ommission, the Council
of York were swept away. Men who, after suffering cruel mutilations, had
been confined in remote dungeons, regained their liberty. On the chief
ministers of the crown the vengeance of the nation was unsparingly
wreaked. The Lord Keeper, the Primate, the Lord Lieutenant were
impeached. Finch saved himself by flight. Laud was flung into the Tower.
Strafford was put to death by act of attainder. On the day on which this
act passed, the King gave his assent to a law by which he bound himself
not to adjourn, prorogue, or dissolve the existing Parliament without
its own consent.

After ten months of assiduous toil, the Houses, in September 1641,
adjourned for a short vacation; and the King visited Scotland. He with
difficulty pacified that kingdom by consenting, not only to relinquish
his plans of ecclesiastical reform, but even to pass, with a very bad
grace, an act declaring that episcopacy was contrary to the word of God.

The recess of the English Parliament lasted six weeks. The day on
which the Houses met again is one of the most remarkable epochs in our
history. From that day dates the corporate existence of the two great
parties which have ever since alternately governed the country. In one
sense, indeed, the distinction which then became obvious had always
existed, and always must exist. For it has its origin in diversities
of temper, of understanding, and of interest, which are found in all
societies, and which will be found till the human mind ceases to be
drawn in opposite directions by the charm of habit and by the charm of
novelty. Not only in politics but in literature, in art, in science,
in surgery and mechanics, in navigation and agriculture, nay, even in
mathematics, we find this distinction. Everywhere there is a class of
men who cling with fondness to whatever is ancient, and who, even when
convinced by overpowering reasons that innovation would be beneficial,
consent to it with many misgivings and forebodings. We find also
everywhere another class of men, sanguine in hope, bold in speculation,
always pressing forward, quick to discern the imperfections of whatever
exists, disposed to think lightly of the risks and inconveniences which
attend improvements and disposed to give every change credit for being
an improvement. In the sentiments of both classes there is something to
approve. But of both the best specimens will be found not far from the
common frontier. The extreme section