In the midst of all this, and while things seemed to be at their worst, a great reaction was preparing. And the explanation of the reaction is to be found in that vast and pregnant principle, on which I have often insisted, but which our common historians are unable to understand; namely, that a bad government, bad laws, or laws badly administered, are, indeed, extremely injurious at the time, but can produce no permanent mischief; in other words, they may harm a country, but can never ruin it. As long as the people are sound, there is life, and while there is life, there will be reaction. In such case, tyranny provokes rebellion, and despotism causes freedom. But if the people are unsound, all hope is gone, and the nation perishes. In both instances, government is, in the long run, inoperative, and is nowise responsible for the ultimate result. The ruling classes have, for the moment, immense power, which they invariably abuse, except when they are restrained, either by fear, or by shame. The people may inspire them with fear; public opinion may inspire them with shame. But whether or not that shall happen, depends on the spirit of the people, and on the state of opinion. These two circumstances are themselves governed by a long chain of antecedents, stretching back to a period, always very distant, and sometimes so remote as to baffle observation. When the evidence is sufficiently abundant, those antecedents may be generalized; and their generalization conducts us to certain large and powerful causes, on which the whole movement depends. In short periods, the operation of these causes is imperceptible, but in long periods, it is conspicuous and supreme; it colours the national character; it controls the great sweep and average of affairs. In Scotland, as I have already shown, general causes made the people love their clergy, and made the clergy love liberty. As long as these two facts coëxisted, the destiny of the nation was safe. It might be injured, insulted, and trampled upon. It might be harmed in various ways; but the greater the harm, the surer the remedy, because the higher the spirit of the country would be roused. All that was needed was, a little more time, and a little more provocation. We, who, standing at a distance, can contemplate these matters from an elevation, and see how events pressed on and thickened, cannot mistake the regularity of their sequence. Notwithstanding the apparent confusion, all was orderly and methodical. To us, the scheme is revealed. There is the fabric, and it is of one hue, and one make. The pattern is plainly marked, and fortunately it was worked into a texture, whose mighty web was not to be broken, either by the arts, or the violence, of designing men.
It was, therefore, of no avail that tyranny did her utmost. It was of no avail that the throne was occupied by a despotic and unscrupulous king, who was succeeded by another, more despotic and more unscrupulous than himself. It was of no avail that a handful of meddling and intrusive bishops, deriving their consecration from London, and supported by the authority of the English church, took counsel together, and conspired against the liberties of their native land. They played the part of spies and of traitors, but they played it in vain. Yet, everything that government could give them, it gave. They had the law on their side, and they had the right of administering the law. They were legislators, councillors, and judges. They had wealth; they had high-sounding titles; they had all the pomp and attributes for which they bartered their independence, and with which they hoped to dazzle the eyes of the vulgar. Still, they could not turn back the stream; they could not even stop it; they could not prevent it from coming on, and swallowing them up in its course. Before that generation passed away, these little men, big though they were in their own conceit, succumbed, and fell. The hand of the age was upon them, and they were unable to resist. They were struck down, and humbled; they were stripped of their offices, their honours, and their splendour: they lost all which minds like theirs hold most dear. Their fate is an instructive lesson. It is a lesson, both to the rulers of nations, and to those who write the history of nations. To rulers, in so far as it is one of many proofs how little they can do, and how insignificant is the part which they play in the great drama of the world. To historians, the result should be especially instructive, as convincing them that the events on which they concentrate their attention, and which they believe to be of supreme importance, are in reality of trifling value, and, so far from holding the first rank, ought to be made subservient to those large and comprehensive studies, by whose aid alone, we can ascertain the conditions which determine the tread and destiny of nations.
The events that now happened in Scotland, may be quickly told. The patience of the country was well-nigh exhausted, and the day of reckoning was at hand.311 In 1637, the people began to rise. In the summer of that year, the first great riot broke out in Edinburgh.312 The flame quickly spread, and nothing could stop it. By October, the whole nation was up, and an accusation was preferred against the bishops, which was signed by nearly every corporation, and by men of all ranks.313 In November, the Scotch, in defiance of the Crown, organized a system of representation of their own, in which every class had a share.314 Early in 1638, the National Covenant was framed; and the eagerness with which it was sworn to, showed that the people were determined, at all hazards, to vindicate their rights.315 It was now evident that all was over. During the summer of 1638, preparations were made, and, in the autumn, the storm broke. In November, the first General Assembly seen in Scotland for twenty years, met at Glasgow.316 The Marquis of Hamilton, the king's commissioner, ordered the members to separate.317 They refused.318 Nor would they disband, until they had done the work expected from them.319 By their vote, the democratic institution of presbyteries was restored to its old power; the forms of consecration were done away with; the bishops were degraded from their functions, and episcopacy was abolished.320
Thus, the bishops fell, even more rapidly than they had risen.321 As, however, their fall was merely a part of the democratic movement, matters could not stop there.322 Scarcely had the Scotch expelled their bishops, when they made war upon their king. In 1639, they took up