received them with all the state of a sovereign. From his apartments in the Cockpit he had removed with his family to those which in former times had been appropriated to the king: they were newly furnished in the most costly and magnificent style; and in the banqueting-room was placed a chair of state on a platform, raised by three steps above the floor. Here the protector stood to receive the ambassadors. They were instructed to make three reverences, one at the entrance, the second in the midway, and the third at the lower step, to each of which Cromwell answered by a slight inclination of the head. When they had delivered their speeches, and received the reply of the protector, the same ceremonial was repeated at their departure. On one occasion he was requested to permit the gentlemen attached to the embassy to kiss his hand; but he advanced to the upper step, bowed to each in succession, waved his hand, and withdrew. On the conclusion of peace with the States, the ambassadors received from him an invitation to dinner. He sat alone on one side of the table, they, with some lords of the council, on the other. Their ladies were entertained by the lady protectress. After dinner, both parties joined in the drawing-room; pieces of music were performed, and a psalm was sung, a copy of which Cromwell gave to the ambassadors, observing that it was the best paper that had ever passed between them. The entertainment concluded with a walk in the gallery.[1]
This treaty with the United Provinces was the first which engaged the attention of the protector, and was
[Footnote 1: Clarendon Papers, iii. 240. Thurloe, i. 50, 69, 154, 257. It appears from the Council Book that the quarterly expense of the protector's family amounted to thirty-five thousand pounds. 1655, March 14.]
not concluded till repeated victories had proved the superiority of the English navy, and a protracted negotiation had exhausted the patience of the States. In the preceding month of May the hostile fleets, each consisting of about one hundred sail, had put to sea, the English commanded by Monk, Dean, Penn, and Lawson; the Dutch by Van Tromp, De Ruyter, De Witte, and Evertsens. While Monk insulted the coast of Holland, Van Tromp cannonaded[a] the town of Dover. They afterwards met each other off the North Foreland, and the action continued the whole day. The enemy lost two sail; on the part of the English, Dean was killed by a chain-shot. He fell by the side of Monk, who instantly spread his cloak over the dead body, that the men might not be alarmed at the fete of their commander.
The battle was renewed the next morning. Though Blake, with eighteen sail, had joined the English in the night, Van Tromp fought with the most determined courage; but a panic pervaded his fleet; his orders were disobeyed; several captains fled from the superior fire of the enemy; and, ultimately, the Dutch sought shelter within the Wielings, and along the shallow coast of Zeeland. They lost one-and-twenty sail; thirteen hundred men were made prisoners, and the number of killed and wounded was great in proportion.[1]
Cromwell received the news of this victory with transports of joy. Though he could claim no share in the merit (for the fleet owed its success to the exertions
[Footnote 1: Whitelock, 557. Ludlow, ii. 27. Heath, 344. Le Clerc, i. 333. Basnage, i. 307. It appears from the letters in Thurloe, that the English fought at the distance of half cannon-shot, till the enemy fell into confusion, and began to fly, when their disabled ships were surrounded, and captured by the English frigates.—Thurloe, i. 269, 270, 273, 277, 278.]
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1653. June 2.]
[Sidenote b: A.D. 1653. June 3.]
of the government which he had overturned), he was aware that it would shed a lustre over his own administration; and the people were publicly called upon to return thanks to the Almighty for so signal a favour. It was observed that on this occasion he did not command but invite; and the distinction was hailed by his admirers as a proof of the humility and single-mindedness of the lord-general.[1]
To the States, the defeat of their fleet proved a subject of the deepest regret. It was not the loss of men and ships that they deplored; such loss might soon be repaired; but it degraded them in the eyes of Europe, by placing them in the posture of suppliants deprecating the anger of a victorious enemy. In consequence of the importunate entreaties of the merchants, they had previously appointed ambassadors to make proposals of peace to the new government; but these ministers did not quit the coast of Holland till after the battle;[a] and their arrival in England at this particular moment was universally attributed to a conviction of inferiority arising from the late defeat. They were introduced with due honour to his excellency and the council; but found them unwilling to recede from the high demands formerly made by the parliament. As to the claim of indemnification for the past, the ambassadors maintained that, if a balance were struck of their respective losses, the Dutch would be found the principal sufferers; and, to the demand of security for the future, they replied, that it might be obtained by the completion of that treaty, which had been interrupted by the sudden departure of St. John and Strickland from the Hague. The obstinacy of the council induced the ambassadors to demand[c] passports