Chapter LXII: The Commonwealth (1)

{1658.} All the arts of Cromwell's policy had been so often practised, that they began to lose their effect; and his power, instead of being confirmed by time and success, seemed every day to become more uncertain and precarious. His friends the most closely connected with him, and his counsellors the most trusted, were entering into cabals against his authority; and with all his penetration into the characters of men, he could not find any ministers on whom he could rely. Men of probity and honor, he knew, would not submit to be the instruments of a usurpation violent and illegal: those who were free from the restraint of principle, might betray, from interest, that cause in which, from no better motives, they had enlisted themselves. Even those on whom he conferred any favor, never deemed the recompense an equivalent for the sacrifices which they made to obtain it: whoever was refused any demand, justified his anger by the specious colors of conscience and of duty. Such difficulties surrounded the protector, that his dying at so critical a time is esteemed by many the most fortunate circumstance that ever attended him; and it was thought, that all his courage and dexterity could not much longer have extended his usurped administration.

But when that potent hand was removed which conducted the government, every one expected a sudden dissolution of the unwieldy and ill-jointed fabric. Richard, a young man of no experience, educated in the country, accustomed to a retired life, unacquainted with the officers, and unknown to them, recommended by no military exploits, endeared by no familiarities, could not long, it was thought, maintain that authority which his father had acquired by so many valorous achievements and such signal successes. And when it was observed, that he possessed only the virtues of private life, which in his situation were so many vices; that indolence, incapacity, irresolution, attended his facility and good nature, the various hopes of men were excited by the expectation of some great event or revolution. For some time, however, the public was disappointed in this opinion. The council recognized the succession of Richard: Fleetwood, in whose favor it was supposed, Cromwell had formerly made a will, renounced all claim or pretension to the protectorship: Henry, Richard's brother, who governed Ireland with popularity, insured him the obedience of that kingdom: Monk, whose authority was well established in Scotland, being much attached to the family of Cromwell, immediately proclaimed the new protector: the army, every where, the fleet, acknowledged his title: above ninety addresses, from the counties and most considerable corporations, congratulated him on his accession, in all the terms of dutiful allegiance: foreign ministers were forward in paying him the usual compliments: and Richard, whose moderate, unambitious character never would have led him to contend for empire, was tempted to accept of so rich an inheritance, which seemed to be tendered to him by the consent of all mankind.

It was found necessary to call a parliament, in order to furnish supplies, both for the ordinary administration, and for fulfilling those engagements with foreign princes, particularly Sweden, into which the late protector had entered. In hopes of obtaining greater influence in elections, the ancient right was restored to all the small boroughs; and the counties were allowed no more than their usual members.

{1659.} The house of peers, or the other house, consisted of the same persons that had been appointed by Oliver.

All the commons, at first, signed without hesitation an engagement not to alter the present government. They next proceeded to examine the humble petition and advice; and after great opposition and many vehement debates, it was at length, with much difficulty, carried by the court party to confirm it. An acknowledgment, too, of the authority of the other house, was extorted from them; though it was resolved not to treat this house of peers with any greater respect than they should return to the commons. A declaration was also made, that the establishment of the other house should nowise prejudice the right of such of the ancient peers as had from the beginning of the war adhered to the parliament. But in all these proceedings, the opposition among the commons was so considerable, and the debates were so much prolonged, that all business was retarded, and great alarm given to the partisans of the young protector.

But there was another quarter from which greater dangers were justly apprehended. The most considerable officers of the army, and even Fleetwood, brother-in-law to the protector, were entering into cabals against him. No character in human society is more dangerous than that of the fanatic; because, if attended with weak judgment, he is exposed to the suggestions of others; if supported by more discernment, he is entirely governed by his own illusions, which sanctify his most selfish views and passions. Fleetwood was of the former species; and as he was extremely addicted to a republic, and even to the fifth monarchy or dominion of the saints, it was easy for those who had insinuated themselves into his confidence, to instil disgusts against the dignity of protector. The whole republican party in the army, which was still considerable, Fitz, Mason, Moss, Farley, united themselves to that general. The officers, too, of the same party, whom Cromwell had discarded, Overton, Ludlow, Rich, Okey, Alured, began to appear, and to recover that authority which had been only for a time suspended. A party, likewise, who found themselves eclipsed in Richard's favor, Sydenham, Kelsey, Berry, Haines, joined the cabal of the others. Even Desborow, the protector's uncle, lent his authority to that faction. But above all, the intrigues of Lambert, who was now roused from his retreat, inflamed all those dangerous humors, and threatened the nation with some great convulsion. The discontented officers established their meetings in Fleetwood's apartments; and because he dwelt in Wallingford House, the party received a denomination from that place.

Richard, who possessed neither resolution nor penetration, was prevailed on to give an unguarded consent for calling a general council of officers, who might make him proposals, as they pretended, for the good of the army. No sooner were they assembled than they voted a remonstrance. They there lamented, that the good old cause, as they termed it, that is, the cause for which they had engaged against the late king, was entirely neglected; and they proposed as a remedy, that the whole military power should be intrusted to some person in whom they might all confide. The city militia, influenced by two aldermen, Tichburn and Ireton, expressed the same resolution of adhering to the good old cause.

The protector was justly alarmed at those movements among the officers. The persons in whom he chiefly confided, were all of them, excepting Broghill, men of civil characters and professions; Fiennes, Thurloe, Whitlocke, Wolseley, who could only assist him with their advice and opinion. He possessed none of those arts which were proper to gain an enthusiastic army. Murmurs being thrown out against some promotions which he had made, "Would you have me," said he, "prefer none but the godly? Here is Dick Ingoldsby," continued he, "who can neither pray nor preach; yet will I trust him before ye all."[*] This imprudence gave great offence to the pretended saints. The other qualities of the protector were correspondent to these sentiments: he was of a gentle, humane, and generous disposition. Some of his party offering to put an end to those intrigues by the death of Lambert, he declared that he would not purchase power or dominion by such sanguinary measures.

The parliament was no less alarmed at the military cabals. They voted that there should be no meeting or general council of officers, except with the protector's consent, or by his orders. This vote brought affairs immediately to a rupture. The officers hastened to Richard, and demanded of him the dissolution of the parliament. Desborow, a man of a clownish and brutal nature, threatened him, if he should refuse compliance. The protector wanted the resolution to deny, and possessed little ability to resist. The parliament was dissolved; and by the same act, the protector was by every one considered as effectually dethroned. Soon after, he signed his demission in form.

Henry, the deputy of Ireland, was endowed with the same moderate disposition as Richard; but as he possessed more vigor and capacity, it was apprehended that he might make resistance. His popularity in Ireland was great; and even his personal authority, notwithstanding his youth, was considerable. Had his ambition been very eager, he had, no doubt, been able to create disturbance: but being threatened by Sir Hardress Waller, Colonel John Jones, and other officers, he very quietly resigned his command, and retired to England. He had once entertained thoughts, which he had not resolution to execute, of proclaiming the king in Dublin.[**]

* Ludlow.

** Carte's Collections, vol. ii. p. 243.

Thus fell, suddenly and from an enormous height, but, by a rare fortune, without any hurt or injury, the family of the Cromwells. Richard continued to possess an estate, which was moderate, and burdened too with a large debt, which he had contracted for the interment of his father. After the restoration, though he remained unmolested, he thought proper to travel for some years; and at Pezenas, in Languedoc, he was introduced under a borrowed name to the prince of Conti. That prince, talking of English affairs, broke out into admiration of Cromwell's courage and capacity. "But as for that poor, pitiful fellow Richard," said he, "what has become of him? How could he be such a blockhead as to reap no greater benefit from all his father's crimes and successes?" Richard extended his peaceful and quiet life to an extreme old age, and died not till the latter end of Queen Anne's reign. His social virtues, more valuable than the greatest capacity, met with a recompense more precious than noisy fame, and more suitable--contentment and tranquillity.

The council of officers, now possessed of supreme authority, deliberated what form of government they should establish. Many of them seemed inclined to exercise the power of the sword in the most open manner; but as it was apprehended, that the people would with great difficulty be induced to pay taxes levied by arbitrary will and pleasure, it was agreed to preserve the shadow of civil administration, and to revive the long parliament, which had been expelled by Cromwell. That assembly could not be dissolved, it was asserted, but by their own consent; and violence had interrupted, but was not able to destroy, their right to government. The officers also expected, that as these members had sufficiently felt their own weakness, they would be contented to act in subordination to the military commanders, and would thenceforth allow all the authority to remain where the power was so visibly vested.

The officers applied to Lenthal, the speaker, and proposed to him, that the parliament should resume their seats. Lenthal was of a low, timid spirit; and being uncertain what issue might attend these measures, was desirous of evading the proposal. He replied, that he could by no means comply with the desire of the officers; being engaged in a business of far greater importance to himself, which he could not omit on any account, because it concerned the salvation of his own soul. The officers pressed him to tell what it might be. He was preparing, he said, to participate of the Lord's supper, which he resolved to take next Sabbath. They insisted, that mercy was preferable to sacrifice; and that he could not better prepare himself for that great duty, than by contributing so the public service. All their remonstrances had no effect.

However, on the appointed day, the speaker, being informed that a quorum of the house was likely to meet, thought proper, notwithstanding the salvation of his soul, as Ludlow observes, to join them; and the house immediately proceeded upon business. The secluded members attempted, but in vain, to resume their seats among them.

The numbers of this parliament were small, little exceeding seventy members: the authority in the nation, ever since they had been purged by the army, was extremely diminished; and, after their expulsion, had been totally annihilated; but being all of them men of violent ambition, some of them men of experience and capacity, they were resolved, since they enjoyed the title of the supreme authority, and observed that some appearance of a parliament was requisite for the purposes of the army, not to act a subordinate part to those who acknowledged themselves their servants. They chose a council, in which they took care that the officers of Wallingford House should not be the majority: they appointed Fleetwood lieutenant-general, but inserted in his commission, that it should only continue during the pleasure of the house: they chose seven persons, who should nominate to such commands as became vacant; and they voted, that all commissions should be received from the speaker, and be signed by him in the name of the house. These precautions, the tendency of which was visible, gave great disgust to the general officers; and their discontent would immediately have broken out into some resolution fatal to the parliament, had it not been checked by the apprehensions of danger from the common enemy.

The bulk of the nation consisted of royalists and Presbyterians; and to both these parties the dominion of the pretended parliament had ever been to the last degree odious. When that assembly was expelled by Cromwell, contempt had succeeded to hatred; and no reserve had been used in expressing the utmost derision against the impotent ambition of these usurpers. Seeing them reinstated in authority, all orders of men felt the highest indignation; together with apprehensions, lest such tyrannical rulers should exert their power by taking vengeance upon their enemies, who had so openly insulted them. A secret reconciliation, therefore, was made between the rival parties; and it was agreed, that, burying former enmities in oblivion, all efforts should be used for the overthrow of the rump; so they called the parliament, in allusion to that part of the animal body. The Presbyterians, sensible from experience that their passion for liberty, how ever laudable, had carried them into unwarrantable excesses were willing to lay aside ancient jealousies, and at all hazards to restore the royal family. The nobility, the gentry, bent their passionate endeavors to the same enterprise, by which alone they could be redeemed from slavery. And no man was so remote from party, so indifferent to public good, as not to feel the most ardent wishes for the dissolution of that tyranny, which, whether the civil or the military part of it were considered, appeared equally oppressive and ruinous to the nation.

Mordaunt, who had so narrowly escaped on his trial before the high court of justice, seemed rather animated than daunted with past danger; and having by his resolute behavior obtained the highest confidence of the royal party, he was now become the centre of all their conspiracies. In many counties, a resolution was taken to rise in arms. Lord Willoughby of Parham and Sir Horatio Townshend undertook to secure Lynne. General Massey engaged to seize Gloucester: Lord Newport, Littleton, and other gentlemen, conspired to take possession of Shrewsbury; Sir George Booth of Chester; Sir Thomas Middleton of North Wales; Arundel, Pollar, Granville, Trelawney, of Plymouth and Exeter. A day was appointed for the execution of all these enterprises. And the king, attended by the duke of York, had secretly arrived at Calais, with a resolution of putting himself at the head of his loyal subjects. The French court had promised to supply him with a small body of forces, in order to countenance the insurrections of the English.

This combination was disconcerted by the infidelity of Sir Richard Willis. That traitor continued with the parliament the same correspondence which he had begun with Cromwell. He had engaged to reveal all conspiracies, so far as to destroy their effect; but reserved to himself, if he pleased, the power of concealing the conspirators. He took care never to name any of the old genuine cavaliers, who had zealously adhered, and were resolved still to adhere, to the royal cause in every fortune. These men he esteemed; these he even loved. He betrayed only the new converts among the Presbyterians, or such lukewarm royalists as, discouraged with their disappointments, were resolved to expose themselves to no more hazards; a lively proof how impossible it is, even for the most corrupted minds, to divest themselves of all regard to morality and social duty.

Many of the conspirators in the different counties were thrown into prison: others, astonished at such symptoms of secret treachery, left their houses, or remained quiet: the most tempestuous weather prevailed during the whole time appointed for the rendezvouses; insomuch that some found it impossible to join their friends, and others were dismayed with fear and superstition at an incident so unusual during the summer season. Of all the projects, the only one which took effect, was that of Sir George Booth for the seizing of Chester. The earl of Derby, Lord Herbert of Cherbury, Mr. Lee, Colonel Morgan, entered into this enterprise. Sir William Middleton joined Booth with some troops from North Wales; and the malecontents were powerful enough to subdue all in that neighborhood who ventured to oppose them. In their declaration they made no mention of the king; they only demanded a free and full parliament.

The parliament was justly alarmed. How combustible the materials, they well knew; and the fire was now fallen among them. Booth was of a family eminently Presbyterian; and his conjunction with the royalists they regarded as a dangerous symptom. They had many officers whose fidelity they could more depend on than that of Lambert; but there was no one in whose vigilance and capacity they reposed such confidence. They commissioned him to suppress the rebels. He made incredible haste. Booth imprudently ventured himself out of the walls of Chester, and exposed, in the open field, his raw troops against these hardy veterans. He was soon routed and taken prisoner. His whole army was dispersed. And the parliament had no further occupation than to fill all the jails with their open or secret enemies. Designs were even entertained of transporting the loyal families to Barbadoes, Jamaica, and the other colonies, lest they should propagate in England children of the same malignant affections with themselves.

This success hastened the ruin of the parliament. Lambert, at the head of a body of troops, was no less dangerous to them than Booth. A thousand pounds, which they sent him to buy a jewel, were employed by him in liberalities to his officers. At his instigation, they drew up a petition, and transmitted it to Fleetwood, a weak man, and an honest, if sincerity in folly deserve that honorable name. The import of this petition was, that Fleetwood should be made commander-in-chief, Lambert major-general, Desborow lieutenant-general of the horse, Monk major-general of the foot. To which a demand was added, that no officer should be dismissed from his command but by a court martial.

The parliament, alarmed at the danger, immediately cashiered Lambert, Desborow, Berry, Clarke, Barrow, Kelsey, Cobbet. Sir Arthur Hazelrig proposed the impeachment of Lambert for high treason. Fleetwood's commission was vacated, and the command of the army was vested in seven persons, of whom that general was one. The parliament voted, that they would have no more general officers. And they declared it high treason to levy any money without consent of parliament.

But these votes were feeble weapons in opposition to the swords of the soldiery. Lambert drew some troops together, in order to decide the controversy. Okey, who was leading his regiment to the assistance of the parliament, was deserted by them. Morley and Moss brought their regiments into Palace-yard, resolute to oppose the violence of Lambert. But that artful general knew an easy way of disappointing them. He placed his soldiers in the streets which led to Westminster Hall. When the speaker came in his coach, he ordered the horses to be turned, and very civilly conducted him home. The other members were in like manner intercepted. And the two regiments in Palace-yard, observing that they were exposed to derision, peaceably retired to their quarters. A little before this bold enterprise, a solemn fast had been kept by the army; and it is remarked, that this ceremony was the usual prelude to every signal violence which they committed.

The officers found themselves again invested with supreme authority, of which they intended forever to retain the substance, however they might bestow on others the empty shadow or appearance. They elected a committee of twenty-three persons, of whom seven were officers. These they pretended to invest with sovereign authority; and they called them a "committee of safety." They spoke every where of summoning a parliament chosen by the people; but they really took some steps towards assembling a military parliament, composed of officers elected from every regiment in the service.[*]

* Ludlow.

Throughout the three kingdoms there prevailed nothing but the melancholy fears, to the nobility and gentry of a bloody massacre and extermination; to the rest of the people, of perpetual servitude beneath those sanctified robbers, whose union and whose divisions would be equally destructive and who, under pretence of superior illuminations, would soon extirpate, if possible, all private morality, as they had already done all public law and justice, from the British dominions.

During the time that England continued in this distracted condition, the other kingdoms of Europe were hastening towards a composure of those differences by which they had so long been agitated. The parliament, while it preserved authority, instead of following the imprudent politics of Cromwell, and lending assistance to the conquering Swede, embraced the maxims of the Dutch commonwealth, and resolved, in conjunction with that state, to mediate by force an accommodation between the northern crowns. Montague was sent with a squadron to the Baltic, and carried with him, as ambassador, Algernon Sidney, the celebrated republican. Sidney found the Swedish monarch employed in the siege of Copenhagen, the capital of his enemy; and was highly pleased that, with a Roman arrogance, he could check the progress of royal victories, and display in so signal a manner the superiority of freedom above tyranny. With the highest indignation, the ambitious prince was obliged to submit to the imperious mediation of the two commonwealths. "It is cruel," said he, "that laws should be prescribed me by parricides and pedlers." But his whole army was enclosed in an island, and might be starved by the combined squadrons of England and Holland. He was obliged therefore to quit his prey, when he had so nearly gotten possession of it; and having agreed to a pacification with Denmark, he retired into his own country, where he soon after died.

The wars between France and Spain were also concluded by the treaty of the Pyrenees. These animosities had long been carried on between the rival states, even while governed by a sister and brother, who cordially loved and esteemed each other. But politics, which had so long prevailed over these friendly affections, now at last yielded to their influence; and never was the triumph more full and complete. The Spanish Low Countries, if not every part of that monarchy, lay almost entirely at the mercy of its enemy. Broken armies, disordered finances, slow and irresolute counsels by these resources alone were the dispersed provinces of Spain defended against the vigorous power of France. But the queen regent, anxious for the fate of her brother, employed her authority with the cardinal to stop the progress of the French conquests, and put an end to a quarrel which, being commenced by ambition, and attended with victory, was at last concluded with moderation. The young monarch of France, though aspiring and warlike in his character, was at this time entirely occupied in the pleasures of love and gallantry, and had passively resigned the reins of empire into the hands of his politic minister. And he remained an unconcerned spectator, while an opportunity for conquest was parted with, which he never was able, during the whole course of his active reign, fully to retrieve.

The ministers of the two crowns, Mazarine and Don Louis de Haro, met at the foot of the Pyrenees, in the Isle of Pheasants, a place which was supposed to belong to neither kingdom. The negotiation being brought to an issue by frequent conferences between the ministers, the monarchs themselves agreed to a congress; and these two splendid courts appeared in their full lustre amidst those savage mountains. Philip brought his daughter, Mary Therese, along with him; and giving her in marriage to his nephew Louis, endeavored to cement by this new tie the incompatible interests of the two monarchies. The French king made a solemn renunciation of every succession which might accrue to him in right of his consort; a vain formality, too weak to restrain the ungoverned ambition of princes.

The affairs of England were in so great disorder, that it was not possible to comprehend that kingdom in the treaty, or adjust measures with a power which was in such incessant fluctuation. The king, reduced to despair by the failure of all enterprises for his restoration, was resolved to try the weak resource of foreign succors; and he went to the Pyrenees at the time when the two ministers were in the midst of their negotiations. Don Louis received him with that generous civility peculiar to his nation; and expressed great inclination, had the low condition of Spain allowed him, to give assistance to the distressed monarch. The cautious Mazarine, pleading the alliance of France with the English commonwealth, refused even to see him; and though the king offered to marry the cardinal's niece,[*] he could for the present obtain nothing but empty profusions of respect and protestations of services. The condition of that monarch, to all the world, seemed totally desperate.

* King James's Memoirs.

His friends had been baffled in every attempt for his service: the scaffold had often streamed with the blood of the more active royalists: the spirits of many were broken with tedious imprisonments: the estates of all were burdened by the fines and confiscations which had been levied upon them: no one durst openly avow himself of that party: and so small did their number seem to a superficial view, that, even should the nation recover its liberty, which was deemed nowise probable, it was judged uncertain what form of government it would embrace. But amidst all these gloomy prospects, fortune, by a surprising revolution, was now paving the way for the king to mount, in peace and triumph, the throne of his ancestors. It was by the prudence and loyalty of General Monk that this happy change was at last accomplished.

George Monk, to whom the fate was reserved of reëstablishing monarchy, and finishing the bloody dissensions of three kingdoms, was the second son of a family in Devonshire, ancient and honorable, but lately, from too great hospitality and expense, somewhat fallen to decay. He betook himself in early youth to the profession of arms; and was engaged in the unfortunate expeditions to Cadiz and the Isle of Rhé. After England had concluded peace with all her neighbors, he sought military experience in the Low Countries, the great school of war to all the European nations; and he rose to the command of a company under Lord Goring. This company consisted of two hundred men, of whom a hundred were volunteers, often men of family and fortune, sometimes noblemen, who lived upon their own income in a splendid manner: such a military turn at that time prevailed among the English.

When the sound of war was first heard in this island, Monk returned to England, partly desirous of promotion in his native country, partly disgusted with some ill usage from the states, of which he found reason to complain. Upon the Scottish pacification, he was employed by the earl of Leicester against the Irish rebels; and having obtained a regiment, was soon taken notice of for his military skill, and for his calm and deliberate valor. Without ostentation, expense, or caresses, merely by his humane and equal temper, he gained the good will of the soldiery; who, with a mixture of familiarity and affection, usually called him "honest George Monk," an honorable appellation, which they still continued to him even during his greatest elevation. He was remarkable for his moderation in party; and while all around him were inflamed into rage against the opposite faction, he fell under suspicion from the candor and tranquillity of his behavior. When the Irish army was called over into England, surmises of this kind had been so far credited, that he had even been suspended from his command, and ordered to Oxford, that he might answer the charge laid against him. His established character for truth and sincerity here stood him in great stead; and upon his earnest protestations and declarations, he was soon restored to his regiment, which he joined at the siege of Nantwich. The day after his arrival, Fairfax attacked and defeated the royalists commanded by Biron, and took Colonel Monk prisoner. He was sent to the Tower, where he endured, above two years, all the rigors of poverty and confinement. The king, however, was so mindful as to send him, notwithstanding his own difficulties, a present of one hundred guineas; but it was not till after the royalists were totally subdued that he recovered his liberty. Monk, however distressed, had always refused the most inviting offers from the parliament: but Cromwell, sensible of his merit, having solicited him to engage in the wars against the Irish, who were considered as rebels both by king and parliament, he was not unwilling to repair his broken fortunes by accepting a command which, he flattered himself, was reconcilable to the strictest principles of honor. Having once engaged with the parliament, he was obliged to obey orders; and found himself necessitated to fight both against the marquis of Ormond in Ireland, and against the king himself in Scotland. Upon the reduction of the latter kingdom, Monk was left with the supreme command; and by the equality and justice of his administration, he was able to give contentment to that restless people, now reduced to subjection by a nation whom they hated. No less acceptable was his authority to the officers and soldiers; and foreseeing that the good will of the army under his command might some time be of great service to him, he had with much care and success cultivated their friendship.

The connections which he had formed with Cromwell, his benefactor, preserved him faithful to Richard, who had been enjoined by his father to follow in every thing the directions of General Monk. When the long parliament was restored, Monk, who was not prepared for opposition, acknowledged their authority, and was continued in his command, from which it would not have been safe to attempt dislodging him. After the army had expelled the parliament, he protested against the violence, and resolved, as he pretended, to vindicate their invaded privileges. Deeper designs, either in the king's favor or his own, were from the beginning suspected to be the motive of his actions.

A rivalship had long subsisted between him and Lambert; and every body saw the reason why he opposed the elevation of that ambitious general, by whose success his own authority, he knew, would soon be subverted. But little friendship had ever subsisted between him and the parliamentary leaders; and it seemed nowise probable that he intended to employ his industry, and spend his blood, for the advancement of ene enemy above another. How early he entertained designs for the king's restoration, we know not with certainty: it is likely that, as soon as Richard was deposed, he foresaw that, without such an expedient, it would be impossible ever to bring the nation to a regular settlement. His elder and younger brothers were devoted to the royal cause: the Granvilles, his near relations, and all the rest of his kindred, were in the same interests: he himself was intoxicated with no fumes of enthusiasm, and had maintained no connections with any of the fanatical tribe. His early engagements had been with the king; and he had left that service without receiving any disgust from the royal family. Since he had enlisted himself with the opposite party, he had been guilty of no violence or rigor which might render him obnoxious. His return, therefore, to loyalty, was easy and open; and nothing could be supposed to counterbalance his natural propensity to that measure, except the views of his own elevation, and the prospect of usurping the same grandeur and authority which had been assumed by Cromwell. But from such exorbitant, if not impossible projects, the natural tranquillity and moderation of his temper, the calmness and solidity of his genius, not to mention his age, now upon the decline, seem to have set him at a distance. Cromwell himself, he always asserted,[*] could not long have maintained his usurpation; and any other person, even equal to him in genius, it was obvious, would now find it more difficult to practise arts of which every one from experience was sufficiently aware. It is more agreeable, therefore, to reason as well as candor, to suppose, that Monk, as soon as he put himself in motion, had entertained views of effecting the king's restoration; nor ought any objections, derived from his profound silence even to Charles himself, to be regarded as considerable. His temper was naturally reserved; his circumstances required dissimulation; the king, he knew, was surrounded with spies and traitors; and, upon the whole, it seems hard to interpret that conduct which ought to exalt our idea of his prudence, as a disparagement of his probity.

* Gumble's Life of Monk, p. 93.

Sir John Granville, hoping that the general would engage in the king's service, sent into Scotland his younger brother, a clergyman, Dr. Monk, who carried him a letter and invitation from the king. When the doctor arrived, he found that his brother was then holding a council of officers, and was not to be seen for some hours. In the mean time, he was received and entertained by Price, the general's chaplain, a man of probity, as well as a partisan of the king's. The doctor, having an entire confidence in the chaplain, talked very freely to him about the object of his journey, and engaged him, if there should be occasion, to second his applications. At last, the general arrives; the brothers embrace; and after some preliminary conversation, the doctor opens his business. Monk interrupted him, to know whether he had ever before to any body mentioned the subject. "To nobody," replied his brother, "but to Price, whom I know to be entirely in your confidence." The general, altering his countenance, turned the discourse; and would enter into no further confidence with him, but sent him away with the first opportunity. He would not trust his own brother the moment he knew that he had disclosed the secret, though to a man whom he himself could have trusted.[*]

* Lord Lansdowne's Defence of General Monk.

His conduct in all other particulars was full of the same reserve and prudence; and no less was requisite for effecting the difficult work which he had undertaken. All the officers in his army of whom he entertained any suspicion, he immediately cashiered; Cobbet, who had been sent by the committee of safety, under pretence of communicating their resolutions to Monk, but really with a view of debauching his army, he committed to custody: he drew together the several scattered regiments: he summoned an assembly somewhat resembling a convention of states; and having communicated to them his resolution of marching into England, he received a seasonable, though no great supply of money.

Hearing that Lambert was advancing northward with his army, Monk sent Cloberry and two other commissioners to London, with large professions of his inclination to peace, and with offers of terms for an accommodation. His chief aim was to gain time, and relax the preparations of his enemies. The committee of safety fell into the snare. A treaty was signed by Monk's commissioners; but he refused to ratify it, and complained that they had exceeded their powers. He desired, however, to enter into a new negotiation at Newcastle. The committee willingly accepted this fallacious offer.

Meanwhile these military sovereigns found themselves surrounded on all hands with inextricable difficulties. The nation had fallen into total anarchy; and by refusing the payment of all taxes, reduced the army to the greatest necessities. While Lambert's forces were assembling at Newcastle, Hazelrig and Morley took possession of Portsmouth, and declared for the parliament. A party, sent to suppress them, was persuaded by their commander to join in the same declaration. The city apprentices rose in a tumult, and demanded a free parliament. Though they were suppressed by Colonel Hewson, a man who from the profession of a cobbler had risen to a high rank in the army, the city still discovered symptoms of the most dangerous discontent. It even established a kind of separate government, and assumed the supreme authority within itself. Admiral Lawson with his squadron came into the river, and declared for the parliament. Hazelrig and Morley, hearing of this important event, left Portsmouth, and advanced towards London. The regiments near that city, being solicited by their old officers, who had been cashiered by the committee of safety, revolted again to the parliament. Desborow's regiment, being sent by Lambert to support his friends, no sooner arrived at St. Albans, than it declared for the same assembly.

Fleetwood's hand was found too weak and unstable to support this ill-founded fabric, which every where around him was falling into ruins. When he received intelligence of any murmurs among the soldiers, he would prostrate himself in prayer, and could hardly be prevailed with to join the troops. Even when among them, he would, in the midst of any discourse, invite them all to prayer, and put himself on his knees before them. If any of his friends exhorted him to more vigor, they could get no other answer than, that God had spitten in his face, and would not hear him. Men now ceased to wonder why Lambert had promoted him to the office of general, and had contented himself with the second command in the army.

Lenthal, the speaker, being invited by the officers, again assumed authority, and summoned together the parliament, which twice before had been expelled with so much reproach and ignominy. As soon as assembled, they repealed their act against the payment of excise and customs; they appointed commissioners for assigning quarters to the army; and, without taking any notice of Lambert, they sent orders to the forces under his command immediately to repair to those quarters which were appointed them.

{1660.} Lambert was now in a very disconsolate condition. Monk, he saw, had passed the Tweed at Coldstream, and was advancing upon him. His own soldiers deserted him in great multitudes, and joined the enemy. Lord Fairfax, too, he heard, had raised forces behind him, and had possessed himself of York, without declaring his purpose. The last orders of the parliament so entirely stripped him of his army, that there remained not with him above a hundred horse: all the rest went to their quarters with quietness and resignation; and he himself was, some time after, arrested and committed to the Tower. The other officers, who had formerly been cashiered by the parliament, and who had resumed their commands that they might subdue that assembly, were again cashiered and confined to their houses. Sir Harry Vane and some members who had concurred with the committee of safety, were ordered into a like confinement. And the parliament now seemed to be again possessed of more absolute authority than ever, and to be without any danger of opposition or control.

The republican party was at this time guided by two men, Hazelrig and Vane, who were of opposite characters, and mortally hated each other. Hazelrig, who possessed greater authority in the parliament, was haughty, imperious, precipitate, vainglorious; without civility, without prudence; qualified only by his noisy, pertinacious obstinacy to acquire an ascendant in public assemblies. Vane was noted in all civil transactions for temper, insinuation, address, and a profound judgment; in all religious speculations, for folly and extravagance. He was a perfect enthusiast; and fancying that he was certainly favored with inspiration, he deemed himself, to speak in the language of the times, to be a _man above ordinances_, and, by reason of his perfection, to be unlimited and unrestrained by any rules which govern inferior mortals. These whimseys, mingling with pride, had so corrupted his excellent understanding, that sometimes he thought himself the person deputed to reign on earth for a thousand years over the whole congregation of the faithful.[*]

* Clarendon.

Monk, though informed of the restoration of the parliament, from whom he received no orders, still advanced with his army, which was near six thousand men: the scattered forces in England were above five times more numerous. Fairfax, who had resolved to declare for the king, not being able to make the general open his intentions, retired to his own house in Yorkshire. In all counties through which Monk passed, the prime gentry flocked to him with addresses, expressing their earnest desire that he would be instrumental in restoring the nation to peace and tranquillity, and to the enjoyment of those liberties which by law were their birthright, but of which, during so many years, they had been fatally bereaved; and that, in order to this salutary purpose, he would prevail, either for the restoring of those members who had been secluded before the king's death, or for the election of a new parliament, who might legally and by general consent again govern the nation. Though Monk pretended not to favor these addresses, that ray of hope which the knowledge of his character and situation afforded, mightily animated all men. The tyranny and the anarchy which now equally oppressed the kingdom; the experience of past distractions, the dread of future convulsions, the indignation against military usurpation, against sanctified hypocrisy; all these motives had united every party, except the most desperate, into ardent wishes for the king's restoration, the only remedy for all these fatal evils.

Scot and Robinson were sent as deputies by the parliament, under pretence of congratulating the general, but in reality to serve as spies upon him. The city despatched four of their principal citizens to perform like compliments; and at the same time to confirm the general in his inclination to a free parliament, the object of all men's prayers and endeavors. The authority of Monk could scarcely secure the parliamentary deputies from those insults which the general hatred and contempt towards their masters drew from men of every rank and denomination.

Monk continued his march with few interruptions till he reached St. Albans. He there sent a message to the parliament, desiring them to remove from London those regiments which, though they now professed to return to their duty, had so lately offered violence to that assembly. This message was unexpected, and exceedingly perplexed the house. Their fate, they found, must still depend on a mercenary army; and they were as distant as ever from their imaginary sovereignty. However, they found it necessary to comply. The soldiers made more difficulty. A mutiny arose among them. One regiment in particular, quartered in Somerset House, expressly refused to yield their place to the northern army. But those officers who would gladly on such an occasion have inflamed the quarrel, were absent or in confinement; and for want of leaders, the soldiers were at last, with great reluctance, obliged to submit. Monk with his army took quarters in Westminster.

The general was introduced to the House; and thanks were given him by Lenthal, for the eminent services which he had done his country. Monk was a prudent, not an eloquent speaker. He told the house, that the services which he had been enabled to perform were no more than his duty, and merited not such praises as those with which they were pleased to honor him: that among many persons of greater worth who bore their commission, he had been employed as the instrument of Providence for effecting their restoration; but he considered this service as a step only to more important services, which it was their part to render to the nation: that while on his march, he observed all ranks of men, in all places, to be in earnest expectation of a settlement, after the violent convulsions to which they had been exposed; and to have no prospect of that blessing but from the dissolution of the present parliament, and from the summoning of a new one, free and full, who, meeting without oaths or engagements, might finally give contentment to the nation: that applications had been made to him for that purpose; but that he, sensible of his duty, had still told the petitioners, that the parliament itself, which was now free, and would soon be full, was the best judge of all these measures; and that the whole community ought to acquiesce in their determination: that though he expressed himself in this manner to the people, he must now freely inform the house, that the fewer engagements were exacted, the more comprehensive would their plan prove, and the more satisfaction would it give to the nation: and that it was sufficient for public security, if the fanatical party and the royalists were excluded; since the principles of these factions were destructive either of government or of liberty.

This speech, containing matter which was both agreeable and disagreeable to the house, as well as to the nation, still kept every one in suspense, and upheld that uncertainty in which it seemed the general's interest to retain the public. But it was impossible for the kingdom to remain long in this doubtful situation: the people, as well as the parliament, pushed matters to a decision. During the late convulsions, the payment of taxes had been interrupted; and though the parliament, upon their assembling, renewed the ordinances for impositions, yet so little reverence did the people pay to those legislators, that they gave very slow and unwilling obedience to their commands. The common council of London flatly refused to submit to an assessment required of them; and declared that, till a free and lawful parliament imposed taxes, they never should deem it their duty to make any payment. This resolution, if yielded to, would immediately have put an end to the dominion of the parliament: they were determined, therefore, upon this occasion, to make at once a full experiment of their own power, and of their general's obedience.

Monk received orders to march into the city; to seize twelve persons, the most obnoxious to the parliament; to remove the posts and chains from all the streets; and to take down and break the portcullises and gates of the city; and very few hours were allowed him to deliberate upon the execution of these violent orders. To the great surprise and consternation of all men, Monk prepared himself for obedience. Neglecting the entreaties of his friends, the remonstrances of his officers, the cries of the people, he entered the city in a military manner; he apprehended as many as he could of the proscribed persons, whom he sent to the Tower; with all the circumstances of contempt, he broke the gates and portcullises; and having exposed the city to the scorn and derision of all who hated it, he returned in triumph to his quarters in Westminster.

No sooner had the general leisure to reflect, than he found that this last measure, instead of being a continuation of that cautious ambiguity which he had hitherto maintained, was taking party without reserve, and laying himself, as well as the nation, at the mercy of that tyrannical parliament, whose power and long been odious, as their persons contemptible, to all men. He resolved, therefore, before it were too late, to repair the dangerous mistake into which he had been betrayed, and to show the whole world, still more without reserve, that he meant no longer to be the minister of violence and usurpation. After complaining of the odious service in which ha had been employed, he wrote a letter to the house, reproaching them, as well with the new cabals which they had formed with Vane and Lambert, as with the encouragement given to a fanatical petition presented by Praise-God Barebone; and he required them, in the name of the citizens, soldiers, and whole commonwealth, to issue writs within a week, for the filling of their house, and to fix the time for their own dissolution and the assembling of a new parliament. Having despatched this letter, which might be regarded, he thought, as an undoubted pledge of his sincerity, he marched with his army into the city, and desired Allen, the mayor, to summon a common council at Guildhall. He there made many apologies for the indignity which two days before he had been obliged to put upon them; assured them of his perseverance in the measures which he had adopted; and desired that they might mutually plight their faith for a strict union between city and army, in every enterprise for the happiness and settlement of the commonwealth.

It would be difficult to describe the joy and exultation which displayed itself throughout the city, as soon as intelligence was conveyed of this happy measure embraced by the general. The prospect of peace, concord, liberty, justice, broke forth at once from amidst the deepest darkness in which the nation had ever been involved. The view of past calamities no longer presented dismal prognostics of the future: it tended only to enhance the general exultation for those scenes of happiness and tranquillity which all men now confidently promised themselves. The royalists, the Presbyterians, forgetting all animosities, mingled in common joy and transport, and vowed never more to gratify the ambition of false and factious tyrants by their calamitous divisions. The populace more outrageous in their festivity, made the air resound with acclamations, and illuminated every street with signals of jollity and triumph. Applauses of the general were every where intermingled with detestation against the parliament The most ridiculous inventions were adopted, in order to express this latter passion. At every bonfire rumps were roasted; and where these could no longer be found, pieces of flesh were cut into that shape; and the funeral of the parliament (the populace exclaimed) was celebrated by these symbols of hatred and derision.

The parliament, though in the agonies of despair, made still one effort for the recovery of their dominion. They sent a committee with offers to gain the general. He refused to hear them, except in the presence of some of the secluded members. Though several persons, desperate from guilt and fanaticism, promised to invest him with the dignity of supreme magistrate, and to support his government, he would not hearken to such wild proposals. Having fixed a close correspondence with the city, and established its militia in hands whose fidelity could be relied on, he returned with his army to Westminster, and pursued every proper measure for the settlement of the nation. While he still pretended to maintain republican principles, he was taking large steps towards the reëstablishment of the ancient monarchy.

The secluded members, upon the general's invitation, went to the house, and finding no longer any obstruction, they entered, and immediately appeared to be the majority: most of the Independents left the place. The restored members first repealed all the ordinances by which they had been excluded: they gave Sir George Booth and his party their liberty and estates: they renewed the general's commission, and enlarged his powers: they fixed an assessment for the support of the fleet and army: and having passed these votes for the present composure of the kingdom, they dissolved themselves, and issued writs for the immediate assembling of a new parliament. This last measure had been previously concerted with the general, who knew that all men, however different in affections, expectations, and designs, united in their detestation of the long parliament.

A council of state was established, consisting of men of character and moderation; most of whom, during the civil wars, had made a great figure among the Presbyterians. The militia of the kingdom was put into such hands as would promote order and settlement. These, conjoined with Monk's army, which lay united at London, were esteemed a sufficient check on the more numerous, though dispersed army, of whose inclinations there was still much reason to be diffident Monk, however, was every day removing the more obnoxious officers, and bringing the troops to a state of discipline and obedience.

Overton, governor of Hull, had declared his resolution to keep possession of that fortress till the coming of King Jesus, but when Alured produced the authority of parliament for his delivering the place to Colonel Fairfax, he thought proper to comply.