se induced slow sober quiet
Englishmen to lay down their ploughs and work; and fly into red fury
of confused war against the best-conditioned of Kings! _Try_ if you
can find that true. Scepticism writing about Belief may have great
gifts; but it is really _ultra vires_ there. It is Blindness
laying-down the Laws of Optics.--

Cromwell's third Parliament split on the same rock as his second. Ever
the constitutional Formula: How came _you_ there? Show us some Notary
parchment! Blind pedants:--"Why, surely the same power which makes you
a Parliament, that, and something more, made me a Protector!" If my
Protectorship is nothing, what in the name of wonder is your
Parliamenteership, a reflex and creation of that?--

Parliaments having failed, there remained nothing but the way of
Despotism. Military Dictators, each with his district, to _coerce_ the
Royalists and other gainsayers, to govern them, if not by act of
Parliament, then by the sword. Formula shall _not_ carry it, while the
Reality is here! I will go on, protecting oppressed Protestants
abroad, appointing just judges, wise managers, at home, cherishing
true Gospel ministers; doing the best I can to make England a
Christian England, greater than old Rome, the Queen of Protestant
Christianity; I, since you will not help me; I while God leaves me
life!--Why did he not give it up; retire into obscurity again, since
the Law would not acknowledge him? cry several. That is where they
mistake. For him there was no giving of it up! Prime Ministers have
governed countries, Pitt, Pombal, Choiseul; and their word was a law
while it held: but this Prime Minister was one that _could not get
resigned_. Let him once resign, Charles Stuart and the Cavaliers
waited to kill him; to kill the Cause _and_ him. Once embarked, there
is no retreat, no return. This Prime Minister could _retire_ nowhither
except into his tomb.

One is sorry for Cromwell in his old days. His complaint is incessant
of the heavy burden Providence has laid on him. Heavy; which he must
bear till death. Old Colonel Hutchinson, as his wife relates it,
Hutchinson, his old battle-mate, coming to see him on some
indispensable business, much against his will,--Cromwell 'follows him
to the door,' in a most fraternal, domestic, conciliatory style; begs
that he would be reconciled to him, his old brother in arms; says how
much it grieves him to be misunderstood, deserted by true
fellow-soldiers, dear to him from of ol