He was still, he protested,
the same humble individual whom they had formerly known him. Had he
consulted his own feelings, "he would rather have taken the staff of a
shepherd" than the dignity of protector. Necessity had imposed the office
upon him; he had sacrificed his own happiness to preserve his countrymen
from anarchy and ruin; and, as he now bore the burden with reluctance, he
would lay it down with joy, the moment he could do so with safety to
[Sidenote a: A.D. 1654.]
the nation. But this language made few proselytes. They had too often
already been the dupes of his hypocrisy, the victims of their own
credulity; they scrupled not, both in public companies, and from the
pulpit, to pronounce him "a dissembling perjured villain;" and they openly
threatened him with "a worse fate than had befallen the last tyrant." If it
was necessary to silence these declaimers, it was also dangerous to treat
them with severity. He proceeded with caution, and modified his displeasure
by circumstances. Some he removed from their commissions in the army and
their ministry in the church; others he did not permit to go at large,
till they had given security for their subsequent behaviour; and those who
proved less tractable, or appeared more dangerous, he incarcerated in the
Tower.
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