But there was a necessity, in order to the glory of God and the good of the nation.

"I do not know what you refer to," replied St. John, "but God grant that whatever you do may redound to the good of the commonwealth!"

He went in dismay to his seat, and left Cromwell engrossed with his thoughts. Finally, the latter beckoned Harrison, and told him that he now judged the Parliament ripe for a dissolution. The intrepid soldier shrank from the great responsibility, and whispered to him:

"Sir, the work is very great and dangerous; I desire you seriously to consider before you engage in it."

"You say well," replied Cromwell; and thereupon sat still about a quarter of an hour. It was a quarter of an hour full of the greatest suspense and agitation for the general. He saw before him a scaffold and a crown; death at the hands of the executioner or the throne of England awaited him. Already the next minute might decide the matter. He muttered something sounding like a prayer, as though he wished to make God an ally of his plans. The most various thoughts and feelings stirred like wild waves in his bosom; ambition and sense of duty, pride and devout humility, truth and falsehood, alternated in rapid succession in his mind. He shrank from taking the decisive step, but not a moment was to be lost, for the speaker was ready to put the question.

He said again to Harrison, "This is the

time; I must do it." He then rose and took the floor. Cromwell was not a good speaker; besides, he liked to conceal his thoughts under turgid phrases. Notwithstanding these defects, the assembly listened to him with the closest attention, his position and acknowledged merits commanding them to treat him with the greatest deference. At the outset, he spoke in respectful terms of the Parliament

and its members, doing full justice to their zeal and activity; but he gradually changed his tone, and his expressions and gestures betrayed the most violent irritation. He frowned, and his large eyes flashed glances of inexorable anger at his adversaries. Finally, he loaded the Parliament with the vilest reproaches for its tyranny, ambition, oppression, and robbery of the public. Then stamping with his foot, which was a signal for the soldiers to enter

"For shame!" he said to the Parliament; "get you gone! Give place to honester men, to those who will more faithfully discharge their trust. You are no longer a Parliament. The Lord has done with you; He has chosen other instruments for carrying on His work." He crossed the large hall repeatedly with a noisy step, and then stood still once more with folded arms.

"Take him down," he said to Harrison, pointing to Lenthal, the speaker, who sat with a pale face in his chair.

The colonel called upon him to rise, which he refused to do.

"Pull him down!" cried Cromwell, inexorably.

Harrison obeyed, and dragged Lenthal from the chair.

Sir Henry Vane exclaiming against this proceeding, Cromwell cried with a loud voice:

"Oh, Sir Harry Vane, Sir Harry Vane! The Lord deliver me from Sir Harry Vane!"

He then turned to the other members, whom he reproached in the most scathing manner with their weaknesses and failings. "Thou art a drunkard," he said to one; "thou art an adulterer," to another; "and thou an extortioner," to a third. In this manner he preferred just or unjust charges against the members, who, from fear of the soldiers, or consciousness of their guilt, durst not defend themselves.

"It is you," he said to the House, "that have forced this upon me. I have sought the

zens.

In these interviews he took occasion to hint vaguely that England ought to have a monarchical government, and thus gradually prepared them for the change which he had in contemplation. He had vanquished the Presbyterians and Constitutionals by the Independents and Republicans, and overthrown these in their turn by means of the army, so that he only had to deal with the latter. It is true, he met here with unexpected resistance. Already his title of Protector excited discontent, and Colonel Harrison and Major Overton, Milton's friend, declared openly against it. They and their adherents threatened the usurper and opposed his schemes. Cromwell, however, headed them off, and before they were able to carry their plans into effect, he caused them to be arrested. Milton was not a little surprised on hearing of this event, and deemed himself in duty bound to ask the protector, at the first opportunity that should offer, to pardon his esteemed friend.

For this purpose he repaired to Whitehall, where Cromwell had taken up his quarters in the apartments of the executed king, and had already surrounded himself with a sort of retinue of courtiers. A special lifeguard was posted in front of his doors. The anterooms and staircases were crowded with persons who solicited favors and rewards at the hands of the new ruler. Generals and other officers, among whom were to be seen austere Puritans, who did not know how to adapt themselves to the change that had taken place, and still saw in Cromwell only their old comrade, were walking up and down in threadbare uniforms, and dragging their long swords noisily on the floor. It was evident that they considered as an abomination the splendor which surrounded them here. They cast distrustful glances on the young courtiers who, like flies in midsummer, had quickly made their appearance to buzz in the rays of the rising sun; they had now another idol to which they could

bend their knees and whisper fulsome flatteries. Milton was not a little astonished on meeting here many an ex-cavalier, who but recently had applied to Cromwell the nickname of "Old Satan." AM was forgotten now; the protector tried to conciliate the nobility, and had of late treated the aristocratic families with surprising lenity. They made peace with him, either from fear or from self-interest, and received at his hands, besides other substantial proofs of his favor, their estates, which the commonwealth had confiscated. Such being his course now, the nobility flocked to the new court, whose centre was composed of Cromwell's own family. A motley crowd now presented itself to the eyes of the beholder. In yonder corner stood an old Inde'pendent, or a fanatic expecting the fifth monarchy of God and the New Jerusalem, now grimly gazing upon the unwonted bustle. His awkward manners, his strange dress, which was very plain and dark-colored, and his language, interlarded every moment with Bible quotations, were secretly derided by the polished courtiers, who, however, dared only to smile furtively at them. At the other end of the hall some clergymen were engaged with a few officers in an animated controversy on theological questions, which were discussed with hair-splitting keenness on both sides, and in which the uncouth soldiers frequently got the better of their learned adversaries. Yonder, some young courtiers were conversing in a low tone about the love-affairs of his highness the protector, and tried to ascertain whether he gave the preference to the beautiful Lady Dysart or to the accomplished Lady Lambert. Soldiers and priests, aristocrats and republicans, the austere Puritan and the frivolous skeptic, were now united here by the will of the new ruler, or by their various interests, and blended together notwithstanding their differences. A very peculiar tone, therefore, reigned in the apartments of Whitehall. Demo

cratic sullenness and aristocratic pliancy, fanatical enthusiasm and cool, sober selfishness, went hand in hand, and produced a truly wonderful effect.

While Milton was engrossed with such observations, he was frequently greeted and addressed by friends and acquaintances. Lord Broghill, the brother of the Countess of Ranelagh, shook hands with him. The poet Waller, a relative of the protector, and yet formerly a favorite of Charles I., spoke to him. He had just left Cromwell's cabinet, where the protector had given him an audience.

"Can I see the lord protector?" said Milton to him.

I do not know," replied the merry but unprincipled Waller. "His highness has with him at this moment a saint, a shoemaker animated with the Holy Ghost. George Fox is the name of the queer fellow; he has already founded a sect called Friends or Quakers. He will no longer tolerate any clergymen, nor take off his hat to anybody, nor take oaths. He addresses every one with 'thou.' I tell you, it was rich to see him approach Cromwell and say to him, 'Peace be with thy house,' whereupon both entered upon a theological disputation. While his highness was putting on his trousers, there was a perfect shower of quotations from the Bible. I could no longer keep serious, and therefore left the

room.

The lord protector, in secret, also laughs at such wonderful saints; but what is he to do? As he told me in confidence, 'When you are in Rome, you must do as the Romans do.' You have no idea of the number of persons that call upon him. Last week Manasseh Ben Israel, the Jew from Amsterdam, was here, and presented in his own name, and in that of his fellow-Israelites, a petition, in which they begged leave to live and trade in London. What do you think of such impertinence?"

| ought not to be rejected, but they should be received and treated with hospitality and toleration. They are, as it were, the trunk from which Christianity, that noblest blossom of humanity, has developed itself. Add to this that the chosen people display rare commercial talents and activity, and will assuredly bring riches into our country."

"That is just what the lord protector thinks. He immediately summoned a conference of merchants, theologians, and jurists, at which he himself presided, and warmly advocated the cause of his protégés."

"He is a great man in every sense of the word."

"Of course he is, and he lacks nothing of being a king but the royal title. To tell you the truth, I believe my worthy cousin will, before long, put the crown on his head."

"You must be jesting," said Milton, deeply moved.

"Not at all, sir; I have already written a coronation ode, and I should seriously advise you, for the solemnity of the coronation, to take your own Pegasus from the stable and mount him, which you have not done for a long time past."

"I cannot believe it."

"And yet it is only necessary for you to look around these apartments to be convinced that I have told you the truth. What is wanting, then, to the restoration of the monarchy ? We reside at Whitehall, the royal palace; we have a splendid lifeguard, and a full retinue of courtiers. See, yonder stand the Earl of Warwick and Lord Broghill; and here comes, if I mistake not, Sir Kenelm Digby, to render homage to the new ruler of England."

"Sir Kenelm Digby, the Catholic, the exiled royalist ?” asked Milton, wonderingly.

"Well, you need not wonder at it. He has obtained permission to return to England. We have need of him for secret purposes.