XIII
Of Philip Lisle’s Call to Arms
I think there was little more dancing amongst us upon that evening, for no one seemed to have much heart left for merrymaking after hearing Philip Lisle’s news. Certainly the country had not been so peaceful during the past few years as to make us feel that we were suddenly thrown out of a state of security into a condition of danger. No man, I suppose, had thought that the difference ’twixt King and Commons could have other ending than this. For so many years had the struggle gone on and always with so much increase of bitterness on either side that nothing but the shedding of blood could bring peace to us again. And yet civil war is a terrible and a fearful thing, for it is, as I think, a setting of brother against brother and father against son. Now, I think naught of one nation going to war with another, for that seems natural and is only to be looked for, seeing that human nature is what it is. Indeed, to fight with Frenchmen or Spaniards seems to be one of the chief duties of a true Englishman who loves his country. But for Englishmen to fight with Englishmen, that, indeed, is vastly out of place and ought never to be.
The assembly broke up into knots and fell to discussing the situation. Parson Drumbleforth, whose face had grown very anxious when he heard the news, drew near to Philip Lisle and began to question him. A group of others stood round us, hearkening to what was said.
“The King, you say, sir, hath raised his standard at Nottingham?” said Parson Drumbleforth.
“He hath, your reverence. On the 22nd of August he raised it, and is now gathering round him all that are loyal to his Majesty.”
“Hath the King much following, sir?”
“He hath the majority of the Lords, sir, and as for the Commons, there are large numbers of the members of that House who will serve his Majesty.”
“But the country, sir,” said Parson Drumbleforth, “how will the country go?”
“If the people do their duty, sir, will they not serve their King, to whom they owe allegiance?”
Parson Drumbleforth shook his head at that and said that these were sad days.
“For mark you, Master Lisle,” continued he, “I am a Royalist to my last breath and to the last throb of my heart, for so I am commanded by my conscience and my reason. And yet I do think that in this matter his Majesty hath not been well advised and will ultimately suffer. I agree not with them who clamour for the right of the people. I had rather be ruled by a tyrant than by Demos, for your tyrant is but one man, but Demos is a beast of many heads and dispositions. Nevertheless, it had been well, I think, to humour the popular mind somewhat in this case. For I fear me, Master Lisle, that if it come to a case of endurance ’twixt the throne and the people, the throne will come badly out of it.”
But Philip Lisle shook his head at that, and seemed to regard Parson Drumbleforth as a fainthearted Royalist at the best.
“We have taken to the sword,” said Philip Lisle, “and by the sword we shall put down this bad feeling towards the monarchy. What, are those who are ruled to say how they shall be ruled? It used to be said that power came from God, but according to these new teachers it cometh from the people.”
“Alas!” said Parson Drumbleforth, “there are many false teachers abroad, certainly. But, oh, sirs, it is a terrible matter, this civil war, and I would that we could see the end of it. For mind you, Master Lisle, these disaffected men will fight, ay, to the death. I hear they are smarting grievously under a sense of wrong, and such men will give and take many a hard blow ere the affair be settled.”
“The King hath his army,” said Philip Lisle.
“If the King hath the people against him, his army will stand him in little stead, sir,” said an old gentleman, Master Geoffrey Oldthwaite, who had listened attentively to the conversation between Philip Lisle and the Vicar. “Whether his Majesty know it or not, or whether or not they that advise him know it, there is a strong feeling against the King all through the land. For mark you, sir—I speak freely—we Englishmen, as you should know, being one yourself, do like that our liberties should be preserved and honoured, we being a free people and of a proud nature. Now, there are many who do not consider that the King hath conserved the liberties of the people. See what vexatious matters have come upon us in this reign. Hath his Majesty ever been at one with the members whom we send to represent us in Parliament? Have there not been disputes concerning tonnage and poundage, ship-money, and impropriations? We have also heard, sir, of the Star Chamber and of the sentences upon Masters Prynne and Bastwick, and now the King hath endeavoured to seize five representatives of the people sitting in their House. These matters, sir, do not find acceptance with Englishmen. I speak freely, being an Englishman.”
“It is true,” sighed Parson Drumbleforth; “it is true there have been grievances. Whenever was it not so? As for me, though I am a Royalist, I can never forget that Saul was anything but a blessing to his people. What we want, sirs, is mutual long-suffering. If the King hath his rights, so have the people theirs. If he hath his duties, so have they their duties.”
“His Majesty,” said Philip Lisle, “desires not to punish any that are well disposed, but only them that are traitorous. If any man have grievance against the State, let him make his grievance known.”
“What, to the Star Chamber?” said someone in the rear of the group. “Would he find justice there, think you?”
“At any rate,” cried Philip, “ ’tis poor work to fight against your lawful sovereign. Sir, you are a clerk and a learned man; tell us, now, is there Scriptural warrant for this rising against his Majesty? I am no saint nor much of a scholar, but I have read the Scriptures somewhat, and never did I find aught commanding men to rise up in rebellion against the lawful power.”
“It is true,” answered Parson Drumbleforth. “We are commanded to honour the King in the same precept which bids us to fear God. Moreover, we are bound as faithful servants to yield ourselves to the powers set over us, for all power is of God, who hath a fatherly care over His children, and would not allow evil to be done, though His ways do oft seem mysterious and inscrutable. Nay, truly, it is not in Holy Writ that any man finds warrant to rise up against authority.”
Now, Master Oldthwaite shook his head at this, not liking the turn of the conversation, for he was a Parliamentarian and supported that cause to his utmost; but Philip Lisle seized upon the parson’s statement eagerly, and began to appeal to us who stood round him to help in the King’s cause.
“Gentlemen,” said he, “ye hear what your vicar saith as to this matter. The King hath Scripture and reason on his side. Who can stand against these two? Gentlemen, in this contest no man can remain undecided. Ye must choose one side or the other. It must be either King or Parliament. As for me, I am for the King—God preserve him!—and whether the fight go well or ill I will stand by that until the end come. But you, sirs, will you not join me in serving under his Majesty’s banner? There are here young and lusty men of able bodies who might strike many a hearty blow for a good cause. Come, gentlemen, let me ride back to Nottingham with a goodly troop of horse behind me. Will Dale, what sayest thou? John Drumbleforth, thou art no traitor? Ben Tuckett, there is good stuff in thee. Francis Wood, thy great arms and broad shoulders should give many a swinging blow. Come, boys, say you will go forth like the men you are, to rally round your sovereign’s standard with the flower of England, and help him to subdue all his enemies. What! must I appeal in vain to you, lads of Yorkshire? In old times men were not slow in coming forward to fight for their king, and the Yorkshire lads were always in front.”
“Yorkshire favours not the King in this matter, sir,” said old Master Oldthwaite.
“Faith, sir, you are wrong, then,” said Jack Drumbleforth, “at least so far as one Yorkshire man is concerned. For here, Master Lisle, am I. I will go and fight for the King, an his Majesty will have me. I am not so tall, but I am exceedingly broad, and ye may rest assured that wherever I am there will be broken heads. So God save the King!”
“Oh, John, John!” said the Vicar. “And thou wert meant for the Church, for a man of peace.”
“Time enow for that, father, when peace comes. I shall make no worse soldier of the Church for first splitting a few skulls. Besides, I am a man of muscle, and of thew and sinew. Yes, I will go with you to the wars, Master Lisle, whether any others go or not.”
“And I will go with you,” said Francis Wood.
But beyond these two no one spoke. There were many there who were true to the throne, but they had their farms to think of, and their families, and their chief desire was that the tide of war might sweep aside and leave them and theirs untouched. So Philip Lisle at that time got small response to his pleading on the King’s behalf.
There was little more merrymaking that night, and erelong the guests had gone away along the quiet lanes. Philip Lisle, Jack, Ben, and I were left talking in the garden. The women were gossiping together in the house. As for Parson Drumbleforth, he had ridden home to his vicarage in his churchwarden’s cart.
“Will,” said Philip Lisle, as we strolled about the moonlit garden—“Will, you must join us. Here is Jack, and young Francis Wood will go. You must make a third; and you, Ben, will you not make a fourth?”
Now, when I had heard Philip Lisle’s appeal, my heart had felt a great desire to go to the wars, and I was tempted to say so at the time. But there were so many hindrances in the way that I could not see my way to saying that I would follow the King’s standard. For if I went to fight, who would look after the farm and defend the women if such times arose as would lead to their danger? An I had been all alone in those days, I would have gone willingly enough, and would have served the King to my last breath. As for the rights and wrongs of the matter I knew little, nay, I say frankly enough that I was with the King all through that terrible time because he was the King, for I am a Royalist to the backbone. Wrongs there doubtless were, and maybe somewhat in the nature of oppression, but for all that he was the King, and we had sworn allegiance to him. Therefore, I say, I would cheerfully have followed Philip Lisle to fight under the royal standard but for the care of my mother and sister and the farm. What were the women to do without me to guard them; what would become of my farm and stock if I left them to the care of others?
“I would go willingly enough if it were not for that,” said I, explaining my reasons to Philip Lisle. “But it would seem that duty calls me to abide here presently.”
“Tut, lad,” said he, “duty calls thee to the King’s side. The women are safe enow here, and as for the farm and stock, why, thy mother and Jacob Trusty will take good care of it, I warrant. Come, go with me, Will.”
“Let me think the matter over,” said I. “I am much inclined to go with you. Think you the war will come this way?”
“Nay,” he said, “who can say? I think it will not be of long endurance. The King is getting him a strong army together, and should read these fellows such a lesson that they will quickly lay down their arms and submit themselves to his Majesty’s clemency.”
“Who leads the Parliamentary forces, sir?” asked Jack.
“That is not yet known, lad, but it is said the Earl of Essex will take command. ’Tis a sober and steady head, but he hath not the military genius. He will be prudent and wary, and will fight you a battle admirably on paper, but he will fail in those flashes of genius which show the great soldier.”
“And the King, sir, who hath he to advise him?”
“Why, lad, he hath Falkland, and he hath Prince Rupert, and he hath Hyde—three counsellors from whom he will gain a diversity of opinions. It is on Rupert that I rely. There, lads, is a soldier for you! Full of dash and fire he is, and will lead a cavalry charge against whatever obstacle comes in his way. Hah! we shall have some fine times of it when Rupert falls upon these psalm-singing rascals.”
“Master Oldthwaite would say, sir, that these same psalm-singing rascals will show fight,” said Jack Drumbleforth.
“Master Oldthwaite, Jack, is a seditious old knave, or, if that term be too strong, he is not well disposed towards his Majesty. I fear he will do some harm about this district, that same Master Oldthwaite.”
“He is not alone,” said Ben Tuckett, “in his advocacy of the Parliamentary cause. For whether you know it or not, Master Lisle, this part of the land is not for his Majesty.”
“I know it well enough, Ben, and there is therefore the greater need of care in what those say who are for the King. No, lads, it is the north and west of the land that favours the King; the south and the east are against his Majesty, led away as they are by their agitating leaders.”
“I have heard say,” continued Ben, “that there will be trouble in our town, for whichever party holds the Castle, the other will not rest until it hath dislodged it. Alas! ’tis a sad business, and one that fills me with much concern.”
“Come with me to the wars then, Ben,” said Jack Drumbleforth. “I warrant that arm of thine can strike a blow for the King to some purpose.”
“I am not without some strength,” said Ben, shaking his fist, “but I shall not use it in this quarrel, Jack, unless it be to defend myself or my own. What, because Tom and Bill choose to fall out and fight, is that any reason why I should get my head broken between them?”
“ ’Tis a false parallel, sir,” said Philip Lisle.
“With submission, sir, ’tis a very true one. Did I do aught to encourage King and Parliament in going to war with each other? To tell the truth, I care no jot for either, being a free man and a burgess. Let them that made the quarrel settle the quarrel. God grant that in the settling they ruin not the land!”
This method of dealing with the matter did not seem to find much favour with Philip Lisle, who only regarded the subject from one point of view, and liked not that anyone should deal with it from any other.
“I am sorry, lad,” said he, “that thou hast so little loyalty to thy sovereign. Young men, however, are not what they were, for at one time a lusty fellow like thee would have seized his pike and struck a blow for Merry England.”
“An it come to striking a blow for Merry England, sir,” said Ben, “I am with you. Let Spaniard or Turk so much as set foot within the land, and I will show you whether or no I will fight. Yea, then I would fight till I could fight no more. But is this quarrel for England?”
“Yea,” said Philip Lisle, “for England and the liberties of the English people.”
In that he expressed the sentiments of the Royalists. It was the watchword of the cause, even as the King said years later on the fatal scaffold at Whitehall.
“At any rate,” said Jack Drumbleforth, “I am going, and woe be to the seditious knave that comes in my way! Who knows? I may carve my way to fortune. Sir John Drumbleforth would sound well, or even Baron Drumbleforth. Thou seest, Ben, what a chance thou art missing—Baron Tuckett, or Sir Benjamin. Well, God send us all safe out of it!”