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diate, and liberty their remote, consequence; but he must have great confidence in his own sagacity, who can satisfy himself that, unaided by the knowledge of subsequent events, he could, from a consideration of the causes, have foreseen the succession of effects so different.

Another period that affords ample scope for speculation of this kind, is that which is comprised between the years fifteen hundred and eighty-eight and sixteen hundred and forty; a period of almost uninterrupted tranquillity and peace. The general improvement in all arts of civil life, and, above all, the astonishing progress of literature, are the most striking among the general features of that period, and are in themselves causes sufficient to produce effects of the utmost importance. A country whose language was enriched by the works of Hooker, Raleigh and Bacon, could not but experience a sensible change in its manners, and in its style of thinking; and even to speak the same language in which Spenser and Shakespeare had written, seemed a sufficient plea to rescue the Commons of England from the appellation of Brutes, with which Henry the Eighth had addressed them. Among the more particular effects of this general improvement, the most material, and worthy to be considered, appear to me to have been the frequency of debate in the House of Commons, and the additional value that came to be set on a seat in that assembly.

From these circumstances, a sagacious observer may be led to expect the most important revolutions; and from the latter, he may be enabled to foresee that the House of Commons will be the principal instrument in bringing them to pass. But in what manner will that House conduct itself? Will it content itself with its regular share of legislative power, and with the influence which it cannot fail to possess, whenever it exerts itself upon the other branches of the legislative and on the executive power? or will it boldly (perhaps rashly) pretend to a power commensurate with the natural rights of the representative of the people? If it should, will it not be obliged to support its claims by military force? And how long will such a force be under its control ?how long before it follows the usual course of all armies, and ranges itself under a single master? If such a master should arise, will he establish an hereditary or an elective government? If the first, what will be gained but a

change of dynasty? If the second, will not the military force, as it chose the first king or protector (the name is of no importance), choose in effect all his successors? Or will he fail, and shall we have a restoration, usually the most dangerous and worst of all revolutions? To some of these questions the answers may, from the experience of past ages, be easy, but to many of them far otherwise. And he will read history with most profit, who the most canvasses questions of this nature, especially if he can divest his mind for the time of the recollection of the event as it in fact succeeded.

The next period, as it is that which immediately precedes the commencement of this History, requires a more detailed examination; nor is there any more fertile of matter, whether for reflection or speculation. Between the year sixteen hundred and forty and the death of Charles the Second, we have the opportunity of contemplating the state in almost every variety of circumstance. Religious dispute, political contest in all its forms and degrees, from the honest exertions of party, and the corrupt intrigues of faction, to violence and civil war; despotism, first in the person of an usurper, and afterwards in that of an hereditary king; the most memorable and salutary improvements in the laws, the most abandoned administration of them; in fine, whatever can happen to a nation, whether of glorious or calamitous, makes a part of this astonishing and instructive picture.

The commencement of this period is marked by exertions of the people, through their representatives in the House of Commons, not only justifiable in their principle, but directed to the properest objects, and in a manner the most judicious. Many of their leaders were greatly versed in ancient as well as modern learning, and were even enthusiastically attached to the great names of antiquity; but they never conceived the wild project of assimilating the government of England to that of Athens, of Sparta, or of Rome. They were content with applying to the English constitution, and to the English laws, the spirit of liberty which had animated and rendered illustrious the ancient republics. Their first object was to obtain redress of past grievances with a proper regard to the individuals who had suffered; the next, to prevent the recurrence of such grievances, by the abolition of tyrannical tribunals acting upon arbitrary maxims in criminal

proceedings, and most improperly denominated courts of justice. They then proceeded to establish that fundamental principle of all free government, the preserving of the purse to the people and their representatives. And though there may be more difference of opinion upon their proposed regulations in regard to the militia, yet surely, when a contest was to be foreseen, they could not, consistently with prudence, leave the power of the sword altogether in the hands of an adverse party.

The prosecution of Lord Strafford, or rather the manner in which it was carried on, is less justifiable. He was doubtless a great delinquent, and well deserved the severest punishment; but nothing short of a clearly proved case of self-defence can justify, or even excuse, a departure from the sacred rules of criminal justice. For it can rarely indeed happen, that the mischief to be apprehended from suffering any criminal, however guilty, to escape, can be equal to that resulting from the violation of those rules to which the innocent owe the security of all that is dear to them. If such cases have existed, they must have been in instances where trial has been wholly out of the question, as in that of Cæsar and other tyrants; but when a man is once in a situation to be tried, and his person in the power of his accusers and his judges, he can no longer be formidable in that degree which alone can justify (if any thing can) the violation of the substantial rules of criminal proceedings.

At the breaking out of the civil war, so intemperately denominated a rebellion by Lord Clarendon and other Tory writers, the material question appears to me to be, whether or not sufficient attempts were made by the Parliament and their leaders to avoid bringing affairs to such a decision? That, according to the general principles of morality, they had justice on their side, cannot fairly be doubted; but did they sufficiently attend to that great dictum of Tully,* in questions of civil dissension, wherein he declares his preference of even an unfair peace to the most just war? Did they sufficiently weigh the dangers that might ensue even from victory; dangers, in such cases, little less formidable to the cause of liberty than those which might follow a defeat? Did they consider that it is not peculiar to the followers of Pompey, and the

* Iniquissimam pacem justissimo bello antefero.

civil wars of Rome, that the event to be looked for is, as the same Tully describes it, in case of defeat,-proscription; in that of victory,-servitude? Is the failure of the negotiation when the King was in the Isle of Wight to be imputed to the suspicions justly entertained of his sincerity, or to the ambition of the parliamentary leaders? If the insincerity of the King was the real cause, ought not the mischief to be apprehended from his insincerity rather to have been guarded against by treaty, than alleged as a pretence for breaking off the negotiation? Sad indeed will be the condition of the world, if we are never to make peace with an adverse party whose sincerity we have reason to suspect. Even just grounds for such suspicions will but too often occur, and when such fail, the proneness of man to impute evil qualities as well as evil designs to his enemies, will suggest false ones, In the present case, the suspicion of insincerity was, it is true, so just as to amount to a moral certainty. The example of the Petition of Right was a satisfactory proof that the King made no point of adhering to concessions which he considered as extorted from him; and if a philosophical historian, writing above a century after the time, can deem the pretended hard usage Charles met with, as a sufficient excuse for his breaking his faith in the first instance, much more must that prince himself, with all his prejudices and notions of his divine right, have thought it justifiable to retract concessions, which to him, no doubt, appeared far more unreasonable than the Petition of Right, and which, with much more colour, he might consider as extorted. These considerations were probably the cause why the Parliament so long delayed their determination of accepting the King's offer as a basis for treaty; but unfortunately, they had delayed so long, that when at last they adopted it, they found themselves without power to carry it into execution. army having now ceased to be the servants, had become the masters of the Parliament, and, being entirely influenced by Cromwell, gave a commencement to what may, properly speaking, be called a new reign. The subsequent measures, therefore, the execution of the King, as well as others, are not to be considered as acts of the Parliament, but of Cromwell; and great and respectable as are the names of some who sat in the high court, they

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must be regarded, in this instance, rather as ministers of that usurper, than as acting from themselves.

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The execution of the King, though a far less violent measure than that of Lord Strafford, is an event of so singular a nature, that we cannot wonder that it should have excited more sensation than any other in the annals of England. This exemplary act of substantial justice, as it has been called by some, of enormous wickedness by others, must be considered in two points of view. First, was it not in itself just and necessary? Secondly, was the example of it likely to be salutary or pernicious? In regard to the first of these questions, Mr. Hume, not perhaps intentionally, makes the best justification of it, by saying, that while Charles lived, the projected republic could never be secure. But to justify taking away life of an individual, upon the principle of self-defence, the danger must be not problematical and remote, but evident and immediate. The danger in this instance was not of such a nature; and the imprisonment, or even banishment, of Charles, might have given to the republic such a degree of security as any government ought to be content with. It must be confessed, however, on the other side, that if the republican government had suffered the King to escape, it would have been an act of justice and generosity wholly unexampled; and to have granted him even his life, would have been one among the more rare efforts of virtue. The short interval between the deposal and death of princes is become proverbial; and though there may be some few examples on the other side, as far as life is concerned, I doubt whether a single instance can be found where liberty has been granted to a deposed monarch. Among the modes of destroying persons in such a situation, there can be little doubt but that adopted by Cromwell and his adherents is the least dishonourable. Edward the Second, Richard the Second, Henry the Sixth, Edward the Fifth, had none of them long survived their deposal; but this was the first instance, in our history at least, where, of such an act, it could be truly said that it was not done in a corner.

As to the second question, whether the advantage to be derived from the example was such as to justify an act of such violence, it appears to me to be a complete solution of it to observe, that with respect to England, (and I

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