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€ for his people are happy! May the light of the “ covenant be a lanthorn to the fect of the judges; “ for by this shall they separate truth from false66 hood.
O innocence, rejoice! for by this light “ íhalt thou walk in safety ; nor shall the oppressor “ take hold on thee. 'O juilice, be exceeding glad! “ for by this light all thy judgments shall be decreed 56 with wisdom; nor shall any man say thou hali 66 erred.
Let the hearts of all the people be glad! “ for this have their grandfathers died ; in this have - their fathers rejoiced ; and in this may their pos“ terity rejoice evermore !"
Then all the rulers took a folemn oath to preserve it inviolate and unchanged, and to facrifice their lives and their fortunes, rather than suffer themselves or their children to be deprived of so invaluable a blessing.
After this, I saw another and larger assembly come forward into the hall, and join the first. These paid the same adorations to the covenant; took the fame oath ; they sung the same hymn; and added a solemn form of imprecation to this effect.
“Let " the words of the roll be for ever in our eyes, and
graven on our hearts; and accursed be he who “ layeth hands on the same. Accursed be he who “ fhall remove this writing from the people; or “ who fhall hide the law thereof from the king. « Let that man be cut off from the earth. Let his c riches be scattered as the duit. Let his wife be " the wife of the people. Let not his first-born be " ranked among the nobles. Let his palaces be de“ stroyed. Let his gardens be as a desert, having no water.
Let his horses and his horsemen be “ overthrown; and let his dog devour their car“cafes"--In the midst of these execrations entered a man, dressed in a plain habit, with a purse of gold in his hand. He threw himself forward into the room, in a bluff, ruffianly manner. A smile, or ra
thera sneer, sat on his countenance.
His face was bronzed over with a glare of confidence. An arch malignity leered in his eye. Nothing was fo extraordinary as the effect of this person's appearance. They no sooner saw him, but they all turned their faces from the canopy, and fell proftrate before him. Hle trodd over their backs, without any ceremony, and marched directly up to the throne. He opened his purse of gold, which he took out in handfuls, and scattered amongit the assembly. While the greater part were engaged in scrambling for these pieces, he seized, to my inexpressible surprize, without the least
the sacred parchment itself. He rumpled it rudely up, and crammed it into his pocket. Some of the people began to murmur. He threw more gold, and they were pacified. No sooner was the parchment taken away, but in an instant I saw half the august assembly in chains. Nothing was heard through the whole divan, but the noise of fetters, and clank of irons. I saw pontiffs in their ecclesiaf, tical habits, and senators clad in ermine, linked together like the most ignominious flaves. Terror and amazement were impressed on every countenance, except on that of some few to whom the man continued dispersing his gold." This he did till his purse became empty. Then he dropt it; but then too, in the very fame moment, he himseļf dropt with it to the ground. That, and the date of his power, at once expired. He sunk, and funk for ever. The radiant volume again arose: again shone out, and re-assumed its place above the throne; the throne, which had been darkened all this time, was now filled with the effulgence of the glory which darted from it. Every chain dropped off in an instant. Every face' regained its former cheerfulness. Heaven and earth resounded with liberty! liberty! and the HEART OF THE KING WAS GLAD WITHIN HIM.
A N S W E R
OF SATURDAŲ, DECEMBER 21, 1728.
THE family of the Publicola are surely very numerous. I pretend to no acquaintance with them, and I desire none.
Far be it from me therefore to assign to any one of the fraternity his particular lucubration. I do not presume to say, for instance, that such a piece was writ by Ben, or such a one by Robin ; but I can plainly distinguish, in their productions, a difference of stile and character. In fome, I feel myself lulled by a regular, mild, and frequently languid harangue; such
as often descends upon us from the pulpit. In others, I observe a crude, incoherent, rough, inaccurate, but sometimes sprightly, declamation; well enough fitted for popular assemblies, where the majority is already convinced.
The Publicolæ of the seventh of December quite jaded me. I handled the numb fish till I 'fancied a torpor seized my imagination; and perhaps you may think, that I am hardly yet recovered from the consequences of that accident. However, I shall venture to play a little with the Publicole of this day;
This paper was fupposed to be then under the direction of Benjamin Lord Bishop of *****.
for I think I can go through an answer to this paper, He returns the ball at least, and keeps up the game.
Before I come to this, give me leave to premile a word or two more.
As different as the Publicolæ are in other things, in one they are all alike. They are fcurrilous and impatient. They call names, and grow angry at a fneer. Raleigh laid down his pen, rather than continue such a bear-garden contelt. I took it up
and answered them for once in their own stile ; but they must not expect so much complaisance from me any
The matters we enter upon are serious, and by me they shall be treated serioully and calmly. I shall conlider the dignity of the cause I plead for; the cause of truth; the cause of my country; and I shall look down with contempt on the invectives and menaces, which they may throw out; and by vhich they will suit their stilc with great propriety to their subject. But let us come to the point.
The Publicola of this day sets out with stating, in an half light, a question which hath been much debated in the world. No man that I know of, no reasonable man I am sure, did ever find fault that we avoided a war. Our national circumstances are so well known, they are so severely felt, that ministers who maintained peace, and procured to their country the blessings of peace, quiet, improvement of trade, diminution of taxes, decrease of debts, would be almost the objects of public adoration. But the exception taken to our conduct hath been this; that we provoked a war first, and shewed a fear of it afterwards. People recal the passages of three years past. They wish we had practised greater caution at that time; but then the fame people very consistently with that we had exerted greater vigor since. If the honor and intereit of his late majesiy, and of the British nation, say they, were so severely wounded by the public or private treaties of Vienna, that it was fit to keep no longer any measures, even such as have been thought of decency, with the emperor and the king of Spain ; why this fear of disobliging them? Why this long forbearance under all the insults offered to us by the Spaniards? If we were in a condition, by our own strength, and by our alliance with France, to enter with a prospect of success into an immediate war, why again have we chosen to defer it, under fo many provocations to begin it? Why have we endured some of the worst consequences of a war, without taking those advantages which acting offenfively would undeniably have procured to us? But if all this was quite otherwise, continue the same political reasoners ; if the honor and interest of his late majesty, and of the British nation, were not so severely wounded; if we were neither, by our own strength, nor by the alliance of France, in a condition to risque a war; nay, more, if things were so unfortunately jumbled, that perhaps “ this war " would have been more to our own detriment than “ to that of our enemies," as the Publicola have more than once insinuated in their papers, what could we mean three years ago, when matters were carried to greater and harsher extremities than it is possible to find any example of among civilized nations, since the quarrels of Charles the Fifth, and Francis the first? If our “ principal ally would “ have been dangerous to our interests in the ope“ rations of a war, and is indifferent to theni in " the negotiations of peace,” for this hath been insinuated too from the same quarter, what a treaty was that which procured us this ally? What assurances were those which inade us depend upon hiin? The difficulty of these dilemmas cannot, I think, be solved; and those who attempt it deceive themselves, whilst they mean to deceive the people.