Chapter XXVII.

Cromwell Protector (1653-1658).

The deed was done. Parliament, which had at first aided, then thwarted Cromwell in his aims and in the exercise of power, had ceased to exist. A Council of State, composed of twelve members, convoked and presided over by the general himself, was henceforth charged with the control of public affairs. No resistance was offered. Scarcely had some austere Republicans protested when Cromwell felt the weight to be too heavy for his robust shoulders. The Government of England was not, could not be the absolute rule of one man. The semblance of a Parliament at least was necessary. He resolved to constitute it himself with the men designated for public approval by their virtues and their piety. A hundred and thirty-nine persons were thus chosen and convoked in the name of Oliver Cromwell, Captain-general of the forces of the Commonwealth. On the 4th of July, 1653, in the Council-chamber at Whitehall, the men elected by Cromwell listened to his address, which was long and diffuse as usual, but which tended entirely to give them confidence in their task and in their right to govern their country. "Accept your trust, for, I repeat to you, it is of God."

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Cromwell in vain endeavored to establish upon the solid basis of Divine will that power which he had established with his own hands and which he was shortly about to overthrow. The "Barebones Parliament," as it was called, from the name of one of its members, sat for five months, laborious and exact, ardently occupied in reforming abuses and in establishing a new legislature, it was at the same time inclined to dispute the power and actions of the general more often than was agreeable to Cromwell. He had but recently leant for support upon the sectarian reformers, but he soon felt that such innovators, available for destroying, were still prone to destroy the very power which they had raised; he resolved, therefore, to rid himself of them. He declared this to the Anabaptist preacher, Feake, whose violence embarrassed and exasperated him. "Be assured that on the day when I shall be pressed by my enemies, more pressed than I have ever been, it will be with you that I shall begin to rid myself of them," he said. He found in the very midst of Parliament the instruments necessary for his purpose.

On Monday, the 12th of December, 1653, the friends of the general were assembled together at an early hour in the House. Scarcely had they concluded prayers, which were said as usual by one of the members present, when Colonel Sydenham, addressing the House, vigorously attacked the reformers, or rather the revolutionists, who, he said, rendered all government impossible. "I propose to declare that the sitting of this Parliament any longer would be of no service to the nation, and that we shall repair in a body to the Lord-general and resign the trust which has been committed to us."

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A debate began upon this strange proposal. The reformers defended themselves. They sent warning to their friends, who arrived in haste. The issue became doubtful. Rouse, the speaker, abruptly closed the sitting, and proceeded to Whitehall, accompanied by forty members: thirty or thirty-five remained in the House, embarrassed and indignant. They did not muster a sufficient number to deliberate; some began to pray. Colonel Goffe entered with a platoon of soldiers and caused the place to be cleared. Four days later, the act of abdication of the "Barebones" Parliament had received eighty signatures, and Cromwell solemnly accepted the government from the hands of the army in the name of the three nations of England, Scotland, and Ireland, under the title of Protector.

This was the re-establishment of a single power, the first step towards the restoration of a monarchy. As Whitelocke had shortly before predicted to Cromwell, it was henceforth against him that all the blows were directed. Sectaries, passionate like Feake, or sincere like Major Harrison, refused to recognize the new government. Several colonels immediately entered into hostile conspiracies. John Lilburne had reappeared in England, and, although immediately incarcerated in Newgate, he had begun once more to write and to agitate the public with his indefatigable ardor. Cromwell resolved to place him upon his trial. "Freeborn John," wrote one of the confidants of the Protector, "has been sent to the Old Bailey Sessions, and I think that he will soon be hanged."

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Every possible precaution had in fact been taken to assure the issue of the trial and the condemnation of Lilburne, but his ability, his eloquence, the impassioned ardor of his friends, thwarted all the efforts of the executive. "Last Saturday," wrote Beverning to John de Witt, "there were present at his trial no less than six thousand persons who would not have heard him condemned without some few of them at least leaving their lives there." Lilburne was acquitted; but Cromwell was more powerful and more obstinate than the Long Parliament itself. Notwithstanding his acquittal, the indomitable pamphleteer was detained in the Tower, then transported to Jersey. He at length consented to remain quiet as a condition of freedom, and died in obscurity four years later, in a little town in Kent. Meanwhile, before ridding himself of the "Barebones" Parliament, Cromwell, warned by the trial of Lilburne of the tendencies of juries, caused to be vested in himself the exceptional jurisdiction which had at first tried the king, and afterwards Lord Capel and his friends. The High Court of Justice had been reconstituted under the presidency of Bradshaw. The Protector took his precautions against the attacks and conspiracies which he foresaw. He was not deceived: five months after the establishment of the new power, a Royalist plot, which was to begin with the assassination of Cromwell, brought before the judges Colonel Gerard, who perished with two accomplices. The Protector had the prudence to spare the persons of distinction who were compromised in the affair. His wish had been to test the vigilance of his police and the power of an authority which knew how to practice moderation.

While Cromwell thus displayed his energetic wisdom at home, rapidly and by his sole authority accomplishing the reforms long discussed by Parliament, he triumphed in Scotland, through the efforts of Monk, over the recent Royalist insurrections. A simple ordinance at the same time incorporated with England the ancient kingdom of the Stuarts, relieving it of all independent representation and jurisdiction. Monk was commissioned to govern quietly the country which he had subjugated. Ireland remained calm and silent; the Protector had leisure to turn his eyes towards the Continent of Europe.

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There again fortune served his ability and firmness. The war with Holland continued, and was generally favorable to the English arms. "Why should I remain silent longer?" Cornelis de Witt said in an open assembly of the States. "I am here before my sovereigns; it is my duty to tell them that the English are now masters of us and of the seas." The struggle still continued, negotiations being meanwhile attempted. Tromp was killed on the 31st of July, 1653, in the midst of a desperate combat. "It is all over with me," he said as he fell, "but you, take courage." Ruyter, Cornelis de Witt, Floretz, and Ewertz continued the struggle, which every day became more fierce on the part of the English. Cromwell, however, was resolved to put an end to it. The hesitations of diplomacy ceased with the government of Parliament; the Protector wished for peace with the United Provinces, and for an alliance with the Protestant States. He set himself without delay to work, to realize the two indispensable conditions of the greatness of his country and of his own influence in Europe.

The conditions imposed by the Protector were harsh, and they wounded the legitimate pride of the United Provinces: he renounced the idea of the incorporation of the two Republics; he admitted the allies of the Dutch to the advantages of the treaty, but he demanded of the States an undertaking never to receive upon their territory any enemy of the Commonwealth, thus closing against the Stuarts theîr last place of refuge. {252} He at the same time forbade the United Provinces ever to raise the young prince, William of Orange, or his descendants, to the office of Stadtholder or of commander of the land or sea forces. The States-General declined to assent to this stipulation. Cromwell then had recourse to indirect negotiations: he obtained, not without difficulty, a private and secret agreement from the States of the Province of Holland, which were sufficiently powerful to decide the question alone in the general assembly. On the 5th of June, 1654, the articles being at length ratified, the treaty of peace became definitive, to the general satisfaction of the English as well as of the Netherlanders.

During this time Whitelocke was negotiating with Queen Christiana of Sweden, who was struck and touched with the rare faculties which she recognized in Cromwell. "In the end, I think that your general will be king of England," she said. On the 28th of April, 1654, the English envoy signed, in common with Chancellor Oxçnstiern, a treaty of friendship and alliance between the two countries. On the 30th of May, the Queen of Sweden, seduced by the vague charms of a free life, solemnly abdicated before the Diet of Upsal, while Whitelocke, embarking for England, brought back to Cromwell an important success for his policy and stories invented to flatter his pride.

Such rapid progress in so many directions ardently preoccupied the two great Catholic powers which were contending amongst themselves for the empire of the Continent. Don Alonzo de Cardeñas, the Spanish ambassador, and M. de Bordeaux, the French ambassador, treated the Protector with great consideration and made many overtures to him. {253} The Long Parliament inclined towards the Spanish alliance. Cromwell, with higher sagacity, inclined, on the contrary, towards France. But Cromwell was in no hurry to declare what he thought, and he caused Cardeñas and Bordeaux in turn to conceive a hope of his preference, and thus became every day more the object of their jealous eagerness.

Thus sought after abroad by every Government, and conqueror at home of all parties, the Protector at length deemed himself in a position to confront a Parliament. He ordered therefore, for the 3d of September, 1654, the anniversary of his victories of Dunbar and Worcester, the assembly of a Parliament freely elected.

It was the first time for fourteen years that there had been in England a general election. No one was excluded except the Cavaliers and the Roman Catholics. Four hundred and sixty deputies, amongst whom the Presbyterians and sectarians were numerous, were present on the day mentioned at the opening sitting. All had accepted the condition commemorated on the writ of their elections: "The persons elected shall not have the power to alter the government as it is settled, in one single person and a Parliament."

This was, however, the first question put to the vote by the House. Returning to the Hall in which their sittings were held, after the speech of the Protector, the Republicans there revived all the maxims, all the pretensions of the Long Parliament. The form of government had for four days been the object of the most animated discussions, when, on the 12th of September, on arriving at Westminster, the members found the doors closed and guarded by soldiers. {254} "You cannot pass," said the sentinels; "go into the Painted Chamber, the Protector will be there soon." He arrived, as stated, and taking his seat upon the chair of state, which he had occupied a week before to open Parliament, he reviewed, in a speech which was both bold and embarrassed, his past works, the services which he had rendered to the country, and the necessity of putting an end to the agitation to which it was a prey. "I had a thought within myself," he said, "that it would not have been dishonest nor dishonorable, if, when a Parliament was so chosen as you have been in pursuance of this instrument of government and in conformity with it, some owning of your call and of the authority which brought you hither had been required before your entrance into the House. This was declined. What I forbore from a just confidence at first you necessitate me unto now. ... I have caused a stop to be put to your entrance into the Parliament House. I am sorry, I am sorry, and I could be sorry to the death, but there is cause for this. ... There is therefore somewhat to be offered to you, that is to say, in the form of government now settled, which is expressly stipulated in your indentures not to be altered. The making of your minds known in that by giving your assent and subscription to it is the means that will let you in to act those things, as a Parliament, which are for the good of the people. The place where you may come thus and sign, as many as God shall make free thereunto, is in the Lobby without the Parliament door."

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A hundred and fifty members, belonging to the austere Republicans, refused to pledge themselves, and immediately withdrew; before the end of the month, more than three hundred members had signed, and Parliament continued its labors, accepting, since it was so compelled, the first article of the constitutional act, but reserving the right to discuss the others. During more than four months quibble succeeded to quibble, difficulty to difficulty. On the 22d of January, 1655, the five months of session which the act of convocation assured to Parliament at length expired. Cromwell repaired to Westminster. "Though some may think it is a hard thing to raise money without Parliamentary authority upon this nation," he said, "yet I have another argument to the good people of this nation if they would be safe and yet have no better principle. ... Whether they prefer the having of their will though it be their destruction, rather than comply with things of necessity? ... I should wrong my native country to suppose this. ... I leave the unknown to God, and conclude with this, that I think it my duty to tell you that it is not for the profit of these nations, nor for common and public good for you to continue here any longer. And therefore I do declare unto you that I do dissolve this Parliament."

Cromwell was free, but uneasy and dissatisfied. He had hoped for much from the new Parliament, and the disappointment was bitter to him. He had spoken in his speech of the Royalist conspiracies which had developed under the uncertain government of the Republicans. An insurrection which broke out shortly afterwards in the West and in the North, proved the correctness of his assertions. It was easily repressed, and its chief, Penruddock, perished upon the scaffold with his principal adherents. Almost at the same time the Protector was informed of the projects of insurrection of the Republican sectaries acknowledging the leadership of Overton and Wildman. {256} Both these men were placed in the Tower. Other chiefs of the Levellers were arrested and sent to prison quietly. When the men of his former party were concerned, Cromwell behaved in a very different manner from that which he employed towards the Royalists. He applied himself to preventing and stifling. He wished them to be powerless, but not to make them victims invested with glory.

The conspiracy of the Cavaliers furnished, moreover, to the Protector a resource which became every day more necessary to him. He had no money. He resolved to impose upon the Royalists a tax of ten per cent, upon their incomes. Under pretence of collecting this impost he established in every county a local militia, of which he formed twelve corps, under the command of tried officers. All the Royalists found themselves outlawed. It was, apparently, against them alone that this measure destined to secure in all quarters the power of the Protector was directed.

The step was tyrannical; the application was more odious still. Cromwell gained the money of which he was in need, but the majors-general nearly everywhere abused their power. Returning into the old path of revolutionary violence, the parties once more found themselves at contention, not in the way of civil war, but of resisting oppression. The allaying of mutual passions and hatreds, and the establishment of a regular and legal government continued to be a vain hope for England. Cromwell felt it to be so, and struggled bitterly against that conviction.

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In the midst of the disorder and violence which he could not or would not repress, Cromwell always had the honor of understanding and respecting liberty of conscience. Constrained by the fanaticism of his friends to oppress the Catholics, often even the Anglican Church, he secretly used leniency towards the latter, and left to all the sects which divided England among them a full and absolute independence. He protected them against each other, defending even the liberty of George Fox, the founder of the Quakers; the Jews, who asked to be allowed to establish themselves in England; and the Republican men of letters like Harrington, who dedicated to him his Republican Utopia of _Oceana_. He at the same time defended the Universities of Oxford and Cambridge against the ignorant and ardent sectaries who would have destroyed those "Episcopal" homes, and he took pleasure in restoring to them something of their past splendor. Few despots have contrived like Cromwell to restrain themselves within the limits of practical necessity, while leaving to the human mind a vast and free field of action.

All these efforts in the direction of a good internal government did not suffice to found his power upon solid basis. Cromwell sought foreign renown. At the end of October, 1655, he had sent Blake into the Mediterranean, at the head of a large fleet, to cruise round Spain and survey its ports, while Admiral Penn was preparing to extend the war to the Spanish colonies in America. Blake acquitted himself of his mission as usual, repressing the acts of piracy and barbarity in the seas which he overran; bombarding Tunis, which had refused him water, and exhibiting boldness and moderation in turn. The Republican admiral caused the English flag to be everywhere respected. Cromwell was conscious of this and laid great stress upon it. "That is how things must be done," he said, "and I will render the name of Englishman as great as was ever that of Roman."

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Unfortunately, the expedition of Penn had partly failed in its object: the attack upon St. Domingo completely miscarried through the stupidity of the commanders and their want of foresight; the object of all these efforts and cost was confined to the taking of Jamaica. The great attempt against the Spanish colonies proved more profitable to Mazarin than to Cromwell: it was a definite rupture between the Protector and Spain. The shrewd French minister hastened to take advantage of it. On the 24th of October, 1655, the Spanish ambassador, Cardeñas, embarked at Dover to return to his country, and on the same day a treaty between France and England was signed--a treaty of commerce which became, towards the end of November, a treaty of alliance. The situation of the Protector in Europe became every day grander and more powerful; but, for eighteen months, he had governed alone and arbitrarily: his firm good sense warned him that absolute power soon exhausts itself. He wanted money to wage war against Spain. The moment appeared to him propitious for at length founding legal order, and he again convoked a Parliament.

When the House assembled, on the 17th of September, 1656, the efforts of the Protector and of his majors-generals had not succeeded in preventing the entrance of a great number of indomitable republicans. Vane and Bradshaw had failed; Ludlow and Harrison had not presented themselves; but Haslerig, Scott, Robinson, and some hundred of their friends had been elected. {259} At the door of the Session Hall were guards, who asked of each a certificate of admission. The majority presented it: a hundred and two members were without one and could not enter. The tumult was great. The Master of the Rolls of the Commonwealth was sent for. He arrived in great haste. "His Highness," he said, "had given orders that the certificate of admission should be given only to members approved of by the Council." On the morrow, Nicholas Furnes, Lord Keeper of the Great Seal, appeared at Westminster. "According to the constitutional act of the Protectorate," he said, "none could be elected member of Parliament who was not a man of recognized integrity, fearing God, and of good conduct. It was the duty of the Council to consider whether the elect combined these conditions, without which none could be admitted to sit."

Thus mutilated at the outset in its functions, the House accepted its humiliation. The rejected members appeared before the Council of State; their protest was useless. Parliament passed on to other matters, being in haste, it was said, to occupy itself with affairs of state. But public opinion was opposed to the arbitrary act of the Protector; it weighed upon the whole assembly. Feeble and inconsiderate, it preserved at the bottom of its heart the impression of the affront which it had suffered, and a desire to be avenged.

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Cromwell, however, was in need of Parliament, for he was meditating a great enterprise. Being assured of the necessity of founding that great order which he had re-established upon durable bases, he contemplated taking the title of _king_, which had been proposed to him by his lieutenants at the time of the constitutional act of the Protectorate, and which he had then refused. His pretensions amounted to nothing less than placing his family upon the re-established throne. His eldest son, Richard, was of peaceful tastes and manners, with little capacity for government and contention, but he could lean for support upon his brother Henry, who had recently given proof of his capacity as governor-general of Ireland. Parliament appeared devoted; fortune had favored the Protector with a lucky incident. The squadron which was cruising in the seas of Spain had captured a fleet of Spanish galleons, coming from America and laden with gold. The treasures were brought triumphantly to London; the people were enthusiastic; the House voted the new taxes demanded by the Protector. The idea of royalty was everywhere rife in people's minds, and it easily gained favor throughout the country.

The Cavaliers were so convinced of it that two of their number, among those who lived on good terms with him, Lord Hertford and Lord Broghill, made overtures to Cromwell in favor of Charles Stuart. "You can bring back the king on any conditions you please," said Lord Broghill, "and preserve with much less trouble and peril the authority which you possess." "The king can never forgive the blood of his father," said Cromwell. "You are but one of those who took part in that act, and you alone will have the merit of having re-established the king." "He is so debauched that he would ruin us all," replied the Protector, and he broke off the interview, leaving Lord Broghill convinced that he had himself contemplated this expedient.

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In the country, many wearied and discouraged Cavaliers would willingly have accepted the return of monarchy, in the hope of seeing the legitimate monarch ascend the throne again in a short time. The Presbyterians, who were monarchists by nature, were protected by Cromwell, and preponderant in religious matters. The sectaries, who were not favorable to him, and who considered him lukewarm in religious matters, enjoyed under his government a liberty for which they felt grateful to him. Everything had succeeded with him for three years; almost all thought that his good fortune would go as far as his daring would have urged it, and manifested an inclination to confide in it, or at least to acquiesce.

Cromwell began to make overtures to his confidants in this great affair; he appeared yet to hesitate; exciting by his conversation their curiosity or their zeal, he skillfully urged them in the path which was to lead him to the end, always remaining in a position to stop or repudiate them.

He made use of the same policy for undermining Parliament and the army. The House had condemned to a cruel punishment John Naylor, a prophetic enthusiast accused of blasphemy. At the very moment of the execution, Cromwell demanded of Parliament why the fanatic had been removed from the jurisdiction of a jury, that bulwark of individual liberties so dear to Englishmen. Desborough proposed to prolong the tax of a tenth imposed upon the royalists for the maintenance of the army. Lord Claypole, son-in-law of the Protector, energetically opposed this measure, which was rejected. The majors-general thus remained alone exposed to the public hatred aroused on all hands by their exactions. The rancor felt towards them deprived the Protector of some of his most faithful allies.

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While the friends of Cromwell were disunited, his enemies rendered assistance to his great design. Charles II., then at Bruges, where he received assistance from Spain, was preparing, it was said, an expedition. He possessed some trustworthy supporters among the Republicans, among others a man named Sexby, who promised to raise a popular insurrection which would become royalist as soon as Cromwell should have disappeared. Assassination was counted upon, and the assassin was already found. Miles Sindercombe, a bold soldier and an ardent Republican, passed his time in watching for the moment and in seeking the means of assassinating the Protector. On the 19th of January, 1657, Thurloe solemnly revealed the plot at the sitting of Parliament. Sindercombe was arrested, as well as two of his accomplices.

Public excitement was great. It was proposed to form a committee instructed to ask the Protector when it would be convenient to him to receive the expression of the opinion of the House. "I propose something more," said an obscure member, Mr. Ashe; "I would ask his Highness to take upon him the government according to the ancient constitution; then our liberties and tranquillity, the safety and the privileges of his Highness would be established upon solid foundations." A tumult arose; the motion of Mr. Ashe was violently opposed and warmly defended: it fell as an untimely measure; but the first landmarks were erected, the first step was made. One month later, the 22nd of February, Alderman Pack, member for the City of London, presented to the House of Commons a proposal entitled, "The humble address and remonstrance of the knights, citizens, and burgesses, now assembled in the Parliament of this Commonwealth." {263} It was for the re-establishment of the monarchy and of the two Houses. The Protector was invited to take the title of king, and to designate his successor. After a violent discussion, the proposal was taken into consideration, and the debate postponed until the morrow.

While the House was discussing, some hundred officers, at the head of whom were Lambert, Desborough, and Fleetwood, son-in-law of Cromwell, presented themselves at the residence of the Protector. They implored him not to accept the title of king. "This title displeases the army," they said; "it is hazardous for your person and the three nations; it will make way for the return of Charles Stuart."

Cromwell immediately replied to them, "that the title of king need not startle them so dreadfully, inasmuch as some of them well knew it was already offered to him and pressed upon him by themselves when this government was undertaken, that the title 'king,' a feather in a hat, is as little valuable to him as to them. But on every occasion," he said, "they had made him their instrument;" and he briefly recalled all the arbitrary acts which he had accomplished, he said, at the instigation of the army. "The nation is tired of uncertain arbitrary ways, and wishes to come to a settlement," he continued. "By what this Parliament have done by their own mere vote and will with James Naylor, you will see that a check is necessary; what has happened to James Naylor may be any one's case some day. Does the fundamental law of the Protectorate empower me to check them?"

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The facts which Cromwell recalled were embarrassing; his voice was full of influence over his old companions. Several wavered in their resistance; a compromise was arrived at. It was agreed that the question of the title of king should be suspended until the end of the debate. Upon this condition the officers accepted the two Houses of Parliament, and the right of the Protector to designate his successor; they undertook to allow the discussion to follow its course peacefully. On the 25th of March, the House voted, by a hundred and twenty-three votes against sixty-two, the first clause of the project which had been reserved until that day: "That your Highness will be pleased to assume the name, style, title, dignity, and office of King of England, Scotland, and Ireland, and the respective dominions and territories thereunto belonging, and to exercise the same according to the laws of those nations."

On the 25th of March, 1657, Cromwell received the House at Whitehall, in that banqueting-hall which eight years beforehand, Charles I. had crossed between two rows of soldiers on his way to the scaffold. "I am but a servant," said the speaker, Widdrington, "and I have not to express my own thoughts, but to declare what Parliament has commanded. I am like a gardener who plucks flowers in the garden of his master and makes therewith a nosegay. I will only offer to your Highness what I have gathered in the garden of Parliament." And he detailed the eighteen articles of the "humble petition and advice," dwelling upon the impossibility of mutilating it by rejecting one article to accept the other.

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Cromwell listened gravely and in silence; he asked time for reflection. On the 3rd of April, he begged Parliament to send delegates to him to receive his reply. "You do necessitate my answer to be categorical," he said, "and you have left me without a liberty of choice save as to all. I should be very brutish did I not acknowledge the exceeding high honor and respect you have had for me in this paper, and by you I return Parliament through you my grateful acknowledgments. I must need say that that may be fit for you to offer which may not be fit for me to undertake. I have been able to attain no further than this, that seeing the way is hedged up so as it is to me, and I cannot accept the things offered unless I accept all, I have not been able to find it my duty to God and to you to undertake this charge under that title. And if Parliament be so resolved, 'for the whole paper or none of it,' it will not be fit for me to use any inducement to you to alter their resolution. ... That is all that I have to say."

The Parliament understood the perplexity and vagueness of this reply. It was accustomed to unravel and follow the desire of Cromwell in the labyrinths of his deeds and words. It determined that it would persist in its petition, while asking officially to expound its motives before the Protector.

Cromwell knew, as well as Parliament, what was wanting to the stability of the government of England. Lord Broghill summed up the thought of his colleagues as well as that of the Protector when he said, "It is by the title of king, and never by any other, that our ancient laws designate the head magistracy; now ancient foundations, when they are good, are better than new ones, were they equally good; that which is confirmed by time and experience has afforded proof of its worth, and carries with it much more authority."

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In reality, Parliament did not speak to Cromwell nor Cromwell to Parliament. They were both addressing themselves to a public who were not in Whitehall--to the dissentient but moderate Republicans, whom they hoped to bring over to their views; to the whole country, which they wished to associate with the foundation of a new dynasty in order that it might compel the ancient parties to accept it.

The conferences therefore continued. Cromwell listened to the exhortations of Parliament with evident satisfaction, mingled, however, with a great perturbation of mind; he was not a man of simple and fixed ideas, who marched steadfastly towards his object. When any one addressed him, his powerful imagination caused to pass rapidly before his eyes the most hidden recesses as well as the most diverse phases of his position; he saw all the near or remote consequences, either probable or only possible, of the act which he was meditating. The matter progressed slowly, and Parliament began to evince some ill-humor. It was quite willing to assist the Protector in making him king, but not to present the appearance of doing it in spite of himself, thus assuming all the responsibility of the re-establishment of the monarchy. All the amendments, however, being adopted, the petition was again presented to the Protector. He contented himself with glancing at the last sentences, saying hurriedly and in a low tone of voice that, the document requiring some consideration, he could not yet appoint a day; as soon as he should have determined upon one, he would let the House know of it; it would be as soon as was possible, he doing all he could to expedite it.

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Cromwell had gained over Parliament; he had influenced the public mind; but, notwithstanding his ardent endeavors, some of the most important of the leaders of the army remained hostile to him, and persisted in their opposition to his design, either through envy or republican and sectarian fidelity, or as in the case of Desborough, his brother-in-law, and Fleetwood, his son-in-law, in the very interests of his family; all were convinced that the re-establishment of the monarchy would turn to the advantage of Charles Stuart. In vain did Cromwell repeat his favorite phrase; that it was a feather in a hat, and that he was astonished that some men did not allow children to play with their rattles; the Republican chiefs were inflexible. The country was in reality indifferent to the question. England did not expect from the projected change the return of the two things which it had at heart, a stable monarchy and a free Parliament. Meanwhile the House was convoked for the 6th of May, at Westminster. The choice of the place appeared to indicate a resolution at length to accept the crown, for the Protector ordinarily received the House at Whitehall. But on the 7th of May the committee learnt that the general audience was postponed to the morrow; they were awaiting in vain the interview which had been promised. When they returned on the morrow to Whitehall, a deputation of officers presented themselves before the House. "Cromwell has decided to accept the crown," Desborough said to Colonel Pride. "He will not do it," said Pride. "How will you prevent it?" "Get me a petition well drawn up, and I will prevent it!" It was this petition, written by Doctor Owen, formerly chaplain to Cromwell, which the officers brought to the bar of Parliament. {268} "Certain people," they said, "were making great efforts to place their country under its former servitude, by urging their general to accept the title of king; and that to ruin him, in order that the power should no longer be in the hands of the faithful servants of God and the public! They implored the House to lend no support to such people or to such designs, and to remain firm to the good old cause, for which they were always ready to sacrifice their lives."

The House was embarrassed and agitated. Cromwell being immediately informed of this incident, sent for Fleetwood, complaining bitterly that he should have suffered such a petition, and demanding that the House should repair on that very day to Whitehall. As soon as the assemblage was present in the Banqueting Hall, Cromwell entered.

"Mr. Speaker," he said, "I come hither to answer that which was in your last paper to your committee you sent me yesterday, which was in relation to the desires that were offered me by the House in that they called their petition.

"I have the best I can resolved the whole business in my thoughts. I must bear my testimony to the act, that the intentions and the things are very honorable and honest, and the product worthy of a Parliament. ... I have only had the unhappiness not to be convinced of the necessity of that thing which hath been so often insisted on by you--to wit, the title of king. ... And whilst you are granting other liberties, surely you will not deny me this, which is not only a liberty but a duty. ... If I shall do anything on this account to answer your expectation at the best, I should do it doubtingly. ... And whatsoever is not of faith is sin to him that doth it. ...

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"I, lying under this consideration, think it my duty, only I could have wished I had done it sooner for the sake of the House, who have laid such infinite obligations on me. ... But truly this is my answer that, although I think the act of government doth consist of very excellent parts in all but that one thing of the title as to me, ... I cannot accept of the government, nor undertake the trouble and charge of it as to which I have, a little more experimented than everybody. ... I say I am persuaded to return this answer to you, that I cannot undertake this government with the title of king. And that is mine answer to this great and weighty business."

The House withdrew, astonished and discontented. Three weeks later it voted, in all its details, the "Humble petition and advice," in which the title of Protector everywhere replaced the title of King, and on the 26th of June, in great pomp, Cromwell took the oath to the new constitution which re-established the two Houses, concentrated the power in the hands of the Protector, and gave him the right of designating his successor. There was no longer a Republic. There were only wanting a hereditary right and the title of king to make a monarchy.

Cromwell had attempted more than he could accomplish; and, notwithstanding the splendor which surrounded the new act of the Protectorate, notwithstanding the new rights which were attached thereto, he felt his power and reputation lessened. A little tract was profusely circulated, under this title: "Killing no Murder." The pamphlet was dedicated to Cromwell himself. {270} "To your Highness the honor is due of dying for the people," said the pamphlet, which was attributed to Sexby, "and it will surely be for you, at the last moment of your life, an inexpressible consolation to see how much good you will do in the world by quitting it. Then alone, my Lord, the titles which you now usurp will really belong to you; then you will be the liberator of your country, for you will deliver it from a bondage almost equal to that from which Moses freed the Jews. ... All this we hope from the death of your Highness. ... It is to hasten this great good that I write this tract. ..." Sexby was arrested and placed in the Tower; he died there several months later, thus escaping the punishment which he had so often merited.

While the assassination of the Protector was thus openly proposed to the country, as a means of deliverance, the Upper House, which had been recently formed with great difficulty, met in the Commons with considerable jealousy and ill-will. Cromwell had been compelled to place in the former assembly a few of his most faithful adherents; he had summoned thither seven of his former peers: one only responded to the appeal. A friend of Cromwell, Lord Warwick himself, whose son, Mr. Rich, had recently married Lady Francis, youngest daughter of the Protector, refused to take his seat. "I will not," he said, "sit beside the shoemaker Hewson." In vain did Cromwell, on the 25th of January, 1658, open the sitting of Parliament with a speech which began with these decisive words: "My Lords and Gentlemen of the House of Commons;" the Commons refused to give the honorary title of the "other" House, and only accepted communications with the Peers through their own messengers. The members excluded at the opening of Parliament, in 1657, presented themselves to take their seats, and Cromwell no longer thought of excluding them, for they proposed to take the oath to the new constitution. {271} Republican passion gained the ascendant; it had found its former chief, Sir Arthur Haselrig; being summoned to the House of Lords he refused to sit, and returned to take his place in the House of Commons at the head of the opposition.

Cromwell had in vain kept from any office his former comrade, Lambert, who had refused to take the oath to the new constitution. In vain had he been delivered of an austere witness by the death of Admiral Blake, who had succumbed beneath the fatigues of his triumph, after having won the victory of Teneriffe against the Spaniards. The Protector, who had not succeeded in making himself king, was conscious of a revolutionary agitation around him. On the 4th of February, without consulting or apprising any one, he repaired to the House of Lords and caused the House of Commons to be summoned. "I had very comfortable expectations," he said, "that God would make the meeting of this Parliament a blessing. ... It was granted I should name another House. I named it ... of men of your own rank and quality, who should shake hands with you, who would not only be a balance unto you. ... Yet, instead of owning a king, some must have I know not what, and you have not only disjointed yourselves but the whole nation, and that at the moment when the King of Scots hath an army at the water-side ready to be shipped for England. ... If this be your carriage, I think it high time that an end be put to your sitting, and I do dissolve this Parliament. And let God judge between you and me." "Amen!" replied a few of the opposition.

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Cromwell sought in the army the support which Parliament refused him; he convoked a grand council of officers, and expounded to them the perils of the situation, with an invasion and an insurrection imminent, Charles Stuart united with the Spaniards, the Spaniards with the Cavaliers, the Cavaliers with the Levellers; civil war certain, and the army threatened with losing all the advantages which it had conquered at the price of its blood. Parliament was laboring to destroy the constitutional act which it had voted. Were the army and its leaders determined with him to preserve it? This was responded to with acclamations. Cromwell urged on his advantages. He had noticed some officers who were gloomy and silent. He addressed them personally. "We are ready," said Parker, a major commanding his own regiment, "to fight against Charles Stuart and his adherents, but we cannot engage ourselves blindly and for every case." Cromwell did not reply, but a few days later the adverse officers were dismissed, and they proceeded to range themselves around Lambert, who was cultivating flowers in his garden at Wimbledon.

It was the general opinion that, in all these demonstrations, the Protector much exaggerated the perils with which the public peace and his government were threatened. The nation was in this neither so foreseeing nor so well informed as its chief. Indomitable in their hopes as in their hatreds, the hostile parties were rallying in the shadow of their reverses. As soon as the Protector was seen to be in contention with Parliament, which had wished to make him king, a new and terrible conspiracy was set afoot against him in all directions. Levellers, Cavaliers, Republicans, ex-members of the State-Council, Anabaptist ministers, were alike passionately engaged in it. The conspirators carried their audacity, in London even and under the eyes of Cromwell, to the point of fixing the day and hour on which the city was to be occupied, the Lord Mayor arrested, and the Tower fired.

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The policy of Cromwell was as bold as, and more experienced than that of the conspirators. He had known before his best friends had discovered it that the Marquis of Ormond had visited London, to come to an understanding with the conspirators of all parties and all ranks. "Tell him that I know where he is and what he is doing," the Protector said to Lord Broghill, who was defending himself from the charge of having been cognizant of the journey of Ormond. The plot was complete and about to burst forth, but suddenly numerous hurried arrests took place, surprising the Republican, Royalist, and Anabaptist conspirators. The Tower was filled with prisoners. In London, on the very morning of the day fixed for the great insurrection, the ringleaders were captured in the house in which they had met, and Colonel Barkstead, Lieutenant of the Tower, advanced to the middle of the city with five cannon. The plot was thwarted everywhere, stricken powerless at the moment when the conspirators thought themselves assured of success.

Cromwell was unwilling to trust this important matter to a jury. By virtue of an act of the Parliament which he had recently dissolved, he constituted a High Court, composed of a hundred and thirty members and presided over by Lord Lisle, one of the judges of Charles I. The accused persons all protested against this exceptional jurisdiction. {274} "I demand to be tried by a jury," said Sir Henry Slingsby, an indomitable Cavalier; "you are my enemies. I see among you persons who have confiscated and caused my estates to be sold. ... You accuse me of having violated your laws. ... I cannot have violated them since I have never submitted to them. ..." Doctor Hewitt, a clergyman justly esteemed by the Church of England, claimed with the same firmness the rights "which were those of his fellow-countrymen as well as his own." Both were condemned and executed, notwithstanding the circumstance that Sir Henry Slingsby was the uncle of Lord Falconbridge, who had recently married Lady Mary, one of the daughters of the Protector, and though Doctor Hewitt had recently bestowed his blessing upon that marriage privately. Lady Claypole, the favorite daughter of Cromwell, made in common with her sisters ardent efforts to obtain the pardon of the Doctor. Cromwell was inflexible; he thought severity necessary. Six executions took place, then the Protector allowed the High Court to rest, and the last accused persons were tried by jury. He continued to be troubled and dejected--causing horses to be driven fast when he rode in his carriage, followed by numerous guards, and often changing his sleeping apartment in Whitehall. This gloomy anxiety with regard to his safety ill accorded with the character of Cromwell; his powerful self-will was still firm and bold, but an evident necessity weighed upon him; he accepted it frankly and without illusion, guarding his life with the same ardor which he had formerly brought to bear in achieving his great position.

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He undoubtedly experienced a bitter mixture of pleasure and pride when he turned his eyes to the other side of the Channel, and when, while his situation at home was so precarious and so perilous, he contrasted with this the power and splendor which he had conquered abroad for his country and himself. It was precisely at this time, when he was contending so arduously in England against plots, that he obtained upon the Continent the most brilliant successes. He had not been slow to perceive that, to make war against Spain effectively, the treaty of peace and commerce which he had concluded with France did not suffice; he had therefore responded to the advances of Mazarin for a more intimate and fruitful union. A treaty of alliance, offensive and defensive, between France and England had been concluded in Paris, on the 23d of March, 1657; and a few weeks later six thousand English soldiers, carefully chosen by Cromwell, landed at Boulogne, ready to join the army of Turenne. "Sire," said Lockhart, the English ambassador and a relative of Cromwell, to the young king, "the Protector has commanded his officers and soldiers to display in the service of your Majesty the same zeal as in his own." Louis XIV. showed himself to be very sensible of this mark of affection "of a prince whom he considered," he said, "as one of the greatest and happiest in Europe." The campaign was prolonged; meanwhile Mazarin did not keep his promise: Cromwell complained, as he knew how to complain. Mardyck, besieged and soon captured, was consigned as a hostage to the English; the troops marched towards Gravelines, but the Spaniards having opened all the dams around the town, the capture became impossible. It was found necessary to put off to the spring of 1658 the siege of Dunkirk. {276} The town was invested; all the court was present to be witnesses of the assault. The Spaniards would not believe that Dunkirk was in danger. Don John of Austria hastened forward, however, to its defence, with his cavalry and a portion of the artillery. The Prince of Condé, unhappily engaged among the enemies of his country, was desirous of awaiting the remainder of the troops. "I am persuaded," said Don John, "that the French will not even dare to look at the army of his Catholic Majesty face to face." "Ah! you do not know M. de Turenne," said Condé; "a mistake is not made with impunity in presence of that man." The fight began on the 14th of June. At daybreak Turenne sent an intimation to Lockhart, who had assumed the command of the English troops. The aide-de-camp of the marshal was desirous of explaining his plan to the English general. "It is well," replied Lockhart, "I rely upon M. de Turenne; he shall tell me his reasons after the battle, if it is agreeable to him." Strange contrast between the manly discipline of English good sense, and the frivolous blindness of Spanish pride. Condé was not mistaken; the issue of the battle could not be doubtful to his old experience. "My lord," he said to the young Duke of Gloucester, who was serving in the Spanish army with his brother, the Duke of York, "you have never seen an army give battle?" "No, prince." "Well, you are going to see how a battle may be lost." The battle of the Dunes was in fact completely lost by the Spaniards. With two exceptions, all the officers of the regiment of Lockhart were killed or wounded. On the 25th of June, 1658, Louis XIV. entered Dunkirk, to solemnly surrender it into the hands of the English. {277} "Although the court and the army may be in despair at depriving themselves of so good a morsel," wrote Lockhart to Thurloe, "the cardinal is firm in his promises, and appears as pleased at surrendering this town into the hands of his Highness as I am to receive it. The king is also extremely obliging and polite, and he has more probity in his soul than I imagined."

It was a great triumph for Cromwell, and he enjoyed it without suffering himself to be dazzled by success. An exchange of magnificent embassies--Lord Falconbridge in France on the part of the Protector, the Duke of Créquy in England on the part of Louis XIV.--completed the ratification of this alliance, which had already borne such glorious fruit and restored to England that foothold in France of which the Duke of Guise had deprived it in reconquering Calais. Cromwell began once more to think of the election of a new Parliament, which at last should sanction, support, and perpetuate his power. The confidence of the country and the money necessary for the war were equally wanting to him. His friends urged him to nominate his successor.

Cromwell listened, hesitated, and did not act. He was painfully occupied by family afflictions. After three months of marriage his daughter had lost her husband, Robert Rich, who was scarcely twenty-three years of age; and Cromwell's favorite daughter, Lady Claypole, who for a long time had been dangerously ill, was growing weaker day by day. She was a person of noble and delicate feelings, of an elegant and cultivated mind, faithful to her friends, generous towards her enemies, and she had passionately returned to her father the tenderness which the latter manifested towards her. For a fortnight he did not leave her bedside, and when she died at last, on the 6th of April, 1658, all business was suspended until politics were able to obtain of the father a momentary cessation of his grief.

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Cromwell himself was moreover ill in health; he had made an effort to resume his labors, but intermittent fever set in, aggravating the disorders to which the Protector had for a long while been subject. His physicians insisted upon his leaving Hampton Court, where his daughter had died. He returned to London. The complaint increased and became serious. The Protector appeared to have no thought of public affairs, but he set in order matters concerning his family and household. He had, however, not abandoned the thought of living, and he counted upon the answer of God to the prayers of his friends. "Treat me like a poor domestic," he said to his doctors; "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." Cromwell, in fact, was much prayed for. "Truly," wrote Thurloe to Henry Cromwell, "there is a general consternation upon the spirits of all men, good and bad, fearing what may be the event of it should it please God to take his Highness at this time, and God having prepared the heart to pray, I trust He will incline His ear to hear."

The disorder increased nevertheless; the attacks were more violent and frequent, the prostration of Cromwell greater. He had not yet named his successor; no one dared to speak to him of it. Thurloe had undertaken to do so, but he still hesitated. The Protector had kept his intentions secret; mention was made among the people of his two sons and of his son-in-law, Fleetwood, who was more agreeable to the army. The prudent Thurloe did not wish to place himself at variance with any of the pretenders; he therefore waited.

[Image] Cromwell At The Death-bed Of His Daughter.

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The religious opinions of Cromwell had very feebly influenced his conduct, and he had often placed them at the service of worldly interests, but they had never disappeared from this soul burdened with prevarications and criminal acts, and they resumed all their sway upon his deathbed. "Tell me," he said, on the 2nd of September, to one of his chaplains, "is it possible to fall from the state of grace?" "No," said the divine. "Then am I safe," said Cromwell, "for I am sure that once I was in a state of grace." He tossed about in his bed, praying aloud. "Lord," he said, "I am a miserable creature. ... Thou hast made me, though very unworthy, a mean instrument to do them some good and Thee service. ... And many of them have set too high a value upon me, though others wish and would be glad of my death. Lord, however Thou do dispose of me, continue and go on to do good for them. Give them consistency of judgment, one heart and mutual love. ... Pardon such as desire to trample upon the dust of a poor worm. ... Even for Jesus Christ's sake. And give us a good night if it be Thy pleasure. Amen."

The repose which Cromwell asked of God was approaching for him. It was on the 3rd of September, the anniversary of his victories of Dunbar and Worcester. He muttered now only broken words: "Truly God is good ... indeed He is ... I would be willing to live to be farther serviceable to God and His people, but my work is done ... yet God will be with His people." Some drink was offered to him, and he was urged to sleep. "It is not my design to drink or sleep," he said, "but my design is to make what haste I can to be gone." He fell into a profound stupor, from which he did not arouse again. A sigh alone announced to those present that he had expired.

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A universal shudder ran through England at this news. Friends and enemies all felt that the true time of stirring events had come again. Only a few moments before his death the Protector had named his son Richard to succeed him; he was proclaimed without opposition. "It has pleased God," wrote Thurloe to Henry Cromwell, "to give to his Highness your brother a very easy and peaceful beginning in his government; there is not a dog who wags his tongue, so profound is the calm which we are in." The great head of European Protestantism was interred at Westminster with a magnificence which surpassed anything that had been seen in England at the funerals of kings; it was from the obsequies of the most "Catholic of monarchs," Philip II., King of Spain, that the ceremony was copied.

Everything had succeeded with Cromwell; he had arrived at the summit of power and grandeur, and yet he died in sadness. Whatever may have been his selfishness, he was too high-souled for the highest fortune of a purely personal and ephemeral kind to afford him satisfaction. Weary of the destruction which he had accomplished, he desired in his heart to restore to his country a regular and stable government, the only kind which was suited to her, namely, monarchy with Parliament. At the same time carrying his ambition beyond the tomb, and thirsting for that permanent place in men's esteem which is the crown of greatness, he aspired to leave his name and race in the possession of power in the future. {281} In all these designs he was deceived. His daring enterprises had created around him obstacles which neither his powerful genius nor his obstinate will had sufficed to overcome. Overburdened with power and glory personally, he died deprived of his dearest hopes, leaving behind to succeed him only the two foes whom he had so ardently contended against--monarchy and the Stuarts.

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