At the close of the first session of the second Parliament, there was enacted, on Friday, the 26th of June, 1657, a gorgeous ceremony, equivalent to the coronation of the Puritan king. Purple robes, sceptre, and sword, a chair of state—no other than the regal one of Scotland, brought out of Westminster Abbey—and a brilliant array of officers, judges, civic dignitaries, and the like, gave regal pomp to the occasion.[153] The scene was exhibited under a magnificent canopy of state in Westminster Hall, whose oaken rafters had so often echoed with the music and revelry of Plantagenet and Tudor feastings; and where, in 1653, Cromwell had first been installed Protector, with less state splendour than on this second occasion, and without the addition of any sacred rites.[154] Religious worship, however, became associated with the present solemnity, and there also appeared religious symbolism in a form which passed quite beyond the common circle of Puritan ideas. The Speaker of the House of Commons referred to Alexander, and Aristotle, to Moses, and Homer, to David, and Solomon, and to "the noble Lord Talbot, in Henry the Sixth's time," in order to shew what appropriate spiritual lessons were suggested by the robes, the sceptre, the sword, and the Bible. Richly-gilt and embossed, the Holy Book was—with the regalia—laid upon a table covered with pink-coloured Genoa velvet fringed with gold. "His Highness," dressed in a costly mantle lined with ermine, and girt with a sword of great value, stood—says a contemporary record—"looking up unto the throne of the Most High, who is Prince of princes, and in whom is all his confidence; Mr. Manton, by prayer, recommended his Highness, the Parliament, the Council, his Highness's forces by sea and land, the whole Government, and people of these three nations, to the blessing and protection of God Almighty. After this, the people giving several great shouts, and the trumpets sounding, his Highness sat down in the chair of state, holding the sceptre in his hand."[155] Heralds; Garter, and Norroy, King-at-Arms; his Highness's Gentlemen; men of the Long Robe; the Judges; Commissioners of all sorts; Robert, Earl of Warwick, bareheaded, with the sword of the Commonwealth; the Lord Mayor, with the City sword; Privy Counsellors and Generals took part in the ceremony—whilst on seats, built scaffold-wise, sat the Members of Parliament; and below them, the Judges and the Aldermen of London.

When the ceremony had ended, the Protector—having saluted the foreign ambassadors—entered his state coach, together with the Earl of Warwick, Lord Richard Cromwell, his son, and Bulstrode, Lord Whitelocke, who sat with him on one side; and Lord Viscount Lisle and General Montague on the other: Lord Claypole led the horse of honour caparisoned with the richest trappings. At night there were great rejoicings.

Parliament reassembled January the 20th, 1658. Lord Commissioner Fiennes made a speech that day before his Highness, in which he entered at large upon the subject of toleration and charity. He spoke quaintly of the Rock:—"A spirit of imposing upon men's consciences, where God leaves them a latitude;" and of the Quicksand:—"An abominable licentiousness to profess and practise any sort of detestable opinions and principles." The object of the Petition and Advice was to steer a middle course between the two. He strongly inveighed against bigotry, and maintained that the right way was the golden mean, even God's way. God, when he came to Elijah, was not in the whirlwind, the earthquake, or the fire; but in the small still voice. So with men's religious profession. "It must," said his Lordship, "be a small and still voice, enough to hold forth a certain and distinct sound, but not to make so great a noise as to drown all other voices besides. It is good, it is useful, to hold forth a certain confession of the truth; but not so as thereby to exclude all those that cannot come up to it in all points, from the privileges which belong to them as Christians, much less, which belong to them as men."[156] The members who had been excluded were now admitted, after having taken the oath according to the "Petition and Advice." They were extremely republican in their ideas, and were inveterate enemies to the Protector: their influence with their own party outside had been increased by their recent conduct, which was regarded as proving their strong attachment to "the good old cause." At the same time some of Cromwell's warmest friends were removed to the other House, which had been constituted so as to resemble somewhat the ancient House of Peers. The effect of this new state of things upon the two parties existing among the Commons became immediately apparent.

After the new oath had been administered to all the ministers—a business which it took some hours for six commissioners to accomplish—the Commons, preceded by their mace-bearer, as of old, marched up to the House of Lords, where his Highness the Protector, in kingly state, received them, and then proceeded to address the united assembly as "My Lords and Gentlemen."—"You have now a godly ministry," said his Highness, "you have a knowing ministry; such an one as, without vanity be it spoken, the world has not, men knowing the things of God, and able to search into the things of God, by that only which can fathom those things in some measure."[157]

Soon after Cromwell's opening speech, a debate arose about the "maintenance of a godly ministry"—by which words the Lord Protector on the one hand, and on the other, many who sat in this Parliament, would not mean quite the same thing. In the estimation of certain members, scarcely any revenues remained for the Clergy, notwithstanding all the provision which had been made for them of late years. Forty or fifty petitions lay on the table, asking for aid to support the preaching of the Gospel; but there existed no available sources of relief. In Lancashire it was affirmed that there were parishes, nineteen miles square, containing two thousand Protestant communicants, besides as many Papists—which parishes greatly needed subdivision, whilst the ministers equally needed increased means of support. How to maintain the clergy was the question in hand; but, according to a habit common in public assemblies, the debate soon veered round to another point, and presently the House was found struggling with the enquiry, Should there be another Convocation or Assembly of Divines? One member battled both points at once—contending there was no need of any further assembly; and that before they raised additional money for religious purposes they ought to pay their civil debts. A second speaker observed that there had been already an Assembly, which had settled foundations, but it had been dissolved, and to call another would be very expensive—whilst persons fit to compose it would be found very scarce. But, exclaimed a third, though what the late Assembly resolved had been put in print, it had not been put in practice, and there needed a new authority of the same kind, to gather out the weeds from amidst the corn. The ordination of ministers and some outward form of unity were also of great importance, which could be obtained only by another ecclesiastical Convocation. A fourth condemned the proposal altogether, inasmuch as the former assembly had sat long, had cost much, and had effected little. With such differences of opinion that question was speedily waived. Complaints respecting the marriage law and the insecurity of registration next came upon the carpet; and the non-residence of leading men in the universities was attacked by the introduction of a Bill for its prevention; but soon a subject arose before the House which swallowed up all other subjects of debate. Cromwell's batch of Peers proved the rock on which the second Protectorate Parliament went to pieces.[158] Sir Arthur Haselrig—who took his seat with the Commons, although nominated one of the new Peers—appears prominently in the final Republican broil, occasioned by the attempt to give to the Commonwealth somewhat of the aristocratic aspect of a kingdom. And here, it is affecting to recollect the change which eighteen years had effected in reference to men as well as measures. Of the patriots who took the lead at the opening of the Long Parliament, John Pym slept under the pavement of Westminster Abbey; John Hampden was at rest in the village church which bore his name; Brooke, years before, had ended his career at Lichfield; Dering, after his changeful course, had been gathered to his fathers; Vane and Marten were in retirement; others had disappeared; and now, of all the most busy actors on the stage in 1640, there remained before the public view only Oliver Cromwell, with Haselrig, the "hare-brained" in hot opposition, and Nathaniel Fiennes—more wise in council than valiant in war—fighting out this last political battle at the side of the Protector, his old friend.

His Highness's speeches on the 25th of January and 4th of February were filled with patriotism and wisdom, and with manifest touches of pathos, in harmony with such pensive memories of this mortal state of existence as have been just indicated; and in keeping, too, with such a foresight of the end soon to follow, as we now are able to exercise. They are the last two of those memorable orations which, after being long neglected, are now beginning to be studied and understood.

In the former of these speeches, the brave and noble ruler of England—burdened not so much with the infirmities of years as with the cares of government, worn out not by old age, but by years of toil and anxiety, of counsel, and of war—spoke of what was most dear to his heart, of the Protestant interest abroad, and the Protestant interest at home; for Cromwell was a Protestant to the backbone. Papists had been England's enemies from Queen Elizabeth's reign downwards, and as enemies to their country they were treated by the Protector.[159] And besides Papists, others in his estimation threatened the interests of the Commonwealth.

Just at this juncture, the Republicans, in their opposition to the new settlement, were bent upon upsetting everything. Foundation stones just laid were being rudely torn up, and the whole fabric was fast falling to pieces. Indeed some sectaries pleaded, in a certain foolish book, quoted but not named, for "an orderly confusion." "Orderly confusion!" exclaimed his Highness. "Men have wonderfully lost their consciences and their wits. I speak of men going about who cannot tell what they would have, yet are willing to kindle coals to disturb others." Fifth Monarchy men, also, were now hastening in the same direction as the Royalists. Whilst they wanted to set up a republic, they were in fact playing the game of the King of Scots. "It were a happy thing," said the old man, wearied out with the war of opinion, "if the nation would be content with rule. 'Content with rule' if it were but in civil things, and with those that would rule worst; because misrule is better than no rule, and an ill government, a bad government is better than none! Neither is this all, but we have an appetite to variety, to be not only making wounds, 'but widening those already made.' As if you should see one making wounds in a man's side, and eager only to be groping and grovelling with his fingers in those wounds! This is what such men would be at; this is the spirit of those who would trample on men's liberties in spiritual respects. They will be making wounds, and rending and tearing and making them wider than they were. Is not this the case? Doth there want anything—I speak not of sects in an ill sense, but the nation is hugely made up of them—and what is the want that prevents these things from being done to the uttermost, but that men have more anger than strength? They have not power to attain their ends. 'There wants nothing else.' And I beseech you judge what such a company of men of these sects are doing, while they are contesting one with another! They are contesting in the midst of a generation of men (a malignant Episcopal party, I mean) contesting in the midst of these all united. What must be the issue of such a thing as this?"[160]

Then, on the 4th of February, came those last words which wound up all—last words which Englishmen are now studying with deep earnestness, and with increasing insight—"And if this be the end of your sitting and 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 be judge between you and me."

"Believe me," said Hartlib, Milton's friend; "believe me it was of such necessity, that if their session had continued but two or three days longer, all had been in blood, both in city and country, upon Charles Stuart's account."[161]

Ecclesiastical legislation for England, under Oliver Cromwell's Protectorate, ended with the dissolution of Parliament. Of course there were no more Acts; nor were there any more Ordinances, respecting Church affairs. But the same sleepless vigilance and unwearied activity as before, were shewn by the Protector in relation to religious as well as other subjects. The ponderous Order Book for 1658—in which may be traced the proceedings of Government from day to day—bears witness to the large amount of ecclesiastical business transacted by his Highness and his counsellors. They determined upon the supply of destitute parishes, chapelries, and outlying populations; the settlement of questions about tithes, church leases, and rights of presentation; the union of parishes; the augmentation of incomes, and various grants to public preachers.[162] There also occur orders to make collections for the repair of a church at South Oxendon, struck by lightning; and of another at Egbaston, damaged in the wars. It is curious to meet with a petition of the members of the Congregational Church, at Warwick, complaining that a constable had indicted Mr. Whitehead, a member, for not attending the parish church, and had demanded fines for absence; whereupon it was ordered that a letter should be written to the Justices, to let them know, that if the case were as it had been represented, the Council was much dissatisfied therewith, as an abridgment of that liberty which the law allowed. More curious still is it to meet with a complaint of reproachful and provoking language having been used at church by a Commonwealth's man against a Royalist, who is described as being "under obligation, with great penalties, to his Highness for keeping the peace, and good bearing of himself to his Highness." It is most curious of all, to find a petition from Anastatius Cominus—a Bishop of the Greek Church, under the patriarch of Alexandria—on behalf of himself and others, referred to the Committee for approbation of public preachers.[163]

How favourably these entries in the old parchment-bound folio—written in a firm, bold, legible hand, characteristic of the men whose proceedings they chronicle—contrast with the records of the Protectorate Parliament! Whilst the latter were spending their time upon bigoted efforts to curtail the religious liberties of the people; the Council of State, with the actual sovereign of England at its head, was employing an effective influence to check the career and to mitigate the mischiefs of intolerance. And as this supreme executive body tempered the narrow policy of parties, it also repressed the misguided zeal of individuals. How significant is that expression of displeasure at the attempted abridgment of freedom which had been made in a miserably sectarian spirit by some who, professing to maintain justice and charity, to say the very least, ought to have known better.