e
moderation and urbanity, one who looked on the history of past ages with
the eye of a practical statesman, and on the events which were passing
before him with the eye of a philosophical historian. It was not
necessary for him to name himself. He could be none but Somers.

The pamphleteers who recommended the immediate and entire disbanding of
the army had an easy task. If they were embarrassed, it was only by the
abundance of the matter from which they had to make their selection. On
their side were claptraps and historical commonplaces without number,
the authority of a crowd of illustrious names, all the prejudices, all
the traditions, of both the parties in the state. These writers laid
it down as a fundamental principle of political science that a standing
army and a free constitution could not exist together. What, they asked,
had destroyed the noble commonwealths of Greece? What had enslaved the
mighty Roman people? What had turned the Italian republics of the middle
ages into lordships and duchies? How was it that so many of the kingdoms
of modern Europe had been transformed from limited into absolute
monarchies? The States General of France, the Cortes of Castile, the
Grand Justiciary of Arragon, what had been fatal to them all? History
was ransacked for instances of adventurers who, by the help of mercenary
troops, had subjugated free nations or deposed legitimate princes;
and such instances were easily found. Much was said about Pisistratus,
Timophanes, Dionysius, Agathocles, Marius and Sylla, Julius Caesar and
Augustus Caesar, Carthage besieged by her own mercenaries, Rome put up
to auction by her own Praetorian cohorts, Sultan Osman butchered by his
own Janissaries, Lewis Sforza sold into captivity by his own Switzers.
But the favourite instance was taken from the recent history of our own
land. Thousands still living had seen the great usurper, who, strong in
the power of the sword, had triumphed over both royalty and freedom. The
Tories were reminded that his soldiers had guarded the scaffold before
the Banqueting House. The Whigs were reminded that those same soldiers
had taken the mace from the table of the House of Commons. From such
evils, it was said, no country could be secure which was cursed with
a standing army. And what were the advantages which could be set off
against such evils? Invasion was the bugbear with which the Court tried
to frighten the nation. But we were not children to be scared