ground. Austria, at one time
halting between two opinions, had now espoused vehemently the side of
the pope, and save in Holland and Switzerland, Catholicism was
triumphing all along the line. While the sympathies of the people of
England were strongly in favor of their co-religionists upon the
Continent, those of James inclined toward Catholicism, and in all
matters ecclesiastical he was at variance with his subjects. What
caused, if possible, an even deeper feeling of anger than his
interference in church matters, was his claim to influence the decisions
of the law courts. The pusillanimity of the great mass of the judges
hindered them from opposing his outrageous claims, and the people saw
with indignation and amazement the royal power becoming infinitely
greater and more extended than anything to which Henry VIII. or even
Elizabeth had laid claim. The negotiations of the king for a marriage
between his son and the Infanta of Spain raised the fears of the people
to the highest point. The remembrance of the Spanish armada was still
fresh in their minds, and they looked upon an alliance with Spain as the
most unholy of contracts, and as threatening alike the religion and
liberties of Englishmen.

Thus when at King James' death King Charles ascended the throne, he
inherited a legacy of trouble. Unhappily, his disposition was even more
obstinate than that of his father. His training had been wholly bad, and
he had inherited the pernicious ideas of his father in reference to the
rights of kings. Even more unfortunately, he had inherited his father's
counselors. The Duke of Buckingham, a haughty, avaricious, and ambitious
noble, raised by King James from obscurity, urged him to follow the path
of his father, and other evil counselors were not wanting. King
Charles, indeed, had an advantage over his father, inasmuch as his
person was stately and commanding, his manner grave and dignified, and
his private life irreproachable. The conflicts which had continued
throughout the reign of his father between king and Parliament speedily
broke out afresh. The Commons refused to grant supplies, unless the king
granted rights and privileges which he deemed alike derogatory and
dangerous. The shifty foreign policy of England was continued, and soon
the breach was as wide as it had been during the previous reign.

After several Parliaments had been called and dissolved, some gaining
advantage from the necessities of the king, others meeting only to
separate after discussions which imbittered the already existing
relations, for ten years the king dispensed with a Parliament. The
murder of the Duke of Buckingham by Felton brought no alleviation to the
situation. In Ireland, Wentworth, Earl of Strafford, ruled with
tyrannical power. He was a man of clear mind and of great talent, and
his whole efforts were devoted to increasing the power of the king, and
so, as he considered, the benefit of the country. In Ireland he had a
submissive Parliament, and by the aid of this he raised moneys, and
ruled in a manner which, tyrannical as it was, was yet for the benefit
of that country. The king had absolute confidence in him, and his advice
was ever on the side of resistance to popular demands. In England the
chief power was given to Archbishop Land, a high church prelate, bent
upon restoring many of the forms of Catholic worship, and bitterly
opposed to the Puritan spirit which pervaded the great mass of the
English people.

So far the errors had been entirely upon the side of the king. The
demands of the Commons had been justified by precedent and
constitutional rule. The doings of the king were in equal opposition to
these. When at last the necessity of the situation compelled Charles to
summon a Parliament, he was met by them in a spirit of absolute
defiance. Before any vote of supply would he taken, the Commons insisted
upon the impeachment of Strafford, and Charles weakly consented to this.
The trial was illegally carried on, and the evidence weak and doubtful.
But the king's favorite was marked out for destruction, and to the joy
of the whole kingdom was condemned and executed. A similar fate befell
Laud, and encouraged by these successes, the demands of the Commons
became higher and higher.

The ultimatum which at last the Puritan party in Parliament delivered to
the king, was that no man should remain in the royal council who was not
agreeable to Parliament; that no deed of the king should have validity
unless it passed the council, and was attested under their hands; that
all the officers of the state and principal judges should be chosen with
consent of Parliament, and enjoy their offices for life; that none of
the royal family should marry without consent of Parliament or the
council; that the penal laws should be executed against Catholics; that
the votes of popish lords should not be received in the Peers, and that
bishops should be excluded from the House; that the reformation of the
liturgy and church government should be carried out according to the
advice of Parliament; that the ordinances which they had made with
regard to the militia should be submitted to; that the justice of
Parliament should pass upon all delinquents, that is, upon all officials
of the state and country who had assisted in carrying out the king's
ordinances for the raising of taxes; that a general pardon should he
granted, with such exceptions as should he advised by Parliament; that
the fort and castles should be disposed of by consent of Parliament;
and that no peers should be made but with the consent of both Houses.
They demanded also that they should have the power of appointing and
dismissing the royal ministers, of naming guardians for the royal
children, and of virtually controlling military, civil, and religious
affairs.

As it was clear that these demands went altogether beyond the rights of
the Commons, and that if the king submitted to them the power of the
country would be solely in their hands, while he himself would become a
cipher, he had no course open to him but to refuse assent, and to appeal
to the loyal nobility and gentry of the country.

It is true that many of these rights have since been obtained by the
Houses of Parliament; but it must be remembered that they were
altogether alien at the time to the position which the kings of England
had hitherto held, and that the body into whose hands they would be
intrusted would be composed solely of one party in the state, and that
this party would be controlled by the fanatical leaders and the
ministers of the sects opposed to the Established Church, which were at
that time bitter, narrow, and violent to an extent of which we have now
no conception.

The attitude thus assumed by Parliament drove from their ranks a great
many of the most intelligent and enlightened of those who had formerly
sided with them in their contest against the king. These gentlemen felt
that intolerable as was the despotic power of a king, still more
intolerable would it be to be governed by the despotic power of a group
of fanatics. The liberty of Englishmen was now as much threatened by the
Commons as it had been threatened by the king, and to loyal gentlemen
the latter alternative was preferable. Thus there were on both sides
earnest and conscientious men who grieved deeply at being forced to
draw swords in such a quarrel, and who felt that their choice of sides
was difficult in the extreme. Falkland was the typical soldier on the
royal side, Hampden on that of the Commons.

It is probable that were England divided to-morrow under the same
conditions, men would be equally troubled upon which side to range
themselves. At this period of the struggle, with the exception of a few
hot-headed followers of the king and a few zealots on the side of the
Commons, there was a general hope that matters would shortly be
arranged, and that one conflict would settle the struggle.

The first warlike demonstration was made before the town of York, before
whose walls the king, arriving with an armed force, was refused
admittance by Sir John Hotham, who held the place for the Parliament.
This was the signal for the outbreak of the war, and each party
henceforth strained every nerve to arm themselves and to place their
forces in the field.

The above is but a brief sketch of the circumstances which led the
Cavaliers and Puritans of England to arm themselves for civil war. Many
details have been omitted, the object being not to teach the history of
the time, but to show the general course of events which had led to so
broad and strange a division between the people of England. Even now,
after an interval of two hundred years, men still discuss the subject
with something like passion, and are as strong in their sympathies
toward one side or the other as in the days when their ancestors took up
arms for king or Commons.

It is with the story of the war which followed the conversation of Harry
Furness and Herbert Rippinghall that we have to do, not with that of the
political occurrences which preceded it. As to these, at least, no
doubts or differences of opinion can arise. The incidents of the war,
its victories and defeats, its changing fortunes, and its final triumph
are matters beyond the domain of politics, or of opinion; and indeed
when once the war began politics ceased to have much further sway. The
original questions were lost sight of, and men fought for king or
Parliament just as soldiers nowadays fight for England or Prance,
without in any concerning themselves with the original grounds of
quarrel.

CHAPTER II.

FOR THE KING.

It was late that evening when Sir Henry Furness returned from Oxford;
but Harry, anxious to hear the all-absorbing news of the day, had waited
up for him.

"What news, father?" he said, as Sir Henry alighted at the door.

"Stirring news, Harry; but as dark as may be. War appears to be now
certain. The king has made every concession, but the more he is ready to
grant, the more those Puritan knaves at Westminster would force from
him. King, peers, bishops, Church, all is to go down before this knot of
preachers; and it is well that the king has his nobles and gentry still
at his back. I have seen Lord Falkland, and he has given me a commission
in the king's name to raise a troop of horse. The royal banner will be
hoisted at Nottingham, and there he will appeal to all his loyal
subjects for aid against those who seek to govern the nation."

"And you think, sir, that it will really be war now?" Harry asked.

"Ay, that will it, unless the Commons go down on their knees and ask his
majesty's pardon, of which there is, methinks, no likelihood. As was to
be expected, the burghers and rabble of the large towns are everywhere
with them, and are sending up petitions to the Commons to stand fast and
abolish everything. However, the country is of another way of thinking,
and though the bad advisers of the king have in times past taken
measures which have sorely tried our loyalty, that is all forgotten
now. His majesty has promised redress to all grievances, and to rule
constitutionally in future, and I hear that the nobles are calling out
their retainers in all parts. England has always been governed by her
kings since she was a country, and we are going to try now whether we
are to be governed in future by our kings or by every tinker, tailor,
preacher, or thief sent up to Westminster. I know which is my choice,
and to-morrow I shall set about raising a troop of lads of the same
mind."

"You mean to take me, sir, I hope," Harry said.

"Take you?" his lather repeated, laughing. "To do what?"

"To fight, certainly," Harry replied. "I am sure that among the tenants
there is not one who could use the small sword as I can, for you have
taught me yourself, and I do not think that I should be more afraid of
the London pikemen than the best of them."

"No, no, Harry," his father said, putting his hand on the boy's
shoulder; "I do not doubt your bravery. You come of a fighting stock
indeed, and good blood cannot lie. But you are too young, my boy."

"But if the war goes on for a couple of years, father."

"Ay, ay, my boy; but I hope that it will be ended in a couple of months.
If it should last--which God forbid!--you shall have your chance, never
fear. Or, Harry, should you hear that aught has happened to me, mount
your horse at once, my boy; ride to the army, and take your place at the
head of my tenants. They will of course put an older hand in command;
but so long as a Furness is alive, whatever be his age, he must ride at
the head of the Furness tenants to strike for the king. I hear, by the
way, Harry, that that Puritan knave, Rippinghall, the wool-stapler, is
talking treason among his hands, and says that he will add a brave
contingent to the bands of the Commons when they march hither. Hast
heard aught about it?"

"Nothing, father, but I hope it is not true. I know, however, that
Master Rippinghall's thoughts and opinions lie in that direction, for I
have heard from Herbert--"

"Ah, the son of the wool-stapler. Hark you, Harry, this is a time when
we must all take sides for or against the king. Hitherto I have
permitted your acquaintance with the wool-stapler's son, though, in
truth, he be by birth no fit companion for you. But times have changed
now. The sword is going to be drawn, and friends of the king can no
longer be grip hands with friends of the Commons. Did my own brother
draw sword for Parliament, we would never speak again. Dost hear?"

"Yes, sir; and will of course obey your order, should you determine that
I must speak no more to Herbert. But, as you say, I am a boy yet, too
young to ride to the wars, and Herbert is no older. It will be time for
us to quarrel when it is time for us to draw the sword."

"That is so, Harry, and I do not altogether forbid you speaking with
him. Still the less you are seen together, the better. I like the lad,
and have made him welcome here for your sake. He is a thoughtful lad,
and a clever one; but it is your thoughtful men who plot treason, and
until the storm be overpast, it is best that you see as little of him as
may be. And now I have eaten my supper, and it is long past the time
that you should have been in bed. Send down word by Thomas Hardway to
Master Drake, my steward, to bid him send early in the morning notices
that all my tenants shall assemble here to-morrow at four in the
afternoon, and bid the cook come to me. We shall have a busy day
to-morrow, for the Furness tenantry never gather at the hall and go out
empty. And short though be the notice, they shall not do so this time,
which to some of us may, perchance, be the last."

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