These writers laid it down as a fundamental principle of political science that a standing army and a free constitution could not exist together.

What, they asked, had destroyed the noble commonwealths of Greece?
What had enslaved the mighty Roman people?
What had turned the Italian republics of the middle ages into lordships and duchies?
How was it that so many of the kingdoms of modern Europe had been transformed from limited into absolute monarchies?
The States General of France, the Cortes of Castile, the Grand Justiciary of Arragon, what had been fatal to them all?
History was ransacked for instances of adventurers who, by the help of mercenary troops, had subjugated free nations or deposed legitimate princes; and such instances were easily found.

Much was said about Pisistratus, Timophanes, Dionysius, Agathocles, Marius and Sylla, Julius Caesar and Augustus Caesar, Carthage besieged by her own mercenaries, Rome put up to auction by her own Praetorian cohorts, Sultan Osman butchered by his own Janissaries, Lewis Sforza sold into captivity by his own Switzers.
But the favourite instance was taken from the recent history of our own land.

Thousands still living had seen the great usurper, who, strong in the power of the sword, had triumphed over both royalty and freedom.

The Tories were reminded that his soldiers had guarded the scaffold before the Banqueting House.