A hundred years ago, Burke sought to impress on the existing ministers and Parliament the conviction that, “so long as our Colonies kept the idea of their civil rights associated with our government, they would cling and grapple to us, and no force under heaven would be of power to tear them from their allegiance.”  In the case of which he was speaking his warning, as we have seen, fell on deaf ears; but the policy of the present reign is a willing and full adoption of them, on a far larger scale than even his farseeing vision could then contemplate.  Within the century which has elapsed since his time the enterprise of Britain has sent forth her sons to people another hemisphere; and they, her children still, cling to the parent state with filial affection, because they feel that, though parted from her by thousands of miles and more than one ocean, they are still indissolubly united to her by their participation in all the blessings of her constitution, her generous toleration, her equal laws, her universal freedom.

On one transaction of these years the leaders of the Opposition were found acting in close agreement with the ministers.  We have seen how, in the early part of the reign of George III., the House of Commons threw the sheriffs of London into prison, on account of their performance of what they conceived to be their duty as magistrates; and in 1840 it subjected the same officials to the same treatment on a question of the same character—­the extent of the privilege of the House of Commons to overrule the authority of the courts of law.  The question was in appearance complicated by the institution of several suits at law, and by the fact that the House was not consistent in its conduct, but allowed its servants to plead to the first action, and refused the same permission in the second, when the result of the first trial had proved adverse to them.  The case was this:  some inspectors of prisons has presented a report to Parliament, in which they alleged that they had found in Newgate a book of disgusting and obscene character, published by a London publisher named Stockdale.  The House of Commons had ordered the report to be printed and sold by Messrs. Hansard, the Parliamentary publishers, and Stockdale brought an action against Messrs. Hansard for libel.  Chief-justice Denman charged the jury that “the fact of the House of Commons having directed Messrs. Hansard to publish their reports was no justification to them for publishing a Parliamentary report containing a libel;” and Stockdale obtained damages, which were duly paid.  Stockdale, encouraged by this success, when, in spite of the result of the late trial, Hansard continued to sell the report, brought a fresh action; but now the House forbade the publishers to plead to it; and, as they obeyed the prohibition, and forbore to plead, the case eventually came before the Sheriff’s Court; fresh damages were given, and, in obedience to the writ of the Queen’s Bench, the sheriffs seized Hansard’s goods,