But all argument was lost on that fiery section. Scott and Haselrig continued their assaults on the whole frame of government more strenuously than ever; and on the 4th of February, fifteen days from the meeting of Parliament, amid the confused bickering of Scott and Haselrig with the wearied House, arrived the Usher of the Black Rod to summon the members to the Other House, which he called boldly the House of Lords. Haselrig, in the midst of his harangue, was reminded of the presence of the Black Rod. "What care I for Black Rod?" he exclaimed, but he was compelled to obey.
The Protector expressed the intensity of his disappointment that the very men who had importuned him to assume the burden of Government, and even the title of king, should now, instead of attending to the urgent business of the nation, endeavour violently to destroy that Government, and throw everything into chaos. "I can say in the presence of God," he continued, "in comparison with Whom we are but like poor creeping ants upon the earth, I would have been glad to have lived under a wood-side, to have kept a flock of sheep rather than have undertaken such a Government as this. But undertaking it by the advice and petition of you, I did look that you, who had offered it unto me, should make it good." He added, "And if this be the end of your sitting, and this be your carriage, I think it high time to put an end to your sitting; and I do dissolve this Parliament." And thus closed the last Parliament of Cromwell, after a session of a fortnight.
Having dismissed his Parliament, Cromwell had to take summary measures with the host of conspirators whom 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 nation. The Royalists, on their part, who had always been advocates and practisers of assassination, were more than ever on the alert. In the beginning 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 conversation 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 were 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. Ormond 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 Charles 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 Willis, 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. Hewit, an Episcopalian clergyman, 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, Hewit, and the City incendiaries were tried. There was ample proof of their guilt. Hewit 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.
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 John 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 John hastily drew up his forces along a ridge of sandhills, 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 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 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 collapsed. The Duke of York, who had fought gallantly, was saved in the first charge only 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 afterwards these were returned by the Duke of Crequi and M. Mancini, the nephew of Mazarin, who expressed his regret that, owing to the urgency of affairs, he was unable to come 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 taken, Ypres surrendered, and all the towns on the banks of the Lys 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 around him were gloom. Sickness had entered, death was about to select its victims from his own house. His daughter Frances was left a young widow by the death of Lord Rich, son of the Earl of Warwick, twelve days after the dissolution of Parliament; 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 alert as ever to the chance of starting up and again attempting to overturn his power. All his three Parliaments had proved thoroughly unmanageable, and had reduced him to the very measures so strongly condemned in Charles I.—continual interruption 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, such just judges, and so much liberty, especially religious liberty.
But, like Charles, Cromwell was now governing without a Parliament, and, like him, being without a Parliament, he was without funds. The wars on sea and land had 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 as to the best means of calling a Parliament likely to work with the existing Government, and also to decide on the successor to the Protectorate. But on this committee there were secret enemies, and it came to no conclusion as to the Parliament; but as to the succession, it determined that since 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. His army was his grand prop, and so long as it was duly paid and clothed there was no danger, but let payment 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 a decided mastery. 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, 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 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."
JOHN THURLOE.