During these days the Lord-General and his colleagues, Harrison and Lambert, waited much on the Lord, confessing their sinfulness and asking for Divine help.

Behind them was always the army, demanding arrears of pay, work for the poor, and the suppression of the general lawlessness of the kingdom; there were many more conferences between the lawyers and the soldiers; towards the close of 1652 Cromwell gently, and Lambert and Harrison not at all gently, began to say that it was the Lord's will that the Parliament should go. Parliament, they declared, should call a convention and then abdicate.

The gentlemen at Westminster, seeing the military saints were in earnest, set themselves to prepare a scheme of government which should meet the approval of the army; the wise and valiant Sir Harry Vane, the younger, drew up a bill to provide for a provisional government, the nucleus of which was to be the members now sitting, they who had been ever in the forefront of the fight since that fight had begun.

This scheme to give perpetuity to a body which they wished to completely abolish only further exasperated the army; Cromwell and Harrison pushed forward their own bill.

On the 19th of April, Vane and Cromwell and their several supporters held another conference in the suite of apartments in Whitehall Palace, now given to the Lord-General, at which both parties agreed to stay their hands until the discussion should be resumed and brought to some conclusion. The next day Cromwell was more cheerful than had been usual with him of late; he loved polemics and to measure his rhetoric with others; yesterday's long argument with Sir Harry Vane had enlivened him; he looked forward to a resumption of the conference and to a final triumph for the Cause; he had recently communed much with himself, brooded and considered in his soul, and he was convinced that God had further work for him; part of that work he believed to be to settle the nation—and not by way of the Parliament.

That morning as he was at breakfast with Lambert and Harrison an abrupt end was put to his tranquillity and satisfaction.

News was brought that the Parliament had assembled early and were hurrying through Sir Harry Vane's bill.

The Lord-General sank at once into gloomy silence, while the other two soldiers heavily condemned the perfidy of the Parliament men.

"I will not believe it," said Cromwell at last. "Nay, I will not believe falsehood of Sir Harry Vane."

"But maybe," suggested Major-General Harrison, "his followers have got beyond Sir Harry and done this thing despite him."

"Nay," returned the Lord-General. "I believe it not."

"You are too slow to move!" cried Harrison, with some heat. "If it had not been for your hesitation there would have been no Parliament to defy the poor toilers in God's cause."

The Lord-General pushed his tankard away from him.

"You are one," he answered, "who will not wait the Lord's leisure, but would hurry into that which afterwards honest men must repent."

"You have waited the Lord's leisure too long," said Harrison. "Much delay is not good."

"When the Lord speaks, I obey," answered Cromwell, with some grimness; "and then my actions are as swift as any man's, yea, even as thine, Major-General Harrison. I have given some poor testimony to that effect."

"Meanwhile," put in Lambert, "the miserable remnant at Westminster are making their bill law—and where are we? Even made a mock of and slighted."

As he spoke another messenger arrived, and close on his heels a third, to say that the Parliament were in very deed pushing through Sir Harry Vane's bill.

Then Cromwell rose.

"'Up, Lord, and help me, O my God,'" he said, "'for Thou smitest all mine enemies upon the cheek-bone—Thou hast broken the teeth of the ungodly!' Now is the time—yea, even now." He turned to Harrison. "Come with me to Westminster and let us testify to God."

He called for his hat; he wore his black coat and his grey worsted stockings and a plain neck-band.

As he was leaving Whitehall he ordered a guard of soldiers to accompany him, and marched down to Westminster with them behind him, as Charles had marched with his armed followers from the same Palace to the same Parliament eleven years before.

When they reached Westminster Hall he left the file of muskets in the outer room, and he and his two generals passed to their usual places in the Commons.

There were about sixty members present; at the silent entrance of the three soldiers all looked round and about them, and some shifted in their places and whispered to their neighbours. "I see Old Noll's red nose," said one as Cromwell entered; "we are like to have a tempest."

But the Lord-General went quietly to his seat, as did his two companions; and the members, whatever trepidation they might feel, displayed none, but continued their debate, preparatory to passing Sir Harry Vane's bill.

Cromwell listened, his arms folded, his head bent on his breast; the sweet April sunshine filled the chamber with a pleasant haze in which the motes danced; Sir Harry Vane looked often at the Lord-General as if he would find an opportunity to excuse himself for his seeming breach of faith; indeed, his supporters had taken the matter out of his hands and forced the bill on, whether he would or no; but Cromwell sat glooming, and would not meet his eye.

The discussion proceeded, moderate, orderly; presently the Lord-General called to Major-General Harrison, who sat opposite to him on the other side of the House, to come to him.

"Methinks," said Cromwell grimly, looking about him, "this Parliament is rife for a dissolution—and that this is the time for doing it."

Harrison, impetuous as he was, was startled by this; he might urge Cromwell to action, and blame his slowness, but when Cromwell was roused Harrison, like any other, was alarmed.

"Sir," he replied, lowering his voice (for their conversation was being observed with suspicion), "this work is very great and dangerous, therefore, seriously consider of it, before you engage in it."

"You say well," replied Cromwell, and lapsed into moody silence again. Harrison took the seat next him, Lambert being near.

The members, though still outwardly tranquil, hastened the debate, and in a short while the question for passing the bill was about to be put.

Then Cromwell moved, and, leaning sideways to Harrison, touched him on the arm and said, "This is the time; I must do it;" and then he suddenly stood up, taking off his hat, and throwing out his right hand, he addressed the members with great passion.

"What heart have ye for the public good," he cried—"ye who support the corrupt interest of presbytery and that of the lawyers, who are the props of tyranny and oppression? This is a time of rebuke and chastening, but as the Lord liveth, we will have neither rebuke nor chastening from such as you!"

The members, swept into silence by the suddenness and violence of his speech, made no reply; all eyes were fixed on him as he stood on the floor of the House, his face flushed and his eyes fiery under the lowering brows.

"What do ye care for but power?" he flung at them, and his voice rang into the farthest corners of the Hall. "What do you care for but to perpetuate that power? As for that Act"—he pointed to where it lay ready to be passed—"you have been forced to it, and I dare affirm that you never designed to observe it! I say your time has come; the Lord hath done with you—He has chosen more worthy instruments for the carrying on of His work—I say He will have no more paltering and fumbling with traps and toys of the ungodly!"

Here Sir Peter Wentworth got to his feet amid a hum of approbation.

"This is the first time," he declared, red in the face, "that ever I heard such unbecoming language in Parliament—and it is the more horrid as it comes from the servant of the Parliament, and a servant whom Parliament hath so highly trusted—yea, and so highly obliged," he added, with meaning.

But he could get out no more. Cromwell stepped into the midst of the House and waved his hand contemptuously.

"Come, come!" he cried. "I will put an end to your prating!"

Then, stamping his feet and clapping on his hat as he saw several rise in a tumult to answer him, he said in a loud, stern voice, "You are no Parliament—I say you are no Parliament! I will put an end to your sitting!"

Then, while several tried to speak together and there was a confusion, the Lord-General bade the serjeant attending the House open the doors, which he did.

"Call them in," said Cromwell; "call them in." And Lieutenant-Colonel Wolseley, with two files of muskets, entered the House and marched up the floor.

Then Sir Harry Vane, seeing the soldiers, stood up in his place and protested loudly—

"This is not honest! Yea, it is against morality and common honesty!"

Cromwell turned round and sorted him with his glance from the press.

"Oh, Sir Harry Vane! Sir Harry Vane!" he cried. "The Lord deliver me from Sir Harry Vane!"

Then pointing out another member, he cried, "There sits a drunkard," and so railed at several separately, ending, "Are these fit to govern God's poor people?"

The House was now in absolute disorder and confusion, but the Lord-General's voice rose above it all.

His angry eye lit on the mace.

"What shall we do with this bauble?" he asked, and added, "There, take it away!"

Major-General Harrison went up to the Speaker.

"Sir," he said, "seeing things are reduced to this pass, it is no longer convenient for you to remain here."

The Speaker answered, "Unless you force me, I will not come down."

"Sir," replied Harrison, "I will lend you my hand."

And, so saying, he took hold of him and brought him down.

Then Cromwell turned again to the Members who were all coming from their places.

"It is you who have forced me to do this!" he cried, with passion, "for I have sought the Lord day and night that He would rather slay me than put me on the doing of this work!"

Turning to Lieutenant-General Wolseley, who commanded the muskets, he ordered him to clear the House, which was done, the Members forlornly departing under the command of the soldiers, Cromwell sternly watching the while.

And when the benches were all empty he went to the clerk, who was blankly and in a bewildered way holding Sir Harry Vane's Bill, and, snatching it from his hands, put it under his cloak.

Then ordering the doors to be locked, he went back to Whitehall with Lambert and Harrison. But the day's work was not yet complete; he had barely reached his headquarters before Lieutenant-General Wolseley came up to say that the late Parliament's creation, the Council of State, were sitting as usual in the Painted Chamber.

"Say you so?" replied Cromwell, and he turned back to Whitehall as he had turned back to Hampton when he heard of Charles' double dealing.

Lambert and Harrison accompanied him, and the three swept into the Painted Chamber with little ceremony.

John Bradshaw, the late King's judge, was in the chair; he faced the Lord-General as he had faced the unhappy King, with unshaken dignity and calm.

Cromwell was now composed; but he eyed the Councillors fiercely as he walked up the room.

"If you meet here as private persons," he said, "you shall not be disturbed, but if you meet as a Council of State, this is no place for you," his harsh voice became ominous. "Since you cannot but know what has just been done in the House, take notice that the Parliament is dissolved."

The Latin secretary raised his tired blue eyes with something of admiration as well as keen interest in their glance, but Bradshaw replied with unmoved sternness, eyeing Cromwell with a directness as uncompromising as Cromwell eyed him.

"Sir," he said, "we have heard what you did in the House, and before many hours all England will hear it. But, sir, you are mistaken to think that the Parliament is dissolved—for no power under Heaven can dissolve them but they themselves, therefore take you notice of that."

"Ha, Mr. Bradshaw," returned the Lord-General, "you may talk and talk, but I say that the Lord has done with you and with these others about you. I know that you are a person of an upright carriage, who has notably appeared for God and for the public good, but I say that your time is over—other means are to be used now, yea, other means!"

"The means of force and violence," replied John Bradshaw calmly, "and to them we must submit. I do not deny that, but your right we shall always deny, therefore remember it——"

"You are no longer a Council of State," said Cromwell, "and none shall any longer give heed to you. Go about your several businesses."

Bradshaw came down from his place.

"And with us goes the Commonwealth," he returned. "What will you put in place of it?"

"The Lord shall show in His leisure," said Cromwell sternly, and went from the Painted Chamber with Lambert and Harrison after him.

And so it was over; the Parliament had followed the King; the last remnant and pretence of a constitution had been swept away, and a sudden military revolution had placed the army at the head of the nation, their leader thereby becoming the greatest man in England.

For, the King gone, the Parliament broken, who was there left for any man to look to save he who had swept away both King and Parliament and now stamped angrily out of Westminster Hall?

Even Harrison had been taken by surprise; he was enthusiastic, as he foresaw an uninterrupted reign of God's chosen, those military saints who were sacred and purified by their fights for the Lord, but he was also a little bewildered as to the course future events must take.

Lambert merely said, "This is a difficult business and requires careful handling."

But Cromwell himself was openly exalted and uplifted; his passion of anger gave way to a passion of spiritual enthusiasm.

"This hath been a call from the Lord!" he cried, as the three walked back to Whitehall. "Yea, a direct call! Own it, for it hath been unprojected, and is marvellous! This morning did we know of this thing? Nay, and now it is done! And this hath been the way the Lord hath dwelt with us from the first. He hath kept things from our eyes all along so that we have never seen His dispensations beforehand!"

"Truly," replied Harrison, "He hath marvellously witnessed for us, and thou hast been as Joshua who scattered the enemies of the Lord at the waters of Merom, and chased them even into the valley of Mizpeh, and burnt Hazor with fire."

"The Edomites, the Ammonites, and the Moabites are scattered," said Lambert, "but who is now to reign in Israel?"

"We whom God hath called," replied Cromwell.

And so they came to the headquarters of the army at Whitehall, the palace of the late King; and the second revolution was complete.