tained by the Spanish authorities.
Before they reached Breda, however, but when Greenville could say
that he had seen them safe within Dutch territory, he left them, to
post back to England with a private letter to Monk in the King's own
hand, enclosing a commission to the Captaincy-General of all his
Majesty's forces, and with six other documents, which had been
drafted by Hyde, and were all dated by anticipation "_At Our Court
at Breda, this 4/14th of April 1660, in the Twelfth Year of Our
Reign_." One was a public letter "To our trusty and well-beloved
General Monk," to be by him communicated to the President and Council
of State and to the Army officers; another was to the Speaker of the
House of Commons in the coming Parliament; a third was a general
"Declaration" for all England, Scotland, and Ireland; a fourth was a
short letter to the House of Lords, should there be one; a fifth was
for Admirals Monk and Montague, to be communicated to the Fleet; and
the sixth was to the Lord Mayor, Aldermen, and Common Councilmen of
the City of London. Besides the originals, copies of all were sent to
Monk, that he might keep the originals unopened or suppress any of
them.[1]

[Footnote 1: Clarendon, 896-902; Phillips, 696; Skinner, 276-280.]

It could be an affair now only of a few weeks, more or less. There,
at Breda, was his swarthy, witty, good-humoured, utterly profligate
and worthless, young Majesty, with his refugee courtiers round him;
at home, over all Britain and Ireland, they were ready for him,
longing for him, huzzahing for him, Monk and the Council managing
silently in London; and between, as a moveable bridge, there was
Montague and his fleet. When would the bridge move towards the
Continent? That would depend on the newly-elected Parliament, which
was to meet on the 25th. Could there be any mischance in the
meantime?

It did not seem so. The late politicians of the Rump were dispersed
and powerless. Hasilrig sat by himself in London, moaning "_We are
undone: we are undone_"; Scott was in Buckinghamshire, if
perchance they might elect him for Wycombe: Ludlow hid in Wiltshire
and Somersetshire, also nominated for a seat, but careless about it;
the rest absconded one knows not where. The "Fanatics," as the
Republican Sectaries were now called collectively, were silenced and
overwhelmed. Even Mr. Praise-God Barebone, tired of having his
windows broken, was under written engagement to the Council to keep
himself