The Lions Whelp 51

The Lions Whelp 51

Doctor Verity shook his head at the mention of the Chaplainship. "Your

Highness will give great offense to some not of Mr. Hooker’s precise way

of thinking," he said.

 

"I care not, John Verity," Oliver answered with much warmth; "one creed

must not trample upon the heels of another creed; Independents must not

despise those under baptism, and revile them. I will not suffer it.

Even to Quakers, we must wish no more harm than we do our own souls."

 

With these words he rose from the table, and Mr. Milton, the Ladies Mary

and Frances Cromwell, and Jane Swaffham went into the great hall, where

there was an exceedingly fine organ. In a short time Mr. Milton began

to play and to sing, but the girls walked up and down talking to Jane of

their admirers, and their new gowns, and of love-letters that had been

sent them in baskets of flowers. And what song can equal the one we

sing, or talk, about our own affairs? Mr. Milton’s glorious voice rose

and fell to incomparable melodies, but Jane’s hand-clasp was so

friendlike, and her face and words so sympathetic, that the two girls

heard only their own chatter, and knew not that the greatest of English

poets was singing with enchanting sweetness the songs of Lodge, and

Raleigh, and Drayton.

 

But Cromwell knew it; he came to the entrance frequently and listened,

and then went back to the group by the hearth, who were smoking and

talking of the glorious liberating movements of the century—the

Commonwealth in England, and the free commonwealths Englishmen were

planting beyond the great seas. If the first should fail, there would

still be left to unslavish souls the freedom of the illimitable western

wilderness.

 

When the music ceased, the evening was far spent; and Cromwell said as

he drew Frances and Jane within his arms, "Bring me the Bible, Mary.

Mr. Milton has been giving us English song, now we will have the loftier

music of King David."

 

"And we shall get no grander music, sir," said Doctor Owen, "than is to

be found in the Bible. Sublimity is Hebrew by birth. We must go to the

Holy Book for words beyond our words. Is there a man living who could

have written that glorious Hymn,

 

"’Lord, Thou hast been our dwelling-place in all generations;

 

"’Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever Thou hadst formed the

earth and the world; even from everlasting to everlasting Thou art

God’?"

 

"The prophets also," said Doctor Verity, "were poets, and of the highest

order. Turn to Habakkuk, the third chapter, and consider his

description of the Holy One coming from Mount Parem: ’His glory covered

the heavens. His brightness was as the light. He stood and measured

the earth: He beheld and drove asunder the nations: the everlasting

mountains were scattered, the perpetual hills did bow.’ And most

striking of all about this Holy One—’Thou didst cleave the earth with

rivers.’"

 

Cromwell did not answer; he was turning the leaves of the dear,

homely-looking volume which his daughter had laid before him. She hung

affectionately over his shoulder, and when he had found what he wanted,

he looked up at her, and she smiled and nodded her approbation. Then he

said,

 

"Truly, I think no mortal pen but St. John’s could have written these

lines; and I give not St. John the honour, for the Holy One must have

put them into his heart, and the hand of his angel guided his pen." And

he began to read, and the words fell like a splendid vision, and a great

awe filled the room as they dropped from Cromwell’s lips:

 

"’And I saw heaven opened, and beheld a white horse; and he that sat

upon him was called Faithful and True, and in righteousness he doth

judge and make war.

 

"’His eyes were as a flame of fire, and on his head were many crowns;

and he had a name written, that no man knew but himself.

 

"’And he was clothed with a vesture dipped in blood: and his name is

called The Word of God.

 

"’And the armies which were in heaven followed him upon white horses,

clothed in fine linen, white and clean.

 

"’And out of his mouth goeth a sharp sword, that with it he should smite

the nations; and he shall rule them with a rod of iron; and he treadeth

the wine-press of the fierceness and wrath of Almighty God.’"

 

And when he finished these words he cried out in a transport, "Suffer

Thy servant, oh, Faithful and True, when his warfare here is

accomplished, to be among the armies which are in heaven following the

Word of God upon white horses clothed in fine linen white and clean."

And then turning the leaf of the Bible he said with an unconceivable

solemnity, "Read now what is written in Revelations, chapter 20th, 11-15

verses:

 

"’And I saw a great white throne, and him that sat on it, from whose

face the earth and the heaven fled away; and there was found no place

for them.

 

"’And I saw the dead, small and great, stand before God; and the books

were opened; and another book was opened, which is the book of life: and

the dead were judged out of those things which were written in the

books, according to their works.

 

"’And death and hell were cast into the lake of fire. This is the second

death.’"

 

And when he ceased there was a silence that could be felt, a silence

almost painful, ere Dr. Owen’s silvery voice penetrated it with the

words of the Benediction. Then the Protector and Mrs. Cromwell kissed

the girls, and the clergymen blessed them, and they went to their rooms

as from the very presence of God.

 

But Mrs. Cromwell lingered a long time. She could not rest until she

had seen the silver and crystal and fine damask put away in safety; and

she thought it no shame to look—as her Lord did—after the fragments of

the abundant dinner.

 

"I will not have them wasted," she said to the steward, "nor given to

those who need them not. The Lady Elizabeth hath a list of poor

families, and it is my will that they, and they only, are served."

 

Then she went to her daughter Claypole’s apartments, and talked with her

about her children, and her health; also about the disorders and

thieving of the servants, wrong-doings, which caused her orderly,

careful nature much grief and perplexity. Elizabeth was her comforter

and councilor, and the good daughter generally managed to infuse into

her mother’s heart a serene trust, that with all its expense and

inefficiencies the household was conducted on as moderate a scale as was

consistent with her father’s dignity.

 

When they parted it was very late; the palace was dark and still, and

Mrs. Cromwell, with careful economies in her mind, and a candle in her

hand, went softly along the lonely, gloomy corridors—the very same

corridors that a few years before had been the lodging-place of the

Queen’s thirty priests and her seventy-five French ladies and gentlemen.

Had it been the war-like Oliver thus treading in their footsteps, he

would have thought of these things, and seen with spiritual vision the

black-robed Jesuits slipping noiselessly along; he would have seen the

painted, curled, beribboned, scented men and women of that period; and

he would also have remembered the insults offered the Queen and her

English attendants by the black and motley crew, ere the King in a rage

ordered them all off English soil. And ’tis like enough he would have

said to himself, "If Charles Stuart had been on all occasions as

straightforward and positive as he was on that one, he had been King of

England yet." But Elizabeth Cromwell did not either see or remember.

Her little grandson had a slight fever; she was not satisfied with her

daughter’s health, and the care of the great household she ruled was a

burden she never wholly laid down. In this vast, melancholy pile of

chambers, she thought of her simple home in St. Ives with longing and

affection. Royal splendours had given her nothing she cared for; and

they had taken from her the constant help and companionship that in

humbler circumstances her good, great husband had given her.

 

She paused a moment before the door of his room. She wondered if he was

asleep. If so, she would on no account awaken him, for in these days he

slept far too little. All was still as death, but yet something of the

man’s intense personality escaped the closed door. The giant soul

within was busy with heart and brain, and the subtile life evolved found

her out. Quiet as the room was, it was not quiet enough for Oliver to

be asleep. She opened the door softly and saw him sitting motionless by

the fire, his eyes closed, his massive form upright and perfectly at

rest.

 

"Oliver," she said, "dear Oliver, you ought to be in bed and asleep."

 

His great darkling soul flashed into his face a look of tenderest love.

"Elizabeth," he answered, "I wish that I could sleep. I do indeed. I

need it. God knows I need it, but my heart wakes, and I do fear it will

wake this night—if so, there is no sleep for me. You see, dearest, how

God mingles our cup. When I was Mr. Cromwell, I could sleep from night

till morning. When I was General Cromwell, my labours gave me rest.

Now that I am Lord Protector of three Kingdoms, sleep, alas! is gone far

from me! In my mind I run to and fro through all the land. I have a

thousand plans and anxieties, Elizabeth, my dearest; great place is not

worth looking after. It is not."

 

"But if beyond our will we be led into great place and great honour,

Oliver?"

 

"That is my comfort. I brought not myself here; no, truly, that would

be an incredible thing. Once, my God led me in green pastures and by

still waters, and I was happy with my Shepherd. Then He called me to be

Captain of Israel’s host, and He went before me in every battle and gave

me the victory. Now, He has set me here as Protector of a people who

know not yet what they want. Moses leading those stiff-necked,

self-willed Israelites was not harder bestead than I am, trying to lead

men just as stiff-necked out of victory into freedom. Every one thinks

freedom means ’his way, and no other way,’ and they break my heart with

their jealousies and envyings, and their want of confidence in me and in

each other. Yet I struggle day and night to do the work set me as well as mortal man may do it."