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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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