A Play

By

John Drinkwater

BOSTON AND NEW YORK

HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY

TO

BERNARD SHAW

WITH HOMAGE TO THE MASTER DRAMATIST OF HIS AGE AND WITH THE GRATITUDE THAT IS HIS DUE FROM EVERY YOUNGER WRITER FOR THE ENGLISH THEATRE

THE CHARACTERS ARE

Oliver troubles me, persuading everywhere. Restless like this.

He says that the time is uneasy, and that we are part of it.

There's a man's house. It's enough surely.

I know. But Oliver must be doing. You know how when he took the magistracy he would listen to none of us. He knows best.

What time is John coming?

By nightfall he said. Henry Ireton is coming with him.

John Hampden is like that, too. He excites the boy.

Yes, but mother, you will do nothing with Oliver by thinking of him as a boy.

Of course he's a boy.

He's forty.

Methuselah.

What?

I said Methuselah.

He says John's the bravest man in England.

Just because he won't pay a tax. How if everybody refused to pay taxes? If you don't have taxes, I don't see how you are to have a government. Though I can't see that it governs anybody, except those that don't need it.

Oliver says it's a wrong tax, this ship money.

There's always something wrong. It keeps men busy, I suppose.

But it was brave of John.

I know, I know. But why must he come here to-night of all in the year? 5 Oliver's like somebody out of the Bible about to-morrow as it is. This will make him worse. I wish John no harm, but—well, I hope he's got a bad horse.

Oliver's mind is made up about the common, whatever happens. John will make no difference.

You can't pretend he'll make him more temperate.

It's very wrong to take away the common from the people. I think Oliver is right.

Of course he's right. But I'm too old. I've seen too many broken heads. He'll be no righter for a broken head.

Why, grandmother, whose head is to be broken?

Your father's is like to be.

You mean to-morrow?

At the meeting, yes.

But he must do it. Why, the people have fished and kept cattle there 6 longer than any one can remember. Who is an Earl of Bedford to take it away from them? I know I would let my head be broken first.

It is said that the King gave leave.

Then the King gave what wasn't his to give.

Now, child, don't you encourage your father, too. He's eager enough without that.

But I must, grandmother. There's too much of this kind of interference everywhere. Father says that Cousin John Hampden says—

And that's three of you in one house. And this young Mr. Ireton has ideas, too, I believe.

Mr. Ireton is twenty-eight.

That accounts for it.

You don't think they just ought to be allowed to take the common away, do you, grandmother?

It makes no matter what I think.

Of course you don't. None of us do. We couldn't.

You mustn't tease your grandmother, Bridget.

She's a very old lady, and can't speak for herself.

I meant no ill manners, grandmother.

Never mind your manners child. But don't encourage your father. He doesn't need it. This house is all commotion as it is.

I can't help it. There's so much going on everywhere. The King doesn't deal fairly by people, I'm sure. Men like father must say it.

Have you put the lavender in the rooms?

No. I'll take it now.

I don't know what will happen. I sometimes think the world isn't worth quarrelling about at all. And yet I'm a silly old woman to talk like that. But 8 Oliver is a brave fellow—and John, all of them. I want them to be brave in peace—that's the way you think at eighty.

But Mr. Shakespeare was best of all, I do believe. A very civil gentleman, too. I spoke to him once—that was forty years ago, the year Oliver was born, I remember. He didn't hold with all this talk against kings.

There are kings and kings. Oliver finds no offence in kings—it's in a king.

Well, it's all very dangerous, 9 and I'm too old for it. Not but what Oliver's brain is better than mine. But we have to sit still and watch. However

Mr. Herrick has chosen a nice name for his book. Hesperides. He has taste as well as understanding.

That will be John and Mr. Ireton.

How do you do, ma'am?

Well, John.

Good-evening, ma'am.

You're welcome, Master Ireton, I'm sure. If you behave yourself, young man.

How may that be, ma'am?

No, don't ask me. Only don't you and John come putting more notions into Oliver's head. I'm sure he's got more than he can rightly manage as it is.

We were told down there that it's to-morrow that my Lord of Bedford and his like are to claim the common rights.

Yes.

Mr. Cromwell is to resist, they said.

Now, young man, Oliver doesn't need any urging to it. He needs holding back.

But that's fine for Oliver. Every man must speak to-day—and do as well, if it comes to it.

Yes, but don't be so proud about it, John.

I think they should be proud.

Remember what Mr. Herbert says—

As for thy laws, remember.

Surely, we shall remember that always.

Cousin John.

Well, Bridget, my girl.

How do you do, Mr. Ireton?

Well, I thank you, mistress.

Does father know, mother?

I've sent down to the field.

He'll be here soon enough. I'm sorry the judges were against you, John. I don't know what else you could expect, though. They are the King's judges, I suppose.

That's what we dispute, ma'am. The King says that they should serve him. We say that they should serve the laws.

It was just when Mr. Hampden was being heard. The law they said was the King's old and loyal servant: that lex was not rex, but that none could gainsay that rex was lex.

That's what we shall have to decide, and before long, I think.

Father says that.

This house is ready for any kind of revolution, John.

But you find it everywhere, ma'am. All along the countryside, in the markets, in the church porches—everywhere.

Is the vine doing well this year, John?

It's the best year I remember.

Ours, too.

Were you there, Mr. Ireton, when Cousin John's case was tried?

Yes.

It was splendid, wasn't it—although he lost, I mean?

It was the note of deliverance.

I wish I could have been there, Cousin John.

Will you give me my shawl, Henry Ireton.

There's Oliver coming. Now you can all be thunder.

Now, grandmother, you know you don't think it's just that.

So you have hope for me yet, miss?

Grandmother.

John—it's good to see you. You're an hour before reckoning.

Yes, Oliver. Is all well?

Not that—but our courage is 14 well enough. You are very welcome, Henry.

Was it good travelling?

Not a bad mile on the journey.

Father, Mr. Ireton heard Cousin John's case tried. Wasn't he lucky?

Whoever heard that heard history being made, John. It was a great example to set.

One works from the spirit, Oliver.

That's what we must do. You've heard about this affair down here?

The common? Yes.

There's to be no yielding about that.

I'm glad of it, Oliver.

What will it all come to, John?

There are times, mother, when we may not count the cost.

You're very vexatious sometimes, Oliver.

But you know I'm right in this, mother.

Being right doesn't make you less vexatious.

Have they finished in Long Close?

Yes. They will be here soon.

They all come up from the field for prayers, Mr. Ireton, at the day's end.

Is your hay good, Oliver?

I haven't much down this year. What there is, is good.

We got the floods too late. But it has mended well enough.

The dancers came for some money, father.

Shall I give them something?

To be sure.

How much?

Oh—a crown or two.

Dancers?

Aye, John. Don't you hold with them?

They're no offence, perhaps—but I'm never quite sure.

Oh, but be sure, John. We must make no mistake about that. They are lovely, the dancers. I'm all for singing and dancing. The Lord is one to sing and dance, I'll be bound.

Now you talk sense, Oliver. Mr. Herrick is very clear about that. So was David.

Who is Mr. Herrick, ma'am?

He's a poet, young man. And he's for being quiet, and not bustling about everywhere. You ought to read him.

Do you know Mr. Herrick's work, Mr. Hampden?

I've nothing to say against that, though it's not very serious.

Don't be silly, Mr. Hampden—if you excuse me for saying so. Mr. Herrick is very serious indeed, only he isn't always telling us of it.

Yes: perhaps you're right, ma'am. I prefer George Herbert.

Yes, I like his book, too, Cousin John.

Well, it's no bad judgment to stand for Mr. Herbert. Only I won't have nonsense talked about Mr. Herrick.

Are you ready, Oliver? They are coming.

Yes.

Friends, you are welcome to this house.

Brethren in God, at the end of another day's labour we are met to praise Him from whom are the means to labour and its rewards. As we go about these fields, He is with us. As you deal by me, and I by you, His eye sees us. Nothing good befalls us but it is by His will, no affliction is ours but His loving mercy will hear us. The Lord God walks at our hand. He is here now in our midst. His desires are our freedom, His wrath our tyranny one over another. Be very merciful in all your ways, for mercy is His name. May His counsel be always with our little fellowship. If I should fail towards any man, let him speak. May we be as brothers always, one to another. And may we serve Him to serve whom alone is wisdom. In Jesus Christ's name, Amen. "All people that on earth do dwell."

As I came up from Long Close I stopped at the ale-house. Two fellows were there from the Earl of Bedford. Talking they were.

What had they to say?

It seems they know you are going to stand out for the people to-morrow.

Well?

Treason, they call it.

Treason.

Seeing that my Lord of Bedford has the King's authority, as it were.

Thank you, Seth.

They were coming here, they said. To warn you, and persuade you against it if it might be.

Thank you, Seth.

If I might be so bold, sir?

What, my friend?

That was a brave thing to do, sir, that about the ship money. We common folk know what it means. I'm sure we thank you with all our hearts.

I don't know about brave, but I know it is good to be thanked like that.

Yes, sir. That's all. Good-even, sir; good-even, mistress.

Is this Mr. Oliver Cromwell's?

It is.

The door is along there, to the right.

It's no matter, mother. What do you want?

To see Mr. Cromwell.

You are speaking to him.

May we come in?

Why, yes.

May we speak with you alone?

These are all my friends. I have nothing to say that I would not have them hear.

It is discretion for your sake.

I do not desire your interest. What have you to say?

It is said that you will oppose the proclamation to-morrow.

Assuredly.

The Earl of Bedford and 21 those with him have not drained these commons for nothing.

Well?

They have earned the rights to be proclaimed to-morrow.

By whose will?

By the King's.

These rights of pasture belong to the people. It is within no man's powers to take them away.

The King decrees it.

I know not how that may be. I know that these rights are the people's, above any earl or king whatsoever. The King is to defend our rights, not to destroy them.

This is plain treason.

It is plain sense.

What will you do?

To-morrow you will proclaim these rights from the people to my lord of Bedford. To-morrow I shall tell the people that I alone, if needs be, will oppose it. I will fight it from court to court. I will make these rights my rights—as they are. These people of Ely shall speak through me. They 22 shall pay me a groat a year for each head of cattle they graze, and they shall enjoy every foot of the land as long as I have a word or a pound left for resistance.

You are very arrogant, Mr. Cromwell. There are lessons to be learnt.

Aye, there are lessons. I do not speak to you, but to your master—to the King himself if it comes to that. You may tell him all that I have said. We folk of Ely will use our own commons, and let the Earl of Bedford keep within his own palings. There are lessons, say you. This is Mr. John Hampden. Will you speak to him of lessons? Mr. Hampden's ship money will be a King's lesson, I tell you.

You should tell your masters all that you see and hear. Do not flatter them. Let it be the truth. Say that men talk everywhere, more and more openly. Tell them that you heard John Hampden say that the King's Star Chamber was an abomination, that the King soiled his majesty in treating Mr. Prynne and Mr. Bastwick so. Say that you and your like are reviled by all honest men.

And you can say that it is no fear of earls or kings that spared you the whipping you would deserve if you were better than shadows.

Well said, Mr. Ireton.

Now, Henry Ireton, these gentlemen may be bears, but I won't have you make this room into a bear-pit.

No, friends, these men say but what they are sent to say.

I should not speak to you but in the hope that you will report it to those that should know. I am a plain burgess of this city. I farm a few lands and am known to none. But I have a faith that the people of this country are born to be, under God, a free people. That is the fundamental principle of this English life, If your masters, be they who they may, forget that, then, as you say, there will be lessons to be learnt. Here in Ely it is my part to see that my fellows do not lose their birthright. You shall not find us ignorant nor afraid. I would have no violence; let all be by persuasion 24 and tolerance. But these just liberties must not be touched. Will you ask my Lord of Bedford to reconsider this?

His Lordship will reconsider nothing. The proclamation is to-morrow.

I have no more to say.

Be you wary, Mr. Cromwell. These arrogances have their penalties. The King's anger is not light.

You threaten idly. My word is one spoken throughout the land. You can say so.

Mr. Cromwell, we do not—

My mind is fixed. I think I have made my intention clear. That is all. You may go.

Seth.

Yes, sir.

Ask your father to stay, will you? We shall want a song after that.

Yes, sir.

Father. Master wants you to sing.

Thank you, Amos. Just a minute, will you? When will supper be, wife?

In half an hour.

How would a turn at bowling be, John?

Done.

Henry, you, too?

Yes; and, Mr. Cromwell—

Yes.

I don't know how things are going. But I feel that great events are making and that you and Mr. Hampden here may have power to use men. If it should be so, I would be used. That is all.

John's the man. I'm likely enough to stay the rest of my days in Ely.

I don't think so, sir.

No? Well. A glass of sherry, John—or gin?

Sherry, Oliver.

Henry?

Thank you.

Amos?

I'd liefer have a pot of ale, master, if might be.

Yes, yes. Bridget, girl.

Oliver, boy, you were quite right—all that you said to those men, I mean. I don't approve, mind you, but you were quite right.

Thank you, mother. I knew you would think so.

I wonder what will come of it. You never know, once you begin like this.

You never know, wife.

There are lessons to be learnt.

That's what they said.

To freedom, John. That's good sherry. I respect not such ill reasoners as would keep all wine out of the country lest men should be drunk. Now, Amos. Come along, John, my touch was good last night. I shall beat you.

That the grievances set out in this Remonstrance now before you are just is clear. The matter has been debated by us these eight hours, and none has been able to deny the wrongs which are here set forth. It is not well with our state, and correction is needed. Mr. Ireton has very clearly shown us how this is. But we must be wary. The King is the King, a necessary part, as it must seem to us, of the government of this country.

To pass this Remonstrance can be no other than to pass a vote of no confidence in that King. Consider this. Saying so much, how shall you deny to overthrow the crown if 29 need be? And who among you is willing to bear that burden?

I beseech you let us not commit ourselves thus. Nor do not think I am weak in zeal. There are evil counsellors with the King, and they would destroy us. Our liberties must be looked to. But there should be moderation in this act. We should choose some other way. We must defend ourselves, but we must not challenge the King's authority so.

My friend, I think, is deceived. This Remonstrance is not against the King. It is from the people of this country against a policy. We desire no judgment—all we ask is redress. If we assert ourselves as in this instrument, we but put the King in the way of just government. I think the King hardly knows the measure of his wrongs against us, and I say it who have suffered.

To speak clearly as is here done will, I think, be to mend his mind towards us. This Remonstrance has been drawn with all 30 care. Not only is its intent free of blame towards the King's majesty and person, but it can, I hope, be read by no fair-minded man in the way that my friend fears. If I thought that, I should consider more closely my support of it. But I have considered with all patience, and it seems to me good.

Sir, this is a day when every man must speak the truth that is in him, or be silent in shame, and for ever. Mr. Hampden is my kinsman, as you know, one who has my best affection. His word has ever been a strength among us, and no man here but knows his valiance in the cause. His has been a long suffering, and his integrity but ripens. But I do not read this occasion as he does, nor, let me say, do I fear it as does our friend who spoke before. That gentleman pleads that this Remonstrance is a vote of want of confidence in the King, such as none of us would willingly pass. Mr. Hampden replies that it is no such vote. I say to you that it is such a vote, and that I would pass it 31 with all my heart. Sir, this country, the spirit of man in this country, has suffered grievances too great to be borne. By whom are they laid upon us? I say it is by the King. Is a man's estate secure to himself? Does not the King pass upon it levies for his own designs? You know that it is so. Is there not ship money? Mr. Hampden can tell you. Is not that

the King's affair? Is there not a Star Chamber? Ask Mr. Prynne and those others. These men disliked the King's church—a very dangerous church as it seems to me—and were bold to say so. And for that each was fined five thousand pounds, and had his ears cut off, and is now in prison for life. And does not the Star Chamber belong to the King? Who among you can deny it? And this land is bruised, I tell you, by such infamies. There is no sureness in a man for his purse or his body, or his conscience. The King,—not the head of the state, mark you, expressing the people's will in one authority,—but this man Charles Rex, may use all these as he will. I aim not to overthrow the monarchy. I know its use and fitness in the 32 realm, as well as any. But this can endure no longer. The King is part of the state, but we have a King who has sought to put the state to his private use. The King should have his authority, but it is an authority subject to the laws of the people. This King denies it, and his judges flatter the heresy. You have but one question before you—there is

in truth but one raised by this Remonstrance. Is England to be governed by the King or by elected representatives of the people? That is what we have now to decide, not for ourselves alone, but for our children in the generations to come. If the King will profit by a lesson, I with any man will be his loyal and loving subject. But at this moment a lesson must be given. Why else have you appointed my Lord of Essex from Parliament to take command of the armed forces of this country? Did you not fear that the King would use these also against you? You know you did. I say it again, this that is now to be put to you is a vote of want of confidence in the King. I would it were so more expressly.

Sir, this question could not be argued to an end if we sat here for a week. Already we have considered it more closely and longer, I think, than any that has ever been before this House. It is morning. Each man has spoken freely from his mind. I move that the question now be put.

The question is, whether this question now be put.

I think the "Yeas" have it.

Then the question now before the House is whether this Declaration shall pass.

I think the "Yeas" have it.

The House will divide. Tellers for the Yeas, Sir John Clotworthy, Mr. Arthur Goodwyn. Tellers for the Noes, Sir Frederick Cornwallis and Mr. Strangwayes. The Yeas to go forth.

The Noes, 148. The Yeas, 159. The Yeas have it by eleven.