With the King at Oxford: A Tale of the Great Rebellion

by Alfred John Church

  CHAPTER XII.

  OF MY FATHER'S END AND OTHER MATTERS.

  When my father awoke I asked him, "Shall I go for my mother andsister?"

  He answered me: "Had I desired to see them--nay, but I do desire tosee them with a great longing," and his eyes were filled with tears, athing that I had never seen before in him; "had it been well that theyshould come, son Philip, I had sent you for them so soon as I wasbrought to this place. I knew when first that bullet struck me that itcarried a billet of death, nor have I ever looked for any other end,though a man will hope even against hope, nor do I pretend to bestronger and wiser than others. But as for your mother and your sistercoming hither, 'tis clearly impossible. They would need a regiment ofhorse to escort them safely, for the country was never so disturbed.No, my son, when I bade your mother farewell at Oxford, it wasunderstood between us that whatever might befall me, she and our dearDorothy should tarry at home. And, indeed, this was part of the costthat she and I counted when I took up arms for the King. God comforther in her widowhood, and you and Dorothy render her double love andduty. And now I would settle my worldly affairs, that I may give therest of my time to God."

  After this he made a codicil to his will, to which Master Ellgood andJohn Talboys set their hands as witnesses. Also he bade me write downwhat he desired to be done with sundry possessions that he had,desiring that certain friends should have something to keep in memoryof him. And he gave me many messages for kinsfolk and acquaintance,and much counsel for myself, of which the chief was that while I hadthe opportunity--"for how long you may have it," said he, "I knownot"--I should be diligent with my books, and that in due time, if Ifelt any drawing thereto, I should seek for orders at the hands of aBishop. But of these things, as being matters of private concern, Iwill here write no more.

  The rest of his time, which was indeed but two days, the woundmortifying and so bringing him to his end sooner than any had thought,he spent in meditation and religious exercises. Master Ellgood, whowas a priest, though, as will be set forth more at length hereafter,he had long been excluded from his office, was most diligent inpraying and reading the Scriptures with him; and on the morning of hisdeath, which was the festival of St. John the Baptist, delivered tohim the blessed sacrament, all that were in the house communicatingwith him. My father's strength held out just so long that he couldjoin, though but in a low voice, to the very end of the service. Nordid he speak again afterwards, till he came to the very last, but laywith his eyes shut, yet conscious of himself, as I knew because hepressed my hand as I sat by him. About two hours after noon it seemedto me that he had departed, for I could not see his breast move, norfeel the vein in his wrist. But it was not so, for when Cicely held amirror to his mouth, the breath was to be seen upon it, though butvery faint. In this state he lay for the space of three hours orthere-abouts; but about five of the clock, there came a flush upon hischeeks, and he opened his eyes, which were as bright as ever I sawthem, and looked at me, and said in a clear voice, smiling the while:"I have seen her, and it is well." And having said this he passedaway. And here I should say that at this very hour my mother sittingin her chamber, having just come back from evensong in St. Peter'sChurch, saw my father, as plain as ever she had seen him in life,standing by the window; and that he smiled upon her very sweetly andpleasantly. "I seemed to know," she said afterwards, "that it was nothe in the flesh, for I did not make to go to him or speak to him; butyet I was in no wise afraid, but sat looking at him with such love andgladness in my heart as I had never felt before. And in a short spaceof time, for it seemed to me, but 'twas, as afterwards I found fromcomparing of time, about half of an hour, he vanished out of mysight."

  My father was buried in the churchyard of Naseby, Master Ellgoodsaying over him the service provided in the Prayer Book. The ministerof Naseby, a good man, but somewhat timid withal, had not dared to useit, but our host had no such fear. "None," said he, "will hinder me orcall me to account." And so it was, I may note, that, having the wholeby heart from beginning to end, he used no book. Maybe, had he had abook in his hand, some that were present might have made objection;but when he said it as if extempore, not only did none murmur, but allseemed edified. 'Tis a strange thing, and yet of a piece with manyother things in life, that a man may say unharmed, yea, and commended,that which to read would put him in peril of liberty or life.

  I, coming back from the burying, was wetted through by a great stormof rain, and, neglecting to change my clothes, was the next day takenwith a great cold and fever, other things, I doubt not, as care andtrouble of mind, making the sickness worse. And, indeed, 'twas so sore(this they told me after, but at the time I knew nothing, but onlyraved of fighting and of disputing in the school at Oxford), that forsome days I was like to follow my father. So I lay betwixt life anddeath till it was about the middle of the month of July; and thenpartly through Master Ellgood's skill in physic (especially in the useof simples of which he had a considerable knowledge), and more throughthe good nursing of Mistress Cicely and of John Talboys, I began tomend.

  One morning when the danger was past, says John Talboys to me, "'Tistime, sir, that I thought of departing hence. You need me no more, andI must shift for myself. My soldiering is over for three years tocome; but I reckon that a stout pair of hands will not lackemployment. I can ply a sickle and drive a furrow as well as most men;and there are those in Oxfordshire who know it and will give me goodwages."

  So I gave him two gold pieces (having had ten given me by my father).He was loath to take them, but I pressed them on him, as being myfather's gift to him, as indeed they were. Also I wrote a letter ofmany sheets to my mother, which I gave into his keeping, he promisingto deliver it into her hands with all possible speed. So he departed;nor have I ever seen him again, but I hear that he prospers, keepingan inn at Cassington, in the county of Berks, and having also a farm.He is as brave and honest a fellow as ever bestrode a horse.

  After I began to mend I saw no more of Mistress Cicely, though I couldhear her singing about the house, for she had a very sweet and tunablevoice. There waited on me a very decent widow woman from the village,that was reckoned a notable nurse in these parts; such doubtless shewas, for I never lacked anything, but had all things served at the duetime. But she had a heavy hand, and a croaking voice, and was of asingular doleful temper. She would sit by the hour and talk to me ofthose whom she had nursed in times past, and if she mentioned one thathad died she would say like enough, "He very greatly favoured you,sir," or "He had the same complexion as you, and I have noted that itoften goes with a consumption," or "He was of very tall stature, andyour tall men fail very suddenly." I was myself tall. As for herreadiness to believe all kinds of marvels, 'twas such as I never sawsurpassed. There was scarce a house in the country but she knew ofsome ghost that walked in it, and if there was no ghost of a man, thenthere was one of a dog or a cat; and as for witches, there was not avillage but had two or three. And when I doubted, she hadcircumstances at hand to prove what she said. "Did not Thomas Clark atErpington Mill speak roughly to Alice Viner, the Erpington witch, forpicking wood in his coppice, and Alice cursed him, and said that heshould never die in his bed, and the miller, coming home from marketthe very next Tuesday, fell from his horse and was killed?" "But wasthe miller in liquor, think you?" I said. "Yes," said she, "and hadcome home in liquor every market day for thirty years and more, andhad come to no harm till he fell out with Alice." That witches may be,I do not doubt, for does not Scripture say, "Thou shalt not suffer awitch to live;" but that many poor women have an ill-name forwitchcraft, ay, and worse than an ill-name, that have no worse faultsthan a shrewish temper and a bitter tongue, I do not doubt. With suchdoleful tales did Margery Marriott--for that was the good woman'sname--entertain me; and though Master Ellgood would come and sit withme, I was right glad, when the fever having left me and, in a greatmeasure, the weakness also that followed it, I was quit of hercompany.

  It was about the end of July when I left my chamber; there thenfollowed s
o delightful a time as had never before come to me in mywhole life. First, the skies smiled upon me, for the summer havingbeen hitherto somewhat wet and stormy, there now began a season of themost serene weather that can be imagined; and next, the place was mostsweet and pleasant, a very home of peace, and Master Ellgood showed mesuch courtesy and kindness as could not be surpassed; and lastly, touse the figure which the rhetoricians call a climax, I had sometimesat least, though not as often as I would, the companionship ofMistress Cicely. Of her face and aspect I have written before; andthese were such, indeed, as would strike all beholders; but of theinner beauty and fairness of her soul, I have said nothing, nor,indeed, can now say enough. She ordered her father's household withsuch nice care as not the most experienced matron could have excelled,and yet had barely ended her seventeenth year; nay, but for the helpof a little maid and a lad that hewed the wood and fetched the water,she did all the service of the house; yet, for all this, I never sawher with so much as a pin awry, nor any flush upon her cheeks, thoughshe might be newly come from cooking the dinner. And for all thesecares, yet time never failed her to minister to the sick when anyneeded her help; no, nor to nourish her own mind with the reading ofwholesome authors. She was not ignorant of Latin, which her father hadtaught her in company with her brother, but to this, since he went tothe war, she had paid but little heed; but with our English writersshe had such acquaintance as made me, being indeed somewhat rude inthese matters, wholly ashamed. 'Twas of her that I learnt to read the_Canterbury Pilgrims_ of Geoffrey Chaucer, and the poems of LordSurrey, and the incomparable Sir Philip Sidney's romance of _Arcadia_.Of William Shakespeare his plays I knew already somewhat, but with herand her father much increased my knowledge, for of an evening we wouldread one or another, dividing the characters among ourselves. But Imust confess that it was not her notable housekeeping, nor hercharitable disposition, nor her learning in authors ancient andmodern, that I chiefly admired in her; no, nor her beauty only, that Imay be but just to myself; but herself, that was a compound, mostsweetly mixed of all; for gracious ways, and a delicate courtesy, anda most modest discretion of voice and look set off and displayed, if Imay so speak of that which did always rather seek to hide itself, thesingular virtues of her mind and body. I do believe what divines teachof the corruption of human nature, yet I must confess that I have seenwomen, of whom Cicely Ellgood was one, my mother another, and mysister Dorothy a third, in whom I never discovered that which couldrightly be called corrupt. Faults they had, I doubt not, though inCicely and my mother I never perceived any such (for Dorothy had aquick temper, but only in too hot anger against wrong-doing); but thatthey sinned--if I must need receive it, I receive it of faith, not ofunderstanding.

  I do not know whether Master Ellgood perceived how I was affectedtowards his daughter, for that I was greatly enamoured of her scarcelyneeds telling; but on the seventh day, or thereabouts, after my firstdescending from my chamber, he called me to his private parlour,saying that he desired to have some talk with me.

  "Master Dashwood," he said; "'tis well that host and guest, if theirchance acquaintance has any likelihood to become more durable, shouldknow something of each other. Hear, therefore, my story; it may bethat, having heard it, you may choose that we should part. I was--nay,I do protest that I still am--a priest of the Church of England; but Ihave been for these many years deprived of my office; and the causewas this, which you shall now hear. May be you have not heard of the_Book of Sports_. It made trouble enough in its days, but like enoughhas now been forgotten for stress of graver matters.

  It had this for its title: _Concerning Lawful Sports to be used onSundays after Divine Service_. In it was commanded that dancing andarchery, and May games, and Whitsun ales, and Church feasts, should beheld lawful; but bull-baiting and bear-baiting and interludesforbidden. At its first publishing it made but little stir; this wassome thirty years since, in the days of King James I. But when Dr.Laud, that was then Archbishop of Canterbury, put it forth again sometwelve years since, and strictly commanded all the Bishops of hisprovince that they should enforce it on all ministers, no littletrouble arose. Against Dr. Laud I would say nothing, but he was onethat suffered not his words to fall to the ground. There went out,therefore, a strict commandment that every minister should read thebook on the eighteenth of October following--being St. Luke'sday--publicly in the church, after morning prayer. Some of the bishopstook little heed of the matter; but my Lord of Norwich, in whosediocese I held a cure, was exceeding hot about it. To be brief, I readit not. Now I hold not with them who mislike these games altogether.If the Jews danced and shot with the bow, why not Christian men? Andas for the Whitsun ales and the Church feasts and the like, that theywork mischief I deny not; but 'tis chiefly because honest and soberfolk keep too much aloof from them, and leave them to the looser sort.Nor am I altogether resolved in mind whether such things be unlawfulon the Sunday. To forbid them savours of Sabbath worship; yet topermit them does not tend to edifying. May be you will ask why thendid I not read the book, as was enjoined upon me? Because I held thatthe civil power was intruding into things with which it had noconcern, the which intrusion every true minister of God must resist tothe loss of all things, and, if need be, even to the death. Howbeit Iwill not weary you with my reasons, which, indeed, that I may bealtogether honest, I found not many to comprehend. To the one party Iseemed a rebel, because I obeyed not my ordinary, and to the other aprofane person, because I condemned not the sports. Let my reasons,therefore, be. 'Tis enough for my present purpose to say that I couldnot in my conscience obey. Well, the Archbishop being advised by myLord of Norwich, sends for me to Lambeth. As soon as I came into hislibrary, where he sat with a chaplain on either hand, he burst out onme: 'Well, sir, I hear that you read not the book on the dayappointed. Is it so?' 'Suffer me, your Grace----' I said; but before Icould end my sentence he cried out, 'Answer me "yea" or "nay."' 'Iread it not,' said I, being myself also, it must be confessed, alittle touched by his heat. 'Then,' he cried, in a loud voice, 'Isuspend you for ever from your office and benefice till you shall readit.' Thereat I saw one of the chaplains whisper into his ear. Hereuponhe moderated somewhat his voice, and said, 'Have you any defence?' Ihad written down my reasons, and now began to read them. They were, asI have said already, that the book was a civil declaration, such ascould not lawfully be enforced by any court ecclesiastical. But when Ihad read barely a page he brake in upon me: 'Hold! 'tis enough; I willhear no more. Whosoever shall make such a defence, it shall be burnedbefore his face, and he laid by the heels in prison. Hear now; Iadmonish you hereby, personally and judicially, that you read thisDeclaration within three weeks, under pain of being suspended _abofficio et beneficio_.' As I turned to go I saw that the chaplainwhispered in his ear again. Then the Archbishop said, 'Tarry a moment,Master Ellgood, and sit down'--for hitherto I had been standing--'Iwould have a word with you.' And this he said in a voice more gentleby far than he had before used. Afterwards I heard that the chaplainhad whispered to him about a little book that I had written of St.Cyprian and the Bishop of Rome, in which matter the Archbishop wasmuch concerned. 'Have you studied the Fathers, Master Ellgood?' Andwhen I confessed that I had some knowledge of them, he held me in talkabout sundry matters which were then much talked of, of which thechief was the supremacy of the Bishop of Rome. This converse held ustill noon, when the Archbishop would have me dine with him, and,dinner ended, we played at bowls, the day being fine, though it wasalready November; and I throwing my bowls well--for I have alwaysloved the game--his Grace said, ''Tis not now the first time that youhave thrown a bowl, Master Ellgood, so that you mislike not allsport.' This he spake right pleasantly, and when I went away he gaveme his blessing, and said, 'I doubt not, Master Ellgood, but that weshall agree;' and so parted from me in all friendship. Of a truth, Iwould fain have done his pleasure, if only conscience had suffered me;but I must needs wrap me in my virtue, if I may somewhat misquoteHorace; nor could I consent that the sun of his Grace's favour shouldcause me to cast o
ff that which the blast of his wrath had not rentfrom me. I stood, therefore, by my denial, and so was firstexcommunicated, and afterwards, still persisting, deprived of mybenefice. Ah, my son! 'twas a hard time with me and mine; nor has italways been an easy thing with me to be in charity with all men. Theydrave me forth from my house in February, when the snow was lying deepupon the ground; and for two days we had no shelter for our heads buta barn. The Bishop's people stripped me of all that I had, but 'twasnot of my lord's knowledge, and I had not so much as a piece of silverin my pocket, nor did any man dare to take me into his house, thoughsome brought me food by stealth. My wife was stricken of so deadly achill that she fell into a wasting sickness and died some three monthsafter. She had taken some of her underclothing to keep our childrenthe warmer; but this I knew not till after. Perchance it was betterthat I knew not; it had been a hard thing to choose between mother andchildren. But why do I weary you with my troubles? Suffice it to saythat for two years I could scarce keep body and soul together. Atrifle I earned translating for the booksellers, and the dedication oftwo little treatises that I wrote fetched me a few guineas; but I hadreceived better wages by following the plough, had but my hands beenhard enough. Some of my brethren in the ministry also helped,especially Dr. Thomas Fuller, that was vicar of Broadwinsor, and somemoney I had from the Archbishop himself, but this I knew not tillafter his death. God forgive me for thinking too hardly of him! At theend of the two years, a certain kinsman that, living, had neverfavoured me, dying without a will, I inherited this house, with sometwo hundred acres of land, part of which I have farmed as best Icould, and part have let. Perchance you would ask why, they thatpersecuted me having fallen from power, I have had no favour from themthat succeeded to their place? The cause is soon said. I am noPuritan; I hold neither with Presbyterian nor with Independent, butthink that bishops are the true rulers of the Church, though I myselfhave had scant favour from them. The Covenant I cannot subscribe, norcan I satisfy the Committees that the Parliament has appointed for theexamining of the clergy. An I could, I would not intrude myself into abenefice from which some godly man has been driven out because he wasfaithful to his King. But enough of myself. If you can bear with onewho can neither run with the hare nor hunt with the hounds, well; Ishall rejoice from my heart; but if not, we can at the least part inChristian charity."

  I should have found it hard to part with sweet Cicely's father had hebeen Hugh Peters himself, who was the loudest and fiercest of all theParliament preachers. But who could refuse the hand of fellowship tosuch an one as William Ellgood? He was one of those whose consciencesare too fine set for this world. Whoever was uppermost, there would beever some thing at which he would have some scruple. He had fared justas ill, nay worse, had he lived a hundred years before. Then he hadbeen condemned under the Six Articles, and fallen under thedispleasure of the counsellors of King Edward, and been in danger ofthe fire at Smithfield, and been deprived of his benefice under QueenElizabeth. Verily he was no vicar of Bray that would be vicar stillwhoever should rule the roost. The more I knew him the more I lovedhim, yet I could but see that were all men such as he, life itselfwould be a thing impossible. Pure he was, and single-minded andsteadfast, but could see but one thing at a time; and everything, beit ever so small, was an article of faith to him, for which he hadgone cheerfully to the death; and I soon learnt to see so much, notonly in his talk, in which he afterwards was quite free with me, butin his face, which, for all its angelical sweetness, had a certain setlook which I have noted in the fiercest sectaries. But William Ellgoodwas one that had for others a charity without bounds, and was sternonly upon himself.

  Two or three days after Master Ellgood opened to me a trouble that hehad about his son. "He is a good lad," he said to me, "my son John,but he does not see eye to eye with me in matters of Church and State.There is work enough for them who stand aside from both parties inthese days, and this I would have had him do, but he was not content,but must needs take service with the Parliament. He was with my LordEssex's army, and is promoted, I believe, to be a captain; but thewhole matter is a sore trouble to me."

  "Well, Master Ellgood," said I, "I had been better pleased had hestood for the King; but that one who hath the strength to strike ablow should stand aside and not deal it for one side or the other, isnot to be looked for."

  "Say you so?" said he; "there are but few that have one mind with mein this matter. I must e'en be content to be alone."

  I sojourned six weeks with Master Ellgood and then departed, though,as need scarce be said, very loath to go, but I heard that his sonJohn, the war being now well nigh at an end, was like to return home,and I could not reconcile it to myself to see him, when he had latelyborne arms against the King. I spake no word to Mistress Cicely beforeI went, for who was I--a poor scholar that had followed the losingside--to entangle her with promises? But there are vows that passwithout words. Such an one I made in my own heart. As for her, I knewnothing certain, and lovers will find their hopes in slight tokens;yet such a hope I found; and it sent me away with a lighter heart thanI had ever looked to have again.