CHAPTER II.
After Lambert's imitation of Oliver Cromwell, in dissolving the House of Commons, England might be said to be without any Government at all. In contrast with our conscious security twenty years ago, and our reliance upon the stability of the Constitution at a moment when political changes were sweeping over Europe, as rapidly as the shadows of the clouds chase each other over the corn-fields, our fathers, in the latter part of the year 1659, felt they had no political constitution whatever in existence, except as it might be preserved in lawyers' books, and in people's memories. The Republicans were at sixes and sevens. Some were for a select Senate, and a Parliamentary representation; some for an Assembly chosen by the people, and for Councils of State chosen by that Assembly; some for a couple of Councils, both chosen by the popular voice; and some for a scheme which seemed like a revival of the Lacedæmonian Ephori.[46] Amidst distractions of opinion these speculatists were inspired by personal animosities; and, being mutually jealous, they constantly misapprehended each other's motives. It was a strange time, and as sad as it was strange—when, at the Rota Club, which met at the Turk's Head, in New Palace Yard, where Harrington and his friends were wont to drink their glasses of water—it had become a practical question, under what sort of Government they were to live the following year?
INTERREGNUM—CONFUSION.
London was a Babel of ecclesiastical no less than of political theories. Presbyterians contended that the Solemn League and Covenant alone could heal the nation's wounds. Fifth Monarchy men could see no hope but in the second coming of Christ. Some contended for toleration to a limited extent, with a national religion exercised according to Parliamentary law—the legal and ancient provision for a national ministry being augmented, so as to secure to each clergyman £100 per annum. Others contended for "the way of old, laid down by Christ," to bring it about again, and settle it in the world; and such teachers declared that there needed to be an utter plucking up of all that was in esteem or desire, or had been for many hundred years.[47] In the Modest Plea for an Equal Commonwealth, published in 1659, it was proposed to abolish tithes, upon composition being made for them by landholders; the money so raised to be used for satisfying the proprietors, and paying the arrears of the Army; also for discharging public debts, and providing for the dispossessed incumbents during the remainder of their lives.[48] Causes of discontent and disquiet, often overlooked, existed at that period. Scarcity always aggravates when it does not produce political confusion. The price of corn had singularly fluctuated during the Commonwealth: like the tide it had gradually ebbed during the first half; like the tide it had gradually flowed during the second. In 1649, the year of Charles' execution, wheat had reached eighty shillings a quarter; in 1654, the first year of Oliver's protectorate, it fell as low as twenty-six shillings—good harvests coming to bless his new administration. After that year wheat rose again, till in 1659 it attained the price of sixty-six shillings; the dearness of bread being, as we might expect, however unjustly, laid at the door of a Government arrived at the last stage of incompetency and weakness.[49] The result of combined calamities speedily became apparent. The military were dissatisfied and divided. Troops lawlessly prowled about the country; they levied contributions in all quarters, threatening their enemies, and harassing their friends. Their swords were warrants for exaction; and when told that their conduct would lead to the return of Charles Stuart, they answered such an event could never happen so long as they continued to carry arms. Colonels and Captains lost command over their men; the latter did what was right in their own eyes, and nothing else.[50]
1659.
It is startling to find how rapidly change succeeded change in high places. The remains of the Long Parliament, as it existed at the time of its dissolution by Oliver Cromwell, were, for want of better rulers, restored the day after Christmas-day,[51] according to the wishes of the soldiers, not the Generals. Lenthall, after summoning such members as could be found, again arrayed himself in his Speaker's robes; again went in state to the House to reoccupy the old chair; and the soldiers, who ten weeks before had driven him from the doors of St. Stephen's, now shouted, at the top of their voices, in honour of his solemn re-entrance. Prynne, and other gentlemen excluded by Pride's purge, were once more excepted from the number summoned, and sought in vain re-admission to their vacant seats. The remnant of legislators upon assembling anew appointed a Council of State; but never was any form of Government so unmercifully ridiculed as was this.
INTERREGNUM.—CONFUSION.
Something needed to be done. The Royalists throughout all this tumult had not been asleep. They had increased the miserable confusion, and even rejoiced in the gloom, because the darker the night the nearer the dawn. Booth's rising in August had been repressed, but an enormous flood of disaffection, of which that had been a sort of Geyser outgush, continued to boil beneath the surface. Secret conferences were held; plots were laid. The deeply engrained love of Monarchy in the English mind—only painted over of late years—now that the paint was being rubbed off, became distinctly visible. The press took the utmost license. Evelyn in his Apology for the Royal Party denounced the Rump as a coffin which was yet less empty than the heads of certain politicians. He boldly demanded the restoration of Charles Stuart, maintaining that he might be trusted because of his innate love of justice, and his father's dying injunctions; and because there were none, however crimson-dyed their crimes, whom he would not pardon in the abundance of his clemency and mercy. The author of A Plea for Limited Monarchy adds the sorrows of memory to the pleasures of hope, as motives for restoring the King; for he dwells upon the decay of trade, and complains that the oil and honey promised by Oliver had been turned to bitterness and gall; and that Lambert's free quarterings had licked up the little which had been left in the people's cruse.[52]
1659.