"Sir, I will lend you a hand," said Harrison.
Speaker Lenthall left the chair. One man could not resist an army.
Through the door glided, silent as ghosts, the members of Parliament.
"It is you that have forced me to this," said Cromwell, with a shade of
regret in his voice. "I have sought the Lord night and day, that He
would rather slay me than put upon me the doing of this work."
He had, doubtless; he was a man of deep piety and intense bigotry; but
the Lord's answer, it is to be feared, came out of the depths of his own
consciousness. Men like Cromwell call upon God, but answer for Him
themselves.
"What shall be done with this bauble?" said the general, lifting the
sacred mace, the sign-manual of government by the representatives of the
people. "Take it away!" he finished, handing it to a musketeer.
His flashing eyes followed the retiring members until they all had left
the House. Then the musketeers filed out, followed by Cromwell and
Harrison. The door was locked, and the key and mace carried away by
Colonel Otley.
A few hours afterwards the Council of State, the executive committee of
Parliament, was similarly dissolved by the lord-general, who, in person,
bade its members to depart.
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