John Keble's Parishes. Charlotte M. Yonge

of Otterbourne Farm are distinguished by double black lines below their names.

      Oliver Cromwell, according to an old village tradition, sunk his treasure at the bottom of Merdon Well, in an iron chest which must have been enchanted, for, on an endeavour to draw it up, no one was to speak. One workman unfortunately said, “Here it comes,” when it immediately sank to the bottom and (this is quite certain) never was seen! The well was cleaned out in later times, and nothing was found but a pair of curious pattens, cut away to receive a high-heeled shoe, also a mazer-bowl, an iron flesh-hook and small cooking-pot, and a multitude of pins, thrown in to make the curious reverberating sound when, after several seconds, they reached the water. A couple of ducks are said to have been thrown down, and to have emerged at Pool hole at Otterbourne with their feathers scraped off.

      On 3rd September 1658, the family party at Hursley was broken up by the unexpected death of the Protector. He was not yet sixty years of age, and had not contemplated being cut off before affairs were more settled; and when, in his last moments, he was harassed with enquiries as to his successor, he answered, “You will find my will in such a drawer of my cabinet.” Some of his counsellors thought he named his son Richard; and no one ever found the drawer with the will in it, in which it was thought that his son-in-law Fleetwood, a much abler man, was named.

      At any rate, Richard was accepted in his father’s place by Parliament and army, and went to much expense for the Protector’s funeral. It must have been a great misfortune to him that his shrewd father-in-law, the witty and thrifty Mr. Maijor, was sinking under a complication of incurable diseases, of which Morley speaks somewhat unkindly, and he died in the end of April 1660.

      Richard had never been a strong partisan of the Commonwealth, though he had quietly submitted to whatever was required of him. He had been member of Parliament for the county of Hants, and had been placed at the head of the list of his father’s attempt at a House of Lords, and he allowed greatness to be thrust on him in a quiet acquiescent way. He dismissed the fictitious parliament that his father had summoned, and then offended the strict and godly of the army by promoting soldiers of whom they disapproved. “Here is Dick Ingoldsby,” he said; “he can neither pray nor preach, and yet I trust him before you all.”

      No one had any real enthusiasm for the harmless, helpless man, “the phantom king of half a year”; and it was just as old Mr. Maijor was dying that Richard was requested by the “Rump” to resign, and return to Hampton Court, with the promise of a pension and of payment of the debts incurred by his father. While packing for his departure, he sat down on a box containing all the complimentary addresses made to him, and said, “Between my legs lie the lives and fortunes of all the good folk in England!” He then returned to Hursley, where he found himself pursued by those debts of his father which the Long Parliament had engaged to pay, and which swallowed up more than his patrimony, though the manor of Merdon, having been settled upon his wife, could not be touched. He was sufficiently alarmed, however, to make him retreat to the continent and change his name to Clarke.

      In 1675 Mrs. Richard Cromwell died, leaving out of a numerous family only one son and two daughters. The son, Oliver, inherited the estates, and seems to have been on good terms with his father, who, in 1700, came to live at Cheshunt under his name of Clarke, and made some visits to Hursley. Richard married under this assumed name, and left some children.

      When Oliver died without heirs in 1706, his father Richard, according to the original settlement, succeeded to the property, but his two daughters set up their claim, and the case was brought into court. It is said that the judge was Cowper, but this has been denied. At any rate the judge seems to have been shocked at the undutiful litigation, and treated the old man with much respect.

      The case was decided in his favour, and he lived between Hursley and Cheshunt till his death in 1712 in his 86th year.

      As Mr. Palgrave writes:—

      Him count we wise,

       Him also, though the chorus of the throng

       Be silent, though no pillar rise

       In slavish adulation of the strong,

       But here, from blame of tongues and fame aloof,

       ’Neath a low chancel roof,

      The peace of God

       He sleeps; unconscious hero! Lowly grave

       By village footsteps daily trod;

       Unconscious! or while silence holds the nave,

       And the bold robin comes, when day is dim,

       And pipes his heedless hymn.