chambers and High Commission Courts, with the mildness and forbearance of the commonwealth—the fierce intolerance of even republican presbyterianism, with the freedom of faith which Cromwell established, and his zealous care for a ministry not of any particular dogmas but of genuine and generous piety—blind, indeed, must be the man who does not recognise, in all its admirable proportions, the memory of one of the most truly great men which any age or nation has produced. The heroes and statesmen of the commonwealth have left doctrines and examples which are still the study and the imitation of nations. The vigour, and stern, high principle of Cromwell awed all the crowned heads of Europe, and raised the fame of England abroad higher than it had ever reached before. Our Edwards and Henrys claim great prestige as warriors; but since the time of Alfred no man has sate in the supreme scat of these realms, who at the same time legislated with the same bold, earnest, and Christian wisdom and integrity for the people at large. Till Bonaparte arose and overran all Europe, there was no name which received so universally the homage of the world for victory and high fortune as that of Cromwell; and if we look at the principles which each of these two conquerors promulgated, there can be no estimate of true fame in which Cromwell will not rise far beyond the modern.
In private life he was at once simple, and yet maintained a dignity, says one of his worst calumniators, "such as might befit the greatest monarch." His letters to his familiar friends and the members of his family display his character in a most amiable and pious light, and he was accustomed to unbend amongst his officers and ministers in a manner that none but a man with a kind heart and good conscience could do. Ludlow tells us that on one occasion, after a very serious debate, he threw, in a frolic, a cushion at his head, and when Ludlow took up another cushion to throw it in return, he escaped laughing, and ran down stairs in such a hurry that he had nearly fallen. He would sometimes frankly tell the nobility of their drinking the health of the king and royal family, and without the slightest ill-humour advise them to be more cautious. He was extremely temperate in his diet, though liberal in his table for his officers and public company. He delighted in music, and gave choice entertainments, where the greatest masters were engaged. He surrounded himself with all the great minds of the age, and their talents were called into service for their country. Milton was his Latin secretary; Milton's friend, Thurloe, was his intimate friend and secretary of state; Hartlib, a learned Pole, another friend of Milton's, he esteemed and pensioned; Andrew Marvel was a frequenter of his house; archbishop Usher, though a prelate, was high in his regard; Waller, and even the youthful Dryden were his friends; and even where he could not restrain his parliament from harsh measures, he mitigated their rigour. He pensioned John Biddell, the unitarian, liberated the misguided James Naylor, though he could not save him from the barbarity of the parliament, and delighted to see and converse with George Fox. Through the miseries which the civil war inflicted on the country reduced its internal condition to one of much suffering, yet, says Bate, in his Elenclous Motuum, after finding many faults mixed with his merits, "Now trade began to flourish, and, to say all in a word, all England over there were halcyon days."
On his death-bed the protector had been asked to name his successor. Empowered by the "Petition and Advice," he had already named him in a sealed packet which now, however, could not be found, and though he was supposed to say Richard, it was so indistinctly, that it was by no means certain. However, Richard was proclaimed in London and Westminster, and then in all the large towns at home, and in Dunkirk and the colonies abroad. At first all appeared favourable for the peaceable succession of Richard. All parties hastened to congratulate him. Foreign ministers sent addresses of condolence, and intimations of their desire to renew their alliances. From all parts of the country, and from the city, and from one hundred congregational churches, poured in addresses, conceived in the most fulsome affectation of religion. "Their sun was set, but no night had followed. They had lost the nursing father, by whose hand the yoke of bondage had been broken from the necks and consciences of the godly. Providence had taken the breath from their nostrils, but had given them instead the noblest branch of that renowned stock, a prince distinguished by the beauty of his person, but still more by the eminent qualities of his mind." Cromwell had been a Moses, but his son was a Joshua. Elijah was gone, but Elisha remained.
The royalists were confounded to find all pass over so smoothly, but all who knew the retiring, facile disposition of Richard, and the volcano of raging materials which lay in the sects, factions, and parties which at that moment divided and internally agitated England, could only look on it as the lull before the tempest. This same external sycophancy was displayed in the funeral of the protector. The body lay in state at Somerset House, all the ceremonial being copied from that of the interment of Philip II. of Spain. The rooms were hung with black cloth, and wax lights were kept burning. An effigy of Cromwell lay on a bed of state, and which was supposed to rest upon the coffin. In one hand was the sceptre, in the other the globe, the crown was not on his head, but rested on a cushion at the back of it, and on each side lay various pieces of his armour. The body was secretly buried by night in a vault in Westminster Abbey, as there were rumours of an intended insurrection during the funeral; the ceremony, however, continued for eight weeks, the effigy being after a time placed erect, with the crown upon its head. In fact, the protector, after his decease, was treated with all those royal honours which he had refused during hfe, and the people who could enact or could tolerate this, could not be far off monarchy. In fact, long before these ceremonies were at an end, all the elements of discord and confusion were actually fermenting—the certain heralds of the return to the ancient state of things. Richard Cromwell had all his life long displayed a penchant only for a quiet country life. He had no ambitions, either military or political. He had lived in his domestic retirement, neither entering the field or the cabinet, and his father, in his letters, was continually calling him "indolent Dick." It was impossible that such a man could ever curb the fierce and conflicting factions with which he was surrounded; it is most probable
