known to pay to the ambassador of any crowned head.

The battle of the Dunes (June 14) was fought among the sandhills of Dunkirk, and ended in the destruction of the Spanish army. "The English,' says a French eye-witness, "pike in hand, charged with such stubborn vigour the eight Spanish battalions posted on the high ground of the downs, that in face of musketry fire and stout resistance the English drove them headlong from their position." These were the old or natural Spaniards as distinguished from Walloon and German, and were the flower of the Spanish army. Their position was so strong that Lockhart at first thought it desperate; and when all was over, he called it the hottest dispute that he had ever seen. The two Stuart princes are said to have forgotten their wrongs at the hand of the soldier who had trained that invincible band, and to have felt a thrill of honourable pride at the gallantry of their countrymen. Turenne's victory was complete, and in a week Dunkirk surrendered. Then came a bitter moment for the French. The king received Dunkirk from the Spaniards, only to hand over the keys according to treaty to the English, and Lockhart at once took possession in the name of the Lord Protector. Mazarin knew the price he was paying to be tremendous. The French historians 1 think that he foresaw that English quarrels would one day be sure to enable France to recover it by sword or purse, and so in time they did. Meanwhile the Ironsides gave the sage and valiant Lockhart trouble by their curiosity about the unhallowed churches of the Scarlet Lady. They insisted on keeping their heads covered; some saw in the sacred treasures good material for loot; and one of them nearly caused a violent affray by lighting his pipe at a

1 Bourelly, Cromwell et Mazarin, p. 261. Chéruel, Hist. de France sous Mazarin, iii. 292-295.

CHAP. X CROMWELL'S PLACE IN EUROPE 425

candle on the altar where a priest was saying mass. But Lockhart was strict, and discipline prevailed. Hardly less embarrassing than want of reverence in the soldiery were the long discourses with which Hugh Peters, the Boanerges of the military pulpit, would fain have regaled his singular ally, the omnipotent cardinal. Louis XIV. despatched a mission of much magnificence bearing to Cromwell a present of a sword of honour with a hilt adorned with precious gems. In after days, when Louis had become arch-persecutor and the shining champion of divine right, the pride of the Most Christian King was mortified by recollecting the profuse compliments that he had once paid to the impious regicide.

The glory of their ruler's commanding place in Europe gratified English pride, but it brought no composure into the confused and jarring scene. It rather gave new nourishment to the root of evil. "The Lord is pleased to do wonderfully for his Highness," said Thurloe after Dunkirk, "and to bless him in his affairs beyond expression," but he speedily reverts to the grinding necessity of putting affairs on some better footing. Men with cool heads perceived that though continental acquisitions might strengthen our security in one way, yet by their vast cost they must add heavily to the financial burdens that constituted the central weakness of the Protectorate, and prevented the real settlement of a governing system. For the Protector himself the civil difficulties against which he had for seven years with such manful faith and heroic persistency contended, were now soon to come to an end. He told his last parliament that he looked upon himself as one set on a watch-tower to see what may be for the good of these nations, and what may be for the preventing of evil. The hour of the dauntless sentinel's relief soon sounded. Death had already this year stricken his household more than one sore blow. Rich, who had married Frances

Cromwell in November, died in February. Elizabeth Claypole lost her youngest son in June. All through the summer Elizabeth herself was torn by a cruel malady, and in August she died at Hampton Court. For many days her father, insensible even to the cares of public business, watched with ceaseless devotion by the bedside of the dearest of his children. He was himself ill with gout and other distempers, and his disorders were aggravated by close vigils and the depth of his affliction. A low fever seized him, presently turning to a dangerous ague. He met his Council from time to time and attended to affairs as long as he was able. It was in these days (Aug. 20, 1658) that George Fox met him riding into Hampton Court, and before I came to him," says the mystic, "as he rode at the head of his lifeguard I saw and felt a waft of death go forth against him." A little later he was taken to London, and while St. James's was being made ready, he stayed at Whitehall. He quitted it no more. "He had great discoveries of the Lord to him in his sickness, and had some assurances of his being restored and made further serviceable in this work. Never was there a greater stock of prayers going for any man than there is now going for him, and truly there is a general consternation upon the spirits of all men, good and bad, fearing what may be the event of it, should it please God to take his Highness at this time. Men's hearts seemed as sunk within them." When the great warrior knew that the end was sure, he met it with the confident resignation of his faith. He had seen death too often and too near to dread the parting hour of mortal anguish. Chaplains, preachers, godly persons, attended in an adjoining room, and came in and out as the heavy hours went on, to read the Bible to him or to pray with him. To one of these he put the moving question, so deep with penitential meaning, so pathetic in its humility and misgiving,

CHAP. X

HIS DEATH

427

in its wistful recall of the bright bygone dawn of life in the soul :-"Tell me, is it possible to fall from grace?" "No, it is not possible," said the minister. Then," said the dying Cromwell, “I am safe, for I know that I was once in grace."

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With weighty repetitions and great vehemency of spirit he quoted the texts that have awed or consoled so many generations of believing men. In broken murmurs of prayer, he besought the favour of heaven for the people; that they might have consistency of judgment, one heart, and mutual love; that they and the work of reformation might be delivered. "Thou hast made me, though very unworthy, a mean instrument to do them some good, and thee service; and many of them have set too high a value upon me, though others wish and would be glad of my death. Pardon such as desire to trample on the dust of a poor worm, for they are thy people too." All the night of the 2nd of September he was very restless, and "there being something to drink offered him, he was desired to take the same and to endeavour to sleep; unto which he answered, It is not my design to drink or to sleep, but my design is to make what haste I can to be gone.' On Monday, the 30th of August, a wild storm had raged over land and sea, and while Cromwell was slowly sinking, the days broke upon houses shattered, mighty trees torn up by the roots, foundered ships, and drowning men. Friday, the 3rd of September, was the anniversary of two of his most famous victories. It was just eight years since with radiant eye he had watched the sun shine forth over the glistening waters at Dunbar, and seen the scattering of the enemies of the Lord. Now he lay in the stupor of helpless death, and about four o'clock in the afternoon his days came to their end.

His remains were privately interred in Henry the Seventh's chapel three weeks later, and for a couple

of months a waxen effigy in robes of state with crown and sceptre was exhibited at Somerset House. Then (Nov. 23) the public funeral took place with profuse and regal pomp, and amid the princes, lawgivers, and warriors who have brought renown and power to the name of England, the dust of Cromwell lay for a season in the great time-hallowed Minster.

In little more than two years the hour of vengeance struck, and a base and impious revenge it proved. A unanimous resolution of the House of Commons directed the savage ceremonial, and the date was the anniversary (January 30, 1661) of the execution of King Charles twelve years before. “It was kept as a very solemn day of fasting and prayer. This morning the carcases of Cromwell, Ireton, and Bradshaw (which the day before had been brought from the Red Lion Inn, Holborn) were drawn upon a sledge to Tyburn [a stone's throw from where the Marble Arch now stands], and then taken out of their coffins, and in their shrouds hanged by the neck until the going down of the sun. They were then cut down, their heads taken off, and their bodies buried in a grave under the gallows. The coffin in which was the body of Cromwell was a very rich thing, very full of gilded hinges and nails." The three heads were fixed upon poles, and set up at the southern end of Westminster Hall, where Pepys saw them four days after on the spot at which the regicides had judged the king.1

To imply that Cromwell stands in the line of European dictators with Charles V. or Louis XIV. or Napoleon is a hyperbole that does him both less than justice and more. Guizot brings us nearer to the truth when he counts Cromwell, William III.,

1 So I read Pepys. In any case, however, evidence points to the fact that the heads were ultimately fixed on the roof outside.