"There is much to do," he answered. "I say there is much to do—yea, serious and mighty things; and shall we stop on the way to argue upon trivial matters?"
"Trivial matters!" echoed several voices at once.
The Lord-Protector flashed upon them—
"Yea, so I say! Study how a man may serve the State, not how he may be persuaded from his proper beliefs—this is enough for any man. 'With my whole heart have I sought Thee—O let me not go wrong out of Thy commandments!'—he who can say that from his heart, leave him in peace. Even these poor people the Quakers—what harm is there in them that they should be so roughly used? What hath God said?—'I have loved thee with an everlasting love—with loving kindness have I drawn thee!' Shall we, too, not strive for a little of this kindness? What have we not had to contend with of late? A Parliament that was but a clog and a hindrance, rebellions such as that at Salisbury, godly men such as Major-General Harrison led astray, rising of Anabaptists—all manner of trouble and confusion—and shall we add to it by persecuting those who differ from us in small matters of doctrine?"
The Council remained silent; the Keepers of the Great Seal glanced at one another. These men were not in dread of His Highness as his Parliament had been; they were not his creation to be scattered at his will—nay, he was rather their creation—yet they knew that when it came to a struggle he always prevailed, gently or roughly, directly or indirectly, and they were aware of his whirlwind resolutions and believed that if occasion arose they, too, might be smitten and cast aside, even though they were the very foundations on which his power stood.
The Protector, eyeing them keenly, was silent too.
The Master of the Rolls, Lenthall (the Speaker whom Harrison had helped from the chair when Cromwell had dismissed the remnant of Charles' last Parliament), propping his grim face on his thin hand, asked His Highness what he was discontented with.
"Surely," he said, with some austerity, "the work of Christ is being accomplished in England? Abroad we have good respect—I think General Blake hath made the name of English respected on the seas—all Europe hath recognized this Commonwealth. Why is Your Highness so vexed and troubled?"
He spoke with some sternness, for he believed, in common with many of his colleagues, that the Protector aimed at an even greater personal power, and to make himself king in name as he was in fact—an ambition which was intensely displeasing to the army and to their leaders, nearly all of whom were staunch Republicans.
"I am vexed and troubled because there is so much confusion and littleness at home," replied Cromwell. "There is more lamenting over the putting down of cock-fighting, play-acting, and horse-racing, gambling, and such lewd sports than ever I heard over the loss of any good thing. There are plots and confusions manifold, and the Lord hath veiled the future from me, therefore I am vexed and troubled. Yet," he added, with a change of voice and a bright flash in his eyes, "I am not discouraged nor disheartened—ye must not so misread me—'in the daytime also He led them with a cloud, and in the night with a pillar of fire'—so it hath always been with me—do not think that that hath ever failed me."