Chapter XXVI.

The Commonwealth And Cromwell (1649-1653).

King Charles I. had not yet been lowered into his tomb, when, on the 7th of February, the House of Commons, reduced by successive purifications to a hundred members, voted an Act reading thus: "It has been proved by experience, and this House declares, that the office of king is in this country useless, and dangerous to the liberty, security, and good of the people; henceforth to be abolished." The House of Lords had been suppressed on the day previous. A Council of State was entrusted with executive power. It was composed of forty-one members, amongst whom were the three leaders of the army--Fairfax, Cromwell, and Skippon--with five former peers. Nearly all the others belonged to the House of Commons.

A disagreement sprang up at the outset. The new councillors were asked to sign a declaration approving what had been done regarding the trial of the king and the abolition of the monarchy as well as in the House of Lords. Twenty-two members of the council refused to sign. They promised to serve faithfully the government of the House of Commons, the only power remaining, but without expounding their views upon acts which they disapproved in different degrees. Cromwell perceived that the regicides could not govern alone. He came to an agreement with Sir Henry Vane, the most sincere, the most able, and the most visionary of the republican statesmen. {200} Sir Henry had refused to take part in the trial of the king, but he consented to sit in the council of state, provided that the past should not be referred to. The presidency was conferred upon Bradshaw. He took, as Latin secretary, one of his cousins who had recently maintained, in an eloquent pamphlet, that it was right to summon to trial "a tyrant or a bad king, as well as to depose him and put him to death after having duly convicted him." This was the poet Milton.

The Republic was founded and its government was being organized, but the country submitted without accepting it. Nearly four months elapsed before it could be proclaimed in the City of London. It had been found necessary to change the Lord Mayor, and the aldermen absented themselves upon the day of the solemn publication. "What was being done was against my conscience and my oaths," said Sir Thomas Sumes, when summoned to answer for his absence at the bar of the House. "My heart was not in this work," said Richard Chambers. Great difficulty was experienced in finding aldermen to replace them. Everywhere the same ill-feeling was manifested. Two years after the establishment of the Commonwealth, Parliament was compelled to entrust to the parishes the task of destroying all emblems recalling the monarchy. The clergy on all hands refused to take the oath of fidelity to the new power, and the government did not dare to give the name of the "Commonwealth of England" to a new frigate launched in the port of London in presence of the assembled council of state. "It was considered," wrote the Minister of France, M. de Croullé, to Cardinal Mazarin, "that if this ship were to perish, as all vessels are liable to do, it would be a bad omen."

{201}

The republican government, so shackled in its course, held in its hands some of the most eminent royalist leaders: the Duke of Hamilton, the Earls of Holland and Norwich, Lord Capel, Sir John Owen--valiant remnants of the last struggles of the civil war, who for several months had all been prisoners. Scarcely had the High Court, which condemned Charles I., completed its task when a fresh tribunal was formed, still under the presidency of Bradshaw, to try those who had fought for him until the last moment, and of whom the greater number were to follow him to the scaffold.

The Court began its sitting upon the 5th of February. The five accused men represented different shades of the royalist party. The Duke of Hamilton, a great nobleman and a politician of the court; Lord Holland, a frivolous and corrupt courtier; Lord Norwich, a true cavalier, complaisant, jovial, and devoted to the king; Sir John Owen, a worthy country gentleman, courageous and simple-minded; finally, Lord Capel, a model of all the firm and grave virtues, as independent as he was faithful. All five were condemned to death. The Duke of Hamilton immediately received not only an offer of his life, but of the return of his former office if he would make revelations upon the past. "If I had as many lives as I have hairs upon my head," said the duke, "I would sacrifice them all rather than ransom them by so shameful a bargain." When Sir John Owen heard his sentence pronounced, he made a low bow to the court. "It is a very great honor to a poor gentleman of Wales," he said, "to lose his head with such noble lords:" and he added with an oath, "I was afraid they would have hanged me."

{202}

Everything was tried in order to obtain from Parliament the pardon of the condemned. The appeal of the Duke of Hamilton and Lord Holland was rejected; Lord Norwich and Sir John Owen were pardoned; the latter, at the instigation of Hutchinson, who observed to Ireton, "I am going to speak for this poor gentleman, who is alone and without friends." There remained Lord Capel, the object of passionate solicitude and the most active proceedings on the part of his family. His appeal was discussed before Parliament. Cromwell rose, dwelling more especially upon the virtues of Lord Capel. "My affection for the public interest, however, weighs down my private friendship," he said. "I cannot but tell you that you have now to decide whether you will preserve the most bitter and implacable enemy you have. I know Lord Capel very well; he will be the last man in England who will abandon the royal cause; he has great courage, ability, and generosity; as long as he shall live, whatever may be his position, he will be a thorn in your side; for the well-being of the commonwealth I feel compelled to vote against his petition." It was rejected.

The death of Lord Capel justified the picture which his enemies had drawn of his life. The Duke of Hamilton and Lord Holland suffered the penalty simply and worthily, before him; he appeared alone upon the scaffold, having said farewell to his wife and children with words of consolation and encouragement. "Is your chaplain there, sir?" asked the officer in command. "No," replied he, "I have taken leave of him." Seeing several of his servants, who were weeping, "Restrain yourselves," he said. {203} Then, removing his hat, he addressed the people, frankly and simply, as a royalist and a Christian. He had promised his chaplain, Dr. Morley, to take the blame himself for his vote against Strafford. "I confess," he said, "for the glory of God, and to the shame of my own weakness, that it was indeed an unworthy act of cowardice not to resist the torrent which bore us along in this affair." People and soldiers, friends and strangers, all beheld him die, the object of admiration and respect.

The republican leaders perceived that this admiration and respect were not favorable to them. They desisted from this system of execution. The royalists remaining in their hands were banished, and their property was confiscated. Others merely remained in prison; no more clamor was desired; the proceedings of the High Court which had condemned Lord Capel were not published, the rigors of the past were silenced, blood ceased to flow. Parliament could not, however, suppress a book which had recently appeared, and the success of which continued to increase. The _Eikon Basiliké_ (or royal image) revealed to England under a pious form the reflections and opinions of the king during the course of his trials. The book professed to be the personal work of Charles, but it had been written by Dr. Gauden, subsequently Bishop of Worcester, under the restoration. The king had probably corrected it during his sojourn in the Isle of Wight. It was in effect, the royal image, a loftiness that was both natural and strained, a constant mingling of blind princely pride and sincere Christian humility, a real piety amidst false dealing, and the expression of an invincible devotion to his faith, his honor, and his rank. {204} Herein was matter to move royalist hearts. Notwithstanding the efforts of Parliament, forty-eight thousand copies were circulated in England during the year. All Europe devoured the book, which was translated into all languages. The attachment to the memory of the king became the object of passionate worship. Milton was commissioned to reply in the name of Parliament, but the apology of the _Iconoclast_, prolix and cold, notwithstanding its violence, did not destroy the effect of _Eikon Basiliké_. To his friends and to many people in Europe, Charles remained a martyr, and his enemies the executioners of a saint.

The annoyances and embarrassments caused to Parliament by the remnant of the royalist party, were not the gravest that it had to fight against. Barely installed, the republican government found itself in presence of an ardent, democratic, and mystical opposition. A man had been found, endowed with an indomitable courage and devotion, who constituted himself not the chief--no one was chief at that time--but the interpreter and defender of all the malcontents. This was John Lilburne, already accustomed to playing this part under the monarchy.

Having become masters, the republican leaders felt the danger of the habits of agitation which they had but recently favored in the army, and they forbade the soldiers to join in any gathering contrary to discipline. A pamphlet by Lilburne appeared attacking those prohibitions: the _New Chains of England Discovered_ incited the soldiers to disobedience. Five of them brought to Fairfax a violent petition; they were degraded. The libels of Lilburne succeeded each other, personally attacking the generals. {205} "Speak to Cromwell of whatsoever it may be," he exclaimed, "he will place his hand upon his heart, he will raise his eyes to heaven, he will take God to witness, he will weep, he will groan, he will repent himself, and so doing, he will strike you under the first rib." Such violence could not be tolerated. The House voted that the pamphlet of Lilburne was full of false, calumnious, and seditious accusations. He was placed in the Tower with three of his principal fellow-laborers. Two new libels from the indomitable agitator appeared while he was in prison.

The doctrines which he preached with so much zeal began to bear their fruits. A band of rough men already overran the county of Surrey, digging and sowing here and there, first on the commons and waste lands, but talking of throwing down the fences of the neighboring parks. They invited the people of the vicinity to join them, promising clothes and victuals to those who should come and aid them. Fairfax sent two squadrons against them; the chiefs were arrested; one of them, Everard, was an old soldier. "We are of the race of the Israelites," they said; "the liberties of the people were lost under William the Conqueror; we are nearing the time of deliverance; I have seen a vision which said to me: 'Go and till the ground to feed those who are hungry, and clothe those who are naked;' we do not desire to attack property, but a time will come when all men will willingly give their possessions to put them into the common lot. That time is near."

{206}

Lilburne and his friends saw the danger. They added to their constitution an article formally declaring that "possessions would not be divided, nor all things put into the common lot;" but the "Delvers," as the disciples of Everard styled themselves, or the "levellers," as they were generally called, had excited the public imagination, and that title was soon applied to all the little anarchical associations, civil or military, which decided to found the republic under an absolutely democratic form, and who offered an ardent opposition to the actual government of England; from words men soon came to blows.

Every day popular deputations besieged the gates of Westminster, demanding the restoration to liberty of Lilburne and his associates. "Return to your platters," was the answer of Parliament to a band of women. "We no longer have any platters," they said, "nor meat to put upon them." Amidst this fermentation, eight regiments, cavalry and infantry, were chosen for service in Ireland. The soldiers complained; they were unwilling to leave England without having their arrears of pay settled, and without having enforced their political views. A little paper was circulated in the ranks, advising them not to depart. A squadron of the cavalry of Whalley, who had received orders to quit London, took possession of the standard and refused to obey. Fairfax and Cromwell hastened to the scene; they quelled the insurrection; fifteen of the most mutinous were arrested, and five condemned to death by a court-martial, notwithstanding the representations of Lilburne, who maintained that no Englishman could, in time of peace, lose his life upon the decree of a council of war. But Cromwell could caress and strike at the same time; four of the condemned men were pardoned; the fifth, Robert Lockyer, was shot in St. Paul's Churchyard. {207} He was young, brave, and pious, a fanatical sectarian, beloved by his comrades. Solemn obsequies were performed in his honor; a hundred troopers rode in front; the sword of the deceased man and branches of rosemary dyed with blood rested upon the coffin; a crowd of sympathetic spectators awaited the body at the cemetery. Such sights were both an affront and a warning to the government.

Insurrection broke out in several regiments; fermentation was in progress all around. A corps of insurgent soldiers, placing at their head Captain Thompson, overran Oxfordshire. The generals marched upon them, after having in the first place assured themselves of the fidelity of the troops whom they had under their control; they attacked the rebels at Burford. Already discouraged by the blow which they had suffered from a first detachment sent against them, they defended themselves for some time in the town, from the housetops and in the streets. Then a great number surrendered. The others contrived to escape; the court-martial decided that the rebels should be decimated. The condemned men were assembled together upon the leads of the church, whence they saw their comrades brought out one by one to the square and shot in the face of the army. Three had already suffered their fate without retracting anything that they had done, and themselves giving the signal for the firing. Cornet Dean came fourth: he was a worthy soldier whom the generals knew; he manifested penitence; Fairfax pardoned him. Cromwell entered the church, caused the remainder of the condemned men to descend, rebuked them, admonished them, reproached them for the peril which they had caused to the cause of God and the country. These rude and haughty soldiers shed tears, and, when they were restored to their regiments and sent to Ireland, they marched with a good will.

{208}

The republican generals had been both prudent and firm, bold and moderate. Parliament and the city of London congratulated them upon their success with a degree of gratitude which revealed their fears; but the danger was only lulled; fresh insurrections might break out; they were indeed breaking out every day, and the "levellers," through hatred of Cromwell and his friends, became reconciled with the cavaliers. "I would rather live seven years under the government of old King Charles, although they may have cut off his head as a tyrant, than one year under their present tyranny," said Lilburne, in his prison; "and I tell you that if they persist in this tyranny, they will create sufficient friends for Prince Charles, not only to proclaim his name, but further, to bring him back to the throne of his father."

Parliament was agitated by this new danger. The trial of Lilburne, so long deferred, at length began. He appeared before the jury upon the 24th of October, 1649; he was as skillful in defending himself as in attacking his opponents. At the moment when the jurymen were about to retire to deliberate, the accused suddenly turned towards them. "Gentlemen of the jury," he said, "you are my sole judges, the keepers of my life, at whose hands the Lord will require my blood. And therefore desire you to know your power and consider your duty, both to God, to me, to your own selves, and to your country, and the gracious assisting Spirit and presence of the Lord God Omnipotent, the Governor of heaven and earth, and all things therein contained, go along with you, give counsel and direct you to do that which is just and for His glory." Lilburne was acquitted, and the acclamations of the people greeted this decision, accompanied with such outbursts of joy that no voice could be heard in the Hall for more than half an hour.

{209}

Parliament felt keenly this blow, and redoubled its rigors against the press. At the same time residence in London was forbidden the Cavaliers, the Catholics, and suspected persons. The old Presbyterian leaders, Sir William Waller, Major-General Brown and a few others, hitherto detained at Windsor, were sent to different towns of England. The Commonwealth exercised a tyranny which royalty had never known, or practiced, but it did not contrive to establish itself. Cromwell continued to become greater in its midst, and without encountering any active resistance. The republican authorities alone, and surrounded by irreconcilable enemies, in vain caused the pamphlets entitled the _Character of King Cromwell_ to be seized at Coventry. The civil war was still further to increase the power of the rival whom they dreaded while they served him.

While England was organizing the Commonwealth, Scotland and Ireland, in the main royalist, notwithstanding the party dissensions which agitated them, had proclaimed the Prince of Wales king, and delegates had set out to implore the new monarch to repair to his kingdom. Charles II. was at the Hague, surrounded by the best counsellors of the king his father, who had prevented him from establishing himself in France, the policy and religion of which country inspired great distrust. {210} They persisted, in concurrence with the Scotch commissioners, in urging the king to sever his connection with Montrose, and to accept the harsh conditions which the Presbyterians offered him. Montrose was at the Hague, speaking eloquently of the victories which might yet be expected in Scotland. The Marquis of Ormond urged Charles to proceed to Ireland, whither the chief of the rebels, Owen Rae O'Neill, summoned him. The king hesitated, recoiled; he endeavored to draw up a manifesto which should satisfy both the royalists of England, Scotland, and Ireland; then, abandoning this impossible undertaking, he at length quitted the Hague, and, under pretext of proceeding to France to say farewell to the queen his mother, he deferred his departure, more perplexed in his designs than eager to support by his presence the efforts which his faithful subjects were about to make in his behalf.

Parliament had not delayed so long in adopting its course. The proclamation of King Charles II. in Ireland rendered necessary the expedition which was to reconquer that kingdom for Protestant domination and snatch it from the disorder which had so long reigned there. There was moreover an ardent desire to occupy the army, and remove Cromwell to a distance on an honorable pretext. A hundred and twenty thousand pounds sterling per month was voted for the maintenance of the army. Cromwell was nominated general, while to Fairfax was given, to console him for his inaction, the vain title of generalissimo of all the forces of Parliament.

{211}

The army corps intended for Ireland was ready, well equipped, well clothed, well paid. Skillful precautions and prudent manœuvres were at work to alienate from the royal party on the one hand the moderate, and on the other the most fervent Catholics, who were flattered with the hope of freedom in their worship. Meanwhile, Cromwell did not depart. "It is scarcely to be reconciled with common sense," wrote M. de Croullé to Mazarin, "that Cromwell, who, according to the belief of many, carries his thoughts far beyond where the most intemperate ambition can lead him, should determine to abandon this kingdom to the mercy of the cabals which might be formed in his absence, and which his presence can prevent from being even undertaken."

If Cromwell thus had a difficulty in tearing himself away from England, where he must leave behind him rivals and declared or secret enemies, the successes of Ormond, in Ireland, soon presented themselves, compelling him to take his course. Londonderry and Dublin remained in the possession of Parliament; further, the latter city was besieged before the end of July, when the advanced guard of the Parliamentary general landed in Ireland. On the 2d of August the governor of Dublin, Michael Jones, made a successful sortie. Notwithstanding all the efforts of Ormond, the royal army, shamefully routed, found itself compelled to raise the siege. Cromwell himself landed in the port of Dublin on the 15th of August.

Scarcely had he reached Ireland when he saw that all consideration towards the moderate party and the Catholics was difficult: passions were too violent and excited. English against Irish, Protestants against Catholics, republicans against royalists, it was necessary to allow full scope to be given to hatred and vengeance in order to be assured of victory. {212} Cromwell was anxious to conquer at all costs. It was under these dark auspices that the campaign began, on the 31st of August, with the siege of Drogheda, a town considerable among all those of the province of Leinster. The garrison was numerous, composed in great part of English, and they made a vigorous resistance. It was necessary to make the assault twice, and to carry the towers one by one. "I do not think," wrote Cromwell, after the victory, "that, of the whole number of the defendants, thirty have escaped with their lives. Truly I believe that it will tend to prevent the effusion of blood for the future, which are the satisfactory grounds to such actions which otherwise cannot but work remorse and regret."

The massacre of Drogheda did not suffice to arrest the bloodshed. Wexford defended itself in the same manner and suffered the same fate. In the parts in which success was more easy, it was yet sullied by great cruelties. Meanwhile the strictest discipline reigned in the army; the country districts were quiet, and the soldiers were careful to pay for everything they took. Cromwell had secretly recommenced his intrigues, at times causing the projects of his enemies to miscarry through their own dissensions, by means of the skillful agents whom he introduced among them. This man, who boasted of having slain all the friars of Drogheda, made useful service of the ecclesiastics as secret emissaries. His seductive efforts reached even the Marquis of Ormond, for whom he manifested great esteem, often saying, "What has Lord Ormond to do with Charles Stuart, and what favors has he received from him?" At the same time, and by an act of shrewd foresight, he authorized recruiting in Ireland for the service of foreign powers. {213} In a few months this little Catholic kingdom, which had with great difficulty furnished an army of eight to ten thousand men for the service of the king, sent to France and Spain more than fifty thousand soldiers, fierce enemies of Protestantism and Parliament. The republican chiefs, in London, began to find that the absence of Cromwell and his new glory dangerously enhanced his greatness; they urged him to return to London, placing a part of Whitehall and of St. James's Palace at his disposal. Cromwell was profuse in his acknowledgments, but he delayed returning to England as he had delayed leaving it. Fresh events were preparing which were about to furnish him with an opportunity for displaying both his skill and genius.

Charles II. had left Ormond to fight for him in Ireland. At the first news of his defeat before Dublin, he had for a moment desired to throw himself in the midst of the struggle. It was represented to him that the moment was ill-chosen; that it was not well to go there to take part in a defeat. "Then I must go there to die," he nobly replied, "for it is shameful for me to live elsewhere." Recovering from this courageous impulse, he lived elsewhere, leaving his friends to die in Ireland. The same fate was soon to overtake in Scotland the most brilliant and devoted of his adherents.

The Parliament of Scotland had invited Charles to resume the negotiations previously entered upon at the Hague. The conditions of the Presbyterians were as harsh as ever, but Ireland was almost lost. Ormond no longer had any hope save in the diversion of a war between England and Scotland. The friends of the king urged him to lend ear to the proposals of the Scots; fresh conferences were held at Breda. {214} While Montrose, still independent and ardently opposed to the Presbyterians, was seeking soldiers and money in Germany, Charles II. wrote on the 19th of September, 1649: "I entreat you to go on vigorously with your wonted courage and care, in the prosecution of those trusts committed to you, and not be startled with any reports you may hear, as if I were otherwise inclined to the Presbyterians than when I left you. I assure you, I am upon the same principles I was and depend as much as ever upon your undertakings and endeavors for my service."

Montrose was, in effect, preparing an important enterprise. He had recruited, with great pains, a certain number of soldiers; but his first division perished at sea; the second landed in the Orkney Islands, awaiting their general. It was there, at the beginning of March, 1650, that Montrose landed in his turn, accompanied only by a few Scottish noblemen and five hundred soldiers. He rallied the troops who had preceded him, and full of confidence in the promises which he had received and the popular risings upon which he counted, he disembarked at the northernmost extremity of Scotland, displaying with the royal banner a standard bearing an image of the decapitated head of Charles I., with these words: "Judge, and revenge my cause, O Lord."

Montrose advanced across the counties of Caithness and Sutherland; but the reinforcements which he expected did not arrive, the chiefs whose support he hoped for placed themselves, on the contrary, on the side of Parliament. An army corps sent by the government of Edinburgh, under the orders of Colonel Strachan, marched against him. {215} Ill-guarded and destitute of information regarding the movements of the enemy, Montrose was attacked unawares on the 16th of April, near Corbiesdale, in the county of Ross. The soldiers whom he had brought from Germany fought valiantly; but the recruits from the Orkney Islands disbanded. At the moment when Montrose was vainly endeavoring to rally them, his horse was killed under him. His friend Lord Frendraught gave him his own. The rout was complete. The marquis threw away his uniform and decorations; he donned the clothing of a peasant and plunged into the country, seeking everywhere a shelter. He wandered about in this manner for a fortnight among the mountains, now well received by his partisans, now repulsed with terror. At length he was delivered up to his enemies on the 3rd of May, by Neil Macleod, formerly one of his friends, for four hundred bolls of meal. On the 17th of May, after moving from halting-place to halting-place, he was transferred to Leith, near Edinburgh. The last act of the tragedy was at hand.

On the same day, the Parliament, assembled in Edinburgh, voted that "James Graham, bareheaded and bound by a rope to a cart, should be brought by the executioner to the bar, there to receive his sentence, and that he should be carried to Edinburgh, and there be hanged on a gibbet; then to be taken down, his quarters to be nailed to the different gates of the city." The hatred of the enemies of Montrose took pleasure in such a sight, and persons who were indifferent were more terrified than revolted.

{216}

The noble partisan, the bold and brilliant captain, pale and wearied by the severities of his captivity, was accordingly conducted upon a sorry horse from Leith to Edinburgh. Being received by the magistrates and the executioner, preceded by thirty-two of his officers bound together two by two, Montrose entered the city in a cart. The vast crowd was hostile, and had come with the object of insulting the prisoner. His courage and gravity imposed silence upon their ill-will. As the procession passed before the house of the Earl of Moray, the cart stopped for a moment, and behind a half-opened window the Marquis of Argyle was seen feasting his eyes upon the humiliation of his enemy.

On arriving at the prison, Montrose was asked whether he had anything to say before receiving his sentence. He refused to reply; he did not know whether the king had concluded any arrangement with Parliament. The treaty was signed, and Charles II. was upon the point of proceeding to Scotland. This was made known to Montrose, who appeared somewhat moved, while persisting in his silence, notwithstanding the solicitations of the commissioners. Two days afterwards, at the bar of Parliament, where he appeared magnificently attired, defending himself from the cruelties which had been imputed to him during the war, he heard his sentence kneeling. "I kneel to render honor to the king my master, in whose name you sit," he said, "and not to Parliament." The execution was fixed for the morrow.

The soldiers and citizens were under arms; some attempt in favor of the condemned man was feared. "What!" said Montrose, "do these good people, who were so greatly in fear of me when I was alive, still fear me when I am about to die? Let them beware! When I am dead I shall haunt their consciences, and be far more formidable than when alive." {217} He refused the services of the Presbyterian ministers, and spent the entire night alone in prayer save when he was composing verses of a beautiful and noble kind notwithstanding their subtlety. "I wish," he said, "I had limbs enough to be dispersed into all the cities of Christendom, there to remain as testimonies in favor of the cause for which I suffer." Proud and calm, he thus marched to the scaffold; the executioner wept on placing the rope round his neck. A sorrowful murmur arose among the crowd. Argyle himself was agitated and sad, as though smitten with some regret or with a presentiment of his own fate.

The commissioners of Parliament had not deceived Montrose when they told him that they had negotiated with the king, and that he was about to come back among them. At the moment when the news of the defeat of Montrose arrived at Breda, Charles II., hitherto hesitating, decided to accept the Covenant and to promise to govern in all civil matters according to the advice of Parliament, in all religious matters according to the advice of the Presbyterian Church. To give to his promises the sanction of a brilliant falsehood, he wrote to Parliament that, having forbidden Montrose to undertake his expedition, he could not regret the defeat of a man who had disobeyed him.

He doubtless accepted in the same spirit the execution of his loyal servant, whose life, it was said, he wanted to save; no trace has remained of this disgraceful compact. Montrose died on the 21st of May. On the 2nd of June, Charles II. embarked for Scotland with a fleet which his brother-in-law, the Prince of Orange, placed at his service. Three weeks later, he set foot in his kingdom, after having signed the Covenant aboard his vessel, and taking farewell of nearly all the gentlemen who accompanied him. The King of Scotland had delivered himself up, bound hand and foot, to Parliament and the Presbyterians.

{218}

At the same moment Cromwell was at last returning victorious from Ireland. He landed at Bristol. An immense crowd thronged his passage, rending the air with their acclamations. "What a crowd come to see your lordship's triumph!" said one of those present to Cromwell. "If it were to see me hanged, how many more there would be," abruptly replied the general.

The repose of Cromwell was not to be of long duration. Parliament had conferred on the Council of State every power necessary to repress the invasion which was expected on the part of the Scotch. The council decided that the invasion should be forestalled by invading Scotland. Fairfax had been nominated Generalissimo; but when he learnt that the initiative of hostilities was about to be taken, he resigned his command. In vain did many remonstrate with him, Cromwell foremost. "The lieutenant-general," said Ludlow, "acted his part so to the life that I really thought that he was in earnest; this obliged me to go to him, as he was issuing forth from the Council Chamber, to beg him not to push scruples and modesty to a refusal which would be hurtful to the service of the nation; but the sequel showed that this was in no wise his intention." Fairfax resigned all his offices. Cromwell was nominated captain-general, and on the 22d of July, 1650, he crossed the Tweed at the head of about fifteen thousand men. On setting foot upon Scottish soil he turned towards his troops: "As a Christian and a soldier I exhort you to be wary and worthy, for sure enough we have work before us. But have we not had God's blessing hitherto? Let us go on faithfully, and hope for the like still."

{219}

If he had been well acquainted with what was taking place in the councils of Scotland, Cromwell would, without doubt, have had confidence in his success. The Presbyterian Scots surrounded with royal honors the monarch whom they had recalled; but he was treated as a prisoner who is distrusted, and whom it is desired to separate from the business in hand. The king did not attend at the council, and when he wished to consult Argyle upon some affair of importance, the latter respectfully avoided the confidence. On the other hand, the theologians overwhelmed with their exhortations the young prince, who was devoting himself, but in vain, to becoming a hypocrite. Distrust remained unshaken. When Cromwell had crossed the border, the king was brought to the camp, near Leith. In a few days alarm was taken at the influence which he might exert over the troops, and he was conducted to Perth, further away than ever from the scene of operations.

This was not sufficient for the fanatics; they asked Charles to sign an expiatory declaration, in which he should expressly acknowledge the wrongs of the king his father, the idolatry of the queen his mother, and his own sin in the treaty which he had concluded with the Irish rebels. It was at the same time demanded that, in favor of free Parliaments and the Presbyterian rule in the Church, in England as well as in Scotland, he should renew all the protestations and engagements against Papacy which had already been wrung from him.

{220}

On the first impulse Charles refused. "I could not look my mother in the face if I were to sign such a document," he said. But the symptoms of disorganization increased among the royalist party. The king knew that outside of Scotland there was neither party, nor army, nor kingdom for him. He signed the expiatory declaration, and the fanatical preachers assured their audiences that, "the wrath of heaven being now appeased, an easy victory would be gained over a general blasphemer and an army of sectaries."

The sectaries and their general were meanwhile advancing into Scotland, but in circumstances so difficult that they were more occupied with escaping from their own perils than with taking advantage of the weakness and divisions among their enemies. Everywhere before them, as they marched, they encountered a desert; men and flocks had disappeared in accordance with the orders of Lesley and the passionate exhortations of the Presbyterian ministers. Without any other resource in the country itself, Cromwell could only feed his troops by means of provisions coming to him by sea from England, which compelled him to continually proceed along the coast. Lesley remained behind in his intrenchments, between Edinburgh and Leith. Bad weather engendered a host of diseases in the English army. "They hope," wrote Cromwell to Bradshaw, on the 30th of July, "that we shall famish for want of provisions, which is very likely to be if we are not timely and fully supplied."

The situation had become so urgent that Cromwell resolved to fall back upon Dunbar, in order to wait there for convoys and reinforcements. From there it was possible, if the supplies were too long delayed, to regain the English border. {221} Upon the way, Lesley, having at length issued forth from his camp, constantly harassed the English. Scarcely had they arrived at Dunbar, when they found their retreat cut off by a considerable detachment occupying the defile of Copperspath, "so narrow," said Cromwell himself, "that ten men to hinder are better than forty to make their way." Lesley yielded to the solicitations and anger of the fanatics. He had hitherto carefully avoided battle, being satisfied with driving before him every day the famous Ironsides and their invincible general, without endeavoring to measure his strength with them. But the ministers were eager to enjoy the glory of victory, and called upon the general not to suffer the enemy to escape whom God had delivered into their hands. "They had disposed of us," said Cromwell, "and of their business by sufficient revenge and wrath towards our persons, and had swallowed up the poor interest of England, believing that their army and their king would have marched to London without any interruption." Lesley resisted no longer. "To-morrow, at seven o'clock in the morning," he said, on the 2d of September, to his officers, "the English army will be ours, dead or alive."

At this moment Cromwell was leaving a prayer-meeting, and he mounted on horseback, with Lambert, his major-general. Surveying with his telescope the positions of the Scottish army, he was struck by the movement which was taking place among the enemy. Lesley was preparing to throw himself across his passage with all his troops. Cromwell was only anxious to fight. "The Lord delivers them into our hands; they come!" he exclaimed, and he proposed to his officers to forestall the Scots and marched towards them. Monk vigorously supported the opinion of the general, and solicited the command of the infantry of the advanced guard. The English spent the night in preparing for the struggle.

{222}

A dense fog prevailed at daybreak. The first engagements were not fortunate for Cromwell and his troops. The men fought almost without seeing each other, to the cries of "Covenant" among the Scotch, and "The Lord of Hosts" amongst the English. The Scottish lancers threw the English advanced guard into some disorder; towards seven o'clock the regiment of Cromwell charged sharply. At the same time the sun, dispersing the mists, lit up the sea and mountains. "Let God arise," exclaimed Cromwell, "and let His enemies be scattered!" Inspired by his enthusiasm, his soldiers redoubled their efforts; the Scotch cavalry wavered; an infantry corps, which yet resisted, was broken by the Ironsides. "They run! they run!" cried the English. The rout had set in. "They were now but stubble to our swords," wrote Cromwell. At nine o'clock the battle had ceased; three thousand dead bodies and ten thousand prisoners testified to the victory of the English general. Four days later he was master of Leith, of all the country in the neighborhood of Edinburgh and of the latter city itself, with the exception of the Castle. Charles II. and his government were at Perth. Lesley, with the remains of his army, had fallen back upon Stirling. The republican Parliament could sleep in peace. Scotland, being invaded, had no longer anything to do but to defend herself upon her territory.

{223}

Scotland, in effect, thought only of defending herself; but her king soon thought of attacking. He endeavored to escape, and place himself at the head of the royalist movements which were promised in the northern districts; but, although he was soon retaken and brought back to Perth, his attempt gave uneasiness to Parliament, that resolved to take a decisive step and solemnly crown the king at Scone, according to the ancient Scottish custom. The ceremony took place on the 1st of January, 1651. Charles, who notwithstanding his grave faults, possessed tact and the art of pleasing, took advantage of the crowd which thronged around him to secure numerous partisans. The moderate party began to regain influence in the councils. Argyle once more found himself in rivalry with the Duke of Hamilton, brother of him who had perished upon the scaffold. The Presbyterians were a prey to the most violent dissensions. The royalist party was re-forming.

Meanwhile, Cromwell, whose skillful management constantly thwarted the projects and manœuvres of the king, fell seriously ill; so seriously, that the Parliament of England sent two physicians to take charge of him, and the general himself thought he was at death's door. At the same moment royalist plots burst forth in England, despite the severity displayed towards the Cavaliers, and the strict surveillance to which they were subjected by Scott, who was entrusted with this care in the name of the Council of State.

The plots miscarried, and the health of Cromwell was re-established; meanwhile the king had gained ground. The army had been reorganized according to his desire, and he had been placed at its head by the Presbyterian Parliament. At length master of his actions, he abruptly announced to his council his intention of raising the camp, still at Stirling, and waging war in England, where his partisans were only waiting for his presence to declare themselves. {224} Many people complained, protested; Argyle declared that he would not take part in such an undertaking, and retired to his castle at Inverary. The king persisted. He issued a proclamation, and, on the morrow, being the 31st of July, 1651, he took the road to Carlisle with an army of about twelve thousand men. David Lesley had been nominated his Lieutenant-General.

Cromwell had, doubtless, foreseen this movement, and had made no great effort to prevent it, and he foresaw at the same time the rage and terror which it was about to cause in London. He immediately wrote to Parliament: "As the enemy is some few days' march before us, I do apprehend that it will trouble some men's thoughts, and may occasion some inconveniences, which I hope we are as deeply sensible of and have been, and I trust shall be as diligent to prevent as any; but as there is a possibility for the enemy to put you to some trouble, we pray you would, with the same courage, grounded upon a confidence in God--wherein you have been supported to the great things God hath used you in hitherto--improve the best you can such forces as you have in readiness, or as may on the sudden be gathered together, to give the enemy some check until we shall be able to reach up to him, which we trust in the Lord we shall do our utmost endeavor in. This will be a hopeful end of your work, in which it's good to wait upon the Lord, upon the earnest of former experiences, and hope of His presence, which only is the life of your cause."

{225}

Cromwell was not mistaken in his forecasts; uneasiness was rife in London, the fear was great, but vigorous measures were taken. The republican leaders, Vane, Scott, Martyn, were men of active and impassioned courage, resolved to make every effort for their cause. Fresh regiments were raised, the ordinance respecting the militia was put in force again in all the counties; corps of volunteers were trusted to protect London; the surveillance of the Cavaliers was redoubled. Heads of families were forbidden to allow their children and domestics to leave their residences, except at fixed hours. It was hoped thus to prevent the royalist insurrections in favor of Charles, who continued to advance without obstacle in the north-west of England.

The king, indeed, advanced, but the people did not rise at his approach, as he had hoped. Surrounded with strangers and Presbyterians, Charles did not inspire in the Cavaliers or the partisans of the Anglican Church absolute confidence. The acclamations were loud, but his army had been increased by a very small number of English royalists when he arrived before Warrington, upon the banks of the Mersey. One of the most faithful servants of his royal father, the Earl of Derby, living retired in the Isle of Man with his wife, Charlotte de Trémoille, had hastened to offer his services to the monarch. Being commissioned by him to overrun Lancashire to assemble together adherents there, Derby was surprised and defeated by Colonel Robert Lilburne. He escaped, almost alone, and rejoined the king. When he arrived at Worcester, Charles had forced the passage of the Mersey in spite of Lambert and Harrison, despatched by Cromwell to oppose the achievement, and the Scotch, wearied, were establishing themselves in a friendly town, counting upon a few days' repose before the arrival of the Ironsides. {226} The royal standard was solemnly unfurled, and all the subjects of the king were convoked to a great review which was to take place upon the banks of the Severn. Thirty or forty gentlemen only repaired thither with their retinues. Two thousand Englishmen at most joined the Scottish army. Cromwell, on the contrary, had seen his forces trebled during his march. When he arrived before Worcester, on the 28th of August, he numbered under his standards thirty-four thousand men.

A discussion arose in the royal army who should be in chief command upon the day of battle. Buckingham, Lesley, Middleton, all urged their claims or their rights. "I will have no other generalissimo than myself," Charles said, to conciliate all, and he spent his time in reconciling his lieutenants with each other, while Cromwell prepared the attack and sent over to the right bank of the Severn some troops commanded by Lambert and Fleetwood. He himself occupied the left bank. On the 3d of September all was ready.

The king was ill-informed, and did not expect any serious engagement upon that day; but towards noon he ascended the belfry of Worcester Cathedral, and thence perceived several regiments of Cromwell crossing the stream upon a bridge of boats, and marching towards the Scotch corps under the orders of Major-General Montgomery, entrusted with the task of defending the town upon the west. Immediately descending from the belfry, the king mounted a horse and hastened to support his troops, who were attacked. Cromwell was before him in the combat, and was vigorously urging matters forward. {227} The struggle began at the same time upon the right bank; the Scotch resisted firmly. The king re-entered the town, placed himself at the head of his best infantry and his English horsemen, to attack the camp of Cromwell. The general immediately crossed the stream after him, and proceeded to defend his quarters. Fighting was carried on at both extremities of the town: "as stiff a contest as ever I have seen," wrote Cromwell. The corps commanded by the king caused the republicans to waver. Three thousand men of the Scotch cavalry, commanded by Lesley, were under arms in the rear of the king. They received orders to charge; they did not stir. "One hour of Montrose! Only one hour!" cried the English Cavaliers. Montrose was wanting. Cromwell resumed the offensive. The royal infantry lacked provisions. The Duke of Hamilton and Sir John Douglas were mortally wounded. The republicans pushed forward to the foot of the fortress, which was summoned to surrender. The commander replied with cannon balls. The fortress was carried by assault, and the garrison was put to the sword. The struggle became confused; the combatants re-entered the town in disorder. Everywhere munitions of war failed the royal troops, who were falling back upon Worcester, followed by their enemies. Fighting took place in the streets. The king endeavored to rally his men, crying to his friends, "I would rather you would shoot me than keep me alive to see the sad consequence of this fatal day!" But soon his friends were obliged to think only of saving him; a small body of the most ardent Cavaliers threw themselves upon the enemy to open up a passage before the king, and to cover his retreat. {228} While the fugitive monarch was proceeding towards the north with a handful of devoted companions, Cromwell having entered Worcester, which city was given up to pillage, wrote to Parliament, "The battle was fought with varying success, but still hopeful on your part, and in the end became an absolute victory; and so full a one as proved a total defeat and ruin of the enemy's army."

The joy and pride of the English Parliament were as great as the uneasiness which they had felt. Honors and rewards were lavished upon Cromwell and his officers; severities were not spared the vanquished. Six or seven thousand prisoners impeded the march of the triumphant army; the prisoners of importance were numerous. The Duke of Hamilton died of his wounds. The Earl of Derby was tried and executed at Chester, with Sir Timothy Featherstonhaugh and Captain Bembow. "I feel in my conscience," said the earl, on ascending the scaffold, "no scruple as to the cause to which I pledged myself; it is in the name of law and religion that I have supported it; my judgment is fulfilled; and I thank God for it, I have not the presumption to decide in these controversies. I pray God to cause to prosper for His glory those who are in the right, and I wish you as much grace and peace as I am about to find beyond all that you possess here." Parliament did not add to such examples. The virtuous nobleman, the loyal and independent servant, was not followed upon the scaffold by those who had supported the same cause without being his friends, nor worthy of being so. While Charlotte de la Trémoille was yet guarding for the king the Isle of Man, which was only wrested from her by treachery, the tower held within its walls the greater number of the prisoners of note. The royalist soldiers were secretly sold or given to merchants and planters for the work of the colonies and the African mines. Parliament offered a reward of one thousand pounds sterling to whoever should deliver up Charles Stuart, "son of the late tyrant."

{229}

The king, meanwhile, was flying across the kingdom, hiding from mansion to mansion, from farm to farm--sometimes concealed in the habitations which served as retreats for the proscribed Catholic priests, hearing or seeing at every moment the republican soldiers who were seeking him, ready to seize him; sometimes in the garb of a peasant, sometimes in that of a domestic. He spent one night hidden in the leafy branches of a great tree, which has since that time preserved the name of "the Royal Oak." Imperturbably gay and fearless, Charles braved the dangers, which disappeared more than once before his resolution and skillful self-confidence. All his efforts were directed towards reaching the coast, where he counted upon embarking for France. Several attempts to charter a small vessel had failed, when, on the 14th of October, near Shoreham, the master of a bark at length promised to take "the gentleman whom he had been spoken to about." When he saw the king he took aside the merchant who had engaged him: "You have not dealt fairly with me," he said; "you have not been clear with me; for he is the king, and I very well know him to be so." And as the merchant was denying with effrontery his statement, "I know him very well," repeated the master, "but be not troubled at it, for I think I do God and my country good service in preserving the king; and by the grace of God I will venture my life and all for him, and set him safely on shore, if I can, in France." {230} The master kept his word; the king and Lord Willmot, who had not left him, landed from a small fishing-smack at Fécamp, on the 16th of October, at one o'clock in the afternoon. They repaired at once to Rouen; but they were so poorly clad, and presented so bad an appearance, that they could not get admittance at the inn at which they presented themselves. On the 30th Charles at length arrived in Paris, where the queen, his mother, resided, after having wandered for forty-two days across England, concealed in eight different places of refuge, and known to forty-five persons whose names are recorded, without having suffered from any betrayal, without having been even placed in peril by an act of indiscretion; a rare proof of an intelligent and passionate fidelity towards one in the depth of misfortune.

Meanwhile Cromwell had returned in triumph to London, and had established himself at Whitehall. Before his death, of typhus fever, Ireton had completed the subjugation of Ireland. Monk had conquered Scotland. The fleets of the Commonwealth of England had compelled the Channel Islands to return to their obedience. The distant colonies had accepted the new rule. Parliament was master of all English territory; it remained for it to treat with Europe.

Europe was, at first, ill-disposed towards Parliament and the Commonwealth. The trial and execution of Charles I. had caused a powerful sensation, though for different reasons and in different degrees. The Protestants felt the need of clearing themselves from association with this deed. The Catholics saw in it the fruits of heresy. {231} In France, amidst the agitations of "The Fronde," the Parliament of England had found admirers; but the English revolution, with its consequences, soon excited an exasperation mingled with alarm, which the presence of Queen Henrietta Maria, her sons and her fugitive partisans continued to maintain. Cardinal Mazarin had taken no step in the name of the little king, Louis XIV., for saving of the king his uncle. The two solemn letters written to Cromwell and Fairfax were delivered. Before they had even been despatched from Paris, the king was executed. When he was dead, however, the ambassador, M. de Bellièvre was recalled, and his secretary, M. de Croullé, alone remained entrusted to take charge officially of French interests. Careful to maintain everywhere relations which might prejudice its rivals, Spain did not recall Don Alonzo de Cardeñas; but it neglected to renew his credentials, and he acquired no official position in the Commonwealth of England. Alone, of all the sovereigns of Europe, the Czar of Russia, Alexis, the father of Peter the Great, severed all connection with the revolutionary republic, and drove English merchants from his empire.

At the Hague, in the United Provinces, notwithstanding the hostile feelings of a great portion of the States-General, the devotion of the Prince of Orange to the family of his wife preserved for the fallen English monarchy a support and shelter. It was at the Hague that Doctor Dorislaüs, a Dutchman long naturalized in England, and but recently employed to draw up the impeachment of Charles I., was assassinated, shortly after the death of the king, by some cavaliers who had taken refuge in Holland. Such was also to be the fate a few months later, in an inn at Madrid, of Asham, who had placed his talent as a writer at the service of the revolution. {232} At the Hague, as at Madrid, public feeling was on the side of the murderers. A Dutch patrician might have said with Don Luis de Haro, "I envy the gentlemen who have done so noble a deed; whatever may befall them in consequence, they have avenged the blood of their sovereign. If the king my master had had subjects as resolute, he would not have lost his kingdom of Portugal!"

The words of diplomatists are not always in accordance with their acts. The English Parliament was not moved by the outburst of indignation and legitimate anger which had seized on monarchical and conservative Europe, at the sight of the triumphant revolution. Reserved and haughty, it waited, with distrust, but without any outburst of passion, until its successes and its power should compel its enemies to recognize the Commonwealth of England. The name did not terrify the sovereigns of the Continent. The republic of the United Provinces and the Swiss leagues had lived in peace without disturbing the repose of Europe. Monarchical power was becoming strengthened in France, Germany, and Spain, at the moment when the throne was falling in ruins in England. In vain did Charles II. send agents everywhere, accredit ambassadors at the courts of all the sovereigns of Europe. They were received with kindness and with empty looks. Care was taken not to go beyond this limit, and a strict neutrality reigned between the exiled monarch and the republican government. {233} "The servants of the king of Great Britain," the agent of Cardinal Mazarin in Scotland, M. de Graymond, wrote to him on the 23rd of October, 1649, "are here uttering curses against all the kings and sovereigns of the earth, and principally against his Majesty, if he does not assist their king, after whose ruin, they desire that of all the others. ... They do not fear to say that they will contribute with all their might to their destruction, which will be very easy for them to bring about, the people having once got a scent, through the example of England, of the delights of popular power. ... They say that Cromwell will begin with us, and that we fully deserve it, because we do not think of the restoration of the King of England, though we have the greatest interest to do so."

Upon one single point Parliament discarded its prudent and calm attitude. In the month of June, 1648, eleven English crews, having revolted against Parliament, proceeded to Holland to place their ships under the orders of the Prince of Wales, and to serve the cause of the captive king. Prince Rupert assumed the command of this royal fleet, and from that time forth he prosecuted at sea, against the Commonwealth, the implacable, roving, and plundering warfare, which he had but recently sustained upon land against Parliament. Charles II. found in the captures of his cousin precious safeguards against poverty. A number of shipowners of all countries asked permission to join the expeditions of the prince, so as to share the profits of them. They paid a tithe to the king. All security disappeared from the seas. The ships of the King of France, as well as those of the States-General of Holland, did not disdain sometimes to lower their standards, and to take part in the expeditions and captures. Against these ruinous and insulting measures Parliament reorganized and immediately augmented its fleet. {234} In the winter of 1650-1651, several squadrons were sent out to protect the English flag in all parts. Before the end of the winter the fleet of Prince Rupert, pursued from the coast of Ireland to Portugal and Spain, by the republican admiral Blake, took refuge, greatly diminished, in the Mediterranean, and thence, upon the coast of Africa, while Parliament, determined to punish equally the French pirates, took possession of six vessels, which were confiscated. The complaints which came from Paris upon this subject were not listened to. Upon the seas the Commonwealth had caused its power to be felt; it was there dreaded by its enemies and respected by its rivals.

Meanwhile the Spaniards were prosecuting in London secret and troublesome manœuvres which gave great uneasiness to Cardinal Mazarin. Through a want of sagacity and foresight, a hatred of Queen Henrietta-Maria, and a distrust towards her family, Parliament had not discovered that the power of Spain was declining, and that the House of Austria was divided and enervated, while France and the House of Bourbon were walking hand-in-hand in a path of rapid and bold progress. It was towards Spain that the preference of the Republican government inclined. It was Spain which first recognized the Commonwealth. On the 24th of December, 1650, Don Alonzo de Cardeñas was received in solemn audience by Parliament, and a few days later, on the 6th of January, 1651, M. de Croullé was arrested at his residence, while a priest was repeating mass to him, and was conducted before the Council of State, who ordered him to quit England within ten days. Some secret negotiations were attempted, to bring about a reconciliation, but Mazarin was tottering, and soon found himself compelled to fly from France. Spain remained sole mistress of the situation until the end of the year 1654.

{235}

A much more pressing matter at this moment occupied the minds of the republican leaders. The Prince of Orange had died (6th of November, 1650), and the disappearance of his influence reduced the United Provinces and the States-General to a complete decline. Republican traditions gained fresh force; the civic aristocracy, scattered by the House of Nassau, was regaining power. Everything indicated fresh favor towards the Commonwealth of England, of which the latter power speedily took advantage. Two envoys extraordinary, St. John and Walter Strickland, set out in great magnificence for the Hague; they were eagerly received. The intimate alliance of the two Protestant republics appeared to be on the eve of consummation. The immoderate ambition of St. John, as well as of the Parliamentary leaders whom he represented, placed an obstacle in the way of this desirable result. Their pretensions involved nothing less than the incorporation of the United Provinces in the Commonwealth of England, and the formation of one state under a single government.

Such audacity was difficult to express in words. Two months elapsed. The situation at the Hague became every day more grave. The Cavaliers were numerous there at the court of the young Duke of York. Their plots, in conjunction with the party of Orange, thwarted the efforts of the Dutch patriots. "Add to that," John de Witt subsequently said, "the intolerable caprice of the English nation, its continual jealousy of our prosperity, and the mortal hatred of Cromwell towards the young Prince of Orange, son of the sister of this banished king, who was what he feared most in the world." {236} Negotiations did not progress, and when St. John at length decided to put forth in seven articles some of his pretensions, they so completely subordinated the policy of the United Provinces to the policy and interest of the Commonwealth of England, that it was not difficult to foresee the failure of the envoys. They quitted the Hague on the 1st of July, 1651, haughty and menacing. "Believe me," said St. John to the Dutch with whom he had negotiated, "you will repent having rejected our offers." On the 5th of August Whitelocke introduced into Parliament a bill known under the name of "The Navigation Act," which prohibited all foreign nations from importing into England any commodity which should not be the produce of the soil or of the industry of their own country. It was the most serious blow which could have been struck at Holland, whose transit business brought it wealth. Before the end of the year the Bill was passed and put in force. The United Provinces had not allowed themselves to be conquered by negotiations; war was prepared against them.

Meanwhile the battle of Worcester had caused the scale in Europe to incline decidedly towards the Commonwealth. Recognition, and the resumption of official relations came from all quarters. Don Alonzo de Cardeñas was entrusted to propose a treaty of alliance in the name of Spain, and the Republicans manifested sufficient inclination to accept it. Impelled by so many perils, Mazarin at length adopted his course. He had been for more than a year in negotiation with the English, endeavoring to cause the recognition of the Commonwealth to be purchased by a declaration of England in favor of France and opposed to Spain. {237} He had failed: seven French vessels, having departed from Calais to revictual Dunkirk, which the Spaniards were closely besieging, had been captured by Blake, and Parliament refused to surrender them. The neutrality of the English appeared to be about to cease. The Cardinal commissioned M. de Bordeaux to bear a letter of the king to Parliament and to re-establish the official relations of the two States. The envoy did not possess the title of ambassador, and the letter of Louis XIV. was addressed to "Our dear and great friends the people of the Parliament and the Commonwealth of England." The State Council refused to receive the missive thus addressed. It soon returned with the superscription, "To the Parliament of the Commonwealth of England." Bordeaux was then received, not by Parliament, nor by the Council of State, but by a committee of this latter body. Relations were re-established, with bad grace on the part of France, without good-will on that of the English Republicans. "In my great misfortune, I experienced nothing equal to this," wrote Henrietta-Maria, in the meantime. Charles II. spoke of quitting Paris, but he still remained there. His pension of six thousand livres per month was continued, but his situation became more and more isolated and depressing, and his faithful counsellors all urged him to seek shelter elsewhere.

Holland could no longer offer him support. A decree of the States-General had closed their territory to foreign princes. Although the Dutch statesmen in their patriotism and foresight had rejected the foolish pretensions of St. John, they sincerely wished for peace. {238} A solemn embassy was despatched to London to resume negotiations. Upon their appearance in Westminster Hall, the speaker and all the members of Parliament rose and removed their hats; but this act of courtesy indicated no modification in their pride and rancor. They listened to the proposals of the Dutchmen with the obstinacy of haughty power, confident in its might, ardent in avenging itself for a disappointment which it held as an insult. The disposition of the people corresponded with that of Parliament. More than once the population attacked the house which the Dutchmen occupied at Chelsea. It was found necessary to assign a guard to the ambassadors.

Amidst these diplomatic agitations, it suddenly became known that, on the 12th of May, off Dover, the Dutch fleet, commanded by Tromp, and the English fleet, commanded by Blake, had encountered and fought. It was said that Tromp had refused a salute peremptorily demanded by Blake, and that upon a reiterated summons, he had fired upon the admiral's vessel. The struggle had been brisk, but without decisive issue. Popular wrath was the more immediate result of this. All the explanations given by a new envoy, Adrian de Paw, and the assurance that Tromp had received no instructions, did not appease the chiefs of the Council of State. On the 7th of July, 1652, war was declared, and fifteen days later the States-General accepted perforce and with sadness the challenge which had been thrown down to them.

The navy of the United Provinces at this time was more renowned than that of England: captains and sailors were inured to long cruises; their admirals already practiced ingenious contrivances as yet unknown to the English. {239} The latter, on the other hand, possessed larger vessels, well manned and rigged; they were more ardent in battle, and supported by a country richer and more powerful than Holland. The war opened with impassioned activity. Blake dispersed the fleet of herring-fishers upon the coast of Scotland after having defeated the men-of-war which protected them. Tromp endeavored to avenge his compatriots upon the fleet of Sir George Ayscough; but he was detained in the first place by a calm, and afterwards beaten about by a storm. Blake, coming to the assistance of Ayscough, triumphed without fighting. He impudently cruised along the western coast of the United Provinces before returning to Yarmouth, leading in his wake his prizes and nine hundred prisoners.

Tromp gave in his resignation. He belonged to the party of Orange, and had no taste for serving the States-General. He was replaced by Michael Ruyter, a man of obscure origin, of popular renown, a stranger to political parties and passionately devoted to his country. He soon compelled Ayscough to return into port at Plymouth, leaving the Dutch masters of the English Channel. He marvelled at his own success. "It is only," he said, "when it pleases God to give courage that one gains a victory. This is a work of Providence which cannot be accounted for by man." Proud of this victory and being resolved to prosecute the war with vigor, the States-General gave the command of a new squadron to Cornelis de Witt, one of the boldest of the aristocratic leaders, and committed the mistake of placing Ruyter under his orders. Cornelis de Witt was courageous in the extreme, but harsh and little liked by the sailors. {240} The Dutch encountered the fleet of Blake. Ruyter was not in favor of giving battle; but de Witt pressed forward. After a desperate fight, which lasted during the whole of the day, the advantage rested everywhere with the English, so much so, that on the morrow it was impossible for the fleet of the States-General to resume the struggle, as Cornelis de Witt wished. They were compelled to return into the ports, followed by Blake, who was anxious to make manifest his victory. Constrained by the public voice, the States restored to Tromp the command of their forces. Ruyter offered no objection to serving under his orders. Cornelis de Witt was sick and refused. On the 30th of November, 1652, at the moment when the Parliament of England and its admirals thought themselves absolved from fresh efforts, the Dutch fleet, composed of seventy-three vessels, attacked Blake, who had but thirty-seven. The English were defeated, and Tromp cruised about the Channel as a conqueror, carrying a broom at his mainmast head, thus braving the English navy even in those seas of which it claimed the sovereignty.

Parliament did not accept the resignation tendered by Blake; it sent him important reinforcements. In all the ports the available vessels were put in requisition, and two months and a half later, on the 18th of February, 1653, Blake in his turn was seeking the enemy. Tromp was occupied in protecting a rich convoy of merchant vessels, which impeded his progress. He fought for four days with consummate skill and prudence, continuing to press forward towards the coast of Holland, in order to conduct his convoy thither. When he had at length succeeded in this object, an incontestable advantage rested with the English. {241} Parliament made a great demonstration over a victory which had cost them dear. The war did not progress, and the expenses were becoming enormous. The courts of Europe, divided between the two belligerents, sought to embitter the hostilities rather than to appease them. The ambitious and improvident arrogance of the English Parliament had plunged it into a policy which placed the Commonwealth at contention with its natural friends without securing any ally. At home, it had to contend against ever-renewing difficulties, and to apply increasing severities. It was from the Cavaliers that the money necessary for supporting the war was extorted. While tyranny was resorted to for providing for the wants which a bad foreign policy had created, Cromwell, powerful but inactive, was silently undermining the ground beneath the feet of Parliament, by skillfully taking advantage of its faults.

Cromwell was inactive for good reasons. On the morrow of the victory of Worcester, Parliament, anxious both to diminish its burdens and to enfeeble its rival, had disbanded a portion of the army, while preparing for further reductions. The general, loaded with presents and with marks of gratitude, had returned to take his place in the House, where his presence soon caused itself to be felt. By his influence, and notwithstanding the resistance of the majority of the Republican leaders, two popular measures were voted, a general amnesty act and an electoral law decreeing that Parliament should not sit beyond the 3d of November, 1654. This was in the month of November, 1651: a duration of three years longer was thus assigned to the contest which was beginning between Cromwell and Parliament. Cromwell had too much good sense not to be prepared to wait. {242} He appreciated correctly what was possible, and he stopped even when his desires and his schemes would have led him further. He had succeeded in fixing a term to the existence of Parliament. His efforts, now impassioned and brilliant, now secret and indirect, were soon to harass the power with which he was contending. He contrived with this object to put every means into operation.

The spirit of innovation had taken possession of the young Republic. On all hands bold projects, chimerical or practical, were submitted to Cromwell, who knew by instinct the popular wants and desires. He had constituted himself the patron of reform in the matter of civil proceedings, and more than once he authorized his officers to constitute themselves as improvised judges. In ecclesiastical matters, amidst new sects which sprang up every day, Cromwell never abandoned two great principles, the liberty of conscience, and the regular preaching of the Gospel. The Presbyterians furnished him with pious and learned preachers in great numbers. The persecuted of all parties claimed his support. In all ranks and beneath all Christian standards, he established relations and nourished fruitful hopes. He wished to assure himself of the forces which he had conquered, and to act in a manner favorable to his soldiers.

Upon one occasion, at the residence of the speaker of the House of Commons, Lenthall, some leaders of the army and of Parliament were assembled. Cromwell submitted to the little assemblage the question of a stable government for the nation. The lawyer, Whitelocke, came at once to the point. "I should humbly offer," he said, "whether it be not requisite to be understood in what way this settlement is desired. Whether of an absolute Republic, or with any mixture of monarchy?"

{243}

That in fact was the question constantly revived and discussed in these social meetings, which every day assumed more importance. Cromwell prudently advocated the establishment of a single power. He had perceived that the thoughts of some rested upon the young Duke of Gloucester, still in the hands of Parliament. He contrived to restore the little prince to liberty. The child was sent to Holland, to his sister, the Princess of Orange. This royalist competitor being sent away, Cromwell prosecuted his purpose. His daughter, the widow of Ireton, had recently married Fleetwood. He nominated his son-in-law to the command of the forces of Ireland, taking to his own charge the expenditure of Lambert while he had been Lord Deputy. The petitions of the army recommenced. "Take care," said Whitelocke to Cromwell, "this manner of causing the officers to petition thus, sword in hand, might very possibly be inconvenient to you some day!" But Cromwell was more anxious about the success of his schemes than concerned about the embarrassments which he might cause to spring up. He proceeded towards his end, feeling his way at each step. "What if a man should take upon himself to be king?" he said one day to Whitelocke after a long conversation. "As to your own person," said the shrewd lawyer, "the title of king would be of no advantage." And in expounding the reasons for his remark, he finally proposed to Cromwell a negotiation with King Charles II. and the Scotch, for effecting a restoration. Cromwell did not reply, and changed the conversation, being urged in different directions by his own desire and by the adverse opinions of the men whom he questioned. {244} The English army was devoted to him; that of Ireland was more divided, owing to the influence of Ludlow. Streater, an officer in this army, came to England with some comrades, to oppose the designs which he foresaw. He accused the general of seeking his own aggrandizement. Harrison resented this accusation, saying that he was sure that the general only wished to open up the way for the reign of Christ. "Well!" replied Streater, "let Christ come then before Christmas, otherwise He will come too late."

The danger was not so urgent. Cromwell allowed his adversaries time to wear themselves out in public estimation. He ceased to oppose the new reduction of the army. Absolute master of the fortune and the fate of all, Parliament soon came to be regarded in public opinion as an iniquitous and corrupt judge.

This was the juncture which Cromwell had waited for. Impelled by the country, the Republican chiefs themselves prepared the bill of dissolution and the law according to which a new Parliament was to be elected. They still hoped to mislead the public; their proposal retained the sitting members as the nucleus of the new assembly; it was represented as a question of completing, not of renewing Parliament.

Cromwell was not in the House, on the 20th of April, 1653, when Vane, Martyn, and Sydney introduced what they styled the Dissolution Bill, while urging its immediate adoption. Colonel Ingoldsby arrived in haste at Whitehall.

[Image] Cromwell Dismissing The Long Parliament.

{245}

"If you wish to do something decisive," he said to Cromwell, "you have not a moment to lose." The general proceeded in the direction of Westminster, posted some troops at the gates, and entered, sitting quietly in his usual place. St. John approached him. "I have come," said Cromwell, "with a purpose of doing what grieves me to the very soul, and what I have earnestly with tears besought the Lord not to impose upon me. I would rather a thousand times be torn piecemeal than do it, but there is a necessity which weighs upon me in order to the glory of God and good of the nation." Vane had ceased speaking: the speaker was about to put the Bill to a vote. Cromwell rose and began to speak, in the first place doing justice to Parliament, to its zeal and to the services which it had rendered to the country; then gradually changing his tone, he reproached the members of the House with their procrastinations and their corruption. "You only wish to perpetuate yourselves in power. Your hour has come; the Lord has done with you--He who has taken me by the hand and who causes me to do what I do." Vane and his friends endeavored to reply; all spoke together. Cromwell replaced his hat upon his head, and stepping into the middle of the Hall, "I will put an end to your prating," he exclaimed. Upon a sign from Harrison, the door opened, and a platoon of musketeers entered the Hall. "You are no Parliament, get you gone," said the general; "give place to honester men!" And as Lenthall refused to quit the chair, "Take him down then yourself," said Cromwell. Harrison placed his hand upon the robe of the speaker, who submitted. The members resisted. "It is contrary to morality and common honesty," exclaimed Vane, "it is an indignity." {246} "Oh, Sir Harry Vane, Sir Harry Vane," replied Cromwell, "you might have anticipated all this, but you are but a juggler; the Lord deliver me from Sir Harry Vane." He addressed the members one by one as they issued forth, reproaching them for their faults and vices. The Hall was becoming empty; the general caused the papers to be seized, taking from the hands of the clerk on duty the Dissolution Bill which was about to have been put to the vote. He alone remained and caused the doors to be locked. As he returned to Whitehall, "I did not think of doing this," he said to his friends who were awaiting him, "but I felt the Spirit of God so strong with me that I heeded neither flesh nor blood."

A few hours later, the Council of State was also dissolved, notwithstanding the protestations of the president, Bradshaw. On the morrow, the passers-by stopped before Westminster Hall, to read a large placard, the night-work of some cavalier, on which were the words, written in large characters: "This house is now to be let unfurnished."

{247}