The more effectually to curb the enthusiastic and seditious spirit of the troops, Cromwell established a kind of militia in the several counties. Companies of infantry and cavalry were enlisted under proper officers, regular pay distributed among them, and a resource by that means provided both against the insurrections of the royalists and mutiny of the army.

Religion can never be deemed a point of small consequence in civil government: but during this period, it may be regarded as the great spring of men's actions and determinations. Though transported himself with the most frantic whimseys, Cromwell had adopted a scheme for regulating this principle in others, which was sagacious and political. Being resolved to maintain a national church, yet determined neither to admit Episcopacy nor Presbytery, he established a number of commissioners, under the name of tryers, partly laymen, partly ecclesiastics, some Presbyterians, some Independents. These presented to all livings which were formerly in the gift of the crown; they examined and admitted such persons as received holy orders; and they inspected the lives, doctrine, and behavior of the clergy. Instead of supporting that union between learning and theology, which has so long been attempted in Europe, these tryers embraced the latter principle in its full purity, and made it the sole object of their examination. The candidates were no more perplexed with questions concerning their progress in Greek and Roman erudition; concerning their talent for profane arts and sciences: the chief object of scrutiny regarded their advances in grace, and fixing the critical moment of their conversion.

With the pretended saints of all denominations Cromwell was familiar and easy. Laying aside the state of protector, which on other occasions he well knew how to maintain, he insinuated to them, that nothing but necessity could ever oblige him to invest himself with it. He talked spiritually to *them; he sighed he wept, he canted, he prayed. He even entered with them into an emulation of ghostly gifts, and these men, instead of grieving to be outdone in their own way, were proud that his highness, by his princely example, had dignified those practices in which they themselves were daily occupied.[*]

* Cromwell followed, though but in part, the advice which he received from General Harrison, at the time when the intimacy and endearment most strongly subsisted betwixt them. "Let the waiting upon Jehovah," said that military saint, "be the greatest and most considerable business you have every day: reckon it so, more than to eat, sleep, and counsel together. Run aside sometimes from your company, and get a word with the Lord. Why should not you have three or four precious souls always standing at your elbow, with whom you might now and then turn into a corner? I have found refreshment and mercy in such a way."—Milton's State Papers, p. 12.

If Cromwell might be said to adhere to any particular form of religion, they were the Independents who could chiefly boast of his favor; and it may be affirmed, that such pastors of that sect as were not passionately addicted to civil liberty, were all of them devoted to him. The Presbyterian clergy, also saved from the ravages of the Anabaptists and Millenarians, and enjoying their establishments and tithes, were not averse to his government; though he still entertained a great jealousy of that ambitious and restless spirit by which they were actuated. He granted an unbounded liberty of conscience to all but Catholics and Prelatists; and by that means he both attached the wild sectaries to his person, and employed them in curbing the domineering spirit of the Presbyterians. "I am the only man," he was often heard to say, "who has known how to subdue that insolent sect, which can suffer none but itself."

The Protestant zeal which possessed the Presbyterians and Independents, was highly gratified by the haughty manner in which the protector so successfully supported the persecuted Protestants throughout all Europe. Even the duke of Savoy, so remote a power, and so little exposed to the naval force of England, was obliged, by the authority of France, to comply with his mediation, and to tolerate the Protestants of the valleys, against whom that prince had commenced a furious persecution. France itself was constrained to bear, not only with the religion, but even, in some instances, with the seditious insolence of the Hugonots; and when the French court applied for a reciprocal toleration of the Catholic religion in England, the protector, who arrogated in every thing the superiority, would hearken to no such proposal. He had entertained a project of instituting a college, in imitation of that at Rome, for the propagation of the faith; and his apostles, in zeal, though not in unanimity, had certainly been a full match for the Catholics.

Cromwell retained the church of England in constraint though he permitted its clergy a little more liberty than the Republican parliament had formerly allowed. He was pleased that the superior lenity of his administration should in every thing be remarked. He bridled the royalists, both by the army which he retained, and by those secret spies which he found means to intermix in all their counsels. Manning being detected, and punished with death, he corrupted Sir Richard Willis, who was much trusted by Chancellor Hyde and all the royalists; and by means of this man he was let into every design and conspiracy of the party. He could disconcert any project, by confining the persons who were to be the actors in it; and as he restored them afterwards to liberty, his severity passed only for the result of general jealousy and suspicion, The secret source of his intelligence remained still unknown and unsuspected.

Conspiracies for an assassination he was chiefly afraid of; these being designs which no prudence or vigilance could evade. Colonel Titus, under the name of Allen, had written a spirited discourse, exhorting every one to embrace this method of vengeance; and Cromwell knew, that the inflamed minds of the royal party were sufficiently disposed to put the doctrine in practice against him. He openly told them, that assassinations were base and odious, and he never would commence hostilities by so shameful an expedient; but if the first attempt or provocation came from them, he would retaliate to the uttermost. He had instruments, he said, whom he could employ; and he never would desist till he had totally exterminated the royal family. This menace, more than all his guards, contributed to the security of his person.[*] [26]

* See note Z at the end of the volume.

There was no point about which the protector was more solicitous than to procure intelligence. This article alone, it is said, cost him sixty thousand pounds a year. Postmasters, both at home and abroad, were in his pay: carriers were searched or bribed: secretaries and clerks were corrupted the greatest zealots in all parties were often these who conveyed private information to him: and nothing could escape his vigilant inquiry. Such at least is the representation made by historians of Cromwell's administration: but it must be confessed, that, if we may judge by those volumes of Thurloe's papers which have been lately published, this affair, like many others, has been greatly magnified. We scarcely find by that collection, that any secret counsels of foreign states, except those of Holland, which are not expected to be concealed, were known to the protector.

The general behavior and deportment of this man, who had been raised from a very private station, who had passed most of his youth in the country, and who was still constrained so much to frequent bad company, was such as might befit the greatest monarch. He maintained a dignity without either affectation or ostentation; and supported with all strangers that high idea with which his great exploits and prodigious fortune had impressed them. Among his ancient friends, he could relax himself; and by trifling and amusement, jesting and making verses, he feared not exposing himself to their most familiar approaches.[*] With others he sometimes pushed matters to the length of rustic buffoonery; and he would amuse himself by putting burning coals into the boots and hose of the officers who attended him.[**] Before the king's trial, a meeting was agreed on between the chiefs of the republican party and the general officers, in order to concert the model of that free government which they were to substitute in the room of the monarchical constitution now totally subverted. After debates on this subject, the most important that could fall under the discussion of human creatures, Ludlow tells us that Cromwell, by way of frolic, threw a cushion at his head; and when Ludlow took up another cushion, in order to return the compliment, the general ran down stairs, and had almost fallen in the hurry. When the high court of justice was signing the warrant for the execution of the king, a matter, if possible, still more serious, Cromwell, taking the pen in his hand, before he subscribed his name, bedaubed with ink the face of Martin, who sat next him. And the pen being delivered to Martin, he practised the same frolic upon Cromwell.[***]

* Whitlocke, p. 647.

** Bates.

*** Trial of the Regicides.

He frequently gave feasts to his inferior officers; and when the meat was set upon the table, a signal was given; the soldiers rushed in upon, them; and with much noise, tumult, and confusion, ran away with all the dishes, and disappointed the guests of their expected meal.[*]

* Bates.

That vein of frolic and pleasantry which made a part, however inconsistent, of Cromwell's character, was apt sometimes to betray him into other inconsistencies, and to discover itself even where religion might seem to be a little concerned. It is a tradition, that one day, sitting at table, the protector had a bottle of wine brought him, of a kind which he valued so highly, that he must needs open the bottle himself; but in attempting it, the corkscrew dropped from his hand. Immediately his courtiers and generals flung themselves on the floor to recover it. Cromwell burst out a laughing. "Should any fool," said he, "put in his head at the door, he would fancy, from your posture, that you were seeking the Lord; and you are only seeking a corkscrew."

Amidst all the unguarded play and buffoonery of this singular personage, he took the opportunity of remarking the characters, designs, and weaknesses of men; and he would sometimes push them, by an indulgence in wine, to open to him the most secret recesses of their bosom. Great regularity, however, and even austerity of manners, were always maintained in his court; and he was careful never by any liberties to give offence to the most rigid of the godly. Some state was upheld; but with little expense, and without any splendor. The nobility, though courted by him, kept at a distance, and disdained to intermix with those mean persons who were the instruments of his government. Without departing from economy, he was generous to those who served him; and he knew how to find out and engage in his interests every man possessed of those talents which any particular employment demanded. His generals, his admirals, his judges, his ambassadors, were persons who contributed, all of them, in their several spheres, to the security of the protector, and to the honor and interest of the nation.

Under pretence of uniting Scotland and Ireland in one commonwealth with England, Cromwell had reduced those kingdoms to a total subjection; and he treated them entirely as conquered provinces. The civil administration of Scotland was placed in a council, consisting mostly of English, of which Lord Broghile was president. Justice was administered by seven judges, four of whom were English. In order to cure the tyrannical nobility, he both abolished all vassalage,[*] and revived the office of justice of peace, which King James had introduced, but was not able to support.[**] A long line of forts and garrisons was maintained throughout the kingdom. An army of ten thousand men[***] kept everything in peace and obedience; and neither the banditti of the mountains nor the bigots of the Low Countries could indulge their inclination to turbulence and disorder. He courted the Presbyterian clergy though he nourished that intestine enmity which prevailed between the resolutioners and protesters; and he found that very little policy was requisite to foment quarrels among theologians. He permitted no church assemblies; being sensible that from thence had proceeded many of the past disorders. And in the main, the Scots were obliged to acknowledge, that never before, while they enjoyed their irregular, factious liberty, had they attained so much happiness as at present, when reduced to subjection under a foreign nation.

* Whitlocke, p. 570.

** Thurloe, vol. iv. p. 57.

*** Thurloe, vol. vi. p. 557.

The protector's administration of Ireland was more severe and violent. The government of that island was first intrusted to Fleetwood, a notorious fanatic, who had married Ireton's widow; then to Henry Cromwell, second son of the protector, a young man of an amiable, mild disposition, and not destitute of vigor and capacity. Above five millions of acres, forfeited either by the Popish rebels or by the adherents of the king, were divided, partly among the adventurers, who had advanced money to the parliament, partly among the English soldiers, who had arrears due to them. Examples of a more sudden and violent change of property are scarcely to be found in any history. An order was even issued to confine all the native Irish to the province of Connaught, where they would be shut up by rivers, lakes, and mountains, and could not, it was hoped, be any longer dangerous to the English government: but this barbarous and absurd policy, which, from an impatience of attaining immediate security, *must have depopulated all the other provinces, and rendered the English estates of no value, was soon abandoned as impracticable.

Cromwell began to hope that, by his administration, attended with so much lustre and success abroad, so much order and tranquillity at home, he had now acquired such authority as would enable him to meet the representatives of the nation, and would assure him of their dutiful compliance with his government. He summoned a parliament; but not trusting altogether to the good will of the people, he used every art which his new model of representation allowed him to employ, in order to influence the elections, and fill the house with his own creatures. Ireland, being entirely in the hands of the army, chose few but such officers as were most acceptable to him. Scotland showed a like compliance; and as the nobility and gentry of that kingdom regarded their attendance on English parliaments as an ignominious badge of slavery, it was on that account more easy for the officers to prevail in the elections. Notwithstanding all these precautions, the protector still found that the majority would not be favorable to him. He set guards, therefore, on the door, who permitted none to enter but such as produced a warrant from his council; and the council rejected about a hundred, who either refused a recognition of the protector's government, or were on other accounts obnoxious to him. These protested against so egregious a violence, subversive of all liberty; but every application for redress was neglected both by the council and the parliament.

The majority of the parliament, by means of these arts and violences, was now at last either friendly to the protector, or resolved, by their compliance, to adjust, if possible, this military government to their laws and liberties. They voted a renunciation of all title in Charles Stuart, or any of his family; and this was the first act, dignified with the appearance of national consent, which had ever had that tendency. Colonel Jephson, in order to sound the inclinations of the house, ventured to move, that the parliament should bestow the crown on Cromwell; and no surprise or reluctance was discovered on the occasion. When Cromwell afterwards asked Jephson what induced him to make such a motion, "As long," said Jephson, "as I have the honor to sit in parliament, I must follow the dictates of my own conscience, whatever offence I may be so unfortunate as to give you." "Get thee gone," said Cromwell, giving him a gentle blow on the shoulder; "get thee gone, for a mad fellow as thou art."

In order to pave the way to this advancement, for which he so ardently longed, Cromwell resolved to sacrifice his major-generals, whom he knew to be extremely odious to the nation That measure was also become necessary for his own security. All government, purely military, fluctuates perpetually between a despotic monarchy and a despotic aristocracy, according as the authority of the chief commander prevails, or that of the officers next him in rank and dignity. The major-generals, being possessed of so much distinct jurisdiction, began to establish a separate title to power, and had rendered themselves formidable to the protector himself; and for this inconvenience, though he had not foreseen it, he well knew, before it was too late, to provide a proper remedy. Claypole, his son-in-law, who possessed his confidence, abandoned them to the pleasure of the house; and though the name was still retained, it was agreed to abridge, or rather entirely annihilate, the power of the major-generals.

At length, a motion in form was made by Alderman Pack, one of the city members, for investing the protector with the dignity of king. This motion at first excited great disorder, and divided the whole house into parties. The chief opposition came from the usual adherents of the protector, the major-generals, and such officers as depended on them. Lambert a man of deep intrigue, and of great interest in the army, had long entertained the ambition of succeeding Cromwell in the protectorship; and he foresaw, that if the monarchy were restored, hereditary right would also be established, and the crown be transmitted to the posterity of the prince first elected. He pleaded, therefore, conscience; and rousing all those civil and religious jealousies against kingly government, which had been so industriously encouraged among the soldiers, and which served them as a pretence for so many violences, he raised a numerous, and still more formidable party, against the motion.

On the other hand, the motion was supported by every one who was more particularly devoted to the protector, and who hoped, by so acceptable a measure, to pay court to the prevailing authority. Many persons also, attached to their country, despaired of ever being able to subvert the present illegal establishment; and were desirous, by fixing it on ancient foundations, to induce the protector, from views of his own safety, to pay a regard to the ancient laws and liberties of the kingdom. Even the royalists imprudently joined in the measure; and hoped that, when the question regarded only persons, not forms of government, no one would any longer balance between the ancient royal family and an ignoble usurper, who, by blood, treason, and perfidy, had made his way to the throne.

{1657.} The bill was voted by a considerable majority; and a committee was appointed to reason with the protector, and to overcome those scruples which he pretended against accepting so liberal an offer.

The conference lasted for several days. The committee urged, that all the statutes and customs of England were founded on the supposition of regal authority, and could not, without extreme violence, be adjusted to any other form of government: that a protector, except during the minority of a king, was a name utterly unknown to the laws; and no man was acquainted with the extent or limits of his authority; that if it were attempted to define every part of his jurisdiction, many years, if not ages, would be required for the execution of so complicated a work; if the whole power of the king were at once transferred to him, the question was plainly about a name, and the preference was indisputably due to the ancient title: that the English constitution was more anxious concerning the form of government, than concerning the birthright of the first magistrate; and had provided, by an express law of Henry VII., for the security of those who act in defence of the king in being, by whatever means he might have acquired possession: that it was extremely the interest of all his highness's friends to seek the shelter of this statute; and even the people in general were desirous of such a settlement, and in all juries were with great difficulty induced to give their verdict in favor of a protector: that the great source of all the late commotions had been the jealousy of liberty: and that a republic, together with a protector, had been established in order to provide further securities for the freedom of the constitution; but that by experience the remedy had been found insufficient, even dangerous and pernicious; since every indeterminate power, such as that of a protector, must be arbitrary; and the more arbitrary, as it was contrary to the genius and inclination of the people.

The difficulty consisted not in persuading Cromwell. He was sufficiently convinced of the solidity of these reasons; and his inclination, as well as judgment, was entirely on the side of the committee. But how to bring over the soldiers to the same way of thinking, was the question. The office of king had been painted to them in such horrible colors, that there were no hopes of reconciling them suddenly to it, even though bestowed upon their general, to whom they were so much devoted. A contradiction, open and direct, to all past professions, would make them pass, in the eyes of the whole nation, for the most shameless hypocrites, enlisted, by no other than mercenary motives, in the cause of the most perfidious traitor. Principles, such as they were, had been encouraged in them by every consideration, human and divine; and though it was easy, where interest concurred, to deceive them by the thinnest disguises, it might be found dangerous at once to pull off the mask, and to show them in a full light the whole crime and deformity of their conduct. Suspended between these fears and his own most ardent desires, Cromwell protracted the time, and seemed still to oppose the reasonings of the committee; in hopes that by artifice he might be able to reconcile the refractory minds of the soldiers to his new dignity.

While the protector argued so much in contradiction both to his judgment and inclination, it is no wonder that his elocution, always confused, embarrassed, and unintelligible, should be involved in tenfold darkness, and discover no glimmering of common sense or reason. An exact account of this conference remains, and may be regarded as a great curiosity. The members of the committee in their reasonings discover judgment, knowledge, elocution: Lord Broghill in particular exerts himself on this memorable occasion. But what a contrast when we pass to the protector's replies! After so singular a manner does nature distribute her talents, that, in a nation abounding with sense and learning, a man who, by superior personal merit alone, had made his way to supreme dignity, and had even obliged the parliament to make him a tender of the crown, was yet incapable of expressing himself on this occasion, but in a manner which a peasant of the most ordinary capacity would justly be ashamed of.[*]

* We shall produce any passage at random; for his discourse is all of a piece. "I confess, for it behoves me to deal plainly with you, I must confess, I would say, I hope I may be understood in this; for indeed I must be tender what I say to such an audience as this; I say, I would be understood, that in this argument I do not make parallel betwixt men of a different mind, and a parliament, which shall have their desires. I know there is no comparison, nor can it be urged upon me that my words have the least color that way, because the parliament seems to give liberty to me to say any thing to you; as that, that is a tender of my humble reasons and judgment and opinion to them; and if I think they are such, and will be such to them, and are faithful servants, and will be so to the supreme authority, and the legislative wheresoever it is: if, I say, I should not tell you, knowing their minds to be so, I should not be faithful if I should not tell you so, to the end you may report it to the parliament: I shall say something for myself, for my own mind, I do profess it, I urn not a man scrupulous about words or names of such things I have not; but as I have the word of God, and I hope I shall ever have it, for the rule of my conscience, for my informations; so truly men that have been led in dark paths, through the providence and dispensation of God; why, surely it is not to be objected to a man; for who can love to walk in the dark? But providence does so dispose. And though a man may impute his own folly and blindness to providence sinfully, yet it must be at my peril; the case may be that it is the providence of God that doth lead men in darkness: I must need say, that I have had a great deal of experience of providence; and though it is no rule without or against the word, yet it is a very good expositor of the word in many cases." Conference at Whitehall. The great defect in Oliver's speeches consists not in his want of elocution, but in his want of ideas. The sagacity of his actions, and the absurdity of his discourse, form the most prodigious contrast that ever was known. The collection of all his speeches, letters, sermons, (for he also wrote sermons,) would make a great curiosity, and, with a few exceptions, might justly pass for one of the most nonsensical books in the world.

The opposition which Cromwell dreaded, was not that which came from Lambert and his adherents, whom he now regarded as capital enemies, and whom he was resolved, on the first occasion, to deprive of all power and authority; it was that which he met with in his own family, and from men who, by interest as well as inclination, were the most devoted to him. Fleetwood had married his daughter; Desborow his sister; yet these men, actuated by principle alone, could by no persuasion, artifice, or entreaty be induced to consent that their friend and patron should be invested with regal dignity. They told him, that if he accepted of the crown, they would instantly throw up their commissions, and never afterwards should have it in their power to serve him.[*]

* Thurloe, vol. vi. p. 261.

Colonel Pride procured a petition against the office of king, signed by a majority of the officers who were in London and the neighborhood. Several persons, it is said, had entered into an engagement to murder the protector within a few hours after he should have accepted the offer of the parliament. Some sudden mutiny in the army was justly dreaded. And upon the whole, Cromwell, after the agony and perplexity of long doubt, was at last obliged to refuse that crown which the representatives of the nation, in the most solemn manner, had tendered to him. Most historians are inclined to blame his choice; but he must be allowed the best judge of his own situation. And in such complicated subjects, the alteration of a very minute circumstance, unknown to the spectator, will often be sufficient to cast the balance, and render a determination, which in itself may be uneligible, very prudent, or even absolutely necessary to the actor.

A dream or prophecy, Lord Clarendon mentions, which, he affirms, (and he must have known the truth,) was universally talked of almost from the beginning of the civil wars, and long before Cromwell was so considerable a person as to bestow upon it any degree of probability. In this prophecy, it was foretold that Cromwell should be the greatest man in England, and would nearly, but never would fully, mount the throne. Such a prepossession probably arose from the heated imagination either of himself or of his followers; and as it might be one cause of the great progress which he had already made, it is not an unlikely reason which may be assigned for his refusing at this time any further elevation.

The parliament, when the regal dignity was rejected by Cromwell, found themselves obliged to retain the name of a commonwealth and protector; and as the government was hitherto a manifest usurpation, it was thought proper to sanctify it by a seeming choice of the people and their representatives. Instead of the "instrument of government," which was the work of the general officers alone, "an humble petition and advice" was framed, and offered to the protector, by the parliament. This was represented as the great basis cf the republican establishment, regulating and limiting the powers of each member of the constitution, and securing the liberty of the people to the most remote posterity. By this deed, the authority of protector was in some particulars enlarged; in others, it was considerably diminished. He had the power of nominating his successor; he had a perpetual revenue assigned him, a million a year for the pay of the fleet and army, three hundred thousand pounds for the support of civil government; and he had authority to name another house, who should enjoy their seats during life, and exercise some functions of the former house of peers. But he abandoned the power, assumed in the intervals of parliament, of framing laws with the consent of his council; and he agreed, that no members of either house should be excluded but by the consent of that house of which they were members. The other articles were in the main the same as in the instrument of government. The instrument of government Cromwell had formerly extolled as the most perfect work of human invention: he now represented it as a rotten plank, upon which no man could trust himself without sinking. Even the humble petition and advice, which he extolled in its turn, appeared so lame and imperfect, that it was found requisite, this very session, to mend it by a supplement; and after all, it may be regarded as a crude and undigested model of government. It was, however, accepted for the voluntary deed of the whole people in the three united nations; and Cromwell, as if his power had just commenced from this popular consent, was anew inaugurated in Westminster Hall, after the most solemn and most pompous manner.

The parliament having adjourned itself, the protector deprived Lambert of all his commissions; but still allowed him a considerable pension of two thousand pounds a year, as a bribe for his future peaceable deportment. Lambert's authority in the army, to the surprise of every body, was found immediately to expire with the loss of his commission. Packet and some other officers, whom Cromwell suspected, were also displaced.

Richard, eldest son of the protector, was brought to court, introduced into public business, and thenceforth regarded by many as his heir in the protectorship; though Cromwell sometimes employed the gross artifice of flattering others with hopes of the succession. Richard was a person possessed of the most peaceable, inoffensive, unambitious character; and had hitherto lived contentedly in the country, on a small estate which his wife had brought him. All the activity which he discovered, and which never was great, was, however, exerted to beneficent purposes: at the time of the king's trial, he had fallen on his knees before his father, and had conjured him, by every tie of duty and humanity, to spare the life of that monarch. Cromwell had two daughters unmarried; one of them he now gave in marriage to the grandson and heir of his great friend the earl of Warwick, with whom he had, in every fortune, preserved an uninterrupted intimacy and good correspondence. The other he married to the viscount Fauconberg of a family formerly devoted to the royal party. He was ambitious of forming connections with the nobility; and it was one chief motive for his desiring the title of king, that he might replace every thing in its natural order, and restore to the ancient families the trust and honor of which he now found himself obliged, for his own safety, to deprive them.

{1658.} The parliament was again assembled; consisting, as in the times of monarchy, of two houses, the commons and the other house. Cromwell, during the interval, had sent writs to his house of peers, which consisted of sixty members. They were composed of five or six ancient peers, of several gentlemen of fortune and distinction, and of some officers who had risen from the meanest stations. None of the ancient peers, however, though summoned by writ, would deign to accept of a seat which they must share with such companions as were assigned them. The protector endeavored at first to maintain the appearance of a legal magistrate. He placed no guard at the door of either house; but soon found how incompatible liberty is with military usurpations. By bringing so great a number of his friends and adherents into the other house he had lost the majority among the national representatives. In consequence of a clause in the humble petition and advice the commons assumed a power of readmitting those members whom the council had formerly excluded. Sir Arthur Hazelrig and some others, whom Cromwell had created lords, rather chose to take their seat with the commons. An incontestable majority now declared themselves against the protector; and they refused to acknowledge the jurisdiction of that other house which he had established. Even the validity of the humble petition and advice was questioned, as being voted by a parliament which lay under force, and which was deprived by military violence of a considerable number of its members. The protector, dreading combinations between the parliament and the malecontents in the army, resolved to allow no leisure for forming any conspiracy against him; and, with expressions of great displeasure, he dissolved the parliament. When urged by Fleetwood and others of his friends not to precipitate himself into this rash measure, he swore by the living God that they should not sit a moment longer.

These distractions at home were not able to take off the protector's attention from foreign affairs; and in all his measures, he proceeded with the same vigor and enterprise, as if secure of the duty and attachment of the three kingdoms. His alliance with Sweden he still supported; and he endeavored to assist that crown in its successful enterprises for reducing all its neighbors to subjection, and rendering itself absolute master of the Baltic. As soon as Spain declared war against him, he concluded a peace and an alliance with France, and united himself in all his counsels with that potent and ambitious kingdom. Spain, having long courted in vain the friendship of the successful usurper, was reduced at last to apply to the unfortunate prince. Charles formed a league with Philip, removed his small court to Bruges in the Low Countries, and raised four regiments of his own subjects, whom he employed in the Spanish service. The duke of York, who had with applause served some campaigns in the French army, and who had merited the particular esteem of Marshal Turenne, now joined his brother, and continued to seek military experience under Don John of Austria, and the prince of Conde.

The scheme of foreign politics adopted by the protector was highly imprudent, but was suitable to that magnanimity and enterprise with which he was so signally endowed. He was particularly desirous of conquest and dominion on the continent;[*] and he sent over into Flanders six thousand men under Reynolds, who joined the French army commanded by Turenne. In the former campaign, Mardyke was taken, and put into the hands of the English. Early this campaign, siege was laid to Dunkirk; and when the Spanish army advanced to relieve it, the combined armies of France and England marched out of their trenches, and fought the battle of the Dunes, where the Spaniards were totally defeated.[**]

* He aspired to get possession of Elsinore and the passage of the Sound. See World's Mistake in Oliver Cromwell. He also endeavored to get possession of Bremen. Thurloe, vol. vi. p. 478.

* It was remarked by the saints of that time, that the battle was fought on a day which was held for a fast in London; so that, as Fleetwood said, (Thurloe, vol. vii. p. 159,) "while we were praying, they were fighting; and the Lord hath given a signal answer. The Lord has not only owned us in our work there, but in our waiting upon him in a way of prayer, which is indeed our old experienced approved way in all streights and difficulties." Cromwell's letter to Blake and Montague, his brave admirals, is remarkable for the same spirit. Thurloe, vol. iv. p. 744. "You have," says he, "as I verily believe and am persuaded, a plentiful stock of prayers going for you daily, sent up by the soberest and most approved ministers and Christians in this nation; and, notwithstanding some discouragements very much wrestling of faith for you, which are to us, and I trust will be to you, matter of great encouragement. But notwithstanding all this, it will be good for you and us to deliver up ourselves and all our affairs to the disposition of our all-wise Father, who, not only out of prerogative, but because of his goodness, wisdom, and truth, ought to be resigned unto by his creatures, especially those who are children of his begetting through the spirit," etc.

The valor of the English was much remarked on this occasion. Dunkirk, being soon after surrendered, was by agreement delivered to Cromwell. He committed the government of that important place to Lockhart, a Scotchman of abilities, who had married his niece, and was his ambassador at the court of France.

This acquisition was regarded by the protector as the means only of obtaining further advantages. He was resolved to concert measures with the French court for the final conquest and partition of the Low Countries.[*] Had he lived much longer, and maintained his authority in England, so chimerical, or rather so dangerous, a project would certainly have been carried into execution. And this first and principal step towards more extensive conquest, which France during a whole century has never yet been able, by an infinite expense of blood and treasure, fully to attain, had at once been accomplished by the enterprising, though unskilful politics of Cromwell.

During these transactions, great demonstrations of mutual friendship and regard passed between the French king and the protector. Lord Fauconberg, Cromwell's son-in-law, was despatched to Louis, then in the camp before Dunkirk; and was received with the regard usually paid to foreign princes by the French court.[**] Mazarine sent to London his nephew Mancini, along with the duke of Crequi; and expressed his regret that his urgent affairs should deprive him of the honor which he had long wished for, of paying in person his respects to the greatest man in the world.[***]

* Thurloe, vol. i. p. 762.

** Thurloe, vol. vii. p. 151, 158.

*** In reality, the cardinal had not entertained so high an idea of Cromwell. He used to say that he was a fortunate madman. Vie de Cromwell, par Raguenet. See also Carte's Collection, vol. ii. p. 81 Gumble's Life of Monk, p. 93. World's Mistake in Oliver Cromwell.

The protector reaped little satisfaction from the success of his arms abroad: the situation in which he stood at home kept him in perpetual uneasiness and inquietude. His administration, so expensive both by military enterprises and secret intelligence, had exhausted his revenue, and involved him in a considerable debt. The royalists, he heard, had renewed their conspiracies for a general insurrection; and Ormond was secretly come over with a view of concerting measures for the execution of this project. Lord Fairfax, Sir William Waller, and many heads of the Presbyterians, had secretly entered into the engagement. Even the army was infected with the general spirit of discontent; and some sudden and dangerous eruption was every moment to be dreaded from it. No hopes remained, after his violent breach with the last parliament, that he should ever be able to establish, with general consent, a legal settlement, or temper the military with any mixture of civil authority. All his arts and policy were exhausted; and having so often, by fraud and false pretences, deceived every party, and almost every individual, he could no longer hope, by repeating the same professions, to meet with equal confidence and regard.

However zealous the royalists, their conspiracy took not effect: Willis discovered the whole to the protector. Ormond was obliged to fly, and he deemed himself fortunate to have escaped so vigilant an administration. Great numbers were thrown into prison. A high court of justice was anew erected for the trial of those criminals whose guilt was most apparent. Notwithstanding the recognition of his authority by the last parliament, the protector could not as yet trust to an unbiased jury. Sir Henry Slingsby and Dr. Huet were condemned and beheaded. Mordaunt, brother to the earl of Peterborough, narrowly escaped. The numbers for his condemnation and his acquittal were equal; and just as the sentence was pronounced in his favor. Colonel Pride, who was resolved to condemn him, came into court. Ashton, Storey, and Bestley were hanged in different streets of the city.

The conspiracy of the Millenarians in the army struck Cromwell with still greater apprehensions. Harrison and the other discarded officers of that party could not remain at rest. Stimulated equally by revenge, by ambition, and by conscience, they still harbored in their breast some desperate project; and there wanted not officers in the army who, from like motives, were disposed to second all their undertakings. The levellers and agitators had been encouraged by Cromwell to interpose with their advice in all political deliberations; and he had even pretended to honor many of them with his intimate friendship, while he conducted his daring enterprises against the king and the parliament. It was a usual practice with him, in order to familiarize himself the more with the agitators, who were commonly corporals or sergeants, to take them to bed with him, and there, after prayers and exhortations, to discuss together their projects and principles, political as well as religious. Having assumed the dignity of protector, he excluded them from all his councils, and had neither leisure nor inclination to indulge them any further in their wonted familiarities. Among those who were enraged at this treatment was Sexby, an active agitator, who now employed against him all that restless industry which had formerly been exerted in his favor. He even went so far as to enter into a correspondence with Spain, and Cromwell, who knew the distempers of the army, was justly afraid of some mutiny, to which a day, an hour, an instant, might provide leaders.

Of assassinations, likewise, he was apprehensive, from the zealous spirit which actuated the soldiers. Sindercome had undertaken to murder him; and by the most unaccountable accidents, had often been prevented from executing his bloody purpose. His design was discovered; but the protector could never find the bottom of the enterprise, nor detect any of his accomplices. He was tried by a jury; and, notwithstanding the general odium attending that crime, notwithstanding the clear and full proof of his guilt, so little conviction prevailed of the protector's right to the supreme government, it was with the utmost difficulty[*] that this conspirator was condemned. When every thing was prepared for his execution, he was found dead; from poison, as is supposed, which he had voluntarily taken.

* Thurloe, voL vi. p. 53.

The protector might better have supported those fears and apprehensions which the public distempers occasioned, had he enjoyed any domestic satisfaction, or possessed any cordial friend of his own family, in whose bosom he could safely have unloaded his anxious and corroding cares. But Fleetwood, his son-in-law, actuated by the wildest zeal, began to estrange himself from him; and was enraged to discover, that Cromwell, in all his enterprises, had entertained views of promoting his own grandeur, more than of encouraging piety and religion, of which he made such fervent professions. His eldest daughter, married to Fleetwood, had adopted republican principles so vehement, that she could not with patience behold power lodged in a single person, even in her indulgent father. His other daughters were no less prejudiced in favor of the royal cause, and regretted the violences and iniquities into which, they thought, their family had so unhappily been transported. Above all, the sickness of Mrs. Claypole, his peculiar favorite, a lady endued with many humane virtues and amiable accomplishments, depressed his anxious mind, and poisoned all his enjoyments. She had entertained a high regard for Dr. Huet, lately executed; and being refused his pardon, the melancholy of her temper, increased by her distempered body, had prompted her to lament to her father all his sanguinary measures, and urge him to compunction for those heinous crimes into which his fatal ambition had betrayed him. Her death, which followed soon after, gave new edge to every word which she had uttered.

All composure of mind was now forever fled from the protector: he felt that the grandeur which he had attained with so much guilt and courage, could not insure him that tranquillity which it belongs to virtue alone, and moderation, fully to ascertain. Overwhelmed with the load of public affairs, dreading perpetually some fatal accident in his distempered government, seeing nothing around him but treacherous friends or enraged enemies, possessing the confidence of no party, resting his title on no principle, civil or religious, he found his power to depend on so delicate a poise of factions and interests, as the smallest event was able, without any preparation, in a moment to overturn. Death, too, which with such signal intrepidity he had braved in the field, being incessantly threatened by the poniards of fanatical or interested assassins, was ever present to his terrified apprehension, and haunted him in every scene of business or repose. Each action of his life betrayed the terrors under which he labored. The aspect of strangers was uneasy to him: with a piercing and anxious eye he surveyed every face to which he was not daily accustomed. He never moved a step without strong guards attending him: he wore armor under his clothes, and further secured himself by offensive weapons, a sword, falchion, and pistols, which he always carried about him. He returned from no place by the direct road, or by the same way which he went. Every journey he performed with hurry and precipitation. Seldom he slept above three nights together in the same chamber; and he never let it be known beforehand what chamber he intended to choose, nor intrusted himself in any which was not provided with back doors, at which sentinels were carefully placed. Society terrified him, while he reflected on his numerous, unknown, and implacable enemies: solitude astonished him, by withdrawing that protection which he found so necessary for his security.

His body, also, from the contagion of his anxious mind, began to be affected, and his health seemed sensibly to decline. He was seized with a slow fever, which changed into a tertian ague. For the space of a week, no dangerous symptoms appeared: and in the intervals of the fits he was able to walk abroad. At length the fever increased, and he himself began to entertain some thoughts of death, and to cast his eye towards that future existence, whose idea had once been intimately present to him; though since, in the hurry of affairs, and the shock of wars and factions, it had, no doubt, been considerably obliterated. He asked Goodwin, one of his preachers, if the doctrine were true, that the elect could never fall, or suffer a final reprobation. "Nothing more certain," replied the preacher. "Then I am safe," said the protector; "for I am sure that once I was in a state of grace."

His physicians were sensible of the perilous condition to which his distemper had reduced him; but his chaplains, by their prayers, visions, and revelations, so buoyed up his hopes, that he began to believe his life out of all danger. A favorable answer, it was pretended, had been returned by Heaven to the petitions of all the godly: and he relied on their asseverations much more than on the opinion of the most experienced physicians. "I tell you," he cried with confidence to the latter, "I tell you, I shall not die of this distemper: I am well assured of my recovery. It is promised by the Lord, not only to my supplications, but to those of men who hold a stricter commerce and more intimate correspondence with him. Ye may have skill in your profession; but nature can do more than all the physicians in the world, and God is far above nature."(*) Nay, to such a degree of madness did their enthusiastic assurances mount, that, upon a fast day, which was observed on his account both at Hampton Court and at Whitehall, they did not so much pray for his health, as give thanks for the undoubted pledges which they had received of his recovery. He himself was overheard offering up his addresses to Heaven; and so far had the illusions of fanaticism prevailed over the plainest dictates of natural morality, that he assumed more the character of a mediator, in interceding for his people, than that of a criminal, whose atrocious violation of social duty had, from every tribunal, human and divine, merited the severest vengeance.

* Bates. See also Ihurloe, vol. vii. p. 356, 416.

Meanwhile, all the symptoms began to wear a more fatal aspect; and the physicians were obliged to break silence, and to declare that the protector could not survive the next fit with which he was threatened. The council was alarmed. A deputation was sent to know his will with regard to his successor His senses were gone, and he could not now express his intentions. They asked him whether he did not mean that his eldest son, Richard, should succeed him in the protectorship. A simple affirmative was, or seemed to be, extorted from him. Soon after, on the third of September, that very day which he had always considered as the most fortunate for him, he expired, A violent tempest, which immediately succeeded his death, served as a subject of discourse to the vulgar. His partisans, as well as his enemies, were fond of remarking this event; and each of them endeavored, by forced inferences, to interpret it as a confirmation of their particular prejudices.

The writers attached to the memory of this wonderful person, make his character, with regard to abilities, bear the air of the most extravagant panegyric: his enemies form such a representation of his moral qualities as resembles the most virulent invective. Both of them, it must be confessed, are supported by such striking circumstances in his conduct and fortune, as bestow on their representation a great air of probability. "What can be more extraordinary," it is said,[*] "than that a person of private birth and education, no fortune, no eminent qualities of body, which have sometimes, nor shining talents of mind, which have often, raised men to the highest dignities, should have the courage to attempt, and the abilities to execute, so great a design as the subverting one of the most ancient and best established monarchies in the world? That he should have the power and boldness to put his prince and master to an open and infamous death? Should banish that numerous and strongly allied family? Cover all these temerities under a seeming obedience to a parliament, in whose service he pretended to be retained? Trample, too, upon that parliament in their turn, and scornfully expel them as soon as they gave him ground of dissatisfaction? Erect in their place the dominion of the saints, and give reality to the most visionary idea which the heated imagination of any fanatic was ever able to entertain? Suppress again that monster in its infancy, and openly set up himself above all things that ever were called sovereign in England? Overcome first all his enemies by arms, and all his friends afterwards by artifice? Serve all parties patiently for a while, and command them victoriously at last? Overrun each corner of the three nations, and subdue, with equal facility, both the riches of the south and the poverty of the north? Be feared and courted by all foreign princes, and be adopted a brother to the gods of the earth? Call together parliaments with a word of his pen, and scatter them again with the breath of his mouth? Reduce to subjection a warlike and discontented nation, by means of a mutinous army? Command a mutinous army by means of seditious and factious officers? Be humbly and daily petitioned, that he would be pleased, at the rate of millions a year, to be hired as master of those who had hired him before to be their servant? Have the estates and lives of three nations as much at his disposal as was once the little inheritance of his father, and be as noble and liberal in the spending of them? And lastly, (for there is no end of enumerating every particular of his glory,) with one word bequeath all this power and splendor to his posterity? He possessed of peace at home and triumph abroad? Be buried among kings, and with more than regal solemnity; and leave a name behind him not to be extinguished but with the whole world; which as it was too little for his praise, so might it have been for his conquests, if the short line of his mortal life could have stretched out to the extent of his immortal designs?"

* Cowley's Discourses. This passage is altered in some particulars from the original.

My intention is not to disfigure this picture, drawn by so masterly a hand: I shall only endeavor to remove from it somewhat of the marvellous; a circumstance which, on all occasions, gives much ground for doubt and suspicion. It seems to me, that the circumstance of Cromwell's life in which his abilities are principally discovered, is his rising from a private station, in opposition to so many rivals, so much advanced before him, to a high command and authority, in the army. His great courage, his signal military talents, his eminent dexterity and address, were all requisite for this important acquisition. Yet will not this promotion appear the effect of supernatural abilities, when we consider, that Fairfax himself, a private gentleman, who had not the advantage of a seat in parliament, had, through the same steps, attained even a superior rank, and, if endued with common capacity and penetration, had been able to retain it. To incite such an army to rebellion against the parliament, required no uncommon art or industry: to have kept them in obedience had been the more difficult enterprise. When the breach was once formed between the military and civil powers, a supreme and absolute authority, from that moment, is devolved on the general; and if he be afterwards pleased to employ artifice or policy, it may be regarded, on most occasions, as great condescension, if not as superfluous caution. That Cromwell was ever able really to blind or overreach either the king or the republicans, does not appear: as they possessed no means of resisting the force under his command, they were glad to temporize with him, and, by seeming to be deceived, wait for opportunities of freeing themselves from his dominion. If he seduced the military fanatics, it is to be considered, that their interests and his evidently concurred; that their ignorance and low education exposed them to the grossest imposition; and that he himself was at bottom as frantic an enthusiast as the worst of them; and, in order to obtain their confidence, needed but to display those vulgar and ridiculous habits which he had early acquired, and on which he set so high a value. An army is so forcible, and at the same time so coarse a weapon, that any hand which wields it, may, without much dexterity, perform any operation, and attain any ascendant, in human society.

The domestic administration of Cromwell, though it discovers great abilities, was conducted without any plan either of liberty or arbitrary power: perhaps his difficult situation admitted of neither. His foreign enterprises, though full of intrepidity, were pernicious to national interest, and seem more the result of impetuous fury or narrow prejudices, than of cool foresight and deliberation. An eminent personage, however, he was in many respects, and even a superior genius; but unequal and irregular in his operations. And though not defective in any talent, except that of elocution, the abilities which in him were most admirable, and which most contributed to his marvellous success, were the magnanimous resolution of his enterprises, and his peculiar dexterity in discovering the characters, and practising on the weaknesses, of mankind.

If we survey the moral character of Cromwell with that indulgence which is due to the blindness and infirmities of the human species, we shall not be inclined to load his memory with such violent reproaches as those which his enemies usually throw upon it. Amidst the passions and prejudices of that period, that he should prefer the parliamentary to the royal cause, will not appear extraordinary; since, even at present, some men of sense and knowledge are disposed to think, that the question, with regard to the justice of the quar* *rel, may be regarded as doubtful and uncertain. The murder of the king, the most atrocious of all his actions, was to him covered under a mighty cloud of republican and fanatical illusions; and it is not impossible, but he might believe it, as many others did, the most meritorious action that he could perform. His subsequent usurpation was the effect of necessity, as well as of ambition; nor is it easy to see how the various factions could at that time have been restrained, without a mixture of military and arbitrary authority. The private deportment of Cromwell, as a son, a husband, a father, a friend, is exposed to no considerable censure, if it does not rather merit praise. And, upon the whole, his character does not appear more extraordinary and unusual by the mixture of so much absurdity with so much penetration, than by his tempering such violent ambition and such enraged fanaticism with so much regard to justice and humanity.

Cromwell was in the fifty-ninth year of his age when he died. He was of a robust frame of body, and of a manly, though not of an agreeable aspect. He left only two sons, Richard and Henry; and three daughters; one married to General Fleetwood, another to Lord Fauconberg, a third to Lord Rich. His father died when he was very young. His mother lived till after he was protector; and, contrary to her orders, he buried her with great pomp in Westminster Abbey. She could not be persuaded that his power or person was ever in safety. At every noise which she heard, she exclaimed that her son was murdered; and was never satisfied that he was alive, if she did not receive frequent visits from him. She was a decent woman; and by her frugality and industry had raised and educated a numerous family upon a small fortune. She had even been obliged to set up a brewery at Huntingdon, which she managed to good advantage. Hence Cromwell, in the invectives of that age, is often stigmatized with the name of the brewer. Ludlow, by way of insult, mentions the great accession which he would receive to his royal revenues upon his mother's death, who possessed a jointure of sixty pounds a year upon his estate. She was of a good family, of the name of Stuart; remotely allied, as is by some supposed, to the royal family.



CHAPTER LXII

THE COMMONWEALTH.

{1658.} All the arts of Cromwell's policy had been so often practised, that they began to lose their effect; and his power, instead of being confirmed by time and success, seemed every day to become more uncertain and precarious. His friends the most closely connected with him, and his counsellors the most trusted, were entering into cabals against his authority; and with all his penetration into the characters of men, he could not find any ministers on whom he could rely. Men of probity and honor, he knew, would not submit to be the instruments of a usurpation violent and illegal: those who were free from the restraint of principle, might betray, from interest, that cause in which, from no better motives, they had enlisted themselves. Even those on whom he conferred any favor, never deemed the recompense an equivalent for the sacrifices which they made to obtain it: whoever was refused any demand, justified his anger by the specious colors of conscience and of duty. Such difficulties surrounded the protector, that his dying at so critical a time is esteemed by many the most fortunate circumstance that ever attended him; and it was thought, that all his courage and dexterity could not much longer have extended his usurped administration.

But when that potent hand was removed which conducted the government, every one expected a sudden dissolution of the unwieldy and ill-jointed fabric. Richard, a young man of no experience, educated in the country, accustomed to a retired life, unacquainted with the officers, and unknown to them, recommended by no military exploits, endeared by no familiarities, could not long, it was thought, maintain that authority which his father had acquired by so many valorous achievements and such signal successes. And when it was observed, that he possessed only the virtues of private life, which in his situation were so many vices; that indolence, incapacity, irresolution, attended his facility and good nature, the various hopes of men were excited by the expectation of some great event or revolution. For some time, however, the public was disappointed in this opinion. The council recognized the succession of Richard: Fleetwood, in whose favor it was supposed, Cromwell had formerly made a will, renounced all claim or pretension to the protectorship: Henry, Richard's brother, who governed Ireland with popularity, insured him the obedience of that kingdom: Monk, whose authority was well established in Scotland, being much attached to the family of Cromwell, immediately proclaimed the new protector: the army, every where, the fleet, acknowledged his title: above ninety addresses, from the counties and most considerable corporations, congratulated him on his accession, in all the terms of dutiful allegiance: foreign ministers were forward in paying him the usual compliments: and Richard, whose moderate, unambitious character never would have led him to contend for empire, was tempted to accept of so rich an inheritance, which seemed to be tendered to him by the consent of all mankind.

It was found necessary to call a parliament, in order to furnish supplies, both for the ordinary administration, and for fulfilling those engagements with foreign princes, particularly Sweden, into which the late protector had entered. In hopes of obtaining greater influence in elections, the ancient right was restored to all the small boroughs; and the counties were allowed no more than their usual members.

{1659.} The house of peers, or the other house, consisted of the same persons that had been appointed by Oliver.

All the commons, at first, signed without hesitation an engagement not to alter the present government. They next proceeded to examine the humble petition and advice; and after great opposition and many vehement debates, it was at length, with much difficulty, carried by the court party to confirm it. An acknowledgment, too, of the authority of the other house, was extorted from them; though it was resolved not to treat this house of peers with any greater respect than they should return to the commons. A declaration was also made, that the establishment of the other house should nowise prejudice the right of such of the ancient peers as had from the beginning of the war adhered to the parliament. But in all these proceedings, the opposition among the commons was so considerable, and the debates were so much prolonged, that all business was retarded, and great alarm given to the partisans of the young protector.

But there was another quarter from which greater dangers were justly apprehended. The most considerable officers of the army, and even Fleetwood, brother-in-law to the protector, were entering into cabals against him. No character in human society is more dangerous than that of the fanatic; because, if attended with weak judgment, he is exposed to the suggestions of others; if supported by more discernment, he is entirely governed by his own illusions, which sanctify his most selfish views and passions. Fleetwood was of the former species; and as he was extremely addicted to a republic, and even to the fifth monarchy or dominion of the saints, it was easy for those who had insinuated themselves into his confidence, to instil disgusts against the dignity of protector. The whole republican party in the army, which was still considerable, Fitz, Mason, Moss, Farley, united themselves to that general. The officers, too, of the same party, whom Cromwell had discarded, Overton, Ludlow, Rich, Okey, Alured, began to appear, and to recover that authority which had been only for a time suspended. A party, likewise, who found themselves eclipsed in Richard's favor, Sydenham, Kelsey, Berry, Haines, joined the cabal of the others. Even Desborow, the protector's uncle, lent his authority to that faction. But above all, the intrigues of Lambert, who was now roused from his retreat, inflamed all those dangerous humors, and threatened the nation with some great convulsion. The discontented officers established their meetings in Fleetwood's apartments; and because he dwelt in Wallingford House, the party received a denomination from that place.

Richard, who possessed neither resolution nor penetration, was prevailed on to give an unguarded consent for calling a general council of officers, who might make him proposals, as they pretended, for the good of the army. No sooner were they assembled than they voted a remonstrance. They there lamented, that the good old cause, as they termed it, that is, the cause for which they had engaged against the late king, was entirely neglected; and they proposed as a remedy, that the whole military power should be intrusted to some person in whom they might all confide. The city militia, influenced by two aldermen, Tichburn and Ireton, expressed the same resolution of adhering to the good old cause.

The protector was justly alarmed at those movements among the officers. The persons in whom he chiefly confided, were all of them, excepting Broghill, men of civil characters and professions; Fiennes, Thurloe, Whitlocke, Wolseley, who could only assist him with their advice and opinion. He possessed none of those arts which were proper to gain an enthusiastic army. Murmurs being thrown out against some promotions which he had made, "Would you have me," said he, "prefer none but the godly? Here is Dick Ingoldsby," continued he, "who can neither pray nor preach; yet will I trust him before ye all."[*] This imprudence gave great offence to the pretended saints. The other qualities of the protector were correspondent to these sentiments: he was of a gentle, humane, and generous disposition. Some of his party offering to put an end to those intrigues by the death of Lambert, he declared that he would not purchase power or dominion by such sanguinary measures.

The parliament was no less alarmed at the military cabals. They voted that there should be no meeting or general council of officers, except with the protector's consent, or by his orders. This vote brought affairs immediately to a rupture. The officers hastened to Richard, and demanded of him the dissolution of the parliament. Desborow, a man of a clownish and brutal nature, threatened him, if he should refuse compliance. The protector wanted the resolution to deny, and possessed little ability to resist. The parliament was dissolved; and by the same act, the protector was by every one considered as effectually dethroned. Soon after, he signed his demission in form.

Henry, the deputy of Ireland, was endowed with the same moderate disposition as Richard; but as he possessed more vigor and capacity, it was apprehended that he might make resistance. His popularity in Ireland was great; and even his personal authority, notwithstanding his youth, was considerable. Had his ambition been very eager, he had, no doubt, been able to create disturbance: but being threatened by Sir Hardress Waller, Colonel John Jones, and other officers, he very quietly resigned his command, and retired to England. He had once entertained thoughts, which he had not resolution to execute, of proclaiming the king in Dublin.[**]

* Ludlow.

** Carte's Collections, vol. ii. p. 243.

Thus fell, suddenly and from an enormous height, but, by a rare fortune, without any hurt or injury, the family of the Cromwells. Richard continued to possess an estate, which was moderate, and burdened too with a large debt, which he had contracted for the interment of his father. After the restoration, though he remained unmolested, he thought proper to travel for some years; and at Pezenas, in Languedoc, he was introduced under a borrowed name to the prince of Conti. That prince, talking of English affairs, broke out into admiration of Cromwell's courage and capacity. "But as for that poor, pitiful fellow Richard," said he, "what has become of him? How could he be such a blockhead as to reap no greater benefit from all his father's crimes and successes?" Richard extended his peaceful and quiet life to an extreme old age, and died not till the latter end of Queen Anne's reign. His social virtues, more valuable than the greatest capacity, met with a recompense more precious than noisy fame, and more suitable—contentment and tranquillity.

The council of officers, now possessed of supreme authority, deliberated what form of government they should establish. Many of them seemed inclined to exercise the power of the sword in the most open manner; but as it was apprehended, that the people would with great difficulty be induced to pay taxes levied by arbitrary will and pleasure, it was agreed to preserve the shadow of civil administration, and to revive the long parliament, which had been expelled by Cromwell. That assembly could not be dissolved, it was asserted, but by their own consent; and violence had interrupted, but was not able to destroy, their right to government. The officers also expected, that as these members had sufficiently felt their own weakness, they would be contented to act in subordination to the military commanders, and would thenceforth allow all the authority to remain where the power was so visibly vested.

The officers applied to Lenthal, the speaker, and proposed to him, that the parliament should resume their seats. Lenthal was of a low, timid spirit; and being uncertain what issue might attend these measures, was desirous of evading the proposal. He replied, that he could by no means comply with the desire of the officers; being engaged in a business of far greater importance to himself, which he could not omit on any account, because it concerned the salvation of his own soul. The officers pressed him to tell what it might be. He was preparing, he said, to participate of the Lord's supper, which he resolved to take next Sabbath. They insisted, that mercy was preferable to sacrifice; and that he could not better prepare himself for that great duty, than by contributing so the public service. All their remonstrances had no effect.

However, on the appointed day, the speaker, being informed that a quorum of the house was likely to meet, thought proper, notwithstanding the salvation of his soul, as Ludlow observes, to join them; and the house immediately proceeded upon business. The secluded members attempted, but in vain, to resume their seats among them.

The numbers of this parliament were small, little exceeding seventy members: the authority in the nation, ever since they had been purged by the army, was extremely diminished; and, after their expulsion, had been totally annihilated; but being all of them men of violent ambition, some of them men of experience and capacity, they were resolved, since they enjoyed the title of the supreme authority, and observed that some appearance of a parliament was requisite for the purposes of the army, not to act a subordinate part to those who acknowledged themselves their servants. They chose a council, in which they took care that the officers of Wallingford House should not be the majority: they appointed Fleetwood lieutenant-general, but inserted in his commission, that it should only continue during the pleasure of the house: they chose seven persons, who should nominate to such commands as became vacant; and they voted, that all commissions should be received from the speaker, and be signed by him in the name of the house. These precautions, the tendency of which was visible, gave great disgust to the general officers; and their discontent would immediately have broken out into some resolution fatal to the parliament, had it not been checked by the apprehensions of danger from the common enemy.

The bulk of the nation consisted of royalists and Presbyterians; and to both these parties the dominion of the pretended parliament had ever been to the last degree odious. When that assembly was expelled by Cromwell, contempt had succeeded to hatred; and no reserve had been used in expressing the utmost derision against the impotent ambition of these usurpers. Seeing them reinstated in authority, all orders of men felt the highest indignation; together with apprehensions, lest such tyrannical rulers should exert their power by taking vengeance upon their enemies, who had so openly insulted them. A secret reconciliation, therefore, was made between the rival parties; and it was agreed, that, burying former enmities in oblivion, all efforts should be used for the overthrow of the rump; so they called the parliament, in allusion to that part of the animal body. The Presbyterians, sensible from experience that their passion for liberty, how ever laudable, had carried them into unwarrantable excesses were willing to lay aside ancient jealousies, and at all hazards to restore the royal family. The nobility, the gentry, bent their passionate endeavors to the same enterprise, by which alone they could be redeemed from slavery. And no man was so remote from party, so indifferent to public good, as not to feel the most ardent wishes for the dissolution of that tyranny, which, whether the civil or the military part of it were considered, appeared equally oppressive and ruinous to the nation.

Mordaunt, who had so narrowly escaped on his trial before the high court of justice, seemed rather animated than daunted with past danger; and having by his resolute behavior obtained the highest confidence of the royal party, he was now become the centre of all their conspiracies. In many counties, a resolution was taken to rise in arms. Lord Willoughby of Parham and Sir Horatio Townshend undertook to secure Lynne. General Massey engaged to seize Gloucester: Lord Newport, Littleton, and other gentlemen, conspired to take possession of Shrewsbury; Sir George Booth of Chester; Sir Thomas Middleton of North Wales; Arundel, Pollar, Granville, Trelawney, of Plymouth and Exeter. A day was appointed for the execution of all these enterprises. And the king, attended by the duke of York, had secretly arrived at Calais, with a resolution of putting himself at the head of his loyal subjects. The French court had promised to supply him with a small body of forces, in order to countenance the insurrections of the English.

This combination was disconcerted by the infidelity of Sir Richard Willis. That traitor continued with the parliament the same correspondence which he had begun with Cromwell. He had engaged to reveal all conspiracies, so far as to destroy their effect; but reserved to himself, if he pleased, the power of concealing the conspirators. He took care never to name any of the old genuine cavaliers, who had zealously adhered, and were resolved still to adhere, to the royal cause in every fortune. These men he esteemed; these he even loved. He betrayed only the new converts among the Presbyterians, or such lukewarm royalists as, discouraged with their disappointments, were resolved to expose themselves to no more hazards; a lively proof how impossible it is, even for the most corrupted minds, to divest themselves of all regard to morality and social duty.

Many of the conspirators in the different counties were thrown into prison: others, astonished at such symptoms of secret treachery, left their houses, or remained quiet: the most tempestuous weather prevailed during the whole time appointed for the rendezvouses; insomuch that some found it impossible to join their friends, and others were dismayed with fear and superstition at an incident so unusual during the summer season. Of all the projects, the only one which took effect, was that of Sir George Booth for the seizing of Chester. The earl of Derby, Lord Herbert of Cherbury, Mr. Lee, Colonel Morgan, entered into this enterprise. Sir William Middleton joined Booth with some troops from North Wales; and the malecontents were powerful enough to subdue all in that neighborhood who ventured to oppose them. In their declaration they made no mention of the king; they only demanded a free and full parliament.

The parliament was justly alarmed. How combustible the materials, they well knew; and the fire was now fallen among them. Booth was of a family eminently Presbyterian; and his conjunction with the royalists they regarded as a dangerous symptom. They had many officers whose fidelity they could more depend on than that of Lambert; but there was no one in whose vigilance and capacity they reposed such confidence. They commissioned him to suppress the rebels. He made incredible haste. Booth imprudently ventured himself out of the walls of Chester, and exposed, in the open field, his raw troops against these hardy veterans. He was soon routed and taken prisoner. His whole army was dispersed. And the parliament had no further occupation than to fill all the jails with their open or secret enemies. Designs were even entertained of transporting the loyal families to Barbadoes, Jamaica, and the other colonies, lest they should propagate in England children of the same malignant affections with themselves.

This success hastened the ruin of the parliament. Lambert, at the head of a body of troops, was no less dangerous to them than Booth. A thousand pounds, which they sent him to buy a jewel, were employed by him in liberalities to his officers. At his instigation, they drew up a petition, and transmitted it to Fleetwood, a weak man, and an honest, if sincerity in folly deserve that honorable name. The import of this petition was, that Fleetwood should be made commander-in-chief, Lambert major-general, Desborow lieutenant-general of the horse, Monk major-general of the foot. To which a demand was added, that no officer should be dismissed from his command but by a court martial.

The parliament, alarmed at the danger, immediately cashiered Lambert, Desborow, Berry, Clarke, Barrow, Kelsey, Cobbet. Sir Arthur Hazelrig proposed the impeachment of Lambert for high treason. Fleetwood's commission was vacated, and the command of the army was vested in seven persons, of whom that general was one. The parliament voted, that they would have no more general officers. And they declared it high treason to levy any money without consent of parliament.

But these votes were feeble weapons in opposition to the swords of the soldiery. Lambert drew some troops together, in order to decide the controversy. Okey, who was leading his regiment to the assistance of the parliament, was deserted by them. Morley and Moss brought their regiments into Palace-yard, resolute to oppose the violence of Lambert. But that artful general knew an easy way of disappointing them. He placed his soldiers in the streets which led to Westminster Hall. When the speaker came in his coach, he ordered the horses to be turned, and very civilly conducted him home. The other members were in like manner intercepted. And the two regiments in Palace-yard, observing that they were exposed to derision, peaceably retired to their quarters. A little before this bold enterprise, a solemn fast had been kept by the army; and it is remarked, that this ceremony was the usual prelude to every signal violence which they committed.

The officers found themselves again invested with supreme authority, of which they intended forever to retain the substance, however they might bestow on others the empty shadow or appearance. They elected a committee of twenty-three persons, of whom seven were officers. These they pretended to invest with sovereign authority; and they called them a "committee of safety." They spoke every where of summoning a parliament chosen by the people; but they really took some steps towards assembling a military parliament, composed of officers elected from every regiment in the service.[*]

* Ludlow.

Throughout the three kingdoms there prevailed nothing but the melancholy fears, to the nobility and gentry of a bloody massacre and extermination; to the rest of the people, of perpetual servitude beneath those sanctified robbers, whose union and whose divisions would be equally destructive and who, under pretence of superior illuminations, would soon extirpate, if possible, all private morality, as they had already done all public law and justice, from the British dominions.

During the time that England continued in this distracted condition, the other kingdoms of Europe were hastening towards a composure of those differences by which they had so long been agitated. The parliament, while it preserved authority, instead of following the imprudent politics of Cromwell, and lending assistance to the conquering Swede, embraced the maxims of the Dutch commonwealth, and resolved, in conjunction with that state, to mediate by force an accommodation between the northern crowns. Montague was sent with a squadron to the Baltic, and carried with him, as ambassador, Algernon Sidney, the celebrated republican. Sidney found the Swedish monarch employed in the siege of Copenhagen, the capital of his enemy; and was highly pleased that, with a Roman arrogance, he could check the progress of royal victories, and display in so signal a manner the superiority of freedom above tyranny. With the highest indignation, the ambitious prince was obliged to submit to the imperious mediation of the two commonwealths. "It is cruel," said he, "that laws should be prescribed me by parricides and pedlers." But his whole army was enclosed in an island, and might be starved by the combined squadrons of England and Holland. He was obliged therefore to quit his prey, when he had so nearly gotten possession of it; and having agreed to a pacification with Denmark, he retired into his own country, where he soon after died.

The wars between France and Spain were also concluded by the treaty of the Pyrenees. These animosities had long been carried on between the rival states, even while governed by a sister and brother, who cordially loved and esteemed each other. But politics, which had so long prevailed over these friendly affections, now at last yielded to their influence; and never was the triumph more full and complete. The Spanish Low Countries, if not every part of that monarchy, lay almost entirely at the mercy of its enemy. Broken armies, disordered finances, slow and irresolute counsels by these resources alone were the dispersed provinces of Spain defended against the vigorous power of France. But the queen regent, anxious for the fate of her brother, employed her authority with the cardinal to stop the progress of the French conquests, and put an end to a quarrel which, being commenced by ambition, and attended with victory, was at last concluded with moderation. The young monarch of France, though aspiring and warlike in his character, was at this time entirely occupied in the pleasures of love and gallantry, and had passively resigned the reins of empire into the hands of his politic minister. And he remained an unconcerned spectator, while an opportunity for conquest was parted with, which he never was able, during the whole course of his active reign, fully to retrieve.

The ministers of the two crowns, Mazarine and Don Louis de Haro, met at the foot of the Pyrenees, in the Isle of Pheasants, a place which was supposed to belong to neither kingdom. The negotiation being brought to an issue by frequent conferences between the ministers, the monarchs themselves agreed to a congress; and these two splendid courts appeared in their full lustre amidst those savage mountains. Philip brought his daughter, Mary Therese, along with him; and giving her in marriage to his nephew Louis, endeavored to cement by this new tie the incompatible interests of the two monarchies. The French king made a solemn renunciation of every succession which might accrue to him in right of his consort; a vain formality, too weak to restrain the ungoverned ambition of princes.

The affairs of England were in so great disorder, that it was not possible to comprehend that kingdom in the treaty, or adjust measures with a power which was in such incessant fluctuation. The king, reduced to despair by the failure of all enterprises for his restoration, was resolved to try the weak resource of foreign succors; and he went to the Pyrenees at the time when the two ministers were in the midst of their negotiations. Don Louis received him with that generous civility peculiar to his nation; and expressed great inclination, had the low condition of Spain allowed him, to give assistance to the distressed monarch. The cautious Mazarine, pleading the alliance of France with the English commonwealth, refused even to see him; and though the king offered to marry the cardinal's niece,[*] he could for the present obtain nothing but empty profusions of respect and protestations of services. The condition of that monarch, to all the world, seemed totally desperate.

* King James's Memoirs.

His friends had been baffled in every attempt for his service: the scaffold had often streamed with the blood of the more active royalists: the spirits of many were broken with tedious imprisonments: the estates of all were burdened by the fines and confiscations which had been levied upon them: no one durst openly avow himself of that party: and so small did their number seem to a superficial view, that, even should the nation recover its liberty, which was deemed nowise probable, it was judged uncertain what form of government it would embrace. But amidst all these gloomy prospects, fortune, by a surprising revolution, was now paving the way for the king to mount, in peace and triumph, the throne of his ancestors. It was by the prudence and loyalty of General Monk that this happy change was at last accomplished.

George Monk, to whom the fate was reserved of reestablishing monarchy, and finishing the bloody dissensions of three kingdoms, was the second son of a family in Devonshire, ancient and honorable, but lately, from too great hospitality and expense, somewhat fallen to decay. He betook himself in early youth to the profession of arms; and was engaged in the unfortunate expeditions to Cadiz and the Isle of Rhe. After England had concluded peace with all her neighbors, he sought military experience in the Low Countries, the great school of war to all the European nations; and he rose to the command of a company under Lord Goring. This company consisted of two hundred men, of whom a hundred were volunteers, often men of family and fortune, sometimes noblemen, who lived upon their own income in a splendid manner: such a military turn at that time prevailed among the English.

When the sound of war was first heard in this island, Monk returned to England, partly desirous of promotion in his native country, partly disgusted with some ill usage from the states, of which he found reason to complain. Upon the Scottish pacification, he was employed by the earl of Leicester against the Irish rebels; and having obtained a regiment, was soon taken notice of for his military skill, and for his calm and deliberate valor. Without ostentation, expense, or caresses, merely by his humane and equal temper, he gained the good will of the soldiery; who, with a mixture of familiarity and affection, usually called him "honest George Monk," an honorable appellation, which they still continued to him even during his greatest elevation. He was remarkable for his moderation in party; and while all around him were inflamed into rage against the opposite faction, he fell under suspicion from the candor and tranquillity of his behavior. When the Irish army was called over into England, surmises of this kind had been so far credited, that he had even been suspended from his command, and ordered to Oxford, that he might answer the charge laid against him. His established character for truth and sincerity here stood him in great stead; and upon his earnest protestations and declarations, he was soon restored to his regiment, which he joined at the siege of Nantwich. The day after his arrival, Fairfax attacked and defeated the royalists commanded by Biron, and took Colonel Monk prisoner. He was sent to the Tower, where he endured, above two years, all the rigors of poverty and confinement. The king, however, was so mindful as to send him, notwithstanding his own difficulties, a present of one hundred guineas; but it was not till after the royalists were totally subdued that he recovered his liberty. Monk, however distressed, had always refused the most inviting offers from the parliament: but Cromwell, sensible of his merit, having solicited him to engage in the wars against the Irish, who were considered as rebels both by king and parliament, he was not unwilling to repair his broken fortunes by accepting a command which, he flattered himself, was reconcilable to the strictest principles of honor. Having once engaged with the parliament, he was obliged to obey orders; and found himself necessitated to fight both against the marquis of Ormond in Ireland, and against the king himself in Scotland. Upon the reduction of the latter kingdom, Monk was left with the supreme command; and by the equality and justice of his administration, he was able to give contentment to that restless people, now reduced to subjection by a nation whom they hated. No less acceptable was his authority to the officers and soldiers; and foreseeing that the good will of the army under his command might some time be of great service to him, he had with much care and success cultivated their friendship.

The connections which he had formed with Cromwell, his benefactor, preserved him faithful to Richard, who had been enjoined by his father to follow in every thing the directions of General Monk. When the long parliament was restored, Monk, who was not prepared for opposition, acknowledged their authority, and was continued in his command, from which it would not have been safe to attempt dislodging him. After the army had expelled the parliament, he protested against the violence, and resolved, as he pretended, to vindicate their invaded privileges. Deeper designs, either in the king's favor or his own, were from the beginning suspected to be the motive of his actions.

A rivalship had long subsisted between him and Lambert; and every body saw the reason why he opposed the elevation of that ambitious general, by whose success his own authority, he knew, would soon be subverted. But little friendship had ever subsisted between him and the parliamentary leaders; and it seemed nowise probable that he intended to employ his industry, and spend his blood, for the advancement of ene enemy above another. How early he entertained designs for the king's restoration, we know not with certainty: it is likely that, as soon as Richard was deposed, he foresaw that, without such an expedient, it would be impossible ever to bring the nation to a regular settlement. His elder and younger brothers were devoted to the royal cause: the Granvilles, his near relations, and all the rest of his kindred, were in the same interests: he himself was intoxicated with no fumes of enthusiasm, and had maintained no connections with any of the fanatical tribe. His early engagements had been with the king; and he had left that service without receiving any disgust from the royal family. Since he had enlisted himself with the opposite party, he had been guilty of no violence or rigor which might render him obnoxious. His return, therefore, to loyalty, was easy and open; and nothing could be supposed to counterbalance his natural propensity to that measure, except the views of his own elevation, and the prospect of usurping the same grandeur and authority which had been assumed by Cromwell. But from such exorbitant, if not impossible projects, the natural tranquillity and moderation of his temper, the calmness and solidity of his genius, not to mention his age, now upon the decline, seem to have set him at a distance. Cromwell himself, he always asserted,[*] could not long have maintained his usurpation; and any other person, even equal to him in genius, it was obvious, would now find it more difficult to practise arts of which every one from experience was sufficiently aware. It is more agreeable, therefore, to reason as well as candor, to suppose, that Monk, as soon as he put himself in motion, had entertained views of effecting the king's restoration; nor ought any objections, derived from his profound silence even to Charles himself, to be regarded as considerable. His temper was naturally reserved; his circumstances required dissimulation; the king, he knew, was surrounded with spies and traitors; and, upon the whole, it seems hard to interpret that conduct which ought to exalt our idea of his prudence, as a disparagement of his probity.

* Gumble's Life of Monk, p. 93.

Sir John Granville, hoping that the general would engage in the king's service, sent into Scotland his younger brother, a clergyman, Dr. Monk, who carried him a letter and invitation from the king. When the doctor arrived, he found that his brother was then holding a council of officers, and was not to be seen for some hours. In the mean time, he was received and entertained by Price, the general's chaplain, a man of probity, as well as a partisan of the king's. The doctor, having an entire confidence in the chaplain, talked very freely to him about the object of his journey, and engaged him, if there should be occasion, to second his applications. At last, the general arrives; the brothers embrace; and after some preliminary conversation, the doctor opens his business. Monk interrupted him, to know whether he had ever before to any body mentioned the subject. "To nobody," replied his brother, "but to Price, whom I know to be entirely in your confidence." The general, altering his countenance, turned the discourse; and would enter into no further confidence with him, but sent him away with the first opportunity. He would not trust his own brother the moment he knew that he had disclosed the secret, though to a man whom he himself could have trusted.[*]