The History of England, from the Accession of James the Second - Volume 1, Thomas Babington Macaulay [ebook pc reader txt] 📗

by these dissensions. Those soldiers who would not suffer

him to assume the kingly title stood by him when he ventured on

acts of power, as high as any English King has ever attempted.

The government, therefore, though in form a republic, was in

truth a despotism, moderated only by the wisdom, the sobriety,

and the magnanimity of the despot. The country was divided into

military districts. Those districts were placed under the command

of Major Generals. Every insurrectionary movement was promptly

put down and punished. The fear inspired by the power of the

sword, in so strong, steady, and expert a hand, quelled the

spirit both of Cavaliers and Levellers. The loyal gentry declared

that they were still as ready as ever to risk their lives for the

old government and the old dynasty, if there were the slightest

hope of success: but to rush, at the head of their serving men

and tenants, on the pikes of brigades victorious in a hundred

battles and sieges, would be a frantic waste of innocent and

honourable blood. Both Royalists and Republicans, having no hope

in open resistance, began to revolve dark schemes of

assassination: but the Protector's intelligence was good: his

vigilance was unremitting; and, whenever he moved beyond the

walls of his palace, the drawn swords and cuirasses of his trusty

bodyguards encompassed him thick on every side.


Had he been a cruel, licentious, and rapacious prince, the nation

might have found courage in despair, and might have made a

convulsive effort to free itself from military domination. But

the grievances which the country suffered, though such as excited

serious discontent, were by no means such as impel great masses

of men to stake their lives, their fortunes, and the welfare of

their families against fearful odds. The taxation, though heavier

than it had been under the Stuarts, was not heavy when compared

with that of the neighbouring states and with the resources of

England. Property was secure. Even the Cavalier, who refrained

from giving disturbance to the new settlement, enjoyed in peace

whatever the civil troubles had left hem. The laws were violated

only in cases where the safety of the Protector's person and

government was concerned. Justice was administered between man

and man with an exactness and purity not before known. Under no

English government since the Reformation, had there been so

little religious persecution. The unfortunate Roman Catholics,

indeed, were held to be scarcely within the pale of Christian

charity. But the clergy of the fallen Anglican Church were

suffered to celebrate their worship on condition that they would

abstain from preaching about politics. Even the Jews, whose

public worship had, ever since the thirteenth century, been

interdicted, were, in spite of the strong opposition of jealous

traders and fanatical theologians, permitted to build a synagogue

in London.


The Protector's foreign policy at the same time extorted the

ungracious approbation of those who most detested him. The

Cavaliers could scarcely refrain from wishing that one who had

done so much to raise the fame of the nation had been a

legitimate King; and the Republicans were forced to own that the

tyrant suffered none but himself to wrong his country, and that,

if he had robbed her of liberty, he had at least given her glory

in exchange. After half a century during which England had been

of scarcely more weight in European politics than Venice or

Saxony, she at once became the most formidable power in the

world, dictated terms of peace to the United Provinces, avenged

the common injuries of Christendom on the pirates of Barbary,

vanquished the Spaniards by land and sea, seized one of the

finest West Indian islands, and acquired on the Flemish coast a

fortress which consoled the national pride for the loss of

Calais. She was supreme on the ocean. She was the head of the

Protestant interest. All the reformed Churches scattered over

Roman Catholic kingdoms acknowledged Cromwell as their guardian.

The Huguenots of Languedoc, the shepherds who, in the hamlets of

the Alps. professed a Protestantism older than that of Augsburg,

were secured from oppression by the mere terror of his great name

The Pope himself was forced to preach humanity and moderation to

Popish princes. For a voice which seldom threatened in vain had

declared that, unless favour were shown to the people of God, the

English guns should be heard in the Castle of Saint Angelo. In

truth, there was nothing which Cromwell had, for his own sake and

that of his family, so much reason to desire as a general

religious war in Europe. In such a war he must have been the

captain of the Protestant armies. The heart of England would have

been with him. His victories would have been hailed with an

unanimous enthusiasm unknown in the country since the rout of the

Armada, and would have effaced the stain which one act, condemned

by the general voice of the nation, has left on his splendid

fame. Unhappily for him he had no opportunity of displaying his

admirable military talents, except against the inhabitants of the

British isles.


While he lived his power stood firm, an object of mingled

aversion, admiration, and dread to his subjects. Few indeed loved

his government; but those who hated it most hated it less than

they feared it. Had it been a worse government, it might perhaps

have been overthrown in spite of all its strength. Had it been a

weaker government, it would certainly have been overthrown in

spite of all its merits. But it had moderation enough to abstain

from those oppressions which drive men mad; and it had a force

and energy which none but men driven mad by oppression would

venture to encounter.


It has often been affirmed, but with little reason, that Oliver

died at a time fortunate for his renown, and that, if his life

had been prolonged, it would probably have closed amidst

disgraces and disasters. It is certain that he was, to the last,

honoured by his soldiers, obeyed by the whole population of the

British islands, and dreaded by all foreign powers, that he was

laid among the ancient sovereigns of England with funeral pomp

such as London had never before seen, and that he was succeeded

by his son Richard as quietly as any King had ever been succeeded

by any Prince of Wales.


During five months, the administration of Richard Cromwell went

on so tranquilly and regularly that all Europe believed him to be

firmly established on the chair of state. In truth his situation

was in some respects much more advantageous than that of his

father. The young man had made no enemy. His hands were unstained

by civil blood. The Cavaliers themselves allowed him to be an

honest, good-natured gentleman. The Presbyterian party, powerful

both in numbers and in wealth, had been at deadly feud with the

late Protector, but was disposed to regard the present Protector

with favour. That party had always been desirous to see the old

civil polity of the realm restored with some clearer definitions

and some stronger safeguards for public liberty, but had many

reasons for dreading the restoration of the old family. Richard

was the very man for politicians of this description. His

humanity, ingenuousness, and modesty, the mediocrity of his

abilities, and the docility with which he submitted to the

guidance of persons wiser than himself, admirably qualified him

to be the head of a limited monarchy.


For a time it seemed highly probable that he would, under the

direction of able advisers, effect what his father had attempted

in vain. A Parliament was called, and the writs were directed

after the old fashion. The small boroughs which had recently been

disfranchised regained their lost privilege: Manchester, Leeds,

and Halifax ceased to return members; and the county of York was

again limited to two knights. It may seem strange to a generation

which has been excited almost to madness by the question of

parliamentary reform that great shires and towns should have

submitted with patience and even with complacency, to this

change: but though speculative men might, even in that age,

discern the vices of the old representative system, and predict

that those vices would, sooner or later, produce serious

practical evil, the practical evil had not yet been felt.

Oliver's representative system, on the other hand, though

constructed on sound principles, was not popular. Both the events

in which it originated, and the effects which it had produced,

prejudiced men against it. It had sprung from military violence.

It had been fruitful of nothing but disputes. The whole nation

was sick of government by the sword, and pined for government by

the law. The restoration, therefore, even of anomalies and

abuses, which were in strict conformity with the law, and which

had been destroyed by the sword, gave general satisfaction.


Among the Commons there was a strong opposition, consisting

partly of avowed Republicans, and partly of concealed Royalists:

but a large and steady majority appeared to be favourable to the

plan of reviving the old civil constitution under a new dynasty.

Richard was solemnly recognised as first magistrate. The Commons

not only consented to transact business with Oliver's Lords, but

passed a vote acknowledging the right of those nobles who had, in

the late troubles, taken the side of public liberty, to sit in

the Upper House of Parliament without any new creation.


Thus far the statesmen by whose advice Richard acted had been

successful. Almost all the parts of the government were now

constituted as they had been constituted at the commencement of

the civil war. Had the Protector and the Parliament been suffered

to proceed undisturbed, there can be little doubt that an order

of things similar to that which was afterwards established under

the House of Hanover would have been established under the House

of Cromwell. But there was in the state a power more than

sufficient to deal with Protector and Parliament together. Over

the soldiers Richard had no authority except that which he

derived from the great name which he had inherited. He had never

led them to victory. He had never even borne arms. All his tastes

and habits were pacific. Nor were his opinions and feelings on

religious subjects approved by the military saints. That he was a

good man he evinced by proofs more satisfactory than deep groans

or long sermons, by humility and suavity when he was at the

height of human greatness, and by cheerful resignation under

cruel wrongs and misfortunes: but the cant then common in every

guardroom gave him a disgust which he had not always the prudence

to conceal. The officers who had the principal influence among

the troops stationed near London were not his friends. They were

men distinguished by valour and conduct in the field, but