rce
such a conception on a people by law. It broke down, too, before the
corruption of the Puritans themselves. It was impossible to distinguish
between the saint and the hypocrite as soon as godliness became
profitable. Ashley Cooper, a sceptic in religion and a profligate in
morals, was among "the loudest bagpipes of the squeaking train." Even
among the really earnest Puritans prosperity disclosed a pride, a
worldliness, a selfish hardness which had been hidden in the hour of
persecution. What was yet more significant was the irreligious and
sceptical temper of the younger generation which had grown up amid the
storms of the civil war. The children even of the leading Puritans stood
aloof from Puritanism. The eldest of Cromwell's sons made small
pretensions to religion. Milton's nephews, though reared in his house,
were writing satires against Puritan hypocrisy and contributing to
collections of filthy songs. The two daughters of the great preacher,
Stephen Marshall, were to figure as actresses on the infamous stage of
the Restoration. The tone of the Protector's later speeches shows his
consciousness that the ground was slipping from under his feet. He no
longer dwells on the dream of a Puritan England, of a nation rising as a
whole into a people of God. He falls back on the phrases of his youth,
and the saints become again a "peculiar people," a remnant, a fragment
among the nation at large.

But with the consciousness of failure in realizing his ideal of
government the charm of government was gone; and now to the weariness of
power was added the weakness and feverish impatience of disease.
Vigorous and energetic as Cromwell's life had seemed, his health was by
no mean as strong as his will; he had been struck down by intermittent
fever in the midst of his triumphs both in Scotland and in Ireland, and
during the past year he had suffered from repeated attacks of it. "I
have some infirmities upon me," he owned twice over in his speech at the
reopening of the Parliament in January, 1658, after an adjournment of
six months; and his feverish irritability was quickened by the public
danger. No supplies had been voted, and the pay of the army was heavily
in arrear, while its temper grew more and more sullen at the appearance
of the new constitution and the reawakening of the royalist intrigues.

Cromwell had believed that his military successes would secure
compliance with his demands; but the temper of the Commons was e