prefent to his imagination. He wore armour under his cloaths, and always kept piftols in his pockets. His afpect was clouded by a fettled gloom; and he regarded every firanger with a glance of timid fufpicion. He always travelled with hurry, and was ever attended by a numerous guard. He never returned from any place by the road he went; and feldom fiept above three nights together in the fame chamber. Society terrified him, as there he might meet au enemy; folitude was terrible, as he was there unguarded by every friend.

A tertian ague kindly came at laft to deliver him from this life of horror and anixiety. For the space of a week no dangerous fymptoms appeared; and in the intervals of the fits he was able to walk abroad. At length the fever encreased, and he became delirious. He was juftly able to anfwer yes, to the demand, whether his fon Richard should be appointed to fucceed him. He died on the third day of September, that very day which he had alA. D. ways confidered as the most fortunate of 1653. his life; he was then fifty-nine years old, and had ufurped the government nine

years.

Whatever might have been the difference of intereft after the death of the ufurper, the influence of his name was ftill fufficient to get Richard his fon proclaimed protector in his room. But the army, difcontented with fuch a leader, eftablished a meeting at general Fleetwood's, which, as he dwelt in Wallingford-houfe, was called the Cabal of Wallingford. The refult of their deliberations was a remonftrance that the command of the army fhould be entrufted to fome perfon in whom they might all confide; and it was plainly given to understand that the young protector was not that person.

Richard wanted refolution to defend the title that had been conferred upon him; he foon figned his own

abdication

abdication in form, and retired to live feveral years. after his refignation, at firft on the continent, and afterwards upon his paternal fortune at home. He was thought by the ignorant to be unworty of thehappiness of his exaltation; but he knew by his tranquility in private, that he had made the most fortunate escape.

The officers being once more left to themselves, determined to replace the remnant of the old paliament which had beheaded the king, and which Cromwell had fo difgracefully turned out of the

houfe.

The Rump parliament, for that was the name t went by, being now reinftated, was yet very vigorous, in its attempts to leffen the power by which it was replaced. The officers of the army therefore came to a refolution, ufual enough in thefe times, to diffolve that affembly, by which they were fo vehemently oppofed. Accordingly Lambert, one of the generals, drew up a chofen body of troops, and placing them in the ftreets which led to Westminsterhall, when the fpeaker, Lenthall, proceeded in his carriage to the house, he ordered the horfes to be turned, and very civily conducted him home. The other members were likewife intercepted, and the army returned to their quarters to obferve a folemu faft, which generally either preceded, or attended their outrages.

During thefe tranfactions, general Monk was at the head of eight thousand veterans in Scotland, and beheld the distraction of his native country, with but flender hopes of relieving it.

did.

Whatever might have been his defigns, it was impoffible to cover them with greater fecrecy than he As foon as he put his army in motion, to enquire into the caufes of the difturbances in the cacapital, his countenance was eagerly fought by all the contending parties. He ftill however continued to

march

march his army towards the captial; all the world equally in doubt as to his motives, and aftonished at his reserve. But Monk continued his inflexible. taciturnity, and at laft came to St. Alban's, within a few miles of London.

He there fent the Rump parliament, who had refumed their feat, a meflage, defiring them to remove fuch forces as remained in London to country quarters. In the mean time the Houfe of commons having paffed votes for the compofure of the kingdom, diffolved themselves, and gave orders for the immediate assembling a new parliament.

As yet the new parliament was not af A.D. fembled, and no perfon had hitherto dived 1660. into the defigns of the geneal. He ftill perfevered in his referve; and although the calling a new parliament was but, in other words, to reftore the king, yet his expreffions never once betrayed the fecret of his bofom. Nothing but a fecurity of confidence at last extorted the confeffion from him. He had been intimate with one Morrice, a gentleman of Devonshire, of a fedentary ftudious difpofition, and with him alone did he deliberate upon the great and dangerous enterprize of the reftoration. Sir John Granville, who had a commiffion from the king, applied for accefs to the general; he was defired to communicate his bufinefs to Morrice. Granville refufed, though twice urged to deliver his meffage to any but the general himself; fo that Monk now finding he could depend upon this minifter's fecrecy, he opened to him his whole intentions; but with his ufual caution ftill fcrupled to commit any thing to paper. In confequence of these the king left the Spanish territories, where he very narrowly escaped being detained at Breda by the governor, under pretence of treating him with proper refpect and formality. From thence he retired into Holland, where he refolved to wait for further advice.

At

At length the long expected day for the fitting of a free parliament arrived. The affections of all were turned towards the king; yet fuch were their fears, and fuch dangers attended a freedom a fpeech, that no one dared for fome days to make any mention of his name. All this time Monk, with his ufual referve, tried their tempers, and examined the ardour of their wishes; at length he gave directions to Annefly, prefident of the council, to inform them that one Sir John Granville, a fervant of the king, had been fent over by his majefty, and was now at the door with a letter to the commons.

Nothing could exceed the joy and transport with which this meffage was received. The members for a moment forgot the dignity of their fituations, and indulged in a loud exclamation of applaufe. Granville was called in, and the letter eagerly read. A moment's pause was scarce allowed; all at once the house burst out into an univerfal affent at the king's propofals; and to diffuse the joy more widely, it was voted that the letter and indemnity fhould immediately be published.

Charles II. entered London on the twenty-ninth of May, which was his birth-day. An innumerable concourse of people lined the way wherever he paffed, and rent the air with their acclamations. They had been fo long distracted by unrelenting factions, oppreffed and alarmed by a fucceffion of tyrannies, that they could no longer fupprefs thefe emotions of delight to behold their conftitution restored; or rather, like a phoenix appearing more beautiful and vigorous from the ruins of its former conflagration.

Fanaticism, with its long train of gloomy terrors, fled at the approach of freedom; the arts of fociety and peace began to return; and it had been happy for the people if the arts of luxury had not entered in their train.

5

CHA P.

W

CHA P. XXX.

CHARLES II.

HEN Charles came to the throne he was thirty years of age, poffeffed of an agreeable perfon, an elegant addrefs, and an engaging manner. His whole demeanour and behaviour was well calculated to fupport and encrease popularity. Accustomed during his exile, to live chearfully among his courtiers, he carried the fame endearing familiarities to the throne; and from the levity of his temper, no injuries were dreaded from his former refentments. But it was foon found that all these advantages were - merely fuperficial. His indolence and love of pleafure made him averfe to all kinds of bufinefs; his familiarities were proftituted to the worst as well as the best of his fubjects; and he took no care to reward his former friends, as he had taken few fteps to be avenged of his former enemies.

Though an act of indemnity was paffed, thofe who had an immediate hand in the king's death were excepted. Cromwell, Ireton, and Bradshaw, though dead, were confidered as proper objects of refentment; their bodies were dug from their graves, dragged to the place of execution, and after hanging fome time, buried under the gallows. Of the reft, who fat in judgment on the late monarch's trial, fome were dead, and fome were thought worthy of pardon. Ten only, out of fourfcour, were devoted to immediate deftruction. Thefe were enthufiafts, who had all along acted from principle, and who, in the general fpirit of rage excited against them, fhewed a fortitude that might do honour to a better caufe.