wildest zeal, detested that character which could use religious professions for the purposes of temporal advancement. His eldest daughter, married to Fleetwood, had adopted republican principles so vehemently, that she could not behold even her own father intrusted with uncontrollable power. His other daughters were strongly attached to the royal cause; but above all, Mrs. Claypole, his favourite daughter, who, upon her death-bed, upbraided him with that criminal ambition which had led him to trample on the throne.

A

Every hour added some new disquietude. Lord Fairfax, sir William Waller, and many of the heads of the presbyterians, had secretly entered into an engagement to destroy him. His administration, so expensive both at home and abroad, had exhausted his revenue, and he was left considerably in debt. One conspiracy was no sooner detected, than another rose from its ruins : and, to increase his calamity, he was now taught upon reasoning principles, that his death was not only desirable, but his assassination would be meritorious. book was published by colonel Titus, a man who had formerly been attached to his cause, entitled, Killing no murder. Of all the pamphlets that came forth at that time, or perhaps of those that have since appeared, this was the most eloquent and masterly. "Shall we," said this popular declaimer," who would not suffer the lion to invade us, tamely stand to be devoured by the wolf?" Cromwell read this spirited treatise, and was never seen to smile more.

All peace was now for ever banished from his mind. He found that the grandeur to which he had sacrificed his former peace was only an inlet to fresh inquietudes. The fears of assassination haunted him in all his walks, and were perpetually present to his imagination. He wore armour under his clothes, and always kept pistols

in his pockets. His aspect was clouded by settled gloom; and he regarded every stranger with a glance of timid suspicion. He always travelled with hurry, and was ever attended by a numerous guard. He never returned from any place by the road he went, and seldom slept above three nights together in the same chamber. Society terrified him, as there he might meet an enemy; solitude was terrible, as he was there unguarded by every friend.

A tertian ague kindly came at last to deliver him from this life of horror and anxiety. For the space of a week no dangerous symptoms appeared; and in the intervals of the fits he was able to walk abroad. At length the fever increased, and he himself began to dread his approaching fate; but he was taught to consider his present disorder as no way fatal, by his fanatic chaplains, on whom he entirely relied. When his chaplain, Goodwin, told him that the elect would never be damned, "Then I am sure," said he, " that I am safe; for I was once in a state of grace." His physicians were sensible of his dangerous case; but he was so much encouraged by the revelations of his preachers, that he considered his recovery as no way doubtful. "I tell you," cried he to the physicians, "that I shall not die of this distemper; I am well assured of my recovery. Favourable answers have been returned from Heaven, not only to my own supplications, but likewise to those of the godly, who have a closer correspondence with God than I. Ye may have skill in your profession ; but nature can do more than all the physicians in the world; and God is far above nature." Upon a fastday appointed on account of his sickness, his ministers thanked God for the undoubted pledges they had received of his recovery. Notwithstanding these assurances, the fatal symptoms every hour increased; and

the physicians were obliged to declare that he could not survive the next fit. The council now therefore came to know his last commands concerning the succession ; but his senses were gone, and he was just able to answer yes to their demand, whether his son Richard should be appointed to succeed him. He died on the third day of September, that very day which he had always considered as the most fortunate of his life: he was then fifty-nine years old, and had usurped the government nine years.

CHAPTER XII.

From the Death of OLIVER CROMWELL to the
RESTORATION.

A. D. 1658-1660.

WHATEVER might have been the differences of interest after the death of the usurper, the influence of his name was still sufficient to get Richard his son proclaimed protector in his room. It was probably to the numerous parties that were formed in the kingdom, and their hatred to each other, that Richard owed his peaceable advancement to this high station. He was naturally no way ambitious, being rather mild, easy, and goodnatured; and honour seemed rather to pursue than to attract him. He had nothing active in his disposition; no talents for business, no knowledge of government, no influence among the soldiery, no importance in council.

It was found necessary, upon his first advancement, to call a parliament, to furnish the supplies to carry on the ordinary operations of government. The house of commons was formed legally enough; but the house of

lords consisted only of those persons of no real title, who were advanced to that dignified station by the late protector. But it was not on the parliament that the army chose to rely. The principal malcontent officers established a meeting at general Fleetwood's, which, as he dwelt in Wallingford-house, was called the Cabal of Wallingford. The result of their deliberations was a A. D. remonstrance, that the command of the army 1659. should be intrusted to some person in whom they might all confide; and it was plainly given to understand that the young protector was not that person.

A proposal so daring and dangerous did not fail to alarm Richard; he applied to his council, and they referred it to the parliament. Both agreed to consider it as an audacious attempt, and a vote was passed that there should be no meeting, or general council of officers, without the protector's permission. This brought affairs immediately to a rupture. The palace of the protector was the next day surrounded by a body of officers; and one Desborough, a man of a clownish brutal nature, penetrating into his apartment with an armed retinue, threatened him if he should refuse. Richard wanted resolution to defend what had been conferred upon him; he dissolved the parliament then, and soon after he signed his own abdication in form.

Henry Cromwell, his younger brother, who was appointed to the command in Ireland, followed the protector's example, and resigned his commission without striking a blow. Richard lived many years after his resignation, at first on the continent, and afterwards upon his paternal fortune at home. He was thought by the ignorant to be unworthy of the happiness of his exaltation; but he knew by his tranquillity in private, that he had made the most fortunate escape.

The officers being once more left to themselves, de

termined to replace the remnant of the old parliament which had beheaded the king, and which Cromwell had so disgracefully turned out of the house. The system which those members maintained was called the good old cause, from their attachment to republican principles; and to these men the cabal of officers for a while delivered up their own authority. The members, who had been secluded by colonel Pride's purge, as it was called, attempted, but in vain, to resume their seats among them.

The Rump parliament (for that was the name it went by), although reinstated by the army, was yet very vigorous in its attempts to lessen the power by which it was replaced. The members began their design of humbling the army by new-modeling part of the forces, by cashiering such of the officers as they feared, and appointing others on whom they could rely, in their room. attempts, however, were not unobserved by the officers; and their discontent would have broken out into some resolution fatal to the parliament, had it not been checked by apprehensions of danger from the royalists, or presbyterians, who were considered as the common enemy.

These

In this exigence, the officers held several conferences, with a design to continue their power. They at length came to a resolution, usual enough in these times, to dissolve that assembly by which they were so vehemently opposed. Accordingly, Lambert, one of the general officers, drew up a chosen body of troops; and placing them in the streets which led to Westminsterhall, when the speaker Lenthall proceeded in his carriage to the house, he ordered the horses to be turned, and very civilly conducted him home. The other members were likewise intercepted, and the army returned to their quarters to observe a solemn fast, which generally either preceded or attended their outrages.