prompt, efficient, and terrible in its operation beyond any. thing which the modern world had seen-I mean the system of standing armies; in other words, a military force organized and paid to support the king on his throne and retain the people in their subjection.

From this moment, the fate of freedom in Europe was sealed. Something might be hoped from the amelioration of manners in softening down the more barbarous parts of political despotism, but nothing was to be expected in the form of liberal institutions, founded on principle.

The ancient and the modern forms of political servitude were thus combined. The Roman emperors, as I have hinted, maintained themselves simply by military force, in nominal accordance with the forms of the Republic. Their power (to speak in modern terms) was no part of the Constitution. The feudal sovereigns possessed a constitutional precedence in the State, which, after the diffusion of Christianity, they claimed by the grace of God; but their power, in point of fact, was circumscribed by that of their brother barons. With the firm establishment of standing armies was consummated a system of avowed despotism, paralyz ing all expression of the popular will, existing by divine right, and unbalanced by any effectual check in the State. It needs but a glance at the state of Europe, in the beginning of the sixteenth century, to see, that, notwithstanding the revival and diffusion of letters, the progress of the Reformation, and the improvement of the manners, the tone of the people, in the most enlightened countries, was more abject than it had been since the days of the Cæsars. The state of England certainly compared favorably with that of any other part of Europe; but who can patiently listen to the language with which Henry VIII. chides, and Eliza

beth scolds the Lords and Commons of the Parliament of Great Britain?

All hope of liberty then seemed lost; in Europe all hope was lost. A disastrous turn had been given to the general movement of things; and in the disclosure of the fatal secret of standing armies, the future political servitude of man was apparently decided.

But a change is destined to come over the face of things, as romantic in its origin as it is wonderful in its progress. All is not lost; on the contrary, all is saved, at the moment when all seemed involved in ruin. Let me just allude to the incidents connected with this change, as they have lately been described by an accomplished countryman, now beyond the sea.

About half a league from the little seaport of Palos, in the province of Andalusia, in Spain, stands a convent dedicated to St. Mary. Some time in the year 1486, a poor, wayfaring stranger, accompanied by a small boy, makes his appearance on foot at the gate of this convent, and begs of the porter a little bread and water for his child. This friendless stranger is Columbus. Brought up in the hardy pursuit of a mariner-occasionally serving in the fleets of his native country-with the burden of fifty years upon his frame, the unprotected foreigner makes his suit to the sovereigns of Portugal and Spain. He tells them that the broad, flat earth on which we tread is round, and he proposes, with what seems a sacrilegious hand, to lift the veil which has hung from the creation of the world over the bounds of the ocean. He promises, by a western course, to reach the eastern shores of Asia, the region of gold, diamonds, and spices; to extend the sovereignty of Christian kings over realms and nations hitherto unap

proached and unknown; and, ultimately, to perform a new crusade to the Holy Land, and ransom the sepulchre of our Saviour with the new-found gold of the East.

The

Who shall believe the chimerical pretension? learned men examine it and pronounce it futile. The royal pilots have ascertained by their own experience that it is groundless. The priesthood have considered it, and have pronounced the sentence, so terrific where the Inquisition reigns, that it is a wicked heresy. The common-sense and popular feeling of men have been kindled into disdain and indignation toward a project, which, by a strange, new chimera, represented one-half of mankind walking with their feet toward the other half.

For a

Such is the reception which his proposal meets. long time, the great cause of humanity, depending on the discovery of this fair continent, is involved in the fortitude, perseverance, and spirit of the solitary stranger, already past the time of life when the pulse of adventure beats full and high. If, sinking beneath the indifference of the great, the sneers of the wise, the enmity of the mass, and the persecution of a host of adversaries, high and low, he give up the thankless pursuit of his noble vision, what a hope for mankind is blasted! But he does not sink. He shakes off his enemies, as the lion shakes the dewdrops from his mane. That consciousness of motive and of strength, which always supports the man who is worthy to be supported, sustains him in his hour of trial; and, at length, after years of expectation, importunity, and hope deferred, he launches forth upon the unknown deep, to discover a new world under the patronage of Ferdinand and Isabella. The patronage of Ferdinand and Isabella! Let us dwell for a moment on the auspices under which our country was

discovered. The patronage of Ferdinand and Isabella! Yes, doubtless, they have fitted out a convoy worthy the noble temper of the man and the grandeur of his project. Convinced at length that it is no day-dream of a heated visionary, the fortunate sovereigns of Castile and Aragon, returning from their triumph over the last of the Moors, and putting a victorious close to a war of seven centuries' duration, have no doubt prepared an expedition of wellappointed magnificence to go out upon this splendid search for other worlds. They have made ready, no doubt, their proudest galleon to waft the heroic adventurer upon his path of glory, with a whole armada of kindred spirits to accompany him.

Alas! from his ancient resort of Palos-which he first visited as a mendicant-in three frail barks, of which two were without decks, the great discoverer of America sails forth on the first voyage across the unexplored ocean! Such is the patronage of kings! A few years pass by; he discovers a new hemisphere; the wildest of his visions fade into insignificance before the reality of their fulfilment; he finds a new world for Castile and Leon, and comes back to Spain loaded with chains. Republics, it is said, are ungrateful. Such are the rewards of monarchies!

man.

With this humble instrumentality did it please Providence to prepare the theatre for those events by which a new dispensation of liberty was to be communicated to But much is yet to transpire before even the commencement can be made in the establishment of those institutions by which this great advance in human affairs was to be effected. The discovery of America had taken place under the auspices of the government most disposed for maritime adventure, and best enabled to extend a helping

arm, such as it was, to the enterprise of the great discoverer. But it was not from the same quarter that the elements of liberty could be introduced into the New World. Causes, upon which I need not dwell, made it impossible that the great political reform should go forth from Spain. For this object, a new train of incidents was preparing in another quarter.

The only real advance which modern Europe had made in freedom had been made in England. The cause of constitutional liberty in that country was persecuted, was subdued, but not annihilated, nor trampled out of being. From the choicest of its suffering champions were collected the brave band of emigrants who first went out on the second, the more precious voyage of discovery-the discovery of a land where liberty and its consequent blessings might be established.

A late English writer has permitted himself to say that the original establishment of the United States, and that of the colony of Botany Bay, were modelled nearly on the same plan. The meaning of this slanderous insinuation is that the United States was settled by deported convicts, as New South Wales has been settled by transported felons. It is doubtless true that at one period the English Government was in the habit of condemning to hard labor, as servants in the colonies, a portion of those who had received the sentence of the law. If this practice makes it proper to compare America with Botany Bay, the same comparison might be made of England herself, before the practice of transportation began, and even now, inasmuch as a considerable number of convicts are at all times retained at home. In one sense, indeed, we might doubt whether the allegation were more of a reproach or a compliment. During the time