Chương Chương 1 · Of Cornet Joseph Clarke of the Ironsides

It may be, my dear grandchildren, that at one time or another I

have told you nearly all the incidents which have occurred during my

adventurous life. To your father and to your mother, at least, I know

that none of them are unfamiliar. Yet when I consider that time wears

on, and that a grey head is apt to contain a failing memory, I am

prompted to use these long winter evenings in putting it all before

you from the beginning, that you may have it as one clear story in your

minds, and pass it on as such to those who come after you. For now that

the house of Brunswick is firmly established upon the throne and that

peace prevails in the land, it will become less easy for you every

year to understand how men felt when Englishmen were in arms against

Englishmen, and when he who should have been the shield and the

protector of his subjects had no thought but to force upon them what

they most abhorred and detested.

My story is one which you may well treasure up in your memories, and

tell again to others, for it is not likely that in this whole county of

Hampshire, or even perhaps in all England, there is another left alive

who is so well able to speak from his own knowledge of these events,

or who has played a more forward part in them. All that I know I shall

endeavour soberly and in due order to put before you. I shall try to

make these dead men quicken into life for your behoof, and to call back

out of the mists of the past those scenes which were brisk enough in

the acting, though they read so dully and so heavily in the pages of the

worthy men who have set themselves to record them. Perchance my words,

too, might, in the ears of strangers, seem to be but an old man’s

gossip. To you, however, who know that these eyes which are looking at

you looked also at the things which I describe, and that this hand has

struck in for a good cause, it will, I know, be different. Bear in mind

as you listen that it was your quarrel as well as our own in which

we fought, and that if now you grow up to be free men in a free land,

privileged to think or to pray as your consciences shall direct, you may

thank God that you are reaping the harvest which your fathers sowed in

blood and suffering when the Stuarts were on the throne.

I was born then in the year 1664, at Havant, which is a flourishing

village a few miles from Portsmouth off the main London road, and there

it was that I spent the greater part of my youth. It is now as it was

then, a pleasant, healthy spot, with a hundred or more brick cottages

scattered along in a single irregular street, each with its little

garden in front, and maybe a fruit tree or two at the back. In the

middle of the village stood the old church with the square tower, and

the great sun-dial like a wrinkle upon its grey weather-blotched face.

On the outskirts the Presbyterians had their chapel; but when the Act of

Uniformity was passed, their good minister, Master Breckinridge, whose

discourses had often crowded his rude benches while the comfortable pews

of the church were empty, was cast into gaol, and his flock dispersed.

As to the Independents, of whom my father was one, they also were under

the ban of the law, but they attended conventicle at Emsworth, whither

we would trudge, rain or shine, on every Sabbath morning. These meetings

were broken up more than once, but the congregation was composed of such

harmless folk, so well beloved and respected by their neighbours, that

the peace officers came after a time to ignore them, and to let them

worship in their own fashion. There were Papists, too, amongst us, who

were compelled to go as far as Portsmouth for their Mass. Thus, you see,

small as was our village, we were a fair miniature of the whole country,

for we had our sects and our factions, which were all the more bitter

for being confined in so narrow a compass.

My father, Joseph Clarke, was better known over the countryside by the

name of Ironside Joe, for he had served in his youth in the Yaxley

troop of Oliver Cromwell’s famous regiment of horse, and had preached

so lustily and fought so stoutly that old Noll himself called him out

of the ranks after the fight at Dunbar, and raised him to a cornetcy.

It chanced, however, that having some little time later fallen into an

argument with one of his troopers concerning the mystery of the Trinity,

the man, who was a half-crazy zealot, smote my father across the face, a

favour which he returned by a thrust from his broadsword, which sent his

adversary to test in person the truth of his beliefs. In most armies

it would have been conceded that my father was within his rights

in punishing promptly so rank an act of mutiny, but the soldiers of

Cromwell had so high a notion of their own importance and privileges,

that they resented this summary justice upon their companion. A

court-martial sat upon my father, and it is likely that he would have

been offered up as a sacrifice to appease the angry soldiery, had not

the Lord Protector interfered, and limited the punishment to dismissal

from the army. Cornet Clarke was accordingly stripped of his buff

coat and steel cap, and wandered down to Havant, where he settled into

business as a leather merchant and tanner, thereby depriving Parliament

of as trusty a soldier as ever drew blade in its service. Finding

that he prospered in trade, he took as wife Mary Shepstone, a young

Churchwoman, and I, Micah Clarke, was the first pledge of their union.

My father, as I remember him first, was tall and straight, with a great

spread of shoulder and a mighty chest. His face was craggy and stern,

with large harsh features, shaggy over-hanging brows, high-bridged

fleshy nose, and a full-lipped mouth which tightened and set when he

was angry. His grey eyes were piercing and soldier-like, yet I have seen

them lighten up into a kindly and merry twinkle. His voice was the most

tremendous and awe-inspiring that I have ever listened to. I can well

believe what I have heard, that when he chanted the Hundredth Psalm as

he rode down among the blue bonnets at Dunbar, the sound of him rose

above the blare of trumpets and the crash of guns, like the deep roll of

a breaking wave. Yet though he possessed every quality which was

needed to raise him to distinction as an officer, he had thrown off his

military habits when he returned to civil life. As he prospered and grew

rich he might well have worn a sword, but instead he would ever bear a

small copy of the Scriptures bound to his girdle, where other men hung

their weapons. He was sober and measured in his speech, and it was

seldom, even in the bosom of his own family, that he would speak of the

scenes which he had taken part in, or of the great men, Fleetwood and

Harrison, Blake and Ireton, Desborough and Lambert, some of whom had

been simple troopers like himself when the troubles broke out. He was

frugal in his eating, backward in drinking, and allowed himself no

pleasures save three pipes a day of Oronooko tobacco, which he kept ever

in a brown jar by the great wooden chair on the left-hand side of the

mantelshelf.

Yet for all his self-restraint the old leaven would at times begin to

work in him, and bring on fits of what his enemies would call fanaticism

and his friends piety, though it must be confessed that this piety

was prone to take a fierce and fiery shape. As I look back, one or two

instances of that stand out so hard and clear in my recollection that

they might be scenes which I had seen of late in the playhouse, instead

of memories of my childhood more than threescore years ago, when the

second Charles was on the throne.

The first of these occurred when I was so young that I can remember

neither what went before nor what immediately after it. It stuck in my

infant mind when other things slipped through it. We were all in the

house one sultry summer evening, when there came a rattle of kettledrums

and a clatter of hoofs, which brought my mother and my father to the

door, she with me in her arms that I might have the better view. It was

a regiment of horse on their way from Chichester to Portsmouth, with

colours flying and band playing, making the bravest show that ever my

youthful eyes had rested upon. With what wonder and admiration did I

gaze at the sleek prancing steeds, the steel morions, the plumed hats

of the officers, the scarfs and bandoliers. Never, I thought, had such

a gallant company assembled, and I clapped my hands and cried out in my

delight. My father smiled gravely, and took me from my mother’s arms.

‘Nay, lad,’ he said, ‘thou art a soldier’s son, and should have more

judgment than to commend such a rabble as this. Canst thou not, child as

thou art, see that their arms are ill-found, their stirrup-irons rusted,

and their ranks without order or cohesion? Neither have they thrown out

a troop in advance, as should even in times of peace be done, and their

rear is straggling from here to Bedhampton. Yea,’ he continued, suddenly

shaking his long arm at the troopers, and calling out to them, ‘ye are

corn ripe for the sickle and waiting only for the reapers!’ Several of

them reined up at this sudden out-flame. ‘Hit the crop-eared rascal over

the pate, Jack!’ cried one to another, wheeling his horse round; but

there was that in my father’s face which caused him to fall back into

the ranks again with his purpose unfulfilled. The regiment jingled on

down the road, and my mother laid her thin hands upon my father’s arm,

and lulled with her pretty coaxing ways the sleeping devil which had

stirred within him.

On another occasion which I can remember, about my seventh or eighth

year, his wrath burst out with more dangerous effect. I was playing

about him as he worked in the tanning-yard one spring afternoon, when

in through the open doorway strutted two stately gentlemen, with

gold facings to their coats and smart cockades at the side of their

three-cornered hats. They were, as I afterwards understood, officers of

the fleet who were passing through Havant, and seeing us at work in the

yard, designed to ask us some question as to their route. The younger of

the pair accosted my father and began his speech by a great clatter of

words which were all High Dutch to me, though I now see that they were a

string of such oaths as are common in the mouth of a sailor; though why

the very men who are in most danger of appearing before the Almighty

should go out of their way to insult Him, hath ever been a mystery to

me. My father in a rough stern voice bade him speak with more reverence

of sacred things, on which the pair of them gave tongue together,

swearing tenfold worse than before, and calling my father a canting

rogue and a smug-faced Presbytery Jack. What more they might have said I

know not, for my father picked up the great roller wherewith he smoothed

the leather, and dashing at them he brought it down on the side of one

of their heads with such a swashing blow, that had it not been for his

stiff hat the man would never have uttered oath again. As it was, he

dropped like a log upon the stones of the yard, while his companion

whipped out his rapier and made a vicious thrust; but my father, who was

as active as he was strong, sprung aside, and bringing his cudgel down

upon the outstretched arm of the officer, cracked it like the stem of

a tobacco-pipe. This affair made no little stir, for it occurred at

the time when those arch-liars, Oates, Bedloe, and Carstairs, were

disturbing the public mind by their rumours of plots, and a rising of

some sort was expected throughout the country. Within a few days all

Hampshire was ringing with an account of the malcontent tanner of

Havant, who had broken the head and the arm of two of his Majesty’s

servants. An inquiry showed, however, that there was no treasonable

meaning in the matter, and the officers having confessed that the first

words came from them, the Justices contented themselves with imposing a

fine upon my father, and binding him over to keep the peace for a period

of six months.

I tell you these incidents that you may have an idea of the fierce and

earnest religion which filled not only your own ancestor, but most of

those men who were trained in the parliamentary armies. In many ways

they were more like those fanatic Saracens, who believe in conversion by

the sword, than the followers of a Christian creed. Yet they have this

great merit, that their own lives were for the most part clean and

commendable, for they rigidly adhered themselves to those laws which

they would gladly have forced at the sword’s point upon others. It is

true that among so many there were some whose piety was a shell for

their ambition, and others who practised in secret what they denounced

in public, but no cause however good is free from such hypocritical

parasites. That the greater part of the saints, as they termed

themselves, were men of sober and God-fearing lives, may be shown by the

fact that, after the disbanding of the army of the Commonwealth, the old

soldiers flocked into trade throughout the country, and made their mark

wherever they went by their industry and worth. There is many a wealthy

business house now in England which can trace its rise to the thrift and

honesty of some simple pikeman of Ireton or Cromwell.

But that I may help you to understand the character of your

great-grandfather, I shall give an incident which shows how fervent and

real were the emotions which prompted the violent moods which I have

described. I was about twelve at the time, my brothers Hosea and Ephraim

were respectively nine and seven, while little Ruth could scarce have

been more than four. It chanced that a few days before a wandering

preacher of the Independents had put up at our house, and his religious

ministrations had left my father moody and excitable. One night I had

gone to bed as usual, and was sound asleep with my two brothers beside

me, when we were roused and ordered to come downstairs. Huddling on our

clothes we followed him into the kitchen, where my mother was sitting

pale and scared with Ruth upon her knee.

‘Gather round me, my children,’ he said, in a deep reverent voice, ‘that

we may all appear before the throne together. The kingdom of the Lord is

at hand-oh, be ye ready to receive Him! This very night, my loved ones,

ye shall see Him in His splendour, with the angels and the archangels in

their might and their glory. At the third hour shall He come-that very

third hour which is now drawing upon us.’

‘Dear Joe,’ said my mother, in soothing tones, ‘thou art scaring thyself

and the children to no avail. If the Son of Man be indeed coming, what

matters it whether we be abed or afoot?’

‘Peace, woman,’ he answered sternly; ‘has He not said that He will come

like a thief in the night, and that it is for us to await Him? Join

with me, then, in prayerful outpourings that we may be found as those in

bridal array. Let us offer up thanks that He has graciously vouchsafed

to warn us through the words of His servant. Oh, great Lord, look down

upon this small flock and lead it to the sheep fold! Mix not the

little wheat with the great world of chaff. Oh, merciful Father! look

graciously upon my wife, and forgive her the sin of Erastianism, she

being but a woman and little fitted to cast off the bonds of antichrist

wherein she was born. And these too, my little ones, Micah and Hosea,

Ephraim and Ruth, all named after Thy faithful servants of old, oh let

them stand upon Thy right hand this night!’ Thus he prayed on in a wild

rush of burning, pleading words, writhing prostrate upon the floor

in the vehemence of his supplication, while we, poor trembling mites,

huddled round our mother’s skirts and gazed with terror at the contorted

figure seen by the dim light of the simple oil lamp. On a sudden the

clang of the new church clock told that the hour had come. My father

sprang from the floor, and rushing to the casement, stared up with wild

expectant eyes at the starry heavens. Whether he conjured up some vision

in his excited brain, or whether the rush of feeling on finding that his

expectations were in vain, was too much for him, it is certain that

he threw his long arms upwards, uttered a hoarse scream, and tumbled

backwards with foaming lips and twitching limbs upon the ground. For an

hour or more my poor mother and I did what we could to soothe him, while

the children whimpered in a corner, until at last he staggered slowly to

his feet, and in brief broken words ordered us to our rooms. From that

time I have never heard him allude to the matter, nor did he ever give

us any reason why he should so confidently have expected the second

coming upon that particular night. I have learned since, however,

that the preacher who visited us was what was called in those days a

fifth-monarchy man, and that this particular sect was very liable to

these premonitions. I have no doubt that something which he had said had

put the thought into my father’s head, and that the fiery nature of the

man had done the rest.

So much for your great-grandfather, Ironside Joe. I have preferred to

put these passages before you, for on the principle that actions speak

louder than words, I find that in describing a man’s character it is

better to give examples of his ways than to speak in broad and general

terms. Had I said that he was fierce in ins religion and subject to

strange fits of piety, the words might have made little impression

upon you; but when I tell you of his attack upon the officers in the

tanning-yard, and his summoning us down in the dead of the night to

await the second coming, you can judge for yourselves the lengths to

which his belief would carry him. For the rest, he was an excellent man

of business, fair and even generous in his dealings, respected by all

and loved by few, for his nature was too self-contained to admit of much

affection. To us he was a stern and rigid father, punishing us heavily

for whatever he regarded as amiss in our conduct. He bad a store of such

proverbs as ‘Give a child its will and a whelp its fill, and neither

will strive,’ or ‘Children are certain cares and uncertain comforts,’

wherewith he would temper my mother’s more kindly impulses. He could not

bear that we should play trick-track upon the green, or dance with the

other children upon the Saturday night.

As to my mother, dear soul, it was her calm, peaceful influence which

kept my father within bounds, and softened his austere rule. Seldom

indeed, even in his darkest moods, did the touch of her gentle hand and

the sound of her voice fail to soothe his fiery spirit. She came of a

Church stock, and held to her religion with a quiet grip which was proof

against every attempt to turn her from it. I imagine that at one time

her husband had argued much with her upon Arminianism and the sin of

simony, but finding his exhortations useless, he had abandoned the

subject save on very rare occasions. In spite of her Episcopacy,

however, she remained a staunch Whig, and never allowed her loyalty to

the throne to cloud her judgment as to the doings of the monarch who sat

upon it.

Women were good housekeepers fitly years ago, but she was conspicuous

among the best. To see her spotless cuffs and snowy kirtle one would

scarce credit how hard she laboured. It was only the well ordered house

and the dustless rooms which proclaimed her constant industry. She

made salves and eyewaters, powders and confects, cordials and persico,

orangeflower water and cherry brandy, each in its due season, and all of

the best. She was wise, too, in herbs and simples. The villagers and the

farm labourers would rather any day have her advice upon their ailments

than that of Dr. Jackson of Purbrook, who never mixed a draught under

a silver crown. Over the whole countryside there was no woman more

deservedly respected and more esteemed both by those above her and by

those beneath.

Such were my parents as I remember them in my childhood. As to myself, I

shall let my story explain the growth of my own nature. My brothers and

my sister were all brownfaced, sturdy little country children, with no

very marked traits save a love of mischief controlled by the fear of

their father. These, with Martha the serving-maid, formed our whole

household during those boyish years when the pliant soul of the child

is hardening into the settled character of the man. How these influences

affected me I shall leave for a future sitting, and if I weary you by

recording them, you must remember that I am telling these things rather

for your profit than for your amusement; that it may assist you in your

journey through life to know how another has picked out the path before

you.