The last conquest attempted under the Roman Republic was that of Britain. Julius Cæsar, on the pretence that its states had given assistance to the Gauls, but chiefly from a motive of glory, carried the Roman Eagles into a country from which he was to retreat with disgrace. It required a length of time, and a succession of able Proconsuls to reduce to subjection Communities of fierce and independent warriours; and policy effected what could not be operated by arms. The Britains were debauched into a resemblance with a most corrupted people. They renounced the fatigues of war for the blandishments of peace. They forsook their huts for palaces; affected a costliness of living, and gave way to a seducing voluptuousness. They sunk into an abject debasement, without having run that career of greatness, which, in general, precedes the decline of nations; and, when they were trained to an oppressive yoke, the Romans found it necessary to abandon them. The impression which the barbarous tribes had made upon the Empire required the presence of the distant legions[1].
The liberty which the Romans, on their departure, presented to the Britains, could not be enjoyed by them. Timid and dastardly, they fled before the Picts and Scots, and allowed their country to be ravaged by a cruel and undisciplined enemy. Amidst the suggestions of their fear, they forgot every principle of policy and of prudence; they called to their defence a foreign valour. The Saxons were invited to fight their battles; but they acted not long as protectors. They were allured by the prospect of compleating a settlement in this island; and the total ruin of its inhabitants was projected. Despair gave a temporary vigour and union to the Britains. They were unable, however, to resist a people, accustomed to victory, and directed by experienced commanders. The valiant and magnanimous fell by the sword; the ignoble submitted to an ignominious servitude: Wales afforded a retreat to some; and others found shelter in Armorica[2].
But, if the Saxon conquest was ruinous to the Britains, it was yet attended with consequences which were lasting and important. The sun of liberty revisited the island, and displayed itself with uncommon lustre. The Saxons, independent in their original seats, submitted not to tyrants in their new situation. They laid the foundation of a political fabric, the most valuable that has, at any time, appeared among men; and which, though shaken by violent revolutions, a train of fortunate circumstances has continued down to the present times. Fluctuations have taken place between prerogative and liberty; but, accident and wisdom have still conspired to preserve us from the fate of the other kingdoms of Europe.
During the existence, however, of the Heptarchy, the Saxons seem to have departed little from their original condition of Society. The ferocious picture which Tacitus has drawn of the Germans, is, with a few exceptions, characteristic of them. If we admire their heroism, we are shocked with their cruelty; and if we are in love with their democratical maxims, we must sometimes regret their contempt of justice and of order. The most important innovation introduced into their manners during this æra was their conversion to christianity. But their acquaintance with this mode of faith failed to be productive of beneficial consequences. As they received it from the corrupted source of the Church of Rome, it involved them in endless and idle disputes. It detracted from the vigour of their understanding, by turning their attention from civil precautions, and the arts of policy, to the relics of saints, and the severities of religious discipline. The power derived from it intoxicated ecclesiastics: They presumed to interfere in affairs of state; and, a foundation seemed already to be laid for subjecting the island to the dominion of the Roman Pontiff[3].
When the Saxon kingdoms were consolidated into one state under Egbert, improvements were made in civility and knowledge. The incursions of the Danes, and the disorders resulting from them, called forth the ability and the wisdom of the Anglo-Saxon Princes. Alfred, notwithstanding the other important transactions of his reign, found leisure to frame into a code the laws of his predecessors, and those Germanic customs which had retained their influence. King Edgar has likeways come down to us with the character of an able legislator. The establishment of the Danes in England gave occasion to new usages and new laws; but these were neither many, nor considerable[4]. The ability of Canute did not allow him to make distinctions between his Danish and his English subjects; and the sceptre was not long in returning to a prince of the Saxon line. No Monarch was ever more acceptable to a State than Edward the Confessor; and, though he had rather the qualities of a saint than those of a king, his laws have been highly extolled. They were strenuously contended for during the administration of the earlier Norman princes; they kept their ground in opposition to the clergy and the imperial institutions; and they furnished the foundation of what is termed the Common Law of England[5].
In no portion of the Anglo-Saxon period does the power of the Sovereign appear to have been exorbitant or formidable. The enaction of Laws, and the supreme sway in all matters, whether civil or ecclesiastical, were vested in the Wittenagemot, or great National Assembly[6]. This council consisted of King, Lords, and Commons, and exhibited a species of government, of which political liberty was the necessary consequence; as its component parts were mutually a check to one another. The free condition of the northern nations, and the peculiarity of their situation when they had made conquests, gave rise to this valuable scheme of administration, and taught the politicians of Europe what was unknown to antiquity, a distinction between despotism and monarchy.
The executive power remained with the crown; but it was the united assent of the three estates which constituted the legislature. The Lords were spiritual as well as temporal; for notwithstanding that the Ecclesiastics preached humility, and the contempt of private interest, they had been seized with ambition and the love of superiority[7]. The people exercised an authority that was important and ample. The counties appeared by their knights, and the cities and boroughs by their citizens and burgesses; the Commons, as at this day constituted, being included under the appellation of the wites or sapientes, who are always mentioned as a part of the Anglo-Saxon parliament[8]. The assertors of prerogative, indeed, have affirmed that these were judges or men skilled in the law; but this opinion they support by very exceptionable evidence[9]: And it has been conjectured, with no measure of propriety, by some compromising writers, that all the more considerable proprietors of land had a title, without any election, to give their votes in the Wittenagemot[10].