attire was flung a cloak of purple velvet, and on his head was
placed a crown with many precious stones. The room was then lit,
as Ludlow narrates, "by four or five hundred candles set in flat
shining candlesticks, so placed round near the roof that the
light they gave seemed like the rays of the sun, by all which he
was represented to be now in a state of glory." Lest, indeed,
there should be any doubt as to the place where his soul abode,
Sterry, the Puritan preacher, imparted the information to all,
that the Protector "now sat with Christ at the right hand of the
Father."

But this pomp and state in no may overawed the people, who, by
pelting with mire Cromwell's escutcheon placed above the great
gate of Somerset House gave evidence of the contempt in which
they held his memory. After a lapse of over two months from the
day of his death, the effigy was carried to Westminster Abbey
with more than regal ceremony, the expenses of his lying-in-state
and of his funeral procession amounting, as stated by Walker and
Noble, to upwards of L29,000. "It was the joyfullest funeral I
ever saw," writes Evelyn, "for there were none that cried but
dogs, which the soldiers hooted away with a barbarous noise,
drinking and taking tobacco as they went."

A little while before his death Cromwell had named his eldest
surviving son, Richard, as his successor, and he was accordingly
declared Protector, with the apparent consent of the council,
soldiers, and citizens. Nor did the declaration cause any
excitement, "There is not a dog who wags his tongue, so profound
is the calm which we are in," writes Thurlow to Oliver's second
son, Henry, then Lord Lieutenant of Ireland. But if the nation