incident to civil commotion, so soon did the 
mask fall off from those pseudo-patriots, that all parties except the 
creatures of the ambitious Cromwel, ardently looked for the restoration 
of their imprisoned King, as a termination of their own sorrows, as well 
as of his misfortunes. And when that hope was frustrated "by the most 
consummate hypocrisy and atrocious breach of all law and justice," the 
iron pressure of those times of pretended liberty and equality that 
ensued, led every one, who had not by some unpardonable crime 
hazarded his own safety, to welcome back the son of the royal victim to 
the constitution and honour of England, with such rash exuberance of 
confiding loyalty, that, by intrusting to his careless hand the full 
possession of unrestrained power, they laid the foundation of future 
contests and confusion. Such were the prospective evils with which the 
Oliverian usurpation afflicted the state, while in the department of 
morals, piety was brought into such contempt by the extravagance of 
fanatics, and the detected cheats of hypocrites, that atheism and 
profaneness grew popular, as being more open and candid in their 
avowed profligacy. The oppressive, or as his admirers call it, the 
vigorous government of Cromwell humbled the proud spirit of
Englishmen, who had often revolted at the excessive stretches of 
prerogative under their legitimate kings; and this new habit of 
submission, added to a deep repentance for their late crime, so struck 
the independent character of the nation, that a cabal of atheists and 
libertines persuaded an unprincipled Prince that he might as easily 
found his throne on what was then deemed the firm basis of despotism, 
as many of the Continental princes had done. If, as Englishmen, we 
blush at the disgrace of a King sold to France, and a court and nation 
abandoned to such licentious contempt of all Christian obligations, that 
even decency is compelled to consign their polite literature to oblivion, 
we must seek for the seeds of this twofold degradation in the times of 
which I propose to exhibit a familiar portrait, illustrated by imaginary 
characters and events, but carefully compared with warranted originals. 
It remains to say something of the conduct of this design. Public events 
will be stated with fidelity. Historical characters shall be but sparingly 
combined with feigned actions, but, where they, are, great care shall be 
taken that they be neither flattered, calumniated, nor overcharged; and, 
I believe, they may be found to have behaved in much the same manner 
to others, as I shall represent them to do to the imaginary persons 
whom I bring on the scene. The long space of years which this 
narrative embraces, is, I know, a great abatement of its interest. It is a 
fault which could not be avoided without falsifying chronology at a 
period familiar to every well-read person, or losing sight of the 
admonitory lesson which the tale was intended to convey. 
I know that there is no small share of hardihood in my attempt: Bigotry, 
superstitious adherence to existing institutions, exclusive partiality to a 
sect, and pertinacious resistance to the increase of liberal information, 
are well-sounding epithets easily applied, and too grateful to the 
million to want popularity. Those who write with no higher motive than 
to please the prevailing taste, must beware of touching upon topics 
which are likely to rouse the hostile feelings of self-importance, and to 
disgust would-be statesmen and intuitive divines. Ridicule will never 
disprove those opinions which were held by the wisest and most 
illustrious persons that England ever produced. Should I be so 
unfortunate as to provoke hostility where I look for co-operation;
erroneous or undeserved censure shall not induce me to enter into a 
controversy with those whom I believe to be sincere champions of 
religious truth, and to whose labours I am consequently bound to say, 
"God speed," though they may consider me as a doubtful ally, if not an 
enemy. To these I would address the dying words of the celebrated 
non-juror Archbishop Sancroft to his subscribing chaplain, 
Needham--"You and I have gone different ways in these late affairs, 
but I trust Heaven's gates are wide enough to receive us both. I always 
took you for an honest man. What I said concerning myself was only to 
let you know that what I have done I have done in the integrity of my 
heart, indeed in the great integrity of my heart." Thus, only anxious to 
defend and support constitutional principles, I shall plead guilty to 
many errors in taste, in the construction of the fable, as well as in the 
style of the narrative, and throw myself on the mercy of the Public with 
regard to those points. 
[1] Lord Clarendon. 
 
CHAP. II. 
I will not choose what many men desire, Because I will not    
    
		
	
	
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