By the law of England, it was the inseparable incident of treason, flourishing always in Ireland, where rebellion was chronic, and showing itself in Great Britain whenever rebellion occurred. But it was simply as part of punishment, precisely as the traitor was drawn and quartered and his blood corrupted, all according to law. The scaffold turned over to the Government all the estate of its victims. But there is another instance in English history entirely different in character, where Henry the Eighth, in warfare with the Catholic Church, did not hesitate to despoil the monasteries of their great possessions, with a clear annual revenue of one hundred and thirty-one thousand six hundred and seven pounds, or, according to Bishop Burnet, ten times that sum “in true value.”[38] This property, so enormous in those days, wrested at once from the mortmain of the Church, testifies to the boldness, if not the policy, with which the power was wielded. It is in modern France that confiscation has played its greatest part, and been the most formidable weapon, whether of punishment or of war. At first abolished by the Revolution, as a relic of royal oppression, it was at length adopted by the Revolution. Amidst the dangers menacing the country, this sacrifice was pronounced essential to save it, and successive laws were passed, beginning as early as November, 1789, by which it was authorized. Never before in history was confiscation so sweeping. It aroused at the time the eloquent indignation of Burke, and still causes a sigh among all who think less of principles than of privileges. From an official report to the First Consul, it appears that before 1801 sales were authorized by the Government to the fabulous amount of two thousand five hundred and fifty-five millions of francs, or above five hundred millions of dollars, while still a large mass, estimated at seven hundred million francs, of confiscated property remained unsold.[39] The whole vast possessions of the Church disappeared in this chasm.