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(which, by Lord Clarendon's own account, had never truly, or certainly, been interred ; and, after the restoration, when most die ligently sought after, by the Earls of Southampton and Lindsey, at the command of king Charles the Second, in order to a solemn removal, could no where, in the church where he was said to have been buried, be found) that, if any sentence should be pronoun. ced, as upon his body, it might effectually fall upon that of the king. That, on that order of the commons, in king Charles the Second's time, the tomb was broken down, and the body taken out of a coffin so inscribed, as mentioned in the serjeant's report, was from thence conveyed to 'Tyburn, and, to the utmost joy and triumph of that crew of miscreants, hung publickly on the gal. lohs, amidst an infinite crowd of sp ctators, almost infected with the noisomeness of the stench. The secret being only amongst that abandoned few, there was no doubt in the rest of the people, but the bodies, so exposed, were the bodies they were said to be; had not some, whose chriosity had brought them nearer to the tree, observed, with horror, the remains of a countenance they. little had expected there ; and that, on tying the cord, there was 4 strong seam about the neck, by which the head had been, as was supposed, immediately after the decollation, fastened again to the body. This being whispered about, and the numbers that came to the dismal sight hourly increasing, notice was immediately given of the suspicion to the attending officer, who dispatched a messen, ger to court, to acquaint them with the rumour, and the ill cone sequences the spreading or examining into it further, might have. On which the bodies were immediately ordered down, to be buried again, to prevent any infection. Certain is it, they were not burnt, as in prudence, for that pretended reason, might have been expected; as well as in justice, to have shewn the utmost detes. tation for their crimes, and the most lasting mark of infamy they could inflict upon them. This was the account he gave. What truth there is in it, is not so certain. Many circumstances make the surmise not altogether improbable : As all those enthusiasts, to the last moment of their lives, ever gloried in the truth of it.
THE HISTORY OF THE LIFE AND DEATH OF
Bs J. H. Gent.
said Oliver Cromiocll. THE unparalleled actions of this man have made people more
curious, than otherwise they would be, to know his rise and birth, which otherwise might better, to the advantage of his mea
mory, have been yet ohscored and concealed; for it will neither add praise nor commendation, either to his country or relations; both which have publickly protested their shame and their abhor. rence of him. So that, without prejudice to his family, who have cleared themselves of any participation of his facts, and did, and do, detest both him and them: You may understand, he was the son of Henry Cromwell, alias Williams, the younger son of Sir Henry Cromwell, of Hinchingbrook, in the county of Huntingdon, Knight, who‘so magnificently treated king James in that place, at his coming into England; who so loyally and affectionately loved king Charles the Martyr; and, who, lastly, so hated and abominated this Oliver, his nephew, god-son, and namesake.
He was born at Huntingdon, in the year 1599, where his fa. ther, being a cadet, or younger brother, as we have said, having no large estate, had intermarried with a brewer's widow, by whom he had some addition of fortune, and from her sprung that story of Oliver's being a brewer in Huntingdon. He was, from his in. fancy, a lusty, active child, and of a sturdy rough temper; which, to remedy, in his young years, his father prudently took this
CHAP. II. How Oliver was educated and brought up in the University of Cambridgc, and afterwards in Lincoln's-Inn, in the
Study of the Law. About the age, therefore, of thirteen or fourteen years, his father sent him to the University of Cambridge, to have him tempered and managed, by the severe tuition and discipline of the University ; but his tutor quickly perceived the boisterous and un. tractable spirit of his pupil, who was more for action than specu. lation, and loved cudgels, foot-ball-playing, or any game and ex. ercise, better than his book; so that there was no hopes of making .him a scholar, or a learned man; and much ado there was to keep him so in compass, that he became not an open and publick dishonour to his friends ; (here he was made an actor in the play of the five Senses, where he ominously stumbled at a Crown, which he had also dreamed he should once wear) whereupon he was presently removed, his tutor weary, and afraid of disgrace by him, Lincoln's Inn, where he might with less imputation and observance, if his bent were so given, roister it out, and yet, without much trouble, attain some knowledge in the laws, to qualify him for a country gentleman, and that little competency his father could leave him. But no such rudiments would sink into him; he was for rougher arguments and pleas, club-law; and, indeed, what occasion had he to know and be versed in the law, whose designs, and wicked practices afterwards, were directly opposite to all laws, both divine and human ? So that he continued not long there, but was called home, his father dying soon after, and leaving bim to his swing
CHAP. III. of his Manner of Life and Conversation in the Country, OLIVER, being come down into the country, and growing sturdy, and of man's stature, frequented all manner of wild company. Who but he at any match or game whatsoever, where he would drink and roar with the rudest of his companions ? And when his money, which he had sparingly from his mother, who yet kept the purse, failed him, he would make the victuallers trust him, to such a ruin of his credit and reputation, he beiog as famous for his ranting and his scores, as after, for his prayers and victories, that the ale-wives of Huntingdon, if they saw him coming, would set up a cry, Here comes young Cromwell, shut up the doors, and so keep him out.' But he had better success in the war, for then there was no shutting of him out, no garison or castle, or strength whatsoever, was sufficient to debar him. But that may be imputable to the luck of his former atchievements, fortune being tied at his girdle, and keeping a constant tenor with him ; for, at this age, he would make nothing of beating of tinkers, and such masty fellows at quarter-staff, or any such weapon they would chuse; so that he was dreaded by all the ale-drinkers, as well as ale-wives of the country.
CHAP. IV. Ilow Olider was reclaimed from these lewd courses, and how he joined himself to the preciser sort, and became an
Hypocritical Convert. By these debauched courses of life, and regardless thoughts how the world went, as long as drink and company could be had, no matter how nor where; he had so endangered his small estate and patrimony, and was so far in debt, that he was forced to retire himself, and get out of the way, and live privately, for fear of pri. vate arrests and judgments, which were brought against him. In this solitary condition, he had time to bethink himself of his con. dition; and having nothing else to do, having played a part at Cambridge, to personate another at home, seeming very pensive and melancholy, and much reserved in his talk and discourse; which, from vain, and frivolous, and wild speeches, was now al. tered into serious, and modest, and grave language, and sober expression; which, accommodated and set forth with a more staid and solemn aspect and gesture, made him appear to be another kind of person, having run from the one extrcine to the other, from stark naught, to too good; and it will be a question whether, by the first he were more destructive to himself, or by the latter, more pernicious to his country.
This humour soured him at last into a precise puritanism, with whom his zealous design was to ingratiate himself; who increasing cvery day, and being grown to a headstrong faction, he doubted not, but if time should serve, which his daring spirit (if he had not a familiar) told him was a coming, to be principal person among them, and howsoever, to make up his decays on his for. tunes, by the kind-hearted supplies and loans of the brotherhood, who were very proud of such a proselyte.
In a short time after, he had learned to pray, and attained a very ready faculty therein, which he made no nicety to manifest upon all occasions, both in their publick and private meetings; so that he was looked upon by those of his godly party, as their chiefest ornament, and by the rest of the world, as a strange won, der. This artificial devotion did not only then advantage him, but_served him thereafter through the whole course of his life, and was the main ingredient of all his policies and successes, A friar was an ass to him for saying of prayers, he was able to give him two for one with his beads aụd by rote, and out-strip him extempore.
CHAP. V. How Oliver, being noted for his pretendcd Sanctity, was chosen a Burgess of Cambridge for the Long-Parliament; and,
the War breaking out, was made a Captain of Horse. By this sanctimonious Vizor, and manifested zeal for reforma. tion, which was then in every man's mouth, he was looked upon as the fittest instrument to promote it in the parliament, which the king had called in 16.10, to redress the grievances of the state and church, and to supply his necessities; and, therefore, the puritan faction, and his relations by marriage, as Mr. Goodwin, and also Hambden of Buckingham, laboured, in elertion of burgesses for the town of Cambridge, to have him chosen. The town was generally infected with the same disease, and therefore it was no hard matter to effect it. Sitting in parliament, as a member, he quickly saw which way the stream went, and therefore resolved to run one of the first with it; and therefore helped out the noise and cry for privilege, proving a great stickler against the prerogative, and, to that end, endeavouring to widen the breach; and made way, by male-pertness of tumults, against the king's person and court; insomuch that he became conspicuous and noted for his aversion to the government. The flame of those inward burnings now break. ing out, and because of his influence in his country, and his bold, confident spirit, he was courted with a commission (which he accepted) under the Earl of Essex, the parliament's general, and was made a captain of a troop of horse.
Of the Exploits Cromwell did, in the beginning of the War.
Having raised his troop, he marched not presently with the gross and main body of the army, but was ordered to continue about his own country, that so his own enterprises might be the better observed, and he taken notice of; so that he was a rising
man from the very first beginning of oùr civil confusions. The first service that he appeared in, was the seizure of Sir Henry Co. nisby, the sheriff of Hertfordshire, when, in a gallant contempt of the parliament, he was proclaiming the commission of array at St. Alban's, and sending him, and other gentlemen, his assistance, to London ; which sudden and meritorious exploit of his was well sesented, and highly commended by the parliament. His next piece of diligen e was the like seizure of Sir John Pettus, and forty gentlemen more, of the county of Suffolk, who were form. ing a party for the king, and securing them; by which means, he broke the neck of any future design in that, or the next county of Norfolk, for the royal interest; so that he had brought all the eastern part of England to the parliament's subjection, by a blood. less and easy conguest. But his other victories, which were prin. cipally ascribed to him, though they were joined with him, were very sanguineous, and fatally cruel.
As his last home employment, he was ordered to purge and to, inspect the University, wherein he proceeded with so much rigour against that place of his own nurture, &c. it was conceived he would at last as murcilesly use his mother, then bleeding England. Which work being over, and unhappily ef. fected, Cromwell was the only man; his prudence, fortune, and valour every where applauded and extolled, and he reputed for one of the most eminent and able commanders in the parliament's army.
It was time, therefore, now to shew him abroad, having armed, disciplined, and paid his men so carefully, that there was no doubt of their prevailing upon any equal enemy, and under the conduct of so vigilant and wary a leader, whose only aim it was to keep up his reputation to greater undertakings. Thorefore, in order to a conjunction and assistance of the Scots, who were entered England, he was made lieutenant-general to the Earl of Manchester, who had raised his army out of the associated counties, as Cam. bridge, Huntingdon, Bedford, Suffolk, &c. Those armies being joined, and mastering the field (the Marquis of Newcastle, who opposed then), ret.cating into York) they resolved to besiege that city: To the relief whereof, Prince Rupert came, and forcing them to draw off from their league, he gave them battle on Marston-Moor, July 2, 1641. In the beginning of the light, Prince Rupert had utterly discomsited the right wing of the army, where Sir inomas Fairiax and the Scots horse stood, and disordered the main body of the foot, so that the day was given for lost, the Scots running and throwing down their arms; when Cromwell, with his Cucassiers, and the rest of my Lord Manchester's horse, who were placed in the right wing, fell with such force and fury upon the Lord Goring's brigades on the right, that they presently broke these in pieces, and foliowing their success, before the prince returned, obtained a compleat victory, killing no less than five. thousand men, gaining their camp, bag and baggage; and, as the price of all, the city of York. llence he acquired that terrible