And now he is crowned and anointed king—hailed with enthusiasm by the very men who overthrew his father and consented unto his death. How has this wondrous change come about? Cromwell built his power on the sand, and with his last breath it fell to pieces like a house of cards. His son Richard, an easy-going country squire devoted to hawking, hunting, and horse-racing, hated the greatness which was thrust upon him, and within a year laid down his office. Then “Honest George” Monk, in command of the army in Scotland, saw that the hour had arrived when his countrymen were eager for steady and lawful government in place of the harsh and uncertain rule of the sword. He marched south, and the Londoners hailed him with wild shouts of delight. Like the Israelites of old time they cried, “Give us a king to reign over us,” and Charles was invited to return and claim his birthright. The monarchy has been restored, and what manner of man is he who sets up the throne anew? Nature has given him excellent parts and a good temper; he has polite and engaging manners and a unique experience of the world; but otherwise he is utterly selfish and utterly ungrateful, “without desire of renown and without sensibility to reproach.” He is a cynic; he has absolutely no faith in human nature; he believes that every man has his price; and he values his kingship precisely for the amount of selfish indulgence which it can afford him. The father who was sent to the block was an angel of light compared with the son who has now been recalled to fill the empty throne. Forthwith he tramples all that is good as well as all that is harsh and unlovely in Puritanism under foot. He sets the nation a shameless example of licence and frivolity, and his subjects are not slow to imitate it. His court is filled with every kind of open wickedness; religion is scoffed at; morality, honour, steadfastness, and justice are fit subjects for the ribald jests of reckless roysterers. The pendulum has swung to the other extreme with a vengeance. Never before has national virtue been at so low an ebb.