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.
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Cromwell At The Death-bed Of His Daughter.
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.
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. 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.
Cromwell was dead, and his son Richard had succeeded him without any excitement or resistance. To the joy which had seized the Royalists at the news of the decease of the Protector, to the transports which had caused cries to be heard in Amsterdam of "The Devil is dead," had succeeded an exaggerated dejection. "We have not yet found that advantage by Cromwell's death that we reasonably hoped," wrote Hyde to Howard, one of the most faithful servants of the king in England; "nay rather, we are in the worse situation for it, people imagining by the great calm that has followed that the nation is united, and that the king has very few friends. … I hope, however, that this young man will not inherit the good fortune of his father, and that there will happen some confusion which will open a door for us."
Confusion had already set in, latent and silent as yet, but the most zealous partisans of Cromwell and of his sons were even then under no delusion. Amidst the general adhesion which had fallen to the lot of the new Protector at his accession, they were filled with anxiety and convinced that their success was superficial and their peril imminent. The body of Cromwell was still lying upon its bed of state, and already the impression which his death had caused and the unanimous assent which it had brought to his successor were but a vain appearance.
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Richard Cromwell.
The strong hand which had raised and supported the power was scarcely cold in death when from all quarters the pretensions sprang up which he had reduced to silence. The first blow was not long delayed. For several days the Republican leaders of the army assembled at the house of Desborough. On the 14th of October, two or three hundred officers, conducted by Fleetwood, or rather conducting at their head General Fleetwood, presented to Richard a petition demanding that the army should henceforth have an appointed leader empowered to nominate to all the vacant posts. It was taking away the army from the Protector and placing the Protector at the mercy of the army. Richard preserved a good countenance; Thurloe had prepared his answer. He intrenched himself behind the "Petition and advice," the fundamental act of the Protectorate, which was opposed to the request of the officers. He spoke of the arrears due to the troops, of his wish to pay them. The officers did not persist: it was enough to have made known their demand; they promised themselves to return to the attack. Richard and his friends did not deceive themselves as to these pretensions. "In the present state of affairs," wrote Henry Cromwell to his brother, "the waves, I am afraid, are too rough for you to be able to cast your anchor anywhere; you must content yourself with drifting and waiting for the turn of tide. … I sometimes think of a Parliament, but I doubt whether wise men would be willing to embark in such ventures in the midst of so troubled a State; should they be willing, could the army be prevented from offering violence to the elections?"
It was also towards a Parliament that the thoughts of the friends of the Protector inclined in England. Money was wanting. Thurloe had caused Mazarin to be sounded as to a loan of fifty thousand pounds sterling; but the cardinal, recently so assiduous in his attentions to Cromwell, was not disposed to make the same efforts in favor of his successors; he wished to live on good terms with him, and see his destiny accomplished without lending him efficient assistance to contribute artificially to secure his position. He pleaded his own embarrassments, and refused the money. Every resource had been exhausted; the time of arbitrary taxes and of the rule of the majors-general had passed away; with his genius, Cromwell had carried tyranny with him to the tomb. The council of the Protector resolved to convoke a Parliament. "We shall have great struggles to sustain," wrote Thurloe to Henry Cromwell; "the Republicans assemble every day and discuss as to what republic they ought to prefer, for they deem it certain that they have only to choose and take. They flatter themselves that a portion of the army will march with them. I trust that they are mistaken. However, I must say that I do not like the aspect of things, and my fears outweigh my hopes."
Under the dominion of the fears expressed by Thurloe the new government did not dare to conduct the elections according to the electoral system prepared by the Long Parliament and twice practiced by Cromwell; the customs of the monarchy were revived in the hope of influencing the elections in the boroughs. Scotland and Ireland, recently incorporated with England, had no traditional right to invoke. To each were allotted thirty representatives, whose elections were necessarily to depend upon the army which ruled them. The army of Ireland was commanded by Henry Cromwell; that of Scotland by Monk, who had shown himself favorable to the new power. The "other House" was convoked by letters patent similar to those which the king had formerly addressed to the peers of the kingdom. Thus no legal or consistent principle presided at the formation of the new Parliament. When it assembled on the 27th of January, 1659, after elections which had been much discussed, but had everywhere been freely accomplished, the diversity in its ranks was considerable. The Protector and his advisers were not, however, discouraged. "Our enemies in Parliament are numerous and bold beyond measure," wrote Lord Falconbridge to Henry Cromwell, "but more than doubly counterbalanced by the moderate party, so that if the results are slow and difficult to obtain, we do not see, as to the present, great cause for fear."
Delays and difficulties were not slow in manifesting themselves. On the 1st of February, Thurloe boldly proposed to Parliament the recognition of the new Protector. "It has pleased God," he said, "to put an end to the days of his Highness. Sad consequences were expected from that blow. God has granted us the favor of a son of his Highness who possesses the hearts of the people, a testimony to his undoubted right of succession. … It behooves this House to respond to this favor by recognizing in his Highness, now engaged in his functions, the undoubted successor. … It is with this object that I propose a bill for the recognition of the Protector."
The ill-humor as well as the surprise of the Republicans was extreme. They did not expect so soon to see recommended the contest upon fundamental matters. "This is not proposed opportunely," exclaimed Haslerig; "we have many things to consider; the committee of grievances, the affairs of religion. … Let us not busy ourselves with a bill of this importance before the day of fasting and solemn prayers which we have ordered; we have never destroyed anything without first addressing our prayers to God; let us not attempt to establish without praying." The discussion was long and animated; the Republicans maintained the full sovereignty of the people and of their supreme power. The Cromwellians, warned by experience and political instinct, did not think that the popular voice sufficed for the whole government, or that they had the right of destroying and establishing at their pleasure. They gained the ascendant at last, and, on the 14th of February, the House voted that it recognized and declared his Highness Richard, Lord Protector and first magistrate of England, Scotland, and Ireland, and of all the territories dependent thereon; but, at the same time, the House declared that the bill should contain additional clauses intended to limit the power of the first magistrate and to guarantee the rights and liberties of Parliament and the people. Thurloe alone voted against this amendment.
The victory appeared decisive; but the long debate had revived all the memories of discords, inflamed all passions, and once more set the Republic at contention with the Protectorate under the eyes of the observant and motionless Royalists. "The dissension is such in Parliament (wrote to Hyde one of his friends, John Barwick), that it will probably end in confusion: one party thinks that the Protectorate cannot last; the other that the Republic cannot raise itself again; the indifferent hope that both will be right. It is easy to foresee and foretell the upshot."
Beaten upon the Protectorate, the Republicans fell back upon the second House, the existence of which they called into question. The debate was long and stormy: all the friends and followers of Cromwell sat in that assembly which overshadowed the Commons; but there again, Haslerig, Vane, and their friends were defeated. The second House remained as it had been constituted by Cromwell; the attacks directed against the internal and external policy of the dead Protector also failed. The great name of Cromwell still protected his work and his son.
Then began a fresh toil; two powers were in opposition, Parliament and the army. In their blind hatred of the Protectorate, which claimed, they said, to oppress them, the Republican leaders undertook to foment the natural jealousy which existed between the politicians and the soldiers, in order to compel the Protector to lean for support upon one of the two parties, thus destroying beforehand all equilibrium in the government.
The situation could not possibly be sustained; a catastrophe was rapidly approaching. Cromwell had been able, although with great difficulty, to caress and misuse in turns the revolution which he had accomplished, and the army which he had conducted to victory; neither to Parliament nor to the army was Richard anything. He still possessed the majority in the House; but when, by the aid of the alarm of the moment and the services of the adherents of his father, he triumphed over his enemies, it was for him a barren victory: the day was coming when, placed between the army and Parliament as a powerless moderator, he was to fall a victim to the blows which were aimed at each other by these two great enemies, for he could neither conciliate them nor choose between them without peril.
In a moment of weakness, without consulting his surest friends, Richard had yielded to the solicitations of Fleetwood and Desborough, who demanded of him the convocation of a general council of the officers, summoned to agree amongst themselves and with the Protector. This was forming a hostile and rival assembly in opposition to Parliament. The House of Commons complained. The Republican leaders alone, by a sudden change, manifested some alarm at the idea of the disaffection of the army. Alarmed at the constant albeit silent progress of the Royalists, Vane, Haslerig, and their friends, had secretly become reconciled with the officers. The House carried out its schemes and voted that the council general of the officers could not assemble without the authority of the Protector and of the two Houses of Parliament. Lord Broghill proposed to Richard that he should himself dissolve the council. "How am I to proceed?" said the Protector in embarrassment. "I will compose your speech for you." Accordingly, on the morrow Richard arrived at the council which was being held at Wallingford House; he listened for an hour to the discussion, then, rising suddenly, "Gentlemen," he said, "I gratefully accept your services; I have examined your grievances and I think that the best means of redressing them is to confer about them with Parliament, which will do you justice. I therefore annul the orders that I gave for your assembling, and I invite you all to return to your various commands."
Surprised and exasperated, the malcontents did not dare to resist in the face of the Protector. They retired, but shortly afterwards meeting Lord Broghill in the House of Lords, some of the leaders of the army, turning towards him, loudly demanded that an address should be presented to the Protector, in order to ascertain who had counselled him to thus dissolve the council of war without having previously informed the whole Parliament of his design. "Since such an address is proposed," said Lord Broghill, "I in my turn propose another: it must also be learnt who counselled the Protector to assemble a council of war without the previous knowledge and approbation of Parliament; it will be seen which of these two councils is the more guilty." Courageous frankness impresses the most impetuous: the two propositions remained without result. But the situation became day by day more difficult; the struggle was more flagrant between the House of Commons and the army. Notwithstanding the prohibitions of the Protector and the House, the council of officers continued to assemble at Wallingford House, concealing its strength and preparing its blows. The friends of the Protector urged him to action. "A bold hand, supported by a good head is necessary here," said Lord Howard; "Lambert, Desborough, Fleetwood, and Vane are the leaders of all this. Simply give me your sanction, and I will rid you of them; for your honor, lend to my zeal the support of your name." Ingoldsby joined his solicitations to those of Howard, proposing to take charge of Lambert, who was looked upon as the most dangerous. Richard continued to hesitate. "I have never done anybody any harm, and I never will," he said; "I will not have a drop of blood spilt for the preservation of my greatness, which is a burden to me." Howard persisted. "I thank you for your friendship," the Protector said at length, "but let us speak no more of it; violent counsels do not suit me." Howard left Whitehall. Released from the two Cromwells, whom he had loyally served, he now, like Lord Broghill, thought only of preparing the return of Charles Stuart.
The Cavaliers yet hoped to involve the Protector himself in their cause, and made redoubled advances towards him, but Richard declined. As honest almost as he was weak, while a Royalist by inclination, he was loth to betray his name and his cause, or to attempt serious enterprises by himself. He had for a moment sought a support in Monk, offering him a pension of twenty thousand pounds sterling if he would take up his cause and defend him against his enemies; but Monk, more shrewd than hasty, had been content to reply, "Let the Protector keep his money; it will be of more service to him than my adherence."
The enemies whom Richard dreaded, and against whom he wished to enroll the able commander of the army in Scotland, were in greater haste than the latter. They desired to obtain from the Protector the dissolution of the House of Commons, the real object of their fears and of their wrath. Richard obstinately refused to grant this object. It was resolved to compel him. The Protector, being well informed, sent for Fleetwood; he did not reply, but repaired to St. James's, where were already assembled a great number of officers. The whole army was soon convoked. A counter-order from the Protector summoned him to Whitehall. A few colonels, faithful to Richard, would have brought their regiments to him; the majors and sub-alterns had already ordered the soldiers to proceed towards St. James's. The very guards of the Protector disbanded; he found himself almost alone. It was on the 21st of April, at midday, Desborough arrived at Whitehall, and, with his accustomed uncouthness, declared to Richard that if he wished to dissolve Parliament, the officers would take care of him and of his interests; otherwise, they would effect the dissolution without him, and would leave him to extricate himself from the difficulty as he could. The poor Protector yet hesitated; he assembled some of his most trusty friends: Whitelocke alone spoke against the dissolution, being prudently resolved not to mix himself up in it; the necessity was urgent. Richard yielded, and, on the morrow, April 22d, as the Commons were assembling in their hall, the Usher of the Black Rod invited them to the House of Lords, without informing them, however, that the Secretary of State, Furniss, awaited them there with the decree of dissolution. A few members left at once; but the immense majority remained motionless in their seats, notwithstanding a second summons from the usher. At length, accompanying the speaker in a body to his coach, in the presence of the soldiers placed at the door of Parliament, the House of Commons, which had no desire to hear the reading of its own death-warrant, adjourned until the following Monday morning to resume its labors.
On the same evening the decree of dissolution was published, and padlocks were placed upon the door of the House of Commons. The monarchical government attempted by Cromwell and the only Parliament freely elected since the death of Charles I. fell together. The phantom of the Republic, conjured up by the army, arose and took its stand between England and royalty.
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Charles II.
The downfall of the Protector was accomplished, although he still resided at Whitehall. The question was that of founding a government. The leaders of the army looked with little favor upon the Republic; they had strongly supported and participated in the tyranny of Cromwell, and they dreaded the increasing progress of the Royalists; it was against them that they had allied themselves with the old Republican leaders in order to submit to their yoke a phantom Protector. It was also in opposition to them that they resolved to exterminate all that remained of the Republic, the remnants of the Long Parliament expelled by Cromwell in April, 1653.
It was a mere handful of men, the majority already old and wearied by political struggles, who thus assembled together on the 7th of May, 1659, and returned to that place of assemblage from which they had been so roughly ejected; forty-two members only were there, their former speaker, Lenthall, at their head. The latter had for a long time hesitated, wishing to preserve what he already called his peerage in the new House of Lords of Cromwell; but when the line of members passed near his door, he joined them, being unable to resist the desire to see once more the hall of the Long Parliament. The general officers awaited them at the door, congratulating them as they passed in, and promising to live and die with them.
Scarcely had they been restored and placed once more in possession of the government by the leaders of the army, when the Republicans of the Long Parliament found themselves confronted with legal difficulties. The Presbyterians, excluded from the House of Commons in 1648, claimed their seats; fourteen of them presented themselves at the door in the name of their companions in misfortune: there were two hundred and thirteen of them. The Republicans peremptorily repelled them. Prynne contrived to slip into the Hall, and he remained imperturbably in his place, notwithstanding the insults of Haslerig and Vane. The sitting was declared closed. Prynne was the last to leave; but when he returned in the evening every outlet was guarded, and placards posted up in all parts confirmed the exclusion already pronounced against all members who had been strangers since 1648 to the sittings of the Long Parliament. "A worse and more oppressive war against the Commons," said Prynne, "than was ever waged against them by the beheaded king and the Cavaliers."
Weak in appearance and in reality, the Republican chiefs were courageous and sincere, profoundly devoted to their cause, and irrevocably involved in its fate. They hastened to strike another blow at the shadow of the Protectorate, which was still retained by Cromwell. Haslerig intimated to him orders to quit Whitehall. Richard received the message and the messenger with scornful haughtiness. He lent ear to the solicitations of the Cavaliers, who were secretly assiduous in their attentions to him as well as to his brother Henry, who was still Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland and powerful in the midst of his army. The Protector was moreover burdened with debts. … Whitehall afforded him a place of refuge against his creditors. It was only six weeks later, when Parliament guaranteed him against any proceedings, that Richard at length consented to abandon the remains of his greatness. "My past conduct," he wrote to Parliament, "has afforded evidence, I think, of my submission to the will of God, and also of how far I esteem the peace of my country beyond my own interests. … Counting, like all other men, upon the protection of the present government, I consider myself bound to live quietly under its laws, and to do whatever depends on me in order that the persons upon whom I may have some influence may do likewise." Parliament took charge of all his debts, and granted, on the 16th of July, to "Richard Cromwell, eldest son of the late Lord General Cromwell," a yearly income of £10,000 sterling. For this price Richard consented to quit Whitehall and Hampton Court. As his personal effects were being carried away, he specially recommended to his attendants two old trunks lying in his apartment. One of his friends asked him what they contained. "Nothing less," said Richard, "than the life and fortune of all the good people of England." The two cases were full of the addresses which, on his accession, had come to him from all parts, placing at his disposal the fortune and the life of the whole nation, of which his government, they affirmed, was the salvation.
The retirement of Henry Cromwell was less disputed, if not less bitter; he even preserved his dignity in the matter. Being recalled to England, on the 7th of June, by Parliament, which had decided that Ireland should be governed by five commissioners, he sent his formal resignation on the 15th of June. "I adhere," he said, "to the present government, although I cannot promise it the devotion which others may honestly bring to it. … I am not fitted to serve you in the construction of the edifice which you wish to raise upon a new basis. But, inasmuch as I can lend myself to nothing which should detract in any degree from the merit and glory of my father, I thank the Lord who has preserved me from succumbing to a temptation with which I have often been beset, that of deserting the cause for which my father lived and died."
The Royalists were in consternation; they had counted upon the support of Henry Cromwell. "Richard has retired into Hampshire," Hyde was informed by letter, "having in his purse no money, and out of his purse no friends. Henry is at the residence of his father-in-law, in Cambridgeshire. Claypole, who is really very poor, is in hiding in consequence of his debts, and causes it to be reported that he is in France. The fortune of the old woman is much below what was believed, and Falconbridge is not at all proud of the union." Such a fall for the Cromwells, and such a mistake on the part of the Royalists was a double victory for Parliament.
It soon gained a more decided success. Monk declared himself in its favor. Despising anarchy like an old soldier, and dreading it for his own fortune as well as for his country, Monk always rallied, without devoting himself to it, around the power which, for the moment, appeared to him the best able to govern. After the expulsion of the Long Parliament he had supported and served Cromwell.
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Portrait Of Monk.
When Richard Cromwell was overthrown he decided for the same reasons, and within the same limits, to support the Long Parliament when it was recalled. It was a great joy for London; the House hastened to manifest to Monk its satisfaction in the matter, but when it desired to remove some officers from the army in Scotland, Monk immediately wrote to the speaker, "He heard it said that the House intended to make some modifications in his list of officers; it certainly did not know the officers in person, or their qualities or their shortcomings; it judged of them according to instructions which others furnished to it; he thought himself, he, the general, as worthy of being believed as anybody; he assured the House that the officers who had been denounced to it were honest and staunch men, and he would answer for their fidelity as well as for their good conduct." The House took alarm; it drew back; the officers who had been dismissed remained at their posts and were not replaced. Monk thus grew in importance in England as in Scotland, in Parliament as in the army. While distrusting him, the House sought to conciliate him as a necessary support, and he served it without belonging to it.
A mutual understanding appeared now to reign at home between Parliament and the army. Abroad, the Republic was engaged in a prudent and sensible policy which was already bearing its fruits. After some hesitation, Mazarin had recognized the Republic, and Lockhart, who continued its ambassador at the court of France, accompanied the cardinal to Fontarabia, where peace with Spain was in course of negotiation. He on the other hand was engaged in negotiating for a cessation of hostilities between Spain and England. The war still continued between Sweden and Denmark. England had hitherto supported Sweden, and Holland had remained faithful to Denmark. The plenipotentiaries of the Republic, commissioned to settle the question of the Baltic, which disturbed the peace of the North, the commerce of England, and the harmony of the Protestant States, having failed to overcome the obstinacy of the King of Sweden, it was soon perceived that England had changed its policy. "I foresee, by the language of Mr. Downing," wrote John De Witt to his ambassador in London, "that England is determined to vigorously prosecute the war with Sweden, if his Majesty continues to refuse to make peace on the proposed conditions. I hope that God will grant a happy ending to all this." These were real successes for the Republic, and obtained by the fidelity of its chiefs to their cause, and by their intelligent activity in the exercise of their power; but these successes and merits were in vain. The Republicans remained an isolated coterie, repugnant to the nation, which believed neither in their right nor in the permanence of their influence. The most eminent of its chiefs, Vane himself, preserved for the Republic a devotion devoid of hope. "The king," he said, "will one day or other take the crown again; the nation is disgusted with every other government."
The Royalists had hoped for a more rapid success, and a more prompt realization of the painful forebodings of Vane. Remaining inactive hitherto, in the expectation of a conflict between Parliament and the army, they had counted upon the revolt of Monk; then upon that of Henry Cromwell; then upon that of Lockhart; and their expectant policy exasperated the new Royalists who every day became more numerous. "It is the most passive and indifferent of the parties," said Mordaunt, one of the best recruits whom King Charles had made; "I endeavor with a heavy heart to struggle against this tide of baseness which invades us, and to shake off this fatal lethargy." Mordaunt did himself and his friends an injustice; their efforts did not remain unproductive. A general insurrection was resolved upon in the eastern, midland, and western counties. The old or new Royalists, Cavaliers, and Presbyterians, prepared for it with ardor. The king placed himself at the disposition of his partisans, being quite ready to land at their call at the place which should be chosen for him. He even offered to Admiral Montague, if he would declare himself for him, to proceed immediately aboard his vessel, and make sail with him for England.
Parliament was upon its guard. Sir Charles Willis continued to inform Thurloe of what was going forward among the Royalists, as he had but recently served Cromwell. The Royalists betrayed themselves by their foolish confidence. The organization of the militia was urged forward; six new regiments were formed in the city. The three regiments which had served in France were recalled. The strictest supervision was everywhere exercised over the Royalists; a certain number of them were arrested; many great noblemen hesitated. The king was at Calais, where the Duke of York soon arrived; but the prince was the bearer of sad tidings; irresolution had borne its fruits; the insurrection was deferred; nobody dared any longer urge the king to proceed to England. In some place in Cheshire, a plain Presbyterian gentleman, Sir George Booth, more bold than the other conspirators, or being warned later of the postponement, raised the royal standard and organized the struggle against the Republic. The king did not lose courage. The Prince of Condé offered him troops, and even spoke of accompanying him to England. Turenne, on the other hand, offered him his own regiment of infantry, twelve hundred men strong, and the Scotch men-at-arms, with provisions and ammunition. The Duke of Bouillon, a nephew of Turenne, conducted the first detachment to Boulogne himself, and was preparing to embark with the Duke of York, when it was learnt that Sir George Booth had been defeated by Lambert, that his friends were dispersed or captured, and that the Royalist insurrection, annihilated by one single blow in the only part in which it had been attempted, no longer offered to the king and his allies any support.
Sir George Booth, who had taken up arms on August 1st in Cheshire, might in effect have conceived some hopes; during the first days he had seen numerous volunteers hasten to place themselves under his banner, among others the Earl of Derby, son of him who had perished upon the scaffold after the battle of Worcester. The king had been proclaimed in several towns, and the insurgents were occupying Chester, when Lambert marched against them with six thousand men. Some hesitation had prevailed as to entrusting the forces of Parliament to him, but he was accounted able and fortunate. On August 6th he confronted Booth, who attempted to enter into negotiations with him. Lambert repelled all advances, vigorously urged forward the attack, and defeated almost without any fighting the brave but inexperienced men who held the city. Chester and Liverpool returned once more into the power of Parliament. The Earl of Derby and Sir George Booth were arrested and conducted to the Tower. The prisons of London were filled with Royalists. It was found necessary to hire a portion of the buildings of the archbishop's palace at Lambeth to lodge the prisoners in. Parliament was triumphant, and the confiscations of the property of the insurgents went to fill its coffers; but it did not forget the perils of its situation, and it treated the vanquished with leniency. Sir John Grenville and several others were set at liberty after a simple examination. The king, who was much grieved, set out for the Pyrenees, in order to seek in Mazarin and Don Luis de Haro, who were there negotiating for a reconciliation between the two crowns, some hope of recovering his own. He could not promise himself any great success in this attempt. The polite attentions of Don Luis de Haro were as empty as they were assiduous, and Mazarin bestowed great consideration upon Lockhart, who was still the ambassador of the Republic. "We see how the Spaniards treat you," Hyde was told in a letter from England, "that the French betray you, and that the Dutch have already declared themselves against you." "If our friends could stand upon their legs," said Ormond, who had joined the king in Spain, "until the cardinal should think that it would depend upon him to cause the balance to turn and to have all the honor of it, he would then probably involve France in our cause. But in order that he should have that conviction, it would be necessary that his judgment, which is very acute, should count almost upon the infallibility of success, and meanwhile he will live on good terms, no matter by what means, with the Republic and with its very able minister, Lockhart, for whom he has a very great regard." Charles was not successful in obtaining an audience with the cardinal.
Meanwhile Lambert did not hasten to return to London. Parliament had solemnly testified its gratitude by sending him a jewel of great value; but the victorious general marched through the country, sounding the population as to their inclination, and even paying attentions to the vanquished Royalists. It was soon learnt that a petition, signed by his officers, had arrived in London. Parliament demanded it from Fleetwood, who brought it the same evening. It was a renewal of the wishes already expressed a week after the return of Parliament by the council-general of the army. The desire was that Fleetwood should become general-in-chief, and that Lambert should be his major-general. The House rejected the petition, simply commissioning Fleetwood to reprimand the officers; but the challenge was thrown down, the struggle had begun, and even in the midst of Parliament the army found allies. Vane, who was more pliant than Haslerig, and was determined to save the Republic at any price, had entered into relations with the officers and lent them his support. This noble but visionary character, carried away by his political and religious passions, had already sacrificed the people to the sectaries. He allowed himself in this instance to be impelled to sacrifice Parliament to the soldiers, always obtaining his support from lower down as his cause declined, and seeking his own safety in the abandonment of his principles and of his friends.
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Lambert.
The council of officers assembled together by Fleetwood did not insist upon the petition of the troops of Lambert, but he prepared another, an offensive compound of hypocrisy and arrogance. On the 5th of October, Desborough, accompanied by some of his comrades, carried the address to the bar of Parliament. The House, forewarned, received the petition without any sign of dissatisfaction, and promised to occupy itself with its consideration on the following Saturday, the 8th of October. At the approach of the crisis, and under the attentive eyes of the country, which was opposed to the two revolutionary factions, all felt unnerved, none would provoke the rupture nor accept the responsibility of it. On the morning of the 12th of October, the discussion had already begun when the House learnt that the petition of the officers was circulating in the army, accompanied by a letter of Lambert, Desborough, and seven other generals, asking for the support of the troops. Great indignation was aroused; Lambert and the other signitaries of the letters were immediately dismissed from their posts. Fleetwood, who was compromised, though he had not signed, lost the command-in-chief of the army, which was entrusted to seven commissioners, he being one of their number. Haslerig encamped around Parliament those regiments which were relied upon, and the troops, cantoned in the environs of London, were summoned in great haste. On the 13th of October, in the morning, Westminster and its neighborhood presented on all sides the aspect of a camp.
Lambert meanwhile had arrived, notwithstanding a missive which he had received during the night: "Place yourself in safety to-morrow," he was told, "otherwise your head is in peril." Haslerig had conceived the project of causing him to be shot upon the spot. The soldier stole a march upon the member of Parliament; at the head of his own regiment of infantry he overran the streets, caused those thoroughfares by which the members could repair to their posts to be barred, cut off all communication with the city, and marched upon Westminster. Arriving near the palace, he found himself face to face with Colonel Morley, who held a pistol in his hand. "I will fire upon you if you move one step farther," said the latter. "Colonel," replied Lambert, "I would go there if I pleased; but I will take another way," and he turned off, entering at the same time with Colonel Moss upon a discussion which soon became a parley. The guards of Parliament had just passed by Lambert, when the coach of Speaker Lenthall was arrested by a detachment. Lenthall persisted in his determination to proceed; the soldiers laughed, proposing to take him to Fleetwood, who would furnish him with explanations. "If Lieutenant-general Fleetwood has anything to say to me," replied Lenthall, "he can come and say it to me at my house," and he returned there unmolested.
Meanwhile matters did not progress; the public were undecided; the streets were filled with indifferent passers-by who went as usual about their business; the soldiers belonging to the two parties chatted together and appeared determined not to come to blows.
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Lambert confronted by Colonel Morley.
A few members had succeeded in penetrating into the House of Parliament by way of the Thames; they were summoned to the Council of State, which had assembled. Lambert and Desborough repaired thither. A negotiation was entered into. Colonel Sydenham justified the act of the army. "Providence makes it a necessity for us," he said; "it is our last remedy." Bradshaw, who was old and in bad health, rose, exclaiming, "It is a detestable act, and one which I abhor. Being about to appear before God, I cannot bear to hear His name blasphemed." He quitted the council, to die a fortnight afterwards, despondent but indomitable. The parleying still continued; necessity weighed upon all; they could neither fight nor become reconciled. Parliament at length yielded; it was agreed that it should cease to sit, and that the council of officers should undertake to preserve the public peace until the convocation of a new Parliament. The troops withdrew into their quarters, and, owing to the weakness on both sides, the Long Parliament quietly quitted that hall from which Cromwell, six years before, had driven them forth amid much commotion. Lambert remained master of the battlefield without having won the victory.
This was the death-blow of the Republican party, struck by its own hand. The Royalists, vanquished and inactive, but filled with ardor and hope, contemplated the death-throes of their enemies with a joy mixed with anxiety. In the midst of these internal struggles of the rivalry of Fleetwood and Lambert, Haslerig and Vane, all eyes were turned frequently towards Monk, who remained quiet in Scotland, at the head of his army. Conciliated and sought after by the leaders of the most opposite parties, he received all instructions, repelled no advances, displayed uniform good feeling while remaining taciturn, and led all to hope to secure him without surrendering to any. He had neither principles, nor passions, nor any great political ambition; but he was earnest and shrewd, and would only support a strong power, which appeared to him equal to its task, and which inspired in him some confidence in its duration. Since the death of Cromwell, he had been biding his time.
At the bottom of his heart, by natural instinct as well as by family tradition, Monk was a Royalist. At the time of the great insurrection of the Cavaliers, the king himself had written to Monk, soliciting his services, and the general appeared to have taken his side. He had already given orders to make sure of Edinburgh and Leith, when a return of his customary prudence arrested him. "Gentlemen," he said, to the few persons who were in possession of his secret, "it will do us no great harm to await the news of to-morrow's post. Lambert has marched against Booth; he is now grappling with him; we shall then know whether Booth really has the forces which are attributed to him, and whether it is probable that our succor makes success certain." On the morrow it was learned that Booth had been defeated, and that the Royalist insurrection had been ruined. Republican officers abounded at the residence of the general, rejoicing, and loudly congratulating themselves on the success of Lambert. "I wish," said Monk, "that Parliament would pass a law declaring that whoever should only speak of re-establishing Charles Stuart, shall be hanged." The conversation became animated; the Church was attacked as well as the Stuarts. "We shall have neither peace nor repose," said a certain Captain Poole, "as long as there is a parish priest and a steeple." Monk rose, being at length angry. "Very fine, captain; if you or your party are still inclined to demolish, I will also demolish, on my side." He seldom lost his temper, and his authority was respected; his officers held their peace and retired. While the confidants of the generals were congratulating themselves upon his prudence, which had saved them from great danger, Price, his chaplain, asked, "What would you have done, however, general, if the news of the defeat of Booth had only arrived after our project had been revealed?" "I would have secured Edinburgh Castle and the citadel of Leith," replied Monk. "Some officers and many soldiers would have followed me, and I should have raised all Scotland in insurrection."
The reply was as judicious as it was bold, for Monk could rely upon his army; but he also knew that the good disposition of the masses is of service only when it is invoked opportunely and under favorable circumstances. He was struck with the danger which he had incurred, and he resolved upon the most complete inaction. His brother Nicholas, the bearer of verbal messages between him and his cousin, Sir John Grenville, had not been as discreet as might have been desired; the general reprimanded him sharply, declaring to him that if ever the affair should be discovered by his act or by Grenville, he would contrive to ruin them both, rather than allow himself to be ruined by them.