CHAPTER IV.
OF THINGS AT HOME.
I have said but little hitherto of our civil troubles; and, indeed,they touched us but lightly within the walls of our school. I hadalmost said that they did but give a new name to our sports; forwhereas our factions--such as a school commonly has--had before calledthemselves by the names of Greeks and Trojans, or Romans andCarthaginians, according as Homer or Livy were most in our hands, sonow we were King's men and Parliament's men, or Rebels, as we thatwere of the loyal faction would often style these latter. But it mustbe confessed that there was something beyond the ordinary of veritableanger in these combats; so that once or twice the partisans appearedin their places in school with broken heads or other damage, and woulddoubtless have so done more often but for fear of our master, Mr.Edwards, who did mete out a most severe and impartial justice to allthat presumed to disturb the peace of his realm. The City folk werefor the most part friends to the Parliament, and their faction had themajority of the scholars. Yet the King, too, had those that stoodstoutly by him; of whom I, being tall and strong and expert in allbodily exercises, was chosen to be the leader. I do remember what afierce battle we had on the fifth day of January, in the year 1642,which was the day following that on which the King would have seizedthe five members. So hot were we about it that we noted not our mastercoming upon us and finding us _in flagrante delicto_. A battle of thebees, says Virgil, is stayed by the throwing of a little dust, and wewere pacified by the first sound of his voice; and, indeed, though Ihave had experience of sundry sights and sounds of terror, I knownothing so terrible as the voice of a schoolmaster, so he be one thathath what all have not, the true secret of rule. He had noted down thenames of all the chief combatants before we were aware of him; nor didone of them escape due punishment. As for myself, being, as I suppose,of such an age, and may be strength that I could scarce be flogged, heset me to English the first book of the _Pharsalia_ of Lucan, whichtreats, as all know, of the civil wars of Rome. 'Tis choice verse,doubtless, but passing difficult--or so at least I found it--and gaveme but scant leisure between Epiphany-tide ('twas on the fifth day ofJanuary that the tumult was) and the beginning of Lent, a space ofnear upon two months. So much, then, for our mimicries of war. Butnow, coming home--which I did not long after my hopes at the schoolhad been, as I have said, disappointed--I found the reality. And,indeed, on my journey, which was not accomplished without peril, I hadseen something of it. For coming by way of Thame--which I was advisedwas to be preferred because some troopers of the Prince Rupert lay atFawley near to Henley-upon-Thames and harried all travellers withsmall respect of parties--and staying to bait my horse at the inn, Iheard that a notable man was lying dead in one of the chambers. ('TwasMidsummer Day, I remember.) This was Master John Hampden, who had beenshot in the shoulder upon Chalgrove Field six days before, and beingcarried to Thame died there on the very day on which I chanced to passthrough. His name had been much in men's mouths, and was not a littleregarded even by them who judged him to have erred (of which numberwas I); and it troubled me not a little to hear that he had beenslain, though he was an enemy to the King. I had heard before of suchthings, and, indeed, at Edgehill, where the King's men and the army ofthe Parliament under my Lord Essex had fought with doubtful success,thousands had been slain and wounded; but now I saw death close athand for the first time; and it moved me mightily.
I found my father greatly discomposed, though at first he sought tohide his trouble by jest and banter. The first evening after mycoming, as we sat by the fire, for he was one that even at midsummerwould have a fire be it ever so small, he smoking his pipe, which wasa custom he had learned of the Germans, he began thus with me:
"I am for the King, as you well know, son Philip; but 'twould be wellif you could be persuaded in your conscience that the Parliament hasthe right."
I could say nothing, being struck dumb, so to speak, withastonishment. Then he went on:
"'Tis the fashion hereabouts to order things in this way, and has beensince these present troubles began, as doubtless you would have knownbut for being away in London. See now there is Master Holmes atUpcott, t'other side of the river; he is for the Parliament, andGeoffrey his son is for the King; and Sir William Tresham, of Parton,is a staunch Cavalier, but William Tresham the younger e'en as stauncha Roundhead."
"Nay, father," said I, finding my tongue at last, "I cannot conceivethat I should be found different from you in this matter."
Then he laughed and said: "Your schooling has not made your wits asnimble as might have been looked for. Dost not see how the matterstands? If the King prevail, no harm shall befall Upcott, for is notGeoffrey loyal? nor any if the Parliament get the better, seeing thatMaster Holmes himself hath ever been zealous for it. And for SirWilliam, 'tis but the same story told the other way. Master Treshamgoes in the new ways, but the good knight his father loves the old;and it cannot but be that the one or the other is in the right. Whatsay you? I am too old to change, and the world would wonder if, when Ihave fought for his Majesty's house, I should now turn against him;but you have been brought up among the citizens, with whom he is, I amtold, in but small favour. Shall we make a Master Doubleface betweenus, and make the inheritance sure whatever may befall?"
What I should have said I know not, for though the matter of hisspeech was utterly strange to me, he showed no token but of beingutterly serious; but I must have showed some distemper in my face, forbefore I could answer, he broke in upon me:
"Nay, son Philip, answer not. 'Tis enough. I did ill to jest on such amatter, which is indeed too serious for any words but those ofsoberness. Come, let us take counsel together. To live here is a thingpast all enduring, at least for any man that cares not to run with thehare and hunt with the hounds. An I could welcome the Parliament's menone day and the King's men the next, I might make a good profit out ofboth, and so fare well. But such is not to my taste. My purpose thenis to put my sword to the grindstone again, and to take service withthe King. I am not what I was, but I am not too old to strike a blowfor the good cause. The farm I shall leave to John Vickers. 'Tis anhonest man enough, but he cares not, I do believe in my heart, onegroat for King or Parliament, so that he gets in the hay and cornwithout damage of blight or hindrance of weather. I have made acovenant with him, not in writing, but by word of mouth--for be he nothonest, as indeed I do trust he is, writing will not bind him morethan speech--that he shall pay so much by the year, according as theprice of corn shall be. 'Twill be, as I reckon, about eighty pounds;of this I shall keep twenty for my own use, so that I shall not needto trouble the King's chest, which has, I take it, enough, and morethan enough, to do. Your mother's portion is in the hands of NicholasBarratt, a maltster of Reading, who pays six pounds per centum, makingthirty pounds by the year in all. And this, with the residue of thatwhich comes from John Vickers she must make suffice for herself andyour sister Dorothy and you. And now for yourself."
At that I brake in: "That matter is soon sped. My place is nowhere butwith my father."
"Nay," said he, "you have forgotten half the commandment, which runs:'Honour thy father _and thy mother_.' Thy mother and sister mustneeds dwell in Oxford, and I should not be content to leave them therewithout some man of their kindred to take their part. I doubt neitherthe loyalty nor the courage of those that serve his Majesty, but thereare not a few among them that are somewhat loose of life, which is,indeed, but too common a fault of soldiers. You will soon see foryourself that a fair maid, such as is your sister Dorothy, couldscarce stir abroad had she not you to bear her company, nor would Ihave you at your age in a camp; 'tis not a place for a lad, as youstill are, for all your inches and broad shoulders. 'Tis the time forlearning and fitting yourself for your work in life; for these warswill come to an end some day, though I doubt not that they will lastso long that this realm shall be almost brought to ruin. And whatwould you do, being left at two or three and twenty years of age,having learnt nothing and forgotten much, and 'all thy occupationgone,' as Will Shakespea
re hath it?"
It matters not what I said in answer to this. I did not yield at once,but debated the matter for awhile, being thus disappointed of my hope.But 'twas all to no purpose, for my father was resolute, and I couldnot but acknowledge in my heart that he had the right.
The next day, therefore, my mother and sister having for some timepast bestirred themselves to get all things ready for removal, we leftour home and journeyed to Oxford, lodging for a time at the_Maidenhead_, which is a tavern opposite to Lincoln College, tillwe could find a convenient dwelling in the town. This was no easymatter, for Oxford was full, it may be said to overflowing, withcourtiers and soldiers. But at last, by the kindness of Mistress Wood,widow of Thomas Wood, that had died the year before, having beenalways a good friend to my father, we found a little house not farfrom Merton College. 'Twas but a poor place, having only two chamberswith one parlour and a kitchen, with no garden but a little yard only(a thing which troubled the women folk much, not only because itstinted them of air and exercise, the streets being scarce fit forthem to walk in, but because they were constrained to buy such triflesas parsley and mint, and everything, though but the veriest trifle,that was needed for the household). Yet we were right glad to findeven this shelter, having almost begun to despair; and, indeed, wescarce suffered the former occupiers, the widow and daughter of aKing's officer, newly slain in the wars, to depart before we filledtheir places, so fearful were we lest someone else should bebeforehand with us. Nor indeed, for very shame, could we complain,seeing that Mistress Wood lived in a house that was scarce better thanours, her own having been given up to my Lord Colepepper, Master ofthe Rolls. Nor was it a slight matter that this narrow dwelling suitedour shallow purse, for shallow it was when money was so scarce and allarticles of provision so dear as we found them to be in Oxford. Andhere let me say that neither did Master Barratt fail to pay intereston my mother's fortune, nor John Vickers his yearly rent, mostscrupulously calculated according to the current price of corn. Theworthy man also did send my mother many gifts of fruit and butter, andfowls and game in its season, so that although we had no superfluity,we never lacked, but could give to many that needed. Of these, indeed,there was no small number in Oxford, some of them being persons ofgood estate, that, having less honest tenants than John Vickers, couldget no return of rent from their lands.
Me my father entered at Lincoln College, with the Rector of which, Dr.Paul Hood, he had a friendship (or I should rather say anacquaintance) of old standing. By good fortune it happened that theplace of one of the four Trappes scholars fell empty beyondexpectation, the scholar having taken service with the King and beingkilled in battle. The news came on the very day of my entering, and asI had gained some credit by answering, and much praise from them thatexamined me, and no one else desired the place, the vacancy being, asI have said, without expectation, I was chosen to it by a unanimousvoice. 'Twas no great matter, fifty-two shillings by the year only;but 'twas, nevertheless, a welcome promotion.
With the King at Oxford: A Tale of the Great Rebellion Page 5