ablest and bravest Plantagenets, had, through the instrumentality
of her native princes, become in effect, though not in name, a
province of England. In no part of Europe had the Calvinistic
doctrine and discipline taken so strong a hold on the public
mind. The Church of Rome was regarded by the great body of the
people with a hatred which might justly be called ferocious; and
the Church of England, which seemed to be every day becoming more
and more like the Church of Rome, was an object of scarcely less
aversion.

The government had long wished to extend the Anglican system over
the whole island, and had already, with this view, made several
changes highly distasteful to every Presbyterian. One innovation,
however, the most hazardous of all, because it was directly
cognisable by the senses of the common people, had not yet been
attempted. The public worship of God was still conducted in the
manner acceptable to the nation. Now, however, Charles and Laud
determined to force on the Scots the English liturgy, or rather a
liturgy which, wherever it differed from that of England,
differed, in the judgment of all rigid Protestants, for the
worse.

To this step, taken in the mere wantonness of tyranny, and in
criminal ignorance or more criminal contempt of public feeling,
our country owes her freedom. The first performance of the
foreign ceremonies produced a riot. The riot rapidly became a
revolution. Ambition, patriotism, fanaticism, were mingled in one
headlong torrent. The whole nation was in arms. The power of
England was indeed, as appeared some years later, sufficient to
coerce Scotland: but a large part of the English people