In the meantime the anger outside the Parliament House rose to fury. Doubtless Cromwell had foreseen this crisis. Certainly a large number of the members were of his way of thinking, and on the twelfth of December, Colonel Sydenham rose, and accusing the members of wishing to put a Mosaic code in place of the Common Law of England—of depreciating a regular ministry (for what need of one, if all men could prophesy?) and of opposing learning and education, he declared the salvation of the nation lay in resigning the trust committed to them into the hands of the Lord General Cromwell. The motion was seconded by Sir Charles Wolseley. The Speaker left the chair, and followed by a majority of the members, went to Whitehall, and there and then they wrote out their resignation. It was said that "Cromwell looked astonished, and only received the paper upon great importunity." And if ever Cromwell drolled in his life, he drolled then, for it is not likely this movement was unforeseen; all its details had been too ably arranged to be the result of unanticipated action. No serious opposition was made. Some thirty of the members remained in the House "to protest," but Colonel Goff entering with a file of musketeers, the argument was quickly closed. "What are you doing here?" asked the Colonel, and some one answered, "We are seeking the Lord," then said he, "You may go elsewhere, for to my certain knowledge the Lord has not been here these many years." Three days after this event a new Council of State resolved that his Excellency be chosen LORD PROTECTOR of the three nations, and on the sixteenth of December be so installed in Westminster Hall. "And you would think that he had been publicly scorned instead of publicly chosen," said Israel to his wife. "He looks miserable; he is silent and downcast, and talks much to himself. Yet he is in his right place, and the only man in England who can save us from anarchy." "God knows. It is a place of great honour for Mr. Oliver Cromwell of Slepe House." "No, no. ’Tis a place of great danger, a place of terror and forlorn hope. God knows, I would not have it for all the honour and gold in England. Martha, his Excellency and her Highness desire your company, and that of Jane, to the ceremony. You will go?" "I had better stay at home, Israel. I cannot ’Your Highness’ Elizabeth Cromwell. Jane will go." "And you, too, Martha. I wish it." "I never go against your wishes, Israel—at least not often."