bring him to kiss
his hand. To which he commonly consenting, every one of his servants
delivered some message from him to a Parliament man, and invited him to
Court, as if the King would be willing to see him. And by this means the
rooms at Court were always full of the members of the House of Commons.
This man brought to kiss his hand, and the King induced to confer with
that man and to thank him for his affection, which could never conclude
without some general expression of grace or promise, which the poor
gentleman always interpreted to his own advantage, and expected some
fruit from it that it could never yield."

The suspicious Clarendon, already shaking to his fall, goes on to add,
"all which, being contrary to all former order, did the King no good,
and rendered those unable to do him service who were inclined to
it."[77:1]

It is a lifelike picture Clarendon draws of the crowded rooms, and of
the witty king moving about fooling vanity, ambition, and corruption to
the top of their bent. That the king chose his own ministers is plain
enough.

Marvell was at the beginning well disposed towards Charles. They had
some points in common; and among them a quick sense of humour and a turn
for business. But the member for Hull must soon have recognised that
there was no place for an honest quick-witted man in any Stuart
administration.

Marvell and his great chief remained in their offices until the close of
the year 1659, when the impending Restoration enforced their retirement.
Milton used his leisure to pour forth excited tracts to prove how easy
it would still be to establish a Free Commonwealth. Once again, and for
the last time, he prompted the age to quit its clogs

"by the known rules of ancient liberty."

These pamphlets of Milton's prove how little that solitary thinker ever
knew of the real mind and temper of the English people.

The Lord Richard Cromwell was exactly the sort of eldest son a great
soldier like Oliver, who had put his foot on fortune's neck, was likely
to have. Richard (1626-1712) was not, indeed, born in the purple, but
his early manhood was nurtured in it. Religion, as represented by long
sermons, tiresome treatises, and prayerful exercises, bored him to
death. Of enthusiasm he had not a trace, nor was he bred to arms. He
delighted in hunting, in the open air, and the company of sportsmen.
Whatever came his way easily, and as a matter of right, he was well
content to take. He bor