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 probabilllyte the hol nation would have been invold in blod." Hewet and Slingsby were beheaded, and three of the six condemned city men, Ashton, Stacoy, 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 Condé had in vain assured the Spaniards that this would be the case, 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 Condé, 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 sandhills, 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 Condé, 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 wore 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 sea 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 his eyes found any stranger in the room, upon whom they still seemed fixed. When he intended to go to Hampton Court,
