and tyrannical expression of the King's, that he hoped they were all Englishmen, and not to be frighted with a few hard words.' It is not to give us the history of these events merely to set down the time and circumstances of their occurrence. They evidently require some explanation, in order to be comprehended, and the narrative will be altogether unsatisfactory, as well as totally barren of instruction, unless it give some account of those changes in the general temper and opinion of the nation, by which such contradictory actions become possible."

Now, Sir, I think that the political phenomena here set forth for our consideration by the Edinburgh Reviewer, have been satisfactorily elucidated in a paper in my possession, belonging to a deceased friend, and who was deeply read in the constitutional history of our country, and therefore I will transmit to you his remarks on this interesting topic in nearly his own words.

The writer in the Edinburgh Review supposes that there is an apparent inconsistency in the three events of which he speaks, and he proposes to account for it by the investigation of some alleged but not specified changes in the national character and opinions, such as occur, he says, from age to age.

The three events are, 1st-the joyful and unanimous and unconditional restoration of Charles the Second; the subsequent acquiescence in his attempts to govern without Parliaments; and the third-the Revolution, accompanied by a change in the succession of the Crown and a limitation of its power.

All these events took place within a space of 28 years; and if we carry our examination back to the commencement of the civil wars, even then the whole period included in the inquiry would be less than half a century.

It is difficult to suppose, that in so very short a space of time as this, a change was originated in the national character sufficient to account for any very glaring inconsistency, if such there was in the transactions of those days. But in truth it does not appear at all out of the course of human affairs, that a nation wearied out by twenty years of civil war, confusion, and military despotism, and menaced with an immediate renewal of those calamities in consequence of the death of the usurper, and the acknowledged weakness of his successor, should fly with some impatience, or even with inconsiderate haste and confidence, if the fact were so, to the only authority under which they could look for peace. Nor is it surprising, though much less justifiable in sound policy, that when the restored monarch broke his faith and violated the constitution which he was called back to re-establish, the recent memory of the evils consequent on armed resistance, joined to a well grounded distrust in the views of some of his opposers, should have led to a temporary acquiescence in his unconstitutional usurpation of power. It is by no means clear, that this acquiescence would have been prolonged even had he lived. It was quite natural, that when the same or even some much more violent infractions of law were attempted by his successor, a man of far inferior talents, worse judgment, and less popular character, the nation should by an unanimous effort

depose him, and then set limits to the authority of the new sovereign whom they placed in his stead.

If in addition to this general view it was to be asked what peculiar causes arising from the events and character of those times most contributed to the course which these transactions took, I should look not to any change in national opinions, but to the uniform operation of that which I conceive to be the leading characteristic of our whole history from the Reformation to the Revolution. What most distinguishes that period from those which preceded and followed it, is the intimate connexion and decisive influence of contested religious opinions on political conduct and principle, which have indeed had some effect on every part of our history, but which I hold to be the master key of the internal affairs of this country during the latter half of the sixteenth, and nearly the whole of the seventeenth century. He then who should write a history of the civil wars, and conclude that, because of the two sets of men into which the popular party was divided, that from one set of men calling themselves Presbyterians, and another set Independents, therefore the contest was mainly a religious dispute and not essentially a struggle for political power, would betray, in my judgment, a most complete ignorance of his subject. It was religious zeal that inflamed the civil discontent of the English into civil war under Charles the First. It was the same feeling, operating still more powerfully in Scotland, that produced the first open resistance to the King, and his final overthrow. With him fell the Church of England, with whose cause his was inseparably connected. But with her downfall commenced the disunion of her adversaries; and the Presbyterians, the first movers of the civil war, found themselves in its progress as much depressed as those against whom they had taken up arms. Both were completely trampled upon (though forming together a very large majority of the nation) by an army which was wielded by the Independents, and was the main instrument of Cromwell's usurpation. Both, therefore, united in carnestly desiring a change in their condition, and when the jealousy of the Presbyterians had been quieted by the declaration from Breda, both zealously co-operated in the restoration of the hereditary Monarchy under which form alone it was evident there was any possibility of composing these evils. In this state of things no reasonable man could venture to incur the hazard of imposing previous conditions on the King. The discussions of such conditions must immediately have divided the two parties whose co-operation was necessary for the accomplishment of that great work. In the mean time, the danger from the army was imminent, and the interposing such a theme of discord as the imposition of new constitutional limitations on the Crown, must, in all human probability, have exposed the country to many years more of civil bloodshed and confusion.

It is not true, that immediately after the Restoration, all security for the public interests and liberties was neglected. At a subsequent period, and at no great distance of time, Charles shewed himself in his true colours. But it was beyond any ordinary calculation of political probability, that the Monarch thus restored, should happen to be one of the worst men ever entrusted with power in any age or country.

Among his innumerable errors it was not the least, that his measures almost immediately drove back the Presbyterians into irreconcileable enmity to his Government, and created at the same time a very general, and as we now know, a very just alarm throughout the nation of his disposition towards the re-establishment of Popery.

But the Church of England deceived themselves on this subject; they shut their eyes to the dangers on the side of Popery, and looked only to the evils which they had experienced from the prevalence of other sectaries. They persevered in their former support of the Crown, and this the more in proportion as they saw it more strongly assailed by the same adversaries, whose hostility to themselves they knew to be indisputable.

To this blindness they had well nigh sacrificed the established religion and the established constitution, to both which they were sincerely attached. But the madness of James the Second at length opened their eyes. His determined purposes of hostility to both could not be mistaken, but his means of giving effect to them were far less than those of his brother; his talents much inferior, his judgment weaker, and his person and character almost universally unpopular. It was then that the Church of England roused herself. The whole kingdom was thus united as one man against his designs, he stood alone against the whole body of his subjects, and the revolution which deprived him of his Crown, was not only peaceable, but unanimous.

Those whose previous weight, station, and character in the country authorized them to take the lead in such a crisis, had nothing to apprehend: whatever the public interests demanded might at that moment be safely undertaken and easily accomplished. Happily, their own tempers and the necessity of avoiding to wound the prejudices and feelings of the various persons and parties to whose co-operations they owed their strength, and the nation its security, alike inclined them to moderation and caution. They proceeded rather to repair than rebuild; they rested on old foundations, trusting, and as experience has shewn us wisely trusting, to the facility with which a Government, such as they established it, might and would accommodate itself to the unforeseen exigencies of succeeding times.

Here terminate these luminous remarks, for none of your readers will, I think, disagree with my applying this epithet to them. Now it is much to be regretted that such considerations

as the foregoing did not enter into Mr. Fox's conceptions of the limits of legitimate history, as he would have treated them with the hand of a master. His not deeming the usefulness of history to consist principally in unfolding the causes and results of political changes, renders this article, in my opinion, an additional acquisition to "The Analyst."

I am, Sir,

Great Malvern, Jan. 22, 1835.

Dec. 6th.

Yours, &c.

HISTORICUS.

I'd wait till joy was lost in sable gloom,

Till dreams-ev'n dreams had perish'd into air,
Till all, but love, lay shrouded in that tomb

Whose seal is graven with one word-" Despair :"

Yea! till the summer verdure of my years
Had faded in life's "sere and yellow leaf,"
And waning smiles dissolv'd in bitter tears-
Prophetic messengers of cureless grief!

And, thus, borne down with suff'ring, mute but deep,
Heart-wrung and spirit-broken, to the grave

I'd wend, unplaining, never more to weep

O'er shatter'd peace which naught alas! could save!

Yet unto thee, when bending o'er my clay
One tear of pity thou shouldst yield to me,
A pleading voice, in whispers low, should say,
"Why tarry love? I watch and wait for thee !"

EDWARD.

AN ACCOUNT OF AN EXTRAORDINARY METEOR,

Seen at Malvern, November 13, 1832,

BY W. ADDISON, ESQ., F. L. S.

Communicated to the Royal Society by Dr. Maton.

The

On my return from Malvern Wells, at half-past one in the morning of Tuesday the 13th of November, my attention was arrested by a sudden burst of vivid light in the heavens. moon was at the time shining brilliantly, and the line of light, (which was a little above and between that luminary and the two principal stars in Gemini,) continued three or four seconds, and then gradually melted away into a thin nebulous appearance which bent and contorted itself very curiously. The weather the whole

of the preceding day had been extremely foggy; but, as is sometimes the case at Malvern, those houses situated highest upon the declivity of the Hill, were quite above the dense vapour which was spread out like a vast sea below, undulating to and fro, sometimes reaching and shrouding higher portions of the Hill, and then subsiding, leaving them quite clear. The vapour was in this condition when the light excited my notice. In descending the Hill I became enveloped in fog; the moon then became partially obscured, and the stars quite invisible. I shortly afterwards observed a slight flash of light, and a post-boy whom I met with, stated, that he had seen lighting through the fog several times, and once in particular, about two hours previous, the sky, to use his own expression, "opened and shut-but not like common lightning." This information induced me to continue my observations, and I soon perceived, through the mist, a very large meteor shoot across, leaving a long line of light behind. I resolved to mount the Hill, in order to get clear of the fog, and endeavour to ascertain from what cause these lights proceeded. Having ascended a considerable distance, and emerged from the dense vapour below, I found the moon and stars shining most brilliantly-the atmosphere perfectly calm-and the hoar-frost coating the ground. Continuing my ascent towards the summit, I beheld one of the most extraordinary and beautiful spectacles that was ever witnessed-a constant succession of meteors of various degrees of magnitude and brilliancy. The smaller meteors were like what are vulgarly termed shooting stars, leaving behind them a train of pale light; those of a larger description were much more brilliant, and, notwithstanding the brightness of the moon, they threw a strong glare upon everything around. The latter always commenced from a small luminous point, rapidly increasing in size and brilliancy, shooting with great swiftness across a considerable