Commonwealth (Continued). page 4

Having dismissed his parliament, Cromwell had to take summary measures with the host of conspirators which his refractory parliaments had only tended to encourage. Since the " Killing no Murder " of Sexby, there were numbers who were by no means careful to conceal that they loved these doctrines, and persuaded the discontented that to kill Cromwell was to cure all the evils of the nations. The royalists on their part, who had always advocates and practisers of assassination, were more than ever on the alert. On the commencement of the year 1658, the plan of an invasion was completed. The king of Spain furnished one hundred and fifty thousand crowns towards fitting it out: arms, ammunition, and transports were purchased in Holland, and the port of Ostend was to be the place of embarkation. The greatest drawback to the hopes of the royalists were the dissipated and debauched habits of the king. Ormond, writing to Hyde, observed that he feared Charles's immoderate delight in empty, effeminate, and vulgar conversations was become an irresistible part of his nature, and would never suffer him to animate his own designs and the actions of others with that spirit which was necessary for his quality, and much more for his fortunes. Yet this was the man on whom their hopes of the restoration of monarchy was built. Ormond and O'Neil ventured to England in disguise, in order to ascertain what were really the resources and the spirit of the royalists in the country. He there had private communication with all parties - with the earls of Manchester and Denbigh, with Rossiter and Sir William Waller, as presbyterians opposed to Cromwell and the independents; with Saye and Sele and others, who were willing that the king should return on his signing the same articles that his father had offered in the Isle of Wight; and with such of the fanatic levellers as held the opinions of Sexby. But he found little that was encouraging amongst any of them. If we are to believe Clarendon, he was betrayed by one of those in whom he most trusted, Sir Richard Waller, who was high in the confidence of Charles, but was at the same time a paid spy of Cromwell's. It is certain that one day in March the protector said to lord Broghill, "An old friend of yours is in town, the duke of Ormond, now lodged in Drury Lane, at the papist surgeon's there. You had better tell him to be gone." Broghill found that this was the case, and gave Ormond the necessary hint, who hurried back to Bruges, and assured Charles and his court that Cromwell had many enemies, but there was at present no chance of a successful invasion.

But if Cromwell was disposed to allow Ormond to escape, he was compelled to make an example of some other of the royalist agitators. On the 12th of March the protector sent for the lord mayor and aldermen to Whitehall, informed them that the duke of Ormond had been lurking in the city to excite rebellion, and that it was necessary to take strict measures for putting down the seditious of all sorts. At the same time he ordered the fleet to sweep the coasts of the Netherlands, which drove in there two fleets intended for the royalist expedition, and blockaded Ostend. He then determined to bring to justice some of the most incorrigible agitators. Sir Henry Slingsby, who had been confined in Hull ever since the outbreak of Penruddock, had not even there ceased his active resistance, employing himself to corrupt the officers of the garrison, who, being instructed by the governor, appeared to listen to his views, so that ere long he was emboldened to offer them commissions from Charles Stuart. Another person arrested was Dr. Hewet, an episcopalian clergymen, who preached at St. Gregory's, near St. Paul's, and was a most indefatigable advocate of a royal invasion. There were numbers of the royalist apprentices, and others in the city, who were not patient enough to wait for the invasion; they resolved to rise on the 15th of May, fire the houses near the Tower, and by sound of drum proclaim the king. The protector told Thurloe that "it was not fit that there should be a plot of this kind every winter," and Thurloe had made himself thoroughly aware of all their proceedings. As the time approached, the ringleaders were seized at the Mermaid, in Cheapside, a high court of justice was appointed according to act of parliament, and Slingsby, Hewet, and the city incendiaries were tried. There was ample proof of their guilt. Hewet denied the authority of the court and refused to plead, but he was all the same condemned with Slingsby and six of the city traitors to death.

There were strenuous endeavours to save the lives of Slingsby and Hewet in the protector's own family. Slingsby was the uncle of lord Falconberg, who had lately married one of Cromwell's daughters, and Hewet was said to be a great favourite of lady Claypole, Cromwell's favourite daughter, who interceded for him. The story of lady Claypole's grief for the death of Hewet cannot, however, be true, for, only four days after his death, she wrote to her sister-in-law, the wife of Henry Cromwell, congratulating her on the defeat of the treason of Hewet, adding in choice orthography, "for sertingly not ondly his (Cromwell's) family would have been ruined, but in all probabillyte the hol nation would have been invold in blod." Hewet and Slingsby were beheaded, and three of the six condemned city men, Ashton, Stacey, and Betteley, were hanged.

In the Netherlands Sir William Lockhart admirably supplied the place of Sir John Reynolds, acting both as ambassador and general. The allied army opened the campaign of 1658 with the siege of Dunkirk. The prince of Conde had in vain assured the Spaniards that this would be the 3ase, whilst they imagined that the intention of the allies was to besiege Cambray. When Don Juan saw his mistake, he determined to attack the allies and raise the siege. But Turenne and Lockhart would not wait to be attacked; they marched to meet the Spaniards, and surprised them before they had received their supply of ammunition for the intended assault. Don Juan hastily drew up his forces along a ridge of sandhills, extending from the sea coast to near the village of Zudcote, and gave the command of the right wing to the duke of York, and the left to Conde, himself commanding the centre. Lockhart was too ill to take the command, but gave it to colonel Morgan, who, with his English forces, found himself opposed to the duke of York. The English dashed up the sandhill, and soon drove the infantry of the enemy before them. They were then charged by the duke of York at the head of the Spanish cavalry, and the battle was terrible, but nearly half of the duke's men fell under the well-directed fire of his countrymen. The left wing, however, under Conde, had given way, and the duke, leaving his rallied infantry to contend with the English in front, directed the charge of his cavalry against their flank. It was in vain; the centre gave way without fighting, and the brave English defending themselves against their numerous assailants till relieved by a body of French horse, the whole line of the Spaniards gave way. The duke of York, who had fought gallantly, was only saved in the first charge by the temper of his armour, and in the second he was surrounded by the enemy, and, according to his own account, only extricated himself by assuming the character of a French officer, and leading on several troopers to the charge till he saw a chance of riding off. Marshal Turenne gave the credit of the victory to the gallantry of the English, who had, at the close of the battle, scarcely a single officer left alive. At Whitehall the victory was attributed to the prayers of the saints at court, for it happened that the protector had set apart that day for a solemn fast, and, says Thurloe, "whilst we were praying, they were fighting, and the Lord gave a signal answer."

The lord Falconberg was despatched to carry congratulations to Louis XIV., who was at Calais, and soon after these were returned by the duke of Crequi and M. Mancini, the nephew of Mazarin, who apologised, through urgent affairs, for not coming himself, as he said he had long desired; but he sent a magnificent sword from the king, and a fine piece of tapestry from himself. Dunkirk was given up to the English, Gravelines was soon after taken, Ypres surrendered, and all the towns on the banks of the Lys speedily fell into the hands of the conquerors.

Here closed the victorious career of Oliver Cromwell; these were the last of his triumphs, and nearly the last of his life. Though he now stood apparently at the summit of fortune, both domestic and foreign enemies being for the time subdued, yet the grand platform of life and mortal glory was already giving way beneath him. His health was undermined by the long conflict with a host of enemies, and circumstances were glooming around him. Sickness had entered, death was about to enter and select its victims from his own house. Twelve days after the dissolution of parliament died lord Rich, the son of the earl of Warwick, leaving his daughter Frances a young widow; his daughter Claypole, his favourite daughter, was lying ill, and beyond the reach of medical art at that period, and his own iron frame was yielding. Around him, in his outward affairs, the circumstances were full of anxiety. He knew that he had repulsed, but not destroyed the domestic enemies of his government. They were as alive as ever to the chance of starting up and again attempting to overturn his government. All his three parliaments had proved thoroughly unmanageable, and had reduced him to the very measures so strongly condemned in Charles I. - continual interruptions of the debates, invasion of privileges, and abrupt dissolutions to prevent the completion of hostile measures. The only circumstance in his favour was - that Charles's arbitrary acts Were for the formation of despotism; his for that of a rational liberty. Under no previous government had the people enjoyed such just laws, just judges, and so much liberty, especially religious liberty.

But, like Charles, he was now governing without a parliament, and, like him, being without a parliament, he was without funds. The wars on sfea and land had thoroughly emptied his exchequer, and to raise supplies by arbitrary means would cover him with the odium which had clung to the king he had overthrown. He appointed a committee of nine persons to consider on the best means of calling a parliament likely to work with the existing government, and also to decide on the proper successor to the protectorate. But even in this committee were secret enemies, and it came to no conclusion on the parliament; but on that of the succession, it determined that as the succession had been left to the protector, it was a matter of no consequence. Suspecting their motives, and deriving no benefit from them, he dismissed the committee towards the end of July, and was left with no resource but the ingenuity of Thurloe, his secretary, who borrowed where he could, but was often refused. This could not, however, last long. His army/ was his grand prop, and so long as it was duly paid and clothed there was no danger, but let it fall into arrears, and it would soon begin to listen to the suggestions of the republican and anabaptist officers. With these gloomy circumstances, his suspicions seem to have grown of those about him, or of assassins who might make more successful attempts than before; as his health failed his fears acquired the greater ascendant. He is said to have worn armour under his clothes: we know that he had long carried loaded pistols. Clarendon says he had become much "less easy of access, nor so much seen abroad; and he seemed to be in some disorder when Iiis eyes found any stranger in the room, upon whom they still seemed fixed, When he intended to go to Hampton Courts, which was his principal delight and diversion, it was never known till he was in the coach, which way he would go; and he was still hemmed in by his guards both before and behind; and the coach in which he went was always thronged as full as it could be with his servants, who were armed, and he seldom returned the same way he went, and rarely lodged two nights together in one chamber, but had many furnished and prepared, to which his own key conducted him."

Though this is the statement of an enemy, we can very well believe it, for the life of Oliver had been for years aimed at by assassins, both royalist and republican, by paid bravoes of Charles II., and by fanatics. The fears and anxieties of these various causes would tell strongly as his health failed. He reached his fifty-ninth year in April, and was therefore fast reaching his sixtieth. For fourteen days before the death of lady Claypole, the protector was almost day and night by her bedside, not being able to attend to any business in his deep anxiety. Much has been said of closetings with the lady Claypole on her deathbed, and of her expressing a strong sense of the blood that had been shed, and especially that of the king, and of her having earnestly exhorted him to resign the government and restore the ancient family, and that these expostulations from his dying daughter weighed heavily on his mind. But this is all mere surmise. That lady Claypole might, as a woman, have such conscientious sentiments on the subject is quite possible; but even Clarendon, while favouring the belief, confesses that "nobody was near enough to hear the particulars." That Cromwell, as well as his coadjutors, were honestly convinced that the death of Charles was both just and absolutely necessary, there can be no doubt; yet, even under such circumstances, the beloved props of his house falling around him, and the sentient shadow of his own death drawing near, a man might very well question again, and question gloomily, the grounds of so unexampled a measure as the trial and execution of his king. But that Cromwell did so is mere conjecture; that the loss of his daughter acting on his own failing frame hastened his own decease, there can be no doubt. Lady Claypole died on the 6th of August, and George Fox going to Hampton Court, to represent to Cromwell the persecutions of his friends, on the 20th of that month, met him riding in Hampton Court Park at the head of his life guards, and was so struck with his altered appearance, that he said "he felt a waft of death go forth against him, and when he cams up to him he looked like a dead man." On hearing George's statement, he desired him to come to the palace to him; but the next day when he went thither, he was told that he was much worse, and that the physicians were not willing he should speak with him. He died on the 3rd of September, the day of Dunbar and Worcester, the day which he had set down as his fortunate day, and which was in nothing more so than in this last and finishing event. He laid down a burden which he had often said " was too heavy for man," and with the possession of that form of government which he sincerely deemed essential to truth and liberty still in his grasp. It was a form of government which had no foundation in the opinions and convictions of the people at large, and which must sooner or later fall; and the old prejudices in favour of royalty bring back a fresh lesson of martyrdom to its votaries. The dictatorship was at an end; it had been maintained by his own innate vigour, and could only last as long as he did. The day that he died was a day of terrible wind, and his enemies declare that the devil came in it to fetch him away; his friends - that nature could not witness the departure of so great a spirit without marking it with its strong emotion. Many are the sayings of his last hours reported by friends and enemies, but it is certain that he expressed his firm conviction that he died in the unbroken covenant with God. That he had filled him with as much assurance of his pardon and his love as his soul could hold, and that he was a conqueror, and more than a conqueror, through Christ that had strengthened him.