The execution of Charles I-the work of military violence cloaked in the merest tatters of legality-had displayed to the eyes of the world the forgotten truth that kings, as well as subjects, must bear the consequences of their errors and misdeeds. More than this the actors in the great tragedy failed to accomplish, and, it may fairly be added, must necessarily have failed to accomplish. It is never possible for men of the sword to rear the temple of recovered freedom, and the small minority in parliament which had given the semblance of constitutional procedure to the trial in Westminster Hall were no more than instruments in the hands of the men of the sword. Honestly as both military and political leaders desired to establish popular government, they found themselves in a vicious circle from which there was no escape.-S. R. GARDINER.

GUIZOT'S COMPARISON OF THE ENGLISH AND THE FRENCH REVOLUTIONS

UNTIL the occurrence of the French Revolution, the English Revolution was the greatest event in the annals of modern Europe. The French Revolution exceeded it in magnitude, but did not lessen its intrinsic greatness; both victories were won in the same war, and tended to the furtherance of the same cause; and instead of eclipsing each other, they became magnified by comparison. If we are to put faith in an opinion which is very prevalent, it would seem that these two revolutions were extraordinary events, which emanated from unheard-of principles, and aimed at unprecedented designs; which forced society out of its ancient and natural course; which, like whirlwinds or earthquakes, were mysterious phenomena guided by laws unknown to men, and bursting forth suddenly, like providential coups d'état, possibly to destroy, and possibly to revivify the earth. Both friends and enemies, panegyrists and detractors, employ the same language on this point: according to the former, these glorious crises brought truth, liberty, and justice to light, for the first time; before their occurrence, absurdity, iniquity, and tyranny prevailed, and the human race is indebted to them alone for its deliverance from

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those evils; according to the latter, these deplorable catastrophes interrupted a long era of wisdom, virtue, and happiness; their authors proclaimed principles, set up pretensions, and committed crimes previously unparalleled; the two nations, in a fit of madness, deviated from their accustomed path, and an abyss opened immediately beneath their feet.

Thus, whether they are extolled or deplored, blessed or execrated, all agree in forgetting every other consideration in presence of these revolutions, in isolating them completely from the past, in rendering them responsible for the destiny of the world, and in loading them alone with curses or with glory. It is time to have done with such puerile and false declamations. Far from having broken off the natural course of events in Europe, neither the English nor the French Revolution asserted, attempted, or effected anything which had not been already asserted, attempted, or effected a hundred times before their occurrence. They proclaimed the illegitimacy of absolute power: but free consent to laws and taxes, and the right of armed resistance, were among the constituent principles of the feudal system; and the church had often repeated these words of St. Isidore, to be found in the canons of the fourth council of Toledo: "He is king who rules his people justly; if he does otherwise, he shall be no longer king." They attacked privilege, and laboured to introduce more equality into the social system: but, throughout all Europe, kings have done the same. They demanded that public employments should be thrown open to all citizens, and be bestowed on merit alone, and that the government should consent to this competition; but this is the fundamental principle of the internal constitution of the church; and the church has not only carried it into effect, but has openly professed it. Whether we consider the general doctrines of the two revolutions, or the applications which they made of them - whether we contemplate the government of the state or civil legislation, property or persons, liberty or power - we shall find nothing of their own invention, nothing which is not to be met with, and which did not at least originate, in more regular times.

Nor is this all: the principles, designs, and efforts which are exclusively attributed to the French and English revolutions, not only preceded them by several centuries, but are the same principles and efforts to which society in Europe is indebted for all its progress. Was it by its disorders and privileges, by its brute force, and its subjugation of other men beneath its yoke, that the feudal aristocracy contributed to the development of nations? No: but it struggled against royal tyranny; it availed itself of the right of resistance, and maintained the maxims of liberty. And why have nations blessed their kings? For their pretensions to divine right, their assumptions of absolute power, their lavish expenditure, or their luxurious courts? No: but kings attacked the feudal system and aristocratic privilege; they introduced unity into legislation and into the administration of affairs; they promoted the development of equality. And whence have the clergy derived their strength? In what way have they helped forward civilisation? By separating themselves from the people, by affecting to dread human reason, and by sanctioning tyranny in the name of heaven? No: but by assembling the great and the little, the rich and the poor, the strong and the weak, beneath the roof of the same church, and under the same law of God; by honouring and cultivating learning, instituting schools, favouring the diffusion of knowledge, and rewarding activity of mind. Consult the history of the masters of the world; analyse the influence of the various classes that have determined its fate; wherever any good is manifest, whenever the continued gratitude of mankind bears witness to a service rendered to humanity - a step has been taken towards

[1649 A.D.] the object aimed at by the French and English revolutions; we are in presence of one of the principles which they endeavoured to render victorious.

Let us then cease to portray these revolutions as monstrous apparitions in the history of Europe; let us hear no more of their unprecedented pretensions and infernal inventions; they helped civilisation to advance along the road which it has been pursuing for centuries; they professed the maxims, and pushed forward the labours to which man has, in all ages, been indebted for the development of his nature and the improvement of his condition; they did that which has in turn constituted the chief merit and glory of clergy, nobles, and kings. If it be asked in what respect these two revolutions are distinguished from every other epoch: what is the reason that, while they merely continued the common work of all ages, they deserved their name, and positively changed the face of the world? This is the answer-Various powers have successively held sway in European society, and marched in turn at the head of civilisation. After the fall of the Roman Empire and the invasion of the barbarians, amidst the dissolution of all social ties and the destruction of all recognised powers, the predominance everywhere fell to daring and brutal force; the conquering aristocracy took possession of everything, persons and lands, people and country. In vain did a few great men, Charlemagne in France, and Alfred in England, endeavour to reduce this chaos to the unity of a monarchical system. All unity was impossible. The feudal hierarchy was the only form which society would consent to accept. This hierarchy prevailed universally, in the church as well as in the state; the bishops and abbots became barons; the king was the chief seigneur. In spite of the rude and unstable character of this organisation, Europe was indebted to it for its first steps out of barbarism. It was among the proprietors of fiefs in their mutual relations, laws, customs, feelings, and ideas that European civilisation commenced.

The fief-holders were a great burden on the people. The clergy alone endeavoured to claim for all a little reason, justice, and humanity. Those who had no place in the feudal hierarchy could find no asylum but the churches, and no protectors but the priests. This protection, though insufficient, was nevertheless an immense boon, for it was the only one. The priests, moreover, alone offered any sustenance for the moral nature of man, for that unconquerable necessity of thinking, knowing, hoping, and believing, which overcomes all obstacles, and survives all misfortunes. The church soon acquired prodigious power throughout all Europe. Royalty, then in its infancy, lent it fresh strength by borrowing its assistance. The predominance passed from the hands of the conquering aristocracy into those of the clergy. With the assistance of the church, and by its own inherent strength, the royal power increased, and raised itself above its rivals; but the clergy had no sooner assisted it, than they attempted to subjugate it. In this new emergency, the royal power invoked the help, sometimes of the now less formidable barons, but more frequently of the people: the townsmen, who were already strong enough to be valuable allies, though not sufficiently powerful to require a high price for their services. By their aid, the royal power triumphed in its second conflict, and became in its turn the dominant power, invested with the confidence of the nations. Such is the history of old Europe: the feudal aristocracy, the clergy, and the royal power, alternately possessed it, and successively presided over its destiny and progress. To their co-existence and conflict it was long indebted for all the liberty, prosperity, and enlightenment it had obtained; in a word, for the development of its civilisation.

In England in the seventeenth century, and in France in the eighteenth,

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all conflict between these three powers had ceased; they were living together in peace and tranquillity. We might almost say that they had lost their historical character, and even their recollection of the labours which had formerly given them strength and renown. Their aristocracy no longer defended public liberties, it did not even defend its own; the royal power no longer laboured to abolish aristocratic privilege, it seemed even to have become favourable to the possessors of that privilege in return for their servility; and the clergy, the spiritual power, was afraid of the human mind, and, being unable to lead it, endeavoured to arrest its progress by menaces. Meanwhile, civilisation pursued its course, and daily became more general and active. Abandoned by their old leaders, surprised at their apathy and ill temper, and indignant at finding that less was done for them as their desires and strength grew greater, the people began to think that it was their duty to attend to their own interests; and assuming the entire responsibility of their affairs, about which no one seemed any longer to care, they simultaneously demanded liberty from the crown, equality from the aristocracy, and intellectual freedom from the clergy. Then revolutions broke forth.

They effected, for the benefit of a new power, a change which Europe had already witnessed on several occasions: they gave to society, leaders who were willing and able to guide it in its progress. On this ground alone, the aristocracy, the church, and the king, had in turn possessed the preponderance. The people now seized it in virtue of the same right, by the same means, and in the name of the same necessities. Such is the real work, the true character, of both the English and French revolutions. After having considered them as absolutely alike, it has been said that they were similar only in appearance. The English Revolution, we are told, was political rather than social; the French Revolution attempted to change both society and the government together the one sought to establish liberty, the other equality- the one was rather religious than political, and merely substituted one set of dogmas for another, and one church for another church; the other was pre-eminently philosophical, and asserted the complete independence of reason. The comparison is ingenious, and not altogether void of truth; but it is almost as superficial and frivolous as the opinion which it assumes to supersede. Just as great differences are visible beneath the external resemblance of the two revolutions, so an even deeper resemblance is concealed beneath their differ

ences.

From the very causes which produced its ebullition more than a century before the revolution in France, the English Revolution, it is true, retained a deeper impress of the old social condition of the country; there, free institutions, born amid barbarism, had survived even the despotism which they had been unable to prevent; the feudal aristocracy, in part, at least, had made common cause with the people. The royal power, even in the days of its predominance, had never been fully or undisturbedly absolute; the national church had itself commenced the work of religious reform, and stimulated the minds of the people to boldness of inquiry and speculation. Everywhere, in the laws, manners, and creed of the nation, the revolution found its work half effected; and from the government which it aspired to change, it derived, at the same time, both succour and obstruction, useful allies and powerful adversaries. Thus it presented a singular combination of elements apparently the most diverse; it was at once aristocratic and popular, religious and philosophical, invoking laws and theories by turns; sometimes announcing a new yoke for consciences, sometimes proclaiming their entire liberty; now narrowly confined within the limits of fact, and now indulging in the most daring

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speculations it was, in a word, placed between the old and new state of society, rather as a bridge to connect than as an abyss to separate them.

In the French Revolution, on the other hand, the most terrible unity prevailed; the spirit of innovation held undivided sway over its proceedings; the ancien régime, far from taking its proper place and part in the movement, sought only to defend itself against it, and succeeded scarcely for a moment in the attempt, for it was equally destitute of strength and virtue. On the day on which the revolution broke out, one fact alone remained positive and influential, and that was the general civilisation of the country. În this great but solitary result were concentrated all the old institutions, all the old manners, beliefs, and recollections—indeed, the whole life of the nation. The many active and glorious centuries which had elapsed had produced nothing but France. Hence arose the immensity of the results of the revolution, and the portentous magnitude of its errors it possessed absolute power.

The difference is certainly great, and well worthy of consideration; it is particularly striking when we consider the two revolutions in themselves as isolated events, when we detach them from general history, and endeavour to distinguish their peculiar physiognomy and individual character. But, if they resume their place in the course of time- if we examine what they have done for the development of European civilisation - we shall see the resemblance reappear, and rise above all diversities. Originating in the same causes, by the decay of the feudal aristocracy, the church, and the royal power, they laboured to effect the same work to secure the domination of the people in public affairs. They struggled for liberty against absolute power, for equality against privilege, for progressive and general interests against stationary and individual interests. Their positions were different, and their strength unequal; what the one clearly perceived, the other saw only imperfectly; in the career which the one followed to the end, the other soon stopped short; on the same field of battle, the one found victory and the other defeat; the one erred from cynicism, the other from hypocrisy; the one was marked by great prudence, the other by great power; but they varied only in the means they employed, and the success they achieved; they were the same in tendency and in origin; their desires, efforts, and progress aimed at the same object; all that the one attempted or accomplished, the other also effected or attempted. Although guilty of religious persecution, the English Revolution unfurled the banner of liberty of conscience; in spite of its aristocratic alliances, it established the predominance of the commons; as its chief occupation was with civil order, it demanded a simpler legislative system, parliamentary reform, the abolition of entails and of the right of primogeniture; and although deceived in many premature expectations, it liberated English society, to an immense extent, from the monstrous inequality of the feudal régime in a word, such is the analogy between the two revolutions, that the first would never have been properly understood unless the second had occurred.c

THE ORGANISATION OF THE ENGLISH REPUBLIC

We have already related the downfall of an ancient monarchy, and the violent death of a king who was worthy of respect, although he governed his people badly and unjustly. We have now to relate the vain efforts of a revolutionary assembly to found a republic; and to describe the ever-tottering, but strong and glorious government of a revolutionary despot, whose bold and prudent genius commands our admiration, although he attacked