narily command, it was necessary that he
should sometimes obey. He publicly protested that he was no mover in the
matter, that the first steps had been taken without his privity, that he
could not advise the Parliament to strike the blow, but that he
submitted his own feelings to the force of circumstances which seemed to
him to indicate the purposes of Providence.

It has been the fashion to consider these professions as instances of
the hypocrisy which is vulgarly imputed to him. But even those who
pronounce him a hypocrite will scarcely venture to call him a fool. They
are therefore bound to show that he had some purpose to serve by
secretly stimulating the army to take that course which he did not
venture openly to recommend. It would be absurd to suppose that he who
was never by his respectable enemies represented as wantonly cruel or
implacably vindictive, would have taken the most important step of his
life under the influence of mere malevolence. He was far too wise a man
not to know, when he consented to shed that august blood, that he was
doing a deed which was inexpiable, and which would move the grief and
horror, not only of the Royalists, but of nine-tenths of those who had
stood by the Parliament. Whatever visions may have deluded others, he
was assuredly dreaming neither of a republic on the antique pattern nor
of the millennial reign of the saints. If he already aspired to be
himself the founder of a new dynasty, it was plain that Charles I was a
less formidable competitor than Charles II would be.

At the moment of the death of Charles I the loyalty of every Cavalier
would be transferred, unimpaired, to Charles II. Charles I was a
captive: Charles II would be at liberty. Charles I was an object of
suspicion and dislike to a large proportion of those who yet shuddered
at the thought of slaying him: Charles II would excite all the interest
which belongs to distressed youth and innocence. It is impossible to
believe that considerations so obvious and so important escaped the most
profound politician of that age. The truth is that Cromwell had at one
time meant to mediate between the throne and the Parliament, and to
reorganize the distracted state by the power of the sword, under the
sanction of the royal name.

In this design he persisted till he was compelled to abandon it by the
refractory temper of the soldiers and by the incurable duplicity of the
King. A party in the camp began to clamor for the he