Chapter XXVI.

The Commonwealth And Cromwell (1649-1653).

King Charles I. had not yet been lowered into his tomb, when, on

the 7th of February, the House of Commons, reduced by successive

purifications to a hundred members, voted an Act reading thus:

"It has been proved by experience, and this House declares, that

the office of king is in this country useless, and dangerous to

the liberty, security, and good of the people; henceforth to be

abolished." The House of Lords had been suppressed on the day

previous. A Council of State was entrusted with executive power.

It was composed of forty-one members, amongst whom were the three

leaders of the army--Fairfax, Cromwell, and Skippon--with five

former peers. Nearly all the others belonged to the House of

Commons.

A disagreement sprang up at the outset. The new councillors were

asked to sign a declaration approving what had been done

regarding the trial of the king and the abolition of the monarchy

as well as in the House of Lords. Twenty-two members of the

council refused to sign. They promised to serve faithfully the

government of the House of Commons, the only power remaining, but

without expounding their views upon acts which they disapproved

in different degrees. Cromwell perceived that the regicides could

not govern alone. He came to an agreement with Sir Henry Vane,

the most sincere, the most able, and the most visionary of the

republican statesmen.

{200}

Sir Henry had refused to take part in the trial of the king, but

he consented to sit in the council of state, provided that the

past should not be referred to. The presidency was conferred upon

Bradshaw. He took, as Latin secretary, one of his cousins who had

recently maintained, in an eloquent pamphlet, that it was right

to summon to trial "a tyrant or a bad king, as well as to depose

him and put him to death after having duly convicted him." This

was the poet Milton.

The Republic was founded and its government was being organized,

but the country submitted without accepting it. Nearly four

months elapsed before it could be proclaimed in the City of

London. It had been found necessary to change the Lord Mayor, and

the aldermen absented themselves upon the day of the solemn

publication. "What was being done was against my conscience and

my oaths," said Sir Thomas Sumes, when summoned to answer for his

absence at the bar of the House. "My heart was not in this work,"

said Richard Chambers. Great difficulty was experienced in

finding aldermen to replace them. Everywhere the same ill-feeling

was manifested. Two years after the establishment of the

Commonwealth, Parliament was compelled to entrust to the parishes

the task of destroying all emblems recalling the monarchy. The

clergy on all hands refused to take the oath of fidelity to the

new power, and the government did not dare to give the name of

the "Commonwealth of England" to a new frigate launched in the

port of London in presence of the assembled council of state. "It

was considered," wrote the Minister of France, M. de Croullé, to

Cardinal Mazarin, "that if this ship were to perish, as all

vessels are liable to do, it would be a bad omen."

{201}

The republican government, so shackled in its course, held in its

hands some of the most eminent royalist leaders: the Duke of

Hamilton, the Earls of Holland and Norwich, Lord Capel, Sir John

Owen--valiant remnants of the last struggles of the civil war,

who for several months had all been prisoners. Scarcely had the

High Court, which condemned Charles I., completed its task when a

fresh tribunal was formed, still under the presidency of

Bradshaw, to try those who had fought for him until the last

moment, and of whom the greater number were to follow him to the

scaffold.

The Court began its sitting upon the 5th of February. The five

accused men represented different shades of the royalist party.

The Duke of Hamilton, a great nobleman and a politician of the

court; Lord Holland, a frivolous and corrupt courtier; Lord

Norwich, a true cavalier, complaisant, jovial, and devoted to the

king; Sir John Owen, a worthy country gentleman, courageous and

simple-minded; finally, Lord Capel, a model of all the firm and

grave virtues, as independent as he was faithful. All five were

condemned to death. The Duke of Hamilton immediately received not

only an offer of his life, but of the return of his former office

if he would make revelations upon the past. "If I had as many

lives as I have hairs upon my head," said the duke, "I would

sacrifice them all rather than ransom them by so shameful a

bargain." When Sir John Owen heard his sentence pronounced, he

made a low bow to the court. "It is a very great honor to a poor

gentleman of Wales," he said, "to lose his head with such noble

lords:" and he added with an oath, "I was afraid they would have

hanged me."

{202}

Everything was tried in order to obtain from Parliament the

pardon of the condemned. The appeal of the Duke of Hamilton and

Lord Holland was rejected; Lord Norwich and Sir John Owen were

pardoned; the latter, at the instigation of Hutchinson, who

observed to Ireton, "I am going to speak for this poor gentleman,

who is alone and without friends." There remained Lord Capel, the

object of passionate solicitude and the most active proceedings

on the part of his family. His appeal was discussed before

Parliament. Cromwell rose, dwelling more especially upon the

virtues of Lord Capel. "My affection for the public interest,

however, weighs down my private friendship," he said. "I cannot

but tell you that you have now to decide whether you will

preserve the most bitter and implacable enemy you have. I know

Lord Capel very well; he will be the last man in England who will

abandon the royal cause; he has great courage, ability, and

generosity; as long as he shall live, whatever may be his

position, he will be a thorn in your side; for the well-being of

the commonwealth I feel compelled to vote against his petition."

It was rejected.

The death of Lord Capel justified the picture which his enemies

had drawn of his life. The Duke of Hamilton and Lord Holland

suffered the penalty simply and worthily, before him; he appeared

alone upon the scaffold, having said farewell to his wife and

children with words of consolation and encouragement. "Is your

chaplain there, sir?" asked the officer in command. "No," replied

he, "I have taken leave of him." Seeing several of his servants,

who were weeping, "Restrain yourselves," he said.

{203}

Then, removing his hat, he addressed the people, frankly and

simply, as a royalist and a Christian. He had promised his

chaplain, Dr. Morley, to take the blame himself for his vote

against Strafford. "I confess," he said, "for the glory of God,

and to the shame of my own weakness, that it was indeed an

unworthy act of cowardice not to resist the torrent which bore us

along in this affair." People and soldiers, friends and

strangers, all beheld him die, the object of admiration and

respect.

The republican leaders perceived that this admiration and respect

were not favorable to them. They desisted from this system of

execution. The royalists remaining in their hands were banished,

and their property was confiscated. Others merely remained in

prison; no more clamor was desired; the proceedings of the High

Court which had condemned Lord Capel were not published, the

rigors of the past were silenced, blood ceased to flow.

Parliament could not, however, suppress a book which had recently

appeared, and the success of which continued to increase. The

_Eikon Basiliké_ (or royal image) revealed to England under

a pious form the reflections and opinions of the king during the

course of his trials. The book professed to be the personal work

of Charles, but it had been written by Dr. Gauden, subsequently

Bishop of Worcester, under the restoration. The king had probably

corrected it during his sojourn in the Isle of Wight. It was in

effect, the royal image, a loftiness that was both natural and

strained, a constant mingling of blind princely pride and sincere

Christian humility, a real piety amidst false dealing, and the

expression of an invincible devotion to his faith, his honor, and

his rank.

{204}

Herein was matter to move royalist hearts. Notwithstanding the

efforts of Parliament, forty-eight thousand copies were

circulated in England during the year. All Europe devoured the

book, which was translated into all languages. The attachment to

the memory of the king became the object of passionate worship.

Milton was commissioned to reply in the name of Parliament, but

the apology of the _Iconoclast_, prolix and cold,

notwithstanding its violence, did not destroy the effect of

_Eikon Basiliké_. To his friends and to many people in

Europe, Charles remained a martyr, and his enemies the

executioners of a saint.

The annoyances and embarrassments caused to Parliament by the

remnant of the royalist party, were not the gravest that it had

to fight against. Barely installed, the republican government

found itself in presence of an ardent, democratic, and mystical

opposition. A man had been found, endowed with an indomitable

courage and devotion, who constituted himself not the chief--no

one was chief at that time--but the interpreter and defender of

all the malcontents. This was John Lilburne, already accustomed

to playing this part under the monarchy.

Having become masters, the republican leaders felt the danger of

the habits of agitation which they had but recently favored in

the army, and they forbade the soldiers to join in any gathering

contrary to discipline. A pamphlet by Lilburne appeared attacking

those prohibitions: the _New Chains of England Discovered_

incited the soldiers to disobedience. Five of them brought to

Fairfax a violent petition; they were degraded. The libels of

Lilburne succeeded each other, personally attacking the generals.

{205}

"Speak to Cromwell of whatsoever it may be," he exclaimed, "he

will place his hand upon his heart, he will raise his eyes to

heaven, he will take God to witness, he will weep, he will groan,

he will repent himself, and so doing, he will strike you under

the first rib." Such violence could not be tolerated. The House

voted that the pamphlet of Lilburne was full of false,

calumnious, and seditious accusations. He was placed in the Tower

with three of his principal fellow-laborers. Two new libels from

the indomitable agitator appeared while he was in prison.

The doctrines which he preached with so much zeal began to bear

their fruits. A band of rough men already overran the county of

Surrey, digging and sowing here and there, first on the commons

and waste lands, but talking of throwing down the fences of the

neighboring parks. They invited the people of the vicinity to

join them, promising clothes and victuals to those who should

come and aid them. Fairfax sent two squadrons against them; the

chiefs were arrested; one of them, Everard, was an old soldier.

"We are of the race of the Israelites," they said; "the liberties

of the people were lost under William the Conqueror; we are

nearing the time of deliverance; I have seen a vision which said

to me: 'Go and till the ground to feed those who are hungry, and

clothe those who are naked;' we do not desire to attack property,

but a time will come when all men will willingly give their

possessions to put them into the common lot. That time is near."

{206}

Lilburne and his friends saw the danger. They added to their

constitution an article formally declaring that "possessions

would not be divided, nor all things put into the common lot;"

but the "Delvers," as the disciples of Everard styled themselves,

or the "levellers," as they were generally called, had excited

the public imagination, and that title was soon applied to all

the little anarchical associations, civil or military, which

decided to found the republic under an absolutely democratic

form, and who offered an ardent opposition to the actual

government of England; from words men soon came to blows.

Every day popular deputations besieged the gates of Westminster,

demanding the restoration to liberty of Lilburne and his

associates. "Return to your platters," was the answer of

Parliament to a band of women. "We no longer have any platters,"

they said, "nor meat to put upon them." Amidst this fermentation,

eight regiments, cavalry and infantry, were chosen for service in

Ireland. The soldiers complained; they were unwilling to leave

England without having their arrears of pay settled, and without

having enforced their political views. A little paper was

circulated in the ranks, advising them not to depart. A squadron

of the cavalry of Whalley, who had received orders to quit

London, took possession of the standard and refused to obey.

Fairfax and Cromwell hastened to the scene; they quelled the

insurrection; fifteen of the most mutinous were arrested, and

five condemned to death by a court-martial, notwithstanding the

representations of Lilburne, who maintained that no Englishman

could, in time of peace, lose his life upon the decree of a

council of war. But Cromwell could caress and strike at the same

time; four of the condemned men were pardoned; the fifth, Robert

Lockyer, was shot in St. Paul's Churchyard.

{207}

He was young, brave, and pious, a fanatical sectarian, beloved by

his comrades. Solemn obsequies were performed in his honor; a

hundred troopers rode in front; the sword of the deceased man and

branches of rosemary dyed with blood rested upon the coffin; a

crowd of sympathetic spectators awaited the body at the cemetery.

Such sights were both an affront and a warning to the government.

Insurrection broke out in several regiments; fermentation was in

progress all around. A corps of insurgent soldiers, placing at

their head Captain Thompson, overran Oxfordshire. The generals

marched upon them, after having in the first place assured

themselves of the fidelity of the troops whom they had under

their control; they attacked the rebels at Burford. Already

discouraged by the blow which they had suffered from a first

detachment sent against them, they defended themselves for some

time in the town, from the housetops and in the streets. Then a

great number surrendered. The others contrived to escape; the

court-martial decided that the rebels should be decimated. The

condemned men were assembled together upon the leads of the

church, whence they saw their comrades brought out one by one to

the square and shot in the face of the army. Three had already

suffered their fate without retracting anything that they had

done, and themselves giving the signal for the firing. Cornet

Dean came fourth: he was a worthy soldier whom the generals knew;

he manifested penitence; Fairfax pardoned him. Cromwell entered

the church, caused the remainder of the condemned men to descend,

rebuked them, admonished them, reproached them for the peril

which they had caused to the cause of God and the country. These

rude and haughty soldiers shed tears, and, when they were

restored to their regiments and sent to Ireland, they marched

with a good will.

{208}

The republican generals had been both prudent and firm, bold and

moderate. Parliament and the city of London congratulated them

upon their success with a degree of gratitude which revealed

their fears; but the danger was only lulled; fresh insurrections

might break out; they were indeed breaking out every day, and the

"levellers," through hatred of Cromwell and his friends, became

reconciled with the cavaliers. "I would rather live seven years

under the government of old King Charles, although they may have

cut off his head as a tyrant, than one year under their present

tyranny," said Lilburne, in his prison; "and I tell you that if

they persist in this tyranny, they will create sufficient friends

for Prince Charles, not only to proclaim his name, but further,

to bring him back to the throne of his father."

Parliament was agitated by this new danger. The trial of

Lilburne, so long deferred, at length began. He appeared before

the jury upon the 24th of October, 1649; he was as skillful in

defending himself as in attacking his opponents. At the moment

when the jurymen were about to retire to deliberate, the accused

suddenly turned towards them. "Gentlemen of the jury," he said,

"you are my sole judges, the keepers of my life, at whose hands

the Lord will require my blood. And therefore desire you to know

your power and consider your duty, both to God, to me, to your

own selves, and to your country, and the gracious assisting

Spirit and presence of the Lord God Omnipotent, the Governor of

heaven and earth, and all things therein contained, go along with

you, give counsel and direct you to do that which is just and for

His glory." Lilburne was acquitted, and the acclamations of the

people greeted this decision, accompanied with such outbursts of

joy that no voice could be heard in the Hall for more than half

an hour.

{209}

Parliament felt keenly this blow, and redoubled its rigors

against the press. At the same time residence in London was

forbidden the Cavaliers, the Catholics, and suspected persons.

The old Presbyterian leaders, Sir William Waller, Major-General

Brown and a few others, hitherto detained at Windsor, were sent

to different towns of England. The Commonwealth exercised a

tyranny which royalty had never known, or practiced, but it did

not contrive to establish itself. Cromwell continued to become

greater in its midst, and without encountering any active

resistance. The republican authorities alone, and surrounded by

irreconcilable enemies, in vain caused the pamphlets entitled the

_Character of King Cromwell_ to be seized at Coventry. The

civil war was still further to increase the power of the rival

whom they dreaded while they served him.

While England was organizing the Commonwealth, Scotland and

Ireland, in the main royalist, notwithstanding the party

dissensions which agitated them, had proclaimed the Prince of

Wales king, and delegates had set out to implore the new monarch

to repair to his kingdom. Charles II. was at the Hague,

surrounded by the best counsellors of the king his father, who

had prevented him from establishing himself in France, the policy

and religion of which country inspired great distrust.

{210}

They persisted, in concurrence with the Scotch commissioners, in

urging the king to sever his connection with Montrose, and to

accept the harsh conditions which the Presbyterians offered him.

Montrose was at the Hague, speaking eloquently of the victories

which might yet be expected in Scotland. The Marquis of Ormond

urged Charles to proceed to Ireland, whither the chief of the

rebels, Owen Rae O'Neill, summoned him. The king hesitated,

recoiled; he endeavored to draw up a manifesto which should

satisfy both the royalists of England, Scotland, and Ireland;

then, abandoning this impossible undertaking, he at length

quitted the Hague, and, under pretext of proceeding to France to

say farewell to the queen his mother, he deferred his departure,

more perplexed in his designs than eager to support by his

presence the efforts which his faithful subjects were about to

make in his behalf.

Parliament had not delayed so long in adopting its course. The

proclamation of King Charles II. in Ireland rendered necessary

the expedition which was to reconquer that kingdom for Protestant

domination and snatch it from the disorder which had so long

reigned there. There was moreover an ardent desire to occupy the

army, and remove Cromwell to a distance on an honorable pretext.

A hundred and twenty thousand pounds sterling per month was voted

for the maintenance of the army. Cromwell was nominated general,

while to Fairfax was given, to console him for his inaction, the

vain title of generalissimo of all the forces of Parliament.

{211}

The army corps intended for Ireland was ready, well equipped,

well clothed, well paid. Skillful precautions and prudent

manœuvres were at work to alienate from the royal party on the

one hand the moderate, and on the other the most fervent

Catholics, who were flattered with the hope of freedom in their

worship. Meanwhile, Cromwell did not depart. "It is scarcely to

be reconciled with common sense," wrote M. de Croullé to Mazarin,

"that Cromwell, who, according to the belief of many, carries his

thoughts far beyond where the most intemperate ambition can lead

him, should determine to abandon this kingdom to the mercy of the

cabals which might be formed in his absence, and which his

presence can prevent from being even undertaken."

If Cromwell thus had a difficulty in tearing himself away from

England, where he must leave behind him rivals and declared or

secret enemies, the successes of Ormond, in Ireland, soon

presented themselves, compelling him to take his course.

Londonderry and Dublin remained in the possession of Parliament;

further, the latter city was besieged before the end of July,

when the advanced guard of the Parliamentary general landed in

Ireland. On the 2d of August the governor of Dublin, Michael

Jones, made a successful sortie. Notwithstanding all the efforts

of Ormond, the royal army, shamefully routed, found itself

compelled to raise the siege. Cromwell himself landed in the port

of Dublin on the 15th of August.

Scarcely had he reached Ireland when he saw that all

consideration towards the moderate party and the Catholics was

difficult: passions were too violent and excited. English against

Irish, Protestants against Catholics, republicans against

royalists, it was necessary to allow full scope to be given to

hatred and vengeance in order to be assured of victory.

{212}

Cromwell was anxious to conquer at all costs. It was under these

dark auspices that the campaign began, on the 31st of August,

with the siege of Drogheda, a town considerable among all those

of the province of Leinster. The garrison was numerous, composed

in great part of English, and they made a vigorous resistance. It

was necessary to make the assault twice, and to carry the towers

one by one. "I do not think," wrote Cromwell, after the victory,

"that, of the whole number of the defendants, thirty have escaped

with their lives. Truly I believe that it will tend to prevent

the effusion of blood for the future, which are the satisfactory

grounds to such actions which otherwise cannot but work remorse

and regret."

The massacre of Drogheda did not suffice to arrest the bloodshed.

Wexford defended itself in the same manner and suffered the same

fate. In the parts in which success was more easy, it was yet

sullied by great cruelties. Meanwhile the strictest discipline

reigned in the army; the country districts were quiet, and the

soldiers were careful to pay for everything they took. Cromwell

had secretly recommenced his intrigues, at times causing the

projects of his enemies to miscarry through their own

dissensions, by means of the skillful agents whom he introduced

among them. This man, who boasted of having slain all the friars

of Drogheda, made useful service of the ecclesiastics as secret

emissaries. His seductive efforts reached even the Marquis of

Ormond, for whom he manifested great esteem, often saying, "What

has Lord Ormond to do with Charles Stuart, and what favors has he

received from him?" At the same time, and by an act of shrewd

foresight, he authorized recruiting in Ireland for the service of

foreign powers.

{213}

In a few months this little Catholic kingdom, which had with

great difficulty furnished an army of eight to ten thousand men

for the service of the king, sent to France and Spain more than

fifty thousand soldiers, fierce enemies of Protestantism and

Parliament. The republican chiefs, in London, began to find that

the absence of Cromwell and his new glory dangerously enhanced

his greatness; they urged him to return to London, placing a part

of Whitehall and of St. James's Palace at his disposal. Cromwell

was profuse in his acknowledgments, but he delayed returning to

England as he had delayed leaving it. Fresh events were preparing

which were about to furnish him with an opportunity for

displaying both his skill and genius.

Charles II. had left Ormond to fight for him in Ireland. At the

first news of his defeat before Dublin, he had for a moment

desired to throw himself in the midst of the struggle. It was

represented to him that the moment was ill-chosen; that it was

not well to go there to take part in a defeat. "Then I must go

there to die," he nobly replied, "for it is shameful for me to

live elsewhere." Recovering from this courageous impulse, he

lived elsewhere, leaving his friends to die in Ireland. The same

fate was soon to overtake in Scotland the most brilliant and

devoted of his adherents.

The Parliament of Scotland had invited Charles to resume the

negotiations previously entered upon at the Hague. The conditions

of the Presbyterians were as harsh as ever, but Ireland was

almost lost. Ormond no longer had any hope save in the diversion

of a war between England and Scotland. The friends of the king

urged him to lend ear to the proposals of the Scots; fresh

conferences were held at Breda.

{214}

While Montrose, still independent and ardently opposed to the

Presbyterians, was seeking soldiers and money in Germany, Charles

II. wrote on the 19th of September, 1649: "I entreat you to go on

vigorously with your wonted courage and care, in the prosecution

of those trusts committed to you, and not be startled with any

reports you may hear, as if I were otherwise inclined to the

Presbyterians than when I left you. I assure you, I am upon the

same principles I was and depend as much as ever upon your

undertakings and endeavors for my service."

Montrose was, in effect, preparing an important enterprise. He

had recruited, with great pains, a certain number of soldiers;

but his first division perished at sea; the second landed in the

Orkney Islands, awaiting their general. It was there, at the

beginning of March, 1650, that Montrose landed in his turn,

accompanied only by a few Scottish noblemen and five hundred

soldiers. He rallied the troops who had preceded him, and full of

confidence in the promises which he had received and the popular

risings upon which he counted, he disembarked at the northernmost

extremity of Scotland, displaying with the royal banner a

standard bearing an image of the decapitated head of Charles I.,

with these words: "Judge, and revenge my cause, O Lord."

Montrose advanced across the counties of Caithness and

Sutherland; but the reinforcements which he expected did not

arrive, the chiefs whose support he hoped for placed themselves,

on the contrary, on the side of Parliament. An army corps sent by

the government of Edinburgh, under the orders of Colonel

Strachan, marched against him.

{215}

Ill-guarded and destitute of information regarding the movements

of the enemy, Montrose was attacked unawares on the 16th of

April, near Corbiesdale, in the county of Ross. The soldiers whom

he had brought from Germany fought valiantly; but the recruits

from the Orkney Islands disbanded. At the moment when Montrose

was vainly endeavoring to rally them, his horse was killed under

him. His friend Lord Frendraught gave him his own. The rout was

complete. The marquis threw away his uniform and decorations; he

donned the clothing of a peasant and plunged into the country,

seeking everywhere a shelter. He wandered about in this manner

for a fortnight among the mountains, now well received by his

partisans, now repulsed with terror. At length he was delivered

up to his enemies on the 3rd of May, by Neil Macleod, formerly

one of his friends, for four hundred bolls of meal. On the 17th

of May, after moving from halting-place to halting-place, he was

transferred to Leith, near Edinburgh. The last act of the tragedy

was at hand.

On the same day, the Parliament, assembled in Edinburgh, voted

that "James Graham, bareheaded and bound by a rope to a cart,

should be brought by the executioner to the bar, there to receive

his sentence, and that he should be carried to Edinburgh, and

there be hanged on a gibbet; then to be taken down, his quarters

to be nailed to the different gates of the city." The hatred of

the enemies of Montrose took pleasure in such a sight, and

persons who were indifferent were more terrified than revolted.

{216}

The noble partisan, the bold and brilliant captain, pale and

wearied by the severities of his captivity, was accordingly

conducted upon a sorry horse from Leith to Edinburgh. Being

received by the magistrates and the executioner, preceded by

thirty-two of his officers bound together two by two, Montrose

entered the city in a cart. The vast crowd was hostile, and had

come with the object of insulting the prisoner. His courage and

gravity imposed silence upon their ill-will. As the procession

passed before the house of the Earl of Moray, the cart stopped

for a moment, and behind a half-opened window the Marquis of

Argyle was seen feasting his eyes upon the humiliation of his

enemy.

On arriving at the prison, Montrose was asked whether he had

anything to say before receiving his sentence. He refused to

reply; he did not know whether the king had concluded any

arrangement with Parliament. The treaty was signed, and Charles

II. was upon the point of proceeding to Scotland. This was made

known to Montrose, who appeared somewhat moved, while persisting

in his silence, notwithstanding the solicitations of the

commissioners. Two days afterwards, at the bar of Parliament,

where he appeared magnificently attired, defending himself from

the cruelties which had been imputed to him during the war, he

heard his sentence kneeling. "I kneel to render honor to the king

my master, in whose name you sit," he said, "and not to

Parliament." The execution was fixed for the morrow.

The soldiers and citizens were under arms; some attempt in favor

of the condemned man was feared. "What!" said Montrose, "do these

good people, who were so greatly in fear of me when I was alive,

still fear me when I am about to die? Let them beware! When I am

dead I shall haunt their consciences, and be far more formidable

than when alive."

{217}

He refused the services of the Presbyterian ministers, and spent

the entire night alone in prayer save when he was composing

verses of a beautiful and noble kind notwithstanding their

subtlety. "I wish," he said, "I had limbs enough to be dispersed

into all the cities of Christendom, there to remain as

testimonies in favor of the cause for which I suffer." Proud and

calm, he thus marched to the scaffold; the executioner wept on

placing the rope round his neck. A sorrowful murmur arose among

the crowd. Argyle himself was agitated and sad, as though smitten

with some regret or with a presentiment of his own fate.

The commissioners of Parliament had not deceived Montrose when

they told him that they had negotiated with the king, and that he

was about to come back among them. At the moment when the news of

the defeat of Montrose arrived at Breda, Charles II., hitherto

hesitating, decided to accept the Covenant and to promise to

govern in all civil matters according to the advice of

Parliament, in all religious matters according to the advice of

the Presbyterian Church. To give to his promises the sanction of

a brilliant falsehood, he wrote to Parliament that, having

forbidden Montrose to undertake his expedition, he could not

regret the defeat of a man who had disobeyed him.

He doubtless accepted in the same spirit the execution of his

loyal servant, whose life, it was said, he wanted to save; no

trace has remained of this disgraceful compact. Montrose died on

the 21st of May. On the 2nd of June, Charles II. embarked for

Scotland with a fleet which his brother-in-law, the Prince of

Orange, placed at his service. Three weeks later, he set foot in

his kingdom, after having signed the Covenant aboard his vessel,

and taking farewell of nearly all the gentlemen who accompanied

him. The King of Scotland had delivered himself up, bound hand

and foot, to Parliament and the Presbyterians.

{218}

At the same moment Cromwell was at last returning victorious from

Ireland. He landed at Bristol. An immense crowd thronged his

passage, rending the air with their acclamations. "What a crowd

come to see your lordship's triumph!" said one of those present

to Cromwell. "If it were to see me hanged, how many more there

would be," abruptly replied the general.

The repose of Cromwell was not to be of long duration. Parliament

had conferred on the Council of State every power necessary to

repress the invasion which was expected on the part of the

Scotch. The council decided that the invasion should be

forestalled by invading Scotland. Fairfax had been nominated

Generalissimo; but when he learnt that the initiative of

hostilities was about to be taken, he resigned his command. In

vain did many remonstrate with him, Cromwell foremost. "The

lieutenant-general," said Ludlow, "acted his part so to the life

that I really thought that he was in earnest; this obliged me to

go to him, as he was issuing forth from the Council Chamber, to

beg him not to push scruples and modesty to a refusal which would

be hurtful to the service of the nation; but the sequel showed

that this was in no wise his intention." Fairfax resigned all his

offices. Cromwell was nominated captain-general, and on the 22d

of July, 1650, he crossed the Tweed at the head of about fifteen

thousand men. On setting foot upon Scottish soil he turned

towards his troops: "As a Christian and a soldier I exhort you to

be wary and worthy, for sure enough we have work before us. But

have we not had God's blessing hitherto? Let us go on faithfully,

and hope for the like still."

{219}

If he had been well acquainted with what was taking place in the

councils of Scotland, Cromwell would, without doubt, have had

confidence in his success. The Presbyterian Scots surrounded with

royal honors the monarch whom they had recalled; but he was

treated as a prisoner who is distrusted, and whom it is desired

to separate from the business in hand. The king did not attend at

the council, and when he wished to consult Argyle upon some

affair of importance, the latter respectfully avoided the

confidence. On the other hand, the theologians overwhelmed with

their exhortations the young prince, who was devoting himself,

but in vain, to becoming a hypocrite. Distrust remained unshaken.

When Cromwell had crossed the border, the king was brought to the

camp, near Leith. In a few days alarm was taken at the influence

which he might exert over the troops, and he was conducted to

Perth, further away than ever from the scene of operations.

This was not sufficient for the fanatics; they asked Charles to

sign an expiatory declaration, in which he should expressly

acknowledge the wrongs of the king his father, the idolatry of

the queen his mother, and his own sin in the treaty which he had

concluded with the Irish rebels. It was at the same time demanded

that, in favor of free Parliaments and the Presbyterian rule in

the Church, in England as well as in Scotland, he should renew

all the protestations and engagements against Papacy which had

already been wrung from him.

{220}

On the first impulse Charles refused. "I could not look my mother

in the face if I were to sign such a document," he said. But the

symptoms of disorganization increased among the royalist party.

The king knew that outside of Scotland there was neither party,

nor army, nor kingdom for him. He signed the expiatory

declaration, and the fanatical preachers assured their audiences

that, "the wrath of heaven being now appeased, an easy victory

would be gained over a general blasphemer and an army of

sectaries."

The sectaries and their general were meanwhile advancing into

Scotland, but in circumstances so difficult that they were more

occupied with escaping from their own perils than with taking

advantage of the weakness and divisions among their enemies.

Everywhere before them, as they marched, they encountered a

desert; men and flocks had disappeared in accordance with the

orders of Lesley and the passionate exhortations of the

Presbyterian ministers. Without any other resource in the country

itself, Cromwell could only feed his troops by means of

provisions coming to him by sea from England, which compelled him

to continually proceed along the coast. Lesley remained behind in

his intrenchments, between Edinburgh and Leith. Bad weather

engendered a host of diseases in the English army. "They hope,"

wrote Cromwell to Bradshaw, on the 30th of July, "that we shall

famish for want of provisions, which is very likely to be if we

are not timely and fully supplied."

The situation had become so urgent that Cromwell resolved to fall

back upon Dunbar, in order to wait there for convoys and

reinforcements. From there it was possible, if the supplies were

too long delayed, to regain the English border.

{221}

Upon the way, Lesley, having at length issued forth from his

camp, constantly harassed the English. Scarcely had they arrived

at Dunbar, when they found their retreat cut off by a

considerable detachment occupying the defile of Copperspath, "so

narrow," said Cromwell himself, "that ten men to hinder are

better than forty to make their way." Lesley yielded to the

solicitations and anger of the fanatics. He had hitherto

carefully avoided battle, being satisfied with driving before him

every day the famous Ironsides and their invincible general,

without endeavoring to measure his strength with them. But the

ministers were eager to enjoy the glory of victory, and called

upon the general not to suffer the enemy to escape whom God had

delivered into their hands. "They had disposed of us," said

Cromwell, "and of their business by sufficient revenge and wrath

towards our persons, and had swallowed up the poor interest of

England, believing that their army and their king would have

marched to London without any interruption." Lesley resisted no

longer. "To-morrow, at seven o'clock in the morning," he said, on

the 2d of September, to his officers, "the English army will be

ours, dead or alive."

At this moment Cromwell was leaving a prayer-meeting, and he

mounted on horseback, with Lambert, his major-general. Surveying

with his telescope the positions of the Scottish army, he was

struck by the movement which was taking place among the enemy.

Lesley was preparing to throw himself across his passage with all

his troops. Cromwell was only anxious to fight. "The Lord

delivers them into our hands; they come!" he exclaimed, and he

proposed to his officers to forestall the Scots and marched

towards them. Monk vigorously supported the opinion of the

general, and solicited the command of the infantry of the

advanced guard. The English spent the night in preparing for the

struggle.

{222}

A dense fog prevailed at daybreak. The first engagements were not

fortunate for Cromwell and his troops. The men fought almost

without seeing each other, to the cries of "Covenant" among the

Scotch, and "The Lord of Hosts" amongst the English. The Scottish

lancers threw the English advanced guard into some disorder;

towards seven o'clock the regiment of Cromwell charged sharply.

At the same time the sun, dispersing the mists, lit up the sea

and mountains. "Let God arise," exclaimed Cromwell, "and let His

enemies be scattered!" Inspired by his enthusiasm, his soldiers

redoubled their efforts; the Scotch cavalry wavered; an infantry

corps, which yet resisted, was broken by the Ironsides. "They

run! they run!" cried the English. The rout had set in. "They

were now but stubble to our swords," wrote Cromwell. At nine

o'clock the battle had ceased; three thousand dead bodies and ten

thousand prisoners testified to the victory of the English

general. Four days later he was master of Leith, of all the

country in the neighborhood of Edinburgh and of the latter city

itself, with the exception of the Castle. Charles II. and his

government were at Perth. Lesley, with the remains of his army,

had fallen back upon Stirling. The republican Parliament could

sleep in peace. Scotland, being invaded, had no longer anything

to do but to defend herself upon her territory.

{223}

Scotland, in effect, thought only of defending herself; but her

king soon thought of attacking. He endeavored to escape, and

place himself at the head of the royalist movements which were

promised in the northern districts; but, although he was soon

retaken and brought back to Perth, his attempt gave uneasiness to

Parliament, that resolved to take a decisive step and solemnly

crown the king at Scone, according to the ancient Scottish

custom. The ceremony took place on the 1st of January, 1651.

Charles, who notwithstanding his grave faults, possessed tact and

the art of pleasing, took advantage of the crowd which thronged

around him to secure numerous partisans. The moderate party began

to regain influence in the councils. Argyle once more found

himself in rivalry with the Duke of Hamilton, brother of him who

had perished upon the scaffold. The Presbyterians were a prey to

the most violent dissensions. The royalist party was re-forming.

Meanwhile, Cromwell, whose skillful management constantly

thwarted the projects and manœuvres of the king, fell seriously

ill; so seriously, that the Parliament of England sent two

physicians to take charge of him, and the general himself thought

he was at death's door. At the same moment royalist plots burst

forth in England, despite the severity displayed towards the

Cavaliers, and the strict surveillance to which they were

subjected by Scott, who was entrusted with this care in the name

of the Council of State.

The plots miscarried, and the health of Cromwell was

re-established; meanwhile the king had gained ground. The army

had been reorganized according to his desire, and he had been

placed at its head by the Presbyterian Parliament. At length

master of his actions, he abruptly announced to his council his

intention of raising the camp, still at Stirling, and waging war

in England, where his partisans were only waiting for his

presence to declare themselves.

{224}

Many people complained, protested; Argyle declared that he would

not take part in such an undertaking, and retired to his castle

at Inverary. The king persisted. He issued a proclamation, and,

on the morrow, being the 31st of July, 1651, he took the road to

Carlisle with an army of about twelve thousand men. David Lesley

had been nominated his Lieutenant-General.

Cromwell had, doubtless, foreseen this movement, and had made no

great effort to prevent it, and he foresaw at the same time the

rage and terror which it was about to cause in London. He

immediately wrote to Parliament: "As the enemy is some few days'

march before us, I do apprehend that it will trouble some men's

thoughts, and may occasion some inconveniences, which I hope we

are as deeply sensible of and have been, and I trust shall be as

diligent to prevent as any; but as there is a possibility for the

enemy to put you to some trouble, we pray you would, with the

same courage, grounded upon a confidence in God--wherein you have

been supported to the great things God hath used you in

hitherto--improve the best you can such forces as you have in

readiness, or as may on the sudden be gathered together, to give

the enemy some check until we shall be able to reach up to him,

which we trust in the Lord we shall do our utmost endeavor in.

This will be a hopeful end of your work, in which it's good to

wait upon the Lord, upon the earnest of former experiences, and

hope of His presence, which only is the life of your cause."

{225}

Cromwell was not mistaken in his forecasts; uneasiness was rife

in London, the fear was great, but vigorous measures were taken.

The republican leaders, Vane, Scott, Martyn, were men of active

and impassioned courage, resolved to make every effort for their

cause. Fresh regiments were raised, the ordinance respecting the

militia was put in force again in all the counties; corps of

volunteers were trusted to protect London; the surveillance of

the Cavaliers was redoubled. Heads of families were forbidden to

allow their children and domestics to leave their residences,

except at fixed hours. It was hoped thus to prevent the royalist

insurrections in favor of Charles, who continued to advance

without obstacle in the north-west of England.

The king, indeed, advanced, but the people did not rise at his

approach, as he had hoped. Surrounded with strangers and

Presbyterians, Charles did not inspire in the Cavaliers or the

partisans of the Anglican Church absolute confidence. The

acclamations were loud, but his army had been increased by a very

small number of English royalists when he arrived before

Warrington, upon the banks of the Mersey. One of the most

faithful servants of his royal father, the Earl of Derby, living

retired in the Isle of Man with his wife, Charlotte de Trémoille,

had hastened to offer his services to the monarch. Being

commissioned by him to overrun Lancashire to assemble together

adherents there, Derby was surprised and defeated by Colonel

Robert Lilburne. He escaped, almost alone, and rejoined the king.

When he arrived at Worcester, Charles had forced the passage of

the Mersey in spite of Lambert and Harrison, despatched by

Cromwell to oppose the achievement, and the Scotch, wearied, were

establishing themselves in a friendly town, counting upon a few

days' repose before the arrival of the Ironsides.

{226}

The royal standard was solemnly unfurled, and all the subjects of

the king were convoked to a great review which was to take place

upon the banks of the Severn. Thirty or forty gentlemen only

repaired thither with their retinues. Two thousand Englishmen at

most joined the Scottish army. Cromwell, on the contrary, had

seen his forces trebled during his march. When he arrived before

Worcester, on the 28th of August, he numbered under his standards

thirty-four thousand men.

A discussion arose in the royal army who should be in chief

command upon the day of battle. Buckingham, Lesley, Middleton,

all urged their claims or their rights. "I will have no other

generalissimo than myself," Charles said, to conciliate all, and

he spent his time in reconciling his lieutenants with each other,

while Cromwell prepared the attack and sent over to the right

bank of the Severn some troops commanded by Lambert and

Fleetwood. He himself occupied the left bank. On the 3d of

September all was ready.

The king was ill-informed, and did not expect any serious

engagement upon that day; but towards noon he ascended the belfry

of Worcester Cathedral, and thence perceived several regiments of

Cromwell crossing the stream upon a bridge of boats, and marching

towards the Scotch corps under the orders of Major-General

Montgomery, entrusted with the task of defending the town upon

the west. Immediately descending from the belfry, the king

mounted a horse and hastened to support his troops, who were

attacked. Cromwell was before him in the combat, and was

vigorously urging matters forward.

{227}

The struggle began at the same time upon the right bank; the

Scotch resisted firmly. The king re-entered the town, placed

himself at the head of his best infantry and his English

horsemen, to attack the camp of Cromwell. The general immediately

crossed the stream after him, and proceeded to defend his

quarters. Fighting was carried on at both extremities of the

town: "as stiff a contest as ever I have seen," wrote Cromwell.

The corps commanded by the king caused the republicans to waver.

Three thousand men of the Scotch cavalry, commanded by Lesley,

were under arms in the rear of the king. They received orders to

charge; they did not stir. "One hour of Montrose! Only one hour!"

cried the English Cavaliers. Montrose was wanting. Cromwell

resumed the offensive. The royal infantry lacked provisions. The

Duke of Hamilton and Sir John Douglas were mortally wounded. The

republicans pushed forward to the foot of the fortress, which was

summoned to surrender. The commander replied with cannon balls.

The fortress was carried by assault, and the garrison was put to

the sword. The struggle became confused; the combatants

re-entered the town in disorder. Everywhere munitions of war

failed the royal troops, who were falling back upon Worcester,

followed by their enemies. Fighting took place in the streets.

The king endeavored to rally his men, crying to his friends, "I

would rather you would shoot me than keep me alive to see the sad

consequence of this fatal day!" But soon his friends were obliged

to think only of saving him; a small body of the most ardent

Cavaliers threw themselves upon the enemy to open up a passage

before the king, and to cover his retreat.

{228}

While the fugitive monarch was proceeding towards the north with

a handful of devoted companions, Cromwell having entered

Worcester, which city was given up to pillage, wrote to

Parliament, "The battle was fought with varying success, but

still hopeful on your part, and in the end became an absolute

victory; and so full a one as proved a total defeat and ruin of

the enemy's army."

The joy and pride of the English Parliament were as great as the

uneasiness which they had felt. Honors and rewards were lavished

upon Cromwell and his officers; severities were not spared the

vanquished. Six or seven thousand prisoners impeded the march of

the triumphant army; the prisoners of importance were numerous.

The Duke of Hamilton died of his wounds. The Earl of Derby was

tried and executed at Chester, with Sir Timothy Featherstonhaugh

and Captain Bembow. "I feel in my conscience," said the earl, on

ascending the scaffold, "no scruple as to the cause to which I

pledged myself; it is in the name of law and religion that I have

supported it; my judgment is fulfilled; and I thank God for it, I

have not the presumption to decide in these controversies. I pray

God to cause to prosper for His glory those who are in the right,

and I wish you as much grace and peace as I am about to find

beyond all that you possess here." Parliament did not add to such

examples. The virtuous nobleman, the loyal and independent

servant, was not followed upon the scaffold by those who had

supported the same cause without being his friends, nor worthy of

being so. While Charlotte de la Trémoille was yet guarding for

the king the Isle of Man, which was only wrested from her by

treachery, the tower held within its walls the greater number of

the prisoners of note. The royalist soldiers were secretly sold

or given to merchants and planters for the work of the colonies

and the African mines. Parliament offered a reward of one

thousand pounds sterling to whoever should deliver up Charles

Stuart, "son of the late tyrant."

{229}

The king, meanwhile, was flying across the kingdom, hiding from

mansion to mansion, from farm to farm--sometimes concealed in

the habitations which served as retreats for the proscribed

Catholic priests, hearing or seeing at every moment the

republican soldiers who were seeking him, ready to seize him;

sometimes in the garb of a peasant, sometimes in that of a

domestic. He spent one night hidden in the leafy branches of a

great tree, which has since that time preserved the name of "the

Royal Oak." Imperturbably gay and fearless, Charles braved the

dangers, which disappeared more than once before his resolution

and skillful self-confidence. All his efforts were directed

towards reaching the coast, where he counted upon embarking for

France. Several attempts to charter a small vessel had failed,

when, on the 14th of October, near Shoreham, the master of a bark

at length promised to take "the gentleman whom he had been spoken

to about." When he saw the king he took aside the merchant who

had engaged him: "You have not dealt fairly with me," he said;

"you have not been clear with me; for he is the king, and I very

well know him to be so." And as the merchant was denying with

effrontery his statement, "I know him very well," repeated the

master, "but be not troubled at it, for I think I do God and my

country good service in preserving the king; and by the grace of

God I will venture my life and all for him, and set him safely on

shore, if I can, in France."

{230}

The master kept his word; the king and Lord Willmot, who had not

left him, landed from a small fishing-smack at Fécamp, on the

16th of October, at one o'clock in the afternoon. They repaired

at once to Rouen; but they were so poorly clad, and presented so

bad an appearance, that they could not get admittance at the inn

at which they presented themselves. On the 30th Charles at length

arrived in Paris, where the queen, his mother, resided, after

having wandered for forty-two days across England, concealed in

eight different places of refuge, and known to forty-five persons

whose names are recorded, without having suffered from any

betrayal, without having been even placed in peril by an act of

indiscretion; a rare proof of an intelligent and passionate

fidelity towards one in the depth of misfortune.

Meanwhile Cromwell had returned in triumph to London, and had

established himself at Whitehall. Before his death, of typhus

fever, Ireton had completed the subjugation of Ireland. Monk had

conquered Scotland. The fleets of the Commonwealth of England had

compelled the Channel Islands to return to their obedience. The

distant colonies had accepted the new rule. Parliament was master

of all English territory; it remained for it to treat with

Europe.

Europe was, at first, ill-disposed towards Parliament and the

Commonwealth. The trial and execution of Charles I. had caused a

powerful sensation, though for different reasons and in different

degrees. The Protestants felt the need of clearing themselves

from association with this deed. The Catholics saw in it the

fruits of heresy.

{231}

In France, amidst the agitations of "The Fronde," the Parliament

of England had found admirers; but the English revolution, with

its consequences, soon excited an exasperation mingled with

alarm, which the presence of Queen Henrietta Maria, her sons and

her fugitive partisans continued to maintain. Cardinal Mazarin

had taken no step in the name of the little king, Louis XIV., for

saving of the king his uncle. The two solemn letters written to

Cromwell and Fairfax were delivered. Before they had even been

despatched from Paris, the king was executed. When he was dead,

however, the ambassador, M. de Bellièvre was recalled, and his

secretary, M. de Croullé, alone remained entrusted to take charge

officially of French interests. Careful to maintain everywhere

relations which might prejudice its rivals, Spain did not recall

Don Alonzo de Cardeñas; but it neglected to renew his

credentials, and he acquired no official position in the

Commonwealth of England. Alone, of all the sovereigns of Europe,

the Czar of Russia, Alexis, the father of Peter the Great,

severed all connection with the revolutionary republic, and drove

English merchants from his empire.

At the Hague, in the United Provinces, notwithstanding the

hostile feelings of a great portion of the States-General, the

devotion of the Prince of Orange to the family of his wife

preserved for the fallen English monarchy a support and shelter.

It was at the Hague that Doctor Dorislaüs, a Dutchman long

naturalized in England, and but recently employed to draw up the

impeachment of Charles I., was assassinated, shortly after the

death of the king, by some cavaliers who had taken refuge in

Holland. Such was also to be the fate a few months later, in an

inn at Madrid, of Asham, who had placed his talent as a writer at

the service of the revolution.

{232}

At the Hague, as at Madrid, public feeling was on the side of the

murderers. A Dutch patrician might have said with Don Luis de

Haro, "I envy the gentlemen who have done so noble a deed;

whatever may befall them in consequence, they have avenged the

blood of their sovereign. If the king my master had had subjects

as resolute, he would not have lost his kingdom of Portugal!"

The words of diplomatists are not always in accordance with their

acts. The English Parliament was not moved by the outburst of

indignation and legitimate anger which had seized on monarchical

and conservative Europe, at the sight of the triumphant

revolution. Reserved and haughty, it waited, with distrust, but

without any outburst of passion, until its successes and its

power should compel its enemies to recognize the Commonwealth of

England. The name did not terrify the sovereigns of the

Continent. The republic of the United Provinces and the Swiss

leagues had lived in peace without disturbing the repose of

Europe. Monarchical power was becoming strengthened in France,

Germany, and Spain, at the moment when the throne was falling in

ruins in England. In vain did Charles II. send agents everywhere,

accredit ambassadors at the courts of all the sovereigns of

Europe. They were received with kindness and with empty looks.

Care was taken not to go beyond this limit, and a strict

neutrality reigned between the exiled monarch and the republican

government.

{233}

"The servants of the king of Great Britain," the agent of

Cardinal Mazarin in Scotland, M. de Graymond, wrote to him on the

23rd of October, 1649, "are here uttering curses against all the

kings and sovereigns of the earth, and principally against his

Majesty, if he does not assist their king, after whose ruin, they

desire that of all the others. ... They do not fear to say that

they will contribute with all their might to their destruction,

which will be very easy for them to bring about, the people

having once got a scent, through the example of England, of the

delights of popular power. ... They say that Cromwell will begin

with us, and that we fully deserve it, because we do not think of

the restoration of the King of England, though we have the

greatest interest to do so."

Upon one single point Parliament discarded its prudent and calm

attitude. In the month of June, 1648, eleven English crews,

having revolted against Parliament, proceeded to Holland to place

their ships under the orders of the Prince of Wales, and to serve

the cause of the captive king. Prince Rupert assumed the command

of this royal fleet, and from that time forth he prosecuted at

sea, against the Commonwealth, the implacable, roving, and

plundering warfare, which he had but recently sustained upon land

against Parliament. Charles II. found in the captures of his

cousin precious safeguards against poverty. A number of

shipowners of all countries asked permission to join the

expeditions of the prince, so as to share the profits of them.

They paid a tithe to the king. All security disappeared from the

seas. The ships of the King of France, as well as those of the

States-General of Holland, did not disdain sometimes to lower

their standards, and to take part in the expeditions and

captures. Against these ruinous and insulting measures Parliament

reorganized and immediately augmented its fleet.

{234}

In the winter of 1650-1651, several squadrons were sent out to

protect the English flag in all parts. Before the end of the

winter the fleet of Prince Rupert, pursued from the coast of

Ireland to Portugal and Spain, by the republican admiral Blake,

took refuge, greatly diminished, in the Mediterranean, and

thence, upon the coast of Africa, while Parliament, determined to

punish equally the French pirates, took possession of six

vessels, which were confiscated. The complaints which came from

Paris upon this subject were not listened to. Upon the seas the

Commonwealth had caused its power to be felt; it was there

dreaded by its enemies and respected by its rivals.

Meanwhile the Spaniards were prosecuting in London secret and

troublesome manœuvres which gave great uneasiness to Cardinal

Mazarin. Through a want of sagacity and foresight, a hatred of

Queen Henrietta-Maria, and a distrust towards her family,

Parliament had not discovered that the power of Spain was

declining, and that the House of Austria was divided and

enervated, while France and the House of Bourbon were walking

hand-in-hand in a path of rapid and bold progress. It was towards

Spain that the preference of the Republican government inclined.

It was Spain which first recognized the Commonwealth. On the 24th

of December, 1650, Don Alonzo de Cardeñas was received in solemn

audience by Parliament, and a few days later, on the 6th of

January, 1651, M. de Croullé was arrested at his residence, while

a priest was repeating mass to him, and was conducted before the

Council of State, who ordered him to quit England within ten

days. Some secret negotiations were attempted, to bring about a

reconciliation, but Mazarin was tottering, and soon found himself

compelled to fly from France. Spain remained sole mistress of the

situation until the end of the year 1654.

{235}

A much more pressing matter at this moment occupied the minds of

the republican leaders. The Prince of Orange had died (6th of

November, 1650), and the disappearance of his influence reduced

the United Provinces and the States-General to a complete

decline. Republican traditions gained fresh force; the civic

aristocracy, scattered by the House of Nassau, was regaining

power. Everything indicated fresh favor towards the Commonwealth

of England, of which the latter power speedily took advantage.

Two envoys extraordinary, St. John and Walter Strickland, set out

in great magnificence for the Hague; they were eagerly received.

The intimate alliance of the two Protestant republics appeared to

be on the eve of consummation. The immoderate ambition of St.

John, as well as of the Parliamentary leaders whom he

represented, placed an obstacle in the way of this desirable

result. Their pretensions involved nothing less than the

incorporation of the United Provinces in the Commonwealth of

England, and the formation of one state under a single

government.

Such audacity was difficult to express in words. Two months

elapsed. The situation at the Hague became every day more grave.

The Cavaliers were numerous there at the court of the young Duke

of York. Their plots, in conjunction with the party of Orange,

thwarted the efforts of the Dutch patriots. "Add to that," John

de Witt subsequently said, "the intolerable caprice of the

English nation, its continual jealousy of our prosperity, and the

mortal hatred of Cromwell towards the young Prince of Orange, son

of the sister of this banished king, who was what he feared most

in the world."

{236}

Negotiations did not progress, and when St. John at length

decided to put forth in seven articles some of his pretensions,

they so completely subordinated the policy of the United

Provinces to the policy and interest of the Commonwealth of

England, that it was not difficult to foresee the failure of the

envoys. They quitted the Hague on the 1st of July, 1651, haughty

and menacing. "Believe me," said St. John to the Dutch with whom

he had negotiated, "you will repent having rejected our offers."

On the 5th of August Whitelocke introduced into Parliament a bill

known under the name of "The Navigation Act," which prohibited

all foreign nations from importing into England any commodity

which should not be the produce of the soil or of the industry of

their own country. It was the most serious blow which could have

been struck at Holland, whose transit business brought it wealth.

Before the end of the year the Bill was passed and put in force.

The United Provinces had not allowed themselves to be conquered

by negotiations; war was prepared against them.

Meanwhile the battle of Worcester had caused the scale in Europe

to incline decidedly towards the Commonwealth. Recognition, and

the resumption of official relations came from all quarters. Don

Alonzo de Cardeñas was entrusted to propose a treaty of alliance

in the name of Spain, and the Republicans manifested sufficient

inclination to accept it. Impelled by so many perils, Mazarin at

length adopted his course. He had been for more than a year in

negotiation with the English, endeavoring to cause the

recognition of the Commonwealth to be purchased by a declaration

of England in favor of France and opposed to Spain.

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He had failed: seven French vessels, having departed from Calais

to revictual Dunkirk, which the Spaniards were closely besieging,

had been captured by Blake, and Parliament refused to surrender

them. The neutrality of the English appeared to be about to

cease. The Cardinal commissioned M. de Bordeaux to bear a letter

of the king to Parliament and to re-establish the official

relations of the two States. The envoy did not possess the title

of ambassador, and the letter of Louis XIV. was addressed to "Our

dear and great friends the people of the Parliament and the

Commonwealth of England." The State Council refused to receive

the missive thus addressed. It soon returned with the

superscription, "To the Parliament of the Commonwealth of

England." Bordeaux was then received, not by Parliament, nor by

the Council of State, but by a committee of this latter body.

Relations were re-established, with bad grace on the part of

France, without good-will on that of the English Republicans. "In

my great misfortune, I experienced nothing equal to this," wrote

Henrietta-Maria, in the meantime. Charles II. spoke of quitting

Paris, but he still remained there. His pension of six thousand

livres per month was continued, but his situation became more and

more isolated and depressing, and his faithful counsellors all

urged him to seek shelter elsewhere.

Holland could no longer offer him support. A decree of the

States-General had closed their territory to foreign princes.

Although the Dutch statesmen in their patriotism and foresight

had rejected the foolish pretensions of St. John, they sincerely

wished for peace.

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A solemn embassy was despatched to London to resume negotiations.

Upon their appearance in Westminster Hall, the speaker and all

the members of Parliament rose and removed their hats; but this

act of courtesy indicated no modification in their pride and

rancor. They listened to the proposals of the Dutchmen with the

obstinacy of haughty power, confident in its might, ardent in

avenging itself for a disappointment which it held as an insult.

The disposition of the people corresponded with that of

Parliament. More than once the population attacked the house

which the Dutchmen occupied at Chelsea. It was found necessary to

assign a guard to the ambassadors.

Amidst these diplomatic agitations, it suddenly became known

that, on the 12th of May, off Dover, the Dutch fleet, commanded

by Tromp, and the English fleet, commanded by Blake, had

encountered and fought. It was said that Tromp had refused a

salute peremptorily demanded by Blake, and that upon a reiterated

summons, he had fired upon the admiral's vessel. The struggle had

been brisk, but without decisive issue. Popular wrath was the

more immediate result of this. All the explanations given by a

new envoy, Adrian de Paw, and the assurance that Tromp had

received no instructions, did not appease the chiefs of the

Council of State. On the 7th of July, 1652, war was declared, and

fifteen days later the States-General accepted perforce and with

sadness the challenge which had been thrown down to them.

The navy of the United Provinces at this time was more renowned

than that of England: captains and sailors were inured to long

cruises; their admirals already practiced ingenious contrivances

as yet unknown to the English.

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The latter, on the other hand, possessed larger vessels, well

manned and rigged; they were more ardent in battle, and supported

by a country richer and more powerful than Holland. The war

opened with impassioned activity. Blake dispersed the fleet of

herring-fishers upon the coast of Scotland after having defeated

the men-of-war which protected them. Tromp endeavored to avenge

his compatriots upon the fleet of Sir George Ayscough; but he was

detained in the first place by a calm, and afterwards beaten

about by a storm. Blake, coming to the assistance of Ayscough,

triumphed without fighting. He impudently cruised along the

western coast of the United Provinces before returning to

Yarmouth, leading in his wake his prizes and nine hundred

prisoners.

Tromp gave in his resignation. He belonged to the party of

Orange, and had no taste for serving the States-General. He was

replaced by Michael Ruyter, a man of obscure origin, of popular

renown, a stranger to political parties and passionately devoted

to his country. He soon compelled Ayscough to return into port at

Plymouth, leaving the Dutch masters of the English Channel. He

marvelled at his own success. "It is only," he said, "when it

pleases God to give courage that one gains a victory. This is a

work of Providence which cannot be accounted for by man." Proud

of this victory and being resolved to prosecute the war with

vigor, the States-General gave the command of a new squadron to

Cornelis de Witt, one of the boldest of the aristocratic leaders,

and committed the mistake of placing Ruyter under his orders.

Cornelis de Witt was courageous in the extreme, but harsh and

little liked by the sailors.

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The Dutch encountered the fleet of Blake. Ruyter was not in favor

of giving battle; but de Witt pressed forward. After a desperate

fight, which lasted during the whole of the day, the advantage

rested everywhere with the English, so much so, that on the

morrow it was impossible for the fleet of the States-General to

resume the struggle, as Cornelis de Witt wished. They were

compelled to return into the ports, followed by Blake, who was

anxious to make manifest his victory. Constrained by the public

voice, the States restored to Tromp the command of their forces.

Ruyter offered no objection to serving under his orders. Cornelis

de Witt was sick and refused. On the 30th of November, 1652, at

the moment when the Parliament of England and its admirals

thought themselves absolved from fresh efforts, the Dutch fleet,

composed of seventy-three vessels, attacked Blake, who had but

thirty-seven. The English were defeated, and Tromp cruised about

the Channel as a conqueror, carrying a broom at his mainmast

head, thus braving the English navy even in those seas of which

it claimed the sovereignty.

Parliament did not accept the resignation tendered by Blake; it

sent him important reinforcements. In all the ports the available

vessels were put in requisition, and two months and a half later,

on the 18th of February, 1653, Blake in his turn was seeking the

enemy. Tromp was occupied in protecting a rich convoy of merchant

vessels, which impeded his progress. He fought for four days with

consummate skill and prudence, continuing to press forward

towards the coast of Holland, in order to conduct his convoy

thither. When he had at length succeeded in this object, an

incontestable advantage rested with the English.

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Parliament made a great demonstration over a victory which had

cost them dear. The war did not progress, and the expenses were

becoming enormous. The courts of Europe, divided between the two

belligerents, sought to embitter the hostilities rather than to

appease them. The ambitious and improvident arrogance of the

English Parliament had plunged it into a policy which placed the

Commonwealth at contention with its natural friends without

securing any ally. At home, it had to contend against

ever-renewing difficulties, and to apply increasing severities.

It was from the Cavaliers that the money necessary for supporting

the war was extorted. While tyranny was resorted to for providing

for the wants which a bad foreign policy had created, Cromwell,

powerful but inactive, was silently undermining the ground

beneath the feet of Parliament, by skillfully taking advantage of

its faults.

Cromwell was inactive for good reasons. On the morrow of the

victory of Worcester, Parliament, anxious both to diminish its

burdens and to enfeeble its rival, had disbanded a portion of the

army, while preparing for further reductions. The general, loaded

with presents and with marks of gratitude, had returned to take

his place in the House, where his presence soon caused itself to

be felt. By his influence, and notwithstanding the resistance of

the majority of the Republican leaders, two popular measures were

voted, a general amnesty act and an electoral law decreeing that

Parliament should not sit beyond the 3d of November, 1654. This

was in the month of November, 1651: a duration of three years

longer was thus assigned to the contest which was beginning

between Cromwell and Parliament. Cromwell had too much good sense

not to be prepared to wait.

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He appreciated correctly what was possible, and he stopped even

when his desires and his schemes would have led him further. He

had succeeded in fixing a term to the existence of Parliament.

His efforts, now impassioned and brilliant, now secret and

indirect, were soon to harass the power with which he was

contending. He contrived with this object to put every means into

operation.

The spirit of innovation had taken possession of the young

Republic. On all hands bold projects, chimerical or practical,

were submitted to Cromwell, who knew by instinct the popular

wants and desires. He had constituted himself the patron of

reform in the matter of civil proceedings, and more than once he

authorized his officers to constitute themselves as improvised

judges. In ecclesiastical matters, amidst new sects which sprang

up every day, Cromwell never abandoned two great principles, the

liberty of conscience, and the regular preaching of the Gospel.

The Presbyterians furnished him with pious and learned preachers

in great numbers. The persecuted of all parties claimed his

support. In all ranks and beneath all Christian standards, he

established relations and nourished fruitful hopes. He wished to

assure himself of the forces which he had conquered, and to act

in a manner favorable to his soldiers.

Upon one occasion, at the residence of the speaker of the House

of Commons, Lenthall, some leaders of the army and of Parliament

were assembled. Cromwell submitted to the little assemblage the

question of a stable government for the nation. The lawyer,

Whitelocke, came at once to the point. "I should humbly offer,"

he said, "whether it be not requisite to be understood in what

way this settlement is desired. Whether of an absolute Republic,

or with any mixture of monarchy?"

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That in fact was the question constantly revived and discussed in

these social meetings, which every day assumed more importance.

Cromwell prudently advocated the establishment of a single power.

He had perceived that the thoughts of some rested upon the young

Duke of Gloucester, still in the hands of Parliament. He

contrived to restore the little prince to liberty. The child was

sent to Holland, to his sister, the Princess of Orange. This

royalist competitor being sent away, Cromwell prosecuted his

purpose. His daughter, the widow of Ireton, had recently married

Fleetwood. He nominated his son-in-law to the command of the

forces of Ireland, taking to his own charge the expenditure of

Lambert while he had been Lord Deputy. The petitions of the army

recommenced. "Take care," said Whitelocke to Cromwell, "this

manner of causing the officers to petition thus, sword in hand,

might very possibly be inconvenient to you some day!" But

Cromwell was more anxious about the success of his schemes than

concerned about the embarrassments which he might cause to spring

up. He proceeded towards his end, feeling his way at each step.

"What if a man should take upon himself to be king?" he said one

day to Whitelocke after a long conversation. "As to your own

person," said the shrewd lawyer, "the title of king would be of

no advantage." And in expounding the reasons for his remark, he

finally proposed to Cromwell a negotiation with King Charles II.

and the Scotch, for effecting a restoration. Cromwell did not

reply, and changed the conversation, being urged in different

directions by his own desire and by the adverse opinions of the

men whom he questioned.

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The English army was devoted to him; that of Ireland was more

divided, owing to the influence of Ludlow. Streater, an officer

in this army, came to England with some comrades, to oppose the

designs which he foresaw. He accused the general of seeking his

own aggrandizement. Harrison resented this accusation, saying

that he was sure that the general only wished to open up the way

for the reign of Christ. "Well!" replied Streater, "let Christ

come then before Christmas, otherwise He will come too late."

The danger was not so urgent. Cromwell allowed his adversaries

time to wear themselves out in public estimation. He ceased to

oppose the new reduction of the army. Absolute master of the

fortune and the fate of all, Parliament soon came to be regarded

in public opinion as an iniquitous and corrupt judge.

This was the juncture which Cromwell had waited for. Impelled by

the country, the Republican chiefs themselves prepared the bill

of dissolution and the law according to which a new Parliament

was to be elected. They still hoped to mislead the public; their

proposal retained the sitting members as the nucleus of the new

assembly; it was represented as a question of completing, not of

renewing Parliament.

Cromwell was not in the House, on the 20th of April, 1653, when

Vane, Martyn, and Sydney introduced what they styled the

Dissolution Bill, while urging its immediate adoption. Colonel

Ingoldsby arrived in haste at Whitehall.

[Image]

Cromwell Dismissing The Long Parliament.

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"If you wish to do something decisive," he said to Cromwell, "you

have not a moment to lose." The general proceeded in the

direction of Westminster, posted some troops at the gates, and

entered, sitting quietly in his usual place. St. John approached

him. "I have come," said Cromwell, "with a purpose of doing what

grieves me to the very soul, and what I have earnestly with tears

besought the Lord not to impose upon me. I would rather a

thousand times be torn piecemeal than do it, but there is a

necessity which weighs upon me in order to the glory of God and

good of the nation." Vane had ceased speaking: the speaker was

about to put the Bill to a vote. Cromwell rose and began to

speak, in the first place doing justice to Parliament, to its

zeal and to the services which it had rendered to the country;

then gradually changing his tone, he reproached the members of

the House with their procrastinations and their corruption. "You

only wish to perpetuate yourselves in power. Your hour has come;

the Lord has done with you--He who has taken me by the hand and

who causes me to do what I do." Vane and his friends endeavored

to reply; all spoke together. Cromwell replaced his hat upon his

head, and stepping into the middle of the Hall, "I will put an

end to your prating," he exclaimed. Upon a sign from Harrison,

the door opened, and a platoon of musketeers entered the Hall.

"You are no Parliament, get you gone," said the general; "give

place to honester men!" And as Lenthall refused to quit the

chair, "Take him down then yourself," said Cromwell. Harrison

placed his hand upon the robe of the speaker, who submitted. The

members resisted. "It is contrary to morality and common

honesty," exclaimed Vane, "it is an indignity."

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"Oh, Sir Harry Vane, Sir Harry Vane," replied Cromwell, "you

might have anticipated all this, but you are but a juggler; the

Lord deliver me from Sir Harry Vane." He addressed the members

one by one as they issued forth, reproaching them for their

faults and vices. The Hall was becoming empty; the general caused

the papers to be seized, taking from the hands of the clerk on

duty the Dissolution Bill which was about to have been put to the

vote. He alone remained and caused the doors to be locked. As he

returned to Whitehall, "I did not think of doing this," he said

to his friends who were awaiting him, "but I felt the Spirit of

God so strong with me that I heeded neither flesh nor blood."

A few hours later, the Council of State was also dissolved,

notwithstanding the protestations of the president, Bradshaw. On

the morrow, the passers-by stopped before Westminster Hall, to

read a large placard, the night-work of some cavalier, on which

were the words, written in large characters: "This house is now

to be let unfurnished."

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