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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9d78463 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #54514 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/54514) diff --git a/old/54514-0.txt b/old/54514-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 8cbc7ea..0000000 --- a/old/54514-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8605 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Works of Richard Hurd, Volume 3 (of 8), by -Richard Hurd - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Works of Richard Hurd, Volume 3 (of 8) - -Author: Richard Hurd - -Release Date: April 9, 2017 [EBook #54514] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORKS OF RICHARD HURD, VOL 3 *** - - - - -Produced by Charlene Taylor, Bryan Ness, Wayne Hammond and -the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from scanned -images of public domain material from the Google Books -project.) - - - - - - - -[Transcriber’s Note: - -Characters preceded by a caret (^) are in superscript, and are enclosed -in curly brackets, i. e. {th}. - -Italicized text delimited by underscores. - -This project uses utf-8 encoded characters. If some characters are not -readable, check your settings of your browser to ensure you have a -default font installed that can display utf-8 characters.] - - - - - THE - - WORKS - - OF - - RICHARD HURD, D. D. - - LORD BISHOP OF WORCESTER. - - VOL III. - - Printed by J. Nichols and Son, - Red Lion Passage, Fleet Street, London. - - - - - THE - - WORKS - - OF - - RICHARD HURD, D. D. - - LORD BISHOP OF WORCESTER. - - IN EIGHT VOLUMES. - - VOL. III. - - - [Illustration] - - LONDON: - PRINTED FOR T. CADELL AND W. DAVIES, STRAND - 1811. - - - - - MORAL AND POLITICAL - - DIALOGUES. - - VOL. I. - - - - - MORAL AND POLITICAL - - DIALOGUES, - - WITH - - LETTERS - - ON - - CHIVALRY AND ROMANCE. - - - - - SACRED TO THE MEMORY - - OF THE LATE - - RALPH ALLEN, ESQ. - - OF - - PRIOR-PARK. - -[Illustration] - - SI NOBIS ANIMVM BONI VIRI LICERET INSPICERE, O QVAM PVLCHRAM FACIEM, - QVAM SANCTAM, QVAM EX MAGNIFICO PLACIDOQVE FVLGENTEM VIDEREMVS! NEMO - ILLVM AMABILEM, QVI NON SIMVL VENERABILEM, DICERET. - - SENECA. - - - - -CONTENTS. - - - VOL. III. - - - PREFACE, - - _On the Manner of writing Dialogue_. - - - DIALOGUE I. - - _On Sincerity in the Commerce of the World._ - - DR. MORE, MR. WALLER. - - - DIALOGUE II. - - _On Retirement._ - - MR. COWLEY, DR. SPRAT. - - - DIALOGUE III. - - _On the Age of_ Q. ELIZABETH. - - MR. DIGBY, DR. ARBUTHNOT, MR. ADDISON. - - - DIALOGUE IV. - - _On the Age of_ Q. ELIZABETH. - - MR. DIGBY, DR. ARBUTHNOT, MR. ADDISON. - - - DIALOGUE V. - - _On the Constitution of the English Government._ - - SIR J. MAYNARD, MR. SOMERS, BP. BURNET. - - - VOL. IV. - - - DIALOGUE VI. - - _On the Constitution of the English Government._ - - SIR J. MAYNARD, MR. SOMERS, BP. BURNET. - - - DIALOGUES VII, VIII. - - _On the Uses of Foreign Travel._ - - LORD SHAFTESBURY, MR. LOCKE. - - - XII LETTERS - - _On Chivalry and Romance_. - - - - -CONTENTS - -OF - -THE THIRD VOLUME. - - - Page - - PREFACE, - - _On the Manner of writing Dialogue_. 17 - - - DIALOGUE I. - - _On Sincerity in the Commerce of the World._ - - DR. MORE, MR. WALLER. 51 - - - DIALOGUE II. - - _On Retirement._ - - MR. COWLEY, DR. SPRAT. 95 - - - DIALOGUE III, IV. - - _On the Age of_ Q. ELIZABETH. - - MR. DIGBY, DR. ARBUTHNOT, MR. ADDISON. 165 - - - DIALOGUE V. - - _On the Constitution of the English Government._ - - SIR J. MAYNARD, MR. SOMERS, BP. BURNET. 281 - - - - - PREFACE, - - ON - - THE MANNER - - OF WRITING DIALOGUE. - - - - - PREFACE, - - ON THE - - MANNER OF WRITING DIALOGUE. - - -The former editions of these Dialogues were given without a name, and -under the fictitious person of an Editor: not, the reader may be sure, -for any purpose so silly as that of imposing on the Public; but for -reasons of another kind, which it is not difficult to apprehend. - -However, these reasons, whatever they were, subsisting no longer, the -writer is now to appear in his own person; and the respect he owes to -the public makes him think it fit to bespeak their acceptance of these -volumes in another manner, than he supposed would be readily permitted -to him, under his assumed character. - -I. In an age, like this, when most men seem ambitious of turning -writers, many persons may think it strange that the kind of -composition, which was chiefly in use among the masters of this -numerous and stirring family, hath been hitherto neglected. - -When the ANCIENTS had any thing— - -“But what,” it will be said, “always the _Ancients_? And are we never -to take a pen in hand, but the first question must still be, what our -masters, the ancients, have been pleased to dictate to us? ONE man -understands, that the ancient Ode was distinguished into several parts, -called by I know not what strange names; and then truly an English Ode -must be tricked out in the same fantastic manner. ANOTHER has heard of -a wise, yet merry, company called a Chorus, which was always singing or -preaching in the Greek Tragedies; and then, besure, nothing will serve -but we must be sung and preached to in ours. While a THIRD is smitten -with a tedious long-winded thing, which was once endured under the name -of Dialogue; and strait we have Dialogues of this formal cut, and are -told withal, that no man may presume to write them, on any other model.” - -Thus the modern critic, with much complacency and even gayety—But I -resume the sentence I set out with, and observe, “WHEN THE ANCIENTS -had any thing to say to the world on the subject either of morals -or government, they generally chose the way of DIALOGUE, for the -conveyance of their instructions; as supposing they might chance to -gain a readier acceptance in this agreeable form, than any other.” - - Hæc adeo penitus curâ videre sagaci - Otia qui studiis læti tenuere decoris, - Inque ACADEMIA umbriferâ nitidoque LYCEO - Fuderunt claras fœcundi pectoris artes. - -Such was the address, or fancy at least, of the wise ANCIENTS. - -The MODERNS, on the contrary, have appeared to reverence themselves, -or their cause, too much, to think that either stood in need of this -oblique management. No writer has the least doubt of being favourably -received in all companies, let him come upon us in what shape he will: -and, not to stand upon ceremony, when he brings so welcome a present, -as what he calls _Truth_, with him, he obtrudes it upon us in the -direct way of Dissertation. - -Nobody, I suppose, objects to this practice, when important truths -indeed are to be taught, and when the abilities of the Teacher are such -as may command respect. But the case is different, when writers presume -to try their hands upon us, without these advantages. Nay, and even -with them, it can do no hurt, when the subject is proper for familiar -discourse, to throw it into this gracious and popular form. - -I have said, _where the subject is proper for familiar discourse_; for -all subjects, I think, cannot, or should not be treated in this way. - -It is true, the inquisitive genius of the Academic Philosophy gave -great scope to the freedom of debate. Hence the origin of the Greek -Dialogue: of which, if PLATO was not the Inventor, he was, at least, -the Model. - -This sceptical humour was presently much increased; and every thing was -now disputed, not for PLATO’S reason (which was, also, his master’s) -for the sake of exposing _Falsehood_ and discovering _Truth_; but -because it was pretended that nothing could be certainly affirmed to be -either _true_ or _false_. - -And, when afterwards CICERO, our other great master of Dialogue, -introduced this sort of writing into Rome, we know that, besides his -profession of the Academic Sect, now extended and indeed outraged into -absolute scepticism, the very purpose he had in philosophizing, and the -rhetorical uses to which he put his Philosophy, would determine him -very naturally to the same practice. - -Thus all subjects, of what nature and importance soever, were equally -discussed in the ancient Dialogue; till matters were at length brought -to that pass, that the only end, proposed by it, was to shew the -writer’s dexterity in disputing for, or against any opinion, without -referring his disputation to any certain use or conclusion at all. - -Such was the character of the ancient, and especially of the Ciceronian -Dialogue; arising out of the genius and principles of those times. - -But for us to follow our masters in this licence would be, indeed, to -deserve the objected charge of _servile Imitators_; since the reasons, -that led them into it, do not subsist in our case. They disputed every -thing, because they believed nothing. We should forbear to dispute -some things, because they are such as both for their sacredness, and -certainty, no man in his senses affects to disbelieve. At least, the -Stoic BALBUS may teach us a decent reserve in one instance, _Since_, -as he observes, _it is a wicked and impious custom to dispute against -the Being, Attributes, and Providence of God, whether it be under an -assumed character, or in one’s own_[1]. - -Thus much I have thought fit to say, to prevent mistakes, and to shew -of what kind the subjects are which may be allowed to enter into -modern Dialogue. They are only such, as are either, in the strict sense -of the word, _not_ important, and yet afford an ingenuous pleasure -in the discussion of them; or not _so_ important as to exclude the -sceptical inconclusive air, which the decorum of polite dialogue -necessarily demands. - -And, under these restrictions, we may treat a number of curious and -useful subjects, in this form. The benefit will be that which the -Ancients certainly found in this practice, and which the great master -of life finds in the general way of candour and politeness, - - —parcentis viribus, atque - Extenuantis eas consultò— - -For, though Truth be not formally delivered in Dialogue, it may -be insinuated; and a capable writer will find means to do this so -effectually as, in discussing both sides of a question, to engage the -reader insensibly on that side, where the Truth lies. - -II. But _convenience_ is not the only consideration. The NOVELTY of the -thing, itself, may well recommend it to us. - -For, when every other species of composition has been tried, and men -are grown so fastidious as to receive with indifference the best -modern productions, on account of the too common form, into which they -are cast, it may seem an attempt of some merit to revive the only one, -almost, of the ancient models, which hath not yet been made cheap by -vulgar imitation. - -I can imagine the reader will conceive some surprise, and, if he be not -a candid one, will perhaps express some disdain, at this pretence to -Novelty, in cultivating the _Dialogue-form_. For what, he will say, has -been more frequently aimed at in our own, and every modern language? -Has not every art, nay, every science, been taught in this way? And, if -the vulgar use of any mode of writing be enough to discredit it, can -there be room even for wit and genius to retrieve the honour of this -trite and hackneyed form? - -This, no doubt, may be said; but by those who know little of the -ancient Dialogue, or who have not attended to the true manner in which -the rules of good writing require it to be composed. - -We have what are called Dialogues in abundance; and the authors, -for any thing I know, might please themselves with imagining, they -had copied PLATO or CICERO. But in our language at least (and, if I -extended the observation to the other modern ones of most estimation, -I should perhaps do them no wrong) I know of nothing in the way of -Dialogue that deserves to be considered by us with such regard. - -There are in English THREE Dialogues, and but Three, that are fit to be -mentioned on this occasion: all of them excellently well composed in -their way, and, it must be owned, by the very best and politest of our -writers. And had that way been a true one, I mean that which antiquity -and good criticism recommend to us, the Public had never been troubled -with this attempt from me, to introduce another. - -The Dialogues I mean are, _The Moralists of Lord_ SHAFTESBURY; _Mr._ -ADDISON’S _Treatise on Medals_; _and the Minute Philosopher of Bishop_ -BERKELEY: and, where is the modesty, it will be said, to attempt the -Dialogue-form, if it has not succeeded in such hands? - -The answer is short, and, I hope, not arrogant. These applauded persons -suffered themselves to be misled by modern practice; and with every -ability to excel in this nice and difficult composition, have written -beneath themselves, only because they did not keep up to the ancient -standard. - -An essential defect runs through them all. They have taken for their -speakers, not real, but _fictitious_ characters; contrary to the -practice of the old writers; and to the infinite disadvantage of this -mode of writing in every respect. - -The love of truth, they say, is so natural to the human mind, that we -expect to find the appearance of it, even in our amusements. In some -indeed, the slenderest shadow of it will suffice: in others, we require -to have the substance presented to us. In all cases, the degree of -probability is to be estimated from the nature of the work. Thus, for -instance, when a writer undertakes to instruct or entertain us in the -way of Dialogue, he obliges himself to keep up to the _idea_, at least, -of what he professes. The conversation may not have _really_ been such -as is represented; but we expect it to have all the _forms_ of reality. -We bring with us a disposition to be deceived (for we know his purpose -is not to recite historically, but to feign probably); but it looks -like too great an insult on our understandings, when the writer stands -upon no ceremony with us, and refuses to be at the expence of a little -art or management to deceive us. - -Hence the probabilities, or, what is called the _decorum_, of this -composition. We ask, “Who the persons are, that are going to converse -before us?” “where and when the conversation passed?” and “by what -means the company came together?” If we are let into none of these -particulars, or, rather if a way be not found to satisfy us in all -of them, we take no interest in what remains; and give the speakers, -who in this case are but a sort of Puppets, no more credit, than the -opinion we chance to entertain of their Prompter demands from us. - -On the other hand, when _such_ persons are brought into the scene as -are well known to us, and are entitled to our respect, and but so -much address employed in shewing them as may give us a colourable -pretence to suppose them really conversing together, the writer himself -disappears, and is even among the first to fall into his own delusion. -For thus CICERO himself represents the matter: - -“This way of discourse,” says he, “which turns on the authority of real -persons, and those the most eminent of former times, is, I know not -how, more interesting than any other: in so much that in reading my -own Dialogue on _old age_, I am sometimes ready to conclude, in good -earnest, it is not I, but CATO himself, who is there speaking[2].” - -So complete a deception, as this, requires the hand of a master. But -such CICERO was; and had it been his design to make the highest -encomium of his own Dialogues, he could not, perhaps, have done it so -well by any other circumstance. - -But now this advantage is wholly lost by the introduction of -_fictitious persons_. These may do in _Comedy_; nay, they do the best -there, where _character_ only, or chiefly, is designed. In _Dialogue_, -we must have real persons, and those only: for character here is but a -secondary consideration; and there is no other way of giving weight and -authority to the conversation of the piece. - -And here, again, CICERO may instruct us; who was so scrupulous on this -head that he would not put his discourse on _old age_ into the mouth -of TITHONUS, although a Greek writer of name had set him the example, -_because_, as he observes, _a fabulous person would have had no great -authority_[3]. What then would he have said of merely fancied and -_ideal_ persons, who have not so much as that shadowy existence, which -the plausibility of a current tale bestows? - -When I say that _character is but a secondary consideration_ in -Dialogue, the reader sees I confine myself to that species only, which -was in use among the _ancients_, properly so called; and of which -PLATO and CICERO have left us the best models. - -It is true, in later times, a great wit took upon him to extend the -province of Dialogue, and, like another Prometheus[4], (as, by an -equivocal sort of compliment, it seems, was observed of him) created a -new species; the merit of which consists in associating two things, not -naturally allied together, _The severity of Philosophic Dialogue, with -the humour of the Comic_. - -But as unnatural as the alliance may seem, this sort of composition has -had its admirers. In particular, ERASMUS was so taken with LUCIAN’S -Dialogue, that he has transfused its highest graces into his own; and -employed those fine arms to better purpose against the Monks, than the -forger of them had done, against the Philosophers. - -It must further be confessed, that this innovation of the Greek writer -had some countenance from the genius of the old Socratic Dialogue; -such I mean as it was in the hands of SOCRATES himself[5]; who took -his name of IRONIST from the continued humour and ridicule which runs -through his moral discourses. But, besides that the Athenian’s modest -IRONY was of another taste, and better suited to this decorum of -conversation, than the Syrian’s frontless buffoonery, there was this -further difference in the two cases. SOCRATES employed this method of -ridicule, as the only one by which he could hope to discredit those -mortal foes of reason, the SOPHISTS: LUCIAN, in mere wantonness, to -insult its best friends, the PHILOSOPHERS, and even the parent of -Philosophy, himself. The Sage would have dropped his IRONY, in the -company of the good and wise: The Rhetorician is never more pleased -than in confounding both, by his intemperate SATIRE. - -However, there was likeness enough in the features of each _manner_, -to favour LUCIAN’S attempt in compounding his new Dialogue. He was not -displeased, one may suppose, to turn the comic art of SOCRATES against -himself; though he could not but know that the ablest masters of the -Socratic school employed it sparingly; and that, when the illustrious -Roman came to philosophize in the way of Dialogue, he disdained to make -any use of it at all. - -In a word, as it was taken up, to serve an occasion, so it was very -properly laid aside with it. And even while the occasion lasted, this -humorous manner was far enough, as I observed, from being pushed to a -Scenic license; the great artists in this way knowing very well, that, -when SOCRATES brought Philosophy from Heaven to Earth, it was not his -purpose to expose her on the stage, but to introduce her into good -company. - -And here, to note it by the way, what has been observed of the Ironic -manner of the Socratic Dialogue, is equally true of its _subtle -questioning dialectic genius_. This, too, had its rise from the -circumstances of the time, and the views of its author, who employed it -with much propriety and even elegance to entrap, in their own cobweb -nets, the minute, quibbling captious sophists. How it chanced that -this part of its character did not, also, cease with its use, but was -continued by the successors in that school, and even carried so far as -to provoke the ridicule of the wits, till, at length, it brought on the -just disgrace of the Socratic Dialogue itself, all this is the proper -subject of another inquiry. - -Our concern, at present, is with LUCIAN’S Dialogue; whether he were -indeed the inventor of this species, or, after SOCRATES, only the -espouser of it. - -The account, given above, that _it unites and incorporates the -several virtues of the Comic and Philosophic manner_, is in LUCIAN’S -own words[6]. Yet his Dialogue does not, as indeed it could not, -correspond exactly to this idea. CICERO thought it no easy matter to -unite _Philosophy with Politeness and Good-humour_[7]; what then would -he have said of incorporating _Philosophy, with Comic Ridicule_? - -To do him justice, LUCIAN himself appears sensible enough of the -difficulty. _I have presumed_, says he, _to connect and put together -two things, not very obsequious to my design, nor disposed by any -natural sympathy to bear the society of each other_[8]. And therefore -we find him on all occasions more solicitous for the success of this -hazardous enterprise, than for the credit of his invention. Every body -was ready to acknowledge the novelty of the thing; but he had some -reason to doubt with himself, whether it were gazed at as a monster, -or admired as a just and reasonable form of composition. So that not -being able to resolve this scruple to his satisfaction, he extricates -himself, as usual, from the perplexity, by the force of his comic -humour, and concludes at length, _that he had nothing left for it but -to persevere in the choice he had once made_; that is, to preserve the -credit of his own consistency at least, if he could not prevail to -have his Dialogue accepted by the judicious reader, under the idea[9] -of a consistent _composition_. - -The ingenious writer had, surely, no better way to take, in his -distress. For the two excellencies he meant to incorporate in his -Dialogue cannot, in a supreme degree of each, subsist together. The -one must be sacrificed to the other. Either the philosophic part must -give place to the dramatic; or the dramatic must withdraw, or restrain -itself at least, to give room for a just display of the philosophic. - -And this, in fact, as I observed, is the case in LUCIAN’S own -Dialogues. They are highly dramatic, in which part his force lay; while -his Philosophy serves only to edge his wit, or simply to introduce -it. They have, usually, for their subject, not a QUESTION DEBATED; -but, a TENET RIDICULED, or a CHARACTER EXPOSED. In this view, they are -doubtless inimitable: I mean when he kept himself, as too frequently he -did not, to such _tenets_ or _characters_, as deserve to be treated in -this free manner. - -But after all, the other species, the _serious, philosophic_ Dialogue, -is the noblest and the best. It is the _noblest_, in all views; -for the dignity of its subject, the gravity of its manner, and the -importance of its end. It is the _best_, too; I mean, it excels most in -the very truth and art of composition; as it governs itself entirely by -the rules of decorum, and gives a just and faithful image of what it -would represent: whereas the comic Dialogue, distorting, or, at least, -aggravating the features of its original, pleases at some expence -of probability; and at length attains its end but in part, for want -of _dramatic action_, the only medium through which _humour_ can be -perfectly conveyed. - -Thus the serious Dialogue is absolute in itself; and fully obtains its -purpose: the humorous or characteristic, but partially; and is, at -best, the faint copy of a higher species, the _Comic Drama_. - -However, the authority of LUCIAN is so great, and the manner itself so -taking, that for these reasons, but chiefly for the sake of variety, -the FIRST of the following Dialogues (and in part too, the SECOND) -pretends to be of this class. - -But to return to our proper subject, THE SERIOUS OR PHILOSOPHIC -DIALOGUE. - -1. I observed (and the reason now appears) that _character_ is a -subordinate consideration, in this Dialogue. The _manners_ are to be -given indeed, but sparingly, and, as it were, by accident. And this -grace (which so much embellishes a well-composed work) can only be -had by employing REAL, KNOWN, and RESPECTED speakers. Each of these -circumstances, in the choice of a speaker, is important. The _first_, -excites our curiosity: the _second_, affords an easy opportunity of -painting the manners by those slight and careless strokes, which alone -can be employed for this purpose, and which would not sufficiently mark -the characters of unknown or fictitious persons: and the _last_ gives -weight and dignity to the whole composition. - -By this means, the dialogue becomes, in a high degree, natural, and, -on that account, affecting: a thousand fine and delicate allusions to -the principles, sentiments, and history of the Dialogists keep their -characters perpetually in view: we have a rule before us, by which -to estimate the pertinence and propriety of what is said: and we are -pleased to bear a part, as it were, in the conversation of such persons. - -Thus the old writers of Dialogue charm us, even when their subjects are -unpleasing, and could hardly merit our attention: but when the topics -are of general and intimate concern to the reader, by being discussed -in this form, they create in him the keenest appetite; and are, -perhaps, read with a higher pleasure, than we receive from most other -compositions of literary men. - -2. It being now apprehended what _persons_ are most fit to be shewn -in Dialogue, the next inquiry will be, concerning their _style or -manner of expression_. And this, in general, must be suited to the -condition and qualities of the persons themselves: that is, it must be -grave, polite, and something raised above the ordinary pitch or tone -of conversation; for, otherwise, it would not agree to the ideas we -form of the speakers, or to the regard we owe to _real_, _known_, and -_respected_ persons, seriously debating, as the philosophic dialogue -imports in the very terms, on some useful or important subject. - -Thus far the case is plain enough. The conclusion flows, of itself, -from the very idea of a philosophic conversation between such men. - -But as it appeared that the speaker’s _proper manners_ are to be -given, in this Dialogue, it may be thought (and, I suppose, commonly -is thought) that the speaker’s _proper style or expression_ should be -given, too. - -Here the subject begins to be a little nice; and we must distinguish -between the _general cast_ of expression, and its _smaller and more -peculiar features_. - -As to the _general cast or manner of speaking_, it may be well to -preserve some resemblance of it; for it results so immediately from -the speaker’s character, and sometimes makes so essential a part of -it, that the _manners_ themselves cannot, otherwise, be sufficiently -expressed. - -Accordingly CICERO tells us, that, in his Dialogues of the _complete -Orator_, he had _endeavoured to shadow out_, that is, give the -outline, as it were, of the kind of eloquence, by which his chief -speakers, CRASSUS and ANTONIUS, were severally distinguished[10]. This -attention has certainly no ill effect when the _manners of speaking_, -as here, are sufficiently distinct, and generally known. It was, -besides, essentially necessary in this Dialogue, where the subject -is, of eloquence itself; and where the principal persons appeared, -and were accordingly to be represented, in the light and character of -_speakers_; that is, where their different kinds or manners of speaking -were, of course, to be expressed. - -In Dialogues on other subjects, CICERO himself either neglects this -rule, or observes it with less care[11]; and this difference of conduct -is plainly justified, from the reason of the thing. - -But now when the question is, of the _smaller features and more -peculiar qualities of style or expression_, it will be found that the -writer of Dialogue is under no obligation, either from the reason of -the thing, or the best authorities, to affect a resemblance of that -kind. - -Authorities, I think, there are none, or none at least that deserve -to be much regarded; though I remember what has been observed of an -instance or two of this sort, in some of PLATO’S Dialogues, where his -purpose is, to _expose a character_, not to _debate a philosophic -question_: and for _the impropriety of the thing itself_, it may appear -from the following considerations. - -In general, the reason, why _character_ is preserved in this Dialogue, -is, because such speakers, as are introduced in it, cannot be supposed -to converse for any time on a subject of importance without discovering -somethings of their own _peculiar manners_; though the occasion may -not be warming enough to throw them out with that distinctness and -vivacity, which we expect in the progress of a dramatic plot. But as to -the _language of conversation_, it is so much the same between persons -of education and politeness, that, whether the subject be interesting, -or otherwise, all that you can expect is that the _general cast of -expression_ will be somewhat tinctured by the _manners_, which shine -through it; but by no means that the smaller differences, the nicer -peculiarities of style, will be shewn. - -Or, we may take the matter thus: - -The reason, why the _general cast or kind of expression_ is different -in two speakers, is, because their _characters_ are different, too. -But _character_ has no manner of influence, in the ease and freedom of -conversation, on the _idiomatic differences_ of expression; which flow -not from the _manners_, but from some degree of study and affectation, -and only characterize their written and artificial works. - -Thus, for instance, if SALLUST and CICERO had come together in -conversation, the _former_ would certainly have dropped his _new -words and pointed sentences_: and the _latter_ his _numerous oratorial -periods_. All that might be expected to appear, is, that SALLUST’S -expression would be shorter and more compact; CICERO’S more gracious -and flowing, agreeably to the characters of the two men. - -But there is a further reason why these _characteristic peculiarities -of style_ must not be exhibited, or must be infinitely restrained at -least, in the sort of composition we are now considering. It is, that -the studied imitation of such peculiarities would be what we call -_mimickry_; and would therefore border upon _ridicule_, the thing of -all others which the genius of this Dialogue most abhors. In Comedy -itself, the most exact writers do not condescend to this minute -imitation. TERENCE’S characters all express themselves, I think, with -equal elegance: even his slaves are made to speak as good Latin, as -their masters. In the serious Dialogue, then, which, from its nature, -is, in a much lower degree, _mimetic_, that minute attention can by -no means be required. It will be sufficient that the speakers express -themselves in _the same manner_, that is, (provided the _general -cast_ of expression be suited to their respective characters) _in the -writer’s own_. - -If there be any exception from this rule, it must be, when the -peculiarities of expression are so great, and so notorious, that the -reader could hardly acknowledge the speaker in any other dress, than -that of his own style. Hence it is possible, though CICERO has left us -no example of this sort, that if, in the next age, any one had thought -fit to introduce MÆCENAS into Dialogue, he might perhaps have been -allowed to colour his language with some of those _spruce turns and -negligent affectations_, by which, as a writer, he was so well known. -It is, at least, on this principle that the Author of the following -Dialogues must rest his apology for having taken such liberty, in -_one or two instances, only_: in which, however, he has confined his -imitation to the single purpose of exhibiting some degree of likeness -to their acknowledged manner of expression, without attempting to -expose it in any strong or invidious light. And, after all, if even -this liberty, so cautiously taken, be thought too much, he will not -complain of his critics; since the fault, if it be one, was committed -rather in compliance with what he supposed might be the public -judgment, than with his own. - -The reader has now before him a sketch of what I conceive to be the -_character_ of the ancient philosophic Dialogue; which, in one word, -may be said to be, “An imitated, and mannered conversation between -certain real, known, and respected persons, on some useful or serious -subject, in an elegant, and suitably adorned, but not characteristic -style.” - -At least, I express, as I can, my notion of CICERO’S Dialogue, which -unites these several characters; and, by such union, has effected, as -it seems to me, all that the nature of this composition requires or -admits. - -This, I am sensible, is saying but little, on the subject. But I -pretend not to do justice to CICERO’S DIALOGUES; which are occasionally -set off by that lively, yet chaste colouring of the _manners_, and are, -besides, all over sprinkled with that exquisite grace of, what the -Latin writers call, _urbanity_, (by which, they meant as well what was -most polite in the _air_ of conversation, as in the language of it) -that there is nothing equal to them, in Antiquity itself: and I have -sometimes fancied, that even LIVY’S Dialogues[12], if they had come -down to us, would perhaps have lost something, on a comparison with -these master-pieces of CICERO’S pen. - -3. But to this apology for the ancient Dialogue, I suspect it will be -replied, “That though, in the hands of the Greek and Latin writers, it -might, heretofore, have all this grace and merit, yet who shall pretend -to revive it in our days? or, how shall we enter into the spirit of -this composition, for which there is no encouragement, nor so much as -the countenance of example in real life? No man writes well, but from -his own experience and observation: and by whom is the way of dialogue -now practised? or, where do we find such precedents of grave and -continued conversation in modern times?” - -A very competent judge, and one too, who was himself, as I have -observed, an adventurer in this class of composition, puts the -objection home in the following words: - -“The truth is,” says he, “it would be an abominable falsehood, and -belying of the age, to put so much good sense together in any _one_ -conversation, as might make it hold out steadily, and with plain -coherence, for an hour’s time, till any _one_ subject had been -rationally examined[13].” - -Nor is this the only difficulty. _Another_ occurs, from the prevailing -manners of modern times, which are over-run with respect, compliment, -and ceremony. “Now put _compliments_,” says the same writer, “put -_ceremony_ into a Dialogue, and see what will be the effect! This is -the plain _dilemma_ against that ancient manner of writing—if we avoid -ceremony, we are unnatural: if we use it, and appear as we naturally -are, as we salute, and meet, and treat one another, we hate the -sight[14].” - -These considerations are to the purpose; and shew perhaps in a -mortifying manner, that the modern writers of Dialogue, the very best -of them, cannot aspire to the unrivalled elegance of the ancient; -as being wholly unfurnished of many advantages, to this end, which -they enjoyed. But still the _form_ of writing itself is neither -impracticable, nor unnatural: and there are certain _means_, by which -the disadvantages, complained of, may be lessened at least, if not -entirely removed. - -To begin with the LAST. It is very true, that the constraint of -a formal and studied civility is foreign to the genius of this -sort of composition; and it is, also, as true, that somewhat of -this constrained civility is scarce separable from a just copy and -faithful picture of conversation in our days. The reason of which is -to be gathered from the nature of our policies and governments. For -conversation, I mean the serious and manly sort, as well as eloquence, -is most cultivated and thrives best amidst the quality of conditions in -republican and popular states. - -And, though this inconvenience be less perceived by us of this free -country than by most others, yet something of it will remain wherever -monarchy, with its consequent train of subordinate and dependent ranks -of men, subsists. - -Now the proper remedy in the case is, to bring such men only together -in Dialogue as are of the same rank; or at least to class our speakers -with such care as that any great inequality in that respect may be -compensated by some other; such as the superiority of age, wisdom, -talents, or the like. A Chancellor of _England_ and a Country Justice, -or even a Lord and his Chaplain, could hardly be shewn in Dialogue, -without incurring some ridicule. But a Judge and a Bishop, one would -hope, might be safely brought together; and if a great Philosopher -should enter into debate with a lettered Man of Quality, the indecorum -would not be so violent as to be much resented. - -But the influence of modern manners reaches even to names and the -ordinary forms of address. In the Greek and Roman Dialogues, it was -permitted to accost the greatest persons by their obvious and familiar -appellations. ALCIBIADES had no more addition, than SOCRATES: and -BRUTUS and CÆSAR lost nothing of their dignity from being applied to -in those direct terms. The moderns, on the contrary, have their guards -and fences about them; and we hold it an incivility to approach them -without some decent periphrasis, or ceremonial title— - - ——gaudent prænomine molles - Auriculæ. - -It was principally, I believe, for this reason, that modern writers of -Dialogue have had recourse to fictitious names and characters, rather -than venture on the use of real ones: the _former_ absolving them from -this cumbersome ceremony, which, in the case of the _latter_, could -not so properly be laid aside. PALÆMON and PHILANDER, for instance, -are not only well-sounding words; but slide as easily into a sentence, -and as gracefully too, as CICERO and ATTICUS: while the _Mr’s_ and -the _Sirs_, nay his _Grace_, his _Excellency_, or his _Honour_[15], -of modern Dialogue, have not only a formality that hurts the ease of -conversation, but a harshness too, which is somewhat offensive to a -well-tuned Attic or Roman ear. - -All this will be allowed; and yet, to speak plainly and with that -freedom which ancient manners indulge, the barbarity of these forms -is not worse than the pedantry of taking such disgust at them. And -there are ways, too, by which the most offensive circumstances in this -account may be so far qualified as to be almost overlooked, or at least -endured. What _these_ are, the capable and intelligent reader or writer -is not to be told; and none but such would easily apprehend. - -To come then to the OTHER objection of Lord SHAFTESBURY, which is more -considerable. - -It would be a manifest falsehood, he thinks, and directly against -the truth both of art and nature, to engage the moderns in a grave -discourse of any length. And it is true, the great men of our time do -not, like the Senators of ancient _Rome_, spend whole days in learned -debate and formal disputation: yet their meetings, especially in -private parties, with their friends, are not so wholly frivolous, but -that they sometimes discourse seriously, and even pursue a subject of -learning or business, not with coherence only, but with some care. And -will not this be ground enough for a capable writer to go upon, in -reviving the way of Dialogue between such men? - -But, to give the most probable air to his fiction, he may find it -necessary to recede from the strict imitation of his originals, in one -instance. - -It may be advisable not to take for his speakers, _living persons_; I -mean, persons, however respectable, of his own age. We may fancy of the -dead, what we cannot so readily believe of the living. And thus, by -endeavouring a little to deceive ourselves, we may come to think that -natural, which is not wholly incredible; and may admit the writer’s -invention for a picture, though a studied and flattering one, it may -be, of real life. - -In short, it may be a good rule in modern Dialogue, as it was in -ancient Tragedy, to take our subjects, and choose our persons, out -of former times. And, under the prejudice of that opinion which is -readily entertained of such subjects and characters, an artist may -contrive to pass that upon us for _Fact_, which was only ingenious -_Fiction_; and so wind up his piece to the perfection of ancient -Dialogue, without departing too widely from the decorum and truth of -conversation in modern life. - -Such at least is the IDEA, which the Author of these Dialogues has -formed to himself of the manner in which this exquisite sort of -composition may be attempted by more successful writers. For to -conceive an excellence, and to copy it, he understands and laments, are -very different things. - - THURCASTON. - MDCCLXIV. - - - - - MORAL AND POLITICAL - - DIALOGUES. - - - - - DIALOGUE I. - - ON SINCERITY IN THE COMMERCE - - OF THE WORLD. - - BETWEEN - - DR. HENRY MORE, - - AND - - EDMUND WALLER, ESQ. - - - - - DIALOGUE I. - - ON SINCERITY IN THE COMMERCE OF THE WORLD. - - DR. HENRY MORE, EDMUND WALLER, ESQ. - - -MR. WALLER. - -Enough, enough, my friend, on the good old chapter of _Sincerity and -Honour_. Your rhetoric, and not your reasoning, is too much for me. -Believe it, your fine stoical lessons must all give way to a little -common sense, I mean, to a prudent accommodation of ourselves to times -and circumstances; which, whether you will dignify it with the name -of philosophy, or no, is the only method of living with credit in the -world, and even with safety. - - -DR. MORE. - -Accommodation is, no doubt, a good word to stand in the place of -insincerity. But, pray, in which of the great moral masters have you -picked up this term, and, much more, the virtuous practice, it so well -expresses? - - -MR. WALLER. - -I learnt it from the great master of life, EXPERIENCE: A doctor, little -heard of in the schools, but of more authority with men of sense, than -all the solemn talkers of the porch, or cloister, put together. - - -DR. MORE. - -After much reserve, I confess, you begin to express yourself very -clearly. But, good Sir, not to take up your conclusion too hastily, -have the patience to hear— - - -MR. WALLER. - -Have I not, then, heard, and sure with patience enough, your studied -harangues on this subject? You have discoursed it, I must own, very -plausibly. But the impression, which fine words make, is one thing, -and the conviction of reason, another. And, not to waste more time -in fruitless altercation, let ME, if you please, read you a lecture -of morals: not out of ancient books, or the visions of an unpractised -philosophy, but from the schools of business and real life. Such a view -of things will discredit these high nations, and may serve, for the -future, to amend and rectify all your systems. - - -DR. MORE. - -Commend me to a man of the world, for a rectifier of moral -systems!—Yet, if it were only for the pleasure of being let into -the secrets of this new doctrine of _Accommodation_, I am content to -become a _patient_ hearer, in my turn; and the rather, as the day, -which you see, wears apace, will hardly give leave for interruption, or -indeed afford you time enough for the full display of your wit on this -extraordinary subject. - - -MR. WALLER. - -We have day enough before us, for the business in hand. ’Tis true, this -wood-land walk has not the charms, which you lately bestowed on a -certain _philosophical garden_[16]. But the heavens are as clear, and -the air, that blows upon us, as fresh, as in that fine evening which -drew your friends abroad, and engaged them in a longer debate, than -that with which I am now likely to detain you. For, indeed, I have only -to lay before you the result of my own experience and observation. All -my arguments are plain facts, which are soon told, and about which -there can be no dispute. You shall judge for yourself, how far they -will authorize the conclusion I mean to draw from them. - -The point, I am bold enough to maintain against you philosophers, is, -briefly, this; “That _sincerity_, or a scrupulous regard to _truth_ in -all our conversation and behaviour, how specious soever it may be in -theory, is a thing impossible in practice; that there is no living in -the world on these terms; and that a man of business must either quit -the scene, or learn to temper the strictness of your discipline with -some reasonable accommodations. It is exactly the dilemma of the poet, - - Vivere si recte nescis, discede peritis; - -of all which I presume, as I said, to offer my own experience, as the -shortest and most convincing demonstration.” - - -DR. MORE. - -The subject, I confess, is fairly delivered, and nothing can be juster -than this appeal to experience, provided you do not attempt to delude -yourself or me by throwing false colours upon it. - - -MR. WALLER. - -It will be your business to remonstrate against these arts, if you -discover any such. My intention is to proceed in the way of a direct -and simple recital. - -“I was born, as you know, of a good family, and to the inheritance of -this paternal seat[17], with the easy fortune that belongs to it. To -this, I succeeded but too soon by the untimely loss of an excellent -father. His death, however, did not deprive me of those advantages -which are thought to arise from a strict and virtuous education. This -care devolved on my mother, a woman of great prudence, who provided for -my instruction in letters and every other accomplishment. I was, of -myself, enough inclined to books, and was supposed to have some parts -which deserved cultivation. I was accordingly trained in the study of -those writings, which are the admiration of men of elegant minds and -refined morals. I was a tolerable master of the languages, in which -they are composed; and, I may venture to say, was at least imbued with -their notions and principles, if I was not able at that time to catch -the spirit of their composition: all which was confirmed in me, by the -constant attendance and admonitions of the best tutors, and the strict -discipline of your colleges. I mention these things to shew you, that -I was not turned loose into the world, as your complaint of men of -business generally is, unprincipled and uninstructed; and that what -austere men might afterwards take for some degree of libertinism in my -conduct, is not to be charged on the want of a sober or even learned -education.” - - -DR. MORE. - -I understand you mean to take no advantage of that plea, if what -follows be not answerable to so high expectations. - - -MR. WALLER. - -The season was now come, when my rank and fortune, together with -the solicitations of my friends, drew me forth, though reluctantly, -from the college into the world. I was then, indeed, under twenty; -but so practised in the best things, and so enamoured of the moral -lessons which had been taught me, that I carried with me into the last -parliament of king James, not the showy accomplishments of learning -only, but the high enthusiasm of a warm and active virtue. Yet the -vanity, it may be, of a young man, distinguished by some advantages, -and conscious enough of them, was, for a time, the leading principle -with me. In this disposition, it may be supposed, I could not be long -without desiring an introduction to the court. It was not a school of -that virtue I had been used to, yet had some persons in it of eminent -worth and honour. A vein of poetry, which seemed to flow naturally from -me, was that by which I seemed most ambitious to recommend myself[18]. -And occasions quickly offered for that purpose. But this was a play of -ingenuity in which the heart had no share. I made complimentary verses -on the great lords and ladies of the court, with as much simplicity -and as little meaning as my bows in the drawing room, and thought it a -fine thing to be taken notice of, as a wit, in the fashionable circles. -In the mean time, the corruptions of a loose disorderly court gave me -great scandal. And the abject flatteries, I observed in some of the -highest stations and gravest characters, filled me with indignation. -As an instance of this, I can never forget the resentment, that fired -my young breast at the conversation you have often heard me say I was -present at, betwixt the old king, and two of his court prelates[19]. -And if the prudent and witty turn, the venerable bishop of _Winchester_ -gave to the discourse, had not atoned, in some measure, for the rank -offensive servility of the _other_, it had been enough to determine me, -forthwith, to an implacable hatred of kings and courts for ever. - - -DR. MORE. - -It must be owned the provocation was very gross, and the offence taken -at it no more than a symptom of a generous and manly virtue. - - -MR. WALLER. - -It left a deep impression on my mind; yet it did not hinder me from -appearing at court in the first years of the following reign, when the -vanity of a thoughtless muse, rather than any relaxation of my ancient -manners, drew from me, again, some occasional panegyrics on greatness; -which being presented in verse, I thought would hardly be suspected of -flattery. - - -DR. MORE. - -This indulgence of a _thoughtless muse_ (as you call it) was not -without its danger. I am afraid this must pass for the first instance -of your sacrificing to INSINCERITY. - - -MR. WALLER. - -Your fears are too hasty. This was still a trial of my wit: and after -a few wanton circles, as it were to breathe and exercise my muse, I -drew her in from these amusements to a stricter manage and more severe -discipline. The long interval of parliaments now followed; and in this -suspension of business I applied myself to every virtuous pursuit that -could be likely to improve my mind, or purify my morals. Believe me, I -cannot to this day, without pleasure, reflect on the golden hours, I -passed in the society of such accomplished men as FALKLAND, HYDE, and -CHILLINGWORTH. And, for my more retired amusements at this place, you -will judge of the good account I might render of these, when I add, -they were constantly shared with that great prelate, who now, with so -much dignity, fills the throne of _Winchester_[20]. - - -DR. MORE. - -This enthusiasm of your’s is catching, and raises in me an incredible -impatience to come at the triumphs of a virtue, trained and perfected -in her best school, the conversations of heroes and sages. - - -MR. WALLER. - -You shall hear. The jealousies, that had alarmed the nation for -twelve years, were now to have a vent given them, by the call of the -parliament in _April 1640_. As the occasion, on which it met, was -in the highest degree interesting, the assembly itself was the most -august, that perhaps had ever deliberated on public councils. There -was a glow of honour, of liberty, and of virtue in all hearts, in all -faces: and yet this fire was tempered with so composed a wisdom, and -so sedate a courage, that it seemed a synod of heroes; and, as some -would then say of us, could only be matched by a senate of old Rome -in its age of highest glory. To this parliament I had the honour to -be deputed, whither I went with high-erected thoughts, and a heart -panting for glory and the true service of my country. The dissolution, -which so unhappily followed, served only to increase this ardour. So -that, on our next meeting in _November_, I went freely and warmly into -the measures of those, who were supposed to mean the best. I voted, -I spoke, I impeached[21]. In a word, I gave a free scope to those -generous thoughts and purposes which had been collecting in me for so -many years, and was in the foremost rank of those, whose pulse beat -highest for liberty, and who were most active for the interest of the -public. - - -DR. MORE. - -This was indeed a triumph, the very memory of which warms you to this -moment. So bright a flame was not easily extinguished. - - -MR. WALLER. - -It continued for some time in all its vigour. High as my notions were -of public liberty, they did not transport me, with that zeal which -prevailed on so many others, to act against the just prerogative of the -crown, and the ancient constitution. I owe it to the conversation and -influence of the excellent society, before-mentioned, that neither the -spirit, the sense, nor, what is more, the relationship and intimate -acquaintance of Mr. HAMPDEN[22], could ever bias me to his deeper -designs, or any irreverence to the unhappy king’s person. Many things -concurred to preserve me in this due mean. The violent tendencies of -many councils on the parliament’s side; many gracious and important -compliances on the king’s; the great examples of some who had most -authority with good men; and, lastly, my own temper, which, in its -highest fervours, always inclined to moderation; these and other -circumstances kept me from the excesses, on either hand, which so few -were able to avoid in that scene of public confusion. - - -DR. MORE. - -This moderation carries with it all the marks of a real and confirmed -virtue. - - -MR. WALLER. - -I rather expected you would have considered it as another _sacrifice -to Insincerity_. Such, I remember, was the language of many at that -time. The enthusiasts on both sides agreed to stigmatize this temper -with the name of _Neutrality_. Yet this treatment did not prevent me, -when the war broke out, from taking a course, which I easily foresaw, -would tend to increase such suspicions; for now, to open a fresh -scene to you, I had assumed, if not new principles, yet new notions of -the manner in which good policy required me to exert my old ones. The -general virtue, or what had the appearance of it at least, had hitherto -made plain-dealing an easy and convenient conduct. But things were now -changed. The minds of all men were on fire: deep designs were laid, -and no practice stuck at that might be proper to advance the execution -of them. In this situation of affairs, what could simple honesty do, -but defeat the purpose and endanger the safety of its master? I now, -first, began to reflect that this was a virtue for other times: at -least, that not to qualify it, in some sort, was, at such a juncture, -not honesty, but imprudence: and when I had once fallen into this train -of thinking, it is wonderful how many things occurred to me to justify -and recommend it. The humour of acting always on one principle was, I -said to myself, like that of sailing with one wind: whereas the expert -mariner wins his way by plying in all directions, as occasions serve, -and making the best of all weathers. Then I considered with myself -the bad policy, in such a conjuncture, of CATO and BRUTUS, and easily -approved in my own mind the more pliant and conciliating method of -CICERO. Those stoics, thought I, ruined themselves and their cause by a -too obstinate adherence to their system. The liberal and more enlarged -conduct of the academic, who took advantage of all winds that blew in -that time of civil dissension, had a chance at least for doing his -country better service. Observation, as well as books, furnish me with -these reflections. I perceived with what difficulty the Lord FALKLAND’S -rigid principles had suffered him to accept an office of the greatest -consequence to the public safety[23]: and I understood to what an -extreme his scruples had carried him in the discharge of it[24]. This, -concluded I, can never be the office of virtue in such a world, and in -such a period. And then that of the poet, so skilled in the knowledge -of life, occurred to me, - - —aut virtus nomen inane est, - Aut decus et pretium recte petit EXPERIENS vir; - -that is, as I explained it, “The man of a ready and dexterous turn in -affairs; one who knows how to take advantage of all circumstances, -and is not restrained, by his bigotry, from varying his conduct, as -occasions serve, and making, as it were, _experiments_ in business.” - - -DR. MORE. - -You poets, I suppose, have an exclusive right to explain one another; -or these words might seem to bear a more natural interpretation. - - -MR. WALLER. - -You will understand from this account, which I have opened so -particularly to you, on what reasons I was induced to alter my plan, -or rather to pursue it with those arts of prudence and address, which -the turn of the times had now rendered necessary. The conclusion -was, I resolved to pursue steadily the king’s, which at the same -time was manifestly the nation’s interest, and yet to keep fair with -the parliament, and the managers on that side; for this appeared -the likeliest way of doing him real service. And yet some officious -scruples, which forced themselves upon me at first, had like to have -fixed me in other measures. In the stream of those who chose to desert -the houses rather than share in the violent counsels that prevailed in -them, the general disgust had also carried me to withdraw myself. But -this start of zeal was soon over. I presently saw, and found means to -satisfy the king, that it would be more for his service that I should -return to the parliament. I therefore resumed my seat, and took leave -(to say the truth, it was not denied me by the house, who had their -own ends to serve by this indulgence[25]) to reason and debate in all -points with great freedom. At the same time my affections to the common -interest were not suspected; for, having no connexion with the court, -nobody thought of charging me with private views; and not forgetting, -besides, to cultivate a good understanding with the persons of chief -credit in the house, the plainness I used could only be taken for what -it was, an honest and parliamentary liberty. This situation was, for a -time, very favourable to me: for the king’s friends regarded me as the -champion of their cause; whilst the prudence of my carriage towards the -leading members secured me, in a good degree, from their jealousy. - - -DR. MORE. - -Your policy, I observe, had now taken a more refined turn. The juncture -of affairs might possibly justify this address: but the ground you -stood upon was slippery; and I own myself alarmed at what may be the -consequence of this solicitous pursuit of popularity. - - -MR. WALLER. - -No exception, I think, can be fairly taken at the methods by which I -pursued it. However, this _popularity_ it was, as you rightly divine, -which drew upon me all the mischiefs that followed. For the application -of all men, disposed to the king’s service, was now made to me. I had -an opportunity, by this means, of knowing the characters and views -of particular persons, and of getting an insight into the true state -of the king’s affairs. And these advantages, in the end, drove me on -the project, which, on the discovery, came to be called my _Plot_: an -event, which, with all its particulars, you understand too well to need -any information from me about it. - - -DR. MORE. - -The story, as it was noised abroad, I am no stranger to: but this being -one of those occasions, as they say, in which both your policy and -virtue were put to the sharpest trial, it would be much to the purpose -you have in view by this recital, to favour me with your own account of -it. - - -MR. WALLER. - -To lead you through all particulars, would not suit with the -brevity you require of me. But something I will say to obviate the -misconceptions you may possibly have entertained of this business[26]. -For the plot itself, the utmost of my design was only to form such a -combination among the honest and well-affected of all sorts, as might -have weight enough to incline the houses to a peace, and prevent the -miseries that were too certainly to be apprehended from a civil war. It -was never in my thoughts to surprize the parliament or city by force, -or engage the army in the support and execution of my purpose. But my -design in this affair, though the fury of my enemies, and the fatal -jealousy of the time, would not suffer it to be rightly understood, is -not that which my friends resented, and which most men were disposed -to blame in me. It was my behaviour afterwards, and the obliquity of -some means which I found expedient to my own safety, that exposed me -to so rude a storm of censure. It continues, I know, to beat upon me -even at this distance. But the injustice hath arisen from the force of -vulgar prejudices, and from the want of entering into those enlarged -principles, on which it was necessary for me to proceed in that -juncture. - - -DR. MORE. - -Yet the ill success of this plot itself might have shewn you, what the -design of acting on these _enlarged principles_ was likely to come to. -It was an unlucky experiment, this, you had made in the _new_ arts -of living; and should have been a warning to you, not to proceed in -a path which, at the very entrance of it, had involved you in such -difficulties. - - -MR. WALLER. - -No, it was not the new path, you object to me, but the good old road of -Sincerity, which misled me into those brambles. I, in the simplicity -of my heart, thought it my duty to adhere to the injured king’s -cause, and believed my continuance in parliament the fairest, as well -as the likeliest method, that could be taken to support it. Had I -temporized so far as either to desert my prince, and strike in with -the parliament, or, on the other hand, had left the house and gone with -the seceders to _Oxford_, either way I had been secure. But resolving, -as I did, to hold my principles, and follow my judgment, I fell into -those unhappy circumstances, from which all the dexterity I afterwards -assumed was little enough to deliver me. - - -DR. MORE. - -But if your intentions were so pure, and the methods, by which you -resolved to prosecute them, so blameless, how happened it that any plot -could be worked up of so much danger to your life and person? - - -MR. WALLER. - -This was the very thing I was going to explain to you. My intentions -towards the parliament were fair and honourable: as I retained my seat -there, I could not allow myself in the use of any but parliamentary -methods to promote the cause I had undertaken. And this, as I said, -was the whole purpose of the _combination_, which was made the -pretence to ruin me: for my unhappy project of a reconciliation was -so inextricably confounded with another of more dangerous tendency, -the _commission of array_, sent at that time from _Oxford_, that -nothing, I presently saw, could possibly disentangle so perplexed a -business, or defeat the malice of my enemies, if I attempted, in the -more direct way, to stand on my defence. Presumptions, if not proofs, -they had in abundance: the consternation of all men was great; their -rage, unrelenting; and the general enthusiasm of the time, outrageous. -Consider all this, and see what chance there was for escaping their -injustice, if I had restrained myself to the sole use of those means, -which you men of the cloister magnify so much, under I know not what -names of _Sincerity_ and _Honour_. And, indeed, this late experience, -of what was to be expected from the way of plain dealing, had -determined me, henceforth, to take a different route; and, since I had -drawn these mischiefs on myself by _Sincerity_, to try what a little -management could do towards bringing me out of them. - - -DR. MORE. - -It was not, I perceive, without cause, that the subtlety you had begun -to have recourse to, filled me with apprehensions. Sincerity and -Honour, Mr. WALLER, are plain things, and hold no acquaintance with -this ingenious casuistry. - - -MR. WALLER. - -What, not in such a situation? It should seem then, as if you moralists -conceived a man owed nothing to himself: that _self-preservation_ was -not what God and Nature have made it, the first and most binding of all -laws: that a man’s family, not to say his country, have no interest in -the life of an innocent and deserving citizen; and, in one word, that -_prudence_ is but an empty name, though you give it a place among your -_cardinal virtues_. All this must be concluded before you reject, as -unlawful, the means I was forced upon, at this season, for my defence: -means, I presume to say, so sagely contrived, and, as my very enemies -will own, executed so happily, that I cannot to this day reflect on my -conduct in that affair without satisfaction. - - -DR. MORE. - -Yet it had some consequences which a man of your generosity would a -little startle at.— - - -MR. WALLER. - -I understand you: my friends—But I shall answer that objection in its -place. - -Let me at present go on with the particulars of my defence. The -occasion, as you see, was distressful to the last degree. To deny or -defend myself from the charge was a thing impossible. What remained -then but to confess it, and in so frank and ample a manner, as might -bespeak the pity or engage the protection of my accusers? I resolved -to say nothing but the _truth_; and, if ever the _whole_ truth may -be spoken, it is when so alarming an occasion calls for it. Besides, -what had others, who might be affected by the discovery, to complain -of? I disclaimed no part of the guilt myself: nor could any confession -be made, that did not first and chiefly affect me. And if I, who was -principal in the contrivance, had the best chance for escaping by such -confession, what had they, who were only accomplices, to apprehend from -it? Add to this, that the number and credit of the persons, who were -charged with having a share in the design, were, of all others, the -likeliest considerations to prevail with the houses to drop the further -prosecution of it. - -Well, the discovery had great effects. But there was no stopping here. -Penitence, as well as confession, is expected from a sinner. I had to -do with hypocrites of the worst sort. What fairer weapons, then, than -hypocrisy and dissimulation? I counterfeited the strongest remorse, and -with a life and spirit that disposed all men to believe, and most to -pity me. My trial was put off in very compassion to my disorder; which, -in appearance, was so great, that some suspected my understanding had -been affected by it. In this contrivance I had two views; to gain time -for my defence, and to keep it off till the fury of my prosecutors was -abated. In this interval, indeed, some of my accomplices suffered. But -how was it possible for me to apprehend that, when, if any, I myself -might expect to have fallen the first victim of their resentment? - - -DR. MORE. - -If this apology satisfy yourself, I need not interrupt your story with -any exceptions. - - -MR. WALLER. - -It was, in truth, the only thing which afflicted me in the course of -this whole business. But time and reflection have reconciled me to -what was, in some sense, occasioned, but certainly not intended, by me. -And it would be a strange morality that should charge a man with the -undesigned consequences of his own actions. - - -DR. MORE. - -And were all the symptoms of a disturbed mind, you made a shew of, then -entirely counterfeit? - - -MR. WALLER. - -As certainly as those of the Roman BRUTUS, who, to tell you the truth, -was my example on that occasion. It was the business of both of us to -elude the malice of our enemies, and reserve ourselves for the future -service of our respective countries. - -But all I have told you was only a prelude to a further, and still -more necessary, act of dissimulation. Had the house been left to -itself, it might possibly have absolved me, on the merits of so large -a confession, and so lively a repentance. But I had to do with another -class of men, with holy inquisitors of sordid minds, and sour spirits; -priestly reformers, whose sense was noise, and religion fanaticism, -and that too fermented with the leven of earthly avarice and ambition. -These had great influence both within doors and without, and would -regard what had hitherto passed as nothing, if I went not much further. -To these, having begun in so good a train, I was now to address myself. -I had studied their humours, and understood to a tittle the arts that -were most proper to gain them. - -The first step to the countenance and good liking of these restorers of -primitive parity was, I well knew, the most implicit subjection both -of will and understanding. I magnified their gifts, I revered their -sanctity. I debased myself with all imaginable humility: I extolled -them with the grossest flattery. - -Having thus succeeded to my wish in drawing the principal of these -saints around me, I advanced further: I sought their instruction, -solicited their advice, and importuned their ghostly consolation. -This brought me into high favour; they regarded me as one, who wished -and deserved to be enlightened: they strove which should impart most -of their lights and revelations to me. I besought them to expound, -and pray, and preach before me: nay, I even preached, and prayed, -and expounded before them. I out-canted the best-gifted of them; and -out-railed the bitterest of all their decriers of an anti-christian -prelacy. In short, it would have moved your laughter or your -indignation to observe, how submissively I demeaned myself to these -spiritual fathers; how I hung on their words, echoed their coarse -sayings, and mimicked their beggarly tones and grimaces. - -To complete the farce, I intreated their acceptance of such returns -for their godly instructions, as fortune had enabled me to make -them. I prevailed with them to give leave that so unworthy a person -might be the instrument of conveying earthly accommodations to these -dispensers of heavenly treasures; and it surpasses all belief, with -what an avidity they devoured them! It is true, this last was a serious -consideration: in all other respects, the whole was a perfect comedy; -and of so ridiculous a cast, that, though my situation gave me power of -face to carry it off gravely then, I have never reflected on it since -without laughter. - - -DR. MORE. - -Truly, as you describe it, it was no serious scene. But what I admire -most, is the dexterity of your genius, and the prodigious progress you -had now made in your favourite arts of _accommodation_. - - -MR. WALLER. - -Necessity is the best master. Besides, can you blame me for taking more -than common pains to outdo these miscreants in their own way; I might -say, to excel in an art which surpasses, or at least comprises in it -the essence of all true wisdom? The precept of your admired ANTONINUS, -as you reminded me to-day, is SIMPLIFY YOURSELF[27]. That, I think, -was the quaint expression. It had shewn his reach and mastery in the -trade he professed, much more, if instead of it, he had preached up, -ACCOMMODATE YOURSELF; the grand secret, as long experience has taught -me, _bene beateque vivendi_. - -All matters thus prepared, there was now no hazard in playing my -last game. I requested and obtained leave to make my defence before -the parliament. I had acquired a knack in speaking; and had drawn -on myself more credit, than fine words deserve, by a scenical and -specious eloquence. If ever I acquitted myself to my wish, it was on -this occasion. I soothed, I flattered, I alarmed: every topic of art -which my youth had learned, every subject of address which experience -had suggested, every trick and artifice of popular adulation, was -exhausted. All men were prepared by the practices of my saintly -emissaries to hear me with favour; and, which is the first and last -advantage of a speaker, to believe me seriously and conscientiously -affected. - -In the end I triumphed; and for a moderate fine obtained leave to -shelter myself from the following storm, which almost desolated this -unhappy country, by retiring into an exile, at that time more desirable -than any employment of those I left behind me. - - -DR. MORE. - -You retired, I think, to _France_, whither, no doubt, you carried with -you all those generous thoughts and consolatory reflexions, which -refresh the spirit of a good man under a consciousness of suffering -virtue. - - -MR. WALLER. - -Why not, if _prudence_ be a virtue? for what, but certain prudential -regards (which in common language and common sense are quite another -thing from vicious compliances) have hitherto, as you have seen, -appeared in my conduct? But be they what they will, they had a very -natural effect, and one which will always attend on so reasonable a -way of proceeding. For, since you press me so much, I shall take leave -to suggest an observation to you, more obvious as well as more candid -than any you seem inclined to make on the circumstances of this long -relation. It is, “that the _pretended_ penitence for my past life, and -the readiness I shewed to acquiesce in the _false_ accounts which the -parliament gave of my plot, saved my life, and procured my liberty; -whilst the _real and true_ discoveries I made to gain credit to _both_, -hurt my reputation.” But such a reflexion might have shocked your -system too much. For it shews that all the benefit, I drew to myself -in this affair, arose from those _prudential maxims_ you condemn; and -that all the injury, I suffered, was owing to the _sincerity_ I still -mixed with them. - - -DR. MORE. - -Seriously, Sir—— - - -MR. WALLER. - -I can guess what you would say: but you promised to hear me out, -without interruption. - -What remains I shall dispatch in few words, having so fully vindicated -the most obnoxious part of my life, and opened the general principles, -I acted upon, so clearly. - -I went, as you said, to _France_; where, instead of the churlish humour -of a malcontent, or the unmanly dejection of a disgraced exile, I -appeared with an ease and gaiety of mind, which made me welcome to the -greatest men of that country. The ruling principle of my philosophy -was, to make the best of every situation. And, as my fortune enabled me -to do it, I lived with hospitality, and even splendour; and indulged -myself in all the delights of an enlarged and elegant conversation. - -Such were my amusements for some years; during which time, however, I -preserved the notions of loyalty, which had occasioned my disgrace, -and waited some happier turn of affairs, that might restore me with -honour to my country. But when all hopes of this sort were at an end, -and the government, after the various revolutions which are well -known, seemed fixed and established in the person of one man, it -was not allegiance, but obstinacy, to hold out any longer. I easily -succeeded in my application to be recalled, and was even admitted to -a share in the confidence of the PROTECTOR. This great man was not -without a sensibility of true glory; and, for that reason, was even -ambitious of the honour, which wit and genius are ever ready to confer -on illustrious greatness. Every muse of that time distinguished, and -was distinguished by, him. Mine had improved her voice and accent in a -foreign country: and what nobler occasion to try her happiest strain -than this, of immortalizing a Hero? - - “Illustrious acts high raptures do infuse, - And ev’ry conqueror creates a muse;” - -as I then said in a panegyric, which my gratitude prompted me to -present to him[28]. - - -DR. MORE. - -This panegyric, presented in verse, could hardly, I suppose, be -suspected of flattery! - - -MR. WALLER. - -I expected this; but the occasion, as I said, might have suggested -a fairer interpretation. And why impute as a fault to me, what the -reverend SPRAT, as well as DRYDEN, did not disdain to countenance by -their examples? Besides, as an argument of the unsullied purity of -intention, you might remember, methinks, that I asked no recompence, -and accepted none, for the willing honours my muse paid him. - - -DR. MORE. - -It must be a sordid muse indeed, that submits to a venal prostitution. -And, to do your profession justice, it is not so much avarice, or even -ambition, as a certain gentler passion, the vanity, shall I call it? of -being well with the _great_, that is fatal to you poets. - - -MR. WALLER. - -I can allow for the satire of this reproof, in a man of ancient and -bookish manners. But, to shew my disinterestedness still more, you may -recollect, if you please, that I embalmed his memory, when neither his -favour nor his smile were to be apprehended. - - -DR. MORE. - -In the short reign of his son.—But what then? you made amends for all, -by the congratulation on the happy return of his present majesty. You -know who it was that somebody complimented in these lines: - - “He best can turn, enforce and soften things, - To praise great conquerors, and flatter kings.” - - -MR. WALLER. - -Was it for me to stem the torrent of a nation’s joys by a froward and -unseasonable silence? Did not HORACE, who fought at _Philippi_, do -as much for AUGUSTUS? And should I, who had suffered for his cause, -not embrace the goodness, and salute the returning fortunes, of so -gracious, so accomplished a master? His majesty himself, as I truly say -of him, in the poem you object to me, - - “with wisdom fraught, - Not such as books, but such as practice, taught,” - -did me the justice to understand my address after another manner. He, -who had so often been forced by the necessities of his affairs to make -compliances with the time, never resented it from me, a private man -and a poet, that I had made some sacrifices of a like nature. All this -might convince you of the great truth I meant to inculcate by this long -recital, that not a sullen and inflexible _Sincerity_, but a fair and -seasonable _accommodation of one’s self_, to the various exigencies of -the times, is the golden virtue that ought to predominate in a man -of life and business. All the rest, believe me, is the very cant of -philosophy and unexperienced wisdom. - - -DR. MORE. - -Wisdom—and must the sanctity of that name— - - -MR. WALLER. - -Hear me, Sir—no exclamations against the evidence of plain fact. I -have a right to expect another conduct from him, who is grown grey in -the studies of moral science. - - -DR. MORE. - -You learned another lesson in the school of FALKLAND, HYDE, and -CHILLINGWORTH. - - -MR. WALLER. - -Yes, one I was obliged to unlearn. But, since you remind me of that -school, what was the effect of adhering pertinaciously to its false -maxims? To what purpose were the lives of _two_ of them prodigally -thrown away; and the honour, the wisdom, the talents of the _other_, -still left to languish in banishment[29] and obscurity? - - -DR. MORE. - -O! prophane not the glories of immortal, though successless virtue, -with such reproaches.—Those adored names shall preach honour to future -ages, and enthrone the majesty of virtue in the hearts of men, when -wit and parts, and eloquence and poetry, have not a leaf of all their -withered bays to recommend them. - - -MR. WALLER. - -Raptures and chimeras!——Rather judge of the sentiments of future -ages, from the present. Where is the man, (I speak it without -boasting,) that enjoys a fairer fame; who is better received in all -places; who is more listened to in all companies; who reaps the fruits -of a reasonable and practicable virtue in every return of honour, more -unquestionably, than he whose life and principles your outrageous -virtue leads you to undervalue so unworthily? And take it from me as -an oracle, which long age and experience enable me to deliver with all -assurance, “Whoever, in succeeding times, shall form himself on the -plan here given shall meet with the safety, credit, applause, and, -if he chuses, honour and fortune in the world, which may be promised -indeed, but never will be obtained, by any other method.” - - -DR. MORE. - -You have spoken. But hear me now, I conjure you, whilst a poor despised -philosopher— - - -MR. WALLER. - -O! I have marked the emotion this discourse of mine hath awakened in -you. I have seen your impatience: I have watched your eyes when they -sparkled defiance and contradiction to my argument. But your warmth -makes you forget yourself. I gave a patient hearing to all your -eloquence could suggest in this cause. I even favoured your zeal, and -helped to blow up your enthusiasm. The rest fell to my turn; and -besides, the evening, as you see, shuts in upon us. Let us escape, at -least, from its dews, which, in this decline of the year, they say, are -not the most wholesome, into a warm apartment within doors; and then I -shall not be averse, especially when you have taken a few minutes to -recollect yourself, to debate with you what further remains upon this -argument[30]. - - - - - DIALOGUE II. - - ON RETIREMENT. - - BETWEEN - - MR. ABRAHAM COWLEY, - - AND - - THE REV. MR. THOMAS SPRAT. - - - - - DIALOGUE II. - - ON RETIREMENT. - - MR. ABRAHAM COWLEY—THE REV. MR. SPRAT. - - -TO THE EARL OF ST. ALBANS[31]. - -MY LORD, - -The duty I owe your LORDSHIP, as well as my friendship for Mr. COWLEY, -determined me to lose no time in executing the commission you was -pleased to charge me with by Mr. D***. I went early the next morning -to _Barn Elms_[32]; intending to pass the whole day with him, and to -try if what I might be able to suggest on the occasion, together with -the weight of your lordship’s advice, could not divert him from his -strange project of _Retirement_. Your lordship, no doubt, as all his -other friends, had observed his bias that way to be very strong; but -who, that knew his great sense, could have thought of it its carrying -him to so extravagant a resolution? For my own part, I suspected it so -little, that, though he would often talk of retiring, and especially -since your lordship’s favour to him[33], I considered it only as the -usual language of poets, which they take up one after another, and -love to indulge in, as what they suppose becomes their family and -profession. It could never come into my thoughts, that one, who knew -the world so well as Mr. COWLEY, and had lived so long in it, who had -so fair hopes and so noble a patron, could seriously think of quitting -the scene at his years, and all for so fantastic a purpose as that of -growing old in the corner of a country village. - -These, my lord, were my sentiments, when your friendly message alarmed -me with the apprehension of there being more in the matter than I had -suspected. Yet still I considered it only as a hasty thought, which -a fit of the spleen, or of the muse it may be, had raised; and which -the free remonstrance of a friend would easily disperse, or prevent at -least from coming to any fixed and settled resolution. But how shall -I express to your lordship the surprise I was in, to find that this -resolution was not only taken, but rooted so deeply in him, that no -arguments, nor even your lordship’s authority, could shake it? I have -ever admired Mr. COWLEY, as a man of the happiest temper and truest -judgment; but, to say the least, there was something so particular, I -had almost said perverse, in what he had to allege for himself on this -occasion, that I cannot think I acquit myself to your lordship, without -laying before you the whole of this extraordinary conversation; and, as -far as my recollection will serve, in the very words in which it passed -betwixt us. - -I went, as I told your lordship, pretty early to _Barn Elms_; but my -friend had gotten the start of me by some hours. He was busying himself -with some improvements of his garden, and the fields that lie about -his house. The whole circuit of his domain was not so large, but that -I presently came up with him. “My dear friend,” said he, embracing -me, but with a look of some reserve and disgust, “and is it you then -I have the happiness to see, at length, in my new settlement? Though -I fled hither from the rest of the world, I had no design to get out -of the reach of my friends. And, to be plain with you, I took it a -little amiss from one whose entire affection I had reckoned upon, -that he should leave me to myself for these two whole months, without -discovering an inclination, either from friendship or curiosity, to -know how this retirement agreed with me. What could induce my best -friend to use me so unkindly?” - -Surely, said I, you forget the suddenness of your flight, and the -secresy with which the resolution was taken. We supposed you gone only -for a few days, to see to the management of your affairs; and could -not dream of your _rusticating_ thus long, at a time when the town -and court are so busy; when the occasions of your friends and your -own interests seemed to require your speedy return to us. However, -continued I, it doth not displease me to find you so dissatisfied -with this solitude. It looks as if the short experience, you have -had of this recluse life, did not recommend it to you in the manner -you expected. Retirement is a fine thing in imagination, and is apt -to possess you poets with strange visions. But the charm is rarely -lasting; and a short trial, I find, hath served to correct these -fancies. You feel yourself born for society and the world, and, by your -kind complaints of your friend, confess how unnatural it is to deny -yourself the proper delights of a man, the delights of conversation. - -Not so fast, interrupted he, if you please, in your conclusions about -the nature of retirement. I never meant to give up my right in the -affections of those few I call my friends. But what has this to do -with the general purpose of retreating from the anxieties of business, -the intrigues of policy, or the impertinencies of conversation? I have -lived but too long in a ceaseless round of these follies. The best part -of my time hath been spent _sub dio_. I have served in all weathers, -and in all climates, but chiefly in the torrid zone of politics, where -the passions of all men are on fire, and where such as have lived the -longest, and are thought the happiest, are scarcely able to reconcile -themselves to the sultry air of the place. But this warfare is now -happily at an end. I have languished these many years for the shade. -Thanks to my Lord ST. ALBANS, and another noble lord you know of, I -have now gained it. And it is not a small matter, I assure you, shall -force me out of this shelter. - -Nothing is easier, said I, than for you men of wit to throw a ridicule -upon any thing. It is but applying a quaint figure, or a well-turned -sentence, and the business is done. But indeed, my best friend, it -gives me pain to find you not so much diverting as deceiving yourself -with this unseasonable ingenuity. So long as these sallies of fancy -were employed only to enliven conversation, or furnish matter for an -ode or an epigram, all was very well. But now that you seem disposed -to _act_ upon them, you must excuse me if I take the matter a little -more seriously. To deal plainly with you, I come to tell you my whole -mind on this subject: and, to give what I have to say the greater -consequence with you, I must not conceal from you, that I come -commissioned by the excellent lord you honour so much, and have just -now mentioned, to expostulate in the freest manner with you upon it. - -We had continued walking all this time, and were now ascending a -sort of natural terras. It led to a small thicket, in the entrance -of which was a seat that commanded a pleasant view of the country -and the river. Taking me up to it, “Well,” said he, “my good friend, -since your purpose in coming hither is so kind, and my Lord ST. ALBANS -himself doth me the honour to think my private concerns deserving his -particular notice, it becomes me to receive your message with respect, -and to debate the matter, since you press it so home upon me, with all -possible calmness. But let us, if you please, sit down here. You will -find it the most agreeable spot I have to treat you with; and the shade -we have about us will not, I suppose, at this hour, be unwelcome.” - -And now, turning himself to me, “Let me hear from you, what there -is in my retreat to this place, which a wise man can have reason to -censure, or which may deserve the disallowance of a friend. I know you -come prepared with every argument which men of the world have at any -time employed against retirement; and I know your ability to give to -each its full force. But look upon this scene before you, and tell me -what inducements I can possibly have to quit it for any thing you can -promise me in exchange? Is there in that vast labyrinth, you call the -world, where so many thousands lose themselves in endless wanderings -and perplexities, any corner where the mind can recollect itself so -perfectly, where it can attend to its own business, and pursue its -proper interests so conveniently, as in this quiet and sequestered -spot? Here the passions subside; or, if they continue to agitate, -do not however transport the mind with those feverish and vexatious -fervours, which distract us in public life. This is the seat of virtue -and of reason; here I can fashion my life by the precepts of duty -and conscience; and here I have leisure to make acquaintance, that -acquaintance which elsewhere is so rarely made, with the ways and works -of God. - -Think again, my friend. Doth not the genius of the place seize you? Do -you not perceive a certain serenity steal in upon you? Doth not the -aspect of things around you, the very stillness of this retreat, infuse -a content and satisfaction which the world knows nothing of? Tell me, -in a word, is there not something like enchantment about us? Do you not -find your desires more composed, your purposes more pure, your thoughts -more elevated, and more active, since your entrance into this scene?” - -He was proceeding in this strain, with an air of perfect enthusiasm, -when I broke in upon him with asking, “Whether this was what he called -_debating the matter calmly with me_. Surely,” said I, “this is poetry, -or something still more extravagant. You cannot think I come prepared -to encounter you in this way. I own myself no match for you at these -weapons: which indeed are too fine for my handling, and very unsuitable -to my purpose if they were not. The point is not which of us can say -the handsomest things, but the truest, on either side of the question. -It is, as you said, plain argument, and not rhetorical flourishes, much -less poetical raptures, that must decide the matter in debate. Not but -a great deal might be said on my side, and, it may be, with more colour -of truth, had I the command of an eloquence proper to set it off. - -I might ask, in my turn, “Where is mighty charm that draws you to this -inglorious solitude, from the duties of business and conversation, -from the proper end and employment of man? How comes it to pass, that -this stillness of a country landscape, this uninstructing, though -agreeable enough, scene of fields and waters, should have greater -beauty in your eye, than _flourishing peopled towns_, the scenes of -industry and art, of public wealth and happiness? Is not the _sublime -countenance_ of man, so one of your acquaintance terms it, a more -delightful object than any of these humble beauties that lie before -us? And are not the human virtues, with all their train of lovely and -beneficial effects in society, better worth contemplating, than the -products of inanimate nature in the field or wood? Where should we seek -for REASON, but in the minds of men tried and polished in the school -of civil conversation? And where hath VIRTUE so much as a being out of -the offices of social life? Look well into yourself, I might say: hath -not indeed the proper genius of solitude affected you! Doth not I know -not what of chagrin and discontent hang about you? Is there not a gloom -upon your mind, which darkens your views of human nature, and damps -those chearful thoughts and sprightly purposes, which friendship and -society inspire?” - -You see, Sir, were I but disposed, and as able as you are, to pursue -this way of fancy and declamation, I might conjure up as many frightful -forms in these retired walks, as you have delightful ones. And the -enchantment in good hands would, I am persuaded, have more the -appearance of reality. But this is not the way in which I take upon -myself to contend with you. I would hear, if you please, what reasons, -that deserve to be so called, could determine you to so strange, and, -forgive me if at present I am forced to think it, so unreasonable a -project, as that of devoting your health and years to this monastic -retirement. I would lay before you the arguments, which, I presume, -should move you to quit a hasty, perhaps an unweighted, resolution: -so improper in itself, so alarming to all your friends, so injurious -to your own interest, and, permit me to say, to the public. I would -enforce all this with the mild persuasions of a friend; and with the -wisdom, the authority of a great person, to whose opinion you owe a -deference, and who deserves it too from the entire love and affection -he bears you.” - -My dearest friend, replied he, with an earnestness that awed, and a -goodness that melted me, I am not to learn the affection which either -you or my noble friend bear me. I have had too many proofs of it from -both, to suffer me to doubt it. But why will you not allow me to judge -of what is proper to constitute my own happiness? And why must I be -denied the privilege of choosing for myself, in a matter where the -different taste or humour of others makes them so unfit to prescribe -to me? Yet I submit to these unequal terms; and if I cannot justify the -choice I have made, even in the way of serious reason and argument, I -promise to yield myself to your advice and authority. You have taken me -perhaps a little unprepared and unfurnished for this conflict. I have -not marshalled my forces in form, as you seem to have done; and it may -be difficult, on the sudden, to methodize my thoughts in the manner -you may possibly expect from me. But come, said he, I will do my best -in this emergency. You will excuse the rapture which hurried me at -setting out, beyond the bounds which your severer temper requires. The -subject always fires me; and I find it difficult, in entering on this -argument, to restrain those triumphant sallies, which had better have -been reserved for the close of it. - -Here he paused a little; and recollecting himself, “But first,” resumed -he, “you will take notice, that I am not at all concerned in the -general question, so much, and, I think, so vainly agitated, “_whether -a life of retirement be preferable to one of action?_” I am not, I -assure you, for unpeopling our cities, and sending their industrious -and useful inhabitants into woods and cloisters. I acknowledge and -admire the improvements of arts, the conveniencies of society, the -policies of government[34]. I have no thought so mad or so silly, as -that of wishing to see the tribes of mankind disbanded, their interests -and connexions dissolved, and themselves turned loose into a single and -solitary existence. I would not even wish to see our courts deserted -of their homagers, though I cannot but be of opinion, that an airing -now and then at their country houses, and that not with the view of -diverting, but recollecting themselves, would prove as useful to their -sense and virtue, as to their estates. But all this, as I said, is so -far from coming into the scheme of my serious wishes, that it does not -so much as enter into my thoughts. Let wealth, and power, and pleasure, -be as eagerly sought after, as they ever will be: let thousands or -millions assemble in vast towns, for the sake of pursuing their several -ends, as it may chance, of profit, vanity, or amusement: All this -is nothing to me, who pretend not to determine for other men, but to -vindicate my own choice of this retirement. - -As much as I have been involved in the engagements of business, I -have not lived thus long without looking frequently, and sometimes -attentively into myself. I maintain, then, that to a person so moulded -as I am; of the _temper and turn of mind_, which Nature hath given me; -of _the sort of talents_, with which education or genius hath furnished -me; and, lastly, of the _circumstances_, in which fortune hath placed -me; I say, to a person so charactered and so situated, RETIREMENT is -not only his choice, but his duty; is not only what his inclination -leads him to, but his judgement. And upon these grounds, if you will, I -venture to undertake my own apology to you.” - -Your proposal, said I, is fair, and I can have no objection to close -with you upon these terms; only you must take care, my friend, that -you do not mistake or misrepresent your own talents or character; -a miscarriage, which, allow me to say, is not very rare from the -partialities which an indulged humour, too easily taken for nature, is -apt to create in us. - -Or what, replied he, if this humour, as you call it, be so rooted as to -become a _second_ nature? Can it, in the instance before us, be worth -the pains of correcting? - -I should think so, returned I, in your case. But let me first hear the -judgement you form of yourself, before I trouble you with that which I -and your other friends make of you. - -I cannot but think, resumed he, that my situation at present must -appear very ridiculous. I am forced into an _apology_ for my own -conduct, in a very nice affair, which it might become another, rather -than myself, to make for me. In order to this, I am constrained to -reveal to you the very secrets, that is, the foibles and weaknesses, -of my own heart. I am to lay myself open and naked before you. This -would be an unwelcome task to most men. But your friendship, and -the confidence I have in your affection, prevail over all scruples. -Hitherto your friend hath used the common privilege of wearing a -disguise, of masking himself, as the poet makes his hero, in a _cloud_, -which is of use to keep off the too near and curious inspection both of -friends and enemies. But, at your bidding, it falls off, and you are -now to see him in his just proportion and true features. - -My best friend, proceeded he with an air of earnestness and -recollection, it is now above forty years that I have lived in this -world: and in all the rational part of that time there hath not, I -believe, a single day passed without an ardent longing for such a -retreat from it, as you see me at length blessed with. You have heard -me repeat some verses, which were made by me so early as the age of -_thirteen_, and in which that inclination is expressed as strongly, as -in any thing I have ever said or written on that subject[35]. Hence you -may guess the proper turn and bias of my nature; which began so soon, -and hath continued thus long, to shew itself in the constant workings -of that passion. - -Even in my earliest years at school, you will hardly imagine how uneasy -constraint of every kind was to me, and with what delight I broke away -from the customary sports and pastimes of that age, to saunter the -time away by myself, or with a companion, if I could meet with any -such, of my own humour. The same inclination pursued me to college; -where a private walk, with a book or friend, was beyond any amusement, -which, in that sprightly season of life, I had any acquaintance with. -It is with a fond indulgence my memory even now returns to these past -pleasures. It was in those retired ramblings that a thousand charming -perceptions and bright ideas would stream in upon me. The Muse was -kindest in those hours: and, I know not how, Philosophy herself would -_oftner_ meet me amidst the willows of the CAM, than in the formal -schools of science, within the walls of my college, or in my tutor’s -chamber. - -I understand, said I, the true secret of that matter. You had now -contracted an intimacy with the poets, and others of the fanciful -tribe. You was even admitted of their company; and it was but fit you -should adopt their sentiments, and speak their language. Hence those -day-dreams of _shade and silence_, and I know not what visions, which -transport the minds of young men, on their entrance into these regions -of _Parnassus_. - -It should seem then, returned he, by your way of expressing it, as if -you thought this passion for _shade and silence_ was only pretended to -on a principle of _fashion_; or, at most, was catched by the lovers of -poetry from each other, in the way of _sympathy_, without nature’s -having any hand at all in the production of it. - -Something like that, I told him, was my real sentiment: and that these -agreeable reveries of the old poets had done much hurt by being taken -too seriously. Were HORACE and VIRGIL, think you, as much in earnest -as you appear to be, when they were crying out perpetually on their -favourite theme of _otium_ and _secessus_, “they, who lived and died in -a court?” - -I believe, said he, they were, and that the short accounts we have of -their lives shew it, though a perfect dismission from the court was -what they could not obtain, or had not the resolution to insist upon. -But pray, upon your principles, that all this is but the enchantment of -_example_ or _fashion_, how came it to pass, that the first seducers of -the family, the old poets themselves, had fallen into these notions? -They were surely no pretenders. They could only write from the heart. -And methinks it were more candid, as well as more reasonable, to -account for this passion, which hath so constantly shewn itself in -their successors, from the same reason. It is likely indeed, and so -much I can readily allow, that the early reading of the poets might -contribute something to confirm and strengthen my natural bias[36]. - -But let the matter rest for the present. I would now go on with the -detail of my own life and experience, so proper, as I think, to -convince you that what I am pleading for is the result of nature. - -I was saying how agreeably my youth passed in these reveries, if you -will have it so, and especially _inter sylvas academi_: - - Dura sed emovere loco me tempora grato, - Civilisque rudem belli tulit æstus in arma. - -You know the consequence. This civil turmoil drove me from the shelter -of retirement into the heat and bustle of life; from those studies -which, as you say, had enchanted my youth, into business and action -of all sorts. I lived in the world: I conversed familiarly with the -great. A change like this, one would suppose, were enough to undo the -prejudices of education. But the very reverse happened. The further -I engaged, and the longer I continued in this scene, the greater my -impatience was of retiring from it. - -But you will say, my old vice was nourished in me by living in the -neighbourhood of books and letters[37]. I was yet in the fairy land -of the Muses; and, under these circumstances, it was no wonder that -neither arms nor business, nor a court, could prevent the mind from -returning to its old bias. All this may be true. And yet, I think, -if that court had contained many such persons as some I knew in -it, neither the distractions of business on the one hand, nor the -blandishments of the Muse on the other, could have disposed me to leave -it. But there were few LORD FALKLANDS—and unhappily my admiration of -that nobleman’s worth and honour[38] created an invincible aversion to -the rest, who had little resemblance of his virtues. - -I would not be thought, said I, to detract from so accomplished a -character as that of the Lord FALKLAND; but surely there was something -in his notions of honour— - -Not a word, interrupted he eagerly, that may but seem to throw a shade -on a virtue the brightest and purest that hath done honour to these -later ages.—But I turn from a subject that interests me too much, and -would lead me too far. Whatever attractions there might be in such a -place, and in such _friendships_, the iniquity of the times soon forced -me from them. Yet I had the less reason to complain, as my next removal -was into the family of so beneficent a patron as the Lord JERMYN, and -into the court of so accomplished a princess as the QUEEN MOTHER. - -My residence, you know, was now for many years in _France_; a country, -which piques itself on all the refinements of civility. Here the world -was to appear to me in its fairest form, and, it was not doubted, would -put on all its charms to wean me from the love of a studious retired -life. I will not say I was disappointed in this expectation. All that -the elegance of polished manners could contribute to make society -attractive, was to be found in this new scene. My situation, besides, -was such, that I came to have a sort of familiarity with greatness. -Yet shall I confess my inmost sentiments of this splendid life to you? -I found it empty, fallacious, and even disgusting. The outside indeed -was fair. But to me, who had an opportunity of looking it through, -nothing could be more deformed and hateful. All was ambition, intrigue, -and falsehood. Every one intent on his own schemes, frequently wicked, -always base and selfish. Great professions of honour, of friendship, -and of duty; but all ending in low views and sordid practices. No -truth, no sincerity: without which, conversation is but words; and the -polish of manners, the idlest foppery. - -Surely, interposed I, this picture must be overcharged. Frailties -and imperfections, no doubt, there will be in all societies of men, -especially where there is room for competition in their pursuits of -honour and interest. But your idea of a court is that of a den of -thieves, only better dressed, and more civilized. - -That however, said he, is the idea under which truth obliges me to -represent it. Believe me, I have been long enough acquainted with -that country, to give you a pretty exact account of its inhabitants. -Their sole business is to follow the humour of the prince, or of his -favourite, to speak the current language, to serve the present turn, -and to cozen one another. In short, their virtue is, civility; and -their sense, cunning. You will guess now, continued he, how uneasy I -must be in such company; I, who cannot lie, though it were to make a -friend, or ruin an enemy; who have been taught to bear no respect to -any but true wisdom; and, whether it be nature or education, could -never endure (pardon the foolish boast) that hypocrisy should usurp the -honours, and triumph in the spoils of virtue. - -Nay further, my good friend, (for I must tell you all I know of myself, -though it expose me ever so much to the charge of folly or even -vanity) I was not born for courts and general conversation. Besides -the unconquerable aversion I have to knaves and fools (though these -last, but that they are commonly knaves too, I could bring myself -to tolerate); besides this uncourtly humour, I have another of so -odd a kind, that I almost want words to express myself intelligibly -to you. It is a sort of capricious delicacy, which occasions a wide -difference in my estimation of those characters, in which the world -makes no distinction. It is not enough to make me converse with ease -and pleasure with a man, that I see no notorious vices, or even observe -some considerable virtues in him. His good qualities must have a -certain grace, and even his sense must be of a certain turn, to give me -a relish of his conversation. - -I see you smile at this talk, and am aware how fantastic this -squeamishness must appear to you. But it is with men and manners, -as with the forms and aspects of natural things. A thousand objects -recal ideas, and excite sensations in my mind, which seem to be not -perceived, or not heeded, by other men. The look of a country, the -very shading of a landskip, shall have a sensible effect on me, which -they, who have as good eyes, appear to make no account of. It is just -the same with the characters of men. I conceive a disgust at some, -and a secret regard for others, whom many, I believe, would estimate -just alike. And what is worse, a long and general conversation hath -not been able to cure me of this foible. I question, said he, turning -himself to me, but, if I was called upon to assign the reasons of that -entire affection, which knits me to my best friend, they would be -resolved at last into a something, which they, who love him perhaps as -well, would have no idea of. - -He said this in a way that disarmed me, or I had it in my mind to have -rallied him on his doctrine of _occult qualities_ and _unintelligible_ -forms. I therefore contented myself with saying, that I must not hear -him go on at this strange rate; and asked him if it was possible he -could suffer himself to be biassed, in an affair of this moment, by -such whimsies? - -Those whimsies, resumed he, had a real effect. But consider further, -the endless impertinencies of conversation; the dissipation, and loss -of time; the diversion of the mind from all that is truly useful or -instructive, from what a reasonable man would or should delight in: -add to these, the vexations of business; the slavery of dependence, -the discourtesies of some, the grosser injuries of others; the danger, -or the scorn, to which virtue is continually subject; in short, the -knavery, or folly, or malevolence, of all around you; and tell me, -if any thing but the unhappy times, and a sense of duty, could have -detained a man of my temper and principles so long in a station of life -so very uneasy and disgusting to me. - -Nothing is easier, said I, than to exaggerate the inconveniencies of -any situation. The world and the court have doubtless theirs. But you -seem to forget one particular; that the _unhappy times_ you speak of, -and the state of the court, were an excuse for part of the disagreeable -circumstances you have mentioned. The face of things is now altered. -The storm is over. A calm has succeeded. And why should not you take -the benefit of these halcyon days, in which so many others have found -their ease, and even enjoyment? - -These halcyon days, returned he, are not, alas! what unexperienced men -are ready to represent them. The same vices, the same follies, prevail -still, and are even multiplied and enflamed by prosperity. A suffering -court, if any, might be expected to be the seedplot of virtues. But, -to satisfy your scruples, I have even made a trial of these happier -times. All I wished to myself from the happiest, was but such a return -for my past services, as might enable me to retire with decency. Such -a return I seem not to have merited. And I care not at this time of day -to waste more of my precious time in deserving a better treatment. - -Your day, said I, is not so far spent, as to require this hasty -determination. Besides, if this be all, the world may be apt to censure -your retreat, as the effect of chagrin and disappointment. - -His colour rose, as I said this. The world, resumed he, will censure as -it sees fit. I must have leave at length to judge for myself in what so -essentially concerns my own happiness. Though if ever _chagrin_ may be -pleaded as a reason for retirement, perhaps nobody had ever a better -right than I have to plead it. You know what hath happened of late, -to give me a disgust to courts. You know the view I had in my late -comedy[39] and the grounds I had to expect that it would not be ill -taken. But you know too the issue of that attempt. And should I, after -this experience of courtly gratitude, go about to solicit their favours? - -But, to let you see that I am swayed by better motives than those of -_chagrin_, I shall not conceal from you what I am proud enough to think -of my TALENTS, as well as temper. - -There are but two sorts of men, pursued he, that should think of living -in a court, however it be that we see animals of all sorts, clean and -unclean, enter into it. - -The one is of those strong and active spirits that are formed for -business, whose ambition reconciles them to the bustle of life, and -whose capacity fits them for the discharge of its functions. These, -especially if of noble birth and good fortunes, are destined to fill -the first offices in a state; and if, peradventure, they add virtue to -their other parts and qualities, are the blessings of the age they live -in. Some few such there have been in former times; and the present, it -may be, is not wholly without them. - -The OTHER sort, are what one may properly enough call, if the phrase -were not somewhat uncourtly, the MOB OF COURTS; they, who have vanity -or avarice without ambition, or ambition without talents. These, by -assiduity, good luck, and the help of their vices (for they would scorn -to earn advancement, if it were to be had, by any worthy practices), -may in time succeed to the lower posts in a government; and together -make up that showey, servile, selfish crowd, we dignify with the name -of COURT. - -Now, though I think too justly of myself to believe I am qualified -to enter into the _former_ of these lists, you may conclude, if you -please, that I am too proud to brigue for an admission into the -_latter_. I pretend not to great abilities of any kind; but let me -presume a little in supposing, that I may have some too good to be -thrown away on such company. - -Here, my lord, the unusual freedom, and even indecency, of Mr. COWLEY’S -invective against courts, transported me so far, that I could not -forbear turning upon him with some warmth. Surely, said I, my friend -is much changed from what I always conceived of him. This heat of -language, from one of your candour, surprises me equally with the -injustice of it. It is so far from _calm reasoning_, that it wants -but little, methinks, of downright railing. I believe, continued I, -that I think more highly, that is, more justly, of Mr. COWLEY in every -respect, than he allows himself to do. Yet I see not that either his -time, or his talents, would be misemployed in the services he so much -undervalues. Permit me to say, your resentment hath carried you too -far; and that you do not enough consider the friends you left at court, -or the noble lord that wishes your return thither. - -I do, said he hastily, consider both. But, with your leave, since I -am forced to defend myself against an ignominious charge, I must do -myself the right to assume what I think belongs to me. I repeat it; I -have long thought my time lost in the poor amusements and vanities of -the great world, and have felt an impatience to get into a quiet scene, -where, slender as my talents are, I might employ them to better purpose. - -And think not, proceeded he, that I am carried to this choice by any -thing so frivolous as the idleness of a poetical fancy. Not but the -Muse, which hath been the darling of my youth, may deserve to be the -companion of my riper age. For I am far from renouncing an art, which, -unprofitable as it hath ever been to me, is always entertaining: and -when employed, as I mean it shall be, in other services than those by -which a voluptuous court seems willing to disgrace it, I see not what -there is in this amusement of poetry, for the severest censor of life -and manners to take offence at. Yet still I intend it for an amusement. -My serious occupations will be very different; such as you, my friend, -cannot disapprove, and should encourage. But I have opened to you my -intentions more than once, and need not give you the trouble at this -time to hear me explain them. - -You mean, interposed I, to apply yourself to _natural_ and _religious_ -inquiries. Your design is commendable; and I would not dissuade you -from it. But what should hinder your pursuing this design as well in -society as in this solitude? - -What, at COURT, returned he, where the only object, that all men are in -quest of, is GAIN; and the only deity they acknowledge, FORTUNE? Or -say that such idolatries did not prevail, there, how shall the mind be -calm enough for so sublime inquiries? or where, but in this scene of -genuine nature, is there an opportunity to indulge in them? Here, if -any where, is the observation of the poet verified, DEUS EST QUODCUNQUE -VIDES. Look round, my friend, on this florid earth, on the various -classes of _animals_ that inhabit, and the countless _vegetable_ tribes -that adorn it. Here is the proper school of wisdom, - - And this our life, exempt from public haunt, - Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, - Sermons in stones, and good in every thing[40]. - -Infinite are the uses, continued he, which would result from this -method of applying experiment and observation to _Natural Science_. -I have taken occasion, you know, to offer a slight sketch of them to -the Public very lately[41]. But the principal I would draw from it to -myself should be, to inure the mind to just conceptions of the divine -nature; that so, with the better advantage, I might turn myself to -the awful study of his _Word_. And here, my friend, I am sensible how -much I may expect to be animated by your zeal, and enlightened by your -instruction. In the mean time, I pretend to possess some qualities, -which, if rightly applied, may not be unsuitable to so high an -undertaking. I feel myself impelled by an eager curiosity: I have much -patience, and some skill in making experiments. I may even be allowed -to boast of a readiness in the learned languages; and am not without -a tincture of such other studies, as the successful prosecution of -PHYSICS, and still more of DIVINITY, requires. You may further impute -to me, if you please, an ingenuous love of truth, and an ordinary -degree of judgment to discern it. - -These, concluded he, are the TALENTS, of which I spoke to you so -proudly; and with the help of these (especially if you allow me _one_ -other, the power of _communicating_ what I may chance to learn of -natural or divine things), I might hope to render a better account of -this solitude, than of any employments I could reasonably aspire to, in -the world of men and of business. - -He said this with an air of solemnity, which left me a little at a -loss what to reply to him, when he relieved my perplexity by adding, -“but, though there was nothing of all this in the case, and my zeal for -promoting knowledge in this private way were as lightly to be accounted -of, as _that_, which led me to propose the more extensive scheme I -before mentioned, probably will be, yet what should draw me from this -leisure of a learned retirement? For though I please myself with the -prospect of doing some _public_ service by my studies, yet need I blush -to own, to my learned friend, the fondness I should still have for -them, were they only to end in my own _private_ enjoyment? Yes, let me -open my whole soul to you. I have ever delighted in letters, and have -even found them, what the world is well enough content they should be, -their own reward. I doubt, if this language would be understood in all -companies. And let others speak as they find. But to me the year would -drag heavily, and life itself be no life, if it were not quickened by -these ingenuous pleasures.” - -Indeed, were it only for the very quiet and indolence of mind, which -retirement promises, why should I be envied this calm in the decline of -a troubled life? But let the Muse speak for me, - - “After long toils and voyages in vain, - This quiet port let my tost vessel gain; - Of heav’nly rest this earnest to me lend, - Let my life sleep, and learn to love her end.” - -And what if they, who have not the means of enjoying this rest, submit -to the drudgery of business? Is that a reason for me to continue in it, -who have made my fortune, even to the extent of my wishes? I see you -smile at this boast. But where would you have me stop in my desires; or -what is it you would have me understand by the mysterious language of -_making a fortune_? Is it two hundred a year, or four, or a thousand? -Say, where shall we fix, or what limits will you undertake to prescribe -to the vague and shifting notion of a competency? Or, shall we own -the truth at once, that every thing is a _competency_ which a man is -contented to live upon, and that therefore it varies only, as his -desires are more or less contracted? - -To talk at any other rate of a _man’s fortune_, is surely to expose -one’s self to the ridicule, which the philosopher, you know, threw on -the restless humour of king Pyrrhus. ’Tis whim, chimera, madness, or -what you will, except sober reason and common sense. Yet still the -world cries, “What, sit down with a pittance, when the ways of honour -and fortune are open to you? take up with what may barely satisfy, when -you have so fair a chance for affluence, and even superfluity?” - -Alas! and will that _affluence_, then, more than satisfy? or can it be -worth the while to labour, for a _superfluity_? - -’Tis true the violence of the times, in which it was my fortune to -bear a part, had left me bare and unprovided even of those moderate -accommodations, which my education and breeding might demand, and which -a parent’s piety had indeed bequeathed to me. It was but fitting then -I should strive to repair this loss; and the rather, as my honest -services gave me leave to hope for a speedy reparation. And thus far -I was contented to try my fortune in the court, though at the expence -of much uneasy attendance and solicitation. But, seeing that this -assiduity was without effect, and that the bounty of two excellent -persons[42] hath now set me above the necessity of continuing it, what -madness were it to embark again - - “Fluctibus in mediis et tempestatibus urbis!” - -So that if you will needs be urging me with the ceaseless exhortation of - - “I, bone, quo virtus tua te vocat: I pede fausto, - Grandia laturus meritorum præmia:—” - -I must take leave to remind you of the sage reply that was made to -it. It was, you know, by an old soldier, who found himself exactly in -my situation. The purse, which he had lost by one accident, he had -recovered by another. The conclusion was, that he had no mind, in this -different state of affairs, to turn adventurer again, and expose -himself to the same perilous encounters: - - “Post hæc ille catus, quantumvis RUSTICUS, ibit, - Ibit eo, quo vis QUI ZONAM PERDIDIT, inquit.” - -In one word, my friend, I am happy here, as you see me, in my little -farm, which yet is large enough to answer all my real necessities; and -I am not in the humour of him in the fable[43], to fill my head with -visions, and spend a wretched life in quest of the _flying island_. - -And now, added he, you have before you in one view the principal -reasons that have determined me to this retreat. I might have enlarged -on each more copiously; but I know to whom I speak: and perhaps to such -a one I might even have spared a good deal of what I have now been -offering, from the several considerations of my TEMPER, TALENTS, and -SITUATION. - -Here he stopped. And now, my lord, it came to my turn to take the -lead in this controversy. There was indeed an ample field before me. -And, if the other side of the question afforded most matter for wit -and declamation, mine had all the advantages of good sense and sound -reason. The superiority was so apparent, and my victory over him, in -point of argument, so sure, that I thought it needless and ungenerous -to press him on every article of his defence, in which he had laid -himself open to me. - -Your lordship hath, no doubt, observed, with wonder and with pity, the -strange spirit that runs through every part of it: the confined way of -thinking, which hath crept upon him; the cynical severity, he indulges -against courts; the importance he would sometimes assume to his own -character; the peevish turn of mind, that leads him to take offence at -the lighter follies and almost excusable vices of the great; in short, -the resentment, the pique, the chagrin, which one overlooks in the -hopeless suitor, or hungry poet, but which are very unaccountable in -one of Mr. COWLEY’S condition and situation. - -Here then, my lord, was a fair occasion for a willing adversary. But -I spared the infirmities of my friend. I judged it best, too, to -keep him in temper, and avoid that heat of altercation, which must -have arisen from touching these indiscretions, as they deserved. Your -lordship sees the reason I had for confining my reply to such parts -of his apology, as bore the fairest shew of argument, and might be -encountered without offence. - -When he had ended, therefore, with so formal a recapitulation of his -discourse, I thought it not amiss to follow him in his own train; and, -dissembling the just exceptions I had to his vindication in other -respects, “You have proceeded, said I, in a very distinct method, and -have said as much, I believe, on the subject, as so bad a cause would -admit. But if this indeed be all you have to allege, for so uncommon -a fancy, you must not think it strange, if I pronounce it, without -scruple, very insufficient for your purpose. - -For, to give your several pleas a distinct examination, what is that -TEMPER, let me ask, on which you insist so much, but a wayward humour, -which your true judgement should correct and controul by the higher -and more important regards of _duty_? Every man is born with some -prevailing propensity or other, which, if left to itself, and indulged -beyond certain bounds, would grow to be very injurious to himself -and society. There is something, no doubt, amusing in the notion of -_retirement_. The very word implies ease and quiet, and self-enjoyment. -And who doubts, that in the throng and bustle of life, most men are -fond to image to themselves, and even to wish for a scene of more -composure and tranquillity? It is just as natural as that the labourer -should long for his repose at night; or that the soldier, amidst the -dust and heat of a summer’s march, should wish for the conveniencies -of shade and shelter. But what wild work would it make if these so -natural desires should be immediately gratified? if the labourer should -quit his plow, and the soldier his arms, to throw themselves into the -first shade or thicket that offered refreshment? All you have therefore -said on this article can really stand for nothing in the eye of sober -reason, whatever figure it may make in the dress of your eloquence[44]. -The inconveniencies of every station are to be endured from the -obligations of duty, and on account of the services one is bound to -render to himself and his country. - -True, replied he, if it appeared to be one’s duty, or even interest, to -continue in that station. But what principle of conscience binds me to -a slavish dependence at court? or what interest, public or private, can -be an equivalent for wearing these chains, when I have it in my power -to throw them off, and redeem myself into a state of liberty? - -What _Interest_, do you ask? returned I. Why that great and extensive -one, which _society_ hath in an honest and capable man’s continuing to -bear a part in public affairs. For as to inducements of another kind, -I may find occasion hereafter to press them upon you more seasonably. -Consider well with yourself, what would the consequence be, if all -men of honour and ability were to act upon your principles? What a -world would this be, if knaves and fools only had the management in -their hands, and all the virtuous and wise, as it were by common -consent, were to withdraw from it? Nay, the issue would even be fatal -to themselves; and they would presently find it impossible to taste -repose, even in their own sanctuary of retirement. - -Small need, replied he, to terrify one’s self with such apprehensions. -The virtuous, at least they who pass for such, will generally have -ambition enough to keep them in the road of public employments. So -long as there are such things as riches and honours, courts will never -be unfurnished of suitors, even from among the tribes of lettered -and virtuous men. The desperately bad, at least, will never have the -field left entirely to themselves. And, after all, the interest of -men in office is, in the main, so providentially connected with some -regard to the rules of honour and conscience, that there is seldom -any danger that matters should come to extremities under the _worst_ -administration. And I doubt this is all we are to expect, or at least -to reckon upon with assurance, under the very _best_. - -But my answer is more direct. It is not for your little friend to think -of getting a seat in the cabinet-council, or of conducting the great -affairs of the state. He knows himself to be as unfit for those high -trusts, as he is incapable of aspiring to them. Besides, he does not -allow himself to doubt of their being discharged with perfect ability, -by the great persons who now fill them. HE, at least, who occupies -the foremost place of authority, is, by the allowance of all, to be -paralleled with any that the wisest prince hath ever advanced to that -station[45]. And when so consummate a pilot sits at the helm, it seems -a matter of little moment by what hands the vessel of the commonwealth -is navigated. - -I could not agree with him in this concluding remark, and much less in -the high-flown encomium which introduced it[46]. But, waving these -lesser matters, I contented myself with observing, “That let him put -what gloss he would on this humour of declining civil business, it must -needs be considered by all unbiassed persons, as highly prejudicial to -public order and government; that, if good men would not be employed, -the bad must; and that, to say the least, the cause of learning and -virtue must suffer exceedingly in the eyes of men, when they see those -very qualities, which alone can render us useful to the world, dispose -us to fly from it.” - -For as to the _plea_, continued I, of employing them to better purpose -in the way of _private and solitary_ CONTEMPLATION, I can hold it for -little better than enthusiasm. Several persons, I know, would give -it a worse name, and say, as TACITUS somewhere does, that it serves -only for a specious cover to that love of ease and self-indulgence, -which he will have to be at the bottom of such pretences[47]. But even -with the best construction the matter was capable of, he could never, -I insisted, justify that plea to the understandings of prudent and -knowing men. We allow the obscure pedant to talk high of the dignity -of his office, and magnify, as much as he pleases, the importance of -his speculations. Such an indulgence serves to keep him in humour with -himself, and may be a means to convert a low and plodding genius to -the only use of which it is capable. But for a man of experience in -affairs, and who is qualified to shine in them, to hold this language, -is very extraordinary. - -I saw with what impatience he heard me, and therefore took care to -add, “’Tis true, the studies to which you would devote yourself, are -the noblest in the world of science. For _Divinity_, the very name -speaks its elogium. And the countenance which his majesty is pleased, -in his true wisdom, to give to _natural science_, must be thought to -ennoble that branch of learning beyond all others, that are merely -of human consideration. Yet still, my friend, what need of taking -these studies out of the hands of those, to whom they are properly -intrusted? Religion is very safe in the bosom of the national church. -And questions of natural science will doubtless be effectually cleared -and ventilated in the _New Society_[48], and in the schools of our -_Universities_. It could never be his majesty’s intention to thin his -court, for the sake of furnishing students in natural philosophy.” - -And can you then, interposed he, in your concern for what you very -improperly call my interests, allow yourself to speak so coolly of the -great interests of natural and divine truth? Is religion a trade to -be confined to the craftsmen? Or, are fellows of colleges and of the -Royal Society, if such we are to have, the only persons concerned to -adore God in the wonders of his creation? Pardon me, my friend: I know -you mean nothing less; but the strange indifference of your phrase -provokes me to this expostulation. - -You warm yourself, resumed I, too hastily. My design was only to -suggest, that as there are certain orders of men appointed for the sole -purpose of studying divinity, and advancing philosophy, I did not see -that a man of business was obliged to desert his proper station for the -sake of either. - -I suspect, said he, there may be some equivocation wrapped up in -that word _obliged_. All I know is, that I shall spend my time more -innocently, at least; and, I presume to think, more usefully in those -studies, than in that slippery _station_, if it may deserve to be -called one, of court-favour and dependence. And if I extended the -observation to many others, that are fond to take up their residence in -these quarters, I cannot believe I should do them any injustice. - -I cannot tell, returned I, against whom this censure is pointed. But -I know there are many of the gravest characters, and even lights and -fathers of the church, who do not consider it as inconsistent, either -with their duty, or the usefulness of their profession, to continue in -that station. - -O! mistake me not, replied he: I intended no reflection on any of the -clergy, and much less on the great prelates of the church, for their -attendance in the courts of princes. Theirs is properly an exempt -case. They are the authorized guides and patterns of life. Their great -abilities indeed qualify them, above all others, for serving the cause -of science and religion, by their private studies and meditations. -But they very properly consider too, that part of their duty is to -enlighten the ignorant of all ranks, by their wise and pious discourse, -and to awe and reclaim the wandering of all denominations, by their -example. Hence it is, that I cannot enough admire the zeal of so many -pastors of the church; who, though the slavish manners and libertinism -of a court must be more than ordinarily offensive to men of their -characters, continue to discharge their office so painfully, and yet so -punctually, in that situation. - -Here, my lord, observing my friend for once to deliver himself -reasonably, I was encouraged to add, that since he was so just to -maintain the commerce of good and wise churchmen in the great world -to be, as it truly was, a matter of duty, he should also have the -candour to own, that his withdrawing from it was, at least, a work of -_Supererogation_. - -It might be so, he said; but, though our church gave no encouragement -to think we merit by such works, he did not know that it condemned and -utterly forbad them. - -O! but, returned I, if that be all, and you acknowledge at last that -your _retiring_ is no matter of duty, it will be easy to advance -another step, and demonstrate to you, that such a project is, in your -case, altogether unreasonable[49]. - -For, notwithstanding all you have said, in the spirit and language -of stoicism, of the comforts of your present SITUATION, will you -seriously undertake to persuade me that they are in any degree -comparable to what you might propose to yourself, by returning to a -life of business? Is the littleness, the obscurity, and pardon me if I -even say, the meanness of this retreat, to be put in competition with -the liberal and even splendid provision, which your friends at court -will easily be able to make for you? Is it nothing, my friend, (for -let us talk common sense, and not bewilder ourselves with the visions -of philosophy) is it nothing to live in a well-furnished house, to -keep a good table, to command an equipage, to have many friends and -dependants, to be courted by inferiors, to be well received by the -great, and to be somebody even in the _presence_? - -And what if, in order to compass such things, some little devoirs and -assiduities are expected? Is it not the general practice? And what -every body submits to, can it be ignominious? Is this any thing more -than conforming one’s self to the necessary subordination of society? -Or, what if some time passes in these services, which a present humour -suggests might be more agreeably spent in other amusements? The -recompence cannot be far off; and, in the mean time, the lustre and -very agitation of a life of business, hath somewhat in it sprightly -and amusing. Besides, yours is not the case of one that is entering, -for the first time, on a course of expectation. Your business is half -done. The prince is favourable; and there are of his ministers that -respect and honour you. Your services are well known; your reputation -is fair; your connexions great; and the season inviting. What, with all -these advantages, forego the court in a moping mood, or, as angry men -use, run to moralize in a cloister! - -I was proceeding in the warmth of this remonstrance, when, with a -reproachful smile, he turned upon me, and, in a kind of rapture, -repeated the following lines of SPENSER: - - “Full little knowest thou, that hast not tried, - What hell it is in suing long to bide: - To lose good days, that might be better spent; - To waste long nights in pensive discontent: - To speed to-day, to be put back to-morrow; - To feed on hope, to pine with fear and sorrow; - To have thy prince’s grace, yet want his peeres[50]; - To have thy askings, yet wait many yeers[51]; - To fret thy soul with crosses and with cares; - To eat thy heart through comfortless despaires; - To faun, to crouche, to wait, to ride, to ronne; - To spend, to give, to want, to be undonne.” - -This, said he, is my answer once for all to your long string of -interrogatories. I learnt it of one that had much experience in courts: -and I thought it worth imprinting on my memory, to have it in readiness -on such an occasion. Or, if you would rather have my answer in my -own words, the Muse shall give it you in a little poem, she dictated -very lately[52]. It may shew you perhaps, that, though my nature be -somewhat melancholy, I am not _moping_; and that I can moralize, and -even _complain_, as I have reason to do, without being _angry_. - -The look and tone of voice, with which he said this, a little -disconcerted me. But I recovered myself, and was going on to object to -his unreasonable warmth, and the fascination of this wicked poetry, -when he stopped me with saying, “Come, no more of these remonstrances -and upbraidings. I have heard enough of your pleadings in a cause, -which no eloquence can carry against my firm and fixed resolutions. -I have seen, besides, the force you have done to yourself in this -mock combat. Your extreme friendliness hath even tempted you to act a -part which your true sense, and the very decorum of your profession, -I have observed through all your disguises, has rendered painful to -you. I will tell you my whole mind in one word. No inducements of what -the world calls INTEREST, no views of HONOUR, no, nor what the poet -aptly calls, SANCTISSIMA DIVITIARUM MAJESTAS[53], shall make me recede -from the purpose I am bent upon, of consecrating the remainder of a -comfortless distracted life, to the sweets of this obscure retirement. -Believe me, I have weighed it well, with all its inconveniencies. -And I find them such as are nothing to the agonies have long felt -in that troubled scene, to which you would recal me. If it hath any -ingredients, which I cannot so well relish, they are such as my -friends, and, above all, such as you, my best friend, may reconcile to -me. Let me but have the pleasure to see the few, I love and esteem, in -these shades, and I shall not regret their solitude. - -And as for my much honoured friend, whose munificence hath placed me -in them, I shall hope to satisfy him in the most effectual manner. -Nothing, you will believe, could give me a pain equal to that of being -suspected of ingratitude towards my best benefactor. It was indeed -with the utmost difficulty, that I constrained myself at last to think -of leaving his service. The truth is, he expostulated with me upon it -pretty roundly; and though my resolution was taken, I left him with -the concern of not being able to give him entire satisfaction. These -repeated instances by you are a fresh proof of his goodness, and do me -an honour I had little reason to expect from him. But his lordship’s -notions of life and mine are very different, as is fitting in persons, -whom fortune hath placed in two such different situations. It becomes -me to bear the most grateful remembrance of his kind intentions; and, -for the rest, I can assure myself, that his equity and nobleness -of mind, will permit an old servant to pursue, at length, his own -inclinations. - -However, to repay his goodness as I can, and to testify all imaginable -respect to his judgment, I have purposed to write my own APOLOGY to his -lordship; and to represent to him, in a better manner, than I have done -in this sudden and unpremeditated conversation, the reasons that have -determined me to this resolution. I have even made some progress in the -design, and have digested into several _essays_ the substance of such -reflections as, at different times, have had most weight with me[54]. - -Hearing him speak in so determined a manner, I was discouraged from -pressing him further with such other considerations, as I had, prepared -on this argument. Only I could not help enforcing, in the warmest -manner, and in terms your lordship would not allow me to use in this -recital, what he himself had owned of your unexampled goodness to -him; and the obligation which, I insisted, that must needs create in -a generous mind, of paying an unreserved obedience to your lordship’s -pleasure. He gave me the hearing very patiently; but contented himself -with repeating his design of justifying himself to your lordship in the -apology he had before promised. - -And now, resumed he with an air of alacrity, since you know my whole -mind, and that no remonstrances can move me, confess the whole truth; -acknowledge at last that you have dissembled with me all this while, -and that, in reality, you approve my resolution. I know you do, my -friend, though you struggle hard to conceal it. It cannot be otherwise. -Nature, which linked our hearts together, had formed us in one mould. -We have the same sense of things; the same love of letters and of -virtue. And though I would not solicit one of your years and your -profession to follow me into the shade, yet I know you so well[55], -that you will preserve in the world that equal frame of mind, that -indifference to all earthly things, which I pretend to have carried -with me into this solitude. - -Go on, my friend, in this track; and be an example to the churchmen of -our days, that the highest honours of the gown, which I easily foresee -are destined to your abilities, are not incompatible with the strictest -purity of life, and the most heroic sentiments of integrity and honour. -Go, and adorn the dignities which are reserved for you; and remember -only in the heights of prosperity to be what you are, to serve the -world with vigour, yet so as to indulge with me - - “THE GENEROUS SCORN - OF THINGS, FOR WHICH WE WERE NOT BORN[56].” - -I began to be a little uneasy at his long sermon, when he broke it off -with this couplet. The day by this time was pretty far advanced; and -rising from his seat, he proposed to me to walk into his hermitage (so -he called his house); where, he said, I should see how a philosopher -lived as well as talked. I staid to dine, and spent a good part of -the afternoon with him. We discoursed of various matters; but not a -word more of what had occasioned this visit. Only he shewed me the -_complaining poem_ he had mentioned, and of which, for the pleasure so -fine a composition will give you, I here send your lordship a copy. -His spirits, he said, were enlivened by the face of an old friend; and -indeed I never knew his conversation more easy and chearful[57]; which -yet I could not perfectly enjoy for the regret the ill success of my -negociation had given me. - -I returned to town in the evening, ruminating on what had passed, and -resolving to send your lordship an exact account of our conversation. -I particularly made a point of suppressing nothing which Mr. COWLEY -had to say for himself in this debate, however it may sometimes seem -to make against me. The whole hath grown under my pen into a greater -length than I expected. But your Lordship wished to know the bottom of -our friend’s mind; and I thought you would see it more distinctly and -clearly in this way, than in any other. I am, my lord, with the most -profound respect, - - Your Lordship’s most obedient - - and faithful servant, - - T. SPRAT. - - - - - THE - - COMPLAINT[58]. - - In a deep vision’s intellectual scene - Beneath a bower for sorrow made, - Th’ uncomfortable shade - Of the black yew’s unlucky green, - Mixt with the mourning willow’s careful gray, - Where reverend CAM cuts out his famous way, - The melancholy COWLEY lay: - And lo! a Muse appear’d to’s closed sight, - (The Muses oft in lands of visions play) - Bodied, array’d, and seen by an internal light: - A golden harp with silver strings she bore, - A wonderous hieroglyphic robe she wore, - In which all colours, and all figures were, - That nature, or that fancy can create, - That art can never imitate; - And with loose pride it wanton’d in the air. - In such a dress, in such a well-cloath’d dream, - She us’d of old, near fair ISMENUS’ stream, - PINDAR her THEBAN favourite to meet; - A crown was on her head, and wings were on her feet. - - -II. - - She touch’d him with her harp, and rais’d him from the ground; - The shaken strings melodiously resound. - Art thou return’d at last, said she, - To this forsaken place and me? - Thou prodigal, who didst so loosely waste - Of all thy youthful years, the good estate? - Art thou return’d here to repent too late; - And gather husks of learning up at last, - Now the rich harvest-time of life is past, - And _Winter_ marches on so fast? - But when I meant t’adopt thee for my son, - And did as learn’d a portion thee assign, - As ever any of the mighty Nine - Had to her dearest children done; - When I resolv’d t’exalt thy anointed name, - Among the spiritual lords of peaceful fame[59]; - Thou changeling, thou, bewitch’d with noise and show, - Would’st into courts and cities from me go; - Would’st see the world abroad, and have a share - In all the follies, and the tumults there. - Thou would’st, forsooth, be something in a state, - And business thou would’st find, and would’st create: - Business! the frivolous pretence - Of humane lusts to shake off innocence: - Business! the grave impertinence: - Business! the thing which I of all things hate: - Business! the contradiction of thy fate. - - -III. - - Go, renegado, cast up thy account, - And see to what amount - Thy foolish gains by quitting me: - The sale of knowledge, fame, and liberty, - The fruits of thy unlearn’d apostasy. - Thou thought’st, if once the public storm were past, - All thy remaining life should sun-shine be; - Behold, the public storm is spent at last, - The sovereign is tost at sea no more, - And thou, with all the noble company, - Art got at last to shore. - But whilst thy fellow voyagers, I see, - All march’d up to possess the promis’d land, - Thou still alone (alas!) dost gaping stand - Upon the naked beach, upon the barren sand. - - -IV. - - As a fair morning of the blessed spring, - After a tedious stormy night; - Such was the glorious entry of our king: - Enriching moisture dropp’d on every thing; - Plenty he sow’d below, and cast about him light. - But then (alas!) to thee alone, - One of old GIDEON’S miracles was shown; - For every tree, and every herb around, - With pearly dew was crown’d, - And upon all the quicken’d ground - The fruitful seed of heaven did brooding lye, - And nothing but the Muse’s fleece was dry. - It did all other threats surpass - When God to his own people said, - (The men, whom thro’ long wanderings he had led) - That he would give them ev’n a heaven of brass; - They look’d up to that heaven in vain, - That bounteous heaven, which God did not restrain, - Upon the most unjust to shine and rain. - - -V. - - The RACHAEL, for which twice seven years and more - Thou didst with faith and labour serve, - And didst (if faith and labour can) deserve, - Though she contracted was to thee, - Giv’n to another who had store - Of fairer, and of richer wives before, - And not a _Leah_ left, thy recompence to be. - Go on, twice seven years more thy fortune try, - Twice seven years more, God in his bounty may - Give thee, to fling away - Into the court’s deceitful lottery. - But think how likely ’tis that thou, - With the dull work of thy unwieldy plough, - Should’st in a hard and barren season thrive, - Should even able be to live; - Thou, to whose share so little bread did fall, - In the miraculous year, when MANNA rain’d on all. - - -VI. - - Thus spake the Muse, and spake it with a smile, - That seem’d at once to pity and revile, - And to her thus, raising his thoughtful head, - The melancholy COWLEY said: - Ah, wanton foe, dost thou upbraid - The ills which thou thyself hast made? - When, in the cradle, innocent I lay, - Thou, wicked spirit, stolest me away, - And my abused soul didst bear - Into thy new-found words I know not where, - Thy golden _Indies_ in the air; - And ever since I strive in vain - My ravish’d freedom to regain: - Still I rebel, still thou dost reign, - Lo, still in verse against thee I complain. - There is a sort of stubborn weeds, - Which if the earth but once, it ever breeds; - No wholesome herb can near them thrive, - No useful plant can keep alive; - The foolish sports I did on thee bestow, - Make all my art and labour fruitless now; - Where once such Fairies dance no grass doth ever grow. - - -VII. - - When my new mind had no infusion known, - Thou gav’st so deep a tincture of thine own, - That ever since I vainly try - To wash away the inherent dye: - Long work perhaps may spoil thy colours quite, - But never will reduce the native white; - To all the ports of honour and of gain, - I often steer my course in vain, - Thy gale comes cross, and drives me back again. - Thou slack’nest all my nerves of industry, - By making them so oft to be - The tinkling strings of thy loose minstrelsie. - Whoever this world’s happiness would see, - Must as entirely cast off thee, - As they who only heaven desire, - Do from the world retire. - This was my error, this my gross mistake, - Myself a demy-votary to make. - Thus with SAPPHIRA, and her husband’s fate, - (A fault which I like them am taught too late) - For all that I gave up, I nothing gain, - And perish for the part which I retain. - - -VIII. - - Teach me not then, O thou fallacious Muse, - The court, and better king, t’ accuse; - The heaven under which I live is fair; - The fertile soil will a full harvest bear; - Thine, thine is all the barrenness; if thou - Mak’st me sit still and sing, when I should plough; - When I but think, how many a tedious year - Our patient sov’reign did attend - His long misfortunes fatal end; - How chearfully, and how exempt from fear, - On the Great Sovereign’s will he did depend, - I ought to be accurst, if I refuse - To wait on his, O thou fallacious Muse! - Kings have long hands (they say) and though I be - So distant, they may reach at length to me. - However, of all princes, thou - Should’st not reproach rewards for being small or slow; - Thou, who rewardest but with popular breath, - And that too after death. - - - - - DIALOGUE III. - - ON THE - - GOLDEN AGE OF QUEEN ELIZABETH. - - BETWEEN - - THE HON. ROBERT DIGBY, - - DR. ARBUTHNOT, - - AND - - MR. ADDISON. - - - - - DIALOGUE III. - - ON THE AGE OF QUEEN ELIZABETH. - - MR. DIGBY, DR. ARBUTHNOT, MR. ADDISON. - - -It happened, in the summer of the year 1716, that Dr. ARBUTHNOT and Mr. -ADDISON had occasion to take a journey together into _Warwickshire_. -Mr. DIGBY, who had received intelligence of their motions, and was then -at _Coleshill_, contrived to give them the meeting at _Warwick_; where -they intended to pass a day or two, in visiting the curiosities of -that fine town, and the more remarkable of these remains of antiquity -that are to be seen in its neighbourhood. These were matter of high -entertainment to all of them; to Dr. ARBUTHNOT, for the pleasure of -recollecting the ancient times; to Mr. ADDISON, on account of some -political reflexions, he was fond of indulging on such occasions; and -to Mr. DIGBY, from an ingenuous curiosity, and the love of seeing and -observing whatever was most remarkable, whether in the past ages, or -the present. - -Amongst other things that amused them, they were much taken with the -great church at _Warwick_. They entertained themselves with the several -histories, which it’s many old monuments recalled to their memory[60]. -The famous inscription of Sir FULK GREVIL occasioned some reflexions; -especially to Mr. DIGBY, who had used to be much affected with the -fame and fortunes of the accomplished Sir PHILIP SIDNEY. The glory -of the house of WARWICK was, also, an ample field of meditation. But -what chanced to take their attention most, was the monument of the -great earl of LEICESTER. It recorded his titles at full length, and -was, besides, richly decorated with sculpture, displaying the various -ensigns and trophies of his greatness. The pride of this minister had -never appeared to them so conspicuous, as in the legends and ornaments -of his tomb-stone; which had not only outlived his family, but seemed -to assure itself of immortality, by taking refuge, as it were, at the -foot of the altar. - -These funeral honours engaged them in some common reflexions on the -folly of such expedients to perpetuate human grandeur; but at the same -time, as is the usual effect of these things, struck their imaginations -very strongly. They readily apprehended what must have been the state -of this mighty favourite in his lifetime, from what they saw of it in -this proud memorial, which continued in a manner to insult posterity -so many years after his death. But understanding that the fragments at -least of his supreme glory, when it was flourishing at its height, were -still to be seen at KENELWORTH, which they knew could be at no great -distance, they resolved to visit them the next day, and indulge to the -utmost the several reflexions which such scenes are apt to inspire. -On enquiry, they found it was not more than five or six miles to the -castle; so that, by starting early in the morning, they might easily -return to dinner at _Warwick_. They kept to their appointment so well, -that they got to _Kenelworth_ in good time, and had even two or three -hours on their hands to spend, in taking an exact view of the place. - -It was luckily one of those fine days, which our travellers would most -have wished for, and which indeed are most agreeable in this season. It -was clear enough to afford a distinct prospect of the country, and to -set the objects, they wanted to take a view of, in a good light; and -yet was so conveniently clouded as to check the heat of the sun, and -make the exercise of walking, of which they were likely to have a good -deal, perfectly easy to them. - -When they alighted from the coach, the first object that presented -itself was the principal GATE-WAY of the Castle. It had been converted -into a farm-house, and was indeed the only part of these vast ruins -that was inhabited. On their entrance into the _inner-court_, they were -struck with the sight of many mouldering towers, which preserved a -sort of magnificence even in their ruins. They amused themselves with -observing the vast compass of the whole, with marking the uses, and -tracing the dimensions, of the several parts. All which it was easy -for them to do, by the very distinct traces that remained of them, and -especially by means of DUGDALE’S plans and descriptions, which they -had taken care to consult. - -After rambling about for some time, they clambered up a heap of ruins, -which lay on the west side the court: and thence came to a broken -tower, which, when they had mounted some steps, led them out into a -path-way on the tops of the walls. From this eminence they had a very -distinct view of the several parts they had before contemplated; of the -_gardens_ on the north-side; of the _winding meadow_ that encompassed -the walls of the castle, on the west and south; and had, besides, the -command of the country round about them for many miles. The prospect of -so many antique towers falling into rubbish, contrasted to the various -beauties of the landscape, struck them with admiration, and kept them -silent for some time. - -At length recovering himself, I perceive, said Dr. ARBUTHNOT, we are -all of us not a little affected with the sight of these ruins. They -even create a melancholy in me; and yet a melancholy of so delightful -a kind, that I would not exchange it, methinks, for any brisker -sensation. The experience of this effect hath often led me to enquire, -how it is that the mind, even while it laments, finds so great a -pleasure in visiting these scenes of desolation. Is it, continued he, -from the pure love of antiquity, and the amusing train of reflexions -into which such remains of ancient magnificence naturally lead us? - -I know not, returned Mr. ADDISON, what pain it may give you to -contemplate these triumphs of time and fortune. For my part, I am -not sensible of the mixt sensation you speak of. I feel a pleasure -indeed; but it is sincere, and, as I conceive, may be easily accounted -for. ’Tis nothing more, I believe, than a fiction of the imagination, -which makes me think I am taking a revenge on the once prosperous and -overshadowing height, PRÆUMBRANS FASTIGIUM, as somebody expresses it, -of inordinate Greatness. It is certain, continued he, this theatre of a -great statesman’s pride, the delight of many of our princes, and which -boasts of having given entertainment to one of them in a manner so -splendid, as to claim a remembrance, even in the annals of our country, -would now, in its present state, administer ample matter for much -insulting reflexion. - -“Where, one might ask, are the tilts and tournaments, the princely -shows and sports, which were once so proudly celebrated within these -walls? Where are the pageants, the studied devices and emblems of -curious invention, that set the court at a gaze, and even transported -the high soul of our ELIZABETH? Where now, pursued he, (pointing to -that which was formerly a canal, but at present is only a meadow with -a small rivulet running through it) where is the floating island, the -blaze of torches that eclipsed the day, the lady of the lake, the -silken nymphs her attendants, with all the other fantastic exhibitions -surpassing even the whimsies of the wildest romance? What now is become -of the revelry of feasting? of the minstrelsy, that took the ear so -delightfully as it babbled along the valley, or floated on the surface -of this lake? See there the smokeless kitchens, stretching to a length -that might give room for the sacrifice of a hecatomb; the vaulted -hall, which mirth and jollity have set so often in an uproar; the -rooms of state, and the presence-chamber: what are they now but void -and tenantless ruins, clasped with ivy, open to wind and weather, and -representing to the eye nothing but the ribs and carcase, as it were, -of their former state? And see, said he, that proud gate-way, once the -mansion of a surly porter[61], who, partaking of the pride of his -lord, made the crowds wait, and refused admittance, perhaps, to nobles -whom fear or interest drew to these walls, to pay their homage to their -master: see it now the residence of a poor tenant, who turns the key -but to let himself out to his daily labour, to admit him to a short -meal, and secure his nightly slumbers. Yet, in this humble state, it -hath had the fortune to outlive the glory of the rest, and hath even -drawn to itself the whole of that little note and credit which time -hath continued to this once pompous building. For, while the castle -itself is crumbled into shapeless ruins, and is prophaned, as we there -see, by the vilest uses, this outwork of greatness is left entire, -sheltered and closed in from bird and beast, and even affords some -decent room in which the _human face divine_ is not ashamed to shew -itself.” - -While Mr. ADDISON went on in this vein, his two friends stood looking -on each other; as not conceiving what might be the cause of his -expressing himself with a vehemence, so uncommon, and not suited to his -natural temper. When the fit was over, I confess, said Dr. ARBUTHNOT, -this is no bad topic for a moralist to declaim upon. And, though it -be a trite one, we know how capable it is of being adorned by him -who, on a late occasion, could meditate so finely on the TOMBS AT -WESTMINSTER[62]. But surely, proceeded he, you warm yourself in this -contemplation, beyond what the subject requires of you. The vanity -of human greatness is seen in so many instances, that I wonder to -hear you harangue on this with so peculiar an exultation. There is -no travelling ten miles together in any part of the kingdom without -stumbling on some ruin, which, though perhaps not so considerable -as this before us, would furnish occasion, however, for the same -reflexions. There would be no end of moralizing over every broken -tower, or shattered fabric, which calls to mind the short-lived glories -of our ancestors. - -True, said Mr. ADDISON; and, if the short continuance of these -glories were the only circumstance, I might well have spared the -exultation, you speak of, in this triumph over the shattered remnants -of _Kenelworth_. But there is something else that fires me on the -occasion. It brings to mind the fraud, the rapine, the insolence, of -the potent minister, who vainly thought to immortalize his ill-gotten -glory by this proud monument. Nay, further, it awakens an indignation -against the prosperous tyranny of those wretched times, and creates -a generous pleasure in reflecting on the happiness we enjoy under a -juster and more equal government. Believe me, I never see the remains -of that greatness which arose in the past ages on the ruins of public -freedom and private property, but I congratulate with myself on living -at a time, when the meanest subject is as free and independent as -those royal minions; and when his property, whatever it be, is as -secure from oppression, as that of the first minister. And I own -this congratulation is not the less sincere for considering that the -instance before us is taken from the reign of the virgin queen, which -it hath been the fashion to cry up above that of any other of our -princes[63]. I desire no other confutation of so strange unthankful -a preference, than the sight of this vast castle, together with the -recollection of those means by which its master arrived at his enormous -greatness. - -Your indignation then, replied Dr. ARBUTHNOT, is not so much of the -moral, as _political_ kind[64]. But is not the conclusion a little too -hasty, when, from the instance of one overgrown favourite, you infer -the general infelicity of the time, in which he flourished? I am not, -I assure you, one of those unthankful men who forget the blessings -they enjoy under a prince of more justice and moderation than queen -ELIZABETH, and under a better constitution of government than prevailed -in the days of our forefathers. Yet, setting aside some particular -dishonours of that reign (of which, let the tyranny of _Leicester_, -if you will, be one), I see not but the acknowledged virtues of that -princess, and the wisdom of her government, may be a proper foundation -for all the honours that posterity have ever paid to her. - -Were I even disposed to agree with you, returned Mr. ADDISON, I should -not have the less reason for triumphing, as I do, on the present state -of our government. For, if such abuses could creep in, and be suffered -for so many years under so great a princess, what was there not to fear -(as what, indeed, did not the subject actually feel) under some of her -successors? But, to speak my mind frankly, I see no sufficient grounds -for the excessive prejudice, that hath somehow taken place, in favour -of the GOLDEN REIGN, as it is called, OF ELIZABETH. I find neither the -wisdom, nor the virtue in it, that can entitle it to a preference -before all other ages. - -On the contrary, said Dr. ARBUTHNOT, I never contemplate the monuments -of that time, without a silent admiration of the virtues that adorned -it. Heroes and sages crowd in upon my memory. Nay, the very people were -of a character above what we are acquainted with in our days. I could -almost fancy, the soil itself were another face, and, as you poets -imagine on some occasions, that our ancestors lived under a brighter -sun and happier climate than we can boast of. - -To be sure! said Mr. ADDISON, smiling: or, why not affirm, in the -proper language of romance, that the women of those days were all -chaste, and the men valiant? But cannot you suspect at least that -there is some enchantment in the case, and that your love of antiquity -may possibly operate in more instances than those of your favourite -_Greeks_ and _Romans_? Tell me honestly, pursued he, hath not this -distance of a century and a half a little imposed upon you? Do not -these broken towers, which moved you just now to so compassionate a -lamentation over them, dispose you to a greater fondness for the times -in which they arose, than can be fairly justified? - -I will not deny, returned Dr. ARBUTHNOT, but we are often very generous -to the past times, and unjust enough to the present. But I think there -is little of this illusion in the case before us. And, since you call -my attention to these noble ruins, let me own to you, that they do -indeed excite in me a veneration for the times of which they present -so striking a memorial. But surely not without reason. For there is -scarce an object in view, that doth not revive the memory of some -distinguishing character of that age, which may justify such veneration. - -Alas! interrupted Mr. ADDISON, and what can these objects call to mind -but the memory of barbarous manners and a despotic government? - -For the _government_, replied Dr. ARBUTHNOT, I do not well conceive how -any conclusion about that can be drawn from this fabric. The MANNERS I -was thinking of; and I see them strongly expressed in many parts of it. -But whether barbarous or not, I could almost take upon me to dispute -with you. And why, indeed, since you allowed yourself to declaim on -the vices, so apparent, as you suppose, in this monument of antiquity, -may not I have leave to consider it in another point of view, and -present to you the virtues which, to my eye at least, are full as -discernible? - -You cannot, continued he, turn your eyes on any part of these ruins, -without encountering some memorial of the virtue, industry, or -ingenuity, of our ancestors. - -Look there, said he, on that fine room (pointing to the HALL, that -lay just beneath them); and tell me if you can help respecting the -HOSPITALITY which so much distinguished the palaces of the great in -those simpler ages. You gave an invidious turn to this circumstance -when you chose to consider it only in the light of wasteful expence -and prodigality. But no virtue is privileged from an ill name. And, on -second thoughts, I persuade myself, it will appear you have injured -this, by so uncandid an appellation. Can it deserve this censure, -that the lord of this princely castle threw open his doors and spread -his table for the reception of his friends, his followers, and even -for the royal entertainment of his sovereign? Is any expence more -proper than that which tends to conciliate[65] friendships, spread -the interests of society, and knit mankind together by a generous -communication in these advantages of wealth and fortune? The arts of -a refined sequestered luxury were then unknown. The same bell, that -called the great man to his table, invited the neighbourhood all -around, and proclaimed a holiday to the whole country[66]. Who does not -feel the decorum, and understand the benefits of this magnificence? The -pre-eminence of rank and fortune was nobly sustained: the subordination -of society preserved: and yet the envy, that is so apt to attend the -great, happily avoided. Hence this weight and influence of the old -nobility, who engaged the love, as well as commanded the veneration, of -the people. In the mean time, rural industry flourished: private luxury -was discouraged: and in both ways that frugal simplicity of life, our -country’s grace and ornament in those days, was preserved and promoted. - -It would spoil your panegyric, I doubt, said Mr. ADDISON, to observe -the factious use, that was made of this magnificence, and the tendency -it had to support the pride and insolence of the old nobility. The -interest of the great, I am afraid, was but another name for the -slavery of the people[67]. - -I see it, Dr. ARBUTHNOT said, in a different light; and so did our -princes themselves, who could not but be well acquainted with the -proper effects of that interest. They considered the weight of the -nobility, as a counterpoise to their own sovereignty. It was on this -account they had used all means to lessen their influence. But the -consequence was beside their expectation. The authority of the crown -fell with it: and, which was still less expected by political men, the -liberty of the people, after it had wantoned for a time, sunk under the -general oppression. It was then discovered, but a little of the latest, -that public freedom throve best, when it wound itself about the stock -of the ancient nobility. In truth, it was the defect, not the excess, -of patrician influence, that made way for the miseries of the next -century. - -You see then it is not without cause that I lay a stress, even in a -political view, on this popular hospitality of the great in the former -ages[68]. - -But, lest you think I sit too long at the table, let us go on to the -TILTYARD, which lies just before us; that school of fortitude and -honour to our generous forefathers. A younger fancy, than mine, would -be apt to kindle at the sight. And our sprightlier friend here, I -dare say, has already taken fire at the remembrance of the gallant -exercises, which were celebrated in that quarter. - -Mr. DIGBY owned, he had a secret veneration for the manly games of that -time, which he had seen so triumphantly set forth in the old poets and -romancers. - -Right, said Mr. ADDISON; it is precisely in that circumstance that the -enchantment consists. Some of our best wits have taken a deal of idle -pains to ennoble a very barbarous entertainment, and recommend it to -us under the specious name of gallantry and honour. But Mr. DIGBY sees -through the cheat. Not that I doubt, continued he, but the Doctor, -now he is in the vein of panegyric, will lay a mighty stress on these -barbarities; and perhaps compare them with the exercises in the _Roman_ -Circus, or the _Olympic_ Barriers. - -And why not? interrupted Dr. ARBUTHNOT. The tendency of all three was -the same; to invigorate the faculties both of mind and body; to give -strength, grace, and dexterity, to the limbs; and fire the mind with a -generous emulation of the manly and martial virtues. - -Why truly, said Mr. ADDISON, I shall not deny that all _three_, as you -observe, were much of the same merit. And, now your hand is in for this -sort of encomium, do not forget to celebrate the sublime taste of our -forefathers for _bear-baiting_[69], as well as _tilting_; and tell us -too, how gloriously the mob of those days, as well as their betters, -used to belabour one another. - -I confess, said Dr. ARBUTHNOT, the softness of our manners makes it -difficult to speak on this subject without incurring the ridicule, -you appear so willing to employ against me. But you must not think -to discredit these gymnastics by a little raillery, which has its -foundation only in modern prejudices. For it is no secret that the -gravest and politest men of antiquity were of my mind. You will hardly -suspect PLATO of incivility, either in his notions or manners. And -need I remind you how much he insists on the gymnastic discipline; -without which he could not have formed, or at least have supported, his -Republic? - -It was upon this principle, I suppose then, said Mr. DIGBY, or perhaps -in imitation of his _Græcian_ master, that our MILTON laid so great a -stress on this discipline in his TRACTATE OF EDUCATION. And before him, -in the very time you speak of, ASCHAM, I observe, took no small pains -to much the same purpose in his TOXOPHILUS. - -It is very clear, resumed Dr. ARBUTHNOT, from these instances, and many -more that might be given, that the ancients were not singular in their -notions on this subject. But, since you have drawn me into a grave -defence of these exercises, let me further own to you that I think the -_Gothic_ Tilts and Tournaments exceeded, both in use and elegance, even -the _Græcian_ gymnastics[70]. They were a more direct image of war, -than any of the games at _Olympia_. And if _Xenophon_ could be so -lavish in his praises on the _Persian_ practice of hunting, because it -had some resemblance to the exercise of arms, what would he not have -said of an institution, which has all the forms of a real combat? - -But there was an elegance, too, in the conduct of the tournament, that -might reconcile it even to modern delicacy. For, besides the splendor -of the shew; the dexterity, with which these exercises were performed; -and the fancy, that appeared in their accoutrement, dresses, and -devices; the whole contest was ennobled with an air of gallantry, that -must have had a great effect in refining the manners of the combatants. -And yet this gallantry had no ill influence on morals; for, as you -insulted me just now, it was the odd humour of those days for the women -to pride themselves in their chastity[71], as well as the men in their -valour. - -In short, I consider the _Tournay_, as the best school of civility -as well as heroism. “High-erected thoughts, seated in a heart of -courtesy,” as an old writer[72] well expresses it, was the proper -character of such as had been trained in this discipline. - -No wonder then, pursued he, the poets and romance-writers took so much -pains to immortalize these trials of manhood. It was but what PINDAR -and HOMER himself, those ancient masters of romance, had done before -them. And how could it be otherwise? The shew itself, as I said, -had something very taking in it; whilst every graceful attitude of -person, with every generous movement of the mind, afforded the finest -materials for description. And I am even ready to believe, that -what we hear censured in their writings, as false, incredible, and -fantastic, was frequently but a just copy of life, and that there was -more of truth and reality[73] in their representations, than we are -apt to imagine. Their notions of honour and gallantry were carried to -an elevation[74], which, in these degenerate days, hurts the credit -of their story; just as I have met with men that have doubted whether -the virtues of the REGULI and the SCIPIOS of ancient fame were not the -offspring of pure fancy. - -Nay now, Dr. ARBUTHNOT, said Mr. ADDISON, you grow quite extravagant. -What you, who are used to be so quick at espying all abuses in science, -and defects in good taste, turn advocate for these fopperies! Mr. DIGBY -and I shall begin to think you banter us, in this apology for the -ancient gymnastics, and are only preparing a chapter for the facetious -memoirs[75], you sometimes promise us. - -Never more in earnest, assure you, replied the Doctor. I know what you -have to object to these pictures of life and manners. But, if they -will not bear examining as copies, they may deserve to be imitated as -models. And their use, methinks, might atone for some defects in the -article of probability. - -For my part, I consider the legends of ancient chivalry in a very -serious light, - - As _niches_, fill’d with statues to invite - Young valours forth—[76] - -as BEN JONSON, a valorous hardy poet, and who, himself, would have made -a good knight-errant, justly says of them. For, it is certain, they had -this effect. The youth, in general, were fired with the love of martial -exercises. They were early formed to habits of fatigue and enterprise. -And, together with this warlike spirit, the profession of chivalry was -favourable to every other virtue. Affability, courtesy, generosity, -veracity, these were the qualifications most pretended to by the men of -arms, in the days of pure and uncorrupted chivalry. We do not perhaps, -ourselves, know, at this distance of time, how much we are indebted to -the force of this singular institution. But this I may presume to say, -that the men, among whom it arose and flourished most, had prodigious -obligations to it. No policy, even of an ancient legislator, could -have contrived a better expedient to cultivate the manners and tame -the spirits of a rude and ignorant people. I could almost fancy it -providentially introduced among the northern nations, to break the -fierceness of their natures, and prevent that brutal savageness and -ferocity of character, which must otherwise have grown upon them in the -darker ages. - -Nay, the generous sentiments, it inspired, perhaps contributed very -much to awaken an emulation of a different kind; and to bring on -those days of light and knowledge which have disposed us, somewhat -unthankfully, to vilify and defame it. This is certain, that the first -essays of wit and poetry, those harbingers of returning day to every -species of good letters, were made in the bosom of chivalry, and amidst -the assemblies of noble dames, and courteous knights. And we may even -observe, that the best of our modern princes, such as have been most -admired for their personal virtues, and have been most concerned -in restoring all the arts of civility and politeness, have been -passionately addicted to the feats of ancient prowess. In the number -of these, need I remind you of the courts of FRANCIS I, and HENRY IV, -to say nothing of our own EDWARDS and HENRYS, and that mirrour of all -their virtues in one, our renowned and almost romantic ELIZABETH[77]? - -But you think I push the argument too far. And less than this may -dispose you to conceive with reverence of the scene before us, which -must ever be regarded as a nursery of brave men, a very seed-plot -of warriors and heroes. I consider the successes at the barriers as -preludes to future conquests in the field. And, as whimsical a figure -as a young tilter may make in your eye, who will say that the virtue -was not formed here, that triumphed at AXELL, and bled at ZUTPHEN? - -We shall very readily, replied Mr. ADDISON, acknowledge the bravery -and other virtues of the young hero, whose fortunes you hint at. He -was, in truth, to speak the language of that time, the very flower of -knighthood, and contributed more than any body else, by his pen, as -well as sword, to throw a lustre on the profession of chivalry. But -the thing itself, however adorned by his wit and recommended by his -manners, was barbarous; the offspring of _Gothic_ fierceness; and shews -the times, which favoured it so much, to have scarcely emerged from -their original rudeness and brutality. You may celebrate, as loudly -as you please, the deeds of these wonder-working knights. Alas, what -affinity have such prodigies to our life, and manners? The old poet, -you quoted just now with approbation, shall tell us the difference: - - These were bold stories of our _Arthur’s_ age: - But here are other acts, another stage - And scene appears; it is not since as then; - No giants, dwarfs, or monsters here, but MEN[78]. - -Or, if you want a higher authority, we should not, methinks, on such an -occasion, forget the admirable CERVANTES, whose ridicule hath brought -eternal dishonour on the profession of knight-errantry. - -With your leave, interrupted Dr. ARBUTHNOT, I have reason to except -against both your authorities. At best, they do but condemn the -_abuses_ of chivalry, and the madness of continuing the old romantic -spirit in times when, from a change of manners and policy, it was no -longer in season. Adventures, we will say, were of course to cease, -when giants and monsters disappeared. And yet have they totally -disappeared, and have giants and monsters been no where heard of out -of the castles and forests of our old romancers. ’Tis odds, methinks, -but, in the sense of ELIZABETH’S good subjects, PHILIP II. might be a -_giant_ at least: and, without a little of this adventurous spirit, -it may be a question whether all her enchanters, I mean her BURLEIGHS -and WALSINGHAMS, would have proved a match for him. I mention this the -rather to shew you, how little obligation his countrymen have to your -CERVANTES for laughing away the remains of that prowess, which was the -best support of the _Spanish_ monarchy. - -As if, said Mr. ADDISON, the prowess of any people were only to be kept -alive by their running mad. But let the case of the _Spaniards_ be what -it will, surely we, of this country, have little obligation to the -spirit of chivalry, if it were only that it produced, or encouraged -at least, and hath now entailed upon us, the curse of duelling; which -even yet domineers in the fashionable world, in spite of all that -wit, and reason, and religion itself, have done to subdue it. ’Tis -true, at present this law of arms is appealed to only in the case some -high point of nice and mysterious honour. But in the happier days you -celebrate, it was called in aid, on common occasions. Even questions of -right and property, you know, were determined at the barriers[79]: and -brute force was allowed the most equitable, as well as shortest, way of -deciding all disputes both concerning a man’s estate and honour. - -You might observe too, interposed Dr. ARBUTHNOT, that this was the way -in which those fiercer disputes concerning a mistress, or a kingdom, -were frequently decided. And, if this sort of decision, in such cases, -were still in use among Christian princes, you might call it perhaps -a barbarous custom: but would it be ever the worse, do you think, for -their good subjects? - -Perhaps it would not, returned Mr. ADDISON, in some instances. And -yet will you affirm, that those _good subjects_ were in any enviable -situation, under their fighting masters? After all, allowing you to put -the best construction you can on these usages of our forefathers, - - “all we find - Is, that they did their work and din’d.” - -And though such feats may argue a sound athletic constitution, you must -excuse me, if I am not forward to entertain any high notions of their -civility. - -Their civility, said Dr. ARBUTHNOT, is another consideration. The HALL -and TILT-YARD are certainly good proofs of what they are alleged for, -the hospitality and bravery of our ancestors. But it hath not been -maintained, that these were their only virtues. On the contrary, it -seems to me, that every flower of humanity, every elegance of art and -genius, was cultivated amongst them. For an instance, need we look any -further than the LAKE, which in the flourishing times of this castle -was so famous, and which we even now trace in the winding bed of that -fine meadow? - -I do not understand you, replied Mr. ADDISON. I can easily imagine what -an embellishment that lake must have been to the castle; but am at a -loss to conceive what flowers of wit and ingenuity, to use your own -ænigmatical language, could be raised or so much as watered by it. - -And, have you then, returned Dr. ARBUTHNOT, so soon forgotten the large -description, you gave us just now, of the shows and pageants displayed -on this lake? And can any thing better declare the art, invention, and -ingenuity, of their conductors? Is not this canal as good a memorial of -the ardour and success with which the finer exercises of the mind were -pursued in that time, as the tilt-yard, we have now left, is of the -address and dexterity shewn in those of the body? - -I remember, said Mr. ADDISON, that many of the shows, intended for the -queen’s entertainment at this place, were exhibited on that canal. But -as to any art or beauty of contrivance— - -“You see none, I suppose.” - -Why truly none, resumed Mr. ADDISON. To me they seemed but well enough -suited to the other barbarities of the time. “The Lady of the Lake and -her train of Nereids,” was not that the principal? And can it pass for -any thing better than a jumble of _Gothic_ romance and pagan fable? -a barbarous modern conceit, varnished over with a little classical -pedantry? - -And is that the best word you can afford, said Dr. ARBUTHNOT, to -these ingenious devices? The business was, to welcome the Queen -to this palace, and at the same time to celebrate the honours of -her government. And what more decent way of complimenting a great -Prince, than through the veil of fiction? or what so elegant way of -entertaining a learned Prince, as by working up that fiction out of the -old poetical story? And if something of the _Gothic_ romance adhered -to these classical fictions, it was not for any barbarous pleasure, -that was taken in this patchwork, but that the artist found means to -incorporate them with the highest grace and ingenuity. For what, in -other words, was the _Lady of the Lake_ (the particular that gives -most offence to your delicacy), but the presiding nymph of the stream, -on which these shews were presented? And, if the contrivance was to -give us this nymph under a name that romance had made familiar, what -was this but taking advantage of a popular prejudice to introduce his -fiction with more address and probability? - -But see the propriety of the scene itself, for the designer’s purpose, -and the exact decorum with which these fanciful personages were brought -in upon it. It was not enough, that the pagan deities were summoned to -pay their homage to the queen. They were the deities of the fount and -ocean, the watery nymphs and demi-gods: and these were to play their -part in their own element. Could any preparation be more artful for -the panegyric designed on the naval glory of that reign? Or, could any -representation be more grateful to the queen of the ocean, as ELIZABETH -was then called, than such as expressed her sovereignty in those -regions? Hence the sea-green Nereids, the Tritons, and Neptune himself, -were the proper actors in the drama. And the opportunity of this -spacious lake gave the easiest introduction and most natural appearance -to the whole scenery. Let me add too, in further commendation of the -taste which was shewn in these agreeable fancies, that the attributes -and dresses of the deities themselves were studied with care; and the -most learned poets of the time employed to make them speak and act in -character. So that an old _Greek_ or _Roman_ might have applauded the -contrivance, and have almost fancied himself assisting at a religious -ceremony in his own country. - -And, to shew you that all this propriety was intended by the designer -himself, and not imagined at pleasure by his encomiast; I remember, -that when, some years after, the earl of HERTFORD had the honour to -receive the queen at his seat in _Hampshire_, because he had no such -canal as this in readiness on the occasion, he set on a vast number of -hands to hollow a bason in his park for that purpose. With so great -diligence and so exact a decorum were these entertainments conducted! - -Did not I tell you, interposed Mr. ADDISON, addressing himself to Mr. -DIGBY, to what an extravagance the Doctor’s admiration of the ancient -times would carry him? Could you have expected all this harangue -on the art, elegance, and decorum of THE PRINCELY PLEASURES OF -KENELWORTH[80]? And must not it divert you to see the unformed genius -of that age tricked out in the graces of _Roman_ or even _Attic_ -politeness? - -Mr. DIGBY acknowledged, it was very generous in the Doctor to represent -in so fair a light the amusements of the ruder ages. But I was -thinking, said he, to what cause it could possibly be owing, that these -pagan fancies had acquired so general a consideration in the days of -ELIZABETH. - -The general passion for these fancies, returned Dr. ARBUTHNOT, was a -natural consequence of the revival of learning. The first books, that -came into vogue, were the poets. And nothing could be more amusing to -rude minds, just opening to a taste of letters, than the fabulous story -of the pagan gods, which is constantly interwoven in every piece of -ancient poetry. Hence the imitative arts of _sculpture_, _painting_, -and _poetry_, were immediately employed in these pagan exhibitions. But -this was not all. The first artists in every kind were of _Italy_; and -it was but natural for them to act these fables over again on the very -spot that had first produced them. These too were the masters to the -rest of _Europe_. So that _fashion_ concurred with the other prejudices -of the time, to recommend this practice to the learned. - -From the men of art and literature the enthusiasm spread itself to -the great; whose supreme delight it was to see the wonders of the -old poetical story brought forth, and realized, as it were, before -them[81]. And what, in truth, could they do better? For, if I were not -a little afraid of your raillery, I should desire to know what courtly -amusements even of our time are comparable to the shows and masques, -which were the delight and improvement of the court of ELIZABETH. -I say, the _improvement_; for, besides that these shows were not -in the number of the INERUDITÆ VOLUPTATES, so justly characterized -and condemned by a wise ancient, they were even highly useful and -instructive. These devices, composed out of the poetical history, were -not only the vehicles of compliment to the great on certain solemn -occasions, but of the soundest moral lessons, which were artfully -thrown in, and recommended to them by the charm of poetry and numbers. -Nay, some of these masques were moral dramas in form, where the virtues -and vices were impersonated. We know the cast of their composition by -what we see of these fictions in the next reign; and have reason to -conceive of them with reverence when we find the names of FLETCHER and -JONSON[82] to some of them. I say nothing of JONES and LAWES, though -all the elegance of their respective arts was called in to assist the -poet in the contrivance and execution of these entertainments. - -And, now the poets have fallen in my way, let me further observe, -that the manifest superiority of this class of writers in ELIZABETH’S -reign, and that of her successor, over all others who have succeeded to -them, is, among other reasons, to be ascribed to the taste which then -prevailed for these moral representations. This taught them to animate -and impersonate every thing. Rude minds, you will say, naturally give -into this practice. Without doubt. But art and genius do not disdain to -cultivate and improve it. Hence it is, that we find in the phraseology -and mode of thinking of that time, and of that time only, the essence -of the truest and sublimest poetry. - -Without doubt, Mr. ADDISON said, the poetry of that time is of a better -taste than could well have been expected from its barbarism in other -instances. But such prodigies as SHAKESPEAR and SPENSER would do great -things in any age, and under every disadvantage. - -Most certainly they would, returned Dr. ARBUTHNOT, but not the things -that you admire so much in these immortal writers. And, if you will -excuse the intermixture of a little philosophy in these ramblings, I -will attempt to account for it. - -There is, I think, in the revolutions of taste and language, a certain -point, which is more favourable to the purposes of poetry, than any -other. It may be difficult to fix this point with exactness. But we -shall hardly mistake in supposing it lies somewhere between the rude -essays of uncorrected fancy, on the one hand, and the refinements of -reason and science, on the other. - -And such appears to have been the condition of our language in the -age of ELIZABETH. It was pure, strong, and perspicuous, without -affectation. At the same time, the high figurative manner, which fits -a language so peculiarly for the uses of the poet, had not yet been -controlled by the prosaic genius of philosophy and logic. Indeed, this -character had been struck so deeply into the _English_ tongue, that -it was not to be removed by any ordinary improvements in either: the -reason of which might be, the delight which was taken by the _English_ -very early in their old MYSTERIES and MORALITIES; and the continuance -of the same spirit in succeeding times, by means of their MASQUES and -TRIUMPHS. And something like this, I observe, attended the progress of -the _Greek_ and _Roman_ poetry; which was the _truest_ poetry, on the -clown’s maxim in SHAKESPEAR, because it was _the most feigning_[83]. It -had its rise, you know, like ours, from religion: and pagan religion, -of all others, was the properest to introduce and encourage a spirit of -allegory and moral fiction. Hence we easily account for the allegoric -cast of their old dramas, which have a great resemblance to our ancient -moralities. NECESSITY is brought in as a _person of the drama_, in one -of ÆSCHYLUS’S plays; and DEATH in one of EURIPIDES: to say nothing -of many shadowy persons in the comedies of ARISTOPHANES. The truth -is, the pagan religion _deified_ every thing, and delivered these -deities into the hand of their painters, sculptors, and poets. In like -manner, Christian superstition, or, if you will, modern barbarism, -_impersonated_ every thing; and these persons, in proper form, -subsisted for some time on the stage, and almost to our days, in the -masques. Hence the picturesque style of our old poetry; which looks so -fanciful in SPENSER, and which SHAKESPEAR’S genius hath carried to the -utmost sublimity. - -I will not deny, said Mr. ADDISON, but there may be something in this -deduction of the causes, by which you account for the strength and -grandeur of the _English_ poetry, unpolished as it still was in the -hands of ELIZABETH’S great poets. But for the masques themselves— - -You forget, I believe, _one_, interrupted Dr. ARBUTHNOT, which does -your favourite poet, MILTON, almost as much honour, as his _Paradise -Lost_.—But I have no mind to engage in a further vindication of -these fancies. I only conclude that the taste of the age, the state -of letters, the genius of the _English_ tongue, was such as gave a -manliness to their compositions of all sorts, and even an elegance to -those of the lighter forms, which we might do well to emulate, and not -deride, in this æra of politeness. - -But I am aware, as you say, I have been transported too far. My design -was only to hint to you, in opposition to your invective against the -memory of the old times, awakened in us by the sight of this castle, -that what you object to is capable of a much fairer interpretation. -You have a proof of it, in two or three instances; in their festivals, -their exercises, and their poetical fictions: or, to express myself in -the classical forms, you have seen by this view of their CONVIVIAL, -GYMNASTIC, and MUSICAL character, that the times of ELIZABETH may pass -for golden, notwithstanding what a fondness for this age of baser metal -may incline us to represent it. - -In the mean time, these smaller matters have drawn me aside from -my main purpose. What surprised me most, pursued he, was to hear -you speak so slightly, I would not call it by a worse name, of the -GOVERNMENT of ELIZABETH. Of the manners and tastes of different ages, -different persons, according to their views of things, will judge very -differently. But plain facts speak so strongly in favour of the policy -of that reign, and the superior talents of the sovereign, that I could -not but take it for the wantonness of opposition in you to espouse the -contrary opinion. And, now I am warmed by this slight skirmish, I am -even bold enough to dare you to a defence of it; if, indeed, you were -serious in advancing that strange paradox. At least, I could wish to -hear upon what grounds you would justify so severe an attack on the -reverend administration of that reign, supported by the wisdom of such -men as CECIL and WALSINGHAM, under the direction of so accomplished a -princess as our ELIZABETH. Your manner of defending even the wrong side -of the question will, at least, be entertaining. And, I think, I may -answer for our young friend, that his curiosity will lead him to join -me in this request to you. - -Mr. ADDISON said, He did not expect to be called to so severe an -account for what had escaped him on this subject. But, though I was -ever so willing, continued he, to oblige you, this is no time or place -for entering on such a controversy. We have not yet compleated the -round of these buildings. And I would fain, methinks, make the circuit -of that pleasant meadow. Besides its having been once, in another -form, the scene of those shows you described so largely to us, it will -deserve to be visited for the sake of the many fine views which, as we -wind along it, we may promise to ourselves of these ruins. - -You forget my bad legs, said Dr. ARBUTHNOT smiling; otherwise, I -suppose, we can neither of us have any dislike to your proposal. But, -as you please: let us descend from these heights. We may resume the -conversation, as we walk along: and especially, as you propose, when we -get down into that valley. - - - - - DIALOGUE IV. - - ON THE - - GOLDEN AGE OF QUEEN ELIZABETH. - - BETWEEN - - THE HON. ROBERT DIGBY, - - DR. ARBUTHNOT, - - AND - - MR. ADDISON. - - - - - DIALOGUE IV. - - ON THE AGE OF QUEEN ELIZABETH. - - MR. DIGBY, DR. ARBUTHNOT, MR. ADDISON. - - -But do you consider, said Mr. ADDISON, as they descended into the -valley, what an invidious task you are going to impose upon me? One -cannot call in question a common opinion in any indifferent matter, -without the appearance of some degree of perverseness. But to do it in -a case of this importance, where the greatest authorities stand in the -way, and the glory of one of our princes is concerned, will, I doubt, -be liable to the imputation of something worse than singularity. For, -besides that you will be apt to upbraid me, in the words of the poet, - - Nullum memorabile nomen - Fœmineâ in pœnâ est, nec habet victoria laudem, - -such a liberty of censure is usually taken for an argument, not of -discourtesy or presumption only, but of ill-nature. At best, the -attempt to arraign the virtues and government of ELIZABETH will appear -but like the idleness of the old sophists, who, you know, were never so -well pleased as when they were controverting some acknowledged fact, or -assaulting some established character. - -That censure might be just enough, Dr. ARBUTHNOT said, of the old -sophists, who had nothing in view but the credit of their own skill -in the arts of disputation. But in this friendly debate, which -means nothing more than private amusement, I see no colour for such -apprehensions. - -But what shall we say, interposed Mr. ADDISON, to another difficulty? -The subject is very large; and it seems no easy matter to reduce -it into any distinct order. Besides, my business is not so much to -advance any thing of my own, as to object to what others have advanced -concerning the fame and virtues of ELIZABETH. And to this end, I must -desire to know the particulars on which you are disposed to lay the -greatest stress, and indeed to have some plan of the subject delivered -in to me, which may serve, as it were, for the groundwork of the whole -conversation. - -I must not presume, said Dr. ARBUTHNOT, to prescribe the order in -which your attack on the great queen shall be conducted. The subject, -indeed, is large. But this common route of history is well known to all -of us. To that, then, you may well enough refer, without being at the -trouble, before you go to work, of laying foundations. Or, if you will -needs have a basis to build upon, what if I just run over the several -circumstances which I conceive to make most for the credit of that -reign? A sketch of this sort, I suppose, will answer all the ends of -the plan, you seem to require of me. - -Mr. ADDISON agreed to this proposal; which he thought would be of use -to shorten the debate, or at least to render the progress of it more -clear and intelligible. - -In few words then, resumed Dr. ARBUTHNOT, the reasons, that have -principally determined me to an admiration of the government and -character of queen ELIZABETH, are such as these: “That she came to the -crown with all possible disadvantages; which yet, by the prudence and -vigour of her counsels, she entirely overcame: that she triumphed over -the greatest foreign and domestic dangers: that she humbled the most -formidable power in _Europe_ by her arms; and composed, or checked at -least, by the firmness of her administration, TWO, the most implacable -and fiery factions at home: that she kept down the rebellious spirit -of _Ireland_, and eluded the constant intrigues of her restless -neighbours, the _Scots_: that she fixed our religious establishment on -solid grounds; and countenanced, or rather conducted, the Protestant -cause abroad: that she made her civil authority respected by her -subjects; and raised the military glory of the nation, both by sea and -land, to the greatest height: that she employed the ablest servants, -and enacted the wisest laws: by all which means it came to pass that -she lived in a constant good understanding with her parliaments, was -idolized by her people, and admired and envied by all the rest of the -world.” - -Alas, said Mr. ADDISON, I shall never be able to follow you through -all the particulars of this encomium: and, to say the truth, it would -be to little purpose; since the wisdom of her policy, in all these -instances of her government, can only be estimated from a careful -perusal of the histories of that time; too numerous and contradictory -to be compared and adjusted in this conversation. All I can do, -continued he, after taking a moment or two to recollect himself, is -to abate the force of this panegyric by some general observations of -the CIRCUMSTANCES and GENIUS of that time; and then to consider the -personal QUALITIES of the queen, which are thought to reflect so great -a lustre on her government. - -As you please, Dr. ARBUTHNOT replied. We shall hardly lose ourselves in -this beaten field of history. And, besides, as your undertaking is so -adventurous, it is but reasonable you should have the choice of your -own method. - -You are in the common opinion, I perceive, resumed Mr. ADDISON, that -ELIZABETH’S government was attended with all possible disadvantages. -On the contrary, it appears to me that the security and even splendour -of her reign is chiefly to be accounted for from the fortunate -CIRCUMSTANCES of her situation. - -Of these the FIRST, that demands our notice, is the great affair of -religion. - -The principles of PROTESTANTISM had now for many years been working -among the people. They had grown to that head in the short reign of -EDWARD VI. that the bloody severities of his successor served only to -exasperate the zeal, with which these principles had been embraced -and promoted. ELIZABETH, coming to the crown at this juncture, was -determined, as well by interest as inclination, to take the side of -the new religion. I say by _interest_, as well as inclination. And, -I think, I have reason for the assertion. For though the persons in -power, and the clergy throughout the kingdom, were generally professed -papists; yet they were most of them such as had conformed in king -EDWARD’S days, and were not therefore much to be feared for any tie, -their _profession_ could really have on their consciences. Whereas, -on the other hand, it was easy to see, from many symptoms, that the -general bent of the nation was towards Protestantism; and that, -too, followed with a spirit, which must in the end prevail over all -opposition. Under these circumstances, then, it was natural for the -queen, if she had not been otherwise led by her principles, and the -interest of her title, to favour the Reformation. - -The truth is, she came into it herself so heartily, and provided so -effectually for its establishment, that we are not to wonder she -became the idol of the Reformed, at the same time that the papal power -through all _Europe_ was confederated against her. The enthusiasm -of her Protestant subjects was prodigious. It was raised by other -considerations; but confirmed in all orders of the state by the ease -they felt in their deliverance from the tyranny of the church; and in -the great especially, by the sweets they tasted in their enjoyment -of the church-revenues. It was, in short, one of those extraordinary -conjunctures, in which the public danger becomes the public security; -when religion and policy, conscience and interest, unite their powers -to support the authority of the prince, and to give fidelity, vigour, -and activity to the obedience of the subject. - -And thus it was, continued he, that so warm and unconquerable a zeal -appeared in defence of the queen against all attempts of her enemies. -Her people were so thoroughly Protestant, as to think no expence of -her government too great, provided they could but be secured from -relapsing into Popery. And her parliaments were disposed to wave all -disputes about the stretch of her prerogative, from a sense of their -own and the common danger. - -In magnifying this advantage of the zeal and union of ELIZABETH’S -good subjects, you forgot, said Dr. ARBUTHNOT, that two restless and -inveterate factions were contending, all her lifetime, within her own -kingdom. - -I am so far from forgetting that circumstance, returned Mr. ADDISON, -that I esteem it ANOTHER of the great advantages of her situation. - -The contrary tendencies of those factions in some respects defeated -each other. But the principal use of them was, that, by means of their -practices, some domestic plot, or foreign alarm, was always at hand, -to quicken the zeal and inflame the loyalty of her people. But to be a -little more particular about the factions of her reign. - -The PAPIST was, in truth, the only one she had reason to be alarmed at. -The PURITAN had but just begun to shew himself, though indeed with that -ferocity of air and feature, which signified clearly enough what spirit -he was of, and what, in good time, he was likely to come to. Yet even -he was kept in tolerable humour, by a certain commodious policy of the -queen; which was, so to divide her regards betwixt the Church and the -Puritans, as made it the interest of both to keep well with her. ’Tis -true, these last felt the weight of her resentment sometimes, when they -ventured too saucily to oppose themselves to the establishment. But -this was rarely, and by halves: and, when checked with the most rigour, -they had the satisfaction to see their patrons continue in the highest -places at court, and, what is more, in the highest degree of personal -favour. - -And what doth all this shew, interrupted Dr. ARBUTHNOT, but that she -managed so well as to disarm a furious faction, or rather make it serve -against the bent of its nature, to the wise ends of her government? - -As to any wise ends of government, I see none, replied Mr. ADDISON, -deserving to be so called, that were answered by her uncertain conduct -towards the Puritans. For she neither restrained them with that -severity, which might perhaps have prevented their growth, at first; -nor shewed them that entire indulgence, which might have disabled -their fury afterwards. It is true, this temporizing conduct was well -enough adapted to prevent disturbances in her own time. But large -materials were laid in for that terrible combustion, which was soon to -break forth under one of her successors. - -And so, instead of imputing the disasters that followed, said Dr. -ARBUTHNOT, to the ill-government of the STUARTS, you are willing to lay -the whole guilt of them on this last and greatest of the TUDORS. This -is a new way of defending that royal house; and, methinks, they owe you -no small acknowledgments for it. I confess, it never occurred to me to -make that apology for them. - -Though I would not undertake, said Mr. ADDISON, to make their apology -from this, or any other, circumstance; I do indeed believe that part -of the difficulties the house of STUART had to encounter, were brought -upon them by this wretched policy of their predecessor. But, waving -this consideration, I desire you will take notice of what I chiefly -insist upon, “That the ease and security of ELIZABETH’S administration -was even favoured by the turbulent practices and clashing views of her -domestic factions.” The PURITAN was an instrument, in her hands, of -controuling the church, and of balancing the power of her ministers: -besides that this sort of people were, of all others, the most -inveterate against the common enemy. And for the PAPISTS themselves -(not to insist that, of course, they would be strictly watched, and -that they were not, perhaps, so considerable as to create any immediate -danger[84]), the general abhorrence both of their principles and -designs had the greatest effect in uniting more closely, and cementing, -as it were, the affections of the rest of her subjects. So that, -whether within or without, the common danger, as I expressed it, was -the common safety. - -Still, said Dr. ARBUTHNOT, I must think this a very extraordinary -conclusion. I have no idea of the security of the great queen, -surrounded, as she was, by her domestic and foreign enemies. - -Her foreign enemies, returned Mr. ADDISON, were less formidable than -they appear at first view. And I even make the condition of the -neighbouring powers on the Continent, in her time, a THIRD instance of -the signal advantages of her situation. - -It is true, if a perfect union had subsisted between the Catholic -princes, the papal thunders would have carried terror with them. But, -as it was, they were powerless and ineffectual. The civil wars of -_France_, and its constant jealousy of _Spain_, left the queen but -little to apprehend from that quarter. The _Spanish_ empire, indeed, -was vast, and under the direction of a bigoted vindictive prince. But -the administration was odious and corrupt in every part. So that wise -men saw there was more of bulk than of force in that unwieldy monarchy. -And the successful struggles of a handful of its subjects, inflamed by -the love of liberty, and made furious by oppression, proclaimed its -weakness to all the world. - -It may be true, interrupted Dr. ARBUTHNOT, that the queen had less to -fear from the princes on the Continent, than is sometimes represented. -But you forget, in this survey of the public dangers, the distractions -of IRELAND, and the restless intrigues of her near neighbours, the -SCOTS: both of them assisted by _Spain_; and these last under the -peculiar influence and direction of the GUISES. - -You shall have my opinion, returned Mr. ADDISON, in few words. - -For the IRISH distractions, it was not the queen’s intention, or -certainly it was not her fortune, to compose them: I mean, during the -greatest part of her reign; for we are now speaking of the general -tenor of her policy. Towards the close of it, indeed, she made some -vigorous attempts to break the spirits of those savages. And it was -high time she should. For, through her faint proceedings against them, -they had grown to that insolence, as to think of setting up for an -independency on _England_. Nay, the presumption of that arch-rebel -TYRONE, countenanced and abetted by _Spain_, seemed to threaten -the queen with still further mischiefs. The extreme dishonour and -even peril of this situation roused her old age, at length, to the -resolution of taking some effectual measures. The preparation was -great, and suitable to the undertaking. It must, further, be owned, it -succeeded: but so late, that she herself did not live to see the full -effect of it. However, this success is reckoned among the glories of -her reign. In the mean time, it is not considered that nothing but her -ill policy, in suffering the disorders of that country to gather to a -head, made way for this glory. I call it her _ill policy_, for unless -it were rather owing to her excessive frugality[85] one can hardly help -thinking she designed to perpetuate the _Irish_ distractions. At least, -it was agreeable to a favourite maxim of hers, to check, and not to -suppress them. And I think it clear, from the manner of prosecuting the -war, that, till this last alarm, she never was in earnest about putting -an end to it. - -SCOTLAND, indeed, demanded a more serious attention. Yet the weak -distracted counsels of that court—a minor king—a captive queen—and -the unsettled state of _France_ itself, which defeated in a good degree -the malice of the GUISES—were favourable circumstances. - -But to be fair with you (for I would appear in the light of a -reasonable objector, not a captious wrangler); I allow her policy in -this instance to have been considerable. She kept a watchful eye on the -side of _Scotland_. And, though many circumstances concurred to favour -her designs, it must be owned they were not carried without much care -and some wisdom. - -I understand the value of this concession, replied Dr. ARBUTHNOT. It -must have been no common degree of both, that extorted it from you. - -I decline entering further, said Mr. ADDISON, into the public -transactions of that reign; if it were only that, at this distance of -time, it may be no easy matter to determine any thing of the policy, -with which they were conducted. Only give me leave to add, as a FOURTH -instance of the favourable circumstances of the time, “That the -prerogative was then in its height, and that a patient people allowed -the queen to use it on all occasions.” Hence the apparent vigour and -firmness of her administration: and hence the opportunity (which is so -rarely found in our country) of directing the whole strength of the -nation to any end of government, which the glory of the prince or the -public interest required. - -What you impute to the high strain of prerogative, returned Dr. -ARBUTHNOT, might rather be accounted for from the ability of her -government, and the wise means she took to support it. The principal -of these was, by employing the GREATEST MEN in the several departments -of her administration. Every kind of merit was encouraged by her -smile[86], or rewarded by her bounty. Virtue, she knew, would -thrive best on its native stock, a generous emulation. This she -promoted by all means; by her royal countenance, by a temperate and -judicious praise, by the wisest distribution of her preferments. Hence -would naturally arise that confidence in the queen’s counsels and -undertakings, which the servile awe of her prerogative could never have -occasioned. - -This is the true account of the loyalty, obedience, and fidelity, -by which her servants were distinguished. And thus, in fact, it was -that, throughout her kingdom, there was every where that reverence of -authority[87], that sense of honour, that conscience of duty, in a -word, that gracious simplicity of manners, which renders the age of -ELIZABETH truly GOLDEN: as presenting the fairest picture of humanity, -that is to be met with in the accounts of any people. - -It is true, as you say, interposed Mr. ADDISON, that _this picture is a -fair one_. But of what is it a copy? Of the GENIUS of the time, or of -the queen’s virtues? You shall judge for yourself, after I have laid -before you TWO remarkable events of that age, which could not but have -the greatest effect on the public manners; I mean, THE REFORMATION OF -RELIGION, and what was introductory of it, THE RESTORATION OF LETTERS. -From these, as their proper sources, I would derive the ability and -fidelity of ELIZABETH’S good subjects. - -The passion for LETTERS was extreme. The novelty of these studies, the -artifices that had been used to keep men from them, their apparent -uses, and, perhaps, some confused notion of a certain diviner virtue -than really belongs to them; these causes concurred to excite a -curiosity in all, and determined those, who had leisure, as well as -curiosity, to make themselves acquainted with the _Greek_ and _Roman_ -learning. The ecclesiastics, who, for obvious reasons, would be the -first and most earnest in their application to letters, were not -the only persons transported with this zeal. The gentry and nobility -themselves were seized with it. A competent knowledge of the old -writers was looked upon as essential to a gentleman’s education. So -that _Greek_ and _Latin_ became as fashionable at court in those days, -as _French_ is in ours. ELIZABETH herself, which I wonder you did not -put me in mind of, was well skilled in both[88]; they say, employed her -leisure in making some fine translations out of either language. It -is easy to see what effect this general attention to letters must have -on the minds of the liberal and well-educated. And it was a happiness -peculiar to that age, that learning, though cultivated with such zeal, -had not as yet degenerated into pedantry: I mean, that, in those -stirring and active times, it was cultivated, not so much for show, as -use; and was not followed, as it soon came to be, to the exclusion of -other generous and manly applications. - -Consider, too, the effects, which the alterations in RELIGION had -produced. As they had been lately made, as their importance was great, -and as the benefits of the change had been earned at the expence of -much blood and labour: all these considerations begot a zeal for -religion, which hardly ever appears under other circumstances. This -zeal had an immediate and very sensible effect on the morals of the -Reformed. It improved them in every instance; especially as it produced -a cheerful submission to the government, which had rescued them from -their former slavery, and was still their only support against the -returning dangers of superstition. Thus religion, acting with all its -power, and that, too, heightened by gratitude and even self-interest, -bound obedience on the minds of men with the strongest ties[89]. And -luckily for the queen, this obedience was further secured to her -by the high uncontroverted notions of royalty, which, at that time, -obtained amongst the people. - -Lay all this together; and then tell me where is the wonder that a -people, now emerging out of ignorance; uncorrupted by wealth, and -therefore undebauched by luxury; trained to obedience, and nurtured -in simplicity; but, above all, caught with the love of learning and -religion, while neither of them was worn for fashion-sake, or, what -is worse, perverted to the ends of vanity or ambition; where, say, is -the wonder that such a people should present so bright a picture of -manner’s to their admiring panegyrist? - -To be fair with you; it was one of those conjunctures, in which the -active virtues are called forth, and rewarded. The dangers of the time -had roused the spirit, and brought out all the force and genius, of -the nation. A sort of enthusiasm had fired every man with the ambition -of exerting the full strength of his faculties, which way soever they -pointed, whether to the field, the closet, or the cabinet. Hence such -a crop of soldiers, scholars, and statesmen had sprung up, as have -rarely been seen to flourish together in any country. And as all owed -their duty, it was the fashion of the times for all to bring their -pretensions, to the court. So that, where the multitude of candidates -was so great, it had been strange indeed, if an ordinary discretion -had not furnished the queen with able servants of all sorts; and the -rather, as her occasions loudly called upon her to employ the ablest. - -I was waiting, said Dr. ARBUTHNOT, to see to what conclusion this -career of your eloquence would at length drive you. And it hath -happened in this case, as in most others where a favourite point is to -be carried, that a zeal for it is indulged, though at the expence of -some other of more importance. Rather than admit the personal virtues -of the queen, you fill her court, nay, her kingdom, with heroes and -sages: and so have paid a higher compliment to her reign, than I had -intended. - -To her _reign_, if you will, replied Mr. ADDISON, so far as regards the -qualities and dispositions of her subjects: for I will not lessen the -merit of this concession with you, by insisting, as I might, that their -_manners_, respectable as they were, were debased by the contrary, -yet very consistent, vices of servility and insolence[90]; and their -virtues of every kind deformed by, barbarism. But, for the queen’s own -merit in the choice of her servants, I must take leave to declare my -sentiments to you very plainly. It may be true, that she possessed a -good degree of sagacity in discerning the natures and talents of men. -It was the virtue by which, her admirers tell us, she was principally -distinguished. Yet, that the high fame of this virtue hath been owing -to the felicity of the times, abounding in all sorts of merit, rather -than to her own judgment, I think clear from this circumstance, “That -some of the most deserving of those days, in their several professions, -had not the fortune to attract the queen’s grace, in the proportion -they might have expected.” I say nothing of poor SPENSER. Who has any -concern for a poet[91]? But if merit alone had determined her majesty’s -choice, it will hardly at this day admit a dispute, that the immortal -HOOKER and BACON[92], at least, had ranked in another class than that, -in which this great discerner of spirits thought fit to leave them. - -And her character; continued he, in every other respect is just as -equivocal. For having touched one part of it, I now turn from these -general considerations on the circumstances and genius of the time, -to our more immediate subject, the PERSONAL QUALITIES of ELIZABETH. -Hitherto we have stood aloof from the queen’s person. But there is no -proceeding a step further in this debate, unless you allow me a little -more liberty. May I then be permitted to draw the veil of ELIZABETH’S -court, and, by the lights which history holds out to us, contemplate -the mysteries, that were celebrated in that awful sanctuary? - -After so reverend a preface, replied Dr. ARBUTHNOT, I think you may -be indulged in this liberty. And the rather, as I am not apprehensive -that the honour of the illustrious queen is likely to suffer by it. The -secrets of her cabinet-council, it may be, are not to be scanned by the -profane. But it will be no presumption to step into the drawing-room. - -Yet I may be tempted, said Mr. ADDISON, to use a freedom in this survey -of her majesty, that would not have been granted to her most favoured -courtiers. As far as I can judge of her character, as displayed in that -solemn scene of her court, she had some apparent VIRTUES, but more -genuine VICES; which yet, in the public eye, had equally the fortune to -reflect a lustre on her government. - -Her gracious affability, her love of her people, her zeal for the -national glory; were not these her more obvious and specious qualities? -Yet I doubt they were not so much the proper effects of her nature, as -her policy; a set of spurious virtues, begotten by the very necessity -of her affairs. - -For her AFFABILITY, she saw there was no way of being secure amidst -the dangers of all sorts, with which she was surrounded; but by -ingratiating herself with the body of the people. And, though in her -nature she was as little inclined to this condescension as any of her -successors, yet the expediency of this measure compelled her to save -appearances. And it must be owned, she did it with grace, and even -acted her part with spirit. Possibly the consideration of her being a -female actor, was no disadvantage to her. - -But, when she had made this sacrifice to interest, her proper temper -shewed itself clearly enough in the treatment of her nobles, and of all -that came within the verge of the court. Her caprice, and jealousy, -and haughtiness, appeared in a thousand instances. She took offence so -easily, and forgave so difficultly, that even her principal ministers -could hardly keep their ground, and were often obliged to redeem her -favour by the lowest submissions. When nothing else would do, they -sickened, and were even at death’s door: from which peril, however, she -would sometimes relieve them; but not till she had exacted from them, -in the way of penance, a course of the most mortifying humiliations. -Nay, the very ladies of her court had no way to maintain their credit -with her, but by, submitting patiently to the last indignities. - -It is allowed, from the instances you have in view, returned Dr. -ARBUTHNOT, that her nature was something high and imperious. But these -sallies of passion might well enough consist with her general character -of affability. - -Hardly, as I conceive, answered Mr. ADDISON, if you reflect that -these sallies, or rather habits of passion, were the daily terror and -vexation of all about her. Her very minions seemed raised for no other -purpose, than the exercise of her ill-humour. They were encouraged, by -her smile, to presume on the royal countenance, and then beaten down -again in punishment of that presumption. But, to say the truth, the -slavish temper of the time was favourable to such exertions of female -caprice and tyranny. Her imperious father, all whose virtues, she -inherited, had taught her a sure way to quell the spirit of her nobles. -They had been long used to stand in awe of the royal frown. And the -people were pleased to find their betters ruled with so high a hand, -at a time when they themselves were addressed with every expression of -respect, and even flattery. - -She even carried this mockery so far, that, as HARRINGTON observes -well, “she converted her reign, through the perpetual love-tricks -that passed between her and her people, into a kind of romance.” And -though that political projector, in prosecution of his favourite -notion, supposes the queen to have been determined to these intrigues -by observing, that the weight of property was fallen into the popular -scale; yet we need look no further for an account of this proceeding, -than the inherent haughtiness of her temper. She gratified the -insolence of her nature, in neglecting, or rather beating down, her -nobility, whose greatness might seem to challenge respect: while the -court, she paid to the people, revolted her pride less, as passing only -upon herself, as well as others, for a voluntary act of affability. -Just as we every day see very proud men carry it with much loftiness -towards their equals, or those who and raised to some nearness of -degree to themselves; at the same time that they affect a sort of -courtesy to such, as are confessedly beneath them. - -You see, then, what her boasted affability comes to. She gave good -words to her people, whom it concerned her to be well with, and whom -her pride itself allowed her to _manage_: she insulted her nobles, whom -she had in her power, and whose abasement flattered the idea, she doted -upon, of her own superiority and importance[93]. - -Let the queen’s manner of treating her subjects be what it would, Dr. -ARBUTHNOT said, it appears to have given no offence in those days, -when the sincerity of her intentions was never questioned. Her whole -life is a convincing argument; that she bore the most entire affection -to her people. - -HER LOVE OF HER PEOPLE, returned Mr. ADDISON hastily, is with me a very -questionable virtue. For what account shall we give of the multitude of -penal statutes, passed in her reign? Or, because you will say, there -was some colour for these; what excuse shall we make for her frequent -grants of monopolies, so ruinous to the public wealth and happiness, -and so perpetually complained of by her parliaments? You will say, -she recalled them. She did so. But not till the general indignation -had, in a manner, forced her to recall them. If by her _people_, be -meant those of the poorer and baser sort only, it may be allowed, she -seemed on all occasions willing to spare them. But for those of better -rank and fortune, she had no such consideration. On the other hand, -she contrived in many ways to pillage and distress them. It was the -tameness of that time, to submit to every imposition of the sovereign. -She had only to command her gentry on any service she thought fit, and -they durst not decline it. How many of her wealthiest and best subjects -did she impoverish by these means (though under colour, you may be -sure, of her high favour); and sometimes by her very visits! I will not -be certain, added he, that her visit to this pompous castle of her own -LEICESTER, had any other intention. - -But what, above all, are we to think of her vow of celibacy, and her -obstinate refusal to settle the succession, though at the constant -hazard of the public peace and safety? - -You are hard put to it, I perceive, interrupted. Dr. ARBUTHNOT, to -impeach the character of the queen in this instance, when a few penal -laws, necessary to the support of her crown in that time of danger; one -wrong measure of her government, and that corrected; the ordinary use -of her prerogative; and even her virginity; are made crimes of. But I -am curious to hear what you have to object to her ZEAL FOR THE ENGLISH -GLORY, carried so high in her reign; and the single point, as it seems -to me, to which all her measures and all her counsels were directed. - -The _English_ glory, Mr. ADDISON said, may, perhaps, mean the state and -independency of the crown. And then, indeed, I have little to object. -But, in any other sense of the word, I have sometimes presumed to -question with myself, if it had not been better consulted, by more -effectual assistance of the Reformed on the Continent; by a more -vigorous prosecution of the war against _Spain_[94]; as I hinted -before, by a more complete reduction of _Ireland_. But say, we are -no judges of those high matters. What glory accrued to the _English_ -name, by the insidious dealing with the queen of _Scots_; by the -vindictive proceedings against the duke of _Norfolk_; by the merciless -persecutions of the unhappy earl of _Essex_? The same spirit, you see, -continued from the beginning of this reign to the end of it. And the -observation is the better worth attending to, because some have excused -the queen’s treatment of ESSEX by saying, “That her nature, in that -decline of life, was somewhat clouded by apprehensions; as the horizon, -they observe, in the evening of the brightest day, is apt to be -obscured by vapours[95].” As if this fanciful simile, which illustrates -perhaps, could excuse, the perverseness of the queen’s temper; or, as -if that could deserve to pass for an incident of age, which operated -through life; and so declares itself to have been the proper result of -her nature. - -You promised, interposed Dr. ARBUTHNOT, not to pry too closely into -the secrets of the cabinet. And such I must needs esteem the points -to be, which you have mentioned. But enough of these beaten topics. -I would rather attend you in the survey you promised to take of her -court, and of the princely qualities that adorned it. It is from what -passes in the inside of his palace, rather than from some questionable -public acts, that the real character of a prince is best determined. -And there, methinks, you have a scene opened to you, that deserves your -applause. Nothing appears but what is truly royal. Nobody knew better, -than ELIZABETH, how to support the decorum of her rank. She presided -in that high orb with the dignity of a great queen. In all emergencies -of danger, she shewed a firmness, and, on all occasions of ceremony, -a magnificence, that commanded respect and admiration. Her very -diversions were tempered with a severity becoming her sex and place, -and which made her court, even in its lightest and gayest humours, a -school of virtue. - -These are the points, concluded he, I could wish you to speak to. The -rest may be left to the judgment of the historian, or rather to the -curiosity of the nice and critical politician. - -You shall be obeyed, Mr. ADDISON said. I thought it not amiss to -take off the glare of those applauded qualities, which have dazzled -the public at a distance, by shewing that they were either feigned -or over-rated. But I come now to unmask the real character of this -renowned princess. I shall paint her freely indeed, but truly as she -appears to me. And, to speak my mind at once; I think it is not so -much to her virtues, which at best were equivocal, as to her very -VICES, that we are to impute the popular admiration of her character -and government. - -I before took notice of the high, indecent PASSION, she discovered -towards her courtiers. This fierceness of temper in the softer sex was -taken for heroism; and, falling in with the slavish principles of the -age, begot a degree of reverence in her subjects, which a more equal, -that is a more becoming, deportment would not have produced. Hence, she -was better served than most of our princes, only because she was more -feared; in other words, because she less deserved to be so. But high as -she would often carry herself in this unprincely, I had almost said, -unwomanly, treatment of her servants; awing the men by her oaths, and -her women by blows; it is still to be remembered, that she had a great -deal of natural TIMIDITY in her constitution. - -What! interrupted Dr. ARBUTHNOT hastily, the magnanimous ELIZABETH -a coward? I should as soon have expected that charge against CÆSAR -himself, or your own MARLBOROUGH. - -I distinguish, Mr. ADDISON said, betwixt a parade of courage, put on to -serve a turn, and keep her people in spirits, and that true greatness -of mind, which, in one word, we call _magnanimity_. For this last, -I repeat it, she either had it not, or not in the degree in which -it has been ascribed to her. On the contrary, I see a littleness, -a pusillanimity, in her conduct on a thousand occasions. Hence it -was, that both to her people and such of the neighbouring states as -she stood in awe of, she used an excessive hypocrisy, which, in the -language of the court, you may be sure, was called policy. To the -_Hollanders_, indeed, she could talk big; and it was not her humour to -manage those over whom she had gained an ascendant. This has procured -her, with many, the commendation of a princely magnanimity. But, on the -other hand, when discontents were apprehended from her subjects, or -when _France_ was to be diverted from any designs against her, no art -was forgotten that might cajole their spirits with all the professions -of cordiality and affection. Then she was _wedded_, that was the tender -word, to her people: and then the interest of religion itself was -sacrificed by this Protestant queen to her newly-perverted brother on -the Continent. - -Her foible, in this respect, was no secret to her ministers. But, above -all, it was practised upon most successfully by the Lord BURGHLEY; “for -whom, as I have seem it observed, it was as necessary that there should -be treasons, as for the state that they should be prevented[96].” Hence -it was, that he was perpetually raising her fears, by the discovery -of some plot, or, when that was wanting, by the proposal of some -law for her greater security. In short, he was for ever finding, or -making, or suggesting, dangers. The queen, though she would look big -(for indeed she was an excellent actress), startled at the shadows of -those dangers, the slightest rumours. And to this convenient timidity -of his mistress, so constantly alarmed, and relieved in turn by this -wily minister, was owing, in a good degree, that long and unrivalled -interest, he held in her favour. - -Still, further, to this constitutional _fear_ (which might be forgiven -to her sex, if it had not been so strangely mixed with a more than -masculine ferocity in other instances) must be ascribed those favourite -maxims of policy, which ran through her whole government. Never was -prince more attached to the Machiavelian doctrine, DIVIDE ET IMPERA, -than our ELIZABETH[97]. It made the soul of her policies, domestic -and foreign. She countenanced the two prevailing factions of the time. -The Churchmen and Puritans divided her favour so equally, that her -favourites were sure to be the chiefs of the contending parties. Nay, -her court was a constant scene of cabals and personal animosities. She -gave a secret, and sometimes an open, countenance to these jealousies. -The same principle directed all her foreign[98] negociations. - -And are you not aware, interrupted Dr. ARBUTHNOT, that this objected -policy is the very topic that I, and every other admirer of the -queen, would employ in commendation of her great ability in the art -of government? It has been the fate of too many of our princes (and -perhaps some late examples might be given) to be governed, and even -insulted, by a prevailing party of their own subjects. ELIZABETH was -superior to such attempts. She had no bye-ends to pursue. She frankly -threw herself on her people. And, secure in their affection, could -defeat at pleasure, or even divert herself with, the intrigues of this -or that aspiring faction. - -We understand you, Mr. ADDISON replied; but when two parties are -contending within a state, and one of them only in its true interest, -the policy is a little extraordinary that should incline the sovereign -to discourage _this_, from the poor ambition of controuling _that_, or, -as you put it still worse, from the dangerous humour of playing with -_both_ parties. I say nothing of later times. I only ask; if it was -indifferent, whether the counsels of the CECILS or of LEICESTER were -predominant in that reign? But I mentioned these things before, and I -touch them again now, only to shew you, that this conduct, however it -may be varnished over by the name of wisdom, had too much the air of -fearful womanish intrigue, to consist with that heroical firmness and -intrepidity so commonly ascribed to queen ELIZABETH[99]. - -And what if, after all, I should admit, replied Dr. ARBUTHNOT, that, in -the composition of a woman’s courage, at least, there might be some -scruples of discretion? Is there any advantage, worth contending for, -you could draw from such a concession? Or, because you would be thought -serious, I will put the matter more gravely. The arts of prudence, -you arraign so severely, could not be taken for pusillanimity. They -certainly were not, in her own time; for she was not the less esteemed -or revered by all the nations of _Europe_ on account of them. The most -you can fairly conclude is, that she knew how to unite address with -bravery, and that, on occasion, she could _dissemble_ her high spirit. -The difficulties of her situation obliged her to this management. - -Rather say at once, returned Mr. ADDISON, that the constant -dissimulation, for which she was so famous, was assumed to supply -the want of a better thing, which had rendered all those arts as -unnecessary as they were ignoble. - -But _haughtiness_ and _timidity_, pursued he, were not the only vices -that turned to good account in the queen’s hands. She was frugal -beyond all bounds of decorum in a prince, or rather AVARICIOUS beyond -all reasonable excuse from the public wants and the state of her -revenue. Nothing is more certain than this fact, from the allowance -both of friends and enemies. It seems as if, in this respect, her -father’s example had not been sufficient; and that, to complete her -character, she had incorporated with many of his, the leading vice of -her grandfather. - -Here Dr. ARBUTHNOT could not contain himself; and the castle happening -at that time, from the point where they stood, to present the most -superb prospect, “Look there, said he, on the striking, though small, -remnants of that grandeur you just now magnified so much; and tell me -if, in your conscience, you can believe such grants are the signs, -or were the effects, of avarice. For you are not to learn, that this -palace before us is not the only one in the kingdom, which bears the -memory of the queen’s bounty to her servants.” - -Mr. ADDISON seemed a little struck with the earnestness of this -address: “It is true, said he, the queen’s fondness for one or two of -her favourites made her sometimes lavish of her grants; especially -of what cost her nothing, and did not, it seems, offend the delicacy -of her scruples; I mean, of the _church-lands_. But at the same time -her treasury was shut against her ambassadors and foreign ministers; -who complain of nothing more frequently than the slenderness of their -appointments, and the small and slow remittances that were made -to them. This frugality (for I must not call it by a worse name) -distressed the public service on many occasions[100]; and would have -done it on more, if the zeal of her trusty servants had not been -content to carry it on at the expence of their own fortunes. How many -instances might be given of this, if ONE were not more than sufficient, -and which all posterity will remember with indignation! - -You speak of WALSINGHAM, interposed Dr. ARBUTHNOT. But were it not more -candid to impute the poverty of that minister to his own generous -contempt of riches, which he had doubtless many, fair occasions of -procuring to himself, than to any designed neglect of him by his -mistress? - -The candour, returned Mr. ADDISON, must be very extraordinary, that -can find an excuse for the queen in a circumstance that doubles her -disgrace. But be it as you pretend. The uncommon moderation of the -man shall be a cover to the queen’s parsimony. It was not, we will -say, for this wise princess to provoke an appetite for wealth in her -servants: it was enough that she gratified it, on proper occasions, -where she found it already raised. And in this proceeding, no doubt, -she was governed by a tender regard, for their honour, as well as her -own interest. For how is her great secretary ennobled, by filling a -place in the short list of those worthies, who, having lived and died -in the service of their countries, have left not so much as a pittance -behind them, to carry them to their graves! All this is very well. But -when she had indulged this humour in one or two of her favourites, -and suffered them, for example’s sake, to ascend to these heights of -honour, it was going, methinks, a little too far, to expect the same -delicacy of virtue in all her courtiers. Yet it was not her fault, if -most of them did not reap this fame of illustrious poverty, as well as -WALSINGHAM. She dealt by them, indeed, as if she had ranked poverty, as -well as celibacy, among the cardinal virtues. - -In the mean time, I would not deny that she had a princely fondness for -shew and appearance. She took a pride in the brilliancy of her court. -She delighted in the large trains of her nobility. She required to be -royally entertained by them. And she thought her honour concerned in -the figure they made in foreign courts, and in the wars. But, if she -loved this pomp, she little cared to furnish the expence of it. She -considered in good earnest (as some have observed, who would have the -observation pass for a compliment[101]) _the purses of her subjects -as her own_; and seemed to reckon on their being always open to her on -any occasion of service, or even ceremony. She carried this matter so -far, that the very expences of her wars were rather defrayed out of the -private purses of her nobility, than the public treasury. As if she had -taken it for a part of her _prerogative_ to impoverish her nobles at -pleasure; or rather, as if she had a mind to have it thought that one -of their _privileges_ was, to be allowed to ruin themselves from a zeal -to her service. - -But the queen’s avarice, proceeded he, did not only appear from her -excessive parsimony in the management of the public treasure, but from -her rapacity in getting what she could from particulars into her privy -purse. Hence it was that all offices, and even personal favours, were -in a manner set to sale. For it was a rule with her majesty, to grant -no suit but for a reasonable consideration. So that whoever pretended -to any place of profit or honour was sure to send a jewel, or other -rich present beforehand, to prepare her mind for the entertainment -of his petition. And to what other purpose was it that she kept her -offices so long vacant, but to give more persons an opportunity of -winning a preference in her favour; which for the most part inclined -to those who had appeared, in this interval, to deserve it best? Nay, -the slightest disgust, which she frequently took on very frivolous -occasions, could not be got over but by the reconciling means of some -valuable or well fancied present. And, what was most grievous, she -sometimes accepted the present, without remitting the offence. - -I remember a ridiculous instance of this sort. When the Lady LEICESTER -wanted to obtain the pardon of her unfortunate son, the Lord ESSEX, she -presented the queen with an exceeding rich gown, to the value of above -an hundred pounds. She was well pleased with the gift, but thought no -more of the pardon. We need not, after this, wonder at what is said of -her majesty’s leaving a prodigious quantity of jewels and plate behind -her, and even a _crowded wardrobe_. For so prevalent was this thrifty -humour in the queen’s highness, that she could not persuade herself to -part with so much, as a cast-gown to any of her servants[102]. - -You allow yourself to be very gay, replied Dr. ARBUTHNOT, on this -foible of the great queen. But one thing you forget, that it never -biased her judgment so far as to prevent a fit choice of her servants -on all occasions[103]. And, as to her wary management of the public -revenue, which you take a pleasure to exaggerate, this, methinks, is -a venial fault in a prince, who could not, in her circumstances; have -provided for the expences of government, but by the nicest and most -attentive economy. - -I understand, said Mr. ADDISON, the full force of that consideration; -and believe it was that _attention_ principally, which occasioned the -popularity of her reign, and the high esteem, in which the wisdom of -her government is held to this day. The bulk of her subjects were, no -doubt, highly pleased to find themselves spared on all occasions of -expence. And it served at the same time, to gratify their natural envy -of the great, to find, that _their_ fortunes were first and principally -sacrificed to the public service. Nay, I am not sure that the very -rapacity of her nature, in the sale of her offices, was any objection -with the people at large, or even the lower gentry of the kingdom. -For these, having no pretensions themselves to those offices, would -be well enough pleased to see them not _bestowed_ on their betters, -but dearly purchased by them. And then this traffic at court furnished -the inferior gentry with a pretence for making the most of their -magistracies. This practice at least must have been very notorious -amongst them, when a facetious member of the lower house could define -a justice of peace to be, “A living creature, that for half a dozen of -chickens, will dispense with a whole dozen of penal statutes[104].” -But, however this be, the queen’s ends, in every view, were abundantly -answered. She enriched herself: she gained the affections of the -people, and depressed and weakened the nobility. And by all these ways -she effectually provided for, what she had ever most at heart, her own -supreme and uncontrolled authority. - -And is that to be wondered at in a great prince? returned Dr. -ARBUTHNOT. Or, to take the matter in the light you place it, what if -the queen had so much of her sex[105] and family in her disposition, as -to like well enough to have her own way, is this such a crime as you -would make of it? If she loved power, it was not to make a wanton or -oppressive use of it. And if all princes knew as well to bound their -own wills, as she did, we should not much complain of their impatience -to be under the control of their subjects. - -I am sorry, said Mr. ADDISON, that the acts of her reign will not allow -me to come into this opinion of her moderation. On the other hand, her -government appears to me, in many instances, OPPRESSIVE, and highly -prejudicial to the ancient rights and privileges of her people. For -what other construction can we make of her frequent interposition -to restrain the counsels of their representatives in parliament: -threatening some, imprisoning others, and silencing all with the -thunder of her prerogative? Or, when she had suffered their counsels to -ripen into bills, what shall we say of her high and mighty rejection of -them, and that not in single and extraordinary cases, but in matters -of ordinary course, and by dozens? I pass by other instances. But was -her _moderation_ seen in dilapidating the revenues of the church; of -that church, which she took under the wing of her supremacy, and would -be thought to have sheltered from all its enemies[106]. The honest -archbishop PARKER, I have heard, ventured to remonstrate against this -abuse, the cognizance of which came so directly within his province. -But to what effect, may be gathered, not only from the continuance -of these depredations, but her severe reprehension of another of her -bishops, whom she threatened with an oath to UNFROCK—that was her -majesty’s own word—if he did not immediately give way to her princely -extortions. - -It may be hardly worth while to take notice of smaller matters. But -who does not resent her capricious tyranny, in disgracing such of -her servants as presumed to deviate, on any pretence, from her good -pleasure; nay, such as gave an implicit obedience to her will, if it -stood with her interest to disgrace them? Something, I know, may be -said to excuse the proceedings against the queen of _Scots_. But the -fate of DAVISON will reflect eternal dishonour on the policy, with -which that measure was conducted. - -I run over these things hastily, continued Mr. ADDISON, and in no -great order: but you will see what to conclude from these hints; which -taken together, I believe, may furnish a proper answer to the most -considerable parts of your apology. - -To sum it up in few words. Those two great events of her time, THE -ESTABLISHMENT OF THE REFORMATION, and THE TRIUMPH OVER THE POWER OF -SPAIN, cast an uncommon lustre on the reign of ELIZABETH. Posterity, -dazzled with these obvious successes, went into an excessive admiration -of her personal virtues. And what has served to brighten them the more, -is the place in which we chance to find her, between the bigot queen on -the one hand, and the pedant king on the other. No wonder then that, on -the first glance, her government should appear able, and even glorious. -Yet, in looking into particulars, we find that much is to be attributed -to fortune, as well as skill; and that her glory is even lessened by -considerations, which, on a careless view, may seem to augment it. -The difficulties, she had to encounter, were great. Yet these very -difficulties, of themselves, created the proper means to surmount -them. They sharpened the wits, inflamed the spirits, and united the -affections, of a whole people. The name of her great enemy on the -continent, at that time, carried terror with it. Yet his power was, in -reality, much less than it appeared. The _Spanish_ empire was corrupt -and weak, and tottered under its own weight. But this was a secret -even to the _Spaniard_ himself. In the mean time, the confidence, -which the opinion of great strength inspires, was a favourable -circumstance. It occasioned a remissness and neglect of counsel -on one side, in proportion as it raised the utmost vigilance and -circumspection on the other. But this was not all. The religious feuds -in the Low Countries—the civil wars in _France_—the distractions of -_Scotland_—all concurred to advance the fortunes of ELIZABETH. Yet all -had, perhaps, been too little in that grand crisis of her fate, and, as -it fell out, of her glory, if the conspiring elements themselves had -not fought for her. - -Such is the natural account of her foreign triumphs. Her domestic -successes admit as easy a solution. Those external dangers themselves, -the genius of the time, the state of religious parties, nay, the very -factions of her court, all of them directly, or by the slightest -application of her policy, administered to her greatness. Such was the -condition of the times, that it forced her to assume the resemblance, -at least, of some popular _virtues_: and so singular her fortune, that -her very _vices_ became as respectable, perhaps more useful to her -reputation, than her virtues. She was vigilant in her counsels; careful -in the choice of her servants; courteous and condescending to her -subjects. She appeared to have an extreme tenderness for the interests, -and an extreme zeal for the honour, of the nation. This was the bright -side of her character; and it shone the brighter from the constant and -imminent dangers, to which she was exposed. On the other hand, she was -choleric, and imperious; jealous, timid, and avaricious: oppressive, -as far as she durst; in many cases capricious, in some tyrannical. -Yet these vices, some of them sharpened and refined her policy, and -the rest, operating chiefly towards her courtiers and dependents, -strengthened her authority, and rooted her more firmly in the hearts -of the people. The mingled splendour of these qualities, good and bad -(for even her worst had the luck, when seen but on one side, or in -well-disposed lights to look like good ones) so far dazzled the eyes -of all, that they did not, or would not, see many outrageous acts of -tyranny and oppression. - -And thus it hath come to pass that, with some ability, more cunning, -and little real virtue, the name of ELIZABETH is, by the concurrence -of many accidental causes, become the most revered of any in the long -roll of our princes. How little she merited this honour, may appear -from this slight sketch of her character and government. Yet, when all -proper abatement is made in both, I will not deny her to have been -a great, that is, a _fortunate_, queen; in this, perhaps, the most -fortunate, that she has attained to so unrivalled a glory with so few -pretensions to deserve it. - -And so, replied Dr. ARBUTHNOT, you have concluded your invective in -full form, and rounded it, as the ancient orators used to do, with -all the advantage of a peroration. But, setting aside this trick of -eloquence, which is apt indeed to confound a plain man, unused to such -artifices, I see not but you have left the argument much as you took -it up; and that I may still have leave to retain my former reverence -for the good old times of queen ELIZABETH. It is true, she had some -foibles. You have spared, I believe, none of them. But, to make amends -for these defects, let but the history of her reign speak for her, I -mean in its own artless language, neither corrupted by flattery, nor -tortured by invidious glosses; and we must ever conceive of her, I -will not say as the most faultless, perhaps not the most virtuous, -but surely the most able, and, from the splendour of some leading -qualities, the most glorious of our _English_ monarchs. - -To give you my notion of her in few Words.—For the dispute, I find, -must end, as most others usually do, in the simple representation of -our own notions.—She was discreet, frugal, provident, and sagacious; -intent on the pursuit of her great ends, _the establishment of -religion_, and _the security and honour of her people_: prudent in -the choice of the best _means_ to effect them, the employment of able -servants, and the management of the public revenue; dexterous at -improving all advantages which her own wisdom or the circumstances -of the times gave her: fearless and intrepid in the execution of -great designs, yet careful to unite the deepest foresight with her -magnanimity. If she seemed AVARICIOUS, let it be considered that the -nicest frugality was but necessary in her situation: if IMPERIOUS, -that a female government needed to be made respectable by a shew -of authority: and if at any time OPPRESSIVE, that the _English_ -constitution, as it then stood, as well as her own nature, had a good -deal of that bias. - -In a word, let it be remembered, that she had the honour of -ruling[107], perhaps of forming, the wisest, the bravest, the most, -virtuous people, that have adorned any age or country; and that she -advanced the glory of the _English_ name and that of her own dignity to -a height, which has no parallel in the annals of our nation. - -Mr. DIGBY, who had been very attentive to the course of this debate, -was a little disappointed with the conclusion of it. He thought to have -settled his judgment of this reign by the information his two friends -should afford him. But he found himself rather perplexed by their -altercations, than convinced by them. He owned, however, the pleasure -they had given him; and said, he had profited so much at least by the -occasion, that, for the future, he should conceive with something less -reverence of the great queen, and should proceed with less prejudice to -form his opinion of her character and administration. - -Mr. ADDISON did not appear quite satisfied with this sceptical -conclusion; and was going to enforce some things, which he thought had -been touched too slightly, when Dr. ARBUTHNOT took notice that their -walk was now at an end; the path, they had taken, having by this time -brought them round again to the walls of the castle. Besides, he said, -he found himself much wearied with this exercise; though the warmth -of debate, and the opportunities he took of resting himself at times, -had kept him from complaining of it. He proposed, therefore, getting -into the coach as soon as possible; where, though the conversation was -in some sort resumed, there was nothing material enough advanced on -either side to make it necessary for me to continue this recital any -further. - - - - - DIALOGUE V. - - ON THE - - CONSTITUTION - - OF THE - - ENGLISH GOVERNMENT. - - BETWEEN - - SIR JOHN MAYNARD, MR. SOMERS, - - AND - - BISHOP BURNET. - - - - - DIALOGUE V. - - ON THE CONSTITUTION OF THE ENGLISH GOVERNMENT. - - SIR JOHN MAYNARD, MR. SOMERS, BISHOP BURNET[108]. - - -TO DR. TILLOTSON. - -Though the principles of nature and common sense do fully authorise -resistance to the civil magistrate in extreme cases, and of course -justify the late Revolution to every candid and dispassionate man; yet -I am sensible, my excellent friend, there are many prejudices which -hinder the glorious proceedings in that affair from being seen in -their true light. The principal of them, indeed, are founded on false -systems of policy, and those tied down on the consciences of men by -wrong notions of religion. And such as these, no doubt, through the -experience of a better government, and a juster turn of thinking, which -may be expected to prevail in our times, will gradually fall away of -themselves. - -But there is another set of notions on this subject, not so easy to be -discredited, and which are likely to keep their hold on the minds even -of the more sober and considerate sort of men. For whatever advantage -the cause of liberty may receive from general reasonings on the origin -and nature of civil government, the greater part of our countrymen will -consider, and perhaps rightly, the inquiry into the constitution of -_their_ own government, as a question of FACT; that must be tried by -authorities and precedents only; and decided at last by the evidence of -historical testimony, not by the conclusions of philosophy or political -speculation. - -Now, though we are agreed that this way of managing the controversy -must, when fully and fairly pursued, be much in favour of the new -settlement, yet neither, I think, is it for every man’s handling, nor -is the evidence resulting from it of a nature to compel our assent. The -argument is formed on a vast variety of particulars, to be collected -only from a large and intimate acquaintance with the antiquities, -laws, and usages of the kingdom. Our printed histories are not only -very short and imperfect; but the original records, which the curious -have in their possession, are either so obscure or so scanty, that a -willing adversary hath always in readiness some objection, or some -cavil at least, to oppose to the evidence that may be drawn from them. -Besides, appearances, even in the plainest and most unquestioned parts -of our history, are sometimes so contradictory; arising either from -the tyranny of the prince, the neglect of the people, or some other -circumstance of the times; and, to crown all, the question itself hath -been so involved by the disputations of prejudiced and designing men; -that the more intelligent inquirer is almost at a loss to determine for -himself, on which side the force of evidence lies. - -On this account I have frequently thought with myself, that a right -good CONSTITUTIONAL HISTORY of _England_ would be the noblest service -that any man, duly qualified for the execution of such a work, could -render to his country. For though, as I said, the subject be obscure in -itself, and perplexed by the subtilties which contending parties have -invented for the support of their several schemes; yet, from all I have -been able to observe in the course of my own reading, or conversation, -there is little doubt but that the form of the _English_ government -hath, at all times, been FREE. So that, if such a history were drawn up -with sufficient care out of our authentic papers and public monuments, -it would not only be matter of entertainment to the curious, but -the greatest security to every _Englishman_ of his religions and -civil rights. For what can be conceived, more likely to preserve and -perpetuate these rights, than the standing evidence which such a work -would afford, of the genuine spirit and temper of the constitution? Of -the principles of freedom[109], on which it was formed, and on which -it hath been continually and uniformly conducted? Our youth, who at -present amuse themselves with little more than the military part of our -annals, would then have an easy opportunity of seeing to the bottom of -all our civil and domestic broils. They would know on what pretences -the PREROGATIVE of our kings hath sometimes aspired to exalt itself -above controul; and would learn to revere the magnanimity of their -forefathers, who as constantly succeeded in their endeavours to reduce -it within the ancient limits and boundaries of the LAW. In a word, -they would no longer rest on the surface and outside, as it were, of -the _English_ affairs, but would penetrate the interior parts of our -constitution; and furnish themselves with a competent degree of civil -and political wisdom; the most solid fruit that can be gathered from -the knowledge and experience of past times. - -And I am ready to think that such a provision as this, for the -instruction of the _English_ youth, may be the more requisite, on -account of that limited indeed, yet awful form of government, under -which we live. For, besides the name, and other ensigns of majesty, in -common with those who wear the most despotic crown, the whole execution -of our laws, and the active part of government, is in the hands of the -prince. And this pre-eminence gives him so respectable a figure in the -eyes of his subjects, and presents him so constantly, and with such -lustre of authority, to their minds, that it is no wonder they are -sometimes disposed to advance him, from the rank of first magistrate of -a free people, into that of supreme and sole arbiter of the laws. - -So that, unless these prejudices are corrected by the knowledge of our -constitutional history, there is constant reason to apprehend, not only -that the royal authority may stretch itself beyond due bounds; but may -grow, at length, into that enormous tyranny, from which this nation -hath been at other times so happily, and now of late so wonderfully, -redeemed. - -But I suffer myself to be carried by these reflexions much further than -I designed. I would only say to you, that, having sometimes reflected -very seriously on this subject, it was with the highest pleasure I -heard it discoursed of the other day by two of the most accomplished -lawyers of our age: the venerable Sir JOHN MAYNARD, who, for a long -course of years, hath maintained the full credit and dignity of his -profession; and Mr. SOMERS, who, though a young man, is rising apace, -and with proportionable merits, into all the honours of it. - -I was very attentive, as you may suppose, to the progress of this -remarkable conversation; and, as I had the honour to bear a full share -in it myself, I may the rather undertake to give you a particular -account of it. I know the pleasure it will give you to see a subject, -you have much at heart, and which we have frequently talked over in the -late times, thoroughly, canvassed, and cleared up; as I think it must -be, to your entire satisfaction. - -It was within a day or two after that great event, so pleasing to -all true _Englishmen_, THE CORONATION OF THEIR MAJESTIES[110], that -Mr. SOMERS and I went; as we sometimes used, to pass an evening with -our excellent friend, my Lord Commissioner[111]. I shall not need -to attempt his character to you, who know him so well. It is enough -to say, that his faculties and spirits are, even in this maturity of -age, in great vigour. And it seems as if this joyful Revolution, so -agreeable to his hopes and principles, had given a fresh spring and -elasticity to both. - -The conversation of course turned on the late august ceremony; the -mention of which awakened a sort of rapture in the good old man, which -made him overflow in his meditations upon it. Seeing us in admiration -of the zeal which transported him, “Bear with me, said he, my young -friends. Age, you know, hath its privilege. And it may be, I use it -somewhat unreasonably. But I, who have seen the prize of liberty -contending for through half a century, to find it obtained at last -by a method so sure, and yet so unexpected, do you think it possible -that I should contain myself on such an occasion? Oh, if ye had lived -with me in those days, when such mighty struggles were made for public -freedom, when so many wise counsels miscarried, and so many generous -enterprises concluded but in the confirmation of lawless tyranny; if, -I say, ye had lived in those days, and now at length were able to -contrast with me, to the tragedies that were then acted, this safe, -this bloodless, this complete deliverance: I am mistaken, if the -youngest of you could reprove me for this joy, which makes me think I -can never say enough on so delightful a subject. - - -BP. BURNET. - -Reprove you, my lord? Alas! we are neither of us so unexperienced in -what hath passed of late in these kingdoms, as not to rejoice with you -to the utmost for this astonishing deliverance. You know I might boast -of being among the first that wished for, I will not say projected, the -measures by which it hath been accomplished. And for Mr. SOMERS, the -church of _England_ will tell—— - - -MR. SOMERS. - -I confess, my warmest wishes have ever gone along with those who -conducted this noble enterprise. And I pretend to as sincere a -pleasure as any man, in the completion of it. Yet, if we were not -unreasonable at such a time, I might be tempted to mention one -circumstance, which, I know not how, a little abates the joy of these -triumphant gratulations. - - -SIR J. MAYNARD. - -Is not the settlement then to your mind? Or hath any precaution been -neglected, which you think necessary for the more effectual security of -our liberties? - - -MR. SOMERS. - -Not that. I think the provision for the people’s right as ample as -needs be desired. Or, if any further restrictions on the crown be -thought proper, it will now be easy for the people, in a regular -parliamentary way, to effect it. What I mean is a consideration of much -more importance. - - -BP. BURNET. - -The pretended prince of WALES, you think, will be raising some -disturbance, or alarm at least, to the new government. I believe, -I may take upon me to give you perfect satisfaction upon that -subject[112]. - - -MR. SOMERS. - -Still your conjectures fall short or wide of my meaning. Our new -MAGNA CHARTA, as I love to call the _Declaration of Rights_, seems -a sufficient barrier against any future encroachments of the CROWN. -And I think, the pretended prince of WALES, whatever be determined of -his birth, a mere phantom, that may amuse, and perhaps disquiet, the -weaker sort for a while; but, if left to itself[113], will soon vanish -out of the minds of the PEOPLE. Not but I allow that even so thin a -pretence as this may, some time or other, be conjured up to disturb the -government. But it must be, when a certain set of principles are called -in aid to support it. And, to save you the further trouble of guessing, -I shall freely tell you, what those _principles_ are.—You will see, in -them, the ground of my present fears and apprehensions. - -It might be imagined that so necessary a Revolution, as that which hath -taken place, would sufficiently approve itself to all reasonable men. -And it appears, in fact, to have done so, now that the public injuries -are fresh, and the general resentment of them strong and lively. But it -too often happens, that when the evil is once removed, it is presently -forgotten: and in matters of government especially, where the people -rarely think till they are made to feel, when the grievance is taken -away, the false system easily returns, and sometimes with redoubled -force, which had given birth to it. - - -BP. BURNET. - -One can readily admit the principles. But the conclusion, you propose -to draw from them— - - -MR. SOMERS. - -This very important one, “That, if the late change of government was -brought about, and can be defended only, on the principles of liberty; -the settlement, introduced by it, can be thought secure no longer than -while those principles are rightly understood, and generally admitted.” - - -BP. BURNET. - -But what reason is there to apprehend that these principles, so -commonly professed and publickly avowed, will not continue to be kept -up in full vigour? - - -MR. SOMERS. - -Because, I doubt, they are so commonly and publickly avowed, only to -serve a present turn; and not because they come from the heart, or are -entertained on any just ground of conviction. - - -BP. BURNET. - -Very likely: and considering the pains that have been taken to possess -the minds of men with other notions of government, the wonder is, how -they came to be entertained at all. Yet surely the experience of better -times may be expected to do much. Men will of course think more justly -on these subjects in proportion as they find themselves more happy. And -thus the principles, which, as you say, were first pretended to out of -necessity, will be followed out of choice, and bound upon them by the -conclusions of their own reason. - - -MR. SOMERS. - -I wish your lordship be not too sanguine in these expectations. It is -not to be conceived how insensible the people are to the blessings they -enjoy, and how easily they forget their past miseries. So that, if -their principles have not taken deep root, I would not answer for their -continuing much longer than it served their purpose to make a shew of -them. - - -SIR J. MAYNARD. - -I must confess, that all my experience of mankind inclines me to this -opinion. I could relate to you some strange instances of the sort -Mr. SOMERS hints at. But after all, Sir, you do not indulge these -apprehensions, on account of the general fickleness of human nature. -You have some more particular reasons for concluding that the system -of liberty, which hath worked such wonders of late, is not likely to -maintain its ground amongst us. - - -MR. SOMERS. - -I have: and I was going to explain those reasons, if my lord of -SALISBURY had not a little diverted me from the pursuit of them. - -It is very notorious from the common discourse of men even on this -great occasion (and I wish it had not appeared too evidently in the -debates of the houses), that very many of us have but crude notions -of the form of government under which we live, and which hath been -transmitted to us from our forefathers. I have met with persons of -no mean rank, and supposed to be well seen in the history of the -kingdom, who speak a very strange language. They allow, indeed, that -something was to be done in the perilous circumstances into which we -had fallen. But, when they come to explain themselves, it is in a way -that leaves us no _right_ to do any thing; at least, not what it was -found expedient for the nation to do at this juncture. For they contend -in so many words, “that the crown of _England is absolute_; that the -form of government is an _entire and simple monarchy_; and that so it -hath continued to be in every period of it down to the Abdication: -that the CONQUEST, at least, to ascend no higher, invested the FIRST -WILLIAM in absolute dominion; that from him it devolved of course -upon his successors; and that all the pretended rights of the people, -the GREAT CHARTERS of ancient and modern date, were mere usurpations -on the prince, extorted from him by the necessity of his affairs, -and revocable at his pleasure: nay, they insinuate that parliaments -themselves were the creatures of his will; that their privileges were -all derived from the sovereign’s grant; and that they made no part in -the original frame and texture of the _English_ government. - -In support of this extraordinary system, they refer us to the constant -tenor of our history. They speak of the Conqueror, as proprietary of -the whole kingdom: which accordingly, they say, he parcelled out, as -he saw fit, in grants to his _Norman_ and _English_ subjects: that, -through his partial consideration of the church, and an excessive -liberality to his favoured servants, this distribution was so ill made, -as to give occasion to all the broils and contentions that followed: -that the churchmen began their unnatural claim of independency on the -crown; in which attempt they were soon followed by the encroaching -and too powerful barons: that, in these struggles, many flowers of -the crown were rudely torn from it, till a sort of truce was made, -and the rebellious humour somewhat composed, by the extorted articles -of RUNNING-MEDE: that these confusions, however, were afterwards -renewed, and even increased, by the contests of the two houses of YORK -and LANCASTER: but that, upon the union of the roses in the person -of HENRY VII, these commotions were finally appeased, and the crown -restored to its ancient dignity and lustre: that, indeed, the usage of -parliaments, with some other forms of popular administration, which -had been permitted in the former irregular reigns, was continued; but -of the mere grace of the prince, and without any consequence to his -prerogative: that succeeding kings, and even HENRY himself, considered -themselves as possessed of an imperial crown; and that, though they -might sometimes condescend to take the advice, they were absolutely -above the control, of the people: in short, that the law itself was -but the will of the prince, declared in parliament; or rather solemnly -received and attested there, for the better information and more -entire obedience of the subject. - -This they deliver as a just and fair account of the _English_ -government; the genius of which, they say, is absolute and despotic in -the highest degree; as much so, at least, as that of any other monarchy -in _Europe_. They ask, with an air of insult, what restraint our HENRY -VIII, and our admired ELIZABETH, would ever suffer to be put on their -prerogative; and they mention with derision the fancy of dating the -high pretensions of the crown from the accession of the STUART family. -They affirm, that JAMES I, and his son, aimed only to continue the -government on the footing on which they had received it; that their -notions of it were authorized by constant fact; by the evidence of our -histories; by the language of parliaments; by the concurrent sense of -every order of men amongst us: and that what followed in the middle of -this century was the mere effect of POPULAR, as many former disorders -had been of PATRICIAN, violence. In a word, they conclude with saying, -that the old government revived again at the RESTORATION, just as, in -like circumstances, it had done before at the UNION of the two houses: -that, in truth, the voluntary desertion of the late king have given a -colour to the innovation of the present year; but that, till this new -settlement was made, the _English_ constitution, as implying something -different from pure monarchy, was an unintelligible notion, or rather a -mere whimsy, that had not the least foundation in truth or history.” - -This is a summary of the doctrines, which, I doubt, are too current -amongst us. I do not speak of the bigoted adherents to the late king; -but of many cooler and more disinterested men, whose _religious_ -principles, as I suppose (for it appears it could not be their -_political_), had engaged them to concur in the new settlement. You -will judge, then, if there be not reason to apprehend much mischief -from the prevalence and propagation of such a system: a system, which, -as being, in the language of the patrons of it, founded upon _fact_, -is the more likely to impose upon the people; and, as referring to -the practice of ancient times, is not for every man’s confutation. -I repeat it, therefore; if this notion of the despotic form of our -government become general, I tremble to think what effect it may -hereafter produce on the minds of men; especially when joined to that -false tenderness, which the people of _England_ are so apt to entertain -for their princes, even the worst of them, under misfortune. I might -further observe, that this prerogative system hath a direct tendency -to produce, as well as heighten, this compassion to the sovereign. And -I make no scruple to lay it before you with all its circumstances, -because I know to whom I speak, and that I could not have wished for a -better opportunity of hearing it confuted. - - -BP. BURNET. - -I must own, though I was somewhat unwilling to give way to such -melancholy apprehensions at this time, I think with Mr. SOMERS, there -is but too much reason to entertain them. For my own part, I am apt -to look no further for the _right_ of the legislature to settle the -government in their own way, than their own free votes and resolutions. -For, being used to consider all political power as coming originally -from the people, it seems to me but fitting that they should dispose -of that power for their own use, in what hands, and under what -conditions, they please. Yet, as much regard is due to established -forms and ancient prescription, I think the matter of _fact_ of great -consequence; and, if the people in general should once conceive of -it according to this representation, I should be very anxious for -the issue of so dangerous an opinion. I must needs, therefore, join -very entirely with Mr. SOMERS, in wishing to hear the whole subject -canvassed, or rather finally determined, as it must be, if Sir JOHN -MAYNARD will do us the pleasure to acquaint us what his sentiments are -upon it. - - -SIR J. MAYNARD. - -Truly, my good friends, you have opened a very notable cause, and in -good form. Only, methinks, a little less solemnity, if you had so -pleased, might have better suited the occasion. Why, I could almost -laugh, to hear you talk of feats and dangers from a phantom of your -own raising. I certainly believe the common proverb belies us; and -that old age is not that dastardly thing it hath been represented. -For, instead of being terrified by this conceit of a prescriptive -right in our sovereigns to tyrannize over the subject, I am ready -to think the contrary so evident from the constant course of our -history, that the simplest of the people are in no hazard of falling -into the delusion. I should rather have apprehended mischief from other -quarters; from the influence of certain speculative points, which -have been to successfully propagated of late; and chiefly from those -pernicious glosses, which too many of my order have made on the letter -or the law, and too many of yours, my lord of SALISBURY, on that of -the gospel. Trust me, if the matter once came to a question of FACT, -and the inquiry be only concerning ancient form and precedent, the -decision will be in our favour. And for yourselves, I assure myself, -this decision is already made. But since you are willing to put me upon -the task, and we have leisure enough for such an amusement, I shall -very readily undertake it. And the rather, as I have more than once in -my life had occasion to go to the bottom of this inquiry; and now very -lately have taken a pleasure to reflect on the general evidence which -history affords of our free constitution, and to review the scattered -hints and passages I had formerly set down for my private satisfaction. - -“I understand the question to be, not under what _form_ the government -hath appeared at some particular conjunctures, but what we may conclude -it to have been from the general current and tenor of our histories. -More particularly, I conceive, you would ask, not whether the -_administration_ hath not at some seasons been DESPOTIC, but whether -the _genius_ of the government hath not at all times been FREE. Or, if -you do not think the terms, in which I propose the question, strict -enough, you will do well to state it in your own way, that hereafter we -may have no dispute about it. - - -BP. BURNET. - -I suppose, the question, as here put, is determinate enough for our -purpose.—Or, have you, Mr. SOMERS, any exceptions to make to it? - - -MR. SOMERS. - -I believe we understand each other perfectly well; the question being -only this, “Whether there be any ground in history, to conclude that -the prince hath a constitutional claim to absolute uncontrolable -dominion; or, whether the liberty of the subject be not essential -to every different form, under which the _English_ government hath -appeared?” - - -SIR J. MAYNARD. - -You expect of me then to shew, in opposition to the scheme just now -delivered by you, that neither from the original constitution of the -government, nor from the various forms (for they have, indeed, been -various) under which it hath been administered, is there any reason -to infer, that the _English_ monarchy is, or of right ought to be, -despotic and unlimited. - -Now this I take to be the easiest of all undertakings; so very easy, -that I could trust a plain man to determine the matter for himself -by the light that offers itself to him from the slightest of our -histories. ’Tis true, the deeper his researches go, his conviction -will be the clearer; as any one may see by dipping into my friend NAT. -BACON’S discourses; where our free constitution is set forth with that -evidence, as must for ever have silenced the patrons of the other -side, if he had not allowed himself to strain some things beyond what -the truth, or indeed his cause, required. But, saving to myself the -benefit of his elaborate work, I think it sufficient to take notice, -that the system of liberty is supported even by that short sketch of -our history, which Mr. SOMERS hath laid before us; and in spite of the -disguises, with which, as he tells us, the enemies of liberty have -endeavoured to cloak it. - -You do not, I am sure, expect from me, that I should go back to the -elder and more remote parts of our history; that I should take upon -me to investigate the scheme of government, which hath prevailed in -this kingdom from the time that the _Roman_ power departed from us; or -that I should even lay myself out in delineating, as many have done, -the plan of the _Saxon_ constitution: though such an attempt might not -be unpleasing, nor altogether without its use, as the _principles_ -of the _Saxon_ policy, and in some respects the _form_ of it, have -been constantly kept up in every succeeding period of the _English_ -monarchy. I content myself with observing, that the spirit of liberty -was predominant in those times: and, for proof of it, appeal at present -only to one single circumstance, which you will think remarkable. Our -_Saxon_ ancestors conceived so little of government, by the will of the -magistrate, without fixed laws, that LAGA, or LEAGA, which in their -language first and properly signified the same as LAW with us, was -transferred[114] very naturally (for language always conforms itself -to the genius, temper, and manners of a nation) to signify a country, -district, or province; these good people having no notion of any -inhabited country not governed by laws. Thus DÆNA-LAGA; MERKENA-LAGA; -and WESTSEXENA-LAGA, were not only used in their laws and history to -signify the _laws_ of the _Danes_, _Mercians_, and _West-Saxons_, but -the _countries_ likewise. Of which usage I could produce to you many -instances, if I did not presume that, for so small a matter as this, -my mere word might be taken. - -You see then how fully the spirit of liberty possessed the very -language of our _Saxon_ forefathers. And it might well do so; for it -was of the essence of the _German_ constitutions; a just notion of -which (so uniform was the genius of the brave people that planned them) -may be gathered, you know, from what the _Roman_ historians, and, above -all, from what TACITUS hath recorded of them. - -But I forbear so common a topic: and, besides, I think myself acquitted -of this task, by the prudent method, which the defenders of the regal -power have themselves taken in conducting this controversy. For, as -conscious of the testimony which the _Saxon_ times are ready to bear -against them, they are wise enough to lay the foundation of their -system in the CONQUEST. They look, no higher than that event for the -origin of the _constitution_, and think they have a notable advantage -over us in deducing their notion of the _English_ government from -the form it took in the hands of the _Norman_ invader. But is it not -pleasant to hear these men calumniate the improvements that have been -made from time to time in the plan of our civil constitution with -the name of _usurpations_, when they are not ashamed to erect the -_constitution_ itself on what _they_ must esteem, at least, a great and -manifest usurpation? - - -BP. BURNET. - -CONQUEST, I suppose, in their opinion, gives _right_. And since -an inquiry into the origin of a constitution requires that we fix -_somewhere_, considering the vast alterations introduced by the -Conquest, and that we have never pretended to reject, but only to -improve and complete, the duke of NORMANDY’S establishment; I believe -it may be as proper to set out from that æra as from any other. - - -SIR J. MAYNARD. - -Your lordship does not imagine that I am about to excuse myself from -closing with them, even on their own terms. I intended that question -only as a reproach to the persons we have to deal with; who, when -a successful event makes, or but seems to make, for their idol of -an absolute monarchy, call it a regular establishment: whereas a -revolution brought about by the justest means, if the cause of liberty -receive an advantage by it, shall be reviled by the name of usurpation. -But let them employ what names they please, provided their facts be -well grounded. We will allow them to dignify the _Norman_ settlement -with the title of CONSTITUTION. What follows? That _despotism_ was of -the essence of that constitution? So they tell us indeed; but without -one word of proof, for the assertion. For what! do they think the -name of conquest, or even the _thing_, implies an absolute unlimited -dominion? Have they forgotten that WILLIAM’S claim to the crown was, -not _conquest_ (though it enabled him to support his claim), but -_testamentary succession_: a title very much in the taste of that -time[115], and extremely reverenced by our _Saxon_ ancestors? That, -even waving this specious claim, he condescended to accept the crown, -as a free gift; and by his coronation-oath submitted himself to the -same terms of administration, as his predecessors? And that, in one -word, he confirmed the _Saxon_ laws, at least before he had been many -years in possession of his new dignity[116]. - -Is there any thing in all this that favours the notion of his erecting -himself, by the sole virtue of his victory at _Hastings_, into an -absolute lord of the conquered country? Is it not certain that he bound -himself, as far as oaths and declarations could bind him, to govern -according to law; that he could neither touch the honours nor estates -of his subjects but by legal trial; and that even the many forfeitures -in his reign are an evidence of his proceeding in that method? - -Still we are told “of his parcelling out the whole land, upon his own -terms, to his followers;” and are insulted “with his famous institution -of feudal tenures.” But what if the _former_ of these assertions -be foreign to the purpose at least, if not false; and the _latter_ -subversive of the very system it is brought to establish? I think, I -have reason for putting both these questions. For, what if he parcelled -out most, or all, of the lands of _England_ to his followers? The fact -has been much disputed. But be it, as they pretend, that the property -of all the soil in the kingdom had changed hands: What is that to -us, who claim under our _Norman_, as well as _Saxon_, ancestors? -For the question, you see, is about the form of government settled -in this nation at the time of the Conquest. And they argue with us, -from a supposed act of tyranny in the Conqueror, in order to come at -that settlement. The _Saxons_, methinks, might be injured, oppressed, -enslaved; and yet the constitution, transmitted to us through his own -_Normans_, be perfectly free. - -But their _other_ allegation is still more unfortunate. “He instituted, -they say, the feudal law.” True. But the feudal law, and absolute -dominion, are two things; and, what is more, perfectly incompatible. - -I take upon me to say, that I shall make out this point in the clearest -manner. In the mean time, it may help us to understand the nature of -the feudal establishment, to consider the practice of succeeding times. -What that was, our adversaries themselves, if you please, shall inform -us. Mr. SOMERS hath told their story very fairly; which yet amounts -only to this, “That, throughout the _Norman_ and _Plantagenet_ lines, -there was one perpetual contest between the prince and his feudatories -for law and liberty:” an evident proof of the light in which our -forefathers regarded the _Norman_ constitution. In the competition -of the two ROSES, and perhaps before, they lost sight indeed of this -prize. But no sooner was the public tranquillity restored, and the -contending claims united in HENRY VII. than the old spirit revived. -A legal constitution became the constant object of the people; and, -though not always avowed, was, in effect, as constantly submitted to by -the sovereign. - -It may be true, perhaps, that the ability of _one_ prince[117], the -imperious carriage of _another_[118], and the generous intrigues of a -_third_[119]; but, above all, the condition of the times, and a sense -of former miseries, kept down the spirit of liberty for some reigns, -or diminished, at least, the force and vigour of its operations. But -a passive subjection was never acknowledged, certainly never demanded -as a matter of right, till ELIZABETH now and then, and King JAMES, by -talking continually in this strain, awakened the national jealousy; -which proved so uneasy to himself, and, in the end, so fatal to his -family. - -I cannot allow myself to mention these things more in detail to you, -who have so perfect a knowledge of them. One thing only I insist upon, -that, without connecting the system of liberty with that of prerogative -in our notion of the _English_ government, the tenor of our history is -perfectly unintelligible; and that no consistent account can be given -of it, but on the supposition of a LEGAL LIMITED CONSTITUTION. - - -MR. SOMERS. - -Yet that constitution, it will be thought, was at least ill defined, -which could give occasion to so many fierce disputes, and those carried -on through so long a tract of time, between the crown and the subject. - - -SIR J. MAYNARD. - -The fault, if there was one, lay in the original plan of the -constitution itself; as you will clearly see when I have opened the -nature of it, that is, when I have explained the genius, views, and -consequences of the FEUDAL POLICY. It must, however, be affirmed, that -this policy was founded in the principles of freedom, and was, in -truth, excellently adapted to an active, fierce, and military people; -such as were all those to whom these western parts of _Europe_ have -been indebted for their civil constitutions. But betwixt the burdensome -services imposed on the subject by this tenure, or which it gave at -least the pretence of exacting from him, and the too great restraint -which an unequal and disproportioned allotment of feuds to the greater -barons laid on the sovereign; but above all, by narrowing the plan of -liberty too much; and, while it seemed to provide for the dependency -of the prince on one part of his subjects, by leaving both him and -them in a condition to exercise an arbitrary dominion over all others: -hence it came to pass that the feudal policy naturally produced the -struggles and convulsions, you spoke of, till it was seen in the end to -be altogether unsuited to the circumstances of a rich, civilized, and -commercial people. The event was, that the inconveniences, perceived in -this form of government, gradually made way for the introduction of a -better; which was not, however, so properly a new form, as the old one -amended and set right; cleared of its mischiefs and inconsistencies, -but conducted on the same principles as the former, and pursuing the -same end, though by different methods. - -It is commonly said, “That the feudal tenures were introduced at the -Conquest.” But how are we to understand this assertion? Certainly, not -as if the whole system of military services had been created by the -Conqueror; for they were essential to all the _Gothic_ or _German_ -constitutions. We may suppose then, that they were only new-modelled -by this great prince. And who can doubt that the form, which was now -given to them, would be copied from that which the _Norman_ had seen -established in his own country? It would be copied then from the proper -FEUDAL FORM; the essence of which consisted in the perpetuity of the -feud[120]; whereas these military tenures had been elsewhere temporary -only, or revocable at the will of the lord. - -But to enter fully into the idea of the feudal constitution; to see -at what time, and in what manner, it was introduced: above all, to -comprehend the reasons that occasioned this great change; it will be -convenient to look back to the estate of _France_, and especially of -_Normandy_, where this constitution had, for some years, taken place -before it was transferred to us at the Conquest. - -Under the first princes of the _Carlovingian_ line, the lands of -_France_ were of two kinds, ALLODIAL, and BENEFICIARY. The allodial, -were estates of inheritance; the persons possessing them, were called -HOMMES LIBRES. The beneficiary, were held by grants from the crown. The -persons holding immediately under the emperor, were called LEUDES; the -sub-tenants, VASSALS. - -Further, the allodial lands were alienable, as well as hereditary. -The beneficiary were properly neither. They were held for life, or a -term of years, at the will of the lord, and reverted to him on the -expiration of the term for which they were granted. - -I do not stay to explain these institutions minutely. It is of more -importance to see the alterations that were afterwards made in them. -And the FIRST will be thought a strange one. - -The possessors of allodial lands, in _France_, were desirous to have -them changed into _tenures_. They who held of the crown _in capite_ -were entitled to some distinctions and privileges, which the allodial -lords wished to obtain; and therefore many of them surrendered their -lands to the emperor, and received them again of him, in the way of -_tenure_. This practice had taken place occasionally from the earliest -times: but under CHARLES the Bald, it became almost general; and -_free-men_ not only chose to hold of the emperor, but of other lords. -This last was first allowed, in consequence of a treaty between the -three brothers, after the battle of _Fontenay_ in 847. - -But these _free-men_ were not so ill-advised as to make their estates -precarious, or to accept a life estate instead of an inheritance. -It was requisite they should hold for a perpetuity. And this I take -to have been the true origin of hereditary feuds. Most probably, in -those dangerous times, little people could not be safe without a lord -to protect them: and the price of this protection was the change of -propriety into tenure. - -The SECOND change was by a law made under the same emperor in the year -877, the last of his reign. It was then enacted, that beneficiary -estates held under the crown should descend to the sons of the present -possessors: yet not, as I conceive, to the eldest son; but to him whom -the emperor should chuse; nor did this law affect the estates only, but -_offices_, which had hitherto been also beneficiary; and so the sons of -counts, marquises, _&c._ (which were all names of offices, not titles -of honour) were to succeed to the authority of their fathers, and to -the benefice annexed to it. The new feuds, created in allodial lands, -had, I suppose, made the emperor’s tenants desirous of holding on the -same terms; and the weakness of the reigning prince enabled them to -succeed in this first step, which prepared the way for a revolution of -still more importance. For, - -The THIRD change, by which the inheritance of beneficiary lands and -offices was extended to perpetuity, and the possession rendered -almost independent of the crown, was not, we may be sure, effected at -once, but by degrees. The family of CHARLEMAGNE lost the empire: they -resisted with great difficulty the incursions of the _Normans_; and, -in the year 911, _Normandy_ was granted to them as an hereditary fee. -The great lords made their advantage of the public calamities; they -defended the king on what terms they pleased; if not complied with -in their demands, they refused their assistance in the most critical -conjunctures: and before the accession of HUGH CAPET, had entirely -shaken off their dependence on the crown. For it is, I think, a vulgar -mistake to say, that this great revolution was the effect of HUGH’S -policy. On the contrary, the independence of the nobles, already -acquired, was, as it seems to me, the cause of his success. The prince -had no authority left, but over his own demesnes; which were less -considerable than the possessions of some of his nobles. HUGH had one -of the largest fiefs: and for this reason, his usurpation added to the -power of the crown, instead of lessening it, as is commonly imagined. -But to bring back the feuds of the other nobles to their former -precarious condition was a thing impossible: his authority was partly -supported by superior wisdom, and partly by superior strength, his -vassals being more numerous than those of any other lord. - -I cannot tell if these foreigners, when they adopted the feudal plan, -were immediately aware of all the consequences of it. An hereditary -tenure was, doubtless, a prodigious acquisition; yet the advantage -was something counter-balanced by the great number of impositions -which the nature of the change brought with it. These impositions -are what, in respect of the lord, are called his FRUITS of tenure; -such as WARDSHIP, MARRIAGE, RELIEF, and other services: and were -the necessary consequence of the king’s parting with his arbitrary -disposal of these tenures. For now that the right of inheritance was -in the tenant, it seemed but reasonable, and, without this provision, -the feudal policy could not have obtained its end, that the prince, -in these several ways, should secure to himself the honour, safety, -and defence, which the very nature of the constitution implied and -intended. Hence hereditary feuds were very reasonably clogged with the -obligations. I have mentioned; which, though trifling in comparison -with the disadvantages of a precarious tenure, were yet at least some -check on the independency acquired. However, these services, which were -due to the king under the new model, were also due to the tenant in -chief from those who held of him by the like tenure. And so the barons, -or great proprietaries of land, considering more perhaps the subjection -of their own vassals, than that by which themselves were bound to their -sovereign, reckoned these burdens as nothing, with respect to what they -had gained by an hereditary succession. - -The example of these _French_ feudataries, we may suppose, would be -catching. We accordingly find it followed, in due time, in _Germany_; -where CONRAD II.[121] granted the like privilege of _successive_ -tenures, and at the pressing instance of his tenants. - -I thought it material to remind you of these things; because they prove -the feudal institution on the continent to have been favourable to the -cause of liberty; and because it will abate our wonder to find it so -readily accepted and submitted to here in _England_. - - -MR. SOMERS. - -The account you have given, and, I dare say, very truly, of the origin -of feuds in _France_ and _Germany_, is such as shews them to have -been an extension of the people’s liberty. There is no question that -hereditary alienable estates have vastly the preference to beneficiary. -But the case, I suspect, was different with us in _England_. The great -offices of state, indeed, in this country, as well as in _France_, were -beneficiary. But, if I do not mistake, the lands of the _English_, -except only the church-lands, were all allodial. And I cannot think it -could be for the benefit of the _English_ to change their old _Saxon_ -possessions, subject only to the famous triple obligation, for these -new and burdensome tenures. - - -SIR J. MAYNARD. - -Strange as it may appear, we have yet seen that the _French_ did not -scruple to make that exchange even of their allodial estates. But to -be fair, there was a great difference, as you well observe, in the -circumstances of the two people. All the lands in _England_ were, I -believe, allodial, in the _Saxon_ times: while a very considerable -proportion of those in _France_ were beneficiary. - -Another difference, also, in the state of the two countries, is worth -observing. In _France_, the allodial lands (though considerable in -quantity) were divided into small portions. In _England_, they seem -to have been in few hands; the greater part possessed by the King -and his _Thanes_; some smaller parcels by the lesser _Thanes_; and a -very little by the _Ceorles_. The consequence was, that, though the -allodial proprietors in _France_ were glad to renounce their property -for tenure, in order to secure the protection they much wanted; yet -with us, as you say, there could not be any such inducement for the -innovation. For, the lands being possessed in large portions by the -nobility and gentry, the allodial lords in _England_ were too great to -stand in need of protection. Yet from this very circumstance, fairly -attended to, we shall see that the introduction of the feudal tenures -was neither difficult nor unpopular. The great proprietors of land -were, indeed, too free and powerful, to be bettered by this change. But -their tenants, that is, the bulk of the people, would be gainers by it. -For these tenants were, I believe, to a man beneficiaries. The large -estates of the _Thanes_ were granted out in small portions to others, -either for certain quantities of corn or rent, reserved to the lord, -or on condition of stipulated services. And these grants, of whichever -sort they were, were either at pleasure, or at most for a limited term. -So that, though the proprietors of land in _England_ were so much -superior to those in _France_; yet the tenants of each were much in the -same state; that is, they possessed beneficiary lands on stipulated -conditions. - -When, therefore, by right of forfeiture, the greater part of the lands -in _England_ fell, as they of course would do, into the power of the -king (for they were in few hands, and those few had either fought at -_Hastings_, or afterwards rebelled against him), it is easy to see -that the people would not be displeased to find themselves, instead of -beneficiary tenants[122], feudatary proprietors. - -I say this on supposition that these great forfeited estates and -signiories, so bountifully bestowed by the Conqueror on his favourite -_Normans_, were afterwards, many of them at least, granted out in -smaller parcels to _English_ sub-tenants. But if these sub-tenants -were also _Normans_ (though the case of the _English_ or old _Saxon_ -freeholders was then very hard), the change of allodial into feudatary -estates is the more easily accounted for. - -The main difficulty would be with the churchmen; who (though the -greatest, and most of them were, perhaps, _Normans_ too) were well -acquainted with the _Saxon_ laws, and for special reasons were much -devoted to them. They were sensible that their possessions had been -held, in the _Saxon_ times, in FRANC-ALMOIGN: a sort of tenure, they -were not forward to give up for this of _feuds_. ’Tis true, the burdens -of these tenures would, many of them, not affect them. But then neither -could they reap the principal fruit of them, the fruit of inheritance. -They, besides, considered every restraint on their privileges as -impious; and took the subjection of the ecclesiastic to the secular -power, which the feudal establishment was to introduce, for the vilest -of all servitudes. Hence the churchmen were, of all others, the most -averse from this law[123]. And their opposition might have given the -Conqueror still more trouble, if the suppression of the great Northern -rebellion had not furnished him with the power, and (as many of them -had been deeply engaged in it) with the pretence, to force it upon -them. And thus, in the end, it prevailed universally, and without -exception. - -I would not go further into the history of these tenures. It may appear -from the little I have said of them, that the feudal system was rather -improved and corrected by the duke of NORMANDY, than originally planted -by him in this kingdom: that the alteration made in it was favourable -to the public interest; and that our _Saxon_ liberties were not so -properly restrained, as extended by it. It is of little moment to -inquire whether the nation was won, or forced, to a compliance with -this system. It is enough to say, that, as it was accepted by the -nation, so it was in itself no servile establishment, but essentially -founded in the principles of liberty. The duties of lord and feudatary -were reciprocal and acknowledged: services on the one part, and -protection on the other. The institution was plainly calculated for the -joint-interest[124] of both parties, and the benefit of the community; -the proper notion of the feudal system being that “of a confederacy -between a number of military persons, agreeing on a certain limited -subordination and dependence on their chief, for the more effectual -defence of his and their lives, territories, and possessions.” - - -MR. SOMERS. - -I have nothing to object to your account of the feudal constitution. -And I think you do perfectly right, to lay the main stress on the -general nature and genius of it; as by this means you cut off those -fruitless altercations, which have been raised, concerning the personal -character of the _Norman_ Conqueror. Our concern is not with him, but -with the government he established. And if that be free, no matter -whether the founder of it were a tyrant. But, though I approve your -method, I doubt there is some defect in your argument. _Freedom_ is a -term of much latitude. The _Norman_ constitution may be free in one -sense, as it excludes the sole arbitrary dominion of one man; and -yet servile enough in another, as it leaves the government in few -hands. For it follows, from what I understand of the feudal plan, that -though its genius be indeed averse from absolute monarchy, yet it is -indulgent enough to absolute _aristocracy_. And the notion of each is -equally remote from what we conceive of true _English_ liberty. - - -SIR J. MAYNARD. - -It is true, the proper feudal form, especially as established in this -kingdom, was in a high degree oligarchical. It would not otherwise, -perhaps, have suited to the condition of those military ages. Yet the -principles it went upon, were those of public liberty, and generous -enough to give room for the extension of the system itself, when a -change of circumstances should require it.—But your objection will -best be answered by looking a little more distinctly into the nature of -these tenures. - -I took notice that the feudal system subjected the CHURCH more -immediately to the civil power: and laid the foundation of many -services and fruits of tenure to which the LAY-FEUDATARIES in the -_Saxon_ times had been altogether strangers. It is probable that -all the consequences of this alteration were not foreseen. Yet the -churchmen were pretty quick-sighted. And the dislike, they had -conceived of the new establishment, was the occasion of those -struggles, which continued so long between the mitre and crown, and -which are so famous more especially in the early parts of our history. -The cause of these ecclesiastics was a bad one. For their aim was, as -is rightly observed by the advocates for the prerogative, to assert an -independency on the state; and for that purpose the pope was made a -party in the dispute; by whose intrigues it was kept up in one shape -or other till the total renunciation of the papal power. Thus far, -however, the feudal constitution cannot be blamed. On the contrary, it -was highly serviceable to the cause of liberty, as tending only to hold -the ecclesiastic, in a due subordination to the civil, authority. - -The same thing cannot be said of the other instance, I mean the _fruits -of tenure_, to which the lay-fees were subjected by this system. For -however reasonable, or rather necessary, those _fruits_ might be, in -a feudal sense, and for the end to which the feudal establishment was -directed, yet, as the _measure_ of these fruits, as well as the manner -of exacting them, was in a good degree arbitrary, and too much left to -the discretion of the sovereign, the practice, in this respect, was -soon found by the tenants in chief to be an intolerable grievance. -Hence that other contest, so memorable in our history, betwixt the king -and his barons: in which the former, under the colour of maintaining -his feudal rights, laboured to usurp an absolute dominion over the -persons and properties of his vassals; and the latter, impatient of -the feudal burdens, or rather of the king’s arbitrary exactions under -pretence of them, endeavoured to redeem themselves from so manifest an -oppression. - -It is not to be denied, that, in the heat of this contest, the barons -sometimes carried their pretensions still further, and laboured in -their turn to usurp on the crown, in revenge for the oppressions -they had felt from it. However, their first contentions were only -for a mitigation of the feudal system. It was not the character of -the _Norman_ princes to come easily into any project that was likely -to give the least check to their pretensions. Yet the grievances, -complained of, were in part removed, in part moderated, by HENRY the -First’s and many other successive charters: though the last blow was -not given to these feudal servitudes till after the Restoration, when -such of them as remained, and were found prejudicial to the liberty of -the subject, were finally abolished. - -Thus we see that ONE essential defect in the feudal policy, considered -not as a military, but civil institution, was, the too great power -it gave the sovereign in the arbitrary impositions, implied in this -tenure. ANOTHER was accidental. It arose from the disproportionate -allotment of those feuds, which gave the greater barons an ascendant -over the prince, and was equally unfavourable to the cause of liberty. -For the bounty of the duke of NORMANDY, in his distribution of the -forfeited estates and signiories to his principal officers, had been so -immense[125], that their share of influence in the state was excessive, -and intrenched too much on the independency of the crown and the -freedom of the people. And this undue poize in the constitution, as -well as the tyranny of our kings, occasioned the long continuance of -those civil wars, which for many ages harrassed and distressed the -nation. The evil, however, in the end, brought on its own remedy. For -these princely houses being much weakened in the course of the quarrel, -HENRY VII. succeeded, at length, to the peaceable possession of the -crown. And by the policy of this prince, and that of his successor, -the barons were brought so low as to be quite disabled from giving any -disturbance to the crown for the future. - -It appears then that TWO great defects in the feudal plan of -government, as settled amongst us, were, at length, taken away. But a -THIRD, and the greatest defect of all, was the narrowness of the plan -itself, I mean when considered as a system of CIVIL polity; for, in its -primary martial intention, it was perfectly unexceptionable. - -To explain this matter, which is of the highest importance, and will -furnish a direct answer to Mr. SOMERS’ objection, we are to remember -that in the old feudal policy the king’s barons, that is, such as -held _in capite_ of the crown by barony or knight’s service, were the -king’s, or rather the kingdom’s, great council. No public concerns -could be regularly transacted, without their consent[126]; though -the lesser barons, or tenants by knight’s service, did not indeed so -constantly appear in the king’s court, as the greater barons; and -though the public business was sometimes even left to the ordinary -attendants on the king, most of them churchmen. It appears that, -towards the end of the Conqueror’s reign, the number of these tenants -in chief was about 700; who, as the whole property of the kingdom was, -in effect, in their power, may be thought a no unfit representative -(though this be no proper _feudal_ idea) of the whole nation. It was -so, perhaps, in those rude and warlike times, when the strength of the -nation lay entirely in the soldiery; that is, in those who held by -military services, either immediately of the crown, or of the mesne -lords. For the remainder of the people, whom they called tenants in -socage, were of small account; being considered only in the light -of servants, and contributing no otherwise to the national support -than by their cultivation of the soil, which left their masters at -leisure to attend with less distraction on their military services. -At least, it was perfectly in the genius of the feudal, that is, -military constitutions, to have little regard for any but the men of -arms; and, as every other occupation would of course be accounted base -and ignoble, it is not to be wondered that such a difference was made -between the condition of _prædial_ and _military_ tenures. - -However, a policy, that excluded such numbers from the rank and -privileges of citizens, was so far a defective one. And this defect -would become more sensible every day, in proportion to the growth of -arts, the augmentation of commerce, and the security the nation found -itself in from foreign dangers. The ancient military establishment -would now be thought unjust, when the exclusive privileges of the -swordsmen were no longer supported by the necessities of the public, -and when the wealth of the nation made so great a part of the force of -it. Hence arose an important change in the legislature of the kingdom, -which was much enlarged beyond its former limits. But this was done -gradually; and was more properly an extension than violation of the -ancient system. - -First, the number of tenants in chief, or the king’s freeholders, was -much increased by various causes, but chiefly by the alienation which -the greater barons made of their fees. Such alienation, though under -some restraint, seems to have been generally permitted in the _Norman_ -feuds; I mean, till MAGNA CHARTA and some subsequent statutes laid it -under particular limitations. But, whether the practice were regular or -not, it certainly prevailed from the earliest times; especially on some -more extraordinary occasions. Thus, when the fashionable madness of the -CROISADES had involved the greater barons in immense debts, in order -to discharge the expences of these expeditions, they alienated their -fees, and even dismembered them; that is, they parted with their right -in them, and made them over in small parcels to others, to hold of the -superior lord. And what these barons did from necessity, the crown -itself did, out of policy: for the _Norman_ princes, growing sensible -of the inconvenience of making their vassals too great, disposed of -such estates of their barons as fell in to them by forfeiture, and were -not a few, in the same manner. The consequence of all this was, that, -in process of time, the lesser military tenants _in capite_ multiplied -exceedingly. And, as many of them were poor, and unequal to a personal -attendance in the court of their lord, or in the common council of the -kingdom (where of right and duty they were to pay their attendance), -they were willing, and it was found convenient to give them leave, -to appear in the way of _representation_. And this was the origin of -what we now call THE KNIGHTS OF THE SHIRES; who, in those times, were -appointed to represent, not all the free-holders of counties, but the -lesser tenants of the crown only. For these not attending in person, -would otherwise have had no place in the king’s council. - -The rise of CITIZENS AND BURGESSES, that is, representatives of the -cities and trading towns, must be accounted for somewhat differently. -These had originally been in the jurisdiction, and made part of the -demesnes, of the king and his great lords. The reason of which appears -from what I observed of the genius of the feudal policy. For, little -account being had of any but martial men, and trade being not only -dishonourable, but almost unknown in those ages; the lower people, -who lived together in towns, most of them small and inconsiderable, -were left in a state of subjection to the crown, or some other of the -barons, and exposed to their arbitrary impositions and talliages. - -But this condition of burghers, as it sprang from the military genius -of the nation, could only be supported by it. When that declined -therefore, and, instead of a people of soldiers, the commercial spirit -prevailed, and filled our towns with rich traders and merchants, it -was no longer reasonable, nor was it the interest of the crown, that -these communities and bodies of men should be so little regarded. On -the contrary, a large share of the public burdens being laid upon them, -and the frequent necessities of the crown, especially in foreign wars, -or in the king’s contentions with his barons, requiring him to have -recourse to their purses, it was naturally brought about that those, as -well as the tenants _in capite_, should, in time, be admitted to have a -share in the public councils. - -I do not stay to trace the steps of this change. It is enough to say, -that arose insensibly and naturally out of the growing wealth and -consequence of the trading towns; the convenience the king found in -drawing considerable sums from them, with greater ease to himself, and -less offence to the people; and, perhaps, from the view of lessening by -their means the exorbitant power and influence of the barons. - -From these, or the like reasons, the great towns and cities, that -before were royal demesnes, part of the king’s private patrimony, and -talliable by him at pleasure, were allowed to appear in his council -by their deputies, to treat with him of the proportion of taxes to be -raised on them, and, in a word, to be considered it the same light as -the other members of that great assembly. - -I do not inquire when this great alteration was first made. I find it -subsisting at least under EDWARD III. And from that time, there is no -dispute but that the legislature, which was originally composed of the -sovereign and his feudal tenants, included also the representatives of -the counties, and of the royal towns and cities. To speak in our modern -style, the HOUSE OF COMMONS was, now, formed. And by this addition, the -glorious edifice of _English_ liberty was completed. - -I am sensible, I must have wearied you with this deduction, which can -be no secret to either of you. But it was of importance to shew, that -the constitution of _England_, as laid in the feudal tenures, was -essentially free; and that the very changes it hath undergone, were the -natural and almost unavoidable effects of those tenures. So that what -the adversaries of liberty object to us, as usurpations on the regal -prerogative, are now seen to be either the proper result of the feudal -establishment, or the most just and necessary amendments of it. - - -BP. BURNET. - -I have waited with much pleasure for this conclusion, which entirely -discredits the notion of an absolute, despotic government. I will not -take upon me to answer for Mr. _Somers_, whose great knowledge in the -laws and history of the kingdom enables him to see further into the -subject than I do; but to me nothing appears more natural or probable -than this account of the rise and progress of the _English_ monarchy. -One difficulty, in particular, which seemed to embarrass this inquiry, -you have entirely removed, by shewing how, from the aristocratical form -which prevailed in the earlier times, the more free and popular one of -our days hath gradually taken place, and that without any violence to -the antient constitution[127]. - - -MR. SOMERS. - -At least, my lord, with so little, that we may, perhaps, apply to -the _English_ government what the naturalists observe of the HUMAN -BODY[128]; that, when it arrives at its full growth, it does not -perhaps retain a single particle of the matter it originally set out -with; yet the alteration hath been made so gradually and imperceptibly, -that the system is accounted the same under all changes. Just so, I -think, we seem to have shaken off the constituent parts of the FEUDAL -CONSTITUTION; but, liberty having been always the informing principle, -time and experience have rather completed the old system, than created -a new one: and we may account the present and _Norman_ establishment -all one, by the same rule as we say that HERCULES, when he became the -deliverer of oppressed nations, was still the same with him who had -strangled serpents in his cradle. - - -SIR. J. MAYNARD. - -I know not what fanciful similes your younger wit may delight in. I -content myself with observing, that the two great points, which they, -who deny the liberty of the subject, love to inculcate, and on which -the plausibility of all their reasonings depends, are, THE SLAVISH -NATURE OF THE FEUDAL CONSTITUTION, and THE LATE RISE OF THE HOUSE OF -COMMONS. And I have taken up your time to small purpose, if it doth -not now appear, that the _former_ of these notions is false, and the -_latter_ impertinent. If the learned inquirers into this subject had -considered that the question is concerning the freedom itself of our -constitution, and not the most convenient form under which it may be -administered, they must have seen that, the feudal law, though it -narrowed the system of liberty, was founded in it; that the spirit of -freedom is as vital in this form, and the principles it goes upon as -solid, as in the best-formed republic; and that _villanage_ concludes -no more against the _feudal_, than _slavery_ against the _Greek_ or -_Roman_, constitutions. - - -MR. SOMERS. - -That is, Sir JOHN, you make _liberty_ to have been the essence of all -THREE; though, to the perfection of an equal commonwealth, you suppose -it should have been further spread out and dilated: as they say of -_frankincense_ (if you can forgive another allusion), which, when -lying in the lump, is of no great use or pleasure; but, when properly -diffused, is the sweetest of all odours. But you was going on with the -application of your principles. - - -SIR J. MAYNARD. - -I was going to say that, as many have been misled by wrong notions of -the _feudal tenures_, others had erred as widely in their reasonings -on _the late origin of the lower house of parliament_. How have we -heard some men triumph, in dating it no higher than the reign of -EDWARD III? Let the fact be admitted. What follows? That this house -is an usurpation on the prerogative? Nothing less. It was gradually -brought forth by time, and grew up under the favour and good liking -of our princes[129]. The constitution itself supposed the men of -greatest consequence in the commonwealth to have a seat in the -national councils. Trade and agriculture had advanced vast numbers -into consequence, that before were of small account in the kingdom. -The public consideration was increased by their wealth, and the public -necessities relieved by it. Were these to remain for ever excluded from -the king’s councils? or was not that council, which had liberty for its -object, to widen and expand itself in order to receive them? It did, in -fact, receive them with open arms; and, in so doing, conducted itself -on the very principles of the old feudal policy. - -In short, the _feudal constitution_, different from all others that -human policy is acquainted with, was of such a make, that it readily -gave way, and fitted itself to the varying situations of society: -narrow and contracted, when the public interest required a close -connexion between the governor and the governed; large and capacious, -when the same interest required that connexion to be loosened. Just as -the skin (if you will needs have a comparison), the natural cincture -of the body, confines the young limbs with sufficient tightness, -and yet widens in proportion to their growth, so as to let the -different parts of the body play with ease, and obtain their full -size and dimensions. Whereas the other policies, that have obtained -in the world, may be compared to those artificial coverings, which, -being calculated only for one age and size; grow troublesome and -insupportable in any other; and yet cannot, like these, be thrown off -and supplied by such as are more suitable and convenient; but are worn -for life, though with constant, or rather increasing, uneasiness. - -This then being the peculiar prerogative of the feudal policy, I think -we may say with great truth, not that the House of Commons violated -the constitution, but, on the contrary, that the constitution itself -demanded, or rather generated, the House of Commons. - -So that I cannot by any means commend the zeal which some have shewn -in seeking the origin of this house in the _British_ or even _Saxon_ -annals. Their aim was, to serve the cause of liberty; but, it must be -owned, at the expence of truth, and, as we now perceive, without the -least necessity. - - -BP. BURNET. - -It hath happened then in this, as in so many other instances, that an -excellent cause hath suffered by the ill judgment of its defenders. -But, when truth itself had been disgraced by one sort of men in being -employed by them to the worst purposes, is it to be wondered that -others should not acknowledge her in such hands, but be willing to look -out for her in better company? - - -SIR J. MAYNARD. - -Let us say, my lord, they should have acknowledged her in whatever -company she was found; and the rather, as ill-applied truths are seen -to be full as serviceable to a bad cause, as downright falsehoods. -Besides, this conduct had not only been fairer, but more politic. For -when so manifest a truth was rejected, it was but natural to suspect -foul play in the rest, and that none but a bad cause could want to be -supported by so disingenuous a management. - - -MR. SOMERS. - -I think so, Sir JOHN; and there is this further use of such candor, -that it cuts off at once the necessity of long and laboured researches -into the dark parts of our history; and so not only shortens the -debate, but renders it much more intelligible to the people. - - -SIR J. MAYNARD. - -I was aware of that advantage, and am therefore not displeased that -truth allowed me to make use of it.—But to resume the main argument; -for I have not yet done with my evidence for the freedom of our -excellent constitution:—It seemed of moment to shew, from the nature -and consequences of the _Norman_ settlement, that the _English_ -government was essentially free. But, because the freest form of -government may be tamely given up and surrendered into the hands of a -master, I hold it of consequence to prove, that the _English_ spirit -hath always been answerable to the constitution, and that even the -most insidious attempts on their liberties have never failed to awaken -the resentment of our generous forefathers. In a word, I would shew -that the jealously, with which the _English_ have ever guarded the -national freedom, is at once a convincing testimony of their _right_, -and of their constant _possession_ of it. - -And though I might illustrate this argument by many other instances, I -chuse to insist only on ONE, THEIR PERPETUAL OPPOSITION TO THE CIVIL -AND CANON LAWS; which, at various times and for their several ends, the -crown and church have been solicitous to obtrude on the people. - -To open the way to this illustration, let it be observed that, from the -time of HONORIUS, that is, when the _Roman_ authority ceased amongst -us, the _Saxon_ institutions, incorporated with the old _British_ -customs, were the only standing laws of the kingdom. These had been -collected and formed into a sort of digest by EDWARD the Confessor; and -so great was the nation’s attachment to them, that WILLIAM himself was -obliged to ratify them, at the same time that the feudal law itself was -enacted. And afterwards, on any attempt to innovate on those laws, we -hear of a general outcry and dissatisfaction among the people: which -jealousy of theirs was not without good grounds; as we may see from -an affair that happened in the Conqueror’s own reign, and serves to -illustrate the policy of this monarch. - -It had been an old custom, continued through the _Saxon_ times, for -the bishops and sheriffs to sit together in judicature in the county -courts. This had been found a very convenient practice; for the -presence of the churchmen gave a sanction to the determinations of -the temporal courts, and drew an extraordinary reverence towards them -from the people. Yet we find it abolished by the Conqueror; who, in a -rescript to the bishop of _Lincoln_, ordained that, for the future, -the bishops and aldermen of the shires should have separate courts -and separate jurisdictions. The pretence for this alteration was the -distinct nature of the two judicatures, and the desire of maintaining -a strict conformity to the canons of the church. The real design was -much deeper. There is no question but WILLIAM’S inclinations, at least, -were for arbitrary government; in which project his _Norman_ lawyers, -it was hoped, might be of good use to him. But there was a great -obstacle in his way. The churchmen of those times had incomparably -the best knowledge of the _Saxon_ laws. It matters not, whether those -churchmen were _Normans_, or not. They were equally devoted, as I -observed before, to the _Saxon_ laws, with the _English_; as favouring -that independency, they affected, on the civil power. Besides, in -the Confessor’s time, many and perhaps the greatest of the churchmen -had been _Normans_; so that the study of the _Saxon_ laws, from the -interest they promised themselves in them, was grown familiar to the -rising ecclesiastics of that country. Hence, as I said, the churchmen, -though _Normans_, were well instructed in the spirit and genius of the -_Saxon_ laws; and it was not easy for the king’s glossers to interpret -them to their own mind, whilst the bishops were at hand to refute and -rectify their comments. - -Besides, the truth is (and my lord of SALISBURY will not be displeased -with me for telling it), the ecclesiastics of that time were much -indevoted to the court. They considered the king as the wickedest of -all tyrants. He had brought them into subjection by their baronies, and -had even set the pope himself at defiance. In this state of things, -there was no hope of engaging the clergy in his plot. But when a -separation of the two tribunals was made, and the civil courts were -solely administered by his own creatures, the laws, it was thought, -would speak what language he pleased to require of them. - -Such appears to have been the design of this prince in his famous -distinction of the ecclesiastic and temporal courts. It was so artfully -laid, and so well coloured, that the laity seem to have taken no -umbrage at it. But the clergy saw his drift; and their zeal for the -ancient laws, as well as their resentments, put them upon contriving -methods to counteract it. They hit upon a very natural and effectual -one. In a word, they all turned common lawyers; and so found means of -introducing themselves into the civil courts. This expedient succeeded -so well, and was so generally relished, that the clergy to a man almost -in the next reign were become professors of the common law; NULLUS -CLERICUS NISI CAUSIDICUS, as WILLIAM of _Malmesbury_ takes care to -inform us[130]. - - -BP. BURNET. - -Whatever their motive might be, the churchmen, I perceive, interposed -very seasonably in the support of our civil liberties. It was a -generous kind of revenge, methinks, to repay the king’s tyranny over -the church by vindicating the authority of the _English_ laws. - - -SIR J. MAYNARD. - -It was so; and for this good service, I let them pass without any -harsher reflection. Though the true secret is, perhaps, no more than -this: Their main object was the church, of whose interests, as is -fitting, we will allow them to be the most competent judges. And, -as these inclined them, they have been, at different junctures, the -defenders or oppressors of civil liberty. - - -BP. BURNET. - -At _some_ junctures, it may be, they have. But, if you insist on so -general a censure, I must intreat Mr. SOMERS, once more, to take upon -him the defence of our order. - - -SIR J. MAYNARD. - -All I intended by this instance, was, to shew the spirit of the -_Saxon_ laws, which could excite the jealousy of the prince, and -deserve, at such a season, the patronage of the clergy. It seems, -however, for once, as if they had a little misconceived their true -interests. For the distinction of the two judicatures, which occasioned -their resentment, was, in the end, a great means of the hierarchical -greatness and independency. - -Matters continued on this footing during the three first of the -_Norman_ reigns. The prince did his utmost to elude the authority of -the _English_ laws; and the nation, on the other hand, laboured hard to -confirm it. But a new scene was opened under King STEPHEN, by means of -the _Justinian_ laws; which had lately been recovered in _Italy_, and -became at once the fashionable study over all _Europe_. It is certain, -that the Pandects were first brought amongst us in that reign; and that -the reading of them was much favoured by Archbishop THEOBALD[131], -under whose encouragement they were publicly read in _England_ by -VACARIUS, within a short time after the famous IRNERIUS had opened his -school at _Bologna_. There is something singular in the readiness with -which this new system of law was embraced in these Western parts of -_Europe_. But my friend Mr. SELDEN used to give a plausible account of -it. It was, he said[132], in opposition to INNOCENT II, who was for -obtruding on the Christian states the _decretals_, as laws; manifestly -calculated for the destruction of the civil magistrate’s power. And -what seems to authorize the opinion of my learned friend, is, that -the popes very early took the alarm, and, by their decrees, forbad -churchmen to teach the civil law: as appears from the constitution of -ALEXANDER III, so early as the year 1163, in the council of TOURS; and -afterwards from the famous decretal of SUPER-SPECULA by HONORIUS III, -in 1219, in which the clergy of all denominations, seculars as well as -regulars, were prohibited the study of it. And it was, doubtless, to -defeat the mischief which the popes apprehended to themselves, from -the credit of the imperial laws, that GRATIAN was encouraged, about -the same time, to compose and publish his DECREE; which, it is even -said[133], had the express approbation of Pope EUGENIUS. - -Let us see, now, what reception this newly-recovered law, so severely -dealt with by the pope, and so well entertained by the greatest part of -_Europe_, had in _England_. - -VACARIUS had continued to teach it for some time, in the archbishop’s -palace at _Lambeth_, to great numbers, whom first, the novelty of the -study, and then, the fashion of the age, had drawn about him. The fame -of the teacher was high, and the new science had made a great progress, -when on a sudden it received a severe check, and from a quarter -whence one should not naturally expect it. In short, the king himself -interdicted the study of it. Some have imagined, that this inhibition -was owing to the spite he bore to archbishop THEOBALD. But the truer -reason seems to be, that the canon law was first read by VACARIUS at -the same time, and under colour of the imperial. I think we may collect -thus much very clearly from JOHN OF SALISBURY, who acquaints us with -this edict. For he considers it as an offence against the church, and -expressly calls the prohibition, an IMPIETY[134]. - -It is true, the decretals of GRATIAN were not yet published. But Ivo -had made a collection of them in the reign of HENRY I; and we may be -sure that some code of this sort would privately go about amongst the -clergy, from what was before observed of the pains taken by INNOCENT -II, to propagate the decretals. We may further observe, that THEOBALD -had been in high favour with INNOCENT; and that his school, at -_Lambeth_, was opened immediately on his return from _Rome_, whither he -had been to receive his pall from this pope, on his appointment to the -see of _Canterbury_[135]. All which makes it probable, that STEPHEN’S -displeasure was not so much at the civil, as _canon_ law, which he -might well conclude had no friendly aspect on his sovereignty. - -And we have the greater reason to believe that this was the fact, from -observing what afterwards happened in the reign of HENRY III, when -a prohibition of the same nature was again issued out against the -teachers of the _Roman_ laws in _London_[136]. The true cause of the -royal mandate is well known. GREGORY IX had just then published a new -code of the decretals; which, like all former collections of this sort, -was calculated to serve the papal interest, and depress the rights of -princes. - -However, these edicts, if we suppose them levelled against the civil -law, had no effect, any more than those of the popes ALEXANDER and -HONORIUS, before mentioned. For the imperial law, being generally well -received by the princes of _Europe_, presently became a kind of _Jus -gentium_. And the clergy, who aspired to power and dignities, either -abroad or at home, studied it with an inconceivable rage; insomuch, -that ROGER BACON tells us, that, in his time for forty years together, -the seculars, who were the ecclesiastics employed in business, never -published a single treatise in divinity[137]. - -The truth is, whatever shew the popes or our own princes might make, -at times, of discountenancing the civil law, it was not the design of -either absolutely and universally to suppress it. It was properly, not -the civil, but the canon law, which was discountenanced by our kings. -And the case of the popes was, that, when they found the imperial law -opposed to the _common_, they were ready to favour it; when it was -opposed to the _canon_, and brought that into neglect, they forbad -ecclesiastics the study of it. - - -MR. SOMERS. - -In the mean time the poor people, methinks, were in a fine condition, -between two laws, the one founded on civil, and the other on -ecclesiastical, tyranny. If either had prevailed, there had been an end -of their liberties. - - -SIR J. MAYNARD. - -Certainly their situation was very critical. Yet in the end it was -precisely this situation that saved them. For betwixt these contentions -of the crown and mitre, each endeavouring to extend its dominion over -the other, the people, who were of course to be gained by either side -in its distress, found means to preserve themselves from both. - -To see how this happened, we must remember, what appears indeed from -the two edicts of STEPHEN and HENRY, that the king himself was a -bulwark betwixt them and the papal power. And when the king in his turn -wanted to exalt his prerogative over all, the church very naturally -took the alarm, as we saw in the case of WILLIAM’S separation of the -two tribunals. And thus it happened, as NAT. BACON observes[138], -“That many times the pope and the clergy became protectors of the -people’s liberties, and kept them safe from the rage of kings.” The -greatest danger was, when the two powers chanced to unite in one common -design against them; as they did in their general inclination for the -establishment of the civil law. But here the people had the courage -always to defend themselves; and with that wisdom too, as demonstrates -their attention to the cause of civil liberty, and the vigilance with -which they guarded even its remotest outworks. - -Of their steady and watchful conduct, in this respect, I shall mention -some of the many memorable examples, that occur in our history. - -I have said that from the time of STEPHEN, notwithstanding his famous -edict, the imperial laws were the chief and favourite study of the -clergy. They had good reason for applying themselves so closely to this -science, and still further views than their own immediate advancement. -They wanted to bring those laws into the civil courts, and to make -them the standing rule of public administration; not merely from -their good-will to the papal authority, which would naturally gain -an advantage by this change, but for the sake of controlling the too -princely barons, and in hopes, no doubt, that the imperial would in due -time draw the canon laws into vogue along with them. Such, I think, -were at least the secret designs of the ruling clergy; and they did not -wait long before they endeavoured to put their project in execution. -The plot was admirably laid, and with that deep policy as hath kept it, -I believe, from being generally understood to this day. - -The great men of that time were, we may be sure, too like the great -men of every other, to be very scrupulous about the commission of -those vices to which they were most inclined. The truth is, their -profligacy was in proportion to their greatness and their ignorance. -They indulged themselves in the most licentious amours, and even prided -themselves in this licence. The good churchmen, no doubt, lamented this -corruption of manners; but, as they could not reform, they resolved at -least to draw some emolument to themselves from it. The castles of the -barons, they saw, were full of bastards. Nay, the courtesy of that time -had so far dignified their vices, that the very same was had in honour. -EGO GULIELMUS BASTARDUS, is even the preamble to one of WILLIAM the -First’s charters. - -Yet, as respectable as it was become, there was one unlucky check -on this favourite indulgence: and this, with the barons leave, the -considerate bishops would presently take off. Subsequent marriage, -by the imperial as well as canon laws, legitimated bastards, as to -succession; whereas the common law kept them eternally in their -state of bastardy. It is not to be doubted, but the barons would be -sensible enough of this restraint. They earnestly wished to get rid -of it. And could any thing bid so fair to recommend the imperial law -to their good liking, as the tender of it for so desirable a purpose? -At a parliament, therefore, under HENRY III[139], _Rogaverunt omnes -episcopi, ut consentirent quod nati ante matrimonium essent legitimi_. -What think ye now of this general supplication of the hierarchy? -What could the barons do but comply with it, especially as it was so -kindly intended for their relief, and the proposal was even made with -a delicacy that might enable them to come into it with a good grace, -and without the shame of seeming to desire it? All this is very true. -Yet the answer of the virtuous barons is as follows: _Omnes comites et -barons unâ voce responderunt_, QUOD NOLUMUS LEGES ANGLIÆ MUTARI. - -We see then what stuck with them. These barons, as licentious as they -were, preferred their liberty to their pleasure. The bishops, they -knew, as partisans of the pope, were for subjecting the nation to -the imperial and papal laws. They offered, indeed, to begin with a -circumstance very much to their taste. But if they accepted the benefit -of them in one instance, with what decency could they object to them -in others? They determined therefore to be consistent. They rejected -a proposition, most agreeable in itself, lest their acceptance of it -should make way for the introduction of foreign laws; whose very genius -and essence, they well knew, was arbitrary, despotic power. Their -answer speaks their sense of this matter, NOLUMUS LEGES ANGLIÆ MUTARI. -They had nothing to object to the proposal itself. But they were afraid -for the constitution. - - -MR. SOMERS. - -I doubt, Sir JOHN, my lord of SALISBURY will bring a fresh complaint -against you, for this liberty with the bishops. But I, who shall not -be thought wanting in a due honour for that bench, must needs confess -myself much pleased, as well with the novelty, as justice of this -comment. I have frequently considered this famous reply of the old -barons. But I did not see to the bottom of the contrivance. Their -aversion to the imperial laws, as you say, must have been very great, -to have put them on their guard against so inviting a proposal. - - -BP. BURNET. - -One thing, however, is forgotten or dissembled in this account, that -the law of JUSTINIAN, which allows the privilege of legitimation -to subsequent marriage, is grounded on some reasons that might, -perhaps, recommend it to the judgment, as well as interest of the old -prelates. Besides, they doubtless found themselves much distressed -by the contrariety of the two laws in this instance. For the ground -of their motion, as I remember, was, _Quod esset secundum communem -formam ecclesiæ_. But, to deal ingenuously with you, Sir JOHN, you have -dressed up your hypothesis very plausibly. And I, who am no advocate -for the civil or ecclesiastical laws, in this or any instance where -they clash with those of my country, can allow your raillery on HENRY’S -good bishops, if it were only that I see it makes so much for your -general argument. - - -SIR J. MAYNARD. - -Your lordship may the rather excuse this liberty with the _church_, -as I propose, in due time, to deal as freely with WESTMINSTER-HALL; -a similar plot, which I shall have occasion to mention presently, -having been formed against the ancient constitution by the men of our -profession. - - -MR. SOMERS. - -In the mean time, Sir JOHN, you must give me leave, in quality of -advocate for the church, to observe one thing, that does the churchmen -honour. It is, that, in these attempts on the constitution, the judges -and great officers of the realm, who in those times were of the clergy, -constantly took the side of the _English_ laws; as my Lord COKE -himself, I remember, takes notice in his commentary on this statute of -MERTON. - - -SIR J. MAYNARD. - -I believe the observation is very just. But I should incline to impute -this integrity, not to the influence of church principles, but those -of the common law, and so turn your compliment to the honour of our -profession instead of theirs, if it were not too clear in fact that -every profession, in its turn, hath been liable to this charge of -corruption. - -But I was going on with my proofs of the national aversion to the -imperial law. - -The next shall be taken from that famous dispute concerning the -succession to the crown of _Scotland_ in the reign of EDWARD I. For a -question arising about the kind of law by which the controversy should -be decided, and it being especially debated, whether the _Cæsarean_ -law, as a sort of _jus gentium_, ought not in such a cause to have the -preference to the law of _England_; it was then unanimously determined -by the great council of NORHAM, that the authority of the _Cæsarean_ -law should by no means be admitted; NE INDE MAJESTATIS ANGLICANÆ JURI -FIERET DETRIMENTUM[140]. - -This determination was public, and given on a very solemn occasion. -And in general we may observe, that at the junctures when the state -hath been most jealous of its liberty and honour, it hath declared -the loudest against the _imperial laws_: as in the WONDER-WORKING -parliament under RICHARD II, when the duke of _Gloucester_ accused the -archbishop of _York_, the duke of _Ireland_, and other creatures of -the king, of high treason. The charge was so fully proved, that the -court had no other way of diverting the storm, than by pretending an -irregularity in the forms of procedure. To this end the lawyers were -consulted with, or more properly directed. I will disguise nothing. -They descended so much from the dignity of their profession, as to act -in perfect subserviency to the views of the court; and therefore gave -it as their opinion, that the proceedings against the lords were of -no validity, as being contrary to the forms prescribed by the _civil -law_. The barons took themselves to be insulted by these shifts of the -lawyers. They insisted that the proceedings were agreeable to their own -customs, and declared roundly that they would never suffer _England_ to -be governed by the _Roman_ civil law[141]. - -What think ye now of these examples? Are they not a proof that the -spirit of liberty ran high in those times, when neither the intrigues -of churchmen nor the chicane of lawyers could put a stop to it? It -seems as if no direct attempts on the constitution could have been -made with the least appearance of success; and that therefore the -abettors of arbitrary power were obliged to work their way obliquely, -by contriving methods for the introduction of a foreign law. - -In this project they had many advantages, which nothing but -an unwearied zeal in the cause of liberty could have possibly -counteracted. From the reign of STEPHEN to that of EDWARD III, that -is, for the space of near 200 years, the _Roman_ law had been in great -credit[142]. All the learning of the times was in the clergy, and that -learning was little more than the imperial and canon laws. The fact is -so certain, that some of the clergy themselves, when in an ill temper, -or off their guard, complain of it in the strongest terms. And to see -the height to which this humour was carried, not the seculars only who -intended to rise by them, but the very monks in their cells studied -nothing but these laws[143]. To complete the danger, the magistracies -and great offices of the kingdom were filled with churchmen[144]. - -Who would expect, now, with those advantages, but that the _Roman_ -law would have forced its way into our civil courts? It did indeed -insinuate itself there as it were by stealth, but could never appear -with any face of authority. The only service, that would be accepted -from it, was that of illustration only in the course of their -pleadings, whilst the lawyers quoted occasionally from the INSTITUTES, -just as they might have done from any other ancient author[145]. -Yet, so long as the churchmen presided in the courts of justice, -this intruder was to be respected; and it is pleasant to observe the -wire-drawing of some of our ablest lawyers, in their endeavours to make -the policy of _England_ speak the language of _Rome_. - -MR. SELDEN’S dissertation on FLETA[146], which lies open before me, -affords a curious instance. The civil law says, “Populus ei [Cæsari] -et in eum omne suum imperium et potestatem conferat;” meaning by -_people_, the _Roman_ people, and so establishing the despotic rule of -the prince. But BRACTON took advantage of the ambiguity, to establish -that maxim of a free government, “That all dominion arises from the -people.” This, you will say, was good management. But what follows is -still better. “Nihil aliud, says he, potest rex in terris, cum sit Dei -minister et vicarius, nisi quod JURE potest. NEC OBSTAT quod dicitur, -QUOD PRINCIPI PLACET LEGIS HABET VIGOREM; quia sequitur in fine legis, -CUM LEGE REGIA QUÆ DE IMPERIO EJUS LATA EST; id est, non quicquid de -voluntate regis temerè præsumptum est, sed quod consilio magistratuum -suorum, rege auctoritatem præstante, et habitâ super hoc deliberatione -et tractatu, rectè fuerit definitum.” Thus far old BRACTON; who is -religiously followed in the same gloss by THORNTON, and the author of -FLETA. But what! you will say, this is an exact description of the -present constitution. It is so, and therefore certainly not to be found -in the civil law. To confess the truth, these venerable sages are -playing tricks with us. The whole is a premeditated falsification, or, -to say it softer, a licentious commentary, for the sake of _English_ -liberty. The words in the PANDECTS and INSTITUTIONS are these; “QUOD -PRINCIPI PLACUIT, LEGIS HABET VIGOREM, UTPOTE CUM LEGE REGIA, QUÆ DE -IMPERIO EJUS LATA EST, POPULUS EI ET IN EUM OMNE SUUM IMPERIUM ET -POTESTATEM CONFERAT.” - -My honest friend, in mentioning this extraordinary circumstance, says, -one cannot consider it _sine stupore_. He observes, that these lawyers -did not quote the Pandects by hearsay, but had copies of them; and -therefore adds (for I will read on) “Unde magis mirandum quânam ratione -evenerit, ut non solùm ipse, adeò judiciis forensibus clarus, et (si -Biographis scriptorum nostratium fides) professor juris utriusque -Oxoniensis, verùm etiam THORNTONIUS juris aliàs peritissimus, et FLETÆ -author, adeò diversam lectionem sensumque diversum atque interpretibus -aliis universis adeò alienum in illustrissimo juris Cæsarei loco -explicando tam fidentèr admiserint.” The difficulty, you see, increases -upon him. But we shall easily remove it by observing, that the Cæsarean -laws, though they had no proper authority with us, yet were much -complimented in those times, and were to be treated on all occasions -with ceremony. And therefore those lawyers that lived under and wanted -to support a free constitution, saw there was no way of serving their -cause so effectually, as by pretending to find it in the _Roman -institutes_. - - -MR. SOMERS. - -This management of BRACTON and his followers makes some amends for the -ill conduct of RICHARD the Second’s lawyers. And as to their chicanery, -the ingenuity of the gloss, we will suppose, was no more than necessary -to correct the malignity of the text. - - -SIR J. MAYNARD. - -They had, no doubt, consulted their honour much more, by insisting -roundly, as they might have done, that the text had no concern at all -in the dispute. But I mention these things only to shew the extreme -reverence, that was then paid to the civil law, by the shifts the -common lawyers were put to in order to evade its influence. From which -we learn how rooted the love of liberty must have been in this nation, -and how unshaken the firmness of the national councils in supporting -it, when, notwithstanding the general repute it was of in those days, -the imperial law could never gain authority enough to prescribe to -us in any matters that concerned the rights of the crown, or the -property of the subject. And this circumstance will be thought the more -extraordinary, if it be considered, that, to the general esteem in -which the _Roman_ law was held by the clergy, our kings have usually -added the whole weight of their influence; except indeed at some -particular junctures, when their jealousy of the _canon_ law prevailed -over their natural bias to the _civil_. - - -MR. SOMERS. - -I should be unwilling to weaken any argument you take to be of use -in maintaining the noble cause you have undertaken. But, methinks, -this charge on our princes would require to be made out by other -evidence[147] than hath been commonly produced for it. There is no -doubt but many of them have aimed at setting themselves above the laws -of their country; but is it true (I mean, though FORTESCUE himself[148] -has suggested the same thing) that for this purpose they have usually -expressed a partiality to the _Roman_ laws? - - -SIR J. MAYNARD. - -I believe it certain that they have, and on better reasons than the -bare word of any lawyer whatsoever. - -What think you of RICHARD the Second’s policy in the instance before -mentioned; that RICHARD, who used to declare, “That the laws were only -in his mouth and breast, and that he himself could make and unmake them -at his pleasure?” We may know for what reason a prince of this despotic -turn had recourse to the _Roman_ law. - -But even his great predecessor is known to have been very indulgent -towards it. And still earlier, EDWARD I. took much pains to establish -the credit of this law; and to that end engaged the younger ACCURSIUS, -the most renowned doctor of the age, to come over into _England_, and -set up a school of it at _Oxford_. Or, to wave these instances, let -me refer you to a certain and very remarkable fact, which speaks the -sense, not of this or that king, but of the whole succession of our -princes. - -The imperial law, to this day, obtains altogether in the courts of -admiralty, in courts marescall, and in the universities[149]. On the -contrary, in what we call the courts of law and equity, it never -hath, nor ever could prevail. What shall we say to this remarkable -difference? or to what cause will you ascribe it, that this law, which -was constantly excluded with such care from the one sort of courts, -should have free currency and be of sole authority in the other? I -believe it will be difficult to assign any other than this: that the -subjects of decision in the first species of courts are matters in -the resort of the king’s prerogative, such as peace and war, and the -distribution of honours; whilst the subjects of decision in the courts -of common law are out of his prerogative, such as those of liberty -and property. The king had his choice by what law the first sort of -subjects should be regulated; and therefore he adopted the imperial -law. He had not his choice in the latter instance; and the people were -never satisfied with any other than the law of the land. - - -MR. SOMERS. - -Yet Mr. SELDEN, you know, gives another reason of this preference: it -was, he thinks, because foreigners are often concerned with the natives -in those tribunals where the civil law is in use. - - -SIR J. MAYNARD. - -True; but my learned friend, as I conceive, did not attend to this -matter with his usual exactness. For foreigners are as frequently -concerned in the courts of law and equity, as in the other tribunals. -The case in point of reason is very clear. In all contests that are -carried on between a native and a foreigner, as the subject of another -state, the decision ought to be by the law of nations. But when a -foreigner puts himself with a native under the protection of our -state, the determination is, of course, by our law. The practice hath -uniformly corresponded to the right in the courts of law and equity. In -the other tribunals the right hath given way to the will of the prince, -who had his reasons for preferring the authority of the imperial law. - -Upon the whole, if we consider the veneration, which the clergy usually -entertained, and endeavoured to inculcate into the people, for the -civil law; the indulgence shewn it by the prince; its prevalence in -those courts which were immediately under the prerogative; and even the -countenance shewn it at times in the course of pleading at common law; -we cannot avoid coming to this short conclusion, “That the genius of -the imperial laws was repugnant to our constitution; and that nothing -but the extreme jealousy of the barons, lest they might prove, in -pleas of the crown, injurious to civil liberty, hath kept them from -being received in _England_ on the same footing that we every where -find they are in the other countries of _Europe_, and as they are in -_Scotland_ to this day.” - -But, if you think I draw this conclusion too hastily, and without -grounding it on sufficient premises, you may further consider with me, -if you please, THE FATE AND FORTUNES OF THE CIVIL LAW IN THIS KINGDOM -DOWN TO THE PRESENT TIME. - -In the reigns of HENRY VII[150] and VIII, and the two first kings of -the house of STUART, that is, the most despotic of our princes, the -study of the civil law hath been more especially favoured; as we might -conclude from the general spirit of those kings themselves, but as we -certainly know from the countenance they shewed to its professors; from -their chusing to employ them in their business, and from the salaries -and places they provided for their encouragement. Yet see the issue of -all this indulgence to a foreign law, and the treatment it met with -from our parliaments and people! The oppressions of EMPSON and DUDLEY -had been founded in a stretch of power, usurped and justified on the -principles of the civil law; by which these miscreants had been enabled -to violate a fundamental part of our constitution, the way of _trial -by_ JURIES. The effect on the people was dreadful. Accordingly, in the -entrance of the next reign, though the authority, by which they had -acted, had even been parliamentary, these creatures of tyranny were -indicted of high treason, were condemned and executed for having been -instrumental in subverting LEGEM TERRÆ; and the extorted statute, under -which they had hoped to shelter themselves, was with a just indignation -repealed. - -Yet all this was considered only as a necessary sacrifice to the -clamours of an incensed people. The younger HENRY, we may be sure, -had so much of his father in him, or rather so far outdid him in the -worst parts of his tyranny, that he could not but look with an eye of -favour on the very law he had been constrained to abolish. His great -ecclesiastical minister was, no doubt, in the secret of his master’s -inclinations, and conducted himself accordingly. Yet the vengeance of -the nation pursued and overtook him in good time. They resented his -disloyal contempt of the original constitution; and made it one of the -articles against this _Roman_ cardinal, “That he endeavoured to subvert -_antiquissimas leges hujus regni, universumque hoc regnum_ LEGIBUS -IMPERIALIBUS _subjicere_.” - -From this time, the study of the civil law was thought to languish in -_England_, till it revived with much spirit in the reigns of those -unhappy princes who succeeded to the house of TUDOR. Then indeed, -by inclination and by pedantry, JAMES I. was led to patronize and -encourage it. And the same project was resumed, and carried still -further, by his unfortunate son. I speak now from my own experience and -observation. The civil lawyers were most welcome at court. They were -brought into the Chancery and court of Requests. The minister, another -sort of man than WOLSEY, yet a thorough ecclesiastic, and bigoted, if -not to the religion; yet to the policy of _Rome_, gave a countenance -to this profession above that of the common law. He had found the -spirit, and even the forms of it, most convenient for his purpose in -the STAR-CHAMBER and HIGH-COMMISSION court, those tribunals of imperial -justice, exalted so far above the controul of the common law; and by -his good will, therefore, would have brought the same regimen into the -other branches of the administration. Great civilians were employed to -write elaborate defences of their science; to the manifest exaltation -of the prerogative; to the prejudice of the national rights and -privileges; and to the disparagement of the common law. The consequence -of these proceedings is well known. The most immediate was, that they -provoked the jealousy of the common lawyers; and, when the rupture -afterwards happened, occasioned many of the most eminent of them to -throw themselves into the popular scale[151]. - -Yet, to see the uniformity of the views of tyranny, and the direct -opposition which it never fails to encounter from the _English_ law, no -sooner had a set of violent men usurped the liberties of their country, -and with the sword in their hands determined to rule despotically -and in defiance of the constitution, than the same jealousy of the -common law, and the same contempt of it, revived. Nay, to such an -extreme was the new tyranny carried, that the very game of EMPSON and -DUDLEY was played over again. The trial of an _Englishman_ by his -peers was disgraced and rejected; and (I speak from what I felt) the -person imprisoned and persecuted, who dared appeal, though in his own -case[152], to the ancient essential forms of the constitution. Under -such a state of things, it is not to be wondered that much pains was -taken to depreciate a law which these mighty men were determined not -to regard. Invectives against the professors of the _English_ laws -were the usual and favoured topics of parliamentary eloquence. These -were sometimes so indecent, and pushed to that provoking length, -that WHITLOCKE himself, who paced it with them through all changes, -was forced in the end to hazard his reputation with his masters, by -standing on the necessary defence of himself and his profession[153]. - -I need not, I suppose, descend lower. Ye have both seen with your own -eyes the occurrences of the late reign. Ye have heard the common -language of the time. The practice was but conformable to such -doctrines as were current at court, where it was generally maintained, -that the king’s power of dispensing with law, was LAW; by which if -these doctors did not intend the _imperial_ or _civil law_, the insult -was almost too gross to deserve a confutation, It must be owned, and -to the eternal shame of those who were capable of such baseness, there -were not wanting some even of the common lawyers that joined in this -insult. - -I but touch these things slightly; for I consider to whom I speak. But -if, to these examples of the nation’s fondness for their laws, you -add, what appears in the tenor of our histories, the constant language -of the _coronation-oaths_, of the _oaths of our judges_, and, above -all, of the _several great charters_; in all which express mention is -made of the LEX TERRÆ, in opposition to every foreign, but especially -the Cæsarean, law; you will conclude with me, “That, as certainly as -the CÆSAREAN LAW is founded in the principles of slavery, our ENGLISH -LAW, and the constitution to which it refers, hath its foundation in -freedom, and, as such, deserved the care with which it hath been -transmitted down to us from the earliest ages.” - -What think ye now, my good friends? Is it any longer a doubt, that the -constitution of the _English_ government, such I mean as it appears to -have been from the most unquestioned annals of our country, is a free -constitution? Is there any thing more in the way of this conclusion? -or does it not force itself upon us, and lie open to the mind of every -plain man that but turns his attention upon this subject? - -You began, Mr. SOMERS, with great fears and apprehensions; or you -thought fit to counterfeit them, at least. You suspected the matter -was too mysterious for common understandings to penetrate, and too -much involved in the darkness of ancient times to be brought into open -day-light. Let me hear your free thoughts on the evidence I have here -produced to you. And yet it is a small part only of that which might be -produced, of that I am sure which yourself could easily have produced, -and perhaps expected from me. - -But I content myself with these obvious truths, “That the liberty of -the subject appears, and of itself naturally arose, from the very -nature of the FEUDAL, which is properly (at least if we look no further -back than the Conquest) the _English_ constitution; that the current -of liberty has been gradually widening, as well as purifying, in -proportion as it descended from its source; that charters and laws have -removed every scruple that might arise about the reciprocal rights and -privileges of prince and people; that the sense of that liberty which -the nation enjoyed under their admirable constitution was so quick, -that every the least attempt to deprive them of it gave an alarm; -and their attachment to it so strong and constant, that no artifice, -no intrigue, no perversion of law and gospel, could induce them to -part with it: that, in particular, they have guarded this precious -deposite of legal and constitutional liberty with such care, that, -while the heedless reception of a foreign law, concurring with other -circumstances, hath riveted the yoke of slavery on the other nations -of _Europe_, this of _England_ could never be cajoled nor driven into -any terms of accommodation with it; but, as NAT. BACON[154] said truly, -_That the triple crown could never well solder with the English_, so -neither could the _imperial_; and that, in a word, the ENGLISH LAW -hath always been preserved inviolate from the impure mixtures of the -canon and Cæsarean laws, as the sole defence and bulwark of our civil -liberties.” - -These are the plain truths, which I have here delivered to you, and -on which I could be content to rest this great cause; I mean, if -it had not already received its formal, and, I would hope, final -determination, in another way. For no pretences will surely prevail -hereafter with a happy people to renounce that liberty, which so -rightfully belonged to them at all times, and hath now so solemnly been -confirmed to them by the great transactions of these days. I willingly -omit therefore, as superfluous, what in a worse cause might have been -thought of no small weight, the express testimony of our ablest lawyers -to the freedom of our constitution. I do not mean only the COKES and -SELDENS of our time (though in point of authority what names can be -greater than theirs?); but those of older and therefore more reverend -estimation, such as GLANVIL, BRACTON, the author of FLETA, THORNTON, -and FORTESCUE[155]: men the most esteemed and learned in their several -ages; who constantly and uniformly speak of the _English_, as a mixed -and limited form of government, and even go so far as to seek its -origin, where indeed the origin of all governments must be sought, in -the free will and consent of the people. - -All this I might have displayed at large; and to others perhaps, -especially if the cause had required such management, all this I should -have displayed. But, independently of the judgments of particular men, -which prejudice might take occasion to object to, I hold it sufficient -to have proved from surer grounds, from the very form and make of our -political fabric, and the most unquestioned, because the most public, -monuments of former times, “THAT THE ENGLISH CONSTITUTION IS ASSUREDLY -AND INDISPUTABLY FREE[156].” - - -BP. BURNET. - -You will read, Sir JOHN, in our attention to this discourse, the effect -it has had upon us. The zeal, with which you have pleaded the cause -of liberty, makes me almost imagine I see you again in the warmth and -spirit of your younger years, when you first made head against the -encroachments of civil tyranny. The same cause has not only recalled to -your memory the old topics of defence, but restores your former vigour -in the management of them. So that, for myself, I must freely own, your -vindication of our common liberties is, at least, the most plausible -and consistent that I have ever met with. - - -MR. SOMERS. - -And yet, if one was critically disposed, there are still, perhaps, some -things that might deserve a further explanation.—But enough has been -said by you, Sir JOHN, to shew us where the truth lies: and, indeed, -from such plain and convincing topics, that, whatever fears my love of -liberty might suggest, they are much abated at least, if not entirely -removed, by your arguments. - - -BP. BURNET. - -Mr. SOMERS, I perceive, is not easily cured of his scruples and -apprehensions. But for my own part, Sir JOHN, I can think but of one -objection of weight that can be opposed to your conclusion. It is, -“That, notwithstanding the clear evidence you have produced, both for -the free nature of the _English_ constitution, and the general sense -of the _English_ nation concerning it, yet, in fact, the government -was very despotic under the TUDOR, and still more perhaps under the -first princes of the STUART, line. How could this happen, may it be -asked, on your plan, which supposes the popular interest to have been -kept up in constant vigour, or rather to have been always gaining, -insensibly indeed, but necessarily, on the power of the crown? Will -not the argument then from historical evidence be turned against -you, whilst it may be said that your theory, however plausible, is -contradicted by so recent and so well-attested a part of our history? -And, in particular, will not the partisans[157] of the late king and -his family have to allege in their behalf, that their notions of the -prerogative were but such as they succeeded to with the crown; and, -whatever may be pretended from researches into remoter times, that they -endeavoured only to maintain the monarchy on the footing on which it -had stood for many successions, and on which it then stood when the -administration fell into their hands? If this point were effectually -cleared, I see nothing that could be further desired to a full and -complete vindication of _English_ liberty.” - - -SIR J. MAYNARD. - -Your lordship, I must own, has touched a very curious and interesting -part of our subject. But you must not believe it was so much -overlooked by me, as purposely left for your lordship’s better -consideration. You, who have looked so minutely and carefully into the -story of those times, will, better than any other, be able to unfold -to us the mysteries of that affair. The fact is certain, as you say, -that the _English_ government wore a more despotic appearance from the -time of the TUDOR family’s accession to the throne, than in the reigns -preceding that period. But I am mistaken, if your lordship will not -open the reason of it so clearly as to convince us, that that increase -of prerogative was no proof of a change in the constitution, and was -even no symptom of declining liberty. I do not allow myself to speak my -sentiments more plainly at present. But I am sure, if they are just, -they will receive a confirmation from what your lordship will find -occasion to observe to us in discoursing op this subject. - - -MR. SOMERS. - -I will not disown that this was one of the matters I had in view, when -I hinted some remaining doubts about your general conclusion. But I -knew it would not escape my lord of SALISBURY, who, of all others, is -certainly the most capable of removing it. - - -BP. BURNET. - -So that I have very unwarily, it seems, been providing a fine task -for myself. And yet, as difficult as I foresee it will be for me to -satisfy two such Inquirers, I should not decline that task, if I was -indeed prepared for it, or if I could boast of such a memory as Sir J. -MAYNARD has shewn in the course of this conversation. But the truth is, -though I have not wanted opportunities of laying in materials for such -a design, and though I have not neglected to take some slight notes of -them, yet I cannot pretend to have them at once in that readiness, as -to venture on such a discourse as I know you expect from me. But if, -against our next meeting, I shall be able to digest such thoughts as -have sometimes occurred to me when I was engaged in the History of the -Reformation, I shall take a pleasure to contribute all I can to the -further and more entire elucidation of this subject. - - - THE END OF THE THIRD VOLUME. - - Printed by J. Nichols and Son, - Red Lion Passage, Fleet Street, London. - - - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[1] Mala et impia consuetudo est contra Deos disputandi, sive ex animo -id fit, sive simulatè. _De Nat. D._ l. ii. c. 67. - -[2] Genus hoc sermonum, positum in hominum veterum auctoritate, et -eorum illustrium, plus nescio quo pacto videtur habere gravitatis. -Itaque ipse mea legens, sic afficior interdum, ut Catonem, non me loqui -existímem. CIC. _De Amic._ c. 1. - -[3] Omnem sermonem tribuimus non Tithono, ut Aristo Chius; _parum enim -esset auctoritatis in fabulâ_. De Senect. c. 1. - -[4] See the Dialogue intituled, Πρὸς τὸν εἰπόντα, ΠΡΟΜΗΘΕΥΣ εἶ ἐν -λόγοις. - -[5] Ἔπαιζεν ἅμα σπουδάζων· Xen. Mem. l. i. c. 3. - -[6] Γέλωτα κωμικὸν ὑπὸ σεμνότητι φιλοσόφῳ. Προμηθ. c. 7. - -[7] Difficillimam illam societatem _Gravitatis cum Humanitate_. _Leg._ l. -iii. c. 1. - -[8] Ἐτολμήσαμεν ἡμεῖς τὰ οὕτως ἔχοντα ϖρὸς ἄλληλα ξυναγαγεῖν καὶ -ξυναρμόσαι, οὐ ϖάνυ ϖειθόμενα, οὐδὲ εὐμαρῶς ἀνεχόμενα τὴν κοινωνίαν. -Προμηθ. c. 7. - -[9] Προμηθ. c. 7. to the end. Δὶς κατηγορούμενος. c. 33. and Ζεῦξις. - -[10] ——quo in genere orationis utrumque Oratorem cognoveramus, id -ipsum sumus in eorum sermone _adumbrare conati_. De Orat. iii. 4. - -[11] A curious passage, or two, in his Letters to Atticus, will serve -to illustrate this observation. The _academic questions_ were drawn -up, and finished, when a doubt occurred to him, whether he should -not change one of the speakers in that Dialogue, and, instead of -Varro, introduce Brutus; who would suit his purpose, he said, just -as well, because his philosophic principles were the same with those -of Varro—_si addubitas_, says he to Atticus, _ad Brutum transeamus. -Est enim is quoque Antiochius._ l. xiii. 25. Was this a change to -be easily made, if it were necessary, in this kind of writing, to -suit the _style_ and _manner of expression_ to the character of the -speakers? Yet, hear how negligently he treats this matter—_Opinor -igitur consideremus, etsi nomina jam facta sunt. Sed_ VEL INDUCI, VEL -MUTARI POSSUNT. l. xiii. 14.—In other words, provided the _cast_ of -the several parts was the same, the _language_ of the Dialogue would -require no alteration. It was indifferent, in this respect, who were -the speakers. - -[12] Scripsit enim et DIALOGOS quos non magis philosophiæ annumerare -possis, quam HISTORIÆ. SENECA, EP. C. - -[13] Lord SHAFTESBURY’S _Moralists_, P. 1. S. I. - -[14] _Adv. to an Author_, P. 1. S. III. - -[15] _Adv. to an Author_, P. 1. towards the end. - -[16] The scene of Dr. MORE’S DIVINE DIALOGUES, printed in 1668. - -[17] At BEACONSFIELD in _Bucks_, the supposed scene of the Dialogue. - -[18] See his works, where are some pieces of a very early date; though -Lord CLARENDON tells us, _he was near thirty years of age, before he -was much taken notice of as a Poet_. Contin. of his Life, P. I. p. 25. - -[19] Dr. ANDREWS, bishop of _Winchester_, and Dr. NEAL, bishop of -_Durham_. The story is well known. - -[20] Dr. GEORGE MORLEY. - -[21] This alludes to the impeachment of Mr. _Justice_ CRAWLEY, _July 6, -1641_, for his extra-judicial opinion in the affair of _Ship-money_. -Mr. WALLER’S speech on this occasion is extant amongst his works. - -[22] The famous Mr. HAMPDEN was his uncle. - -[23] That of _Secretary of State_. The Lord CLARENDON tells us it was -with the utmost difficulty he persuaded him to accept it. “There were -two considerations (says the historian) that made most impression on -him; the _one_, lest the world should believe that his own ambition had -procured this promotion, and that he had therefore appeared signally -in the house to oppose those proceedings, that he might thereby render -himself gracious to the court: The _other_, lest the king should expect -such a submission and resignation of himself and his own reason and -judgment to his commands as he should never give or pretend to give; -for he was so severe an adorer of truth, that he would as easily have -given himself leave to steal as to dissemble,” &c. B. iv. - -[24] The noble historian, before cited, gives us two instances of Lord -FALKLAND’S scrupulosity. The _one_ was, “That he could never bring -himself to employ spies, or give any countenance or entertainment to -them:” The _other_, “That he could never allow himself the liberty of -opening letters, upon a suspicion that they might contain matter of -dangerous consequence.” B. viii. - -[25] To this purpose my Lord CLARENDON. “He [Mr. W.] spoke, upon all -occasions, with great sharpness and freedom: which (now there were so -few that used it, and there was no danger of being over-voted) was -not restrained; and therefore used as an argument against those, who -were gone upon pretence, that they were not suffered to declare their -opinion freely in the house; which could not be believed, when all men -knew what liberty Mr. WALLER took, and spoke every day with impunity, -against the sense and proceedings of the house.” B. vii. - -[26] See Lord CLARENDON’S History. - -[27] Ἅπλωσον σεαυτόν, lib. iv. § 26, which Dr. MORE, in l. ii. c. 3. of -his ENCHIRIDION ETHICUM, translates, _simplifica teipsum_. - -[28] In the year 1654. - -[29] Lord CLARENDON died in 1674. - -[30] The character of Mr. WALLER is given at large in the _Life of -Lord Clarendon_, P. I. p. 25.—As for Dr. MORE, Bishop BURNET tells -us, in one word, “That he was an open-hearted and sincere Christian -philosopher.” _Hist. of his own Time_, vol. p. 273. 12^{mo}, _Edinb._ -1753. - -[31] This Dialogue is founded on a short passage in Mr. SPRAT’S Life of -Mr. COWLEY, in which he observes, “That in his long dependence on my -Lord St. ALBANS, there never happened any manner of difference between -them; except a little at LAST, because he would leave his service.” - -[32] A small village on the _Thames_, which was Mr. COWLEY’S first -retreat, before he removed to _Chertsea_. - -[33] Meaning an estate he had obtained by means of this lord. This -particular is several times referred to in the course of the Dialogue. - -[34] The writer of the Dialogue has thought fit to soften the -misanthropy of Mr. COWLEY in this instance. In one of his Essays he -talks strangely. “It is the great boast,” says he, “of eloquence and -philosophy, that they first congregated men dispersed, united them into -cities, and built up the houses and the walls of cities. I wish they -could unravel all they had woven, that we might have our woods and our -innocence again, _instead of our castles and our policies_.” - -[35] These verses are inserted in one of his _Essays_, and in some -editions of his works. - -[36] “Perhaps, says he (speaking of the poets), it was the immature and -immoderate love of them, which stampt first, or rather engraved, the -characters in me: they were like letters cut in the bark of a young -tree, which with the tree, still grow proportionably.” - - [_Essay on himself._] - -[37] “When the civil war broke out, his [Mr. COWLEY’S] affection to the -king’s cause drew him to _Oxford_, as soon as it began to be the chief -seat of the royal party.” [Dr. SPRAT’S life of him.] - -[38] Dr. SPRAT tells us in _his Life_, “That, during his residence at -_Oxford_, he had the entire friendship of my Lord FALKLAND, one of the -principal secretaries of state. That affection was contracted by the -agreement of their learning and manners. For you may remember, Sir, -[addressing himself to Mr. M. CLIFFORD] we have often heard Mr. COWLEY -admire him, not only for the profoundness of his knowledge, which was -applauded by all the world, but more especially for those qualities -which he himself more regarded, for _his generosity of mind, and his -neglect of the vain pomp of human greatness_.” - -[39] _The Cutter of Coleman-street_; the occasion and purpose of -which was this: At the Restoration, there was not a set of men more -troublesome to the ministry than the cavalier officers; amongst whom -had crept in all the profligate of broken fortunes, to share in the -merits and rewards of that name. COWLEY writ this comedy to unmask -these wretches, and might reasonably pretend to some thanks for it. -But, contrary to expectation, this very attempt raised a storm against -him even at court, which beat violently upon him. See his preface to -that play in the later editions in 8vo. - -[40] SHAKESPEAR. _As you like it._ Act II. S. 1.—There is a quaintness -in these lines of the great poet, which however are not unlike some of -Mr. COWLEY’S addressed to J. EVELYNE, Esq. - - Where does the wisdom and the pow’r divine, - In a more bright and sweet reflexion shine; - Where do we finer strokes and colours see - Of the Creator’s real poetry; - - Than when we with attention look - Upon the third day’s volume of the book? - If we could open and intend our eye, - We all, like _Moses_, should espy, - Ev’n in a _Bush_, the radiant Deity. - -[41] In the PREFACE to his _Proposition for the advancement of -experimental philosophy_, first printed in 1661. _See the edition in -24^{to}, Lond. for H. Herringham._ - -[42] Dr. SPRAT tells us, “That he had obtained a plentiful estate by -the favour of my Lord ST. ALBANS, and the bounty of my lord duke of -BUCKINGHAM.” [See his _Life_.] - -[43] Meaning _The true history of_ Don Quixote; in which poor _Sancho -Panca_ is drawn into all adventures, by the promise of his _knight_, to -reward him in due time with the government of an _island_. - -[44] LORD BACON gives another account of this matter.—“As for the -privateness of life of contemplative men, it is a theme so common -to extol a private life, not taxed with sensuality and sloth, in -comparison, and to the disadvantage of a civil life, for safety, -liberty, pleasure, and dignity, _as no man handleth it, but handleth it -well_: such a consonancy it hath to men’s conceits in the expressing, -and to men’s consents in the allowing.” [_Adv. of Learning_, Book 1.] - -[45] The justness of this encomium on Lord CLARENDON will hardly be -disputed by any man, whose opinion is worth regarding.—What pity, -that Mr. COWLEY’S connexions with some persons, indevoted to the -excellent Chancellor, kept him at a distance from a man, so congenial -to himself, and for whom he could not but entertain the highest esteem! -The Chancellor, though he could not be expected to take him out of the -hands of his old patrons, seems, yet, to have been generous enough to -Mr. COWLEY, not to resent those connexions: as may be gathered from -the handsome testimony paid to his merit, in the _Continuation of the -History of his own Life_. Speaking of B. JONSON, he says—“He [BEN -JONSON] was the best judge of, and fittest to prescribe rules to, -poetry and poets, of any man who had lived with, or before him, or -since; _If Mr._ COWLEY _had not made a flight beyond all men_; with -that modesty yet, to ascribe much of this, to the example and learning -of BEN JONSON.”—Among the other infelicities of men of genius, ONE -is, and not the least, that it rarely happens to them to have the -choosing of the persons, to whom they would most wish to be obliged. -The sensibility of their gratitude being equal to their other parts and -virtues, the man, whose favour they chance first to experience, is sure -of their constant services and attachment through life, how strongly -soever their interest, and even their judgment, may _draw_ another way. - -[46] The reader is not to forget, that Mr. SPRAT is writing to the Lord -ST. ALBANS, and was, at this time, chaplain to the Duke of BUCKINGHAM. - -[47] “Ingenium illustre altioribus studiis juvenis admodum dedit: non, -ut PLERIQUE, UT NOMINE MAGNIFICO SEGNE OTIUM VELARET, sed quo firmior -adversus fortuita rempublicam capesseret.” [_Hist._ IV. 5.]—Part of -the fine character given us of HELVIDIUS PRISCUS. - -[48] THE ROYAL SOCIETY; not yet instituted, but much talked of at this -time. - -[49] We have in this remonstrance that follows, the usual language of -those we call our _friends_; which may sometimes be the _cause_, but -is oftner the _pretence_, of ambition. Hear how gravely Sir DUDLEY -CARLTON, who loved business, and drudged on in it all his life, is -pleased, in an evil hour, to express himself: “The best is, I was never -better, and were it not more for a necessity that is imposed by the -EXPECTATION OF FRIENDS, not to stand at a stay and SENESCERE, whilst -a man is young, than for ambition, I would not complain myself of my -misfortune.” [Sir RALPH WINWOOD’S _Memorials_, vol. II. p. 45.] - -[50] That Mr. COWLEY _had_ his prince’s grace appears from what the -king said of him, on the news of his death: “_That he had not left a_ -BETTER _man behind him in_ England.” And this with _grace_ enough, in -reason, from SUCH a prince.—How it came to pass that he _wanted_ the -grace of his peers (if, indeed, he _did_ want it), hath been explained -in a note, p. 140. - -[51] The application of this line is the affair of the _Mastership of -the_ Savoy; “which though granted, says Mr. Wood, to his highest merit -by both the CHARLESES I. and II. yet by certain persons, enemies to the -Muses, he lost that place.” But this was not the worst. For, such is -the hard lot of unsuccessful men, the _Savoy-missing_ COWLEY became the -object of ridicule, instead of pity, even to the wits themselves; as -may be seen in “_The session of the poets_, amongst _the miscellaneous -poems_ published by Mr. DRYDEN.” - - Quid DOMINI facient, audent si talia FURES? - -[52] Printed among his works, under the name of THE COMPLAINT. The -relation it has to the subject debated, made me think it not amiss to -print it at the end of this Dialogue—It must raise one’s indignation -to find that so just, so delicate, and so manly a _complaint_ should be -scoffed at, as it was by the wits before mentioned, under the name of -THE PITIFUL MELANCHOLY. - -[53] Juvenal, _Sat._ i. ver. 112. - -[54] Whether it were owing to his other occupations, or that he had no -great confidence in the success of this attempt, these _Essays_, which -_were to give entire satisfaction_ to his court-friend in the affair of -his retirement, went on very slowly. They were even left imperfect at -his death, “a little before which (says Dr. SPRAT) he communicated to -me his resolution, to have dedicated them all to my Lord ST. ALBANS, as -a testimony of his entire respects to him; and a _kind of apology_ for -having left human affairs in the strength of his age, while he might -have been serviceable to his country.”——However, if this apology had -not the _intended_ effect, it had a much better. Lords and wits may -decide of the qualities of Mr. COWLEY’S _head_ as they please; but, so -long as these _Essays_ remain, they will oblige all honest men _to love -the language of his heart_. - -[55] Alas! he was mistaken. - -[56] A citation from one of his own poems. - -[57] Mr. SPRAT himself tells us, speaking of Mr. COWLEY’S retreat, -that “some few friends and books, a _chearful heart_, and innocent -conscience, were his constant companions.” _Life._ - -[58] This is one of the prettiest of Mr. COWLEY’S smaller Poems. The -plan of it is highly poetical: and, though the numbers be not the most -pleasing, the expression is almost every where natural and beautiful. -But its principal charm is that air of _melancholy_, thrown over the -whole, so expressive of the poet’s character. - -The _address_ of the writer is seen in conveying his just reproaches on -the _Court_, under a pretended vindication of it against the _Muse_. - -[59] An execrable line. - -[60] For the account of these _Monuments_, and of _Kenelworth-Castle_, -see the plans and descriptions of DUGDALE. - -[61] The speaker’s idea of Lord LEICESTER’S porter agrees with the -character he sustained on the queen’s reception at _Kenelworth_; -as we find it described in a paper of good authority written at -that time. “Here a PORTER, tall of person, big of limbs, stark of -countenance—with club and keys of quantity according; in a rough -speech, full of passion in metre, while the queen came within his ward, -burst out in a great pang of impatience to see such uncouth trudging -to and fro, such riding in and out, with such din and noise of talk, -within his charge; whereof he never saw the like, nor had any warning -once, ne yet could make to himself any cause of the matter. At last, -upon better view and advertisement, he proclaims open gates and free -passage to all; yields over his club, his keys, his office and all, and -on his knees humbly prays pardon of his ignorance and impatience. Which -her highness graciously granting, _&c._”— - - A letter from an attendant in court to his friend a citizen and - merchant of _London_. From the court at _Worcester, 20 August 1575_. - -[62] In the first volume of the SPECTATOR. - -[63] The factious use, that was afterwards made of this humour of -magnifying the character of ELIZABETH, may be seen in the _Craftsman_ -and _Remarks on the History of England_. - -[64] What the _political_ character of Mr. ADDISON was, may be seen -from his _Whig-examiner_. This amiable man was keen and even caustic -on subjects, where his party, that is, _civil liberty_, was concerned. -Nor let it be any objection to the character I make him sustain in -this Dialogue, that he treats ELIZABETH’S government with respect in -the _Freeholder_. He had then the people to cajole, who were taught to -reverence her memory. He is, here, addressing himself, in private, to -his friends. - -[65] Lucian expresses this use of the Table prettily—ΦΙΛΙΑΣ ΜΕΣΙΤΗΝ -ΤΡΑΠΕΖΑΝ, Ἔρωτες, c. 27. - -[66] Besides this sort of hospitality, there was another still -more noble and disinterested, which distinguished the early times, -especially the purer ages of chivalry. It was customary, it seems, -for the great lords to fix up HELMETS on the roofs and battlements -of their castles as a signal of hospitality to all adventurers and -noble passengers. “Adoncques etoit une coustume en la Grant Bretagne -(says the author of the old romance, called PERCEFOREST) et fut tant -que charité regna illecque, tous gentils hommes et nobles dames -faisoient mettre au plus hault de leur hostel ung heaulme, en SIGNE -que tous gentils hommes et gentilles femmes trespassans les chemins, -entrassent hardyement en leur hostel comme en leur propre; car leurs -biens estoient davantage à tous nobles hommes et femmes trespassans le -royaulme.” Vol. iii. fol. 103. - -[67] This is not said without authority: “Give me leave, says one, to -hold this paradox, that the English were never more idle, never more -ignorant in manual arts, never more factious in following the parties -of princes or their landlords, never more base (as I may say) trencher -slaves, than in that age, wherein great men kept open houses for all -comers and goers: and that in our age, wherein we have better learned -each man to live of his own, and great men keep not such troops of idle -servants, not only the English are become very industrious and skilful -in manual arts, but also the tyranny of lords and gentlemen is abated, -whereby they nourished private dissensions and civil wars, with the -destruction of the common people.” FYNES MORYSON’S _Itinerary_, Part -III. Ch. v. - -[68] Dr. ARBUTHNOT, too, has his authority. A famous politician of the -last century expresseth himself to much the same purpose, after his -manner: “Henceforth, says he, [that is, after the statutes against -retainers in HEN. VII’S reign] the country lives, and _great tables_ -of the nobility, which no longer nourished veins that would bleed -for them, were fruitless and loathsome till they changed the air, -and of princes became _courtiers_; where their revenues, never to -have been exhausted by beef and mutton, were found _narrow_; whence -followed racking of rents, and, at length, sale of lands.” SIR JAMES -HARRINGTON’S OCEANA, p. 40. _Lond._ 1656. - -[69] True it is, that this divertisement of _bear-baiting_ was not -altogether unknown in the age of ELIZABETH, and, as it seemeth, not -much misliked of master STOW himself, who hath very graphically -described it. He is speaking of the _Danish_ embassador’s reception and -entertainment at _Greenwich_ in 1586. “As the better sort, saith he, -had their convenient disports, so were not the ordinary people excluded -from competent pleasure. For, upon a green, very spacious and large, -where thousands might stand and behold with good contentment, their -BEAR-BAITING and bull-baiting (tempered with other merry disports) were -exhibited; whereat it cannot be spoken of what pleasure the people took. - -For it was a sport alone, of these beasts, continueth the historian, -to see the bear with his pink-eyes leering after his enemies; the -nimbleness and wait of the dog to take his advantage; and the force and -experience of the bear again to avoid the assaults; if he were bitten -in one place, how he would pinch in another to get free; and if he were -once taken, then what shift with biting, clawing, roaring, tugging, -grasping, tumbling, and tossing, he would work to wind himself away; -and, when he was loose, to shake his ears with the blood and slaver -about his phisnomy, was a pittance of good relief. The like pastime -also of the bull.—And now the day being far spent, and the sun in -his declination, the embassador withdrew to his lodging by barge to -CROSBY’S place; where, no doubt, THIS DAY’S SOLEMNITY WAS THOUGHT UPON -AND TALKED OF.”—p. 1562. - -[70] See the _Anarcharsis_ of LUCIAN. - -[71] If the reader be complaisant enough to admit the fact, it may be -accounted for, on the ideas of chivalry, in the following manner. The -knight forfeited all pretensions to the favour of the ladies, if he -failed, in any degree, in the point of valour. And, reciprocally, the -claim which the ladies had to protection and courtesy from the order -of knights, was founded singly in the reputation of chastity, which -was the female point of honour. “Ce droit que les dames avoient sur la -chevalerie (says M. DE LA CURNE DE STE PALAYE) devoit étre conditionel; -il supposoit que leur conduite et leur reputation ne les rendoient -point indignes de l’espece d’association qui les unissoit à cet ordre -uniquement fondé sur l’honneur. - -Par celle voye (says an old _French_ writer, the chevalier DE LA TOUR, -about the year 1371) les bonnes se craignoient et se tenoient plus -fermes de faire chose dont elles peussent perdre leur honneur et leur -etat. _Si vouldroye que celûi temps fust revenu, car je pense qu’il -n’en seroit pas tant de blasmées comme il est à present.”_ - -[72] Sir PHILIP SYDNEY. - -[73] What is hinted, here, of the _reality_ of these representations, -hath been lately shewn at large in a learned memoir on this subject, -which the reader will find in the XX^{th} Tom. of HIST. DE L’ACAD. DES -INSCRIPTIONS ET BELLES LETTRES. - -[74] This representation of things in the ages of chivalry agrees -with what we are told by the author of the memoir just quoted: “Les -premières leçons,” (says he, speaking of the manner in which the youth -were educated in the houses of the Great, which were properly the -schools of those times) “qu’on leur donnoit, regardoient principalement -_l’amour de Dieu, et des dames_, c’est-à-dire, la religion, et la -galanterie. Mais autant la dévotion qu’on leur inspiroit étoit -accompagnée de puerilités et de superstitions, autant l’amour des -dames, qu’on leur recommandoit, étoit il rempli de RAFFINEMENT et -de FANATISME. Il semble qu’on ne pouvoit, dans ces siécles ignorans -et grossiers, présenter aux hommes la religion sous une forme assez -materielle pour la mettre à leur portée; ni leur donner, en même tems, -une idée de l’amour assez pure, assez metaphysique, pour prevenir les -desordres et les excès, dont etoit capable une nation qui conservoit -par-tout le caractere impetueux qu’elle montroit à la guerre.” Tom. xx. -p. 600. - -One sees then the origin of that furious gallantry which runs through -the old romances. And so long as the _refinement and fanaticism_, -which the writer speaks of, were kept in full vigour by the force of -institution and the fashion of the times, the morals of these enamoured -knights might, for any thing I know, be as pure as their apologist -represents them. At the same time it must be confessed that this -discipline was of a nature very likely to relax itself under another -state of things, and certainly to be misconstrued by those who should -come to look upon these pictures of a _refined and spiritual passion_, -as incredible and fantastic. And hence, no doubt, we are to account -for that censure which a famous writer, and one of the ornaments -of ELIZABETH’S own age, passeth on the old books of chivalry. His -expression is downright, and somewhat coarse. “In our fathers time -nothing was read but books of chivalry, wherein a man by reading should -be led to none other end, but only to _manslaughter_ and _baudrye_. -If any man suppose they were good enough to pass the time withall, he -is deceived. For surely vain words do work no small thing in vain, -ignorant, and young minds, especially if they be given any thing -thereunto of their own nature.” He adds, like a good Protestant, “These -books, as I have heard say, were made the most part in abbayes and -monasteries; a very likely and fit fruit of such an idle and blind kind -of living.” _Præf._ to ASCHAM’S TOXOPHILUS, 1571. - -I thought it but just to set down this censure of Mr. -ASCHAM over-against the candid representation of the French -memorialist.—However, what is said of the influence, which this -ancient institution had on the character of his countrymen, is not -to be disputed. “Les preceptes d’amour repandoient dans le commerce -des dames ces considerations et ces egards respectueux, qui, n’ayant -jamais été effacés de l’esprit des François, ont toujours fait un des -caractères distinctifs de nôtre nation.” - -[75] Of SCRIBLERUS. See the VI^{th} chapter of that learned work, _On -the ancient Gymnastics_. - -[76] MASQUES, p. 181. WHALEY’S edition. - -[77] This romantic spirit of the Queen may be seen as well in her -_amours_, as military achievements. “Ambiri, coli ob formam, et -AMORIBUS, etiam inclinatâ jam ætate, videri voluit; de FABULOSIS -INSULIS per illam relaxationem renovatâ quasi memoriâ in quibus EQUITES -AC STRENUI HOMINES ERRABANT, et AMORES, fœditate omni prohibitâ, -generosè per VIRTUTEM exercebant.” - - THUANI Hist. tom. vi. p. 172. - -The observation of the great historian is confirmed by FRANCIS OSBORNE, -Esq., who, speaking of a contrivance of the Cecilian party to ruin -the earl of ESSEX, by giving him a rival in the good graces of the -queen, observes—“But the whole result concluding in a duel, did rather -inflame than abate the former account she made of him: the opinion -of a CHAMPION being more splendid (in the weak and romantic sense of -women, that admit of nothing fit to be made the object of a quarrel -but themselves) and far above that of a captain or general. So as Sir -EDMUND CARY, brother to the Lord HUNSDON, then chamberlain and near -kinsman to the Queen, told me, that though she chid them both, nothing -pleased her better than a conceit she had, that her _beauty_ was the -subject of this quarrel, when, God knows, it grew from the stock of -honour, of which then they were very tender.”—MEM. OF Q. ELIZABETH, p. -456. - -But nothing shews the romantic disposition of the Queen, and indeed -of her times, more evidently than the TRIUMPH, as it was called; -devised and performed with great solemnity, in honour of the _French_ -commissioners in 1581. The contrivance was for four of her principal -courtiers, under the quaint appellation of “four foster-children of -DESIRE,” to besiege and carry, by dint of arms, “THE FORTRESS OF -BEAUTY;” intending, by this courtly ænigma, nothing less than the -queen’s majesty’s own person.—The actors in this famous triumph were, -the Earl of ARUNDEL, the Lord WINDSOR, Master PHILIP SIDNEY, and Master -FULK GREVIL. And the whole was conducted so entirely in the spirit -and language of knight errantry, that nothing in the Arcadia itself -is more romantic. See the account at large in STOW’S continuation of -HOLINSHED’S Chronicles, p. 1316-1321. - -To see the drift and propriety of this triumph, it is to be observed -that the business which brought the _French_ commissioners into -_England_ was, the great affair of the queen’s marriage with the duke -of ALANÇON. - -[78] Speeches at Prince HENRY’S barriers. - -[79] There was an instance of this kind, and perhaps the latest upon -record in our history, in the 13th year of the queen, when “a combat -was appointed to have been fought for a certain manor, and demain -lands belonging thereto, in _Kent_.” The matter was compromised in -the end. But not till after the usual forms had been observed, by the -two parties: of which we have a curious and circumstantial detail in -_Holinshed’s_ Chronicles, p. 1225. - -[80] Alluding to a tract, so called, by GASCOIGNE, an attendant on the -court, and poet of that time, who hath given us a narrative of the -entertainments that passed on this occasion at _Kenelworth_. - -[81] Hence then it is that a celebrated dramatic writer of those -days represents the entertainment of MASKS and SHOWS, as the highest -indulgence that could be provided for a luxurious and happy monarch. -His words are these; - - “Music and poetry are his delight. - Therefore I’ll have _Italian_ masques by night, - Sweet speeches, comedies, and pleasing shows; - And in the day, when he shall walk abroad, - Like SYLVAN NYMPHS, my pages shall be clad: - My men, like SATYRS, grazing on the lawns, - Shall, with their goat-feet dance the antic hay: - Sometimes a lovely boy in DIAN’S shape, - With hair, that gilds the water as it glides, - Crownets of pearls about his naked arms, - And in his sportful hands an olive-tree, - Shall bathe him in a spring, and there hard-by - One like ACTÆON, peeping through the grove, - Shall by the angry Goddess be transform’d— - Such things as these best please his Majesty.” - - MARLOW’S Edward II. - -And how exactly this dramatist painted the humour of the times, we may -see from the entertainment provided, not many years after, for the -reception of King JAMES at _Althorp_ in _Northamptonshire_; where this -very design of _Sylvan Nymphs_, _Satyrs_, and ACTÆON, was executed in a -masque by B. JONSON. - -[82] Whom his friend Mr. SELDEN characterizeth in this manner, - - “Omnia carmina doctus - Et calles mythων plasmata et historiam.” - TIT. OF HON. p. 466. - -[83] _Sacrifices_, says PLUTARCH, _without chorusses and without music, -we have known: but for poetry, without fable and without fiction, we -know of no such thing_. Θυσίας μὲν ἀχόρους καὶ ἀναύλους ἴσμεν· οὐκ -ἴσμεν δὲ ἄμυθον οὐδὲ ἀψευδῆ ϖοίησιν. De aud. poët. vol. i. p. 16. - -[84] This will be admitted, if a calculation said to have been made by -themselves of their number at that time may be relied on—“They make -reasoning (saith Sir EDWIN SANDYS in his _Speculum Europæ_, written -in 1699) forty hundred sure catholics in _England_, with four hundred -_English Roman_ priests to maintain that militia,” p. 157. - -[85] Mr. CAMDEN owns that the _Irish_ rebellion, which in the end -became so dangerous, had been “encouraged by a slighting of it, and -a gripple-handedness of _England_.” [_Hist. of_ ELIZ. B. iv.]—To -the same purpose another eminent writer of that time—“Before the -transmitting of the last great army, the forces sent over by Q. -ELIZABETH were NOT of sufficient power to break and subdue all the -_Irishry_.” At last, however, “The extreme peril of losing the kingdom; -the dishonour and danger that might thereby grow to the crown of -_England_; together with a just disdain conceived by that great-minded -queen, that so wicked and ungrateful a rebel should prevail against -her, who had ever been victorious against all her enemies; did move and -almost ENFORCE her to send over that mighty army.” [Sir. J. DAVIES, -_Discovery of the State of Ireland_, p. 97. _Lond._ 1613.] - -[86] Sir ROBERT NAUNTON tells us, “The queen was never profuse in -delivering out of her treasure; but paid her servants part in money, -and the rest with GRACE; which, as the case stood, was then taken for -good payment.” [FRAGM. REG. p. 89.] And NAT. BACON to the same purpose. -“A wise man, that was an eye-witness of HER actions, and those that -succeeded to her, many times hath said, That a courtier might make a -better meal of one good LOOK from her, than of a gift from some other.” -[DISC. P. ii. p. 266. _Lond._ 1651.] - -[87] This _reverence of authority_, one of the characteristics of that -time, and which Mr. ADDISON presently accounts for, a great writer -celebrates in these words—“It was an ingenuous uninquisitive time, -when all the passions and affections of the people were lapped up in -such an innocent and humble obedience, that there was never the least -contestation nor capitulation with the queen, nor (though she very -frequently consulted with her subjects) _any further reasons urged of -her actions than_ HER OWN WILL.” See a tract intitled THE DISPARITY, in -Sir H. WOTTON’S Remains, p. 46, supposed to have been written by the -earl of CLARENDON. - -[88] PAULUS HENTZNERUS, a learned _German_, who was in _England_ -in 1598, goes still further in his encomium on the queen’s skill -in languages. He tells us, that, “præterquam quòd Græcè et Latinè -eleganter est docta, tenet, ultra jam memorata idiomata, etiam -Hispanicum, Scoticum, et Belgicum.” See his ITINERARIUM. - -But this was the general character of the great in that reign: at -least, if we may credit Master WILLIAM HARRISON, who discourseth on the -subject before us in the following manner: “This further is not to be -omitted, to the singular commendation of both sorts and sexes of our -courtiers here in _England_, that there are very few of them, which -have not the use and skill of sundry speeches, beside an excellent vein -of writing, before time not regarded. Truly it is a rare thing with us -now, to hear of a courtier which hath but his own language. And to say -how many gentlewomen and ladies there are, that, beside sound knowledge -of the _Greek_ and _Latin_ tongues, are thereto no less skilful in the -_Spanish_, _Italian_, and _French_, or in some one of them, it resteth -not in me; sith I am persuaded, that as the noblemen and gentlemen do -surmount in this behalf, so these come very little or nothing behind -them for their parts; which industry God continue, and accomplish that -which otherwise is wanting.” DESCRIPT. of ENGLAND, p. 196. - -[89] One of these _ties_ was the _prejudice of education_; and some -uncommon methods used to bind it fast on the minds of the people.—A -book, called ΕΙΡΗΝΑΡΧΙΑ, sive ELIZABETH, was written in _Latin_ verse -by one OCKLAND, containing the highest panegyrics on the queen’s -character and government, and setting forth the transcendant virtues of -her ministers. This book was enjoined by authority to be taught, as a -classic author, in Grammar-schools, and was of course to be gotten by -heart by the young scholars throughout the kingdom. - -This was a matchless contrivance to imprint a sense of loyalty on the -minds of the people. And, though it flowed, as we are to suppose, -from a tender regard, in the advisers of it, for the interests of -Protestantism in that reign; yet its uses are so apparent in any reign, -and under any administration, that nothing but the moderation of her -successors, and the reasonable assurance of their ministers that their -own acknowledged virtues were a sufficient support to them, could have -hindered the expedient from being followed. - -But, though the stamp of public authority was wanting, private men -have attempted, in several ways, to supply this defect. To instance -only in one. The Protestant queen was to pass for a mirror of _good -government_: hence the Εἰρηνάρχια. Her successor would needs be thought -a mirror of _eloquence_: and hence the noble enterprise I am about to -celebrate. “Mr. GEORGE HERBERT (I give it in the grave historian’s own -words) being prelector in the rhetorique school in _Cambridge_, in -1618, passed by those fluent orators, that domineered in the pulpits of -_Athens_ and _Rome_, and insisted to read upon an oration of K. JAMES, -which he analysed; shewed the concinnity of the parts; the propriety -of the phrase; the height and power of it to move the affections; the -style, UTTERLY UNKNOWN TO THE ANCIENTS, who could not conceive what -kingly eloquence was, in respect of which those noted demigogi were -but hirelings and tribolary rhetoricians.” Bishop HACKET’S Life of -Archbishop WILLIAMS, p. 175. - -[90] A learned foreigner gives this character of the _English_ at that -time: “Angli, ut ADDICTE SERVIUNT, ità evecti ad dignitates priorem -humilitatem INSOLENTIA rependunt.” H. GROTII ANN. L. v. p. 95. _Amst._ -1657. Hence the propriety of those complaints, in our great poet, of, - - “The whips and scorns of th’ time, - Th’ oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely, - THE INSOLENCE OF OFFICE;”— - -_complaints_ so frequent, and so forcibly expressed by him, that we may -believe he painted from his own observation, and perhaps experience, of -this insolent misuse of authority. MEASURE FOR MEASURE, A. II. S. vii. - -[91] Yet it may seem probable, from this poet’s conduct in _Ireland_, -and his _View of the state of that country_, that his talents for -_business_ (such as CECIL himself must have approved) were no less -considerable than for poetry. But he had served a disgraced man; and -had drawn upon himself the admiration of the generous earl of _Essex_. -So that, as the historian expresseth it, “by a fate which still follows -poets, he always wrestled with poverty, though he had been secretary -to the lord GRAY, lord deputy of _Ireland_.” All that remained for -him was, “to be interred at _Westminster_, near to CHAUCER, at the -charge of the earl of _Essex_; his hearse being attended by poets, and -mournful elegies and poems, with the pens that wrote them, thrown into -his grave.” CAMDEN, lib. iv. - -[92] As to Sir FRANCIS BACON, the queen herself gave a very plausible -reason, and doubtless much approved by the grave lawyers and other -judicious persons of that time, for her neglect of this gentleman. -“She did acknowledge (says the earl of _Essex_ in a letter to Mr. -FRANCIS BACON) you had a great wit, and an excellent gift of speech, -and much other good learning. But in LAW, she rather thought you could -make shew, to the utmost of your knowledge, than, that you were deep.” -MEM. OF Q. ELIZABETH by Dr. BIRCH; to whom the public is exceedingly -indebted for abundance of curious information concerning the history of -those times. - -If it be asked, how the queen came to form this conclusion, the answer -is plain. It was from Mr. BACON’S having a GREAT WIT, an excellent GIFT -OF SPEECH, and much other GOOD LEARNING. - -It is true, Sir FRANCIS BACON himself gives another account of this -matter. In a letter of advice to Sir. GEORGE VILLIERS, he says, “In -this dedication of yourself to the public, I recommend unto you -principally that which I think was never done since I was born—that -you countenance and encourage and advance ABLE MEN, in all kinds, -degrees, and professions. For in the time of the CECILS, father and -son, ABLE MEN WERE BY DESIGN AND OF PURPOSE SUPPRESSED.” CABALA, p. 57, -ed. 1691.—But either way, indeed, the queen’s character is equally -saved. - -[93] The lord MOUNTJOY [then Sir CHARLES BLOUNT], being of a military -turn, had stolen over into _France_, without the queen’s knowledge, -in order to serve in _Bretagne_, under one of her generals. Upon his -return, which was hastened too by her express command, “Serve me so -again, said the queen, once more, and I will lay you fast enough for -running. You will never leave, till you are knocked o’ the head, as -that inconsiderate fellow SIDNEY was. You shall go when I send you. In -the mean time see that you lodge in the Court, where you may FOLLOW -YOUR BOOKS, HEAD, AND DISCOURSE OF THE WARS.” Sir ROBERT NAUNTON’S FR. -REG. in L. BURLEIGH. - -[94] So good a judge of military matters, as Sir WALTER RALEIGH, was of -this opinion with regard to the conduct of the _Spanish_ war. “If the -late queen would have believed her men of war, as she did her scribes, -we had, in her time, beaten that great empire in pieces, and made their -kings, kings of figs and oranges, as in old times. But _her majesty -did all by halves_, and, by petty invasions, taught the _Spaniard_ -how to defend himself, and to see his own weakness; which, till our -attempts taught him, was hardly known to himself.” See his Works, vol. -i. 273.—RALEIGH, it may be said, was of the CECIL faction. But the men -of war, of the ESSEX faction, talked exactly in the same strain; which -shews that this might probably be the truth. - -[95] See Sir HENRY WOTTON’S _Parallel of the earl of Essex and duke -of Buckingham_. The words are these: “He [the earl of _Essex_] was to -wrestle with a queen’s declining, or rather with her very setting age, -as we may term it; which, besides other respects, is commonly even -of itself the more umbratious and apprehensive; as for the most part -all horizons are charged with certain vapours towards their evening.” -REMAINS, p. 11. - -[96] THE DISPARITY, p. 43 - -[97] This account of her policy is confirmed by what we read in the -DISPARITY, before cited. “That trick of countenancing and protecting -factions (as that queen, almost her whole reign, did with singular and -equal demonstration of grace look upon several persons of most distant -wishes one towards another) was not the least ground of much of her -quiet and success. And she never doubted but that men, that were never -so opposite in their good-will each to other, or never so dishonest in -their projectments for each other’s confusion, might yet be reconciled -in their allegiance towards her. Insomuch that, during her whole -reign, she never endeavoured to reconcile any personal differences in -the court, though the unlawful emulations of persons of nearest trust -about her, were ever like to overthrow some of her chiefest designs: -_A policy, seldom entertained by princes, especially if they have -issues to survive them_,” p. 46. Her own historian, it is true, seems -a little shy of acknowledging this conduct of the queen, with regard -to her nobility and ministers. But he owns, “She now and then took a -pleasure (and not unprofitably) in the emulation and privy grudges of -her women.” CAMDEN’S ELIZABETH, p. 79. fol. _Lond._ 1688. - -[98] We find an intimation to this purpose, in a writer of credit, at -least with respect to the _Dutch_ and _Ireland_—“Jam et _divulsam_ -Hiberniam, et in Batavis Angli militis _seditiones_, velut JUSSAS, -erant qui exprobrarent.” GROTII ANNAL. l. xii. p. 432. - -[99] Something like this was observed of her disposition by Sir JAMES -MELVIL. After having related to his mistress, the queen of _Scots_, -the strong professions of friendship which the queen of _England_ had -made to him, “She [the queen of _Scots_] inquired, says he, whether I -thought that queen meant truly towards her inwardly in her heart, as -she appeared to do outwardly in her speech. I answered freely, that, in -my judgment, there was neither plain dealing, nor upright meaning; but -great dissimulation, emulation, and FEAR, lest her princely qualities -should over-soon chace her from her kingdom,” &c. MEMOIRS, p. 53. - -[100] Secretary WALSINGHAM, in a letter to the queen, Sept. 2, -1581, amongst other things to the same purpose, has the following -words—“_Remember_, I humbly beseech your majesty, _the respect of -charges hath lost Scotland_: and I would to God I had no cause to -think, that _it might put your highness in peril of the loss of -England_.”—“And even the Lord Treasurer himself (we are told) in -a letter still extant in the paper-office, written in the critical -year 1588, while the _Spanish_ armada was expected against _England_, -excuses himself to sir EDWARD STAFFORD, then embassador in _France_, -for not writing to him oftener, _on account of her majesty’s -unwillingness to be at the expence of messengers_.” Sir T. EDMONDES’ -State-papers, by Dr. BIRCH, p. 21. - -[101] One of these complaisant observers was the writer of _the -Description of England_, who, speaking of the variety of the queen’s -houses, checks himself with saying, “But what shall I need to take -upon me to repeat all, and tell what houses the queen’s majesty hath? -Sith ALL IS HIRS; and when it pleaseth hir in the summer season to -recreate hirself abroad, and view the state of the countrie, and hear -the complaints of hir unjust officers or substitutes, _every nobleman’s -house is hir palace_, where she continueth during pleasure, and till -she returne again to some of hir owne; in which she remaineth as long -as pleaseth hir.” p. 196. - -[102] Perhaps they had no need of such favours: It seems as if they -had provided for themselves another way. One of her ladies, the Lady -EDMONDES, had been applied to for her interest with the queen in a -certain affair of no great moment, then depending in the Court of -Chancery. The person, commissioned to transact this matter with her -ladyship, had offered her 100_l._ which she treated _as too small a -sum_. The relater of this fact adds—“This ruffianry of causes I am -daily more and more acquainted with, and see the manner of dealing, -which cometh of the _queen’s straitness_ to give these women, whereby -they presume thus to grange and truck causes.” See a letter in MEM. of -Q. ELIZABETH, by Dr. BIRCH, vol. i. p. 354. But this 100_l._ as the -virtuous Lady EDMONDES says, was _a small sum_. It appears, that bishop -FLETCHER, on his translation to _London_, “bestowed in allowances -and gratifications to divers attendants [indeed we are not expressly -told, they were _female_] about her majesty, the sum of 3100_l._ which -money was given by him, for the most part of it, _by her majesty’s -direction and special appointment_.” Mem. vol. ii. p. 113. And the -curiosity is, to find this minute of episcopal _gratifications_ in -a petition presented to the queen herself, “To move her majesty in -commiseration towards the orphans of this bishop.”—However, to do the -ladies justice, the contagion of bribery was so general in that reign, -that the greatest men in the court were infected by it. The lord-keeper -PUCKERING, it seems, had a finger in the affair of the 100_l._; nay, -himself speaks to the lady to get him commanded by the queen to favour -the suit. And we are told, that Sir W. RALEIGH had no less than -10,000_l._ for his interest with the queen on a certain occasion, after -having been invited to this service by the finest letter that ever was -written.—Indeed it is not said how much of this secret service money -went _in allowances and gratifications to the attendants about the -queen’s majesty_, vol. ii. p. 497. - -[103] Lord BACON made the same excuse for _his_ bribery; as he had -learnt, perhaps, the trade itself from his royal mistress. It was a -rule with this great chancellor, “Not to sell injustice, but never to -let justice go scot-free.” - -[104] See _Hist. Collections_, by H. TOWNSHEND, Esq.; p. 268. _Lond._ -1680.—The lord-keeper too, in a speech in the star-chamber, confirms -this charge on the country justices. “The thirst, says he, after this -authority, proceedeth from nothing but an ambitious humour of gaining -of reputation amongst their neighbours; that still, when they come -home, _they may be presented with presents_.” Ibid. p. 355. - -[105] When the queen declared to Sir JAMES MELVIL her resolution of -virginity, “I know the truth of that, madam, (said he); you need not -tell it me. Your majesty thinks, if you were married, you would be but -queen of _England_; and now you are both king and queen. _I know your -spirit cannot endure a commander._” MEM. p. 49. This was frank. But Sir -JAMES MELVIL was too well seen in courts to have used this language, -if he had not understood it would be welcome. Accordingly, the queen’s -highness did not seem displeased with the imputation. - -[106] This was a common topick of complaint against the queen; or at -least her ministers, and gave occasion to that reproof of the poet -SPENSER, which the persons concerned could hardly look upon as very -decent, - - “Scarce can a bishoprick forepass them bye - But that it must be gelt in privity.” - Mother HUBBARD’S _Tale_. - -But a bishop of that time carries the charge still further. In one of -his sermons at court before the queen, “Parsonages and vicarages, says -he, seldom pass now-a-days from the patron, but either for the lease, -or the present money. Such merchants are broken into the church of God, -a great deal more intolerable than were they whom CHRIST whipped out -of the temple.”—This language is very harsh, and surely not deserved -by the Protestant patrons of those days, who were only, as we may -suppose, for reducing the church of CHRIST to its pure and primitive -state of indigence and suffering. How edifying is it to hear St. PAUL -speak of his being—_In hunger and thirst, in fastings often, in cold -and nakedness!_ And how perfectly reformed would our church be, if its -ministers were but once more in this blessed apostolical condition! - -[107] It was this circumstance that seemed to weigh most with the -Lord Chancellor BACON; who, in his short tract, _In felicem memoriam_ -ELIZABETHÆ, saith, “Illud cogitandum censeo, in quali populo imperium -tenuerit: si enim in Palmyrenis, aut Asiâ imbelli et molli regnum -sortita esset, minùs mirandum fuisset—verùm in ANGLIA, _natione -ferocissimâ et bellicosissimâ_, omnia ex nutu fœminæ moveri et cohiberi -potuisse, SUMMAM MERITO ADMIRATIONEM HABET.” - -[108] The subject of these Dialogues, on _the English Constitution_, -is the most important in _English_ politics.—To cite all the passages -from our best antiquaries and historians, out of which this work was -formed, and which lay before the writer in composing it, would swell -this volume to an immoderate size. It is enough to say, that nothing -_material_ is advanced in the course of the argument, but on the best -authority. - -[109] That is, of the _feudal law_: which was one of the subjects -explained by the bishop to his royal pupil the duke of _Gloucester_. “I -acquainted him, says he, with all the great revolutions that had been -in the world, and gave him a copious account of the _Greek_ and _Roman_ -histories, and of PLUTARCH’S Lives: the last thing I explained to him -was the Gothic constitution, and the BENEFICIARY AND FEUDAL LAWS.” -[HIST. _of his own Times_, vol. iv. p. 357. _Edinb._ 1753.] - -[110] On _April 11, 1689_. - -[111] Of the great seal—The other lawyers in commission were KECK and -RAWLINSON. - -[112] This was a favourite subject with our good bishop; and how -qualified he was to discuss it, even in its minutest particularities, -may be learnt from his history at large. - -[113] It was not thus _left to itself_, but was nursed and fostered -with great care by the preachers of _divine indefeasible hereditary -right_, in this and the following reign. - -[114] This casual remark seems to determine a famous dispute among -the Antiquaries on the subject before us. Bishop NICOLSON attended -so little to this tralatitious use of words, in which all languages -abound, that finding LAGA in several places signified a _country_, he -would needs have it that CAMDEN, LAMBARDE, SPELMAN, COWELL, SELDEN, -and all our best Antiquaries, were mistaken, when they supposed _Laga_ -ever signified, in the compositions here mentioned, a _law_. However, -his adversaries among the Antiquaries were even with him; and finding -that _Laga_, in these compositions, did signify a law in several -places of our ancient laws, historians, and lawyers, deny that it ever -signifies a _country_. Each indeed had a considerable object in view; -the one was bent on overthrowing a system; the other on supporting it; -namely, that famous threefold body of laws, the _Danish_, _Mercian_, -and _West-Saxon_. It must be owned, the bishop could not overthrow -the common system, without running into his extreme: it seems, his -opponents might have supported it without running into theirs. - -[115] See _Historical Law-Tracts_, vol. i. p. 294. - -[116] MILTON did not forget to observe, in his _Tenure of kings and -magistrates_, That WILLIAM the _Norman_, though a Conqueror, and not -unsworn at his Coronation, was compelled a second time to take oath at -_St. Albans_, ere the people would be brought to yield obedience. Vol. -i. _of his Prose works_, 4^{to}, 1753. p. 345. - -[117] HENRY VII. - -[118] HENRY VIII. - -[119] ELIZABETH. - -[120] PROPRIA FEUDI NATURA EST UT SIT PERPETUA. - - CUJACIUS, LITTLETON. - -[121] CRAIG’S _Jus feudale_, lib. i. p. 21. _Lond._ 1655. - -[122] This account of the _Saxon_ benefices is much confirmed by the -famous charter of Bishop OSWALD, and the comment of Sir H. SPELMAN upon -it. See his discourse on FEUDS and TENURES. - -[123] MATTHEW PARIS gives us the following account of this -matter—“Episcopatus et Abbatias omnes, quæ baronias tenebant, et -eatenus ab omni servitute sæculari libertatem habuerant, sub servitute -statuit militari, inrotulans singulos episcopatus et abbatias pro -voluntate suâ, quot milites sibi et successoribus suis, hostilitatis -tempore, voluit à singulis exhiberi. Et ROTULOS HUJUS ECCLESIASTICÆ -SERVITUTIS ponens in thesauris, multos viros ecclesiasticos HUIC -CONSTITUTIONI PESSIMÆ reluctantes, à regno fugavit.” - - HIST. ANG. WILLIELMUS CONQÆSTOR. - -[124] The learned CRAIG, who has written so largely and accurately on -the feudal law, was so far from seeing any thing servile in it, that he -says, “The foundations of this discipline are laid in the most generous -of all considerations, those of GRATITUDE. _Hujus feudalis disciplinæ -fundamenta à gratitudine et ingratitudine descendunt._” EPIST. NUNCUP. -to K. JAMES. - -[125] This bounty in so wise a prince as WILLIAM will be thought -strange. I believe it may be, in part, accounted for, from what is -observed above of the _Saxon_ allodial lords. These had possessed -immense estates. And, as they fell in upon forfeiture, the great -_Norman_ adventurers would of course expect to come into the entire -succession.—Perhaps too, in that confusion of affairs, the prince -might not always, himself, be apprized of the extent and value of these -possessions. - -[126] The law of EDWARD the Confessor is express to this purpose, and -it was ratified by the Conqueror—“Debet rex omnia ritè facere in regno -et per judicium procerum regni.” Sir H. SPELMAN of Parliaments, p. 58. - -[127] M. DE MONTESQUIEU observes of the Gothic government—“Il fut -d’abord melé de l’aristocratie, et de la monarchie. Il avoit cet -inconvenient, que le bas-peuple y étoit esclave: _C’étoit un bon -gouvernment, qui avoit en soi la capacité de devenir meilleur._” [l. -xi. c. 8.]—the very idea, which is here inculcated. - -[128] See old FORTESCUE, in his book _De laudibus legum Angliæ_, where -this sort of analogy is pursued at length through a great part of the -XIII^{th} chapter. - -[129] Agreeably to what Sir H. SPELMAN asserts, in his Glossary, of -its parent, the _feudal law_ itself; “DE LEGE FEUDALI—pronunciandum -censeo, TEMPORIS eam esse filiam, sensimque succrescentem, EDICTIS -PRINCIPUM auctam indies excultam.” In voce FEODUM. - -[130] DISS. AD FLET. 1091. and WILLIAM OF MALMESBURY, lib. iv. 1. 69. -_Lond._ 1596. - -[131] SELDEN’S Works, vol. ii. p. 1082. - -[132] DISS. AD FLET. 1078. - -[133] Dr. DUCK, _De usu et authoritate juris civilis_, p. 103. _Lugd. -Batav._ 1654. - -[134] POLICRATIC. lib. viii. c. 22. p. 672. _Lugd. Bat._ 1639. - -[135] DISS. AD FLET. 1082. - -[136] DISS. AD FLET. 1097. - -[137] Dr. DUCK, p. 364. - -[138] DISC. Part I. p. 78. _Lond._ 1739. - -[139] At MERTON, in the year 1236. - -[140] DISS. AD FLET. 1108. - -[141] See FORTESCUE, _De laudibus leg. Angl._ p. 74. _Lond._ 1741; and -SELDEN’S JANUS ANGLORUM, 1610, vol. ii. tom. ii. - -[142] DISS. AD FLET. 1104. - -[143] Dr. DUCK, p. 365. - -[144] DISS. AD FLET. 1010. - -[145] DISS. AD FLET. 1106. - -[146] P. 1046. - -[147] Mr. SELDEN’S DISS. AD FLET. 1100. - -[148] _De laud. leg. Ang._ c. 33, 34. - -[149] DISS. AD FLET. 1102. - -[150] The speaker might have begun this account of the _fate and -fortunes_ of the civil law still higher. NAT. BACON, speaking of -HENRY the Fifth’s reign, observes, “The times were now come about, -wherein light began to spring forth, conscience to bestir itself, and -men to study the scriptures. This was imputed to the idleness and -carelessness of the clergy, who suffered the minds of young scholars to -luxuriate into errors of divinity, for want of putting them on to other -learning; and gave no encouragement to studies of human literature, -by preferring those that were deserving. The convocation taking this -into consideration, do decree, that no person should exercise any -jurisdiction in any office, as _vicar-general_, _commissary_, or -_official_, or otherwise, unless he shall first in the university have -taken degrees in the CIVIL OR CANON LAWS. A shrewd trick this was, -to stop the growth of the study of divinity, and WICKLIFF’S way; and -to embellish men’s minds with a kind of learning that may gain them -preferment, or at least an opinion of abilities beyond the common -strain, and dangerous to be meddled with. Like some gallants, that -wear swords as badges of honour, and to bid men beware, because they -possibly may strike, though in their own persons they may be very -cowards. And no less mischievously intended was this against the rugged -COMMON LAW, a rule so nigh allied to the gospel-way, as it favoureth -liberty; and so far estranged from the way of the civil and canon law, -as there is no hope of accommodation till Christ and Antichrist have -sought the field.” DISC. Part II. p. 90. _Lond._ 1739. - -[151] It should however be observed, in honour of their patriotism, -that “they afterwards took themselves out of it,” when they saw the -extremities to which the popular party were driving. - -[152] This alludes to the proceedings against the _eleven members_ upon -the charge of the Army. Sir JOHN MAYNARD was one of them. And when -articles of high treason were preferred against him, and the trial was -to come on before the lords, he excepted to the jurisdiction of the -court, and, by a written paper presented to them, required to be tried -by his peers according to _Magna Charta, and the law of the land_. See -WHITLOCKE’S _Memorials_; and a short pamphlet written on that occasion, -called THE ROYAL QUARREL, dated 9th of _Feb._ 1647.—Sir JOHN was, at -this time, a close prisoner in the Tower. - -[153] See his speech, inserted in his _Memorials of English Affairs, -Nov. 1649_. - -[154] DISC. Part I. p. 78. - -[155] The reader may not be displeased to see the words of old -FORTESCUE on this subject of the origin of the _English_ government, -which are very remarkable. In his famous book _De laudibus legum -Angliæ_, he distinguishes between the REGAL and POLITICAL forms of -government. In explaining the _latter_, which he gives us as the proper -form of the _English_ government, he expresseth himself in these -words—“Habes instituti omnis POLITICI REGNI formam, ex quâ metiri -poteris potestatem, quam rex ejus in leges ipsius aut subditos valeat -exercere: ad tutelam namque legis subditorum, ac eorum corporum et -bonorum rex hujusmodi erectus est, et hanc potestatem A POPULO EFFLUXAM -ipse habet, quo ei non licet potestate aliâ _suo populo dominari_.” -CAP. xiii. - -[156] It may be of little moment to us, at this day, to inquire, -how far the princes of the house of STUART were blameable for their -endeavours to usurp on the constitution. But it must ever be of the -highest moment to maintain, that we had a constitution to assert -against them. Party-writers perpetually confound these two things. It -is the author’s purpose, in these two Dialogues, to contend for the -_latter_. - -[157] See the late History of England by DAVID HUME, esq.; who forms -the apology of the house of STUART on these principles. - - -[Transcriber’s Note: - -Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation are as in the original. - -Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation are as in the original.] - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Works of Richard Hurd, Volume 3 -(of 8), by Richard Hurd - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORKS OF RICHARD HURD, VOL 3 *** - -***** This file should be named 54514-0.txt or 54514-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/4/5/1/54514/ - -Produced by Charlene Taylor, Bryan Ness, Wayne Hammond and -the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from scanned -images of public domain material from the Google Books -project.) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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D. Lord Bishop of Worcester, Volume 3 (of 8), by Richard Hurd.--a Project Gutenberg eBook - </title> - <style type="text/css"> - -a { - text-decoration: none} - -small { - font-style: normal; - font-size: small} - -body { - padding: 4px; - margin: auto 10%} - -p { - text-align: justify} - -.i2 { - padding-left: 1em} - -.i4 { - padding-left: 2em} - -.i14 { - padding-left: 7em} - -.i24 { - padding-left: 12em} - -.medium { - font-size: medium} - -.large { - font-size: large} - -.x-large { - font-size: x-large} - -.xx-large { - font-size: xx-large} - -.gesperrt { - letter-spacing: 5px} - -h1, h2 { - page-break-before: always} - -h1, h2, h3, h4 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - font-weight: normal; - clear: both; - margin: 2em auto 1em auto} - -.author { - display: block; - text-align: right; - margin: auto 5%} - -.hang { - text-indent: -2em; - padding-left: 2em} - -p.drop:first-letter { - float: left; - clear: left; - font-size: 300%; - line-height: 70%; - padding: 2px 6px 0 6px} - -p.drop { - text-indent: -6px} - -.uppercase { - text-transform: uppercase} - -/* Tables */ -.table { - display: table; - margin: auto} - -table { - margin: 2em auto} - -th { - padding-top: 20px} - -.tdrb { - vertical-align: bottom; - text-align: right} - -.tdc { - text-indent: 0; - text-align: center} - -/* End Tables */ - -.copy { - font-size: small; - text-align: center} - -.smcap { - font-variant: small-caps} - -/* Images */ -img { - border: none; - max-width: 100%} - -.figcenter { - display: table; - clear: both; - margin: 2em auto} - - -/* Footnotes */ -.footnotes { - margin: 2em auto; - border: 4px double #004200} - -.fnanchor { - vertical-align: super; - font-weight: normal; - font-size: x-small; - line-height: .1em; - text-decoration: none; - white-space: nowrap} /* keeps footnote on same line as referenced text */ - -.footnote p:first-child { - text-indent: -2.5em} - -.footnote p { - margin: 1em; - padding-left: 2.5em} - -.label { - width: 2em; - display: inline-block; - text-align: right; - text-decoration: none} - -.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ - /* visibility: hidden; */ - color: #004200; - position: absolute; - right: 5px; - font-weight: normal; - font-size: small; - text-align: right; -} /* page numbers */ - -/* Transcriber's notes */ -.transnote { - background-color: #E6E6FA; - border: #004200 double 4px; - color: black; - margin: 2em auto; - padding: 1em} - -/* Poetry */ - -.poetry { - margin: auto; - text-align: center} - -.poem { - margin: auto; - display: inline-block; - text-align: left} - -.poem .stanza { - margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em} - .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.i12 {display: block; margin-left: 6em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.i14 {display: block; margin-left: 7em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.i17 {display: block; margin-left: 8.5em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 1em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.i22 {display: block; margin-left: 11em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - -@media all { -p.drop:first-letter { - float: left; - clear: left} -} - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Works of Richard Hurd, Volume 3 (of 8), by -Richard Hurd - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The Works of Richard Hurd, Volume 3 (of 8) - -Author: Richard Hurd - -Release Date: April 9, 2017 [EBook #54514] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORKS OF RICHARD HURD, VOL 3 *** - - - - -Produced by Charlene Taylor, Bryan Ness, Wayne Hammond and -the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from scanned -images of public domain material from the Google Books -project.) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">1</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="" /> -</div> - -<div class="transnote"> - -<h3>Transcriber's Note:</h3> - -<p>This project uses utf-8 encoded characters. If some characters are -not readable, check your settings of your browser to ensure you have a -default font installed that can display utf-8 characters.</p> - -</div> - -<h1> -<small>THE</small><br /> - -WORKS<br /> - -<small>OF</small><br /> - -<span class="large">RICHARD HURD, D. D.<br /> - -LORD BISHOP OF WORCESTER.</span><br /> - -<small>VOL III.</small></h1> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">2</span></p> - -<p class="copy"> -Printed by J. Nichols and Son,<br /> -Red Lion Passage, Fleet Street, London.<br /> -</p> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">3</span></p> - -<h2 class="xx-large"> -<small>THE</small><br /> - -WORKS<br /> - -<small>OF</small><br /> - -<span class="large">RICHARD HURD, D. D.<br /> - -LORD BISHOP OF WORCESTER.</span><br /> - -<small>IN EIGHT VOLUMES.<br /> - -VOL. III.</small><br /> -<br /> -<span class="figcenter"><img src="images/titlepage.png" alt="" /></span> -<br /> -<span class="medium table">LONDON:<br /> -<small>PRINTED FOR T. CADELL AND W. DAVIES, STRAND<br /> -1811.</small></span></h2> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">4</span><br /> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">5</span></p> - -<h2 class="xx-large">MORAL AND POLITICAL<br /> - -DIALOGUES.<br /> - -<small>VOL. I.</small></h2> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">6</span><br /> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">7</span></p> - -<h2> -<span class="large">MORAL AND POLITICAL</span><br /> - -DIALOGUES,<br /> - -<small>WITH</small><br /> - -LETTERS<br /> - -<small>ON</small><br /> - -<span class="large">CHIVALRY AND ROMANCE.</span><br /> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">8</span></h2> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">9</span></p> - -<h2 class="xx-large"> -<span class="medium">SACRED TO THE MEMORY</span><br /> - -<small>OF THE LATE</small><br /> - -<span class="x-large gesperrt">RALPH ALLEN, ESQ.</span><br /> - -<small>OF</small><br /> - -<span class="x-large">PRIOR-PARK.</span><br /> - -<img src="images/i_009.png" alt="" /> -</h2> - -<p class="hang">SI NOBIS ANIMVM BONI VIRI LICERET INSPICERE, -O QVAM PVLCHRAM FACIEM, QVAM SANCTAM, -QVAM EX MAGNIFICO PLACIDOQVE FVLGENTEM -VIDEREMVS! NEMO ILLVM AMABILEM, QVI NON -SIMVL VENERABILEM, DICERET.</p> - -<p class="author"> -<span class="smcap">Seneca.</span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">10</span><br /> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">11</span></p> - -<h2 id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS.</h2> - -<table> - <tr> - <th>VOL. III.</th> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc"><a href="#PREFACE"><span class="smcap">Preface</span></a>,<br /> - <i>On the Manner of writing Dialogue</i>.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc"><a href="#DIALOGUE_I"><span class="smcap">Dialogue I.</span></a><br /> - <i>On Sincerity in the Commerce of the World.</i><br /> - DR. MORE, MR. WALLER.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc"><a href="#DIALOGUE_II"><span class="smcap">Dialogue II.</span></a><br /> - <i>On Retirement.</i><br /> - MR. COWLEY, DR. SPRAT.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc"><a href="#DIALOGUE_III"><span class="smcap">Dialogue III.</span></a><br /> - <i>On the Age of</i> <span class="smcap">Q. Elizabeth</span>.<br /> - MR. DIGBY, DR. ARBUTHNOT, MR. ADDISON.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc"><a href="#DIALOGUE_IV"><span class="smcap">Dialogue IV.</span></a><br /> - <i>On the Age of</i> <span class="smcap">Q. Elizabeth</span>.<br /> - MR. DIGBY, DR. ARBUTHNOT, MR. ADDISON.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc"><a href="#DIALOGUE_V"><span class="smcap">Dialogue V.</span></a><br /> - <i>On the Constitution of the<br /> - English Government.</i><br /> - SIR J. MAYNARD, MR. SOMERS, BP. BURNET. - <span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">12</span></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <th>VOL. IV.</th> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc"><span class="smcap">Dialogue VI.</span><br /> - <i>On the Constitution of the<br /> - English Government.</i><br /> - SIR J. MAYNARD, MR. SOMERS, BP. BURNET.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc"><span class="smcap">Dialogues VII, VIII.</span><br /> - <i>On the Uses of Foreign Travel.</i><br /> - LORD SHAFTESBURY, MR. LOCKE.</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc"><span class="smcap">XII Letters</span><br /> - <i>On Chivalry and Romance</i>.</td> - </tr> -</table> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">13</span></p> - -<h2>CONTENTS<br /> - -<small>OF</small><br /> - -THE THIRD VOLUME.</h2> - -<table> - <tr> - <td /> - <td class="tdrb">Page</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc"><a href="#PREFACE"><span class="smcap">Preface</span>,</a><br /> - <i>On the Manner of writing Dialogue</i>.</td> - <td class="tdrb">17</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc"><a href="#DIALOGUE_I"><span class="smcap">Dialogue I.</span></a><br /> - <i>On Sincerity in the Commerce of the World.</i><br /> - DR. MORE, MR. WALLER.</td> - <td class="tdrb">51</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc"><a href="#DIALOGUE_II"><span class="smcap">Dialogue II.</span></a><br /> - <i>On Retirement.</i><br /> - MR. COWLEY, DR. SPRAT.</td> - <td class="tdrb">95</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc"><span class="smcap"><a href="#DIALOGUE_III">Dialogue III</a>, <a href="#DIALOGUE_IV">IV.</a></span><br /> - <i>On the Age of</i> <span class="smcap">Q. Elizabeth</span>.<br /> - MR. DIGBY, DR. ARBUTHNOT, MR. ADDISON.</td> - <td class="tdrb">165</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdc"><a href="#DIALOGUE_V"><span class="smcap">Dialogue V.</span></a><br /> - <i>On the Constitution of the<br /> - English Government.</i><br /> - SIR J. MAYNARD, MR. SOMERS, BP. BURNET.</td> - <td class="tdrb">281</td> - </tr> -</table> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">14</span><br /> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">15</span></p> - -<h2 class="xx-large">PREFACE,<br /> - -<small>ON</small><br /> - -<span class="x-large">THE MANNER<br /> - -OF WRITING DIALOGUE.</span></h2> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">16</span><br /> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">17</span></p> - -<h2 id="PREFACE">PREFACE,<br /> - -<small>ON THE</small><br /> - -<span class="large">MANNER OF WRITING DIALOGUE.</span></h2> - -<p class="drop"><span class="uppercase">The</span> former editions of these Dialogues were given -without a name, and under the fictitious person of -an Editor: not, the reader may be sure, for any -purpose so silly as that of imposing on the Public; -but for reasons of another kind, which it is not difficult -to apprehend.</p> - -<p>However, these reasons, whatever they were, -subsisting no longer, the writer is now to appear in -his own person; and the respect he owes to the public -makes him think it fit to bespeak their acceptance -of these volumes in another manner, than he -supposed would be readily permitted to him, under -his assumed character.</p> - -<p>I. In an age, like this, when most men seem -ambitious of turning writers, many persons may -think it strange that the kind of composition, which -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">18</span> -was chiefly in use among the masters of this numerous -and stirring family, hath been hitherto neglected.</p> - -<p>When the <small>ANCIENTS</small> had any thing—</p> - -<p>“But what,” it will be said, “always the <i>Ancients</i>? -And are we never to take a pen in hand, but the -first question must still be, what our masters, the -ancients, have been pleased to dictate to us? <span class="smcap">One</span> -man understands, that the ancient Ode was distinguished -into several parts, called by I know -not what strange names; and then truly an English -Ode must be tricked out in the same fantastic -manner. <span class="smcap">Another</span> has heard of a wise, yet -merry, company called a Chorus, which was -always singing or preaching in the Greek Tragedies; -and then, besure, nothing will serve but -we must be sung and preached to in ours. While -a <span class="smcap">Third</span> is smitten with a tedious long-winded -thing, which was once endured under the name -of Dialogue; and strait we have Dialogues of this -formal cut, and are told withal, that no man may -presume to write them, on any other model.”</p> - -<p>Thus the modern critic, with much complacency -and even gayety—But I resume the sentence I set -out with, and observe, “<span class="smcap">When the ancients</span> had -any thing to say to the world on the subject either -of morals or government, they generally chose the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">19</span> -way of <span class="smcap">Dialogue</span>, for the conveyance of their instructions; -as supposing they might chance to gain -a readier acceptance in this agreeable form, than any -other.”</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hæc adeo penitus curâ videre sagaci<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Otia qui studiis læti tenuere decoris,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Inque <span class="smcap">Academia</span> umbriferâ nitidoque <span class="smcap">Lyceo</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fuderunt claras fœcundi pectoris artes.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Such was the address, or fancy at least, of the -wise <small>ANCIENTS</small>.</p> - -<p>The <small>MODERNS</small>, on the contrary, have appeared to -reverence themselves, or their cause, too much, to -think that either stood in need of this oblique management. -No writer has the least doubt of being -favourably received in all companies, let him come -upon us in what shape he will: and, not to stand -upon ceremony, when he brings so welcome a present, -as what he calls <i>Truth</i>, with him, he obtrudes -it upon us in the direct way of Dissertation.</p> - -<p>Nobody, I suppose, objects to this practice, when -important truths indeed are to be taught, and when -the abilities of the Teacher are such as may command -respect. But the case is different, when -writers presume to try their hands upon us, without -these advantages. Nay, and even with them, it can -do no hurt, when the subject is proper for familiar -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">20</span> -discourse, to throw it into this gracious and popular -form.</p> - -<p>I have said, <i>where the subject is proper for familiar -discourse</i>; for all subjects, I think, cannot, -or should not be treated in this way.</p> - -<p>It is true, the inquisitive genius of the Academic -Philosophy gave great scope to the freedom of debate. -Hence the origin of the Greek Dialogue: of -which, if <span class="smcap">Plato</span> was not the Inventor, he was, at -least, the Model.</p> - -<p>This sceptical humour was presently much increased; -and every thing was now disputed, not for -<span class="smcap">Plato’s</span> reason (which was, also, his master’s) for -the sake of exposing <i>Falsehood</i> and discovering -<i>Truth</i>; but because it was pretended that nothing -could be certainly affirmed to be either <i>true</i> or -<i>false</i>.</p> - -<p>And, when afterwards <span class="smcap">Cicero</span>, our other great -master of Dialogue, introduced this sort of writing -into Rome, we know that, besides his profession of -the Academic Sect, now extended and indeed outraged -into absolute scepticism, the very purpose he -had in philosophizing, and the rhetorical uses to -which he put his Philosophy, would determine him -very naturally to the same practice. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">21</span></p> - -<p>Thus all subjects, of what nature and importance -soever, were equally discussed in the ancient -Dialogue; till matters were at length brought to -that pass, that the only end, proposed by it, was to -shew the writer’s dexterity in disputing for, or -against any opinion, without referring his disputation -to any certain use or conclusion at all.</p> - -<p>Such was the character of the ancient, and especially -of the Ciceronian Dialogue; arising out of the -genius and principles of those times.</p> - -<p>But for us to follow our masters in this licence -would be, indeed, to deserve the objected charge of -<i>servile Imitators</i>; since the reasons, that led them -into it, do not subsist in our case. They disputed -every thing, because they believed nothing. We -should forbear to dispute some things, because they -are such as both for their sacredness, and certainty, -no man in his senses affects to disbelieve. At least, -the Stoic <span class="smcap">Balbus</span> may teach us a decent reserve in -one instance, <i>Since</i>, as he observes, <i>it is a wicked -and impious custom to dispute against the Being, -Attributes, and Providence of God, whether it be -under an assumed character, or in one’s own</i><a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">1</a>.</p> - -<p>Thus much I have thought fit to say, to prevent -mistakes, and to shew of what kind the subjects are -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">22</span> -which may be allowed to enter into modern Dialogue. -They are only such, as are either, in the -strict sense of the word, <i>not</i> important, and yet -afford an ingenuous pleasure in the discussion of -them; or not <i>so</i> important as to exclude the sceptical -inconclusive air, which the decorum of polite dialogue -necessarily demands.</p> - -<p>And, under these restrictions, we may treat a -number of curious and useful subjects, in this form. -The benefit will be that which the Ancients certainly -found in this practice, and which the great master -of life finds in the general way of candour and -politeness,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i14">—parcentis viribus, atque<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Extenuantis eas consultò—<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>For, though Truth be not formally delivered in -Dialogue, it may be insinuated; and a capable -writer will find means to do this so effectually as, -in discussing both sides of a question, to engage the -reader insensibly on that side, where the Truth -lies.</p> - -<p>II. But <i>convenience</i> is not the only consideration. -The <small>NOVELTY</small> of the thing, itself, may well -recommend it to us.</p> - -<p>For, when every other species of composition has -been tried, and men are grown so fastidious as to -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">23</span> -receive with indifference the best modern productions, -on account of the too common form, into -which they are cast, it may seem an attempt of -some merit to revive the only one, almost, of the -ancient models, which hath not yet been made cheap -by vulgar imitation.</p> - -<p>I can imagine the reader will conceive some surprise, -and, if he be not a candid one, will perhaps -express some disdain, at this pretence to Novelty, -in cultivating the <i>Dialogue-form</i>. For what, he -will say, has been more frequently aimed at in our -own, and every modern language? Has not every -art, nay, every science, been taught in this way? -And, if the vulgar use of any mode of writing be -enough to discredit it, can there be room even for -wit and genius to retrieve the honour of this trite -and hackneyed form?</p> - -<p>This, no doubt, may be said; but by those who -know little of the ancient Dialogue, or who have -not attended to the true manner in which the rules -of good writing require it to be composed.</p> - -<p>We have what are called Dialogues in abundance; -and the authors, for any thing I know, might please -themselves with imagining, they had copied <span class="smcap">Plato</span> -or <span class="smcap">Cicero</span>. But in our language at least (and, if I -extended the observation to the other modern ones -of most estimation, I should perhaps do them no -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">24</span> -wrong) I know of nothing in the way of Dialogue -that deserves to be considered by us with such -regard.</p> - -<p>There are in English <span class="smcap">Three</span> Dialogues, and but -Three, that are fit to be mentioned on this occasion: -all of them excellently well composed in their -way, and, it must be owned, by the very best and -politest of our writers. And had that way been a -true one, I mean that which antiquity and good -criticism recommend to us, the Public had never -been troubled with this attempt from me, to introduce -another.</p> - -<p>The Dialogues I mean are, <i>The Moralists of Lord</i> -<span class="smcap">Shaftesbury</span>; <i>Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Addison’s</span> <i>Treatise on Medals</i>; -<i>and the Minute Philosopher of Bishop</i> <span class="smcap">Berkeley</span>: -and, where is the modesty, it will be said, to attempt -the Dialogue-form, if it has not succeeded in such -hands?</p> - -<p>The answer is short, and, I hope, not arrogant. -These applauded persons suffered themselves to be -misled by modern practice; and with every ability -to excel in this nice and difficult composition, have -written beneath themselves, only because they did -not keep up to the ancient standard.</p> - -<p>An essential defect runs through them all. They -have taken for their speakers, not real, but <i>fictitious</i> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">25</span> -characters; contrary to the practice of the old writers; -and to the infinite disadvantage of this mode -of writing in every respect.</p> - -<p>The love of truth, they say, is so natural to the -human mind, that we expect to find the appearance -of it, even in our amusements. In some indeed, -the slenderest shadow of it will suffice: in others, -we require to have the substance presented to us. -In all cases, the degree of probability is to be estimated -from the nature of the work. Thus, for instance, -when a writer undertakes to instruct or entertain -us in the way of Dialogue, he obliges himself -to keep up to the <i>idea</i>, at least, of what he -professes. The conversation may not have <i>really</i> -been such as is represented; but we expect it to -have all the <i>forms</i> of reality. We bring with us a -disposition to be deceived (for we know his purpose -is not to recite historically, but to feign probably); -but it looks like too great an insult on our understandings, -when the writer stands upon no ceremony -with us, and refuses to be at the expence of a -little art or management to deceive us.</p> - -<p>Hence the probabilities, or, what is called the -<i>decorum</i>, of this composition. We ask, “Who the -persons are, that are going to converse before us?” -“where and when the conversation passed?” and -“by what means the company came together?” If -we are let into none of these particulars, or, rather -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">26</span> -if a way be not found to satisfy us in all of them, -we take no interest in what remains; and give the -speakers, who in this case are but a sort of Puppets, -no more credit, than the opinion we chance to entertain -of their Prompter demands from us.</p> - -<p>On the other hand, when <i>such</i> persons are brought -into the scene as are well known to us, and are entitled -to our respect, and but so much address employed -in shewing them as may give us a colourable -pretence to suppose them really conversing together, -the writer himself disappears, and is even among the -first to fall into his own delusion. For thus <span class="smcap">Cicero</span> -himself represents the matter:</p> - -<p>“This way of discourse,” says he, “which turns -on the authority of real persons, and those the most -eminent of former times, is, I know not how, -more interesting than any other: in so much that -in reading my own Dialogue on <i>old age</i>, I am -sometimes ready to conclude, in good earnest, it -is not I, but <span class="smcap">Cato</span> himself, who is there speaking<a id="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">2</a>.”</p> - -<p>So complete a deception, as this, requires the -hand of a master. But such <span class="smcap">Cicero</span> was; and had -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">27</span> -it been his design to make the highest encomium of -his own Dialogues, he could not, perhaps, have -done it so well by any other circumstance.</p> - -<p>But now this advantage is wholly lost by the introduction -of <i>fictitious persons</i>. These may do in -<i>Comedy</i>; nay, they do the best there, where <i>character</i> -only, or chiefly, is designed. In <i>Dialogue</i>, we -must have real persons, and those only: for character -here is but a secondary consideration; and there -is no other way of giving weight and authority to -the conversation of the piece.</p> - -<p>And here, again, <span class="smcap">Cicero</span> may instruct us; who -was so scrupulous on this head that he would not -put his discourse on <i>old age</i> into the mouth of -<span class="smcap">Tithonus</span>, although a Greek writer of name had set -him the example, <i>because</i>, as he observes, <i>a fabulous -person would have had no great authority</i><a id="FNanchor_3" href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">3</a>. -What then would he have said of merely fancied and -<i>ideal</i> persons, who have not so much as that shadowy -existence, which the plausibility of a current tale -bestows?</p> - -<p>When I say that <i>character is but a secondary -consideration</i> in Dialogue, the reader sees I confine -myself to that species only, which was in use among -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">28</span> -the <i>ancients</i>, properly so called; and of which -<span class="smcap">Plato</span> and <span class="smcap">Cicero</span> have left us the best models.</p> - -<p>It is true, in later times, a great wit took upon -him to extend the province of Dialogue, and, like -another Prometheus<a id="FNanchor_4" href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor">4</a>, (as, by an equivocal sort of -compliment, it seems, was observed of him) created -a new species; the merit of which consists in associating -two things, not naturally allied together, <i>The -severity of Philosophic Dialogue, with the humour -of the Comic</i>.</p> - -<p>But as unnatural as the alliance may seem, this -sort of composition has had its admirers. In particular, -<span class="smcap">Erasmus</span> was so taken with <span class="smcap">Lucian’s</span> Dialogue, -that he has transfused its highest graces into -his own; and employed those fine arms to better -purpose against the Monks, than the forger of them -had done, against the Philosophers.</p> - -<p>It must further be confessed, that this innovation -of the Greek writer had some countenance from the -genius of the old Socratic Dialogue; such I mean -as it was in the hands of <span class="smcap">Socrates</span> himself<a id="FNanchor_5" href="#Footnote_5" class="fnanchor">5</a>; who -took his name of <span class="smcap">Ironist</span> from the continued humour -and ridicule which runs through his moral discourses. -But, besides that the Athenian’s modest -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">29</span> -<span class="smcap">Irony</span> was of another taste, and better suited to this -decorum of conversation, than the Syrian’s frontless -buffoonery, there was this further difference in the -two cases. <span class="smcap">Socrates</span> employed this method of ridicule, -as the only one by which he could hope to -discredit those mortal foes of reason, the <span class="smcap">Sophists</span>: -<span class="smcap">Lucian</span>, in mere wantonness, to insult its best friends, -the <span class="smcap">Philosophers</span>, and even the parent of Philosophy, -himself. The Sage would have dropped his -<span class="smcap">Irony</span>, in the company of the good and wise: The -Rhetorician is never more pleased than in confounding -both, by his intemperate <span class="smcap">Satire</span>.</p> - -<p>However, there was likeness enough in the features -of each <i>manner</i>, to favour <span class="smcap">Lucian’s</span> attempt in -compounding his new Dialogue. He was not displeased, -one may suppose, to turn the comic art -of <span class="smcap">Socrates</span> against himself; though he could not -but know that the ablest masters of the Socratic -school employed it sparingly; and that, when the -illustrious Roman came to philosophize in the way -of Dialogue, he disdained to make any use of it -at all.</p> - -<p>In a word, as it was taken up, to serve an occasion, -so it was very properly laid aside with it. -And even while the occasion lasted, this humorous -manner was far enough, as I observed, from being -pushed to a Scenic license; the great artists in this -way knowing very well, that, when <span class="smcap">Socrates</span> brought -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">30</span> -Philosophy from Heaven to Earth, it was not his -purpose to expose her on the stage, but to introduce -her into good company.</p> - -<p>And here, to note it by the way, what has been -observed of the Ironic manner of the Socratic Dialogue, -is equally true of its <i>subtle questioning dialectic -genius</i>. This, too, had its rise from the circumstances -of the time, and the views of its author, -who employed it with much propriety and even -elegance to entrap, in their own cobweb nets, the -minute, quibbling captious sophists. How it chanced -that this part of its character did not, also, cease -with its use, but was continued by the successors in -that school, and even carried so far as to provoke -the ridicule of the wits, till, at length, it brought -on the just disgrace of the Socratic Dialogue itself, -all this is the proper subject of another inquiry.</p> - -<p>Our concern, at present, is with <span class="smcap">Lucian’s</span> Dialogue; -whether he were indeed the inventor of this -species, or, after <span class="smcap">Socrates</span>, only the espouser of it.</p> - -<p>The account, given above, that <i>it unites and incorporates -the several virtues of the Comic and -Philosophic manner</i>, is in <span class="smcap">Lucian’s</span> own words<a id="FNanchor_6" href="#Footnote_6" class="fnanchor">6</a>. -Yet his Dialogue does not, as indeed it could not, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">31</span> -correspond exactly to this idea. <span class="smcap">Cicero</span> thought it -no easy matter to unite <i>Philosophy with Politeness -and Good-humour</i><a id="FNanchor_7" href="#Footnote_7" class="fnanchor">7</a>; what then would he have -said of incorporating <i>Philosophy, with Comic Ridicule</i>?</p> - -<p>To do him justice, <span class="smcap">Lucian</span> himself appears sensible -enough of the difficulty. <i>I have presumed</i>, -says he, <i>to connect and put together two things, -not very obsequious to my design, nor disposed by -any natural sympathy to bear the society of each -other</i><a id="FNanchor_8" href="#Footnote_8" class="fnanchor">8</a>. And therefore we find him on all occasions -more solicitous for the success of this hazardous -enterprise, than for the credit of his invention. -Every body was ready to acknowledge the -novelty of the thing; but he had some reason to -doubt with himself, whether it were gazed at as a -monster, or admired as a just and reasonable form -of composition. So that not being able to resolve -this scruple to his satisfaction, he extricates himself, -as usual, from the perplexity, by the force of -his comic humour, and concludes at length, <i>that -he had nothing left for it but to persevere in the -choice he had once made</i>; that is, to preserve the -credit of his own consistency at least, if he could -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">32</span> -not prevail to have his Dialogue accepted by the judicious -reader, under the idea<a id="FNanchor_9" href="#Footnote_9" class="fnanchor">9</a> of a consistent <i>composition</i>.</p> - -<p>The ingenious writer had, surely, no better way -to take, in his distress. For the two excellencies -he meant to incorporate in his Dialogue cannot, in -a supreme degree of each, subsist together. The -one must be sacrificed to the other. Either the -philosophic part must give place to the dramatic; -or the dramatic must withdraw, or restrain itself -at least, to give room for a just display of the philosophic.</p> - -<p>And this, in fact, as I observed, is the case in -<span class="smcap">Lucian’s</span> own Dialogues. They are highly dramatic, -in which part his force lay; while his Philosophy -serves only to edge his wit, or simply to -introduce it. They have, usually, for their subject, -not a <small>QUESTION DEBATED</small>; but, a <small>TENET RIDICULED</small>, -or a <small>CHARACTER EXPOSED</small>. In this view, they are -doubtless inimitable: I mean when he kept himself, -as too frequently he did not, to such <i>tenets</i> or -<i>characters</i>, as deserve to be treated in this free -manner.</p> - -<p>But after all, the other species, the <i>serious, philosophic</i> -Dialogue, is the noblest and the best. It -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">33</span> -is the <i>noblest</i>, in all views; for the dignity of its -subject, the gravity of its manner, and the importance -of its end. It is the <i>best</i>, too; I mean, it -excels most in the very truth and art of composition; -as it governs itself entirely by the rules of decorum, -and gives a just and faithful image of what -it would represent: whereas the comic Dialogue, -distorting, or, at least, aggravating the features of -its original, pleases at some expence of probability; -and at length attains its end but in part, for want -of <i>dramatic action</i>, the only medium through which -<i>humour</i> can be perfectly conveyed.</p> - -<p>Thus the serious Dialogue is absolute in itself; -and fully obtains its purpose: the humorous or -characteristic, but partially; and is, at best, the -faint copy of a higher species, the <i>Comic Drama</i>.</p> - -<p>However, the authority of <span class="smcap">Lucian</span> is so great, -and the manner itself so taking, that for these reasons, -but chiefly for the sake of variety, the <small>FIRST</small> -of the following Dialogues (and in part too, the -<small>SECOND</small>) pretends to be of this class.</p> - -<p>But to return to our proper subject, <span class="smcap">the serious -or philosophic Dialogue</span>.</p> - -<p>1. I observed (and the reason now appears) that -<i>character</i> is a subordinate consideration, in this -Dialogue. The <i>manners</i> are to be given indeed, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">34</span> -but sparingly, and, as it were, by accident. And -this grace (which so much embellishes a well-composed -work) can only be had by employing <small>REAL</small>, -<small>KNOWN</small>, and <small>RESPECTED</small> speakers. Each of these -circumstances, in the choice of a speaker, is important. -The <i>first</i>, excites our curiosity: the <i>second</i>, -affords an easy opportunity of painting the -manners by those slight and careless strokes, which -alone can be employed for this purpose, and which -would not sufficiently mark the characters of unknown -or fictitious persons: and the <i>last</i> gives weight -and dignity to the whole composition.</p> - -<p>By this means, the dialogue becomes, in a high -degree, natural, and, on that account, affecting: -a thousand fine and delicate allusions to the principles, -sentiments, and history of the Dialogists -keep their characters perpetually in view: we have -a rule before us, by which to estimate the pertinence -and propriety of what is said: and we are -pleased to bear a part, as it were, in the conversation -of such persons.</p> - -<p>Thus the old writers of Dialogue charm us, even -when their subjects are unpleasing, and could hardly -merit our attention: but when the topics are of general -and intimate concern to the reader, by being -discussed in this form, they create in him the -keenest appetite; and are, perhaps, read with a -higher pleasure, than we receive from most other -compositions of literary men. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">35</span></p> - -<p>2. It being now apprehended what <i>persons</i> are -most fit to be shewn in Dialogue, the next inquiry -will be, concerning their <i>style or manner of expression</i>. -And this, in general, must be suited to -the condition and qualities of the persons themselves: -that is, it must be grave, polite, and something -raised above the ordinary pitch or tone of -conversation; for, otherwise, it would not agree to -the ideas we form of the speakers, or to the regard -we owe to <i>real</i>, <i>known</i>, and <i>respected</i> persons, seriously -debating, as the philosophic dialogue imports -in the very terms, on some useful or important -subject.</p> - -<p>Thus far the case is plain enough. The conclusion -flows, of itself, from the very idea of a philosophic -conversation between such men.</p> - -<p>But as it appeared that the speaker’s <i>proper manners</i> -are to be given, in this Dialogue, it may be -thought (and, I suppose, commonly is thought) -that the speaker’s <i>proper style or expression</i> should -be given, too.</p> - -<p>Here the subject begins to be a little nice; and -we must distinguish between the <i>general cast</i> of -expression, and its <i>smaller and more peculiar features</i>.</p> - -<p>As to the <i>general cast or manner of speaking</i>, -it may be well to preserve some resemblance of it; -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">36</span> -for it results so immediately from the speaker’s character, -and sometimes makes so essential a part of -it, that the <i>manners</i> themselves cannot, otherwise, -be sufficiently expressed.</p> - -<p>Accordingly <span class="smcap">Cicero</span> tells us, that, in his Dialogues -of the <i>complete Orator</i>, he had <i>endeavoured -to shadow out</i>, that is, give the outline, as it were, -of the kind of eloquence, by which his chief -speakers, <span class="smcap">Crassus</span> and <span class="smcap">Antonius</span>, were severally distinguished<a id="FNanchor_10" href="#Footnote_10" class="fnanchor">10</a>. -This attention has certainly no ill -effect when the <i>manners of speaking</i>, as here, are -sufficiently distinct, and generally known. It was, -besides, essentially necessary in this Dialogue, -where the subject is, of eloquence itself; and where -the principal persons appeared, and were accordingly -to be represented, in the light and character of -<i>speakers</i>; that is, where their different kinds or -manners of speaking were, of course, to be expressed.</p> - -<p>In Dialogues on other subjects, <span class="smcap">Cicero</span> himself -either neglects this rule, or observes it with less -care<a id="FNanchor_11" href="#Footnote_11" class="fnanchor">11</a>; and this difference of conduct is plainly justified, -from the reason of the thing. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">37</span></p> - -<p>But now when the question is, of the <i>smaller -features and more peculiar qualities of style or expression</i>, -it will be found that the writer of Dialogue -is under no obligation, either from the reason -of the thing, or the best authorities, to affect a resemblance -of that kind.</p> - -<p>Authorities, I think, there are none, or none at -least that deserve to be much regarded; though I -remember what has been observed of an instance or -two of this sort, in some of <span class="smcap">Plato’s</span> Dialogues, where -his purpose is, to <i>expose a character</i>, not to <i>debate -a philosophic question</i>: and for <i>the impropriety of -the thing itself</i>, it may appear from the following -considerations. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">38</span></p> - -<p>In general, the reason, why <i>character</i> is preserved -in this Dialogue, is, because such speakers, -as are introduced in it, cannot be supposed to converse -for any time on a subject of importance without -discovering somethings of their own <i>peculiar -manners</i>; though the occasion may not be warming -enough to throw them out with that distinctness -and vivacity, which we expect in the progress of a -dramatic plot. But as to the <i>language of conversation</i>, -it is so much the same between persons of -education and politeness, that, whether the subject -be interesting, or otherwise, all that you can expect -is that the <i>general cast of expression</i> will be somewhat -tinctured by the <i>manners</i>, which shine through -it; but by no means that the smaller differences, -the nicer peculiarities of style, will be shewn.</p> - -<p>Or, we may take the matter thus:</p> - -<p>The reason, why the <i>general cast or kind of expression</i> -is different in two speakers, is, because -their <i>characters</i> are different, too. But <i>character</i> -has no manner of influence, in the ease and freedom -of conversation, on the <i>idiomatic differences</i> -of expression; which flow not from the <i>manners</i>, -but from some degree of study and affectation, and -only characterize their written and artificial works.</p> - -<p>Thus, for instance, if <span class="smcap">Sallust</span> and <span class="smcap">Cicero</span> had -come together in conversation, the <i>former</i> would -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">39</span> -certainly have dropped his <i>new words and pointed -sentences</i>: and the <i>latter</i> his <i>numerous oratorial -periods</i>. All that might be expected to appear, is, -that <span class="smcap">Sallust’s</span> expression would be shorter and more -compact; <span class="smcap">Cicero’s</span> more gracious and flowing, agreeably -to the characters of the two men.</p> - -<p>But there is a further reason why these <i>characteristic -peculiarities of style</i> must not be exhibited, -or must be infinitely restrained at least, in the sort -of composition we are now considering. It is, that -the studied imitation of such peculiarities would be -what we call <i>mimickry</i>; and would therefore border -upon <i>ridicule</i>, the thing of all others which the -genius of this Dialogue most abhors. In Comedy -itself, the most exact writers do not condescend to -this minute imitation. <span class="smcap">Terence’s</span> characters all express -themselves, I think, with equal elegance: -even his slaves are made to speak as good Latin, as -their masters. In the serious Dialogue, then, which, -from its nature, is, in a much lower degree, <i>mimetic</i>, -that minute attention can by no means be required. -It will be sufficient that the speakers express themselves -in <i>the same manner</i>, that is, (provided the -<i>general cast</i> of expression be suited to their respective -characters) <i>in the writer’s own</i>.</p> - -<p>If there be any exception from this rule, it must -be, when the peculiarities of expression are so great, -and so notorious, that the reader could hardly -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">40</span> -acknowledge the speaker in any other dress, than -that of his own style. Hence it is possible, though -<span class="smcap">Cicero</span> has left us no example of this sort, that if, -in the next age, any one had thought fit to introduce -<span class="smcap">Mæcenas</span> into Dialogue, he might perhaps have -been allowed to colour his language with some of -those <i>spruce turns and negligent affectations</i>, by -which, as a writer, he was so well known. It is, at -least, on this principle that the Author of the following -Dialogues must rest his apology for having -taken such liberty, in <i>one or two instances, only</i>: -in which, however, he has confined his imitation to -the single purpose of exhibiting some degree of likeness -to their acknowledged manner of expression, -without attempting to expose it in any strong or invidious -light. And, after all, if even this liberty, -so cautiously taken, be thought too much, he will -not complain of his critics; since the fault, if it be -one, was committed rather in compliance with what -he supposed might be the public judgment, than -with his own.</p> - -<p>The reader has now before him a sketch of what -I conceive to be the <i>character</i> of the ancient philosophic -Dialogue; which, in one word, may be -said to be, “An imitated, and mannered conversation -between certain real, known, and respected -persons, on some useful or serious subject, in an -elegant, and suitably adorned, but not characteristic -style.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">41</span></p> - -<p>At least, I express, as I can, my notion of <span class="smcap">Cicero’s</span> -Dialogue, which unites these several characters; -and, by such union, has effected, as it seems to me, -all that the nature of this composition requires or -admits.</p> - -<p>This, I am sensible, is saying but little, on the -subject. But I pretend not to do justice to <span class="smcap">Cicero’s -Dialogues</span>; which are occasionally set off by that -lively, yet chaste colouring of the <i>manners</i>, and -are, besides, all over sprinkled with that exquisite -grace of, what the Latin writers call, <i>urbanity</i>, (by -which, they meant as well what was most polite in -the <i>air</i> of conversation, as in the language of it) -that there is nothing equal to them, in Antiquity -itself: and I have sometimes fancied, that even -<span class="smcap">Livy’s</span> Dialogues<a id="FNanchor_12" href="#Footnote_12" class="fnanchor">12</a>, if they had come down to us, -would perhaps have lost something, on a comparison -with these master-pieces of <span class="smcap">Cicero’s</span> pen.</p> - -<p>3. But to this apology for the ancient Dialogue, -I suspect it will be replied, “That though, in the -hands of the Greek and Latin writers, it might, -heretofore, have all this grace and merit, yet who -shall pretend to revive it in our days? or, how shall -we enter into the spirit of this composition, for which -there is no encouragement, nor so much as the -countenance of example in real life? No man writes -well, but from his own experience and observation: -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">42</span> -and by whom is the way of dialogue now practised? -or, where do we find such precedents of grave and -continued conversation in modern times?”</p> - -<p>A very competent judge, and one too, who was -himself, as I have observed, an adventurer in this -class of composition, puts the objection home in the -following words:</p> - -<p>“The truth is,” says he, “it would be an abominable -falsehood, and belying of the age, to put -so much good sense together in any <i>one</i> conversation, -as might make it hold out steadily, and with -plain coherence, for an hour’s time, till any <i>one</i> -subject had been rationally examined<a id="FNanchor_13" href="#Footnote_13" class="fnanchor">13</a>.”</p> - -<p>Nor is this the only difficulty. <i>Another</i> occurs, -from the prevailing manners of modern times, which -are over-run with respect, compliment, and ceremony. -“Now put <i>compliments</i>,” says the same -writer, “put <i>ceremony</i> into a Dialogue, and see -what will be the effect! This is the plain <i>dilemma</i> -against that ancient manner of writing—if we -avoid ceremony, we are unnatural: if we use it, -and appear as we naturally are, as we salute, and -meet, and treat one another, we hate the sight<a id="FNanchor_14" href="#Footnote_14" class="fnanchor">14</a>.”</p> - -<p>These considerations are to the purpose; and -shew perhaps in a mortifying manner, that the modern -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">43</span> -writers of Dialogue, the very best of them, -cannot aspire to the unrivalled elegance of the ancient; -as being wholly unfurnished of many advantages, -to this end, which they enjoyed. But -still the <i>form</i> of writing itself is neither impracticable, -nor unnatural: and there are certain <i>means</i>, -by which the disadvantages, complained of, may be -lessened at least, if not entirely removed.</p> - -<p>To begin with the <small>LAST</small>. It is very true, that the -constraint of a formal and studied civility is foreign -to the genius of this sort of composition; and it is, -also, as true, that somewhat of this constrained civility -is scarce separable from a just copy and faithful -picture of conversation in our days. The reason -of which is to be gathered from the nature of our -policies and governments. For conversation, I -mean the serious and manly sort, as well as eloquence, -is most cultivated and thrives best amidst -the quality of conditions in republican and popular -states.</p> - -<p>And, though this inconvenience be less perceived -by us of this free country than by most others, yet -something of it will remain wherever monarchy, -with its consequent train of subordinate and dependent -ranks of men, subsists.</p> - -<p>Now the proper remedy in the case is, to bring -such men only together in Dialogue as are of the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">44</span> -same rank; or at least to class our speakers with -such care as that any great inequality in that respect -may be compensated by some other; such as the -superiority of age, wisdom, talents, or the like. A -Chancellor of <i>England</i> and a Country Justice, or -even a Lord and his Chaplain, could hardly be -shewn in Dialogue, without incurring some ridicule. -But a Judge and a Bishop, one would hope, might -be safely brought together; and if a great Philosopher -should enter into debate with a lettered Man -of Quality, the indecorum would not be so violent -as to be much resented.</p> - -<p>But the influence of modern manners reaches -even to names and the ordinary forms of address. -In the Greek and Roman Dialogues, it was permitted -to accost the greatest persons by their obvious -and familiar appellations. <span class="smcap">Alcibiades</span> had no more -addition, than <span class="smcap">Socrates</span>: and <span class="smcap">Brutus</span> and <span class="smcap">Cæsar</span> -lost nothing of their dignity from being applied to in -those direct terms. The moderns, on the contrary, -have their guards and fences about them; and we -hold it an incivility to approach them without some -decent periphrasis, or ceremonial title—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">——gaudent prænomine molles<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Auriculæ.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>It was principally, I believe, for this reason, that -modern writers of Dialogue have had recourse to -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">45</span> -fictitious names and characters, rather than venture -on the use of real ones: the <i>former</i> absolving them -from this cumbersome ceremony, which, in the -case of the <i>latter</i>, could not so properly be laid -aside. <span class="smcap">Palæmon</span> and <span class="smcap">Philander</span>, for instance, are -not only well-sounding words; but slide as easily -into a sentence, and as gracefully too, as <span class="smcap">Cicero</span> -and <span class="smcap">Atticus</span>: while the <i>Mr’s</i> and the <i>Sirs</i>, nay his -<i>Grace</i>, his <i>Excellency</i>, or his <i>Honour</i><a id="FNanchor_15" href="#Footnote_15" class="fnanchor">15</a>, of modern -Dialogue, have not only a formality that hurts the -ease of conversation, but a harshness too, which is -somewhat offensive to a well-tuned Attic or Roman -ear.</p> - -<p>All this will be allowed; and yet, to speak plainly -and with that freedom which ancient manners indulge, -the barbarity of these forms is not worse than -the pedantry of taking such disgust at them. And -there are ways, too, by which the most offensive -circumstances in this account may be so far qualified -as to be almost overlooked, or at least endured. -What <i>these</i> are, the capable and intelligent reader -or writer is not to be told; and none but such would -easily apprehend.</p> - -<p>To come then to the <small>OTHER</small> objection of Lord -<span class="smcap">Shaftesbury</span>, which is more considerable.</p> - -<p>It would be a manifest falsehood, he thinks, and -directly against the truth both of art and nature, to -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">46</span> -engage the moderns in a grave discourse of any -length. And it is true, the great men of our time -do not, like the Senators of ancient <i>Rome</i>, spend -whole days in learned debate and formal disputation: -yet their meetings, especially in private parties, -with their friends, are not so wholly frivolous, but -that they sometimes discourse seriously, and even -pursue a subject of learning or business, not with -coherence only, but with some care. And will not -this be ground enough for a capable writer to go -upon, in reviving the way of Dialogue between such -men?</p> - -<p>But, to give the most probable air to his fiction, -he may find it necessary to recede from the strict -imitation of his originals, in one instance.</p> - -<p>It may be advisable not to take for his speakers, -<i>living persons</i>; I mean, persons, however respectable, -of his own age. We may fancy of the dead, -what we cannot so readily believe of the living. -And thus, by endeavouring a little to deceive ourselves, -we may come to think that natural, which -is not wholly incredible; and may admit the writer’s -invention for a picture, though a studied and flattering -one, it may be, of real life.</p> - -<p>In short, it may be a good rule in modern Dialogue, -as it was in ancient Tragedy, to take our -subjects, and choose our persons, out of former -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">47</span> -times. And, under the prejudice of that opinion -which is readily entertained of such subjects and -characters, an artist may contrive to pass that upon -us for <i>Fact</i>, which was only ingenious <i>Fiction</i>; and -so wind up his piece to the perfection of ancient -Dialogue, without departing too widely from the -decorum and truth of conversation in modern life.</p> - -<p>Such at least is the <span class="smcap">Idea</span>, which the Author of -these Dialogues has formed to himself of the manner -in which this exquisite sort of composition may be -attempted by more successful writers. For to conceive -an excellence, and to copy it, he understands -and laments, are very different things.</p> - -<p> -<span class="i2 smcap">Thurcaston.</span><br /> -<span class="i4">MDCCLXIV.</span><br /> -</p> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">48</span><br /> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">49</span></p> - -<h2 class="xx-large">MORAL AND POLITICAL<br /> -DIALOGUES.</h2> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">50</span><br /> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">51</span></p> - -<h2 class="xx-large">DIALOGUE I.<br /> - -<span class="x-large">ON SINCERITY IN THE COMMERCE<br /> -OF THE WORLD.</span><br /> - -<small>BETWEEN</small><br /> - -<span class="large">DR. HENRY MORE,</span><br /> - -<small>AND</small><br /> - -<span class="large">EDMUND WALLER, ESQ.</span></h2> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">52</span><br /> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">53</span></p> - -<h2 id="DIALOGUE_I">DIALOGUE I.<br /> - -<span class="large">ON SINCERITY IN THE COMMERCE -OF THE WORLD.</span><br /> - -<span class="medium"><span class="smcap">Dr. HENRY MORE, EDMUND WALLER, Esq.</span></span></h2> - -<h4>MR. WALLER.</h4> - -<p class="drop"><span class="uppercase">Enough</span>, enough, my friend, on the good -old chapter of <i>Sincerity and Honour</i>. Your -rhetoric, and not your reasoning, is too much -for me. Believe it, your fine stoical lessons -must all give way to a little common sense, I -mean, to a prudent accommodation of ourselves -to times and circumstances; which, whether -you will dignify it with the name of philosophy, -or no, is the only method of living with credit -in the world, and even with safety.</p> - -<h4>DR. MORE.</h4> - -<p>Accommodation is, no doubt, a good word -to stand in the place of insincerity. But, pray, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">54</span> -in which of the great moral masters have you -picked up this term, and, much more, the virtuous -practice, it so well expresses?</p> - -<h4>MR. WALLER.</h4> - -<p>I learnt it from the great master of life, <small>EXPERIENCE</small>: -A doctor, little heard of in the -schools, but of more authority with men of -sense, than all the solemn talkers of the porch, -or cloister, put together.</p> - -<h4>DR. MORE.</h4> - -<p>After much reserve, I confess, you begin to -express yourself very clearly. But, good Sir, -not to take up your conclusion too hastily, -have the patience to hear—</p> - -<h4>MR. WALLER.</h4> - -<p>Have I not, then, heard, and sure with patience -enough, your studied harangues on this -subject? You have discoursed it, I must own, -very plausibly. But the impression, which -fine words make, is one thing, and the conviction -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">55</span> -of reason, another. And, not to waste -more time in fruitless altercation, let <small>ME</small>, if -you please, read you a lecture of morals: not -out of ancient books, or the visions of an unpractised -philosophy, but from the schools of -business and real life. Such a view of things -will discredit these high nations, and may serve, -for the future, to amend and rectify all your -systems.</p> - -<h4>DR. MORE.</h4> - -<p>Commend me to a man of the world, for a -rectifier of moral systems!—Yet, if it were -only for the pleasure of being let into the secrets -of this new doctrine of <i>Accommodation</i>, -I am content to become a <i>patient</i> hearer, in -my turn; and the rather, as the day, which -you see, wears apace, will hardly give leave for -interruption, or indeed afford you time enough -for the full display of your wit on this extraordinary -subject.</p> - -<h4>MR. WALLER.</h4> - -<p>We have day enough before us, for the business -in hand. ’Tis true, this wood-land walk -has not the charms, which you lately bestowed -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">56</span> -on a certain <i>philosophical garden</i><a id="FNanchor_16" href="#Footnote_16" class="fnanchor">16</a>. But the -heavens are as clear, and the air, that blows -upon us, as fresh, as in that fine evening which -drew your friends abroad, and engaged them in -a longer debate, than that with which I am -now likely to detain you. For, indeed, I have -only to lay before you the result of my own -experience and observation. All my arguments -are plain facts, which are soon told, and about -which there can be no dispute. You shall -judge for yourself, how far they will authorize -the conclusion I mean to draw from them.</p> - -<p>The point, I am bold enough to maintain -against you philosophers, is, briefly, this; -“That <i>sincerity</i>, or a scrupulous regard to -<i>truth</i> in all our conversation and behaviour, -how specious soever it may be in theory, is -a thing impossible in practice; that there is -no living in the world on these terms; and -that a man of business must either quit the -scene, or learn to temper the strictness of -your discipline with some reasonable accommodations. -It is exactly the dilemma of the -poet,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Vivere si recte nescis, discede peritis;<br /></span> -</div></div></div> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">57</span></p> - -<p>of all which I presume, as I said, to offer my -own experience, as the shortest and most convincing -demonstration.”</p> - -<h4>DR. MORE.</h4> - -<p>The subject, I confess, is fairly delivered, -and nothing can be juster than this appeal to -experience, provided you do not attempt to -delude yourself or me by throwing false colours -upon it.</p> - -<h4>MR. WALLER.</h4> - -<p>It will be your business to remonstrate against -these arts, if you discover any such. My intention -is to proceed in the way of a direct and -simple recital.</p> - -<p>“I was born, as you know, of a good family, -and to the inheritance of this paternal seat<a id="FNanchor_17" href="#Footnote_17" class="fnanchor">17</a>, -with the easy fortune that belongs to it. To -this, I succeeded but too soon by the untimely -loss of an excellent father. His death, however, -did not deprive me of those advantages -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">58</span> -which are thought to arise from a strict and -virtuous education. This care devolved on -my mother, a woman of great prudence, who -provided for my instruction in letters and every -other accomplishment. I was, of myself, -enough inclined to books, and was supposed to -have some parts which deserved cultivation. I -was accordingly trained in the study of those -writings, which are the admiration of men of -elegant minds and refined morals. I was a -tolerable master of the languages, in which -they are composed; and, I may venture to say, -was at least imbued with their notions and -principles, if I was not able at that time to -catch the spirit of their composition: all which -was confirmed in me, by the constant attendance -and admonitions of the best tutors, and -the strict discipline of your colleges. I mention -these things to shew you, that I was not -turned loose into the world, as your complaint -of men of business generally is, unprincipled -and uninstructed; and that what austere men -might afterwards take for some degree of libertinism -in my conduct, is not to be charged -on the want of a sober or even learned education.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">59</span></p> - -<h4>DR. MORE.</h4> - -<p>I understand you mean to take no advantage -of that plea, if what follows be not answerable -to so high expectations.</p> - -<h4>MR. WALLER.</h4> - -<p>The season was now come, when my rank -and fortune, together with the solicitations of -my friends, drew me forth, though reluctantly, -from the college into the world. I was then, -indeed, under twenty; but so practised in the -best things, and so enamoured of the moral -lessons which had been taught me, that I carried -with me into the last parliament of king -James, not the showy accomplishments of learning -only, but the high enthusiasm of a warm -and active virtue. Yet the vanity, it may be, of a -young man, distinguished by some advantages, -and conscious enough of them, was, for a time, -the leading principle with me. In this disposition, -it may be supposed, I could not be -long without desiring an introduction to the -court. It was not a school of that virtue I had -been used to, yet had some persons in it of -eminent worth and honour. A vein of poetry, -which seemed to flow naturally from me, was -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">60</span> -that by which I seemed most ambitious to recommend -myself<a id="FNanchor_18" href="#Footnote_18" class="fnanchor">18</a>. And occasions quickly -offered for that purpose. But this was a play -of ingenuity in which the heart had no share. -I made complimentary verses on the great lords -and ladies of the court, with as much simplicity -and as little meaning as my bows in the drawing -room, and thought it a fine thing to be taken -notice of, as a wit, in the fashionable circles. -In the mean time, the corruptions of a loose -disorderly court gave me great scandal. And -the abject flatteries, I observed in some of the -highest stations and gravest characters, filled -me with indignation. As an instance of this, -I can never forget the resentment, that fired -my young breast at the conversation you have -often heard me say I was present at, betwixt -the old king, and two of his court prelates<a id="FNanchor_19" href="#Footnote_19" class="fnanchor">19</a>. -And if the prudent and witty turn, the venerable -bishop of <i>Winchester</i> gave to the discourse, -had not atoned, in some measure, for -the rank offensive servility of the <i>other</i>, it had -been enough to determine me, forthwith, to an -implacable hatred of kings and courts for ever. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">61</span></p> - -<h4>DR. MORE.</h4> - -<p>It must be owned the provocation was very -gross, and the offence taken at it no more than -a symptom of a generous and manly virtue.</p> - -<h4>MR. WALLER.</h4> - -<p>It left a deep impression on my mind; yet -it did not hinder me from appearing at court -in the first years of the following reign, when -the vanity of a thoughtless muse, rather than -any relaxation of my ancient manners, drew -from me, again, some occasional panegyrics -on greatness; which being presented in verse, -I thought would hardly be suspected of flattery.</p> - -<h4>DR. MORE.</h4> - -<p>This indulgence of a <i>thoughtless muse</i> (as -you call it) was not without its danger. I am -afraid this must pass for the first instance of -your sacrificing to <span class="smcap">Insincerity</span>.</p> - -<h4>MR. WALLER.</h4> - -<p>Your fears are too hasty. This was still a -trial of my wit: and after a few wanton circles, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">62</span> -as it were to breathe and exercise my muse, I -drew her in from these amusements to a stricter -manage and more severe discipline. The long -interval of parliaments now followed; and in -this suspension of business I applied myself to -every virtuous pursuit that could be likely to -improve my mind, or purify my morals. Believe -me, I cannot to this day, without pleasure, -reflect on the golden hours, I passed in -the society of such accomplished men as <span class="smcap">Falkland</span>, -<span class="smcap">Hyde</span>, and <span class="smcap">Chillingworth</span>. And, for -my more retired amusements at this place, you -will judge of the good account I might render of -these, when I add, they were constantly shared -with that great prelate, who now, with so much -dignity, fills the throne of <i>Winchester</i><a id="FNanchor_20" href="#Footnote_20" class="fnanchor">20</a>.</p> - -<h4>DR. MORE.</h4> - -<p>This enthusiasm of your’s is catching, and -raises in me an incredible impatience to come -at the triumphs of a virtue, trained and perfected -in her best school, the conversations of -heroes and sages. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">63</span></p> - -<h4>MR. WALLER.</h4> - -<p>You shall hear. The jealousies, that had -alarmed the nation for twelve years, were now -to have a vent given them, by the call of the -parliament in <i>April 1640</i>. As the occasion, -on which it met, was in the highest degree interesting, -the assembly itself was the most august, -that perhaps had ever deliberated on -public councils. There was a glow of honour, -of liberty, and of virtue in all hearts, in all -faces: and yet this fire was tempered with so -composed a wisdom, and so sedate a courage, -that it seemed a synod of heroes; and, as some -would then say of us, could only be matched -by a senate of old Rome in its age of highest -glory. To this parliament I had the honour -to be deputed, whither I went with high-erected -thoughts, and a heart panting for glory -and the true service of my country. The dissolution, -which so unhappily followed, served -only to increase this ardour. So that, on our -next meeting in <i>November</i>, I went freely and -warmly into the measures of those, who were -supposed to mean the best. I voted, I spoke, -I impeached<a id="FNanchor_21" href="#Footnote_21" class="fnanchor">21</a>. In a word, I gave a free scope -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">64</span> -to those generous thoughts and purposes which -had been collecting in me for so many years, -and was in the foremost rank of those, whose -pulse beat highest for liberty, and who were -most active for the interest of the public.</p> - -<h4>DR. MORE.</h4> - -<p>This was indeed a triumph, the very memory -of which warms you to this moment. So -bright a flame was not easily extinguished.</p> - -<h4>MR. WALLER.</h4> - -<p>It continued for some time in all its vigour. -High as my notions were of public liberty, -they did not transport me, with that zeal which -prevailed on so many others, to act against the -just prerogative of the crown, and the ancient -constitution. I owe it to the conversation and -influence of the excellent society, before-mentioned, -that neither the spirit, the sense, nor, -what is more, the relationship and intimate acquaintance -of Mr. <span class="smcap">Hampden</span><a id="FNanchor_22" href="#Footnote_22" class="fnanchor">22</a>, could ever bias -me to his deeper designs, or any irreverence to -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">65</span> -the unhappy king’s person. Many things concurred -to preserve me in this due mean. The -violent tendencies of many councils on the parliament’s -side; many gracious and important -compliances on the king’s; the great examples -of some who had most authority with good -men; and, lastly, my own temper, which, in -its highest fervours, always inclined to moderation; -these and other circumstances kept me -from the excesses, on either hand, which so -few were able to avoid in that scene of public -confusion.</p> - -<h4>DR. MORE.</h4> - -<p>This moderation carries with it all the marks -of a real and confirmed virtue.</p> - -<h4>MR. WALLER.</h4> - -<p>I rather expected you would have considered -it as another <i>sacrifice to Insincerity</i>. Such, I -remember, was the language of many at that -time. The enthusiasts on both sides agreed to -stigmatize this temper with the name of <i>Neutrality</i>. -Yet this treatment did not prevent -me, when the war broke out, from taking a -course, which I easily foresaw, would tend to -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">66</span> -increase such suspicions; for now, to open a -fresh scene to you, I had assumed, if not new -principles, yet new notions of the manner in -which good policy required me to exert my -old ones. The general virtue, or what had the -appearance of it at least, had hitherto made -plain-dealing an easy and convenient conduct. -But things were now changed. The minds of -all men were on fire: deep designs were laid, -and no practice stuck at that might be proper -to advance the execution of them. In this situation -of affairs, what could simple honesty -do, but defeat the purpose and endanger the -safety of its master? I now, first, began to reflect -that this was a virtue for other times: at -least, that not to qualify it, in some sort, was, -at such a juncture, not honesty, but imprudence: -and when I had once fallen into this -train of thinking, it is wonderful how many -things occurred to me to justify and recommend -it. The humour of acting always on -one principle was, I said to myself, like that -of sailing with one wind: whereas the expert -mariner wins his way by plying in all directions, -as occasions serve, and making the best -of all weathers. Then I considered with myself -the bad policy, in such a conjuncture, of -<span class="smcap">Cato</span> and <span class="smcap">Brutus</span>, and easily approved in my -own mind the more pliant and conciliating method -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">67</span> -of <span class="smcap">Cicero</span>. Those stoics, thought I, ruined -themselves and their cause by a too obstinate -adherence to their system. The liberal and -more enlarged conduct of the academic, who -took advantage of all winds that blew in that -time of civil dissension, had a chance at least -for doing his country better service. Observation, -as well as books, furnish me with these -reflections. I perceived with what difficulty -the Lord <span class="smcap">Falkland’s</span> rigid principles had suffered -him to accept an office of the greatest -consequence to the public safety<a id="FNanchor_23" href="#Footnote_23" class="fnanchor">23</a>: and I understood -to what an extreme his scruples had -carried him in the discharge of it<a id="FNanchor_24" href="#Footnote_24" class="fnanchor">24</a>. This, concluded -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">68</span> -I, can never be the office of virtue in -such a world, and in such a period. And then -that of the poet, so skilled in the knowledge of -life, occurred to me,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">—aut virtus nomen inane est,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Aut decus et pretium recte petit <small>EXPERIENS</small> vir;<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>that is, as I explained it, “The man of a ready -and dexterous turn in affairs; one who knows -how to take advantage of all circumstances, -and is not restrained, by his bigotry, from varying -his conduct, as occasions serve, and -making, as it were, <i>experiments</i> in business.”</p> - -<h4>DR. MORE.</h4> - -<p>You poets, I suppose, have an exclusive right -to explain one another; or these words might -seem to bear a more natural interpretation.</p> - -<h4>MR. WALLER.</h4> - -<p>You will understand from this account, -which I have opened so particularly to you, on -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">69</span> -what reasons I was induced to alter my plan, -or rather to pursue it with those arts of prudence -and address, which the turn of the times -had now rendered necessary. The conclusion -was, I resolved to pursue steadily the king’s, -which at the same time was manifestly the nation’s -interest, and yet to keep fair with the -parliament, and the managers on that side; -for this appeared the likeliest way of doing him -real service. And yet some officious scruples, -which forced themselves upon me at first, had -like to have fixed me in other measures. In -the stream of those who chose to desert the -houses rather than share in the violent counsels -that prevailed in them, the general disgust had -also carried me to withdraw myself. But this -start of zeal was soon over. I presently saw, -and found means to satisfy the king, that it -would be more for his service that I should return -to the parliament. I therefore resumed -my seat, and took leave (to say the truth, it -was not denied me by the house, who had -their own ends to serve by this indulgence<a id="FNanchor_25" href="#Footnote_25" class="fnanchor">25</a>) to -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">70</span> -reason and debate in all points with great freedom. -At the same time my affections to the -common interest were not suspected; for, -having no connexion with the court, nobody -thought of charging me with private views; -and not forgetting, besides, to cultivate a good -understanding with the persons of chief credit -in the house, the plainness I used could only -be taken for what it was, an honest and parliamentary -liberty. This situation was, for a -time, very favourable to me: for the king’s -friends regarded me as the champion of their -cause; whilst the prudence of my carriage towards -the leading members secured me, in a -good degree, from their jealousy.</p> - -<h4>DR. MORE.</h4> - -<p>Your policy, I observe, had now taken a -more refined turn. The juncture of affairs -might possibly justify this address: but the -ground you stood upon was slippery; and I -own myself alarmed at what may be the consequence -of this solicitous pursuit of popularity. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">71</span></p> - -<h4>MR. WALLER.</h4> - -<p>No exception, I think, can be fairly taken at -the methods by which I pursued it. However, -this <i>popularity</i> it was, as you rightly divine, -which drew upon me all the mischiefs that followed. -For the application of all men, disposed -to the king’s service, was now made to -me. I had an opportunity, by this means, of -knowing the characters and views of particular -persons, and of getting an insight into the true -state of the king’s affairs. And these advantages, -in the end, drove me on the project, -which, on the discovery, came to be called my -<i>Plot</i>: an event, which, with all its particulars, -you understand too well to need any information -from me about it.</p> - -<h4>DR. MORE.</h4> - -<p>The story, as it was noised abroad, I am no -stranger to: but this being one of those occasions, -as they say, in which both your policy -and virtue were put to the sharpest trial, it -would be much to the purpose you have in view -by this recital, to favour me with your own account -of it. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">72</span></p> - -<h4>MR. WALLER.</h4> - -<p>To lead you through all particulars, would -not suit with the brevity you require of me. -But something I will say to obviate the misconceptions -you may possibly have entertained of -this business<a id="FNanchor_26" href="#Footnote_26" class="fnanchor">26</a>. For the plot itself, the utmost -of my design was only to form such a combination -among the honest and well-affected of -all sorts, as might have weight enough to incline -the houses to a peace, and prevent the -miseries that were too certainly to be apprehended -from a civil war. It was never in my -thoughts to surprize the parliament or city by -force, or engage the army in the support and -execution of my purpose. But my design in -this affair, though the fury of my enemies, and -the fatal jealousy of the time, would not suffer -it to be rightly understood, is not that which -my friends resented, and which most men were -disposed to blame in me. It was my behaviour -afterwards, and the obliquity of some means -which I found expedient to my own safety, -that exposed me to so rude a storm of censure. -It continues, I know, to beat upon me even at -this distance. But the injustice hath arisen -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">73</span> -from the force of vulgar prejudices, and from -the want of entering into those enlarged principles, -on which it was necessary for me to -proceed in that juncture.</p> - -<h4>DR. MORE.</h4> - -<p>Yet the ill success of this plot itself might -have shewn you, what the design of acting -on these <i>enlarged principles</i> was likely to come -to. It was an unlucky experiment, this, you -had made in the <i>new</i> arts of living; and should -have been a warning to you, not to proceed in -a path which, at the very entrance of it, had involved -you in such difficulties.</p> - -<h4>MR. WALLER.</h4> - -<p>No, it was not the new path, you object to -me, but the good old road of Sincerity, which -misled me into those brambles. I, in the -simplicity of my heart, thought it my duty to -adhere to the injured king’s cause, and believed -my continuance in parliament the fairest, -as well as the likeliest method, that could be -taken to support it. Had I temporized so far -as either to desert my prince, and strike in with -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">74</span> -the parliament, or, on the other hand, had left -the house and gone with the seceders to <i>Oxford</i>, -either way I had been secure. But resolving, -as I did, to hold my principles, and follow my -judgment, I fell into those unhappy circumstances, -from which all the dexterity I afterwards -assumed was little enough to deliver me.</p> - -<h4>DR. MORE.</h4> - -<p>But if your intentions were so pure, and the -methods, by which you resolved to prosecute -them, so blameless, how happened it that any -plot could be worked up of so much danger to -your life and person?</p> - -<h4>MR. WALLER.</h4> - -<p>This was the very thing I was going to explain -to you. My intentions towards the parliament -were fair and honourable: as I retained -my seat there, I could not allow myself in the -use of any but parliamentary methods to promote -the cause I had undertaken. And this, -as I said, was the whole purpose of the <i>combination</i>, -which was made the pretence to ruin -me: for my unhappy project of a reconciliation -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">75</span> -was so inextricably confounded with another of -more dangerous tendency, the <i>commission of -array</i>, sent at that time from <i>Oxford</i>, that -nothing, I presently saw, could possibly disentangle -so perplexed a business, or defeat the -malice of my enemies, if I attempted, in the -more direct way, to stand on my defence. -Presumptions, if not proofs, they had in -abundance: the consternation of all men was -great; their rage, unrelenting; and the general -enthusiasm of the time, outrageous. Consider -all this, and see what chance there was -for escaping their injustice, if I had restrained -myself to the sole use of those means, which -you men of the cloister magnify so much, under -I know not what names of <i>Sincerity</i> and <i>Honour</i>. -And, indeed, this late experience, of what was -to be expected from the way of plain dealing, -had determined me, henceforth, to take a different -route; and, since I had drawn these -mischiefs on myself by <i>Sincerity</i>, to try what -a little management could do towards bringing -me out of them.</p> - -<h4>DR. MORE.</h4> - -<p>It was not, I perceive, without cause, that -the subtlety you had begun to have recourse to, -filled me with apprehensions. Sincerity and -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">76</span> -Honour, Mr. <span class="smcap">Waller</span>, are plain things, and -hold no acquaintance with this ingenious -casuistry.</p> - -<h4>MR. WALLER.</h4> - -<p>What, not in such a situation? It should -seem then, as if you moralists conceived a man -owed nothing to himself: that <i>self-preservation</i> -was not what God and Nature have made it, -the first and most binding of all laws: that a -man’s family, not to say his country, have no -interest in the life of an innocent and deserving -citizen; and, in one word, that <i>prudence</i> is -but an empty name, though you give it a place -among your <i>cardinal virtues</i>. All this must -be concluded before you reject, as unlawful, -the means I was forced upon, at this season, -for my defence: means, I presume to say, so -sagely contrived, and, as my very enemies will -own, executed so happily, that I cannot to this -day reflect on my conduct in that affair without -satisfaction.</p> - -<h4>DR. MORE.</h4> - -<p>Yet it had some consequences which a man -of your generosity would a little startle at.— -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">77</span></p> - -<h4>MR. WALLER.</h4> - -<p>I understand you: my friends—But I shall -answer that objection in its place.</p> - -<p>Let me at present go on with the particulars -of my defence. The occasion, as you see, was -distressful to the last degree. To deny or defend -myself from the charge was a thing impossible. -What remained then but to confess -it, and in so frank and ample a manner, as -might bespeak the pity or engage the protection -of my accusers? I resolved to say nothing but -the <i>truth</i>; and, if ever the <i>whole</i> truth may -be spoken, it is when so alarming an occasion -calls for it. Besides, what had others, who -might be affected by the discovery, to complain -of? I disclaimed no part of the guilt myself: -nor could any confession be made, that did -not first and chiefly affect me. And if I, who -was principal in the contrivance, had the best -chance for escaping by such confession, what -had they, who were only accomplices, to apprehend -from it? Add to this, that the number -and credit of the persons, who were -charged with having a share in the design, were, -of all others, the likeliest considerations to prevail -with the houses to drop the further prosecution -of it. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">78</span></p> - -<p>Well, the discovery had great effects. But -there was no stopping here. Penitence, as well -as confession, is expected from a sinner. I had -to do with hypocrites of the worst sort. What -fairer weapons, then, than hypocrisy and dissimulation? -I counterfeited the strongest remorse, -and with a life and spirit that disposed -all men to believe, and most to pity me. My -trial was put off in very compassion to my -disorder; which, in appearance, was so great, -that some suspected my understanding had -been affected by it. In this contrivance I had -two views; to gain time for my defence, and -to keep it off till the fury of my prosecutors -was abated. In this interval, indeed, some of -my accomplices suffered. But how was it -possible for me to apprehend that, when, if -any, I myself might expect to have fallen the -first victim of their resentment?</p> - -<h4>DR. MORE.</h4> - -<p>If this apology satisfy yourself, I need not -interrupt your story with any exceptions.</p> - -<h4>MR. WALLER.</h4> - -<p>It was, in truth, the only thing which afflicted -me in the course of this whole business. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">79</span> -But time and reflection have reconciled me to -what was, in some sense, occasioned, but certainly -not intended, by me. And it would be -a strange morality that should charge a man -with the undesigned consequences of his own -actions.</p> - -<h4>DR. MORE.</h4> - -<p>And were all the symptoms of a disturbed -mind, you made a shew of, then entirely counterfeit?</p> - -<h4>MR. WALLER.</h4> - -<p>As certainly as those of the Roman <span class="smcap">Brutus</span>, -who, to tell you the truth, was my example -on that occasion. It was the business of both -of us to elude the malice of our enemies, and -reserve ourselves for the future service of our -respective countries.</p> - -<p>But all I have told you was only a prelude -to a further, and still more necessary, act of -dissimulation. Had the house been left to itself, -it might possibly have absolved me, on -the merits of so large a confession, and so -lively a repentance. But I had to do with -another class of men, with holy inquisitors of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">80</span> -sordid minds, and sour spirits; priestly reformers, -whose sense was noise, and religion -fanaticism, and that too fermented with the -leven of earthly avarice and ambition. These had -great influence both within doors and without, -and would regard what had hitherto passed as -nothing, if I went not much further. To -these, having begun in so good a train, I was -now to address myself. I had studied their -humours, and understood to a tittle the arts -that were most proper to gain them.</p> - -<p>The first step to the countenance and good -liking of these restorers of primitive parity -was, I well knew, the most implicit subjection -both of will and understanding. I magnified -their gifts, I revered their sanctity. I debased -myself with all imaginable humility: I extolled -them with the grossest flattery.</p> - -<p>Having thus succeeded to my wish in drawing -the principal of these saints around me, I -advanced further: I sought their instruction, -solicited their advice, and importuned their -ghostly consolation. This brought me into -high favour; they regarded me as one, who -wished and deserved to be enlightened: they -strove which should impart most of their lights -and revelations to me. I besought them to -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">81</span> -expound, and pray, and preach before me: -nay, I even preached, and prayed, and expounded -before them. I out-canted the best-gifted -of them; and out-railed the bitterest of -all their decriers of an anti-christian prelacy. -In short, it would have moved your laughter -or your indignation to observe, how submissively -I demeaned myself to these spiritual -fathers; how I hung on their words, echoed -their coarse sayings, and mimicked their beggarly -tones and grimaces.</p> - -<p>To complete the farce, I intreated their acceptance -of such returns for their godly instructions, -as fortune had enabled me to make -them. I prevailed with them to give leave -that so unworthy a person might be the instrument -of conveying earthly accommodations -to these dispensers of heavenly treasures; and -it surpasses all belief, with what an avidity they -devoured them! It is true, this last was a serious -consideration: in all other respects, the -whole was a perfect comedy; and of so ridiculous -a cast, that, though my situation gave me -power of face to carry it off gravely then, I -have never reflected on it since without -laughter. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">82</span></p> - -<h4>DR. MORE.</h4> - -<p>Truly, as you describe it, it was no serious -scene. But what I admire most, is the dexterity -of your genius, and the prodigious progress -you had now made in your favourite arts -of <i>accommodation</i>.</p> - -<h4>MR. WALLER.</h4> - -<p>Necessity is the best master. Besides, can -you blame me for taking more than common -pains to outdo these miscreants in their own -way; I might say, to excel in an art which -surpasses, or at least comprises in it the essence -of all true wisdom? The precept of your admired -<span class="smcap">Antoninus</span>, as you reminded me to-day, -is <small>SIMPLIFY YOURSELF</small><a id="FNanchor_27" href="#Footnote_27" class="fnanchor">27</a>. That, I think, was -the quaint expression. It had shewn his reach -and mastery in the trade he professed, much -more, if instead of it, he had preached up, -<small>ACCOMMODATE YOURSELF</small>; the grand secret, -as long experience has taught me, <i>bene beateque -vivendi</i>. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">83</span></p> - -<p>All matters thus prepared, there was now -no hazard in playing my last game. I requested -and obtained leave to make my defence -before the parliament. I had acquired a knack -in speaking; and had drawn on myself more -credit, than fine words deserve, by a scenical -and specious eloquence. If ever I acquitted -myself to my wish, it was on this occasion. I -soothed, I flattered, I alarmed: every topic of -art which my youth had learned, every subject -of address which experience had suggested, -every trick and artifice of popular adulation, -was exhausted. All men were prepared by the -practices of my saintly emissaries to hear me -with favour; and, which is the first and last -advantage of a speaker, to believe me seriously -and conscientiously affected.</p> - -<p>In the end I triumphed; and for a moderate -fine obtained leave to shelter myself from the -following storm, which almost desolated this -unhappy country, by retiring into an exile, at -that time more desirable than any employment -of those I left behind me.</p> - -<h4>DR. MORE.</h4> - -<p>You retired, I think, to <i>France</i>, whither, -no doubt, you carried with you all those -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">84</span> -generous thoughts and consolatory reflexions, -which refresh the spirit of a good man under a -consciousness of suffering virtue.</p> - -<h4>MR. WALLER.</h4> - -<p>Why not, if <i>prudence</i> be a virtue? for what, -but certain prudential regards (which in common -language and common sense are quite -another thing from vicious compliances) have -hitherto, as you have seen, appeared in my -conduct? But be they what they will, they -had a very natural effect, and one which will -always attend on so reasonable a way of proceeding. -For, since you press me so much, I -shall take leave to suggest an observation to -you, more obvious as well as more candid than -any you seem inclined to make on the circumstances -of this long relation. It is, “that the -<i>pretended</i> penitence for my past life, and the -readiness I shewed to acquiesce in the <i>false</i> -accounts which the parliament gave of my plot, -saved my life, and procured my liberty; whilst -the <i>real and true</i> discoveries I made to gain -credit to <i>both</i>, hurt my reputation.” But such -a reflexion might have shocked your system -too much. For it shews that all the benefit, -I drew to myself in this affair, arose from -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">85</span> -those <i>prudential maxims</i> you condemn; and -that all the injury, I suffered, was owing to -the <i>sincerity</i> I still mixed with them.</p> - -<h4>DR. MORE.</h4> - -<p>Seriously, Sir——</p> - -<h4>MR. WALLER.</h4> - -<p>I can guess what you would say: but you -promised to hear me out, without interruption.</p> - -<p>What remains I shall dispatch in few words, -having so fully vindicated the most obnoxious -part of my life, and opened the general principles, -I acted upon, so clearly.</p> - -<p>I went, as you said, to <i>France</i>; where, instead -of the churlish humour of a malcontent, -or the unmanly dejection of a disgraced exile, -I appeared with an ease and gaiety of mind, -which made me welcome to the greatest men -of that country. The ruling principle of my -philosophy was, to make the best of every situation. -And, as my fortune enabled me to -do it, I lived with hospitality, and even splendour; -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">86</span> -and indulged myself in all the delights -of an enlarged and elegant conversation.</p> - -<p>Such were my amusements for some years; -during which time, however, I preserved the -notions of loyalty, which had occasioned my disgrace, -and waited some happier turn of affairs, -that might restore me with honour to my country. -But when all hopes of this sort were at -an end, and the government, after the various -revolutions which are well known, seemed fixed -and established in the person of one man, it -was not allegiance, but obstinacy, to hold out -any longer. I easily succeeded in my application -to be recalled, and was even admitted to a -share in the confidence of the <span class="smcap">Protector</span>. -This great man was not without a sensibility -of true glory; and, for that reason, was even -ambitious of the honour, which wit and genius -are ever ready to confer on illustrious -greatness. Every muse of that time distinguished, -and was distinguished by, him. Mine -had improved her voice and accent in a foreign -country: and what nobler occasion to try her happiest -strain than this, of immortalizing a Hero?</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Illustrious acts high raptures do infuse,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And ev’ry conqueror creates a muse;”<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">87</span> -as I then said in a panegyric, which my gratitude -prompted me to present to him<a id="FNanchor_28" href="#Footnote_28" class="fnanchor">28</a>.</p> - -<h4>DR. MORE.</h4> - -<p>This panegyric, presented in verse, could -hardly, I suppose, be suspected of flattery!</p> - -<h4>MR. WALLER.</h4> - -<p>I expected this; but the occasion, as I said, -might have suggested a fairer interpretation. -And why impute as a fault to me, what the reverend -<span class="smcap">Sprat</span>, as well as <span class="smcap">Dryden</span>, did not disdain -to countenance by their examples? Besides, -as an argument of the unsullied purity -of intention, you might remember, methinks, -that I asked no recompence, and accepted -none, for the willing honours my muse -paid him.</p> - -<h4>DR. MORE.</h4> - -<p>It must be a sordid muse indeed, that submits -to a venal prostitution. And, to do your -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">88</span> -profession justice, it is not so much avarice, or -even ambition, as a certain gentler passion, the -vanity, shall I call it? of being well with the -<i>great</i>, that is fatal to you poets.</p> - -<h4>MR. WALLER.</h4> - -<p>I can allow for the satire of this reproof, in -a man of ancient and bookish manners. But, -to shew my disinterestedness still more, you -may recollect, if you please, that I embalmed -his memory, when neither his favour nor his -smile were to be apprehended.</p> - -<h4>DR. MORE.</h4> - -<p>In the short reign of his son.—But what -then? you made amends for all, by the congratulation -on the happy return of his present -majesty. You know who it was that somebody -complimented in these lines:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“He best can turn, enforce and soften things,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To praise great conquerors, and flatter kings.”<br /></span> -</div></div></div> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">89</span></p> - -<h4>MR. WALLER.</h4> - -<p>Was it for me to stem the torrent of a nation’s -joys by a froward and unseasonable silence? -Did not <span class="smcap">Horace</span>, who fought at <i>Philippi</i>, -do as much for <span class="smcap">Augustus</span>? And should -I, who had suffered for his cause, not embrace -the goodness, and salute the returning -fortunes, of so gracious, so accomplished a -master? His majesty himself, as I truly say of -him, in the poem you object to me,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i14">“with wisdom fraught,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not such as books, but such as practice, taught,”<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>did me the justice to understand my address -after another manner. He, who had so often -been forced by the necessities of his affairs to -make compliances with the time, never resented -it from me, a private man and a poet, -that I had made some sacrifices of a like nature. -All this might convince you of the great -truth I meant to inculcate by this long recital, -that not a sullen and inflexible <i>Sincerity</i>, but -a fair and seasonable <i>accommodation of one’s -self</i>, to the various exigencies of the times, is -the golden virtue that ought to predominate in -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">90</span> -a man of life and business. All the rest, believe -me, is the very cant of philosophy and -unexperienced wisdom.</p> - -<h4>DR. MORE.</h4> - -<p>Wisdom—and must the sanctity of that -name—</p> - -<h4>MR. WALLER.</h4> - -<p>Hear me, Sir—no exclamations against the -evidence of plain fact. I have a right to expect -another conduct from him, who is grown grey -in the studies of moral science.</p> - -<h4>DR. MORE.</h4> - -<p>You learned another lesson in the school of -<span class="smcap">Falkland</span>, <span class="smcap">Hyde</span>, and <span class="smcap">Chillingworth</span>.</p> - -<h4>MR. WALLER.</h4> - -<p>Yes, one I was obliged to unlearn. But, -since you remind me of that school, what was -the effect of adhering pertinaciously to its false -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">91</span> -maxims? To what purpose were the lives of -<i>two</i> of them prodigally thrown away; and the honour, -the wisdom, the talents of the <i>other</i>, still -left to languish in banishment<a id="FNanchor_29" href="#Footnote_29" class="fnanchor">29</a> and obscurity?</p> - -<h4>DR. MORE.</h4> - -<p>O! prophane not the glories of immortal, -though successless virtue, with such reproaches.—Those -adored names shall preach honour to -future ages, and enthrone the majesty of virtue -in the hearts of men, when wit and parts, and -eloquence and poetry, have not a leaf of all -their withered bays to recommend them.</p> - -<h4>MR. WALLER.</h4> - -<p>Raptures and chimeras!——Rather judge of -the sentiments of future ages, from the present. -Where is the man, (I speak it without boasting,) -that enjoys a fairer fame; who is better -received in all places; who is more listened to -in all companies; who reaps the fruits of a -reasonable and practicable virtue in every return -of honour, more unquestionably, than he -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">92</span> -whose life and principles your outrageous virtue -leads you to undervalue so unworthily? And -take it from me as an oracle, which long age -and experience enable me to deliver with all assurance, -“Whoever, in succeeding times, shall -form himself on the plan here given shall meet -with the safety, credit, applause, and, if he -chuses, honour and fortune in the world, which -may be promised indeed, but never will be -obtained, by any other method.”</p> - -<h4>DR. MORE.</h4> - -<p>You have spoken. But hear me now, I -conjure you, whilst a poor despised philosopher—</p> - -<h4>MR. WALLER.</h4> - -<p>O! I have marked the emotion this discourse -of mine hath awakened in you. I have seen -your impatience: I have watched your eyes -when they sparkled defiance and contradiction -to my argument. But your warmth makes -you forget yourself. I gave a patient hearing -to all your eloquence could suggest in this -cause. I even favoured your zeal, and helped -to blow up your enthusiasm. The rest fell to -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">93</span> -my turn; and besides, the evening, as you see, -shuts in upon us. Let us escape, at least, -from its dews, which, in this decline of the -year, they say, are not the most wholesome, -into a warm apartment within doors; and then -I shall not be averse, especially when you have -taken a few minutes to recollect yourself, to -debate with you what further remains upon -this argument<a id="FNanchor_30" href="#Footnote_30" class="fnanchor">30</a>. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">94</span><br /> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">95</span></p> - -<h2 class="xx-large">DIALOGUE II.<br /> - -<span class="x-large">ON RETIREMENT.</span><br /> - -<small>BETWEEN</small><br /> - -<span class="large">MR. ABRAHAM COWLEY,</span><br /> - -<small>AND</small><br /> - -<span class="large">THE REV. MR. THOMAS SPRAT.</span></h2> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">96</span><br /> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">97</span></p> - -<h2 id="DIALOGUE_II">DIALOGUE II.<br /> - -<span class="medium">ON RETIREMENT.</span></h2> - -<h3>MR. ABRAHAM COWLEY—THE -REV. MR. SPRAT.</h3> - -<h4>TO THE EARL OF ST. ALBANS<a id="FNanchor_31" href="#Footnote_31" class="fnanchor">31</a>.</h4> - -<p><small>MY LORD</small>,</p> - -<p class="drop"><span class="uppercase">The</span> duty I owe your <span class="smcap">Lordship</span>, as well as -my friendship for Mr. <span class="smcap">Cowley</span>, determined -me to lose no time in executing the commission -you was pleased to charge me with by Mr. -D***. I went early the next morning to -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">98</span> -<i>Barn Elms</i><a id="FNanchor_32" href="#Footnote_32" class="fnanchor">32</a>; intending to pass the whole day -with him, and to try if what I might be able -to suggest on the occasion, together with the -weight of your lordship’s advice, could not divert -him from his strange project of <i>Retirement</i>. -Your lordship, no doubt, as all his -other friends, had observed his bias that way -to be very strong; but who, that knew his -great sense, could have thought of it its carrying -him to so extravagant a resolution? For my -own part, I suspected it so little, that, though he -would often talk of retiring, and especially since -your lordship’s favour to him<a id="FNanchor_33" href="#Footnote_33" class="fnanchor">33</a>, I considered it -only as the usual language of poets, which they -take up one after another, and love to indulge -in, as what they suppose becomes their family -and profession. It could never come into my -thoughts, that one, who knew the world so -well as Mr. <span class="smcap">Cowley</span>, and had lived so long in -it, who had so fair hopes and so noble a patron, -could seriously think of quitting the -scene at his years, and all for so fantastic a -purpose as that of growing old in the corner of -a country village. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">99</span></p> - -<p>These, my lord, were my sentiments, when -your friendly message alarmed me with the -apprehension of there being more in the matter -than I had suspected. Yet still I considered it -only as a hasty thought, which a fit of the -spleen, or of the muse it may be, had raised; -and which the free remonstrance of a friend -would easily disperse, or prevent at least from -coming to any fixed and settled resolution. But -how shall I express to your lordship the surprise -I was in, to find that this resolution was -not only taken, but rooted so deeply in him, -that no arguments, nor even your lordship’s -authority, could shake it? I have ever admired -Mr. <span class="smcap">Cowley</span>, as a man of the happiest -temper and truest judgment; but, to say the -least, there was something so particular, I had -almost said perverse, in what he had to allege -for himself on this occasion, that I cannot think -I acquit myself to your lordship, without laying -before you the whole of this extraordinary conversation; -and, as far as my recollection will -serve, in the very words in which it passed -betwixt us.</p> - -<p>I went, as I told your lordship, pretty early -to <i>Barn Elms</i>; but my friend had gotten the -start of me by some hours. He was busying -himself with some improvements of his garden, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">100</span> -and the fields that lie about his house. The -whole circuit of his domain was not so large, -but that I presently came up with him. “My -dear friend,” said he, embracing me, but with -a look of some reserve and disgust, “and is it -you then I have the happiness to see, at length, -in my new settlement? Though I fled hither -from the rest of the world, I had no design to -get out of the reach of my friends. And, to -be plain with you, I took it a little amiss from -one whose entire affection I had reckoned upon, -that he should leave me to myself for these -two whole months, without discovering an inclination, -either from friendship or curiosity, to -know how this retirement agreed with me. -What could induce my best friend to use me so -unkindly?”</p> - -<p>Surely, said I, you forget the suddenness of -your flight, and the secresy with which the resolution -was taken. We supposed you gone -only for a few days, to see to the management -of your affairs; and could not dream of your -<i>rusticating</i> thus long, at a time when the town -and court are so busy; when the occasions of -your friends and your own interests seemed to -require your speedy return to us. However, -continued I, it doth not displease me to find -you so dissatisfied with this solitude. It looks -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">101</span> -as if the short experience, you have had of this -recluse life, did not recommend it to you in the -manner you expected. Retirement is a fine -thing in imagination, and is apt to possess you -poets with strange visions. But the charm is -rarely lasting; and a short trial, I find, hath -served to correct these fancies. You feel yourself -born for society and the world, and, by -your kind complaints of your friend, confess -how unnatural it is to deny yourself the proper -delights of a man, the delights of conversation.</p> - -<p>Not so fast, interrupted he, if you please, in -your conclusions about the nature of retirement. -I never meant to give up my right in -the affections of those few I call my friends. -But what has this to do with the general purpose -of retreating from the anxieties of business, -the intrigues of policy, or the impertinencies -of conversation? I have lived but too long in -a ceaseless round of these follies. The best -part of my time hath been spent <i>sub dio</i>. I -have served in all weathers, and in all climates, -but chiefly in the torrid zone of politics, -where the passions of all men are on fire, -and where such as have lived the longest, and -are thought the happiest, are scarcely able to -reconcile themselves to the sultry air of the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">102</span> -place. But this warfare is now happily at an -end. I have languished these many years for -the shade. Thanks to my Lord <span class="smcap">St. Albans</span>, -and another noble lord you know of, I have -now gained it. And it is not a small matter, I -assure you, shall force me out of this shelter.</p> - -<p>Nothing is easier, said I, than for you men -of wit to throw a ridicule upon any thing. It -is but applying a quaint figure, or a well-turned -sentence, and the business is done. But indeed, -my best friend, it gives me pain to find -you not so much diverting as deceiving yourself -with this unseasonable ingenuity. So long as -these sallies of fancy were employed only to -enliven conversation, or furnish matter for an -ode or an epigram, all was very well. But now -that you seem disposed to <i>act</i> upon them, you -must excuse me if I take the matter a little -more seriously. To deal plainly with you, I -come to tell you my whole mind on this subject: -and, to give what I have to say the greater -consequence with you, I must not conceal from -you, that I come commissioned by the excellent -lord you honour so much, and have just now -mentioned, to expostulate in the freest manner -with you upon it. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">103</span></p> - -<p>We had continued walking all this time, and -were now ascending a sort of natural terras. It -led to a small thicket, in the entrance of which -was a seat that commanded a pleasant view of -the country and the river. Taking me up to it, -“Well,” said he, “my good friend, since your -purpose in coming hither is so kind, and my -Lord <span class="smcap">St. Albans</span> himself doth me the honour -to think my private concerns deserving his particular -notice, it becomes me to receive your -message with respect, and to debate the matter, -since you press it so home upon me, with all -possible calmness. But let us, if you please, -sit down here. You will find it the most agreeable -spot I have to treat you with; and the shade -we have about us will not, I suppose, at this -hour, be unwelcome.”</p> - -<p>And now, turning himself to me, “Let me -hear from you, what there is in my retreat to -this place, which a wise man can have reason -to censure, or which may deserve the disallowance -of a friend. I know you come prepared -with every argument which men of the world -have at any time employed against retirement; -and I know your ability to give to each its full -force. But look upon this scene before you, -and tell me what inducements I can possibly -have to quit it for any thing you can promise -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">104</span> -me in exchange? Is there in that vast labyrinth, -you call the world, where so many thousands -lose themselves in endless wanderings and -perplexities, any corner where the mind can -recollect itself so perfectly, where it can attend -to its own business, and pursue its proper interests -so conveniently, as in this quiet and sequestered -spot? Here the passions subside; -or, if they continue to agitate, do not however -transport the mind with those feverish and -vexatious fervours, which distract us in public -life. This is the seat of virtue and of reason; -here I can fashion my life by the precepts of -duty and conscience; and here I have leisure -to make acquaintance, that acquaintance which -elsewhere is so rarely made, with the ways and -works of God.</p> - -<p>Think again, my friend. Doth not the -genius of the place seize you? Do you not -perceive a certain serenity steal in upon you? -Doth not the aspect of things around you, the -very stillness of this retreat, infuse a content -and satisfaction which the world knows nothing -of? Tell me, in a word, is there not something -like enchantment about us? Do you not find -your desires more composed, your purposes -more pure, your thoughts more elevated, and -more active, since your entrance into this -scene?” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">105</span></p> - -<p>He was proceeding in this strain, with an -air of perfect enthusiasm, when I broke in upon -him with asking, “Whether this was what he -called <i>debating the matter calmly with me</i>. -Surely,” said I, “this is poetry, or something -still more extravagant. You cannot think I -come prepared to encounter you in this way. -I own myself no match for you at these weapons: -which indeed are too fine for my handling, -and very unsuitable to my purpose if they -were not. The point is not which of us can -say the handsomest things, but the truest, on -either side of the question. It is, as you said, -plain argument, and not rhetorical flourishes, -much less poetical raptures, that must decide -the matter in debate. Not but a great deal -might be said on my side, and, it may be, with -more colour of truth, had I the command of an -eloquence proper to set it off.</p> - -<p>I might ask, in my turn, “Where is -mighty charm that draws you to this inglorious -solitude, from the duties of business and conversation, -from the proper end and employment -of man? How comes it to pass, that this -stillness of a country landscape, this uninstructing, -though agreeable enough, scene of fields -and waters, should have greater beauty in your -eye, than <i>flourishing peopled towns</i>, the scenes -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">106</span> -of industry and art, of public wealth and -happiness? Is not the <i>sublime countenance</i> of -man, so one of your acquaintance terms it, a -more delightful object than any of these humble -beauties that lie before us? And are not the -human virtues, with all their train of lovely -and beneficial effects in society, better worth -contemplating, than the products of inanimate -nature in the field or wood? Where should -we seek for <span class="smcap">Reason</span>, but in the minds of men -tried and polished in the school of civil conversation? -And where hath <span class="smcap">Virtue</span> so much as -a being out of the offices of social life? Look -well into yourself, I might say: hath not indeed -the proper genius of solitude affected you! -Doth not I know not what of chagrin and discontent -hang about you? Is there not a gloom -upon your mind, which darkens your views of -human nature, and damps those chearful thoughts -and sprightly purposes, which friendship and -society inspire?”</p> - -<p>You see, Sir, were I but disposed, and as -able as you are, to pursue this way of fancy -and declamation, I might conjure up as many -frightful forms in these retired walks, as you -have delightful ones. And the enchantment in -good hands would, I am persuaded, have more -the appearance of reality. But this is not the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">107</span> -way in which I take upon myself to contend -with you. I would hear, if you please, what -reasons, that deserve to be so called, could determine -you to so strange, and, forgive me if at -present I am forced to think it, so unreasonable -a project, as that of devoting your health and -years to this monastic retirement. I would lay -before you the arguments, which, I presume, -should move you to quit a hasty, perhaps an -unweighted, resolution: so improper in itself, -so alarming to all your friends, so injurious to -your own interest, and, permit me to say, to -the public. I would enforce all this with the -mild persuasions of a friend; and with the wisdom, -the authority of a great person, to whose -opinion you owe a deference, and who deserves -it too from the entire love and affection he bears -you.”</p> - -<p>My dearest friend, replied he, with an earnestness -that awed, and a goodness that melted -me, I am not to learn the affection which either -you or my noble friend bear me. I have had -too many proofs of it from both, to suffer me -to doubt it. But why will you not allow me -to judge of what is proper to constitute my -own happiness? And why must I be denied -the privilege of choosing for myself, in a matter -where the different taste or humour of others -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">108</span> -makes them so unfit to prescribe to me? Yet -I submit to these unequal terms; and if I cannot -justify the choice I have made, even in the -way of serious reason and argument, I promise -to yield myself to your advice and authority. -You have taken me perhaps a little unprepared -and unfurnished for this conflict. I have not -marshalled my forces in form, as you seem to -have done; and it may be difficult, on the -sudden, to methodize my thoughts in the manner -you may possibly expect from me. But -come, said he, I will do my best in this emergency. -You will excuse the rapture which -hurried me at setting out, beyond the bounds -which your severer temper requires. The subject -always fires me; and I find it difficult, in -entering on this argument, to restrain those -triumphant sallies, which had better have been -reserved for the close of it.</p> - -<p>Here he paused a little; and recollecting -himself, “But first,” resumed he, “you will -take notice, that I am not at all concerned in -the general question, so much, and, I think, -so vainly agitated, ”<i>whether a life of retirement -be preferable to one of action?</i>” I am -not, I assure you, for unpeopling our cities, -and sending their industrious and useful inhabitants -into woods and cloisters. I acknowledge -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">109</span> -and admire the improvements of arts, the -conveniencies of society, the policies of government<a id="FNanchor_34" href="#Footnote_34" class="fnanchor">34</a>. -I have no thought so mad or so -silly, as that of wishing to see the tribes of -mankind disbanded, their interests and connexions -dissolved, and themselves turned loose -into a single and solitary existence. I would -not even wish to see our courts deserted of their -homagers, though I cannot but be of opinion, -that an airing now and then at their country -houses, and that not with the view of diverting, -but recollecting themselves, would prove as useful -to their sense and virtue, as to their estates. -But all this, as I said, is so far from coming -into the scheme of my serious wishes, that it -does not so much as enter into my thoughts. -Let wealth, and power, and pleasure, be as -eagerly sought after, as they ever will be: let -thousands or millions assemble in vast towns, -for the sake of pursuing their several ends, as -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">110</span> -it may chance, of profit, vanity, or amusement: -All this is nothing to me, who pretend -not to determine for other men, but to vindicate -my own choice of this retirement.</p> - -<p>As much as I have been involved in the engagements -of business, I have not lived thus -long without looking frequently, and sometimes -attentively into myself. I maintain, then, -that to a person so moulded as I am; of the -<i>temper and turn of mind</i>, which Nature hath -given me; of <i>the sort of talents</i>, with which -education or genius hath furnished me; and, -lastly, of the <i>circumstances</i>, in which fortune -hath placed me; I say, to a person so charactered -and so situated, <small>RETIREMENT</small> is not only -his choice, but his duty; is not only what his -inclination leads him to, but his judgement. -And upon these grounds, if you will, I venture -to undertake my own apology to you.”</p> - -<p>Your proposal, said I, is fair, and I can have -no objection to close with you upon these terms; -only you must take care, my friend, that you -do not mistake or misrepresent your own talents -or character; a miscarriage, which, allow -me to say, is not very rare from the partialities -which an indulged humour, too easily taken for -nature, is apt to create in us. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">111</span></p> - -<p>Or what, replied he, if this humour, as you -call it, be so rooted as to become a <i>second</i> nature? -Can it, in the instance before us, be -worth the pains of correcting?</p> - -<p>I should think so, returned I, in your case. -But let me first hear the judgement you form of -yourself, before I trouble you with that which -I and your other friends make of you.</p> - -<p>I cannot but think, resumed he, that my -situation at present must appear very ridiculous. -I am forced into an <i>apology</i> for my own conduct, -in a very nice affair, which it might -become another, rather than myself, to make -for me. In order to this, I am constrained to -reveal to you the very secrets, that is, the foibles -and weaknesses, of my own heart. I am to lay -myself open and naked before you. This would -be an unwelcome task to most men. But your -friendship, and the confidence I have in your -affection, prevail over all scruples. Hitherto -your friend hath used the common privilege of -wearing a disguise, of masking himself, as the -poet makes his hero, in a <i>cloud</i>, which is of -use to keep off the too near and curious inspection -both of friends and enemies. But, at -your bidding, it falls off, and you are now to see -him in his just proportion and true features. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">112</span></p> - -<p>My best friend, proceeded he with an air of -earnestness and recollection, it is now above -forty years that I have lived in this world: and -in all the rational part of that time there hath -not, I believe, a single day passed without an -ardent longing for such a retreat from it, as you -see me at length blessed with. You have heard -me repeat some verses, which were made by -me so early as the age of <i>thirteen</i>, and in which -that inclination is expressed as strongly, as in -any thing I have ever said or written on that -subject<a id="FNanchor_35" href="#Footnote_35" class="fnanchor">35</a>. Hence you may guess the proper -turn and bias of my nature; which began so -soon, and hath continued thus long, to shew itself -in the constant workings of that passion.</p> - -<p>Even in my earliest years at school, you will -hardly imagine how uneasy constraint of every -kind was to me, and with what delight I broke -away from the customary sports and pastimes -of that age, to saunter the time away by myself, -or with a companion, if I could meet with -any such, of my own humour. The same inclination -pursued me to college; where a private -walk, with a book or friend, was beyond -any amusement, which, in that sprightly season -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">113</span> -of life, I had any acquaintance with. It is -with a fond indulgence my memory even now -returns to these past pleasures. It was in those -retired ramblings that a thousand charming -perceptions and bright ideas would stream in -upon me. The Muse was kindest in those -hours: and, I know not how, Philosophy herself -would <i>oftner</i> meet me amidst the willows of -the <span class="smcap">Cam</span>, than in the formal schools of science, -within the walls of my college, or in my tutor’s -chamber.</p> - -<p>I understand, said I, the true secret of that -matter. You had now contracted an intimacy -with the poets, and others of the fanciful tribe. -You was even admitted of their company; and -it was but fit you should adopt their sentiments, -and speak their language. Hence those day-dreams -of <i>shade and silence</i>, and I know not -what visions, which transport the minds of -young men, on their entrance into these regions -of <i>Parnassus</i>.</p> - -<p>It should seem then, returned he, by your -way of expressing it, as if you thought this -passion for <i>shade and silence</i> was only pretended -to on a principle of <i>fashion</i>; or, at most, -was catched by the lovers of poetry from each -other, in the way of <i>sympathy</i>, without nature’s -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">114</span> -having any hand at all in the production -of it.</p> - -<p>Something like that, I told him, was my -real sentiment: and that these agreeable reveries -of the old poets had done much hurt by -being taken too seriously. Were <span class="smcap">Horace</span> and -<span class="smcap">Virgil</span>, think you, as much in earnest as you -appear to be, when they were crying out perpetually -on their favourite theme of <i>otium</i> -and <i>secessus</i>, “they, who lived and died in a -court?”</p> - -<p>I believe, said he, they were, and that the -short accounts we have of their lives shew it, -though a perfect dismission from the court was -what they could not obtain, or had not the resolution -to insist upon. But pray, upon your -principles, that all this is but the enchantment -of <i>example</i> or <i>fashion</i>, how came it to pass, -that the first seducers of the family, the old -poets themselves, had fallen into these notions? -They were surely no pretenders. They could -only write from the heart. And methinks it -were more candid, as well as more reasonable, -to account for this passion, which hath so constantly -shewn itself in their successors, from -the same reason. It is likely indeed, and so -much I can readily allow, that the early reading -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">115</span> -of the poets might contribute something to confirm -and strengthen my natural bias<a id="FNanchor_36" href="#Footnote_36" class="fnanchor">36</a>.</p> - -<p>But let the matter rest for the present. I -would now go on with the detail of my own -life and experience, so proper, as I think, to -convince you that what I am pleading for is the -result of nature.</p> - -<p>I was saying how agreeably my youth passed -in these reveries, if you will have it so, and -especially <i>inter sylvas academi</i>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dura sed emovere loco me tempora grato,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Civilisque rudem belli tulit æstus in arma.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>You know the consequence. This civil turmoil -drove me from the shelter of retirement into the -heat and bustle of life; from those studies -which, as you say, had enchanted my youth, -into business and action of all sorts. I lived -in the world: I conversed familiarly with the -great. A change like this, one would suppose, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">116</span> -were enough to undo the prejudices of education. -But the very reverse happened. The -further I engaged, and the longer I continued -in this scene, the greater my impatience was of -retiring from it.</p> - -<p>But you will say, my old vice was nourished -in me by living in the neighbourhood of books -and letters<a id="FNanchor_37" href="#Footnote_37" class="fnanchor">37</a>. I was yet in the fairy land of the -Muses; and, under these circumstances, it -was no wonder that neither arms nor business, -nor a court, could prevent the mind from returning -to its old bias. All this may be true. -And yet, I think, if that court had contained -many such persons as some I knew in it, neither -the distractions of business on the one hand, -nor the blandishments of the Muse on the other, -could have disposed me to leave it. But there -were few <span class="smcap">Lord Falklands</span>—and unhappily -my admiration of that nobleman’s worth and -honour<a id="FNanchor_38" href="#Footnote_38" class="fnanchor">38</a> created an invincible aversion to the -rest, who had little resemblance of his virtues. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">117</span></p> - -<p>I would not be thought, said I, to detract -from so accomplished a character as that of the -Lord <span class="smcap">Falkland</span>; but surely there was something -in his notions of honour—</p> - -<p>Not a word, interrupted he eagerly, that -may but seem to throw a shade on a virtue the -brightest and purest that hath done honour to -these later ages.—But I turn from a subject -that interests me too much, and would lead me -too far. Whatever attractions there might be -in such a place, and in such <i>friendships</i>, the -iniquity of the times soon forced me from -them. Yet I had the less reason to complain, -as my next removal was into the family of so -beneficent a patron as the Lord <span class="smcap">Jermyn</span>, and -into the court of so accomplished a princess as -the <span class="smcap">Queen Mother</span>.</p> - -<p>My residence, you know, was now for many -years in <i>France</i>; a country, which piques itself -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">118</span> -on all the refinements of civility. Here the -world was to appear to me in its fairest form, -and, it was not doubted, would put on all its -charms to wean me from the love of a studious -retired life. I will not say I was disappointed -in this expectation. All that the elegance of -polished manners could contribute to make society -attractive, was to be found in this new -scene. My situation, besides, was such, that -I came to have a sort of familiarity with greatness. -Yet shall I confess my inmost sentiments -of this splendid life to you? I found it empty, -fallacious, and even disgusting. The outside -indeed was fair. But to me, who had an opportunity -of looking it through, nothing could -be more deformed and hateful. All was ambition, -intrigue, and falsehood. Every one intent -on his own schemes, frequently wicked, -always base and selfish. Great professions of -honour, of friendship, and of duty; but all -ending in low views and sordid practices. No -truth, no sincerity: without which, conversation -is but words; and the polish of manners, -the idlest foppery.</p> - -<p>Surely, interposed I, this picture must be -overcharged. Frailties and imperfections, no -doubt, there will be in all societies of men, -especially where there is room for competition -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">119</span> -in their pursuits of honour and interest. But -your idea of a court is that of a den of thieves, -only better dressed, and more civilized.</p> - -<p>That however, said he, is the idea under -which truth obliges me to represent it. Believe -me, I have been long enough acquainted with -that country, to give you a pretty exact account -of its inhabitants. Their sole business -is to follow the humour of the prince, or of his -favourite, to speak the current language, to -serve the present turn, and to cozen one another. -In short, their virtue is, civility; and -their sense, cunning. You will guess now, -continued he, how uneasy I must be in such -company; I, who cannot lie, though it were -to make a friend, or ruin an enemy; who have -been taught to bear no respect to any but true -wisdom; and, whether it be nature or education, -could never endure (pardon the foolish -boast) that hypocrisy should usurp the honours, -and triumph in the spoils of virtue.</p> - -<p>Nay further, my good friend, (for I must -tell you all I know of myself, though it expose -me ever so much to the charge of folly or even -vanity) I was not born for courts and general -conversation. Besides the unconquerable -aversion I have to knaves and fools (though -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">120</span> -these last, but that they are commonly knaves -too, I could bring myself to tolerate); besides -this uncourtly humour, I have another of so -odd a kind, that I almost want words to express -myself intelligibly to you. It is a sort -of capricious delicacy, which occasions a wide -difference in my estimation of those characters, -in which the world makes no distinction. It is -not enough to make me converse with ease and -pleasure with a man, that I see no notorious -vices, or even observe some considerable virtues -in him. His good qualities must have a certain -grace, and even his sense must be of a certain -turn, to give me a relish of his conversation.</p> - -<p>I see you smile at this talk, and am aware -how fantastic this squeamishness must appear -to you. But it is with men and manners, as -with the forms and aspects of natural things. -A thousand objects recal ideas, and excite sensations -in my mind, which seem to be not perceived, -or not heeded, by other men. The -look of a country, the very shading of a landskip, -shall have a sensible effect on me, which -they, who have as good eyes, appear to make -no account of. It is just the same with the -characters of men. I conceive a disgust at -some, and a secret regard for others, whom -many, I believe, would estimate just alike. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">121</span> -And what is worse, a long and general conversation -hath not been able to cure me of this -foible. I question, said he, turning himself to -me, but, if I was called upon to assign the -reasons of that entire affection, which knits me -to my best friend, they would be resolved at -last into a something, which they, who love -him perhaps as well, would have no idea of.</p> - -<p>He said this in a way that disarmed me, or I -had it in my mind to have rallied him on his -doctrine of <i>occult qualities</i> and <i>unintelligible</i> -forms. I therefore contented myself with saying, -that I must not hear him go on at this -strange rate; and asked him if it was possible -he could suffer himself to be biassed, in an affair -of this moment, by such whimsies?</p> - -<p>Those whimsies, resumed he, had a real -effect. But consider further, the endless impertinencies -of conversation; the dissipation, -and loss of time; the diversion of the mind -from all that is truly useful or instructive, from -what a reasonable man would or should delight -in: add to these, the vexations of business; -the slavery of dependence, the discourtesies of -some, the grosser injuries of others; the danger, -or the scorn, to which virtue is continually -subject; in short, the knavery, or folly, or -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">122</span> -malevolence, of all around you; and tell me, -if any thing but the unhappy times, and a sense -of duty, could have detained a man of my temper -and principles so long in a station of life so -very uneasy and disgusting to me.</p> - -<p>Nothing is easier, said I, than to exaggerate -the inconveniencies of any situation. The world -and the court have doubtless theirs. But you -seem to forget one particular; that the <i>unhappy -times</i> you speak of, and the state of the court, -were an excuse for part of the disagreeable circumstances -you have mentioned. The face of -things is now altered. The storm is over. A -calm has succeeded. And why should not you -take the benefit of these halcyon days, in which -so many others have found their ease, and even -enjoyment?</p> - -<p>These halcyon days, returned he, are not, -alas! what unexperienced men are ready to represent -them. The same vices, the same follies, -prevail still, and are even multiplied and -enflamed by prosperity. A suffering court, if -any, might be expected to be the seedplot of -virtues. But, to satisfy your scruples, I have -even made a trial of these happier times. All -I wished to myself from the happiest, was but -such a return for my past services, as might -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">123</span> -enable me to retire with decency. Such a return -I seem not to have merited. And I care -not at this time of day to waste more of my -precious time in deserving a better treatment.</p> - -<p>Your day, said I, is not so far spent, as to -require this hasty determination. Besides, if -this be all, the world may be apt to censure -your retreat, as the effect of chagrin and disappointment.</p> - -<p>His colour rose, as I said this. The world, -resumed he, will censure as it sees fit. I must -have leave at length to judge for myself in what -so essentially concerns my own happiness. -Though if ever <i>chagrin</i> may be pleaded as a -reason for retirement, perhaps nobody had ever -a better right than I have to plead it. You -know what hath happened of late, to give me -a disgust to courts. You know the view I had -in my late comedy<a id="FNanchor_39" href="#Footnote_39" class="fnanchor">39</a> and the grounds I had to -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">124</span> -expect that it would not be ill taken. But you -know too the issue of that attempt. And should -I, after this experience of courtly gratitude, go -about to solicit their favours?</p> - -<p>But, to let you see that I am swayed by better -motives than those of <i>chagrin</i>, I shall not conceal -from you what I am proud enough to think -of my <small>TALENTS</small>, as well as temper.</p> - -<p>There are but two sorts of men, pursued he, -that should think of living in a court, however -it be that we see animals of all sorts, clean and -unclean, enter into it.</p> - -<p>The one is of those strong and active spirits -that are formed for business, whose ambition -reconciles them to the bustle of life, and whose -capacity fits them for the discharge of its functions. -These, especially if of noble birth and -good fortunes, are destined to fill the first -offices in a state; and if, peradventure, they -add virtue to their other parts and qualities, are -the blessings of the age they live in. Some -few such there have been in former times; and -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">125</span> -the present, it may be, is not wholly without -them.</p> - -<p>The <small>OTHER</small> sort, are what one may properly -enough call, if the phrase were not somewhat -uncourtly, the <small>MOB OF COURTS</small>; they, who -have vanity or avarice without ambition, or ambition -without talents. These, by assiduity, -good luck, and the help of their vices (for they -would scorn to earn advancement, if it were to -be had, by any worthy practices), may in time -succeed to the lower posts in a government; -and together make up that showey, servile, -selfish crowd, we dignify with the name of -<small>COURT</small>.</p> - -<p>Now, though I think too justly of myself to -believe I am qualified to enter into the <i>former</i> -of these lists, you may conclude, if you please, -that I am too proud to brigue for an admission -into the <i>latter</i>. I pretend not to great abilities -of any kind; but let me presume a little in supposing, -that I may have some too good to be -thrown away on such company.</p> - -<p>Here, my lord, the unusual freedom, and -even indecency, of Mr. <span class="smcap">Cowley’s</span> invective -against courts, transported me so far, that I -could not forbear turning upon him with some -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">126</span> -warmth. Surely, said I, my friend is much -changed from what I always conceived of him. -This heat of language, from one of your candour, -surprises me equally with the injustice -of it. It is so far from <i>calm reasoning</i>, that it -wants but little, methinks, of downright railing. -I believe, continued I, that I think more -highly, that is, more justly, of Mr. <span class="smcap">Cowley</span> -in every respect, than he allows himself to do. -Yet I see not that either his time, or his talents, -would be misemployed in the services he -so much undervalues. Permit me to say, your -resentment hath carried you too far; and that -you do not enough consider the friends you left -at court, or the noble lord that wishes your return -thither.</p> - -<p>I do, said he hastily, consider both. But, -with your leave, since I am forced to defend -myself against an ignominious charge, I must -do myself the right to assume what I think -belongs to me. I repeat it; I have long thought -my time lost in the poor amusements and vanities -of the great world, and have felt an impatience -to get into a quiet scene, where, slender -as my talents are, I might employ them to -better purpose.</p> - -<p>And think not, proceeded he, that I am -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">127</span> -carried to this choice by any thing so frivolous -as the idleness of a poetical fancy. Not but the -Muse, which hath been the darling of my -youth, may deserve to be the companion of my -riper age. For I am far from renouncing an -art, which, unprofitable as it hath ever been to -me, is always entertaining: and when employed, -as I mean it shall be, in other services -than those by which a voluptuous court seems -willing to disgrace it, I see not what there is -in this amusement of poetry, for the severest -censor of life and manners to take offence at. -Yet still I intend it for an amusement. My -serious occupations will be very different; such -as you, my friend, cannot disapprove, and should -encourage. But I have opened to you my intentions -more than once, and need not give -you the trouble at this time to hear me explain -them.</p> - -<p>You mean, interposed I, to apply yourself -to <i>natural</i> and <i>religious</i> inquiries. Your design -is commendable; and I would not dissuade -you from it. But what should hinder your -pursuing this design as well in society as in this -solitude?</p> - -<p>What, at <small>COURT</small>, returned he, where the -only object, that all men are in quest of, is -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">128</span> -<small>GAIN</small>; and the only deity they acknowledge, -<small>FORTUNE</small>? Or say that such idolatries did not -prevail, there, how shall the mind be calm -enough for so sublime inquiries? or where, but -in this scene of genuine nature, is there an opportunity -to indulge in them? Here, if any -where, is the observation of the poet verified, -<small>DEUS EST QUODCUNQUE VIDES</small>. Look round, -my friend, on this florid earth, on the various -classes of <i>animals</i> that inhabit, and the countless -<i>vegetable</i> tribes that adorn it. Here is the -proper school of wisdom,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And this our life, exempt from public haunt,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sermons in stones, and good in every thing<a id="FNanchor_40" href="#Footnote_40" class="fnanchor">40</a>.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">129</span></p> - -<p>Infinite are the uses, continued he, which -would result from this method of applying experiment -and observation to <i>Natural Science</i>. -I have taken occasion, you know, to offer a -slight sketch of them to the Public very lately<a id="FNanchor_41" href="#Footnote_41" class="fnanchor">41</a>. -But the principal I would draw from it to myself -should be, to inure the mind to just conceptions -of the divine nature; that so, with the -better advantage, I might turn myself to the -awful study of his <i>Word</i>. And here, my friend, -I am sensible how much I may expect to be -animated by your zeal, and enlightened by -your instruction. In the mean time, I pretend -to possess some qualities, which, if rightly -applied, may not be unsuitable to so high an -undertaking. I feel myself impelled by an -eager curiosity: I have much patience, and -some skill in making experiments. I may even -be allowed to boast of a readiness in the learned -languages; and am not without a tincture of -such other studies, as the successful prosecution -of <small>PHYSICS</small>, and still more of <span class="smcap">Divinity</span>, -requires. You may further impute to me, if -you please, an ingenuous love of truth, and an -ordinary degree of judgment to discern it. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">130</span></p> - -<p>These, concluded he, are the <small>TALENTS</small>, of -which I spoke to you so proudly; and with -the help of these (especially if you allow me -<i>one</i> other, the power of <i>communicating</i> what -I may chance to learn of natural or divine -things), I might hope to render a better account -of this solitude, than of any employments -I could reasonably aspire to, in the world -of men and of business.</p> - -<p>He said this with an air of solemnity, which -left me a little at a loss what to reply to him, -when he relieved my perplexity by adding, -“but, though there was nothing of all this in -the case, and my zeal for promoting knowledge -in this private way were as lightly to be accounted -of, as <i>that</i>, which led me to propose -the more extensive scheme I before mentioned, -probably will be, yet what should draw me -from this leisure of a learned retirement? For -though I please myself with the prospect of -doing some <i>public</i> service by my studies, yet -need I blush to own, to my learned friend, the -fondness I should still have for them, were they -only to end in my own <i>private</i> enjoyment? -Yes, let me open my whole soul to you. I -have ever delighted in letters, and have even -found them, what the world is well enough -content they should be, their own reward. I -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">131</span> -doubt, if this language would be understood in -all companies. And let others speak as they -find. But to me the year would drag heavily, -and life itself be no life, if it were not quickened -by these ingenuous pleasures.”</p> - -<p>Indeed, were it only for the very quiet and -indolence of mind, which retirement promises, -why should I be envied this calm in the decline -of a troubled life? But let the Muse speak -for me,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“After long toils and voyages in vain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This quiet port let my tost vessel gain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of heav’nly rest this earnest to me lend,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let my life sleep, and learn to love her end.”<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And what if they, who have not the means -of enjoying this rest, submit to the drudgery -of business? Is that a reason for me to continue -in it, who have made my fortune, even -to the extent of my wishes? I see you smile at -this boast. But where would you have me -stop in my desires; or what is it you would -have me understand by the mysterious language -of <i>making a fortune</i>? Is it two hundred -a year, or four, or a thousand? Say, where -shall we fix, or what limits will you undertake -to prescribe to the vague and shifting notion of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">132</span> -a competency? Or, shall we own the truth at -once, that every thing is a <i>competency</i> which -a man is contented to live upon, and that therefore -it varies only, as his desires are more or -less contracted?</p> - -<p>To talk at any other rate of a <i>man’s fortune</i>, -is surely to expose one’s self to the ridicule, -which the philosopher, you know, threw on the -restless humour of king Pyrrhus. ’Tis whim, -chimera, madness, or what you will, except -sober reason and common sense. Yet still the -world cries, “What, sit down with a pittance, -when the ways of honour and fortune are open -to you? take up with what may barely satisfy, -when you have so fair a chance for affluence, -and even superfluity?”</p> - -<p>Alas! and will that <i>affluence</i>, then, more -than satisfy? or can it be worth the while to -labour, for a <i>superfluity</i>?</p> - -<p>’Tis true the violence of the times, in which -it was my fortune to bear a part, had left me -bare and unprovided even of those moderate -accommodations, which my education and -breeding might demand, and which a parent’s -piety had indeed bequeathed to me. It was -but fitting then I should strive to repair this -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">133</span> -loss; and the rather, as my honest services -gave me leave to hope for a speedy reparation. -And thus far I was contented to try my fortune -in the court, though at the expence of much -uneasy attendance and solicitation. But, seeing -that this assiduity was without effect, and -that the bounty of two excellent persons<a id="FNanchor_42" href="#Footnote_42" class="fnanchor">42</a> hath -now set me above the necessity of continuing -it, what madness were it to embark again</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Fluctibus in mediis et tempestatibus urbis!”<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>So that if you will needs be urging me with -the ceaseless exhortation of</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“I, bone, quo virtus tua te vocat: I pede fausto,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grandia laturus meritorum præmia:—”<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>I must take leave to remind you of the sage -reply that was made to it. It was, you know, -by an old soldier, who found himself exactly -in my situation. The purse, which he had -lost by one accident, he had recovered by another. -The conclusion was, that he had no -mind, in this different state of affairs, to turn -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">134</span> -adventurer again, and expose himself to the -same perilous encounters:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Post hæc ille catus, quantumvis <small>RUSTICUS</small>, ibit,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ibit eo, quo vis <small>QUI ZONAM PERDIDIT</small>, inquit.”<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>In one word, my friend, I am happy here, -as you see me, in my little farm, which yet is -large enough to answer all my real necessities; -and I am not in the humour of him in the -fable<a id="FNanchor_43" href="#Footnote_43" class="fnanchor">43</a>, to fill my head with visions, and spend -a wretched life in quest of the <i>flying island</i>.</p> - -<p>And now, added he, you have before you in -one view the principal reasons that have determined -me to this retreat. I might have enlarged -on each more copiously; but I know to -whom I speak: and perhaps to such a one I -might even have spared a good deal of what I -have now been offering, from the several considerations -of my <small>TEMPER</small>, <small>TALENTS</small>, and <small>SITUATION</small>.</p> - -<p>Here he stopped. And now, my lord, it -came to my turn to take the lead in this controversy. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">135</span> -There was indeed an ample field before -me. And, if the other side of the question -afforded most matter for wit and declamation, -mine had all the advantages of good sense and -sound reason. The superiority was so apparent, -and my victory over him, in point of argument, -so sure, that I thought it needless and -ungenerous to press him on every article of -his defence, in which he had laid himself open -to me.</p> - -<p>Your lordship hath, no doubt, observed, -with wonder and with pity, the strange spirit -that runs through every part of it: the confined -way of thinking, which hath crept upon him; -the cynical severity, he indulges against courts; -the importance he would sometimes assume to -his own character; the peevish turn of mind, -that leads him to take offence at the lighter -follies and almost excusable vices of the great; -in short, the resentment, the pique, the chagrin, -which one overlooks in the hopeless -suitor, or hungry poet, but which are very unaccountable -in one of Mr. <span class="smcap">Cowley’s</span> condition -and situation.</p> - -<p>Here then, my lord, was a fair occasion for -a willing adversary. But I spared the infirmities -of my friend. I judged it best, too, to -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">136</span> -keep him in temper, and avoid that heat of altercation, -which must have arisen from touching -these indiscretions, as they deserved. Your -lordship sees the reason I had for confining my -reply to such parts of his apology, as bore the -fairest shew of argument, and might be encountered -without offence.</p> - -<p>When he had ended, therefore, with so -formal a recapitulation of his discourse, I -thought it not amiss to follow him in his own -train; and, dissembling the just exceptions I -had to his vindication in other respects, “You -have proceeded, said I, in a very distinct method, -and have said as much, I believe, on the -subject, as so bad a cause would admit. But -if this indeed be all you have to allege, for so -uncommon a fancy, you must not think it -strange, if I pronounce it, without scruple, -very insufficient for your purpose.</p> - -<p>For, to give your several pleas a distinct examination, -what is that <small>TEMPER</small>, let me ask, -on which you insist so much, but a wayward -humour, which your true judgement should -correct and controul by the higher and more -important regards of <i>duty</i>? Every man is born -with some prevailing propensity or other, -which, if left to itself, and indulged beyond -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">137</span> -certain bounds, would grow to be very injurious -to himself and society. There is something, -no doubt, amusing in the notion of <i>retirement</i>. -The very word implies ease and -quiet, and self-enjoyment. And who doubts, -that in the throng and bustle of life, most men -are fond to image to themselves, and even to -wish for a scene of more composure and tranquillity? -It is just as natural as that the labourer -should long for his repose at night; or -that the soldier, amidst the dust and heat of a -summer’s march, should wish for the conveniencies -of shade and shelter. But what wild -work would it make if these so natural desires -should be immediately gratified? if the labourer -should quit his plow, and the soldier his arms, -to throw themselves into the first shade or -thicket that offered refreshment? All you have -therefore said on this article can really stand -for nothing in the eye of sober reason, whatever -figure it may make in the dress of your -eloquence<a id="FNanchor_44" href="#Footnote_44" class="fnanchor">44</a>. The inconveniencies of every station -are to be endured from the obligations of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">138</span> -duty, and on account of the services one is -bound to render to himself and his country.</p> - -<p>True, replied he, if it appeared to be one’s -duty, or even interest, to continue in that station. -But what principle of conscience binds -me to a slavish dependence at court? or what -interest, public or private, can be an equivalent -for wearing these chains, when I have it -in my power to throw them off, and redeem -myself into a state of liberty?</p> - -<p>What <i>Interest</i>, do you ask? returned I. -Why that great and extensive one, which <i>society</i> -hath in an honest and capable man’s continuing -to bear a part in public affairs. For as -to inducements of another kind, I may find -occasion hereafter to press them upon you more -seasonably. Consider well with yourself, what -would the consequence be, if all men of honour -and ability were to act upon your principles? -What a world would this be, if knaves and -fools only had the management in their hands, -and all the virtuous and wise, as it were by -common consent, were to withdraw from it? -Nay, the issue would even be fatal to themselves; -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">139</span> -and they would presently find it impossible -to taste repose, even in their own sanctuary -of retirement.</p> - -<p>Small need, replied he, to terrify one’s self -with such apprehensions. The virtuous, at -least they who pass for such, will generally -have ambition enough to keep them in the road -of public employments. So long as there are -such things as riches and honours, courts will -never be unfurnished of suitors, even from -among the tribes of lettered and virtuous men. -The desperately bad, at least, will never have -the field left entirely to themselves. And, after -all, the interest of men in office is, in the -main, so providentially connected with some -regard to the rules of honour and conscience, -that there is seldom any danger that matters -should come to extremities under the <i>worst</i> -administration. And I doubt this is all we are -to expect, or at least to reckon upon with assurance, -under the very <i>best</i>.</p> - -<p>But my answer is more direct. It is not for -your little friend to think of getting a seat in -the cabinet-council, or of conducting the great -affairs of the state. He knows himself to be as -unfit for those high trusts, as he is incapable of -aspiring to them. Besides, he does not allow -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">140</span> -himself to doubt of their being discharged with -perfect ability, by the great persons who now -fill them. <span class="smcap">He</span>, at least, who occupies the -foremost place of authority, is, by the allowance -of all, to be paralleled with any that the -wisest prince hath ever advanced to that station<a id="FNanchor_45" href="#Footnote_45" class="fnanchor">45</a>. -And when so consummate a pilot sits -at the helm, it seems a matter of little moment -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">141</span> -by what hands the vessel of the commonwealth -is navigated.</p> - -<p>I could not agree with him in this concluding -remark, and much less in the high-flown encomium -which introduced it<a id="FNanchor_46" href="#Footnote_46" class="fnanchor">46</a>. But, waving -these lesser matters, I contented myself with -observing, “That let him put what gloss he -would on this humour of declining civil business, -it must needs be considered by all unbiassed -persons, as highly prejudicial to public -order and government; that, if good men would -not be employed, the bad must; and that, to -say the least, the cause of learning and virtue -must suffer exceedingly in the eyes of men, -when they see those very qualities, which alone -can render us useful to the world, dispose us to -fly from it.”</p> - -<p>For as to the <i>plea</i>, continued I, of employing -them to better purpose in the way of <i>private -and solitary</i> <small>CONTEMPLATION</small>, I can hold -it for little better than enthusiasm. Several -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">142</span> -persons, I know, would give it a worse name, -and say, as <span class="smcap">Tacitus</span> somewhere does, that it -serves only for a specious cover to that love of -ease and self-indulgence, which he will have -to be at the bottom of such pretences<a id="FNanchor_47" href="#Footnote_47" class="fnanchor">47</a>. But -even with the best construction the matter was -capable of, he could never, I insisted, justify -that plea to the understandings of prudent and -knowing men. We allow the obscure pedant -to talk high of the dignity of his office, and -magnify, as much as he pleases, the importance -of his speculations. Such an indulgence serves -to keep him in humour with himself, and may -be a means to convert a low and plodding genius -to the only use of which it is capable. -But for a man of experience in affairs, and who -is qualified to shine in them, to hold this language, -is very extraordinary.</p> - -<p>I saw with what impatience he heard me, -and therefore took care to add, “’Tis true, -the studies to which you would devote yourself, -are the noblest in the world of science. -For <i>Divinity</i>, the very name speaks its elogium. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">143</span> -And the countenance which his majesty -is pleased, in his true wisdom, to give to -<i>natural science</i>, must be thought to ennoble -that branch of learning beyond all others, that -are merely of human consideration. Yet still, -my friend, what need of taking these studies -out of the hands of those, to whom they are -properly intrusted? Religion is very safe in the -bosom of the national church. And questions -of natural science will doubtless be effectually -cleared and ventilated in the <i>New Society</i><a id="FNanchor_48" href="#Footnote_48" class="fnanchor">48</a>, -and in the schools of our <i>Universities</i>. It -could never be his majesty’s intention to thin -his court, for the sake of furnishing students in -natural philosophy.”</p> - -<p>And can you then, interposed he, in your -concern for what you very improperly call my -interests, allow yourself to speak so coolly of -the great interests of natural and divine truth? -Is religion a trade to be confined to the craftsmen? -Or, are fellows of colleges and of the -Royal Society, if such we are to have, the only -persons concerned to adore God in the wonders -of his creation? Pardon me, my friend: I -know you mean nothing less; but the strange -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">144</span> -indifference of your phrase provokes me to this -expostulation.</p> - -<p>You warm yourself, resumed I, too hastily. -My design was only to suggest, that as there -are certain orders of men appointed for the sole -purpose of studying divinity, and advancing -philosophy, I did not see that a man of business -was obliged to desert his proper station for -the sake of either.</p> - -<p>I suspect, said he, there may be some equivocation -wrapped up in that word <i>obliged</i>. All -I know is, that I shall spend my time more innocently, -at least; and, I presume to think, -more usefully in those studies, than in that -slippery <i>station</i>, if it may deserve to be called -one, of court-favour and dependence. And if -I extended the observation to many others, -that are fond to take up their residence in these -quarters, I cannot believe I should do them -any injustice.</p> - -<p>I cannot tell, returned I, against whom this -censure is pointed. But I know there are -many of the gravest characters, and even lights -and fathers of the church, who do not consider -it as inconsistent, either with their duty, or -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">145</span> -the usefulness of their profession, to continue -in that station.</p> - -<p>O! mistake me not, replied he: I intended -no reflection on any of the clergy, and much -less on the great prelates of the church, for -their attendance in the courts of princes. Theirs -is properly an exempt case. They are the -authorized guides and patterns of life. Their -great abilities indeed qualify them, above all -others, for serving the cause of science and religion, -by their private studies and meditations. -But they very properly consider too, that part -of their duty is to enlighten the ignorant of all -ranks, by their wise and pious discourse, and -to awe and reclaim the wandering of all denominations, -by their example. Hence it is, that -I cannot enough admire the zeal of so many -pastors of the church; who, though the slavish -manners and libertinism of a court must be -more than ordinarily offensive to men of their -characters, continue to discharge their office so -painfully, and yet so punctually, in that situation.</p> - -<p>Here, my lord, observing my friend for once -to deliver himself reasonably, I was encouraged -to add, that since he was so just to maintain -the commerce of good and wise churchmen in -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">146</span> -the great world to be, as it truly was, a matter -of duty, he should also have the candour to own, -that his withdrawing from it was, at least, a -work of <i>Supererogation</i>.</p> - -<p>It might be so, he said; but, though our -church gave no encouragement to think we -merit by such works, he did not know that it -condemned and utterly forbad them.</p> - -<p>O! but, returned I, if that be all, and you -acknowledge at last that your <i>retiring</i> is no -matter of duty, it will be easy to advance another -step, and demonstrate to you, that such -a project is, in your case, altogether unreasonable<a id="FNanchor_49" href="#Footnote_49" class="fnanchor">49</a>.</p> - -<p>For, notwithstanding all you have said, in -the spirit and language of stoicism, of the comforts -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">147</span> -of your present <small>SITUATION</small>, will you seriously -undertake to persuade me that they are -in any degree comparable to what you might -propose to yourself, by returning to a life of -business? Is the littleness, the obscurity, and -pardon me if I even say, the meanness of this -retreat, to be put in competition with the liberal -and even splendid provision, which your -friends at court will easily be able to make for -you? Is it nothing, my friend, (for let us talk -common sense, and not bewilder ourselves with -the visions of philosophy) is it nothing to live -in a well-furnished house, to keep a good table, -to command an equipage, to have many friends -and dependants, to be courted by inferiors, to -be well received by the great, and to be somebody -even in the <i>presence</i>?</p> - -<p>And what if, in order to compass such things, -some little devoirs and assiduities are expected? -Is it not the general practice? And what every -body submits to, can it be ignominious? Is -this any thing more than conforming one’s self -to the necessary subordination of society? Or, -what if some time passes in these services, -which a present humour suggests might be -more agreeably spent in other amusements? -The recompence cannot be far off; and, in the -mean time, the lustre and very agitation of a -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">148</span> -life of business, hath somewhat in it sprightly -and amusing. Besides, yours is not the case -of one that is entering, for the first time, on a -course of expectation. Your business is half -done. The prince is favourable; and there are -of his ministers that respect and honour you. -Your services are well known; your reputation -is fair; your connexions great; and the season -inviting. What, with all these advantages, -forego the court in a moping mood, or, as angry -men use, run to moralize in a cloister!</p> - -<p>I was proceeding in the warmth of this remonstrance, -when, with a reproachful smile, -he turned upon me, and, in a kind of rapture, -repeated the following lines of <span class="smcap">Spenser</span>:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Full little knowest thou, that hast not tried,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What hell it is in suing long to bide:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To lose good days, that might be better spent;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To waste long nights in pensive discontent:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To speed to-day, to be put back to-morrow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To feed on hope, to pine with fear and sorrow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To have thy prince’s grace, yet want his peeres<a id="FNanchor_50" href="#Footnote_50" class="fnanchor">50</a>;<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">149</span> -<span class="i0">To have thy askings, yet wait many yeers<a id="FNanchor_51" href="#Footnote_51" class="fnanchor">51</a>;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To fret thy soul with crosses and with cares;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To eat thy heart through comfortless despaires;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To faun, to crouche, to wait, to ride, to ronne;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To spend, to give, to want, to be undonne.”<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>This, said he, is my answer once for all to your -long string of interrogatories. I learnt it of -one that had much experience in courts: and -I thought it worth imprinting on my memory, -to have it in readiness on such an occasion. -Or, if you would rather have my answer in my -own words, the Muse shall give it you in a little -poem, she dictated very lately<a id="FNanchor_52" href="#Footnote_52" class="fnanchor">52</a>. It may shew -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">150</span> -you perhaps, that, though my nature be somewhat -melancholy, I am not <i>moping</i>; and that -I can moralize, and even <i>complain</i>, as I have -reason to do, without being <i>angry</i>.</p> - -<p>The look and tone of voice, with which he -said this, a little disconcerted me. But I recovered -myself, and was going on to object to -his unreasonable warmth, and the fascination of -this wicked poetry, when he stopped me with -saying, “Come, no more of these remonstrances -and upbraidings. I have heard enough of your -pleadings in a cause, which no eloquence can -carry against my firm and fixed resolutions. I -have seen, besides, the force you have done to -yourself in this mock combat. Your extreme -friendliness hath even tempted you to act a part -which your true sense, and the very decorum -of your profession, I have observed through all -your disguises, has rendered painful to you. -I will tell you my whole mind in one word. -No inducements of what the world calls <small>INTEREST</small>, -no views of <small>HONOUR</small>, no, nor what -the poet aptly calls, <small>SANCTISSIMA DIVITIARUM -MAJESTAS</small><a id="FNanchor_53" href="#Footnote_53" class="fnanchor">53</a>, shall make me recede from the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">151</span> -purpose I am bent upon, of consecrating the -remainder of a comfortless distracted life, to the -sweets of this obscure retirement. Believe me, -I have weighed it well, with all its inconveniencies. -And I find them such as are nothing -to the agonies have long felt in that troubled -scene, to which you would recal me. If it -hath any ingredients, which I cannot so well -relish, they are such as my friends, and, above -all, such as you, my best friend, may reconcile -to me. Let me but have the pleasure to -see the few, I love and esteem, in these shades, -and I shall not regret their solitude.</p> - -<p>And as for my much honoured friend, whose -munificence hath placed me in them, I shall -hope to satisfy him in the most effectual manner. -Nothing, you will believe, could give me -a pain equal to that of being suspected of ingratitude -towards my best benefactor. It was -indeed with the utmost difficulty, that I constrained -myself at last to think of leaving his -service. The truth is, he expostulated with me -upon it pretty roundly; and though my resolution -was taken, I left him with the concern -of not being able to give him entire satisfaction. -These repeated instances by you are a fresh -proof of his goodness, and do me an honour -I had little reason to expect from him. But -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">152</span> -his lordship’s notions of life and mine are very -different, as is fitting in persons, whom fortune -hath placed in two such different situations. -It becomes me to bear the most grateful -remembrance of his kind intentions; and, for -the rest, I can assure myself, that his equity -and nobleness of mind, will permit an old -servant to pursue, at length, his own inclinations.</p> - -<p>However, to repay his goodness as I can, -and to testify all imaginable respect to his judgment, -I have purposed to write my own -<small>APOLOGY</small> to his lordship; and to represent to -him, in a better manner, than I have done in -this sudden and unpremeditated conversation, -the reasons that have determined me to this resolution. -I have even made some progress in -the design, and have digested into several -<i>essays</i> the substance of such reflections as, at -different times, have had most weight with -me<a id="FNanchor_54" href="#Footnote_54" class="fnanchor">54</a>. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">153</span></p> - -<p>Hearing him speak in so determined a manner, -I was discouraged from pressing him further -with such other considerations, as I had, -prepared on this argument. Only I could not -help enforcing, in the warmest manner, and in -terms your lordship would not allow me to use -in this recital, what he himself had owned of -your unexampled goodness to him; and the -obligation which, I insisted, that must needs -create in a generous mind, of paying an unreserved -obedience to your lordship’s pleasure. -He gave me the hearing very patiently; but -contented himself with repeating his design of -justifying himself to your lordship in the apology -he had before promised.</p> - -<p>And now, resumed he with an air of alacrity, -since you know my whole mind, and -that no remonstrances can move me, confess -the whole truth; acknowledge at last that you -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">154</span> -have dissembled with me all this while, and -that, in reality, you approve my resolution. I -know you do, my friend, though you struggle -hard to conceal it. It cannot be otherwise. -Nature, which linked our hearts together, had -formed us in one mould. We have the same -sense of things; the same love of letters and of -virtue. And though I would not solicit one of -your years and your profession to follow me into -the shade, yet I know you so well<a id="FNanchor_55" href="#Footnote_55" class="fnanchor">55</a>, that you will -preserve in the world that equal frame of -mind, that indifference to all earthly things, -which I pretend to have carried with me into -this solitude.</p> - -<p>Go on, my friend, in this track; and be an -example to the churchmen of our days, that -the highest honours of the gown, which I easily -foresee are destined to your abilities, are not -incompatible with the strictest purity of life, -and the most heroic sentiments of integrity and -honour. Go, and adorn the dignities which -are reserved for you; and remember only in -the heights of prosperity to be what you are, -to serve the world with vigour, yet so as to indulge -with me -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">155</span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="author">“<span class="smcap">the generous scorn<br /></span></span> -<span class="i0">Of things, for which we were not born<a id="FNanchor_56" href="#Footnote_56" class="fnanchor">56</a>.”<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>I began to be a little uneasy at his long sermon, -when he broke it off with this couplet. -The day by this time was pretty far advanced; -and rising from his seat, he proposed to me to -walk into his hermitage (so he called his house); -where, he said, I should see how a philosopher -lived as well as talked. I staid to dine, and -spent a good part of the afternoon with him. -We discoursed of various matters; but not a -word more of what had occasioned this visit. -Only he shewed me the <i>complaining poem</i> he -had mentioned, and of which, for the pleasure -so fine a composition will give you, I here send -your lordship a copy. His spirits, he said, -were enlivened by the face of an old friend; -and indeed I never knew his conversation more -easy and chearful<a id="FNanchor_57" href="#Footnote_57" class="fnanchor">57</a>; which yet I could not perfectly -enjoy for the regret the ill success of my -negociation had given me. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">156</span></p> - -<p>I returned to town in the evening, ruminating -on what had passed, and resolving to -send your lordship an exact account of our -conversation. I particularly made a point of -suppressing nothing which Mr. <span class="smcap">Cowley</span> had -to say for himself in this debate, however it -may sometimes seem to make against me. -The whole hath grown under my pen into a -greater length than I expected. But your -Lordship wished to know the bottom of our -friend’s mind; and I thought you would see -it more distinctly and clearly in this way, than -in any other. I am, my lord, with the most -profound respect,</p> - -<p> -<span class="i4">Your Lordship’s most obedient</span><br /> -<span class="i14">and faithful servant,</span><br /> -<span class="i24"><span class="smcap">T. Sprat</span>.</span><br /> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">157</span></p> - -<h2><span class="medium">THE</span><br /> -COMPLAINT<a id="FNanchor_58" href="#Footnote_58" class="fnanchor">58</a>.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In a deep vision’s intellectual scene<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beneath a bower for sorrow made,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Th’ uncomfortable shade<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of the black yew’s unlucky green,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mixt with the mourning willow’s careful gray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where reverend <span class="smcap">Cam</span> cuts out his famous way,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The melancholy <span class="smcap">Cowley</span> lay:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And lo! a Muse appear’d to’s closed sight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(The Muses oft in lands of visions play)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bodied, array’d, and seen by an internal light:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A golden harp with silver strings she bore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A wonderous hieroglyphic robe she wore,<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">158</span> -<span class="i0">In which all colours, and all figures were,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That nature, or that fancy can create,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That art can never imitate;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And with loose pride it wanton’d in the air.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In such a dress, in such a well-cloath’d dream,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She us’d of old, near fair <span class="smcap">Ismenus’</span> stream,<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Pindar</span> her <span class="smcap">Theban</span> favourite to meet;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A crown was on her head, and wings were on her feet.<br /></span> -</div></div> - -<h4>II.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She touch’d him with her harp, and rais’d him from the ground;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The shaken strings melodiously resound.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Art thou return’d at last, said she,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To this forsaken place and me?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou prodigal, who didst so loosely waste<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of all thy youthful years, the good estate?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Art thou return’d here to repent too late;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And gather husks of learning up at last,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now the rich harvest-time of life is past,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And <i>Winter</i> marches on so fast?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But when I meant t’adopt thee for my son,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And did as learn’d a portion thee assign,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As ever any of the mighty Nine<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Had to her dearest children done;<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">159</span> -<span class="i0">When I resolv’d t’exalt thy anointed name,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Among the spiritual lords of peaceful fame<a id="FNanchor_59" href="#Footnote_59" class="fnanchor">59</a>;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou changeling, thou, bewitch’d with noise and show,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would’st into courts and cities from me go;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would’st see the world abroad, and have a share<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In all the follies, and the tumults there.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou would’st, forsooth, be something in a state,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And business thou would’st find, and would’st create:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Business! the frivolous pretence<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of humane lusts to shake off innocence:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Business! the grave impertinence:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Business! the thing which I of all things hate:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Business! the contradiction of thy fate.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>III.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Go, renegado, cast up thy account,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And see to what amount<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thy foolish gains by quitting me:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sale of knowledge, fame, and liberty,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fruits of thy unlearn’d apostasy.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou thought’st, if once the public storm were past,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All thy remaining life should sun-shine be;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Behold, the public storm is spent at last,<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">160</span> -<span class="i0">The sovereign is tost at sea no more,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thou, with all the noble company,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Art got at last to shore.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But whilst thy fellow voyagers, I see,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All march’d up to possess the promis’d land,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou still alone (alas!) dost gaping stand<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon the naked beach, upon the barren sand.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>IV.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As a fair morning of the blessed spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">After a tedious stormy night;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such was the glorious entry of our king:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Enriching moisture dropp’d on every thing;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Plenty he sow’d below, and cast about him light.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But then (alas!) to thee alone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One of old <span class="smcap">Gideon’s</span> miracles was shown;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For every tree, and every herb around,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With pearly dew was crown’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And upon all the quicken’d ground<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fruitful seed of heaven did brooding lye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And nothing but the Muse’s fleece was dry.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">It did all other threats surpass<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When God to his own people said,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(The men, whom thro’ long wanderings he had led)<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That he would give them ev’n a heaven of brass;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They look’d up to that heaven in vain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That bounteous heaven, which God did not restrain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon the most unjust to shine and rain.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">161</span></p> - -<h4>V.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The <span class="smcap">Rachael</span>, for which twice seven years and more<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou didst with faith and labour serve,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And didst (if faith and labour can) deserve,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Though she contracted was to thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Giv’n to another who had store<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of fairer, and of richer wives before,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And not a <i>Leah</i> left, thy recompence to be.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Go on, twice seven years more thy fortune try,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Twice seven years more, God in his bounty may<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Give thee, to fling away<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into the court’s deceitful lottery.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But think how likely ’tis that thou,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the dull work of thy unwieldy plough,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Should’st in a hard and barren season thrive,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Should even able be to live;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou, to whose share so little bread did fall,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the miraculous year, when <small>MANNA</small> rain’d on all.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>VI.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thus spake the Muse, and spake it with a smile,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That seem’d at once to pity and revile,<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">162</span> -<span class="i0">And to her thus, raising his thoughtful head,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The melancholy <span class="smcap">Cowley</span> said:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Ah, wanton foe, dost thou upbraid<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The ills which thou thyself hast made?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When, in the cradle, innocent I lay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou, wicked spirit, stolest me away,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And my abused soul didst bear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into thy new-found words I know not where,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy golden <i>Indies</i> in the air;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And ever since I strive in vain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My ravish’d freedom to regain:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still I rebel, still thou dost reign,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lo, still in verse against thee I complain.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">There is a sort of stubborn weeds,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which if the earth but once, it ever breeds;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">No wholesome herb can near them thrive,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">No useful plant can keep alive;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The foolish sports I did on thee bestow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Make all my art and labour fruitless now;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where once such Fairies dance no grass doth ever grow.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>VII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When my new mind had no infusion known,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou gav’st so deep a tincture of thine own,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That ever since I vainly try<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To wash away the inherent dye:<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">163</span> -<span class="i0">Long work perhaps may spoil thy colours quite,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But never will reduce the native white;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To all the ports of honour and of gain,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I often steer my course in vain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy gale comes cross, and drives me back again.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou slack’nest all my nerves of industry,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">By making them so oft to be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The tinkling strings of thy loose minstrelsie.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whoever this world’s happiness would see,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Must as entirely cast off thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As they who only heaven desire,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Do from the world retire.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This was my error, this my gross mistake,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Myself a demy-votary to make.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thus with <span class="smcap">Sapphira</span>, and her husband’s fate,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(A fault which I like them am taught too late)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For all that I gave up, I nothing gain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And perish for the part which I retain.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>VIII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Teach me not then, O thou fallacious Muse,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The court, and better king, t’ accuse;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The heaven under which I live is fair;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fertile soil will a full harvest bear;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thine, thine is all the barrenness; if thou<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mak’st me sit still and sing, when I should plough;<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">164</span> -<span class="i0">When I but think, how many a tedious year<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Our patient sov’reign did attend<br /></span> -<span class="i4">His long misfortunes fatal end;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How chearfully, and how exempt from fear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On the Great Sovereign’s will he did depend,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I ought to be accurst, if I refuse<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To wait on his, O thou fallacious Muse!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Kings have long hands (they say) and though I be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So distant, they may reach at length to me.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">However, of all princes, thou<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Should’st not reproach rewards for being small or slow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou, who rewardest but with popular breath,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And that too after death.<br /></span> -</div></div></div></div> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">165</span></p> - -<h2 class="xx-large">DIALOGUE III.<br /> - -<span class="x-large">ON THE<br /> - -GOLDEN AGE OF QUEEN ELIZABETH.</span><br /> - -<small>BETWEEN</small><br /> - -<span class="large">THE HON. ROBERT DIGBY,<br /> - -DR. ARBUTHNOT,</span><br /> - -<small>AND</small><br /> - -<span class="large">MR. ADDISON.</span></h2> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">166</span><br /> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">167</span></p> - -<h2 id="DIALOGUE_III">DIALOGUE III.<br /> - -<span class="medium">ON THE AGE OF QUEEN ELIZABETH.</span></h2> - -<h3>MR. DIGBY, DR. ARBUTHNOT, -MR. ADDISON.</h3> - -<p class="drop"><span class="uppercase">It</span> happened, in the summer of the year -1716, that Dr. <span class="smcap">Arbuthnot</span> and Mr. <span class="smcap">Addison</span> -had occasion to take a journey together into -<i>Warwickshire</i>. Mr. <span class="smcap">Digby</span>, who had received -intelligence of their motions, and was then at -<i>Coleshill</i>, contrived to give them the meeting -at <i>Warwick</i>; where they intended to pass a -day or two, in visiting the curiosities of that -fine town, and the more remarkable of these -remains of antiquity that are to be seen in its -neighbourhood. These were matter of high -entertainment to all of them; to Dr. <span class="smcap">Arbuthnot</span>, -for the pleasure of recollecting the ancient -times; to Mr. <span class="smcap">Addison</span>, on account of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">168</span> -some political reflexions, he was fond of indulging -on such occasions; and to Mr. <span class="smcap">Digby</span>, -from an ingenuous curiosity, and the love of -seeing and observing whatever was most remarkable, -whether in the past ages, or the -present.</p> - -<p>Amongst other things that amused them, -they were much taken with the great church -at <i>Warwick</i>. They entertained themselves -with the several histories, which it’s many old -monuments recalled to their memory<a id="FNanchor_60" href="#Footnote_60" class="fnanchor">60</a>. The -famous inscription of Sir <span class="smcap">Fulk Grevil</span> occasioned -some reflexions; especially to Mr. -<span class="smcap">Digby</span>, who had used to be much affected with -the fame and fortunes of the accomplished Sir -<span class="smcap">Philip Sidney</span>. The glory of the house of -<span class="smcap">Warwick</span> was, also, an ample field of meditation. -But what chanced to take their attention -most, was the monument of the great earl -of <span class="smcap">Leicester</span>. It recorded his titles at full -length, and was, besides, richly decorated with -sculpture, displaying the various ensigns and -trophies of his greatness. The pride of this -minister had never appeared to them so conspicuous, -as in the legends and ornaments of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">169</span> -his tomb-stone; which had not only outlived -his family, but seemed to assure itself of immortality, -by taking refuge, as it were, at the -foot of the altar.</p> - -<p>These funeral honours engaged them in some -common reflexions on the folly of such expedients -to perpetuate human grandeur; but at -the same time, as is the usual effect of these -things, struck their imaginations very strongly. -They readily apprehended what must have been -the state of this mighty favourite in his lifetime, -from what they saw of it in this proud -memorial, which continued in a manner to insult -posterity so many years after his death. -But understanding that the fragments at least -of his supreme glory, when it was flourishing -at its height, were still to be seen at <span class="smcap">Kenelworth</span>, -which they knew could be at no great -distance, they resolved to visit them the next -day, and indulge to the utmost the several reflexions -which such scenes are apt to inspire. -On enquiry, they found it was not more than -five or six miles to the castle; so that, by starting -early in the morning, they might easily return -to dinner at <i>Warwick</i>. They kept to -their appointment so well, that they got to -<i>Kenelworth</i> in good time, and had even two -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">170</span> -or three hours on their hands to spend, in taking -an exact view of the place.</p> - -<p>It was luckily one of those fine days, which -our travellers would most have wished for, and -which indeed are most agreeable in this season. -It was clear enough to afford a distinct prospect -of the country, and to set the objects, they -wanted to take a view of, in a good light; and -yet was so conveniently clouded as to check the -heat of the sun, and make the exercise of walking, -of which they were likely to have a good -deal, perfectly easy to them.</p> - -<p>When they alighted from the coach, the first -object that presented itself was the principal -<span class="smcap">Gate-way</span> of the Castle. It had been converted -into a farm-house, and was indeed the only -part of these vast ruins that was inhabited. On -their entrance into the <i>inner-court</i>, they were -struck with the sight of many mouldering -towers, which preserved a sort of magnificence -even in their ruins. They amused themselves -with observing the vast compass of the whole, -with marking the uses, and tracing the dimensions, -of the several parts. All which it was -easy for them to do, by the very distinct traces -that remained of them, and especially by means -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">171</span> -of <span class="smcap">Dugdale’s</span> plans and descriptions, which -they had taken care to consult.</p> - -<p>After rambling about for some time, they -clambered up a heap of ruins, which lay on the -west side the court: and thence came to a -broken tower, which, when they had mounted -some steps, led them out into a path-way on -the tops of the walls. From this eminence they -had a very distinct view of the several parts -they had before contemplated; of the <i>gardens</i> -on the north-side; of the <i>winding meadow</i> that -encompassed the walls of the castle, on the -west and south; and had, besides, the command -of the country round about them for -many miles. The prospect of so many antique -towers falling into rubbish, contrasted to the -various beauties of the landscape, struck them -with admiration, and kept them silent for some -time.</p> - -<p>At length recovering himself, I perceive, said -Dr. <span class="smcap">Arbuthnot</span>, we are all of us not a little -affected with the sight of these ruins. They -even create a melancholy in me; and yet a -melancholy of so delightful a kind, that I would -not exchange it, methinks, for any brisker sensation. -The experience of this effect hath often -led me to enquire, how it is that the mind, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">172</span> -even while it laments, finds so great a pleasure -in visiting these scenes of desolation. Is it, -continued he, from the pure love of antiquity, -and the amusing train of reflexions into which -such remains of ancient magnificence naturally -lead us?</p> - -<p>I know not, returned Mr. <span class="smcap">Addison</span>, what -pain it may give you to contemplate these -triumphs of time and fortune. For my part, I -am not sensible of the mixt sensation you speak -of. I feel a pleasure indeed; but it is sincere, -and, as I conceive, may be easily accounted -for. ’Tis nothing more, I believe, than a fiction -of the imagination, which makes me think -I am taking a revenge on the once prosperous -and overshadowing height, <span class="smcap">PRÆUMBRANS FASTIGIUM</span>, -as somebody expresses it, of inordinate -Greatness. It is certain, continued he, -this theatre of a great statesman’s pride, the delight -of many of our princes, and which boasts -of having given entertainment to one of them -in a manner so splendid, as to claim a remembrance, -even in the annals of our country, would -now, in its present state, administer ample -matter for much insulting reflexion.</p> - -<p>“Where, one might ask, are the tilts and -tournaments, the princely shows and sports, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">173</span> -which were once so proudly celebrated within -these walls? Where are the pageants, the -studied devices and emblems of curious invention, -that set the court at a gaze, and even -transported the high soul of our <span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>? -Where now, pursued he, (pointing to that -which was formerly a canal, but at present is -only a meadow with a small rivulet running -through it) where is the floating island, the -blaze of torches that eclipsed the day, the lady -of the lake, the silken nymphs her attendants, -with all the other fantastic exhibitions surpassing -even the whimsies of the wildest romance? What -now is become of the revelry of feasting? of -the minstrelsy, that took the ear so delightfully -as it babbled along the valley, or floated on the -surface of this lake? See there the smokeless -kitchens, stretching to a length that might -give room for the sacrifice of a hecatomb; the -vaulted hall, which mirth and jollity have set -so often in an uproar; the rooms of state, and -the presence-chamber: what are they now but -void and tenantless ruins, clasped with ivy, -open to wind and weather, and representing -to the eye nothing but the ribs and carcase, as -it were, of their former state? And see, said -he, that proud gate-way, once the mansion of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">174</span> -a surly porter<a id="FNanchor_61" href="#Footnote_61" class="fnanchor">61</a>, who, partaking of the pride -of his lord, made the crowds wait, and refused -admittance, perhaps, to nobles whom fear or -interest drew to these walls, to pay their homage -to their master: see it now the residence -of a poor tenant, who turns the key but to let -himself out to his daily labour, to admit him to -a short meal, and secure his nightly slumbers. -Yet, in this humble state, it hath had the -fortune to outlive the glory of the rest, and -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">175</span> -hath even drawn to itself the whole of that little -note and credit which time hath continued to -this once pompous building. For, while the -castle itself is crumbled into shapeless ruins, -and is prophaned, as we there see, by the vilest -uses, this outwork of greatness is left entire, -sheltered and closed in from bird and beast, -and even affords some decent room in which -the <i>human face divine</i> is not ashamed to shew -itself.”</p> - -<p>While Mr. <span class="smcap">Addison</span> went on in this vein, -his two friends stood looking on each other; -as not conceiving what might be the cause of -his expressing himself with a vehemence, so -uncommon, and not suited to his natural temper. -When the fit was over, I confess, said -Dr. <span class="smcap">Arbuthnot</span>, this is no bad topic for a -moralist to declaim upon. And, though it be -a trite one, we know how capable it is of being -adorned by him who, on a late occasion, could -meditate so finely on the <span class="smcap">Tombs at Westminster</span><a id="FNanchor_62" href="#Footnote_62" class="fnanchor">62</a>. -But surely, proceeded he, you warm -yourself in this contemplation, beyond what -the subject requires of you. The vanity of -human greatness is seen in so many instances, -that I wonder to hear you harangue on this with -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">176</span> -so peculiar an exultation. There is no travelling -ten miles together in any part of the kingdom -without stumbling on some ruin, which, -though perhaps not so considerable as this before -us, would furnish occasion, however, for -the same reflexions. There would be no end of -moralizing over every broken tower, or shattered -fabric, which calls to mind the short-lived -glories of our ancestors.</p> - -<p>True, said Mr. <span class="smcap">Addison</span>; and, if the short -continuance of these glories were the only circumstance, -I might well have spared the exultation, -you speak of, in this triumph over the -shattered remnants of <i>Kenelworth</i>. But there -is something else that fires me on the occasion. -It brings to mind the fraud, the rapine, the -insolence, of the potent minister, who vainly -thought to immortalize his ill-gotten glory by -this proud monument. Nay, further, it awakens -an indignation against the prosperous -tyranny of those wretched times, and creates a -generous pleasure in reflecting on the happiness -we enjoy under a juster and more equal government. -Believe me, I never see the remains of -that greatness which arose in the past ages on the -ruins of public freedom and private property, -but I congratulate with myself on living at a -time, when the meanest subject is as free and -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">177</span> -independent as those royal minions; and when -his property, whatever it be, is as secure from -oppression, as that of the first minister. And -I own this congratulation is not the less sincere -for considering that the instance before us is -taken from the reign of the virgin queen, which -it hath been the fashion to cry up above that -of any other of our princes<a id="FNanchor_63" href="#Footnote_63" class="fnanchor">63</a>. I desire no other -confutation of so strange unthankful a preference, -than the sight of this vast castle, together -with the recollection of those means by -which its master arrived at his enormous greatness.</p> - -<p>Your indignation then, replied Dr. <span class="smcap">Arbuthnot</span>, -is not so much of the moral, as <i>political</i> -kind<a id="FNanchor_64" href="#Footnote_64" class="fnanchor">64</a>. But is not the conclusion a little too -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">178</span> -hasty, when, from the instance of one overgrown -favourite, you infer the general infelicity -of the time, in which he flourished? I am not, -I assure you, one of those unthankful men who -forget the blessings they enjoy under a prince -of more justice and moderation than queen -<span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>, and under a better constitution of -government than prevailed in the days of our -forefathers. Yet, setting aside some particular -dishonours of that reign (of which, let the -tyranny of <i>Leicester</i>, if you will, be one), I -see not but the acknowledged virtues of that -princess, and the wisdom of her government, -may be a proper foundation for all the honours -that posterity have ever paid to her.</p> - -<p>Were I even disposed to agree with you, returned -Mr. <span class="smcap">Addison</span>, I should not have the -less reason for triumphing, as I do, on the -present state of our government. For, if such -abuses could creep in, and be suffered for so -many years under so great a princess, what was -there not to fear (as what, indeed, did not the -subject actually feel) under some of her successors? -But, to speak my mind frankly, I -see no sufficient grounds for the excessive prejudice, -that hath somehow taken place, in favour -of the <small>GOLDEN REIGN</small>, as it is called, <span class="smcap">of -Elizabeth</span>. I find neither the wisdom, nor -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">179</span> -the virtue in it, that can entitle it to a preference -before all other ages.</p> - -<p>On the contrary, said Dr. <span class="smcap">Arbuthnot</span>, I -never contemplate the monuments of that time, -without a silent admiration of the virtues that -adorned it. Heroes and sages crowd in upon -my memory. Nay, the very people were of a -character above what we are acquainted with in -our days. I could almost fancy, the soil itself -were another face, and, as you poets imagine -on some occasions, that our ancestors lived -under a brighter sun and happier climate than -we can boast of.</p> - -<p>To be sure! said Mr. <span class="smcap">Addison</span>, smiling: or, -why not affirm, in the proper language of romance, -that the women of those days were all -chaste, and the men valiant? But cannot you -suspect at least that there is some enchantment -in the case, and that your love of antiquity -may possibly operate in more instances than -those of your favourite <i>Greeks</i> and <i>Romans</i>? -Tell me honestly, pursued he, hath not this -distance of a century and a half a little imposed -upon you? Do not these broken towers, which -moved you just now to so compassionate a lamentation -over them, dispose you to a greater -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">180</span> -fondness for the times in which they arose, than -can be fairly justified?</p> - -<p>I will not deny, returned Dr. <span class="smcap">Arbuthnot</span>, -but we are often very generous to the past times, -and unjust enough to the present. But I think -there is little of this illusion in the case before -us. And, since you call my attention to these -noble ruins, let me own to you, that they do -indeed excite in me a veneration for the times -of which they present so striking a memorial. -But surely not without reason. For there is -scarce an object in view, that doth not revive -the memory of some distinguishing character -of that age, which may justify such veneration.</p> - -<p>Alas! interrupted Mr. <span class="smcap">Addison</span>, and what -can these objects call to mind but the memory -of barbarous manners and a despotic government?</p> - -<p>For the <i>government</i>, replied Dr. <span class="smcap">Arbuthnot</span>, -I do not well conceive how any conclusion -about that can be drawn from this fabric. The -<small>MANNERS</small> I was thinking of; and I see them -strongly expressed in many parts of it. But -whether barbarous or not, I could almost take -upon me to dispute with you. And why, indeed, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">181</span> -since you allowed yourself to declaim on -the vices, so apparent, as you suppose, in this -monument of antiquity, may not I have leave -to consider it in another point of view, and -present to you the virtues which, to my eye at -least, are full as discernible?</p> - -<p>You cannot, continued he, turn your eyes on -any part of these ruins, without encountering -some memorial of the virtue, industry, or ingenuity, -of our ancestors.</p> - -<p>Look there, said he, on that fine room -(pointing to the <small>HALL</small>, that lay just beneath -them); and tell me if you can help respecting -the <small>HOSPITALITY</small> which so much distinguished -the palaces of the great in those simpler ages. -You gave an invidious turn to this circumstance -when you chose to consider it only in the light -of wasteful expence and prodigality. But no -virtue is privileged from an ill name. And, on -second thoughts, I persuade myself, it will appear -you have injured this, by so uncandid an -appellation. Can it deserve this censure, that -the lord of this princely castle threw open his -doors and spread his table for the reception of -his friends, his followers, and even for the -royal entertainment of his sovereign? Is any -expence more proper than that which tends to -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">182</span> -conciliate<a id="FNanchor_65" href="#Footnote_65" class="fnanchor">65</a> friendships, spread the interests of -society, and knit mankind together by a generous -communication in these advantages of -wealth and fortune? The arts of a refined sequestered -luxury were then unknown. The -same bell, that called the great man to his -table, invited the neighbourhood all around, -and proclaimed a holiday to the whole country<a id="FNanchor_66" href="#Footnote_66" class="fnanchor">66</a>. -Who does not feel the decorum, -and understand the benefits of this magnificence? -The pre-eminence of rank and fortune -was nobly sustained: the subordination of society -preserved: and yet the envy, that is so -apt to attend the great, happily avoided. Hence -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">183</span> -this weight and influence of the old nobility, -who engaged the love, as well as commanded -the veneration, of the people. In the mean -time, rural industry flourished: private luxury -was discouraged: and in both ways that frugal -simplicity of life, our country’s grace and -ornament in those days, was preserved and promoted.</p> - -<p>It would spoil your panegyric, I doubt, said -Mr. <span class="smcap">Addison</span>, to observe the factious use, that -was made of this magnificence, and the tendency -it had to support the pride and insolence of the -old nobility. The interest of the great, I am -afraid, was but another name for the slavery of -the people<a id="FNanchor_67" href="#Footnote_67" class="fnanchor">67</a>. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">184</span></p> - -<p>I see it, Dr. <span class="smcap">Arbuthnot</span> said, in a different -light; and so did our princes themselves, who -could not but be well acquainted with the proper -effects of that interest. They considered -the weight of the nobility, as a counterpoise to -their own sovereignty. It was on this account -they had used all means to lessen their influence. -But the consequence was beside their -expectation. The authority of the crown fell -with it: and, which was still less expected by -political men, the liberty of the people, after -it had wantoned for a time, sunk under the general -oppression. It was then discovered, but -a little of the latest, that public freedom throve -best, when it wound itself about the stock of -the ancient nobility. In truth, it was the defect, -not the excess, of patrician influence, that -made way for the miseries of the next century.</p> - -<p>You see then it is not without cause that I -lay a stress, even in a political view, on this -popular hospitality of the great in the former -ages<a id="FNanchor_68" href="#Footnote_68" class="fnanchor">68</a>. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">185</span></p> - -<p>But, lest you think I sit too long at the -table, let us go on to the <small>TILTYARD</small>, which lies -just before us; that school of fortitude and honour -to our generous forefathers. A younger -fancy, than mine, would be apt to kindle at -the sight. And our sprightlier friend here, I -dare say, has already taken fire at the remembrance -of the gallant exercises, which were celebrated -in that quarter.</p> - -<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Digby</span> owned, he had a secret veneration -for the manly games of that time, which -he had seen so triumphantly set forth in the -old poets and romancers.</p> - -<p>Right, said Mr. <span class="smcap">Addison</span>; it is precisely in -that circumstance that the enchantment consists. -Some of our best wits have taken a deal -of idle pains to ennoble a very barbarous -entertainment, and recommend it to us under -the specious name of gallantry and honour. -But Mr. <span class="smcap">Digby</span> sees through the cheat. Not -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">186</span> -that I doubt, continued he, but the Doctor, -now he is in the vein of panegyric, will lay a -mighty stress on these barbarities; and perhaps -compare them with the exercises in the <i>Roman</i> -Circus, or the <i>Olympic</i> Barriers.</p> - -<p>And why not? interrupted Dr. <span class="smcap">Arbuthnot</span>. -The tendency of all three was the same; to invigorate -the faculties both of mind and body; -to give strength, grace, and dexterity, to the -limbs; and fire the mind with a generous -emulation of the manly and martial virtues.</p> - -<p>Why truly, said Mr. <span class="smcap">Addison</span>, I shall not -deny that all <i>three</i>, as you observe, were much -of the same merit. And, now your hand is in -for this sort of encomium, do not forget to celebrate -the sublime taste of our forefathers for -<i>bear-baiting</i><a id="FNanchor_69" href="#Footnote_69" class="fnanchor">69</a>, as well as <i>tilting</i>; and tell us -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">187</span> -too, how gloriously the mob of those days, as -well as their betters, used to belabour one -another.</p> - -<p>I confess, said Dr. <span class="smcap">Arbuthnot</span>, the softness -of our manners makes it difficult to speak on -this subject without incurring the ridicule, you -appear so willing to employ against me. But -you must not think to discredit these gymnastics -by a little raillery, which has its foundation -only in modern prejudices. For it is no -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">188</span> -secret that the gravest and politest men of antiquity -were of my mind. You will hardly -suspect <span class="smcap">Plato</span> of incivility, either in his notions -or manners. And need I remind you how much -he insists on the gymnastic discipline; without -which he could not have formed, or at least -have supported, his Republic?</p> - -<p>It was upon this principle, I suppose then, -said Mr. <span class="smcap">Digby</span>, or perhaps in imitation of his -<i>Græcian</i> master, that our <span class="smcap">Milton</span> laid so great -a stress on this discipline in his <small>TRACTATE OF -EDUCATION</small>. And before him, in the very time -you speak of, <span class="smcap">Ascham</span>, I observe, took no -small pains to much the same purpose in his -<span class="smcap">Toxophilus</span>.</p> - -<p>It is very clear, resumed Dr. <span class="smcap">Arbuthnot</span>, -from these instances, and many more that -might be given, that the ancients were not singular -in their notions on this subject. But, -since you have drawn me into a grave defence -of these exercises, let me further own to you -that I think the <i>Gothic</i> Tilts and Tournaments -exceeded, both in use and elegance, even the -<i>Græcian</i> gymnastics<a id="FNanchor_70" href="#Footnote_70" class="fnanchor">70</a>. They were a more -direct image of war, than any of the games at -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">189</span> -<i>Olympia</i>. And if <i>Xenophon</i> could be so lavish -in his praises on the <i>Persian</i> practice of hunting, -because it had some resemblance to the -exercise of arms, what would he not have said -of an institution, which has all the forms of a -real combat?</p> - -<p>But there was an elegance, too, in the -conduct of the tournament, that might reconcile -it even to modern delicacy. For, besides -the splendor of the shew; the dexterity, with -which these exercises were performed; and the -fancy, that appeared in their accoutrement, -dresses, and devices; the whole contest was -ennobled with an air of gallantry, that must -have had a great effect in refining the manners -of the combatants. And yet this gallantry had -no ill influence on morals; for, as you insulted -me just now, it was the odd humour of those -days for the women to pride themselves in their -chastity<a id="FNanchor_71" href="#Footnote_71" class="fnanchor">71</a>, as well as the men in their valour. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">190</span></p> - -<p>In short, I consider the <i>Tournay</i>, as the -best school of civility as well as heroism. -“High-erected thoughts, seated in a heart of -courtesy,” as an old writer<a id="FNanchor_72" href="#Footnote_72" class="fnanchor">72</a> well expresses it, -was the proper character of such as had been -trained in this discipline.</p> - -<p>No wonder then, pursued he, the poets and -romance-writers took so much pains to immortalize -these trials of manhood. It was but -what <span class="smcap">Pindar</span> and <span class="smcap">Homer</span> himself, those ancient -masters of romance, had done before -them. And how could it be otherwise? The -shew itself, as I said, had something very taking -in it; whilst every graceful attitude of person, -with every generous movement of the mind, -afforded the finest materials for description. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">191</span> -And I am even ready to believe, that what we -hear censured in their writings, as false, incredible, -and fantastic, was frequently but a just -copy of life, and that there was more of truth -and reality<a id="FNanchor_73" href="#Footnote_73" class="fnanchor">73</a> in their representations, than we -are apt to imagine. Their notions of honour -and gallantry were carried to an elevation<a id="FNanchor_74" href="#Footnote_74" class="fnanchor">74</a>, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">192</span> -which, in these degenerate days, hurts the -credit of their story; just as I have met with -men that have doubted whether the virtues of -the <span class="smcap">Reguli</span> and the <span class="smcap">Scipios</span> of ancient fame -were not the offspring of pure fancy. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">193</span></p> - -<p>Nay now, Dr. <span class="smcap">Arbuthnot</span>, said Mr. <span class="smcap">Addison</span>, -you grow quite extravagant. What you, -who are used to be so quick at espying all -abuses in science, and defects in good taste, -turn advocate for these fopperies! Mr. <span class="smcap">Digby</span> -and I shall begin to think you banter us, in -this apology for the ancient gymnastics, and -are only preparing a chapter for the facetious -memoirs<a id="FNanchor_75" href="#Footnote_75" class="fnanchor">75</a>, you sometimes promise us.</p> - -<p>Never more in earnest, assure you, replied -the Doctor. I know what you have to object -to these pictures of life and manners. But, if -they will not bear examining as copies, they -may deserve to be imitated as models. And -their use, methinks, might atone for some defects -in the article of probability. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">194</span></p> - -<p>For my part, I consider the legends of ancient -chivalry in a very serious light,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As <i>niches</i>, fill’d with statues to invite<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Young valours forth—<a id="FNanchor_76" href="#Footnote_76" class="fnanchor">76</a><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>as <span class="smcap">Ben Jonson</span>, a valorous hardy poet, and -who, himself, would have made a good -knight-errant, justly says of them. For, it is -certain, they had this effect. The youth, in -general, were fired with the love of martial exercises. -They were early formed to habits of -fatigue and enterprise. And, together with -this warlike spirit, the profession of chivalry -was favourable to every other virtue. Affability, -courtesy, generosity, veracity, these -were the qualifications most pretended to by -the men of arms, in the days of pure and uncorrupted -chivalry. We do not perhaps, ourselves, -know, at this distance of time, how -much we are indebted to the force of this singular -institution. But this I may presume to -say, that the men, among whom it arose and -flourished most, had prodigious obligations to -it. No policy, even of an ancient legislator, -could have contrived a better expedient to cultivate -the manners and tame the spirits of a -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">195</span> -rude and ignorant people. I could almost -fancy it providentially introduced among the -northern nations, to break the fierceness of -their natures, and prevent that brutal savageness -and ferocity of character, which must -otherwise have grown upon them in the darker -ages.</p> - -<p>Nay, the generous sentiments, it inspired, -perhaps contributed very much to awaken an -emulation of a different kind; and to bring on -those days of light and knowledge which have -disposed us, somewhat unthankfully, to vilify -and defame it. This is certain, that the first -essays of wit and poetry, those harbingers of -returning day to every species of good letters, -were made in the bosom of chivalry, and amidst -the assemblies of noble dames, and courteous -knights. And we may even observe, that the -best of our modern princes, such as have been -most admired for their personal virtues, and -have been most concerned in restoring all the -arts of civility and politeness, have been passionately -addicted to the feats of ancient prowess. -In the number of these, need I remind you of -the courts of <span class="smcap">Francis I</span>, and <span class="smcap">Henry IV</span>, to say -nothing of our own <span class="smcap">Edwards</span> and <span class="smcap">Henrys</span>, -and that mirrour of all their virtues in one, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">196</span> -our renowned and almost romantic <span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span><a id="FNanchor_77" href="#Footnote_77" class="fnanchor">77</a>?</p> - -<p>But you think I push the argument too far. -And less than this may dispose you to conceive -with reverence of the scene before us, which -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">197</span> -must ever be regarded as a nursery of brave -men, a very seed-plot of warriors and heroes. -I consider the successes at the barriers as -preludes to future conquests in the field. And, as -whimsical a figure as a young tilter may make -in your eye, who will say that the virtue was -not formed here, that triumphed at <span class="smcap">Axell</span>, and -bled at <span class="smcap">Zutphen</span>?</p> - -<p>We shall very readily, replied Mr. <span class="smcap">Addison</span>, -acknowledge the bravery and other virtues of -the young hero, whose fortunes you hint at. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">198</span> -He was, in truth, to speak the language of that -time, the very flower of knighthood, and contributed -more than any body else, by his pen, -as well as sword, to throw a lustre on the profession -of chivalry. But the thing itself, however -adorned by his wit and recommended by -his manners, was barbarous; the offspring of -<i>Gothic</i> fierceness; and shews the times, which -favoured it so much, to have scarcely emerged -from their original rudeness and brutality. -You may celebrate, as loudly as you please, -the deeds of these wonder-working knights. -Alas, what affinity have such prodigies to our -life, and manners? The old poet, you quoted -just now with approbation, shall tell us the -difference:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">These were bold stories of our <i>Arthur’s</i> age:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But here are other acts, another stage<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And scene appears; it is not since as then;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No giants, dwarfs, or monsters here, but <small>MEN</small><a id="FNanchor_78" href="#Footnote_78" class="fnanchor">78</a>.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Or, if you want a higher authority, we should -not, methinks, on such an occasion, forget the -admirable <span class="smcap">Cervantes</span>, whose ridicule hath -brought eternal dishonour on the profession of -knight-errantry. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">199</span></p> - -<p>With your leave, interrupted Dr. <span class="smcap">Arbuthnot</span>, -I have reason to except against both your -authorities. At best, they do but condemn the -<i>abuses</i> of chivalry, and the madness of continuing -the old romantic spirit in times when, -from a change of manners and policy, it was -no longer in season. Adventures, we will say, -were of course to cease, when giants and monsters -disappeared. And yet have they totally -disappeared, and have giants and monsters -been no where heard of out of the castles and -forests of our old romancers. ’Tis odds, methinks, -but, in the sense of <span class="smcap">Elizabeth’s</span> good -subjects, <span class="smcap">Philip II.</span> might be a <i>giant</i> at least: -and, without a little of this adventurous spirit, -it may be a question whether all her enchanters, -I mean her <span class="smcap">Burleighs</span> and <span class="smcap">Walsinghams</span>, -would have proved a match for him. I mention -this the rather to shew you, how little -obligation his countrymen have to your <span class="smcap">Cervantes</span> -for laughing away the remains of that -prowess, which was the best support of the -<i>Spanish</i> monarchy.</p> - -<p>As if, said Mr. <span class="smcap">Addison</span>, the prowess of -any people were only to be kept alive by their -running mad. But let the case of the <i>Spaniards</i> -be what it will, surely we, of this country, -have little obligation to the spirit of chivalry, if -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">200</span> -it were only that it produced, or encouraged -at least, and hath now entailed upon us, the -curse of duelling; which even yet domineers in -the fashionable world, in spite of all that wit, -and reason, and religion itself, have done to -subdue it. ’Tis true, at present this law of -arms is appealed to only in the case some -high point of nice and mysterious honour. -But in the happier days you celebrate, it was -called in aid, on common occasions. Even -questions of right and property, you know, -were determined at the barriers<a id="FNanchor_79" href="#Footnote_79" class="fnanchor">79</a>: and brute -force was allowed the most equitable, as well -as shortest, way of deciding all disputes both -concerning a man’s estate and honour.</p> - -<p>You might observe too, interposed Dr. <span class="smcap">Arbuthnot</span>, -that this was the way in which those -fiercer disputes concerning a mistress, or a -kingdom, were frequently decided. And, if -this sort of decision, in such cases, were still -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">201</span> -in use among Christian princes, you might call -it perhaps a barbarous custom: but would it -be ever the worse, do you think, for their good -subjects?</p> - -<p>Perhaps it would not, returned Mr. <span class="smcap">Addison</span>, -in some instances. And yet will you affirm, -that those <i>good subjects</i> were in any enviable -situation, under their fighting masters? -After all, allowing you to put the best construction -you can on these usages of our forefathers,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i22">“all we find<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is, that they did their work and din’d.”<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And though such feats may argue a sound athletic -constitution, you must excuse me, if I am -not forward to entertain any high notions of -their civility.</p> - -<p>Their civility, said Dr. <span class="smcap">Arbuthnot</span>, is another -consideration. The <small>HALL</small> and <small>TILT-YARD</small> -are certainly good proofs of what they are alleged -for, the hospitality and bravery of our -ancestors. But it hath not been maintained, -that these were their only virtues. On the -contrary, it seems to me, that every flower of -humanity, every elegance of art and genius, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">202</span> -was cultivated amongst them. For an instance, -need we look any further than the <small>LAKE</small>, which -in the flourishing times of this castle was so -famous, and which we even now trace in the -winding bed of that fine meadow?</p> - -<p>I do not understand you, replied Mr. <span class="smcap">Addison</span>. -I can easily imagine what an embellishment -that lake must have been to the castle; -but am at a loss to conceive what flowers of -wit and ingenuity, to use your own ænigmatical -language, could be raised or so much as -watered by it.</p> - -<p>And, have you then, returned Dr. <span class="smcap">Arbuthnot</span>, -so soon forgotten the large description, -you gave us just now, of the shows and pageants -displayed on this lake? And can any -thing better declare the art, invention, and ingenuity, -of their conductors? Is not this canal -as good a memorial of the ardour and success -with which the finer exercises of the mind were -pursued in that time, as the tilt-yard, we have -now left, is of the address and dexterity shewn -in those of the body?</p> - -<p>I remember, said Mr. <span class="smcap">Addison</span>, that many -of the shows, intended for the queen’s entertainment -at this place, were exhibited on that -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">203</span> -canal. But as to any art or beauty of contrivance—</p> - -<p>“You see none, I suppose.”</p> - -<p>Why truly none, resumed Mr. <span class="smcap">Addison</span>. -To me they seemed but well enough suited to -the other barbarities of the time. “The Lady -of the Lake and her train of Nereids,” was not -that the principal? And can it pass for any -thing better than a jumble of <i>Gothic</i> romance -and pagan fable? a barbarous modern conceit, -varnished over with a little classical pedantry?</p> - -<p>And is that the best word you can afford, -said Dr. <span class="smcap">Arbuthnot</span>, to these ingenious devices? -The business was, to welcome the Queen -to this palace, and at the same time to celebrate -the honours of her government. And what -more decent way of complimenting a great -Prince, than through the veil of fiction? or -what so elegant way of entertaining a learned -Prince, as by working up that fiction out of -the old poetical story? And if something of the -<i>Gothic</i> romance adhered to these classical fictions, -it was not for any barbarous pleasure, -that was taken in this patchwork, but that the -artist found means to incorporate them with -the highest grace and ingenuity. For what, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">204</span> -in other words, was the <i>Lady of the Lake</i> (the -particular that gives most offence to your delicacy), -but the presiding nymph of the stream, -on which these shews were presented? And, if -the contrivance was to give us this nymph under -a name that romance had made familiar, -what was this but taking advantage of a popular -prejudice to introduce his fiction with more -address and probability?</p> - -<p>But see the propriety of the scene itself, for -the designer’s purpose, and the exact decorum -with which these fanciful personages were -brought in upon it. It was not enough, that -the pagan deities were summoned to pay their -homage to the queen. They were the deities -of the fount and ocean, the watery nymphs -and demi-gods: and these were to play their -part in their own element. Could any preparation -be more artful for the panegyric designed -on the naval glory of that reign? Or, could -any representation be more grateful to the -queen of the ocean, as <span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span> was then -called, than such as expressed her sovereignty -in those regions? Hence the sea-green Nereids, -the Tritons, and Neptune himself, were the -proper actors in the drama. And the opportunity -of this spacious lake gave the easiest introduction -and most natural appearance to the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">205</span> -whole scenery. Let me add too, in further -commendation of the taste which was shewn in -these agreeable fancies, that the attributes and -dresses of the deities themselves were studied -with care; and the most learned poets of the -time employed to make them speak and act in -character. So that an old <i>Greek</i> or <i>Roman</i> -might have applauded the contrivance, and -have almost fancied himself assisting at a religious -ceremony in his own country.</p> - -<p>And, to shew you that all this propriety was -intended by the designer himself, and not imagined -at pleasure by his encomiast; I remember, -that when, some years after, the earl of -<span class="smcap">Hertford</span> had the honour to receive the queen -at his seat in <i>Hampshire</i>, because he had no -such canal as this in readiness on the occasion, -he set on a vast number of hands to hollow a -bason in his park for that purpose. With so -great diligence and so exact a decorum were -these entertainments conducted!</p> - -<p>Did not I tell you, interposed Mr. <span class="smcap">Addison</span>, -addressing himself to Mr. <span class="smcap">Digby</span>, to what an -extravagance the Doctor’s admiration of the ancient -times would carry him? Could you have -expected all this harangue on the art, elegance, -and decorum of <span class="smcap">the princely pleasures of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">206</span> -Kenelworth</span><a id="FNanchor_80" href="#Footnote_80" class="fnanchor">80</a>? And must not it divert you -to see the unformed genius of that age tricked -out in the graces of <i>Roman</i> or even <i>Attic</i> politeness?</p> - -<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Digby</span> acknowledged, it was very generous -in the Doctor to represent in so fair a -light the amusements of the ruder ages. But -I was thinking, said he, to what cause it could -possibly be owing, that these pagan fancies had -acquired so general a consideration in the days -of <span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>.</p> - -<p>The general passion for these fancies, returned -Dr. <span class="smcap">Arbuthnot</span>, was a natural consequence -of the revival of learning. The first -books, that came into vogue, were the poets. -And nothing could be more amusing to rude -minds, just opening to a taste of letters, than -the fabulous story of the pagan gods, which is -constantly interwoven in every piece of ancient -poetry. Hence the imitative arts of <i>sculpture</i>, -<i>painting</i>, and <i>poetry</i>, were immediately employed -in these pagan exhibitions. But this -was not all. The first artists in every kind -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">207</span> -were of <i>Italy</i>; and it was but natural for them -to act these fables over again on the very spot -that had first produced them. These too were -the masters to the rest of <i>Europe</i>. So that -<i>fashion</i> concurred with the other prejudices of -the time, to recommend this practice to the -learned.</p> - -<p>From the men of art and literature the enthusiasm -spread itself to the great; whose supreme -delight it was to see the wonders of the -old poetical story brought forth, and realized, -as it were, before them<a id="FNanchor_81" href="#Footnote_81" class="fnanchor">81</a>. And what, in truth, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">208</span> -could they do better? For, if I were not a -little afraid of your raillery, I should desire to -know what courtly amusements even of our -time are comparable to the shows and masques, -which were the delight and improvement of -the court of <span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. I say, the <i>improvement</i>; -for, besides that these shows were not -in the number of the <span class="smcap">INERUDITÆ VOLUPTATES</span>, -so justly characterized and condemned by a -wise ancient, they were even highly useful and -instructive. These devices, composed out of -the poetical history, were not only the vehicles -of compliment to the great on certain solemn -occasions, but of the soundest moral lessons, -which were artfully thrown in, and recommended -to them by the charm of poetry and -numbers. Nay, some of these masques were -moral dramas in form, where the virtues and -vices were impersonated. We know the cast -of their composition by what we see of these -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">209</span> -fictions in the next reign; and have reason to -conceive of them with reverence when we find -the names of <span class="smcap">Fletcher</span> and <span class="smcap">Jonson</span><a id="FNanchor_82" href="#Footnote_82" class="fnanchor">82</a> to some -of them. I say nothing of <span class="smcap">Jones</span> and <span class="smcap">Lawes</span>, -though all the elegance of their respective arts -was called in to assist the poet in the contrivance -and execution of these entertainments.</p> - -<p>And, now the poets have fallen in my way, -let me further observe, that the manifest superiority -of this class of writers in <span class="smcap">Elizabeth’s</span> -reign, and that of her successor, over all others -who have succeeded to them, is, among other -reasons, to be ascribed to the taste which then -prevailed for these moral representations. This -taught them to animate and impersonate every -thing. Rude minds, you will say, naturally -give into this practice. Without doubt. But -art and genius do not disdain to cultivate and -improve it. Hence it is, that we find in the -phraseology and mode of thinking of that time, -and of that time only, the essence of the truest -and sublimest poetry. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">210</span></p> - -<p>Without doubt, Mr. <span class="smcap">Addison</span> said, the poetry -of that time is of a better taste than could -well have been expected from its barbarism in -other instances. But such prodigies as <span class="smcap">Shakespear</span> -and <span class="smcap">Spenser</span> would do great things in -any age, and under every disadvantage.</p> - -<p>Most certainly they would, returned Dr. <span class="smcap">Arbuthnot</span>, -but not the things that you admire -so much in these immortal writers. And, if -you will excuse the intermixture of a little philosophy -in these ramblings, I will attempt to -account for it.</p> - -<p>There is, I think, in the revolutions of taste -and language, a certain point, which is more -favourable to the purposes of poetry, than any -other. It may be difficult to fix this point -with exactness. But we shall hardly mistake -in supposing it lies somewhere between the rude -essays of uncorrected fancy, on the one hand, -and the refinements of reason and science, on -the other.</p> - -<p>And such appears to have been the condition -of our language in the age of <span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. It -was pure, strong, and perspicuous, without -affectation. At the same time, the high figurative -manner, which fits a language so peculiarly -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">211</span> -for the uses of the poet, had not yet been -controlled by the prosaic genius of philosophy -and logic. Indeed, this character had been -struck so deeply into the <i>English</i> tongue, that -it was not to be removed by any ordinary improvements -in either: the reason of which -might be, the delight which was taken by the -<i>English</i> very early in their old <small>MYSTERIES</small> and -<small>MORALITIES</small>; and the continuance of the same -spirit in succeeding times, by means of their -<small>MASQUES</small> and <small>TRIUMPHS</small>. And something like -this, I observe, attended the progress of the -<i>Greek</i> and <i>Roman</i> poetry; which was the <i>truest</i> -poetry, on the clown’s maxim in <span class="smcap">Shakespear</span>, -because it was <i>the most feigning</i><a id="FNanchor_83" href="#Footnote_83" class="fnanchor">83</a>. It had its -rise, you know, like ours, from religion: and -pagan religion, of all others, was the properest -to introduce and encourage a spirit of allegory -and moral fiction. Hence we easily account -for the allegoric cast of their old dramas, which -have a great resemblance to our ancient moralities. -<span class="smcap">Necessity</span> is brought in as a <i>person of -the drama</i>, in one of <span class="smcap">Æschylus’s</span> plays; and -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">212</span> -<span class="smcap">Death</span> in one of <span class="smcap">Euripides</span>: to say nothing of -many shadowy persons in the comedies of -<span class="smcap">Aristophanes</span>. The truth is, the pagan religion -<i>deified</i> every thing, and delivered these -deities into the hand of their painters, sculptors, -and poets. In like manner, Christian superstition, -or, if you will, modern barbarism, -<i>impersonated</i> every thing; and these persons, in -proper form, subsisted for some time on the stage, -and almost to our days, in the masques. Hence -the picturesque style of our old poetry; which -looks so fanciful in <span class="smcap">Spenser</span>, and which <span class="smcap">Shakespear’s</span> -genius hath carried to the utmost sublimity.</p> - -<p>I will not deny, said Mr. <span class="smcap">Addison</span>, but -there may be something in this deduction of -the causes, by which you account for the -strength and grandeur of the <i>English</i> poetry, -unpolished as it still was in the hands of <span class="smcap">Elizabeth’s</span> -great poets. But for the masques -themselves—</p> - -<p>You forget, I believe, <i>one</i>, interrupted Dr. -<span class="smcap">Arbuthnot</span>, which does your favourite poet, -<span class="smcap">Milton</span>, almost as much honour, as his <i>Paradise -Lost</i>.—But I have no mind to engage in -a further vindication of these fancies. I only -conclude that the taste of the age, the state of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">213</span> -letters, the genius of the <i>English</i> tongue, -was such as gave a manliness to their compositions -of all sorts, and even an elegance to -those of the lighter forms, which we might do -well to emulate, and not deride, in this æra of -politeness.</p> - -<p>But I am aware, as you say, I have been -transported too far. My design was only to -hint to you, in opposition to your invective -against the memory of the old times, awakened -in us by the sight of this castle, that what -you object to is capable of a much fairer interpretation. -You have a proof of it, in two -or three instances; in their festivals, their exercises, -and their poetical fictions: or, to express -myself in the classical forms, you have -seen by this view of their <small>CONVIVIAL</small>, <small>GYMNASTIC</small>, -and <small>MUSICAL</small> character, that the times of -<span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span> may pass for golden, notwithstanding -what a fondness for this age of baser metal -may incline us to represent it.</p> - -<p>In the mean time, these smaller matters -have drawn me aside from my main purpose. -What surprised me most, pursued he, was to -hear you speak so slightly, I would not call it -by a worse name, of the <small>GOVERNMENT</small> of <span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. -Of the manners and tastes of different -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">214</span> -ages, different persons, according to their -views of things, will judge very differently. -But plain facts speak so strongly in favour of -the policy of that reign, and the superior talents -of the sovereign, that I could not but -take it for the wantonness of opposition in you -to espouse the contrary opinion. And, now I -am warmed by this slight skirmish, I am even -bold enough to dare you to a defence of it; if, -indeed, you were serious in advancing that -strange paradox. At least, I could wish to -hear upon what grounds you would justify so -severe an attack on the reverend administration -of that reign, supported by the wisdom of such -men as <span class="smcap">Cecil</span> and <span class="smcap">Walsingham</span>, under the -direction of so accomplished a princess as our -<span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. Your manner of defending even -the wrong side of the question will, at least, be -entertaining. And, I think, I may answer for -our young friend, that his curiosity will lead -him to join me in this request to you.</p> - -<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Addison</span> said, He did not expect to be -called to so severe an account for what had -escaped him on this subject. But, though I -was ever so willing, continued he, to oblige -you, this is no time or place for entering on -such a controversy. We have not yet compleated -the round of these buildings. And I -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">215</span> -would fain, methinks, make the circuit of that -pleasant meadow. Besides its having been -once, in another form, the scene of those shows -you described so largely to us, it will deserve -to be visited for the sake of the many fine views -which, as we wind along it, we may promise -to ourselves of these ruins.</p> - -<p>You forget my bad legs, said Dr. <span class="smcap">Arbuthnot</span> -smiling; otherwise, I suppose, we can -neither of us have any dislike to your proposal. -But, as you please: let us descend from these -heights. We may resume the conversation, as -we walk along: and especially, as you propose, -when we get down into that valley. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">216</span><br /> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">217</span></p> - -<h2 class="xx-large">DIALOGUE IV.<br /> - -<small>ON THE</small><br /> - -<span class="x-large">GOLDEN AGE OF QUEEN ELIZABETH.</span><br /> - -<small>BETWEEN</small><br /> - -<span class="large">THE HON. ROBERT DIGBY,<br /> - -DR. ARBUTHNOT,</span><br /> - -<small>AND</small><br /> - -<span class="large">MR. ADDISON.</span></h2> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">218</span><br /> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">219</span></p> - -<h2 id="DIALOGUE_IV">DIALOGUE IV.<br /> - -<span class="medium">ON THE AGE OF QUEEN ELIZABETH.</span></h2> - -<h3>MR. DIGBY, DR. ARBUTHNOT, -MR. ADDISON.</h3> - -<p class="drop"><span class="uppercase">But</span> do you consider, said Mr. <span class="smcap">Addison</span>, -as they descended into the valley, what an invidious -task you are going to impose upon me? -One cannot call in question a common opinion -in any indifferent matter, without the appearance -of some degree of perverseness. But to -do it in a case of this importance, where the -greatest authorities stand in the way, and the -glory of one of our princes is concerned, will, -I doubt, be liable to the imputation of something -worse than singularity. For, besides -that you will be apt to upbraid me, in the -words of the poet, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">220</span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">Nullum memorabile nomen<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fœmineâ in pœnâ est, nec habet victoria laudem,<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>such a liberty of censure is usually taken for -an argument, not of discourtesy or presumption -only, but of ill-nature. At best, the attempt -to arraign the virtues and government of -<span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span> will appear but like the idleness of -the old sophists, who, you know, were never -so well pleased as when they were controverting -some acknowledged fact, or assaulting some -established character.</p> - -<p>That censure might be just enough, Dr. <span class="smcap">Arbuthnot</span> -said, of the old sophists, who had -nothing in view but the credit of their own -skill in the arts of disputation. But in this -friendly debate, which means nothing more -than private amusement, I see no colour for -such apprehensions.</p> - -<p>But what shall we say, interposed Mr. <span class="smcap">Addison</span>, -to another difficulty? The subject is -very large; and it seems no easy matter to reduce -it into any distinct order. Besides, my -business is not so much to advance any thing -of my own, as to object to what others have -advanced concerning the fame and virtues of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">221</span> -<span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. And to this end, I must desire -to know the particulars on which you are disposed -to lay the greatest stress, and indeed to -have some plan of the subject delivered in to -me, which may serve, as it were, for the groundwork -of the whole conversation.</p> - -<p>I must not presume, said Dr. <span class="smcap">Arbuthnot</span>, -to prescribe the order in which your attack on -the great queen shall be conducted. The subject, -indeed, is large. But this common route -of history is well known to all of us. To that, -then, you may well enough refer, without being -at the trouble, before you go to work, of -laying foundations. Or, if you will needs have -a basis to build upon, what if I just run over -the several circumstances which I conceive to -make most for the credit of that reign? A -sketch of this sort, I suppose, will answer all -the ends of the plan, you seem to require of -me.</p> - -<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Addison</span> agreed to this proposal; which -he thought would be of use to shorten the debate, -or at least to render the progress of it -more clear and intelligible.</p> - -<p>In few words then, resumed Dr. <span class="smcap">Arbuthnot</span>, -the reasons, that have principally determined -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">222</span> -me to an admiration of the government -and character of queen <span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>, are such as -these: “That she came to the crown with all -possible disadvantages; which yet, by the prudence -and vigour of her counsels, she entirely -overcame: that she triumphed over the greatest -foreign and domestic dangers: that she humbled -the most formidable power in <i>Europe</i> by her -arms; and composed, or checked at least, by -the firmness of her administration, <small>TWO</small>, the -most implacable and fiery factions at home: -that she kept down the rebellious spirit of <i>Ireland</i>, -and eluded the constant intrigues of her -restless neighbours, the <i>Scots</i>: that she fixed -our religious establishment on solid grounds; -and countenanced, or rather conducted, the -Protestant cause abroad: that she made her -civil authority respected by her subjects; and -raised the military glory of the nation, both by -sea and land, to the greatest height: that she -employed the ablest servants, and enacted the -wisest laws: by all which means it came to -pass that she lived in a constant good understanding -with her parliaments, was idolized by -her people, and admired and envied by all the -rest of the world.”</p> - -<p>Alas, said Mr. <span class="smcap">Addison</span>, I shall never be -able to follow you through all the particulars -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">223</span> -of this encomium: and, to say the truth, it -would be to little purpose; since the wisdom -of her policy, in all these instances of her government, -can only be estimated from a careful -perusal of the histories of that time; too numerous -and contradictory to be compared and -adjusted in this conversation. All I can do, -continued he, after taking a moment or two to -recollect himself, is to abate the force of this -panegyric by some general observations of the -<small>CIRCUMSTANCES</small> and <small>GENIUS</small> of that time; and -then to consider the personal <small>QUALITIES</small> of the -queen, which are thought to reflect so great a -lustre on her government.</p> - -<p>As you please, Dr. <span class="smcap">Arbuthnot</span> replied. -We shall hardly lose ourselves in this beaten -field of history. And, besides, as your undertaking -is so adventurous, it is but reasonable -you should have the choice of your own method.</p> - -<p>You are in the common opinion, I perceive, -resumed Mr. <span class="smcap">Addison</span>, that <span class="smcap">Elizabeth’s</span> government -was attended with all possible disadvantages. -On the contrary, it appears to me -that the security and even splendour of her -reign is chiefly to be accounted for from the -fortunate <small>CIRCUMSTANCES</small> of her situation. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">224</span></p> - -<p>Of these the <small>FIRST</small>, that demands our notice, -is the great affair of religion.</p> - -<p>The principles of <span class="smcap">Protestantism</span> had now -for many years been working among the people. -They had grown to that head in the short reign -of <span class="smcap">Edward VI.</span> that the bloody severities of -his successor served only to exasperate the zeal, -with which these principles had been embraced -and promoted. <span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>, coming to the -crown at this juncture, was determined, as well -by interest as inclination, to take the side of -the new religion. I say by <i>interest</i>, as well as -inclination. And, I think, I have reason for -the assertion. For though the persons in -power, and the clergy throughout the kingdom, -were generally professed papists; yet -they were most of them such as had conformed -in king <span class="smcap">Edward’s</span> days, and were not therefore -much to be feared for any tie, their <i>profession</i> -could really have on their consciences. -Whereas, on the other hand, it was easy to -see, from many symptoms, that the general -bent of the nation was towards Protestantism; -and that, too, followed with a spirit, which -must in the end prevail over all opposition. -Under these circumstances, then, it was natural -for the queen, if she had not been otherwise -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">225</span> -led by her principles, and the interest of her -title, to favour the Reformation.</p> - -<p>The truth is, she came into it herself so -heartily, and provided so effectually for its -establishment, that we are not to wonder she -became the idol of the Reformed, at the -same time that the papal power through all -<i>Europe</i> was confederated against her. The -enthusiasm of her Protestant subjects was prodigious. -It was raised by other considerations; -but confirmed in all orders of the state by the -ease they felt in their deliverance from the tyranny -of the church; and in the great especially, -by the sweets they tasted in their enjoyment -of the church-revenues. It was, in short, -one of those extraordinary conjunctures, in -which the public danger becomes the public security; -when religion and policy, conscience and -interest, unite their powers to support the authority -of the prince, and to give fidelity, vigour, -and activity to the obedience of the subject.</p> - -<p>And thus it was, continued he, that so warm -and unconquerable a zeal appeared in defence -of the queen against all attempts of her enemies. -Her people were so thoroughly Protestant, -as to think no expence of her government -too great, provided they could but be secured -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">226</span> -from relapsing into Popery. And her parliaments -were disposed to wave all disputes about -the stretch of her prerogative, from a sense of -their own and the common danger.</p> - -<p>In magnifying this advantage of the zeal and -union of <span class="smcap">Elizabeth’s</span> good subjects, you forgot, -said Dr. <span class="smcap">Arbuthnot</span>, that two restless and -inveterate factions were contending, all her lifetime, -within her own kingdom.</p> - -<p>I am so far from forgetting that circumstance, -returned Mr. <span class="smcap">Addison</span>, that I esteem it <small>ANOTHER</small> -of the great advantages of her situation.</p> - -<p>The contrary tendencies of those factions in -some respects defeated each other. But the -principal use of them was, that, by means of -their practices, some domestic plot, or foreign -alarm, was always at hand, to quicken the zeal -and inflame the loyalty of her people. But to -be a little more particular about the factions of -her reign.</p> - -<p>The <span class="smcap">Papist</span> was, in truth, the only one she -had reason to be alarmed at. The <span class="smcap">Puritan</span> -had but just begun to shew himself, though indeed -with that ferocity of air and feature, -which signified clearly enough what spirit he -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">227</span> -was of, and what, in good time, he was likely -to come to. Yet even he was kept in tolerable -humour, by a certain commodious policy of -the queen; which was, so to divide her regards -betwixt the Church and the Puritans, as -made it the interest of both to keep well with -her. ’Tis true, these last felt the weight of her -resentment sometimes, when they ventured too -saucily to oppose themselves to the establishment. -But this was rarely, and by halves: -and, when checked with the most rigour, they -had the satisfaction to see their patrons continue -in the highest places at court, and, what -is more, in the highest degree of personal -favour.</p> - -<p>And what doth all this shew, interrupted -Dr. <span class="smcap">Arbuthnot</span>, but that she managed so well -as to disarm a furious faction, or rather make -it serve against the bent of its nature, to the -wise ends of her government?</p> - -<p>As to any wise ends of government, I see -none, replied Mr. <span class="smcap">Addison</span>, deserving to be so -called, that were answered by her uncertain -conduct towards the Puritans. For she neither -restrained them with that severity, which might -perhaps have prevented their growth, at first; -nor shewed them that entire indulgence, which -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">228</span> -might have disabled their fury afterwards. It -is true, this temporizing conduct was well -enough adapted to prevent disturbances in her -own time. But large materials were laid in -for that terrible combustion, which was soon -to break forth under one of her successors.</p> - -<p>And so, instead of imputing the disasters -that followed, said Dr. <span class="smcap">Arbuthnot</span>, to the ill-government -of the <span class="smcap">Stuarts</span>, you are willing to -lay the whole guilt of them on this last and -greatest of the <span class="smcap">Tudors</span>. This is a new way of -defending that royal house; and, methinks, -they owe you no small acknowledgments for it. -I confess, it never occurred to me to make that -apology for them.</p> - -<p>Though I would not undertake, said Mr. -<span class="smcap">Addison</span>, to make their apology from this, or -any other, circumstance; I do indeed believe -that part of the difficulties the house of <span class="smcap">Stuart</span> -had to encounter, were brought upon them by -this wretched policy of their predecessor. But, -waving this consideration, I desire you will -take notice of what I chiefly insist upon, -“That the ease and security of <span class="smcap">Elizabeth’s</span> -administration was even favoured by the turbulent -practices and clashing views of her domestic -factions.” The <span class="smcap">Puritan</span> was an instrument, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">229</span> -in her hands, of controuling the church, -and of balancing the power of her ministers: -besides that this sort of people were, of all -others, the most inveterate against the common -enemy. And for the <span class="smcap">Papists</span> themselves (not -to insist that, of course, they would be strictly -watched, and that they were not, perhaps, so -considerable as to create any immediate danger<a id="FNanchor_84" href="#Footnote_84" class="fnanchor">84</a>), -the general abhorrence both of their principles -and designs had the greatest effect in -uniting more closely, and cementing, as it were, -the affections of the rest of her subjects. So -that, whether within or without, the common -danger, as I expressed it, was the common -safety.</p> - -<p>Still, said Dr. <span class="smcap">Arbuthnot</span>, I must think this -a very extraordinary conclusion. I have no -idea of the security of the great queen, surrounded, -as she was, by her domestic and foreign -enemies. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">230</span></p> - -<p>Her foreign enemies, returned Mr. <span class="smcap">Addison</span>, -were less formidable than they appear at first -view. And I even make the condition of the -neighbouring powers on the Continent, in her -time, a <small>THIRD</small> instance of the signal advantages -of her situation.</p> - -<p>It is true, if a perfect union had subsisted -between the Catholic princes, the papal thunders -would have carried terror with them. But, -as it was, they were powerless and ineffectual. -The civil wars of <i>France</i>, and its constant jealousy -of <i>Spain</i>, left the queen but little to apprehend -from that quarter. The <i>Spanish</i> empire, -indeed, was vast, and under the direction -of a bigoted vindictive prince. But the administration -was odious and corrupt in every -part. So that wise men saw there was more of -bulk than of force in that unwieldy monarchy. -And the successful struggles of a handful of its -subjects, inflamed by the love of liberty, and -made furious by oppression, proclaimed its -weakness to all the world.</p> - -<p>It may be true, interrupted Dr. <span class="smcap">Arbuthnot</span>, -that the queen had less to fear from the princes -on the Continent, than is sometimes represented. -But you forget, in this survey of the -public dangers, the distractions of <span class="smcap">Ireland</span>, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">231</span> -and the restless intrigues of her near neighbours, -the <span class="smcap">Scots</span>: both of them assisted by -<i>Spain</i>; and these last under the peculiar influence -and direction of the <span class="smcap">Guises</span>.</p> - -<p>You shall have my opinion, returned Mr. -<span class="smcap">Addison</span>, in few words.</p> - -<p>For the <span class="smcap">Irish</span> distractions, it was not the -queen’s intention, or certainly it was not her -fortune, to compose them: I mean, during the -greatest part of her reign; for we are now -speaking of the general tenor of her policy. -Towards the close of it, indeed, she made some -vigorous attempts to break the spirits of those -savages. And it was high time she should. -For, through her faint proceedings against them, -they had grown to that insolence, as to think -of setting up for an independency on <i>England</i>. -Nay, the presumption of that arch-rebel <span class="smcap">Tyrone</span>, -countenanced and abetted by <i>Spain</i>, -seemed to threaten the queen with still further -mischiefs. The extreme dishonour and even -peril of this situation roused her old age, at -length, to the resolution of taking some effectual -measures. The preparation was great, and -suitable to the undertaking. It must, further, -be owned, it succeeded: but so late, that she -herself did not live to see the full effect of it. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">232</span> -However, this success is reckoned among the -glories of her reign. In the mean time, it is -not considered that nothing but her ill policy, -in suffering the disorders of that country to -gather to a head, made way for this glory. I -call it her <i>ill policy</i>, for unless it were rather -owing to her excessive frugality<a id="FNanchor_85" href="#Footnote_85" class="fnanchor">85</a> one can hardly -help thinking she designed to perpetuate the -<i>Irish</i> distractions. At least, it was agreeable -to a favourite maxim of hers, to check, and not -to suppress them. And I think it clear, from -the manner of prosecuting the war, that, till -this last alarm, she never was in earnest about -putting an end to it. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">233</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Scotland</span>, indeed, demanded a more serious -attention. Yet the weak distracted counsels of -that court—a minor king—a captive queen—and -the unsettled state of <i>France</i> itself, which -defeated in a good degree the malice of the -<span class="smcap">Guises</span>—were favourable circumstances.</p> - -<p>But to be fair with you (for I would appear -in the light of a reasonable objector, not a captious -wrangler); I allow her policy in this instance -to have been considerable. She kept a -watchful eye on the side of <i>Scotland</i>. And, -though many circumstances concurred to favour -her designs, it must be owned they were -not carried without much care and some wisdom.</p> - -<p>I understand the value of this concession, -replied Dr. <span class="smcap">Arbuthnot</span>. It must have been -no common degree of both, that extorted it -from you.</p> - -<p>I decline entering further, said Mr. <span class="smcap">Addison</span>, -into the public transactions of that reign; -if it were only that, at this distance of time, it -may be no easy matter to determine any thing -of the policy, with which they were conducted. -Only give me leave to add, as a <small>FOURTH</small> instance -of the favourable circumstances of the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">234</span> -time, “That the prerogative was then in its -height, and that a patient people allowed the -queen to use it on all occasions.” Hence the -apparent vigour and firmness of her administration: -and hence the opportunity (which is so -rarely found in our country) of directing the -whole strength of the nation to any end of government, -which the glory of the prince or -the public interest required.</p> - -<p>What you impute to the high strain of prerogative, -returned Dr. <span class="smcap">Arbuthnot</span>, might rather -be accounted for from the ability of her -government, and the wise means she took to -support it. The principal of these was, by employing -the <small>GREATEST MEN</small> in the several departments -of her administration. Every kind -of merit was encouraged by her smile<a id="FNanchor_86" href="#Footnote_86" class="fnanchor">86</a>, or rewarded -by her bounty. Virtue, she knew, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">235</span> -would thrive best on its native stock, a generous -emulation. This she promoted by all -means; by her royal countenance, by a temperate -and judicious praise, by the wisest distribution -of her preferments. Hence would -naturally arise that confidence in the queen’s -counsels and undertakings, which the servile -awe of her prerogative could never have occasioned.</p> - -<p>This is the true account of the loyalty, -obedience, and fidelity, by which her servants -were distinguished. And thus, in fact, it was -that, throughout her kingdom, there was every -where that reverence of authority<a id="FNanchor_87" href="#Footnote_87" class="fnanchor">87</a>, that sense -of honour, that conscience of duty, in a word, -that gracious simplicity of manners, which -renders the age of <span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span> truly <small>GOLDEN</small>: -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">236</span> -as presenting the fairest picture of humanity, -that is to be met with in the accounts of any -people.</p> - -<p>It is true, as you say, interposed Mr. <span class="smcap">Addison</span>, -that <i>this picture is a fair one</i>. But -of what is it a copy? Of the <span class="smcap">Genius</span> of the -time, or of the queen’s virtues? You shall -judge for yourself, after I have laid before you -<small>TWO</small> remarkable events of that age, which -could not but have the greatest effect on the -public manners; I mean, <small>THE REFORMATION -OF RELIGION</small>, and what was introductory of it, -<small>THE RESTORATION OF LETTERS</small>. From these, -as their proper sources, I would derive the -ability and fidelity of <span class="smcap">Elizabeth’s</span> good subjects.</p> - -<p>The passion for <small>LETTERS</small> was extreme. The -novelty of these studies, the artifices that had -been used to keep men from them, their apparent -uses, and, perhaps, some confused notion -of a certain diviner virtue than really belongs -to them; these causes concurred to excite -a curiosity in all, and determined those, who -had leisure, as well as curiosity, to make themselves -acquainted with the <i>Greek</i> and <i>Roman</i> -learning. The ecclesiastics, who, for obvious -reasons, would be the first and most earnest in -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">237</span> -their application to letters, were not the only -persons transported with this zeal. The gentry -and nobility themselves were seized with it. -A competent knowledge of the old writers was -looked upon as essential to a gentleman’s education. -So that <i>Greek</i> and <i>Latin</i> became as -fashionable at court in those days, as <i>French</i> is -in ours. <span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span> herself, which I wonder -you did not put me in mind of, was well -skilled in both<a id="FNanchor_88" href="#Footnote_88" class="fnanchor">88</a>; they say, employed her -leisure in making some fine translations out of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">238</span> -either language. It is easy to see what effect -this general attention to letters must have on -the minds of the liberal and well-educated. -And it was a happiness peculiar to that age, -that learning, though cultivated with such zeal, -had not as yet degenerated into pedantry: I -mean, that, in those stirring and active times, -it was cultivated, not so much for show, as -use; and was not followed, as it soon came to -be, to the exclusion of other generous and -manly applications.</p> - -<p>Consider, too, the effects, which the alterations -in <small>RELIGION</small> had produced. As they had -been lately made, as their importance was great, -and as the benefits of the change had been -earned at the expence of much blood and labour: -all these considerations begot a zeal for -religion, which hardly ever appears under other -circumstances. This zeal had an immediate -and very sensible effect on the morals of the -Reformed. It improved them in every instance; -especially as it produced a cheerful -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">239</span> -submission to the government, which had rescued -them from their former slavery, and was -still their only support against the returning -dangers of superstition. Thus religion, acting -with all its power, and that, too, heightened -by gratitude and even self-interest, bound -obedience on the minds of men with the -strongest ties<a id="FNanchor_89" href="#Footnote_89" class="fnanchor">89</a>. And luckily for the queen, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">240</span> -this obedience was further secured to her by -the high uncontroverted notions of royalty, -which, at that time, obtained amongst the -people.</p> - -<p>Lay all this together; and then tell me -where is the wonder that a people, now -emerging out of ignorance; uncorrupted by -wealth, and therefore undebauched by luxury; -trained to obedience, and nurtured in simplicity; -but, above all, caught with the love of -learning and religion, while neither of them -was worn for fashion-sake, or, what is worse, -perverted to the ends of vanity or ambition; -where, say, is the wonder that such a people -should present so bright a picture of manner’s -to their admiring panegyrist? -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">241</span></p> - -<p>To be fair with you; it was one of those -conjunctures, in which the active virtues are -called forth, and rewarded. The dangers of -the time had roused the spirit, and brought out -all the force and genius, of the nation. A sort -of enthusiasm had fired every man with the -ambition of exerting the full strength of his -faculties, which way soever they pointed, whether -to the field, the closet, or the cabinet. -Hence such a crop of soldiers, scholars, and -statesmen had sprung up, as have rarely been -seen to flourish together in any country. And -as all owed their duty, it was the fashion of the -times for all to bring their pretensions, to the -court. So that, where the multitude of candidates -was so great, it had been strange indeed, -if an ordinary discretion had not furnished the -queen with able servants of all sorts; and the -rather, as her occasions loudly called upon her -to employ the ablest.</p> - -<p>I was waiting, said Dr. <span class="smcap">Arbuthnot</span>, to see -to what conclusion this career of your eloquence -would at length drive you. And it hath happened -in this case, as in most others where a -favourite point is to be carried, that a zeal for -it is indulged, though at the expence of some -other of more importance. Rather than admit -the personal virtues of the queen, you fill her -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">242</span> -court, nay, her kingdom, with heroes and sages: -and so have paid a higher compliment to her -reign, than I had intended.</p> - -<p>To her <i>reign</i>, if you will, replied Mr. <span class="smcap">Addison</span>, -so far as regards the qualities and dispositions -of her subjects: for I will not lessen the -merit of this concession with you, by insisting, -as I might, that their <i>manners</i>, respectable as -they were, were debased by the contrary, yet -very consistent, vices of servility and insolence<a id="FNanchor_90" href="#Footnote_90" class="fnanchor">90</a>; -and their virtues of every kind deformed by, -barbarism. But, for the queen’s own merit in -the choice of her servants, I must take leave to -declare my sentiments to you very plainly. It -may be true, that she possessed a good degree -of sagacity in discerning the natures and talents -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">243</span> -of men. It was the virtue by which, her admirers -tell us, she was principally distinguished. -Yet, that the high fame of this virtue hath -been owing to the felicity of the times, abounding -in all sorts of merit, rather than to her own -judgment, I think clear from this circumstance, -“That some of the most deserving of those -days, in their several professions, had not the -fortune to attract the queen’s grace, in the proportion -they might have expected.” I say -nothing of poor <span class="smcap">Spenser</span>. Who has any concern -for a poet<a id="FNanchor_91" href="#Footnote_91" class="fnanchor">91</a>? But if merit alone had determined -her majesty’s choice, it will hardly at -this day admit a dispute, that the immortal -<span class="smcap">Hooker</span> and <span class="smcap">Bacon</span><a id="FNanchor_92" href="#Footnote_92" class="fnanchor">92</a>, at least, had ranked -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">244</span> -in another class than that, in which this great -discerner of spirits thought fit to leave them.</p> - -<p>And her character; continued he, in every -other respect is just as equivocal. For having -touched one part of it, I now turn from these -general considerations on the circumstances -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">245</span> -and genius of the time, to our more immediate -subject, the <small>PERSONAL QUALITIES</small> of <span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. -Hitherto we have stood aloof from the queen’s -person. But there is no proceeding a step further -in this debate, unless you allow me a little -more liberty. May I then be permitted to -draw the veil of <span class="smcap">Elizabeth’s</span> court, and, by the -lights which history holds out to us, contemplate -the mysteries, that were celebrated in that -awful sanctuary?</p> - -<p>After so reverend a preface, replied Dr. <span class="smcap">Arbuthnot</span>, -I think you may be indulged in this -liberty. And the rather, as I am not apprehensive -that the honour of the illustrious queen -is likely to suffer by it. The secrets of her -cabinet-council, it may be, are not to be -scanned by the profane. But it will be no presumption -to step into the drawing-room.</p> - -<p>Yet I may be tempted, said Mr. <span class="smcap">Addison</span>, -to use a freedom in this survey of her majesty, -that would not have been granted to her most -favoured courtiers. As far as I can judge of -her character, as displayed in that solemn scene -of her court, she had some apparent <small>VIRTUES</small>, -but more genuine <small>VICES</small>; which yet, in the -public eye, had equally the fortune to reflect -a lustre on her government. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">246</span></p> - -<p>Her gracious affability, her love of her people, -her zeal for the national glory; were not -these her more obvious and specious qualities? -Yet I doubt they were not so much the proper -effects of her nature, as her policy; a set of -spurious virtues, begotten by the very necessity -of her affairs.</p> - -<p>For her <small>AFFABILITY</small>, she saw there was no -way of being secure amidst the dangers of all -sorts, with which she was surrounded; but by -ingratiating herself with the body of the people. -And, though in her nature she was as -little inclined to this condescension as any of -her successors, yet the expediency of this measure -compelled her to save appearances. And -it must be owned, she did it with grace, and -even acted her part with spirit. Possibly the -consideration of her being a female actor, was -no disadvantage to her.</p> - -<p>But, when she had made this sacrifice to interest, -her proper temper shewed itself clearly -enough in the treatment of her nobles, and of -all that came within the verge of the court. -Her caprice, and jealousy, and haughtiness, -appeared in a thousand instances. She took -offence so easily, and forgave so difficultly, -that even her principal ministers could hardly -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">247</span> -keep their ground, and were often obliged to -redeem her favour by the lowest submissions. -When nothing else would do, they sickened, -and were even at death’s door: from which -peril, however, she would sometimes relieve -them; but not till she had exacted from them, -in the way of penance, a course of the most -mortifying humiliations. Nay, the very ladies -of her court had no way to maintain their -credit with her, but by, submitting patiently -to the last indignities.</p> - -<p>It is allowed, from the instances you have in -view, returned Dr. <span class="smcap">Arbuthnot</span>, that her nature -was something high and imperious. But -these sallies of passion might well enough consist -with her general character of affability.</p> - -<p>Hardly, as I conceive, answered Mr. <span class="smcap">Addison</span>, -if you reflect that these sallies, or rather -habits of passion, were the daily terror -and vexation of all about her. Her very minions -seemed raised for no other purpose, than -the exercise of her ill-humour. They were encouraged, -by her smile, to presume on the -royal countenance, and then beaten down -again in punishment of that presumption. -But, to say the truth, the slavish temper of -the time was favourable to such exertions of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">248</span> -female caprice and tyranny. Her imperious -father, all whose virtues, she inherited, had -taught her a sure way to quell the spirit of her -nobles. They had been long used to stand in -awe of the royal frown. And the people were -pleased to find their betters ruled with so high -a hand, at a time when they themselves were -addressed with every expression of respect, and -even flattery.</p> - -<p>She even carried this mockery so far, that, -as <span class="smcap">Harrington</span> observes well, “she converted -her reign, through the perpetual love-tricks -that passed between her and her people, into -a kind of romance.” And though that political -projector, in prosecution of his favourite notion, -supposes the queen to have been determined -to these intrigues by observing, that -the weight of property was fallen into the popular -scale; yet we need look no further for an -account of this proceeding, than the inherent -haughtiness of her temper. She gratified the -insolence of her nature, in neglecting, or rather -beating down, her nobility, whose greatness -might seem to challenge respect: while -the court, she paid to the people, revolted her -pride less, as passing only upon herself, as -well as others, for a voluntary act of affability. -Just as we every day see very proud men carry -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_249">249</span> -it with much loftiness towards their equals, or -those who and raised to some nearness of degree -to themselves; at the same time that they -affect a sort of courtesy to such, as are confessedly -beneath them.</p> - -<p>You see, then, what her boasted affability -comes to. She gave good words to her people, -whom it concerned her to be well with, and -whom her pride itself allowed her to <i>manage</i>: -she insulted her nobles, whom she had in her -power, and whose abasement flattered the idea, -she doted upon, of her own superiority and importance<a id="FNanchor_93" href="#Footnote_93" class="fnanchor">93</a>.</p> - -<p>Let the queen’s manner of treating her subjects -be what it would, Dr. <span class="smcap">Arbuthnot</span> said, -it appears to have given no offence in those -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_250">250</span> -days, when the sincerity of her intentions was -never questioned. Her whole life is a convincing -argument; that she bore the most entire -affection to her people.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Her love of her people</span>, returned Mr. -<span class="smcap">Addison</span> hastily, is with me a very questionable -virtue. For what account shall we give -of the multitude of penal statutes, passed in -her reign? Or, because you will say, there -was some colour for these; what excuse shall -we make for her frequent grants of monopolies, -so ruinous to the public wealth and happiness, -and so perpetually complained of by her parliaments? -You will say, she recalled them. -She did so. But not till the general indignation -had, in a manner, forced her to recall -them. If by her <i>people</i>, be meant those of -the poorer and baser sort only, it may be allowed, -she seemed on all occasions willing to -spare them. But for those of better rank and -fortune, she had no such consideration. On -the other hand, she contrived in many ways to -pillage and distress them. It was the tameness -of that time, to submit to every imposition -of the sovereign. She had only to command -her gentry on any service she thought fit, and -they durst not decline it. How many of her -wealthiest and best subjects did she impoverish -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_251">251</span> -by these means (though under colour, you may -be sure, of her high favour); and sometimes by -her very visits! I will not be certain, added he, -that her visit to this pompous castle of her own -<span class="smcap">Leicester</span>, had any other intention.</p> - -<p>But what, above all, are we to think of her -vow of celibacy, and her obstinate refusal to -settle the succession, though at the constant -hazard of the public peace and safety?</p> - -<p>You are hard put to it, I perceive, interrupted. -Dr. <span class="smcap">Arbuthnot</span>, to impeach the character -of the queen in this instance, when a few -penal laws, necessary to the support of her -crown in that time of danger; one wrong measure -of her government, and that corrected; -the ordinary use of her prerogative; and even -her virginity; are made crimes of. But I am -curious to hear what you have to object to her -<span class="smcap">zeal for the English glory</span>, carried so high -in her reign; and the single point, as it seems -to me, to which all her measures and all her -counsels were directed.</p> - -<p>The <i>English</i> glory, Mr. <span class="smcap">Addison</span> said, may, -perhaps, mean the state and independency of -the crown. And then, indeed, I have little to -object. But, in any other sense of the word, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_252">252</span> -I have sometimes presumed to question with -myself, if it had not been better consulted, by -more effectual assistance of the Reformed on -the Continent; by a more vigorous prosecution -of the war against <i>Spain</i><a id="FNanchor_94" href="#Footnote_94" class="fnanchor">94</a>; as I hinted -before, by a more complete reduction of <i>Ireland</i>. -But say, we are no judges of those high -matters. What glory accrued to the <i>English</i> -name, by the insidious dealing with the queen -of <i>Scots</i>; by the vindictive proceedings -against the duke of <i>Norfolk</i>; by the merciless -persecutions of the unhappy earl of <i>Essex</i>? -The same spirit, you see, continued from the -beginning of this reign to the end of it. And -the observation is the better worth attending -to, because some have excused the queen’s -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_253">253</span> -treatment of <span class="smcap">Essex</span> by saying, “That her nature, -in that decline of life, was somewhat -clouded by apprehensions; as the horizon, they -observe, in the evening of the brightest day, -is apt to be obscured by vapours<a id="FNanchor_95" href="#Footnote_95" class="fnanchor">95</a>.” As if this -fanciful simile, which illustrates perhaps, could -excuse, the perverseness of the queen’s temper; -or, as if that could deserve to pass for an -incident of age, which operated through life; -and so declares itself to have been the proper -result of her nature.</p> - -<p>You promised, interposed Dr. <span class="smcap">Arbuthnot</span>, -not to pry too closely into the secrets of the -cabinet. And such I must needs esteem the -points to be, which you have mentioned. But -enough of these beaten topics. I would rather -attend you in the survey you promised to take -of her court, and of the princely qualities that -adorned it. It is from what passes in the inside -of his palace, rather than from some questionable -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_254">254</span> -public acts, that the real character of -a prince is best determined. And there, methinks, -you have a scene opened to you, that -deserves your applause. Nothing appears but -what is truly royal. Nobody knew better, -than <span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>, how to support the decorum -of her rank. She presided in that high orb -with the dignity of a great queen. In all -emergencies of danger, she shewed a firmness, -and, on all occasions of ceremony, a magnificence, -that commanded respect and admiration. -Her very diversions were tempered with -a severity becoming her sex and place, and -which made her court, even in its lightest and -gayest humours, a school of virtue.</p> - -<p>These are the points, concluded he, I could -wish you to speak to. The rest may be left to -the judgment of the historian, or rather to the -curiosity of the nice and critical politician.</p> - -<p>You shall be obeyed, Mr. <span class="smcap">Addison</span> said. -I thought it not amiss to take off the glare -of those applauded qualities, which have dazzled -the public at a distance, by shewing that they -were either feigned or over-rated. But I come -now to unmask the real character of this renowned -princess. I shall paint her freely indeed, -but truly as she appears to me. And, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_255">255</span> -to speak my mind at once; I think it is not so -much to her virtues, which at best were equivocal, -as to her very <small>VICES</small>, that we are to impute -the popular admiration of her character -and government.</p> - -<p>I before took notice of the high, indecent -<small>PASSION</small>, she discovered towards her courtiers. -This fierceness of temper in the softer sex was -taken for heroism; and, falling in with the -slavish principles of the age, begot a degree of -reverence in her subjects, which a more equal, -that is a more becoming, deportment would -not have produced. Hence, she was better -served than most of our princes, only because -she was more feared; in other words, because -she less deserved to be so. But high as she -would often carry herself in this unprincely, I -had almost said, unwomanly, treatment of her -servants; awing the men by her oaths, and -her women by blows; it is still to be remembered, -that she had a great deal of natural -<small>TIMIDITY</small> in her constitution.</p> - -<p>What! interrupted Dr. <span class="smcap">Arbuthnot</span> hastily, -the magnanimous <span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span> a coward? I -should as soon have expected that charge -against <span class="smcap">Cæsar</span> himself, or your own <span class="smcap">Marlborough</span>. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_256">256</span></p> - -<p>I distinguish, Mr. <span class="smcap">Addison</span> said, betwixt -a parade of courage, put on to serve a turn, -and keep her people in spirits, and that true -greatness of mind, which, in one word, we -call <i>magnanimity</i>. For this last, I repeat -it, she either had it not, or not in the degree -in which it has been ascribed to her. On the -contrary, I see a littleness, a pusillanimity, in -her conduct on a thousand occasions. Hence -it was, that both to her people and such of the -neighbouring states as she stood in awe of, she -used an excessive hypocrisy, which, in the -language of the court, you may be sure, was -called policy. To the <i>Hollanders</i>, indeed, she -could talk big; and it was not her humour to -manage those over whom she had gained an -ascendant. This has procured her, with many, -the commendation of a princely magnanimity. -But, on the other hand, when discontents -were apprehended from her subjects, or when -<i>France</i> was to be diverted from any designs -against her, no art was forgotten that might -cajole their spirits with all the professions of -cordiality and affection. Then she was <i>wedded</i>, -that was the tender word, to her people: and -then the interest of religion itself was sacrificed -by this Protestant queen to her newly-perverted -brother on the Continent. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_257">257</span></p> - -<p>Her foible, in this respect, was no secret to -her ministers. But, above all, it was practised -upon most successfully by the Lord <span class="smcap">Burghley</span>; -“for whom, as I have seem it observed, -it was as necessary that there should be treasons, -as for the state that they should be prevented<a id="FNanchor_96" href="#Footnote_96" class="fnanchor">96</a>.” -Hence it was, that he was perpetually raising -her fears, by the discovery of some plot, or, -when that was wanting, by the proposal of -some law for her greater security. In short, -he was for ever finding, or making, or suggesting, -dangers. The queen, though she -would look big (for indeed she was an excellent -actress), startled at the shadows of those -dangers, the slightest rumours. And to this -convenient timidity of his mistress, so constantly -alarmed, and relieved in turn by this -wily minister, was owing, in a good degree, -that long and unrivalled interest, he held in -her favour.</p> - -<p>Still, further, to this constitutional <i>fear</i> -(which might be forgiven to her sex, if it had -not been so strangely mixed with a more than -masculine ferocity in other instances) must be -ascribed those favourite maxims of policy, -which ran through her whole government. -Never was prince more attached to the Machiavelian -doctrine, <small>DIVIDE ET IMPERA</small>, than our -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_258">258</span> -<span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span><a id="FNanchor_97" href="#Footnote_97" class="fnanchor">97</a>. It made the soul of her policies, -domestic and foreign. She countenanced the -two prevailing factions of the time. The -Churchmen and Puritans divided her favour so -equally, that her favourites were sure to be the -chiefs of the contending parties. Nay, her -court was a constant scene of cabals and personal -animosities. She gave a secret, and sometimes -an open, countenance to these jealousies. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_259">259</span> -The same principle directed all her foreign<a id="FNanchor_98" href="#Footnote_98" class="fnanchor">98</a> -negociations.</p> - -<p>And are you not aware, interrupted Dr. <span class="smcap">Arbuthnot</span>, -that this objected policy is the very -topic that I, and every other admirer of the -queen, would employ in commendation of her -great ability in the art of government? It has -been the fate of too many of our princes (and -perhaps some late examples might be given) to -be governed, and even insulted, by a prevailing -party of their own subjects. <span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span> was -superior to such attempts. She had no bye-ends -to pursue. She frankly threw herself on -her people. And, secure in their affection, -could defeat at pleasure, or even divert herself -with, the intrigues of this or that aspiring faction.</p> - -<p>We understand you, Mr. <span class="smcap">Addison</span> replied; -but when two parties are contending within a -state, and one of them only in its true interest, -the policy is a little extraordinary that should -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_260">260</span> -incline the sovereign to discourage <i>this</i>, from -the poor ambition of controuling <i>that</i>, or, as -you put it still worse, from the dangerous -humour of playing with <i>both</i> parties. I say -nothing of later times. I only ask; if it was indifferent, -whether the counsels of the <span class="smcap">Cecils</span> -or of <span class="smcap">Leicester</span> were predominant in that -reign? But I mentioned these things before, -and I touch them again now, only to shew -you, that this conduct, however it may be varnished -over by the name of wisdom, had too -much the air of fearful womanish intrigue, to -consist with that heroical firmness and intrepidity -so commonly ascribed to queen <span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span><a id="FNanchor_99" href="#Footnote_99" class="fnanchor">99</a>.</p> - -<p>And what if, after all, I should admit, replied -Dr. <span class="smcap">Arbuthnot</span>, that, in the composition -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_261">261</span> -of a woman’s courage, at least, there might be -some scruples of discretion? Is there any advantage, -worth contending for, you could draw -from such a concession? Or, because you -would be thought serious, I will put the matter -more gravely. The arts of prudence, you arraign -so severely, could not be taken for pusillanimity. -They certainly were not, in her own -time; for she was not the less esteemed or -revered by all the nations of <i>Europe</i> on account -of them. The most you can fairly conclude -is, that she knew how to unite address with -bravery, and that, on occasion, she could <i>dissemble</i> -her high spirit. The difficulties of -her situation obliged her to this management.</p> - -<p>Rather say at once, returned Mr. <span class="smcap">Addison</span>, -that the constant dissimulation, for which she -was so famous, was assumed to supply the want -of a better thing, which had rendered all those -arts as unnecessary as they were ignoble.</p> - -<p>But <i>haughtiness</i> and <i>timidity</i>, pursued he, -were not the only vices that turned to good account -in the queen’s hands. She was frugal -beyond all bounds of decorum in a prince, or -rather <small>AVARICIOUS</small> beyond all reasonable excuse -from the public wants and the state of her -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_262">262</span> -revenue. Nothing is more certain than this -fact, from the allowance both of friends and -enemies. It seems as if, in this respect, her -father’s example had not been sufficient; and -that, to complete her character, she had incorporated -with many of his, the leading vice of -her grandfather.</p> - -<p>Here Dr. <span class="smcap">Arbuthnot</span> could not contain -himself; and the castle happening at that time, -from the point where they stood, to present -the most superb prospect, “Look there, said -he, on the striking, though small, remnants of -that grandeur you just now magnified so much; -and tell me if, in your conscience, you can believe -such grants are the signs, or were the effects, -of avarice. For you are not to learn, -that this palace before us is not the only one -in the kingdom, which bears the memory of the -queen’s bounty to her servants.”</p> - -<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Addison</span> seemed a little struck with the -earnestness of this address: “It is true, said -he, the queen’s fondness for one or two of her -favourites made her sometimes lavish of her -grants; especially of what cost her nothing, -and did not, it seems, offend the delicacy of -her scruples; I mean, of the <i>church-lands</i>. -But at the same time her treasury was shut -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_263">263</span> -against her ambassadors and foreign ministers; -who complain of nothing more frequently than -the slenderness of their appointments, and the -small and slow remittances that were made to -them. This frugality (for I must not call it -by a worse name) distressed the public service -on many occasions<a id="FNanchor_100" href="#Footnote_100" class="fnanchor">100</a>; and would have done it -on more, if the zeal of her trusty servants had -not been content to carry it on at the expence -of their own fortunes. How many instances -might be given of this, if <small>ONE</small> were not more -than sufficient, and which all posterity will remember -with indignation!</p> - -<p>You speak of <span class="smcap">Walsingham</span>, interposed Dr. -<span class="smcap">Arbuthnot</span>. But were it not more candid to -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_264">264</span> -impute the poverty of that minister to his own -generous contempt of riches, which he had -doubtless many, fair occasions of procuring to -himself, than to any designed neglect of him -by his mistress?</p> - -<p>The candour, returned Mr. <span class="smcap">Addison</span>, must -be very extraordinary, that can find an excuse -for the queen in a circumstance that doubles -her disgrace. But be it as you pretend. The -uncommon moderation of the man shall be a -cover to the queen’s parsimony. It was not, -we will say, for this wise princess to provoke -an appetite for wealth in her servants: it was -enough that she gratified it, on proper occasions, -where she found it already raised. And -in this proceeding, no doubt, she was governed -by a tender regard, for their honour, as well as -her own interest. For how is her great secretary -ennobled, by filling a place in the short -list of those worthies, who, having lived and -died in the service of their countries, have left -not so much as a pittance behind them, to -carry them to their graves! All this is very -well. But when she had indulged this humour -in one or two of her favourites, and suffered -them, for example’s sake, to ascend to these -heights of honour, it was going, methinks, a -little too far, to expect the same delicacy of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_265">265</span> -virtue in all her courtiers. Yet it was not her -fault, if most of them did not reap this fame -of illustrious poverty, as well as <span class="smcap">Walsingham</span>. -She dealt by them, indeed, as if she had ranked -poverty, as well as celibacy, among the cardinal -virtues.</p> - -<p>In the mean time, I would not deny that -she had a princely fondness for shew and appearance. -She took a pride in the brilliancy -of her court. She delighted in the large trains -of her nobility. She required to be royally -entertained by them. And she thought her -honour concerned in the figure they made in -foreign courts, and in the wars. But, if she -loved this pomp, she little cared to furnish the -expence of it. She considered in good earnest -(as some have observed, who would have the -observation pass for a compliment<a id="FNanchor_101" href="#Footnote_101" class="fnanchor">101</a>) <i>the purses</i> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_266">266</span> -<i>of her subjects as her own</i>; and seemed to -reckon on their being always open to her on -any occasion of service, or even ceremony. -She carried this matter so far, that the very -expences of her wars were rather defrayed out -of the private purses of her nobility, than the -public treasury. As if she had taken it for a -part of her <i>prerogative</i> to impoverish her -nobles at pleasure; or rather, as if she had a -mind to have it thought that one of their <i>privileges</i> -was, to be allowed to ruin themselves -from a zeal to her service.</p> - -<p>But the queen’s avarice, proceeded he, did -not only appear from her excessive parsimony -in the management of the public treasure, but -from her rapacity in getting what she could -from particulars into her privy purse. Hence -it was that all offices, and even personal favours, -were in a manner set to sale. For it -was a rule with her majesty, to grant no suit -but for a reasonable consideration. So that -whoever pretended to any place of profit or -honour was sure to send a jewel, or other rich -present beforehand, to prepare her mind for -the entertainment of his petition. And to -what other purpose was it that she kept her -offices so long vacant, but to give more persons -an opportunity of winning a preference in her -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_267">267</span> -favour; which for the most part inclined to -those who had appeared, in this interval, to -deserve it best? Nay, the slightest disgust, -which she frequently took on very frivolous -occasions, could not be got over but by the reconciling -means of some valuable or well fancied -present. And, what was most grievous, -she sometimes accepted the present, without -remitting the offence.</p> - -<p>I remember a ridiculous instance of this sort. -When the Lady <span class="smcap">Leicester</span> wanted to obtain -the pardon of her unfortunate son, the Lord -<span class="smcap">Essex</span>, she presented the queen with an exceeding -rich gown, to the value of above an -hundred pounds. She was well pleased with -the gift, but thought no more of the pardon. -We need not, after this, wonder at what is -said of her majesty’s leaving a prodigious quantity -of jewels and plate behind her, and even -a <i>crowded wardrobe</i>. For so prevalent was -this thrifty humour in the queen’s highness, -that she could not persuade herself to part -with so much, as a cast-gown to any of her servants<a id="FNanchor_102" href="#Footnote_102" class="fnanchor">102</a>. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_268">268</span></p> - -<p>You allow yourself to be very gay, replied -Dr. <span class="smcap">Arbuthnot</span>, on this foible of the great -queen. But one thing you forget, that it -never biased her judgment so far as to prevent -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_269">269</span> -a fit choice of her servants on all occasions<a id="FNanchor_103" href="#Footnote_103" class="fnanchor">103</a>. -And, as to her wary management of the public -revenue, which you take a pleasure to exaggerate, -this, methinks, is a venial fault in a prince, -who could not, in her circumstances; have provided -for the expences of government, but by -the nicest and most attentive economy.</p> - -<p>I understand, said Mr. <span class="smcap">Addison</span>, the full -force of that consideration; and believe it was -that <i>attention</i> principally, which occasioned -the popularity of her reign, and the high esteem, -in which the wisdom of her government -is held to this day. The bulk of her subjects -were, no doubt, highly pleased to find themselves -spared on all occasions of expence. And -it served at the same time, to gratify their natural -envy of the great, to find, that <i>their</i> fortunes -were first and principally sacrificed to -the public service. Nay, I am not sure that -the very rapacity of her nature, in the sale of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_270">270</span> -her offices, was any objection with the people -at large, or even the lower gentry of the kingdom. -For these, having no pretensions themselves -to those offices, would be well enough -pleased to see them not <i>bestowed</i> on their -betters, but dearly purchased by them. And -then this traffic at court furnished the inferior -gentry with a pretence for making the most of -their magistracies. This practice at least must -have been very notorious amongst them, when -a facetious member of the lower house could -define a justice of peace to be, “A living creature, -that for half a dozen of chickens, will -dispense with a whole dozen of penal statutes<a id="FNanchor_104" href="#Footnote_104" class="fnanchor">104</a>.” -But, however this be, the queen’s ends, in -every view, were abundantly answered. She -enriched herself: she gained the affections of -the people, and depressed and weakened the -nobility. And by all these ways she effectually -provided for, what she had ever most -at heart, her own supreme and uncontrolled -authority. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_271">271</span></p> - -<p>And is that to be wondered at in a great -prince? returned Dr. <span class="smcap">Arbuthnot</span>. Or, to take -the matter in the light you place it, what if the -queen had so much of her sex<a id="FNanchor_105" href="#Footnote_105" class="fnanchor">105</a> and family in -her disposition, as to like well enough to have -her own way, is this such a crime as you would -make of it? If she loved power, it was not to -make a wanton or oppressive use of it. And -if all princes knew as well to bound their own -wills, as she did, we should not much complain -of their impatience to be under the control of -their subjects.</p> - -<p>I am sorry, said Mr. <span class="smcap">Addison</span>, that the acts -of her reign will not allow me to come into -this opinion of her moderation. On the other -hand, her government appears to me, in many -instances, <small>OPPRESSIVE</small>, and highly prejudicial -to the ancient rights and privileges of her -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_272">272</span> -people. For what other construction can we -make of her frequent interposition to restrain -the counsels of their representatives in parliament: -threatening some, imprisoning others, -and silencing all with the thunder of her prerogative? -Or, when she had suffered their -counsels to ripen into bills, what shall we say -of her high and mighty rejection of them, and -that not in single and extraordinary cases, but -in matters of ordinary course, and by dozens? -I pass by other instances. But was her <i>moderation</i> -seen in dilapidating the revenues of the -church; of that church, which she took under -the wing of her supremacy, and would be -thought to have sheltered from all its enemies<a id="FNanchor_106" href="#Footnote_106" class="fnanchor">106</a>. -The honest archbishop <span class="smcap">Parker</span>, I have -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_273">273</span> -heard, ventured to remonstrate against this -abuse, the cognizance of which came so directly -within his province. But to what effect, may -be gathered, not only from the continuance of -these depredations, but her severe reprehension -of another of her bishops, whom she -threatened with an oath to <small>UNFROCK</small>—that -was her majesty’s own word—if he did not -immediately give way to her princely extortions.</p> - -<p>It may be hardly worth while to take notice -of smaller matters. But who does not resent -her capricious tyranny, in disgracing such of -her servants as presumed to deviate, on any -pretence, from her good pleasure; nay, such -as gave an implicit obedience to her will, if it -stood with her interest to disgrace them? Something, -I know, may be said to excuse the proceedings -against the queen of <i>Scots</i>. But the -fate of <span class="smcap">Davison</span> will reflect eternal dishonour -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_274">274</span> -on the policy, with which that measure was -conducted.</p> - -<p>I run over these things hastily, continued -Mr. <span class="smcap">Addison</span>, and in no great order: but you -will see what to conclude from these hints; -which taken together, I believe, may furnish a -proper answer to the most considerable parts -of your apology.</p> - -<p>To sum it up in few words. Those two great -events of her time, <span class="smcap">the establishment of -the Reformation</span>, and <span class="smcap">the triumph over -the power of Spain</span>, cast an uncommon lustre -on the reign of <span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. Posterity, dazzled -with these obvious successes, went into an excessive -admiration of her personal virtues. And -what has served to brighten them the more, is -the place in which we chance to find her, -between the bigot queen on the one hand, and -the pedant king on the other. No wonder then -that, on the first glance, her government should -appear able, and even glorious. Yet, in looking -into particulars, we find that much is to be -attributed to fortune, as well as skill; and that -her glory is even lessened by considerations, -which, on a careless view, may seem to augment -it. The difficulties, she had to encounter, -were great. Yet these very difficulties, of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_275">275</span> -themselves, created the proper means to surmount -them. They sharpened the wits, inflamed -the spirits, and united the affections, of -a whole people. The name of her great enemy -on the continent, at that time, carried terror -with it. Yet his power was, in reality, much -less than it appeared. The <i>Spanish</i> empire was -corrupt and weak, and tottered under its own -weight. But this was a secret even to the <i>Spaniard</i> -himself. In the mean time, the confidence, -which the opinion of great strength -inspires, was a favourable circumstance. It occasioned -a remissness and neglect of counsel on -one side, in proportion as it raised the utmost -vigilance and circumspection on the other. But -this was not all. The religious feuds in the -Low Countries—the civil wars in <i>France</i>—the -distractions of <i>Scotland</i>—all concurred to -advance the fortunes of <span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. Yet all -had, perhaps, been too little in that grand crisis -of her fate, and, as it fell out, of her glory, if -the conspiring elements themselves had not -fought for her.</p> - -<p>Such is the natural account of her foreign -triumphs. Her domestic successes admit as -easy a solution. Those external dangers themselves, -the genius of the time, the state of religious -parties, nay, the very factions of her -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_276">276</span> -court, all of them directly, or by the slightest -application of her policy, administered to her -greatness. Such was the condition of the times, -that it forced her to assume the resemblance, at -least, of some popular <i>virtues</i>: and so singular -her fortune, that her very <i>vices</i> became as respectable, -perhaps more useful to her reputation, -than her virtues. She was vigilant in her -counsels; careful in the choice of her servants; -courteous and condescending to her subjects. -She appeared to have an extreme tenderness -for the interests, and an extreme zeal for the -honour, of the nation. This was the bright -side of her character; and it shone the brighter -from the constant and imminent dangers, to -which she was exposed. On the other hand, -she was choleric, and imperious; jealous, timid, -and avaricious: oppressive, as far as she durst; -in many cases capricious, in some tyrannical. -Yet these vices, some of them sharpened and -refined her policy, and the rest, operating -chiefly towards her courtiers and dependents, -strengthened her authority, and rooted her -more firmly in the hearts of the people. The -mingled splendour of these qualities, good and -bad (for even her worst had the luck, when -seen but on one side, or in well-disposed lights -to look like good ones) so far dazzled the eyes -of all, that they did not, or would not, see -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_277">277</span> -many outrageous acts of tyranny and oppression.</p> - -<p>And thus it hath come to pass that, with -some ability, more cunning, and little real -virtue, the name of <span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span> is, by the concurrence -of many accidental causes, become -the most revered of any in the long roll of our -princes. How little she merited this honour, -may appear from this slight sketch of her character -and government. Yet, when all proper -abatement is made in both, I will not deny her -to have been a great, that is, a <i>fortunate</i>, -queen; in this, perhaps, the most fortunate, -that she has attained to so unrivalled a glory -with so few pretensions to deserve it.</p> - -<p>And so, replied Dr. <span class="smcap">Arbuthnot</span>, you have -concluded your invective in full form, and -rounded it, as the ancient orators used to do, -with all the advantage of a peroration. But, -setting aside this trick of eloquence, which is -apt indeed to confound a plain man, unused to -such artifices, I see not but you have left the -argument much as you took it up; and that I -may still have leave to retain my former reverence -for the good old times of queen <span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>. -It is true, she had some foibles. You -have spared, I believe, none of them. But, to -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_278">278</span> -make amends for these defects, let but the -history of her reign speak for her, I mean in its -own artless language, neither corrupted by flattery, -nor tortured by invidious glosses; and -we must ever conceive of her, I will not say as -the most faultless, perhaps not the most virtuous, -but surely the most able, and, from the -splendour of some leading qualities, the most -glorious of our <i>English</i> monarchs.</p> - -<p>To give you my notion of her in few Words.—For -the dispute, I find, must end, as most -others usually do, in the simple representation -of our own notions.—She was discreet, frugal, -provident, and sagacious; intent on the pursuit -of her great ends, <i>the establishment of religion</i>, -and <i>the security and honour of her people</i>: prudent -in the choice of the best <i>means</i> to effect -them, the employment of able servants, and the -management of the public revenue; dexterous at -improving all advantages which her own wisdom -or the circumstances of the times gave her: fearless -and intrepid in the execution of great designs, -yet careful to unite the deepest foresight with her -magnanimity. If she seemed <small>AVARICIOUS</small>, let -it be considered that the nicest frugality was -but necessary in her situation: if <small>IMPERIOUS</small>, -that a female government needed to be made -respectable by a shew of authority: and if at -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_279">279</span> -any time <small>OPPRESSIVE</small>, that the <i>English</i> constitution, -as it then stood, as well as her own -nature, had a good deal of that bias.</p> - -<p>In a word, let it be remembered, that she -had the honour of ruling<a id="FNanchor_107" href="#Footnote_107" class="fnanchor">107</a>, perhaps of forming, -the wisest, the bravest, the most, virtuous -people, that have adorned any age or country; -and that she advanced the glory of the <i>English</i> -name and that of her own dignity to a height, -which has no parallel in the annals of our nation.</p> - -<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Digby</span>, who had been very attentive to -the course of this debate, was a little disappointed -with the conclusion of it. He thought -to have settled his judgment of this reign by -the information his two friends should afford -him. But he found himself rather perplexed -by their altercations, than convinced by them. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_280">280</span> -He owned, however, the pleasure they had -given him; and said, he had profited so much -at least by the occasion, that, for the future, -he should conceive with something less reverence -of the great queen, and should proceed -with less prejudice to form his opinion of her -character and administration.</p> - -<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Addison</span> did not appear quite satisfied -with this sceptical conclusion; and was going -to enforce some things, which he thought had -been touched too slightly, when Dr. <span class="smcap">Arbuthnot</span> -took notice that their walk was now at an -end; the path, they had taken, having by this -time brought them round again to the walls of -the castle. Besides, he said, he found himself -much wearied with this exercise; though the -warmth of debate, and the opportunities he -took of resting himself at times, had kept him -from complaining of it. He proposed, therefore, -getting into the coach as soon as possible; -where, though the conversation was in some -sort resumed, there was nothing material -enough advanced on either side to make it necessary -for me to continue this recital any further. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_281">281</span></p> - -<h2 class="xx-large">DIALOGUE V.<br /> - -<small>ON THE</small><br /> - -<span class="x-large">CONSTITUTION</span><br /> - -<small>OF THE</small><br /> - -<span class="x-large">ENGLISH GOVERNMENT.</span><br /> - -<small>BETWEEN</small><br /> - -<span class="large">SIR JOHN MAYNARD, MR. SOMERS,</span><br /> - -<small>AND</small><br /> - -<span class="large">BISHOP BURNET.</span></h2> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_282">282</span><br /> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_283">283</span></p> - -<h2 id="DIALOGUE_V">DIALOGUE V.<br /> - -<span class="large">ON THE CONSTITUTION OF THE -ENGLISH GOVERNMENT.</span></h2> - -<h3>SIR JOHN MAYNARD, MR. SOMERS, -BISHOP BURNET<a id="FNanchor_108" href="#Footnote_108" class="fnanchor">108</a>.</h3> - -<h4>TO DR. TILLOTSON.</h4> - -<p class="drop"><span class="uppercase">Though</span> the principles of nature and common -sense do fully authorise resistance to the -civil magistrate in extreme cases, and of course -justify the late Revolution to every candid and -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_284">284</span> -dispassionate man; yet I am sensible, my excellent -friend, there are many prejudices which -hinder the glorious proceedings in that affair -from being seen in their true light. The principal -of them, indeed, are founded on false -systems of policy, and those tied down on the -consciences of men by wrong notions of religion. -And such as these, no doubt, through -the experience of a better government, and a -juster turn of thinking, which may be expected -to prevail in our times, will gradually fall away -of themselves.</p> - -<p>But there is another set of notions on this -subject, not so easy to be discredited, and -which are likely to keep their hold on the -minds even of the more sober and considerate -sort of men. For whatever advantage the -cause of liberty may receive from general reasonings -on the origin and nature of civil government, -the greater part of our countrymen -will consider, and perhaps rightly, the inquiry -into the constitution of <i>their</i> own government, -as a question of <small>FACT</small>; that must be tried by -authorities and precedents only; and decided -at last by the evidence of historical testimony, -not by the conclusions of philosophy or political -speculation. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_285">285</span></p> - -<p>Now, though we are agreed that this way of -managing the controversy must, when fully and -fairly pursued, be much in favour of the new -settlement, yet neither, I think, is it for every -man’s handling, nor is the evidence resulting -from it of a nature to compel our assent. The -argument is formed on a vast variety of particulars, -to be collected only from a large and -intimate acquaintance with the antiquities, -laws, and usages of the kingdom. Our printed -histories are not only very short and imperfect; -but the original records, which the curious -have in their possession, are either so obscure -or so scanty, that a willing adversary hath -always in readiness some objection, or some -cavil at least, to oppose to the evidence that -may be drawn from them. Besides, appearances, -even in the plainest and most unquestioned -parts of our history, are sometimes so -contradictory; arising either from the tyranny -of the prince, the neglect of the people, or -some other circumstance of the times; and, to -crown all, the question itself hath been so involved -by the disputations of prejudiced and -designing men; that the more intelligent inquirer -is almost at a loss to determine for -himself, on which side the force of evidence -lies. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_286">286</span></p> - -<p>On this account I have frequently thought -with myself, that a right good <small>CONSTITUTIONAL -HISTORY</small> of <i>England</i> would be the noblest -service that any man, duly qualified for the -execution of such a work, could render to his -country. For though, as I said, the subject -be obscure in itself, and perplexed by the subtilties -which contending parties have invented -for the support of their several schemes; yet, -from all I have been able to observe in the -course of my own reading, or conversation, -there is little doubt but that the form of the -<i>English</i> government hath, at all times, been -<small>FREE</small>. So that, if such a history were drawn -up with sufficient care out of our authentic -papers and public monuments, it would not -only be matter of entertainment to the curious, -but the greatest security to every <i>Englishman</i> -of his religions and civil rights. For what can -be conceived, more likely to preserve and perpetuate -these rights, than the standing evidence -which such a work would afford, of -the genuine spirit and temper of the constitution? -Of the principles of freedom<a id="FNanchor_109" href="#Footnote_109" class="fnanchor">109</a>, on -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_287">287</span> -which it was formed, and on which it hath -been continually and uniformly conducted? -Our youth, who at present amuse themselves -with little more than the military part of our -annals, would then have an easy opportunity -of seeing to the bottom of all our civil and domestic -broils. They would know on what pretences -the <small>PREROGATIVE</small> of our kings hath -sometimes aspired to exalt itself above controul; -and would learn to revere the magnanimity -of their forefathers, who as constantly -succeeded in their endeavours to reduce it -within the ancient limits and boundaries of the -<small>LAW</small>. In a word, they would no longer rest on -the surface and outside, as it were, of the -<i>English</i> affairs, but would penetrate the interior -parts of our constitution; and furnish -themselves with a competent degree of civil and -political wisdom; the most solid fruit that can -be gathered from the knowledge and experience -of past times.</p> - -<p>And I am ready to think that such a provision -as this, for the instruction of the <i>English</i> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_288">288</span> -youth, may be the more requisite, on account -of that limited indeed, yet awful form of government, -under which we live. For, besides the -name, and other ensigns of majesty, in common -with those who wear the most despotic -crown, the whole execution of our laws, and -the active part of government, is in the hands -of the prince. And this pre-eminence gives -him so respectable a figure in the eyes of his -subjects, and presents him so constantly, and -with such lustre of authority, to their minds, -that it is no wonder they are sometimes disposed -to advance him, from the rank of first -magistrate of a free people, into that of supreme -and sole arbiter of the laws.</p> - -<p>So that, unless these prejudices are corrected -by the knowledge of our constitutional history, -there is constant reason to apprehend, not only -that the royal authority may stretch itself -beyond due bounds; but may grow, at length, -into that enormous tyranny, from which this -nation hath been at other times so happily, and -now of late so wonderfully, redeemed.</p> - -<p>But I suffer myself to be carried by these reflexions -much further than I designed. I would -only say to you, that, having sometimes reflected -very seriously on this subject, it was -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_289">289</span> -with the highest pleasure I heard it discoursed -of the other day by two of the most accomplished -lawyers of our age: the venerable Sir -<span class="smcap">John Maynard</span>, who, for a long course of -years, hath maintained the full credit and dignity -of his profession; and Mr. <span class="smcap">Somers</span>, who, -though a young man, is rising apace, and -with proportionable merits, into all the honours -of it.</p> - -<p>I was very attentive, as you may suppose, to -the progress of this remarkable conversation; -and, as I had the honour to bear a full share in -it myself, I may the rather undertake to give -you a particular account of it. I know the -pleasure it will give you to see a subject, you -have much at heart, and which we have frequently -talked over in the late times, thoroughly, -canvassed, and cleared up; as I think it must -be, to your entire satisfaction.</p> - -<p>It was within a day or two after that great -event, so pleasing to all true <i>Englishmen</i>, <small>THE -CORONATION OF THEIR MAJESTIES</small><a id="FNanchor_110" href="#Footnote_110" class="fnanchor">110</a>, that Mr. -<span class="smcap">Somers</span> and I went; as we sometimes used, to -pass an evening with our excellent friend, my -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_290">290</span> -Lord Commissioner<a id="FNanchor_111" href="#Footnote_111" class="fnanchor">111</a>. I shall not need to attempt -his character to you, who know him so -well. It is enough to say, that his faculties -and spirits are, even in this maturity of age, in -great vigour. And it seems as if this joyful -Revolution, so agreeable to his hopes and principles, -had given a fresh spring and elasticity to -both.</p> - -<p>The conversation of course turned on the -late august ceremony; the mention of which -awakened a sort of rapture in the good old -man, which made him overflow in his meditations -upon it. Seeing us in admiration of the -zeal which transported him, “Bear with me, -said he, my young friends. Age, you know, -hath its privilege. And it may be, I use it -somewhat unreasonably. But I, who have -seen the prize of liberty contending for through -half a century, to find it obtained at last by a -method so sure, and yet so unexpected, do -you think it possible that I should contain -myself on such an occasion? Oh, if ye had -lived with me in those days, when such mighty -struggles were made for public freedom, when -so many wise counsels miscarried, and so many -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_291">291</span> -generous enterprises concluded but in the confirmation -of lawless tyranny; if, I say, ye had -lived in those days, and now at length were able -to contrast with me, to the tragedies that were -then acted, this safe, this bloodless, this -complete deliverance: I am mistaken, if the -youngest of you could reprove me for this joy, -which makes me think I can never say enough -on so delightful a subject.</p> - -<h4>BP. BURNET.</h4> - -<p>Reprove you, my lord? Alas! we are neither -of us so unexperienced in what hath passed -of late in these kingdoms, as not to rejoice -with you to the utmost for this astonishing deliverance. -You know I might boast of being -among the first that wished for, I will not say -projected, the measures by which it hath been -accomplished. And for Mr. <span class="smcap">Somers</span>, the church -of <i>England</i> will tell——</p> - -<h4>MR. SOMERS.</h4> - -<p>I confess, my warmest wishes have ever -gone along with those who conducted this noble -enterprise. And I pretend to as sincere a -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_292">292</span> -pleasure as any man, in the completion of it. -Yet, if we were not unreasonable at such a -time, I might be tempted to mention one circumstance, -which, I know not how, a little -abates the joy of these triumphant gratulations.</p> - -<h4>SIR J. MAYNARD.</h4> - -<p>Is not the settlement then to your mind? Or -hath any precaution been neglected, which you -think necessary for the more effectual security -of our liberties?</p> - -<h4>MR. SOMERS.</h4> - -<p>Not that. I think the provision for the -people’s right as ample as needs be desired. -Or, if any further restrictions on the crown be -thought proper, it will now be easy for the -people, in a regular parliamentary way, to effect -it. What I mean is a consideration of much -more importance.</p> - -<h4>BP. BURNET.</h4> - -<p>The pretended prince of <span class="smcap">Wales</span>, you think, -will be raising some disturbance, or alarm at -least, to the new government. I believe, I -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_293">293</span> -may take upon me to give you perfect satisfaction -upon that subject<a id="FNanchor_112" href="#Footnote_112" class="fnanchor">112</a>.</p> - -<h4>MR. SOMERS.</h4> - -<p>Still your conjectures fall short or wide of -my meaning. Our new <span class="smcap">Magna Charta</span>, as -I love to call the <i>Declaration of Rights</i>, seems -a sufficient barrier against any future encroachments -of the <small>CROWN</small>. And I think, the pretended -prince of <span class="smcap">Wales</span>, whatever be determined -of his birth, a mere phantom, that may -amuse, and perhaps disquiet, the weaker sort -for a while; but, if left to itself<a id="FNanchor_113" href="#Footnote_113" class="fnanchor">113</a>, will soon -vanish out of the minds of the <small>PEOPLE</small>. Not -but I allow that even so thin a pretence as this -may, some time or other, be conjured up to -disturb the government. But it must be, when -a certain set of principles are called in aid to -support it. And, to save you the further -trouble of guessing, I shall freely tell you, what -those <i>principles</i> are.—You will see, in them, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_294">294</span> -the ground of my present fears and apprehensions.</p> - -<p>It might be imagined that so necessary a -Revolution, as that which hath taken place, -would sufficiently approve itself to all reasonable -men. And it appears, in fact, to have -done so, now that the public injuries are fresh, -and the general resentment of them strong and -lively. But it too often happens, that when -the evil is once removed, it is presently forgotten: -and in matters of government especially, -where the people rarely think till they are -made to feel, when the grievance is taken away, -the false system easily returns, and sometimes -with redoubled force, which had given birth -to it.</p> - -<h4>BP. BURNET.</h4> - -<p>One can readily admit the principles. But -the conclusion, you propose to draw from -them—</p> - -<h4>MR. SOMERS.</h4> - -<p>This very important one, “That, if the late -change of government was brought about, and -can be defended only, on the principles of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_295">295</span> -liberty; the settlement, introduced by it, can -be thought secure no longer than while those -principles are rightly understood, and generally -admitted.”</p> - -<h4>BP. BURNET.</h4> - -<p>But what reason is there to apprehend that -these principles, so commonly professed and -publickly avowed, will not continue to be kept -up in full vigour?</p> - -<h4>MR. SOMERS.</h4> - -<p>Because, I doubt, they are so commonly -and publickly avowed, only to serve a present -turn; and not because they come from -the heart, or are entertained on any just ground -of conviction.</p> - -<h4>BP. BURNET.</h4> - -<p>Very likely: and considering the pains that -have been taken to possess the minds of men -with other notions of government, the wonder -is, how they came to be entertained at all. Yet -surely the experience of better times may be -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_296">296</span> -expected to do much. Men will of course -think more justly on these subjects in proportion -as they find themselves more happy. -And thus the principles, which, as you say, -were first pretended to out of necessity, will -be followed out of choice, and bound upon -them by the conclusions of their own reason.</p> - -<h4>MR. SOMERS.</h4> - -<p>I wish your lordship be not too sanguine in -these expectations. It is not to be conceived -how insensible the people are to the blessings -they enjoy, and how easily they forget their -past miseries. So that, if their principles have -not taken deep root, I would not answer for -their continuing much longer than it served -their purpose to make a shew of them.</p> - -<h4>SIR J. MAYNARD.</h4> - -<p>I must confess, that all my experience of -mankind inclines me to this opinion. I could -relate to you some strange instances of the sort -Mr. <span class="smcap">Somers</span> hints at. But after all, Sir, you -do not indulge these apprehensions, on account -of the general fickleness of human nature. You -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_297">297</span> -have some more particular reasons for concluding -that the system of liberty, which hath -worked such wonders of late, is not likely to -maintain its ground amongst us.</p> - -<h4>MR. SOMERS.</h4> - -<p>I have: and I was going to explain those -reasons, if my lord of <span class="smcap">Salisbury</span> had not a -little diverted me from the pursuit of them.</p> - -<p>It is very notorious from the common discourse -of men even on this great occasion (and -I wish it had not appeared too evidently in the -debates of the houses), that very many of us -have but crude notions of the form of government -under which we live, and which hath -been transmitted to us from our forefathers. I -have met with persons of no mean rank, and -supposed to be well seen in the history of the -kingdom, who speak a very strange language. -They allow, indeed, that something was to be -done in the perilous circumstances into which -we had fallen. But, when they come to explain -themselves, it is in a way that leaves us -no <i>right</i> to do any thing; at least, not what it -was found expedient for the nation to do at -this juncture. For they contend in so many -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_298">298</span> -words, “that the crown of <i>England is absolute</i>; -that the form of government is an <i>entire -and simple monarchy</i>; and that so it hath -continued to be in every period of it down to -the Abdication: that the <span class="smcap">Conquest</span>, at least, -to ascend no higher, invested the <span class="smcap">first William</span> -in absolute dominion; that from him it -devolved of course upon his successors; and -that all the pretended rights of the people, the -<span class="smcap">Great Charters</span> of ancient and modern date, -were mere usurpations on the prince, extorted -from him by the necessity of his affairs, and -revocable at his pleasure: nay, they insinuate -that parliaments themselves were the creatures -of his will; that their privileges were all derived -from the sovereign’s grant; and that they -made no part in the original frame and texture -of the <i>English</i> government.</p> - -<p>In support of this extraordinary system, they -refer us to the constant tenor of our history. -They speak of the Conqueror, as proprietary -of the whole kingdom: which accordingly, -they say, he parcelled out, as he saw fit, in -grants to his <i>Norman</i> and <i>English</i> subjects: -that, through his partial consideration of the -church, and an excessive liberality to his favoured -servants, this distribution was so ill -made, as to give occasion to all the broils and -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_299">299</span> -contentions that followed: that the churchmen -began their unnatural claim of independency -on the crown; in which attempt they -were soon followed by the encroaching and too -powerful barons: that, in these struggles, many -flowers of the crown were rudely torn from it, -till a sort of truce was made, and the rebellious -humour somewhat composed, by the extorted -articles of <span class="smcap">Running-mede</span>: that these confusions, -however, were afterwards renewed, and -even increased, by the contests of the two -houses of <span class="smcap">York</span> and <span class="smcap">Lancaster</span>: but that, -upon the union of the roses in the person of -<span class="smcap">Henry VII</span>, these commotions were finally -appeased, and the crown restored to its ancient -dignity and lustre: that, indeed, the usage of -parliaments, with some other forms of popular -administration, which had been permitted in -the former irregular reigns, was continued; but -of the mere grace of the prince, and without -any consequence to his prerogative: that succeeding -kings, and even <span class="smcap">Henry</span> himself, considered -themselves as possessed of an imperial -crown; and that, though they might sometimes -condescend to take the advice, they were -absolutely above the control, of the people: in -short, that the law itself was but the will of the -prince, declared in parliament; or rather solemnly -received and attested there, for the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_300">300</span> -better information and more entire obedience -of the subject.</p> - -<p>This they deliver as a just and fair account -of the <i>English</i> government; the genius of -which, they say, is absolute and despotic in -the highest degree; as much so, at least, as -that of any other monarchy in <i>Europe</i>. They -ask, with an air of insult, what restraint our -<span class="smcap">Henry VIII</span>, and our admired <span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>, -would ever suffer to be put on their prerogative; -and they mention with derision the fancy -of dating the high pretensions of the crown -from the accession of the <span class="smcap">Stuart</span> family. They -affirm, that <span class="smcap">James I</span>, and his son, aimed only -to continue the government on the footing on -which they had received it; that their notions -of it were authorized by constant fact; by -the evidence of our histories; by the language -of parliaments; by the concurrent sense of -every order of men amongst us: and that what -followed in the middle of this century was the -mere effect of <small>POPULAR</small>, as many former disorders -had been of <small>PATRICIAN</small>, violence. In a -word, they conclude with saying, that the old -government revived again at the <span class="smcap">Restoration</span>, -just as, in like circumstances, it had done before -at the <small>UNION</small> of the two houses: that, in -truth, the voluntary desertion of the late king -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_301">301</span> -have given a colour to the innovation of the -present year; but that, till this new settlement -was made, the <i>English</i> constitution, as implying -something different from pure monarchy, -was an unintelligible notion, or rather -a mere whimsy, that had not the least foundation -in truth or history.”</p> - -<p>This is a summary of the doctrines, which, -I doubt, are too current amongst us. I do not -speak of the bigoted adherents to the late king; -but of many cooler and more disinterested men, -whose <i>religious</i> principles, as I suppose (for it -appears it could not be their <i>political</i>), had -engaged them to concur in the new settlement. -You will judge, then, if there be not reason -to apprehend much mischief from the prevalence -and propagation of such a system: a system, -which, as being, in the language of the -patrons of it, founded upon <i>fact</i>, is the more -likely to impose upon the people; and, as referring -to the practice of ancient times, is not -for every man’s confutation. I repeat it, therefore; -if this notion of the despotic form of our -government become general, I tremble to think -what effect it may hereafter produce on the -minds of men; especially when joined to that -false tenderness, which the people of <i>England</i> -are so apt to entertain for their princes, even -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_302">302</span> -the worst of them, under misfortune. I might -further observe, that this prerogative system -hath a direct tendency to produce, as well as -heighten, this compassion to the sovereign. -And I make no scruple to lay it before you -with all its circumstances, because I know to -whom I speak, and that I could not have -wished for a better opportunity of hearing it -confuted.</p> - -<h4>BP. BURNET.</h4> - -<p>I must own, though I was somewhat unwilling -to give way to such melancholy apprehensions -at this time, I think with Mr. <span class="smcap">Somers</span>, -there is but too much reason to entertain them. -For my own part, I am apt to look no further -for the <i>right</i> of the legislature to settle the government -in their own way, than their own -free votes and resolutions. For, being used to -consider all political power as coming originally -from the people, it seems to me but fitting that -they should dispose of that power for their -own use, in what hands, and under what conditions, -they please. Yet, as much regard is -due to established forms and ancient prescription, -I think the matter of <i>fact</i> of great consequence; -and, if the people in general should -once conceive of it according to this representation, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_303">303</span> -I should be very anxious for the issue of so -dangerous an opinion. I must needs, therefore, -join very entirely with Mr. <span class="smcap">Somers</span>, in -wishing to hear the whole subject canvassed, -or rather finally determined, as it must be, if -Sir <span class="smcap">John Maynard</span> will do us the pleasure to -acquaint us what his sentiments are upon it.</p> - -<h4>SIR J. MAYNARD.</h4> - -<p>Truly, my good friends, you have opened a -very notable cause, and in good form. Only, -methinks, a little less solemnity, if you had so -pleased, might have better suited the occasion. -Why, I could almost laugh, to hear you talk -of feats and dangers from a phantom of your -own raising. I certainly believe the common -proverb belies us; and that old age is not that -dastardly thing it hath been represented. For, -instead of being terrified by this conceit of a -prescriptive right in our sovereigns to tyrannize -over the subject, I am ready to think the -contrary so evident from the constant course of -our history, that the simplest of the people -are in no hazard of falling into the delusion. I -should rather have apprehended mischief from -other quarters; from the influence of certain -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_304">304</span> -speculative points, which have been to successfully -propagated of late; and chiefly from -those pernicious glosses, which too many of -my order have made on the letter or the law, -and too many of yours, my lord of <span class="smcap">Salisbury</span>, -on that of the gospel. Trust me, if the matter -once came to a question of <small>FACT</small>, and the inquiry -be only concerning ancient form and -precedent, the decision will be in our favour. -And for yourselves, I assure myself, this decision -is already made. But since you are -willing to put me upon the task, and we have -leisure enough for such an amusement, I shall -very readily undertake it. And the rather, as -I have more than once in my life had occasion -to go to the bottom of this inquiry; and now -very lately have taken a pleasure to reflect on -the general evidence which history affords of -our free constitution, and to review the scattered -hints and passages I had formerly set down for -my private satisfaction.</p> - -<p>“I understand the question to be, not -under what <i>form</i> the government hath appeared -at some particular conjunctures, but -what we may conclude it to have been from -the general current and tenor of our histories. -More particularly, I conceive, you would ask, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_305">305</span> -not whether the <i>administration</i> hath not at -some seasons been <small>DESPOTIC</small>, but whether the -<i>genius</i> of the government hath not at all times -been <small>FREE</small>. Or, if you do not think the -terms, in which I propose the question, strict -enough, you will do well to state it in your -own way, that hereafter we may have no dispute -about it.</p> - -<h4>BP. BURNET.</h4> - -<p>I suppose, the question, as here put, is determinate -enough for our purpose.—Or, have -you, Mr. <span class="smcap">Somers</span>, any exceptions to make to -it?</p> - -<h4>MR. SOMERS.</h4> - -<p>I believe we understand each other perfectly -well; the question being only this, “Whether -there be any ground in history, to conclude -that the prince hath a constitutional claim to -absolute uncontrolable dominion; or, whether -the liberty of the subject be not essential to -every different form, under which the <i>English</i> -government hath appeared?” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_306">306</span></p> - -<h4>SIR J. MAYNARD.</h4> - -<p>You expect of me then to shew, in opposition -to the scheme just now delivered by you, -that neither from the original constitution of -the government, nor from the various forms -(for they have, indeed, been various) under -which it hath been administered, is there any -reason to infer, that the <i>English</i> monarchy -is, or of right ought to be, despotic and unlimited.</p> - -<p>Now this I take to be the easiest of all undertakings; -so very easy, that I could trust a -plain man to determine the matter for himself -by the light that offers itself to him from the -slightest of our histories. ’Tis true, the deeper -his researches go, his conviction will be the -clearer; as any one may see by dipping into -my friend <span class="smcap">Nat. Bacon’s</span> discourses; where our -free constitution is set forth with that evidence, -as must for ever have silenced the patrons of -the other side, if he had not allowed himself -to strain some things beyond what the truth, -or indeed his cause, required. But, saving to -myself the benefit of his elaborate work, I -think it sufficient to take notice, that the system -of liberty is supported even by that short -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_307">307</span> -sketch of our history, which Mr. <span class="smcap">Somers</span> hath -laid before us; and in spite of the disguises, -with which, as he tells us, the enemies of -liberty have endeavoured to cloak it.</p> - -<p>You do not, I am sure, expect from me, -that I should go back to the elder and more -remote parts of our history; that I should take -upon me to investigate the scheme of government, -which hath prevailed in this kingdom -from the time that the <i>Roman</i> power departed -from us; or that I should even lay myself out -in delineating, as many have done, the plan of -the <i>Saxon</i> constitution: though such an attempt -might not be unpleasing, nor altogether -without its use, as the <i>principles</i> of the <i>Saxon</i> -policy, and in some respects the <i>form</i> of it, -have been constantly kept up in every succeeding -period of the <i>English</i> monarchy. I content -myself with observing, that the spirit of -liberty was predominant in those times: and, -for proof of it, appeal at present only to one -single circumstance, which you will think remarkable. -Our <i>Saxon</i> ancestors conceived so -little of government, by the will of the magistrate, -without fixed laws, that <span class="smcap">Laga</span>, or <span class="smcap">Leaga</span>, -which in their language first and properly signified -the same as <span class="smcap">Law</span> with us, was transferred<a id="FNanchor_114" href="#Footnote_114" class="fnanchor">114</a> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_308">308</span> -very naturally (for language always -conforms itself to the genius, temper, and manners -of a nation) to signify a country, district, -or province; these good people having no notion -of any inhabited country not governed by -laws. Thus <span class="smcap">Dæna-laga</span>; <span class="smcap">Merkena-laga</span>; -and <span class="smcap">Westsexena-laga</span>, were not only used in -their laws and history to signify the <i>laws</i> of the -<i>Danes</i>, <i>Mercians</i>, and <i>West-Saxons</i>, but the -<i>countries</i> likewise. Of which usage I could -produce to you many instances, if I did not -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_309">309</span> -presume that, for so small a matter as this, my -mere word might be taken.</p> - -<p>You see then how fully the spirit of liberty -possessed the very language of our <i>Saxon</i> forefathers. -And it might well do so; for it was -of the essence of the <i>German</i> constitutions; a -just notion of which (so uniform was the genius -of the brave people that planned them) may be -gathered, you know, from what the <i>Roman</i> -historians, and, above all, from what <span class="smcap">Tacitus</span> -hath recorded of them.</p> - -<p>But I forbear so common a topic: and, besides, -I think myself acquitted of this task, by -the prudent method, which the defenders of -the regal power have themselves taken in conducting -this controversy. For, as conscious of -the testimony which the <i>Saxon</i> times are ready -to bear against them, they are wise enough to -lay the foundation of their system in the <span class="smcap">Conquest</span>. -They look, no higher than that event -for the origin of the <i>constitution</i>, and think -they have a notable advantage over us in deducing -their notion of the <i>English</i> government -from the form it took in the hands of the <i>Norman</i> -invader. But is it not pleasant to hear -these men calumniate the improvements that -have been made from time to time in the plan -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_310">310</span> -of our civil constitution with the name of <i>usurpations</i>, -when they are not ashamed to erect the -<i>constitution</i> itself on what <i>they</i> must esteem, at -least, a great and manifest usurpation?</p> - -<h4>BP. BURNET.</h4> - -<p><span class="smcap">Conquest</span>, I suppose, in their opinion, gives -<i>right</i>. And since an inquiry into the origin -of a constitution requires that we fix <i>somewhere</i>, -considering the vast alterations introduced by -the Conquest, and that we have never pretended -to reject, but only to improve and complete, the -duke of <span class="smcap">Normandy’s</span> establishment; I believe -it may be as proper to set out from that æra -as from any other.</p> - -<h4>SIR J. MAYNARD.</h4> - -<p>Your lordship does not imagine that I am -about to excuse myself from closing with them, -even on their own terms. I intended that question -only as a reproach to the persons we have -to deal with; who, when a successful event -makes, or but seems to make, for their idol of -an absolute monarchy, call it a regular establishment: -whereas a revolution brought about -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_311">311</span> -by the justest means, if the cause of liberty receive -an advantage by it, shall be reviled by the -name of usurpation. But let them employ -what names they please, provided their facts be -well grounded. We will allow them to dignify -the <i>Norman</i> settlement with the title of <small>CONSTITUTION</small>. -What follows? That <i>despotism</i> -was of the essence of that constitution? So they -tell us indeed; but without one word of proof, -for the assertion. For what! do they think the -name of conquest, or even the <i>thing</i>, implies -an absolute unlimited dominion? Have they -forgotten that <span class="smcap">William’s</span> claim to the crown -was, not <i>conquest</i> (though it enabled him to -support his claim), but <i>testamentary succession</i>: -a title very much in the taste of that -time<a id="FNanchor_115" href="#Footnote_115" class="fnanchor">115</a>, and extremely reverenced by our <i>Saxon</i> -ancestors? That, even waving this specious -claim, he condescended to accept the crown, -as a free gift; and by his coronation-oath submitted -himself to the same terms of administration, -as his predecessors? And that, in one -word, he confirmed the <i>Saxon</i> laws, at least -before he had been many years in possession of -his new dignity<a id="FNanchor_116" href="#Footnote_116" class="fnanchor">116</a>. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_312">312</span></p> - -<p>Is there any thing in all this that favours the -notion of his erecting himself, by the sole virtue -of his victory at <i>Hastings</i>, into an absolute -lord of the conquered country? Is it not -certain that he bound himself, as far as oaths -and declarations could bind him, to govern according -to law; that he could neither touch -the honours nor estates of his subjects but by -legal trial; and that even the many forfeitures -in his reign are an evidence of his proceeding -in that method?</p> - -<p>Still we are told “of his parcelling out the -whole land, upon his own terms, to his followers;” -and are insulted “with his famous -institution of feudal tenures.” But what if the -<i>former</i> of these assertions be foreign to the -purpose at least, if not false; and the <i>latter</i> -subversive of the very system it is brought to -establish? I think, I have reason for putting -both these questions. For, what if he parcelled -out most, or all, of the lands of <i>England</i> to -his followers? The fact has been much disputed. -But be it, as they pretend, that the -property of all the soil in the kingdom had -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_313">313</span> -changed hands: What is that to us, who claim -under our <i>Norman</i>, as well as <i>Saxon</i>, ancestors? -For the question, you see, is about the form -of government settled in this nation at the time -of the Conquest. And they argue with us, -from a supposed act of tyranny in the Conqueror, -in order to come at that settlement. The -<i>Saxons</i>, methinks, might be injured, oppressed, -enslaved; and yet the constitution, transmitted -to us through his own <i>Normans</i>, be perfectly -free.</p> - -<p>But their <i>other</i> allegation is still more unfortunate. -“He instituted, they say, the feudal -law.” True. But the feudal law, and absolute -dominion, are two things; and, what is more, -perfectly incompatible.</p> - -<p>I take upon me to say, that I shall make out -this point in the clearest manner. In the mean -time, it may help us to understand the nature -of the feudal establishment, to consider the -practice of succeeding times. What that was, -our adversaries themselves, if you please, shall -inform us. Mr. <span class="smcap">Somers</span> hath told their story -very fairly; which yet amounts only to this, -“That, throughout the <i>Norman</i> and <i>Plantagenet</i> -lines, there was one perpetual contest -between the prince and his feudatories for law -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_314">314</span> -and liberty:” an evident proof of the light in -which our forefathers regarded the <i>Norman</i> constitution. -In the competition of the two <span class="smcap">Roses</span>, -and perhaps before, they lost sight indeed of -this prize. But no sooner was the public -tranquillity restored, and the contending claims -united in <span class="smcap">Henry VII.</span> than the old spirit revived. -A legal constitution became the constant -object of the people; and, though not -always avowed, was, in effect, as constantly -submitted to by the sovereign.</p> - -<p>It may be true, perhaps, that the ability of -<i>one</i> prince<a id="FNanchor_117" href="#Footnote_117" class="fnanchor">117</a>, the imperious carriage of <i>another</i><a id="FNanchor_118" href="#Footnote_118" class="fnanchor">118</a>, -and the generous intrigues of a <i>third</i><a id="FNanchor_119" href="#Footnote_119" class="fnanchor">119</a>; but, -above all, the condition of the times, and a sense -of former miseries, kept down the spirit of liberty -for some reigns, or diminished, at least, the -force and vigour of its operations. But a passive -subjection was never acknowledged, certainly -never demanded as a matter of right, till -<span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span> now and then, and King <span class="smcap">James</span>, -by talking continually in this strain, awakened -the national jealousy; which proved so uneasy -to himself, and, in the end, so fatal to his -family. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_315">315</span></p> - -<p>I cannot allow myself to mention these things -more in detail to you, who have so perfect a -knowledge of them. One thing only I insist -upon, that, without connecting the system of -liberty with that of prerogative in our notion -of the <i>English</i> government, the tenor of our -history is perfectly unintelligible; and that no -consistent account can be given of it, but on -the supposition of a <small>LEGAL LIMITED CONSTITUTION</small>.</p> - -<h4>MR. SOMERS.</h4> - -<p>Yet that constitution, it will be thought, was -at least ill defined, which could give occasion to -so many fierce disputes, and those carried on -through so long a tract of time, between the -crown and the subject.</p> - -<h4>SIR J. MAYNARD.</h4> - -<p>The fault, if there was one, lay in the original -plan of the constitution itself; as you will -clearly see when I have opened the nature of it, -that is, when I have explained the genius, -views, and consequences of the <small>FEUDAL POLICY</small>. -It must, however, be affirmed, that this policy -was founded in the principles of freedom, and -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_316">316</span> -was, in truth, excellently adapted to an active, -fierce, and military people; such as were all -those to whom these western parts of <i>Europe</i> -have been indebted for their civil constitutions. -But betwixt the burdensome services imposed -on the subject by this tenure, or which it gave -at least the pretence of exacting from him, and -the too great restraint which an unequal and disproportioned -allotment of feuds to the greater -barons laid on the sovereign; but above all, by -narrowing the plan of liberty too much; and, -while it seemed to provide for the dependency of -the prince on one part of his subjects, by leaving -both him and them in a condition to exercise -an arbitrary dominion over all others: -hence it came to pass that the feudal policy -naturally produced the struggles and convulsions, -you spoke of, till it was seen in the end -to be altogether unsuited to the circumstances -of a rich, civilized, and commercial people. -The event was, that the inconveniences, perceived -in this form of government, gradually -made way for the introduction of a better; -which was not, however, so properly a new -form, as the old one amended and set right; -cleared of its mischiefs and inconsistencies, but -conducted on the same principles as the former, -and pursuing the same end, though by different -methods. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_317">317</span></p> - -<p>It is commonly said, “That the feudal tenures -were introduced at the Conquest.” But -how are we to understand this assertion? Certainly, -not as if the whole system of military -services had been created by the Conqueror; -for they were essential to all the <i>Gothic</i> or -<i>German</i> constitutions. We may suppose then, -that they were only new-modelled by this great -prince. And who can doubt that the form, -which was now given to them, would be copied -from that which the <i>Norman</i> had seen established -in his own country? It would be copied -then from the proper <small>FEUDAL FORM</small>; the essence -of which consisted in the perpetuity -of the feud<a id="FNanchor_120" href="#Footnote_120" class="fnanchor">120</a>; whereas these military tenures -had been elsewhere temporary only, or revocable -at the will of the lord.</p> - -<p>But to enter fully into the idea of the feudal -constitution; to see at what time, and in what -manner, it was introduced: above all, to comprehend -the reasons that occasioned this great -change; it will be convenient to look back to -the estate of <i>France</i>, and especially of <i>Normandy</i>, -where this constitution had, for some -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_318">318</span> -years, taken place before it was transferred to -us at the Conquest.</p> - -<p>Under the first princes of the <i>Carlovingian</i> -line, the lands of <i>France</i> were of two kinds, -<small>ALLODIAL</small>, and <small>BENEFICIARY</small>. The allodial, -were estates of inheritance; the persons possessing -them, were called <span class="smcap">Hommes libres</span>. -The beneficiary, were held by grants from the -crown. The persons holding immediately under -the emperor, were called <span class="smcap">Leudes</span>; the -sub-tenants, <span class="smcap">Vassals</span>.</p> - -<p>Further, the allodial lands were alienable, as -well as hereditary. The beneficiary were properly -neither. They were held for life, or a -term of years, at the will of the lord, and reverted -to him on the expiration of the term for -which they were granted.</p> - -<p>I do not stay to explain these institutions -minutely. It is of more importance to see the -alterations that were afterwards made in them. -And the <small>FIRST</small> will be thought a strange one.</p> - -<p>The possessors of allodial lands, in <i>France</i>, -were desirous to have them changed into <i>tenures</i>. -They who held of the crown <i>in capite</i> -were entitled to some distinctions and privileges, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_319">319</span> -which the allodial lords wished to obtain; and -therefore many of them surrendered their lands -to the emperor, and received them again of -him, in the way of <i>tenure</i>. This practice had -taken place occasionally from the earliest times: -but under <span class="smcap">Charles</span> the Bald, it became almost -general; and <i>free-men</i> not only chose to hold -of the emperor, but of other lords. This last -was first allowed, in consequence of a treaty -between the three brothers, after the battle of -<i>Fontenay</i> in 847.</p> - -<p>But these <i>free-men</i> were not so ill-advised -as to make their estates precarious, or to accept -a life estate instead of an inheritance. It -was requisite they should hold for a perpetuity. -And this I take to have been the true -origin of hereditary feuds. Most probably, in -those dangerous times, little people could not -be safe without a lord to protect them: and -the price of this protection was the change of -propriety into tenure.</p> - -<p>The <small>SECOND</small> change was by a law made under -the same emperor in the year 877, the last of -his reign. It was then enacted, that beneficiary -estates held under the crown should descend -to the sons of the present possessors: -yet not, as I conceive, to the eldest son; but -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_320">320</span> -to him whom the emperor should chuse; nor -did this law affect the estates only, but <i>offices</i>, -which had hitherto been also beneficiary; and -so the sons of counts, marquises, <i>&c.</i> (which -were all names of offices, not titles of honour) -were to succeed to the authority of their fathers, -and to the benefice annexed to it. The new -feuds, created in allodial lands, had, I suppose, -made the emperor’s tenants desirous of -holding on the same terms; and the weakness -of the reigning prince enabled them to succeed -in this first step, which prepared the -way for a revolution of still more importance. -For,</p> - -<p>The <small>THIRD</small> change, by which the inheritance -of beneficiary lands and offices was extended to -perpetuity, and the possession rendered almost -independent of the crown, was not, we may -be sure, effected at once, but by degrees. The -family of <span class="smcap">Charlemagne</span> lost the empire: they -resisted with great difficulty the incursions of -the <i>Normans</i>; and, in the year 911, <i>Normandy</i> -was granted to them as an hereditary -fee. The great lords made their advantage of -the public calamities; they defended the king -on what terms they pleased; if not complied -with in their demands, they refused their assistance -in the most critical conjunctures: and -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_321">321</span> -before the accession of <span class="smcap">Hugh Capet</span>, had entirely -shaken off their dependence on the crown. -For it is, I think, a vulgar mistake to say, -that this great revolution was the effect of -<span class="smcap">Hugh’s</span> policy. On the contrary, the independence -of the nobles, already acquired, was, -as it seems to me, the cause of his success. -The prince had no authority left, but over his -own demesnes; which were less considerable -than the possessions of some of his nobles. -<span class="smcap">Hugh</span> had one of the largest fiefs: and for this -reason, his usurpation added to the power of -the crown, instead of lessening it, as is commonly -imagined. But to bring back the feuds -of the other nobles to their former precarious -condition was a thing impossible: his authority -was partly supported by superior wisdom, and -partly by superior strength, his vassals being -more numerous than those of any other lord.</p> - -<p>I cannot tell if these foreigners, when they -adopted the feudal plan, were immediately -aware of all the consequences of it. An hereditary -tenure was, doubtless, a prodigious acquisition; -yet the advantage was something -counter-balanced by the great number of impositions -which the nature of the change -brought with it. These impositions are what, -in respect of the lord, are called his <small>FRUITS</small> of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_322">322</span> -tenure; such as <span class="smcap">Wardship</span>, <span class="smcap">Marriage</span>, <span class="smcap">Relief</span>, -and other services: and were the necessary -consequence of the king’s parting with -his arbitrary disposal of these tenures. For -now that the right of inheritance was in the -tenant, it seemed but reasonable, and, without -this provision, the feudal policy could not -have obtained its end, that the prince, in these -several ways, should secure to himself the honour, -safety, and defence, which the very nature -of the constitution implied and intended. -Hence hereditary feuds were very reasonably -clogged with the obligations. I have mentioned; -which, though trifling in comparison with the -disadvantages of a precarious tenure, were -yet at least some check on the independency -acquired. However, these services, which were -due to the king under the new model, were -also due to the tenant in chief from those who -held of him by the like tenure. And so the -barons, or great proprietaries of land, considering -more perhaps the subjection of their -own vassals, than that by which themselves -were bound to their sovereign, reckoned these -burdens as nothing, with respect to what they -had gained by an hereditary succession.</p> - -<p>The example of these <i>French</i> feudataries, -we may suppose, would be catching. We accordingly -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_323">323</span> -find it followed, in due time, in <i>Germany</i>; -where <span class="smcap">Conrad II.</span><a id="FNanchor_121" href="#Footnote_121" class="fnanchor">121</a> granted the like -privilege of <i>successive</i> tenures, and at the -pressing instance of his tenants.</p> - -<p>I thought it material to remind you of these -things; because they prove the feudal institution -on the continent to have been favourable -to the cause of liberty; and because it -will abate our wonder to find it so readily accepted -and submitted to here in <i>England</i>.</p> - -<h4>MR. SOMERS.</h4> - -<p>The account you have given, and, I dare -say, very truly, of the origin of feuds in <i>France</i> -and <i>Germany</i>, is such as shews them to have -been an extension of the people’s liberty. -There is no question that hereditary alienable -estates have vastly the preference to beneficiary. -But the case, I suspect, was different with us -in <i>England</i>. The great offices of state, indeed, -in this country, as well as in <i>France</i>, -were beneficiary. But, if I do not mistake, -the lands of the <i>English</i>, except only the -church-lands, were all allodial. And I cannot -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_324">324</span> -think it could be for the benefit of the <i>English</i> -to change their old <i>Saxon</i> possessions, subject -only to the famous triple obligation, for these -new and burdensome tenures.</p> - -<h4>SIR J. MAYNARD.</h4> - -<p>Strange as it may appear, we have yet seen -that the <i>French</i> did not scruple to make that -exchange even of their allodial estates. But to -be fair, there was a great difference, as you -well observe, in the circumstances of the two -people. All the lands in <i>England</i> were, I believe, -allodial, in the <i>Saxon</i> times: while a -very considerable proportion of those in <i>France</i> -were beneficiary.</p> - -<p>Another difference, also, in the state of the -two countries, is worth observing. In <i>France</i>, -the allodial lands (though considerable in quantity) -were divided into small portions. In -<i>England</i>, they seem to have been in few -hands; the greater part possessed by the King -and his <i>Thanes</i>; some smaller parcels by the -lesser <i>Thanes</i>; and a very little by the <i>Ceorles</i>. -The consequence was, that, though the allodial -proprietors in <i>France</i> were glad to renounce -their property for tenure, in order to secure -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_325">325</span> -the protection they much wanted; yet with -us, as you say, there could not be any such inducement -for the innovation. For, the lands -being possessed in large portions by the nobility -and gentry, the allodial lords in <i>England</i> -were too great to stand in need of protection. -Yet from this very circumstance, fairly attended -to, we shall see that the introduction of -the feudal tenures was neither difficult nor unpopular. -The great proprietors of land were, -indeed, too free and powerful, to be bettered -by this change. But their tenants, that is, the -bulk of the people, would be gainers by it. -For these tenants were, I believe, to a man -beneficiaries. The large estates of the <i>Thanes</i> -were granted out in small portions to others, -either for certain quantities of corn or rent, reserved -to the lord, or on condition of stipulated -services. And these grants, of whichever sort -they were, were either at pleasure, or at most -for a limited term. So that, though the proprietors -of land in <i>England</i> were so much superior -to those in <i>France</i>; yet the tenants of -each were much in the same state; that is, -they possessed beneficiary lands on stipulated -conditions.</p> - -<p>When, therefore, by right of forfeiture, the -greater part of the lands in <i>England</i> fell, as -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_326">326</span> -they of course would do, into the power of the -king (for they were in few hands, and those -few had either fought at <i>Hastings</i>, or afterwards -rebelled against him), it is easy to see that the -people would not be displeased to find themselves, -instead of beneficiary tenants<a id="FNanchor_122" href="#Footnote_122" class="fnanchor">122</a>, feudatary -proprietors.</p> - -<p>I say this on supposition that these great forfeited -estates and signiories, so bountifully bestowed -by the Conqueror on his favourite <i>Normans</i>, -were afterwards, many of them at least, -granted out in smaller parcels to <i>English</i> sub-tenants. -But if these sub-tenants were also -<i>Normans</i> (though the case of the <i>English</i> or -old <i>Saxon</i> freeholders was then very hard), the -change of allodial into feudatary estates is the -more easily accounted for.</p> - -<p>The main difficulty would be with the churchmen; -who (though the greatest, and most of -them were, perhaps, <i>Normans</i> too) were well -acquainted with the <i>Saxon</i> laws, and for special -reasons were much devoted to them. They -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_327">327</span> -were sensible that their possessions had been -held, in the <i>Saxon</i> times, in <span class="smcap">Franc-almoign</span>: -a sort of tenure, they were not forward to give -up for this of <i>feuds</i>. ’Tis true, the burdens of -these tenures would, many of them, not affect -them. But then neither could they reap the -principal fruit of them, the fruit of inheritance. -They, besides, considered every restraint on -their privileges as impious; and took the subjection -of the ecclesiastic to the secular power, -which the feudal establishment was to introduce, -for the vilest of all servitudes. Hence -the churchmen were, of all others, the most -averse from this law<a id="FNanchor_123" href="#Footnote_123" class="fnanchor">123</a>. And their opposition -might have given the Conqueror still more -trouble, if the suppression of the great Northern -rebellion had not furnished him with the power, -and (as many of them had been deeply engaged -in it) with the pretence, to force it upon them. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_328">328</span> -And thus, in the end, it prevailed universally, -and without exception.</p> - -<p>I would not go further into the history of -these tenures. It may appear from the little I -have said of them, that the feudal system was -rather improved and corrected by the duke of -<span class="smcap">Normandy</span>, than originally planted by him in -this kingdom: that the alteration made in it -was favourable to the public interest; and that -our <i>Saxon</i> liberties were not so properly restrained, -as extended by it. It is of little moment -to inquire whether the nation was won, or -forced, to a compliance with this system. It -is enough to say, that, as it was accepted by -the nation, so it was in itself no servile establishment, -but essentially founded in the principles -of liberty. The duties of lord and feudatary -were reciprocal and acknowledged: services -on the one part, and protection on the -other. The institution was plainly calculated -for the joint-interest<a id="FNanchor_124" href="#Footnote_124" class="fnanchor">124</a> of both parties, and the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_329">329</span> -benefit of the community; the proper notion -of the feudal system being that “of a confederacy -between a number of military persons, -agreeing on a certain limited subordination and -dependence on their chief, for the more effectual -defence of his and their lives, territories, -and possessions.”</p> - -<h4>MR. SOMERS.</h4> - -<p>I have nothing to object to your account of -the feudal constitution. And I think you do -perfectly right, to lay the main stress on the -general nature and genius of it; as by this -means you cut off those fruitless altercations, -which have been raised, concerning the personal -character of the <i>Norman</i> Conqueror. Our -concern is not with him, but with the government -he established. And if that be free, no -matter whether the founder of it were a tyrant. -But, though I approve your method, I doubt -there is some defect in your argument. <i>Freedom</i> -is a term of much latitude. The <i>Norman</i> -constitution may be free in one sense, as it excludes -the sole arbitrary dominion of one man; -and yet servile enough in another, as it leaves -the government in few hands. For it follows, -from what I understand of the feudal plan, that -though its genius be indeed averse from absolute -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_330">330</span> -monarchy, yet it is indulgent enough to -absolute <i>aristocracy</i>. And the notion of each -is equally remote from what we conceive of true -<i>English</i> liberty.</p> - -<h4>SIR J. MAYNARD.</h4> - -<p>It is true, the proper feudal form, especially -as established in this kingdom, was in a high -degree oligarchical. It would not otherwise, -perhaps, have suited to the condition of those -military ages. Yet the principles it went upon, -were those of public liberty, and generous -enough to give room for the extension of the -system itself, when a change of circumstances -should require it.—But your objection will best -be answered by looking a little more distinctly -into the nature of these tenures.</p> - -<p>I took notice that the feudal system subjected -the <small>CHURCH</small> more immediately to the civil -power: and laid the foundation of many services -and fruits of tenure to which the <small>LAY-FEUDATARIES</small> -in the <i>Saxon</i> times had been altogether -strangers. It is probable that all the -consequences of this alteration were not foreseen. -Yet the churchmen were pretty quick-sighted. -And the dislike, they had conceived -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_331">331</span> -of the new establishment, was the occasion of -those struggles, which continued so long -between the mitre and crown, and which are -so famous more especially in the early parts of -our history. The cause of these ecclesiastics -was a bad one. For their aim was, as is rightly -observed by the advocates for the prerogative, -to assert an independency on the state; and for -that purpose the pope was made a party in the -dispute; by whose intrigues it was kept up in -one shape or other till the total renunciation -of the papal power. Thus far, however, the -feudal constitution cannot be blamed. On the -contrary, it was highly serviceable to the cause -of liberty, as tending only to hold the ecclesiastic, -in a due subordination to the civil, -authority.</p> - -<p>The same thing cannot be said of the other -instance, I mean the <i>fruits of tenure</i>, to which -the lay-fees were subjected by this system. For -however reasonable, or rather necessary, those -<i>fruits</i> might be, in a feudal sense, and for the -end to which the feudal establishment was directed, -yet, as the <i>measure</i> of these fruits, as -well as the manner of exacting them, was in a -good degree arbitrary, and too much left to -the discretion of the sovereign, the practice, in -this respect, was soon found by the tenants in -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_332">332</span> -chief to be an intolerable grievance. Hence -that other contest, so memorable in our history, -betwixt the king and his barons: in which -the former, under the colour of maintaining -his feudal rights, laboured to usurp an absolute -dominion over the persons and properties of his -vassals; and the latter, impatient of the feudal -burdens, or rather of the king’s arbitrary exactions -under pretence of them, endeavoured to -redeem themselves from so manifest an oppression.</p> - -<p>It is not to be denied, that, in the heat of -this contest, the barons sometimes carried their -pretensions still further, and laboured in their -turn to usurp on the crown, in revenge for the -oppressions they had felt from it. However, -their first contentions were only for a mitigation -of the feudal system. It was not the character -of the <i>Norman</i> princes to come easily -into any project that was likely to give the least -check to their pretensions. Yet the grievances, -complained of, were in part removed, in part -moderated, by <span class="smcap">Henry</span> the First’s and many -other successive charters: though the last blow -was not given to these feudal servitudes till -after the Restoration, when such of them as -remained, and were found prejudicial to the -liberty of the subject, were finally abolished. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_333">333</span></p> - -<p>Thus we see that <small>ONE</small> essential defect in the -feudal policy, considered not as a military, but -civil institution, was, the too great power it gave -the sovereign in the arbitrary impositions, implied -in this tenure. <span class="smcap">Another</span> was accidental. -It arose from the disproportionate allotment of -those feuds, which gave the greater barons an -ascendant over the prince, and was equally unfavourable -to the cause of liberty. For the -bounty of the duke of <span class="smcap">Normandy</span>, in his distribution -of the forfeited estates and signiories -to his principal officers, had been so immense<a id="FNanchor_125" href="#Footnote_125" class="fnanchor">125</a>, -that their share of influence in the state was -excessive, and intrenched too much on the independency -of the crown and the freedom of -the people. And this undue poize in the constitution, -as well as the tyranny of our kings, -occasioned the long continuance of those civil -wars, which for many ages harrassed and distressed -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_334">334</span> -the nation. The evil, however, in the -end, brought on its own remedy. For these -princely houses being much weakened in the -course of the quarrel, <span class="smcap">Henry VII.</span> succeeded, -at length, to the peaceable possession of the -crown. And by the policy of this prince, -and that of his successor, the barons were -brought so low as to be quite disabled from -giving any disturbance to the crown for the future.</p> - -<p>It appears then that <small>TWO</small> great defects in the -feudal plan of government, as settled amongst -us, were, at length, taken away. But a <small>THIRD</small>, -and the greatest defect of all, was the narrowness -of the plan itself, I mean when considered -as a system of <small>CIVIL</small> polity; for, in its primary -martial intention, it was perfectly unexceptionable.</p> - -<p>To explain this matter, which is of the -highest importance, and will furnish a direct -answer to Mr. <span class="smcap">Somers’</span> objection, we are to -remember that in the old feudal policy the -king’s barons, that is, such as held <i>in capite</i> -of the crown by barony or knight’s service, -were the king’s, or rather the kingdom’s, great -council. No public concerns could be regularly -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_335">335</span> -transacted, without their consent<a id="FNanchor_126" href="#Footnote_126" class="fnanchor">126</a>; though -the lesser barons, or tenants by knight’s service, -did not indeed so constantly appear in -the king’s court, as the greater barons; and -though the public business was sometimes even -left to the ordinary attendants on the king, -most of them churchmen. It appears that, -towards the end of the Conqueror’s reign, the -number of these tenants in chief was about -700; who, as the whole property of the kingdom -was, in effect, in their power, may be -thought a no unfit representative (though this -be no proper <i>feudal</i> idea) of the whole nation. -It was so, perhaps, in those rude and warlike -times, when the strength of the nation lay entirely -in the soldiery; that is, in those who -held by military services, either immediately -of the crown, or of the mesne lords. For the -remainder of the people, whom they called -tenants in socage, were of small account; being -considered only in the light of servants, and -contributing no otherwise to the national support -than by their cultivation of the soil, which -left their masters at leisure to attend with less -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_336">336</span> -distraction on their military services. At least, -it was perfectly in the genius of the feudal, -that is, military constitutions, to have little regard -for any but the men of arms; and, as -every other occupation would of course be accounted -base and ignoble, it is not to be wondered -that such a difference was made between -the condition of <i>prædial</i> and <i>military</i> tenures.</p> - -<p>However, a policy, that excluded such numbers -from the rank and privileges of citizens, -was so far a defective one. And this defect -would become more sensible every day, in proportion -to the growth of arts, the augmentation -of commerce, and the security the nation -found itself in from foreign dangers. The ancient -military establishment would now be -thought unjust, when the exclusive privileges -of the swordsmen were no longer supported by -the necessities of the public, and when the -wealth of the nation made so great a part of -the force of it. Hence arose an important -change in the legislature of the kingdom, which -was much enlarged beyond its former limits. -But this was done gradually; and was more -properly an extension than violation of the ancient -system. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_337">337</span></p> - -<p>First, the number of tenants in chief, or the -king’s freeholders, was much increased by various -causes, but chiefly by the alienation which -the greater barons made of their fees. Such -alienation, though under some restraint, seems -to have been generally permitted in the <i>Norman</i> -feuds; I mean, till <span class="smcap">Magna Charta</span> and -some subsequent statutes laid it under particular -limitations. But, whether the practice were -regular or not, it certainly prevailed from the -earliest times; especially on some more extraordinary -occasions. Thus, when the fashionable -madness of the <span class="smcap">Croisades</span> had involved -the greater barons in immense debts, in order -to discharge the expences of these expeditions, -they alienated their fees, and even dismembered -them; that is, they parted with their right in -them, and made them over in small parcels to -others, to hold of the superior lord. And what -these barons did from necessity, the crown itself -did, out of policy: for the <i>Norman</i> princes, -growing sensible of the inconvenience of making -their vassals too great, disposed of such estates -of their barons as fell in to them by forfeiture, -and were not a few, in the same manner. The -consequence of all this was, that, in process of -time, the lesser military tenants <i>in capite</i> multiplied -exceedingly. And, as many of them -were poor, and unequal to a personal attendance -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_338">338</span> -in the court of their lord, or in the common -council of the kingdom (where of right and -duty they were to pay their attendance), they -were willing, and it was found convenient to -give them leave, to appear in the way of <i>representation</i>. -And this was the origin of what we -now call <span class="smcap">the Knights of the Shires</span>; who, -in those times, were appointed to represent, not -all the free-holders of counties, but the lesser -tenants of the crown only. For these not attending -in person, would otherwise have had -no place in the king’s council.</p> - -<p>The rise of <span class="smcap">Citizens and Burgesses</span>, that -is, representatives of the cities and trading -towns, must be accounted for somewhat differently. -These had originally been in the jurisdiction, -and made part of the demesnes, of -the king and his great lords. The reason of -which appears from what I observed of the -genius of the feudal policy. For, little account -being had of any but martial men, and trade -being not only dishonourable, but almost unknown -in those ages; the lower people, who -lived together in towns, most of them small -and inconsiderable, were left in a state of subjection -to the crown, or some other of the barons, -and exposed to their arbitrary impositions -and talliages. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_339">339</span></p> - -<p>But this condition of burghers, as it sprang -from the military genius of the nation, could -only be supported by it. When that declined -therefore, and, instead of a people of soldiers, -the commercial spirit prevailed, and filled our -towns with rich traders and merchants, it was -no longer reasonable, nor was it the interest of -the crown, that these communities and bodies -of men should be so little regarded. On the -contrary, a large share of the public burdens -being laid upon them, and the frequent necessities -of the crown, especially in foreign wars, -or in the king’s contentions with his barons, -requiring him to have recourse to their purses, -it was naturally brought about that those, as -well as the tenants <i>in capite</i>, should, in time, -be admitted to have a share in the public -councils.</p> - -<p>I do not stay to trace the steps of this change. -It is enough to say, that arose insensibly -and naturally out of the growing wealth and -consequence of the trading towns; the convenience -the king found in drawing considerable -sums from them, with greater ease to -himself, and less offence to the people; and, -perhaps, from the view of lessening by their -means the exorbitant power and influence of -the barons. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_340">340</span></p> - -<p>From these, or the like reasons, the great -towns and cities, that before were royal demesnes, -part of the king’s private patrimony, -and talliable by him at pleasure, were allowed -to appear in his council by their deputies, to -treat with him of the proportion of taxes to be -raised on them, and, in a word, to be considered -it the same light as the other members -of that great assembly.</p> - -<p>I do not inquire when this great alteration -was first made. I find it subsisting at least -under <span class="smcap">Edward III.</span> And from that time, there -is no dispute but that the legislature, which -was originally composed of the sovereign and -his feudal tenants, included also the representatives -of the counties, and of the royal towns -and cities. To speak in our modern style, the -<span class="smcap">House of Commons</span> was, now, formed. And -by this addition, the glorious edifice of <i>English</i> -liberty was completed.</p> - -<p>I am sensible, I must have wearied you with -this deduction, which can be no secret to either -of you. But it was of importance to shew, -that the constitution of <i>England</i>, as laid in the -feudal tenures, was essentially free; and that -the very changes it hath undergone, were the -natural and almost unavoidable effects of those -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_341">341</span> -tenures. So that what the adversaries of liberty -object to us, as usurpations on the regal prerogative, -are now seen to be either the proper -result of the feudal establishment, or the most -just and necessary amendments of it.</p> - -<h4>BP. BURNET.</h4> - -<p>I have waited with much pleasure for this -conclusion, which entirely discredits the notion -of an absolute, despotic government. I will -not take upon me to answer for Mr. <i>Somers</i>, -whose great knowledge in the laws and history -of the kingdom enables him to see further into -the subject than I do; but to me nothing appears -more natural or probable than this account -of the rise and progress of the <i>English</i> -monarchy. One difficulty, in particular, which -seemed to embarrass this inquiry, you have -entirely removed, by shewing how, from the -aristocratical form which prevailed in the earlier -times, the more free and popular one of -our days hath gradually taken place, and that -without any violence to the antient constitution<a id="FNanchor_127" href="#Footnote_127" class="fnanchor">127</a>. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_342">342</span></p> - -<h4>MR. SOMERS.</h4> - -<p>At least, my lord, with so little, that we -may, perhaps, apply to the <i>English</i> government -what the naturalists observe of the <small>HUMAN -BODY</small><a id="FNanchor_128" href="#Footnote_128" class="fnanchor">128</a>; that, when it arrives at its full -growth, it does not perhaps retain a single particle -of the matter it originally set out with; -yet the alteration hath been made so gradually -and imperceptibly, that the system is accounted -the same under all changes. Just so, I think, -we seem to have shaken off the constituent -parts of the <small>FEUDAL CONSTITUTION</small>; but, liberty -having been always the informing principle, -time and experience have rather completed -the old system, than created a new one: -and we may account the present and <i>Norman</i> -establishment all one, by the same rule as we -say that <span class="smcap">Hercules</span>, when he became the deliverer -of oppressed nations, was still the same -with him who had strangled serpents in his -cradle. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_343">343</span></p> - -<h4>SIR. J. MAYNARD.</h4> - -<p>I know not what fanciful similes your -younger wit may delight in. I content myself -with observing, that the two great points, -which they, who deny the liberty of the subject, -love to inculcate, and on which the plausibility -of all their reasonings depends, are, -<small>THE SLAVISH NATURE OF THE FEUDAL CONSTITUTION</small>, -and <span class="smcap">the late rise of the House of -Commons</span>. And I have taken up your time to -small purpose, if it doth not now appear, that -the <i>former</i> of these notions is false, and the -<i>latter</i> impertinent. If the learned inquirers -into this subject had considered that the question -is concerning the freedom itself of our -constitution, and not the most convenient form -under which it may be administered, they must -have seen that, the feudal law, though it narrowed -the system of liberty, was founded in -it; that the spirit of freedom is as vital in this -form, and the principles it goes upon as solid, -as in the best-formed republic; and that <i>villanage</i> -concludes no more against the <i>feudal</i>, -than <i>slavery</i> against the <i>Greek</i> or <i>Roman</i>, -constitutions. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_344">344</span></p> - -<h4>MR. SOMERS.</h4> - -<p>That is, Sir <span class="smcap">John</span>, you make <i>liberty</i> to have -been the essence of all <small>THREE</small>; though, to the -perfection of an equal commonwealth, you -suppose it should have been further spread out -and dilated: as they say of <i>frankincense</i> (if -you can forgive another allusion), which, when -lying in the lump, is of no great use or pleasure; -but, when properly diffused, is the -sweetest of all odours. But you was going on -with the application of your principles.</p> - -<h4>SIR J. MAYNARD.</h4> - -<p>I was going to say that, as many have been -misled by wrong notions of the <i>feudal tenures</i>, -others had erred as widely in their reasonings -on <i>the late origin of the lower house of parliament</i>. -How have we heard some men triumph, -in dating it no higher than the reign of -<span class="smcap">Edward III</span>? Let the fact be admitted. -What follows? That this house is an usurpation -on the prerogative? Nothing less. It -was gradually brought forth by time, and grew -up under the favour and good liking of our -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_345">345</span> -princes<a id="FNanchor_129" href="#Footnote_129" class="fnanchor">129</a>. The constitution itself supposed the -men of greatest consequence in the commonwealth -to have a seat in the national councils. -Trade and agriculture had advanced vast numbers -into consequence, that before were of -small account in the kingdom. The public -consideration was increased by their wealth, -and the public necessities relieved by it. Were -these to remain for ever excluded from the -king’s councils? or was not that council, which -had liberty for its object, to widen and expand -itself in order to receive them? It did, in fact, -receive them with open arms; and, in so -doing, conducted itself on the very principles -of the old feudal policy.</p> - -<p>In short, the <i>feudal constitution</i>, different -from all others that human policy is acquainted -with, was of such a make, that it readily gave -way, and fitted itself to the varying situations -of society: narrow and contracted, when the -public interest required a close connexion between -the governor and the governed; large -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_346">346</span> -and capacious, when the same interest required -that connexion to be loosened. Just as the -skin (if you will needs have a comparison), -the natural cincture of the body, confines the -young limbs with sufficient tightness, and -yet widens in proportion to their growth, -so as to let the different parts of the -body play with ease, and obtain their full size -and dimensions. Whereas the other policies, -that have obtained in the world, may be compared -to those artificial coverings, which, being -calculated only for one age and size; grow -troublesome and insupportable in any other; -and yet cannot, like these, be thrown off and -supplied by such as are more suitable and convenient; -but are worn for life, though with -constant, or rather increasing, uneasiness.</p> - -<p>This then being the peculiar prerogative of -the feudal policy, I think we may say with -great truth, not that the House of Commons -violated the constitution, but, on the contrary, -that the constitution itself demanded, or rather -generated, the House of Commons.</p> - -<p>So that I cannot by any means commend -the zeal which some have shewn in seeking the -origin of this house in the <i>British</i> or even -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_347">347</span> -<i>Saxon</i> annals. Their aim was, to serve the -cause of liberty; but, it must be owned, at the -expence of truth, and, as we now perceive, -without the least necessity.</p> - -<h4>BP. BURNET.</h4> - -<p>It hath happened then in this, as in so many -other instances, that an excellent cause hath -suffered by the ill judgment of its defenders. -But, when truth itself had been disgraced by -one sort of men in being employed by them to -the worst purposes, is it to be wondered that -others should not acknowledge her in such -hands, but be willing to look out for her in -better company?</p> - -<h4>SIR J. MAYNARD.</h4> - -<p>Let us say, my lord, they should have acknowledged -her in whatever company she was -found; and the rather, as ill-applied truths are -seen to be full as serviceable to a bad cause, as -downright falsehoods. Besides, this conduct -had not only been fairer, but more politic. -For when so manifest a truth was rejected, it -was but natural to suspect foul play in the rest, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_348">348</span> -and that none but a bad cause could want to be -supported by so disingenuous a management.</p> - -<h4>MR. SOMERS.</h4> - -<p>I think so, Sir <span class="smcap">John</span>; and there is this further -use of such candor, that it cuts off at once -the necessity of long and laboured researches -into the dark parts of our history; and so not -only shortens the debate, but renders it much -more intelligible to the people.</p> - -<h4>SIR J. MAYNARD.</h4> - -<p>I was aware of that advantage, and am therefore -not displeased that truth allowed me to -make use of it.—But to resume the main argument; -for I have not yet done with my evidence -for the freedom of our excellent constitution:—It -seemed of moment to shew, from -the nature and consequences of the <i>Norman</i> -settlement, that the <i>English</i> government was -essentially free. But, because the freest form -of government may be tamely given up and -surrendered into the hands of a master, I hold -it of consequence to prove, that the <i>English</i> -spirit hath always been answerable to the constitution, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_349">349</span> -and that even the most insidious attempts -on their liberties have never failed to -awaken the resentment of our generous forefathers. -In a word, I would shew that the -jealously, with which the <i>English</i> have ever -guarded the national freedom, is at once a convincing -testimony of their <i>right</i>, and of their -constant <i>possession</i> of it.</p> - -<p>And though I might illustrate this argument -by many other instances, I chuse to insist only -on <small>ONE, THEIR PERPETUAL OPPOSITION TO THE -CIVIL AND CANON LAWS</small>; which, at various times -and for their several ends, the crown and -church have been solicitous to obtrude on the -people.</p> - -<p>To open the way to this illustration, let it -be observed that, from the time of <span class="smcap">Honorius</span>, -that is, when the <i>Roman</i> authority ceased -amongst us, the <i>Saxon</i> institutions, incorporated -with the old <i>British</i> customs, were the -only standing laws of the kingdom. These -had been collected and formed into a sort of -digest by <span class="smcap">Edward</span> the Confessor; and so great -was the nation’s attachment to them, that -<span class="smcap">William</span> himself was obliged to ratify them, -at the same time that the feudal law itself was -enacted. And afterwards, on any attempt to -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_350">350</span> -innovate on those laws, we hear of a general -outcry and dissatisfaction among the people: -which jealousy of theirs was not without good -grounds; as we may see from an affair that happened -in the Conqueror’s own reign, and serves -to illustrate the policy of this monarch.</p> - -<p>It had been an old custom, continued -through the <i>Saxon</i> times, for the bishops and -sheriffs to sit together in judicature in the -county courts. This had been found a very -convenient practice; for the presence of the -churchmen gave a sanction to the determinations -of the temporal courts, and drew an extraordinary -reverence towards them from the -people. Yet we find it abolished by the Conqueror; -who, in a rescript to the bishop of -<i>Lincoln</i>, ordained that, for the future, the -bishops and aldermen of the shires should -have separate courts and separate jurisdictions. -The pretence for this alteration was -the distinct nature of the two judicatures, -and the desire of maintaining a strict conformity -to the canons of the church. The real -design was much deeper. There is no question -but <span class="smcap">William’s</span> inclinations, at least, were for -arbitrary government; in which project his -<i>Norman</i> lawyers, it was hoped, might be of -good use to him. But there was a great -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_351">351</span> -obstacle in his way. The churchmen of those -times had incomparably the best knowledge of -the <i>Saxon</i> laws. It matters not, whether those -churchmen were <i>Normans</i>, or not. They were -equally devoted, as I observed before, to the -<i>Saxon</i> laws, with the <i>English</i>; as favouring -that independency, they affected, on the civil -power. Besides, in the Confessor’s time, many -and perhaps the greatest of the churchmen -had been <i>Normans</i>; so that the study of the -<i>Saxon</i> laws, from the interest they promised -themselves in them, was grown familiar to the -rising ecclesiastics of that country. Hence, as -I said, the churchmen, though <i>Normans</i>, were -well instructed in the spirit and genius of the -<i>Saxon</i> laws; and it was not easy for the king’s -glossers to interpret them to their own mind, -whilst the bishops were at hand to refute and -rectify their comments.</p> - -<p>Besides, the truth is (and my lord of <span class="smcap">Salisbury</span> -will not be displeased with me for telling -it), the ecclesiastics of that time were much -indevoted to the court. They considered the -king as the wickedest of all tyrants. He had -brought them into subjection by their baronies, -and had even set the pope himself at defiance. -In this state of things, there was no hope of -engaging the clergy in his plot. But when a -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_352">352</span> -separation of the two tribunals was made, and -the civil courts were solely administered by his -own creatures, the laws, it was thought, would -speak what language he pleased to require of -them.</p> - -<p>Such appears to have been the design of this -prince in his famous distinction of the ecclesiastic -and temporal courts. It was so artfully -laid, and so well coloured, that the laity seem -to have taken no umbrage at it. But the -clergy saw his drift; and their zeal for the -ancient laws, as well as their resentments, put -them upon contriving methods to counteract -it. They hit upon a very natural and effectual -one. In a word, they all turned common -lawyers; and so found means of introducing -themselves into the civil courts. This expedient -succeeded so well, and was so generally -relished, that the clergy to a man almost in -the next reign were become professors of the -common law; <span class="smcap">nullus Clericus nisi Causidicus</span>, -as <span class="smcap">William</span> of <i>Malmesbury</i> takes care -to inform us<a id="FNanchor_130" href="#Footnote_130" class="fnanchor">130</a>. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_353">353</span></p> - -<h4>BP. BURNET.</h4> - -<p>Whatever their motive might be, the churchmen, -I perceive, interposed very seasonably in -the support of our civil liberties. It was a -generous kind of revenge, methinks, to repay -the king’s tyranny over the church by vindicating -the authority of the <i>English</i> laws.</p> - -<h4>SIR J. MAYNARD.</h4> - -<p>It was so; and for this good service, I let -them pass without any harsher reflection. -Though the true secret is, perhaps, no more -than this: Their main object was the church, -of whose interests, as is fitting, we will allow -them to be the most competent judges. And, -as these inclined them, they have been, at different -junctures, the defenders or oppressors of -civil liberty.</p> - -<h4>BP. BURNET.</h4> - -<p>At <i>some</i> junctures, it may be, they have. -But, if you insist on so general a censure, I -must intreat Mr. <span class="smcap">Somers</span>, once more, to take -upon him the defence of our order. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_354">354</span></p> - -<h4>SIR J. MAYNARD.</h4> - -<p>All I intended by this instance, was, to shew -the spirit of the <i>Saxon</i> laws, which could excite -the jealousy of the prince, and deserve, at -such a season, the patronage of the clergy. It -seems, however, for once, as if they had a little -misconceived their true interests. For the distinction -of the two judicatures, which occasioned -their resentment, was, in the end, a great -means of the hierarchical greatness and independency.</p> - -<p>Matters continued on this footing during the -three first of the <i>Norman</i> reigns. The prince -did his utmost to elude the authority of the -<i>English</i> laws; and the nation, on the other -hand, laboured hard to confirm it. But a new -scene was opened under King <span class="smcap">Stephen</span>, by -means of the <i>Justinian</i> laws; which had lately -been recovered in <i>Italy</i>, and became at once -the fashionable study over all <i>Europe</i>. It is -certain, that the Pandects were first brought -amongst us in that reign; and that the reading -of them was much favoured by Archbishop -<span class="smcap">Theobald</span><a id="FNanchor_131" href="#Footnote_131" class="fnanchor">131</a>, under whose encouragement they -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_355">355</span> -were publicly read in <i>England</i> by <span class="smcap">Vacarius</span>, -within a short time after the famous <span class="smcap">Irnerius</span> -had opened his school at <i>Bologna</i>. There is -something singular in the readiness with which -this new system of law was embraced in these -Western parts of <i>Europe</i>. But my friend Mr. -<span class="smcap">Selden</span> used to give a plausible account of it. -It was, he said<a id="FNanchor_132" href="#Footnote_132" class="fnanchor">132</a>, in opposition to <span class="smcap">Innocent II</span>, -who was for obtruding on the Christian states -the <i>decretals</i>, as laws; manifestly calculated -for the destruction of the civil magistrate’s -power. And what seems to authorize the -opinion of my learned friend, is, that the popes -very early took the alarm, and, by their decrees, -forbad churchmen to teach the civil -law: as appears from the constitution of <span class="smcap">Alexander -III</span>, so early as the year 1163, in the -council of <span class="smcap">Tours</span>; and afterwards from the -famous decretal of <span class="smcap">Super-specula</span> by <span class="smcap">Honorius -III</span>, in 1219, in which the clergy of all -denominations, seculars as well as regulars, -were prohibited the study of it. And it was, -doubtless, to defeat the mischief which the -popes apprehended to themselves, from the -credit of the imperial laws, that <span class="smcap">Gratian</span> was -encouraged, about the same time, to compose -and publish his <span class="smcap">Decree</span>; which, it is even -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_356">356</span> -said<a id="FNanchor_133" href="#Footnote_133" class="fnanchor">133</a>, had the express approbation of Pope -<span class="smcap">Eugenius</span>.</p> - -<p>Let us see, now, what reception this newly-recovered -law, so severely dealt with by the -pope, and so well entertained by the greatest -part of <i>Europe</i>, had in <i>England</i>.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Vacarius</span> had continued to teach it for some -time, in the archbishop’s palace at <i>Lambeth</i>, -to great numbers, whom first, the novelty of -the study, and then, the fashion of the age, -had drawn about him. The fame of the teacher -was high, and the new science had made a -great progress, when on a sudden it received a -severe check, and from a quarter whence one -should not naturally expect it. In short, the -king himself interdicted the study of it. Some -have imagined, that this inhibition was owing -to the spite he bore to archbishop <span class="smcap">Theobald</span>. -But the truer reason seems to be, that the canon -law was first read by <span class="smcap">Vacarius</span> at the same -time, and under colour of the imperial. I -think we may collect thus much very clearly -from <span class="smcap">John of Salisbury</span>, who acquaints us -with this edict. For he considers it as an -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_357">357</span> -offence against the church, and expressly calls -the prohibition, an <small>IMPIETY</small><a id="FNanchor_134" href="#Footnote_134" class="fnanchor">134</a>.</p> - -<p>It is true, the decretals of <span class="smcap">Gratian</span> were not -yet published. But Ivo had made a collection -of them in the reign of <span class="smcap">Henry I</span>; and we may -be sure that some code of this sort would privately -go about amongst the clergy, from what -was before observed of the pains taken by <span class="smcap">Innocent -II</span>, to propagate the decretals. We -may further observe, that <span class="smcap">Theobald</span> had been -in high favour with <span class="smcap">Innocent</span>; and that his -school, at <i>Lambeth</i>, was opened immediately -on his return from <i>Rome</i>, whither he had been -to receive his pall from this pope, on his appointment -to the see of <i>Canterbury</i><a id="FNanchor_135" href="#Footnote_135" class="fnanchor">135</a>. All -which makes it probable, that <span class="smcap">Stephen’s</span> displeasure -was not so much at the civil, as <i>canon</i> -law, which he might well conclude had no -friendly aspect on his sovereignty.</p> - -<p>And we have the greater reason to believe -that this was the fact, from observing what -afterwards happened in the reign of <span class="smcap">Henry III</span>, -when a prohibition of the same nature was -again issued out against the teachers of the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_358">358</span> -<i>Roman</i> laws in <i>London</i><a id="FNanchor_136" href="#Footnote_136" class="fnanchor">136</a>. The true cause of -the royal mandate is well known. <span class="smcap">Gregory IX</span> -had just then published a new code of the decretals; -which, like all former collections of this -sort, was calculated to serve the papal interest, -and depress the rights of princes.</p> - -<p>However, these edicts, if we suppose them -levelled against the civil law, had no effect, -any more than those of the popes <span class="smcap">Alexander</span> -and <span class="smcap">Honorius</span>, before mentioned. For the -imperial law, being generally well received by -the princes of <i>Europe</i>, presently became a kind -of <i>Jus gentium</i>. And the clergy, who aspired -to power and dignities, either abroad or at -home, studied it with an inconceivable rage; -insomuch, that <span class="smcap">Roger Bacon</span> tells us, that, -in his time for forty years together, the seculars, -who were the ecclesiastics employed in -business, never published a single treatise in -divinity<a id="FNanchor_137" href="#Footnote_137" class="fnanchor">137</a>.</p> - -<p>The truth is, whatever shew the popes or -our own princes might make, at times, of discountenancing -the civil law, it was not the -design of either absolutely and universally to -suppress it. It was properly, not the civil, but -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_359">359</span> -the canon law, which was discountenanced by -our kings. And the case of the popes was, -that, when they found the imperial law opposed -to the <i>common</i>, they were ready to favour it; -when it was opposed to the <i>canon</i>, and brought -that into neglect, they forbad ecclesiastics the -study of it.</p> - -<h4>MR. SOMERS.</h4> - -<p>In the mean time the poor people, methinks, -were in a fine condition, between two laws, -the one founded on civil, and the other on ecclesiastical, -tyranny. If either had prevailed, -there had been an end of their liberties.</p> - -<h4>SIR J. MAYNARD.</h4> - -<p>Certainly their situation was very critical. -Yet in the end it was precisely this situation -that saved them. For betwixt these contentions -of the crown and mitre, each endeavouring to -extend its dominion over the other, the people, -who were of course to be gained by either side -in its distress, found means to preserve themselves -from both. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_360">360</span></p> - -<p>To see how this happened, we must remember, -what appears indeed from the two edicts -of <span class="smcap">Stephen</span> and <span class="smcap">Henry</span>, that the king himself -was a bulwark betwixt them and the papal -power. And when the king in his turn wanted -to exalt his prerogative over all, the church -very naturally took the alarm, as we saw in the -case of <span class="smcap">William’s</span> separation of the two tribunals. -And thus it happened, as <span class="smcap">Nat. Bacon</span> -observes<a id="FNanchor_138" href="#Footnote_138" class="fnanchor">138</a>, “That many times the pope and -the clergy became protectors of the people’s -liberties, and kept them safe from the rage of -kings.” The greatest danger was, when the two -powers chanced to unite in one common design -against them; as they did in their general -inclination for the establishment of the civil -law. But here the people had the courage -always to defend themselves; and with that -wisdom too, as demonstrates their attention to -the cause of civil liberty, and the vigilance -with which they guarded even its remotest outworks.</p> - -<p>Of their steady and watchful conduct, in -this respect, I shall mention some of the -many memorable examples, that occur in our -history. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_361">361</span></p> - -<p>I have said that from the time of <span class="smcap">Stephen</span>, -notwithstanding his famous edict, the imperial -laws were the chief and favourite study of the -clergy. They had good reason for applying -themselves so closely to this science, and still -further views than their own immediate advancement. -They wanted to bring those laws -into the civil courts, and to make them the -standing rule of public administration; not -merely from their good-will to the papal authority, -which would naturally gain an advantage -by this change, but for the sake of controlling -the too princely barons, and in hopes, no -doubt, that the imperial would in due time -draw the canon laws into vogue along with -them. Such, I think, were at least the secret -designs of the ruling clergy; and they did not -wait long before they endeavoured to put their -project in execution. The plot was admirably -laid, and with that deep policy as hath kept it, -I believe, from being generally understood to -this day.</p> - -<p>The great men of that time were, we may be -sure, too like the great men of every other, to -be very scrupulous about the commission of -those vices to which they were most inclined. -The truth is, their profligacy was in proportion -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_362">362</span> -to their greatness and their ignorance. They -indulged themselves in the most licentious -amours, and even prided themselves in this -licence. The good churchmen, no doubt, lamented -this corruption of manners; but, as -they could not reform, they resolved at least to -draw some emolument to themselves from it. -The castles of the barons, they saw, were full -of bastards. Nay, the courtesy of that time -had so far dignified their vices, that the very -same was had in honour. <span class="smcap">Ego Gulielmus -Bastardus</span>, is even the preamble to one of -<span class="smcap">William</span> the First’s charters.</p> - -<p>Yet, as respectable as it was become, there -was one unlucky check on this favourite indulgence: -and this, with the barons leave, the -considerate bishops would presently take off. -Subsequent marriage, by the imperial as well -as canon laws, legitimated bastards, as to succession; -whereas the common law kept them -eternally in their state of bastardy. It is not -to be doubted, but the barons would be sensible -enough of this restraint. They earnestly wished -to get rid of it. And could any thing bid so -fair to recommend the imperial law to their -good liking, as the tender of it for so desirable -a purpose? At a parliament, therefore, under -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_363">363</span> -<span class="smcap">Henry III</span><a id="FNanchor_139" href="#Footnote_139" class="fnanchor">139</a>, <i>Rogaverunt omnes episcopi, ut -consentirent quod nati ante matrimonium essent -legitimi</i>. What think ye now of this -general supplication of the hierarchy? What -could the barons do but comply with it, especially -as it was so kindly intended for their relief, -and the proposal was even made with a -delicacy that might enable them to come into -it with a good grace, and without the shame -of seeming to desire it? All this is very true. -Yet the answer of the virtuous barons is as -follows: <i>Omnes comites et barons unâ voce -responderunt</i>, <span class="smcap">Quod nolumus leges Angliæ -mutari</span>.</p> - -<p>We see then what stuck with them. These -barons, as licentious as they were, preferred -their liberty to their pleasure. The bishops, -they knew, as partisans of the pope, were for -subjecting the nation to the imperial and papal -laws. They offered, indeed, to begin with a -circumstance very much to their taste. But if -they accepted the benefit of them in one instance, -with what decency could they object -to them in others? They determined therefore -to be consistent. They rejected a proposition, -most agreeable in itself, lest their acceptance -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_364">364</span> -of it should make way for the introduction of -foreign laws; whose very genius and essence, -they well knew, was arbitrary, despotic power. -Their answer speaks their sense of this matter, -<span class="smcap">Nolumus leges Angliæ mutari</span>. They had -nothing to object to the proposal itself. But -they were afraid for the constitution.</p> - -<h4>MR. SOMERS.</h4> - -<p>I doubt, Sir <span class="smcap">John</span>, my lord of <span class="smcap">Salisbury</span> -will bring a fresh complaint against you, for -this liberty with the bishops. But I, who -shall not be thought wanting in a due honour -for that bench, must needs confess myself -much pleased, as well with the novelty, as -justice of this comment. I have frequently -considered this famous reply of the old barons. -But I did not see to the bottom of the contrivance. -Their aversion to the imperial laws, -as you say, must have been very great, to have -put them on their guard against so inviting a -proposal.</p> - -<h4>BP. BURNET.</h4> - -<p>One thing, however, is forgotten or dissembled -in this account, that the law of <span class="smcap">Justinian</span>, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_365">365</span> -which allows the privilege of legitimation -to subsequent marriage, is grounded on -some reasons that might, perhaps, recommend -it to the judgment, as well as interest of the -old prelates. Besides, they doubtless found -themselves much distressed by the contrariety -of the two laws in this instance. For the -ground of their motion, as I remember, was, -<i>Quod esset secundum communem formam ecclesiæ</i>. -But, to deal ingenuously with you, -Sir <span class="smcap">John</span>, you have dressed up your hypothesis -very plausibly. And I, who am no advocate -for the civil or ecclesiastical laws, in this or -any instance where they clash with those of my -country, can allow your raillery on <span class="smcap">Henry’s</span> -good bishops, if it were only that I see it -makes so much for your general argument.</p> - -<h4>SIR J. MAYNARD.</h4> - -<p>Your lordship may the rather excuse this -liberty with the <i>church</i>, as I propose, in due -time, to deal as freely with <span class="smcap">Westminster-hall</span>; -a similar plot, which I shall have occasion -to mention presently, having been formed -against the ancient constitution by the men -of our profession. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_366">366</span></p> - -<h4>MR. SOMERS.</h4> - -<p>In the mean time, Sir <span class="smcap">John</span>, you must give -me leave, in quality of advocate for the church, -to observe one thing, that does the churchmen -honour. It is, that, in these attempts on the -constitution, the judges and great officers of -the realm, who in those times were of the -clergy, constantly took the side of the <i>English</i> -laws; as my Lord <span class="smcap">Coke</span> himself, I remember, -takes notice in his commentary on this statute -of <span class="smcap">Merton</span>.</p> - -<h4>SIR J. MAYNARD.</h4> - -<p>I believe the observation is very just. But -I should incline to impute this integrity, not -to the influence of church principles, but those -of the common law, and so turn your compliment -to the honour of our profession instead of -theirs, if it were not too clear in fact that -every profession, in its turn, hath been liable -to this charge of corruption.</p> - -<p>But I was going on with my proofs of the -national aversion to the imperial law. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_367">367</span></p> - -<p>The next shall be taken from that famous -dispute concerning the succession to the crown -of <i>Scotland</i> in the reign of <span class="smcap">Edward I</span>. For -a question arising about the kind of law by -which the controversy should be decided, and -it being especially debated, whether the <i>Cæsarean</i> -law, as a sort of <i>jus gentium</i>, ought -not in such a cause to have the preference to -the law of <i>England</i>; it was then unanimously -determined by the great council of <span class="smcap">Norham</span>, -that the authority of the <i>Cæsarean</i> law should -by no means be admitted; <span class="smcap">ne inde majestatis -Anglicanæ juri fieret detrimentum</span><a id="FNanchor_140" href="#Footnote_140" class="fnanchor">140</a>.</p> - -<p>This determination was public, and given -on a very solemn occasion. And in general -we may observe, that at the junctures when -the state hath been most jealous of its liberty -and honour, it hath declared the loudest -against the <i>imperial laws</i>: as in the <small>WONDER-WORKING</small> -parliament under <span class="smcap">Richard II</span>, when -the duke of <i>Gloucester</i> accused the archbishop -of <i>York</i>, the duke of <i>Ireland</i>, and other creatures -of the king, of high treason. The -charge was so fully proved, that the court had -no other way of diverting the storm, than by -pretending an irregularity in the forms of procedure. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_368">368</span> -To this end the lawyers were consulted -with, or more properly directed. I will disguise -nothing. They descended so much from -the dignity of their profession, as to act in perfect -subserviency to the views of the court; -and therefore gave it as their opinion, that the -proceedings against the lords were of no validity, -as being contrary to the forms prescribed -by the <i>civil law</i>. The barons took themselves -to be insulted by these shifts of the lawyers. -They insisted that the proceedings were agreeable -to their own customs, and declared roundly -that they would never suffer <i>England</i> to be -governed by the <i>Roman</i> civil law<a id="FNanchor_141" href="#Footnote_141" class="fnanchor">141</a>.</p> - -<p>What think ye now of these examples? Are -they not a proof that the spirit of liberty ran -high in those times, when neither the intrigues -of churchmen nor the chicane of lawyers could -put a stop to it? It seems as if no direct -attempts on the constitution could have been -made with the least appearance of success; and -that therefore the abettors of arbitrary power -were obliged to work their way obliquely, by -contriving methods for the introduction of a -foreign law. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_369">369</span></p> - -<p>In this project they had many advantages, -which nothing but an unwearied zeal in the -cause of liberty could have possibly counteracted. -From the reign of <span class="smcap">Stephen</span> to that of -<span class="smcap">Edward III</span>, that is, for the space of near -200 years, the <i>Roman</i> law had been in great -credit<a id="FNanchor_142" href="#Footnote_142" class="fnanchor">142</a>. All the learning of the times was in -the clergy, and that learning was little more -than the imperial and canon laws. The fact -is so certain, that some of the clergy themselves, -when in an ill temper, or off their -guard, complain of it in the strongest terms. -And to see the height to which this humour -was carried, not the seculars only who intended -to rise by them, but the very monks in their -cells studied nothing but these laws<a id="FNanchor_143" href="#Footnote_143" class="fnanchor">143</a>. To -complete the danger, the magistracies and -great offices of the kingdom were filled with -churchmen<a id="FNanchor_144" href="#Footnote_144" class="fnanchor">144</a>.</p> - -<p>Who would expect, now, with those advantages, -but that the <i>Roman</i> law would have -forced its way into our civil courts? It did indeed -insinuate itself there as it were by stealth, -but could never appear with any face of authority. -The only service, that would be -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_370">370</span> -accepted from it, was that of illustration only in -the course of their pleadings, whilst the lawyers -quoted occasionally from the <span class="smcap">Institutes</span>, just -as they might have done from any other ancient -author<a id="FNanchor_145" href="#Footnote_145" class="fnanchor">145</a>. Yet, so long as the churchmen presided -in the courts of justice, this intruder was -to be respected; and it is pleasant to observe -the wire-drawing of some of our ablest lawyers, -in their endeavours to make the policy of <i>England</i> -speak the language of <i>Rome</i>.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Selden’s</span> dissertation on <span class="smcap">Fleta</span><a id="FNanchor_146" href="#Footnote_146" class="fnanchor">146</a>, which -lies open before me, affords a curious instance. -The civil law says, “Populus ei [Cæsari] et in -eum omne suum imperium et potestatem conferat;” -meaning by <i>people</i>, the <i>Roman</i> people, -and so establishing the despotic rule of the -prince. But <span class="smcap">Bracton</span> took advantage of the -ambiguity, to establish that maxim of a free -government, “That all dominion arises from -the people.” This, you will say, was good -management. But what follows is still better. -“Nihil aliud, says he, potest rex in terris, -cum sit Dei minister et vicarius, nisi quod -JURE potest. <span class="smcap">Nec obstat</span> quod dicitur, <small>QUOD -PRINCIPI PLACET LEGIS HABET VIGOREM</small>; quia -sequitur in fine legis, <span class="smcap">CUM LEGE REGIA QUÆ -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_371">371</span> -DE IMPERIO EJUS LATA EST</span>; id est, non quicquid -de voluntate regis temerè præsumptum -est, sed quod consilio magistratuum suorum, -rege auctoritatem præstante, et habitâ super -hoc deliberatione et tractatu, rectè fuerit definitum.” -Thus far old <span class="smcap">Bracton</span>; who is religiously -followed in the same gloss by <span class="smcap">Thornton</span>, -and the author of <span class="smcap">Fleta</span>. But what! -you will say, this is an exact description of the -present constitution. It is so, and therefore -certainly not to be found in the civil law. To -confess the truth, these venerable sages are -playing tricks with us. The whole is a premeditated -falsification, or, to say it softer, a -licentious commentary, for the sake of <i>English</i> -liberty. The words in the <span class="smcap">Pandects</span> and <span class="smcap">Institutions</span> -are these; “<small>QUOD PRINCIPI PLACUIT, -LEGIS HABET VIGOREM, UTPOTE CUM LEGE -REGIA, QUÆ DE IMPERIO EJUS LATA EST, POPULUS -EI ET IN EUM OMNE SUUM IMPERIUM ET -POTESTATEM CONFERAT</small>.”</p> - -<p>My honest friend, in mentioning this extraordinary -circumstance, says, one cannot consider -it <i>sine stupore</i>. He observes, that these -lawyers did not quote the Pandects by hearsay, -but had copies of them; and therefore -adds (for I will read on) “Unde magis mirandum -quânam ratione evenerit, ut non solùm -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_372">372</span> -ipse, adeò judiciis forensibus clarus, et (si Biographis -scriptorum nostratium fides) professor -juris utriusque Oxoniensis, verùm etiam <span class="smcap">Thorntonius</span> -juris aliàs peritissimus, et <span class="smcap">Fletæ</span> author, -adeò diversam lectionem sensumque diversum -atque interpretibus aliis universis adeò -alienum in illustrissimo juris Cæsarei loco explicando -tam fidentèr admiserint.” The difficulty, -you see, increases upon him. But we -shall easily remove it by observing, that the -Cæsarean laws, though they had no proper -authority with us, yet were much complimented -in those times, and were to be treated -on all occasions with ceremony. And therefore -those lawyers that lived under and wanted -to support a free constitution, saw there was -no way of serving their cause so effectually, -as by pretending to find it in the <i>Roman institutes</i>.</p> - -<h4>MR. SOMERS.</h4> - -<p>This management of <span class="smcap">Bracton</span> and his followers -makes some amends for the ill conduct -of <span class="smcap">Richard</span> the Second’s lawyers. And as to -their chicanery, the ingenuity of the gloss, we -will suppose, was no more than necessary to -correct the malignity of the text. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_373">373</span></p> - -<h4>SIR J. MAYNARD.</h4> - -<p>They had, no doubt, consulted their honour -much more, by insisting roundly, as they -might have done, that the text had no concern -at all in the dispute. But I mention these -things only to shew the extreme reverence, -that was then paid to the civil law, by the -shifts the common lawyers were put to in order -to evade its influence. From which we learn -how rooted the love of liberty must have been -in this nation, and how unshaken the firmness -of the national councils in supporting it, when, -notwithstanding the general repute it was of in -those days, the imperial law could never gain -authority enough to prescribe to us in any matters -that concerned the rights of the crown, or -the property of the subject. And this circumstance -will be thought the more extraordinary, -if it be considered, that, to the general esteem -in which the <i>Roman</i> law was held by the clergy, -our kings have usually added the whole weight -of their influence; except indeed at some particular -junctures, when their jealousy of the -<i>canon</i> law prevailed over their natural bias to -the <i>civil</i>. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_374">374</span></p> - -<h4>MR. SOMERS.</h4> - -<p>I should be unwilling to weaken any argument -you take to be of use in maintaining the -noble cause you have undertaken. But, methinks, -this charge on our princes would require -to be made out by other evidence<a id="FNanchor_147" href="#Footnote_147" class="fnanchor">147</a> than -hath been commonly produced for it. There -is no doubt but many of them have aimed at -setting themselves above the laws of their -country; but is it true (I mean, though <span class="smcap">Fortescue</span> -himself<a id="FNanchor_148" href="#Footnote_148" class="fnanchor">148</a> has suggested the same thing) -that for this purpose they have usually expressed -a partiality to the <i>Roman</i> laws?</p> - -<h4>SIR J. MAYNARD.</h4> - -<p>I believe it certain that they have, and on -better reasons than the bare word of any lawyer -whatsoever.</p> - -<p>What think you of <span class="smcap">Richard</span> the Second’s -policy in the instance before mentioned; that -<span class="smcap">Richard</span>, who used to declare, “That the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_375">375</span> -laws were only in his mouth and breast, and -that he himself could make and unmake them -at his pleasure?” We may know for what reason -a prince of this despotic turn had recourse -to the <i>Roman</i> law.</p> - -<p>But even his great predecessor is known to -have been very indulgent towards it. And still -earlier, <span class="smcap">Edward I.</span> took much pains to establish -the credit of this law; and to that end -engaged the younger <span class="smcap">Accursius</span>, the most renowned -doctor of the age, to come over into -<i>England</i>, and set up a school of it at <i>Oxford</i>. -Or, to wave these instances, let me refer you -to a certain and very remarkable fact, which -speaks the sense, not of this or that king, but -of the whole succession of our princes.</p> - -<p>The imperial law, to this day, obtains altogether -in the courts of admiralty, in courts -marescall, and in the universities<a id="FNanchor_149" href="#Footnote_149" class="fnanchor">149</a>. On the -contrary, in what we call the courts of law and -equity, it never hath, nor ever could prevail. -What shall we say to this remarkable difference? -or to what cause will you ascribe it, -that this law, which was constantly excluded -with such care from the one sort of courts, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_376">376</span> -should have free currency and be of sole authority -in the other? I believe it will be difficult -to assign any other than this: that the subjects -of decision in the first species of courts are -matters in the resort of the king’s prerogative, -such as peace and war, and the distribution of -honours; whilst the subjects of decision in the -courts of common law are out of his prerogative, -such as those of liberty and property. -The king had his choice by what law the first -sort of subjects should be regulated; and therefore -he adopted the imperial law. He had not -his choice in the latter instance; and the people -were never satisfied with any other than the law -of the land.</p> - -<h4>MR. SOMERS.</h4> - -<p>Yet Mr. <span class="smcap">Selden</span>, you know, gives another -reason of this preference: it was, he thinks, -because foreigners are often concerned with -the natives in those tribunals where the civil -law is in use.</p> - -<h4>SIR J. MAYNARD.</h4> - -<p>True; but my learned friend, as I conceive, -did not attend to this matter with his usual -exactness. For foreigners are as frequently -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_377">377</span> -concerned in the courts of law and equity, as -in the other tribunals. The case in point of -reason is very clear. In all contests that are -carried on between a native and a foreigner, -as the subject of another state, the decision -ought to be by the law of nations. But when -a foreigner puts himself with a native under -the protection of our state, the determination -is, of course, by our law. The practice hath -uniformly corresponded to the right in the -courts of law and equity. In the other tribunals -the right hath given way to the will of the -prince, who had his reasons for preferring the -authority of the imperial law.</p> - -<p>Upon the whole, if we consider the veneration, -which the clergy usually entertained, and -endeavoured to inculcate into the people, for -the civil law; the indulgence shewn it by the -prince; its prevalence in those courts which -were immediately under the prerogative; and -even the countenance shewn it at times in the -course of pleading at common law; we cannot -avoid coming to this short conclusion, “That -the genius of the imperial laws was repugnant -to our constitution; and that nothing but the -extreme jealousy of the barons, lest they might -prove, in pleas of the crown, injurious to civil -liberty, hath kept them from being received -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_378">378</span> -in <i>England</i> on the same footing that we every -where find they are in the other countries of -<i>Europe</i>, and as they are in <i>Scotland</i> to this -day.”</p> - -<p>But, if you think I draw this conclusion too -hastily, and without grounding it on sufficient -premises, you may further consider with me, -if you please, <small>THE FATE AND FORTUNES OF THE -CIVIL LAW IN THIS KINGDOM DOWN TO THE PRESENT -TIME</small>.</p> - -<p>In the reigns of <span class="smcap">Henry VII</span><a id="FNanchor_150" href="#Footnote_150" class="fnanchor">150</a> and VIII, and -the two first kings of the house of <span class="smcap">Stuart</span>, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_379">379</span> -that is, the most despotic of our princes, the -study of the civil law hath been more especially -favoured; as we might conclude from the general -spirit of those kings themselves, but as -we certainly know from the countenance they -shewed to its professors; from their chusing -to employ them in their business, and from -the salaries and places they provided for their -encouragement. Yet see the issue of all this -indulgence to a foreign law, and the treatment -it met with from our parliaments and people! -The oppressions of <span class="smcap">Empson</span> and <span class="smcap">Dudley</span> had -been founded in a stretch of power, usurped -and justified on the principles of the civil law; -by which these miscreants had been enabled to -violate a fundamental part of our constitution, -the way of <i>trial by</i> <small>JURIES</small>. The effect on the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_380">380</span> -people was dreadful. Accordingly, in the entrance -of the next reign, though the authority, -by which they had acted, had even been parliamentary, -these creatures of tyranny were -indicted of high treason, were condemned and -executed for having been instrumental in subverting -<span class="smcap">LEGEM TERRÆ</span>; and the extorted statute, -under which they had hoped to shelter -themselves, was with a just indignation repealed.</p> - -<p>Yet all this was considered only as a necessary -sacrifice to the clamours of an incensed -people. The younger <span class="smcap">Henry</span>, we may be -sure, had so much of his father in him, or rather -so far outdid him in the worst parts of his -tyranny, that he could not but look with an -eye of favour on the very law he had been -constrained to abolish. His great ecclesiastical -minister was, no doubt, in the secret of his -master’s inclinations, and conducted himself -accordingly. Yet the vengeance of the nation -pursued and overtook him in good time. They -resented his disloyal contempt of the original -constitution; and made it one of the articles -against this <i>Roman</i> cardinal, “That he endeavoured -to subvert <i>antiquissimas leges hujus -regni, universumque hoc regnum</i> <small>LEGIBUS IMPERIALIBUS</small> -<i>subjicere</i>.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_381">381</span></p> - -<p>From this time, the study of the civil law -was thought to languish in <i>England</i>, till it revived -with much spirit in the reigns of those -unhappy princes who succeeded to the house -of <span class="smcap">Tudor</span>. Then indeed, by inclination and -by pedantry, <span class="smcap">James I.</span> was led to patronize -and encourage it. And the same project was -resumed, and carried still further, by his unfortunate -son. I speak now from my own experience -and observation. The civil lawyers -were most welcome at court. They were -brought into the Chancery and court of Requests. -The minister, another sort of man -than <span class="smcap">Wolsey</span>, yet a thorough ecclesiastic, and -bigoted, if not to the religion; yet to the policy -of <i>Rome</i>, gave a countenance to this profession -above that of the common law. He -had found the spirit, and even the forms of it, -most convenient for his purpose in the <span class="smcap">Star-chamber</span> -and <span class="smcap">High-commission</span> court, those -tribunals of imperial justice, exalted so far -above the controul of the common law; and -by his good will, therefore, would have brought -the same regimen into the other branches of -the administration. Great civilians were employed -to write elaborate defences of their science; -to the manifest exaltation of the prerogative; -to the prejudice of the national rights -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_382">382</span> -and privileges; and to the disparagement of -the common law. The consequence of these -proceedings is well known. The most immediate -was, that they provoked the jealousy of -the common lawyers; and, when the rupture -afterwards happened, occasioned many of the -most eminent of them to throw themselves into -the popular scale<a id="FNanchor_151" href="#Footnote_151" class="fnanchor">151</a>.</p> - -<p>Yet, to see the uniformity of the views of -tyranny, and the direct opposition which it -never fails to encounter from the <i>English</i> law, -no sooner had a set of violent men usurped the -liberties of their country, and with the sword -in their hands determined to rule despotically -and in defiance of the constitution, than the -same jealousy of the common law, and the -same contempt of it, revived. Nay, to such an -extreme was the new tyranny carried, that the -very game of <span class="smcap">Empson</span> and <span class="smcap">Dudley</span> was played -over again. The trial of an <i>Englishman</i> by -his peers was disgraced and rejected; and (I -speak from what I felt) the person imprisoned -and persecuted, who dared appeal, though in -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_383">383</span> -his own case<a id="FNanchor_152" href="#Footnote_152" class="fnanchor">152</a>, to the ancient essential forms -of the constitution. Under such a state of -things, it is not to be wondered that much -pains was taken to depreciate a law which these -mighty men were determined not to regard. -Invectives against the professors of the <i>English</i> -laws were the usual and favoured topics of parliamentary -eloquence. These were sometimes -so indecent, and pushed to that provoking -length, that <span class="smcap">Whitlocke</span> himself, who paced -it with them through all changes, was forced -in the end to hazard his reputation with his -masters, by standing on the necessary defence -of himself and his profession<a id="FNanchor_153" href="#Footnote_153" class="fnanchor">153</a>.</p> - -<p>I need not, I suppose, descend lower. Ye -have both seen with your own eyes the occurrences -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_384">384</span> -of the late reign. Ye have heard the -common language of the time. The practice -was but conformable to such doctrines as were -current at court, where it was generally maintained, -that the king’s power of dispensing with -law, was <small>LAW</small>; by which if these doctors did -not intend the <i>imperial</i> or <i>civil law</i>, the insult -was almost too gross to deserve a confutation, -It must be owned, and to the eternal -shame of those who were capable of such baseness, -there were not wanting some even of the -common lawyers that joined in this insult.</p> - -<p>I but touch these things slightly; for I consider -to whom I speak. But if, to these examples -of the nation’s fondness for their laws, -you add, what appears in the tenor of our histories, -the constant language of the <i>coronation-oaths</i>, -of the <i>oaths of our judges</i>, and, -above all, of the <i>several great charters</i>; in all -which express mention is made of the <span class="smcap">LEX -TERRÆ</span>, in opposition to every foreign, but especially -the Cæsarean, law; you will conclude -with me, “That, as certainly as the <span class="smcap">Cæsarean -law</span> is founded in the principles of slavery, -our <span class="smcap">English law</span>, and the constitution to -which it refers, hath its foundation in freedom, -and, as such, deserved the care with which it -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_385">385</span> -hath been transmitted down to us from the -earliest ages.”</p> - -<p>What think ye now, my good friends? Is -it any longer a doubt, that the constitution of -the <i>English</i> government, such I mean as it -appears to have been from the most unquestioned -annals of our country, is a free constitution? -Is there any thing more in the way of -this conclusion? or does it not force itself upon -us, and lie open to the mind of every plain -man that but turns his attention upon this -subject?</p> - -<p>You began, Mr. <span class="smcap">Somers</span>, with great fears -and apprehensions; or you thought fit to -counterfeit them, at least. You suspected the -matter was too mysterious for common understandings -to penetrate, and too much involved -in the darkness of ancient times to be brought -into open day-light. Let me hear your free -thoughts on the evidence I have here produced -to you. And yet it is a small part only of that -which might be produced, of that I am sure -which yourself could easily have produced, and -perhaps expected from me.</p> - -<p>But I content myself with these obvious -truths, “That the liberty of the subject appears, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_386">386</span> -and of itself naturally arose, from the -very nature of the <small>FEUDAL</small>, which is properly -(at least if we look no further back than the -Conquest) the <i>English</i> constitution; that the -current of liberty has been gradually widening, -as well as purifying, in proportion as it descended -from its source; that charters and -laws have removed every scruple that might -arise about the reciprocal rights and privileges -of prince and people; that the sense of that -liberty which the nation enjoyed under their -admirable constitution was so quick, that every -the least attempt to deprive them of it gave an -alarm; and their attachment to it so strong -and constant, that no artifice, no intrigue, no -perversion of law and gospel, could induce -them to part with it: that, in particular, they -have guarded this precious deposite of legal -and constitutional liberty with such care, that, -while the heedless reception of a foreign law, -concurring with other circumstances, hath -riveted the yoke of slavery on the other nations -of <i>Europe</i>, this of <i>England</i> could never be -cajoled nor driven into any terms of accommodation -with it; but, as <span class="smcap">Nat. Bacon</span><a id="FNanchor_154" href="#Footnote_154" class="fnanchor">154</a> said -truly, <i>That the triple crown could never well -solder with the English</i>, so neither could the -<i>imperial</i>; and that, in a word, the <span class="smcap">English</span> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_387">387</span> -<small>LAW</small> hath always been preserved inviolate from -the impure mixtures of the canon and Cæsarean -laws, as the sole defence and bulwark -of our civil liberties.”</p> - -<p>These are the plain truths, which I have -here delivered to you, and on which I could -be content to rest this great cause; I mean, if -it had not already received its formal, and, I -would hope, final determination, in another -way. For no pretences will surely prevail -hereafter with a happy people to renounce that -liberty, which so rightfully belonged to them -at all times, and hath now so solemnly been -confirmed to them by the great transactions of -these days. I willingly omit therefore, as superfluous, -what in a worse cause might have -been thought of no small weight, the express -testimony of our ablest lawyers to the freedom -of our constitution. I do not mean only the -<span class="smcap">Cokes</span> and <span class="smcap">Seldens</span> of our time (though in -point of authority what names can be greater -than theirs?); but those of older and therefore -more reverend estimation, such as <span class="smcap">Glanvil</span>, -<span class="smcap">Bracton</span>, the author of <span class="smcap">Fleta</span>, <span class="smcap">Thornton</span>, -and <span class="smcap">Fortescue</span><a id="FNanchor_155" href="#Footnote_155" class="fnanchor">155</a>: men the most esteemed and -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_388">388</span> -learned in their several ages; who constantly -and uniformly speak of the <i>English</i>, as a mixed -and limited form of government, and even go -so far as to seek its origin, where indeed the -origin of all governments must be sought, in the -free will and consent of the people.</p> - -<p>All this I might have displayed at large; and -to others perhaps, especially if the cause had -required such management, all this I should -have displayed. But, independently of the -judgments of particular men, which prejudice -might take occasion to object to, I hold it sufficient -to have proved from surer grounds, from -the very form and make of our political fabric, -and the most unquestioned, because the most -public, monuments of former times, “<span class="smcap">That -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_389">389</span> -the English constitution is assuredly and -indisputably free</span><a id="FNanchor_156" href="#Footnote_156" class="fnanchor">156</a>.”</p> - -<h4>BP. BURNET.</h4> - -<p>You will read, Sir <span class="smcap">John</span>, in our attention to -this discourse, the effect it has had upon us. -The zeal, with which you have pleaded the -cause of liberty, makes me almost imagine I -see you again in the warmth and spirit of your -younger years, when you first made head -against the encroachments of civil tyranny. -The same cause has not only recalled to your -memory the old topics of defence, but restores -your former vigour in the management of them. -So that, for myself, I must freely own, your -vindication of our common liberties is, at least, -the most plausible and consistent that I have -ever met with. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_390">390</span></p> - -<h4>MR. SOMERS.</h4> - -<p>And yet, if one was critically disposed, there -are still, perhaps, some things that might deserve -a further explanation.—But enough has -been said by you, Sir <span class="smcap">John</span>, to shew us where -the truth lies: and, indeed, from such plain -and convincing topics, that, whatever fears my -love of liberty might suggest, they are much -abated at least, if not entirely removed, by your -arguments.</p> - -<h4>BP. BURNET.</h4> - -<p>Mr. <span class="smcap">Somers</span>, I perceive, is not easily cured -of his scruples and apprehensions. But for -my own part, Sir <span class="smcap">John</span>, I can think but of -one objection of weight that can be opposed -to your conclusion. It is, “That, notwithstanding -the clear evidence you have produced, -both for the free nature of the <i>English</i> constitution, -and the general sense of the <i>English</i> -nation concerning it, yet, in fact, the government -was very despotic under the <span class="smcap">Tudor</span>, -and still more perhaps under the first princes -of the <span class="smcap">Stuart</span>, line. How could this happen, -may it be asked, on your plan, which supposes -the popular interest to have been kept -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_391">391</span> -up in constant vigour, or rather to have been -always gaining, insensibly indeed, but necessarily, -on the power of the crown? Will not -the argument then from historical evidence be -turned against you, whilst it may be said that -your theory, however plausible, is contradicted -by so recent and so well-attested a part of our -history? And, in particular, will not the partisans<a id="FNanchor_157" href="#Footnote_157" class="fnanchor">157</a> -of the late king and his family have to -allege in their behalf, that their notions of the -prerogative were but such as they succeeded to -with the crown; and, whatever may be pretended -from researches into remoter times, -that they endeavoured only to maintain the -monarchy on the footing on which it had stood -for many successions, and on which it then -stood when the administration fell into their -hands? If this point were effectually cleared, -I see nothing that could be further desired -to a full and complete vindication of <i>English</i> -liberty.”</p> - -<h4>SIR J. MAYNARD.</h4> - -<p>Your lordship, I must own, has touched a -very curious and interesting part of our subject. -But you must not believe it was so much overlooked -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_392">392</span> -by me, as purposely left for your lordship’s -better consideration. You, who have -looked so minutely and carefully into the story -of those times, will, better than any other, be -able to unfold to us the mysteries of that affair. -The fact is certain, as you say, that the -<i>English</i> government wore a more despotic appearance -from the time of the <span class="smcap">Tudor</span> family’s -accession to the throne, than in the reigns -preceding that period. But I am mistaken, if -your lordship will not open the reason of it so -clearly as to convince us, that that increase of -prerogative was no proof of a change in the -constitution, and was even no symptom of declining -liberty. I do not allow myself to speak -my sentiments more plainly at present. But -I am sure, if they are just, they will receive -a confirmation from what your lordship will -find occasion to observe to us in discoursing -op this subject.</p> - -<h4>MR. SOMERS.</h4> - -<p>I will not disown that this was one of the -matters I had in view, when I hinted some remaining -doubts about your general conclusion. -But I knew it would not escape my lord of -<span class="smcap">Salisbury</span>, who, of all others, is certainly the -most capable of removing it. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_393">393</span></p> - -<h4>BP. BURNET.</h4> - -<p>So that I have very unwarily, it seems, been -providing a fine task for myself. And yet, as -difficult as I foresee it will be for me to satisfy -two such Inquirers, I should not decline that -task, if I was indeed prepared for it, or if I -could boast of such a memory as Sir <span class="smcap">J. Maynard</span> -has shewn in the course of this conversation. -But the truth is, though I have not -wanted opportunities of laying in materials -for such a design, and though I have not -neglected to take some slight notes of them, -yet I cannot pretend to have them at once in -that readiness, as to venture on such a discourse -as I know you expect from me. But if, against -our next meeting, I shall be able to digest -such thoughts as have sometimes occurred to -me when I was engaged in the History of the -Reformation, I shall take a pleasure to contribute -all I can to the further and more entire -elucidation of this subject.</p> - -<h4>THE END OF THE THIRD VOLUME.</h4> - -<p class="copy">Printed by J. Nichols and Son,<br /> -Red Lion Passage, Fleet Street, London.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"> - -<h2>FOOTNOTES:</h2> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="label">1</a> -Mala et impia consuetudo est contra Deos disputandi, sive -ex animo id fit, sive simulatè. <i>De Nat. D.</i> l. ii. c. 67.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_2" href="#FNanchor_2" class="label">2</a> -Genus hoc sermonum, positum in hominum veterum auctoritate, -et eorum illustrium, plus nescio quo pacto videtur habere -gravitatis. Itaque ipse mea legens, sic afficior interdum, -ut Catonem, non me loqui existímem. <span class="smcap">Cic.</span> <i>De Amic.</i> c. 1.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_3" href="#FNanchor_3" class="label">3</a> -Omnem sermonem tribuimus non Tithono, ut Aristo -Chius; <i>parum enim esset auctoritatis in fabulâ</i>. De Senect. c. 1.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_4" href="#FNanchor_4" class="label">4</a> -See the Dialogue intituled, Πρὸς τὸν εἰπόντα, ΠΡΟΜΗΘΕΥΣ -εἶ ἐν λόγοις.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_5" href="#FNanchor_5" class="label">5</a> -Ἔπαιζεν ἅμα σπουδάζων· Xen. Mem. l. i. c. 3.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_6" href="#FNanchor_6" class="label">6</a> -Γέλωτα κωμικὸν ὑπὸ σεμνότητι φιλοσόφῳ. Προμηθ. c. 7.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_7" href="#FNanchor_7" class="label">7</a> -Difficillimam illam societatem <i>Gravitatis cum Humanitate</i>. -<i>Leg</i>. l. iii. c. 1.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_8" href="#FNanchor_8" class="label">8</a> -Ἐτολμήσαμεν ἡμεῖς τὰ οὕτως ἔχοντα ϖρὸς ἄλληλα ξυναγαγεῖν καὶ -ξυναρμόσαι, οὐ ϖάνυ ϖειθόμενα, οὐδὲ εὐμαρῶς ἀνεχόμενα τὴν κοινωνίαν. -Προμηθ. c. 7.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_9" href="#FNanchor_9" class="label">9</a> -Προμηθ. c. 7. to the end. Δὶς κατηγορούμενος. c. 33. and -Ζεῦξις.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_10" href="#FNanchor_10" class="label">10</a> -——quo in genere orationis utrumque Oratorem cognoveramus, -id ipsum sumus in eorum sermone <i>adumbrare conati</i>. -De Orat. iii. 4.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_11" href="#FNanchor_11" class="label">11</a> -A curious passage, or two, in his Letters to Atticus, will -serve to illustrate this observation. The <i>academic questions</i> were -drawn up, and finished, when a doubt occurred to him, whether -he should not change one of the speakers in that Dialogue, and, -instead of Varro, introduce Brutus; who would suit his purpose, -he said, just as well, because his philosophic principles -were the same with those of Varro—<i>si addubitas</i>, says he to -Atticus, <i>ad Brutum transeamus. Est enim is quoque Antiochius.</i> -l. xiii. 25. Was this a change to be easily made, if it were necessary, -in this kind of writing, to suit the <i>style</i> and <i>manner of -expression</i> to the character of the speakers? Yet, hear how -negligently he treats this matter—<i>Opinor igitur consideremus, -etsi nomina jam facta sunt. Sed</i> <small>VEL INDUCI, VEL MUTARI POSSUNT</small>. -l. xiii. 14.—In other words, provided the <i>cast</i> of the -several parts was the same, the <i>language</i> of the Dialogue would -require no alteration. It was indifferent, in this respect, who -were the speakers.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_12" href="#FNanchor_12" class="label">12</a> -Scripsit enim et <span class="smcap">Dialogos</span> quos non magis philosophiæ -annumerare possis, quam <span class="smcap">Historiæ</span>. <span class="smcap">Seneca, Ep. c.</span></p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_13" href="#FNanchor_13" class="label">13</a> -Lord <span class="smcap">Shaftesbury’s</span> <i>Moralists</i>, P. 1. S. <small>I</small>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_14" href="#FNanchor_14" class="label">14</a> -<i>Adv. to an Author</i>, P. 1. S. <small>III</small>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_15" href="#FNanchor_15" class="label">15</a> -<i>Adv. to an Author</i>, P. 1. towards the end.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_16" href="#FNanchor_16" class="label">16</a> -The scene of Dr. <span class="smcap">More’s Divine Dialogues</span>, printed -in 1668.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_17" href="#FNanchor_17" class="label">17</a> -At <span class="smcap">Beaconsfield</span> in <i>Bucks</i>, the supposed scene of the -Dialogue.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_18" href="#FNanchor_18" class="label">18</a> -See his works, where are some pieces of a very early -date; though Lord <span class="smcap">Clarendon</span> tells us, <i>he was near thirty -years of age, before he was much taken notice of as a Poet</i>. -Contin. of his Life, P. I. p. 25.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_19" href="#FNanchor_19" class="label">19</a> -Dr. <span class="smcap">Andrews</span>, bishop of <i>Winchester</i>, and Dr. <span class="smcap">Neal</span>, -bishop of <i>Durham</i>. The story is well known.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_20" href="#FNanchor_20" class="label">20</a> -Dr. <span class="smcap">George Morley</span>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_21" href="#FNanchor_21" class="label">21</a> -This alludes to the impeachment of Mr. <i>Justice</i> <span class="smcap">Crawley</span>, -<i>July 6, 1641</i>, for his extra-judicial opinion in the -affair of <i>Ship-money</i>. Mr. <span class="smcap">Waller’s</span> speech on this occasion -is extant amongst his works.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_22" href="#FNanchor_22" class="label">22</a> -The famous Mr. <span class="smcap">Hampden</span> was his uncle.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_23" href="#FNanchor_23" class="label">23</a> -That of <i>Secretary of State</i>. The Lord <span class="smcap">Clarendon</span> tells -us it was with the utmost difficulty he persuaded him to -accept it. “There were two considerations (says the historian) -that made most impression on him; the <i>one</i>, lest -the world should believe that his own ambition had procured -this promotion, and that he had therefore appeared -signally in the house to oppose those proceedings, that he -might thereby render himself gracious to the court: The -<i>other</i>, lest the king should expect such a submission and -resignation of himself and his own reason and judgment -to his commands as he should never give or pretend to -give; for he was so severe an adorer of truth, that he -would as easily have given himself leave to steal as to dissemble,” -&c. B. iv.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_24" href="#FNanchor_24" class="label">24</a> -The noble historian, before cited, gives us two instances -of Lord <span class="smcap">Falkland’s</span> scrupulosity. The <i>one</i> was, -“That he could never bring himself to employ spies, or -give any countenance or entertainment to them:” The -<i>other</i>, “That he could never allow himself the liberty of -opening letters, upon a suspicion that they might contain -matter of dangerous consequence.” B. viii.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_25" href="#FNanchor_25" class="label">25</a> -To this purpose my Lord <span class="smcap">Clarendon</span>. “He [Mr. W.] -spoke, upon all occasions, with great sharpness and freedom: -which (now there were so few that used it, and -there was no danger of being over-voted) was not restrained; -and therefore used as an argument against those, -who were gone upon pretence, that they were not suffered -to declare their opinion freely in the house; which could -not be believed, when all men knew what liberty Mr. -<span class="smcap">Waller</span> took, and spoke every day with impunity, against -the sense and proceedings of the house.” B. vii.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_26" href="#FNanchor_26" class="label">26</a> -See Lord <span class="smcap">Clarendon’s</span> History.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_27" href="#FNanchor_27" class="label">27</a> -Ἅπλωσον σεαυτόν, lib. iv. § 26, which Dr. <span class="smcap">More</span>, in l. -ii. c. 3. of his <span class="smcap">Enchiridion Ethicum</span>, translates, <i>simplifica -teipsum</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_28" href="#FNanchor_28" class="label">28</a> -In the year 1654.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_29" href="#FNanchor_29" class="label">29</a> -Lord <span class="smcap">Clarendon</span> died in 1674.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_30" href="#FNanchor_30" class="label">30</a> -The character of Mr. <span class="smcap">Waller</span> is given at large in the -<i>Life of Lord Clarendon</i>, P. I. p. 25.—As for Dr. <span class="smcap">More</span>, -Bishop <span class="smcap">Burnet</span> tells us, in one word, “That he was an -open-hearted and sincere Christian philosopher.” <i>Hist. -of his own Time</i>, vol. p. 273. 12<sup>mo</sup>, <i>Edinb.</i> 1753.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_31" href="#FNanchor_31" class="label">31</a> -This Dialogue is founded on a short passage in Mr. -<span class="smcap">Sprat’s</span> Life of Mr. <span class="smcap">Cowley</span>, in which he observes, -“That in his long dependence on my Lord St. <span class="smcap">Albans</span>, -there never happened any manner of difference between -them; except a little at <small>LAST</small>, because he would leave his -service.”</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_32" href="#FNanchor_32" class="label">32</a> -A small village on the <i>Thames</i>, which was Mr. <span class="smcap">Cowley’s</span> -first retreat, before he removed to <i>Chertsea</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_33" href="#FNanchor_33" class="label">33</a> -Meaning an estate he had obtained by means of this -lord. This particular is several times referred to in the -course of the Dialogue.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_34" href="#FNanchor_34" class="label">34</a> -The writer of the Dialogue has thought fit to soften -the misanthropy of Mr. <span class="smcap">Cowley</span> in this instance. In one -of his Essays he talks strangely. “It is the great boast,” -says he, “of eloquence and philosophy, that they first -congregated men dispersed, united them into cities, and -built up the houses and the walls of cities. I wish they -could unravel all they had woven, that we might have our -woods and our innocence again, <i>instead of our castles and -our policies</i>.”</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_35" href="#FNanchor_35" class="label">35</a> -These verses are inserted in one of his <i>Essays</i>, and in -some editions of his works.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_36" href="#FNanchor_36" class="label">36</a> -“Perhaps, says he (speaking of the poets), it was -the immature and immoderate love of them, which stampt -first, or rather engraved, the characters in me: they were -like letters cut in the bark of a young tree, which with -the tree, still grow proportionably.” -<span class="author">[<i>Essay on himself.</i>]</span></p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_37" href="#FNanchor_37" class="label">37</a> -“When the civil war broke out, his [Mr. <span class="smcap">Cowley’s</span>] -affection to the king’s cause drew him to <i>Oxford</i>, as soon -as it began to be the chief seat of the royal party.” [Dr. -<span class="smcap">Sprat’s</span> life of him.]</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_38" href="#FNanchor_38" class="label">38</a> -Dr. <span class="smcap">Sprat</span> tells us in <i>his Life</i>, “That, during his residence -at <i>Oxford</i>, he had the entire friendship of my Lord -<span class="smcap">Falkland</span>, one of the principal secretaries of state. That -affection was contracted by the agreement of their learning -and manners. For you may remember, Sir, [addressing -himself to Mr. M. <span class="smcap">Clifford</span>] we have often heard Mr. -<span class="smcap">Cowley</span> admire him, not only for the profoundness of -his knowledge, which was applauded by all the world, but -more especially for those qualities which he himself more -regarded, for <i>his generosity of mind, and his neglect of the -vain pomp of human greatness</i>.”</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_39" href="#FNanchor_39" class="label">39</a> -<i>The Cutter of Coleman-street</i>; the occasion and purpose -of which was this: At the Restoration, there was not a set -of men more troublesome to the ministry than the cavalier -officers; amongst whom had crept in all the profligate of -broken fortunes, to share in the merits and rewards of that -name. <span class="smcap">Cowley</span> writ this comedy to unmask these wretches, -and might reasonably pretend to some thanks for it. But, -contrary to expectation, this very attempt raised a storm -against him even at court, which beat violently upon -him. See his preface to that play in the later editions -in 8vo.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_40" href="#FNanchor_40" class="label">40</a> -<span class="smcap">Shakespear.</span> <i>As you like it.</i> Act II. S. 1.—There is -a quaintness in these lines of the great poet, which however -are not unlike some of Mr. <span class="smcap">Cowley’s</span> addressed to -<span class="smcap">J. Evelyne</span>, Esq.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where does the wisdom and the pow’r divine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In a more bright and sweet reflexion shine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where do we finer strokes and colours see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the Creator’s real poetry;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Than when we with attention look<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon the third day’s volume of the book?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If we could open and intend our eye,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We all, like <i>Moses</i>, should espy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ev’n in a <i>Bush</i>, the radiant Deity.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_41" href="#FNanchor_41" class="label">41</a> -In the <small>PREFACE</small> to his <i>Proposition for the advancement -of experimental philosophy</i>, first printed in 1661. <i>See the -edition in 24<sup>to</sup>, Lond. for H. Herringham.</i></p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_42" href="#FNanchor_42" class="label">42</a> -Dr. <span class="smcap">Sprat</span> tells us, “That he had obtained a plentiful -estate by the favour of my Lord <span class="smcap">St. Albans</span>, and the -bounty of my lord duke of <span class="smcap">Buckingham</span>.” [See his <i>Life</i>.]</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_43" href="#FNanchor_43" class="label">43</a> -Meaning <i>The true history of</i> Don Quixote; in which -poor <i>Sancho Panca</i> is drawn into all adventures, by the -promise of his <i>knight</i>, to reward him in due time with the -government of an <i>island</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_44" href="#FNanchor_44" class="label">44</a> -<span class="smcap">Lord Bacon</span> gives another account of this matter.—“As -for the privateness of life of contemplative men, it -is a theme so common to extol a private life, not taxed -with sensuality and sloth, in comparison, and to the disadvantage -of a civil life, for safety, liberty, pleasure, and -dignity, <i>as no man handleth it, but handleth it well</i>: such -a consonancy it hath to men’s conceits in the expressing, -and to men’s consents in the allowing.” [<i>Adv. of Learning</i>, -Book 1.]</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_45" href="#FNanchor_45" class="label">45</a> -The justness of this encomium on Lord <span class="smcap">Clarendon</span> -will hardly be disputed by any man, whose opinion is -worth regarding.—What pity, that Mr. <span class="smcap">Cowley’s</span> connexions -with some persons, indevoted to the excellent -Chancellor, kept him at a distance from a man, so congenial -to himself, and for whom he could not but entertain -the highest esteem! The Chancellor, though he could -not be expected to take him out of the hands of his old -patrons, seems, yet, to have been generous enough to Mr. -<span class="smcap">Cowley</span>, not to resent those connexions: as may be gathered -from the handsome testimony paid to his merit, in -the <i>Continuation of the History of his own Life</i>. Speaking -of <span class="smcap">B. Jonson</span>, he says—“He [<span class="smcap">Ben Jonson</span>] was the best -judge of, and fittest to prescribe rules to, poetry and -poets, of any man who had lived with, or before him, or -since; <i>If Mr.</i> <span class="smcap">Cowley</span> <i>had not made a flight beyond all -men</i>; with that modesty yet, to ascribe much of this, to -the example and learning of <span class="smcap">Ben Jonson</span>.”—Among the -other infelicities of men of genius, <small>ONE</small> is, and not the -least, that it rarely happens to them to have the choosing -of the persons, to whom they would most wish to be -obliged. The sensibility of their gratitude being equal to -their other parts and virtues, the man, whose favour they -chance first to experience, is sure of their constant services -and attachment through life, how strongly soever their -interest, and even their judgment, may <i>draw</i> another -way.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_46" href="#FNanchor_46" class="label">46</a> -The reader is not to forget, that Mr. <span class="smcap">Sprat</span> is writing -to the Lord <span class="smcap">St. Albans</span>, and was, at this time, chaplain -to the Duke of <span class="smcap">Buckingham</span>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_47" href="#FNanchor_47" class="label">47</a> -“Ingenium illustre altioribus studiis juvenis admodum -dedit: non, ut <small>PLERIQUE, UT NOMINE MAGNIFICO -SEGNE OTIUM VELARET</small>, sed quo firmior adversus fortuita -rempublicam capesseret.” [<i>Hist.</i> IV. 5.]—Part of the fine -character given us of <span class="smcap">Helvidius Priscus</span>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_48" href="#FNanchor_48" class="label">48</a> -<span class="smcap">The royal society</span>; not yet instituted, but much -talked of at this time.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_49" href="#FNanchor_49" class="label">49</a> -We have in this remonstrance that follows, the usual -language of those we call our <i>friends</i>; which may sometimes -be the <i>cause</i>, but is oftner the <i>pretence</i>, of ambition. -Hear how gravely Sir <span class="smcap">Dudley Carlton</span>, who loved -business, and drudged on in it all his life, is pleased, in -an evil hour, to express himself: “The best is, I was -never better, and were it not more for a necessity that is -imposed by the <small>EXPECTATION OF FRIENDS</small>, not to stand at -a stay and <small>SENESCERE</small>, whilst a man is young, than for -ambition, I would not complain myself of my misfortune.” -[Sir <span class="smcap">Ralph Winwood’s</span> <i>Memorials</i>, vol. II. p. 45.]</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_50" href="#FNanchor_50" class="label">50</a> -That Mr. <span class="smcap">Cowley</span> <i>had</i> his prince’s grace appears from -what the king said of him, on the news of his death: -“<i>That he had not left a</i> <small>BETTER</small> <i>man behind him in</i> England.” -And this with <i>grace</i> enough, in reason, from <small>SUCH</small> -a prince.—How it came to pass that he <i>wanted</i> the grace -of his peers (if, indeed, he <i>did</i> want it), hath been explained -in a note, p. 140.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_51" href="#FNanchor_51" class="label">51</a> -The application of this line is the affair of the <i>Mastership -of the</i> Savoy; “which though granted, says Mr. -Wood, to his highest merit by both the <span class="smcap">Charleses</span> I. and -II. yet by certain persons, enemies to the Muses, he lost -that place.” But this was not the worst. For, such is -the hard lot of unsuccessful men, the <i>Savoy-missing</i> <span class="smcap">Cowley</span> -became the object of ridicule, instead of pity, even to -the wits themselves; as may be seen in “<i>The session of -the poets</i>, amongst <i>the miscellaneous poems</i> published by -Mr. <span class="smcap">Dryden</span>.”</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Quid <small>DOMINI</small> facient, audent si talia <small>FURES</small>?<br /></span> -</div></div></div> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_52" href="#FNanchor_52" class="label">52</a> -Printed among his works, under the name of <small>THE -COMPLAINT</small>. The relation it has to the subject debated, -made me think it not amiss to print it at the end of this -Dialogue—It must raise one’s indignation to find that so -just, so delicate, and so manly a <i>complaint</i> should be -scoffed at, as it was by the wits before mentioned, under -the name of <small>THE PITIFUL MELANCHOLY</small>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_53" href="#FNanchor_53" class="label">53</a> -Juvenal, <i>Sat.</i> i. ver. 112.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_54" href="#FNanchor_54" class="label">54</a> -Whether it were owing to his other occupations, or -that he had no great confidence in the success of this -attempt, these <i>Essays</i>, which <i>were to give entire satisfaction</i> -to his court-friend in the affair of his retirement, went on -very slowly. They were even left imperfect at his death, -“a little before which (says Dr. <span class="smcap">Sprat</span>) he communicated -to me his resolution, to have dedicated them all to my -Lord <span class="smcap">St. Albans</span>, as a testimony of his entire respects to -him; and a <i>kind of apology</i> for having left human affairs -in the strength of his age, while he might have been serviceable -to his country.”——However, if this apology had -not the <i>intended</i> effect, it had a much better. Lords and -wits may decide of the qualities of Mr. <span class="smcap">Cowley’s</span> <i>head</i> as -they please; but, so long as these <i>Essays</i> remain, they will -oblige all honest men <i>to love the language of his heart</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_55" href="#FNanchor_55" class="label">55</a> -Alas! he was mistaken.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_56" href="#FNanchor_56" class="label">56</a> -A citation from one of his own poems.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_57" href="#FNanchor_57" class="label">57</a> -Mr. <span class="smcap">Sprat</span> himself tells us, speaking of Mr. <span class="smcap">Cowley’s</span> -retreat, that “some few friends and books, a -<i>chearful heart</i>, and innocent conscience, were his constant -companions.” <i>Life.</i></p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_58" href="#FNanchor_58" class="label">58</a> -This is one of the prettiest of Mr. <span class="smcap">Cowley’s</span> smaller -Poems. The plan of it is highly poetical: and, though -the numbers be not the most pleasing, the expression is -almost every where natural and beautiful. But its principal -charm is that air of <i>melancholy</i>, thrown over the -whole, so expressive of the poet’s character.</p> - -<p>The <i>address</i> of the writer is seen in conveying his just -reproaches on the <i>Court</i>, under a pretended vindication of -it against the <i>Muse</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_59" href="#FNanchor_59" class="label">59</a> -An execrable line.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_60" href="#FNanchor_60" class="label">60</a> -For the account of these <i>Monuments</i>, and of <i>Kenelworth-Castle</i>, -see the plans and descriptions of <span class="smcap">Dugdale</span>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_61" href="#FNanchor_61" class="label">61</a> -The speaker’s idea of Lord <span class="smcap">Leicester’s</span> porter agrees -with the character he sustained on the queen’s reception -at <i>Kenelworth</i>; as we find it described in a paper of good -authority written at that time. “Here a <small>PORTER</small>, tall of -person, big of limbs, stark of countenance—with club -and keys of quantity according; in a rough speech, full of -passion in metre, while the queen came within his ward, -burst out in a great pang of impatience to see such uncouth -trudging to and fro, such riding in and out, with -such din and noise of talk, within his charge; whereof he -never saw the like, nor had any warning once, ne yet -could make to himself any cause of the matter. At last, -upon better view and advertisement, he proclaims open -gates and free passage to all; yields over his club, his keys, -his office and all, and on his knees humbly prays pardon -of his ignorance and impatience. Which her highness -graciously granting, <i>&c.</i>”—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>A letter from an attendant in court to his friend a -citizen and merchant of <i>London</i>. From the court -at <i>Worcester, 20 August 1575</i>.</p></blockquote> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_62" href="#FNanchor_62" class="label">62</a> -In the first volume of the <span class="smcap">Spectator</span>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_63" href="#FNanchor_63" class="label">63</a> -The factious use, that was afterwards made of this -humour of magnifying the character of <span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>, may -be seen in the <i>Craftsman</i> and <i>Remarks on the History of -England</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_64" href="#FNanchor_64" class="label">64</a> -What the <i>political</i> character of Mr. <span class="smcap">Addison</span> was, -may be seen from his <i>Whig-examiner</i>. This amiable man -was keen and even caustic on subjects, where his party, -that is, <i>civil liberty</i>, was concerned. Nor let it be any -objection to the character I make him sustain in this -Dialogue, that he treats <span class="smcap">Elizabeth’s</span> government with -respect in the <i>Freeholder</i>. He had then the people to -cajole, who were taught to reverence her memory. He is, -here, addressing himself, in private, to his friends.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_65" href="#FNanchor_65" class="label">65</a> -Lucian expresses this use of the Table prettily—ΦΙΛΙΑΣ -ΜΕΣΙΤΗΝ ΤΡΑΠΕΖΑΝ, Ἔρωτες, c. 27.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_66" href="#FNanchor_66" class="label">66</a> -Besides this sort of hospitality, there was another still -more noble and disinterested, which distinguished the -early times, especially the purer ages of chivalry. It was -customary, it seems, for the great lords to fix up <small>HELMETS</small> -on the roofs and battlements of their castles as a signal of -hospitality to all adventurers and noble passengers. -“Adoncques etoit une coustume en la Grant Bretagne -(says the author of the old romance, called <span class="smcap">Perceforest</span>) -et fut tant que charité regna illecque, tous gentils hommes -et nobles dames faisoient mettre au plus hault de leur -hostel ung heaulme, en <small>SIGNE</small> que tous gentils hommes et -gentilles femmes trespassans les chemins, entrassent hardyement -en leur hostel comme en leur propre; car leurs -biens estoient davantage à tous nobles hommes et femmes -trespassans le royaulme.” Vol. iii. fol. 103.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_67" href="#FNanchor_67" class="label">67</a> -This is not said without authority: “Give me leave, -says one, to hold this paradox, that the English were -never more idle, never more ignorant in manual arts, -never more factious in following the parties of princes -or their landlords, never more base (as I may say) trencher -slaves, than in that age, wherein great men kept -open houses for all comers and goers: and that in our -age, wherein we have better learned each man to live of -his own, and great men keep not such troops of idle -servants, not only the English are become very industrious -and skilful in manual arts, but also the tyranny -of lords and gentlemen is abated, whereby they nourished -private dissensions and civil wars, with the destruction -of the common people.” <span class="smcap">Fynes Moryson’s</span> <i>Itinerary</i>, -Part III. Ch. v.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_68" href="#FNanchor_68" class="label">68</a> -Dr. <span class="smcap">Arbuthnot</span>, too, has his authority. A famous -politician of the last century expresseth himself to much -the same purpose, after his manner: “Henceforth, says -he, [that is, after the statutes against retainers in <span class="smcap">Hen. -VII’s</span> reign] the country lives, and <i>great tables</i> of the nobility, -which no longer nourished veins that would bleed -for them, were fruitless and loathsome till they changed -the air, and of princes became <i>courtiers</i>; where their revenues, -never to have been exhausted by beef and mutton, -were found <i>narrow</i>; whence followed racking of rents, -and, at length, sale of lands.” <span class="smcap">Sir James Harrington’s -Oceana</span>, p. 40. <i>Lond.</i> 1656.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_69" href="#FNanchor_69" class="label">69</a> -True it is, that this divertisement of <i>bear-baiting</i> was -not altogether unknown in the age of <span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>, and, -as it seemeth, not much misliked of master <span class="smcap">Stow</span> himself, -who hath very graphically described it. He is speaking -of the <i>Danish</i> embassador’s reception and entertainment -at <i>Greenwich</i> in 1586. “As the better sort, saith -he, had their convenient disports, so were not the ordinary -people excluded from competent pleasure. For, upon -a green, very spacious and large, where thousands might -stand and behold with good contentment, their <small>BEAR-BAITING</small> -and bull-baiting (tempered with other merry -disports) were exhibited; whereat it cannot be spoken of -what pleasure the people took.</p> - -<p>For it was a sport alone, of these beasts, continueth -the historian, to see the bear with his pink-eyes leering -after his enemies; the nimbleness and wait of the dog to -take his advantage; and the force and experience of the -bear again to avoid the assaults; if he were bitten in one -place, how he would pinch in another to get free; and if -he were once taken, then what shift with biting, clawing, -roaring, tugging, grasping, tumbling, and tossing, he would -work to wind himself away; and, when he was loose, to -shake his ears with the blood and slaver about his phisnomy, -was a pittance of good relief. The like pastime -also of the bull.—And now the day being far spent, and -the sun in his declination, the embassador withdrew to -his lodging by barge to <span class="smcap">Crosby’s</span> place; where, no doubt, -<small>THIS DAY’S SOLEMNITY WAS THOUGHT UPON AND TALKED -OF</small>.”—p. 1562.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_70" href="#FNanchor_70" class="label">70</a> -See the <i>Anarcharsis</i> of <span class="smcap">Lucian</span>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_71" href="#FNanchor_71" class="label">71</a> -If the reader be complaisant enough to admit the -fact, it may be accounted for, on the ideas of chivalry, -in the following manner. The knight forfeited all pretensions -to the favour of the ladies, if he failed, in any -degree, in the point of valour. And, reciprocally, the -claim which the ladies had to protection and courtesy -from the order of knights, was founded singly in the reputation -of chastity, which was the female point of honour. -“Ce droit que les dames avoient sur la chevalerie (says -<span class="smcap">M. de la Curne de Ste Palaye</span>) devoit étre conditionel; -il supposoit que leur conduite et leur reputation ne les -rendoient point indignes de l’espece d’association qui les -unissoit à cet ordre uniquement fondé sur l’honneur.</p> - -<p>Par celle voye (says an old <i>French</i> writer, the chevalier -<span class="smcap">de la Tour</span>, about the year 1371) les bonnes se craignoient -et se tenoient plus fermes de faire chose dont elles -peussent perdre leur honneur et leur etat. <i>Si vouldroye -que celûi temps fust revenu, car je pense qu’il n’en seroit pas -tant de blasmées comme il est à present.”</i></p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_72" href="#FNanchor_72" class="label">72</a> -Sir <span class="smcap">Philip Sydney</span>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_73" href="#FNanchor_73" class="label">73</a> -What is hinted, here, of the <i>reality</i> of these representations, -hath been lately shewn at large in a learned -memoir on this subject, which the reader will find in the -<small>XX</small><sup>th</sup> Tom. of <span class="smcap">Hist. de l’Acad. des Inscriptions et -Belles Lettres</span>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_74" href="#FNanchor_74" class="label">74</a> -This representation of things in the ages of chivalry -agrees with what we are told by the author of the memoir -just quoted: “Les premières leçons,” (says he, speaking -of the manner in which the youth were educated in the -houses of the Great, which were properly the schools of -those times) “qu’on leur donnoit, regardoient principalement -<i>l’amour de Dieu, et des dames</i>, c’est-à-dire, la -religion, et la galanterie. Mais autant la dévotion qu’on -leur inspiroit étoit accompagnée de puerilités et de superstitions, -autant l’amour des dames, qu’on leur recommandoit, -étoit il rempli de <small>RAFFINEMENT</small> et de <small>FANATISME</small>. -Il semble qu’on ne pouvoit, dans ces siécles ignorans et -grossiers, présenter aux hommes la religion sous une -forme assez materielle pour la mettre à leur portée; ni -leur donner, en même tems, une idée de l’amour assez -pure, assez metaphysique, pour prevenir les desordres et -les excès, dont etoit capable une nation qui conservoit -par-tout le caractere impetueux qu’elle montroit à la -guerre.” Tom. xx. p. 600.</p> - -<p>One sees then the origin of that furious gallantry which -runs through the old romances. And so long as the <i>refinement -and fanaticism</i>, which the writer speaks of, were -kept in full vigour by the force of institution and the -fashion of the times, the morals of these enamoured -knights might, for any thing I know, be as pure as their -apologist represents them. At the same time it must be -confessed that this discipline was of a nature very likely to -relax itself under another state of things, and certainly to -be misconstrued by those who should come to look upon -these pictures of a <i>refined and spiritual passion</i>, as incredible -and fantastic. And hence, no doubt, we are to account -for that censure which a famous writer, and one of the -ornaments of <span class="smcap">Elizabeth’s</span> own age, passeth on the old -books of chivalry. His expression is downright, and somewhat -coarse. “In our fathers time nothing was read but -books of chivalry, wherein a man by reading should be -led to none other end, but only to <i>manslaughter</i> and <i>baudrye</i>. -If any man suppose they were good enough to pass -the time withall, he is deceived. For surely vain words -do work no small thing in vain, ignorant, and young -minds, especially if they be given any thing thereunto of -their own nature.” He adds, like a good Protestant, -“These books, as I have heard say, were made the most -part in abbayes and monasteries; a very likely and fit fruit -of such an idle and blind kind of living.” <i>Præf.</i> to <span class="smcap">Ascham’s -Toxophilus</span>, 1571.</p> - -<p>I thought it but just to set down this censure of Mr. -<span class="smcap">Ascham</span> over-against the candid representation of the -French memorialist.—However, what is said of the influence, -which this ancient institution had on the character -of his countrymen, is not to be disputed. “Les preceptes -d’amour repandoient dans le commerce des dames ces considerations -et ces egards respectueux, qui, n’ayant jamais -été effacés de l’esprit des François, ont toujours fait un des -caractères distinctifs de nôtre nation.”</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_75" href="#FNanchor_75" class="label">75</a> -Of <span class="smcap">Scriblerus</span>. See the <small>VI</small><sup>th</sup> chapter of that learned -work, <i>On the ancient Gymnastics</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_76" href="#FNanchor_76" class="label">76</a> -<span class="smcap">Masques</span>, p. 181. <span class="smcap">Whaley’s</span> edition.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_77" href="#FNanchor_77" class="label">77</a> -This romantic spirit of the Queen may be seen as well -in her <i>amours</i>, as military achievements. “Ambiri, coli -ob formam, et <small>AMORIBUS</small>, etiam inclinatâ jam ætate, videri -voluit; de <small>FABULOSIS INSULIS</small> per illam relaxationem -renovatâ quasi memoriâ in quibus <small>EQUITES AC STRENUI -HOMINES ERRABANT</small>, et <small>AMORES</small>, fœditate omni prohibitâ, -generosè per <small>VIRTUTEM</small> exercebant.”</p> - -<p class="author"><span class="smcap">Thuani</span> Hist. tom. vi. p. 172.</p> - -<p>The observation of the great historian is confirmed by -<span class="smcap">Francis Osborne</span>, Esq., who, speaking of a contrivance -of the Cecilian party to ruin the earl of <span class="smcap">Essex</span>, by giving -him a rival in the good graces of the queen, observes—“But -the whole result concluding in a duel, did rather inflame -than abate the former account she made of him: -the opinion of a <small>CHAMPION</small> being more splendid (in the -weak and romantic sense of women, that admit of nothing -fit to be made the object of a quarrel but themselves) and -far above that of a captain or general. So as Sir <span class="smcap">Edmund -Cary</span>, brother to the Lord <span class="smcap">Hunsdon</span>, then chamberlain -and near kinsman to the Queen, told me, that though she -chid them both, nothing pleased her better than a conceit -she had, that her <i>beauty</i> was the subject of this quarrel, -when, God knows, it grew from the stock of honour, of -which then they were very tender.”—<span class="smcap">Mem. of Q. Elizabeth</span>, -p. 456.</p> - -<p>But nothing shews the romantic disposition of the -Queen, and indeed of her times, more evidently than the -<small>TRIUMPH</small>, as it was called; devised and performed with -great solemnity, in honour of the <i>French</i> commissioners in -1581. The contrivance was for four of her principal -courtiers, under the quaint appellation of “four foster-children -of <small>DESIRE</small>,” to besiege and carry, by dint of arms, -“<span class="smcap">the fortress of Beauty</span>;” intending, by this courtly -ænigma, nothing less than the queen’s majesty’s own person.—The -actors in this famous triumph were, the Earl -of <span class="smcap">Arundel</span>, the Lord <span class="smcap">Windsor</span>, Master <span class="smcap">Philip Sidney</span>, -and Master <span class="smcap">Fulk Grevil</span>. And the whole was conducted -so entirely in the spirit and language of knight errantry, -that nothing in the Arcadia itself is more romantic. -See the account at large in <span class="smcap">Stow’s</span> continuation of -<span class="smcap">Holinshed’s</span> Chronicles, p. 1316-1321.</p> - -<p>To see the drift and propriety of this triumph, it is to -be observed that the business which brought the <i>French</i> -commissioners into <i>England</i> was, the great affair of the -queen’s marriage with the duke of <span class="smcap">Alançon</span>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_78" href="#FNanchor_78" class="label">78</a> -Speeches at Prince <span class="smcap">Henry’s</span> barriers.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_79" href="#FNanchor_79" class="label">79</a> -There was an instance of this kind, and perhaps the -latest upon record in our history, in the 13th year of the -queen, when “a combat was appointed to have been -fought for a certain manor, and demain lands belonging -thereto, in <i>Kent</i>.” The matter was compromised in the -end. But not till after the usual forms had been observed, -by the two parties: of which we have a curious and circumstantial -detail in <i>Holinshed’s</i> Chronicles, p. 1225.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_80" href="#FNanchor_80" class="label">80</a> -Alluding to a tract, so called, by <span class="smcap">Gascoigne</span>, an attendant -on the court, and poet of that time, who hath -given us a narrative of the entertainments that passed on -this occasion at <i>Kenelworth</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_81" href="#FNanchor_81" class="label">81</a> -Hence then it is that a celebrated dramatic writer of -those days represents the entertainment of <small>MASKS</small> and -<small>SHOWS</small>, as the highest indulgence that could be provided -for a luxurious and happy monarch. His words are -these;</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Music and poetry are his delight.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Therefore I’ll have <i>Italian</i> masques by night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet speeches, comedies, and pleasing shows;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in the day, when he shall walk abroad,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like <span class="smcap">Sylvan Nymphs</span>, my pages shall be clad:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My men, like <span class="smcap">Satyrs</span>, grazing on the lawns,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall, with their goat-feet dance the antic hay:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sometimes a lovely boy in <span class="smcap">Dian’s</span> shape,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With hair, that gilds the water as it glides,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Crownets of pearls about his naked arms,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in his sportful hands an olive-tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall bathe him in a spring, and there hard-by<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One like <span class="smcap">Actæon</span>, peeping through the grove,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall by the angry Goddess be transform’d—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such things as these best please his Majesty.”<br /></span> -<span class="author"><span class="smcap">Marlow’s</span> Edward II.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And how exactly this dramatist painted the humour of -the times, we may see from the entertainment provided, -not many years after, for the reception of King <span class="smcap">James</span> at -<i>Althorp</i> in <i>Northamptonshire</i>; where this very design of -<i>Sylvan Nymphs</i>, <i>Satyrs</i>, and <span class="smcap">Actæon</span>, was executed in a -masque by <span class="smcap">B. Jonson</span>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_82" href="#FNanchor_82" class="label">82</a> -Whom his friend Mr. <span class="smcap">Selden</span> characterizeth in this -manner,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i17">“Omnia carmina doctus<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Et calles mythων plasmata et historiam.”<br /></span> -<span class="author"><span class="smcap">Tit. of Hon.</span> p. 466.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_83" href="#FNanchor_83" class="label">83</a> -<i>Sacrifices</i>, says <span class="smcap">Plutarch</span>, <i>without chorusses and without -music, we have known: but for poetry, without fable -and without fiction, we know of no such thing</i>. Θυσίας μὲν -ἀχόρους καὶ ἀναύλους ἴσμεν· οὐκ ἴσμεν δὲ ἄμυθον οὐδὲ ἀψευδῆ ϖοίησιν. -De aud. poët. vol. i. p. 16.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_84" href="#FNanchor_84" class="label">84</a> -This will be admitted, if a calculation said to have -been made by themselves of their number at that time may -be relied on—“They make reasoning (saith Sir <span class="smcap">Edwin -Sandys</span> in his <i>Speculum Europæ</i>, written in 1699) forty -hundred sure catholics in <i>England</i>, with four hundred -<i>English Roman</i> priests to maintain that militia,” p. 157.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_85" href="#FNanchor_85" class="label">85</a> -Mr. <span class="smcap">Camden</span> owns that the <i>Irish</i> rebellion, which in -the end became so dangerous, had been “encouraged by -a slighting of it, and a gripple-handedness of <i>England</i>.” -[<i>Hist. of</i> <span class="smcap">Eliz.</span> B. iv.]—To the same purpose another -eminent writer of that time—“Before the transmitting of -the last great army, the forces sent over by <span class="smcap">Q. Elizabeth</span> -were <small>NOT</small> of sufficient power to break and subdue all the -<i>Irishry</i>.” At last, however, “The extreme peril of losing -the kingdom; the dishonour and danger that might -thereby grow to the crown of <i>England</i>; together with a -just disdain conceived by that great-minded queen, that -so wicked and ungrateful a rebel should prevail against -her, who had ever been victorious against all her enemies; -did move and almost <small>ENFORCE</small> her to send over -that mighty army.” [Sir. <span class="smcap">J. Davies</span>, <i>Discovery of the State -of Ireland</i>, p. 97. <i>Lond.</i> 1613.]</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_86" href="#FNanchor_86" class="label">86</a> -Sir <span class="smcap">Robert Naunton</span> tells us, “The queen was -never profuse in delivering out of her treasure; but paid -her servants part in money, and the rest with <small>GRACE</small>; -which, as the case stood, was then taken for good payment.” -[<span class="smcap">Fragm. Reg.</span> p. 89.] And <span class="smcap">Nat. Bacon</span> to the -same purpose. “A wise man, that was an eye-witness of -<small>HER</small> actions, and those that succeeded to her, many times -hath said, That a courtier might make a better meal of -one good <small>LOOK</small> from her, than of a gift from some other.” -[<span class="smcap">Disc.</span> P. ii. p. 266. <i>Lond.</i> 1651.]</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_87" href="#FNanchor_87" class="label">87</a> -This <i>reverence of authority</i>, one of the characteristics -of that time, and which Mr. <span class="smcap">Addison</span> presently accounts -for, a great writer celebrates in these words—“It was an -ingenuous uninquisitive time, when all the passions and -affections of the people were lapped up in such an innocent -and humble obedience, that there was never the least contestation -nor capitulation with the queen, nor (though -she very frequently consulted with her subjects) <i>any further -reasons urged of her actions than</i> <small>HER OWN WILL</small>.” -See a tract intitled <span class="smcap">The Disparity</span>, in Sir <span class="smcap">H. Wotton’s</span> -Remains, p. 46, supposed to have been written by the earl -of <span class="smcap">Clarendon</span>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_88" href="#FNanchor_88" class="label">88</a> -<span class="smcap">Paulus Hentznerus</span>, a learned <i>German</i>, who was in -<i>England</i> in 1598, goes still further in his encomium on -the queen’s skill in languages. He tells us, that, “præterquam -quòd Græcè et Latinè eleganter est docta, tenet, -ultra jam memorata idiomata, etiam Hispanicum, Scoticum, -et Belgicum.” See his <span class="smcap">Itinerarium</span>.</p> - -<p>But this was the general character of the great in that -reign: at least, if we may credit Master <span class="smcap">William Harrison</span>, -who discourseth on the subject before us in the -following manner: “This further is not to be omitted, -to the singular commendation of both sorts and sexes of -our courtiers here in <i>England</i>, that there are very few of -them, which have not the use and skill of sundry speeches, -beside an excellent vein of writing, before time not regarded. -Truly it is a rare thing with us now, to hear of -a courtier which hath but his own language. And to say -how many gentlewomen and ladies there are, that, beside -sound knowledge of the <i>Greek</i> and <i>Latin</i> tongues, are -thereto no less skilful in the <i>Spanish</i>, <i>Italian</i>, and <i>French</i>, -or in some one of them, it resteth not in me; sith I am -persuaded, that as the noblemen and gentlemen do surmount -in this behalf, so these come very little or nothing -behind them for their parts; which industry God continue, -and accomplish that which otherwise is wanting.” <span class="smcap">Descript.</span> -of <span class="smcap">England</span>, p. 196.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_89" href="#FNanchor_89" class="label">89</a> -One of these <i>ties</i> was the <i>prejudice of education</i>; and -some uncommon methods used to bind it fast on the -minds of the people.—A book, called ΕΙΡΗΝΑΡΧΙΑ, sive -<span class="smcap">Elizabeth</span>, was written in <i>Latin</i> verse by one <span class="smcap">Ockland</span>, -containing the highest panegyrics on the queen’s character -and government, and setting forth the transcendant virtues -of her ministers. This book was enjoined by authority -to be taught, as a classic author, in Grammar-schools, and -was of course to be gotten by heart by the young scholars -throughout the kingdom.</p> - -<p>This was a matchless contrivance to imprint a sense of -loyalty on the minds of the people. And, though it flowed, -as we are to suppose, from a tender regard, in the advisers -of it, for the interests of Protestantism in that reign; yet -its uses are so apparent in any reign, and under any administration, -that nothing but the moderation of her successors, -and the reasonable assurance of their ministers -that their own acknowledged virtues were a sufficient support -to them, could have hindered the expedient from -being followed.</p> - -<p>But, though the stamp of public authority was wanting, -private men have attempted, in several ways, to supply -this defect. To instance only in one. The Protestant -queen was to pass for a mirror of <i>good government</i>: hence -the Εἰρηνάρχια. Her successor would needs be thought a -mirror of <i>eloquence</i>: and hence the noble enterprise I am -about to celebrate. “Mr. <span class="smcap">George Herbert</span> (I give it in -the grave historian’s own words) being prelector in the -rhetorique school in <i>Cambridge</i>, in 1618, passed by those -fluent orators, that domineered in the pulpits of <i>Athens</i> -and <i>Rome</i>, and insisted to read upon an oration of <span class="smcap">K. -James</span>, which he analysed; shewed the concinnity of the -parts; the propriety of the phrase; the height and power -of it to move the affections; the style, <small>UTTERLY UNKNOWN -TO THE ANCIENTS</small>, who could not conceive what kingly -eloquence was, in respect of which those noted demigogi -were but hirelings and tribolary rhetoricians.” Bishop -<span class="smcap">Hacket’s</span> Life of Archbishop <span class="smcap">Williams</span>, p. 175.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_90" href="#FNanchor_90" class="label">90</a> -A learned foreigner gives this character of the <i>English</i> -at that time: “Angli, ut <small>ADDICTE SERVIUNT</small>, ità evecti -ad dignitates priorem humilitatem <small>INSOLENTIA</small> rependunt.” -<span class="smcap">H. Grotii Ann.</span> L. v. p. 95. <i>Amst.</i> 1657. Hence -the propriety of those complaints, in our great poet, of,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">“The whips and scorns of th’ time,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Th’ oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely,<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The insolence of office</span>;”—<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p><i>complaints</i> so frequent, and so forcibly expressed by him, -that we may believe he painted from his own observation, -and perhaps experience, of this insolent misuse of authority. -<span class="smcap">Measure for Measure</span>, A. II. S. vii.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_91" href="#FNanchor_91" class="label">91</a> -Yet it may seem probable, from this poet’s conduct in -<i>Ireland</i>, and his <i>View of the state of that country</i>, that his -talents for <i>business</i> (such as <span class="smcap">Cecil</span> himself must have approved) -were no less considerable than for poetry. But he -had served a disgraced man; and had drawn upon himself -the admiration of the generous earl of <i>Essex</i>. So that, as -the historian expresseth it, “by a fate which still follows -poets, he always wrestled with poverty, though he had -been secretary to the lord <span class="smcap">Gray</span>, lord deputy of <i>Ireland</i>.” -All that remained for him was, “to be interred at <i>Westminster</i>, -near to <span class="smcap">Chaucer</span>, at the charge of the earl of <i>Essex</i>; -his hearse being attended by poets, and mournful elegies -and poems, with the pens that wrote them, thrown into -his grave.” <span class="smcap">Camden</span>, lib. iv.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_92" href="#FNanchor_92" class="label">92</a> -As to Sir <span class="smcap">Francis Bacon</span>, the queen herself gave a -very plausible reason, and doubtless much approved by the -grave lawyers and other judicious persons of that time, -for her neglect of this gentleman. “She did acknowledge -(says the earl of <i>Essex</i> in a letter to Mr. <span class="smcap">Francis Bacon</span>) -you had a great wit, and an excellent gift of speech, and -much other good learning. But in <span class="smcap">Law</span>, she rather thought -you could make shew, to the utmost of your knowledge, -than, that you were deep.” <span class="smcap">Mem. of Q. Elizabeth</span> by -Dr. <span class="smcap">Birch</span>; to whom the public is exceedingly indebted -for abundance of curious information concerning the history -of those times.</p> - -<p>If it be asked, how the queen came to form this conclusion, -the answer is plain. It was from Mr. <span class="smcap">Bacon’s</span> -having a <small>GREAT WIT</small>, an excellent <small>GIFT OF SPEECH</small>, and -much other <small>GOOD LEARNING</small>.</p> - -<p>It is true, Sir <span class="smcap">Francis Bacon</span> himself gives another -account of this matter. In a letter of advice to Sir. -<span class="smcap">George Villiers</span>, he says, “In this dedication of yourself -to the public, I recommend unto you principally -that which I think was never done since I was born—that -you countenance and encourage and advance <small>ABLE MEN</small>, in -all kinds, degrees, and professions. For in the time of -the <span class="smcap">Cecils</span>, father and son, <small>ABLE MEN WERE BY DESIGN -AND OF PURPOSE SUPPRESSED</small>.” <span class="smcap">Cabala</span>, p. 57, ed. 1691.—But -either way, indeed, the queen’s character is equally -saved.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_93" href="#FNanchor_93" class="label">93</a> -The lord <span class="smcap">Mountjoy</span> [then Sir <span class="smcap">Charles Blount</span>], -being of a military turn, had stolen over into <i>France</i>, without -the queen’s knowledge, in order to serve in <i>Bretagne</i>, -under one of her generals. Upon his return, which was -hastened too by her express command, “Serve me so again, -said the queen, once more, and I will lay you fast enough -for running. You will never leave, till you are knocked -o’ the head, as that inconsiderate fellow <span class="smcap">Sidney</span> was. You -shall go when I send you. In the mean time see that you -lodge in the Court, where you may <small>FOLLOW YOUR BOOKS, -HEAD, AND DISCOURSE OF THE WARS</small>.” Sir <span class="smcap">Robert -Naunton’s Fr. Reg.</span> in <span class="smcap">L. Burleigh</span>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_94" href="#FNanchor_94" class="label">94</a> -So good a judge of military matters, as Sir <span class="smcap">Walter -Raleigh</span>, was of this opinion with regard to the conduct -of the <i>Spanish</i> war. “If the late queen would have believed -her men of war, as she did her scribes, we had, in -her time, beaten that great empire in pieces, and made -their kings, kings of figs and oranges, as in old times. -But <i>her majesty did all by halves</i>, and, by petty invasions, -taught the <i>Spaniard</i> how to defend himself, and to see his -own weakness; which, till our attempts taught him, was -hardly known to himself.” See his Works, vol. i. 273.—<span class="smcap">Raleigh</span>, -it may be said, was of the <span class="smcap">Cecil</span> faction. -But the men of war, of the <span class="smcap">Essex</span> faction, talked exactly -in the same strain; which shews that this might probably -be the truth.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_95" href="#FNanchor_95" class="label">95</a> -See Sir <span class="smcap">Henry Wotton’s</span> <i>Parallel of the earl of -Essex and duke of Buckingham</i>. The words are these: “He -[the earl of <i>Essex</i>] was to wrestle with a queen’s declining, -or rather with her very setting age, as we may term it; -which, besides other respects, is commonly even of itself -the more umbratious and apprehensive; as for the most -part all horizons are charged with certain vapours towards -their evening.” <span class="smcap">Remains</span>, p. 11.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_96" href="#FNanchor_96" class="label">96</a> -<span class="smcap">The Disparity</span>, p. 43</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_97" href="#FNanchor_97" class="label">97</a> -This account of her policy is confirmed by what we -read in the <span class="smcap">Disparity</span>, before cited. “That trick of -countenancing and protecting factions (as that queen, -almost her whole reign, did with singular and equal demonstration -of grace look upon several persons of most -distant wishes one towards another) was not the least -ground of much of her quiet and success. And she never -doubted but that men, that were never so opposite in -their good-will each to other, or never so dishonest in -their projectments for each other’s confusion, might yet -be reconciled in their allegiance towards her. Insomuch -that, during her whole reign, she never endeavoured to -reconcile any personal differences in the court, though -the unlawful emulations of persons of nearest trust about -her, were ever like to overthrow some of her chiefest -designs: <i>A policy, seldom entertained by princes, especially -if they have issues to survive them</i>,” p. 46. Her own historian, -it is true, seems a little shy of acknowledging this -conduct of the queen, with regard to her nobility and ministers. -But he owns, “She now and then took a pleasure -(and not unprofitably) in the emulation and privy -grudges of her women.” <span class="smcap">Camden’s Elizabeth</span>, p. 79. -fol. <i>Lond.</i> 1688.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_98" href="#FNanchor_98" class="label">98</a> -We find an intimation to this purpose, in a writer of -credit, at least with respect to the <i>Dutch</i> and <i>Ireland</i>—“Jam -et <i>divulsam</i> Hiberniam, et in Batavis Angli militis -<i>seditiones</i>, velut <small>JUSSAS</small>, erant qui exprobrarent.” <span class="smcap">Grotii -Annal.</span> l. xii. p. 432.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_99" href="#FNanchor_99" class="label">99</a> -Something like this was observed of her disposition -by Sir <span class="smcap">James Melvil</span>. After having related to his mistress, -the queen of <i>Scots</i>, the strong professions of friendship -which the queen of <i>England</i> had made to him, “She -[the queen of <i>Scots</i>] inquired, says he, whether I thought -that queen meant truly towards her inwardly in her heart, -as she appeared to do outwardly in her speech. I answered -freely, that, in my judgment, there was neither plain -dealing, nor upright meaning; but great dissimulation, -emulation, and <small>FEAR</small>, lest her princely qualities should -over-soon chace her from her kingdom,” &c. <span class="smcap">Memoirs</span>, -p. 53.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_100" href="#FNanchor_100" class="label">100</a> -Secretary <span class="smcap">Walsingham</span>, in a letter to the queen, -Sept. 2, 1581, amongst other things to the same purpose, -has the following words—“<i>Remember</i>, I humbly beseech -your majesty, <i>the respect of charges hath lost Scotland</i>: and -I would to God I had no cause to think, that <i>it might put -your highness in peril of the loss of England</i>.”—“And even -the Lord Treasurer himself (we are told) in a letter still -extant in the paper-office, written in the critical year 1588, -while the <i>Spanish</i> armada was expected against <i>England</i>, -excuses himself to sir <span class="smcap">Edward Stafford</span>, then embassador -in <i>France</i>, for not writing to him oftener, <i>on account -of her majesty’s unwillingness to be at the expence of -messengers</i>.” Sir <span class="smcap">T. Edmondes’</span> State-papers, by Dr. -<span class="smcap">Birch</span>, p. 21.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_101" href="#FNanchor_101" class="label">101</a> -One of these complaisant observers was the writer of -<i>the Description of England</i>, who, speaking of the variety -of the queen’s houses, checks himself with saying, “But -what shall I need to take upon me to repeat all, and tell -what houses the queen’s majesty hath? Sith <small>ALL IS HIRS</small>; -and when it pleaseth hir in the summer season to recreate -hirself abroad, and view the state of the countrie, and hear -the complaints of hir unjust officers or substitutes, <i>every -nobleman’s house is hir palace</i>, where she continueth during -pleasure, and till she returne again to some of hir owne; -in which she remaineth as long as pleaseth hir.” p. 196.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_102" href="#FNanchor_102" class="label">102</a> -Perhaps they had no need of such favours: It seems -as if they had provided for themselves another way. One -of her ladies, the Lady <span class="smcap">Edmondes</span>, had been applied to -for her interest with the queen in a certain affair of no -great moment, then depending in the Court of Chancery. -The person, commissioned to transact this matter with her -ladyship, had offered her 100<i>l.</i> which she treated <i>as too -small a sum</i>. The relater of this fact adds—“This ruffianry -of causes I am daily more and more acquainted -with, and see the manner of dealing, which cometh of the -<i>queen’s straitness</i> to give these women, whereby they presume -thus to grange and truck causes.” See a letter in -<span class="smcap">Mem.</span> of <span class="smcap">Q. Elizabeth</span>, by Dr. <span class="smcap">Birch</span>, vol. i. p. 354. -But this 100<i>l.</i> as the virtuous Lady <span class="smcap">Edmondes</span> says, was <i>a -small sum</i>. It appears, that bishop <span class="smcap">Fletcher</span>, on his -translation to <i>London</i>, “bestowed in allowances and gratifications -to divers attendants [indeed we are not expressly -told, they were <i>female</i>] about her majesty, the sum of -3100<i>l.</i> which money was given by him, for the most part -of it, <i>by her majesty’s direction and special appointment</i>.” -Mem. vol. ii. p. 113. And the curiosity is, to find this -minute of episcopal <i>gratifications</i> in a petition presented -to the queen herself, “To move her majesty in commiseration -towards the orphans of this bishop.”—However, to -do the ladies justice, the contagion of bribery was so general -in that reign, that the greatest men in the court -were infected by it. The lord-keeper <span class="smcap">Puckering</span>, it -seems, had a finger in the affair of the 100<i>l.</i>; nay, himself -speaks to the lady to get him commanded by the queen to -favour the suit. And we are told, that Sir <span class="smcap">W. Raleigh</span> -had no less than 10,000<i>l.</i> for his interest with the queen -on a certain occasion, after having been invited to this -service by the finest letter that ever was written.—Indeed -it is not said how much of this secret service money went -<i>in allowances and gratifications to the attendants about the -queen’s majesty</i>, vol. ii. p. 497.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_103" href="#FNanchor_103" class="label">103</a> -Lord <span class="smcap">Bacon</span> made the same excuse for <i>his</i> bribery; -as he had learnt, perhaps, the trade itself from his royal -mistress. It was a rule with this great chancellor, “Not -to sell injustice, but never to let justice go scot-free.”</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_104" href="#FNanchor_104" class="label">104</a> -See <i>Hist. Collections</i>, by <span class="smcap">H. Townshend</span>, Esq.; p. -268. <i>Lond.</i> 1680.—The lord-keeper too, in a speech in the -star-chamber, confirms this charge on the country justices. -“The thirst, says he, after this authority, proceedeth -from nothing but an ambitious humour of gaining -of reputation amongst their neighbours; that still, when -they come home, <i>they may be presented with presents</i>.” -Ibid. p. 355.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_105" href="#FNanchor_105" class="label">105</a> -When the queen declared to Sir <span class="smcap">James Melvil</span> her -resolution of virginity, “I know the truth of that, madam, -(said he); you need not tell it me. Your majesty thinks, -if you were married, you would be but queen of <i>England</i>; -and now you are both king and queen. <i>I know your spirit -cannot endure a commander.</i>” <span class="smcap">Mem.</span> p. 49. This was frank. -But Sir <span class="smcap">James Melvil</span> was too well seen in courts to have -used this language, if he had not understood it would be -welcome. Accordingly, the queen’s highness did not seem -displeased with the imputation.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_106" href="#FNanchor_106" class="label">106</a> -This was a common topick of complaint against the -queen; or at least her ministers, and gave occasion to that -reproof of the poet <span class="smcap">Spenser</span>, which the persons concerned -could hardly look upon as very decent,</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Scarce can a bishoprick forepass them bye<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But that it must be gelt in privity.”<br /></span> -<span class="author">Mother <span class="smcap">Hubbard’s</span> <i>Tale</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p>But a bishop of that time carries the charge still further. -In one of his sermons at court before the queen, -“Parsonages and vicarages, says he, seldom pass now-a-days -from the patron, but either for the lease, or the present -money. Such merchants are broken into the church -of God, a great deal more intolerable than were they -whom <span class="smcap">Christ</span> whipped out of the temple.”—This language -is very harsh, and surely not deserved by the Protestant -patrons of those days, who were only, as we may suppose, -for reducing the church of <span class="smcap">Christ</span> to its pure and primitive -state of indigence and suffering. How edifying is it to -hear St. <span class="smcap">Paul</span> speak of his being—<i>In hunger and thirst, -in fastings often, in cold and nakedness!</i> And how perfectly -reformed would our church be, if its ministers were but -once more in this blessed apostolical condition!</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_107" href="#FNanchor_107" class="label">107</a> -It was this circumstance that seemed to weigh most -with the Lord Chancellor <span class="smcap">Bacon</span>; who, in his short tract, -<i>In felicem memoriam</i> <span class="smcap">Elizabethæ</span>, saith, “Illud cogitandum -censeo, in quali populo imperium tenuerit: si enim in -Palmyrenis, aut Asiâ imbelli et molli regnum sortita esset, -minùs mirandum fuisset—verùm in <span class="smcap">Anglia</span>, <i>natione ferocissimâ -et bellicosissimâ</i>, omnia ex nutu fœminæ moveri -et cohiberi potuisse, <small>SUMMAM MERITO ADMIRATIONEM -HABET</small>.”</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_108" href="#FNanchor_108" class="label">108</a> -The subject of these Dialogues, on <i>the English Constitution</i>, -is the most important in <i>English</i> politics.—To -cite all the passages from our best antiquaries and historians, -out of which this work was formed, and which lay -before the writer in composing it, would swell this volume -to an immoderate size. It is enough to say, that nothing -<i>material</i> is advanced in the course of the argument, but on -the best authority.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_109" href="#FNanchor_109" class="label">109</a> -That is, of the <i>feudal law</i>: which was one of the -subjects explained by the bishop to his royal pupil the duke -of <i>Gloucester</i>. “I acquainted him, says he, with all the -great revolutions that had been in the world, and gave -him a copious account of the <i>Greek</i> and <i>Roman</i> histories, -and of <span class="smcap">Plutarch’s</span> Lives: the last thing I explained to -him was the Gothic constitution, and the <small>BENEFICIARY -AND FEUDAL LAWS</small>.” [<span class="smcap">Hist.</span> <i>of his own Times</i>, vol. iv. -p. 357. <i>Edinb.</i> 1753.]</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_110" href="#FNanchor_110" class="label">110</a> -On <i>April 11, 1689</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_111" href="#FNanchor_111" class="label">111</a> -Of the great seal—The other lawyers in commission -were <span class="smcap">Keck</span> and <span class="smcap">Rawlinson</span>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_112" href="#FNanchor_112" class="label">112</a> -This was a favourite subject with our good bishop; -and how qualified he was to discuss it, even in its minutest -particularities, may be learnt from his history at large.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_113" href="#FNanchor_113" class="label">113</a> -It was not thus <i>left to itself</i>, but was nursed and fostered -with great care by the preachers of <i>divine indefeasible -hereditary right</i>, in this and the following reign.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_114" href="#FNanchor_114" class="label">114</a> -This casual remark seems to determine a famous dispute -among the Antiquaries on the subject before us. -Bishop <span class="smcap">Nicolson</span> attended so little to this tralatitious use -of words, in which all languages abound, that finding -<span class="smcap">Laga</span> in several places signified a <i>country</i>, he would needs -have it that <span class="smcap">Camden</span>, <span class="smcap">Lambarde</span>, <span class="smcap">Spelman</span>, <span class="smcap">Cowell</span>, -<span class="smcap">Selden</span>, and all our best Antiquaries, were mistaken, -when they supposed <i>Laga</i> ever signified, in the compositions -here mentioned, a <i>law</i>. However, his adversaries -among the Antiquaries were even with him; and finding -that <i>Laga</i>, in these compositions, did signify a law in several -places of our ancient laws, historians, and lawyers, -deny that it ever signifies a <i>country</i>. Each indeed had a -considerable object in view; the one was bent on overthrowing -a system; the other on supporting it; namely, -that famous threefold body of laws, the <i>Danish</i>, <i>Mercian</i>, -and <i>West-Saxon</i>. It must be owned, the bishop could not -overthrow the common system, without running into his -extreme: it seems, his opponents might have supported it -without running into theirs.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_115" href="#FNanchor_115" class="label">115</a> -See <i>Historical Law-Tracts</i>, vol. i. p. 294.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_116" href="#FNanchor_116" class="label">116</a> -<span class="smcap">Milton</span> did not forget to observe, in his <i>Tenure of -kings and magistrates</i>, That <span class="smcap">William</span> the <i>Norman</i>, though -a Conqueror, and not unsworn at his Coronation, was -compelled a second time to take oath at <i>St. Albans</i>, ere -the people would be brought to yield obedience. Vol. i. -<i>of his Prose works</i>, 4<sup>to</sup>, 1753. p. 345.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_117" href="#FNanchor_117" class="label">117</a> -<span class="smcap">Henry VII.</span></p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_118" href="#FNanchor_118" class="label">118</a> -<span class="smcap">Henry VIII.</span></p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_119" href="#FNanchor_119" class="label">119</a> -<span class="smcap">Elizabeth.</span></p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_120" href="#FNanchor_120" class="label">120</a></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Propria feudi natura est ut sit perpetua.</span></span> -<span class="author"><span class="smcap">Cujacius, Littleton.</span><br /></span> -</div></div></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_121" href="#FNanchor_121" class="label">121</a> -<span class="smcap">Craig’s</span> <i>Jus feudale</i>, lib. i. p. 21. <i>Lond.</i> 1655.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_122" href="#FNanchor_122" class="label">122</a> -This account of the <i>Saxon</i> benefices is much confirmed -by the famous charter of Bishop <span class="smcap">Oswald</span>, and the -comment of Sir <span class="smcap">H. Spelman</span> upon it. See his discourse -on <small>FEUDS</small> and <small>TENURES</small>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_123" href="#FNanchor_123" class="label">123</a> -<span class="smcap">Matthew Paris</span> gives us the following account of -this matter—“Episcopatus et Abbatias omnes, quæ baronias -tenebant, et eatenus ab omni servitute sæculari libertatem -habuerant, sub servitute statuit militari, inrotulans -singulos episcopatus et abbatias pro voluntate suâ, quot -milites sibi et successoribus suis, hostilitatis tempore, voluit -à singulis exhiberi. Et <span class="smcap">ROTULOS HUJUS ECCLESIASTICÆ -SERVITUTIS</span> ponens in thesauris, multos viros ecclesiasticos -<span class="smcap">HUIC CONSTITUTIONI PESSIMÆ</span> reluctantes, à -regno fugavit.” -<span class="author"><span class="smcap">Hist. Ang. Willielmus Conqæstor.</span></span></p> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_124" href="#FNanchor_124" class="label">124</a> -The learned <span class="smcap">Craig</span>, who has written so largely and -accurately on the feudal law, was so far from seeing any -thing servile in it, that he says, “The foundations of this -discipline are laid in the most generous of all considerations, -those of <span class="smcap">Gratitude</span>. <i>Hujus feudalis disciplinæ fundamenta -à gratitudine et ingratitudine descendunt.</i>” <span class="smcap">Epist. -Nuncup.</span> to <span class="smcap">K. James</span>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_125" href="#FNanchor_125" class="label">125</a> -This bounty in so wise a prince as <span class="smcap">William</span> will be -thought strange. I believe it may be, in part, accounted -for, from what is observed above of the <i>Saxon</i> allodial -lords. These had possessed immense estates. And, as -they fell in upon forfeiture, the great <i>Norman</i> adventurers -would of course expect to come into the entire succession.—Perhaps -too, in that confusion of affairs, the prince -might not always, himself, be apprized of the extent and -value of these possessions.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_126" href="#FNanchor_126" class="label">126</a> -The law of <span class="smcap">Edward</span> the Confessor is express to this -purpose, and it was ratified by the Conqueror—“Debet -rex omnia ritè facere in regno et per judicium procerum -regni.” Sir <span class="smcap">H. Spelman</span> of Parliaments, p. 58.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_127" href="#FNanchor_127" class="label">127</a> -M. <span class="smcap">De Montesquieu</span> observes of the Gothic government—“Il -fut d’abord melé de l’aristocratie, et de la monarchie. -Il avoit cet inconvenient, que le bas-peuple -y étoit esclave: <i>C’étoit un bon gouvernment, qui avoit en -soi la capacité de devenir meilleur.</i>” [l. xi. c. 8.]—the -very idea, which is here inculcated.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_128" href="#FNanchor_128" class="label">128</a> -See old <span class="smcap">Fortescue</span>, in his book <i>De laudibus legum -Angliæ</i>, where this sort of analogy is pursued at length -through a great part of the <small>XIII</small><sup>th</sup> chapter.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_129" href="#FNanchor_129" class="label">129</a> -Agreeably to what Sir <span class="smcap">H. Spelman</span> asserts, in his -Glossary, of its parent, the <i>feudal law</i> itself; “<span class="smcap">De lege -feudali</span>—pronunciandum censeo, <small>TEMPORIS</small> eam esse -filiam, sensimque succrescentem, <small>EDICTIS PRINCIPUM</small> -auctam indies excultam.” In voce <span class="smcap">Feodum</span>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_130" href="#FNanchor_130" class="label">130</a> -<span class="smcap">Diss. ad Flet.</span> 1091. and <span class="smcap">William of Malmesbury</span>, -lib. iv. 1. 69. <i>Lond.</i> 1596.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_131" href="#FNanchor_131" class="label">131</a> -<span class="smcap">Selden’s</span> Works, vol. ii. p. 1082.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_132" href="#FNanchor_132" class="label">132</a> -<span class="smcap">Diss. ad Flet.</span> 1078.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_133" href="#FNanchor_133" class="label">133</a> -Dr. <span class="smcap">Duck</span>, <i>De usu et authoritate juris civilis</i>, p. 103. -<i>Lugd. Batav.</i> 1654.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_134" href="#FNanchor_134" class="label">134</a> -<span class="smcap">Policratic.</span> lib. viii. c. 22. p. 672. <i>Lugd. Bat.</i> 1639.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_135" href="#FNanchor_135" class="label">135</a> -<span class="smcap">Diss. ad Flet.</span> 1082.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_136" href="#FNanchor_136" class="label">136</a> -<span class="smcap">Diss. ad Flet.</span> 1097.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_137" href="#FNanchor_137" class="label">137</a> -Dr. <span class="smcap">Duck</span>, p. 364.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_138" href="#FNanchor_138" class="label">138</a> -<span class="smcap">Disc.</span> Part I. p. 78. <i>Lond.</i> 1739.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_139" href="#FNanchor_139" class="label">139</a> -At <span class="smcap">Merton</span>, in the year 1236.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_140" href="#FNanchor_140" class="label">140</a> -<span class="smcap">Diss. ad Flet.</span> 1108.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_141" href="#FNanchor_141" class="label">141</a> -See <span class="smcap">Fortescue</span>, <i>De laudibus leg. Angl.</i> p. 74. <i>Lond.</i> -1741; and <span class="smcap">Selden’s Janus Anglorum</span>, 1610, vol. ii. tom. ii.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_142" href="#FNanchor_142" class="label">142</a> -<span class="smcap">Diss. ad Flet.</span> 1104.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_143" href="#FNanchor_143" class="label">143</a> -Dr. <span class="smcap">Duck</span>, p. 365.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_144" href="#FNanchor_144" class="label">144</a> -<span class="smcap">Diss. ad Flet.</span> 1010.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_145" href="#FNanchor_145" class="label">145</a> -<span class="smcap">Diss. ad Flet.</span> 1106.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_146" href="#FNanchor_146" class="label">146</a> -P. 1046.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_147" href="#FNanchor_147" class="label">147</a> -Mr. <span class="smcap">Selden’s Diss. ad Flet.</span> 1100.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_148" href="#FNanchor_148" class="label">148</a> -<i>De laud. leg. Ang.</i> c. 33, 34.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_149" href="#FNanchor_149" class="label">149</a> -<span class="smcap">Diss. ad Flet.</span> 1102.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_150" href="#FNanchor_150" class="label">150</a> -The speaker might have begun this account of the -<i>fate and fortunes</i> of the civil law still higher. <span class="smcap">Nat. Bacon</span>, -speaking of <span class="smcap">Henry</span> the Fifth’s reign, observes, “The -times were now come about, wherein light began to spring -forth, conscience to bestir itself, and men to study the -scriptures. This was imputed to the idleness and carelessness -of the clergy, who suffered the minds of young -scholars to luxuriate into errors of divinity, for want of -putting them on to other learning; and gave no encouragement -to studies of human literature, by preferring -those that were deserving. The convocation taking this -into consideration, do decree, that no person should exercise -any jurisdiction in any office, as <i>vicar-general</i>, -<i>commissary</i>, or <i>official</i>, or otherwise, unless he shall first -in the university have taken degrees in the <small>CIVIL OR CANON -LAWS</small>. A shrewd trick this was, to stop the growth of -the study of divinity, and <span class="smcap">Wickliff’s</span> way; and to embellish -men’s minds with a kind of learning that may gain -them preferment, or at least an opinion of abilities beyond -the common strain, and dangerous to be meddled with. -Like some gallants, that wear swords as badges of honour, -and to bid men beware, because they possibly may -strike, though in their own persons they may be very -cowards. And no less mischievously intended was this -against the rugged <small>COMMON LAW</small>, a rule so nigh allied to -the gospel-way, as it favoureth liberty; and so far estranged -from the way of the civil and canon law, as there is no -hope of accommodation till Christ and Antichrist have -sought the field.” <span class="smcap">Disc.</span> Part II. p. 90. <i>Lond.</i> 1739.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_151" href="#FNanchor_151" class="label">151</a> -It should however be observed, in honour of their -patriotism, that “they afterwards took themselves out of -it,” when they saw the extremities to which the popular -party were driving.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_152" href="#FNanchor_152" class="label">152</a> -This alludes to the proceedings against the <i>eleven -members</i> upon the charge of the Army. Sir <span class="smcap">John Maynard</span> -was one of them. And when articles of high treason -were preferred against him, and the trial was to come -on before the lords, he excepted to the jurisdiction of the -court, and, by a written paper presented to them, required -to be tried by his peers according to <i>Magna Charta, -and the law of the land</i>. See <span class="smcap">Whitlocke’s</span> <i>Memorials</i>; and -a short pamphlet written on that occasion, called <span class="smcap">The -Royal Quarrel</span>, dated 9th of <i>Feb.</i> 1647.—Sir <span class="smcap">John</span> was, -at this time, a close prisoner in the Tower.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_153" href="#FNanchor_153" class="label">153</a> -See his speech, inserted in his <i>Memorials of English -Affairs, Nov. 1649</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_154" href="#FNanchor_154" class="label">154</a> -<span class="smcap">Disc.</span> Part I. p. 78.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_155" href="#FNanchor_155" class="label">155</a> -The reader may not be displeased to see the words of -old <span class="smcap">Fortescue</span> on this subject of the origin of the <i>English</i> -government, which are very remarkable. In his famous -book <i>De laudibus legum Angliæ</i>, he distinguishes between -the <small>REGAL</small> and <small>POLITICAL</small> forms of government. In explaining -the <i>latter</i>, which he gives us as the proper form of -the <i>English</i> government, he expresseth himself in these -words—“Habes instituti omnis <small>POLITICI REGNI</small> formam, ex -quâ metiri poteris potestatem, quam rex ejus in leges ipsius -aut subditos valeat exercere: ad tutelam namque legis -subditorum, ac eorum corporum et bonorum rex hujusmodi -erectus est, et hanc potestatem <small>A POPULO EFFLUXAM</small> -ipse habet, quo ei non licet potestate aliâ <i>suo populo dominari</i>.” -<span class="smcap">Cap.</span> xiii.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_156" href="#FNanchor_156" class="label">156</a> -It may be of little moment to us, at this day, to inquire, -how far the princes of the house of <span class="smcap">Stuart</span> were -blameable for their endeavours to usurp on the constitution. -But it must ever be of the highest moment to -maintain, that we had a constitution to assert against -them. Party-writers perpetually confound these two -things. It is the author’s purpose, in these two Dialogues, -to contend for the <i>latter</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_157" href="#FNanchor_157" class="label">157</a> -See the late History of England by <span class="smcap">David Hume</span>, -esq.; who forms the apology of the house of <span class="smcap">Stuart</span> on -these principles.</p></div></div></div> - -<div class="transnote"> - -<h3>Transcriber’s Note:</h3> - -<p>Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation are as in the original.</p> - -</div> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Works of Richard Hurd, Volume 3 -(of 8), by Richard Hurd - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORKS OF RICHARD HURD, VOL 3 *** - -***** This file should be named 54514-h.htm or 54514-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/4/5/1/54514/ - -Produced by Charlene Taylor, Bryan Ness, Wayne Hammond and -the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from scanned -images of public domain material from the Google Books -project.) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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