not simply the usurpation of the English crown but
the establishment of the Spanish Inquisition at Westminster
Hall. Nor can we forget with what longing eyes
the Corsican barbarian who wielded for mischief the
forces of France in 1805 looked across from Boulogne
at the shores of the one European land that never
in word or deed granted him homage. But in these
latter days England has had no need of stormy weather
to aid the prowess of the sea-kings who are her natural
defenders. It is impossible for the thoughtful
student of history to walk across Trafalgar Square,
and gaze on the image of the mightiest naval hero that
ever lived, on the summit of his lofty column and
guarded by the royal lions, looking down towards the
government-house of the land that he freed from the
dread of Napoleonic invasion and towards that ancient
church wherein the most sacred memories of English
talent and English toil are clustered together,—it
is impossible, I say, to look at this, and not admire
both the artistic instinct that devised so happy a
symbolism, and the rare good-fortune of our Teutonic
ancestors in securing a territorial position so readily
defensible against the assaults of despotic powers.
But it was not merely in the simple facility of warding
off external attack that the insular position of England
was so serviceable. This ease in warding off
external attack had its most marked effect upon the
internal polity of the nation. It never became
necessary for the English government to keep up a
great standing army. For purposes of external
defence a navy was all-sufficient; and there is this
practical difference between a permanent army and
a permanent navy. Both are originally designed
for purposes of external defence; but the one can
readily be used for purposes of internal oppression,
and the other cannot. Nobody ever heard of a
navy putting up an empire at auction and knocking
down the throne of the world to a Didius Julianus.
When, therefore, a country is effectually screened
by water from external attack, it is screened in a
way that permits its normal political development
to go on internally without those manifold military
hinderances that have ordinarily been so obstructive
in the history of civilization. Hence we not
only see why, after the Norman Conquest had operated
to increase its unity and its strength, England enjoyed
a far greater amount of security and was far more
peaceful than any other country in Europe; but we
also see why society never assumed the military type
in England which it assumed upon the continent; we
see how it was that the bonds of feudalism were far
looser here than elsewhere, and therefore how it happened
that nowhere else was the condition of the common
people so good politically. We now begin to see,
moreover, how thoroughly Professor Stubbs and Mr.
Freeman are justified in insisting upon the fact that
the political institutions of the Germans of Tacitus
have had a more normal and uninterrupted development