True Stories From History and Biography (28 page)

One morning, when Noll was five or six years old, a royal messenger
arrived at Hinchinbrooke, with tidings that King James was coming to dine
with Sir Oliver Cromwell. This was a high honor to be sure, but a very
great trouble; for all the lords and ladies, knights, squires, guards, and
yeomen, who waited on the king, were to be feasted as well as himself; and
more provisions would be eaten, and more wine drunk, in that one day, than
generally in a month. However, Sir Oliver expressed much thankfulness for
the king's intended visit, and ordered his butler and cook to make the
best preparations in their power. So a great fire was kindled in the
kitchen; and the neighbors knew by the smoke which poured out of the
chimney, that boiling, baking, stewing, roasting, and frying, were going
on merrily.

By and by the sound of trumpets was heard, approaching nearer and nearer;
and a heavy, old-fashioned coach, surrounded by guards on horseback, drove
up to the house. Sir Oliver, with his hat in his hand, stood at the gate
to receive the king. His Majesty was dressed in a suit of green, not very
new; he had a feather in his hat, and a triple ruff round his neck; and
over his shoulder was slung a hunting horn, instead of a sword.
Altogether, he had not the most dignified aspect in the world; but the
spectators gazed at him as if there was something superhuman and divine in
his person. They even shaded their eyes with their hands, as if they were
dazzled by the glory of his countenance.

"How are ye, man?" cried King James, speaking in a Scotch accent; for
Scotland was his native country. "By my crown, Sir Oliver, but I am glad
to see ye!"

The good knight thanked the king, at the same time kneeling down, while
his Majesty alighted. When King James stood on the ground, he directed Sir
Oliver's attention to a little boy, who had come with him in the coach. He
was six or seven years old, and wore a hat and feather, and was more
richly dressed than the king himself. Though by no means an ill-looking
child; he seemed shy, or even sulky; and his cheeks were rather pale, as
if he had been kept moping within doors, instead of being sent out to play
in the sun and wind.

"I have brought my son Charlie to see ye," said the king. "I hope, Sir
Oliver, ye have a son of your own, to be his playmate?"

Sir Oliver Cromwell made a reverential bow to the little prince, whom one
of the attendants had now taken out of the coach. It was wonderful to see
how all the spectators, even the aged men, with their gray beards, humbled
themselves before this child. They bent their bodies till their beards
almost swept the dust. They looked as if they were ready to kneel down and
worship him.

The poor little prince! From his earliest infancy not a soul had dared to
contradict him; everybody around him had acted as if he were a superior
being; so that, of course, he had imbibed the same opinion of himself. He
naturally supposed that the whole kingdom of Great Britain and all its
inhabitants, had been created solely for his benefit and amusement. This
was a sad mistake; and it cost him dear enough after he had ascended his
father's throne.

"What a noble little prince he is!" exclaimed Sir Oliver, lifting his
hands in admiration. "No, please your Majesty, I have no son to be the
playmate of his Royal Highness; but there is a nephew of mine, somewhere
about the house. He is near the prince's age, and will be but too happy to
wait upon his Royal Highness."

"Send for him, man! send for him!" said the king.

But, as it happened, there was no need of sending for Master Noll. While
King James was speaking, a rugged, bold-faced, sturdy little urchin thrust
himself through the throng of courtiers and attendants, and greeted the
prince with a broad stare. His doublet and hose (which had been put on new
and clean in honor of the king's visit) were already soiled and torn with
the rough play in which he had spent the morning. He looked no more
abashed than if King James were his uncle, and the prince one of his
customary playfellows.

This was little Noll himself.

"Here, please your Majesty, is my nephew," said sir Oliver, somewhat
ashamed of Noll's appearance and demeanor. "Oliver, make your obeisance to
the king's Majesty!"

The boy made a pretty respectful obeisance to the king; for, in those
days, children were taught to pay reverence to their elders. King James,
who prided himself greatly on his scholarship, asked Noll a few questions
in the Latin Grammar, and then introduced him to his son. The little
prince in a very grave and dignified manner, extended his hand, not for
Noll to shake, but that he might kneel down and kiss it.

"Nephew," said Sir Oliver, "pay your duty to the prince."

"I owe him no duty," cried Noll, thrusting aside the prince's hand, with a
rude laugh. "Why should I kiss that boy's hand?"

All the courtiers were amazed and confounded, and Sir Oliver the most of
all. But the king laughed heartily, saying that little Noll had a stubborn
English spirit, and that it was well for his son to learn betimes what
sort of a people he was to rule over.

So King James and his train entered the house; and the prince, with Noll
and some other children, was sent to play in a separate room while his
Majesty was at dinner. The young people soon became acquainted; for boys,
whether the sons of monarchs or of peasants, all like play, and are
pleased with one another's society. What games they diverted themselves
with, I cannot tell. Perhaps they played at ball—perhaps at blindman's
buff—perhaps at leap-frog—perhaps at prison-bars. Such games have been in
use for hundreds of years; and princes as well as poor children have spent
some of their happiest hours in playing at them.

Meanwhile, King James and his nobles were feasting with Sir Oliver, in the
great hall. The king sat in a gilded chair, under a canopy, at the head of
a long table. Whenever any of the company addressed him, it was with the
deepest reverence. If the attendants offered him wine, or the various
delicacies of the festival, it was upon their bended knees. You would have
thought, by these tokens of worship, that the monarch was a supernatural
being; only he seemed to have quite as much need of those vulgar matters,
food and drink, as any other person at the table. But fate had ordained
that good King James should not finish his dinner in peace.

All of a sudden, there arose a terrible uproar in the room where the
children were at play. Angry shouts and shrill cries of alarm were mixed
up together; while the voices of elder persons were likewise heard, trying
to restore order among the children. The king, and everybody else at
table, looked aghast; for perhaps the tumult made them think that a
general rebellion had broken out.

"Mercy on us!" muttered Sir Oliver; "that graceless nephew of mine is in
some mischief or other. The naughty little whelp!"

Getting up from table, he ran to see what was the matter, followed by many
of the guests, and the king among them. They all crowded to the door of
the play-room.

On looking in, they beheld the little Prince Charles, with his rich dress
all torn, and covered with the dust of the floor. His royal blood was
streaming from his nose in great abundance. He gazed at Noll with a
mixture of rage and affright, and at the same time a puzzled expression,
as if he could not understand how any mortal boy should dare to give him a
beating. As for Noll, there stood his sturdy little figure, bold as a
lion, looking as if he were ready to fight not only the prince, but the
king and kingdom too.

"You little villain!" cried his uncle. "What have you been about? Down on
your knees, this instant, and ask the prince's pardon. How dare you lay
your hands on the king's Majesty's royal son?"

"He struck me first," grumbled the valiant little Noll; "and I've only
given him his due."

Sir Oliver and the guests lifted up their hands in astonishment and
horror. No punishment seemed severe enough for this wicked little varlet,
who had dared to resent a blow from the king's own son. Some of the
courtiers were of opinion that Noll should be sent prisoner to the Tower
of London, and brought to trial for high treason. Others, in their great
zeal for the king's service, were about to lay hands on the boy, and
chastise him in the royal presence.

But King James, who sometimes showed a good deal of sagacity, ordered them
to desist.

"Thou art a bold boy," said he, looking fixedly at little Noll; "and, if
thou live to be a man, my son Charlie would do wisely to be friends with
thee."

"I never will!" cried the little prince, stamping his foot.

"Peace, Charlie, peace!" said the king; then addressing Sir Oliver and the
attendants, "Harm not the urchin; for he has taught my son a good lesson,
if Heaven do but give him grace to profit by it. Hereafter, should he be
tempted to tyrannize over the stubborn race of Englishmen, let him
remember little Noll Cromwell, and his own bloody nose!"

So the king finished his dinner and departed; and, for many a long year,
the childish quarrel between Prince Charles and Noll Cromwell was
forgotten. The prince, indeed, might have lived a happier life, and have
met a more peaceful death, had he remembered that quarrel, and the moral
which his father drew from it. But, when old King James was dead, and
Charles sat upon his throne, he seemed to forget that he was but a man,
and that his meanest subjects were men as well as he. He wished to have
the property and lives of the people of England entirely at his own
disposal. But the Puritans, and all who loved liberty, rose against him,
and beat him in many battles, and pulled him down from his throne.

Throughout this war between the king and nobles on one side, and the
people of England on the other, there was a famous leader, who did more
towards the ruin of royal authority, than all the rest. The contest seemed
like a wrestling-match between King Charles and this strong man. And the
king was overthrown.

When the discrowned monarch was brought to trial, that warlike leader sat
in the judgment-hall. Many judges were present, besides himself; but he
alone had the power to save King Charles, or to doom him to the scaffold.
After sentence was pronounced, this victorious general was entreated by
his own children, on their knees, to rescue his Majesty from death.

"No!" said he sternly. "Better that one man should perish, than that the
whole country should be ruined for his sake. It is resolved that he shall
die!"

When Charles, no longer a king, was led to the scaffold, his great enemy
stood at a window of the royal palace of Whitehall. He beheld the poor
victim of pride, and an evil education, and misused power, as he laid his
head upon the block. He looked on, with a steadfast gaze, while a
black-veiled executioner lifted the fatal axe, and smote off that anointed
head at a single blow.

"It is a righteous deed," perhaps he said to himself. "Now Englishmen may
enjoy their rights."

At night, when the body of Charles was laid in the coffin, in a gloomy
chamber, the general entered, lighting himself with a torch. Its gleam
showed that he was now growing old; his visage was scarred with the many
battles in which he had led the van; his brow was wrinkled with care, and
with the continual exercise of stern authority. Probably there was not a
single trait, either of aspect or manner, that belonged to the little
Noll, who had battled so stoutly with Prince Charles. Yet this was he!

He lifted the coffin-lid, and caused the light of his torch to fall upon
the dead monarch's face. Then, probably, his mind went back over all the
marvellous events, that had brought the hereditary king of England to this
dishonored coffin, and had raised himself, an humble individual, to the
possession of kingly power. He was a king, though without the empty title,
or the glittering crown.

"Why was it," said Cromwell to himself—or might have said—as he gazed at
the pale features in the coffin,—"Why was it, that this great king fell,
and that poor Noll Cromwell has gained all the power of the realm?"

And, indeed, why was it?

King Charles had fallen, because, in his manhood the same as when a child,
he disdained to feel that every human creature was his brother. He deemed
himself a superior being, and fancied that his subjects were created only
for a king to rule over. And Cromwell rose, because, in spite of his many
faults, he mainly fought for the rights and freedom of his fellow-men; and
therefore the poor and the oppressed all lent their strength to him.

"Dear father, how I should hate to be a king!" exclaimed Edward.

"And would you like to be a Cromwell?" inquired his father.

"I should like it well," replied George, "only I would not have put the
poor old king to death. I would have sent him out of the kingdom, or
perhaps have allowed him to live in a small house, near the gate of the
royal palace. It was too severe, to cut off his head."

"Kings are in such an unfortunate position," said Mr. Temple, "that they
must either be almost deified by their subjects, or else be dethroned and
beheaded. In either case it is a pitiable lot."

"Oh, I had rather be blind than be a king!" said Edward.

"Well, my dear Edward," observed his mother, with a smile, "I am glad you
are convinced that your own lot is not the hardest in the world."

It was a pleasant sight (for those who had eyes) to see how patiently the
blinded little boy now submitted to what he had at first deemed an
intolerable calamity. The beneficent Creator has not allowed our comfort
to depend on the enjoyment of any single sense. Though he has made the
world so very beautiful, yet it is possible to be happy without ever
beholding the blue sky, or the green and flowery earth, or the kind faces
of those whom we love. Thus it appears that all the external beauty of the
universe is a free gift from God, over and above what is necessary to our
comfort. How grateful, then, should we be to that Divine Benevolence,
which showers even superfluous bounties upon us!