Cromwell was dissatisfied and alarmed at the conduct of the Little Parliament and its consequences. Instead of promoting the Gospel, they had threatened to deprive its ministers of the means of subsistence. Instead of allaying sectarian strife their policy had embittered it. His own persistent attempts to reconcile religious animosities met with little success. Vainly he arranged conferences between Presbyterian, Independent, and Baptist ministers to persuade them to live harmoniously together. As he complained to his son-in-law, Fleetwood: “Fain would I have my service accepted of the Saints, if the Lord will, but it is not so. Being of different judgments, and those of each sort seeking most to propagate their own, that spirit of kindness that is to all, is hardly accepted of any.” When he tried to mediate between the fighting ecclesiastics, they turned on him as the two Israelites did on Moses, and asked, “Who made thee a prince or a judge over us?” Because he wished to support a national Church the Blackfriars preachers abused him as “The Old Dragon” and “The Man of Sin.” Because he had not called a real Parliament, the Levellers accused him of high treason to “his lords the people of England.” For what he had done and what he had left undone Cromwell was attacked by fanatics of all parties.

At the same time the position of the Republic had changed for the worse since the Little Parliament began to sit. The Dutch war still continued, and though Monk had gained two decisive victories, on June 3rd and July 31st, over the Dutch fleet, peace was still far off. The chief obstacle to it was the exorbitant terms which the Little Parliament demanded, and on this question also Cromwell was at issue with the men now in power. Peace had become a necessity to England as well as Holland, for in September it was discovered that there would be a deficit of over half a million on the estimates for the navy. A new insurrection, fanned by promises of Dutch aid, had broken out in Scotland. In England there was a marked revival of royalist feeling, and a plot for the surprise of Portsmouth had been discovered. The Levellers were once more raising their heads. Lilburn, defying the penalty imposed by the act of banishment, had returned to England, and in August, 1653, he was tried for his contumacy. Crowds flocked to hear him tried, or to rescue him if condemned, and when he was acquitted their shouting was heard a mile off. Even the soldiers set to guard the Court blew their trumpets and beat their drums for joy, and it seemed as if the agitation suppressed in 1649 was beginning again.

Cromwell was now thoroughly disillusioned and began to repent his part in putting the men of the Little Parliament in power.

In later years, when he referred to his experiment, he called it apologetically “a story of my own weakness and folly.”

“And yet,” he said, “it was done in my simplicity. It was thought then that men of our own judgment, who had fought in the wars, and were all of a piece upon that account, why surely these men will hit it, and these men will do it to the purpose, whatever can be desired. And such a company of men were chosen and did proceed to action. And this was the naked truth, that the issue was not answerable to the simplicity and honesty of the design.”

Besides repenting his own act, Cromwell began to doubt his own motives. Was his eagerness to transfer supreme power to others an honest constitutional scruple, or a cowardly evasion of responsibility? Was it not, perhaps, “a desire, I am afraid sinful enough, to be quit of the power God had most clearly by His providence put into my hands before He called me to lay it down; before those honest ends of our fighting were attained and settled.”

Not only the General, but the officers, too, were dissatisfied with their creation. Apart from political or religious considerations, the proceedings of the Little Parliament seriously affected their interests as soldiers. It had touched their honour and threatened their pockets. A point on which the soldiers were justly sensitive was the strict observance of capitulations with royalist commanders, and in one notorious case articles of surrender had been grossly violated, and the Parliament had refused redress. Great opposition had been made to the renewal of the monthly assessment for the maintenance of the army, and a more equitable way of raising the money had been proposed. The soldiers feared that if this new method were adopted their pay would fall behindhand, and they would be obliged to starve or take free quarters. Still further irritation was caused by a motion that, in view of the pressing needs of the State, and the wealth they had obtained in its service, the higher officers should serve without pay for a whole year.

The discontented officers naturally turned to their General for help. Lambert and his party took up once more the idea of a written constitution. In November, a meeting of officers took place at which Lambert’s scheme was discussed and adopted. It was a first draft of the Instrument of Government, the main difference being that it placed at the head of the State a King instead of a Protector. At the end of the month, it was submitted to Cromwell. “They told me,” he said, “that except I would undertake the government they thought things would hardly come to a settlement, but blood and confusion would break in upon us.” But to all their solicitation he replied with refusals. He had two great objections to accepting their offer. One was the aversion to the title of King, which revealed itself again in 1657. The other was that he had empowered the Little Parliament to sit till the end of 1654, and he was not willing to expel a second Parliament by force of arms. Lambert’s plot was frustrated by the reluctance of the principal actor, and he retired sulkily to the country.

Cromwell still hoped that the Parliament might be induced to adopt a wiser policy. The strength of the two parties in it was very nearly equal, and a few votes might turn the scale in favour of the moderate section. A final battle on the Church question brought about a new trial of strength. On December 2nd, the Committee on Tithes produced a report containing a regular scheme for the reorganisation of the Church. One clause proposed the appointment of itinerant commissioners to eject unfit ministers and fill up vacant livings. Another provided that the present provision for the maintenance of approved ministers should be guaranteed by Parliament. Others affirmed that tithes were legal property, and suggested a plan for their commutation in case of persons who had conscientious scruples about paying them. Over this report the two parties fought for five whole sittings. The question whether the Church should be reformed or disestablished hung on their decision. At last, on Saturday, December 10th, the extremists triumphed, and the first clause of the report was rejected by fifty-six to fifty-four votes. The supporters of the Church regarded the division as fatal to the whole scheme.

Immediately on this defeat, the moderate party in the Parliament and the malcontents amongst the officers came to an agreement. All Sunday the leaders intrigued and negotiated. The one expedient left was to persuade the Parliament to abdicate, and make way for a more capable government. If the difficulty of getting rid of the Parliament was peaceably solved, those who knew Cromwell felt sure he would accept the accomplished fact, and assume the power offered him. The thing was not impossible, if it was properly worked. Some of the majority had voted on side issues; others might be gained over. Absentees were whipped up; waverers were appealed to through their interests or their fears. An argument which weighed with some was, that the army meant to put a stop to the sitting of the Parliament, and that a decent suicide was the only way to avoid a violent end.