this policy of Cromwell as a means to advance himself and 'to betray the great trust reposed in him,' though he does not explain in what way it would advance him, nor how a trust to obtain the liberty of his country was violated by bringing to an end the prosecution of a defeated party which would soon degenerate into persecution. Again, Ludlow's statement that Cromwell dismissed the Militia after the battle of Worcester with anger and contempt' is wholly incorrect. Mr. Firth rightly calls attention on this point to Cromwell's well-known letter, written after the engagement, in which he speaks of it as for ought I know a crowning mercy,' and goes on to praise the Militia for 'their singular good service, for which they deserve a very 'high estimation and acknowledgement.' A general could hardly speak in higher terms than these, so that in this matter of fact Ludlow is quite inaccurate. But the passage quoted from his Memoirs can be matched with others of a similar kind. That, however, which we have given is sufficient to show that, regarded as a history, Ludlow's narrative is open to grave suspicion on all points in which his prejudiced opinion of Cromwell comes in, and whenever his fixed views are likely to affect his judgement. This narrowness of view, united to a resolution bordering on obstinacy and to a very upright character, naturally made him a centre round which others, equally prejudiced and narrowminded, could collect. It is thus easy to see how he could gain a certain public reputation, and how he could be a trouble and an annoyance to Cromwell, and yet, at the same time, not an opponent of any real importance. 'In'capable de comprendre les événements et les hommes' is one phrase that Guizot uses to describe Ludlow. It is apt, and it is sufficient to explain Ludlow's incapacity, except in the matters which required no more than a strict sense of duty, honesty, and some little power of practical organisation on clearly defined lines. Thus he is interesting rather as a type of a class of men than for his own personality, for the light which he throws on the difficulties in the way of any definite settlement of the nation after the death of Charles, and, indeed, of the forces which brought about that death. But had he not been induced to write a memoir of his times, Ludlow's place in history would have been infinitesimal; for he had no qualification, military or civil, to enable him to rank with the greater figures on the parliamentary side.

On Ludlow's return to England he was imprisoned for

six weeks in Beaumaris Castle, and later he was kept in a position of political disability-sufficient to render him harmless to Cromwell's government, yet, at the same time, to leave him in a measure a free man. Cromwell's attempts to induce him to approve of his government wholly failed, for the personal element was too strongly visible in it.

"Pray then," said he [Cromwell] in one interview," what is it that you would have? May not every man be as good as he will? What can you desire more than you have? "It were easy," said I, "to tell what we would have." "What is that, I pray?" said he. "That which we fought for," said I; "that the nation might be governed by its own consent." "I ara," said he, "as much for government by consent as any man; but where shall we find that consent? Amongst the Prelatical, Presbyterian, Independent, Anabaptist, or Levelling Parties?" I answered, "Amongst those of all sorts who had acted with fidelity and affection to the publick." Then he fell into the commendation of his own government, boasting of the protection and quiet which the people enjoyed under it.' (Vol. ii. p. 11.)

Here we have a vivid picture of the difficulties by which the Protector was surrounded, and the impossibility of persuading theorists like Ludlow that, so long as the nation. was flourishing, it was immaterial that the form of government was not purely republican. The tyranny under which the people had suffered having been destroyed, Cromwell's practical mind could not tolerate the opposition of theorists like Ludlow, any more than he could the prating of a parliament or the intrigues of the late king—each in turn he swept out of his way, only to find new difficulties arise, and from among those who had been the foremost in the fight. The result of this antagonism to the Protector on the part of Ludlow was that not until after Cromwell's death was he able to re-enter Parliament. The year 1659 is that in which Ludlow was most prominent in public affairs, for from the death of Cromwell to the Restoration he took a leading part in the national crisis, showing at once a genuine patriotism and a complete inability to control or to influence the various forces around him. In July 1659 the Parliament gave him the chief command in Ireland, where he remained till October. During his stay he was chiefly occupied in the reorganisation of the army, displacing officers of Cromwellian sympathies, or promoting staunch republicans.' As soon as he returned to England he set to work to bring the army and the Parliament to terms. His main object was to prevent the vessel of the Commonwealth from sink'ing.' Ludlow had taken up arms against Charles I.

6

because he considered that the king was trying to govern England as a god by his will,' and because he would not consent that the nation be governed by force like beasts.' After helping to overthrow Charles, he had seen another personal government arise, and he had thus, remaining always an enemy to autocratic rule, opposed the Protector as he had opposed the king. This,' he said of Cromwell's government, in his interviews with the Protector and his Council after his return from Ireland in 1655, 'seems to me to be in substance a re-establishment of that which we all engaged against, and had, with a great expense of 'blood and treasure, abolished.' (Vol. i. p. 435.) Now Charles and Cromwell were both gone; but the storm which the great Protector could not rule was not likely to be calmed by an honest, but narrow-minded, man like Ludlow. Constitutionally and politically, the nation was in a state of chaos; the only determining force was, as it must be in such circumstances, a disciplined army. Ludlow, though a soldier, was politically as deeply opposed to the tyranny of an army as he was to the despotism of a king. He was a republican in theory, and under king, Protector, and army his sole object was to establish a pure republic. But, however well intentioned, he had not a single quality which would enable him to evolve and establish a constitution out of these opposed and confused elements. Drifting into the deliberations of the army, when the latter, in 1659, had decided to summon a new parliament, and many 'difficulties arising amongst them touching that matter,' he attempted to formulate a constitutional scheme :

'I proposed to the Council officers that the essentials of our cause might be clearly stated and declared inviolable by any authority whatsoever, and that in case any differences should hereafter arise between the Parliament and the Army touching those particulars or any of them, a certain number of persons of known integrity might be appointed by the Council finally to determine the matter. The Council having without much difficulty agreed to this proposition, I presumed to proceed farther: and being fully persuaded that if such a power were conferred upon honest and disinterested persons, it would give more satisfaction to good men, and better provide for the public safety, than to have the final decision of all things left to a mercenary army, I adventured to give in a list of one-and-twenty persons for that service, who should be called Conservators of Liberty. Then we went upon the debate of such particulars as should be referred to their cognisance and judgment, which were as followeth :-1. That the Government should not be altered from a Commonwealth by setting up a king, single person, or House of Peers. 2. That liberty of conscience should not be violated. 3. That

the army should not be diminished, their conduct altered, nor their pay lessened without the consent of the major part of the Conservators.' (Vol. ii. p. 172.)

The next step was to settle the list of these Conservators, and this was fatal to Ludlow's constitution-manufacturing. The army naturally, in view of the third of the above conditions, wished to have their own partisans on the tribunal. The result may be told in Ludlow's own words :

:-

'Here my patience,' he says, 'began to leave me, and I told them openly that, seeing they intended only to carry on a faction, and to govern the nation by the sword, I resolved to have no more to do with them, and thereupon refused to give in my billet upon the names of the six or seven persons that were last proposed; but they completed their number, and in the next Public Intelligence caused the names of these one-and-twenty persons, whom they had elected, to be published to the world, with notice of their resolution to summon a new parliament, thinking thereby to please the people.' (Vol. ii. p. 174.)

The only possible and practical mode of putting an end to a disastrous constitutional confusion was that finally adopted by Monk, and confirmed by the good sense of the nation at large-the restoration of the monarchy under constitutional safeguards. Such a solution of existing difficulties was one which Ludlow never could have proposed or sanctioned. But even his well-meant attempts to arrange a settlement palatable to the army, in confirming a republic, help to show us the absolute impossibility of any other end to the existing confusion than that which was finally adopted by the more statesmanlike of the military leaders. Upon the failure of this attempt Ludlow hastened back to Ireland, where a conspiracy had broken out to deprive him of his authority. No sooner was he there than he heard that he had been accused before the Long Parliament, and removed from his command in Ireland. This was the very irony of fate he who was the most theoretical of republicans was accused by the Parliament which he was anxious to establish. He had not only failed to complete satisfactory negotiations with the army, but he had lost the goodwill of the adherents of the Commonwealth.

The result of all his attempts at mediation,' says Mr. Firth, had simply been to make him suspected by the ' adherents of the Parliament, without gaining him the con'fidence of the leaders of the army" (i. xl). He was now a mere cypher, and was pushed on one side: in the Convention he could (acting still with perfect consistency) only refuse to vote against sending commissioners to Charles II. He

was obliged to see another Stuart ascend the English throne, and to regret the wasted years of bloodshed and destruction. In August 1660, 'just as the government published a 'proclamation offering three hundred pounds for his arrest, 'he succeeded in escaping to France.' From this time Ludlow took no part in English politics. He was, though a powerless exile, regarded with the greatest suspicion, and even dread, by the government at home.

'Amongst the exiles there were abler heads than his, but Sydney and St. John had drawn back when the time came for shedding the King's blood. Toffe and Whalley and Hewson were soldiers as good as Ludlow-perhaps better-but they had supported the usurpation of Cromwell, and Desborough was too near akin to the Protector. But through good and evil fortune Ludlow had remained faithful to republican ideals, his devotion had never hesitated, his constancy never been seduced. Therefore the few stern fanatics, whom no reverses could teach and no odds dismay, regarded him as their destined leader. His unbending obstinacy had become a virtue. The field was lost, but "the unconquerable will" linked with the "courage never to submit or yield," might yet overthrow the triumphant and careless conqueror. Ludlow possessed these qualities, and they did not perceive how much he lacked. He had not the fertility in resources, the readiness to seize opportunities, the skill to organise conspirators, the willingness to head forlorn hopes, which make a good leader of revolts. His courage was rather active than passive in its nature, and his mind was slow to adapt itself to new situations. But as yet neither the republicans had discovered that their hopes were hollow, nor the government that their fears were unfounded. How much the government feared him the State Papers and State Trials show. Not a plot was discovered for the next few years but he was reported to be at the head of it. Spies continually reported that he was hiding in England, and zealous officials that they hoped to arrest him. Twice during the autumn of 1660 his capture was actually announced. In October 1661 he was said to be lurking in Cripplegate, ready to head an attack on Whitehall. Forty thousand old soldiers were to rise in arms, and in a few days, whispered his partisans, Ludlow would be the greatest man in England. In July 1662 he was expected to head a rising in the western counties. In November people said he had been seen at Canterbury, disguised as a sailor, and Kent and Sussex were scoured to find him. Meanwhile the real Ludlow travelled peaceably through France, visiting, like an ordinary tourist, the sights of Paris, and noting the peculiarities of the French nation. He remarked on the dirtiness of Louis the Fourteenth's palace, and critically inspected his stables, contrasted the numbers of the clergy and the poverty of the peasants, and complained that the wines of the country did not agree with him. At last he reached Geneva, and took lodgings in the house of an Englishwoman, where, he says, "I found good beer, which was a great refreshment to me." But as he did not find himself sufficiently secure in Geneva, he removed in April 1662 to Lausanne, and thence in the following September to Vevay.' (Vol. i. p. xlii.)