The committee, though drawn from all sides, produced a report which was practical but made compromises. However, by then it was too late. From the sidelines, anonymously, John Wildman counselled dolefully, 'Beware, that ye be not frightened by the word anarchy, unto a love of monarchy, which is but the gilded name for tyranny.. ' The deep differences between the soldiers and the chief officers of the army had led to the officers being nicknamed 'Grandees', a sneering title which implied these select beings had got above themselves. The Agitators were writing sadly to their comrades, complaining that 'we find many at the Headquarters obstructing and opposing our proceedings'. Fairfax decided that the Agitators were divisive and disorderly. He sent them back to their regiments. The situation was diffused by appointing yet another new committee, to draft a remonstrance which was to be approved by the regiments at an army review.
So the Putney Debates were ended. For Gideon Jukes those discussions were more thorough than he had feared, although they achieved far less than he had hoped. Still, to the end of his days he would remain exhilarated simply to have been there, to have heard ideals of equality so openly and earnestly discussed.
Grandee or not, in a firm personal plea to Parliament, Fairfax repeated his many previous calls to redress the army's lawful grievances and those of the people. He offered ways in which it could be done. He suggested that church lands be sold to provide the soldiers' pay. Then he threatened that unless discipline was restored, he would give up his command. It was a serious threat, aimed as much at his men as at Parliament. The soldiers were genuinely devoted to Fairfax and Parliament respected him.
With mutiny imminent, for the promised army review, Fairfax and Cromwell insisted that the troops be divided into three manageable groups, instead of the mass rendezvous the Agitators wanted. At Corkbush Field, near Ware, Fairfax brought the first seven regiments together. The Levellers saw this as their moment to co-ordinate the army in support of their cause. The civilians John Wilding and Richard Overton were in Ware town, sweating with anxiety over the outcome. For them it went badly wrong.
At the start, Colonel Rainborough presented Fairfax formally with The Agreement of the People, together with a petition. Rainborough had hoped for a large civilian turn-out, including thousands of Spitalfield weavers. None appeared. Nor was there a mass revolt by the troops. Even his own Leveller colleagues let him down. Neither Sexby nor Rainborough's brother William lent him any assistance. Stranded, Rainborough became hesitant and was easily waved aside.
Fairfax took charge. Characteristically fearless, he rode around and addressed each regiment in turn. Commanding his men's loyalty was his special quality. They loved him and they trusted him. Promises from him to live and die with them in prosecution of their just demands were immediately believed. Discipline was restored.
Two further regiments did then appear uninvited, with copies of The Agreement of the People stuck in their hats defiantly. Fairfax soon won around one of these rebellious regiments, leaving only the most radical. This had been the regiment of Colonel Robert Lilburne (brother of the Leveller John), though the men had been in open revolt for several weeks; they had driven away their officers, soldiers had been killed, an officer had lost a hand, and at Ware they stoned an officer of another regiment. Fairfax ordered these rowdies to remove the papers from their hats. They refused. Fairfax and senior officers, including Cromwell, then rode in among them, pulling out the papers. The regiment submitted.
Ringleaders were arrested. Eight soldiers were court-martialled on the spot, five were pardoned, three cast lots to survive and one was shot at the head of the regiment. The remainder were instructed to tear up their copies of The Agreement; they did it meekly, complaining that they had been 'misled by their officers'. Offending officers were to be court-martialled. Thomas Rainborough was packed off to Westminster to be dealt with by Parliament; he was ordered not to go to sea as vice-admiral until the matter had been investigated.
Two further army reviews, at St Albans and Kingston, passed off peacefully. Parliament thanked Fairfax and promised to uphold his requests for redress of grievances. Some regiments made declarations of loyalty to him, Colonel Okey's dragoon officers being particularly unctuous.
One reason the army capitulated was that the political situation changed. When the Agitators at Putney demanded to abolish the monarchy, King Charles took fright. Claiming that the Levellers intended to murder him, the King escaped from Hampton Court.
Chapter Forty-Four — Pelham Halclass="underline" 1646-47
Against her expectations, the ending of the siege of Oxford brought Juliana Lovell a period of happiness as a mother and wife. For a short time she feared that Orlando had left England. Prince Rupert sailed to France; his brother Maurice to the Netherlands. At this point, the contempt Lovell had always felt for Rupert's generalship, so often openly expressed, acted against him. He knew he had no chance of his name being put on the list of friends who received passports; he would be thanked for his service and told to save himself. Although Juliana did not immediately know it, Lovell decided to remain in England.
Being Lovell, he wasted no time on complaints. Without telling Juliana (though he did leave her a tender letter — albeit only a paragraph) he found an opportunity to escape from Oxford. After the New Model Army arrived, she had to submit to interrogation. She threw herself into the role of long-suffering wife, abandoned to her fate by a delinquent husband; she managed to bite her lip, while looking frightened but courageous. She did not need to weep; sensitive to upset, both her children were screaming so loudly in the kitchen that they were visibly disturbing the officer who questioned Juliana in the small parlour. And when did you last see your husband?'
She played simple. 'When he went out for a scuttle of logs and never came in again.'
When?'
'Certainly last Thursday week. I had my blue gown on, with the rent in the hem, and I do remember the meat was overdone at dinner.. '
Clearly this prattling woman posed no danger. Equally clearly, she could not be allowed to continue to occupy such a grand house.
'Oh! Will you turn me out on the streets with my little ones?'
'Have you no friends to go to?'
'I am an orphan. My foolish husband has been denounced by his good Parliamentarian family. I was married just as the war began and I have never known a settled life or the normal joys of peace.'
'Well, there will be peace now!' the captain assured her sanctimoniously, as he quartered a large number of his soldiers in her house.
Enduring the enemy in her home was a bad experience. Fortunately it did not last. To Juliana's amazement, Lovell reappeared in St Aldate's, without any explanation. She had to stop him losing his temper at the New Model Army soldiers, but by warning him he was on a wanted list, she managed to keep him hidden. She wondered how the subterfuge could continue; however that was not Lovell's plan. Wanting to use his family as a cover, he had come to fetch them. While the soldiers were out on duty, he produced a cart onto which with all-too-easy furtiveness he began to load their possessions. They owned more than when they arrived in Oxford as newlyweds. As well as purchases and the results of Lovell's plundering, they had the Mcllwaines' Continental furniture.
And damme, whose terrible tuck is this?' Lovell had discovered a sword under their bed. It was the blade he had picked up at Birmingham. 'Have you taken a half-baked forgetful lover I don't know about?'