us that he had often complained to his
most intimate friends that "he foresaw the imprudence and arrogance of
his son would occasion the ruin of his family." There is a remarkable
prediction of James the First of the evils likely to ensue from Laud's
violence, in a conversation given by Hacket, which the king held with
Archbishop Williams. When the king was hard pressed to promote Laud, he
gave his reasons why he intended to "keep Laud back from all place of
rule and authority, because I find he hath a restless spirit, and cannot
see when matters are well, but loves to toss and change, and to bring
things to a pitch of reformation floating in his own brain, which
endangers the steadfastness of that which is in a good pass. I speak not
at random; he hath made himself known to me to be such an one." James
then gives the circumstances to which he alludes; and at length, when,
still pursued by the archbishop, then the organ of Buckingham, as usual,
this king's good nature too easily yielded; he did not, however, without
closing with this prediction: "Then take him to you!--but, on my soul,
you will repent it!" The future character of Cromwell was apparent to
two of our great politicians. "This coarse unpromising man," said Lord
Falkland, pointing to Cromwell, "will be the first person in the
kingdom, if the nation comes to blows!" And Archbishop Williams told
Charles the First confidentially, "There was _that_ in Cromwell which
foreboded something dangerous, and wished his majesty would either win
him over to him, or get him taken off." The Marquis of Wellesley's
incomparable character of Bonaparte predicted his fall when highest in
his glory; that great statesman then poured forth the sublime language
of philosophical prophecy. "His eagerness of power is so inordinate; his
jealousy of independence so fierce; his keenness of appetite so feverish
in all that touches his ambition, even in the most trifling things, that
he must plunge into dreadful difficulties. He is one of an order of
minds that by nature make for themselves great reverses."

Lord Mansfield was once asked, after the commencement of the French
Revolution, when it would end? His lordship replied, "It is an event
_without precedent_, and therefore _without prognostic_." The truth,
however, is, that it had both. Our own history had furnished a precedent
in the times of Charles the First. And the prognostics were so
redundant, that a volume might be collected of p