That adventurer had equally obtained the confidence of the
commander-in-chief and of the common soldier. Dark, artful, and designing,
he governed Fairfax by his suggestions, while he pretended only to second
the projects of that general. Among the privates he appeared as the
advocate of liberty and toleration, joined with them in their conventicles,
equalled them in the cant of fanaticism, and affected to resent their
wrongs as religionists and their privations as soldiers. To his
fellow-officers he lamented the ingratitude and jealousy of the parliament,
a court in which experience showed that no man, not even the most
meritorious patriot, was secure. To-day he might be in high favour;
tomorrow, at the insidious suggestion of some obscure lawyer or
narrow-minded bigot, he might find himself under arrest, and be consigned
to the Tower. That Cromwell already aspired to the eminence to which he
afterwards soared, is hardly credible; but that his ambition was awakened,
and that he laboured to bring the army into collision with the parliament,
was evident to the most careless observer.[1]
To disband that army was now become the main object of the Presbyterian
leaders; but they disguised their real motives under the pretence of the
national benefit.
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