But for a complete exemplification of the extreme
limit of human misery, we must look to the oppressor, not to the
oppressed; to Cromwell, galled by the armour worn under his robes of
state to defend his person from the expected dagger of a murderer, and
not to Dr. Beaumont, languishing for want of the common blessings which
freedom bestows, or to Evellin, an aged cripple in the lonely confined
chamber of poverty. Cromwell had no daughter who revered his virtues,
and cheered his pensive contemplations with the assurance that the
righteous sufferer was under the peculiar protection of Heaven. Most of
_his_ daughters were strongly attached to the royal cause. The wife of
Fleetwood (his eldest) was a furious Republican; Desborough, his
brother-in-law, was a Leveller; and his eldest son was incompetent to
receive that weight of usurped greatness which he wished to bequeath
him. Such was the domestic situation of the man at whose frown Europe
trembled. Ever in dread of assassins and conspirators, vexed by
family-broils, his nearest connexions hostile to his views, without
solace from public care, or sympathy in private distress.
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