"In a few minutes the question for passing the bill was put, and the man could be restrained no longer. He stood up, took off his hat, and looked round the House, and it quailed under his eyes; every man in it shifted on his seat and was uneasy. He began to speak, and it was with a tongue of flame. He reproached them for their self-seeking and their hypocrisy and oppression; and as he went on, there was the roar of a lion in his voice, and the members, being condemned of their own consciences, cowered before him."
"Did no one open their mouth against him?"
"No one but Sir Peter Wentworth. He said, 'My Lord General, this Parliament has done great things for England;' and Cromwell answered, 'The spoke in the wheel that creaks most does not bear the burden in the cart!' Then Sir Peter told Cromwell his abuse of the Parliament was the more horrid because it came from the servant of the Parliament, the man they had trusted and obliged."
At these words Dr. Verity laughed loudly—"Cromwell, the servant of such a Parliament!" he cried. "Not he; what then, Israel?"
"He told Wentworth to be quiet. He said he had heard enough of such talk, and putting on his hat, he took the floor of the House. I watched him as he did so. He breathed inward, like one who has a business of life and death in hand. I could see on his face that he was going to do the deed that had been the secret of his breast for many days; and his walk was that quick stride with which he ever went to meet an enemy. He stood in the middle of the House, and began to accuse the members personally. His words were swords. He flung them at the men as if they were javelins; shot them in their faces as if from a pistol; and while rivers run to the sea, I can never think of Oliver Cromwell as I saw him this day but as one of the Immortals. He did not look as you and I look. He filled the House, though a less man in bulk and stature than either of us. He told the members to empty themselves of Self, and then they would find room for Christ, and for England. He told them the Lord had done with them. He said they were no Parliament, and that he had been sent to put an end to their sitting and their prating.
"And at these words, Cluny Neville spoke to the Serjeant, and he opened the doors, and some musketeers entered the House. Then Sir Harry Vane cried out, 'This is not honest;' and Cromwell reminded him of his own broken promise. And so, to one and all, he brought Judgment Day; for their private lives were well known to him, and he could glance at Tom Challoner and say, 'Some of you are drunkards;' and at Henry Marten, and give the text about lewd livers; and at the bribe-takers he had only to point his finger, and say in a voice of thunder 'Depart,' and they began to go out, at first slowly, and then in a hurry, treading on the heels of each other."
"What of Lenthall? He has a stubborn will."
"He sat still in the Speaker's chair, until Cromwell ordered him to come down. For a moment he hesitated, but General Harrison said, 'I will lend you my hand, sir;' and so he also went out."
"But was there no attempt to stay such dismissals? I am amazed, dumbfounded!" said Doctor Verity.
"Alderman Allen, the Treasurer of the Army, as he went out said something to Cromwell which angered him very much; and he then and there charged Allen with a shortage of one hundred thousand pounds, and committed him to the care of a musketeer for examination. And as Sir Harry Vane passed him, he told him reproachfully that his own treacherous conduct had brought affairs to their present necessity; for, he added, 'if Sir Harry Vane had been at the Cockpit according to his words, Oliver Cromwell had not been in the Parliament House.' But I tell you, there was no gainsaying the Cromwell of this hour. He was more than mortal man; and Vane and the others knew, if they had not known before, why he was never defeated in battle."